It took ten days to travel north to the village of Telga. Imperial patrols were sparse, owning to the frigid weather, but still needed to be avoided and made the journey difficult. However, they weren't a problem that could not be handled. Their thoughts showed that they were actively looking for us by the command of General Nightwing herself and confirming all that Civn had said.

Reane Matir Journal Entry

Sheala mulled over a mug of hot buttered ale. With its hints of pumpkin spiced flavor, the smooth, soothing brew was definitely high on her list of preferred drinks to consume. And definitely a lot better than the swill available during their previous layover in the Borderlands. Whoever had came up with the horrible idea of roasting barley rather than malting it and creating such heavy, thick, stouts popular along the western coast should have been, in Sheala's opinion, drawn and quartered. Which is why she resigned herself to warm broth with its bland, unfilling taste during their stay there.

"I don't like it," she said, pondering her new favorite drink, but not specifically referring to it.

"Oh, you're finally talking to me now?" Reane rocked back on the rear legs of her rickety chair. "The rate things were going, I thought it would be another three or four five days before you saw fit to actually speak a word to me."

"You done being an ass?"

"I think the better question is, are you?"

"Fate's Hand, Reane, give it a rest, will you? I'm allowed to be pissed off at you for hiding what you did."

The interior of what the townsfolk here in Telga called a tavern was dark and hardly what Sheala was used to. Three tables with ten chairs among them, most sporting a distinct and uneven wobble, was the extent of the capacity for this hole-in-the-wall. Out here, in what was essentially wilderness, the place was just some guy's farm house where said farmer had decided to brew and serve liquor to the entertainment-starved members of this town. The establishment didn't even have a name, well thought out, cute, whimsical, or otherwise. Still, Sheala had to admit, he brewed a pretty good ale. And she was certain that his business was brisk, what with all the rebels hanging around.

Raising up her mug at the two men hovering at the furthest of the tables, Sheala smiled. "What's up, Joe-Moes? Nice day for a bit of poking your noses in where they don't belong?" Both of them turned their obvious attention from the two women as the taunt, one meant to downplay their status and importance, was leveled. "Those two guys over there have been on us like flies on a horse ever since the guards released us. I can't believe we're being treated like this." She snorted and took another drink.

Reane kicked the heel of her one boot up on the tabletop. "We need to earn their trust. They've heard that both Fimmirra and the elven kingdoms were destroyed. So of course they're going to be suspicious when a small group of travelers accompanied by Fimmirran soldiers and a contingent of elves show up. Complicate that with you being a Fimmirran Ambassador, niece to the now dead king, and Ittan and Sayra declaring themselves to be from the royal households and—" Reane held up her hands to indicate that not even she would believe that story.

The soldiers, both human and elven, still were not allowed past the town limits, forced to camp nearly two miles away until everything was sorted out. There seemed to be a very formal request about who they would answer too. When the elven soldiers swore their allegiance solely to the Elven House of Tynara and the Fimmirran soldiers to Sheala, that didn't seem to sit well with the woman who exerted her authority around here; a older, curmudgeonly sort who apparently didn't take no for an answer.

With a renewed silence having fallen over them, Sheala decided to change the subject to something she knew would make Reane uncomfortable. "You worried about Anthony and you, what with his ex here and all? You know, that healer lady?"

The edges of Reane's lips drooped into a frown. "I'm not worried." She took a drink from her own mug, hoping the action hid the lie she was telling. The fact was, she was too scared to even seek out visions of what the future might hold once learning of the existence of this other woman.

One of the elven riders previously sent ahead to make contact had intercepted their party about halfway to this rebel stronghold and delivered the news not only of a true cleric, but a woman whose description caused an immediate change within Anthony's emotions. When she'd pressed him about it, he been forthcoming and admitted pretty much everything about her and their past history; a history he had kept hidden and never before spoken of. Which, Reane admitted, wasn't necessarily a lot in the grand scheme of things, but enough that it did bother the seer. Especially once the l-word was thrown out.

He and this woman had been close. But not physically and intimately close beyond things Reane considered more akin to puppy love than anything. Certainly nothing on the level like she and Anthony now shared, or so the captain presumed based on what she had learned. Anthony had left seeking passage to Fimmirra just as their relationship was on the verge of becoming more serious.

Still, these were the sorts of things Reane wished she could have found out long before that critical moment. But, because Anthony's partially elvish mind was essentially a blank slate to her, it had come as quite a shock. And if there was one thing she hated, it was being shocked; least of all, in anything revolving around her love life. Especially with as tumultuous as it had been over the years.

Saying she wasn't worried, didn't ease the sting in a way she hoped it would have. Upon arriving and discovering this woman and former love interest unconscious and wounded, Anthony's emotions became even more turbulent. To the point where it only compounded Reane's worry. And he'd spent an inordinate amount of time, along with Sayra, tending to this former lover and away from Reane.

Rumor had been this woman, a cleric, had engaged in a duel with none other than Lady Noranda herself. Yet, despite surviving, no matter what anyone tried, she wouldn't wake up from her wounds. Wounds, which seemed much more mental than physical. Although, based on a description of her current state Anthony had provided, she looked like death warmed over.

"How is it that Hedric's forces haven't come through and wiped out the rebels here?" Sheala took another long draw from the pumpkin spiced drink held in both her hands. "It's not like they're inconspicuous. They're basically parading through the streets."

"Telga's not exactly on the beaten path, Sheila. The roads are pretty much for shit and wouldn't be able to support all the supplies needed for a convoy of Imperial soldiers this time of year. Hell, we barely made it here traveling light. It's actually a brilliant and strategic location." Fingers drumming on the tabletop, Reane inspected the two men in farmer's garb, both still watching them, but less conspicuously than before. "If Sayra can help this cleric, that will go a long way towards earning their confidence. And that's why Anthony's talking to them," Reane amended. "He's one of them, you know."

"Yeah, but they don't seem to believe him, and—"

The door to the tavern opened in mid-sentence as Anthony entered, his gaze low.

Reane returned her chair to all fours and stood. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

He shook his head while pulling another chair over from the lone vacant table. "It's not good. She just won't wake up. Sayra's trying everything she knows. She's a capable healer, but it's just not helping."

The two men watching from the other table started conversing in a tone a few notches above a whisper. After a brief back and forth, one of them stood and approached. "You're Anthony Rodan, right?" he questioned.

"Sure am," Anthony replied in less than enthusiastic tones. "The one and only."

The farmer smiled and motioned to his companion to confirm. "I knew it! We heard what you tried to pull off last winter."

"Tried was the operative word. Lost two good men in the Gamman Brothers that day. Failure wasn't really an option. Look where it got us."

"At least you tried to do something," the man said. "You're the only person that's even been bold enough to attempt taking the fight to the Empire. Certainly better than anything that feckless son of a dried up old sow Rwan came up with."

Fist into the table, it pre-punctuated the words Anthony would follow it with. "I don't want to hear you, or anyone, ever talk ill of Rwan again. Do you hear me? He was a good man. We certainly wouldn't have a true cleric in our midst if it wasn't for him. We had our differences, but he never backed away from what he thought was right, and I have to admire him for that. Erick and Marcus were both in the palace because of him. Because he wanted to assassinate as many of Lord Hedric's generals as he could. I just messed up the timing, and our opportunity by going after Nightwing early."

There was this way that Anthony glanced over at Sheala with that last statement that she couldn't quite place a meaning to. Something that seemed like a mix between sorry for that and I don't trust you because of who your sister is.

While the man did his best to apologize for the offense he'd given, Anthony concentrated in the way he and Reane had practiced. Forcing his mind to be open to hers, he connected their thoughts. *Reane, do me a favor?*

*Anything. What do you want?*

*Do you have any experience waking up people who don't seem to be unconscious for any reason other than some sort of mental trauma? You know, nothing seemingly physically wrong?*

*You mean like something akin to magic?*

*I guess. Yes.*

*Saw my mother do it two or three times.*

*Good enough, come with me.* As Anthony rose from his seat, the farmer still blabbing on, he headed for the exit.

"Wait," Reane called after him. "It's dangerous. I think it's best to let Sayra handle this."

Turning to stare at her from the doorway, "We have to take risks, Reane. We can't sit around playing it safe."

As he stormed out, Reane followed, Sheala trailing after them both and the two other men remaining behind in the farmhouse, shocked at the sudden departure of their assigned targets.

"Anthony," Reane said, "you've got to understand. Waking an unconscious mind is not like rousing someone from deep sleep. It's a very vulnerable state. If it's not done right, you can actually push them into a permanent coma."

Anthony stopped, staring at her. "Are you telling me you don't know how to do it?"

"No." As Reane hedged, she was trying to process a myriad of scenarios in her own mind about what could happen if she attempted what he was asking of her. And most of them had nothing to do with her failing. Although some did. "What I mean to say is, I'm scared of failing you as much as I am of succeeding."

"What are you talking about, Reane?"

"I mean, look, if I fail, and she slips into an irreversible state of unconsciousness, then we're both going to be hurt. Because I can tell you still have feelings for her. And loosing her would cause you a lot of pain."

"Reane, I—"

"Don't... don't lie to me, Anthony. Please don't. I know what I am sensing from you. And the way you care about this woman is still very strong. Strong enough that it scares me that, should I succeed, I'm going to lose you to her."

The two of them stared at each other long enough and with sour enough looks on their faces that it made even Sheala uncomfortable. "Ok, lovebirds," she said, "let's break this up."

"Look," Anthony replied to Reane's statements, "I can't tell you what the future holds, Reane. I don't have the abilities you have. And I certainly can't comprehend what you see and how you might interpret it. I mean, I honestly don't have any intention of hurting you."

"I know that. But I also know love can make one do unpredictable things. I know, because I've done those sorts of unpredictable things myself. And knowing that you still love her? That's enough to scare me to death."

With a heavy sigh, Anthony folded his arms before him, but quickly dropped the defensive posture, adopting a softer stance while chewing on his lip. "I understand. And I love you enough to say that, if you're not comfortable doing this, then we'll find another way. Maybe Sayra can get it all sorted out. I just think you're the best chance she's got. And this is about more than me and her. It's about the Rebellion, and what she can do for these people; the hope she can bring them."

Reane matched his sigh with one of her own. "I'm not saying I won't do it. I'm just saying I'm scared to try and do it."

With a step forward, Anthony embraced the woman he had grown to love. She fell into him, her head lying upon his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head, the texture of her hair upon his lips. "Every time you do something that shows me you care more about other people than just yourself, you show me that I was wrong to ever think such horrible things about you. And you've already done so much that I could never question that I was absolutely wrong about the type of person you are before. Whether you do this or not, it won't change my opinion of you."

"Do you understand my concerns? I mean, all my concerns? Failing you? Succeeding and losing you?"

"I do. Part of me wishes you understood how much I love you, and that I'm not going anywhere."

Reane shook her head against him. "Oh, Anthony. You say that, but I know there's the possibility. I am a seer after all."