“That’s not fair,” said the Phantom indignantly, distracted. “I mostly got us carriages, didn’t I? And besides,” he said, turning to Jate, “it was your fault. What were you thinking, running out to stop the big bad Phantom all by yourself? For all you knew, I could be – could be – you know, dangerous.” He waved a hand vaguely, dismissively. “Really, I think you should thank me. Who’s to say if anyone would have seen fit to mention, ‘oh, by the way, Jate, you’re the heir to the throne of Kytana’ eventually?”

He eyed the pack. “You have my word of honor not to touch the thing. I do value my own safety, you know.” Kjan probably could have greeted that with all sorts of derisive remarks, and the Phantom knew it, and therefore hastily moved to the next subject of conversation. “Right, so, Griffin’s Fells.” He paused, seemingly calculating an estimate, and cast a wistful look at the surrounding humps of rock. “I had rather hoped we’d have the horses.”

So did they all, and he knew it. “Maybe a week,” said the Phantom doubtfully, his expression revealing that not even he believed the estimate. “But as long as we’re there in the next two.”

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"Hold up, all my fault? Is it my fault now that you lost the Heartshard in the first place so you had to go traipsing about in the snow and rain and icy rivers? Let's see, I don't think so. Perhaps I shouldn't have gone after you on my own, but that's about it." Jate shook his pack at the Phantom indignantly. "Plus, if it wasn't for me, you'd have just died." He took a breath and looked around at the imposing hills and upcoming forest. "Well. Now that that's out of the way, let's proceed, shall we?"

A short time later, Jate too found himself lamenting the loss of the horses. "I wonder what happened to them," he voiced aloud.

_________________
going on a journey through my old claims

The Phantom gave a noncommittal shrug. "They ran away because they were scared of the fog?" And with this intelligent response, he kicked contemplatively at a pebble, and seemed to mull over Jate's words for a few moments, frowning slightly. "Your reasoning has holes, O Great Majesty, I never lost the Heartshard."

Sarcasm achieved, he strode ahead to fish his map from his pack and peer around various bends, attempting to reconcile their surroundings with what it said.

By the time dusk was urging the sun down past the horizon, they could see the comforting silhouette of a line of trees. The Phantom found this intensely relieving, as he liked camping in forest far better than rocky hollows that spawned strange fog and vanished horses. However, his enthusiasm was a little solitary, and they were all ready to sleep under the nearest bush by the time the treeline overtook them.

"Am I the designated fire-builder?" inquired the Phantom in a groan, collapsing into the underbrush in the first clearing they found and entirely missing the fact that he was the one responsible for how tired they all were. "Don't even really need a fire, actually...superfluous, I say..." and he stifled a magnificent yawn. "Sleep's better."

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Kjan muttered something under his breath and grudgingly got back up to scour the perimeter of the clearing for usable wood. It wasn't especially cold, given that they were still at a fairly low altitude, but it was cool enough that they'd be glad of a fire in a few hours. After several minutes, he'd gathered enough kindling and fuel to last a while and deposited it all in a haphazard pile near the center of camp. They'd run out of matches some time ago, so instead he dug out his flint, arranged some of the wood in a semi-orderly fashion, and worked at it until they had a reasonable fire going in their midst.

That accomplished, Kjan wordlessly laid out his bedroll and lay down, too tired to even bother with food or conversation. Someone else could take the first watch.

The next morning, the Phantom woke up to find that he'd picked the worst spot of ground to collapse in that whole square mile of woods. He was convinced that there were five roots all digging into his back at different locations, and sitting up to find that there were two visible ones did nothing to refute this certainty. Also, the sun had extended a particular finger-like ray to do nothing but specifically target his eyes, and as a last straw, he groggily stuck a hand into his pack to emerge with a yelp and several red ants attempting to feast on his hand.

Muttering imprecations, he got up and dusted the grass off his cloak, squinting up through the leaves that edged the sky to determine what they might expect the weather to be. Incongruently with the inauspicious beginning to this particular day that he'd experienced, the blue that arced above them was clear and unbroken by cloud. This did cheer him up enough that he dropped various people's packs on them catalysts for wakefulness - except Eledhe, who awoke just fine on her own, as he knew from trial and error.

Once they were mostly up and semi-conscious, the Phantom poked the fire into sluggish action and spread their map in the grass. Estimating their current location, he stabbed a finger at it. "Right. So we're here, and we want to be here, which is where Griffin's Fells is, about." This required picking a place off the edge of the parchment and poking a finger into the grass. "I think this will take roughly a week if we move fast - and if anyone discovers our missing horses I will double their pay." He paused, trying to make this sound impressive, until Eledhe deflated it.

"So that's still a large zero, then," she said grumpily.

The Phantom rolled his eyes. "Technicalities." He glanced at the various party members. "So? Observations? Alternate routes? Ideas for immediate and painless transportation?"

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"Yes," Kjan said with difficulty, removing the pack from his stomach with a grimace. "Observation: the dropping of heavy packs onto Kjan's midsection would be best left until after said midsection has fully recovered from its encounter with an elvish blade. It finally stopped bleeding freely two days ago, and Kjan would rather like to keep it that way if possible." It occured to him that the Phantom may have been looking more for observations relating directly to the next week of delightful travel, but he felt that it needed to be said, as the Phantom quite obviously kept forgetting. Or simply didn't care.

Sitting up slowly, Kjan took a better look at the map that was spread out on the ground. "Fastest way there is through the pass, looks like," he noted, looking up at Tomith for confirmation.

The elf nodded. "That is the path that Lord Adaniar will have taken. It is slightly more difficult than going around, but it is the fastest route - especially without horses."

"Mmm, without horses," repeated the Phantom, now tracing this new route with a finger. He felt a vague twinge of something that was decidedly not excitement, at the thought of making it through the snowy heights of a pass, but if the way was faster, then the decision was made. "That way it is, then," he concluded, and paused to stab at a location on the map with the same finger.

A tiny image of barracks, topped by a black pennant denoting imperial status, was slightly south and east of the entry to the pass. The name read Northmount Outpost. Expression falling, the Phantom gave a melodramatic sigh and tucked the parchment back in his pocket. "Nice little military outpost on the way, too," he said, shaking his head. "I suppose we'll have to come back and visit them another time."

As if remembering belatedly, he paused in the middle of slinging his pack over his shoulders and cast Kjan an arch look. "Apologies. Next time I'll bring you tea and breakfast and inquire if you'd like your curtains open or closed."

---

Route decided, they eventually filtered out of the clearing in a more or less orderly fashion. The forest, which had begun so abruptly the night before, continued to thicken through the day, casting dappled and green-tinted shadows on the path from the intense sunlight. It wasn't unpleasant to walk through, especially given that they managed to avoid almost all contact with other travelers (most of whom took the main road further past the mountain foothills) but the Phantom found it hard to appreciate.

Several times something flashed in his peripheral vision - a few deer, a squirrel, once a raccoon - and he realized a few moments later that his fingers were hovering over the hilt of his sword.

"Bloody elves," he muttered after the fourth time this had happened. "Make you jumpy."

Tomith cast him an oblique look, which the Phantom ignored.

---

He was just beginning to relax when they made camp the next night. The weather was already starting to grow colder as the altitude increased, and the peaks of snow-capped mountains loomed over the trees.

The Phantom - regretfully - made sure that they were a safe distance from the military outpost before picking a location to camp, nestled in the side of a cliff face overgrown with ivy and moss, which would shelter a fire. Dropping his pack with a thud, he squinted out at the gradually receding forest and watched as the rest of the party wearily trudged into view. Tomith looked uptight, but the elf always did. The rest of them, excluding impassive Eledhe, were just exhausted.

He yawned jaw-crackingly, and halfheartedly kicked wood into a pile until it was respectable for a fire, before kneeling with the tinder and flint. "I've decided," he announced once they were all seated. "After this, we're never walking anywhere again."

Good resolution to make. Probably not worth making.

_________________

"Neither will you rest anywhere, until you have provided a name and purpose for being in these parts," an unfamiliar voice stated in an all-too-familiar accent. That no one in the party so much as reached for a weapon as more dark-haired elves emerged from the woods spoke of how truly exhausted the rebels were - and how commonplace it had become to find themselves surrounded by elves in the middle of nowhere. Kjan was almost beginning to wish they'd just be captured or killed and have done with it. Though he wasn't averse to Jate pulling out his pet rock and blowing a few things up, either.

Before anything of the sort could happen, though, Tomith had unexpectedly stepped forward and inquired something in his own tongue. There was a brief pause, during which the elf who was ostensibly in charge (though rather young for his race, as far as Kjan could tell) eyed both Tomith and the humans behind him warily. Just as he seemed about to reply, there was a soft cry from the trees behind them, and another elf came into view.

This elf, though adorned no differently from any of the others, was quite obviously someone of authority. He was limping slightly, hinting at some recent injury, but his demeanor was no less commanding for it. "Peace, Lithon," he said, waving a dismissive hand in the direction of the archers as he appraised the group of rebels. Then he came to Tomith and broke into a wide grin. The two clasped each other by the arm - the closest to a display of affection that Kjan had seen from an elf yet - and exchanged a few words before turning back to the others.

"You must forgive Commander Lithon," the newcomer said in Common that was, surprisingly, only very faintly accented. "He is young and new to command, and we were not expecting to encounter anyone in these parts. Am I correct in surmising that you are Phantom Grey?"

"Wha - ah - yes, quite correct," the Phantom managed to get out, after blinking uncomprehendingly for a few seconds. It took him that long to halt the plummeting feeling in his stomach and send it rocketing up in the other direction, a far more pleasant sensation.

It occurred to him that he was seated on the ground when he could be greeting these elves that were not about to kill him - and really, any elf who didn't have homicidal tendencies was welcome, in his book - so the Phantom got obligingly to his feet, going to offer a hand to the authoritative elf. (And passing, in the process, an Eledhe who looked as though she might have attained the explosive powers of the Heartshard itself, had the elves not been friendly.) He threw a relieved grin in the direction of the one who'd first stepped out. "Oh, he's forgiven, I assure you. We've had far more unpleasant encounters lately."

Clearing his throat, the Phantom folded his arms over his chest. "I gather, from your significantly more friendly view of us in particular, that you don't happen to be in league with an elf lord called Raen?"

_________________

"One might say that," the elf replied with a dry smirk. "Forgive me - I have asked your name and not provided one in return. I am Adaniar, and these are my followers. Or a small number of them, at least. We consist of those opposed to the atrocities performed by 'Lord' Raen."

"Not at all unlike your own rebellion," added Tomith, after glancing to Adaniar for permission. "Kytana is not the only nation that stands divided."

Adaniar merely nodded in agreement. "I have been told that we have much in common, Phantom Grey. I would rather like to discuss our similar situations at a later time and perhaps compare notes." He glanced around at the group of rebels once more before continuing in a much more serious tone. "There is, however, a much more grave matter that requires addressing. Either I am mistaken, or you have misplaced an individual of great importance. Was there a change of plans?"

No one spoke for a moment, the rebels' expressions darkening as one. In the end, it was Tomith who spoke up. "The princess..." he began slowly.

"Is quite capable of taking responsibility for her own placement, thank you, Lord Adaniar."

Everyone in the small clearing looked up in surprise as a certain elvish princess, looking rather unamused at being left behind, strode into view. Silvryn took in the rebels' shocked expressions and merely arched an eyebrow in response, fixing her gaze on the Phantom. "I told you that I could manage on my own, did I not?"

"Our plans have changed considerably," the Phantom was saying, with a glance at Jate. "Events transpired in the to - in the tower...in the..."

He stuttered to a halt, eyes falling on Silvryn. He blinked several times, as his mind came to the natural conclusion that she was, of course, not actually there. When he was done, she was still giving him that slightly pitying look that said please-do-stop-staring-like-an-idiot. He was reasonably sure that he couldn't imagine that, especially not in such detailed likeness. So logically - the thought process continued - she must be there in the flesh, which meant -

This slightly drunken reel of incoherency grated to a screeching halt. The odd feeling in his stomach began to form itself into a recognizable emotion. Carefully, the Phantom took a step forward. He was vaguely aware of Adaniar in his peripheral vision, but the elf had faded into the inconsequential background.

"Right," he began carefully. "You, m'lady, have some explaining to do." Momentarily, he was impressed at his own calmness. It didn't last long.

The Phantom gestured helplessly, wordlessly, and began to pace back and forth. "I believe it's been days," he was saying, tone of voice taking on more intensity with every word, "days, I tell you, and nights, and the whole bloody time I've been thinking you were this close" - he demonstrated with a thumb and forefinger - "to - to death, or worse - and seven bloody levels of the underworld, all this time -!"

He was gesticulating wildly with both hands as his expletives gained intensity. The rest of the elves might as well not have existed. "All this time!" he repeated for emphasis, strain evident in his voice, turning to her. She was very pretty, he noticed distractedly. "And then the Heartshard!" Her eyes were normally very violet, but today they looked quite especially so. He groped feebly. "All - the whole time -" and she was giving him a look that meant he was being extremely stupid...

The Phantom trailed off into silence, having lost his train of thought, and just stared at her. "Bloody elves," he finished weakly.

_________________

"I was, at one point," Silvryn replied calmly, though not without a trace of amusement. "I was in the hands of Aderit and her troops for several days, and they had every intent of delivering me to Raen. They merely failed to account for the fact that their intended path back to Raen's stronghold intersected with the route taken by Lord Adaniar and his soldiers to Griffin's Fells. Combat occured, Aderit escaped, and I accompanied Adaniar to the Fells." She was about to say more when it occured to her that several of the rebels present appeared ready to fall asleep where they stood. "We should sit, if we are to continue this conversation," she said, waving a hand at the small camp that they had already set up. "You are all exhausted."

Everyone gladly complied, and after a few murmured words from Adaniar, the fire that the Phantom had been about to light sprung to life. The elves also donated a portion of their own rations for supper, which made for a meal that was a far sight better than anything Kjan could recall tasting in the past week or so. All told, the general atmosphere of the camp was considerably more relaxed when conversation resumed.

Silvryn and Adaniar took turns in explaining all that had transpired since the rescue: they had proceeded to Griffin's Fells, only to find the enemy already there and the battle about to begin. There had been a great deal of fighting the following day, and though Adaniar's troops had won, it had been very close and both sides had suffered considerable losses for such a small battle. After recovering, it had been determined that it would be best to meet the Phantom and his followers halfway, rather than make them trek to Fells for naught. They had heard voiced in the woods roughly an hour ago, gone to investigate, and the rest was already known to the rebels.

"And what of the Heartshard?" Silvryn asked when they had finished. "Were you able to find and acquire it? What happened after I departed?"

"Ate some bad food, lost the horses, climbed some stairs, almost got killed, got forced by some madman to walk much further than is humanly possible," Kjan replied absent-mindedly, ticking each event off on his fingers as he stared into the fire. "Oh, and Jate's your adoptive brother. Or something like that."

Silvryn merely stared at him in bemusement before turning to the Phantom with a slight frown. "I do hope that you can provide a more effective summary?"

The Phantom cast Kjan a nonplussed look, but it only interrupted his grin briefly. "Yes, actually," he replied, leaning back and stretching his boots toward the fire. "After you left we proceeded in various states of disgruntlement to the place indicated on the map" - here he paused to dig it out of his pocket - "and braved various terrors, including invisible horses, fog, disappearing staircases, and a threesome of homicidal elves."

Remembering abruptly that he was in the presence of many said elves, he grinned brightly round at them and added, "nothing, of course, at all resembling your illustrious selves." Eledhe's stifled snort was just audible.

"Anyway," the Phantom resumed, "after some hasty - er - debating the subject - we discovered rather by accident that this handy exploding gem worked on elves when Jate used it, and as the rumor seems to be that said gem is usable only by royalty -" he ended with a shrug, as if indicating that two and two makes four. "We deduced that of the two thrones in Kytana, Jate was responsible for one."

Having ended this explanation, slightly less concise and slightly more informative than Kjan's, the Phantom lapsed into contemplative silence. The detailing of events sounded far simpler than it was. Briefly, he glanced at Silvryn across the fire, and tried to imagine her as an elf queen. It wasn't difficult.

Perhaps he was getting undue pleasure from the fantasy, because when Eledhe elbowed him he went a little red and changed the subject hastily. "So, do you have a destination in mind, now that we've - intersected?"

_________________

Silvryn, however, appeared to still have her mind elsewhere at the present. Throughout the (brief) narrative, she had kept her gaze fixed on Jate, as though attempting to work something out. There was a resemblance, of course - certain minor features, things that one would never notice unless looking for them. If she looked closely, she could see her father. But...

"There were no other children in the royal family," she said at length, looking to Adaniar. "There was one son before me, but he died when I was very young. My par- the king and queen never had another child."

"No," Adaniar agreed, still facing Silvryn but obviously addressing all of them. "But the king's brother had a son, not terribly long after Prince Edannen's death. Since it was unlikely that the queen would give birth to another heir, Jateyani became next in line for the throne, after Princess Silvryn. There was unrest in the kingdom, even then, and it was suspected that the prince did not die entirely by accident. Thus, it was determined that the birth of another potential heir would not be announced, and that said heir would be raised in anonymity until the appropriate time. Then came the threat to Princess Silvryn, the death of the king, and the rise of your Regent. I assume that everyone present knows perfectly well how it proceeded from there."

"Not to seem insolent," Kjan spoke up after a brief pause, "but how do you know so bloody much about our kingdom that even the princess herself was not made aware of?"

Adaniar gave what amounted to a shrug. "I was the ambassador to Kytana for many years and knew the king well. I was entrusted with such information as a friend of the royal family. But unfortunately, we do not have time now for a history lesson. I have not yet shared the gravest of news: only recently, I learned that your Regent is gathering his troops. It is believed that they will march north-east within the next two days. Does anything of significance lie in that direction?"

The Phantom's finger wandered northeast on his parchment while he frowned, assimilating Adaniar's words and wondering -

With a stifled yelp, rather unbecoming to one of his status as rebel leader, he sprang to his feet as his finger wandered off the edge, directly into the Earth's Teeth with intent towards the Keep. Instantly, his thoughts spun. How? They hadn't been discovered when he'd left, there'd been no inkling of danger. The one place that might have been risky was the inconvenient explosion of half a mountainside, but he'd been confident that the resident dwarves and several more resident mages-on-the-run would have been able to deal with that - the Phantom realized, abruptly, that he'd never discovered the culprit behind said explosion. He groaned aloud.

Eledhe, still seated, was wearing her customary mask of apathy, but behind it she was not a little alarmed. Explosion of a mountainside. The convenient meeting she'd had with a reconnoitering employee of the Regent. The likewise convenient information she'd shared with him - Falch'nus? - and that was probably now coming back to bite her. Perhaps her mask grew a little wooden.

The elves across the fire, though far less of a threat, were still the type to be uncomfortably perceptive. Eledhe hoped they weren't looking at her and maintained an outwardly neutral mien. Inwardly she was furiously working out if there was anyone who could have said for certain that she was the one to have spilled such valuable information as the Keep's whereabouts.

The Phantom, while his less than reliable half-elven mercenary's heart was sinking, was feeling considerably alarmed. "That," he managed in slightly strangled tones - but maintaining a certain amount of composure otherwise - "is the location of something of considerable significance, yes."

Taking a breath, he crumpled the map and stuffed it back in his pocket. There was no way they could reach the Keep in a mere two days. If the Regent had indeed mustered his forces to attack them - and there was nothing in that particular direction to attack, besides the Keep - then they would have to hope that their defenses held. They did live inside a mountain, he reminded himself. Surely they could manage a few days.

He realized that he was standing in silence, fists clenched, and with a considerable effort sat back down. His feet were already itching to be moving. He cast a look at Silvryn. "We'll have to head for the Keep. As soon as possible."

_________________

Had Kjan been more awake and less surrounded by intimidating elves, his response to this bit of news might have been a bit more colorful. As it was, however, he limited himself to only three expletives, mostly repeated under his breath with a few other random words like 'Regent' and 'army' and....right, four expletives.

Silvryn, for her part, looked just as surprised as the others at this revelation. Briefly, her expression suggested that she was rather upset that Adaniar had not informed her of this earlier, but she quickly assumed a deliberately impassive mien. "Yes, we must," she agreed as soon as she trusted her voice to remain level. A threat to the Keep was no small matter. Not only was it the one place over the past five years where they had never had to fear the Regent's intervention, but countless refugees had made their homes there. If the Keep were overcome, then the rebellion would be effectively crushed - no doubt the Regent's strategy.

As Kjan leaned over to snatch the map back out of the Phantom's pocket, Silvryn instinctively moved to examine the parchment more closely alongside the two. Regardless of which kingdom was now technically hers, this rebellion would always be closest to her heart. They had begun it together, and they would end it together.

"If we cut across country here," she said, indicating the spot where the mountain range began to curve to the west, "we eliminate both distance and the difficulty of mountain traveling. This is primarily land held by nobility, yes?"

"Sort of. Your Highness," Kjan added as an afterthought when several of the elves seemed surprised at his informality. "Mostly just minor lords who are only that way because of some small favor done by their second cousin several years ago. And anyway, Phantom, do you recall the old road that cuts through there? There's a better one now, so it's hardly ever used, but I'm fairly certain it still goes all the way. That would be more or less direct, at least for the first few days, and faster than trying to pick our way through trees."

"There is little purpose in discussing this overmuch tonight," Adaniar interjected smoothly. "It is late, and you are clearly exhausted. I advise that you refrain from setting out until first light tomorrow."