by Ed Greenwood
"Oh, I've been walking all my days-" Semoor sang, but his mocking song ended abruptly when Doust drove an elbow into a gut, amid a general chorus of "Shut up, Semoor!"
No one, it seemed, felt much like talking yet.
That lasted until they reached the crest of the hill. Shadowdale wasn't stretched out before them on its far side but lay somewhere farther on. Of course. Out here, things were always farther off than they seemed.
Yet they knew that walking would lose the Forest Kingdom behind them, so they stopped and looked back at mountains and wild, rolling woods they didn't recognize, largely lost in morning mists.
"Farewell, Cormyr," Semoor said. His fellow Knights nodded silently. A few breaths later, he added, "Rest quiet, Narantha."
Florin flinched back as if someone had slapped him across the face, then stepped forward again, eyes suddenly glimmering. "Narantha," he murmured. "I'll never forget you."
"Farewell, Espar and all our kin," Doust said.
Pennae chuckled softly and waved cheerfully in the direction of the Forest Kingdom. "Gods smile on you, all you rampant young noble lordlings. I'll miss you-arrogance, heaps of coins, preening codpieces, and all."
She turned away, leaving Islif rolling her eyes. The tall warrior woman gazed back in the direction of Cormyr then said simply, "I will be back."
Jhessail sighed and turned away without a farewell. "Let's go on. I want to see Shadowdale."
Silently they started trudging along the road again. The red-haired mage walked along with her head bent, her eyes on the toes of her boots.
Florin stretched out a long arm that curled around her shoulders and gathered her against him. "Hey, Jhess," he said. "We've been through all this together. Remember that, lass."
And suddenly, out of nowhere, Jhessail discovered that she wanted to cry.
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