The Last Satyr: The Company is Formed Part 1

They walked in awe down the sunny slope from the mine exit and towards the safety of the trees below. Yet a brooding quiet had come over them. The welcome relief of escaping that underground dungeon behind them was soon replaced. The death of Belam, their proud and brave fellow, weighed heavily in the air. They were now one less. Yet not a word of it was spoken. For none knew the man before leaving Linthiel or had ever even heard of him before and yet now they knew he was a man of greatness. They felt a deep sorrow that they knew him so little and that his time with them had been so short.

“There is a lake ahead below,” Graybeard told Amien. “We shall camp there.”

There was, indeed, a great lake below. It appeared as if by magic as they crested the tree ridge. It was a deep, dark emerald blue surrounded by the eastern woods with green, grass-lined shores and two distant deer on the far side. It was flat, calm and mirror-smooth and perfectly reflected the trees and snow capped mountain off of it. There was the greeting of fresh air and a honking sound of birds carried. There were ducks and geese sitting out on the water, like a painter’s masterpiece. It seemed a beautiful, heavenly sight, a startling eureka moment coming unbidden from the boys after being so long underground.

Mirror Water Lake was its name, Graybeard told them, as if he knew the way with the trees growing right to its edge. It would take a while to reach yet, but it was all downhill, and it stayed in ready view so that they never lost it. When they reached it, one could even see a passing school of trout slowly making their way along the shore.

Being fed by melting mountain snow, it was a cold water lake but, on the shallow south shore, the sun warmed the silted bottom, making it suitable for bathing. Amien bid the boys swim to get rid of the dirt and tallow smoke of the mines from their journey.

So in they went whooping and prancing out in the water, and chased each other round and round, shedding clothes as they went until they were naked. Then continued the frolic further out, found a rock they could run and jump off of, and this greatly increased the fun. Now and then, they formed a circle and splashed water in each other’s faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other, with averted faces to avoid the showering sprays. Then they finally gripped and struggled till the best boy dunked his neighbor, and then they all went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time.

“Look at them,” said Graybeard, watching from the shore with a sigh. “Not a one of them is on the watch.”

“They are just children, Graybeard,” Amien said, watching from beside him. “They must not only wash their bodies but their minds of the horror they faced today. Belam’s death must also be cleaned from them.”

“They did well though, didn’t they?” answered Graybeard, glancing towards him for his opinion.

“They did very well.”

“Of course, they were only goblins,” added the ancient keeper.

“That they were. But for only being goblins, they took down four dwarves and Belam.”

“Yes,” said Graybeard gravely. “Belam will be a sore loss to us.”

Amien nodded in agreement while they sat in the crisp, clean grass amongst the sounds of bumblebees and a raven cawing while a few flies buzzed about. The sweet smell of lilac mixed with fragrance of mint filled the air as the sun warmed them. the human was thinking, though, about what the keeper had said before. “You mentioned you could feel Lolth,” he noted. “What did you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said,” responded Graybeard. “She is a part of me. I feel her as surely as I feel my own hand.”

“Do you feel her still?”

“I do but I cannot feel how close she is if that is what you mean.”

“Then she can still be pursuing us?”

“Yes. But she won’t come out of the mine by day. The light would hurt her eyes.”

“But tonight?”

“Tonight we shall post a guard.”

“You’re not worried about her?”

Graybeard smiled and opened his sackcloth, producing his pipe and tobacco and casually lighting it. He drew a few puffs and then answered.

“I always worry about her,” he said thoughtfully. “But it’s not us she’s after. She wants the boy.”

“She has already sent a displacer beast and warg wolves after him. What does she send now? Herself?”

“It could be herself or even the ogress. We don’t know what’s back there. What I sensed was of black blood and there’s nothing worse than a Fell creature of black blood. Lolth's blood is silver, or it was before she was cast into the Demon Pits,” he added. “It might have changed since with then, but if it's not her, it is certainly a creature of Lolth’s making.”

“A monster?”

Graybeard nodded and added, “A demon monster.”

Amien paused to think about that before asking. “But you don’t have us running from it.”

“Run where? There is nowhere we can go that it cannot find us.”

“I see." Amien changed subjects, "So is it true Lolth has the body of a giant spider and the head of a beautiful woman?”

“Yes. Unlike me, it seems that was her reward for a previous misbehavior. That happened to her after we were split apart.”

"As punishment?"

"By her own design."

“I'm sure it would make an interesting tale," Amien mused before asking. "Would she come after the boy herself?”

“We had better hope not. She will stop at nothing if she does.”

The two went back to watching the boys play. When they were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl on the cool grass, and lie there and stare up at the clouds, and by and by race for the water again and go through the original performance once more. Finally, it occurred to them that both Amien and Graybeard had yet to swim and so they rousted the two adults and made them join them, though they were most reluctant to do so as it left no one on watch. But they soon had fun also and remembered how it felt to be young again. It was a woodland paradise and included all the beauty of the natural world.

After they got out from swimming, Amien led them in a game of mumblety-peg where they each had to peg their knives (or the dwarf his broad axe) into a tree under Amien’s watchful eye, tutelage, and encouragement. They were all quite skillful, and young Joe found himself in a tough match. The dwarf’s skill was quite extraordinary and his ax blade heavy and sharp. Joe had borrowed Amien’s dagger, not quite so perfectly balanced as the boy’s knife, which the satyr now threw with great effect. Ronthiel’s fine eye served him well in judging distance with his own dagger, so every contest was fiercely disputed and, if someone made an exceptionally good throw, Amien would call out, “Now that’s a dead drow!”

When that amusement finally wore off, young Joe, Ronthiel, and Marroh had another swim, but the boy stayed with Amien. Except for old Joe, he had never known a human man before, and Amien seemed quite remarkable, more so even than Belam. The boy found he liked to be around him. He had honor, trust, and a certain thoughtfulness—everything the boy did not. It drew him to the other like a magnet. But Graybeard soon sent him fishing to land several trout for dinner, leaving the two adults to their man talk.

“Young Joe throws well,” Amien said when they were left alone. “With a little work, I shall make him as good as Belam ever was.”

“That would be wise if it can be done.”

“He will need a shield.”

“Tell the boy. He’ll get him one.”

For a moment, both men were silent.

“Why do you lead children to fight men’s battles?” Amien finally, if not abruptly, asked.

It was a question that long been waiting to be asked and one the old keeper did not avoid.

“I don’t lead anyone. I only advise the satyr,” said Graybeard. “I am his captain of intelligence and wizardry. Like you, I follow him.”

“Yet what of the others?”

“They agreed to follow the satyr while you and Belam were hired by the elves. I found none of you.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes. That’s all. Besides me, the only ones willing to follow the boy were other boys.”

“And so you would let the satyr lead children to their doom?”

“Doom?” repeated Graybeard, turning his eyes to Amien in answer. “Not by my lifetime,” he said. “They are all doomed to die from short lives, anyway, save the elf, and he has taken a vow of servitude to the satyr. I don’t lead them to their fate. The boy does.”

“To their doom? Because you advise him.”

“To their doom? No one knows that. Not even you. I said to their fate. It may include doom but if I truly believed that I would not be here. Nor must he take my advice. I give no orders. Name one decision I made for him.”

“I can’t and which is obviously your intention. Yet we are hardly an army. Why do you not lead an army of Light Elves?”

“First, there is no army of Light Elves to lead. You saw the one I spoke with and whose pig we dined on. The others are the same. Second, no elf will go underground. Did you not notice Ronthiel today? Third, even if I did lead an army, Lolth sees my mind. She would deduce my plans.”

“So what need have you for a satyr boy?”

“There are two answers to that question." Graybeard looked off in the distance as he chose his words. "Lolth does not know his mind as she knows mine. So I need him for that. I also know nothing about satyrs. I figure, if I am to find and rescue the satyrs, the best way to do it is with another satyr.”

“Shouldn’t you have waited until he’s older?”

“I should have, but I couldn’t. If the enemy had their way, he’d be dead already and certainly before he got any older than he is now. He already has a displacer beast hunting him and knows a drider. It seemed now was a good time as any to get him out of Linthiel.”

“I see. I suppose that explains it. Yet why do you go to save the satyrs?” Amien continued, wanting to know. “For you are not their keeper.”

Graybeard blew a thoughtful puff of smoke and finally turned his eye to Amien, weighing his reply. It seemed the question was not as innocent as it sounded.