Falcon managed to find us shelter for the night away from the rubble of his former lodge, and then we headed north towards the Circle of Thunder. It did not take much effort to convince them to go there, not when the weather had turned suspiciously foul, and Zenari had managed to get Siax to translate some orcish she'd heard, something that made it seem as though the attack at the lodge had been as much a delaying tactic as an intendedly fatal one. The weather made it difficult to travel, but we managed.
We were ambushed on the road by the shaman Zenari and Siax had seen through the portal back at the Woodland Manse, along with four hulking berserker type of orcs. New knowledge allowed me to grasp onto the shaman and send him from this plane while I concentrated, but despite our best efforts, he was able to flee when the spell brought him back. It was a useful spell, and I had heard of it from the stories of Shadow of the Pride, for one of her group had used it, but it was still new to me. Unfamiliar. It was a little like Ceremony around the edges, but twisted and brutal enough to make the physical transition between planes.
Travelling onwards towards the Circle of Thunder, the weather hid our approach as we got there, finding a stone circle with chanting anchorites, and a storm gathering force directly above them. The pendant I had been searching for sat in the centre; a focus perhaps, and one I was determined to relieve them of. I remembered the words in Grannoc's journal that told of how without it the dragon had been drawn to the last attempt to summon the storm. While Idris distracted them, I dashed forward, and then utilised a skill I had only come into the possession of, one that let me grasp the pendant from a distance and bring it back to myself. The anchorites were not pleased. They were scared. I will admit a part of me wanted them to be.
The dragon came and slaughtered the anchorites, something we ourselves would have struggled to do alone. We hid in a small cave beneath the mound the circle sat on while it did its grizzly work, entrance hidden by Zenari's magic. Or most of us did. Siax and Falcon had been on the other side of the area, shooting from a distance, but the weather made it difficult. Falcon had run in to engage the anchorites before the dragon had appeared, but hadn't got the warning from Zenari in time, and had run south.
When the dragon was gone, I helped track Falcon with magic by focusing on the weapon he'd been using, but only found it and not the man, and not a body. There were no body parts, no soul, just dragon tracks and then nothing. The dragon seemed to have plucked Falcon from the ground and flown off.
It is not good, not only because Falcon himself was a skilled fighter and experienced, but because his loss will make Siax even less able to be reasoned with. I did not try, letting the others try and temper his behaviour with reason. He would not want to hear my words, few ever do when it comes to death.
And yet, despite that, I have some small hope that Falcon may yet be alive. A small one, but there nonetheless. Dragons are known to take worshippers sometimes, and servants, and Falcon was very visibly fighting against the anchorites, whom the dragon wished to kill, and he ran away in fear, something that would have appealed to the dragon's ego. If Falcon played his cards right, he could perhaps survive, but at the same time I do not know whether he could survive the cold of the mountains where I could sense the dragon had flown towards. I did not mention this to Siax, or anyone. I have some wisdom when they clearly needed to cling to that hope themselves, if they have any.
We rested a short time, and then headed north to the orc camp nearby where we found it deserted. There was little enough to scavenge, but we did find enough cold weather gear to supply us all, even the half-ogre we had sent to the gold mine. In this at least we had succeeded. In truth, other than Falcon's fate, we had done far better than I feared. But Siax was unable to be reasoned with, and if others had different views, I had not heard them. They were determined to now go and kill the dragon.
Temporary reprieve came in the form of a message from Factoré, who said that the food supply at Axeholm was in a dire state, and she wanted to see us. It was decided that I, who could summon great swathes of food with magic, would travel on Idris's summoned horse Barolt to Axeholm and do that, while they would continue on foot to the gold mine where I would meet up with them afterwards.
Although the travel was gruelling, especially as I am not used to riding atop a horse, I was glad for some time on my own away from them. Aches and pains could be mended, and I knew my patience with Siax's desperation to save Falcon would run thin quickly. It was a good solution for us all, and I hoped that the days of travel for them would likewise temper their determination with practical thoughts when exhaustion pulled at them more.
I sit now in the small camp I have made out of easy sight, with Barolt nearby keeping watch. My rations are warm thanks to the small camping stove that Factoré made me, and it is peaceful. The pull to the mountains is still there, but less in a way, now that I am once more travelling towards them. It is pleasant to have that silence with only the sounds of nature around me again. It feels closer now, the ending of my task here, now I have the chance to breathe without the words and intentions of others pressing. I could always feel it before when my task on a mountain was nearly done, and it fills me with a sense of peace, no matter the dangers and uncertainties ahead.