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. Survival itself was a struggle. Game
was scarce. Farmland was either scorched by drought or
flooded by newly created rivers. Famine and disease drove
people to flee wrecked homes and villages and seek a better
life that, rumor had it, was always over the next mountain.
Even good men and women became desperate as they
listened to their children cry from hunger. Rumor had it that
several elven cities in nearby Qualinost had been attacked
by humans.
This must have been true, for when Michael and Nikol
accidentally came too near the borders of that land, a flight
of elven arrows warned them to turn aside.
Nikol wore her sword openly; the bleak and chill sun
shone on the blade. Her armor and breastplate and her
knightly air of confidence daunted many. Most robbers
were nothing more than ruffians, who wanted food in their
bellies, not a sharp blade. But, on occasion, she and Michael
met with those who were well armed and were not afraid of
a "beardless knight."
Nikol and Michael fought when they were cornered, ran
when they were outnumbered. The cleric had taken to
carrying a stout staff, which he learned to swing with
clumsy effect, if not skill. He fought for Nikol's sake, more
than his own. Plunged into despair over the chaos he saw in
the world, he would, if he had been alone, gone the way of
so many others before him.
Nikol credited him with keeping her alive during the
dark days before the Cataclysm. Now it was she who
returned the favor. Her love alone bore him along
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