Chapter V: SHADOW STRIKE

Chapter IV: The Road to Tradesdale

espite the events of the last few weeks, and despite their aching bones and the flinching at shadows, it was hard not to feel rested after a night spent in Legend's Hollow.

The party convened at dawn's breaking in the main tavern--the oldest building. Legend's Hollow was once simply just a wayfaring tavern. It had now blossomed into a resort of sorts... a midway station between Cöthrom and Tradesdale. There were now restaurants, pubs, a theater, several buildings with grand rooms, stables and even a natural hot springs. Legend's Hollow boasted one of the most beautiful locations in all of the Kaembran Empire. It was a welcome moment of rest for the travelers from Cöthrom.



Marco squinted his eyes. There was no sign of the gyspy woman called Vandra. And that troubled him. The fact that they'd all dreamt about her and she'd spoken their names last night... the fact that she's read his fortune and it rang true... it all troubled him.

He was still uncomfortable around Aeroth. The man seemed so focused on getting to safety and figuring out all the answers to all the questions that he hadn't stopped once to interrogate the magician. Marco counted himself lucky for that, for he never would wish himself again to be on the wrong side of Aeroth's wrath. Better to keep moving. Keep finding answers. But with no gyspy woman and no sign of anyone from "the trade", he was frustrated and completely at a loss.



Wyveryn, too, kept his eyes darting about. But for different reasons. For one, he hoped to find a barmaid and order a drink. For another, he was considering finding a way out of this mess. The more he traveled with these people, the more he disliked them and felt a great urge to leave. Could he leave at this point? Or was he also trapped like a rabbit? He watched in irritation as Jewelynna caressed the baby on her lap. Who brings babies into taverns? It would certainly draw attention.

He ordered a drink and sulked.

Two men wearing red and brown tunics strode past Aeroth and muttered, "Scum" under their breath.

"Be careful, or that may be the last word you utter."

One turned back to look at him and just laughed.

Aeroth was sure to show his half-elven ears, but the men moved on. It was clearly time to stop looking like a soldier from the Liberist Army. If only Tradesdale were closer. He could buy himself a tunic and begin passing into his new life.

"Laereth." He said out loud. "That will be my new name. It is close enough to Aeroth, but different enough. And I like it. Laereth I will be from this day forth."

As if responding to his name choice, the baby started to cry. There came irritated stares from those in the room. Many halted their conversations to glare pointedly at the group. And no amount of soothing did the trick. It was time to make a decision, and Aeroth was good at that.

"Let's go." He ordered, pushing his chair aside.

"I just ordered my drink." Grumbled Wyveryn.

"Now."

Wyveryn had had just about enough of being ordered around. He was nomadic by nature. And though he'd had soldier training, he knew now that he would never be a soldier like Aeroth. He was too much of a free thinker. He liked to make his own rules. Aeroth needed structure. Wyveryn needed the forest, a weapon, and not much else. It was then that he decided that he would part ways with the company upon reaching Tradesdale. Any sooner might put him in danger, but any later and he just might start saying, "Sir, yes, sir" when commanded.

Outside, in the beautiful courtyard of Legend's Hollow, Jewelynna did something strange. She attempted to hand the crying baby to Wyveryn, whose face went ghostly white.

"I don't want to-"

"Give her to me." Aeroth snatched her away before Wyveryn could grasp her. Still she cried.

"Will nothing make this kid happy?!" Wyveryn complained.

"I already have two whining babies. I don't need another one." And with that, Aeroth sat beside a waterfall fountain and sang a song once sung to him by Lux himself. He watched, in amazement, as the crying babe slowly stilled and listened intently to his voice.

"They battled for days and they battled for nights
A thousand, it's said,
A thousand, it's said,
But General Tieren won at dawn's last light
And the trails of the city ran red.

The twilight began then, the dawning of Tyr
To balance and cure
To balance and cure
Those brave soldiers gave us a world without fear
Though it was not without forfeiture."

And Tieren pointed at the dragon in the sky
The last of its kind
The last of its kind
'With the death of this ancient, all magic must die'
And so dawns the age of mankind
So dawns the age of mankind.'

Wyveryn thought the lyrics morose, but so fond was Aeroth's memory of the song being sung to him by General Lux that the baby was soothed and soon slept. Jewelynna let out a sigh of relief, and took the child back into her arms.

****



Marco slipped away from the group to purchase cloaks and to ask around for the gypsy woman. No one seemed to have seen her or heard of her. Such news was disconcerting. Having trained all his life as an assassin, Marco knew that people always left a trail.

At long last, he found one man who said he'd seen her.

"She said she left something for one of you." He shrugged. "Don't know which one, and don't know what it was. Don't even know why she bothered telling me. But you asked."

"Thank you, sir." Swift as a bolt of lightning, the magician returned to their quarters, only to find a small wooden box on Wyveryn's bed. There was a golden lock built in... nothing beyond Marco's ability to pick. And the urge to see what was inside certainly was there. But he'd made enough bad decisions lately. In this case it was best, perhaps, not to know.

He pocketed the object and left the inn to find the others.



****

The party's plans to continue their sail down the river were thwarted by the sight of a group of guards gathering at the docks. Upon closer inspection, Wyveryn recognized the white-bearded fisherman from Blythe. And of course, standing two full heads taller than the rest of them, was Jigger. The young half-elf took a step back and tried not to let the others see the beads of sweat on his face.



"I think we should go. Now."

Aeroth peered at him angrily. "What did you do back in Blythe? Who are those people?"

"Not important." Said Tik. "But I agree. We should go. Now."

"On foot?!"

"On foot. Do you have a better option?"

Aeroth swore under his breath. "I told you two to find a boat. I never said anything about stealing--"

"You said by any means necessary!" Wyveryn protested.

"Just walk." Said Marco. "We can discuss this later. Here, put this cloak on. We leave at once."

Aeroth's grumblings continued long after Legend's Hollow fell back from their sight. He grumbled as the sun rose high above the treetops. He grumbled as he placed each foot in front of the other. Instinctively, the group walked a few paces away from him, lest he erupt like a volcano.

****



The road to Tradesdale would be a two-day journey by foot. It was scenic, with mountains and lakes alongside it. There was decent rainfall in the southern Kaembran regions, resulting in lush trees and foliage. There was little cause to worry about Briagands. The road was well-traveled, for Trade's Day was in two days. The company would arrive just in time for the festival. So joining them on the road were merchants, fur traders, blacksmith, weavers, cobblers, bakers, jewelers, and chandlers. All seemed excited for the upcoming trade, and since the the hibernus snows were melting, they were enjoying the warm weather.

Aeroth and his companions were mostly quiet. There was a feeling in the air left unspoken, but Aeroth knew they mourned the loss of their friend, Hiroko. He had been like a right-hand man to him in the short time he'd known him. And Aeroth was sure that if they'd had more time together, they would have been a force to be reckoned with. It saddened him now to think of what had become of him. But he said nothing, as the others said nothing. There was no use talking about the past.





An old couple, hobbling along with their mule and a small wagon, struck up a conversation with Aeroth's group. Marco, curious for information, pressed them gently for information. They spoke animatedly about a "special event" they'd gotten tickets for.

"What event?" Asked Tik, having overheard the subject.

"Oh, you know. The event! The one everyone's traveled to Tradesdale for on Trade's Day! Celebrating the son of Tyr! He will save us all!"

"The son of Tyr?"

"Aye!" Said the old woman. "He is risen again. And the Cardinal comes to speak to us at the Event in Tradesdale. Everyone is going. You should see if you can get tickets."

"Eh?" Said the old man. "There's thickets ahead? I don't see none."

"Oh hush up and just walk your ass, Virgil."

"Hrumph!"

An Event. The son of Tyr. And the Cardinal. At the mention of Simeon Okra, Aeroth's face darkened. Jewelynna recognized the look... as if the hungry lion was about to pounce upon the unsuspecting deer. Though Simeon Okra was hardly unarmed prey. Even if the Cardinal was speaking at the event, how would they get to him? What was Aeroth scheming in that large head of his?

As the day wore on, the people traveling along the road began to speak in whispers. At twilight, the road was silent. Soon, the merchants, traders, blacksmiths, chandlers and even Virgil and the little old woman created a circular caravan of wagons to set up camp for the night.

"What are you doing?" Marco asked the little old woman.

"It's not safe to travel along the road at night alone." She said. "You're best to stay here with us."



And as if her words took form, a sixth sense shot into the back of Tik, Wyveryn, and Marco's neck. Their hairs stood on end, as they watched the shadows from the trees dance around them.

"This is not good." Whispered Wyveryn. "It's the same things that attacked us at the Temple of Tyr."

Tik looked up to see shadows moving through the treetops.

"No," he said. "This time it's different. They're in the treetops."



They moved inside the caravan, wondering what sort of protection the group would give them. If this was Bâhlmüt, there would be no protection to be found. It would simply depend on numbers. If this was the army of Wraiths, then there was no hope. Aeroth and his company watched and waited.

And then, at the worst possible time, the baby erupted in tears.

"Calm her! Quiet her down." Said Wyveryn.

"I can't!" Jewelynna tried desperately to soothe the weeping babe, but nothing seemed to help. And to make matters worse, a guard approached them with a lit torch in his hand and the other hand on the hilt of his sword.

"You'll silence the child now, or you risk all our lives." He instructed.

"You'll do best not to give us orders." Aeroth challenged him. Tik and Wyveryn shook their heads.

"Who are you? Some peasant? We are here to protect these people. You cannot silence your child, then you'll kill us all."

"I do not need you to tell me what to do." It was clear Aeroth was losing control of the situation. Even worse, all his anger and frustrations were being thrust full force at the guard. His companions behind him grabbed his arms, trying to pull him back before he said something that would throw them out into the darkness, helpless and alone.

"You have exactly ten seconds..." Said the guard.

This time it was Tik who held the baby and sang a song of the Elladrin. In relief, the company watched the baby relax in his arms and cease her cries. Just then, the trees moved and every guard with a torch held it out at the shadows. Aeroth threw his staff out onto the trail and watched in horror as several shadows scattered. There seemed to come from them a collective hiss of displeasure, and whatever it was just beyond the caravan backed away in revulsion. It did not seem to care for the light. He recalled throwing his spear at the drow man from the caves of Cöthrom, and realized that he wasn't making any friends lately.



Aeroth turned haughtily to the guard. "You are very lucky."

"No, you're lucky. There's more of us than there is of you." And with that, he left.

"He'd better be careful." Banger muttered under her breath to the night air. "If he's going to pretend to be a peasant, he has to learn to act like one."

****

That night, they dreamt again. This time, the voice belonged to Marco's mother. He recognized it instantly, but could not keep her from telling his secrets to his companions.



Marco awoke to find Aeroth staring right at him. He rubbed his eyes and did not need to ask if the others had seen what he'd seen. Trying not to act disconcerted that the others now knew many of his secrets, he tried to console himself with the fact that at least his mother had not written his true name.

"This baby will help me find my sister before she dies."

"The child's connected to your sister?"

"The child is connected to us."

Even as he said it, Marco did not realize just how true those words really were.

****

The closer the party came to Tradesdale, the busier the road became. Soon it was cluttered with horses and wagons, people and goats. The travelers felt like sheep being herded through a fence as they passed the city gates.

It was a glorious place. Having once been a home of thieves and cutthroats, Tradesdale had thrived under the strict government established by General Lux. It had been built along the river, with a friendly view of the mountains and valleys. Indeed, Tradesdale seemed a most welcoming place. Wyveryn, however, though it much too overcrowded. Jewelynna kept her hood about her head, frightened that someone of her family might recognize her. She glanced worriedly at the baby, who'd been in and out of sleep and then would cry in hunger. But what did fey babies eat? She was too scared to find a wet nurse lest it kill the babe. For she and the others were discovering the vast differences between human and fey.

It was when they made their way into the town square that they first caught a glimpse of the statue. It was made of a black opal stone, so dark that it did not even reflect the sun's light. The piece was still under construction, so there was scaffolding around and sculptors busily chiseling away.



It was obviously a man, proud and tall, his handsome face bearing toward the sky, his best bare and his belt and pants of Matsudiian design. He wore sandals on his feet, and there was a sword in his right hand which he raised to the heavens. A shield was on his left arm. His hair was long and flowing, his face outlined in tatoos.

Jewelynna let out a gasp. This was when they collectively recognized the figure of their lost friend, Hiroko Dragonborn. Suddenly they became aware of the people around them, passing by the statue. They touched the back of their fist to their foreheads and bowed in reverence. Some mothers held their babies up to the opal Hiroko and whispered words of prayer.

"Tyr's balls." Aeroth said, stunned.

"So, this must be the 'son of Tyr'." Said Tik. "Unbelievable. I used to get drunk with him in Cöthrom."

But the rest of the party, so accustomed to pithy comments and witticism, merely stood in a long, staggering silence.



****

Eventually they separated, trying not to notice the deification of their friend from Cöthrom. Truthfully, they each had their own business in some place or another. And the agreement was to convene at The Elf King Inn by drawbridge of the castle. Aeroth and Tik went to buy supplies, Tik itching for the opportunity to find some swords. Jewelynna thought it best to go straight to the lodging and tend to the babe. Marco silently went his own way without many words.

But where Wyveryn was going, he had no intention of coming back.

He walked down as many alleys and smaller streets to avoid the crowds, but it was near impossible not to. Trades Day was the biggest day of the year in Tradesdale. And Wyveryn's ears hurt from all the merchants barking at him to trade goods. His feet kept moving, one in front of other, until he found himself in front of the library steps.

It was an impressive building, obviously made to look older, but Wyveryn knew the library could not have been one of the original structures of Tradesdale. It must have been built by Lux's government. And the off-handed thought made him wonder who was acting running this city now the General Lux was dead? The thought flittered away as he found himself drawn to the great big pair of wooden doors. They were already open, inviting him in.

And so he went.

****

It was along one of the main streets by a large brown and brick tavern that Marco caught sight of the first familiar face he'd encountered since Cöthrom. The man would have been otherwise inconspicuous. He was dressed in a simple brown tunic, tan breeches and brown leather boots. He leaned against the building as if he owned it, smoking a corn cob pipe. And as Marco approached him, the man made no sign of recognition. Indeed, he did not even glance up from his pipe.



He merely said, "Well, Magician, it has been a long time."

"Indeed. That it has. Greetings, Trickster."

"Greetings, Marcus Magentum. What brings you to this city in these dark times?"

"Information gathering. What do you know about this event?"

The one called The Trickster was a young, good-looking man. His ears were slightly pointed at the end, marking him as half-elven. His hair was sandy blonde, his eyes a mischievous brown--so dark they could almost be marked as black. And his demeanor was that of a cocky young fellow who owned the entire city. Marco had known the Trickster for many years. He's seen others mistakenly underestimate this boy, and pay a high price for it. The Trickster had been known by many names. Within the guild, many jokingly called him "The Boss" for his high sense of self-worth. But Marco wouldn't have really been surprised if this boy really was the Boss of Tradesdale. He knew everyone's business and no one knew his. The sign of a good thief.

The Trickster cocked his brow in a way that made him seem thoughtful. "The Event is a joke. The people suffer. Dark things come through the city gates at night. They feel unprotected and are looking for a savior. Hence the statue erected at the City Gates. They believe the son of Tyr has risen, and he is embodied in Hiroko Dragonborn."

"I believe Hiroko is being held here. Have you seen him?"

The Trickster scoffed. "Seen him? No. They say he's dead. Or risen, rather. I supposed he will have had to die in order to rise."

"Is it true the Cardinal is speaking tonight?"

"Aye. To give healings. But I like it not. The whole thing seems too staged. There is trouble afoot, Marco. You came to Tradesdale at a very bad time, perhaps. Hopefully, it won't cost you your life. But I can't promise that. You don't know what it's been like here these last few weeks. Ever since Redemption Day, as the Fool Prince likes to call it, children have been stolen from their beds at night. People close and lock their doors at twilight, for we are under some kind of silent attack. And what's worse, we are receiving no help from the castle. They shut their gates and let none in until the morning. The people are angry. They call for justice. So you see, if the Cardinal had not come himself, there would have been a riot."

"You think so?"

"Aye, magician. People will do just about anything if they are frightened and desperate enough." He flipped a gold coin nimbly in his hand an pocketed it.

"I see. Thank you for your time, sir. You've given me much to think on." And then, something pulled at Marco. A distant tug, but it told him to move on from there. And perhaps find the library.

"Best of luck to you, magician. Tyr knows, you will need it."


****



The library was much larger on the inside than it seemed on the outside. Never before had Wyveryn seen so many dead trees in one place. He walked, the heels of his boots clicking on the wooden floor. It was such an odd sensation, moving silently through the forest of books, as if he were being led by the hand. Then he came to an aisle, empty and dimly lit. The impulse to go there overcame him, as gentle as a voice whisperig the suggestion in his ear.

That was when he heard a voice, thin and high pitched like the squeak of a mouse.

"Down heeeeere." It said.

Wyveryn stared at the seemingly normal book from which he thought the voice had come from. It was impossible not to look over his shoulder to see if someone was playing a trick on him.

"Go ahead... open me."

It was a small brown leather-bound book, with a gold emblem on the front. Amazed, Wyveryn picked it up and stared dumbly at the thing. There came a flatulence sound from it... a giggle... and then, "Wyveryn!"

His heart stammered in his chest.

"Who are you?"

"Who am I is not so thoughtful as what am I where who is not.. ful."

"What??"

"I am the Book of Everything... well, almost. I know the things of downright truth... and upmost. Inside my pages are the things of which I boast. Just don't forget I know it all.... well... almost."

Wyveryn blinked.

"What am I to do with you?"

"Go ahead... open me."

Feeling absurd, Wyveryn opene the cover to the title page. It read:

The Book of Everything... well, almost.

"Are you really talking to me?"

"Yes."

"Did you compel me to come here?"

"Yes."

To himself, he said, "I am going mad."

"Yes."

It dawned on Wyveryn that for the first time in his half-elven life, he'd been insulted by a book.

"I've half a mind to tear your pages out."

"Watch it, wise guy."

"If you're so knowledgable, tell me what I'm to ask you."

"Well, if I knew everything I would be omnipotent, wouldn't I?"

Wyveryn groaned in frustration. He was tired of games. "I don't know what to ask you."

"Go ahead, ask me something, be it fifty things or one thing."

"Am I an idiot for talking to a book?"

"Yes."

"I hate you."

****

One by one, each member of the company was summoned to the library. Aeroth, Tik, and Jewelynna, who'd been trying desperately to comfort the hungry baby in The Elf King Inn, suddenly heard the call and began making their way back through the crowded city streets.

Marco, however, reached it first. He climbed the library steps and found his way inside. It did not take long to notice Wyveryn, staring at a small brown leather-bound book, seemingly talking to himself. Suspicion entered his heart, and he silently slipped into the next aisle, listening to the conversation.

The voice on the other end was one he knew well. Tiny, almost feminine, like the squeak of a mouse. Marco knew instantly what Wyveryn had found.

"Who owns you?" Asked the half-elf.

"My owner is Horatio
Who he is, you'll never know!
Where he is's essential though
To finding where you're supposed to go!"

"Who's Horatio?" Asked Wyveryn.


****


Upon hearing the name, Marco stepped around the corner to reveal himself. This had gone on long enough.

"Wyveryn."

The half-elf desperately tired to hide the book, but it was much too vocal.

"Hello? Helloooo?"

"What are you hiding behind your back, Wyveryn?"

"Nothing."

"I am the book of--"

"Shutup!"

"Sometimes, it's like talking to rocks," muttered the grumpy book. "ROCKS."

"Wyveryn."

"What?"

The look Marco gave was one of the exasperated father scolding the disobedient child. Embarrassed, Wyveryn revealed what he'd been hiding behind his back. The book, quite pleased with itself, launched back into its speech about Horatio.

"Who is this Horatio, anyway?"

"His is not someone you would know, but he is very important. Tell me where you found this."

"Just right here."

"Right here in the library? On this shelf?"

"Do I look like an idiot, Marco?"

"Yes." Came the book's quick reply.

****

The expressions on Aeroth, Jewelynna, and Tik's faces were strained, as the weeping baby refused to be consoled. Songs, poetry, stories... none of it seemed to work. It was apparent the baby was huntry, but what did a fae child eat?



The crowds in the streets were not as heavy as before. Most of those who had tickets to the Event were already at the Ampitheatre by the castle grounds. Aeroth was at least certain that no one would recognize him. He looked nothing like his old self. His long hair was chopped short, howeing off his pointed ears and making him appear younger. He felt a bit lost without his Liberist armor, but the new tunic, breeches and boots that he'd bought in the Tradesdale market were comfortable, and the cloak that the magician had purchased in Legend's Hollow was comforting, though his feelings about the magician were not yet sorted.

As if on cue, Marco stopped out of the library door, Wyveryn in tow. The dark half-elf feverishly clutched a small brown leather-bound book to his chest. Aeroth had to roll his eyes, for his two companions stuck out like sore thumbs.

"Marco. Wyveryn."

"Afternoon, Aeroth. No doubt you had a sense to come here, too."

"Aye. You as well?"

"Of course. Nothing's too strange these days."

The baby wailed louder and louder, but as Wyveryn drew closer, it seemed to hush. Puzzled, Aeroth stared back and forth between the baby and the dark half-elf.

"It seems to want you."

"Me?! I--"

But before Wyveryn could protest, Marco snatched the book away and the baby was in his arms. At long last, its crying ceased, and it started to coo merrily. But a bead a sweat broke out on the half-elf's forehead.

"What am I supposed to do with this??!"

"Hold her."

And as he did, Wyveryn could not deny the sense of peacefulness that he felt. It was as if someone had covered him with a warm blanket. The tiny child grasped his fingertip in the palm of her hand and began to suck. It horrified him.

But Aeroth's attention was on the book. "What is that you have there?"

And the book replied.

"I am the Book of Everything... well, almost.
I know the things of downright truth, and upmost.
Inside my pages are the things of which I boast.
Just don't forget I know it all... well.... almost."

Aeroth took the book from Marco. "Who are you?"

"My owner is Horatio.
Who he is, you'll never know.
Where he is is essential, though
To finding where you're supposed to go?"

"Who is Horatio?" Asked Aeroth, marveling over the talking book.

"That is a very long story." Marco sighed. "But I will say this: I believe that Hiroko is being held against his will, but is being made a martyr. I believe that the cardinal is setting this city up for a full assault. I believe that we are in grave danger and need to leave this city now.”

"Yes." Said the book.

"Yes?" The men asked in unison.

"Yes."

"Is Hiroko alive?" Asked Aeroth.

"I don't know."

And soon the questions came pouring forth.

"Did your owner send us to find you?"

"Yes."

"Is your owner here in Tradesdale?"

"No."

"Are we supposed to find your owner?"

"Yes."

"Lareth," interjected the magician, "May I humbly suggest we take this conversation elsewhere? Perhaps... to a more private location?"

It was true. They were receiving stares from the onlookers in the street. Those who were heading to the Event made a wary wide circle around the group at the base of the library stairs. Indeed, it would be best to reconvene in a more private place.

The sun was setting overhead. And from the cry of the crowd, the Event was getting underway. Once more, the party separated, this time to find their way into the Ampitheatre. Though Tik and Jewelynna were unable to find access to tickets, they were able to climb her old house and look out over the city's landscape. Wyveryn, who'd given the baby back to the woman, had slipped into the shadows once more. While Marco and Aurora found their own rooftop to sit upon.

The Ampitheatre was visible from the rooftops. As the orange sun dipped into the purple sky, Marco could see the thousands of people who had gathered at the event. He could hear their thundering applause and feel the pounding of their feet like an earthquake. He could even see the red robes of Cardinal Okra, who stood upon the stage and raised his arms to the sky as if he were some kind of divine god himself. A moment's fear ran through the magician's mind. What would Okra do if he knew Aeroth were still alive?

Jewelynna gasped beside him and touched his shoulder. She pointed to the forest beyond the city gates. Shadows began to touch the trees, but like they did on the road to Tradesdale, they moved in an unnatural way. And now, they were cascading over the city walls. Marco swiveled around, taking his attention from the Ampitheatre to the outskirts of Tradesdale. Hundreds of shadows poured over the gates, atop the walls, silent as the whisper of the wind. And just about every living soul was sitting in the Ampitheatre. The city would be taken unaware.

"Tyr help us all." Marco whispered under his breath.

Chapter IV: The Road to Tradesdale

Chapter III: The Reunion

It did not take long for the party to reunite. Hiroko… Banger… Tik… Aeroth… Jewelynna holding the swaddled babe… and now Wyveryn. There were a lot of cocked eyebrows and who are you’s to the dark half-elf. Yet Tik seemed to have formed a
strange connection with him, and without going into detail, seemed to imply that the ranger could be trusted for now. There were stories to be told. There were
questions on the tip of everyone’s lips. But a storm would soon be upon them, as the sky clouded over in an ominous pall of grey. The rains were coming... the chill hibernus rains of late Heptagony. A decision was upon them. Where to go?

Aeroth was ready to attack anyone who defied him. His sharp tongue stung each of them in turn, though Banger was not inclined to accept his attacks.



“Why should I trust you?” He shot at her.

“Because the General did.”

“How do I know that?”

“How do you know anything, Aeroth? You trust your gut. You listen to reason. You stop wielding your ears like a weapon and start listening with them.”

“You kept many secrets from me, Banger. Secrets that could have helped me save him.”

“If anyone could have saved him, it would not have been you. It would have been me. And in the end, even I could not.”

Aeroth crossed his arms, and let out a hrumph. Nothing seemed to please him. No one’s words seemed to be the right ones. And besides that, none of them know how completely uncomfortable he was in his surroundings. The feel of the forest floor beneath his boots was soft… unstable. The smell of the air… the openness of the sky. It all felt much too open for a half-elf who’d spent his lifetime in a city of caves.

“Excuse me, but what’s the plan?”

“Who are you?” Aeroth asked, glaring at Wyveryn.

“I’ve been getting that a lot lately.”

“Who is this?” The question was directed at Tik.

“I found him in the caravan when we were picked up by the slave traders. For the Wizard’s Game. He helped me escape.”

“Escape from what?”

“Bâhlmüt.”

“Bâhlmüt!” Exclaimed Jewelynna. “You were attacked by those creatures that pull their entire prey into the soil and devour them below the surface?”

“That would be them. Looks like someone’s been reading her lore.” Tik gave the healer a considering look, as if he recognized someone who was more than they seemed to be. Being somewhat of an understated man himself, he thought to himself that this woman might be useful—if for no other reason than she knew how to tend to the babe.

“Hrumph.” Said Aeroth

“But who is she, Aeroth?” Tik threw right back at him, for he would not be disregarded. “We have not been introduced.”



“Oh? She?” Distracted, Aeroth glanced at Jewelynna. She cradled the baby tightly to her breast, as if fearful it might fall from her arms. “This is a Healer of Avandra, who aided us after the fall of Cöthrom. Her name is Jewelynna, and she says little. But she is good to the baby, and she will make a good wife.”

Several jaws dropped.

Aeroth waved off their questions like flies. “I will explain later. But you, Hiroko. You have some of your own explaining to do.” He pulled the parchment from his belt. “This was a letter written to me by the magician—where is he, anyway?”

“Just beyond the trees.” Said Tik. “You’ll not find him unless he wants you to.”

“Hrumph.” Said Aeroth. “I’ll find him when I choose to. I was not there, at my father’s death. I did not see who killed him. But the magician confesses all in this letter.

“But what does it say?” Asked Tik, who then found it placed in his hand.

“Sir Aeroth,

I have been made a pawn. My intelligence blinded me from the wisdom of the truth. I offer you my sincerest apologies on your loss. Although I was but the blade and not the arm that swung the death stroke, I confess to you alone that it was my foolish tip that pierced the great Lux’s life. Had I been made aware of the man he truly was, I would have offered him counsel, not death. I easily could have fled to the Causists, but I have already caused much sorrow, and I will not be responsible for the death of another innocent. I also have quickly lost faith in a cause I once held true. Rage should never rule. I fear all of our futures to be the nightmare of the false fairy tales. I hope one day you can see past your rage and know that I have and do long for a balanced future. Neither side is right. The wronged must now form a pure future, purified of hate and fear.
Free Hiroko. He is innocent.

Humbly,
Marcus Magentum


“There were other parties involved.” Said Aeroth, as Tik lowered the paper thoughtfully. “The lock on the door didn’t just disappear. The whole thing was planned. Don’t you see? And while I wasn’t there, I vowed to get to the bottom of it. And that’s where you come in, Banger. There’s a lot of holes to my story, and you’ve been keeping secrets.”

“We’ve all been keeping secrets, Aeroth.” She quickly retorted. “And I am more than happy to tell you what I know. Like the secret, for example, that I worked for your father.”

“Okra worked for my father, as well.”

“Not in the way I did. I was his girl prodigy just as you were his son. There is much more to the story, but we can talk as we walk. There is a storm coming, and I do not wish to be caught in this glade when it does, nor do I wish to be standing amongst the trees with nightfall around the corner and Bâhlmüt about.”

“Agreed.”

Banger produced a map from her bag, hastily sketched, but clearly depicting the Kaembran Empire. The question of where to go now was on all their minds. Many factors were considered. The fact that Hiroko’s death was desired by the Liberists, and the Causists sought to make him a pawn of the monarchy. Okra’s rise sure meant ill for Aeroth should he be recognized along the way. There was an increased risk of discovery the further north they traveled, and not far to the south, along the river, was the road to Tyr’s Temple. Many thought it might provide protection. But even more appealing to Aeroth was the fact that the temple was along the way to Tradesdale, where a man could find the goods he needed. Weapons, armor, a new identity… it was all coming to him.

“I will cut my hair,” He told them, completely unaware of the fact that he’d interrupted someone who’d been speaking. All eyes flew to the soldier as he spoke, carefully considering his words. “I will cut my hair. And I will take a wife.” Jewelynna said nothing, but a few of them glanced her way. “I’ll be a husband and a father. No longer a soldier. I will become another man. Take a new name. And I can do this by living my life as the other half of my birthright.”

And with a sweep of his long hair, he revealed for the first time a set of slightly pointed ears.

Hiroko almost laughed. “So… Lux’s right hand man was a half breed the entire time? There’s some kind of irony in that.”

“And it will be useful to me, in my quest for vengeance.” Aeroth explained. “Okra knows me as a human soldier. I will become a half-elf commoner. But first, may I suggest a faster way to the temple than by foot.”

“Aye. A boat would do.” Said Banger.

“You two.” He said, pointing to Wyveryn and Tik. “You seem to be good at slinking around and getting out of messes. You worked together to escape the Bâhlmüt. I want you to go into Blythe and find the nearest fishing docks. Then get us a boat and bring it back to the river side. There we will wait for you.”

“Just get a boat and bring it back? Just like that?” Scoffed Wyveryn.

“Just like that.”

“Why me? Why us?”

“Because Hiroko is still weakened from his capture, Banger is too well known by her red hair, Jewelynna is caring for the baby, and I have a magician to find. I need a pair who can work together, slink about, and go unnoticed. I need a pair of troubled twins.”

“Troubled twins.” Tik muttered.

Wyveryn again tried to protest, but Aeroth silenced him.

“I gave an order, soldier. You want to prove yourself to us? Well, now’s your chance.”

___________________________________________________

“How exactly do you plan on getting us a boat? You got any money? Because I’m pretty sure they took all of mine in the caravan.”

Tik rolled his eyes. The two young men, the half-elf and the human, walked through the forest, along the outskirts of Blythe. And all the dark-haired elf had done since their departure was complain, complain, complain. The sky had opened up and the rains had begun. Tik was cold, hungry, irritable, and still had no idea how they were to obtain a boat. Wyveryn’s incessant wining only reminded him that there was no plan.

“And what do you see in those people, anyway? I mean, why do you follow them? It’s not like they’re any good to you. We withstood a pack of Bâhlmüt all by ourselves, without their help! I just don’t see any reason why you choose to travel with them.”

Tik gritted his teeth. “I like Aeroth. He is a good man. A bit rough around the edges. And Hiroko is a good drinking partner. Only man I’ve met who can drink me under the table.”

“But to travel with a baby? A child in swaddling clothes? What do we do when it cries? What do we do when it’s hungry? How do we hide ourselves when the wail of a babe can give away our location? The child is a hindrance, and you—ow!!”

The half-elf smacked the back of his neck as if he’d been stung by a bee. He muttered a few elvish curses under his breath. Tik gave him a sideways look, but did not slow his stride.

“Did you feel that?”

“No.”

“I could have sworn—”

“Swear nothing. We’re here.”



Wyveryn’s whining had made their ten minute trip feel like a lifetime. But they’d reached the docks, and hung back in the protection of the woods. The rain was pouring down now, and the fishermen tied their boats tightly so as to keep them from blowing away. It would be a long, dark storm. No doubt some damage would be inevitable.

Tik considered their options as they crouched. And he could only come up with one solution.

“You distract them while I steal one of their boats.”

“You’re going to steal one of their boats?”

“Did you think we have the gold to buy one?”

Wyveryn frowned. “But why do I have to be the distraction?”

“Because, soldier, it’s just as Sir Aeroth says. We work best together. And you talk much more than I do. Just don’t make a mess of things, or you really will earn us the title “The Troubled Twins”. And I don’t know about you, but I could spend my life without one more nickname.”

“Not fair, Tik.”

“Oh fine. Paper, rock, scissors. Loser causes the distraction. One… two…”

___________________________________________________


Wyveryn prepared to make himself a decent enough distraction. It had to be good enough so that they did not notice Tik stealing off one of their boats. But he honestly had no idea what to say.



He’d spent the majority of his life as a hermit. He’d clung to the forests, he’d avoided large cities. He was aware he was not exactly socially adept. And having spent most of his life hiding, it was an odd sensation to now step out into the open, in front of a dock of old fisherman, and attempt to make a clown out of himself.

Why bother? Why risk his life for a group of strangers he’d never known? If he knew what was best for him, he’d simply turn on his heel and slip back into the protection of the forest. Yet, something compelled him to stand there stupidly before the men of Blythe and try to form words on his lips. Something pricked at him almost like a small mosquito bite at the back of his neck….

“Hello there.”

Perhaps it was the rainfall. Perhaps it was the wind. But none of the fishermen looked up from their work.

“Ahoy?”

A few stopped what they were doing and glanced at him. One with a long white beard looked up and spoke to him.

“What’s your business, boy? There’s a storm coming. Better to get inside. It’s only going to get worse out here.”

”I came to see what you’re doing. I’m interested in your work.”

At that, all of the fisherman stopped what they were doing and gave him a peculiar look.

“This is hardly the time or the place to be talking about the trade. You’re up to no good boy. Best turn around and leave now, or we’ll have to call Jigger.”

Jigger?

Wyvern’s palms were beginning to sweat, despite the cold. Oh, why had he decided to subject himself to such humiliation? He was perfectly at ease with trees and wolves, but men? Now men were a different matter.

“But I’m… so interested in your work. Have you caught any fish today?”

The fisherman, like a small army, began to form a wall against him. Their arms were crossed along their chests, and they scowled at him as if he were a coyote come to steal their livestock.

“I find it very hard to believe that you are interested in talking trade in the middle of the worst storm we’ve seen in years. You’re nothing but a trouble-maker, and not welcome in this town. Don’t say we didn’t warn you. Jigger!”

It was then that the young half-elf felt the warm breath on his back. When he turned, he expected to face a man. Instead, he faced a pair of forearms and a massive chest. When he looked up higher, he saw a neck that looked more like the trunk of a redwood tree. And even higher still was a jaw and face cast in a grave displeasure.



“You must be… Jigger.”

The first punch came at him so quickly he barely had time to dodge it. But on the second and third, he was not so lucky. He felt the blood flowing to his face and out of the corner of his eye barely caught sight of Tik stealing one of the fisherman’s boats. Without another moment’s thought, he spun on his heel and ran as far away from the fisherman army, Jigger, and the town of Blythe as he could.

___________________________________________________


Marco threw a rock at Aeroth, and hit him on the head. The soldier exclaimed at the sudden impact and looked about him to see where it had come from.



The task had been completed. The fishing boat was docked at the riverside. They were preparing their gear as the sun went down. No sign of Wyveryn yet but according to Tik, chances were he might be “tied up” a bit. When they pressed him about it, Tik just shrugged and offered no more.

The storm had worsened. Thick pools of rain pattered against their faces, and the wind was picked up. It was the worst storm many of them had seen in some time. But once again, Aeroth was struck by his handicap of never having lived in the outside world before. He’d never felt rain, and the only wind he’d known had been the kind that funneled through the tunnels.

So when he’d been struck on the head, he was already in an irritable mood. No one about him appeared to show any sign of acknowledgment. Yet off in the distance, just near a group of trees, he caught sight of a small light flickering at him.

“Marco…” He grumbled, walking up the ravine.

As if on cue, the slender magician stepped out into view. It was the first time they’d stood face to face since the slaying of Lux at Cöthrom. Aeroth’s first instinct with to draw his ax and ram it into the Causist traitor’s chest. But another sense inside of him—a seed planted by Lux himself—made him want to listen. Before killing this man, there was a great desire to understand what had happened. There were too many questions in the air, and killing Marco now meant the answers went with him.

“What do you want?” Aeroth’s voice was like the growl of a tiger.

“You read my letter?”

“Aye. I did.”

“Hiroko is liberated then?” Said Marco. “The man stood against me to protect your father.”

“So you say. I have no reason to believe otherwise, though I have no reason to ever trust you again.”

They stared at each other, two men—one a muscled, seasoned soldier and one a slender, long-fingered magician. The rain beat down on them, and both of their mustaches sagged under the weight of the water.

“Why did you do it, Marco?”

And as if he’d been expecting that question, Marco sighed. “For that, Aeroth, I have no answer. None but the reasons that you read in the letter. I followed a cause blindly, and your father was the victim. It has changed me. As you know, I could have gone anywhere, but I came here. To you. I seek your forgiveness. I seek to right the grave wrong that was done to you.”

Aeroth raised his brow. “You are lucky, magician. For I have, at the moment, greater concerns than you. I seek this so called ‘Cardinal’, and shall have my vengeance against him. This man is responsible for everything that has happened, and you will share your insight with me so that I might fully understand what it is that I am facing. If you’ll help me in that, I may consider absolving you of your debt to me.”

“I vow to aid you in avenging yourself against Okra. And this, too, I swear. That I will never once again unknowingly take someone’s life.”

Whether or not it was the right thing to do, Aeroth felt suddenly very tired. He did not wish anymore killing, at least not right now. Perhaps later, when he’d rested, he might reconsider his judgment over this man.

“It is done, then.” He sighed. “You will join us on the boat. We travel south, to the Temple of Tyr.”

___________________________________________________

Wyveryn only returned to them just moments before their departure. They heard him waving and shouting as he came. And even in the fading light, they could see his lip was fat and there were dark bruises forming on his cheeks. Aeroth muttered a curse under his breath, then turned to look at Tik.

“He’s your responsibility.” Then to the half-elf: “Get on the boat.”

Wyveryn, tired and cold, pulled his cloak about him and stepped on board. When he asked anyone to heal him, he was met only with cold silence. Aeroth gave him a stern look and said something about building character.

They cast off as the sun disappeared over the sky. Six people, one baby… all exhausted from the last few weeks events, felt suddenly grateful to be sailing on a boat and off their feet. The wind was picking up even more as the eye of the storm drew nearer. The rain beat down on the trees, muffling their voices. And the river covered their tracks. Silently in the rain, they said south.

Banger offered first watch. It was she who took the wheel, while the rest of them found the most comfortable spot they could and went to sleep. It was only Jewelynna and Aeroth who noticed the welt on Marco’s cheek was identical to the one on the baby’s. A few weeks ago, they might have considered it a coincidence. But not anymore.

As sleep overtook the exhausted group, dreams began to dance in their heads. And then, as if the events of the last few weeks had not happened, Aeroth found himself back in the General’s quarters. The old man was hunched over his desk, back to him, as he always was. He did not look up from his parchments as he spoke:




Aeroth tried to reach Lux, but the closer he stepped to the old man, the further away he moved. The room shifted, and despair washed over the solider. He longed for a glimpse of his father’s face, but everything shivered around him and then with a sigh, he opened his eyes.

A dream. It was just a dream.

But they’d all had it. Each and every one of them. Jewelynna, Tik and the others stirred from their slumber. At the wheel, Banger looked as if she’d seen a ghost. And Aeroth knew in an instant the others now knew some of his secrets. He felt violated… confused… and at once on guard. The sense him to take control of the situation was overwhelming. So he stood from his spot on the deck and went to relieve Aurora of her duties.

___________________________________________________

“Maybe the word is… sleep.”

“Shutup, Wyveryn.”

They’d sailed deep into the heart of the night. The surrounding forest tangled around them, the river being the only path through the thick brush. And the rain itself had subsided little.

Tik had found comfort in the forest, prior to the fall of Cöthrom. But now, something had shifted. An unease filled his heart the longer they sailed south. Something wasn’t completely right. When he glanced out at the passing trees, he would see flickers of things. Shadows of movement. The forest was unusually quiet. And Tik thought he knew the woods better than anyone. It was obvious Wyveryn felt the same. By his unsettled talk, the half-elf was clearly trying to keep up conversation in order to ignore his growing feelings of dread.

Few of them could sleep after the dream. Banger allowed Aeroth to relieve her of her duties. Only Hiroko and Jewelynna remained on the deck, covered in their blankets. The child slept on, but Wyveryn’s eyes were red.

“Do you suppose it is awake?”

“Who?”

“The child. Do you suppose it is awake?”

Tik sighed. “She is a girl, Wyveryn, not an ‘it’.”

“What do you suppose the word is?”

“I don’t know, Wyveryn.”

“Am I the only one who recognizes that she’s only a baby?” Something clopped his ear. “Ow! Who’s doing that?”

But there was no one close enough, and Tik did not answer him. They stood in irritable silence when the pagoda roof of the Temple of Tyr came into full view. They steered the boat to port and docked it on the bank of the river.



“Doesn’t look like the rain is going to get any better.” Grumbled Aeroth. “Tik, Wyveryn, Hiroko, come with me to the temple. Marco, stay here with Jewelynna and guard that baby.”

Wyveryn pointed accusingly at his fellow troubled twin. “This time you’re the distraction.”

___________________________________________________


The darkness seemed never-ending. Two small stone towers hovered over them, connected by a modest courtyard. There was not a soul in sight, but the rain and wind pressed at them to get inside and dry off So when the four travelers reached the large front door of the temple, and Aeroth suggested reaching for the bell.

“But… don’t you think that’s a bad idea?” Asked Wyveryn. “After all.. there’s no lights on inside. There doesn’t appear to be anyone about.”

“You got a better idea?”

“No.”

They rang the front bell.

“Just as I thought. No one home.”

Aeroth grabbed Wyveryn’s collar and practically dragged him along to the second tower. But again, there was no answer, and each door was locked.

“I suppose we could go in a window.” Hiroko suggested, shaking his head.

Tik, who had been covering them from the trees, now appeared beside them as silent as a cat.

“So what’s the plan?” He asked.

In the discussing of what to do next, Wyveryn did not hear anything creeping up behind him. He did not notice the feelers exposing themselves, but the hairs on the back of his neck prickled into an upright position. What happened next was too fast for him to react. He was snatched by something and dragged into the darkness. He tried to yell, but something covered his mouth. It was all he could do to keep the panic from arising in him, but his heart still beat like thunder in his chest.

There came the sound of a door opening, and a door closing. Somehow, he knew he’d been taken inside the tower. But by what, or by whom… he had no idea. And before he could sort it out, he was knocked unconscious.

___________________________________________________


“Wyveryn’s gone! Something took him!” Cried Tik.

“What? What took him?!”

“I don’t know, but it dragged him back to the tower!”

They broke into a run. In the confusion of the darkness and the rain, several of them slipped in the mud. But when they reached the doors, they were indeed shut and locked. Together Aeroth & Tik slammed their bodies up against them, forcing them to almost give way. And Hiroko finished the job with one launch. The sound of wood splintering rang in their ears, and they were suddenly inside.

“Careful, now.” Said Aeroth, his sword drawn. But looking at the others, he realized they were just as alert. All weapons were unsheathed. And instinctively, the men moved with their backs to each other in a flank.

“Can you tell where he was taken?” The question was directed at Tik.

“Aye. Through the courtyard he was dragged.”

They stepped outside once more, eyeing every inch of the place. There were barrels, horse stables, stalls, tables… not a soul to be seen. Aeroth felt his heart pumping in his chest, a mixture of fear and the thrill of the hunt.

Then there came a scream from the western tower.

“Wyveryn.” Said Tik. Being the fastest, he broke into a sprint and reached the tower door first. They exploded through the doorway into a thick of spiderwebs.

“Oh, this is not good.” Aeroth grumbled.
Another scream. It came from the top floor of the tower. And as Aeroth, using a magical light, illuminated the ceiling, three rather large spiders lowered themselves to the ground.

Tik moved in a whir of motion. Each man aided the other in the slaying of the beasts. But where there was one, there would be many other. So up and up the stairwell they went, up to a trapdoor. Without thinking, Tik slammed himself against it, only to be met with a poison dart in his shoulder.

“A booby-trapped door! That’s the oldest trick in the—”

“Attack!” Commanded Aeroth. And indeed, they were thrown into a spider’s den.

Aeroth’s light illuminated the room once again, only this time there were ten spiders and five black creatures that moved like men. It was as if their skin had been charred from their bodies, and they moved like animals.

Tik fought bravely, despite the poison working its way through his bloodstream. Each time Aeroth thought they’d overtake them, Hiroko was right there at his side. And it was clear that the Matsudiian had been trained well for group combat.

Then, there came a high-pitched sound—from nothing human. Almost like a bird. And the spiders and dark men scurried out the window. The journeymen blinked at each other in confusion, then pressed onward to the final level.

___________________________________________________


Wyveryn awoke in a nightmare. Only it was worse than the slaver caravan. This time he was covered in much, and around his whole body he was encased in a cocoon. A sickening feeling of panic engulfed him, for he was certain it was the moment of his death.

In the darkness, the she-spider—dryder by name—leaned over him and whispered into his ear. She hovered over him almost tenderly, like a mother to its child. She stroked his cheek with one of her black hairy legs.



The dryder was terrifying. Her abdomen was warm and firm from a recent meal… her spindly legs danced all around him. But from the waist up, she was an exquisitely beautiful woman with supple breasts and scarlet lips.

He was at the top of the tower, ensnared in an intricately woven web. Some sticky substance on each strand clung to his skin, his boots. And there were others like him, only they did not move. Far in the corner, he saw the skeleton of a man… probably a poor priest of Tyr who once preached here. And then, in another corner, was that a severed arm…?

“You will make a tasty meal for my children…” she whispered in his ear. “But perhaps I will have a bite first…”

She leaned over and he fought not to scream when he heard the trap door open below him.

“Wyveryn?”

“Here! Up here!” By the grace of Tyr, they had come for him. He almost wept with joy when the dryder left his side. He’d been so overcome with panic.. so unable to free himself, that he would have welcomed death rather than sit and wait for it.

There were shouts and sounds of battle. Then the she-spider screamed a horrible scream, and as her voice rang into the air, it was joined in chorus with a hundred other wails. Her children mourned her death. Wyveryn hoped she was dead, at least. It seemed to have happened too quickly.

And then—praise Tyr—they were upon him. He felt his body come to life again as they sliced the cocoon away from him. Once again, he felt the urge to weep, this time for relief. They came back for him. These people… these strangers that he had only known for a few days… they saved his life. And Wyveryn, being the nomad that he was, suddenly learned the benefit of traveling in a group.

He tried to thank them, but the words were not coming from his lips.

“Doesn’t look good.” Tik was saying. “He’s white as a ghost. Better get him back to the boat.”

The last thing Wyveryn remembered was being lifted up. But the rest of it… whether he was conscious or not... would forever remain a fog of a memory.

___________________________________________________


When he awoke again, he felt much better. The night, he could see, was almost over. Looking overhead, the canopy of trees sailed past him. Ah… this was good. They were back on the boat.

“Better not get up too soon.” It was Tik, standing vigil over him. “You were poisoned badly. I’ve managed to stabilize you, but we’ll need to find some herbs. Soon.”

Wyveryn gulped. “You don’t look so good yourself.”

Tik scowled. “I was struck by a dart. In a trap door. Turns out it was poisoned, too.”

“You were struck by a dart from a trap door.”

“Aye. That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“That’s the oldest trick in the—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” The expression Tik gave him meant that the topic was closed. For good.

Wyveryn looked about him. Jewelynna was close by, comforting the child cradled in her arms. Banger was at the helm. Aeroth paced back and forth along the bow of the ship. He paced like a haunted man, and every now and then, he glanced behind him to where they came from.

Aeroth looked completely different. He’d shaved off his warrior’s tail. His mustache and beard were gone. His pointed half-elven ears shown clear as day. His clothing was the only thing that identified him as a solider, and Wyveryn guessed that would soon change as well.

“I need to get to Aeroth. I want to thank you. And him—”

“Better not. He’s not in good spirits. I’d steer clear if I were you.”

“Why?”

Tik sighed, running his fingers through his hair. The next words he said, he chose carefully. “We lost Hiroko.”

“You what?”

“We lost him. Hiroko. The dryder’s minions took him. In exchange for her death. We tried to go back, but..”

“But what?”

“There were wraiths waiting for us. A whole army of them. I don’t know, Wyveryn, but wraiths do not travel in armies. I mean, they certainly didn’t feel like wraiths, but they sure looked like them. And there were just too many. We had no choice but to fall back.”

Wyveryn felt as if he lost all his strength. Though he hadn’t known Hiroko long, the thought of any man meeting his death in that spider hole… it sent a shiver up his spine. He could not and would not ever think of that again. Wyveryn wanted to say he was sorry… he wanted to talk about what a terrible loss it must be… but when it came down to it… he was simply glad that it wasn’t him.

___________________________________________________

They sailed on into the early morning light, when the trees broke and revealed Legend’s Hollow. Relief washed over the party, for they knew this to be a safe haven. And sure enough, there were people moving about, gardeners in the garden, and a minstrel in a chair beside the front door, sleeping off his drinks.





Legend’s Hollow was a legendary place. It began as a modest tavern, but soon grew in popularity due to its prime location on the road to Tradesdale. The weather in this part of the Kaembran Empire was most ideal. The winters were less harsh, the summers were pleasant, and the beauty of the region was unmatched. There were bright blue lakes and rivers, lush gardens, rich dense forest, and plenty of open space.

Legend’s Hollow itself had grown into a resort of sorts. Around the tavern, the owners had constructed lake-view rooms, walking paths, as well as a large stone fountain at the entrance. Only the finest of minstrels came to perform at Legend’s Hollow. Only the greatest actors, the most exotic gypsies, and the most prominent political figures graced his halls. And though the party had wanted to keep a low profile, they suddenly found themselves longing for rest and a chance to converse with people.

They docked the boat and made their way inside the great hall to the tavern. Jewelynna and Banger excused themselves to their own room upstairs. The babe was tired, as were they. Wyveryn went with them, prepared to find his own quarters and perhaps a bath.

It was Aeroth, Marco and Tik who found themselves drawn to the main tavern. And it was Aeroth, Marco and Tik who noticed the old gypsy woman in the corner. She rocked back and forth back and forth, talking to no one but herself. And Aeroth recognized her instantly from his dream.

He strode up to her, at once ready to demand her name, but it was she who spoke first.

“Ah, what took her so long?”

He halted in his path, suddenly unsure. “I was… laid up.”

“Tsk Tsk. Vandra waits. Vandra always waits. And where is the baby?”

“She is safe.”

“It is a good thing. Shall I read your card?”

Aeroth, a man who had never given his faith to anyone but Tyr, allowed the strange old gypsy woman to tell his fortune. The card he picked was “vengeance”.

“Ah… vengeance.” She said. “Vengeance against another. Vengeance against you. When does it end and what becomes of it? Who’s to say? Who’s to say?”

It went on like that for the rest of the morning. They came to her, one by one, this odd woman called Vandra. And she read their cards.

For Marco… Death.

For Tik… Love.

For Jewelynna… Birth.

For Aurora… Purpose.

And for Wyveryn… the Queen of Despair.

What they did not know was that old gypsy Vandra pulled one more card. One card, for the one who’d gone missing. She mumbled to herself, watching the party raise a toast to Hiroko. But one more card must be pulled. Vandra knew. And when it was done, she flipped it over and read the word.

Sacrifice.

Chapter III: The Reunion (Commerical)

Chapter II: The Aftermath

Chapter II: THE AFTERMATH


First there is darkness. And then there is pain. Excruciating for some, bearable
for others. A dim awareness of a distant candlelight flickers into your senses…

perhaps, not so distant. It dances closer to you, as you open your eyes.

“These two are waking up, Devarre.” The voice you hear belongs to a woman, young in
years with a tender touch of concern in her tone.

“So is this one. I’m concerned about the magician. His fever’s grown hot. The
wound looks worse.” The second voice belongs to a man, also young. But toughened.

“And the baby?”

“The same.”

There comes a sigh from the woman, as you open your eyes.

~

In all things that come to an end, there is rebirth anew. The death of Aeroth Ravenswing’s old life crumbled to dust with the fall of Cöthrom, and arose in the place between dreams and awakening.

Take me home, Aeroth…. whispered the childlike voice in his head. It swirled around his senses like a funnel. Take me home, Aeroth, Take me home Hiroko, for I am a running out of time. Take me home, Tik, take me home Marco… for to you I will bind.

He opened his eyes, and it all came flooding back to him like a gushing wave. Cöthrom had fallen. Lux was dead, killed at the hand of Hiroko. Or so it would seem. His home… the only home he’d known... was gone. Just like that. Family. Home. Gone. Moving was difficult in such a weakened state, but curiosity took over.

Take me home…

“Home.” He muttered under his breath. There was no more home.

The last he remembered, they’d reached the edge of the cave and stepped out into sunlight. Aeroth remembered the unfamiliar feeling of warmth that had covered his body, the momentary blindness. It was too bright. He’d covered his eyes. Then he heard screams, saw a clashing of men at arms, and now here he was. But where was here?

Hey lay on a cot of hay inside a small, dimly lit cave. There were others moving about him. Aurora slept soundly to his left. And on his right... the magician.

I never liked that fellow, he thought to himself. Something odd about him.

There were others laying on cots of hay. Most of them in far worse condition than he. The room was small… crowded. Marco did not stir beside him. A woman with red hair appeared to be dressing his wounds. When he saw Aeroth awaken, she spoke as she worked.

“This one is waking up, Devarre.” The voice you hear belongs to a woman, young in years with a tender touch of concern in her tone.

“So is this one. I’m concerned about the magician. His fever’s grown hot. The wound looks worse.” The second voice belongs to a man, also young. But toughened.

“And the baby?”

“The same.”

“Where am I?” Aeroth asks, rubbing his head. The temples are throbbing like an earthquake.

“You are in a hidden cave.” Says the woman. “I am Tree Valdosta. And this man is Devarre.”

Her hair is the same fiery red color hair as Banger’s, only it falls in tightly woven tendril curls around her shoulders. She is gentler, but obviously a soldier. There are cuts to her face, and dried blood on her hands. Whether it is hers or someone else’s remains yet to be seen. Her dark eyes smile kindly at you.

The man is short and stout, with stubble on his chin. He looks weary but determined. He has the demeanor of a captain at arms, but there is a bow and arrow at his back. A ranger, of that there is no question. He wears leather armor and moves about the room quickly, tending to the sick.

The “room” itself seems to be the inside of a cave.

Perhaps this was all a dream. For the last thing you remember was emerging into daylight, and seeing the sun rise high into the sky. Yes, a dream. A terrible dream. A nightmare, really. But have you awoken yet?

“What happened?” Aeroth can barely form the words. He feels unnervingly dazed.

“We discovered your bodies at the high cliffs. Devarre tried to reach you in time, before the magic exploded out of the caverns. But you were too far away. And at the moment of your appearance, those imprisoned in the dungeons of Cöthrom exploded out of the cave entrance like the birth of a newborn. So much happened all at once. The sun rose into the sky, directly overhead. And the dragons were right behind you.

They breathed their fire, and those who looked upon them knew a fear more primal than any. Luckily they were more interested in freedom than heeding their hunger.
Waiting for them at the entrance, and blocking your way out, were the last stragglers of our Liberist army. Our men fought bravely, but magic collided that day, and magic won the battle. You, unfortunately, were caught in the middle of it, and it blinded you. I expect it was too much for your bodies and your minds to handle. And there were creatures and things and also emerged at your back. All we saw was a blinding light, and then you fell.

Devarre and I, along with a few other Liberists, were able to grab most of your party and drag you here, into safety. So many of my comrades fell to save our brothers. But we had to do it. One of your men we all recognized. The great General Yvander Lux.” She bows her head. “May Tyr have mercy on his soul. It broke my heart to see what had befallen him. All we could do was keep the creatures from destroying his body. I couldn’t let that happen. It would be so… unjust… for a man such as he. The General deserves a proper burial in a great tomb. For he will be remembered forever.

The one that was with you… the boy… he was taken by the Causists. We tried to fight them, but there were too many…” Her voice broke off.

Devarre picks up where she left off. “There were too many, yes. And I’m afraid it’s very likely that by now he is en route to Stonehold where they “try” the Liberists in the Wizard’s Game. A sad fate for any. And if they don’t throw him to the game, then he’s surely doomed to a life of slavery. I’m so sorry for your loss. I know you’ll want to go after him, but I’m warning you, that would be… unwise.”

“Much has changed in Kaembra since ‘The Unleashing’, as they call it. Prince Lysom Gaol has been restored to the throne. He is but only a boy of thirteen years. He has no predecessor, no guidance… only that of his newly appointed Cardinal, Simeon Okra. The traitorous former Lieutenant General. The Liberists now believe he was a mastermind behind the fall of Cöthrom. Cardinal Okra whispers sweet words into the boy’s ears, encouraging his desire for blood lust. The Cardinal has suggested to Lysom that we declare a holiday to welcome the liberation of the Causists and the return of the monarchy. ‘The Age of Redemption’ they are calling it. Redemption! More like the Age of darkness. We are all living in fear, whether from the Causist union or the creatures that hunt us in the night. It is dark times we are living in, my friends. Dark times, indeed.”

“The Age of Redemption.” Devarre scoffed. “The Causists are wielding weapons they know nothing about. Perhaps there were risks in harboring all things magical in the dungeons of Cöthrom, but at least we could live our lives in peace. At least we could grow old knowing our children would never have to face an ogre, or a kobold, or a nightshade. The Age of Redemption is a lie. And leading us to our destruction is a child-prince who knows nothing more about governing a country than he does about wiping his own arse. The Prince, our Proxy King, has declared a year of celebration. You know what that means, don’t you? Slavery. Liberist slavery. Once they capture us they’ll throw us to the Wizard’s Game. And thousands of Causists will cheer our deaths as we fend for our lives. It’s only a matter of time, I suppose. Either the creatures of magic will kill us, or we are destined to kill ourselves.” He spat into a corner. “It is only by Tyr’s teachings that I spare the life of your traitorous friend, here.”

His hand gestures to Hiroko, who blinks in confusion. This is when you notice there are shackles on Hiroko. They look to have been removed from Aurora & Marco and placed upon the Matsudiian. The shackles on Aeroth are gone.

“This one… this scum… a legend in his own right. They call him the Matsudiian slayer. Know why? Because it was said that he killed a dragon back in his youth. One that had escaped from the dungeons of Cöthrom. But Tree & I… we have friends in many places. We heard the true tale of how he was raised by King Hiroto, and became like a brother to Prince Kenji. It was Kenji’s sword that killed the dragon, but this scum took the credit… all because he wanted to impress Kenji’s sister, Tomoko. Now don’t get me wrong. I have no love lost for Kenji, that Causist swine, but no love for a man either who takes credit for another man’s deeds. “The Matsudiian Slayer” they call him. Well, this “Slayer” has killed our General. It’s because of him that this has befallen us!”

“It’s true,” says Tree. “We have only healed him so he may receive a proper trial. It is for Tyr to judge his fate, not us. But truth be told, there are more immediate concerns than The Slayer. And that is your friend, Marco. He and the baby are not well. We have taken the arrow out of his shoulder, but he burns with fever. That does not puzzle us so much as the infant. She appears to burn with fever as well, but from what cause, we cannot say. Who’s child is she?”

Aeroth shakes his head. “I… don’t know.”

Tree gives him an empathetic look. “It is, perhaps, a bit much for any man to handle right now, soldier or no. I should let you rest. It’s already Heptagony and the Hibernus snow won’t hide us forever—”

He grabs her arm. “What did you say?”

She cocks her head. “I said it’s already Heptagony and the Hibernus snow won’t—”

“But it’s Hexagramy! The 19th day of Hexagramy!”

“I’m afraid not, soldier. It is now the 5th day of Heptagromy. Soulsday. You’ve been asleep for a fortnight.”

The news reels inside Aeroth’s head. He cannot wrap his mind around it. A fortnight. How is it possible? How was any of this happening? Two weeks ago, he had his whole life ahead of him. Living as a full-blooded human, and fighting for the Liberist cause on behalf of General Lux, he’d known where his life was going. Now, there were two weeks of his life missing.

Everything had changed.

The Rebels were on the hunt, preying on those who’d opposed them. Suddenly being a half-elf would be to an advantage, but being Aeroth Ravenswing would not. A faint idea began to form in his head, but it was only a cloudy vision before the words came to his mouth.

“Lux. What happened to Lux’s body?”

“He is to be buried in a ceremony at dawn tomorrow. It would be appreciated if you would say a few words in his honor.”

A few words. How do you find the right words to describe the life of a great man?
Suddenly words seem empty… worthless.

“Tree. The baby is crying again.” Devarre barked at her from a few beds down. He sounded annoyed.

Tree shook her head. “I don’t know what to do. The people here… few of us are healers. But we are a cautious people. A superstitious group. And that baby… that child… it frightens me. It frightens all of us. No one but one will go near it. And she doesn’t seem to know what ails the thing.”

Aeroth tried to bring his mind back to the present conversation. “What do you mean it frightens you?”

“It seems… evil. Inhuman. Where did you say you found it?”

“In Cöthrom, just outside the caves to the dungeons.”

She shivered. “Well, there’s something odd about it. I don’t like it. And neither does anyone else here. Best if you take it with you soon, when you are well enough to travel. I can’t promise that it will survive here. Jewelynna…”

She turned to a woman in robes who approached, carrying the tiny bundle in her arms. Aeroth saw that she was young, with golden hair and purple eyes. But he was no fool, either. This healer woman was not human. Nor was she a healer of Tyr. From the green and gold that adorned her, it was clear she was a follower of Avandra, goddess of luck, fortune and travel. The woman’s ears were covered, but if he guessed correctly, there was probably a pointy tip at the end. Suddenly it made sense to him why this was the only person in the room willing to touch the child. No doubt the healer called “Jewelynna” was much like him… another species living as a human in a human world. And the way she held the child so tenderly… it brought a pang to his heart. He’d never had a mother, and until this moment, had never considered the importance of that.

“May I see the child?” He asks.

Jewelynna nods, and gingerly passes the weakened babe over to him. It is feverishly hot, and its eyelids are a sallow yellow. Though it’s wrapped in cloth, there are red bloodstains beneath, near the shoulder area.

“Is it a…?”

“It is a girl.” Said Jewelynna. Her voice like a gently musical. He liked it.
Opening the cloth, he sees the child’s shoulder has a terrible wound in it, like that of an arrow. The blood still hasn’t clotted, and there is a growing infection.
What monster would sink an arrow into a baby’s shoulder? Aeroth furrowed his brow and placed his hand upon the child, not entirely sure what he wanted to achieve. If nothing else, he hoped to sooth it.

At first there was nothing. But when he removed his palm, the wound had closed. The infection had lessoned. The child, once burning with fever, seemed to cool down and calm itself. Exhausted, it falls asleep in Aeroth’s arms. He awkwardly hands it back to Jewelynna.

“Thank you.” She said. “I have been doing field training, but never before have I seen the like of this child. There is something special about her, I’m sure of it. And I’m glad you were able to heal her.”

“As am I.” And suddenly, overcome with exhaustion, he laid his head back on the makeshift bed.

~

Marco’s shoulder, which had been on fire from his arrow wound, suddenly closed up and healed. His fever, raging a moment before, subsided almost instantly. He opened his eyes, in time to hear the quiet exchange between Aeroth and the gold-haired woman.

All his memories flooded back to him. Hiroko… Lux… the assassination… He lay still as a droplet of water on his makeshift cot. No one seemed to pay attention to him. And he took a moment to assess his situation.

A small room. A cave. There were healers walking about, tending the sick. It was dimly lit with candles, so he barely made out Hiroko in the far end of a room, imprisoned in a small cage.

Hiroko. Hiroko drew his sword. That was what Aeroth had seen. And anyone who had been running past them the moment Aeroth had opened the door… they would have seen Hiroko’s weapon drawn, pointed at a dying General Lux. Suddenly Marco realized he was free to escape. Clearly, the Matsudiian had been framed for the assassination. Aeroth likely had no idea what had really happened in Lux’s general quarters.

And yet…

It made his stomach physically sick. To think of what had happened... to think that all his life, he’d trusted the wrong people… people who had set him up in an impossible situation. People he had trusted, for a cause he’d thought he’d believed in.

Everything had changed.

There would be life before Cöthrom, and life after Cöthrom. Problem was, Marco didn’t know what to do with himself. Did he confess his sins and free the Matsudiian? Did he count his losses and run while he still had the chance? He liked Aeroth well enough, and somehow the thought of telling the man that he’d been the one to…

No he couldn’t face that.

Shame pulled at him. At one point, old Ravenswing stood up and went to speak heated words with the one called “Devarre”. Two beds away, Aurora slept. This was the time. Quickly, silently, Marco slipped away and headed to the cave tunnel.

“Where are you going?”

It was the red-headed woman they called “Tree”.

“I was just getting some fresh air.”

“No. It’s not safe. You don’t know what’s out there. You don’t know what’s happened. And if anyone were to see you, you would jeopardize this entire colony. We can’t move most of these people. It would injure them or worse, kill them. And there are creatures out there that move about in the night. If they were to see you….”

Marco’s heart squeezed in a moment of fear. He understood.

“I promise I will not leave, but just go to the end of the tunnel. I will not be seen… I just need a moment to… think.”

“Very well. But be careful.” She chose her words with great care, and moved on to help more wounded.

~

Since Hiroko had awakened, he’d been spit at, cursed at, and told he was being sought by both the Causists and the Liberists. One group wanted to award him as a war hero. A legend. And one wanted to kill him. He sighed. Not this all over again.

He’d been considering the shackles on his wrists, so he didn’t see the golden-haired healer woman approach. He didn’t recognize her, but sure enough she was holding the baby they’d found in Cöthrom just before the fall.

“I am Jewelynna.” Her voice was musical, but soft. And it was clear she did not want the others to hear. He listened as she told him what had happened. And then, when she was done, he blinked at her in disbelief.

“A fortnight. You mean it’s no longer the 19th of Hexagramy?”

“No. The Crown Prince has named that day a holiday. “Redemption Day” is what he says. But indeed, that was 2 weeks ago. Today is Soulsday, the 5th of Heptagramy.”
He shook his head. The whole reason for coming to Cöthrom had been to get away from all the suffering. From all the fame. Now he was suffering and even more notorious than when he’d arrived. Why he had ever left Matsudai, perhaps he would never know.

Nothing had changed.

And the desire for a stiff drink was growing inside his belly. That certainly would never change.

“Would you please give a private message to Aeroth?”

“I would.”

“Tell him…” He considered his words for a moment. “Tell him… the magician killed the General.”

“Ah.”

“Repeat it back to me, now. So that I know you understand.”

“The magician killed the General.”

And with that, he leaned back in his cage… and waited.

~


Tik opens his eyes to find himself face to face with a strange man of pale complexion and dark eyes. The boy was not accustomed to waking up beside strange women, let alone strange men, so understandably he jerked away, only to find himself chained to the man’s wrist and ankle.

“No use. They’re locked fairly tight. You and I aren’t going anywhere, not one without the other.”

Tik reached up to touch his temple.

“That’s where they struck you when they captured you. That’s where they struck me, too, the bastards. Your welt was the size of an apple about a week ago, but it’s gone down since then. Still, I wouldn’t be surprised if you felt like wild horses were galloping through your skull. ‘Specially if they hit you with the hilt of one of their swords.”

Tik was annoyed. He decided he did not like waking up beside strange men. Not even a little bit. Looking around, taking in his surroundings, he was inside a wagon, lined with hay. There were others like him, all shackled to a partner. Slaves.

“They’re taking us to the Wizard’s game in Stormhold.” Said his shackle-mate.

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I were. I awoke a few days ago, after the attack on Cöthrom. It’s been 2 weeks, you know. You’ve been asleep for a while. Thought you were dead there, so don’t move, all right? Not sure if it’s better for them to think you’re alive or dead. I could hear you breathing, though. I knew you would wake up. They fed you and watered you just enough to keep you alive, but you’re not looking all that great, if you ask me.”

“Thanks.”

It was nightfall. Tik had never seen nightfall. It was something he’d only heard of in stories and legends. The sky was black and covered in shining lights. Stars! Despite his desperate situation, it was impossible not to stare up at the moon in wonder. Truly amazing. Like a black blanket covering the sky. It made him somehow more “aware” of his surroundings… “aware” of his own mortality. It all at once unnerved him and fascinated him. What dark unknown things lurked out there beyond the line of trees? This new nightfall would give them cover.

There were other caged wagons about like the one they sat in. Tik counted. Nineteen others. Twenty including his. All in a circle surrounded by trees. There were lights in the distance, and the mountain of Cöthrom loomed far above them in the darkness.

“Where are we now?” He asked his shack-mate.

“Just outside the township of Blythe.”

“Good. Tell them I’m dead.”

“What?”

“Tell them I’ve died.”

“But… ah… you haven’t exactly.”

“I know that! I’m just pretending. Like a opossum. Just tell them. Make something up.”

The dark-haired man raised a heavy brow. “Don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m interested. Guard! This one’s dead!”

As the muttering guard approached, he fumbled with the keys and opened the door. But it wasn’t lost on Tike that all the guards were very wary. They were only half paying attention to their slaves.

He felt himself unlocked, then dragged out by the ankle. Then a hand was placed on his neck. The guard was feeling for a pulse.

Tyr’s balls.

With lightning speed, Tik, struck the guard on his neck, paralyzing the man and knocking him unconscious. But before any of the Causist slave traders even noticed what happened, one of them pointed and yelled to his comrades. In a moment, the guards were running away from them back to the town of Blythe. There were yells and screams, and it all happened so fast that Tik could hardly believe the white, bony hand coming up out of the ground just a few feet away from him.

“Bâhlmüt!” Someone screamed. “Bâhlmüt are here! Save yourselves!!”
Those in the wagon, including his shackle mate, leapt out as fast as they could and made haste away from the trees. But the Bâhlmüt who’d come up from the ground fixed his gaze on Tik and spread wide a sickening grin. A wild, desperate hunger infected his eyes, and he reveled in the thrill of the hunt. Tik scrambled to his feet to follow the fleeing prisoners, but not before snagging the keys and the guard’s longsword.

That was when the situation truly struck him. He was standing in the middle of a caravan, filled with captured slaves who were locked away like helpless prey. He heard their screams. They reached through the bars, begging him to free them. And though Tik covered his ears and tried to ignore their pleas, he caught sights of families… of young children, tears streaming down their faces. The look in their eyes he would never forget as long as he lived.

“I’m going back.” Even as he said the words, he couldn’t believe he was really doing it.

“You’re what?!” Said his dark-haired shackle-mate. “Are you mad?”

“Just help me!” And spinning on his heel, he tried one of the keys in the closest lock.

“Dammit!”

With Bâhlmüt rising up out of the ground all around them, most hidden in the shadows behind the circle of caravans, the two young men tried their hand at the first caravan’s lock. Luckily, the second key did the trick. The grateful people tumbled out of the wagon, desperately running as far away as they could. Tik heard a cry behind him. When he turned, he saw a Bâhlmüt take a chunk out of his shackle-mate’s shoulder. Tik tried to help him, but he was set against two more of the grinning creatures. In a breath, he severed both of their heads from their bodies. And when he finally caught sight of the dark-haired man, blood dripped from his shoulder, but there was no Bâhlmüt to be seen.

“I didn’t survive slavery just to die here. I’m gone.”

And just like that, he ran. Tik cursed under his breath. Eighteen. Eighteen more wagons, many with women and children in them. And the creatures were now surfacing all around. To stay would be suicide. But to leave… would that be cowardly? Why now, of all times in his life, did he have to grow a conscience?

It was a split second decision. But once he made it, he never looked back. Tik ran. He ran away from the doomed slaves in the caravan as fast as his legs would carry him. He ran into the night, far away from the nightmarish Bâhlmüt. He ran to his own safety… to his freedom. He ran into the darkness, and the screams followed him. They would always follow him, now. Tik traded something that night: his life for the curse of knowing he’d condemned those people to die. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he’d always have to live with that.

And when they ran and could run no more… when the screams seemed far enough in the distance to almost forget… the dark-haired man slowed to a halt and bent over his knees, gasping for breath.

“What…. Is… your… name?”

“Tik. That’s what they call me.”

The dark-haired man held out his hand. “Wyveryn. Thank you. For helping me get out of there.”

“You too.”

They said no more for a very long while.

~

Marco wrote a letter to Aeroth that night. He wrote of the events that took place in General Lux’s quarters in the moments before his death. He wrote of his part in the assassination, and his deep regret at having allowed himself to become a pawn in a political game. There would be no forgiveness. Marco understood that. And why he even bothered writing it, he wasn’t entirely sure. Perhaps for his own piece of mind, he respected Aeroth enough to tell him the truth… even at the risk of condemning himself.

It was while signing his signature that he heard the screams from down below. They looked to be coming from somewhere near the township of Blythe. And somehow he knew if he followed the sounds, he would find Tik. Certainly Tik was a better option than facing Aeroth or Hiroko right now. So when the time was right, he would slip the note into Aeroth’s belongings, and make his way down the mountain before daylight. Yes, that’s what he would do.

~

The morning came with little ado. The funeral procession for General Lux was a slow, solemn one. Aeroth followed Devarre and Tree, as he and several other healers processed to a hastily built shrine. They’d discussed it the night earlier. A funeral pyre would have been fitting, but it would also likely have alerted the Causists to their whereabouts. So they would bury the body in the rocks, and mark it. They would speak a few words, say their peace, and then retire.

No one had seen Marco the Magnificent since the night prior, when Tree had allowed him to go out. No one made mention of it. Aeroth knew there would be time enough to deal with that. He also knew that should he choose to, he could find any man no matter where he hid. Aeroth had mastered the caves of Cöthrom. He would see the Magician again, of that he was certain.

Devarre spoke first. A few others. Tree. And then it was his turn. Quietly, Aeroth took his place before the group. Looking around at each of their faces, he felt a responsibility to choose his words wisely. He also felt a sudden inexplicable resentment at each of them for having survived Cöthrom’s fall, and yet here lay one of the greatest men to serve humankind… who had lived a great life, but who had not even been afforded the chance at a dignified death in battle.

Taking a deep breath, Aeroth looked up at the sky. The sun was barely a golden ball on the horizon over the distant mountain range. Sunlight was perhaps something he would never be used to. He’d lived his entire life in a cave city, exploring dungeons and familiarizing himself with darkness. This world… a world without Yvander Lux… it was foreign to him.

Everything had changed.

Glancing over at Jewelynna, who held the sleeping baby in her arms, he heard the voice again from his dreams.

“Take me home, Aeroth. Take me home Hiroko, for I am a running out of time. Take me home, Tik, take me home Marco… for to you I will bind.”

Shaking off the odd sensation, Aeroth began his speech.

“General Yvander Lux was more than a general. He was a warrior. In his heart, he fought for that which he believed in. He led men. And he was good at it. But he was a warrior… a fighter. Someone to be respected.

What he did not have to fight for was his men’s loyalty. He’d earned that. They saw the stuff he was made of, and they followed him without question and would have until the end. He did not have to fight to be a born leader. That was something he had been destined to be. It was his foundation.

But most importantly, he did not have to fight to have my deepest regard. Yes, this man was more than a general. He was like a father to me. The finest father an undeserving soldier could ask for. And while he did not have to fight for my respect, I fought to earn his. I will be forever honored that he chose to give it to me.

Yvander Lux held this world in a state of balance, and with his passing of this one man, the world has been thrown into a new era. We can only hope that in our lifetimes, there emerges a new Yvander Lux… one who would take up the burden that he carried. One born to lead. One born to be respected. And one with the heart of a warrior. For the world needs balance. This was his teaching. This was his life’s work. I plan to carry it on in his name.

Until we meet again, old friend, may Tyr have mercy on your soul.”
The people mumbled a soft prayer of acknowledgment, and began to disperse. Jewelynna, who had been standing near the back with the tiny bundle, wiped her eyes and came to Aeroth.

“That was beautifully said.”

“Thank you. It came from my heart.”

“I know this may be an improper time, but there are two things I need to tell you.”
Aeroth shook himself from his haze and considered the golden woman with the purple eyes.

“Very well. What is it?”

“The first thing is a message from Hiroko. He asked me to deliver it to you as soon as I could. And it is this. He says “The magician killed the general.” I suppose his meaning is quite straight-forward.”

“The magician.” He let out a grunt, as the little bundle stirred softly in her arms. So Hiroko points the finger at Marco, and yet someone had magically removed the doorknob and lock. Had it been one of them? Both of them? Or a third party? Was this turning into a conspiracy? He would have to speak to that unnerving Devarre about the matter. No one must leave the cave. That much was clear. “The magician.

I see. What was the second thing?”

“Aurora Bengar has freed Hiroko during our ceremony. They are gone.”

~

The first to find Tik & Wyveryn was Marco. Have descended mountain the night prior, it was not difficult for him to track them down. He overheard them in a deep discussion, and then they parted ways. As soon as Tik was alone, Marco stepped out from the trees and revealed himself.

“Don’t DO that!” Tik caught his breath in his chest. “You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“Would you care to tell me?”

“No… not just yet.” Tik’s face grew solemn. “Not just yet. I don’t think I’m ready. Perhaps another day. But you. How did you find me? And what’s become of the others?”

And Marco told him all he’d befallen. As they walked, so consumed he was in his story, he did not duck as a pine branch smacked him soundly on the cheek.

~

The baby was sleeping one moment, awake the next. She roared in pain, and when Jewelynna examined her, saw a welt forming on her cheek. Concern overcame her. None of the other healers would touch this child, but in all her years of training, she had never encountered such an anomaly. A cooling salve she applied to the poor creature, but only when it exhausted itself from tears did it pass into slumber once more.

Aeroth let the healer attend to the crying babe. He did not see the welt just then. Therefore he did not think anything of it. No, his mind was on other matters. He’d read the letter that Marco had slipped into his bag. He read it over and over, careful to retrace every word, searching for hidden meanings, and trying to decipher how he felt. And after much consideration, he decided it was too early for him to feel anything but numbness. However, once that wore off, there was no telling what severe reaction was in store. Turning to Jewelynna, he handed her to the letter, realizing that for some reason, this strange woman was the only person he trusted.

“I have a plan.” He said. “And it involves you and the baby.”

“Tell me.”

~

Wyveryn went to Blythe Tavern, but it had been empty except for the bartender. He gathered what little information he could, and on his way back to meeting Tik, he found two stragglers scaling down the mountainside. One was a beautiful but unfamiliar red-headed woman. The other… the other was unmistakable. The markings on his face and his age…

“You must be the Matsudiian Slayer!” Wyveryn could simply not help himself. He realized by jumping out of the trees, he’d startled the two. But to have a chance to meet the Slayer in person… it was something he’d always dreamt about since he was a boy. The opportunity could not be missed.

“Oh great.” Said the red-headed woman. “We’re going to have to kill him now.”

“Wait!” Wyveryn and Hiroko spoke at the same time.

“I didn’t realize—“ Wyveryn began.

“It would be best if you didn’t speak now.” Hiroko was weary. His wrists were raw from the shackles, and his belly was starved. Though he’d appreciated the fact that the red-headed woman had freed him, he’d spent a lot of time thinking about his situation on the climb down. The Causists wanted to make him a legend. The Liberists wanted to kill him. Either way, he would have to change his identity. But how, when even a silly boy in the woods recognized him? The problem was those tattoos.

Wyveryn, wide-eyed and fearful of the Aurora, stammered a plea in self-defense. In the end, they took him with them, if for no other reason than there had been enough killing in the last few days already. No sense in taking one more life.

~

A glade just outside Blythe was the meeting place, where the stragglers of Cöthrom congregated. There was Tik, the young hooded boy with a newly haunted look in his eye. Wyveryn, the dark unknown ranger whose story was yet to be told. Banger, the former Liberist foot soldier, who—upon their reunion—strode boldly up to Tik to kiss him on the cheek. Hiroko, the man caught in the middle of a political conspiracy. Just beyond the trees, unseen in the shadows, Marco waited and watched. A pang of regret was felt in his heart, as he could not be a part of this group or any group. And just when he thought it could not get any worse for him, he glanced up the mountainside and saw none other than Aeroth Ravenswing making his descent. He was accompanied by a woman in green and gold robes—no doubt a follower of Avandra. And on her back there was a bundle. The baby.

But though some of the survivors were near and some were far, all felt the sudden gust of wind pick up. Marco, in his hiding spot, felt his cape billow behind him. Aeroth’s hair blew into his face, and Tik breathed in the forest air as he felt it tickle his cheek.

Carried on the wind were words… almost like that of a whisper. But they all felt them. They felt the wind whisper in their ear…

“Take me home, Aeroth. Take me home Hiroko, for I am a running out of time. Take me home, Tik, take me home Marco… for to you I will bind.”