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.”