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The Scars Run Deep (Updated - 3/29/2004)
- Thread starter Ruined
- Start date
Ruined
Explorer
Here's a bit more for you:
13th of Chardot, yr. 150 A.V.
“And then we took their weapon cache to teach them a lesson. Let me say that Marus was less than pleased.”
Gerad and Liam shared a laugh as they walked towards the stables.
“What did he do to you?” Gerad shrugged.
“What he should have done. We all had to pull mandatory watch and patrols for the next few weeks. Myself, I expected lashings. We deserved it.”
“Some of the men would have left after that,” Liam offered.
“I’m sure Marus felt the same,” Gerad said. “The resistance movements in Quelsk draw from all sorts. Rabble looking for fights, vagabonds looking for something other than work to do. They don’t endure punishment well as a rule.”
The pair stopped a few yards from the side of the barn. The doors were opened, but they saw no sign of Blackwater.
“So how do you want to do this?” Gerad asked. Liam bit at his lip and looked up at the man beside him.
“You convince him to step out back. Then we’ll have a talk with him.”
Gerad nodded and watched as the halfling quietly slipped off around the barn. He still had trouble believing that Marus was a spellcaster like the old wizard and Liam. In truth, Liam didn’t seem much like a wizard to Gerad. He was far more personable than Kelkarrin or Nieman.
The stench of manure struck his nostrils as he entered the barn. Blackwater was there along with a young lad pitching hay into one of the stalls. At Gerad’s entrance, Blackwater looked up and smiled. He rose to his feet and walked forward, wiping his hands on his breeches.
“Greetings again to ya,” Blackwater said. “What can I help you with today? A bit of horseflesh? Or perhaps some gossip?” As before, Tobus sucked air through his teeth with that annoying sound.
“Umm,” Gerad hesitated. “Actually I was looking for a bit of information.” Blackwater’s smile deepened and he moved closer. The stench moved with him. “Perhaps we could speak out back,” Gerad said, motioning to the closed back doors.
Blackwater nodded at his meaning, and led him out the back doors. Gerad glanced around as they stepped into the sunlight, but he saw no sign of Liam. Neither did Tobus, who happily closed the door to the stables behind them.
“So, what is it that old Tobus Blackwater can help you with?”
Gerad looked at the man, suddenly wondering what lies he would ply the man with. Liam was nowhere to be seen. He could ask him about the wizard. It would be interesting to see if the man who sold Liam secrets knew of his benefactor.
Blackwater raised an eyebrow at Gerad, waiting for a reply. As Gerad watched, he heard a gentle thump, and Blackwater collapsed into a heap. Standing behind him was Liam, wielding a black sap in his hand. At once, Gerad was truly impressed with the skills of his newfound friend.
***
While the boys were off playing with the town snitch, Surielle and Tréan were forging a path into the edge of the deadly Hornsaw Forest. Tréan had only heard tales of the Hornsaw, such as the beasts mentioned in Barrett’s tale, but Surielle knew better. Her path leading south from Darakeene had taken her, Brianna, and Maximillian through the tainted forest. She had seen the horrors left by spider-goblins, gorgons and asaathi. Were it not for the sorcerous skills of their mentor, she and Brianna would never have completed the journey.
Kelkarrin knew of a grove not far within the forest. He had casually mentioned it when Surielle asked about her mother. The name Amara had brought no recognition to his face, but there had been druids in the area before. As soon as he mentioned the grove, she was determined to see it for herself, with or without her companions. Each had their reasons for their journey, but Surielle’s foremost concern was locating the mother she never knew.
“It was interesting how Kelkarrin knew of my order. They’re not prevalent here, from what I’ve learned.”
“The Sisterhood of the Scythe?” Tréan asked. “Nor had I heard of them. Little surprise. You never call yourself a member of the Sisterhood.”
“You’re right,” Surielle said as she stepped over a fallen branch. “I’ve grown so accustomed to secrecy, I barely use my true name anymore.”
“All of us are that way, dear.” Tréan stopped, pulling her hand from the side of a tree. It was slick with a dark red stain. Surielle thought it to be blood, but Tréan quickly shook her head. “It’s sap – I think. I see what they mean about this forest being tainted. We’ve not gone far and everything is beginning to feel sick.”
Surielle was about to tell her that this was normal compared to the twisted life she had seen, when a crashing sound stopped both women where they stood. It was a tree groaning, creaking, and falling to the forest floor. Surielle looked to the skyline, but the tree was not falling upon them. The ground shook in its passing. Neither woman spoke. And then they heard thunderous footsteps moving in their direction. The two of them knelt down, with Snowmelt standing close to her master.
The steps slowed. Surielle heard sounds of foliage moving nearby. Snowmelt’s ears lay back and the wolf issued a quiet growl. As she moved forward to look, Surielle placed a reassuring hand on the wolf’s haunches. Beyond the trees in a small clearing stood an eight-foot tall terror. It was a unitaur – a man-shaped beast with white skin and a horn like the rhinos that lived out in the savannahs. Tales of these beasts were grim affairs, usually ending with a number of deaths before the savage creature could be brought low. The unitaur took a few ponderous steps, and then stopped with one eye looking in their direction. Neither Tréan, Snowmelt, nor she moved.
The unitaur snorted heavily and began to walk towards them. Surielle could hear Tréan begin the familiar cadence of a spell. She considered the same in those last few moments. And then Snowmelt darted from their spot by the trees. The unitaur roared in anger at the wolf. Snowmelt did not attack, however, but sprinted off in another direction, encouraging the unitaur to follow.
“NO!” Surielle screamed. Once again, her wolf had tempted fate to save her. As Tréan finished her spell, Surielle grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her down the path of broken branches the clumsy unitaur had left behind. Heedless of any danger, they followed the trail. Surielle heard fresh sounds of growls and roars, and what sounded like a painful yelp. Onward they went, Surielle running with Tréan by the hand.
As they reached the battle, both were unprepared for the sight. The unitaur lay on the ground in a wash of blood. Snowmelt was nowhere to be seen. Atop the unitaur was the largest lion Surielle had ever seen. Its shoulders stood as tall as Surielle did. The lion looked up from its kill, its mane covered with the unitaur’s blood. Surielle felt Tréan's hand grasp hers tightly. The massive lion regarded the women with cool black eyes. Surielle scanned the clearing, but there was no sign of her wolf. Had the lion killed it too in so short a time?
The lion growled at them, a throaty sound that shook Surielle’s gut. It took a step back away from the unitaur, and began to change. It shrank in size, with its tawny skin turning into smooth alabaster flesh. Where once had been the lion, now stood an elf in simple hide and furs. He casually wiped a smear of blood from his cheek.
“Why are you here?”
“We have been told there is a grove here,” Surielle began, her voice unsteady. “We…”
“Why are you here?” Surielle saw his eyes directly on her, and possibly her amulet. She cleared her throat in an attempt to regain her composure.
“I seek a druidess that once walked this path. Her name is Amara.”
The elf regarded the two of them in silence. As he deliberated, Snowmelt returned to the clearing, warily moving around the elf and the unitaur carcass.
“Please follow me into my grove. I will tell you of the last time I saw Amara.”
13th of Chardot, yr. 150 A.V.
“And then we took their weapon cache to teach them a lesson. Let me say that Marus was less than pleased.”
Gerad and Liam shared a laugh as they walked towards the stables.
“What did he do to you?” Gerad shrugged.
“What he should have done. We all had to pull mandatory watch and patrols for the next few weeks. Myself, I expected lashings. We deserved it.”
“Some of the men would have left after that,” Liam offered.
“I’m sure Marus felt the same,” Gerad said. “The resistance movements in Quelsk draw from all sorts. Rabble looking for fights, vagabonds looking for something other than work to do. They don’t endure punishment well as a rule.”
The pair stopped a few yards from the side of the barn. The doors were opened, but they saw no sign of Blackwater.
“So how do you want to do this?” Gerad asked. Liam bit at his lip and looked up at the man beside him.
“You convince him to step out back. Then we’ll have a talk with him.”
Gerad nodded and watched as the halfling quietly slipped off around the barn. He still had trouble believing that Marus was a spellcaster like the old wizard and Liam. In truth, Liam didn’t seem much like a wizard to Gerad. He was far more personable than Kelkarrin or Nieman.
The stench of manure struck his nostrils as he entered the barn. Blackwater was there along with a young lad pitching hay into one of the stalls. At Gerad’s entrance, Blackwater looked up and smiled. He rose to his feet and walked forward, wiping his hands on his breeches.
“Greetings again to ya,” Blackwater said. “What can I help you with today? A bit of horseflesh? Or perhaps some gossip?” As before, Tobus sucked air through his teeth with that annoying sound.
“Umm,” Gerad hesitated. “Actually I was looking for a bit of information.” Blackwater’s smile deepened and he moved closer. The stench moved with him. “Perhaps we could speak out back,” Gerad said, motioning to the closed back doors.
Blackwater nodded at his meaning, and led him out the back doors. Gerad glanced around as they stepped into the sunlight, but he saw no sign of Liam. Neither did Tobus, who happily closed the door to the stables behind them.
“So, what is it that old Tobus Blackwater can help you with?”
Gerad looked at the man, suddenly wondering what lies he would ply the man with. Liam was nowhere to be seen. He could ask him about the wizard. It would be interesting to see if the man who sold Liam secrets knew of his benefactor.
Blackwater raised an eyebrow at Gerad, waiting for a reply. As Gerad watched, he heard a gentle thump, and Blackwater collapsed into a heap. Standing behind him was Liam, wielding a black sap in his hand. At once, Gerad was truly impressed with the skills of his newfound friend.
***
While the boys were off playing with the town snitch, Surielle and Tréan were forging a path into the edge of the deadly Hornsaw Forest. Tréan had only heard tales of the Hornsaw, such as the beasts mentioned in Barrett’s tale, but Surielle knew better. Her path leading south from Darakeene had taken her, Brianna, and Maximillian through the tainted forest. She had seen the horrors left by spider-goblins, gorgons and asaathi. Were it not for the sorcerous skills of their mentor, she and Brianna would never have completed the journey.
Kelkarrin knew of a grove not far within the forest. He had casually mentioned it when Surielle asked about her mother. The name Amara had brought no recognition to his face, but there had been druids in the area before. As soon as he mentioned the grove, she was determined to see it for herself, with or without her companions. Each had their reasons for their journey, but Surielle’s foremost concern was locating the mother she never knew.
“It was interesting how Kelkarrin knew of my order. They’re not prevalent here, from what I’ve learned.”
“The Sisterhood of the Scythe?” Tréan asked. “Nor had I heard of them. Little surprise. You never call yourself a member of the Sisterhood.”
“You’re right,” Surielle said as she stepped over a fallen branch. “I’ve grown so accustomed to secrecy, I barely use my true name anymore.”
“All of us are that way, dear.” Tréan stopped, pulling her hand from the side of a tree. It was slick with a dark red stain. Surielle thought it to be blood, but Tréan quickly shook her head. “It’s sap – I think. I see what they mean about this forest being tainted. We’ve not gone far and everything is beginning to feel sick.”
Surielle was about to tell her that this was normal compared to the twisted life she had seen, when a crashing sound stopped both women where they stood. It was a tree groaning, creaking, and falling to the forest floor. Surielle looked to the skyline, but the tree was not falling upon them. The ground shook in its passing. Neither woman spoke. And then they heard thunderous footsteps moving in their direction. The two of them knelt down, with Snowmelt standing close to her master.
The steps slowed. Surielle heard sounds of foliage moving nearby. Snowmelt’s ears lay back and the wolf issued a quiet growl. As she moved forward to look, Surielle placed a reassuring hand on the wolf’s haunches. Beyond the trees in a small clearing stood an eight-foot tall terror. It was a unitaur – a man-shaped beast with white skin and a horn like the rhinos that lived out in the savannahs. Tales of these beasts were grim affairs, usually ending with a number of deaths before the savage creature could be brought low. The unitaur took a few ponderous steps, and then stopped with one eye looking in their direction. Neither Tréan, Snowmelt, nor she moved.
The unitaur snorted heavily and began to walk towards them. Surielle could hear Tréan begin the familiar cadence of a spell. She considered the same in those last few moments. And then Snowmelt darted from their spot by the trees. The unitaur roared in anger at the wolf. Snowmelt did not attack, however, but sprinted off in another direction, encouraging the unitaur to follow.
“NO!” Surielle screamed. Once again, her wolf had tempted fate to save her. As Tréan finished her spell, Surielle grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her down the path of broken branches the clumsy unitaur had left behind. Heedless of any danger, they followed the trail. Surielle heard fresh sounds of growls and roars, and what sounded like a painful yelp. Onward they went, Surielle running with Tréan by the hand.
As they reached the battle, both were unprepared for the sight. The unitaur lay on the ground in a wash of blood. Snowmelt was nowhere to be seen. Atop the unitaur was the largest lion Surielle had ever seen. Its shoulders stood as tall as Surielle did. The lion looked up from its kill, its mane covered with the unitaur’s blood. Surielle felt Tréan's hand grasp hers tightly. The massive lion regarded the women with cool black eyes. Surielle scanned the clearing, but there was no sign of her wolf. Had the lion killed it too in so short a time?
The lion growled at them, a throaty sound that shook Surielle’s gut. It took a step back away from the unitaur, and began to change. It shrank in size, with its tawny skin turning into smooth alabaster flesh. Where once had been the lion, now stood an elf in simple hide and furs. He casually wiped a smear of blood from his cheek.
“Why are you here?”
“We have been told there is a grove here,” Surielle began, her voice unsteady. “We…”
“Why are you here?” Surielle saw his eyes directly on her, and possibly her amulet. She cleared her throat in an attempt to regain her composure.
“I seek a druidess that once walked this path. Her name is Amara.”
The elf regarded the two of them in silence. As he deliberated, Snowmelt returned to the clearing, warily moving around the elf and the unitaur carcass.
“Please follow me into my grove. I will tell you of the last time I saw Amara.”
Last edited:
Ruined
Explorer
13th of Chardot, yr. 150 A.V., continued
Gerad and Liam dragged Blackwater’s limp form from the stables into the wine fields. Gerad spotted workers in the fields that nodded their heads at his passing. Luckily Blackwater’s body was obscured by the rows of vines. They eventually stopped at a place far enough away from any stray workers.
“I’d prefer to have it so he doesn’t see my face,” Liam said as he bound the unconscious man’s wrists. Gerad nodded.
A few light kicks from Gerad’s boot brought Blackwater awake. He started once he realized that he lay in a field.
“Wait… wha, what happened?”
Gerad reached down and cuffed the man. It shocked him awake and set the pace for the questioning.
“I have questions and you will answer. If you lie to me or scream out for help, I will kill you.” Gerad looked from Blackwater’s eyes down to his own sword. The man’s eyes could not help but follow.
“What do you know about me and my visit here to Oakdale? “You do remember me and my lady friends?” The frightened man nodded.
“Yes, you came into town with some lovelies.”
“Forget them. Forget about us. Anyone comes asking about us, you tell them nothing. We were never here,” Gerad said, leveling the blade at his throat. “If you speak of us, I’ll paint those stables with your blood.”
Blackwater paled considerably at the threat, then nodded anxiously. Gerad was satisfied, but Liam spoke after a moment.
“He’s already told someone.” Blackwater tried to scramble around at the voice, not realizing that Liam was nearby.
“How do you know?” Gerad asked, looking at the halfling.
“A gut feeling. Somehow, he found someone to sell your information to.” As Liam talked, Blackwater’s face dropped in shock and protest.
“Is this true?” Gerad demanded, returning the sword to Blackwater’s throat.
“Well, I…”
“Answer me!”
“Yes, yes. There’s a bounty hunter called Thrain — A big Albadian. He paid well, and he was real convincing, much like yourself.” Blackwater managed a feeble smile.
“What did you tell him?”
“He had asked for you before you came to town. I let him know you were here and where you were staying. That’s all, I swear by Hedrada’s law!”
“Damn!” Gerad paced around, trying to decide what to do with Blackwater. If he was afraid of this bounty hunter, then he would likely speak of this conversation when pressed. The man was a liability, and he had already caused problems for Gerad and his companions. Perhaps he should just kill him. Liam must have sensed this.
“Send him away, out of town,” he said in a low voice, moving where Blackwater could better see him.
“We could just kill him and be done with it,” Gerad said, quickly playing along with Liam’s idea.
“No, no, sirs. I can keep my silence, not a problem,” Blackwater said, trying to squirm away from Gerad’s sword.
“You’ve caused us nothing but problems, Blackwater. We can’t trust you here.”
“I do like the man,” Liam said, offering a smile to Blackwater. “If you could exact a promise from him and send him out of town, that might work.”
Blackwater’s face brightened.
“Oh yes sir! I can leave straight away, and never a word about you or your ladies.”
Gerad knelt down before the man with his sword still at the ready.
“I have you on your promise: not a word. If my friends or I ever see you again, remember my words.” Blackwater nodded slowly. Gerad lowered the blade and cut the bonds at his hands, then his feet. Without another word, Blackwater was off across the vineyard.
“So did Marus teach you to be so brutal?” Liam asked as they watched the man run across the field.
“No,” Gerad answered. “It was Calastia.”
***
The elven druid’s name was Solenus. He led Surielle and Tréan back to a small clearing deeper within the forest. A trio of trees dominated one end of the clearing, reaching together to form a crude canopy the druid used for shelter. Surielle noted that the life here was healthier than what they had seen elsewhere.
“You tend her forests well here,” she said.
“It is not nearly enough,” Solenus replied. “I have carved out a small place on the fringes of the Broadreach. Years have been spent to achieve this, and it is nothing compared to the taint which must be cleansed.”
“Take heart,” Surielle said. “The burden is not yours to bear alone.”
The elf looked at the women before him and sighed. “It is an easy thing to say, but I was there when the titaness fell…”
Tréan and Surielle stopped and looked at Solenus with shock. He had been in the forest when Mormo had fallen at the hands of the gods! At Solenus’ request, the three sat on the forest floor and listened as he gave his tale.
Solenus had lived in the Broadreach for many years before the coming of the Divine War. When Denev had asked for the assistance of her druidic servants, he and many others had answered the call, fighting primarily against the asaatthi that invaded on behalf of Mormo, Denev’s serpentine sister. The gods fought together against the Lady of Serpents, stopping her near the Broadreach. As she fell, she uttered a curse against her sister and her servants. Her poisonous ichor sunk deep into the grounds of the forest, blighting flora and twisting fauna. The battle for the forest, later to be called the Hornsaw, raged on for years after Mormo’s fall. Eventually the elves decided upon a course of action that would change them forever. Solenus and others enacted a ritual that transformed them into great trees so that they could bond with the land and attempt to heal it with Denev’s fading strength. In the century that he remained rooted to that spot, the druids endured much and actually helped the forest. But as Solenus has said before, it was not enough.
“Your faith keeps you strong after all those years. If all of your people are as strong as you, I have no fear that the forest will be reclaimed in time,” Tréan said. Solenus managed a smile.
“We hope as much, although the path is difficult.”
Surielle had politely held her questions during the tale, but now she yearned for answers. “Solenus, you said you knew of my mother…”
“Ah, my apologies. I have not spoken with anyone in months. Yes, I met Amara when I first took this post some sixteen years ago. You bear her resemblance greatly.”
“There were a group of powerful servants of Denev that gathered here, your mother included. They had a quest deep within the heart of the Hornsaw where the foulest corruption lies. I had been asked to take the post of the previous guardian, Laremarche.” Solenus looked away from Surielle, growing silent.
“And when they returned, what path did Amara take?”
Solenus did not answer. She could feel the dread creep up her spine.
“Solenus?”
He finally turned to face Surielle. The look in his eyes told her exactly what she feared.
“She did not return. In fact, only one did. I am sorry, Surielle.”
Surielle was overwhelmed. The life she had pursued, in fact her entire reason for embracing the path of Denev, was an effort to find the mother she had never known. And she lay dead in the Hornsaw Forest? It was too much for her to grasp. Everything blurred, and before she could stop herself, she was sobbing in Tréan’s arms. Snowmelt, also sensing her grief, moved up and nuzzled at her side. A few minutes later, she regained her composure and asked one more question.
“What of the one who survived? What did they say?”
“She was wounded and terrified when she emerged from the Hornsaw. We did not speak of it, given her fragile state. I can endeavor to contact her and see if she will give you audience.”
“Thank you Solenus,” Surielle said, wiping an errant tear from her cheek.
“I will do what I can. Come to me on the morrow and we will speak more.”
***
Tréan, Surielle and Snowmelt took a different path out of the forest shown to them by Solenus. Surielle was very quiet on the trip, obviously wrestling with the choices she had made over the years. Tréan did not fault her. She too harbored a desire to know her own parents, but she had long pushed those thoughts from her mind.
Would Surielle continue to travel with her and Gerad, or would she leave now that she knew of her mother’s fate? Tréan hated feeling selfish about this, but she wanted Surielle to stay. She had been a close friend and a fearless ally in their time together.
As they crested a hill outside of the forest, a familiar man moved into sight, heading in their direction. Tobus Blackwater. He had a large rucksack draped over one shoulder that caused him to stagger. As he moved closer, he saw the women and flashed a smile.
Then his smile cracked and he nearly dropped his rucksack. Tréan could clearly see the fear in his eyes. He turned and fled from the women, losing his footing a few yards away. Blackwater cried out as he fell, and then quickly scrambled to his feet and sprinted across the vineyards.
“I wonder what that’s all about?” Surielle asked.
“I’m sure I can guess,” Tréan replied.
They laughed and continued back to Kelkarrin’s tower.
Gerad and Liam dragged Blackwater’s limp form from the stables into the wine fields. Gerad spotted workers in the fields that nodded their heads at his passing. Luckily Blackwater’s body was obscured by the rows of vines. They eventually stopped at a place far enough away from any stray workers.
“I’d prefer to have it so he doesn’t see my face,” Liam said as he bound the unconscious man’s wrists. Gerad nodded.
A few light kicks from Gerad’s boot brought Blackwater awake. He started once he realized that he lay in a field.
“Wait… wha, what happened?”
Gerad reached down and cuffed the man. It shocked him awake and set the pace for the questioning.
“I have questions and you will answer. If you lie to me or scream out for help, I will kill you.” Gerad looked from Blackwater’s eyes down to his own sword. The man’s eyes could not help but follow.
“What do you know about me and my visit here to Oakdale? “You do remember me and my lady friends?” The frightened man nodded.
“Yes, you came into town with some lovelies.”
“Forget them. Forget about us. Anyone comes asking about us, you tell them nothing. We were never here,” Gerad said, leveling the blade at his throat. “If you speak of us, I’ll paint those stables with your blood.”
Blackwater paled considerably at the threat, then nodded anxiously. Gerad was satisfied, but Liam spoke after a moment.
“He’s already told someone.” Blackwater tried to scramble around at the voice, not realizing that Liam was nearby.
“How do you know?” Gerad asked, looking at the halfling.
“A gut feeling. Somehow, he found someone to sell your information to.” As Liam talked, Blackwater’s face dropped in shock and protest.
“Is this true?” Gerad demanded, returning the sword to Blackwater’s throat.
“Well, I…”
“Answer me!”
“Yes, yes. There’s a bounty hunter called Thrain — A big Albadian. He paid well, and he was real convincing, much like yourself.” Blackwater managed a feeble smile.
“What did you tell him?”
“He had asked for you before you came to town. I let him know you were here and where you were staying. That’s all, I swear by Hedrada’s law!”
“Damn!” Gerad paced around, trying to decide what to do with Blackwater. If he was afraid of this bounty hunter, then he would likely speak of this conversation when pressed. The man was a liability, and he had already caused problems for Gerad and his companions. Perhaps he should just kill him. Liam must have sensed this.
“Send him away, out of town,” he said in a low voice, moving where Blackwater could better see him.
“We could just kill him and be done with it,” Gerad said, quickly playing along with Liam’s idea.
“No, no, sirs. I can keep my silence, not a problem,” Blackwater said, trying to squirm away from Gerad’s sword.
“You’ve caused us nothing but problems, Blackwater. We can’t trust you here.”
“I do like the man,” Liam said, offering a smile to Blackwater. “If you could exact a promise from him and send him out of town, that might work.”
Blackwater’s face brightened.
“Oh yes sir! I can leave straight away, and never a word about you or your ladies.”
Gerad knelt down before the man with his sword still at the ready.
“I have you on your promise: not a word. If my friends or I ever see you again, remember my words.” Blackwater nodded slowly. Gerad lowered the blade and cut the bonds at his hands, then his feet. Without another word, Blackwater was off across the vineyard.
“So did Marus teach you to be so brutal?” Liam asked as they watched the man run across the field.
“No,” Gerad answered. “It was Calastia.”
***
The elven druid’s name was Solenus. He led Surielle and Tréan back to a small clearing deeper within the forest. A trio of trees dominated one end of the clearing, reaching together to form a crude canopy the druid used for shelter. Surielle noted that the life here was healthier than what they had seen elsewhere.
“You tend her forests well here,” she said.
“It is not nearly enough,” Solenus replied. “I have carved out a small place on the fringes of the Broadreach. Years have been spent to achieve this, and it is nothing compared to the taint which must be cleansed.”
“Take heart,” Surielle said. “The burden is not yours to bear alone.”
The elf looked at the women before him and sighed. “It is an easy thing to say, but I was there when the titaness fell…”
Tréan and Surielle stopped and looked at Solenus with shock. He had been in the forest when Mormo had fallen at the hands of the gods! At Solenus’ request, the three sat on the forest floor and listened as he gave his tale.
Solenus had lived in the Broadreach for many years before the coming of the Divine War. When Denev had asked for the assistance of her druidic servants, he and many others had answered the call, fighting primarily against the asaatthi that invaded on behalf of Mormo, Denev’s serpentine sister. The gods fought together against the Lady of Serpents, stopping her near the Broadreach. As she fell, she uttered a curse against her sister and her servants. Her poisonous ichor sunk deep into the grounds of the forest, blighting flora and twisting fauna. The battle for the forest, later to be called the Hornsaw, raged on for years after Mormo’s fall. Eventually the elves decided upon a course of action that would change them forever. Solenus and others enacted a ritual that transformed them into great trees so that they could bond with the land and attempt to heal it with Denev’s fading strength. In the century that he remained rooted to that spot, the druids endured much and actually helped the forest. But as Solenus has said before, it was not enough.
“Your faith keeps you strong after all those years. If all of your people are as strong as you, I have no fear that the forest will be reclaimed in time,” Tréan said. Solenus managed a smile.
“We hope as much, although the path is difficult.”
Surielle had politely held her questions during the tale, but now she yearned for answers. “Solenus, you said you knew of my mother…”
“Ah, my apologies. I have not spoken with anyone in months. Yes, I met Amara when I first took this post some sixteen years ago. You bear her resemblance greatly.”
“There were a group of powerful servants of Denev that gathered here, your mother included. They had a quest deep within the heart of the Hornsaw where the foulest corruption lies. I had been asked to take the post of the previous guardian, Laremarche.” Solenus looked away from Surielle, growing silent.
“And when they returned, what path did Amara take?”
Solenus did not answer. She could feel the dread creep up her spine.
“Solenus?”
He finally turned to face Surielle. The look in his eyes told her exactly what she feared.
“She did not return. In fact, only one did. I am sorry, Surielle.”
Surielle was overwhelmed. The life she had pursued, in fact her entire reason for embracing the path of Denev, was an effort to find the mother she had never known. And she lay dead in the Hornsaw Forest? It was too much for her to grasp. Everything blurred, and before she could stop herself, she was sobbing in Tréan’s arms. Snowmelt, also sensing her grief, moved up and nuzzled at her side. A few minutes later, she regained her composure and asked one more question.
“What of the one who survived? What did they say?”
“She was wounded and terrified when she emerged from the Hornsaw. We did not speak of it, given her fragile state. I can endeavor to contact her and see if she will give you audience.”
“Thank you Solenus,” Surielle said, wiping an errant tear from her cheek.
“I will do what I can. Come to me on the morrow and we will speak more.”
***
Tréan, Surielle and Snowmelt took a different path out of the forest shown to them by Solenus. Surielle was very quiet on the trip, obviously wrestling with the choices she had made over the years. Tréan did not fault her. She too harbored a desire to know her own parents, but she had long pushed those thoughts from her mind.
Would Surielle continue to travel with her and Gerad, or would she leave now that she knew of her mother’s fate? Tréan hated feeling selfish about this, but she wanted Surielle to stay. She had been a close friend and a fearless ally in their time together.
As they crested a hill outside of the forest, a familiar man moved into sight, heading in their direction. Tobus Blackwater. He had a large rucksack draped over one shoulder that caused him to stagger. As he moved closer, he saw the women and flashed a smile.
Then his smile cracked and he nearly dropped his rucksack. Tréan could clearly see the fear in his eyes. He turned and fled from the women, losing his footing a few yards away. Blackwater cried out as he fell, and then quickly scrambled to his feet and sprinted across the vineyards.
“I wonder what that’s all about?” Surielle asked.
“I’m sure I can guess,” Tréan replied.
They laughed and continued back to Kelkarrin’s tower.
Ruined
Explorer
13th of Chardot, yr. 150 A.V., continued
“Blackwater sold us out to a bounty hunter named Thrain. He sounds like the one you saw in Zamon.” Gerad looked at Surielle as he said this. He stood in the doorway of the room Tréan and Surielle were given in Kelkarrin’s tower.
“We saw Blackwater on our way back to the tower,” Tréan said. “He looked quite frightened to see us.” Gerad shrugged.
“He lived.”
Tréan pursed her lips and frowned at Gerad. She was glad that he and Liam had not slain the stable hand, but she wished she did not have to worry about such things. Gerad paid no attention to her displeasure.
“I doubt if he’ll find us in this tower, but he’s dogged our trail from Quelsk. He won’t stop unless we stop him.”
“You mean to kill him?” Tréan asked. Surielle was the one to answer.
“I think we need to.”
Tréan looked at her with unmasked surprise.
“As Gerad said, he will not stop until he’s either killed or captured us and has been paid his gold. Even if he were to take the peaceful route and capture us, he’ll take us to Quelsk or Calastia where a certain death sentence awaits.”
“We need to strike first, before he lays a trap for us,” Gerad said.
“I know,” Tréan sighed. “I just wish to avoid needless deaths.”
“You showed no hesitation to kill the crocodiles before…” Surielle countered.
“They were trying to kill us,” Tréan replied, seeing the looming argument, “and I they were creatures, not people. It just feels different to me.”
“I know. That’s why you should look at it from my perspective. The hunter stalks us. We must rise up and slay him or forever run in fear. It is the law of the wild.”
“Don’t worry, Tréan,” Gerad said, leaning further into the room, “if I have my way, you won’t have to shed one drop of blood.”
***
14th of Chardot, yr. 150 A.V.
Surielle crouched down beside Gerad, who was peering into the stables through an empty knothole. “How is she doing?”
“Fine, so far,” Gerad said without shifting from his spot. “There was a boy working inside, probably to stand in Blackwater’s place. They talked for a few minutes, and then he went running out the front. Nothing else.”
Surielle glanced around the countryside, looking at the workers tending their fields. A few were close enough to see her and Gerad as they skulked, but there was little to be done about it. They had decided to let Tréan go in and inquire about the bounty hunter. Tréan had been less than thrilled about telling lies, but Surielle knew the priestess had a better way with people than either herself or Gerad. Surielle had asked about Liam; this was his town, so he could be the best to scout around, but Kelkarrin had other duties for him. It was just as well – this was their burden, not his.
“All right, the boy has brought a man with him,” Gerad said, lowering himself to get a better vantage point. “He and Tréan are looking at horses. Nothing more.”
At the same time, Surielle was looking out at the vineyards.
“We may have a slight problem,” she said. Gerad turned to regard her. She pointed out to the fields behind them. “There’s an older man coming close. Not Thrain. He doesn’t look happy.”
Gerad glanced back and groaned. “I think he owns land here. He saw Liam and me yesterday.”
“What exactly did he see?”
“Nothing!” Gerad protested. “We were careful.”
Surielle shook her head. The man himself should be no threat to them, but he could alert the bounty hunter to their position. Or worse, he could summon the town guards.
“Hey,” Gerad said, “where’s your wolf?”
Surielle looked back to where Snowmelt had been moments ago. She was gone.
***
Tréan was running out of questions to ask the owner of the stables. He had grumbled about Blackwater’s absence, but thankfully it had seemed commonplace. She had not found a plausible way to ask about Thrain, the bounty hunter who had dealt with Blackwater. Kellar, the youth working in his place, may have known more about Thrain, but his quickly formed infatuation with Tréan had caught her off guard. As she glanced over at where he stood, he flushed and looked back down at the stall where he worked.
“This bay may suit you, milady. She’s not too tall, but quite sturdy.” The comment from the owner brought her back to the subject of horseflesh. Tréan looked over the horse for a few minutes while the owner headed back to the front. She had inquired about purchasing horses for her and her friends. She knew they might need them eventually, depending on how their meetings with Kelkarrin went. Where would they go next, now that this part of the journey was complete?
She absently stroked the chin of the horse, wondering how her life had changed so drastically. Tréan glanced back to the stable owner, who was engaged in conversation with a large man.
It was Thrain.
The man stood a hand taller than Gerad and wore a thick, braided beard. His clothing was a hodgepodge of belts and furs. Her eyes met his, and she could see the realization forming behind them. He pushed the stable owner aside while drawing an axe with his free hand.
“Come with me quiet, girl. I’d choose not to hurt you.”
Tréan looked at the axe and had doubts to his sincerity. She took a few steps back and summoned a shield of faith to protect herself. Seeing her cast a spell was all the bounty hunter needed. He advanced upon her and struck her head with the flat of his axe blade, completely avoiding her translucent shield. Tréan’s head swam from the blow, but she kept her footing. As she watched, Thrain pulled a matching axe from behind his shoulder, wielding one in each hand. He has skill.
Tréan kept retreating from Thrain, hoping to stave him off long enough for her friends to arrive. As she conjured forth a spear of Madriel to fight for her, she saw the young boy, Kellar, rush toward Thrain.
“Stop it!” the boy cried as he went to shove the towering man. Thrain callously backhanded the boy, sending him sprawling across the stable floor.
“No!” Tréan cried, sending the ephemeral spear to stab at her enemy. The weapon struck true, but the bounty hunter paid it little heed as he closed in on her.
***
Surielle could hear growling as she rushed toward the front of the stables. Snowmelt must have sensed something amiss and gone to investigate. Surielle loved her companion dearly, but wished that the wolf could talk and warn her when she went to do things like this.
Around the corner, Surielle found Snowmelt in a standoff with four large, familiar dogs. Their owner was nowhere to be seen, thankfully. She feared for Snowmelt – she knew the wolf could handle one or maybe two such hounds, but four were too many. She would have to even the odds.
“None shall oppose the will of Denev!” Surielle cried, spreading her arms wide. Three of the hounds yelped at her decree and fled from her presence. The remaining hound had launched at Snowmelt, and the two met in a vicious tangle of fur. Surielle watched but was hesitant to strike while the two were so close. She had to make sure Snowmelt survived, but she was torn, wondering if she could help her friends inside.
***
The large Albadian harried Tréan, striking with both axes. Her summoned shield deflected some of the blows, but too many were getting through her defenses. Then, Gerad stepped in through the back doors of the barn and called out to the warrior.
“You should be fighting someone your own size, hunter!”
Thrain kept his focus on Tréan, yet took a step back. Once again, the spiritual weapon stabbed into his furs, but seemed to damage him little.
“Her, I need to take alive. But you, Caedmon?” He looked back at Gerad with a smile. “All I need is your head.”
The two wasted no more time. Gerad crossed the stables and rushed into Thrain, pushing him away from Tréan. The two moved a few steps back before disengaging and circling. Gerad brought his spear haft up in time to block a blow from an axe, allowing the other axe to slam into his breastplate. The blade cut deep, and Gerad to bit back a cry.
Gerad would not be stopped so easily. He pushed the offensive, scoring hits against the bounty hunter with his spear. Some of the blows would have felled lesser men, but the man’s hide armor seemed to absorb the worst of the damage. Thrain did not flinch from his attacks, merely advancing upon Gerad and striking with deadly precision.
“Tréan, get out of here!” Gerad yelled, hoping to get her to retreat. All he could hear from her direction was a continual series of chants and prayers. He tried to glance back at her, but such a move was a mistake. One of Thrain’s axes arced up and caught him along the neck and face, leaving a warm trail of pain in its wake. Gerad collapsed to his hands and knees, his vision darkening.
He could hear Surielle’s voice, coming from the front of the stables.
“Excuse me? Who do all of these dead dogs belong to?”
“Blackwater sold us out to a bounty hunter named Thrain. He sounds like the one you saw in Zamon.” Gerad looked at Surielle as he said this. He stood in the doorway of the room Tréan and Surielle were given in Kelkarrin’s tower.
“We saw Blackwater on our way back to the tower,” Tréan said. “He looked quite frightened to see us.” Gerad shrugged.
“He lived.”
Tréan pursed her lips and frowned at Gerad. She was glad that he and Liam had not slain the stable hand, but she wished she did not have to worry about such things. Gerad paid no attention to her displeasure.
“I doubt if he’ll find us in this tower, but he’s dogged our trail from Quelsk. He won’t stop unless we stop him.”
“You mean to kill him?” Tréan asked. Surielle was the one to answer.
“I think we need to.”
Tréan looked at her with unmasked surprise.
“As Gerad said, he will not stop until he’s either killed or captured us and has been paid his gold. Even if he were to take the peaceful route and capture us, he’ll take us to Quelsk or Calastia where a certain death sentence awaits.”
“We need to strike first, before he lays a trap for us,” Gerad said.
“I know,” Tréan sighed. “I just wish to avoid needless deaths.”
“You showed no hesitation to kill the crocodiles before…” Surielle countered.
“They were trying to kill us,” Tréan replied, seeing the looming argument, “and I they were creatures, not people. It just feels different to me.”
“I know. That’s why you should look at it from my perspective. The hunter stalks us. We must rise up and slay him or forever run in fear. It is the law of the wild.”
“Don’t worry, Tréan,” Gerad said, leaning further into the room, “if I have my way, you won’t have to shed one drop of blood.”
***
14th of Chardot, yr. 150 A.V.
Surielle crouched down beside Gerad, who was peering into the stables through an empty knothole. “How is she doing?”
“Fine, so far,” Gerad said without shifting from his spot. “There was a boy working inside, probably to stand in Blackwater’s place. They talked for a few minutes, and then he went running out the front. Nothing else.”
Surielle glanced around the countryside, looking at the workers tending their fields. A few were close enough to see her and Gerad as they skulked, but there was little to be done about it. They had decided to let Tréan go in and inquire about the bounty hunter. Tréan had been less than thrilled about telling lies, but Surielle knew the priestess had a better way with people than either herself or Gerad. Surielle had asked about Liam; this was his town, so he could be the best to scout around, but Kelkarrin had other duties for him. It was just as well – this was their burden, not his.
“All right, the boy has brought a man with him,” Gerad said, lowering himself to get a better vantage point. “He and Tréan are looking at horses. Nothing more.”
At the same time, Surielle was looking out at the vineyards.
“We may have a slight problem,” she said. Gerad turned to regard her. She pointed out to the fields behind them. “There’s an older man coming close. Not Thrain. He doesn’t look happy.”
Gerad glanced back and groaned. “I think he owns land here. He saw Liam and me yesterday.”
“What exactly did he see?”
“Nothing!” Gerad protested. “We were careful.”
Surielle shook her head. The man himself should be no threat to them, but he could alert the bounty hunter to their position. Or worse, he could summon the town guards.
“Hey,” Gerad said, “where’s your wolf?”
Surielle looked back to where Snowmelt had been moments ago. She was gone.
***
Tréan was running out of questions to ask the owner of the stables. He had grumbled about Blackwater’s absence, but thankfully it had seemed commonplace. She had not found a plausible way to ask about Thrain, the bounty hunter who had dealt with Blackwater. Kellar, the youth working in his place, may have known more about Thrain, but his quickly formed infatuation with Tréan had caught her off guard. As she glanced over at where he stood, he flushed and looked back down at the stall where he worked.
“This bay may suit you, milady. She’s not too tall, but quite sturdy.” The comment from the owner brought her back to the subject of horseflesh. Tréan looked over the horse for a few minutes while the owner headed back to the front. She had inquired about purchasing horses for her and her friends. She knew they might need them eventually, depending on how their meetings with Kelkarrin went. Where would they go next, now that this part of the journey was complete?
She absently stroked the chin of the horse, wondering how her life had changed so drastically. Tréan glanced back to the stable owner, who was engaged in conversation with a large man.
It was Thrain.
The man stood a hand taller than Gerad and wore a thick, braided beard. His clothing was a hodgepodge of belts and furs. Her eyes met his, and she could see the realization forming behind them. He pushed the stable owner aside while drawing an axe with his free hand.
“Come with me quiet, girl. I’d choose not to hurt you.”
Tréan looked at the axe and had doubts to his sincerity. She took a few steps back and summoned a shield of faith to protect herself. Seeing her cast a spell was all the bounty hunter needed. He advanced upon her and struck her head with the flat of his axe blade, completely avoiding her translucent shield. Tréan’s head swam from the blow, but she kept her footing. As she watched, Thrain pulled a matching axe from behind his shoulder, wielding one in each hand. He has skill.
Tréan kept retreating from Thrain, hoping to stave him off long enough for her friends to arrive. As she conjured forth a spear of Madriel to fight for her, she saw the young boy, Kellar, rush toward Thrain.
“Stop it!” the boy cried as he went to shove the towering man. Thrain callously backhanded the boy, sending him sprawling across the stable floor.
“No!” Tréan cried, sending the ephemeral spear to stab at her enemy. The weapon struck true, but the bounty hunter paid it little heed as he closed in on her.
***
Surielle could hear growling as she rushed toward the front of the stables. Snowmelt must have sensed something amiss and gone to investigate. Surielle loved her companion dearly, but wished that the wolf could talk and warn her when she went to do things like this.
Around the corner, Surielle found Snowmelt in a standoff with four large, familiar dogs. Their owner was nowhere to be seen, thankfully. She feared for Snowmelt – she knew the wolf could handle one or maybe two such hounds, but four were too many. She would have to even the odds.
“None shall oppose the will of Denev!” Surielle cried, spreading her arms wide. Three of the hounds yelped at her decree and fled from her presence. The remaining hound had launched at Snowmelt, and the two met in a vicious tangle of fur. Surielle watched but was hesitant to strike while the two were so close. She had to make sure Snowmelt survived, but she was torn, wondering if she could help her friends inside.
***
The large Albadian harried Tréan, striking with both axes. Her summoned shield deflected some of the blows, but too many were getting through her defenses. Then, Gerad stepped in through the back doors of the barn and called out to the warrior.
“You should be fighting someone your own size, hunter!”
Thrain kept his focus on Tréan, yet took a step back. Once again, the spiritual weapon stabbed into his furs, but seemed to damage him little.
“Her, I need to take alive. But you, Caedmon?” He looked back at Gerad with a smile. “All I need is your head.”
The two wasted no more time. Gerad crossed the stables and rushed into Thrain, pushing him away from Tréan. The two moved a few steps back before disengaging and circling. Gerad brought his spear haft up in time to block a blow from an axe, allowing the other axe to slam into his breastplate. The blade cut deep, and Gerad to bit back a cry.
Gerad would not be stopped so easily. He pushed the offensive, scoring hits against the bounty hunter with his spear. Some of the blows would have felled lesser men, but the man’s hide armor seemed to absorb the worst of the damage. Thrain did not flinch from his attacks, merely advancing upon Gerad and striking with deadly precision.
“Tréan, get out of here!” Gerad yelled, hoping to get her to retreat. All he could hear from her direction was a continual series of chants and prayers. He tried to glance back at her, but such a move was a mistake. One of Thrain’s axes arced up and caught him along the neck and face, leaving a warm trail of pain in its wake. Gerad collapsed to his hands and knees, his vision darkening.
He could hear Surielle’s voice, coming from the front of the stables.
“Excuse me? Who do all of these dead dogs belong to?”
Ruined
Explorer
14th of Chardot, yr. 150 A.V., continued
Surielle’s gambit worked too well. She had enraged the Albadian bounty hunter with her words. Apparently he loved his hounds as much as she loved Snowmelt. He turned, red-faced, and glared at her for an instant. Then, with a snarl, he charged.
She had seen how easily Thrain had felled Gerad, so what chance did she stand? The hunter did not even look very wounded. With a desperate prayer to Denev, Surielle brought forth her flame scythe.
Thrain rushed out of the stables and straight toward her, bearing an axe in each hand. His speed surprised her. She used the scythe to hold him at bay, but he showed little fear. The fact that only one hound remained, lying prone beneath Snowmelt’s jaws, gave credence to her earlier words. Had she spared Tréan’s life, only to throw hers away?
She hadn’t expected such a sudden advance by Thrain, and in the process of blocking his swings she tripped over the animals. She concentrated to keep the scythe aflame, as the enraged bounty hunter moved in for the kill.
***
Tréan knew she only had moments to act. Gerad lay in a quiet heap, covered in blood. Dying. A prayer to Madriel formed on her lips before she reached her fallen friend. Yes, her friend. They had been thrown together by fate, and Tréan was forced to rely on his methods of violence and brash attitude. But he had an honorable heart, and no matter how much she chided him, she cared for Gerad.
The axe had smashed into his neck and cheek with grisly results. He was faintly breathing. Blood gushed out of his throat as Tréan placed her hands upon him. She cupped his cheek in one hand and covered the wound with the other, the devotion to Madriel still pouring from her lips. At once, the healing began, closing the wounds beneath her hand. Gerad’s breathing returned to normal, yet he did not stir from his restorative sleep. The spell completed, Tréan nervously looked to the front of the stables. There was no sign of Thrain or Surielle.
“Madriel, please forgive me,” she said, smacking Gerad across the face. He startled awake and nearly lunged at her. He scanned the room, taking a second to wipe the blood from his face.
“Where is he?”
“Outside. Surielle will need us, but first…” She worked her hands to a familiar spell. Tréan had suspicions about the bounty hunter’s armor.
***
One axe bit into the ground next to Surielle’s head. She rolled to her left as the other fell, chopping into her shoulder, searing her with pain. Another hit like that could very well sever her arm. She pulled herself up from the ground and slashed out with the scythe, its reddish-yellow flames cutting through the furs on his legs. The bounty hunter snarled and took a step back, allowing her the briefest of moments to catch her breath.
Their dance was an awkward one. Surielle gave ground, narrowly avoiding the lethal strikes of his axes. She connected once, twice with the scythe, blackening his arms, but he did not cease. The haft of the axe struck her jaw once, numbing her mouth and causing blood to run from her lips. She was tiring quickly, and knew it would only be a matter of time before he won.
A figure ran up to Thrain, plowing into his side and knocking him away before he could deliver another blow. It was Gerad, covered in his own blood, breathing heavily. Surielle stared at him for a moment before turning back to the bounty hunter. This would be their final fight, she was sure of it. As they advanced upon Thrain, Tréan joined them with her spear in hand. Surielle noticed that both Tréan’s spearhead and Gerad’s sword held a sheen that reflected the sunlight as if they were polished.
There was no witty banter between them – only aggression and the instinct to survive. The party fanned out and circled Thrain, with Gerad first to test the waters. His sword first blocked a swing from Thrain’s axe, then quickly turned and bit deep into Thrain’s belly. Surielle and Tréan both found luck as well, turning the tide against the hunter. He struck with fierce blows against them, but could not prevail. He did not turn to run, but stumbled against Gerad as the life faded from him. Gerad let him fall.
Gerad wiped the blood from his eyes and looked at Surielle. He looked a mess, but she guessed that Tréan had kept him standing. “Shall I end it?” he asked, turning to Tréan. She looked down at the fallen man and turned away, saying nothing.
“Be done with it.” Surielle said.
***
The sheriff of Oakdale arrived soon after the battle had ended. He was apprehensive at first, but the stable owner was quick to confirm Tréan’s story. The man had attacked her without reason, and wounded the young stable hand as well. The owner even suggested that he might have slain Blackwater who had mysteriously vanished from town. Tréan knew the truth of the matter, but allowed the lie to pass.
Surielle had done her best to reassure her. Thrain would have given them no mercy, save for herself. And he would have handed her to a government that believed her an assassin. The gallows would be sure to follow. Surielle’s words rang in her mind. “There are some men who are beyond mercy.” It all fell to what one believed in. And if she believed that notion, what would she allow herself to believe down the road?
Surielle’s gambit worked too well. She had enraged the Albadian bounty hunter with her words. Apparently he loved his hounds as much as she loved Snowmelt. He turned, red-faced, and glared at her for an instant. Then, with a snarl, he charged.
She had seen how easily Thrain had felled Gerad, so what chance did she stand? The hunter did not even look very wounded. With a desperate prayer to Denev, Surielle brought forth her flame scythe.
Thrain rushed out of the stables and straight toward her, bearing an axe in each hand. His speed surprised her. She used the scythe to hold him at bay, but he showed little fear. The fact that only one hound remained, lying prone beneath Snowmelt’s jaws, gave credence to her earlier words. Had she spared Tréan’s life, only to throw hers away?
She hadn’t expected such a sudden advance by Thrain, and in the process of blocking his swings she tripped over the animals. She concentrated to keep the scythe aflame, as the enraged bounty hunter moved in for the kill.
***
Tréan knew she only had moments to act. Gerad lay in a quiet heap, covered in blood. Dying. A prayer to Madriel formed on her lips before she reached her fallen friend. Yes, her friend. They had been thrown together by fate, and Tréan was forced to rely on his methods of violence and brash attitude. But he had an honorable heart, and no matter how much she chided him, she cared for Gerad.
The axe had smashed into his neck and cheek with grisly results. He was faintly breathing. Blood gushed out of his throat as Tréan placed her hands upon him. She cupped his cheek in one hand and covered the wound with the other, the devotion to Madriel still pouring from her lips. At once, the healing began, closing the wounds beneath her hand. Gerad’s breathing returned to normal, yet he did not stir from his restorative sleep. The spell completed, Tréan nervously looked to the front of the stables. There was no sign of Thrain or Surielle.
“Madriel, please forgive me,” she said, smacking Gerad across the face. He startled awake and nearly lunged at her. He scanned the room, taking a second to wipe the blood from his face.
“Where is he?”
“Outside. Surielle will need us, but first…” She worked her hands to a familiar spell. Tréan had suspicions about the bounty hunter’s armor.
***
One axe bit into the ground next to Surielle’s head. She rolled to her left as the other fell, chopping into her shoulder, searing her with pain. Another hit like that could very well sever her arm. She pulled herself up from the ground and slashed out with the scythe, its reddish-yellow flames cutting through the furs on his legs. The bounty hunter snarled and took a step back, allowing her the briefest of moments to catch her breath.
Their dance was an awkward one. Surielle gave ground, narrowly avoiding the lethal strikes of his axes. She connected once, twice with the scythe, blackening his arms, but he did not cease. The haft of the axe struck her jaw once, numbing her mouth and causing blood to run from her lips. She was tiring quickly, and knew it would only be a matter of time before he won.
A figure ran up to Thrain, plowing into his side and knocking him away before he could deliver another blow. It was Gerad, covered in his own blood, breathing heavily. Surielle stared at him for a moment before turning back to the bounty hunter. This would be their final fight, she was sure of it. As they advanced upon Thrain, Tréan joined them with her spear in hand. Surielle noticed that both Tréan’s spearhead and Gerad’s sword held a sheen that reflected the sunlight as if they were polished.
There was no witty banter between them – only aggression and the instinct to survive. The party fanned out and circled Thrain, with Gerad first to test the waters. His sword first blocked a swing from Thrain’s axe, then quickly turned and bit deep into Thrain’s belly. Surielle and Tréan both found luck as well, turning the tide against the hunter. He struck with fierce blows against them, but could not prevail. He did not turn to run, but stumbled against Gerad as the life faded from him. Gerad let him fall.
Gerad wiped the blood from his eyes and looked at Surielle. He looked a mess, but she guessed that Tréan had kept him standing. “Shall I end it?” he asked, turning to Tréan. She looked down at the fallen man and turned away, saying nothing.
“Be done with it.” Surielle said.
***
The sheriff of Oakdale arrived soon after the battle had ended. He was apprehensive at first, but the stable owner was quick to confirm Tréan’s story. The man had attacked her without reason, and wounded the young stable hand as well. The owner even suggested that he might have slain Blackwater who had mysteriously vanished from town. Tréan knew the truth of the matter, but allowed the lie to pass.
Surielle had done her best to reassure her. Thrain would have given them no mercy, save for herself. And he would have handed her to a government that believed her an assassin. The gallows would be sure to follow. Surielle’s words rang in her mind. “There are some men who are beyond mercy.” It all fell to what one believed in. And if she believed that notion, what would she allow herself to believe down the road?
Ruined
Explorer
14th of Chardot, yr. 150 A.V., continued
At Kelkarrin’s prompt, Liam wove a spell of illusion in the meeting room within the tower. Gerad watched the halfling’s controlled movements and concentration with interest. Such things were beyond Gerad’s capacity, but he found himself surrounded by magic at all times now. Even his mentor, whom he had thought to be a simple ex-soldier, knew something of the arcane mysteries. Liam opened his hands wide, and a hazy bluish globe appeared and rotated above the long table. It looked more like ice than glass.
Kelkarrin spoke. “I have learned what I can of the Globe of Aggamar. As I told you before, the name was familiar to me. It had drawn my attention years ago, but I thought it a fool’s errand. The item was mentioned in more than one source, but it was supposedly destroyed in the Divine War. Until I received the message from Marus,” he spared a glance from Gerad to Surielle, “I believed this to be true.”
“I did have notes on the Globe. Marus may have studied them in his years of tutelage under me. It was an object of considerable power, created by the foremost servants of the titans. It was said to control the very air around it, able to freeze an army in its tracks.
“The last battle with the Globe was thought to take place just West of Zathiske. Divine forces fought a pitched battle to keep titanspawn at bay. The Globe was said to have been destroyed, as were most of the combatants. A field of bone and a monument mark the scene to this day.”
“The Last Watchtower.”
Gerad’s heart sunk. He remembered all too well the sight of eerie light emanating from the Watchtower on their journey.
“If what Marus said about the half-globe is correct, then one should expect that there is another half somewhere waiting to be found. The power of the globe should not be left in the hands of any army, regardless of their disposition. Such things should be locked away or destroyed, and kept out of the hands of divine beings and titanspawn alike.” No one disagreed with this line of thinking. Kelkarrin waved his hand to Liam, and the magical image of the globe melted away.
“You should also know that before you arrived, I received missives from persons known to me in Calastia.”
“Spies?” Tréan asked. Kelkarrin frowned.
“Acquaintances. Those friends who think I should be aware of important events within the Hegemony. Their army is on the move.”
“What?” Gerad asked, clearly alarmed. The Calastian army had its enemies for sure, but other than perennial sieges against Burok Torn, they had not massed for large-scale action in nearly sixty years. “Where do they march?”
“To the North into Lageni. From what I’ve been told, their destination is uncertain. It could be a renewed effort against Burok Torn…”
“Or Durrover,” Tréan interjected. She was obviously concerned about the fate of her homeland.
“Yes. Or Durrover,” Kelkarrin admitted. “We do not know if these two instances are related, but war is something to be concerned over. For myself, I cannot rest while the threat of this artifact rests in the hands of the Calastian Empire.”
“I will assist you however you may need it!” Gerad said quickly.
Kelkarrin looked at him with reluctance. “Gerad, I appreciate your concern, but I’m not sure you could help with this.”
“With respect, let me say that I am drawn to this task,” Gerad replied. “When Marus perished, the unit that I belonged to was scattered. There is no life for me left in Quelsk. This was Marus’ dying wish: to see that you received word of the Globe. I knew him, and he would not have stopped there. I would assist you in his place, be it guardian or just a strong arm.”
“He is not alone,” Tréan said, interrupting a polite refusal from Kelkarrin. “If this globe is as dangerous as you say, then I am obligated to help in whatever manner I can.”
“You can count me in, master,” Liam said, flashing a smile.
“And I suppose you think I am obligated to accept your offer now?” He raised his eyebrows at the group, but there was no ready answer. His lips curled into a sly smile. “So be it. We will make preparations to travel within a few days.”
Gerad turned to look at Surielle, who had remained silent in the meeting. “What say you, Surielle?” She did not meet his gaze.
“I have to think on some things before I make any commitments. I’m sorry.”
Their meeting came to a close, and the three companions left Kelkarrin to speak alone with his apprentices.
At Kelkarrin’s prompt, Liam wove a spell of illusion in the meeting room within the tower. Gerad watched the halfling’s controlled movements and concentration with interest. Such things were beyond Gerad’s capacity, but he found himself surrounded by magic at all times now. Even his mentor, whom he had thought to be a simple ex-soldier, knew something of the arcane mysteries. Liam opened his hands wide, and a hazy bluish globe appeared and rotated above the long table. It looked more like ice than glass.
Kelkarrin spoke. “I have learned what I can of the Globe of Aggamar. As I told you before, the name was familiar to me. It had drawn my attention years ago, but I thought it a fool’s errand. The item was mentioned in more than one source, but it was supposedly destroyed in the Divine War. Until I received the message from Marus,” he spared a glance from Gerad to Surielle, “I believed this to be true.”
“I did have notes on the Globe. Marus may have studied them in his years of tutelage under me. It was an object of considerable power, created by the foremost servants of the titans. It was said to control the very air around it, able to freeze an army in its tracks.
“The last battle with the Globe was thought to take place just West of Zathiske. Divine forces fought a pitched battle to keep titanspawn at bay. The Globe was said to have been destroyed, as were most of the combatants. A field of bone and a monument mark the scene to this day.”
“The Last Watchtower.”
Gerad’s heart sunk. He remembered all too well the sight of eerie light emanating from the Watchtower on their journey.
“If what Marus said about the half-globe is correct, then one should expect that there is another half somewhere waiting to be found. The power of the globe should not be left in the hands of any army, regardless of their disposition. Such things should be locked away or destroyed, and kept out of the hands of divine beings and titanspawn alike.” No one disagreed with this line of thinking. Kelkarrin waved his hand to Liam, and the magical image of the globe melted away.
“You should also know that before you arrived, I received missives from persons known to me in Calastia.”
“Spies?” Tréan asked. Kelkarrin frowned.
“Acquaintances. Those friends who think I should be aware of important events within the Hegemony. Their army is on the move.”
“What?” Gerad asked, clearly alarmed. The Calastian army had its enemies for sure, but other than perennial sieges against Burok Torn, they had not massed for large-scale action in nearly sixty years. “Where do they march?”
“To the North into Lageni. From what I’ve been told, their destination is uncertain. It could be a renewed effort against Burok Torn…”
“Or Durrover,” Tréan interjected. She was obviously concerned about the fate of her homeland.
“Yes. Or Durrover,” Kelkarrin admitted. “We do not know if these two instances are related, but war is something to be concerned over. For myself, I cannot rest while the threat of this artifact rests in the hands of the Calastian Empire.”
“I will assist you however you may need it!” Gerad said quickly.
Kelkarrin looked at him with reluctance. “Gerad, I appreciate your concern, but I’m not sure you could help with this.”
“With respect, let me say that I am drawn to this task,” Gerad replied. “When Marus perished, the unit that I belonged to was scattered. There is no life for me left in Quelsk. This was Marus’ dying wish: to see that you received word of the Globe. I knew him, and he would not have stopped there. I would assist you in his place, be it guardian or just a strong arm.”
“He is not alone,” Tréan said, interrupting a polite refusal from Kelkarrin. “If this globe is as dangerous as you say, then I am obligated to help in whatever manner I can.”
“You can count me in, master,” Liam said, flashing a smile.
“And I suppose you think I am obligated to accept your offer now?” He raised his eyebrows at the group, but there was no ready answer. His lips curled into a sly smile. “So be it. We will make preparations to travel within a few days.”
Gerad turned to look at Surielle, who had remained silent in the meeting. “What say you, Surielle?” She did not meet his gaze.
“I have to think on some things before I make any commitments. I’m sorry.”
Their meeting came to a close, and the three companions left Kelkarrin to speak alone with his apprentices.
Thornir Alekeg
Albatross!
Please sir, may I have some more?
An excellent story hour and I am really enjoying reading some other adventures in the Scarred Lands. I may very well have some of these things happening in the background in my own campaign as flavor of my group happens into the right places.
An excellent story hour and I am really enjoying reading some other adventures in the Scarred Lands. I may very well have some of these things happening in the background in my own campaign as flavor of my group happens into the right places.
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