Shadow-lurkers were best described as abominations or failed mimicries of nature’s creatures. They took their shape and form, but not quite their distinctions. The dismembered corpse ahead of me was no different. If seen from afar, its shadow could easily be mistaken for a feral cat, but upon closer inspection, one would see that its skin didn’t have fur and had thick veins wrapping around its body like vines. And as for its face, the eyes were in the wrong place and were asymmetric and the nose didn’t have a particular shape and could be better described as just holes. Luckily, there were no tendrils on this one. Ones with tendrils were always troublesome.
I held my hand close to my chest when I walked to the dead body. It never relieved the punishment that coursed through my heart, though, I suppose that wasn’t why I held it there in the first place. When no pain came to pass, I sighed in relief and reached out to the sword that severed the shadow-lurker in half, realizing my mistake.
Tsk. Why this one?
That breath of relief was inhaled back and churned within me. It wasn’t always an ugly sword; the Sword of Memories. It was forged from material that resembled glass but was much more durable than steel. Like reflections on glass, people who gazed upon it would see their past being cast before them, some good and some bad. But now, they were all bad. Its once pure and clear blade was now clouded and tainted by a drifting darkness. I clenched my jaw and quickly sheathed the blade hoping it wasn’t stained any further.
I turned around to look for the Diviner, and when I didn’t see her, I thought she had already left after cutting me down from the tree. That is, until I heard the tearing of flesh. I snapped my head beside me and there she was, crouched beside the shadow-lurker. Her fox-like ears and tail had faded now. With a small hunting knife in her hand, she tried to cut off a leg.
“What are you…wait, you’re not actually planning on eating it, are you?” I said.
“And why not? It’d be a waste not to eat this while I still can,” she said without looking at me and continued to saw away.
“Their meat isn’t good for anybody.”
“Hasn’t been a problem for me.”
“That’s—” Impossible, I wanted to say, but the sight of the wound on her arm reminded me there were more important matters to take care of. I shuffled through the pouch on my waist and took out a ration. “Here,” I said and held it out in front of her.
“I…” She glanced at it for a long second before returning back to the leg. “I-I’ll be fine with this,” she said and then followed with a solemn, “I don’t deserve it.”
What’s that supposed to mean? I reached towards her hand and grabbed the now cut piece of meat into my hand…
“What are you doing?” she said, energy filling her voice.
…and tossed it away. Without saying anything else I put the ration into her hand.
“I insist. Consider this a mandatory thank you gift”—I rubbed my hand on the now sore part of my ribs— “for this. Of course, I probably would’ve figured something out, but credit where credit is due.”
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but instead made a small smile. “Thank you. If I knew merely kicking you merited a reward, I should’ve done it sooner.”
I felt a sense of relief seeing her smile for once. “Well, not every time. I also need you to take off your robe.”
“Huh?”
“So I can treat your wound.”
“…Ah, then in that case you shouldn’t have to worry.” She ran a finger over the cuts on her arm. “I’ve had worse ones than this little scratch. It should heal on its own.”
“Possibly. But the last person who said the same to me died a few days later.”
She stared into my eyes for a short while before relenting and slid off half the robe, exposing the wounded arm. Even after having seen it multiple times, I was still captivated by the veyna of the Spirijunds. Those tattoos of theirs are said to be where the blood of the spirit they are bound to flows through them. The color and pattern differed from Spirijund to Spirijund, and it wouldn’t be uncommon to see emerald colored veyna which coiled around the body like a snake or blue veyna which looked like a streak of lightning frozen in time. Hers took the form of a dark purple crescent which wrapped around her arm and stretched from the shoulder to the wrist.
“It shouldn’t take too long,” I said.
She nodded and started to eat her ration. From my pouch I grabbed a water flask and a green leaf. The three cuts on her arm were shallow and had already stopped bleeding. But one can never be too careful about these things. Like the god that made the shadow-lurkers, wounds inflicted by them can be unpredictable in their outcomes. I ran the cold water from the flask over the cuts before squishing the malleable leaf until it felt warm and emanated a slight glow. While the skin was still wet, I wrapped the leaf over the arm as carefully as I could, but a wince still escaped her face.
“Is this…a vigor-leaf?” She asked as she rubbed a hand over nature’s bandage. “I’ve read about these before, and how the leaf would decay as it healed an injury.”
“Indeed. It’s one of the few medicinal plants I can trust against shadow-lurkers.”
Stolen story; please report.
“And aren’t they very expensive?”
“…Indeed.” I could easily recall the fateful day I bought it without realizing its price. I hadn’t been able to afford an inn for months during that time and was left to hear the joys within the taverns from the outskirts of the city walls. “Anyways, we should get going before the assassins decide on a method of assassination.”
I felt regret fill me once I saw her otherwise relaxed expression slowly shift into a downcast one. She let out a withdrawn grunt, slid on her robe, and pulled the hood over her head.
“You can leave the hood off, if you want to,” I said. “I won’t ask nor will I judge.”
She looked confused for a second until I gestured towards my face. She quickly turned her gaze away from me and said, “Only because you haven’t seen everything yet.”
A friend once told me that banished Spirijund tended to cover their face either through a mask or hood in order to hide the fact that they lacked a tribal marking. Or if they could, they would hide their veyna instead. And to this day, I still haven’t found a case where one didn’t.
“Also, I’m curious to know why you were traveling north,” I said as I stashed the flask back into my pouch. “As far as I know, there was a village east from here and not north.”
“I was heading to a village called Rivergrove. It’s a place I used to visit back then.” She pulled her arrow from the corpse’s belly and returned it to her quiver. “I figured I could ask them if they knew where the Diviner of Lies resided, since she’s the one who could help me find Overseer Blithe.”
Rivergrove? Rivergrove. No, even repeating it in my head it didn’t ring any bells. “Are you sure there’s a village up north? We could go east instead to Roughdirt, there’s even a realmfarer there.”
She shook her head. “I’m more familiar with Rivergrove than I am this village you claim of. It also shouldn’t be too far ahead. Once we hear the murmur of the river, all we need do is follow it.”
And so north we went. I wanted to contest the idea further, but even I didn’t know where the Diviner of Lies lived nor did I know if the people of Roughdirt knew either. I was a stranger to these lands, and it was usually better to leave judgment to the local.
As we traveled further away from her abode, the scenery around us was…well, still the same. The same trees whose colors were drained and incapable of sprouting leaves seemed to replenish my disappointment. If it weren’t for that ashy color of theirs, the forest would be something more interesting to look at. Just seeing the odd shapes the trees took reinforced that thought. Some weren’t upright but curved like a spiral or looked sagged and depressed. Others had branches which had grown downwards and dug into the dirt. The silence, however, and this monotonous color and faint stench of coal was what fed my distaste for this place. It was unnerving.
When I first came here, I thought that this was how the forest originally looked. But having seen the shadow-lurkers, that may not be so. Those beasts corrupted the land they touched making it uninhabitable for the wildlife or maybe even warping the wildlife itself. On rare occasions, some of the corrupted animals could adapt to their new environment. However, they were by no means friendly. Those animals were just as feral as shadow-lurkers.
“Those assassins coming after me, do you know them?” the Diviner said, as she took care not to trip on tree roots which have grown rampant on the dirt road.
“They’re a dangerous bunch to be on the receiving end of, I’d say. They belong to the Brotherhood of Blood, a guild of assassins known for their success rates on contracts and, notably, their comradery. Oddly enough, they took a contract to kill you, a servant of a god. They were the last on my list of assassins that would do something that risky and bold. Of the three that they sent here, I’m familiar with two of them. The lizard-man’s name is Kudgad. I saw him once when a tavern broke out in a brawl as he killed his target there. Considering the molten red dye of his scales, he most likely comes from a battle hungry tribe known for throwing themselves into volcanoes to strengthen their scales and to prove their strength. Odus, the poor wizard that got his leg mauled, he’s just a human talented with magic. I came across the ruins of a slave merchant caravan he had attacked, burnt wood and bodies strewn across the road. As for the fellow in the mask, I haven’t heard of him or seen him before.”
She had stayed silent throughout my whole explanation until I said, “I suppose they haven’t made a move yet because of a stunt I pulled off that made me more known than I already am.”
To which she responded by giving me a dubious look. “I wonder if you are aware of how some of the things you say make it really hard for me to believe you. Especially with antics like”—she took a familiar pose—"‘My adventures, abundant. My achievements, plenteous. Though I possess many titles unborn from my own words, I do go by one title of my own.’” And then proceeded to flip an imaginary coin.
“Hey, I thought it was a pretty good introduction given the circumstance.” Though, I do admit, seeing it with my own eyes it does look a little ridiculous—just a little. “Besides, I don’t want to hear that from a diviner who couldn’t divine.” I returned a dubious look.
She turned away, her face turning red as she did so, and continued walking forward. “Then why don’t you try asking the Diviner of Lies for a divination? Maybe she’ll have better luck than I.”
“Possibly. But I came here for you, not the Diviner of Lies. I’ll just have to hold onto that coin till luck finds you.”
Silence settled over us thereafter as we continued along the dirt trail. Although I wanted to regale her with tales to break that silence, I didn’t. There was a lot on my mind—for both of us, I’m sure. She always kept a hand on her bow, not knowing when the next problem may present itself. Servants of gods were rarely the target of assassinations, so that must’ve been a shock to her. As for me, several questions floated in my head, no solid answers to anchor them. The issues with the Brotherhood of Blood were one matter; the circumstance regarding the Diviner, quite another.
There was no mincing the words, this land was no place for a god’s servant. And especially not a place I would expect one of Fate’s to reside. The taint of shadow-lurkers was prevalent here, and seemingly common place judging by the Diviner’s reaction to them. Fate should have been aware of this or have foreseen this. So why hadn’t she requested for death knights to purge the place, or, at the very least, relocate the Diviner elsewhere? Why allow her to live in such perilous conditions? It didn’t make sense to me. Fate cherished her servants more so than any god I know.
The inconsistencies gnawed at me, like puzzles refusing to fit. The more and more I tried to piece them together, I couldn’t help but feel a tether to a memory of the Diviner’s first words to me, “I never thought a fool could get here.” Those words, initially seeming like a mere jibe, now took on another meaning and brought upon a question I had overlooked. How long had the lands been like this?
“Can you hear it?” the Diviner said, breaking me from my thoughts. She stood in front of me, eyes closed as she focused on a distant sound. I looked around aimlessly, not quite hearing or seeing whatever it was. I tried the same as her and closed my eyes, but my ears failed me still.
“Not really…” I finally said. “What is it?”
She turned to me and pointed behind her. “It’s the river that’ll lead us to the village.”
We moved onwards, and true to what she claimed earlier, I eventually heard the murmur of a river. However, that wasn’t the only thing we came across. We were taking greater strides until the distant flow of water was in sight when we heard a piercing “Help me!” echoing in the distance.