The sound of their horses’ hoofs hitting the wide, stone paved road echoed around them as they rode out of An’Larion. The air filled with the sounds of chirping birds as they headed west, towards the Prancing Lion Inn.
“Why is there an inn so close to the city?” Alistair asked a while later with furrowed brows, after much pondering. “It makes no sense.”
“There are small, protected settlements – inns, small villages, keeps – all around An’Larion. The Overgrowth isn’t the same as Bareon here,” Lord Aulorn explained. “The night is dangerous, but the forest won’t swallow you. And to tell you the truth, neither will the forest around your home.”
Seeing Alistair’s bewildered expression, the enforcer chuckled. “The forest may grow very fast, and spread everywhere it can, but those are just trees. You’ll always be faster than trees, no matter how old they are. I believe the cultists were behind the disappearances. It’s likely they spread the rumours that the forest was dangerous after dusk so they would be able to travel unseen, with no prying eyes anywhere.”
“The forest attacked us.” Alistair insisted. “After the ritual-“ he stopped himself. “Wait, that’s why it happened, didn’t it?”
“The awakening of an Old God changes things, but I don’t believe it was the forest itself that attacked you. It’s much more likely that the leader of the cultists – that woman who could control the chalk roots – tried to cast a resonance from too far away and ended up killing her own people.”
The Enforcer’s words didn’t convince him fully. The false priestess’ resonance looked nothing like what chased them all the way to Bareon. There was more to this that Lord Aulorn wasn’t sharing with them.
They travelled the rest of the way in silence, arriving at the Prancing Lion Inn about an hour after they set off. The sun was still high up in the sky, and the weather was clear, with a pristine blue sky stretching towards the horizon.
The Prancing Lion was an old, but beautifully constructed structure. Built on a sturdy, stone foundation that elevated if off the ground, the building itself was made out of wood. It was a two-storey building with an attached stable, a well not far from the entrance, and a small storage shack behind it. The entire place was surrounded with a sturdy wooden fence keeping a singular cow and two large dogs away from the road.
A stableboy, accompanied by an elderly woman stepped out of the inn as they dismounted by the fence gate. They handed the reigns of their horses to the stableboy, who hurriedly took off towards the stable with the horses in tow.
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“Lord Enforcer?” The elderly woman asked with a worried, yet hopeful voice.
“Yes, we arrived as fast as we could.” Lord Aulorn glanced towards the inn. “Was it you who noticed the damage to the veil?”
The elderly woman’s face lit up with a smile. “Oh, thank the sun,” she whispered with visible relief. “Yes, I noticed the animals acting strange – and then we found something.” She turned around, pointing behind the inn. “There’s a lake, my granddaughter and I go there often to fish. But this morning, we didn’t catch a fish.” Her voice grew shaky. “You should see this.”
With somewhat unstable steps, she headed towards the inn.
Following her, Midhir couldn’t help but notice how frail she looked. She was quite slim, her arms were so thin he could see her bones underneath the wrinkles. She wore a woollen dress with a simple cut, and a shale over her shoulders. She had clearly walked this world for many years – yet she seemed so shaken up. He couldn’t help but start to worry.
The Prancing Lion only had a few other guests aside from them. Two young men, and a woman sat in the common area, playing cards. They paid little attention to Midhir and his classmates – even the Lord Enforcer seemed to escape their notice.
The woman led them behind the counter, to a storage area adjacent to the kitchen. She stood at the doorway, pointing at a bucket on the floor. “We fished this out of the lake. Please, Lord Enforcer, stop this before the mist takes us all,” she begged, her hands clenched around her shale, and her eyes wide with a pleading look.
“We won’t let harm come to any of you,” Lord Aulorn promised. “You needn’t stay here, go and rest, and don’t worry about this.” His tone was soft as he gently led her out of the room. The woman seemed visibly relieved. With shoulders hanging from overexertion, she headed into one of the rooms at the back of the inn.
“Now then,” Lord Aulorn’s voice grew cold. “I didn’t expect anything physical to be found so soon after the veil began to show signs of weakness.” He walked past them, stood in front of the bucket, and looked down.
He was only silent for a few breaths, but it felt like hours. “Unexpected but doesn’t change things.” He gestured at them to approach.
The bucket was filled to the brim with water. Water, that was tinted red with blood. Midhir narrowed his eyes as he crouched to take a better look. It took him a moment to realise what he was looking at. He visibly reeled back as a pain struck his left eye.
He grunted, both with disgust and pain. A flower was floating in the water – a flower made of flesh. Blood oozed out of its torn stem.
Standing up, he stumbled back a few steps, pressing his palm against his left eye. “This doesn’t belong here,” he hissed quietly.
“That’s a given.” Lord Aulorn scowled. “Your eye – is it not well?”
Midhir shook his head, drawing a rather concerned gaze from Arwen. Her lips parted as if she was about to speak, but she changed her mind, and averted her gaze.
Lord Aulorn’s lips formed a thin line for a split second. “Alright, we meet at the back of the inn in fifteen minutes – make sure your weapons are sharp, your augments are in place, and you are prepared. We will head out on foot, so make sure to take some basic supplies with you. Ask the innkeeper for water, rations, whatever you think is necessary. Go.”
As the others left in a hurry, Midhir hesitated. He watched the door to make sure they were all gone before he spoke up.
“This may not be as easy as you hope.” He pulled his hand away from his eye and wiped the blood in his palm with his handkerchief. There was something very wrong with this place, and it wasn’t just slight damage to the veil.