Chapter 4
It was dawn in Kyron; the only time sunlight shone through the thick layers of fog that usually covered the valley. Sansa lay listlessly on a makeshift hammock, soaking in the precious warmth of the precious rays of light, letting it wash away the chill that had settled in her bones from the previous night.
There wasn’t much for Sansa to do today. She had already made all the meals of the day and finished her rounds of the village before the sun had even risen. It wasn’t a lot, but unfortunately that was pretty much her entire duty these days, now that she was a mother to one of the few children of the village.
The village was small. And while the other residents bustled and busied over duties set by the chieftain every day, Sansa, was more often than not, left her to her own devices, leaving her awfully bored at times.
“You just look after little Sil.” The Chieftain would say whenever Sansa asked to contribute, “That little boy is the future of our village.”
Well Sil was asleep now; and on a tepid day like this, he could sleep deep into the morning. Sansa, on the other hand, didn’t have the patience to just sit and twiddle her fingers. She pondered her choices, her mouth forming into a little line as her eyes wandered her messy excuse of a ‘garden’ for an interesting prospect.
In the humid temperament of a valley village like Kyron, moss and algae built kingdoms out of wet wood and dripping stone. Sansa scanned the bushes around her, looking for a point of interest that didn’t exist, in an ocean of green on green.
She sighed and leapt gracefully from her hammock, landing with a light thump, then gently kicked a stray pebble back into its mossy rock bed.
*plink*
The sound of rock on metal rang out, and Sansa jumped in surprise. Gingerly, she stepped towards the edge of the trench where she had just sent the pebble flying and peered into the shallow abyss.
There it was! A glint of metal covered by a mess of moss all around it.
Finally! Something worth investigating. She thought, a cheeky smile lighting up her face.
The box was well hidden, perhaps that was why she’d never seen it before. Covered from back to front in a wet and matted cloth, it blended perfectly with the algae blooms all around it. As she got closer it was evident that the wood had mostly rotted away, leaving a slimy, yet solid metal shell. Which was surprising, as metal was rare here in the Kyron, and no one had anything worth hiding away in such a secure container.
She reared back, looking away a little as she opened the chest delicately with the tips of her slender fingers, half expecting a demon to jump out and demand her soul. But as the lid creaked open and nothing happened, she mustered up the courage and peeped tentatively inside.
To her immense surprise the contents were well preserved, wrapped intricately in sheepskin. As she unrolled the packaging it soon became obvious what the box had contained. It was a hunters kit! A leather quiver, a set of arrows, a beautifully crafted small knife and- She gasped in delight- an antique bow crafted from…? She didn’t know. But it seemed expensive, the material almost seemed to glow as she picked it up and held it up against the murky sun.
Sansa grinned, holding the bow up in victory, thrilled at her discovery. But she quickly paused, stopping to think. A rush of questions bombarded her curious mind. Who could have left such a stash of valuable items in her garden? And why on today of all days did she suddenly spot it in the open? In fact, was it hers to take at all? Did someone hide it here? She picked gingerly at the set of equipment inside the box and pouted.
“…where did you come from…?” Sansa murmured as she sat down on the dewy grass, the moisture soaking into her dress as she pondered.
Bows were made for hunting, and hunting was something nobody had the time, nor the skills, to do in Kyron. And even when the rare opportunity did arise, only few men were sent to find meat for the village to share. Admittedly, the chest could’ve belonged to her father, as he was indeed one of those occasional hunters, but he had never used equipment like this before, flawless and intricate as they were.
Giggling a little, she decided to put the matter aside for now and set the bow back into its container. Thinking about her father had reminded her of the times she’d nagged him again and again to teach her the skills of the hunt. They were good memories. Initially he had been reluctant in teaching his darling daughter the skills of a savage, but the lessons taught themselves as she followed him time and time again on his hunting trips, sometimes by permission, many times secretly. In fact, there was a time when, with a bow and arrow, Sansa could shoot better than most of the hunters in the village, but obviously, as a girl, she had been relegated to never being allowed to hunt in the wilderness. But today however…perhaps the spirits were on her side.
I mean, this has to be fate. She smiled.
And so at around an hour past sunrise, with careful steps, she snuck around the village square, avoiding any witnesses, and entered into the great forest beyond.
The silent woods seemed to beckon as Sansa walked along the muddy path, a light breeze kissing her pale skin as she relished in the peaceful tranquillity. As she trekked further and further, the path had begun to slowly disappear, replacing it were all sorts of tall weeds and shrubbery, guiding her adventure deeper into the forest. For any other villager the lack of a path would send chills down their spine, but she didn’t mind. She cherished the wilderness; and though it had been years since her last visit, she knew the woods well and the woods, unlike people, rarely changed.
As she came upon a rare clearing in the forest, the instincts her father had honed within her long ago told her that she’d found a suitable spot for a lengthy hunt. Slipping quietly into a thicket of bushes, she quietly strung her bow and waited.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Her father had taught her many skills, whether he liked it or not. And one of those skills was how one could become attuned to the wilderness. A skill unique to the tribe of Kyron, to find prey when none could be seen. Thinking back to many years ago, she closed her eyes and listened closely to the language of the forest.
A snap of a twig. The rustle of bushes. A splash in a nearby creek. The crunch of dried leaves. All of it spoke to her.
There was a creature close. A small creature. A grazing shroombit perhaps, or one of those wickedly devious Zeals. She opened her eyes slowly and scanned her surroundings.
At first there was nothing, then suddenly, like a flash of lightning, a pinkish blur exploded from a bush and disappeared into the foliage behind her.
Sansa gasped, astonished at the speed of her prey. She hadn’t even raised her bow and the shroombit had already gone.
She grunted quietly in disappointment, but quickly shook her head. She’d expected she’d still be as good as she was before, but that was foolish. Of course, like any other hunter, she would need to practice again, to rid herself of her rustiness.
Well then, there’s plenty of time to practice she grinned, the thrill of the hunt now evident upon her face.
As far as she was concerned, she had all the time in the world.
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Evange was lost. She admits it now.
For the past three days Evange had lied to herself, relying on pure courage and instinct to guide herself through the twisted woods.
It’s fine. It’s a straight line! How hard could it be. She thought stupidly.
But now, the food she’d packed from the previous town was running low, and with every step, the map she had bought from the merchant seemed to confuse her more than it helped.
Perhaps. She sighed. I shouldn’t have purchased from that shady shopkeeper after all.
But then again, everyone else in that town was no less shady; and they had all adamantly refused to help her journey, as though the place she was headed to was an unspoken of, and forbidden land.
*Squelch*
Evange groaned in exasperation, as one does when they accidently step into yet another mud pool.
I might as well die.
Through the past months of travel, Evange had grown accustomed to strange apparitions and mystifying occurrences. From trees of crystal, to flying headless snakes and rabbits with mushrooms on their head, nature seemed to warp itself more and more as she grew closer to her destination.
The previous town she’d visited was no exception.
There, every resident had a tradition of consuming psychedelic stews that they’d honestly believed warded off spectres. In fact, the townsmen had tried with supreme prejudice to feed her the vile soup of weeds and mushrooms, but she’d refused with vigour, escaping the borough as soon as she’d gathered her supplies.
Now though, in the middle of these god-forsaken woods, she was starting to think that perhaps she’d made the wrong choice after all. Perhaps just drinking that god-forsaken stew and sleeping a few more days would’ve done her good.
NO. She quickly corrected herself. No, no, no. This was the correct choice.
After all, the best that the town had to offer was its strangeness and chaos, and at worst? It was filled to the brim with nothing but the deranged and clinically insane.
She shuddered with memories of men knocking at her door, offering fungus in exchange for some ‘time’. And wait a second, come to think of it, even now, after days in the forest, she’d yet to see any of those malicious phantoms they had warned so fervently of.
God damn psychopaths.
As she trundled along in her thoughts, she suddenly spotted a familiar set of markings on a nearby tree and immediately stopped in her tracks.
An agonizing groan of despair escaped slowly from her lips.
“No…No, no, no, nononononono. NO!” She’d been here before.
Many times.
In fact, today marked the twentieth time she’d revisited this location. A frustrating number, as she was sure she had finally made progress after a breakthrough a few hours prior.
Exhausted and annoyed, she found a fallen log and sat down in defeat.
At this point in her cumbersome journey, her legs were shaking with agony, fatigued by the countless steps she’d taken. Even her usual chipper demeanour had gone, replaced instead by a permanent expression of sour disappointment. Oh! And her hair…oh her hair! She sobbed as she grasped at a dirty tendril that had escaped her helmet, a well of emotions bubble from within her.
She was a ragged mess, her maiden pride destroyed by the wear and tear of the constant dirty and mud.
Every part of her body wished to stop and return home, but her faced scrunched up as she stopped herself from crying.
This is not the time. She sighed, sniffling a little, taking off her sodden gauntlets.
She reached, with cold hands, deep into her breast pocket and retrieved the note that had sent her here. The dying words of her father etched onto a now dampened parchment, torn at the top from constant wear and tear of use.
By now she could recite its message by heart. But she read it again, because it was the one thing that gave her the energy to move forward.
To my dearest Evange,
I will begin by stating the obvious. I love you. More than anything in this world. I know that as news of my death comes, you, for one, will reject the tales of my treachery. You will look for the truth in this letter, but I cannot grant you that. Behind the curtains of this world are infinite dangers and dark politics, I wish to keep you safe from their grasps, even in death.
This letter will however contain a secret, something I haven’t and likely will never tell anyone. Anyone, but you.
In the coming years, unlikely as it is, a prophecy for calamity may occur again. Do not ask why, I only know that it could. And if it does happen, the kingdom will need help, but the help will be unwilling.
When the Kingdom seems afoot with tension, go in search for my friend, the master of sacrifice. He will be at the edge of the world, alone like the sad sob he is. Head east, past the Pangolian mountains and deep into the Grandura forest. You will find him near Kyron, a small village near a vast field of flowers. The journey will not be easy, but you are my daughter, the daughter of a royal guard. You shall succeed and the Kingdom will be in your debt.
In the case that a prophecy does not occur, I leave only one piece of advice. Act with your heart and do not waste your life. Even at the tender age of five, I am at awe with your vigorous charms and needle-sharp wit. In time, you could conquer the world if you wished.
In my will, I leave my family name and heritage to you. You will be surprised, but remember, I will always love you, no matter the time, no matter the place, no matter the world.
Your father, Leste Roselyn.
Evange grit her teeth as she felt her eyes well up yet again, and placed the letter back into her pocket.
Why did you leave! She screamed in her head. How could you part from your daughter like this…
She wanted to punch the air in frustration, but her arms stayed by her side, weighed down but days of lead-like fatigue. And so, she stayed sitting, catching her breath with a swirl of dizzying emotions in her head, until finally with a determined shout, she stood up despite the aching in her bones and the piercing pain in her legs.
It was now or never. And she would not settle before unveiling the truth.
Hobbling, she stepped forward, passing the marked for the twenty first time, now with the light of dawn illuminating her path.
*Shroombit – A small pink and red marsupial native to the eastern wilderness. It can be identified by the signature orange shroomcap that grows upon its head. The mushroom and the shroombit have a symbiotic relationship, with the death of one usually followed by the death of the other. It is famous as a meal package for hunters, nicknamed ‘the stew’ for it’s ability to provide both components of a delicious stew.