Chapter two - Blackstone Valley II

“So the basic fundamentals of casting magics can be divided into two steps. First, you must draw from your inner well of power. Everyone has one of these but some are naturally more inclined to be able to draw from it than others,” Xanya explained to Phillip as they walked. “Certain races such as elves are born with a predisposition to magic rather than say a goblin or orc who commonly have no means of accessing their wells.”

“And what’s the second step?” The young man’s question sounded genuine.

“You take that drawn energy and refine it to an element, generally using a magical focus of sorts to facilitate this process,” she patted the tome hanging in its holster at her side. “Once the energy for the spell is gathered, you weave it into its purpose and then cast it forward using the old tongue to invoke it. For example… ah! This will do.” She picked up a nearby small stone and held it out in her hand to Phillip before nearly whispering, “ejorniier.”

The stone vanished instantly in her hand as Phillip asked, “that’s the same spell you use for our equipment? Why can you do that without your tome?”

“Depending on one’s personal attunements and experience, oneself can cast simpler magic without a magical focus. However, a person casting this way can never cast without invoking it through speech or the magic won’t have a purpose and could backfire.” Xanya made a point by drawing a small energy from herself and throwing her hand forward, throwing out a small set of sparks. “The larger the spell you intend to cast, the more dangerous it becomes. There have even been reports of magicians dying from their spell backfiring.”

“I think I’m quite happy sticking to my spear, thank you,” Phillip mused as he shivered at her words. “So that explains your magic but what about Narissa’s?” He looked over to the redheaded woman who was walking beside Terhal ahead of them. “She casts without a focus or speech?”

“Druidic magic works differently, that channels through energy found in the life around us. As far as I can understand, their abilities come from communing with nature and channelling their own will against it. Since they don’t actually invoke their own power through themselves they typically require a longer time and the casting is done silently.”

Narissa on hearing this turned around and looked at Phillip and Xanya, “you’re right insofar as how druidic magic operates. However, my abilities only extend to what my father taught to me since I never took The Green Oath to become a fully fledged druid.”

The Green Oath was the pact druids made with nature that signified they were one with it. For most druids, it made general communication with the spirits of the trees and animals easier.

“I think I’ll stick to sticking things with a pointy end and keeping you lot safe,” he flicked his hair back as he spoke and shot them a cheeky smile. “Magic seems a fair bit above my pay grade.”

“A shame, I personally think you’re rather magically inclined,” Xanya pointed to the back of his neck. “You mentioned you get a feeling around here when you sense me casting, yes?” Phillip nodded. “That’s the sign of someone who can sense magic which means you’re about halfway to learning to cast already.”

“You’re saying I could make things disappear too?”

“You could try?” The young mage responded, a little doubt.

Phillip picked up a nearby flat pebble, holding it out in his hand before asking, “alright, you’ve twisted my arm. What now?”

Xanya looked at him, “you want to try now?” He nodded. “Let’s wait til we make camp, walking could mess with the flow of your power if you’re not used to drawing from it.”

He nodded again and stared at the stone in his hand before pocketing it. “Magic, huh…”

He looked up and saw the sun sitting high above, estimating the time to be about noon. They’d been travelling for a few hours to the eastern spire, finally having found a road to walk on again. The occasional merchant or patrol had passed them but otherwise there was little our this far from the main cities. He continued marching on with a smile on his face.

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Levin sighed, “why couldn’t we just hire horses for once?” The question posed more to himself than anyone else as Derwin looked and shrugged at him.

“You’re the one who insisted we walk and then promised you knew a shortcut along the river that horses would never navigate,” Derwin chuckled as he spoke. “You, however, could have mentioned you last used this shortcut when you were but a child.”

“If it wasn’t for our walking mountain we could have navigated around that warband,” Levin sighed. “What’s done is done, we have a job and a client to please. It’s not the worst situation we’ve been in recently, at least.”

Derwin nodded to Levin, “aye, the prison of Sordeshun near the Solun border comes to mind. A miracle we made it out of there alive, no thanks to Xanya’s magical master.” He looked back and saw Phillip holding out a stone to Xanya as he continued, “if he’d not recognised your name we’d still be staging a prison break to this day I reckon.”

“Would have been a prison break even the demons of the circles would be jealous of.”

“One we didn’t have to do, this time,” he put emphasis on his last words in a half-serious, half-joking tone. “If you’d not gotten us in trouble after smashing a chair over the city commander’s son we’d have never had to deal with that situation.”

Levin grinned at his friend, “you’re telling me you were perfectly fine with how he talked to you?”

“No, I’d have waited for him to turn his back before doing it.” They broke out into laughter together as they continued walking. “This job is paying well at least. That alchemist claimed to be working with the imperial palace of Lakealm, and paid coin like it too, half upfront.”

“That how you bought that scroll you used back there?” Levin said, referring to Derwin’s casting of a smoke cloud.

Derwin shook his head and said, “nay, a gift from Xanya’s master when we left Sordeshun. He said it would come in handy should we ever find ourselves headed to a prison again.”

“If those goblins had it their way we certainly would have been. It’s more than likely they’d call their prison a ‘stewing pot.’”

The half-orc shivered upon hearing that before offering, “well I’d hope my meat makes them sick and may my spirit curse them forever after if that happened.”

The blue tinted man looked towards the path ahead and saw an oncoming large convoy. He looked to Levin who said “best we stop for a moment,” to him before turning around and waving the others to the side of the road.

“Looks important, those are the royal banners of House Sheersea of Jorgen hanging from those pikes and caravans,” Levin remarked pointing at the approaching flags. “A royal procession by the looks of it, heading most likely towards the capital.”

The group moved to the side of the road as the vanguard approached. Levin’s eyes locked onto the figure on a large horse that was approaching them, making out the features of their face as they grew closer. Pointed ears, high cheekbones and a slender face radiating almost impossible beauty, a female elf rode as the advance in the convoy.

He observed what she was wearing, a rich green tunic made of high quality cloth and silk embroidered with golden threads, the shape of a leaf emblazoned across the right side of her chest. Her brown riding pants sat upon a regal saddle fashioned from wood and cloth. A fine shroud of green and gold pleated fabric covered the horse's back, hanging just above its knees without a single trace of dirt.

Levin looked to his side and saw Derwin standing with mouth agape staring at the woman, eyes transfixed on her beauty. He smirked and looked back towards the woman, catching eye contact and giving a small bow, a sign of respect in her homeland.

“Creshnil ut shihilvu, utkin,” her voice heralded the group in an almost musical tone, speaking in her native elvish tongue. “Well met, travellers,” she translated into common speech for them upon seeing the confusion on Derwin’s face.

“Shille,” Levin spoke. A common greeting in elvish. He smirked and continued, “tosutkin ot sheervie Jorgen ulsiv?” perfectly fluent elvish rolling from this tongue. Derwin’s look of confusion now fixed on Levin.

She looked taken aback before nodding and smiling to him. “One who speaks our tongue, may I know your name?” she stopped her horse as the vanguard continued moving past her. The sunshine bathing her flawless skin, Derwin looked up at her and could see almond shaped brown eyes looking down at the two.

“Levin, son of Hardvar and Rena,” he said before adding, “your Grace.”

“You’d recognise me in this garb, traveller?” her tone changed from almost singing her words to questioning.

“Anyone who’s met the royalty of Jorgen, one of them said to be the most beautiful woman of our continent of Shol’har, would recognise her in broad daylight.”

“We have met? My apologies but I do not recognise you, traveller.” Elves were considered to have some of the most powerful memories due to their long age, oftentimes the oldest living past a millenia. She found it hard to believe she wouldn’t recognise him.

“Aye, though it bears little importance to you, I’ve seen you many times in the past during royal processions on Jorgen. It is good to see you in such good health,” Levin smiled at her and bowed again, this time more deeply. Derwin awkwardly followed suit.

The other four in the group walked up to join them as Levin straightened up and said to the woman, “about a quarter of a days travel to the west there’s a goblin war camp migrating. We’re not sure where to as we vacated the area quickly but you’d do well to keep that in mind.”

“I thank you for the information, where are you and your companions headed?”

“Dulnath Ridge, we’re seeking a route around the Blackstone Mountains via the eastern passage.”

The woman looked at the group of six prior to saying, “you’d best be careful heading up there, a scouting party we sent up there reported sightings of our dark brethren and some evidence of orcs. You may run into our second group of scouts up there, they have yet to return.”

Levin nodded as the woman said to him, “take care Levin, son of Hardvar and Rena.” She pulled back on the reins of the horse, bidding the group a farewell as she spun her steed and spurred it towards the front of the vanguard.

The rest of the caravan continued passing as Derwin sighed and gathered himself to speak, “Levin… You speak elvish?”

“Aye, grew up on the island of Jorgen, learned their language and ways.” Levin turned to Derwin, “it’s come in handy a few times.” He looked towards the rear of the caravan and saw a resplendent carriage pulled by two horses of massive stature, pointing it out to Derwin.

“In that carriage there is probably Prince Cirille, I’d wager a guess and say he’s heading to Lakealm to meet with Princess Matilda to talk politics. Currently he is considered to be the most powerful man on the eastern side of Shol’har, commanding the specialised military forces of Jorgen.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“So who’s that woman riding front file?” Phillip asked as the rest of the group joined in.

Levin chuckled and looked in the direction of the woman in question, “Phillip, that is Princess Anita of House Sheersea of Jorgen, commander of the general army of Jorgen. The most powerful woman on the eastern side of Shol’har, and probably the greatest fighter their nation has ever seen.”

Phillip and Derwin’s jaws dropped as Narissa spoke up, “do you two pay attention to anything anyone says whenever we stop in a town overnight? Since her rise she’s been the talk of Hintarias, it’s pretty common knowledge… Levin speaking elvish on the other hand isn’t.”

“And you spoke to this woman?” Phillip asked.

“Just a person like you or I. The elves care less for one's political stature when talking, as long as you aren’t hostile they’ll treat you the same as anyone else.”

“You speak better elven tongue than my father, Levin,” Narissa said to him. “I only know a few basic phrases, myself.”

Terhal’s deep monotone voice suddenly reverberated, “I know none.”

Derwin looked back with a smile, “same boat, buddy.”

“So why are they here? Would they not just have access to a teleportation circle to reach the capital quicker?” Xanya posed the question to everyone but mainly Levin. He shrugged.

“Who am I to say? Elves see things differently to us, they live so long they can’t quite understand why us common folk try to get places as fast as we can. Even after having spent thirteen solstices among them, I cannot understand their ways of thinking.”

Silence fell over the group as they watched the rest of the caravan pass before continuing on their journey.

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The sun was setting on the group of six as they stopped on the trail along the bottom of the mountain to Dulnath Ridge. They’d decided to make camp and retire early before making the push up the mountain path for the ridgeline, giving Terhal time to commune with the spirit of the mountains.

“I’m telling you Phillip I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman in my life,” Derwin excitedly rambled. “I’ve never had that sort of reaction to someone. I’ve never… Felt that.”

Phillip nodded along to his friend and said, “I can understand. She was definitely more than any lady of the taverns we’ve ever met.”

“No, no, I’m telling you it felt like there was something more there between us.”

“Probably just your loins,” Narissa called out behind her to the two young men. “You could try asking Terhal for advice, they’re probably an expert.”

“But Terhal doesn’t have any- Oh. Haha.” Derwin’s voice deflated as he spoke in an increasingly sarcastic tone. “Fine, make fun of me all you like but when I’m sitting on the throne next to her we’ll see who’s laughing then.” He pouted.

“Sure thing buddy. And I’m gonna be the man who finds and befriends the last of the ancient dragons,” Phillip scoffed before patting his best friend on the back. “At the very least, you’re an absolute catch of a man if I do say so myself.”

Derwin grinned at him and playfully jabbed him in the arm, bouncing off his friend's full plate and playfully making a play of grabbing his wrist as if broken. The two young men laughed together, sharing in the moment.

“Terhal, how goes your communion with the mountains?” Levin asked the krugg. Terhal hadn’t spoken for nearly a half hour, focusing entirely on listening for the spirit of the mountain. Their hand placed on the base of the mountain, focusing their entire essence into it.

Their deep voice rumbled, “it is… strange. The stone wishes to speak but has no voice, it can hear but it cannot see. There is something here, something disrupting the spirit.” Levin placed a hand on his own chin as Terhal continued. “It screams in silence and makes no sound, I can speak to it but I get no response. I apologise, I thought I could be more useful.”

“I feel it too, around here,” Narissa said as she joined them. “There is something in the nature of this place that feels almost like it’s shutting out communication with this space.”

“Have you felt this before?” Levin asked.

She shook her head, “no, I’m not sure what to make of it. I’ll ask the animals nearby.”

“Phillip! Derwin! Accompany Narissa for a bit,” Levin motioned the two young men to her and the three walked back down the path towards a small pond they’d spied earlier.

Terhal stood and withdrew their hand from the stone of the mountain, pouting as Levin put a hand on their hard shoulder, “you did your best, we cannot ask for more.” Terhal beamed a smile in response. Levin continued talking, “this entire job is starting to feel a bit…”

“Strange,” Xanya interjected, pulling Levin from his thoughts. “There’s something strange about this place, it’s not necessarily wrong but even my elemental weaves are affected, as if the place is affecting the flow of nature and magic alike.”

Levin stretched while thinking, “ain’t much point thinking too deeply on it yet, we’re adding an extra couple days to our travel going the long way past Dulnath Ridge, we’ll use that time to see if anything changes.” Xanya agreed and sat on a nearby boulder, waiting for the others to return.

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“Easy does it! Easy!” Derwin tried to calm down the stag that was currently panicking and kicking at him. His hands coming up to block his face as it charged at him which its antlers. The animal grunting and snorting at him as it raised up and dropped down. “Easy boy, I don’t want to have to hurt you!”

Phillip meanwhile dragged Narissa’s unconscious body away and sat her up against a tree, her communication with the animal had gone awry and she’d passed out. He looked back to see Derwin struggling to deal with the large animal as he grabbed his shield and ran at it.

The stag reared as Phillip closed the distance between them and in a single moment he pushed it away with his shield, his voice roared from within as he shouted at it, “leave!” The stag looked at him for a second and then sprung away from the pair.

“Shit! What the fuck happened to her!?” Phillip shouted, not at anyone in particular as he rushed back to check on her with Derwin. “You ever seen this before?”

“No, first time. She went out cold the moment she tried communicating with it,” Derwin put his hand against her neck and felt a pulse, she’s still alive at least. He grabbed her shoulder and shook, no response.

Phillip paced behind him, hand to his mouth in agitation. Something is very wrong here, he thought to himself. The animal had panicked the moment Narissa attempted to communicate with it and then she lost consciousness.

“Got your water bottle handy?” Derwin asked. Phillip grabbed it from his waist and threw it to the half-orc who promptly emptied it over Narissa’s head. “Narissa, wake up!”

“Fuck! Put her on my back, we’ll head back to the others and regroup. This entire thing just became a whole lot stranger, Derwin.”

Derwin grunted in agreement as he lifted her limp body onto the larger man’s back and tied her in with rope. He said to Phillip, “this whole thing is starting to stink like a shady back alley deal from Rezon, isn’t it?”

Phillip nodded in assertion as they set back towards the others.

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The sounds of a whetstone grinding on metal echoed as Levin sat in silence, sharpening his greatsword. Xanya was opposite him on a small boulder reading through her notes. Terhal sat meditating against the mountain, attempting again to attune themselves to it.

Levin grunted slightly as he rubbed the whetstone against his thick black blade. Lifting it by its handle he could feel its immense weight and the burden of carrying it. Remembering what his father, a black smith, had told him as he gifted it to him.

“A sword can be used for many things son. It can be used to kill, yes, but it can also be used as a tool to defend. A sword is only as good as the one who holds it, it’s but a piece of metal until it is in your hands.”

He retreated deep in his thoughts as he continued polishing the sword off, honing its edge until he was happy with it. If there was one thing his father taught him properly, it was maintenance. A well maintained weapon was a weapon less likely to let you down.

He stood and lifted the blade up in front of him, holding the hilt with both hands as he breathed in. Levin lifted it up and then swung it down in a singular fluid motion, testing how it felt. He pushed with his back foot and pulled the blade in as if blocking an attack before parrying an invisible enemy and whipping the weapon around to attack them. He followed through with an arc upwards and slid out of the way of another invisible foe. Freeing a hand from his sword to push their attacking arm out of the way before swinging the sword around to smash them in the head with the pommel.

Xanya watched the large man going through his motions, his muscles at the neck bulging as he swung time and time again. She thought about the times watching the dispassionate town guards train in her hometown, how they’d never put in half the effort this man did without a training partner. She saw him stop and look at her, a small nod of acknowledgement towards her before he continued.

She thought back to how the last four months had been a whirlwind of events, from her master helping the group out of prison to being thrust upon them and welcomed with open arms. She’d always felt like a misplaced book in a library, as if she never fit anywhere, until she met them. In only four months she’d found what she considered family.

The sound of Levin swinging his blade stopped and stopped her ponderings to look up at him and saw he held a finger over his mouth before he raised his hand in a fist, unfurled one finger then pointed to the bend ahead. Xanya understood instantly, one unknown approached them.

She grabbed her magical focus from the holster on her waist and nodded to Levin who held his sword forward, ready in his battle stance. He yelled out, “halt! Friend or foe?” No answer came. Xanya could now hear the sound of shuffling approaching, is it… an animal? She thought.

Levin inhaled deeply before yelling again, “whoever’s there, come out with your weapons showing and you won’t be harmed!” Again no response came and the sound of shuffling continued. Levin tightened his grip on the handle of his greatsword and rolled his head back, loosening his muscles. Xanya observed, he’s getting ready to fight.

She began channelling power into her focus as a figure turned the corner. It stumbled against the cliff face and struggled to walk towards them, a moderately tall woman with pale skin and pointed ears, her face a mask of beauty. Silky blonde hair matted in blood hung from her head as she limped towards them. An arrow stuck out from her back, having pierced through her right shoulder, her left leg with a knife embedded deep was dragging behind her as she reached out towards the strangers. She looked directly at Xanya before collapsing. That’s an… Elf? Xanya thought to herself.

Before Xanya could register what she’d seen, Levin had already moved halfway towards the woman, sheathing his large sword on his back before turning and yelling back to Xanya, “water and bandages, now!”

She quickly motioned and with an “ejorniier” opened the pocket dimension with their belongings. She pulled out a larger sack containing their food and medical supplies, she rummaged through and looked up to see Levin had already reached the woman who was roughly fifty yards away. He picked her up in a cradling position and in a single movement was now dashing back towards Xanya who started moving to meet him.

“Thank you,” Levin said as he lifted the woman to sit upright and opened her mouth, pouring water into her barely conscious form that she struggled to drink. Her breathing was weary and short as Levin urged her, “drink, drink, you’re going to be alright.” Xanya could see his body slightly shaking as he held the injured woman. Xanya took a moment to examine her and noted she was dressed in a fine dark green tunic, a golden leaf emblazoned across the right of her chest.

Terhal broke from their meditation and rushed over to them, “help?” Xanya handed them a bandage and bottled water and pulled a medicinal salve from the large bag. She uncapped the bottle and started applying some to bandages as Terhal lifted her leg for the young woman to wrap.

“C’mon, c’mon, stay awake, stay awake!” Levin tried to calmly reassure the elvish woman held in his arms, his voice shaking with emotion. He shook her gently and watched as the life from her eyes threatened to fade before looking up at the sky, biting his lip and closing his eyes. Looking back down at her he cradled her face and in a gentle tone spoke, “Esto ut Hen ulsiva lystu creshihilvu. Vefen ut Ninorek tonmeer ulsinev rokfhev un. Unulsinev yiklovun ut preshnel.”

The woman for a second seemed to gain full consciousness, she looked past him and smiled. She reached upwards towards the sky as her eyes lit up before her hand went limp and her arm fell. Xanya looked up and saw tears in Levin’s eyes as he laid her on the ground. The elf had passed.

Levin’s head hung low and he exhaled. His hands now covered in the elven woman's blood trembled, the group remained silent.

A sudden sound of a slow clapping came from behind them as a voice spoke, “well I’ll be, my little lamb made it this far, did she? Oh, I’m so proud of her!” A forced laugh followed as the three turned to see a man with ash grey skin standing a few yards away, having silently moved through the commotion to watch the event unfold. “I’d been hunting her half a day, my good man. Now if you wouldn’t mind handing over the body so I can claim my prize.”

He stood a little shorter than Levin, dressed in fur lined leather armour. A sheathed rapier hung from his waist with a bow and quiver mounted over his back. His sharp pointed ears were adorned with various rings and accessories. He smiled at them, revealing sharpened teeth. Levin had no doubt, this was a dark elf.

Xanya was frozen, shocked by his callous words. Little lamb? Hunt? Was this… Was this woman just a toy for him? She grabbed her tome ready to focus into it, hands shaking in anger.

Levin’s hand covered her own and pushed her tome down.

His hand was trembling and she looked up to see his face covered in unfiltered rage. He looked up to Terhal as he stood, who gave him a nod of acknowledgement, before snarling, “mine.”

Terhal’s hand went to Xanya’s shoulder reassuringly, as if to say trust in Levin. The young woman closed her tome and placed it in the holster on her waist. She looked to her stone skinned friend who was staring directly at their unwelcome visitor.

Levin stood and turned towards the dark elf as he ushered him onwards, “yes, yes just move away from the body so I can just grab it and leave. How does that sound to everyone?” He clasped his hands together and made no attempt to hide his sinister smile. Unadulterated joy covered his face as he looked at Xanya and licked his lips, “or maybe I’ll take a second hunt for the da-.”

He was cut off as Levin unsheathed his greatsword from his back and closed the distance between them, swinging down in a single motion. The dark elf gingerly stepped out of the way before pulling his rapier from its sheath, baring sharp teeth at Levin before saying to him, “well, I guess I can make her my third.”

Levin pulled his blade up, taking up his battle stance with his sword pointed towards the dark elf. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

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