‘Get out!’ came a scream from the tent, and Vardille instinctively backed away from the entrance. Moments later, Draggan stepped out of the folding canvas. He stopped short when he saw Vardille.

‘May I speak with her?’ the Crownguard asked, guarded.

The northerner silently studied Vardille’s features; there were no hostility visible on the redhead man’s face, though Vardille sensed his resentment. The Velardhari stepped closer; too close.

I’ve fought worse, Vardille thought as he half-heartedly expected the tall man to draw his axe.

‘See for yourself,’ Draggan said and left for his tent.

Vardille looked at the cloudy morning sky, bracing himself for another tempestuous encounter with the Velardhari’s chief. One hand pulling the opening aside, he stepped into Mjelgralah’s tent.

The girl stood at her desk, leaning on both hands, tangled hair hiding her face.

‘Chief.’

Mjelgralah looked up, slightly annoyed.

‘Now, what do you want?’

Vardille blinked.

‘I am reporting on my scouting in the area. As you had wished.’

The girl closed her eyes for a moment and breathed heavily.

‘Yes. How silly I am. I totally forgot that vinedressers make perfect scouts.’

Vardille stood silent until Mjelgralah sat and waved with her hands. ‘I guess I won’t get my answers anytime soon. But we had an agreement, and I shall abide to it, so I’ll demand no more information from you. You proved you can be trusted on that dreadful night two days ago. Now tell me what you found and let me go on with my day.’

‘I know where we are. I climbed one of the hills nearby, and I could sight the peaks of the Elms in the south. If we keep them at our left, we will reach Ithlien in a little more than a week.’

‘That’s remarkable, save the fact I know nothing about the places you talk about.’

‘Ithlien is the second biggest city in Amrith. We could have support.’ Vardille continued in a low voice, ‘And perhaps you could talk with the king.’

Mjelgralah stared at him, askance, lips pressed.

‘Of course. I could speak with him. Perhaps we could get around to do so a bit sooner.’

‘I’m afraid we can’t.’

‘Continue.’

‘There is a lake nearby called Ghynal. If we keep a steady pace, we may get there by nightfall. It’s a nice place to pitch camp, and the people could wash there. I know not when the next chance would rise.’

‘I could use a bath myself, too,’ the chief sighed. ‘Very well, vinedresser, be as you advised. Has Ida come back?’

‘Not yet. But there’s something else. The dragon … it’s near. But you know it. The nights are loud with its shrieks.’

‘A threat that remains. One we can’t deal with yet.’

‘It constantly follows us and thus gives away our position. I don’t think those demons need sleep. Do you?’

‘We can’t hunt for it. We have no manpower.’

‘We can’t.’

Mjelgralah stared at the Crownguard’s eyes. ‘But of course. I guess hunting among shadows is something you’re used to.’

Vardille remained silent; Mjel shook her head.

‘I’m not quite confident with letting you go hunting for dragons, alone. How’s your leg?’

‘I’ll survive.’

‘But will you when you face that creature, too?’

‘I’d hoped so, yes.’

‘Why, vinedresser?’

‘Why, chief?’

They eyed the other in quiet regard. Mjelgralah broke silence first; to be silent was in Vardille’s blood, yet he felt a smug sense of victory whenever the girl broke eye contact.

‘Do as you see fit. We won’t wait for you. I assume the demons are already close by. Be so kind and try not to die, I need a guide through these lands.’

‘I’ll meet you at the lake. Just do as I told you, keep the peaks on your left. Sallan can help.’

‘What shall I tell him should he ask about you?’

‘I’ll leave it up to you. I’ll be back by nightfall.’

‘Let it be so.’

Vardille nodded and turned to leave.

‘Vinedresser.’

‘Yes?’

‘How do you expect to feed the folk?’ Mjel asked, quiet. ‘More than half our equipment has been lost to the demons. Ration too. I can’t share our food.’

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

A growing sense of suffocation bloomed in Vardille’s chest as he shrugged, trying to seem careless. ‘That’s not your nor my concern. We saved them, we may defend them. But they’re on their own.’

He quickly left the tent before Mjelgralah could call him out on his lies. He was convinced he could not deceive the woman.

The size of the northerner’s camp dwindled gravely. Only a handful of tents stood at the top of the small hill, carefully guarded by that pack of Velardhari—not quite against the wildlife of Amrith. The townsfolk, nestling in the nearby forest by Gods only knew what means, tried to steal from the band the first morning. Draggan and his people quickly showed why it was considered healthier for them to steer clear of the tents. Not so surprisingly, no more incidents had happened since; yet every now and then, when they pitched camp for the night, some folks were still sighted lingering near the camp.

Vardille hoped to avoid the alderman and the rest of them. He could only serve with empty promises, and that did not fill stomachs nor banish hunger. Bryne had been somewhat helpful in mollifying the few dozen civilians, but he developed a bad habit of disappearing from sight without as much as a word. Later Vardille found out he had spent plenty of time with Idamin, talking. Even now, the king was with the Herald and two other warrioresses on a different scouting route, his reasons beyond Vardille.

The guard captain quickly headed to the one tent a little further from the core of the camp—to his Crownguard. A couple of feet away, Ana sat by the campfire now snuffed, fussing with her sword and shield. Next to her stood Harak, the northerner kid, armed with a particularly long and impressive stick, attempting to carry out certain manoeuvres Vardille guessed were of the Crownguard—Ana watched him, strict, nodding or shaking her head occasionally.

‘That’s slower than an ice troll,’ she said coldly. ‘If a beast gets within your spear’s reach, you’re as good as a dead cow.’

‘But,’ Harak paused and looked at the Crownguard. ‘An ice troll is actually pretty fast. I’ve seen them once. A pack of them were having fun around Whitedew. Cousin Draggan was sent to hunt them down and he let me go with him.’

Analyn sighed. ‘You’re missing the point. You’re still slow.’

‘How could I be faster?’

‘Well, try to grow a bit and we’ll see to it.’

‘That’s not fair!’

‘Life rarely is.’

‘You aren’t tall either. But you’re fast. So I can also be fast.’

‘That’s the point of practice.’

‘Draggan says it’s better to be strong, so you can kill the enemy with less energy.’

‘Your cousin only says this because he’s a fat behemoth.’

Harak’s eyes widened. Ana, as though suddenly realizing she might have said a bit too much, blinked hard and awkwardly tried to clean her otherwise spotless shield; then the kid burst out in laughter, and a smile also crept to the woman’s lips.

Vardille nodded to himself; the kid proved to be a great companion to Ana, and the northerners seemed fine with Harak being around the Crownguard. He hoped Analyn’s trauma with the Velardhari would eventually be dulled. He knew it could not be extinguished.

‘Where are the others?’ Vardille approached them. Analyn instinctively wanted to hop on her feet; only her captain’s gaze prevented her from doing so.

‘Gradhe went inside the forest to … take care of something.’ Harak chuckled. ‘And Jelyn wanted to see if she could hunt something for us. We’re being low on food.’

‘We are indeed. Look, you are continuing the journey to Ghynal. Keep an eye out for … you know. The others.’

Ana slowly nodded, keeping eye contact; she understood Vardille was talking about Bryne.

‘What about you?’

‘I’m joining you at the lake.’

‘Ca… I mean, what are you up to?’

‘I have some matters to attend to.’ Ana’s glance fell on the ropes strapped to Vardille’s back.

‘What’s that for?’ she asked askance.

‘Perhaps I’ll also hunt something on the way back,’ Vardille shrugged.

‘Jelyn will kill me if she finds out I let you leave alone.’

‘Then it’s better she’s not here. There’s no need to worry, Ana. I told you I’m joining you at the lake. Make sure no one gets left behind from the civilians.’

Vardille rose to stand, but Analyn got to her feet, too.

‘Then let us wait for Gradhe, at least he can—’

‘Ana. It’s enough.’ The words “It’s an order” was already at Vardille’s lips, but he did not want to risk even in front of the kid. ‘Meet you in the evening.’

As he was leaving for the woods, he could still hear the fading conversation behind his back:

‘Shouldn’t we help master Reylynn?’ Harak asked.

‘Believe you me, kid, if there’s anything that’s beyond master Reylynn, you don’t want to meet it.’

Vardille shook his head. The kid could get suspicious.

He trod lightly for nearly two hours, constantly guided by the distant echoes of the dragon’s scream. His leg more-or-less functioned normally if slightly limping. Idamin had herbs he had never even heard about; the white-thorn leaf worked wonders for his wound.

Walking through a narrow dale, he stopped and sat at a rotting trunk of a fallen tree. Judging by the claw marks at its base … no. I’d rather not think about what filth might have been lingering around.

Planning was not something he had done beforehand. He figured the dragon must have left the demon horde behind. If he miscalculated …

What am I doing?

Vardille reached for his pocket, pulling out something blue that glinted in sunlight: the sapphire he had borrowed from Idamin. He did not disclose his intentions back then to the girl, but the Herald did not ask questions either. Hunting down the creature must prove to be easier with two gemstones in his possession. As to why did they begin to work again, he had not the slightest of ideas.

He stretched his arms and pulled out a knife. He knew killing the beast would not be in vain, even if he could not achieve what he had hoped. Vardille pressed the blade onto his arm above his wrist and made a long but shallow cut. Blood immediately flowed from the wound.

He then clutched the sapphire in his fist, not without doubts. He had never operated with sapphires before, but Idamin had calmed him not to worry. Vardille attuned to the sapphire, tentatively aiming to open the gemstone’s Well; the faelin washed over him within moments.

He nearly drowned in the sudden wave of elemental power, the sheer essence of the world seemed to pour on him, swallowing him like an ocean. Vardille physically gasped for air, twitching and falling from the trunk as he grappled with the faelin. Dark patches obscured his vision, reality seemed to distort, and he was on the verge of losing his consciousness.

Then, slowly, he regained control over the essence—or rather, the essence let him touch it. With a heaving chest, he glanced at his fist, still clutching the gemstone; blue light emanated from his fingers.

The sapphire was only vaguely familiar to the onyx. When using the black gemstone, he was in total control of the power. He could sense the shadows around him, he could bend them to his will, form them with ease, focusing on only so much of the essence at one time. Mastering an onyx was of no difficulty to him.

But the sapphire! The essence surrounded him, pulsating in every single inch, rampaging in every single living being, him included. He took several breaths before he even attempted to stand, getting used to the daunting scale of the gem’s power.

Vardille finally stood, holding up his scarred arm, studying the wound. Blood trickled from the gap still. He very cautiously gathered a pinch of the essence, gently guiding it above the wound and forming a ball of wind. Constantly struggling to tame the feral power from bursting out, he let a thin trickle of the essence materialise; a gentle breeze drifted through the dale.

If the beast bore any resemblance to the other vermin creeping across Amrith, it would catch Vardille’s scent in no time.

He called forth the power of the onyx and summoned a shadow. He withstood the inherent exertion coming from using two gemstones at the same time, and let another zephyr carry the scent of his blood away. Soon after, the beast howled in the distance.

Vardille smiled. He limped towards the shrieks, his shadow leading the way, puffs of wind rattling the leaves around.