Chapter 8

The wet smell of earth and algae was the first sensation to greet Silas when he woke. They had traveled all night to escape the slaughter, and their pace had taken a lot out of them. He had fallen asleep at some point in the early hours, leaving his familiar to guide them.

The first lights of dawn were starting to show through the trees, bringing nature to life. Bugs buzzed, and small critters scurried off as their cart crossed over the dew-dampened road. Birds fluttered through the trees as they started their morning hunt.

Suddenly, they stopped at the base of a small knoll. Silas sat up from the bed of the cart to look around. He immediately noticed Xavi curled up on the bench, asleep. His color had returned slightly, but he was still a pale, sickly green. He decided to let him sleep and recover.

The Muskox had been grazing while they both slept. With no one to guide him, it had been eating its fill, leaving behind a trail that would confuse even the best trackers. Silas laughed.

The sound of water drew his attention, and he slowly climbed down from the cart, trying not to wake the imp. As he crested the knoll, the most beautiful sunrise shone across the open water of a large lake. Oranges and yellows danced across the surface with the ebb and flow of the shoreline.

Some distance away, several animals resembling small bears drank from the water. They were another evolved species common to this region called Earth Bears. They had earth-based abilities, allowing them to burrow deep in the ground with flat shovel-like paws tipped with thick, nubby appendages, perfect for digging through the frozen ground of winter. He had read that they had a few other natural abilities, like rock shaping, that also made them useful for mining. Their dark brown, curly fur was one of the staples of the north for surviving the harsh conditions, making this animal one of the most essential resources in the region. He sat and watched as the young Earth Bears played in the water under the watchful eye of the adults.

After a while he returned to the cart and stopped the roaming Muskox. When he did, Xavi slowly opened his eyes and gingerly sat up.

“Where are we, Master? How long was I asleep?” Xavi asked as he stretched.

“A lake, apparently. We missed the turn for the southern pass, so we will have to backtrack some, but that’s not an issue. We will eat and be on our way shortly. How are you feeling?” He tried to busy himself with the beast by straightening its barding not to sound worried, but he did so unconvincingly.

“I will be fine. As I said before, the backlash is wearing off, but it was much worse than expected. I am recovering quickly, but I will not be able to do that again for some time. For now, we need to focus on leaving the north so we can continue your training.”

“Hmm,” was all he could say. He knew the imp was not saying something but didn’t want to press the fact just yet. He would let him recover first before he asked his new questions. For now, it was time to eat.

After breakfast, he decided to return to the lake, a feeling guiding him. Once he reached the shoreline, he looked out over the water. Oddly, there was not a single boat or any sign of human presence on the lake. This wasn’t that far from Holmburg, so there should have been some form of fishing or logging, but it was as if they were completely disconnected from all human interaction.

He remembered the letter Kara had left for him and pulled it out. When he had initially read the letter, he had assumed there would be a prominent town they would have used as a meeting place, but there was nothing in sight. As he unfolded the letter, he immediately noticed a symbol that had not been there before. It was glowing dimly with a blue and white light that emitted a small pulse of mana.

There was a familiarity to it, and after a moment, he pulled out a notebook and searched his records. He found it to be a modified version of a tracking spell he had encountered several years ago in the far west of the continent.

At the time, a local lord had used it to track him on a delivery assignment he had picked up. He had used it to oversee his progress on the journey and ensure he didn’t try to steal the merchandise. He completed the job easily enough, but he had not seen this since he left that region.

With his interest peaked, he decided to go back and speak with Xavi about it. However, the symbol disappeared again once he stepped away from the waterfront. Confused, he turned back and took a few extra steps only to see the image return and grow brighter. “Clever. I wondered how I was supposed to find you, but you gave me a tracking glyph.” He said to himself. “This wouldn’t have been cheap or easy to do on short notice. Too much to give to someone you only just met. Why?” Turning over the note several times.

Silas closed his eyes and reached for the threads connecting him to his familiar, “Xavi, are you there?”

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No response.

He tried again and, this time, pushed a little extra mana with the attempt.

“Yes, Master, is everything alright?”

He explained his findings to the imp, “I am going to search around and see what I can find. I won’t be long, though. Be mindful and reach out if anything changes.”

“We shouldn’t stay long, but a small delay won’t harm us. Watch out for bandits as well. I know I killed some, but that could not have been all. Be careful, Master Dreamwhisper.”

With that, he headed further down the shore, examining the letter for shifts. Twenty minutes later, he noticed the first change.

As he approached the mouth of a small stream, the glyph started pulsating faster. The stream was surrounded by low cliffs with sheer edges on either side that snaked off into the distance. The tops of the cliffs were covered in trees and tall grasses, which gave him an uneasy feeling.

“Why does it feel like I’m walking into a kill box,” he whispered to himself.

Trusting his gut, he crossed the stream to continue on. However, once he left the bank, the pulse slowed immediately. He closed his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s like that then, huh? Why am I even doing this? What am I expecting to find?” he swore. “You know what? Let the gods decide.” He reached into his purse and pulled out a gold coin engraved with the crown's seal. ‘Heads I return, tails I continue.’ He flicked it into the air and watched it spin. Once it dropped, he caught it in his waiting palm and slowly opened his fingers. “Fuck.”

The water wasn’t cold enough to bother him but was still enough to counter the warmth of the morning sun. He trudged upstream steadily in the shadows of the rising cliffs. Once he reached a mile in, the stream opened into a large natural bowl full of chest-high reeds and large, thick trees. Silas peered to the edges of the secluded area, ‘Unless you knew this was here or stumbled on it, there is no way anyone would see this from any distance. This is incredible.’ he thought.

Off in the center sat an ancient, dilapidated stone structure partially submerged into the stream where water lapped at its edges. The structure itself was circular, two stories tall, with an open, flat roof. It was covered in thick vines and dense plant growth, showing how old this truly was, ‘What time leaves, nature takes.’

There was a stone walkway with a short, two-foot-high wall around the edge leading to the entrance. Some stones had large cracks where trees had pushed their way through, toppling whole sections.

“There is no way those walls gave any protections against anyone, so this couldn’t have been a fortified outpost. The only rational explanation would be a temple if I had to guess,” he whispered aloud.

Cautiously, he made his way around the edge of the pathway. It followed around the natural edge of the outer walls where, after fifty feet, the path turned, leading to the temple itself. When he reached the turn, he heard a loud crack of a branch. He dropped quickly and waited.

A red streak flashed across the corner of his vision thirty yards away in the reeds. He held his breath a moment before he slowed his heart. Silently, he pulled the blade from his waist and began circulating mana from his core. He sat and watched for a few minutes to see if there was any more movement. Finally, a form stood and jumped onto a nearby chunk of fallen stone, appearing to search the area.

It was a man dressed in a red tunic with brown leather pants and boots, the same as the bandit guards from the night before. He had a bow slung across his back, a quiver of arrows hanging from his hip, and a long hunting knife on the other side. He made no move for a weapon, but Silas felt he was searching for someone—maybe him.

‘I will not be the hunted,’ he promised himself, slowly stalking his way closer to the man.

When Silas was within ten feet, the bandit scout finally sat down on the stone, rubbing the back of his neck. Once at arm’s length, he shot forward and tackled the man to the ground. They rolled over several feet before coming to a stop. Both jumped to their feet simultaneously as the man finally pulled his hunting knife to attack. Silas was quicker and struck with his sword straight at the man’s wrist, sending the knife flying. The man shot back at his attacker with a wild, untrained punch that he easily dodged. Silas caught him in the midsection with a heavy blow that staggered the scout.

He swept his leg out with a momentary advantage and knocked the man down. He hit the ground hard, gasping for air. Silas lunged forward and mounted the man's chest, raining down punches with his free hand until his head finally lulled back.

‘If anyone else were nearby, they would have surely heard the commotion and would be coming quickly.’ Silas dragged the unconscious man off to the side behind another fallen stone and waited.

After several minutes, the scout started to stir. He retook the position on his chest, pinning his arms with his legs, and covered his mouth with his free hand. He reversed the grip on his sword and pressed it to the man’s neck as his eyes fluttered open. When he fully came to, he began to struggle, but Silas pressed the tip firmly, drawing a small drop of blood. The man stopped struggling instantly and stared daggers at him.

Silas leaned in close and spoke softly, “‘How many are with you, and why are you hunting me?’ These are the only words you may speak. If you utter a single sound above a whisper, I will remove your head… slowly. Nod if you understand.”

The man didn’t move his fiery gaze, nor did he nod.

“Don’t be stupid. Answer my questions, or we'll still start to have some real fun,” Silas said, pressing the sword harder and drawing a line of blood this time. “Now again, how many others, and why are you after me?”

The man nodded.

Slowly, he let pressure off the man’s mouth. As soon as he did, the man sucked in a large breath as if he was about to shout. Silas slapped his hand back down and let off a full stream of fire down his throat. At the same time, he plunged the sword straight through his neck. Blood and flame gurgled from the wound with a quiet sizzling gush. He convulsed in the throws of death before finally going still.

Frustrated, he moved off the corpse's chest and sat on the ground.

A shuffling sound from behind him forced him to spin around. Blade at the ready, he conjured a full fireball before he completed the movement. Before he could release the spell, however, a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Silas? What the fuck did you do?!”

Finally seeing the person who spoke, he stood up straight and relaxed the spell back to his core.

“Kara?”