In the meantime, Brin had already moved on. The moment where Galen might have made a stand against continuing to follow the raiders came and went, and whatever decision he thought he had went with her.
Galen nudged Danto and followed Brin.
As Brin led them into the woods, the trees encased them in an entirely different world. The rush of running water faded almost immediately into a fragrant green hush. Low-hanging branches brushed scratchy leaves against Galen’s cheek, while the underbrush dragged against his legs.
“If the mudders doubled back like we think they did, to scavenge from the hunting party, then they won’t be as far ahead of us as before.” From behind Galen, Danto’s voice disrupted the silence.
“Then we should move quietly. We also don’t know what else might be out here with us.” Brin never glanced back as she replied.
“Maybe the raiders don’t know anyone is still following them.” That might keep them safe, Galen reasoned. Or at least safe from the mud-touched. He didn’t know what had made the bear creature that had killed the hunting party or the bird that had attacked them. But it stood to reason there might be more such creatures in these woods.
And a creeping certainty continued to ride across the back of Galen’s shoulders that he’d made some kind of choice without understanding how important it actually was.
The longer they walked, the spongier the ground turned beneath a layer of fallen leaves. A scent of mold and rich earth drifted up from the disturbed detritus. The air Galen breathed tasted ancient and full of secrets.
They walked single file, all three of them with their spears held loosely in one hand. Galen had quickly decided that trying to lean the weapon against his shoulder as he’d been trained would only make him even more susceptible to getting hung up on tree branches.
Brin ducked low, leveling her spear parallel to the ground to get under a low bough. Galen tilted his spear in the same way and lowered his shoulders even further as he followed her.
As Galen was straightening on the other side of the low branch, something spoke. The sense of something waiting here for him returned full force.
Galen stood up straight and leveled his spear at the ready.
Only when Brin did the same but then looked to Galen did he realize that whatever had spoken, she hadn’t heard it—she was reacting to his actions. He also realized that he hadn’t heard any actual words that he could recall. All that lingered was a sense of having heard a voice.
“What was that?” Danto raised his spear as well and twisted around so that he was shoulder to shoulder with Galen but looking the opposite direction.
“What was what?” Brin’s head turned as she scanned the area despite her question.
Galen didn’t know how to respond. But as Danto’s and Brin’s voices quieted, Galen realized that whatever it was, he was still hearing it. Except it wasn’t a sound so much as a directionless sense of asking, as if the surrounding forest vibrated a wordless question at him.
Brin’s face turned toward Galen. Her eyebrows lifted.
“There’s something out there. I think?” Galen was certain his answer was nowhere near as clear as Brin wanted. It wasn’t as clear as he would have liked, but the game didn’t seem inclined to offer him any hints at the moment.
Danto stood in front of the low branch under which they’d all three just ducked. In all other directions, soft forest floor with thickets of underbrush meandered between trunks of gray and brown and black bark. Sunlight filtered through blue-green needles and broad leaves in hues from soft yellow-green to orange to scarlet. Galen peered into all those places, but they remained empty.
Until suddenly, in the space between one blink and the next, something at the base of a thick oak glowed. Except it wasn’t light, exactly, but more a change in direction of the existing light, as if something not only blocked the light but also redirected it. Galen felt like his eyes were crossing.
Whoever it was stood perhaps a hundred paces away, so Galen couldn’t see perfectly. But the form Galen looked at was person-shaped, although both more slender and taller. The being was a rich brown and vaguely sinuous, as if Galen looked at a tree root with earth still clinging along its surfaces. Yet there was a softness that was more like flesh and skin. Everything around the figure shimmered with a deep blue-green light, as if the figure peered at them from beneath the surface of rippling water.
People touched by a knack for a certain type of magic often, although not always and not consistently, exude an aura of color and scent and other traits which indicate the nature of their talent. You have never seen anything quite the color or strength of what surrounds the distant figure.
The being shimmered in a way that made Galen believe it was mostly aura and only a little physical.
And with that thought, Galen realized the being was not alone. What may have been a stalking forest cat stood beside the being, but it appeared to be made of mud and twigs. A winged creature came to rest on the figure’s shoulder, similar in shape but nowhere near the size of the bird that had attacked Galen. In the brush at the figure’s feet, something slithered.
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I suppose we know now what made those creatures.
“Did you…” Danto whispered beside Galen’s ear. “Do you see…”
“Yes.” Galen’s mouth had turned dry. “Don’t make any sudden moves.”
Galen grasped his spear even more tightly, but it was a reflex. He knew instinctively that it would do him no good in this situation.
“Do I see what?” Brin hissed the question and turned her head frantically in the direction Galen and Danto were looking. Then she stilled and stood up straighter, and Galen knew she’d seen, too.
“What is it?” Danto whispered.
“A Shining One.” Awe touched Brin’s voice. “An old one, more magic than mundane.”
Danto didn’t argue. Galen waited for the narrator to give him more to work with.
Magical beings, not quite gods or pure elemental forces but certainly more than mortal, Shining Ones—those of pure descent—most often keep to themselves. The largest remaining civilizations of Shining Ones lie far to the west of the Mindet Valley, but occasionally they travel through Chanford Falls. At least two are regular clients of your parents. Those acquaintances are more human in appearance than this wild one, but a similar quality of shimmering light surrounds them.
Shining Ones are generally more inclined toward one or two particular types of elemental energy. The acquaintances of your parents are Flamis, which favor fire and air. Lutis are beings of earth and water affinity. Shining Ones have evolved over centuries to take on more human-like physical characteristics if they live among humans, but those in the wild are often less physically evolved and more like elemental creatures or even pure energy.
Galen gaped stupidly at the being which refused, no matter how hard he stared, to resolve into any clear form in his vision. “A Lutis, maybe.” This one certainly appeared more earth-based, and that was the hint the narrator had dropped. “I’ve never seen an aura that color.”
Had this one been waiting for him? That was foolish. Why would they have any interest in him, and how would they have known he was coming?
The sense of questioning persisted. It pulsed more insistently.
“What do you think they’re asking?” Galen glanced instinctively toward Brin.
Brin turned her face toward Galen but only to stare blankly.
“Asking?” Danto’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
They don’t hear it.
Danto had sensed something, maybe. But not as clearly as Galen, apparently. A little chill wound up Galen’s spine.
It’s just me that the Lutis is speaking to.
Galen had no idea how to respond. But he stood up straighter anyhow and lowered the butt of his spear to the ground, trying to present a posture that was as non-threatening as he could make it.
We’re no threat to this being to begin with. Three barely-trained militia against someone who might be centuries old—millennia, possibly.
Galen’s Personality modifier wasn’t terrible, and he was the only one the Lutis seemed to be attempting to communicate with, anyhow. He struggled against the weight of feeling like he was taking actions when he didn’t fully understand the consequences.
But someone has to do something. Guess it’ll be me.
“People attacked us.” Galen raised his voice to be heard across the distance between himself and the Shining One.
Overhead, a bird startled with an alarmed cry and a flurry of wings. The bright sense of questioning shifted toward disapproval.
“Sorry.” Galen lowered his voice to normal speaking volume. “Raiders attacked a place near here. We’re supposed to protect that place, so we’re trying to catch up to them.”
It felt odd to speak so conversationally with someone who stood so far away.
Not just “someone.”
And yet Galen felt heard. The sense of questioning rippling out from the Shining One receded. When the Shining One’s touch returned, it flowed with a hot darkness.
Anger? At us?
Galen’s eyes widened. He extended his arms wide in a surrendering gesture. “We aren’t looking for trouble with you.”
“Just them,” Danto muttered.
“Hush!” Brin hissed in Danto’s direction but without taking her eyes off the distant Shining One.
The cat-like creature beside the Shining One twitched its muddy tail. Galen thought of the bear-like creature slain by the hunting party and crumbling away into the river. His throat constricted.
“Some of our people fought with a great beast, back by the stream.” Galen tried his best to keep his tone conversational. “It was made of earth. And a bird attacked us. Were those yours?”
The sense of darkness vanished in a flaring of white heat.
“We didn’t want to fight them!” Galen’s heart thudded.
Say the right things! Was he even rolling any PER or Diplomacy checks? He hadn’t heard any dice or seen any messages.
“They attacked us.” Galen made himself stop and gather his words more carefully. “The raiders we’re tracking, we think they wanted us to be attacked. Maybe they made it happen somehow?”
Another flash of heat assaulted Galen. Beside him, Danto inhaled sharply.
He’s feeling something, even if not as much as I am.
Then the heat fell away, and a gentler sense of curiosity extended.
Galen wasn’t sure what to make of that. In the silence of his hesitation, Brin and Danto whispered over the top of each other.
“Tell them we’re just passing through.”
“Ask if they can help us!”
Galen lifted a hand, palm-out, toward his companions. Both pressed their lips together and stopped talking.
“We just want to pass through.” As Galen said the words, a smug expression flickered across Brin’s face. “To keep tracking the raiders—the ones who are using your creatures against us. Could we have your permission, please?”
The Shining One’s voice faded entirely from Galen’s mind. He held his breath.
[You rolled a 25 for Diplomacy.]
That’s impossible. Galen was sure his PER modifier was only +2. Even if he’d rolled a natural 20, there was no way the total was 25. Not unless he’d gotten some other bonus he wasn’t aware of.
Now was not the time to go digging through his character sheet to figure it out.
Take the 25 and run with it.
After a moment, the trees emanated a grudging sense of assent. Galen let out his breath.
Whatever had been slithering around the Shining One’s feet slid through the underbrush and away from Galen and Danto and Brin. The cat creature flicked its tail and slinked away, and the winged thing of twigs and mud lifted into the air and swooped after the others.
The Lutis remained. The murky blue-green light around them rippled and shimmered. Then they also turned to leave.
The earlier weight of expectation pressed down on Galen, as if fate had brought Galen before this being. As if more was intended to happen here, and he was supposed to figure out what, exactly.
But I don’t know. What am I supposed to do?