It was around midday when Rozena had finished tidying up her humble tent. Soon it would be time for her to set out again. She couldn’t afford to stay in one place for too long. The world moved too fast for that. There were people in need and heroes to find.
Packing would be little trouble at all. The Lady had blessed Rozena with the power to manipulate fey magic. Fey energy was around wherever there was nature, and in the kingdom of Alban, nature was plentiful. With a simple incantation, she could wrap her tent, her bed, and every other one of her belongings into a single saddlebag.
Before she could go, she liked to make it a habit of picking up after herself before she casted such a spell. That way when she summoned her things again, she wouldn’t have a mess waiting for her. The interior was very spartan in that it had only a few pieces of furniture. Much easier to maintain that way.
Moire, her white steed, whinnied outside. Rozena heard some frantic shouting and hurried to see what was going on. She barely reached the entrance to her abode before someone came barging in. It was the earl, Manus Druim, and in his arms was the boy from earlier. Alistair of Wyrdwood, the Sight reminded her.
“My lady, forgive the intrusion. We need your help!”
There were stains of blood on Earl Druim’s armor and tabard. He had a large gash over one eye that had already been bandaged. The child in his arms didn’t have any noticeable wounds but he was clearly knocked out cold. It had only been maybe an hour since she last saw them riding out of the city. What had happened?
“Lay him down on the bed over there,” Rozena said, moving aside. Manus bowed his head to her in thanks before shuffling over to the other side of the tent. He gently laid the boy down on top of the bedding. “What happened?”
“Redcaps, my lady.” Manus sighed. He looked absolutely exhausted. “They were making their way toward the farmland, just outside the walls. We made to intercept, but…it was a hard-fought battle.”
“I can see that.” Rozena joined him by the bed and together they stared down at the resting Alistair. Again she looked over him but saw no wound. “Did he pass out?”
“Yes, after killing nearly a dozen of them,” Manus said, smiling a bit. “He saved us, my lady. Just like you’d expect any paladin to. Can you do anything for him?”
Her healing skill was well developed at this point, so she believed she could help him. It helped that Alistair wasn’t suffering from any kind of complex illness or grievous wound. The vitality of his relic mantle had run out over the course of the battle. Vitality was the equivalent paladin’s stamina, the energy they used to move and fight. Running out of vitality would filter the exhaustion back to the human body, though thankfully he was spared any permanent physical damage. She also sensed that he had taken a potion recently. That would only recover a small bit of his energy, he’d need something more.
“I could cast a spell to hasten his recovery,” Rozena said, sparing the knight from the details she had picked up on. It was difficult to translate the Sight and its many blessings to those living without it. “Though he certainly isn’t in any mortal danger, if that’s what concerns you. The transformation is tiring on a supplicant’s body. I’m sure he suffered many wounds, and those only worsen the fatigue he suffers in his mortal form.”
“As long as he’ll be alright, that’s all I need to know.” Manus flicked his head back toward the outside. “My men are waiting for me. May I leave him with you for now?”
“Yes, that will be fine,” Rozena said, brushing a stray lock of her raven-black hair aside. The curls of it fell bountifully over her shoulders and back. Its healthy nature belied the often filthy nature of the places she traveled.
The earl offered a short, meaningful bow of respect before leaving the tent. It was just the two of them now. Even though he was asleep and his mind was shut off, she didn’t want to delay the treatment. She was sure the poor boy would be in pain the moment he woke up. The least she could do for him would be to ease it somewhat.
From her storage chest, she procured a handful of items. A small flask of water that had been purified and blessed. Water of such a variety was necessary for many of their spells, a key ingredient. In the palm of her hand, she gathered shavings of grasses and other herbs known to contain healing properties. Marigold, turmeric, and a hint of lavender. Some of these may have even been in the potion he’d consumed, but with her powers and the Lady’s blessing, she could enhance them to a much higher degree.
In a small mortar, she mixed the fibers with the holy water to make a mushy paste. With one of her fingers, she scooped a small clump of the mass and gently dabbed it onto her lips and the inside of her gums. Then she began to speak the necessary incantations to conjure the power of healing, using the shavings as her material component.
She channeled the magical energy inside of her into a burst of healing force. Rozena knelt down on the bed and pressed her lips to his forehead. It expelled from her lips the same way an exhale of air might. With their skin touching, the magic had a conduit with which to move from her body to his. A blue-green pulse of magic coursed through Alistair, from head to toe.
Casting a spell like that was enough to leave her short of breath. She sat back against the footrest and watched as the magic ran its course. It was a waiting game now. Only Alistair could say for certain whether or not the spell did much good and he wouldn’t be up for some time, she guessed.
Rozena went to fetch some water so as to rinse her mouth out. As she did her thoughts drifted to the young man in her care. She pitied him in a way. He was the first Aegis user she had ever met, and it was already clear to her the kind of suffering those of his kind were forced to endure for the sake of others. Morso than other paladins, even.
May the Lady watch over him.
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It was a trivial matter infiltrating a human settlement, even one that was surrounded by a wall. There were only a handful of sentries manning the parapets, and only a couple at each gate. She could easily climb up the side of the granite rock with a small application of magic in her fingers and toes. It helped by adding grip. From there it was a trivial matter to haul herself over back down to the other side.
Humans were proud of their defenses, and to a point, the castles and their walls had served them well. Hobs and orcs didn’t siege cities, they preferred the path of least resistance with farmsteads and hamlets. Fae were usually meant to keep their distance and most didn’t require the meat of humans for sustenance or sport. The undead, guided by their vampiric masters, might attempt such a feat but they certainly wouldn’t send one person scurrying over their wall.
No, they’d send a thousand skeletons and another thousand rotting corpses to break down the doors.
So really, she couldn’t fault the sentries for failing to do their job. If anything, it would be an embarrassment for her if she were ever caught. She had been doing this kind of thing long enough that she didn’t even think about the risks anymore. The human soldiers she came across most often weren’t much of a challenge.
But, tonight she wasn’t after an ordinary human.
With her magic, she managed to find the same signature as yesterday. Fey magic was easy for those born of the fae to find. It especially stood out in a city whose inhabitants were severely lacking in that quality.
She darted from shadow to shadow, alley to alley. When she had no clear way forward, she simply scaled the nearest building. Then she leaped, from rooftop to rooftop as she neared her target.
There, a small tent next to one of the city’s gates. The sentries weren’t too far off, but they were half asleep and too distracted with the monotony of their jobs to notice her fall from the rooftop across the street. She slinked inside the tent with no one the wiser. Her form-fitting and dark colored suit made it easy to blend in to the night.
Once inside, she was somewhat surprised to find two occupants. They were so close together her magical senses couldn’t tell them apart. A woman was sleeping next to the young man from earlier today. She recognized the girl as a servant of the Lady; her body was much too thin and small to be another one of the warrior-paladins.
A small complication, but no matter. The ‘daughters’ as they called themselves were rarely known for their sharp senses while asleep. Another trait one could predictably pin to any human they encountered. She had been out in the wilds for too long. It made her more irritable with each passing month, she found.
From a pouch around her waist she procured something. A small piece of parchment. The writing on it would be foreign to the human, but she was confident that his magic, his form of the Sight, would help him decipher her message. She left it on his chest, careful not to wake him.
And then she was gone, back into the night.
----------------------------------------
Alistair awoke with a start. He pulled himself up from what he soon realized was a very comfortable bed. Too comfortable even for his bed at the inn, he thought. The room was dark but the Sight helped him ignore it. He glanced around and found that he was inside a tent of some kind. Odd place for such a nice bed.
He looked to his right and saw a young woman also lying on the bed. It was Rozena, he didn’t need the Sight to tell him that. She was next to him, wearing clothes only suitable for bed. Alistair felt somewhat panicked as he wondered what had happened since he fell asleep. Did he sleepwalk somewhere? Do something he shouldn’t have?
Alistair patted himself down and found that he was still clothed the same as he was during the battle. He breathed a sigh of relief at that. That was when he noticed a piece of paper had fallen into his lap. A note? Probably from the girl next to him, in case he woke up early.
The scrawlings on the page looked nothing like the letters he was familiar with. They were strange patterns of curves drawn sequentially on the parchment. It resembled writing in how it was formatted, and yet it was like nothing he had ever seen.
The Lady’s magic offered him the knowledge necessary to read it. Just because he could read it, however, did not mean he understood what was meant. Apparently, the note was scribed in a language called Geevshey.
I saw you in battle yesterday.
I have the answers you and your companions seek.
Meet me at the Celidon forest, tonight.
Come alone.
-Ilvara
Ilvara. That didn’t sound like a human name. Maybe an alias. More interesting to him was the snippet of information from earlier. ‘Geevshey’, what did that mean? He was sensing a pattern with things and creatures of mythic and fey natures. Was this another tale he would have known if he was born a noble and read bedtime stories from the comfort of a warm feather bed?
Alistair thought of waking Rozena, but hesitated. No doubt, her magic was the cause of him feeling as refreshed as he did right now. He could barely feel any sores anywhere, and his fatigue felt as if it had been washed away. If her powers worked the same way his did then she was surely tired.
No, this was something he had to figure out on his own. It was him this ‘Ilvara’ was interested in. He would take responsibility for investigating this further. Besides, there was a nagging part of him that still wanted to complete the Quest of Discovery from earlier. This meeting could bring him closer to an answer.
Alistair carefully removed himself from the bed and left the confines of the tent. The air outside was cool, a convenient respite from the summer’s heat. This close to the gate and he could actually smell something other than trash and excrement. Maybe it was just his closeness to the living quarters of a well-bathed woman. He noticed the tent did have a strong scent of lavender.
The guards outside were slow to notice him. One leaned against the cold stone of the gatehouse. He idly stared toward the heavy doors that led outside. Another sat on a stool nearby, nodding off. When he was about ten feet or so away, the one guard awake finally noticed him and nudged his partner with his boot. He snorted loudly, but with another solid kick he was awake and standing at attention.
“Halt! Who goes there?” said the one that had been sleeping.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
His friend shook his head. “If you’d been payin’ attention, you’d know he came from the lady’s tent. An’ wipe that drool from yer chin!”
Alistair sympathized with the two of them. It was rare but he had been assigned as a gate guard on occasion for the castle of Wyrdwood. There were only so many upturned stones and granite bricks you could count before you ran out of things to keep yourself occupied. Sleep was preferable, but in a smaller keep it was harder to go unnoticed in your duties. These two were probably left to their own devices for most of the night, he guessed.
“Sorry to disturb you,” Alistair said. He nodded toward the gate. “I need to leave the city for a bit. Would you mind opening the gate?”
“We ain’t supposed to open the gate after dark,” said the sleeper. He received a sharp ribbing from his friend.
“What he means to say, sir, is that it ain’t safe to be out there at the moment. It’s for your own safety.”
Alistair smiled in gratitude for the warning. Meanwhile he thought how best to approach this. He wasn’t a wordsmith by any means, so charming them wouldn’t work. They saw him emerge from the tent, so approaching them as a fellow lowborn was already off the table. He regretted that he had to rely on his relic token so often, but he couldn’t deny it was an effective tool of persuasion.
He removed the token from beneath his clothes so that they could see it clearly. The red shield glowed in the dark of the night. They seemed mesmerized by its fey magic, unable to tear the eyes away.
“Thank you for your concern, but I’ve been chosen by the Lady herself to carry this. I think I can handle myself.”
They looked at each other, then the token, then at Alistair himself.
“Hey, ain’t he the man the knights went with today?”
“O’course he is, we saw him get left with the lady didn’t we?”
Upon reaching that collective realization, the two of them quickly connected the dots. They left their weapons to lean against the wall and hurried to unbarr the gate. Together, they lifted the heavy wooden slab that served to reinforce the door from the inside. The guards pushed on the doors and opened Adelgard to the outside.
Alistair stepped out and took in the scenery. This was the same road he took with the knights less than a day ago, and yet it almost looked foreign under the moonlight.
The river shined brightly as the light reflected off its gentle surface. The rolling hills in the distance were like clouds on a starry night, obfuscating landmarks further out in a cloak of shadow. Even with the Sight to guide him, there was a certain ominous tone he felt from being out there. Especially alone.
He nodded thanks to the guards and set off. It would take him a considerable amount of time if he just walked the whole way there, at least an hour if not more. Alistair decided that he would check on his relic mantle and see if he could even transform into it yet. With its comparative size and length of its stride, he could cover a lot more ground. Not to mention he would need to ready himself for an ambush.
A sense of relief poured over him when he did manage to transform. He didn’t feel much different than earlier, either. Part of him was expecting some punishment for the amount of exertion he forced on the Aegis, but it seemed everything was working as intended. As the paragon spirit inside him said, he was meant to be a living shield.
Sometimes, you just had to take the hits.
The Aegis body got him to the forest edge in half the time. If anyone was around to watch him it would have been a sight to behold. A red giant in strange armor sprinting on a dirt road in the middle of the night, seemingly to nowhere. The ridiculousness of his current life circumstances were not lost on him. It certainly beat moving around granite bricks by hand, though.
Before he entered Celidon proper there was something he wanted to do. He retraced his steps from earlier in the day. Every step he took, Alistair heard the crunching of twigs and dead leaves beneath his feet. A wild animal yipped in the distance, its cries echoing through the forest. It smelled of fresh decay.
Eventually, he managed to find what was left of his initial battle at the tree line. Alistair noticed immediately that the redcap bodies were gone. In their place, oddly enough, were some kind of red toadstool mushroom. Those weren’t there earlier. What a strange phenomenon, he thought. More importantly, their cold iron pikestaffs were still on the ground nearby.
It was high time Alistair got a proper weapon for this body of his. The fists were nice. There was something cathartic about punching something with a strength you never imagined you could have. On the other hand, it made him very susceptible to damage he could otherwise avoid or at least reduce. All of his instincts from his days as a man-at-arms were screaming at him to maintain distance.
Of course, he couldn’t forgo his fists entirely. He wasn’t about to go avoiding damage either. Alistair was beginning to understand the role the Aegis was meant to play on the battlefield. There were many ways to go about fighting and surviving, though. No one told him he couldn’t use something other than his arms.
With that decided, he entered the Celidon forest proper. Instinctively he wanted to sheathe or otherwise put away the spear, but he realized he had no way to do so. Maybe with that extra money he had left over he might commission something. How much would this weigh if he tried to carry it as a normal human? Going forward, he would have to figure out the logistics of his carrying weight.
Alistair didn’t really have a particular spot he was walking toward. He just kind of wandered for the first five minutes or so. The message didn’t give him any sense of direction or sign to look for.
If the forest was eerie in the day, it was downright terrifying at night. The otherworldly mist that hugged the ground was now up to his waist. It was eerily quiet, even for nighttime. His only company was the sound of his heavy feet traversing the soft, moss-covered earth beneath him. The trees and their leaves were so thick that barely any moonlight managed to pierce the canopy above him. If not for the Sight, he would be blind.
Then he heard something. A high-pitched whistle. It clearly wasn’t an animal sound either. It came from deeper in. He turned to go in that general direction.
Alistair did that for another ten minutes or so. Any time he would lose his way, he would hear the call again. Someone was guiding him in. It made him nervous that they knew where he was, but refused to show their face.
His vitality was decently refreshed considering the lack of time that had passed. From near zero he was back to over half the bar. He still wasn’t feeling any fatigue, which was good. The thought of combat in a place like this wasn’t pleasant.
Finally, he managed to find his way into some sort of clearing. He noticed the remains of what must have been a fire or some sort of camp site. Only embers were left now. The calls had gone silent.
“Alistair, duine.”
A voice called out to him. It was feminine. Somehow she knew his name. And she called him something strange. Something in ‘geevshey’ perhaps.
“Show yourself,” he replied, head on a swivel. They could literally be anywhere.
“Above you,” she said. Her voice was cool and calm. There was an exotic lilt to it that he couldn’t quite describe.
He craned his neck up and saw someone there, standing on a low hanging branch. With the Sight he could at least make out her figure, but it was still hard to notice any real details. That said, he was pleasantly surprised to see words appear to describe the woman. This implied she was someone, or something, of import to the Lady.
Winter Elf
Pathfinder | Level 5
A child of the fae. Servant of the Winter court. Known as ‘Geevshey’ in their own language. Reluctant cousins of the ‘Samshey’, Summer Elves.
There was a fairy tale character if he had ever heard of one. So many terms he knew so little about. Honestly, Alistair was just glad this fae wasn’t attacking him outright. Though she certainly looked like she could do a number on him. The level was a strange measure of strength as he had no idea what that entailed, nor did he know exactly what a ‘Pathfinder’ was, but he was certain he didn’t want to find out if it meant another fight.
“Are you Ilvara?” he asked.
“Brilliant deduction, duine,” she replied, sarcasm dripping. Good to know that sense of humor crossed cultural boundaries.
Her profile with the Sight was updated with her name. It didn’t exist before because the Lady presumably had never met, or had a servant of hers meet, this particular elf. Now she would be forever known as Ilvara, the winter elf to anyone with the Sight.
“You said you had answers for me?”
“That’s right. I trust you’ll hear me out and not go swinging those meaty fists of yours around. Even if you don’t like what I have to say.”
Despite her words, she didn’t sound particularly concerned about his powers or whatever threat he might have posed. Perhaps she was good at estimating the difficulty someone his size would have actually climbing a tree, especially in armor. A part of him wanted to consider the possibility of punching a tree down, but it seemed inappropriate.
He stabbed the cold iron pike into the ground, handle first. “I’m all ears.”
Satisfied, she leaped down from her perch. He got a better look at her now. This elf wasn’t his height by any means, but he could tell she was tall for human standards. Her skin was gray like stone, with a tinge of lavender around the eyes. Makeup or complexion, he couldn’t tell. Her bone-white hair was pulled into a warrior’s ponytail. And pointed ears?
All in all, the most fey thing he had seen so far. Perhaps, fey person was more appropriate.
“You and the other daoine, the knights. You’re searching for the noble killer, right?” He nodded. She swept her arms out as if to present herself. “Well, here I am.”
Alistair cocked his head. “Is this a joke?”
“No. I thought this little exchange could use some honesty to start things off. You don’t like it?” She made to sound as if offended. He didn’t believe the act. Though, he certainly believed she was telling the truth about the viscount.
“Why tell me this? Are you looking for a fight?” he asked, genuinely confused.
She shook a finger at him. “You promised to listen the whole way through, didn’t you? I’ve got a story to tell. Though I can’t say it will be all that exciting. I’m still incensed by the whole thing.”
Alistair motioned for her to continue. It was clear she had something to get off her chest.
“You see, I killed him on commission. Someone promised to pay me a fair sum of gold, and at least for the moment, I’m in need of money like that.” Her smooth demeanor began to crack into something more animated, more frustrated as the tale went on. “Then someone reneged on their side of the deal. I took that personally, which is why I brought you here.”
“What do you expect me to do about it? Go shake someone down for your money?” Alistair asked, shrugging as he did.
She sighed, her hand massaging her temple. It was a very human expression. “No, duine. If I knew who to send you after, I would have just killed them and taken it for myself. They only sent letters, and only through what I imagine were the poorest of your kind as messengers.”
She procured something from her toolbelt. The winter elf was wearing some form-fitting bodysuit of some kind. Not a single plate of armor on her, though he couldn’t attest to whatever material it was made of. Darkly colored like you would expect from a rogue or assassin as she claimed to be. She even had a cloth to cover the lower part of her face.
“Take a look at that,” she said.
Alistair did as she asked. It was a letter describing the deal made with her mysterious client. No signature, though there was a wax seal. He certainly wasn’t the person to know who the seal was from, but he knew plenty of people who could figure it out.
“Can I keep this?” he asked.
“I gave it to you, didn’t I?” She had quite the attitude. He wondered if it was normal for all elves to be like that. Cold and aloof.
“Well, thanks I guess.” He went to stow it somewhere and again, he realized a fatal flaw in the Aegis. It didn’t have pockets. “Why me, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Ilvara shrugged. “You’re one of the more interesting duine I’ve seen lately. I wanted to get a closer look, stave off some boredom.” She sighed, hand on her hip. “And I saw you fight yesterday. I thought you earned something for your trouble.”
Well, he certainly wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
They stood there an awkward length of time. Her business with him was surely concluded, and yet there was a part of him that wanted to ask questions. What was she doing out here? It seemed strange a winter elf was this far south, in the summer. And what exactly was a winter elf, anyway?
“I hope you’re not about to ask me for my life story, are you?” she asked. Ilvara already sounded exasperated and they had barely been talking for five minutes. “It’s best if we part ways here, wouldn’t you say?”
Alistair held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. It was surely comical coming from a giant red suit of armor.
“You’re the one who did me a favor. I’m not going to ask you to stay and answer my silly questions. Though I admit I do have one or two.”
“They’ll have to wait-”
Ilvara paused midsentence, her neck craned to the side. She assumed a low, defensive posture as she stared somewhere behind him.
“Someone’s here. A human, more than likely a knight with how loud they are,” she said, as if describing the weather. It was like whoever it was standing right in front of her. He couldn’t hear a thing, nor could he see anyone either. “Were you followed?”
“I didn’t tell anyone where I was going, no.”
Alistair could see a light in the distance. Someone was carrying a torch. He had to presume they were looking for him. How did they find out? One of the guardsmen at the gate said something, maybe?
“I’ll go and-”
Alistair stopped when he turned back around. Ilvara was long gone. She didn’t make a single sound in her escape. Gone like a will-o-wisp into the misty greenery surrounding him. He thought he heard the light shake of a leafy branch, and then nothing.
Well, so much for those questions.