Their first encounter with the flower a few days later provided barely a handful of bulbs. They all dismounted and searched the area, but all they found were broken stems and holes where more of the flowers must have been before they were uprooted.

Shaffi said what they were all thinking, “This is barely enough.”

“I suggest we go on foot,” D’Argen announced. “It’s clear that merchant friend of yours has already been here and gathered a lot of the flowers. Hopefully, we can find another few patches if we wander around for a bit more.”

“I do not like the idea of wandering around,” Lilian grumbled out with a sniffle. They had already climbed high enough to be deeper in the forest and away from the sun. The cold winter winds were only making it worse and Lilian was turning into an absolute grump. They were being quiet, quieter than usual, and as the only one among them that had such a strong affinity with the forest and nature, they were being completely unhelpful.

D’Argen knew better than to prompt them into action though. The mortals, however, were already dismounting.

“Do you not have your own tasks to tend to?” Thar asked him as soon as the two dismounted.

D’Argen looked around them as if searching for somebody listening in. All he saw were the mortals getting down from their horses and then offering help to the rest of the Never Born. Lilian, the shortest of them all, scowled as they were picked up under the arms and deposited safely on flat ground. D’Argen barely held back his snort of laughter but he did not hold back the smirk when Lilian glared at him.

“To the void with you,” Lilian muttered quietly and jabbed a finger in his direction.

D’Argen lifted his hands to show he was unarmed and dropped the smirk.

“Pardon, Missir,” Lith, who helped them down, started with a wary tone. “Would you like me to carry your pack?”

Lilian only scowled deeper and turned to stomp away.

“D’Argen, you do not have to look with us,” Thar said, bringing D’Argen’s attention back to him.

“Honestly? I know. Here’s the truth,” he leaned closer, ready to impart a secret. “We are not really here just because of some village head told us to make sure Isme did his job,” he said quietly.

Thar did not look surprised and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Actually. There is… well… let’s just say that stories of the demons on this mountain have reached Evadia.” D’Argen finally decided to settle for a half-truth. As much as he trusted Thar, he was quite sure that Thar would look at him like he was crazy if D’Argen started speaking about cheetahs using his mahee. Maybe. Probably. Or not… Thar was different in a lot of ways but D’Argen could not bare seeing that look from him. “There is this… merchant. He’s been telling a lot of stories and it’s making a few of Acela’s allies… uncomfortable.”

“If you do not want to say, you do not have to,” Thar said, obviously catching on that D’Argen was not telling the full truth and insulted by it. Without another word, he turned around and started walking. The horse he was leading followed right after him by the reins and the animal bumped D’Argen as he passed him.

“You deserved that,” Yaling said to him as she passed.

D’Argen groaned and waited for them all to pass him before joining in at the end of the column.

The second time one of the horses slipped, Thar suggested they tie the horses up and continue ahead without them. Isme immediately volunteered to stay behind and search there.

“You can’t just continue on your lazy—”

“Good idea,” D’Argen interrupted whatever insult Shaffi would have thrown at the man and grinned wide. “Come here, here.” D’Argen motioned the man closer to him and then led him off their makeshift path a bit. “Do you know how to make tea from pine needles?”

“Pine needles?” Isme looked both confused and skeptical.

D’Argen waved Lilian over and said, “here, Lilian will explain it to you.”

Lilian was obviously annoyed but they did not say anything else and instead led Isme over to a pine tree. D’Argen watched after them for a moment before turning to Shaffi.

“Look, I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but he is clearly not experienced. You know what the flower looks like, right? Good. We don’t need to torture the poor man any more than leaving him alone for a few hours to get pricked by pointy trees.”

Shaffi scoffed out a laugh at that but then schooled her features and nodded.

“Good, now,” D’Argen clapped his hands together and looked over his shoulder at Lilian and Isme. “We continue on foot and make camp before it gets dark. Let’s go!”

Shaffi still looked unsure but she said nothing more.

Now that D’Argen had awoken the naturalist hiding inside Lilian’s grumpy skin, their trip was much easier. Lilian left Isme behind with instructions and then took to leading the column, their head on a swivel.

“Is it more common on rock, hard soil, or near other flowers?” Lilian asked, obviously addressing Shaffi who was closest to them.

Shaffi, however, did not have an answer and looked to her companions for one. They did not have one either and shrugged.

“I do not know,” Shaffi finally answered. “What we had from before was purchased. That patch earlier it… looked… rocky? Sunlight?”

“D’Argen,” Abbot called out from somewhere to the side of their column, further into the trees and away from the disappearing path. “Continue ahead without me, I want to draw this.” He was already sitting down and rifling through his pack for his usual papers and paints, along with a small bag filled with dried tobacco.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Draw what?” Shaffi asked quietly.

Lith nudged her hard in the middle with an elbow then turned first to Thar then to D’Argen and lowered her head. “Apologies. Not all of us from the village are lettered and there is not usually much time to teach about your history and skills.”

“Not to worry,” D’Argen replied with a wide grin. Amastas had shown D’Argen the book of the gods they kept at the village and it had creaked open with dust falling from its pages, clearly not often used.

Lith turned back to her companion and answered her question in low tones. “Missir Abbot is an artist. His art is in the book of the gods back at the village.”

“His art? In our village?”

“Actually,” D’Argen startled the two women, leaning close to them and speaking in the same low tone. “He is the artist of the original one only, the one in Evadia’s library. Those that were sent out were copied by our head librarian, Chief Scholar Vain. Or, well, at least ordered to be copied by him. Unfortunately, Abbot does not have the time to draw out every single book sent out.”

Both of the women blushed. D’Argen deemed his job done and walked away from them. The book that listed all of their names and titles also contained many other items, such as flowers, animals, and recipes on how to make tea from pine needles. Every page was filled with beautiful drawings that Abbot had painstakingly created over hundreds of years.

If D’Argen remembered correctly, only the copy in Evadia’s library was up to date. He could not recall the last time Acela had ordered for a new version to be sent out and no neighbouring mortal rulers had asked for it in even longer.

Lith and Shaffi hissed something else out to one another but D’Argen did not hear them.

Instead, he went up to Abbot to see the view the artist had found. There was a break in the trees around him looking out over the valley and towards the southern ocean. It was far, so far in the distance that D’Argen could barely taste it, but the fact that it was within sight was a comfort he did not know he wanted.

“Call for us if you need us,” D’Argen said as he passed. He trailed his hand along the artist’s shoulders and tugged on a single braid playfully before walking off.

The group found a second batch of the purple lily flowers by the time the sun was hiding in the clouds above them. It was so small though that it looked out of place. There were very few trees around and the cold wind that blew in was making all the mortals shiver and Lilian hide further inside their cloak like a turtle in its shell.

“Let’s rest here for a moment,” D’Argen suggested when he noticed Shaffi and her companions wiping sweat as they extracted and wrapped the flowers. “I’ll go ahead alone and see—”

“No.”

“Thar?”

“No.”

D’Argen smiled at the others and stepped closer to the other man. “Thar,” he started quietly through his smile. “You will make them panic with this caution. There is nothing to be afraid of and you know I’m more than capable of dealing with whatever problem comes my way. Worst comes to worst, Yaling will hear me if I want help.”

“I do not like it.”

“Like it or not, that is my… umm… command,” D’Argen said, hesitating on the last word.

Thar growled out something under his breath but D’Argen ignored him. Instead of responding, he smiled wider and patted the man’s shoulder. “Yaling, keep an open ear and watch out for that one.” He pointed to Lilian. In the following moment, the scent of the ocean filled the small area as he opened his mahee and disappeared from their sight, leaving only an indent in the ground where he had just stood.

Usually, with how fast he moved, D’Argen could barely spot a tree in his way let alone a flower. In fact, trees became grey streaks like the iron bars of a prison cell that he could pass through and flowers blended into the grey grass. But his initial burst was only for show and now he ran much slower, looking for the purple bulbs of the flower while keeping an eye out for other dangers. He spotted a few foxes, a black bear that hid in a cave, and even wolves, but no birds with fangs, no talking bears, and no mortals being tortured by demons.

When the sun appeared from behind the clouds again on its slow descent, he turned around to try and find the others again. This time he walked, enjoying the fresh air of the mountain, and only getting distracted once by a squirrel that had something purple in its paws. He could not track where it came from, that was more Yaling’s skills than his own, but he made note of where the squirrel hid in a tree. By the time he reached the rest of the party, the sun was already hidden behind the thick forest and barely any of its light seeped through.

Lilian was arguing with Yaling about whether they should camp there or return to where their horses and one companion were. Shaffi and the other two mortals stood behind them with their arms laden, waiting for instructions. Thar was nowhere in sight, probably off to collect Abbot and avoid the argument between the two. Every Never Born knew how Lilian became when cold. Only Yaling’s stubbornness kept her arguing with them.

“I found enough gaps in the trees to call it a path and it would be easier to bring the horses up here to us,” D’Argen announced, interrupting Lilian’s muttered swearing. “For tonight, I suggest we collect Isme and then collect the horses in the morning.”

It was obvious the others wanted to at least say their opinion, but D’Argen walked right past them and opened his mahee into his step to rush him back down to where they had left the horses. When he found the horses and Isme, the man eagerly shared his plunder of needles, bark, and a few other flowers and herbs that D’Argen only distantly recognized.

D’Argen helped Isme unsaddle and feed the horses, then they both took the blankets, sleeping rolls, and food, and made their way back up.

D’Argen was not used to running with mortals, he had not done it in over three centuries at least, so he was overly careful. He picked Isme up, carrying the man in his arms with all of their burdens in the mortal’s lap, then ran slowly back to the others. He was so slow that he barely left a single footprint when he pushed off to start his run and his feet did not slide at all when he finished it.

Isme’s face was completely red when he let the man down. He was also short of breath, as if he had run that entire distance himself at a sprint, and his legs trembled once D’Argen was not holding him anymore.

Shaffi and their other two companions stared at him with wide eyes and open mouths.

D’Argen walked away to give the four some privacy, joining Lilian in searching for fallen branches for the fire Yaling was building. Thar and Abbot were not back yet, but D’Argen knew they would join them soon and most likely with food for them all to consume over the fire.

“What are you grinning about?” Lilian asked with a grumble as soon as D’Argen was beside them.

“You know, sometimes… I do miss the old days,” D’Argen replied and looked over his shoulder at the party of mortals. They kept throwing quick glances at him and the reverence and awe he saw in those looks warmed something in him. For a moment, he was worried that they would voice their thanks aloud through prayers, giving him the same false energy as when the villagers had prayed to him earlier, but he shook it off. It was night. They would all rest and even if the small party prayed, D’Argen doubted he would feel the manifestation of their words in his mahee.

When he turned to look back at Lilian, they were staring at the small party with narrowed eyes.

“Yea…” Lilian finally said and looked away. “Everything feels so different now.”

“I know,” D’Argen replied though, honestly, he did not. He never had the thousands of worshippers that used to call Lilian’s name in reverence or the festivals in their name with Lilian at the centre. Honestly, the more he thought about it, he doubted that he would feel anything at all even if the four mortals with them started praising him right to his face.

By the time Thar and Abbot joined them, Yaling had built the fire large enough to warm them all while the mortals had already set up all their bed rolls. Abbot proudly presented them with four dead rabbits. D’Argen barely held in the gag but he did walk away when Thar started skinning the poor animals. Instead, he wandered around their small camp, far enough not to scent the meat as it cooked but not too far not to see the flickering lights of the fire or hear the conversations that Abbot and Yaling pulled the mortals into. He returned to the fire only once most of the meat was consumed and the wine had come out.

That night, they all heard the screams for the first time.