Relma spent the day gathering together everything Estela had asked for. She remembered how Ronald and she had drawn up plans during this time. Plans on how to plan different kinds of trips. She took two rope sets, one to use and one to lose. In fact, she made sure they had two of everything they might need. There were also extra knives because you needed a knife. Extra rations and some bread and cheese for a nice breakfast early on were purchased and bought.

Also, Estela had a spare sword from the armor, given in case her one broke. And, of course, there was a spear and extra arrows from the fletcher, which Relma would carry for Estela. On and on it went until Relma realized her pack was getting pretty heavy.

But then, they would be gone for quite some time. These packs were going to get a lot lighter soon. Things got lost on the road, and you never knew what you might need. After consideration, she added an extra canteen and supplies and made a pack for Ajax.

It took far longer than Relma would have liked, and she only managed to get the rest in time to go to bed. That night, she slept fitfully, not sure about leaving Gel Carn. Now and then, her thoughts turned to her home back in the lands of Lord Anton. She and Ronald had grown up there together.

Now Ronald was gone off with Sir Frederick, questing. She wondered what adventures they had been having and if he would tell her about them later. Though, who knew when he’d actually get back. It could be months or even years, depending on what demanded Sir Frederick’s attention. By the time Relma met Estela the next day, she wasn’t feeling very well rested. The upcoming journey had weighed on her mind, and she’d hardly slept a wink. She felt quite miserable, actually.

Why had Ronald had to leave? They’d been a group before, but now the group had broken up. It just didn’t feel right going off without him. But he was off in Blackfear, having adventures keeping the roads safe from the undead. An important task with the blessing of Steward Benarus and Baroness Saphra Delenay. It was helping people. Ronald had promised to do it in her name.

It was important, and it could do a lot to both shores up Relma’s support and help her.

The meeting place was on the road just outside the gates of Gel Carn. It had been set up near some old stones erected to appease local fairies long ago. No fairies dwelled here now, but the markings had gone cold, and the glow disappeared. Aunt Pan had told her that once they had glowed constantly with the power of Isriath. But as her power faded, magic departed this place, and other spirits came to replace them.

Estela sat by an ordinary stone near the shrine and polished her shield. Her helm was at her feet, and her armor was on her while her bow was propped up against the shrine. She looked beautiful in the sun, with her hair falling around her shoulders. She looked up as Relma and Ajax drew near. “Do you have all the supplies?”

“Yes, of course I do,” said Relma, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “We had to spend most of yesterday looking for them, but we found them.”

“Easy for you to say. I carried most of it,” muttered Ajax. Ajax was about twice as strong as any of them put together. Relma had seen him in action personally. She and Estela had been throwing around like ragdolls when they’d fought last.

“No, you didn’t,” said Relma, who had a lot of endurance over short distances. “I carried just as much as you, and you’re a quarter-demon. Where’s Aunt Pan?”

And then Aunt Pan appeared down the path, walking with a long black staff. Her hair was tied behind her head in a bun, and she looked just as tired. “Here, dear. I just finished the last of my runes.”

“Well then, all we have to do is wait for Varsus and Reginald,” said Relma. She hoped they’d slept better.

“Actually, they went on yesterday,” said Estela, not seeming near as tired. “They were planning to meet us on the borders of the Black Marsh.”

“Why are they in such a hurry?” asked Ajax, sounding suspicious.

“I’m not sure,” admitted Estela, drawing a knife and tossing it into the air. She caught it by the handle as it fell and sheathed it in one movement. “Reginald received a letter from Hawkthorne, though. He went to the border villages with De Cathe. Maybe he wanted some help with something.”

“Either way, we should probably start out,” said Relma, wanting to get going. “Do you think we’ll meet Frederick and Ronald at the villages?”

“No,” said Aunt Pan with a sigh. “The Black Marshes have a very long border, and villages are everywhere. We’re headed to the domain of Lord Anias. Frederick will be further south in the lands of Lord Anton, where the satyrs will be gathering.”

“Is it serious?” asked Relma as they began to walk.

“We don’t know,” admitted Aunt Pan sadly. “There are a few rumors of satyr activity. Some say that they’ve gotten a new leader who means to lead them against us.

“I have already made contact with many local spirits, and there does seem to be real movement. Yet the spirits are not responding to me as quickly as they should. My usual friends seem hesitant to speak to me.”

“Is it that bad?” asked Relma.

“Better, actually,” said Estela, stretching her neck with a smile. “Satyrs are a vicious piece of work. Leaders come and go all the time. They’re always backstabbing eachother. That’s why they are on good terms with demons.

“When a demon rules over them, they can unite about something. Half a knight’s job is fighting it out with your kind, including your Father, Relma.” Relma said nothing to that; she didn’t want to talk about Hadleim. The subject of the great satyr hunter who tried his hand at her task before her made her feel unimportant. Especially when you considered who he adventured. That and how much more they achieved.

It also didn’t really interest her all that much. Hadleim was dead, as was Relma’s Mother. Why was it so important? She’d known they were dead from before she was eight. It didn’t make them important. Just because Tuor killed them, it meant nothing.

“When was the last time there was a demon in the Blackmarsh?” asked Relma, wanting to change the subject.

“There hasn’t been a demon in the Black Marshes for centuries,” said Estela sadly. “Not since Melchious was driven out of place by Anoa V.”

“What are you babbling about, I’m a demon, and I go there all the time!” said Ajax. He sounded a bit offended, oddly enough. Relma didn’t think being called a demon was a compliment.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Estela looked at him in irritation. “You don’t count.

“Either way, even if this new leader arises, the Dust Elves will just kill him. They’re the greatest assassins in the world.”

“Won’t that create a martyr?” asked Relma. It seemed a logical question.

“You have to care about something for it to be a martyr,” said Estela. “Satyrs hate eachother as much as they hate us.”

“You shouldn’t speak so freely, Estela,” said Aunt Pan, voice chiding. “Satyrs are a vicious race, but they are far closer to humans than you know.” She halted and looked suddenly into the forests, gaze searching through the trees.

“What do you mean?” asked Estela.

“It’s... well, it’s not a very pleasant story,” said Aunt Pan, turning back. “And we don’t have time for it now. Suffice it to say that satyrs are, in many ways, a dark reflection of humans. A sort of twisted-”

“I don’t care,” snapped Ajax, slipping his hands into his pockets and stalking onward. Aunt Pan looked at him darkly. “Perhaps you don’t, savage. But I was not speaking with you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you weren’t, but I must listen to you talk. So shut up,” snapped Ajax.

The two of them had never gotten on well at all. Relma supposed some things wouldn’t change, however much she wished otherwise. There's no reason not to try changing them. “Ajax, that wasn’t respectful.” That was what she said.

“You needn’t concern yourself, Relma,” said Aunt Pan. “I don’t expect courtesy from such a beast.”

“And I wouldn’t expect to understand from-“Relma set a hand to Ajax’s shoulder, and he halted. Their eyes met, and finally, he looked away. “Never mind.”

Relma remained silent for a time as they walked, admiring the scenery. The woods and trees grew thick in these regions, but she’d heard of forests even greater. It was said that far to the south, near the Ghost Mountains, there were vast trees. Trees are taller than castles and thicker than towers. The villages out here were built with manned walls and stood in their perpetual shadow. And sure enough, their packs had gotten lighter as they journeyed over the days.

She wished she could see these empty lands where no one dwelled. But few people ever ventured that far, for it had been a domain of Laevian for centuries. Laevian and lesser demons, such as Adrianeth, of whom Relma had heard only a little. Supposedly, he lived in some ancient, overgrown castle. He sent demons to attack those who crossed the river. Only in recent decades had men begun to return, and they were only a few scattered villages. Until then, nobody had even known Adrianeth existed in that part of the world.

Nobody really knew how he’d ended up in that place.

Gel Carn became gradually more distant as they headed west. As they went into forested regions near the Black Marsh. Relma remembered something she had heard in several places. “Aunt Pan, is it true my father fought in the satyr wars?”

“He did,” said Aunt Pan, nodding. “That was where I met him, actually.” Her gaze became distant and filled with memory. “He was a brave man.”

“Was he the Heir of Kings?” asked Relma.

“No, actually,” said Aunt Pan, smiling. “He was the last of the Artor family, whose banner you used in the Tournament of Kings. He had a name to make for himself, and he made it well. But he always tempered his attacks with mercy.”

“Lord Argath said that they knew each other,” said Relma.

“They were rivals, actually,” said Aunt Pan. “Bitter ones indeed. They disagreed on how the war against the satyrs should be conducted. Marn wanted to exterminate them. Hakar wanted to beat them and negotiate a truce to save casualties.”

“How did he meet my mother?” asked Relma.

“I introduced them,” said Aunt Pan. “I was hoping that I could reestablish the Artor family. To work your family back into the throne over the course of generations.

“Then Tuor got to them,” Her face became grim. Relma remembered when Aren had told her about him.

“The student who betrayed Arengeth,” said Estela.

“Yes,” said Aunt Pan, voice cold. “I tried to save them. Suffice to say, I failed.”

Suddenly, Ajax halted, tensing as though for a spring. “Stop,” he said in a sharp voice. One clawed hand was raised as he sniffed the air.

“What is it?” asked Relma.

“I smell something in the air,” said Ajax, sniffing. “Satyrs. Don’t look around. They’re waiting for us on the road ahead.”

“Do we go around?” asked Relma.

“No, they’d notice that,” said Ajax, snarling in a sound more like a wolf than a man. “I’m going to go into the woods hunting now.” Then he got down to his hands and feet, looking more like a wolf than ever. He spoke in a louder tone. “You keep on ahead! I’m getting some meat for tonight!”

And he rushed off into the woods. Aunt Pan sighed. “No need for that.” Then, raising a finger, a fly flew to land on it. “Excuse me. Fyar, is it? It has been some time.”

Many other flies began to gather, and they buzzed in unison. As they did, the buzzing gradually took on words. “Indeed it has, Pandora the Sorceress. Long ago, you fed my children with carrion when they were hungry. How may I assist you?”

“A great many satyrs are waiting in ambush ahead of us,” said Pandora. “I was wondering if you could force them away. Don’t kill them, though.”

“As you wish. My debt shall be repaid,” said Fyar.

The flies dispersed, and the buzzing stopped. Then, it began again, growing louder and louder as masses of flies flew in from the surrounding woods. They surged into the trees on either side and heard curses and swears. The buzzing was maddening to listen to, and Relma hated it badly, trying to keep them away.

Soon, a pack of hair men with goat hoofs fled down the road, pursued by them. Their filthy clothes and blades were of no use against them at all.

“What did you do?” asked Estela.

“Fyar is a spirit of flies,” said Aunt Pan. “I arranged for a battle to take place at this spot long ago. He remembers it still.”

“You started a battle?” asked Estela.

“No, the battle was going to happen anyway,” said Aunt Pan. “I can’t remember the details. I merely told Fyar to consider the corpses a gift.”

“A spirit of flies?” asked Relma.

“Of course,” said Aunt Pan. “Insects are not very intelligent in themselves. But when enough of them swarm together, they often manifest their own spirits. Those spirits can live on long after the original insects are dead.

“When you are a sorcerer, you want to contact as many spirits as possible. It often pays off later.”

Ajax stole back into sight. He held a satyr by the hair and threw him on the ground before them. Then he stalked forward and put a foot on his throat. He glared at Aunt Pan. “What the hell was that?!”

“I dealt with the ambush,” said Aunt Pan.

“Well, you dealing with that little ambush got me bitten all over,” snapped Ajax.

“Perhaps Fyar mistook you for one of them,” said Aunt Pan.

“Well, whether he did or not, I have a prisoner for us,” said Ajax.

“Get off me, hound!” snarled the satyr. “I’ll not say a word to you or any other.” Estela put the blade of her sword between his legs. “What do you want to know?”

“Why were you lying in wait for us?” asked Estela.

“To ambush you,” said the satyr.

“Why were you trying to ambush us?” asked Estela.

“Because it was what we planned,” said the satyr.

Estela stabbed him in the leg, and he howled in pain. “You will tell me what I want to know, or I will start cutting bits of you off. Starting between your legs?”

“...Fine, we were told to kidnap that girl over there, the Heir of Kings,” said the satyr. “You probably could have guessed that already. I’m not sure why you bothered to ask.”

“Why?” asked Relma.

“You are good at asking stupid questions, aren’t you?” asked the satyr.

Estela raised her sword, and he cowered. “Alright! Alright!

“We were ordered to by Lucius.”

The air went cold, though Relma didn’t know why. Aunt Pan went very still.

“Lucius?” asked Estela. “That’s not satyr name? Who is this Lucius?”

“Not very well-read for a knight, are you?” scoffed the satyr. “He is the first of three demons. Death cannot take him, for from him, death was born. He commanded that we take the Heir of Kings, and by the unborn god, we shall!

“FOR MELCHIOUS!!”

Then he drew out a knife, knocked Estela’s blade aside, and rose. Ajax reached around and snapped his neck. His body fell limp to the ground.

“...Well, that was enlightening,” said Estela. “Excellent. New carrion,” said Fyar. The flies ate well, and soon only bones remained.