Year: 3045 AGD
Month: Midwinter
Third Thirdday
Death’s Edge Forest
“Vitiosi Dei, you are sure that’s what that thing said?” Pershanti asked as he stared into the small bubbling spring outside of the Quaelyne Village.
“As sure as I can be, I was kind of distracted by the whole seeing my parents, three gods, and finding out I’m some sort of champion for each of them. Do you know what it means?”
“Yes. It is an extremely old tongue, but a well-documented one in the archives. A loose translation would be ‘Fault of the Gods,’ or a more literal translation would be ‘Gods making mistakes.’”
“Yeah, well he’s not wrong there,” the boy said, unlimbering his legs from the position he had assumed many hours prior when they had started their meditation session for the day.
“You are right. I have never heard of anything like this before. I’m going to need to research your condition in the archives.”
“You’re leaving?”
“I’m afraid so, my boy. There is a place I know where I might be able to find information about what we are dealing with. You are welcome to come with me, of course, but I think the Quaelyne can help you right now more than anyone else.”
“I want to go with you, but I agree about the Quaelyne; I should stay with Troublefinder and his people. Where are you going?”
“To a place of learning that has been around for as long as my people have been on this world.” Pershanti smiled. “Someday I would like for you to see it, but that is all I can tell you for now. Its existence is a strongly held secret, and I have already said more than they would like. Stay with Dauntless while I am gone; he has a soft spot for you, and seems to understand what you are dealing with more than anyone.”
The weather had been getting steadily warmer over the last few Eightdays, and all evidence of the blizzard that had chased them into the forest had melted away several days before. Slowly but surely, the forest was beginning to hum with the activity of life as its denizens shook off their winter slumber. On their walk to the spring earlier that morning, he had even seen tiny green sprouts working their way through the loose layer of foliage that had not yet fully decomposed before winter took over.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” the boy said, taking several deep breaths as he began to feel moisture gathering in his eyes. “You were my first real friend in this new life of mine. That means a lot. Whoever I become in the future, I’ll always remember that.”
“Think nothing of it, lad. I was trapped because of my own curiosity, and the universe was kind enough to put us in the same place. I am honored to know you, and I am sure I will continue being so whenever you decide who you are.” Pershanti smiled as he stood sticking out a hand.
Taking the Grenaldin’s hand, the boy rose to his feet and looked the strange squat scholar in the eye. Pershanti nodded, expressing more in that tiny gesture than could be said with a thousand words. They turned to head back towards the village, each wrestling their own inner demons.
∞∞∞
Nameless! A quiet voice intruded upon his mind. Each of the Quaelyne had a different way of “speaking” when they sent their thoughts into his mind, and he had grown to know the voices of each member of the tribe. The voice that was breaking into his thoughts now was not any of them, but he had a feeling he knew who it was simply based on its youthful exuberance.
“Troublefinder?” He said aloud, looking all around him for his furry companion.
I did ... The thought cut out suddenly.
Focus, Dauntless’s thoughts came; the boy realized that he was now being included into Troublefinder’s lesson. If you lose focus even a little, he will not hear your message.
Can…you…hear…me?
The boy almost laughed at how carefully Troublefinder had sent the message and could imagine his small friend sitting in a glade somewhere with his eyes scrunched closed in concentration. He stood and made his way out of the burrow in search of his friend.
“I can hear you,” he said to the air as he emerged into the evening air. Pershanti had left only a few hours ago, saying that he could get well out of the forest before nightfall if he left early. It had been hard to watch the Grenaldin go, but something told him he’d see the strange little man again. Relentless and another female took it upon themselves to see him safely out of the forest, so Dauntless seemed to have decided it was a good time for Troublefinder to receive more lessons.
A sudden feeling of mirth passed through him that he knew more than likely was emanating from Troublefinder. He suddenly had the urge to hop around in a circle in joy, so when he heard a twig snap behind the large tree he decided to go that way. As he rounded the massive trunk, he found Dauntless sitting on his haunches staring down at a very animated ball of fluff. The large Quaelyne’s mouth was slightly open, giving the boy the impression that he was laughing, and maybe he was.
“So I have to put up with you in my mind now too, huh?”
Troublefinder stopped jumping around as he heard his friend’s voice. The small Quaelyne stood still, staring at the boy, his muzzle scrunched in concentration.
Yes! So now I can help too if the angry one gets loose again!
I think you may need quite a bit more practice before you want to try to tousle with that one. Dauntless said, his thoughts conveying the seriousness of the situation. What we did to help him was extremely dangerous. We could have all been consumed.
He would never let that happen! Troublefinder said, plopping onto his backside, worn out by the little bit of communication he had accomplished.
That was our thought as well, and the only reason your mother let us try. If it wasn’t for your friend’s resistance, we would not have won that battle.
Dauntless’s thoughts brought home just how dangerous that hidden part of his mind was.
“I’m…”
The boy’s apology was cut short when Dauntless’s muzzle shot into the air taking several deep sniffs. Puffing up his body, Dauntless turned towards the south and let out several low chuffing sounds. Several moments later he deflated slightly, though he still seemed tense and ready for a fight. Out of the trees came a Quaelyne that was not a member of the village. They stared at each other through the clearing for several moments before the stranger turned and disappeared back into the line of trees.
Well, that was unexpected, Dauntless said as he let out a long breath.
“Who was that, and what did they want?”
His name is not mine to share, but it seems we have been summoned to a gathering. Apparently there are more of your people than just you in the forest.
“Why all the puffing up and posturing?”
If I am found to be weak or caught unaware, I might lose my position as mate to the leader of the tribe. Dauntless let it be known how he felt about such a thing occurring.
“Wait, you mean Relentless would just take someone else as a mate if you lost a fight?”
Troublefinder looked back towards the trees where the other Quaelyne had disappeared, his eyes scrunched slightly as he concentrated.
It would be her right, and if I am not the strongest male to give her pups I would not deserve the position.
“Yeah, but you love each other, don’t you?
We have been lucky to find each other, Dauntless said, hedging around the idea. I like to think that if I lost it would make her sad for a time. He shook his head, turning to Troublefinder and giving him a soft swat with his large paw. Now is not the time for such thoughts, however. We must prepare the village for our absence and await your mother’s return.
He and Troublefinder tagged along beside Dauntless as the Quaelyne went from burrow to burrow to communicate what had occurred to the members of his tribe. The boy was fairly certain that Dauntless could have talked to all of them without even leaving his own burrow, but the other Quaelyne seemed to appreciate and respect the personal interaction.
They had only just returned home when Dauntless sensed Relentless’s approach to the village. He told the boys to go into the sleeping chamber and wait for them. It didn’t take long for them to grow bored, but luckily the adults didn’t keep them waiting long enough to get into trouble.
Dauntless seems to think we should take you boys with us to the gathering. Relentless sent as she came into view.
Troublefinder looked up at the boy, tongue lolling out of his mouth, which was wide open in a grin. Seeing his friend’s excitement, the boy couldn’t help but grin himself.
It is going to be a learning trip though! Dauntless sent, trying to sound stern, but some of the joy he had at seeing the boys so excited leaked through.
Somehow one stupid boy following me around has suddenly turned into three. Relentless sent without malice. Alright, let’s go. The nearest tribe is several days journey, and the gathering spot is several days beyond that.
Third Fourthday
City of Asylum
Nim was tired. Tired of giving orders, tired of everyone looking at him like he knew what the hell he was doing, and most of all, tired of the limited information that had been slowly streaming in from outside the city. The High Lieutenant Commander had gone back to Safeharbor earlier in the month to oversee the operations throughout the Protectorate, and she had taken her husband with her. That meant that Nim was in charge of the one hundred thousand soldiers and craftsmen that were still in the city.
As the weather improved, he had begun receiving reports of the refugees from Asylum slowly making their way back towards the city. He and the men and women under his command had done as much work on the city as they could at the height of winter. Hundreds of houses had been made livable again, but they had barely scratched the surface of what needed to be done.
Ashur had been doing much of the leg work over the last few Eightdays, making his presence known to the men and inspecting the work that was being done without being obvious about it. Craftsman tended to work better when they felt they were respected enough to get the job done without too much oversight, but they also could get complacent and start cutting corners if given too much leeway.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Zander and the Shapers under his command had been invaluable in the process of revitalizing the city. They were able to take piles of scorched or broken wood and glass and make usable pieces for the reconstruction. Of course, using highly trained Mages to shape boards and re-forge nails for a long period of time was not a good idea, so many of them were rotated out every Eightday. It was, however, valuable for the young Mages in training, and seeing their idols perform the same dull repetitive tasks as themselves made them work much harder.
Dunnagan had left on the First Thirdday of the month in order to officially take charge of the Wardens. Of all the forces of the Protectorate, theirs had taken the biggest toll in the battle for Asylum. The old Dwarf had a lot of work ahead of him revitalizing his forces, but Nim knew there were few others who would be up to the task as much as his old friend.
Cypherious and his monks were probably the most valuable of all the people in the city to Nim, however. Not only were the monks capable and skilled laborers, but they also made incredible scouts and messengers. If any of the older members of the Order had an issue with the young man taking charge, they kept it private. Nim had no doubt that word of the bravery and skill that the Order of the Griffon had displayed during and after the battle would spread to all corners of the Protectorate. He grinned as he thought about the droves of young waifs looking for glory that would soon be heading into the mountains to find the fabled Order’s monastery.
The logistics of it all were harrowing however. Making sure that all of these men and women were fed, clothed, and had basic necessities, took its own army to accomplish. His command staff was made up of nearly a hundred junior officers who felt the need to keep him informed of every little detail. It hadn’t taken Nim long to remember why he had retired in the first place. The amount of paperwork he went through on a daily basis when they were having trouble keeping fires lit throughout the city was laughable.
Nim was going over the latest report from a Captain named Lecroise on the difficulties of waste management when he heard the soldiers guarding the door snap to attention. The alacrity with which they snapped to attention made it clear that whoever it was approaching was fairly important. He placed the odious document on top of the 'to read' pile on his desk and checked his uniform. After straightening one of his sleeves, he heard the guards say “Arch Magus” through the door before a short line of conversation ensued.
A short knock and the face of Sergeant Tanner appeared in now open door. “Sir…”
“Of course, please tell Arch Magus Windsbane to come in, Sergeant.”
“Thank you, young man,” the Arch Magus said as Sergeant Tanner held the door open for him.
Arch Magus Windsbane reminded Nim more of an old drill sergeant than he did the most powerful Shaper in the Protectorate. By all accounts, the Arch Mage was nearly one hundred and thirty-six years old, but his body was still extremely fit. The only concessions to his age that were apparent were his dark gray hair, which was shortly cropped, and the walking stick that went with him wherever he went. His clear blue eyes were serious as he looked about the room.
“Arch Magus, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Nim said as he stood up.
“Cut the bullshit, Nim,” the Arch Magus said as he sat in one of the chairs sitting in front of Nim’s desk.
Sergeant Tanner had stopped halfway between closing the door and leaving the room as he heard the Arch Magus’s comment. Nim waved the young man out of the room and sat back down.
“Alright old man, what do you want?”
“Much better, but I’m afraid I’m here to deliver news more than enlist your services in anything.” His cold blue eyes locked Nim’s eyes in place. “I have just received a message from the Mage Za’kereth.”
“I’m guessing since they haven’t reported in for several Eightdays that the information is not good,” Nim said, leaning back in his chair.
“Not good at all, I’m afraid. Corporal Jameson and Sergeant Mcdowell are confirmed KIA. From what the Grey Elf says, the old Dwarf didn’t go down easy, nor did he die quickly.” The Arch Magus closed his eyes for a moment as if saying a prayer for the two before he continued. “Apparently, a large group of Dracairei attacked the squad while the Grey Elf twins were scouting the town. They saw several of the assassins carry an unconscious Rundig and a severely wounded Elandria into a building on the outskirts of town. The whereabouts of the Druid Warren and the Battlesorcerer Trenton Grimbash are unknown at this time.”
“So, you are telling me that Stewart Cantel is heading into enemy territory to try to retrieve the Princess, and he’s about to head into a trap where there are what, half a dozen…”
“At least,” the Arch Magus said.
“…at least half a dozen Dracairei waiting for him. Not only that, but his only backup is a Grey Elf Priest and Mage, who are currently hiding somewhere in the village.”
“That’s about right,” Arch Magus Windsbane said. “They took the form of a pair of villagers who lived in squalor and laid low in case one of the Dracairei was able to sense the Shaping. After several well-planned tests, they are fairly certain that if the Dracairei did have someone who could do that they must have died in the initial skirmish, as none of their tests were detected as far as they could tell.”
Nim sighed. “And knowing Stewart, if he finds out he’ll try to distract the Dracairei so that the twins can attempt a rescue and escape.”
“That was also my thought.” The Arch Magus nodded. “I’m afraid we are going to need a new High Commander shortly.”
Nim let several expletives slip at that.
“Indeed.” The Arch Magus stood. “I did send a present with Stewart that could preserve his life if he is able to use it, but with the odds that he is up against, I am doubtful it will be of use. Should he die, the scroll will self-destruct taking it and everyone in the area with it. If we are lucky he will take most of the Dracairei out, one way or another, so that the others can escape unpursued.”
“Thank you for the information. I was just thinking that I needed more information about what was going on outside the city, but now that I have it I wish I didn’t.”
“Indeed, my young friend. Knowledge can be a terrible thing, but also a powerful tool.” The Arch Magus turned to leave, but stopped. “Speaking of powerful, have you heard from Erin recently?”
Nim smiled, he couldn’t help it. “Yes, your god-daughter is fine, though she is not very happy. Apparently, she managed to find the mine where Victor was being held, but somehow gave the boy and the Goblins he had been imprisoned with the impression that she was one of the bad guys, and they hid the information from her for several days.”
The Arch Magus smiled. “Imagine that—Erin giving someone the impression that she might suddenly strangle them at any given moment.”
The men shared a knowing look.
“Yeah, well by the time she found out and made it back to the cave after dropping off the prisoners, Victor was gone. Apparently, he is in the company of a Grenaldin,” Nim said, which made the Arch Magus’s eyebrow arch. “Her group followed the pair’s tracks, along with an unidentified quadruped to the edge of Death’s Edge Forest.”
“They’ll never find him in there, even if the Wolverines let them wander through unmolested. What is a Grenaldin doing out of Serenity Valley?” The Arch Magus asked.
“I’m not sure. If we weren’t supposed to pretend like the place didn’t exist, I’d send a messenger to ask, but if those people found out we’ve known about them for a thousand years they might get hostile and do something stupid. Speaking of which, I believe Shawnrik should have started his courses there at the beginning of the year, assuming the Giants took him in like we expect they would.”
“You are right. They like their secrets more than we Mages do.” The Arch Magus said before turning back towards the door. “From what Ashur has said about the boy, I have no doubt that Shawnrik will thrive in that place. I just hope the past doesn’t catch up to him there. Adrian still isn’t happy about how his little brother ended up murdered in Safeharbor.”
“As much as I agree with Lord General Theromvore about the dubious nature of his brother’s demise, I think that Shawnrik will surprise those Stroml’dier bastards if they get any ideas.” Nim grinned. It wasn’t a happy grin, rather one that sent a shiver through most men that saw it.
“I hope you are right,” the Arch Magus said, nodding to Nim from the doorway. The door nearly closed before Sergeant Tanner’s face appeared again.
“Everything okay here, sir?”
“Yes Sergeant, make sure you boys are ready to get some walking done. I suddenly feel the need for fresh air.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll be ready.”
Third Fifthday
Town of Verge
The weather had gradually warmed over the last few Eightdays. The nights were nearly tolerable now, and Elandria no longer had to share her warmth with Rundig in order to ensure they both survived the cold. Rundig was now able to move about, though his body would twitch uncontrollably and leave him unable to do much more than pace back and forth for any length of time.
One good thing about Rundig no longer being bed-ridden was that he could help her take care of the refuse and waste that had accumulated during their imprisonment. They were allowed only enough water to survive, so they were unable to clean any of their clothes or bedding, and as the weather warmed the stench of the place grew. Fortunately, they soon grew accustomed to the smell, but whenever their Dracairei capturer brought their food and water every three to four days, he would be freshly assailed by their poor living conditions. It had become so bad that the last time he came he simply opened the door wide enough for the bag to fit and tossed the supplies on the bed.
Several mornings ago, a small red V had appeared on the barrel in front of the small window near her bed. She had to assume that it was a message from one of the twins telling her that they weren’t alone. It was a small hope, but she welcomed it all the same. Elandria didn’t know how many Dracairei were left, but she knew that if it was more than three or four the chances that the remaining members of her squad would be able to rescue them without casualty were very low. Of course, that was assuming that Warren and Trenton were out there somewhere waiting to help as well. If it were just the twins she knew they would most likely die in the attempt, even with all their tricks.
No, it was likely that she and Rundig would end up as lab rats to whichever Blood Mage was pulling the strings. Should it come to that, she knew she would do everything in her power to make them kill her. But with her maimed and Rundig severely weakened, the Dracairei would simply laugh at the attempt. If she could get her hand on a sword she might be able to make them regret it.
Even though her left hand had never been her dominant hand, the training she received to become a Dervish had required that she be able to wield a sword with equal skill in either hand. The balance would be hard to adjust to at first, but she thought she might be able to do well enough to at least maim one of the assassins and hope it enraged them enough so they killed her. Of course, if she did that then Rundig would be alone.
All things considered, she had little hope for the future. It would take a miracle for them to escape.
Third Eighthday
Serenity Valley
Once again, Shawnrik stood in the back of the Tailor’s shop. This time, however, he wasn’t stripped down to his underclothes. He had started out the morning that way, but over the last hour he had suddenly become clothed in the nicest, largest suit he had ever seen. The jacket and pants were black, but the parts that Isaac called the lapels were purple with an ornate silver pattern that very closely matched the subtle pattern on his bracers. As he looked at himself in the giant mirror, he realized that the purple was a near match for the purple of the diamond that was in his earring.
He hadn’t yet been to Gnorman’s to pick up the cufflinks, but he had a feeling that the crafty old gnome wouldn’t make anything that clashed with the earing he had fashioned. Olivia had not been allowed into the room this time, as she had been ushered into the next room over to be fitted for her dress by several of the Tailor's employees. Verrian was with him today however, and from the height of his roommate’s eyebrows he gathered that the young man approved of his attire.
“Dang, that is quite the outfit,” Verrian grinned.
“Laugh not young man, for you are next.” Isaac replied with a wink.
Verrian immediately shrank down and began to fiddle with his earring.
“I still can’t believe you are taking both of them.” Shawnrik grinned, trying to remain still. He must not have done a good enough job of it, because he felt a small prick of a needle on the side of his leg.
“Tell me about it,” Verrian groaned. “I tell you, I just don’t understand girls.”
“Preach it,” Isaac said as he moved around Shawnrik and snipped at a loose thread.
“I told you that you should have asked one of them.”
“Yeah…” Verrian smiled, “… but how does one choose between the sunset and the sunrise?”
Shawnrik and Isaac both let out a groan and rolled their eyes.
Verrian deflated again. “That was how they reacted to that line, too, and then they said ‘well, if you can’t decide on one of us, you are going to have to take both of us.’”
“Oh, you poor young man. You’ll be the envy of all the other boys,” Isaac said, throwing a grin and wink at Shawnrik in the mirror. “Or at least you would be if this brawny bastard and his lovely girlfriend weren’t going to upstage you.”
“There is that,” Verrian grinned. “Maybe they won’t notice if we come in behind you two.”
“Oh no,” Isaac laughed. “You’ll want to enter first. If you let Shawnrik and Olivia enter first and then you enter, the boys will take all of their feelings of impotence that Shawnrik will make them feel out on you. On the other hand, if you go in first they’ll feel angry for a moment but then forget all about it, at least for a little while, when this imposing hunk of meat enters the room.”
“Great, then they’ll all be mad at me, right?” Shawnrik sighed.
“Yes.” Isaac poked him. “Hold still. But they are going to hate you anyway. Hate you and want to be you. Hell, some of them might want to be with you.” He laughed as the boy’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, to be young again.”
The room was silent for the next few minutes, the only sounds made by the scissors that each of the employees carried around.
“Alright, we should have it ready by next week. Come in next Eightday to pick it up, and we’ll make sure everything is perfect.” Isaac turned to Verrian. “Alright young man, your turn.”