Laresse was a wraith amongst the thick trees, unfazed by any obstacle in her path. Two black spherical clouds raced in front of her, but slowly the gap curtails. Keeping up with both Slania and Bonnie had proved difficult. With each inhale, the world would blur and time itself would slow dance with the shadows.
With every exhale, the veil would lift, the shadows would dissipate, and the physical realm would come back into focus. Bonnie and Slania, well ahead, were moving in and out of spectral step in successive turns. Slania would fade into the spectral form, while simultaneously, Bonnie would reemerge from the shadows. Clockwork.
Up ahead, the trees grew less dense, revealing the highpoint of the imminent hill followed by the impending cliff to the straightway down below. Approaching the peak, Bonnie and Slania made no attempt to slow. Stepping out over the edge, they moved as if there were kilometers of flat pathway ahead. Their fluid motions made no attempt to rise to the night’s sky, instead falling like shadow dancers from Laresse’s line of sight. A few more steps.
Laresse reached the peak, in mid-step falling to one knee, took in a deep breath, spun her back to the drop, bringing her eyes to the mercy of the night’s sky. When the world began to blur again, she let herself fall from existence.
Laresse exhaled, scarcely taking the lead on Bonnie. Now for Slania. Half way down the hill she took another breath, letting the shadows embrace her once more.
Taking a spectral step had become fluid like the effort of each breath taken. With each inhale, the physical restrictions of the realm would fade, allowing one to move amongst the shadows. The trees remained steadfast obstructions, however, while amongst the shadows, movement, agility, in addition to other senses, were drastically heightened. Allowing for movement that the naked eye would fail to grasp.
It took many cycles to bring it to such a tranquil rhythm. Both Slania and Bonnie had delved deeper into the rogue arts, but Laresse was quick to her spectral step nonetheless. Laresse pushed the gap closer, closer with each breath – I have her now.
The world came back into focus, Laresse landing her step to a sprint. From the corner of her eye, she watched one sphere appear behind her. She took her next step into the void, knowing this time she was at the forefront. She scouted her line of sight, spotting the spherical phase of the shadows would be the tell… nothing!
Laresse pushed deep through the valley’s pass, then up around the bend where the redwood trees grew scarce. She approached the final layer of tree line that engulfed the outer wall of the Bloodwood Forest - where Slania and Bonnie stood waiting.
Laresse brought her momentum to a halt, staring them down in disbelief. “No! I passed you in the valley!”
Slania Oex lowered her head, removing the seeker mask she wore. The dark purple wrappings she used for a cowl wound tightly about her bodice to the loosely-fitted tail of her coat. The wrappings kept her armor from shining in the darkness, whether it be from the steel accents or eneryia.
Slania lifted her head, her near black eyes rivaling the deepest ocean’s depths. Her response was stern. “Not even for a moment. A servant of Duharrae must always see their surroundings not just in their entirety, but their purity. The shroud you saw would have been your death if it weren’t us.” Phantom’s Kiss. She turned her back to Laresse, walking over to Bonnikyn Lapyr, who was looking out over the desert.
Laresse tailed after Slania. “You never said anything about Phantom’s Kiss.”
Alongside Bonnie, Slania looked out over the cliffside. When Laresse approached them, Bonnie turned to her with a similar tone. “In combat, the enemy won’t be yelling their attacks at you before they make them.” Slania smiled.
It was no use arguing with either of them, next time I’ll be ready. Laresse gazed out across the bounteous span of the horizon. The black sky was densely specked with starlight. The desert sands softly illuminated by Matua and Dannia, the sister moons. Both just out of reach of the other while they made their way across the night sky. On the western edge, the city of Arenite grasped the cusp of the Arkose Desert, residing close enough to the shoreline to sustain a well populated metropolis.
Nearby Arenite, mesas shielded the city from the harsh desert conditions. Within the crevices of those cliffs would be the next destination. Not many dared to cross the Arkose Desert by nightfall. Peaceful the sands may look in twilight, however, the cool air brought out packs of desert anklos. By day you may run into one or two of the scaled beasts, but by nightfall, they hunted together, and a lost traveler makes for a good meal.
If the desert wolves weren’t your demise, sandstorms were known to arbitrarily catch a traveler unaware. It was believed before one would appear, a faint ball of yellow light would dance upon the desert sand. The unwary traveler would become entranced by its movement, never seeing the storm brewing in their very midst. Praise Duharrae, I have yet to encounter such a fate.
“Laresse, we move.” Slania and Bonnie began the descent to the sands. There was no need to spectral step here, the night was young. Any would-be pursuers from the forest dare not leave the safety of their turf. The sands were ours.
The descent brought more of the desert floor into perspective. Veins of reddened packed sand stretched across the horizon. Hidden trails from above, but even in their presence down below, they wound the desert in a labyrinth’s snare. Slania made the task of navigating the hidden paths seem effortless, with an equal amount of ease that she had the same morn when the three set out for the Bloodwood.
In the corner of her eye, Laresse saw movement in the distant dunes. Bonnie must have seen Laresse’s gaze turn towards the brewing sandstorm. “Duharrae, Arkose Desert’s guardian wisp, walks the sands at night.”
Laresse reluctantly drew her attention back to Bonnie. “The sandstorms are from Duharrae herself?”
Bonnie held pace with Slania, keeping watch on the approaching wall of the mesa. “These are her lands. She is gracious enough to allow us residence in her dominion.”
This makes more sense. “So, then the stories they tell in Arenite, about the yellow orb of light, is her essence?”
The three moved along the shadows of the wall, following it northward, homeward. While Slania took lead, Bonnie fell back slightly so Laresse could hear. “The essence of Duharrae is a sight to behold. Her beauty unparalleled to any that beseech her. Her skin is a smooth black onyx made soft from the rolling sands. She wears sheer white linens, pure as first snow. Her hair could be the only white purer; with its silken glow running down to her waist.”
Laresse stopped dead in her tracks. “You’ve seen a wisp?”
Bonnie did not stop, but slowed her pace for a mere moment. “Not face to face, but I have seen our caretaker.” Bonnie moved back to Slania’s speed. “The light you seek is no ordinary light at all. It is the desert flame itself. She wears it around her neck with a golden chain. She is accented with golden trinkets that reflect the soft orange light of the fire into her hair. For the sandstorms, Duharrae lures the unwary to their demise with the desert fire.”
Bonnie must have sensed my unease. “We, however, are safe. Long as we hold true to her. The ‘Daughters of Duharrae’ protect what is hers, and she watches over us in turn.”
Without turning around Slania chimed in after Bonnie, “Even you.”
Laresse returned her gaze over to the sandstorm, now in full momentum. Glad we’re on the same side.
Slania rounded a corner of the wall, the crevice opening up to reveal the castle of Duharrae’s Daughters, snug against the mesa’s walls. From even a few meters away it was hard to see the fortress at night. Not a single torch illuminated the windows, keeping the deception operational.
The three approached the stone castle gate, two cloaked guards inside the turrets on either side. The night’s-colored stone hid black in shadows, but by day the fortress camouflaged with the peach-white stone of the mesa.
No words were spoken but the gate slowly began to rise on their approach. Laresse looked up at the inscription carved along the arch of the gateway as she passed through, murmuring them softly while she passed below the gateway; “We are the Daughters of Duharrae, the protectors of her lands.”
The castle gate descended gradually behind Laresse. Despite how late it was, the castle was quite lively from the look of it. A nearby archery range had three women working targets. Across from the archers were more women dancing with swordplay in and out of spectral step. The glimmer of the clashing swords being the only source of light.
When the gate thudded to a halt, bright white orbs illuminated the castle in a sea of light, clear as day. Just as captivating as the first time. They hovered gently above the parapets of the walls, shining like starlight taken from the night’s sky.
The three walked past the archers, swordplay, towards the barracks. Beyond, Laresse eyed two cloaked Daughters’ working a skill craftier than the Phantom’s Kiss Slania and Bonnie had fooled Laresse with before. She did not recognize the two Daughters, but their movements were droplets moving through grains of sand. They both timed their approach together. From early on, rogues were taught to move and attack as one.
They would jump up high, stalling mid-air into a spectral step. When the spheres of shadow fell, they moved swiftly through the wooden pole obstacles – first – the second – the third –, aggressively approaching the body-shaped target placed at the end of the run. She saw the rogues almost come fully out of spectral step. Each Daughter cradling a little black orb in their hands that grew exponentially, until a purple glow electrified around it. Both rogues then hurled the small orbs at the final targets while simultaneously fading back into spectral step, to move out of the wooden obstacles once more. When they reappeared at their original starting points, the targets burst with pocket-sized explosions, leaving a small hole in each target’s chest. Laresse eyed the remnants of the targets. One day that will be my shadow bomb through your wooden chest.
It was the art of mastering the shadow bomb that truly made a ‘Daughter of Duharrae’ what she was. Only then, could one take the oath, pledging their life to Duharrae.
Laresse made to watch the rogues do the routine once more, but her attention was stolen to the barracks where a voice called out from the doorway. “Laresse Doom! Did you recover anything useful this evening?”
Lance Reviere stepped out from the barracks, shaking out her silver-blonde hair jaggedly cut at the shoulders. Without her rogues’ cloak, she was garbed in a striped light blue top with leathers from pants to boot. She stood an equal-many meters to Laresse, but Lance had about seven cycles more than Laresse in experience.
Before Laresse could give a sarcastic retort, Slania had already jumped on the opportunity Lance had laid out. “She needed quite the recovery just trying to keep up with us.” Slania greeted Lance with a half-hug, proceeding to walk into the barracks.
“I most certainly did not! She fears to admit I beat her to the edge of the forest.” Laresse tried to pull back the words but they already spilled out of her mouth.
“The forest? He got that far, huh?” Lance turned to Bonnie. “You’re letting her slow you down, Bonnie.” Bonnie shook her head, greeted Lance in the same manner Slania had, and walked into the barracks immediately after. Lance turned back to Laresse. “So, you came back empty-handed?”
Laresse rolled her eyes, proceeding into the barracks. “Well, he’s dead, there’s that.” Laresse pulled back the cowl of her cloak, letting her long black hair fall out.
Bonnie unclipped her remaining daggers from her leather breastplate. “No thanks to you, Laresse!”
Lance leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed while the other three disarmed themselves. “I believe that constitutes for empty-handed.”
Slania was the first out of her cloak and armor, rolling up the last of her cloth when she gave reply. “Bonnie saw his demise to be soon after we left him, nothing of value were to come from his mouth. The Devote of Blade will have wasted their time with him.”
Lance’s interest seemed piqued now. “The Devote of Blade got to him first?”
Bonnie was now finishing with the last of her armor, slowly removing the steel-skin ambilos gauntlet from her right hand. Once the armor piece left her flesh, the three orange spheres slowly spinning within the steel came to a halt, fading out entirely. “The Devote got his final breath, nothing more. He, like the rest of these… intruders, never have anything of use to say.”
Lance surrendered her interrogation, making to leave the barracks. “Well, whatever purpose they are intending to serve, they seem to run themselves out of lives before we run out of blades.”
“The next one will be incarcerated by my hand.” Laresse finished with the last of her armor, interrupted by the door thumping upon being closed. She looked around to find the room empty. Damn them.
Laresse chose a crimson red blouse with darkened leather trousers. After lacing up her sandals around her ankles, she hung her cloak up, proceeding to join the others outside.
When she opened the barracks door, the cool air crept in, bathing her face in a refreshing tranquility. For a moment she closed her eyes, taking it in. Returning to consciousness, her eyes fluttered open; the rogues. She opened her eyes to the training area again, hoping to get another round of the shadow bomb in practice, but the makeshift arena was empty, save for the wooden corpses now a pile of kindling. In fact, the archery was clear as well.
She took a few steps out of the doorway. At once, the breeze fell upon her, along with the smell of apple roasted boar. Laresse followed the trail her stomach desired to follow. Soon it was clear where the others had gone. A small crowd gathered around the dining hall while the Daughters’ made their way inside.
After sliding through the dawdlers outside, Laresse managed to enter the hall through the parted doubled doors.
A gracious buffet table had been prepared this evening, the way the cooks often styled. The Daughters’ employed their own cooks, in addition to every profession for that matter. Every woman the Daughters’ took in played their part to keep their guild thriving.
Laresse was not betrayed by the smell she followed. At the centerpiece was a massive boar, roasted in thick apple glaze. A special treat tonight, ‘elmsapple’ hailing from the Greywacke Promontory, mixed in with peaches, cherries, and raspberries. All roasted together to form a crispy exterior, luscious at the skins, succulent down to the cores.
Every fortnight a merchant would come to Arenite from the Greywacke Promontory. Tonight, was the first in a while. Tonight, the bounty would be at its freshest. After waiting for a few of the Daughters’ to build their plates, Laresse topped her plate off grabbing a side of green beans doused in almonds and butter. Vegetables had to be imported more oft than not.
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Slania and Bonnie were already eating at the centermost long table. Laresse sat down across from them. Slania briefly glanced up from her plate. “Took you long enough.” Both of them had more than begun work on their dinners already.
“Well, I didn’t know we were spectral stepping all the way to dinner,” Laresse retorted.
Slania glanced to Bonnie whimsically, “She caught us.”
Bonnie kept her head in her plate, “No, you’re just slow today, Laresse.”
I am going to kill you both. Lance came over to sit beside Laresse, a grin wide across her face, “Andescion has had their Deathwalker ceremony again. Should be another day or two till the rejects reach Arenite.” Lance had a full plate in front of her, one would think the abundance of food would slow her speech but somehow, she managed all the same.
Laresse did not know much about the city, but the ceremony of rebirth was known to most of Melacalya to be one of the most sacred traditions in Andescion. The Andescion Legions, The Shadowmancers, and the Devote of Blade, ran that city. Each guild would choose whom would be worthy to thicken their ranks. Those that did not suit the leader’s fancy, would oft flee the city, taking refuge in Arenite, rather than face their failure. If death did not find them first.
Lance made it a habit to search out the rejects that took flight to Arenite. Through them, Lance and the Daughters’ learned more of what was happening within the city politically. Lance taught Laresse to look for the tattoo marking on their left forearm, branding them a Deathwalker that has yet to be reborn. A coward to their fate.
Slania ripped off another piece of boar. “No good they’ll bring to Arenite or us, Andescion has isolated itself for too long. I doubt any of them even know the customs beyond their city walls anymore, let alone of the foreign cities to Melacalya.”
Bonnie nodded. “That particular one last cycle thought the Terros Enclave was the name of a sunken carrack far off our coast.”
Lance pointed a finished bone at the both of them. “And I let him believe that. I’d like to believe he searches for the wreckage to this very day.”
Laresse had nearly finished her food. “Not the brightest of the bunch those lot.”
Lance conceded, “They certainly aren’t cultured, but their guilds intend it to remain that way.”
Small talk had begun to rise in place of the forks and knives. The evidence of near empty plates had signaled that dinner had run its course. Slania rose from her seat and signaled to the cooks for the food to be taken away, which meant it was due time for the nightly agora.
Every evening after dinner, the Daughters’ held a meeting to discuss overall pressing matters. From trick and trade, to training and conflicts, each evening they held an open forum to which anyone could hold. Though Duharrae’s Daughters had no sole leader, Slania held more experience, more dominance than others, so she spoke more oft than not.
Surprisingly, Bonnie does not ever stir from her seat during these hours. Laresse had even seen Lance hold an agora once, but never Bonnie. Bonnie for the most part was very quiet, but when she did speak, she spoke volumes.
The hall grew quiet while the last of the cooks returned to the kitchen, Slania slowly making her way to the forefront of the tables. “Similar to previous occasions we’ve seen before, the Terros Enclave scout was intercepted on his route to Arenite. This one managed to flee all the way towards the Bloodwood Forest before he found his demise.”
One older woman stood cross-armed leaning against the entrance wall. “Was anything gained from this pursuit?”
Slania met her gaze sternly. “What was gained is the thwarted attempt of malice to our people.” Slania returned her attention to the rest of the hall. “Do not forget this is not the first attempt the Terros Enclave has made to infiltrate our lands. It was less than two cycles ago that ‘peaceful negotiations’ resulted with two of our sisters fallen. When confronted, they choose their sword before their tongue. Whatever means they wish to accomplish here will not be dealt with peacefully.”
A much younger inductee brought her voice to the floor. “Though I must admit I have never seen the likes of these men, what strength do they hold over our own, with no eneryia flowing through their veins?”
“Despite their ignorance, straight disregard for rejecting the ways of eneryia, they make up for it in both great strength and agility. However, their cunning ends there. They limit themselves to the physical realm. In the end, it will be their undoing.”
Another woman across the hall joined the momentum. “So let us seek them out, bring the fight to them.”
Slania shook her head. “We have confronted the leaders of the Terros Enclave directly. They claim no such responsibility to the intruders. War is not what we are looking for here. We must capture the next one that comes, reveal the true nature of these intrusions.”
“And if we fail to capture?”
“We will strike them down like all the others. Bonnie has agreed to find the next scout this evening. We shall prepare to intercept once more. A live captive would do us better, however they invite death much quicker than confinement.”
Slania looked to Bonnie for a moment before she spoke again. “Your sacrifice will not be in vain, Bonnie. May Duharrae guide us.” - What does she mean?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The staircase wrapped around the inner shell of the turret, slowly descending beneath the surface. Arrow slits beckoned blades of white light in from above, faintly illuminating the corridor. Down below there was no need to mask an open flame, so torchlight gave way to the rest of the path underground.
It was much cooler down beneath the turret – It was nightfall, below the surface, the cold was to be expected. The warmth from Duharrae’s orbs of light were completely absent in the torches. Fortunate we donned our cloaks once more.
No one spoke. The sound of seven pairs of sandals made for the only voice during the descent. Slania, Bonnie, and Lance were at the forefront, with Alexra Roven, Tauri Macira, and Alorix Vidoru behind. Laresse had not expected to be a part of this evening’s ceremony, but Slania said it was time to experience Duharrae’s will firsthand. Though I’d take the sandstorm experience enough for one day.
The bottom of the stairwell opened to the hollow shell of the turret. The circular wall fashioned arched stone pillars ascending into the darkened conical ceiling from each part of the wall. The center-point of the ceiling could not be found however. Instead Laresse found the ascent led into a pitch-black abyss.
Slania was the first to enter after removing her sandals. She kept silent, her gaze upon the wooden pyre in the middle of the room. The rest followed suit, entering the pit one by one, slowly forming a circle around the wooden pyre.
Laresse was the last to cross the threshold, carefully placing her sandals along the side of the doorway with the others. She entered through the doorway, walking solemnly along the outer edge of their make-shift circle to the last opening within the seven. The sand is surprisingly warm to the touch for how far beneath the surface we are…
With each step she took, a closer glimpse at the wooden pyre revealed a warped and twisted structure. The room was near darkness, but even still, she could see the wood glistening with doused oil from her vantage point.
When Laresse reached her place in the circle, she bowed her head, following suit with the others, following the instructions previously enjoined. From the corners of her eyes and outlines in the shadows, Laresse watched Bonnie step forth from the circle towards the pyre’s center.
She knelt beside it, whispering a prayer in an unfamiliar tongue. It started quite soft, to the point where it was question whether anything was being said at all. Slowly, however, her near silent lips pushed out of pianissimo into a rising forte.
The whispers began to echo off the walls like a rabid animal trying to escape a cage. The whispered beast roamed from behind her – to the westward, no to the eastward now, till it filled the room with vibrancy.
The sand grew hot beneath Laresse’s feet, then for an instant, all the echoes ceased. A beautiful silence. Through deadened absolute stillness, Laresse felt the tingling notion in her feet, rising to the butterflies in her stomach, to the beating of her own heart in her chest. The pulse resonated throughout her whole body, a tremble that shook the room.
From that pulse she saw the strands of fire slither out from the grains of sand, grabbing hold of the wooden pyre. The fire grew rampant rapidly, within moments peaking above their height level. With the Daughters of Duharrae keeping their heads bowed, the pyre rose in an aggressive spiral over six meters high. The smoke pulled to the edges of the ceiling, forced through the center abyss like a great vent.
Laresse dared not gaze upward, but it was evident from the pyres might, the room was well lit now. Bonnie sat in silence while Laresse and the other six resounded: The moment of truth approaches.
~
A gift of ancients, to light our paths,
To guide us so we are not lead astray.
…And in turn, we bestow our eyes.
We ask you to teach us, and enable us,
So we may not repeat mistakes of old.
…And in turn, we bestow our ears.
When we sought freedom from our destruction,
You breathed unto us, a life anew.
…And in turn, we bestow our lives.
We are the daughters of Duharrae, the protectors of her lands.
~
The wood! Laresse could not take her eyes off it. Rather than begin to decay, the wood looked stronger than ever, and began to glow bright white beneath the blanket of flame. The blaze was excruciatingly hot, from where Laresse stood, how does Bonnie bear to be so close.
Laresse watched Bonnie pull out something from within her cloak. The ambilos gauntlet glistened red from the fire. She pulled the gauntlet over her right hand, the orbs springing to life one by one as the ambilos slid down her wrist.
She took a deep breath, slowly slipping her gauntlet into the desert flame. Sweat dripped freely from her exposed face, but the cloak itself was unscathed. The gauntlet grew red-hot but it did not appear to faze Bonnie in the slightest. She continued inward until she grasped the white-stricken pyre. At that moment, the orbs spun wildly.
They grew brighter, almost in challenge to the pyre’s light. Gradually, the source of light became more powerful in the orbs than the fire. At the peak of brightness, the orbs fell to a steadied, slow rotation, in sync with the desert flame.
Hundreds of symbols projected out from the orbs onto the walls in burnt sienna hue. Their essence spun with the orbs, illuminating every crevice in the turret’s shell. The sight was majestic, just when I thought this couldn’t become more surreal.
Merely moments later, one by one, the symbols started fading off the walls in random fashion. Similar to the first drops of rain before a storm, the pace quickly heightened to a steady flow. Before long, the symbols were gone. The orbs falling back into place at their normal rotation rate.
The wood began to take its original form, the pearly white essence being siphoned back through the veins of the wooden structure. The pyre’s flame slowly descended beneath the sand. As each grain soaked in another flame, the sand beneath Laresse’s feet grew hotter.
After a seemingly long time had passed, the room returned to its original state of darkness. Despite knowing it was no darker than before, Laresse still found it harder to see, trying futilely to make out the outlines of each woman’s cloak. Though Bonnie still sits by the pyre, unmoved.
Laresse took in long slow breaths while she waited for her eyes to adjust. The air smells fresh. In spite of the bounteous fire that engulfed the room, the blaze left no ash, for the wood never truly burned through. She could not see the detail, but the structure stood, just like it had before. The desert flame is indeed pure.
Bonnie was the first to make noticeable movement. She rose from her position, tucking the ambilos back within her cloak. “The next of the Terros Enclave passes into Melacalya not far after this night.”
It was hard to make out who was whom, but Laresse knew the voice the second she spoke. “My squad shall lead the interception, bringing him here for interrogation.” Alorix Vidoru stepped closer to Bonnie. Laresse’s eyes were almost adjusted to the darkness again, but the commanding voice of Alorix is a presence one could see in absolute darkness.
Bonnie looked from Alorix to Slania. “A direct attack squad will not suffice.”
Alorix appeared confused by the cryptic response, letting a slight hint of frustration out in her tone. “Are you saying my squad cannot handle ‘one’ eneryia denier?”
By now all eyes were on Bonnie. She, in turn, glanced about the others. “Not one. Eight.”
It was Tauri’s disbelief that held the presence in the room now. “Eight? Are you sure you did not see the Terros Enclave’s envoy to the Invictus Trials? Perhaps they cross through the west this cycle.”
Alorix contemplated the notion, “The timing is too early. The Invictus Trials don’t begin for another quarter of the cycle, at the mark of Lughnasadh. Even still, they dare not cross Melacalya to reach The Antherope Sanctum.”
“This is no envoy with ‘officiality’ hailing from Novus Terros, nor is it a scouting party. The group consists of two captains from the Terros Enclave, five heavily armed soldiers, and a young child.”
A child? The room fell silent. It was Slania who spoke now. “This cannot be an infiltration like the others, they would not send a child for such treachery.”
Alorix did not sound convinced. “It could all be a rouse for us to lower our guard. They may not know how or why, but they know their scouts do not return.”
Bonnie made to speak, but Slania spoke first. “A ruse or not, we must learn more before they approach. Myself, Bonnie, and Laresse will await them at their crossing into Melacalya. From a closer perspective, we may learn more of what Bonnie saw.”
Slania continued. “Only after a closer look, will we be able to decide the next step to take. If they mean to be a threat, we will return at once and recalibrate, and if they are not, we will see the situation dealt with firsthand. The Invictus Trials approach, Alorix. Who will lead us should this matter escalate beyond the foreseeable timeline?”
Alorix hinted at disapproval, she’s reluctant, “They must be dealt with force, we cannot allow them to perceive us to be weak.”
Slania rested a hand on her shoulder. “With the path laid out before us there is no reason to show that we are even there. You need not trouble yourself with this Alorix. We need you ready at the Invictus Trials. Not hunting children.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The new day brought clear skies along with the warming sun, making the trek to Arenite all the more pleasant. It was a decent hike on foot, but the ride back on carrienx will be worth the journey itself.
The beasts stood on average two and a half meters on all fours, far too large and far too noisy, to be kept at the fortress. The orbs may hide their sight, but it would take a greater shroud than that to mask their yelp. Thus, the trip to the Arenite stables was in order.
The prior evening’s events meant that Slania, Bonnie, and Laresse would be riding eastward to get more knowledge on the new potential threat the Terros Enclave was sending from their realm; Novus Terros. Rather than wait for them to come near the path the previous scouts had come, Bonnie wanted to scout the situation firsthand before they made it anywhere near the desert.
If that is even their destination. Laresse had heard about the Invictus Trials for many cycles, this was the first cycle she was to attend the great event. Guilds across all three realms, Melacalya, Novus Terros, and the Antherope Sanctum, would gather once every cycle at the beginning of Lughnasadh to compete in feats of dexterity and agility, to demonstrate prowess in their craft. All for favor of the wisps, a full chest of coin, and a boost in the winning team’s eneryia capacities worth dying for.
The Daughters’ would be fielding a team led by Alorix, but alas, until Laresse could shadow bomb her targets, competing was out of the question.
Lance came with the three on this morn, though she would part ways after they passed the Quicksands Tavern. “The Deathwalker ceremony, or whatever they call it, was a few nights ago. By now, the rejected will have come to seek refuge here in Arenite.”
Lance worked the cheapest tavern in the city by day, “the perfect safe haven for runaways with next to naught.”
The city of Arenite was surrounded by tall sandstone walls with parapets at each square turret. Past the gates, the blandness of the walls was made up with a luscious palette painting the inner city.
Exotic plant life sprawled the inner walls and marketplace, bringing the oasis to life. Rich thick tapestries overhung each shop along the winding path ahead. The food and forge were mostly local, if you include Andescion, but every so often a merchant would come from afar, even Diorrus, and Basaixe, taking up residence in the market’s center for a few days while the people marveled at the exotic trade.
On this day, the merchant from the Greywacke Promontory perched himself at the market’s center. Behind him, at the heart of the city, lies the statue of Duharrae, carved smooth to the touch in onyx and obsidian. Even in sculpture, she was a breathtaking sight, just as Bonnie described.
While the four walked through the crowded streets, the locals made way when the Daughters of Duharrae passed. The people of Arenite prayed to Duharrae for guidance and protection, but they knew the Daughters’ carried out her will.
Though Laresse did not carry the sigil, the black cloak was often enough to gain respect in places some might not give it elsewise. Where the sigil carried more weight, however, was beyond the inner-city walls. The inner fortress was far off, but the red pillars could be seen from every part of the city. The red granite that composed them was brought to the city from the westward mountains long ago.
Laresse approached a junction, spotting the intricate markings of a Deathwalker on a passerby. He wore mismatched armor that failed to hide his rugged form, you’d think him a smith by the look of his arms, but not his armor. “There’s your catch of the day, Lance.”
“Already on him. I pray you all return before the Trials, or at least Slania and Bonnie. I have no desire to fill your spots and have to carry the team on my shoulders. Good day, ladies.” With the final word, she was off.
The three arrived at the stables shortly after. The carrienx were a sight to behold. Muscular, yet lean. Thinly furred, from the chestnut coated back, to the amber underbelly. The tails both thick, long, rivaling the quickness of a cracked whip. Their faces were lynx-like in shape, but the ears were lengthened, pointed behind their heads. There was no one tending the lot of them at the moment, but three were saddled, ready to go.
Before they would leave, Bonnie and Slania were to give word to Alexra who was holding court in the inner fortress of the city by this hour. “Laresse stay with the carrienx till we get back.”
That’s fine with me, I’d take hanging out with these guys over politics any day. Bonnie and Slania made to leave, but Bonnie stopped Slania from heading back outside. She looked out from side to side, then leaned in closer to Slania.
“There is something from the vision that troubles me.” It was unclear whether Bonnie intended Laresse to hear or not, but she speaks just loud enough.
“There was one in particular that troubles me. I could not see of whom they were. While faces of the others I saw plainly like all the other times, one was a shadow amongst the rest… they have help from a power outside their own.”