Lately, I've found myself thinking about the smaller things in life. As one of the Honor Guard to King Tarrik, most of my recent excursions have been to areas that have been dubbed the green regions - areas that are already fully under control of The King, and who have prepared a resting abode for his visits. Most of these travels left plenty of time for reflection, passing through mostly quiet or uninhabited areas that were too far from civilization for anything but nature to make any meaningful impact on them. This journey, however, seems to be becoming very different. Heading from Myrrith to the Northern Territories, we encountered an ambush and were forced to retreat through one of the nearby forest paths to rid ourselves of our pursuers. With night approaching, and us still no closer to the edge of the forest we escaped into, we started setting up camp in the gloom to settle down for the night.
As darkness began to surround us, we made quick work on a fire, placing our gathered tinder and kindling into a pit. Deeper than expected, the aim was to both hide our presence for as long as possible and also provide a fast method for dousing the fire later on. The traces of our passing will be forgotten in short time by the forest. Food first. A small ration of beer and bread and meat. Tasty. Last to finish, I stayed seated, staring into the enchanting movements of the fire until it was time to cover it. The silence of tonight was comfortingly warm anyway - perhaps due to our relative isolation from the rest of the world.
Even hours after having been smothered, the pit still smouldered slowly, despite the sand and mud that now covered it. Along with the heat, a wet stench came off it, an earthy grimy smell that came from the damp forest floor. Shifting from my position against the stump I rest on, I let my feet carry me to the outer rim of the camp, where the trees start to gather into a dense mat of foliage.
This wasn't my first watch, but somehow the darkness of tonight seemed different. Unnerving. Despite the canopy above us being thin enough to reveal a starlit sky, each fleck of light seemed to be somehow consumed by the darkness around it, like a scattering of small coins sinking endlessly into the ocean depths. There's a saying in Myrrith that the sky is the wishing well of the gods, but right now those wishes seem to be scarce indeed. Hunger and famine were becoming commonplace throughout even the more wealthy territories, and as the cold of winter arrived, many territories were beginning to starve and fall into turmoil.
Our journey to the Northern Territories was partially to make alliances with new tribes, but also to offer support to our existing dependants who were beginning to starve. Additionally, as one of the only territories able to accommodate the Elemental Tribes, it was an essential meeting location for The King to speak with their ruling class to negotiate trades for their more valuable resources.
This gathering, called The Northern Council, usually included all the Tribe Leaders of the area - a joint council who represented the needs and wants of their people to The King. At the end of these meetings, The King would accept a token of goodwill from these tribes, or turn them away from his Kingdom. This particular meeting would show a new face - The Graystones. These were a more sturdy tribe than most others, and, until now, had done well for themselves without support of The King. However, with the North slowly being overrun by the elements that originally claimed them, the tribes were struggling to live more and more, finally turning to The King for aid.
Right now, we were camped inside one of the smaller forests in Myrrith - a few hours away from our final destination of Coleman Bay, where we would meet our entourage and make our way to Earthguarde, the largest settlement within The Northern Territories. The dark had begun to cloak the pathway a few hours ago, and now we were forced to halt our progress for the rest of the night, lest we lose our way.
With our campsite already set up, we had all settled down in our respective arrangements, half of us asleep, and the other half keeping watch. Sleeping in conditions like these was always a challenge. Left with only the heat radiating from where the fire once was, I was left with two choices - Trying to sleep on a thin and unwelcoming bedroll, or staying awake and forfeiting at least a few hours of rest. Granted, the sleep was necessary, but tonight felt particularly nostalgic, and despite the cold reaching into my bones themselves, I sat across from the pit and gazed like a seer into my slowly emptying mug.
With nothing to occupy me, my thoughts soon wandered onto our most recent of pursuers. Granted, we had been ambushed before, but most bandits and highwaymen would be satisfied with some small payment to allow passage. Most bandits and highwaymen would also not be armed quite as heavily as these assailants. Garbed in generic, but high quality, armour, and wielding mostly traditional weapons, they seemed more like qualified mercenaries than robbers. A high danger to a party transporting such high quality personage as The King.
Although I myself had numerous enchantments woven into my body, as did The King, it was my priority to do whatever was required to protect The King, and thus my lips moved quietly through the next few hours, casting, as quietly as I could, spells of various forms. Detect Life. Detect Magic. Null Field. Isolate Sound. As my energy slowly decayed, I took a break, breathing in the ambient mana of our world to recover.
The forest that surrounded us seemed to grow quieter as the night continued. Unsurprising that the sound of birdsong and creatures was so muted, but so too were the usual sounds of running water and wind. An air of too-quiet stillness grew in the area until I felt compelled to move, feeling it itch its' way down my back. Shifting from my seat near the fire, my feet led me to the edge of the campsite, where the trees, for all their quiet, seemed to be shifting as though in a mirage. The quiet that permeated the air grew thicker, pushing its' own threads of enchanted ideas into my head. With every second, I felt like I could maybe see more of this phenomenon if I stayed just a little bit more still.
Suddenly, my heart twitched. And so did my legs. Leaping back without thinking of the danger, I saw a glint of steel flash in front of my eyes - an arrowhead - launched from outside of the campsite. I reached for a shield that was still at my camp, one hand grasping nothing but air as the other drew my sword. Conveniently, I was enchanted with a very unique spell - Notify Danger. Triggered by either threat or harm coming to myself, I trusted it to wake my companions and alert them of the danger. With one foot already on the ground, I twisted, my steps carrying me to the campsite as quickly as I could move. By the time I got back, The King was already encircled by our company with a magic ward thrown up around them. Glowing a light gray, the ward almost seemed to be perpetually lifting them off the ground - an optical illusion that makes it harder for them to be hit even if a projectile manages to pass the barrier.
Passing through the barrier was not an option. Setting myself up outside the perimeter, I began to create a new ward that would surround both myself and my companions. As the ward took place, I glanced deeper into the forest, looking for signs of further disturbance. Each second ticked by slower than the last, until finally, it was complete. The original ward fell away as each of my companions instead lent their efforts to sustaining this one, joining us as a unit once more. As the hours passed, we took turns in holding the barrier, our magic reserves slowly disappearing until eventually, the barrier weakened. With still no movement from outside our ward, we quietly let it disappear, letting ourselves fade into the darkness of the night.
Morning finally arrived, and with it, a sense of urgency. With the ambush of last night having been dealt with, we decided to make haste to the nearest road, where we could find our way to the North once again. The once sprawled campsite now sat on our backs, rolled into bundles and stowed away until we reached our horses. Our steps, barely slower now than when we had rushed into the forest, slowly guided us to the point at which we entered the forest. Crystalline drops of water fell from the leaves we passed, dripping onto the soft ground or splattering quietly into small patches of moss. Crunch. On solid ground once again, we followed the path back to where we had tied our horses. A breed of Royal Courier, these horses were both trained and bred to be loyal to their owners - very few would leave by themselves, and their nature made it difficult for them to be guided by anyone but their owner.
The road continued. The slow trodding of hooves on a stony ground drummed in our ears as each of us found something to occupy ourself. A rubric for Johannes - words and phrases that seemed out of place next to each other until their meaning was deciphered. Maintenance for Myr, whose polishing rag stank like fish even with him being 50 feet downwind of us. And small, training sparks of magic from myself, the only character in our company who is versed in the art of magic.
My training for this journey consisted of moving through the catalogue of spells we were required to use, and casting each of them in their various permutations. Spells like Fireball, for example, had so many restrictions placed on them that the spell had taken many forms over the years to accommodate for various local customs. As both an envoy and guard to The King, I was required to be able to demonstrate at least a basic understanding of these techniques in order to protect him against threats.
Casting my 100th fireball of the day, I finally took the time to look across from me at The King. His hands, usually at least working on something within reach, seemed unusually still. Maybe because of the surprise ambush of last night. Although I wasn't going to ask. His usually composed face carried the weight of a sleepless night, and a light furrow marked his brow. The small, condensed ball of flames in my hand seemed to flicker for a moment as it gained momentum, before I quickly reabsorbed the mana.
I kept working on my Fireball.
At last, the tired footsteps of our mounts led us to the edge of Coleman Bay. Protected on one side by the vast waters of the sea, and secluded from the harshest of the elements that raged in The North, Coleman Bay was the least well known natural sanctuary in The Northern Territories.
Coming into the bay, we saw the short waves lapping against the shore. We heard the waves, maybe birds, we could feel the chill of the sea breeze.
Staying closer to the rocky ground that surrounded the cove, we started to set up camp, moving quickly enough that the job was done in a few minutes. The quiet sound of a footstep jolted us from our positions, as we all looked simultaneously towards it. The same mercenary group as before, and this time, looking a lot more prepared. We drew our weapons. The King, already protected as before in a ring, seemed almost as calm as usual, standing prepared with his own armament in hand.
The fight began. Wards that we had cast began to crackle, some drawing their power from the land we stand on, and others relying on flesh, blood, or captured magic. The air seemed to shiver, losing some form of weight and mass - the magic that belonged in this part of the world that had now been consumed. I moved, my sword already out of its' sheathe and driving towards the first assailant. An armoured behemoth, striding towards us like a titan of the Gods, his fist clenched around a barbed sword, thorns protruding out from each side. With a quick slash, the armour that he wore was scratched, a long arc dragging itself along the once pristine surface. The smell of iron and steel filled my nose. Dodging his retaliation, I stood to his side, pushing against his strike with all my strength. The block succeeded. Even this close, I couldn't see through the visor of his helmet - maybe enchanted, or maybe a result of the work gone into crafting the piece. Muttering quietly, I raised my hand, pushing towards him to guide my spell. A rippling explosion of fire burst forwards, incinerating the air around him and igniting the fabrics of his clothes. Onto the next.
My sword kept moving, drawing patterns in a game of prediction and reaction. A single silver arc, constantly seeking another drop of blood to sate its' appetite. The rank of enemies, originally a group of eight, had fallen one by one, their blood staining the ground we stood on.
The surviving mercenaries triggered their own magic, launching a wave of fire and lightning forward at us. Fortunately, our wards defended us from the brunt of the impact, but as the mana in the area was slowly drained away, their effectiveness began to weaken. The wave washed over our bodies, immolating our clothes and crisping our hairs as we stood firm in the flames. As they washed over us, one single projectile - hidden entirely in the inferno we endured - passed through our rank, colliding against the enchanted plate that The King was wearing. Spells competed, and with barely a sound, his armour was pierced, the arrow embedding itself deep within his chest. Silence gathered in my ears until the oppressive weight of the attack managed to register. Tick. One by one, thoughts seemed to flash into my head like fireworks, magic spreading through my body as though it were alive, drawn from the earth itself. With nothing but an arm distance separating us, I reached out, holding his body as he fell. Thick, crimson blood stained my hands, and even as I pushed the magic I had gathered into his body, the life slowly left his body. Sound returned.
With our original goal lost, we focussed on our own survival. One by one, our wards broke, unable to gather enough mana to sustain themselves. Our skin started to blister in the heat we had created, and electrified sparks leaped between our hairs as we fought. Gritting my teeth, I forced my hand to keep a hold of my sword, the leather-bound hilt burning into my hand like a brand. We kept fighting, and as our bodies began to fail, each of us sacrificed what we could to give our allies the upper hand.
Too many opponents lead to fatigue. A well prepared soldier can fight against ten men for days given magic, and I was no different. But when the enemy has more numbers, more magic, and more strength, the chance to end a fight quickly becomes increasingly small. Our company, originally a group of four, has now dwindled to two. The mercenary group, however, was equally thinned, having lost four of their own, leaving the same amount left to face.
Dividing the remaining enemies between us, I still had to kill two. And one of them was busy casting a spell. I reached for my last store of captured magic, but it was too late. With a crackling of lightning that singed even my teeth, I was thrown back, body jerking as it tried to adjust to the pain of electrocution. Rolling on the floor was a response, not a thought, and as I continued to move, the battle raged around me.
After what felt like hours, I rose, eyes miraculously able to see well enough through their newfound blurriness that I could see the bandits, still running amok among our ranks. I rose my hand, muttering a spell with what remained of my lips, and watched as a storm of lightning leaped from my own fingertips, welcoming them to the ranks of the dead. A cloying stench filled the air around them, thick enough to stifle my breathing. Their bodies lay motionless on the ground. Pitch black ash seemed to smear itself over what remained of their form, a consequence of having tried to block, or, in once case, dodge, the lightning. My own ears rung with the consequences of my actions, the static having discharged itself partially in my own body, but the job was done.
As the last enemy died and I looked around, I found myself alone on a battleground that was stained in blood and magic. The strength that had been lifting me fell away, and I collapsed onto the ground, noticing, for the first time, the state of ruin that my own body was in. Deep scars, flesh so solidified that it cracked when I moved, and a blackish blood, congealing like glue over my body. I closed my eyes, and slipped into rest.
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