“You are to be summoned, Avenger.”
“You are summoned, Avenger.”
“You have been summoned, Avenger.”
Over the course of two weeks, the drakun’s three voices called to him. His morality. His compass. His gods. They needed him, and so he walked. South, east, south, and further south, until he reached their intended destination.
On the 1st of Taluum, the Mountain called to him. It was His holiday, after all. He found the drakun when he was north of Meadowghast, under the shadow of Matryoshka’s spine, the Great Oss Mountain Range. With the Oss to the north and west, and the Hightop Range to the east, the city of Meadowghast was as close to a holy city as the Mountain had on the eastern side of the continent. Wedged between all that stone, the winds beating down from on high, and the water and fire that breathed life into those people, the holy warrior felt his first god palpably even before the message was sent. Once he was given the command, all it took was the lazy tributaries that flowed downhill towards the city to tell the drakun where he needed to go.
On the 6th of Taluum, the Scales called to him. Long since passing the City in the Hills, the servant made his way downriver in accordance with his divine order. He had not yet forded the river when the second order came, and was sitting peacefully in his ramshackle campsite. But it was this second voice that he liked to keep waiting the least, so upon putting down his rations, the man put his back to the setting sun, and lifted his palms to the open sky. Letting His holy gravity do the work, the man felt his southern hand waver and lower slightly, again telling him his path forward. Without bothering to finish his meal, the drakun swiftly packed his things, tossed the bag over his back, and dove into the river to cross it, and continue south.
On the 11th of Taluum, the Anvil called to him. Now well into the Calden Fields, where the quiet towns of Harviston and Traverse and dozens others lay, the avenger could still sense the great bastion of Dhul Kahldur on the mountains in the distance. It was His city in the Empire, and easily one of his favorite places he’d traveled so far. Things in Dhul Kahldur made simple sense, and while it was not so natural or quiet as he’d like, he was never bothered. It was this simple sense that the warrior felt continuing to pull him south; a quiet confirmation that he was on the right path.
And finally, on the 15th of Taluum, a day earlier than he expected, the man was given no wise words to guide him, nor voice to shake him to his core; only a vision just as he was waking, of a perfectly circular vernal pool in the center of a copse of trees. Nera’s light shined through the verdant leaves, and was absorbed by the waters rather than reflected.
A portal, he thought. Perhaps it is finally time to see my mother’s master.
Several hours later, after spending a not insignificant amount of time stumbling through the same twenty acres of knotted trees and thick underbrush, the avenger found his ire: the vernal pool, glistening in the dim glow of an early twilight. He instinctively summoned the shield and striking hammer, gritted his teeth, and crouched to hide amongst the bushes and tallgrass.
No sooner than he prepared himself did the pool begin to rise. Slowly at first, and all around, then as quick as lightning just in the center. The water formed around a creature, a person, and hugged to them tight until it was stretched too thin and returned to the source. The person, seemingly having fallen up into the air of the Material, shone with a powerful turquoise light that they robbed from the pool. Beneath them, the water returned to its normal, dull pallor, so that even the setting sun might not bring true beauty to the vernal pool for a very long time.
The portal was closed. The person returned to the shallow waters at the edge of the pool, and stood meekly in them, fingers trembling as if escaped from a dangerous place. The avenger knew his purpose.
Without hesitation, he leapt from the brush like a rabid beast, and swung his hammer directly at his target’s chest. As fast as he was, she caught his movement just before it was too late, and brought up a shield that had been hidden in the water to block the blow. Even with the tricky block, the avenger went through the motions of his strike, and set so much power upon the woman that she was sent flying across the open space, over the pool and into the thick trunk of an oak tree.
The woman screamed out in pain, and as she grimaced and removed a spear-like weapon from her back, the hunter took half a second to actually look at her. She was a water aethun — a woman created of the element itself, with blue-green skin tone, and hair that held the dull arctic shine of Ganymede, the pearlescent moon. She had crow’s feet, and though she didn’t appear too old, and was in a battle-ready stance, her posture managed to be both refined and weathered.
“Put down your weapon!” she pleaded, something other than fear in her eyes.
“I’d ask you to do the same,” said the avenger, “Else your end be bloody and painful.”
As the two interlocutors moved to begin the battle in earnest, an arrow assailed the avenger from some shadowy shooter on high. The tip thudded into the thick scales of his tricep, shooting pain through his side, but not impeding his ability to move the arm. Even so, he stayed his hammer.
“Show yourself, archer!”
“Drop the weapon!” the sourceless voice shouted back.
Quiet overtook the grotto. Somewhere to the east, the forest floor crunched with more feet.
“Show of good faith, friend?” the aethun said, and tossed her trident on the ground before she ever had the chance to strike with it.
Before he had the chance to make up his mind, a second arrow struck a tree behind the hunter. “Make the right choice,” the voice in the trees said. Peering as hard as he could into the shade, the drakun could see faint light glinting off a sharp, metallic arrow tip, and sharper green eyes.
Scowling, he dropped his concentration on his equipment, causing the shield and hammer to fade away into mist that swirled around the grotto.
“A blessing?” the aethun asked curiously, staring at the smoke as it settled on the water.
“What of it?” the drakun responded coolly, making no attempt to actually answer.
“Are your tools a divine blessing? Or some sort of arcane?”
Before he considered honesty, the stomping of leaves in the distance became loud enough that none of them could ignore it anymore. Both the aethun and drakun looked to each other, ready to take up arms again, but the knowledge of their third friend stayed their hands.
Out from the woods and into the clearing came two more people; the first vaguely human with eyes of the sea, and the second undeniably human with eyes of honey. When they approached the pool, bridging the gap between elemental and dragon, the tension in the air was clear to them both.
“Let’s just calm down, everyone,” the honey-eyed man suggested. “Can I get your names?” He looked to the drakun first.
The drakun stood tall and proud, at least a foot higher than anyone else in the clearing. “My name is Kraaldiashkmuumuk Jarvarax.”
The archer let out a quick, violent laugh, and hopped down from the tree. She had scarlet red hair, and like Jarvarax had seen, eyes like gleaming green gemstones. “I’m sorry, you wanna spell that out for the class?”
Her ally with the honey held a hand in front of her. “She doesn’t mean to insult you, sir. I haven’t met many drakus, but I’ve heard you normally say your surnames first. May we call you Jarvarax?”
Jarvarax nodded.
“Great! Lovely to meet you. And you, ma’am?”
“My name is Petrichor.”
Petrichor.
“That’s a pretty name,” the man said with a smile. “I’m Pax. My archer friend is Seneca, and this is-”
“It’s you!” Eden exclaimed, his eyes widening at the sight of the aethun woman. “You’re the one I was meant to find!”
Petrichor cocked her head. “You’re… Eden?”
“Yes!” he said happily, rushing over to her. When he took note of her stance, and saw the way her arms wavered, clutching her stomach, the glisten in his eyes faded. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine… I brought my shield up in time, but it was still very strong…”
Eden wasn’t listening. He faced the drakun, and felt something behind his eyes begin to vibrate.
“What reason did you have for harming this woman‽” Eden bellowed at the avenger.
Without fear or hesitation, the man gave his answer: “I was sent a vision of this portal by my masters. The gods have sent me here. As I witnessed the portal close behind this woman, I knew she must have escaped judgment, and that I was being asked to complete the sentence.” The drakun took a moment to rip the arrow from his arm, and only then did it begin to bleed. “Stand in my way, and I will cut you down with her.”
Suddenly, a shock of lightning struck Jarvarax’s mind, twenty times more painful than the arrow had been, and his knees threatened to give out.
“Woah!” Pax said, extending his hands, and taking a step closer to the drakun. With that step, he took in all of Jarvarax. The drakun man was huge, at least seven feet tall, with a supernaturally muscular build. The scales that adorned his entire body were snowy white, his eyes like shards of ice lodged in his head. Like a proper dragon, his nose and mouth extended into a long snout, where two thin fangs dripped like icicles from his upper lip. The only soft spot of his skin appeared to stretch from his mandible down to his stomach, where his body’s natural under armor weakened. He wore a breastplate to make up for the weakness, which looked shiny and freshly forged, with a make and filigree that Pax couldn’t recognize. From up close, he didn’t seem all that vicious to Pax, but perhaps attempting to present as such.
“Don’t you think such immediate violence would be a little extreme, friend? Let’s all hear each other out first. Maybe your vision was wrong.”
“Do not insult their visions, human! I will not have a bumpkin meddle in the makings of the gods and their children.”
“Hey, we’re all children of gods, to my understanding,” Pax tried, clearly missing the mark as Jarvarax continued to scowl. “Though, us humans are definitely a little more distant to our creators.”
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“Your vision,” Petrichor said, finally stepping from the tree, and pushing past Eden. “What god sent it to you?”
“Gods,” Jarvarax corrected. “I am a holy avenger of a triad of gods. The Mountain, the Scales, and the Anvil.”
The drakun man reached under his tunic collar, and from beneath his chest plate, he pulled an amulet with three thin discs strung along it. On the left disc was indeed a mountain, and the faint outline of a lightning bolt embossed beneath the stone. On the right disc was an anvil, and the small smithing hammer striking it. And on the center disc was an empty balance scale, still heavily weighted to one side.
The Anvil and Scales didn’t especially mean anything to her, but Petrichor saw the truth of the Mountain. The storm beneath the rock was perfectly evocative of the symbols she had been seeing her whole life: a roiling storm, far beneath a lightless sea.
“Your Mountain,” Petrichor said. “He is the Element, is he not?”
Jarvarax said nothing.
The aethun picked up her trident, and struck the ground with its end cap, signaling in front of Eden. With the slightest of noises and actions, she commanded the attention of everyone around the pool.
“This boy is the Element’s progeny. I have received his word just as well as you have, and was tasked with the protection of this, his Mark.”
Jarvarax looked bewildered. He immediately knew the truth of Petrichor’s worship, but suddenly felt his purpose become muddled. “Do you not think I would have been tasked more clearly with his protection, if that was the goal?”
“Then perhaps it is not your goal, but only mine,” Petrichor said bravely. “Would you doubt the word of the fire inside you?”
“Never,” Jarvarax said. “But why else would I be sent here, only to see the portal close before my eyes?”
The aethun shrugged, and her ear twitched towards the sound of a veritable army of vagabonds swiftly approaching. “I do not know. If I had to guess, my role of protection is an advisory one, rather than to act as a bodyguard. It seems like he already has quite a large group. Perhaps it is them you’re meant to meet.”
Jarvarax thought for a moment about the notion that he was mistaken. This woman was right; he would not doubt his voices. They had not uttered a name, nor shown him so much as a glimpse of his target, as they had so many times before. It must be different this time.
The drakun approached the man Petrichor had been sent here to protect, stepping around the one named Pax to do so. Pax attempted to dote on him when he moved, but he ignored it for just a moment.
“Progeny.”
“Huh?” Eden said, having been looking back and forth dumbly between the two divine warriors for the last minute.
Jarvarax clapped Eden firmly on the shoulder. “I apologize for threatening you. If you have truly been marked by my mother’s master, it shall never happen again.”
Eden guffawed. “I don’t know what that means, but honestly, you’re totally good. Just don’t hit her again.”
The drakun nodded. “Understood, Child of the Mountain.”
As the holy warrior turned to properly introduce himself to the coming group, Eden turned back around to the aethun woman. “I… I can’t believe it.”
“What’s so unbelievable?” the woman asked, her pained expression slowly turning into a warm smile. The soft wrinkles that adorned her face were comforting in a way that Eden wasn’t familiar with.
“He said something about a portal… You’re from another dimension, aren’t you?”
She chuckled. “Something like that. Do you know of the Elemental Planes?”
“Uh… Vaguely? I just know one of my new friends is from there.”
“I see. Well, there are four of them. They’re like your world, only each dominated by one of the four essential elements. Water, air, fire, and earth. I came from the Plane of Water. It’s like one massive sea we all live in, that stretches all the way down to the center of the earth, and up to the furthest skies. And it’s where I’ve lived since I was a little girl.”
“And… the Element rules it? The god that man worships?”
“And I as well,” Petrichor confirmed.
“So he’s the voice I hear in my dreams? And when I was running here?”
“Probably, yes. Don’t let it go to your head, but I was sent here by him, for you.”
Eden’s face displayed something between excitement and trepidation. “Do you know what he wants with me?”
“Not exactly. All I know is that his power rests in you. And as someone who has basked in his waters for a very long time, I can teach you how to connect to that power.”
The young man eyed the vernal pool, begging it to glow with the same power it had when Petrichor arrived. “Can we start now?”
The woman laughed again, moving both of her hands to Eden’s shoulders. “Not quite yet, Eden. You’ll need to introduce me first, right?”
Away from the young sorcerer, the grotto was quickly growing crowded as the rest of the Vagabonders arrived. Abel, Elias, and Kishori hadn’t the speed nor the ability to rush ahead, so they walked slower through the denser sections of forest, until they met up with their benefactor, who cut a path for them. Wren Doomas, for his part, was all too familiar with the ways in which nature condensed itself around places of overlap. While he was eager to catch up to the others, he also refused to let down his guard for anything. There were no abnormal flora or fauna, as it turned out, everything was just… thicker, and livelier. But the commotion did intrigue him.
When they came upon the clearing, Pax was in the middle of eyeing the bloody shoulder of a muscular drakun. He stood two heads higher than the young human, and seemed like he didn’t want the help, but it was certainly unlike Pax to let that stop him.
“Yo,” Wren said, immediately attracting the ire of the drakun. “Hope my kids here didn’t rough you up unnecessarily.”
Jarvarax gave the man a strange look up and down. “These are all your kids? Many different eye colors.”
“No, just a turn of phrase. They’re young, I’m old, they’re all pains in my ass. You get it.”
“Ah, sure. So what, they are mercenaries? And you pay them?”
Wren shrugged. “Sure, something like that.”
“And…” Jarvarax furrowed his thick brow. “Are you taking recruits?”
Wren was visibly shocked. “You’re looking for employment? You don’t so much as have our names.”
“I was sent to this portal for a reason, and it seems unlikely that my gods would send me to seek justice against one of their own supplicants.” When the drakun glanced at the water aethun woman, Wren followed his gaze to take the quickest possible look at her, and the way Eden seemed to be in awe of her. “But you all are here. So I see no other reason that I should be sent to a locked doorway than to make peace with the ones who were locked out with me.”
The slayer tilted his head to look at the vernal pool. “I see. And she came through?”
“She did. I mistakenly thought she was my target.”
“Got it… Well, I’m not gonna turn you away. But you should know, I’m of the mind to sacrifice better pay for better morals.”
The drakun laughed heartily. “Coin is no matter to me. I hardly touched any until I was fully grown.”
“Well, you’ll fit right in then. We’ll talk about your capabilities soon, but in the meantime, I’m Wren. Wren Doomas.”
“Kraaldiashkmuumuk Jarvarax,” Jarvarax said.
“Kraaldiashkmuumuk Jarvarax…” Wren muttered, before clearing his throat and speaking in fluent Draconic. “This is an interesting name, brother. Both of chroma and of metal. It is beautiful.”
Jarvarax’s snout curled into a smile like a panting animal, and he clapped Wren heavily on the shoulder. “Thank you, honored friend. My mother was white of scale, and my father was silver of. Their name is a treasure to me. I have never met a human who spoke the Mother’s words as clearly as you. Where did you learn?”
“I was not actually taught by your kind, but by a lizard cyrani, an honored friend. I had many dealings with your ancestral parents in a past life, additionally.”
“Not an actual past life, I assume,” Jarvarax joked, laughing heartily. “Well, this is a good surprise. It has been some time since I spoke to someone other than myself in Draconic. I look forward to speaking to you more, Wren Doomas.”
“As do I, Jarvarax,” Wren said with a smile. He shook the drakun’s hand, and placed his hand on the tall man’s shoulder, locking them in a traditional greeting for a moment. When they departed, Wren vaguely pointed him in the direction of the rest of the party to mingle, while he himself turned to look towards Eden and the aethun.
“Wren!” Eden called. “This is her! The woman I smelled!”
“Never say that again,” Seneca laughed as she approached to talk with Jarvarax.
“Sorry. Wren, this is Petrichor. She was sent here to meet us. Or me, at least.”
Wren took a longer moment to look the woman up and down without calling attention to his doing so. He hadn’t met many aethus in his day, but knew they tended to live about as long as humans did; Petrichor appeared to be about his age, somewhere in her late middle years. She held tight to an ornate trident, clearly made both for function and decorum. There was a general glow about her, some fading energy from the pool she had emerged from.
The man held out his hand to shake, which Petrichor took. “I’m Wren Doomas. Honor to meet you, ma’am. Not every day a portal opens within a mile of you, even weirder when it happens twice in a week.”
“So I’ve heard,” she said. “Is this person around?”
“Had to send her somewhere else, broke her wing on the way in, she’s on her way to get that fixed.”
“I see… She came from Air, then?”
For just a moment, Wren considered telling the woman of Mars’ pilgrimage to the Plane of Water. “Yes. Truthfully, things have been pretty hectic the last few days. Would you believe me if I said I only had two of these kids last week?”
Petrichor smiled good-naturedly. “Sounds about right. Waters are calm until they aren’t, right?”
“Don’t I know it,” Wren nodded. “So. I don’t mean to get down to business too quickly, but I understand you’re here to… guide Eden?”
“On the command of the Element, yes.”
As Eden looked back and forth between the older two people, he was suddenly unnerved as Wren’s face screwed up. “Huh, no shit? Interesting. You feel like a god’s kid, kid?”
“Uh… Not really.”
“Well, don’t let it go to your head,” Wren said with a wry grin, before turning back to the aethun. “So this was an intentional journey for you?”
“Intentional, yes. But only in that I was given a vision of a portal several weeks ago, and the name Eden to follow, and made the journey as soon as I was given the divine word. I know not of exactly why I was sent in particular.”
“Ah.” Wren traced the line of his brow with his forefinger and thumb, and looked around the grotto at all of the recent additions. On the other side of the pool, Jarvarax mingled with the Vagabonders, all of whom he towered over. Seneca was showing off the few Draconic words she knew, seemingly having much less success at impressing people than the drakun himself did in summoning his shield and striking hammer. As the drakun laughed and smiled with the group, Wren thought he looked quite young despite his size. They all did…
“Well!” the slayer shouted out to the entire grotto, calling the Vagabonders and Petrichor to attention. “Jarvarax, Petrichor; we welcome you with open arms. As said before, I’m Wren, these are the Vagabonders. You’re both more than welcome to join us as we head south. That being said, the sun’s getting low, and I’m not particularly keen on sticking around in this forest. So we’re heading out. Once we get back to the wagon, we’ll set up camp, and continue south in the morning.”
Jarvarax looked around him at the smaller, frailer people. “And you are sure everyone here can make it back through the woods? They do not seem nearly so tough.”
Wren huffed, grinned, and unsheathed his gladii. “They’ll have to. It’ll be far from the hardest thing we’re gonna run head-first into. Everyone with slashing weapons, take ‘em out! If you can’t get above the bramble, stick close to everyone else. We move as a group, alright? Alright.”
Without question, the growing party all circled around each other. Seneca scrambled up into a tree to take point in the canopy as she had before, while Elias stood beside Wren as the sharp point of their little phalanx. The new additions each took a side to rebuff the now encroaching plants with their longer weapons and sturdier bodies, while the three casters huddled up in the center, allowing themselves to be pushed by the party to safety.
As he set about getting his children to safety, Wren shared a glance with each of them, including the new recruits. Already, his little adventuring party was larger than his first sorry attempt, all those years ago. He was just like them, with hopeful eyes and muscles not perfectly attuned to the job at hand. There were nine of them just in that forest, with two now many miles away, and even more promised in the future. A proper company. Still in need of honing, and of purpose. But with each new friend, the thing felt more sure. He felt an unfamiliar confidence enter his lungs, and he could tell they felt it too.
Wren set his brow as he worked. They were his purpose, and his hope. And they were the world’s hope, too.
He would guide and protect them with his life.