Over the next ten days, the band marched south toward Ceralahn city. Alden had never been far from home, and the sights took his breath away.
A couple of days after the corrupted forest, the band encountered the singing rosewood trees. Each of the trees stood a thousand feet tall, and their wood was a deep red-brown. The Sacram tribe used this rosewood to make shafts for their weapons.
Instead of leaves, the singing rosewoods grew clusters of varicolored crystals. After a few hours of rapid growth, a crystal would drop from the branches and plummet to the earth below. When the crystals struck the stony ground under the trees, their shattering made a beautiful tinkling noise. Each color of crystal rang in a unique key, and the continuous tinkling of falling crystal leaves sounded like music.
The hunters and their mounts walked for hours beneath the singing rosewoods as they carefully dodged the falling crystals. The kinvalo flinched every time a crystal sang, but the birds obeyed their riders.
Jincra scooped up a few broken crystals and dropped them into his bag to study.
A few day later, the band discovered a massive confluence of rivers which met at a tiered series of sheer cliffs. Each river smashed into the next and flowed over the cliffs, and the mingling waters formed island pockets along the stone lip. The band spent two days walking through the heavy mist, hopping from island to island along miles of waterfalls.
Thick plants and trees covered the islands, and the perpetual mist filling the air turned them into a chain of rainforests full of vibrant and colorful life. A herd of kinvalo galloped across the islands one cliff tier down, and the hunters’ mounts called out joyously to their wild kin.
After hours of strolling through the misty forests and gawking at the unfamiliar sights, Alden slid open his spirit menu to check his stats.
Strength 130 > 135 Agility 100 > 105 Endurance 156 > 180 Mind 210 > 274 Spirit 253 > 301 Luck 75 > 77
My stats are growing like weeds! These ruthless battles are good for something, at least.
He’d also gained four more skill points, though no new skill trees or abilities had appeared.
“Is everyone seeing the same explosive growth in their stats?” Alden asked.
“Indeed, I am,” Jincra replied. “My Endurance has grown at an astounding rate.”
“That’s because you’ve taken a few beatings,” Braden snickered. “I bet you’d level up if you just hold still and let the next monster stomp on you a few times.”
Alden cleared his throat. “Did everyone unlock the Scourgebane tree?”
Jincra, Braden, and Lalaine nodded.
“I’ve had mine since the petal snake fight,” Grath rumbled.
“Make sure you unlock the first ability,” Alden told his band. “Call it out if you unlock a second ability, and the rest of us can try to emulate how you did it. I’ve got a feeling we all need to get that tree fleshed out as fast as possible.”
On the third day of traveling through the waterfall forest, the hunters spotted white hills moving down below the cliffs they were riding along. Enormous waterfalls plunged over the cliff and fell hundreds of feet into pools below, formed rivers, and continued on through the misty forest. The moving hills were patches of thick fog drifting back and forth through the forest and the water, but they seemed to move with purpose.
Alden reined up short to inspect the bizarre sight. “Grath, what are those hills?”
Grath looked down and laughed. “Your Chief Elder Sorl warned me about these hills. You wouldn’t know them, but your ancestors would.” The Aibeck called a halt and everyone stopped to watch the moving fogbanks. “Tether your mounts to mine,” Grath said, “and go see what they are. I will only give you one clue: Do not harm any creature you see.”
Puzzled, the youths did as they were told. The four young hunters dismounted and carefully descended the damp cliffs to the marshy forest hundreds of feet below.
Alden’s body tingled with nervous energy as he led his band toward the nearest moving hill of fog. His steps were silent under the roar of the falls. Cool mist kissed his skin, and the moisture grew into thick beads on his flesh as they drew nearer to the mysterious moving fog.
At last, the four young hunters reached the edge of the fog curtain and stepped into it.
“Keep together,” Alden hissed. “This fog will separate us.”
His band did as he commanded and drew close.
After walking for several tense breaths, Lalaine hissed in surprise. “Look ahead, and upward,” the huntress whispered.
The band did as she said and stopped to stare in wonder.
A tree trunk as thick as a Sacram house stood before them. The trunk rose out of sight a hundred feet above their heads, where the fog spilled down from a dark mass high overhead.
“A tree that makes fog?” Braden asked aloud. The thick mist muted his voice.
Alden motioned toward the tree. “Come on,” he called to his friends.
The four hunters approached the tree trunk with wary steps. Alden stretched out his hand and ran his fingertips over the bark. The warm, leathery texture surprised him.
A thunderous splash sounded from nearby. The four youths jumped at the sudden sound, but the origin was impossible to tell through the dense fog.
The leathery trunk shifted under Alden’s hand.
“Follow me,” Alden said. He leaped up and grabbed a natural bulging handhold several feet over his head. Many such knotted growths dotted the trunk. Again, the bark felt leathery and strangely warm against his palm. The young leader started to climb, and his band climbed with him.
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As they drew closer to the large, dark mass overhead, Alden noticed a rhythmic movement in the mysterious bulk. It expanded, then contracted. The fog spilled out with each contraction.
“It’s almost like… breathing,” Alden whispered to himself.
The hunters reached the top of the trunk, which widened as it merged with the edge of the dark, broad mass. Alden climbed onto the gently rounded platform and helped his friends up one by one. When Alden turned, he found himself looking at an evergreen forest. Pointed green treetops disappeared into more of the fog cloud up above.
Thick fog flowed outward from the forest. The leathery ground beneath Alden’s feet expanded, and the fog stopped. Several seconds later, the ground constricted again, and fog billowed out from between the trees.
Lalaine breathed a prayer. “Swollen Mother, protect us from the dark places of the world.” The blonde huntress tapped the center of her forehead twice with her right middle finger.
With a gasp, Jincra grabbed hold of the shoulder strap of Alden’s breastplate. “I believe I know what this is!” The Guardian released his cousin and strode forward into the trees. His long black ponytail swayed as he walked through the mist.
After a moment’s hesitation, Lalaine followed Jincra.
Alden and Braden followed the huntress.
The crew wove their way through the dense trees. Sweet evergreen needles mixed with the pure mist to create a soothing aroma. The fog muted all sound. Warmth seeped through the soles of Alden’s hide boots as the ground beneath them rose and fell.
After creeping several hundred feet, Jincra stopped abruptly. “I knew it,” Alden heard his cousin say.
An eerie orange glow suffused a clearing in the forest just ahead of Jincra. Orange light pushed feebly through the thick fog and raised the hackles on the back of Alden’s neck. He crept up beside his cousin and peeked over his shoulder. What Alden saw made his breath catch in his throat.
The clearing was full of short, sweet-smelling grass and patches of glowing flowers. The flowers had long red petals, and their centers held burning orange embers which crackled in the mist. Charcoal gray lizard beasts roamed through the flowerbeds on folded front wings and stubby hind legs.
Wyverns! thought Alden.
Each wyvern was twice as tall as a man and had a long pointy snout and long ears. One beast was using its snout to snag burning flowers without the embers touching the rest of its face. The winged creature swallowed the ember flower and turned away in search of more, exposing a patch of thick, light gray wool on its back.
Lalaine gasped in surprise.
Jincra chuckled. “You recognize them, Lalaine? You comprehend where we are?”
The huntress nodded. “We’re on a mistwalker. Each carries an evergreen forest on its back full of burning flowers, where the woolly wyverns feed. My mother told me stories about the woolly wyverns. This is where the ribbon wool comes from.”
Braden raised an eyebrow and frowned. “Lalaine, I know for a fact your ribbon is made of puklo wool. I saw you weaving it.”
“You’re not supposed to spy on women’s rituals, Braden!”
The Trickster’s blond curls bounced against his shoulders as he shrugged at his twin’s scolding. “You were being all secretive. Usually that means you found something cute. Besides, I’d been running out of things to tease you about.”
“Of all the...” Lalaine sighed. “Yes, Braden, my ribbon is made of puklo wool. All the women of Sacram have to make their ribbons from puklo wool now, because we haven’t had any female hunter teams in so long. Our great-grandmothers used to gather wool from these wyverns to make ribbons. Mother told me the wool was especially strong so you could weave all of your love into it, and the man you tied it around could never escape. Puklo wool is weaker and doesn’t hold as much love, so we need to remake the ribbons much more often when they wear out and lose their color. To protect our husbands, and to keep you men from wandering, too.”
The three boys shifted uncomfortably.
Braden said, “I guess all women use magical tricks, even the ones with no spirit blessing.”
“Right,” Lalaine said. “Remember that next time you spy on me.”
Alden gestured at the wyverns. “Should we gather some wool while we’re here?”
Lalaine shook her head sternly. “It requires a team of exactly four huntresses to carry out the ritual. That’s why Felka wasn’t allowed to gather wyvern wool for her wedding ribbon. Only women can harvest the wool from these wyverns, and we don’t have the right trapping tools. It’s forbidden to harm the wyverns. If you hurt the wyvern you take wool from, the wool will poison your marriage, and you’ll be barren.”
“Women have a lot of secrets,” Alden said.
“We have to,” Lalaine said. “Women have to use all our tricks to keep everyone together. We run the family.”
Braden snorted laughter.
Lalaine scowled and elbowed him in the ribs.
“Legend tells us,” Jincra said, “mistwalkers are the only creatures who can resist the Scourge. They devour it and cleanse the land. Their fog has purifying benefits, also. This misty forest should be safe from corruption, and the rivers flowing from here will help purify any Scourged land they run through.”
“Can the water purify other lands?” Alden asked.
“Sacram villagers two generations ago must have made trips back and forth to carry water and cleanse the land around our village,” said Jincra. “Natural sunlight would have taken too long to purify such dense Scourge.”
After watching the wyverns for a few more moments, Alden spoke. His voice was somber and held a hint of sadness. “This is another piece of ancient life the Scourge took from us. For our great-grandmothers, this ritual was crucial and expected. Now our mothers tell sad stories to their daughters, lamenting a ritual they only half remember, and which we didn’t even recognize at first when we saw the moving hills of fog. How many of our traditions do we not even remember losing to the darkness?”
“How much more will we lose if the Scourge overtakes us again?” Braden asked.
Alden contemplated the question in the ensuing silence.
When they were ready, the band walked back through the forest and made their way down the mistwalker’s leg. One by one the hunters leaped off into the water to avoid being kicked or stepped on. The four picked their way carefully back up the cliffs to where Grath waited with the kinvalo.
The hunting band traveled another day through the waterfall forest to a place with hard earth and towering rock clusters. Huge stone mushrooms rose hundreds of feet into the air and expanded outward to create wide platforms in the sky.
Jincra studied the rock formations overhead with studious interest. “Each of these rock towers could bear several homes,” he declared. He pointed at the largest stone platform rising about a half mile away. “I estimate that stone structure in particular is large enough to hold the entire village of Sacram on its top.”
Glowing pools of light floated between the enormous mushrooms. Spirits leaped from pool to pool. Each spirit took the vague form of some animal—sometimes a fish, but at other times a fox or bird. Splashes of light greeted each spirit’s entry into its new pool, but the spirits played in total silence.
The hunters laughed to see these wild spirits at play. Lalaine in particular seemed delighted, with a sparkle in her eye and a grin plastered across her usually stoic face, until Braden teased her.
“They’re awfully cute, don’t you think, Lala?”
The blonde huntress blushed and glared at her brother. “I’m a huntress, Braden. I don’t have time for cute things.” She huffed and turned her attention back to keeping sharp watch on her side of the group.
A few moments later, when Braden turned away, Alden caught Lalaine once more sighing contentedly at the frolicking spirits.
After two weeks of traveling, the hunting band stood atop a final hill looking down upon Ceralahn City.
“There it is,” Alden breathed.
“Have you ever seen it before?” asked Braden.
“None of us have,” said Jincra, “but this city is unmistakable.”
Ceralahn City lay snuggled up against a mountain. A massive stone wall formed a crescent around one-third of the mountain’s base, and even from a mile away the wall towered over the grassy plains below.
Inside the wall stood hundreds of strange buildings. Where the Sacram tribe used rib bones, Ceralahn City was handcrafted from dark wood. The buildings had red clay rooftops with upward-curving eaves. Wooden pillars and exposed crossbeams predominated, all polished till they gleamed. Crystals from the singing trees adorned the walls and doors of every building and sparkled in the sunlight.
The five hunters rode down the hill and onto a dirt road which stretched south to the city.