Spring teased its arrival. Birds chirped in the bare trees and the earliest flowers had already begun peeking up through the snow. Cailen breathed deep, something about the transition of winter to spring in Northern Averlund always left him feeling as though everything was right in the world. Honey, an aging draft horse, plodded through snow and mud, undeterred by the unpleasant road conditions.
As they moved along at a leisurely pace, Cailen couldn't help but wonder about the small wyrm that he had seen passing overhead earlier. It was marked with painted red wingtips meaning it belonged to the Second Order. He guessed it was preemptive orders for him to ride to Red Briar Manor to stand before the judgment of the Grandmaster. Cailen dreaded that moment, he had heard that Grandmaster Borel was a real bastard. He'd also heard that Borel would look for any reason to run an initiate out of the Order.
The pair crested a hill overlooking the lake. He could see the fortress from here, the many-colored banners darting to and fro on the wind. Its low, decrepit walls would surely make it useless in an actual siege, but to Cailen and his fellow initiates it was home. A cramped, leaky, and drafty home, but home nonetheless. Even the main keep was a mere shadow of its former glory, the uppermost floors having fallen off and crashed through the eastern wall.
Cailen remembered the day he had arrived here, bound in cloth ropes, to be punished for theft. He could only remember a few hard, painful summers before that day. His punishment was to last ten years. It was only three summers ago that he was made to choose to continue training as a Sentinel or to go back to Garren's Rest to forge his own path. Cailen smiled, he hadn't regretted a moment of his decision, he was suited to this.
Urging Honey into a gallop, Cailen embraced the rush of cold air as the pair thundered down the slope of the hill. They crossed the flats at a dead run, Honey's powerful legs pumped as fast as she could will them. Whooping with joy Cailen stretched out in the saddle accepting the beating of the wind as air rushed around him. As they neared the walls, the gates opened. Eamon greeted him at the gate, the same worn-out scowl plastered to his face seemed a little deeper than usual.
"Going to have to put your celebration on hold, Cailen" Eamon called, his tone blunt. "Word came in ahead of you, don't bother unpacking your kit. Replenish your rations and water, you're heading to Red Briar tonight."
"What?" Cailen asked, more forcefully than he had intended. Cailen was dejected at the thought of being rushed right back out onto the roads. Looking around for some kind of support or even a clue, Cailen noticed that the gathered initiates and mentors were in various stages of packing their equipment and supplies.
"Yeah, messenger wyrm, and a rider came in just before you. The good news is, you won't have to assemble an honor guard, you get to ride out, alone, as a sentinel should. The bad news is that we're leaving. We've been called to shore up defenses around the Emberfen marshes and Duriban's Watch. The rider came from there, said it's bad. If it wasn't for the treaty he carried I'd have told him to kick rocks," Eamon explained, irritation evident in his voice.
"I still don't quite understand. What's happened?" asked Cailen.
"Orcs, Cailen, they've made a move," he said, turning and walking back inside the gate. He held onto Honey's halter and led her inside.
"They must have found some Second Era armory or something, they have heavy armor now. Oh and apparently they brought friends to pit against the walls at Duriban. Damn things only come out at night and the Orcs make themselves scarce," Eamon explained as he tied the leader off to a hitch just inside the gate.
"Orcs? Friends? Wait, Master Eamon, you're not making sense," Cailen said as he lowered himself from the saddle.
"Yeah, they've also made the effort of going through the mountains on the game trails," Eamon said, staring off towards the east.
"Good job out there though, Bella has already taken the liberty of telling me. Six bandits and a griffin, impressive," Eamon said, patting Cailen on the shoulder.
"Oh yeah, do me a favor and take that wyrm with you. The damned thing got hurt on its way here, probably a hungry roc. Either way, no one will be here to feed it. We healed it, it can fly, but it needs some time before going long-distance again," With that Eamon simply walked away. A clear indication that he wouldn't be entertaining any questions.
"Hey there," came a familiar voice from behind. The voice belonged to a fiery red-headed woman named Bella Atalyn.
"Thought you'd be off before seeing me?" she asked in a forced soprano, mimicking hurt feelings.
"Bella, I thought you'd be happy to see me leave," Cailen jabbed back. The two had never really gotten along. The fiery red-haired woman was his age but constantly reminded him that while he was an initiate, she was, in fact, a titled member of the Third Order.
For a moment Cailen could have sworn that he had seen the unflappable Bella Atalyn wince. Had he hurt her with that?
"Aye, I am! Glad to be done with you. you're an awful student, you know?" She said, huffing. "Though, truth be told, Cailen, I'm glad your trials are over. I might even miss you on this march," she said, suddenly growing serious.
"Cailen," she paused, searching for the words, "Stay alive out there, at least long enough to meet us at Duriban."
Without another word, she wrapped him in a tight hug. Cailen, thoroughly confused, could only hug her back. He couldn't help but notice the faint scent of hibiscus in that embrace. She pushed Cailen back to arm's length and took a long look at him, as though to commit his face to memory. With a hand lingering on his shoulder she walked past him and away towards the keep.
He could only watch her go, confused. He quickly recovered his wit and shook his head, unsure of what to make of that. They'd never shared a meal, nor spent more time than necessary together. Putting the incident out of his mind he set about preparing to leave once again.
Cailen packed his saddlebags while Honey ate and rested before they began their journey. "You know, old girl, you'll be retiring soon and I'll be without a mount."
As if the aging draft horse somehow understood, she gave a soft whiney as she shook her head.
"Don't argue with me, Honey. I can't forever ride you, and you'd stand out amongst any cavalry I may be called upon to ride beside. Besides, while I haven't wanted to point this out, dear girl, you're...you're slowing," Cailen teased the horse.
In response, Honey pawed the ground and snorted, the gritty chewing of oats resuming as she turned her head away from Cailen.
"Yeah, well, we'll be leaving soon so finish eating," he said, patting the horse on her flanks.
Cailen did a final check of his saddlebags and kit. Everything seemed to be in order and in place. He only had to go retrieve the wyrm. Crossing the yard, Cailen shared a few courtesies with Initiates and mentors alike. No one had time for anything resembling a real conversation. After a number of well wishes and congratulations, he approached the wyrm enclosure.
The enclosure was a portion of the fortress that lacked a proper roof. In place of a solid roof was netting stretched over the opening. Resting on an arrangement of driftwood set out as perches was the wyrm. While not much larger than a good mouser tom, the pseudo-dragon was of one of the larger working breeds. Breeds like this one were typically very intelligent and useful for carrying small loads long distances. Cailen could see the intelligence burning in its eyes as he approached. He'd once been instructed on how to handle wyrms, though he couldn't remember exactly when. He stopped as it lifted its head, webbed spines spreading open on the back of its head in warning. Cailen spread his arms in an open position, indicating to the wyrm that he had no hostile intentions. After a brief inspection, it chirped at him, regarding him curiously.
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"If you've nowhere else to be, will you travel with me?" Cailen asked, wincing at the incidental rhyme.
Cocking its head, the wyrm chirped twice in rapid succession and stretched its wings. It had agreed, to a point. Cailen understood, knowing that wyrms only tolerated handling and being used as messengers because they stood to gain from it. He figured the creature would follow at a distance until the camp was set, which was agreeable to Cailen.
Making his way back to Honey, Cailen could see that the preparations were nearing completion. The mass of the initiates and their mentors forming up into a column. Standing before the gate was Eamon, Bella stood at his side waving her hands in spellcasting. Cailen couldn't help but be both impressed and amused. No two initiates had the same armor, but they still looked disciplined and fierce.
"We're to set out for Firefern Gate in Duriban, we'll be joining with Averlund Regulars and King's Guard on the road to the Gate. We're going to war, initiates. If you survive the coming weeks, consider yourself a Sentinel," Eamon stated. Silence filled the bailey as he let his words sink in.
"This is your last chance, if you step out now, none will judge you harshly, but you will give up your place amongst the Sentinels. We have been called, we are bound by honor and creed to answer. We must keep the orcs from pillaging our lands," another pause as Eamon surveyed the crowd.
Seeing that no one moved to step out of formation he continued. "Good! We head north to Ferin's Landing where we will embark boats to cross the lake."
Eamon had never been one to draw out speeches to hear himself talk. The man was straight to the point. Cailen respected that, a leader that didn't lord his power over his subordinates by forcing them to stand while he rambled away. Barked commands to move out were the last words Cailen would hear Eamon speak as the column started off as one.
Cailen rode out into the afternoon sun which had already begun to dip low in the sky as winter held its stubborn grasp a few days longer. His spirits were still high, even if his pride had been wounded when he was curtly informed the traditional celebration was canceled. Making it to the road, he paused a moment, looking off to the north where his friends and only family had marched to. Already they seemed small and far away. He turned Honey onto the south road. The road stretched away before him, choked with slowly melting snow and mud, it also promised to be most unpleasant.
At the crest of the first hill, Cailen stopped the old plow horse and sat high in his saddle. He slowly followed the muddy and snowdrift laden road back with his eyes. Gazing upon the front gate as it stood ajar made the young initiate anxious. Was it the training, maybe the thrashing he had taken for not securing it correctly one night while on watch? No, Cailen, knew somehow that if he were to ever look upon the pitiful fortress again it would be to bring about cataclysm to whatever inhabited it then. Cailen couldn't precisely explain why he felt this, or how he knew it to be fact, but it still troubled him. Short, crumbling walls and a drafty keep aside, that was his home. He had grown up there, trained endlessly with those that now marched in the opposite direction to what he understood was a losing battle. The cry of the pseudo-dragon broke him from his daydream as it swooped past. The wyrm urged him on his journey.
As Cailen rode on, the sun sank lower and Cailen could feel the beating of Honey's heavily shod hooves against the dirt. Honey, despite her breed, was accustomed to hard rides and continued to push herself. Cailen had excelled at mounted combat in his training. The Order had long-standing agreements that allowed them to call upon nearly any resource of the realm of Averlund to train new Sentinels. The result was Cailen spending many seasons with both the Knights of Dawns Redoubt and the Elves of Ellanashara. Years in the saddle had forged Cailen into a master rider. He knew all too well the consequences of pushing a horse too hard. They had pressed a brisk pace for nearly two hours without pause. Despite having spells and tinctures he could apply to Honey, it would still sorely tax her health. Prudence overruled urgency in this matter, at least this evening. Cailen brought the horse to a full stop as the sun dipped behind the canopy of the forest ahead of him.
The old-growth of Gloamridge Forest was, in Cailen's estimation, far too close for comfort, he'd need a much better campsite than the small rises and dips along the road. Gnolls and goblinkin were thick about the forest, especially on the eastern edge where the lack of organized guards made foresters and miners easy prey.
Using the last of the light of the day Cailen had left the road and found a rocky knoll that housed a somewhat thicker copse of trees than the surrounding brush. The knoll would provide a much more sheltered location to set up camp than the roadside. Cailen dismounted and guided his horse around the sparse trees and undergrowth. On the opposite side of the knoll was a mammoth boulder jutting forth from the gentle slope. How had he missed it from the road, he wondered.
This stone was nearly the size of the gatehouse of the fortress and it appeared to have been violently upturned at some point long ago as its position seemed unnatural. At one side of the large stone were a trough and bowl as though the great stone had landed here with great force. The stone even seemed to reach back for the sky, as if to point in the direction it had traveled from. In Cailen's experience, it seemed as good a place to set up camp as he would find with the dwindling light of day, especially with the Gloamridge so close.
Quickly Cailen set about making camp, focusing on gathering wood for his fire. He had learned at an early age that gathering wood in the dark of night held significantly more perils than attempting to assemble a tent. It had taken the bite of a particularly rare and venomous spider to teach him that lesson. Eamon had imparted his own wisdom that one should not stumble about in the darkness not out of fear, but pragmatism.
The messenger wyrm had been circling above for some time, but now descended. Cailen had wondered if it would come down and grace him with its presence, or if it would seek another place to land for the night. It alighted on the limb of one of the larger trees and began preening, picking at a specific spot where scales appeared freshly regrown.
"Stop that, you'll only make it worse," Cailen said, searching through his bag for the dried fish he'd packed for the tiny dragon. In response, it turned and hissed at him before continuing to pick at its wound.
"Oh bother with that, and I suppose you'll want to be fed as well, yes?" Cailen asked with a sly grin as he pulled out a small bundle of the fish.
In response, the wyrm looked at him in a way that Cailen would have sworn it had a sour expression on its face. "That's alright, I'm sure you weren't that hungry. You've only been drifting and darting about all afternoon, nothing strenuous for such a noble being as yourself."
With that the wyrm squawked at him, clearly trying to get Cailen to part with the dried fish in his hand, "Oh, you can understand me!" Cailen gasped in mock surprise. Figuring the game was up Cailen set the fish down on a small stone beside some of his gear. The thing attacked the fish nearly frantic as if it hadn't eaten in ages.
With his wood gathered he pulled a small hand shovel from his saddle pack and frantically worked to dig a deep hole which would hide any trace of the light of the flames while still providing him heat to combat the night's frigid bite. Nearly finished setting in camp, Cailen made use of a few of the trees in the area, as well as the massive stone itself. He began stringing up a few of the thick canvas sheets he had been hoarding, forming them together into a wall across the entire area beneath the stone. It was difficult to work in the near darkness, but he would at least be able to trap most of the heat in his shelter and even manage to fit his horse beneath the wedge of the massive boulder.
The last glow of twilight began to fade as Cailen laid out his bed over a thick, and well checked, patch of dried grasses. Now was the time that Cailen would set about casting some minor alarm traps in the area. Small tin bells held the enchantment, cheap and easy to imbue he didn't think twice of simply tossing them into the brush. The spell on them would detect any creature larger than a cat.
Despite himself, and his weeks-long forays into the wilds of Averlund he couldn't help but feel truly alone, cast adrift in the world as everything he knew changed around him. His entire past, home, and friends all uprooted in an instant. He wondered if anything in this life could ever truly be permanent. Once again this day, the wyrm's squawking pulled him from his contemplations.
Cailen chided himself at despairing about his loneliness, he was to become a Sentinel of the Second Order, it was his place to be alone. He stood apart from average men. He was to roam the wilds, as is the fate of the Sentinels, searching for those with malice and contempt in their hearts. Cailen knew he was to be the blade of righteousness bringing justice to a wild, lawless expanse. He knew this in his heart and yet, he could not fill the sudden empty void.
After a meal of warm porridge Cailen stoked his small fire to ensure it would last at least until he slipped into unconsciousness. Not quite ready to lay down for the night he brushed down Honey's coat and her warm tawny brown hide reminded him of the day he'd met Honey. Cailen had been the elder boy when Honey arrived at the fortress as a young mare ten years ago. Cailen had just passed his tenth summer and it was decided that he'd be the one to groom and care for Honey, the summer after he was taught to ride her.
Just last summer, Honey had begun to show her age. She had slowed when pulling the plow and had required more rest while pulling the cart to and from Highcliff. Her muzzle had even started to grey. Cailen worried for her, she didn't have many good years left. He had to worry about what the fate of his horse would be if he were called up to join militia cavalry.
"Honey," Cailen started, breaking the silence. "You've been a good friend these years."
Cailen wasn't even sure why he had said that, except he felt that he needed to, that this may be the only chance he would have. He was still haunted by the sentiment as he drifted off, covered in his thick bedroll.