Chapter 8

Picnic

It was a lovely morning. About the best one could hope for. What little clouds there were in the sky seemed to avoid the sun at all costs. The air was cool and crisp, with what felt like a perpetual breeze blowing through Riverden. It was so lovely, in fact, that once Arethor arrived back at his tavern, he requested Hemm take the reins for the day. His trusty friend always loved the opportunity, and agreed happily.

Making a stop by the market, he spent a good half hour looking through the different flowers and plants that merchants had to offer. Tolo wasn't so simple a girl that she favored roses or lilies. As the two had an appreciation for the natural fauna that grew in their very forests. The most abundant of such being fern.

Tolo had always spoken of wanting to move east to Fernwrath, where the plants seem to be in every which direction, even in the village itself. Hanging from store fronts, or the balconies of homes. Only, the Elder despising Distantints made that rather difficult.

But there are many different types of fern, and Tolo was equally entranced by them all. It didn't take long to find just the right fern plant, which he hastily bought. Holding it over his head, he made his way back to Tolo's house where she'd planned on spending her first day of retirement.

"Oh, my, Arethor." She looked at the fern, and then the dozen or so identical ones she had around her home, and smiled. "How'd you know?" Tolo teased, before hugging Arethor tightly.

"Just a hunch. I was thinking we could go for a picnic? I got the perfect spot." asked Arethor with a smile. Tolo's eyes seemed to light up at the idea.

"And I've got the perfect quilt. Just give me a moment! Wait, in fact, gather what you must and meet at the gates. Alright?" She seemed like a child again, jittery and eager. It was cute. Arethor agreed, and the two separated once again to prepare. He already had some of the food prepared, and gathered it all into a basket. Admittedly, most of it had been made by Hemm, who was less than stellar to be doing so while maintaining the tavern. But he was a good chap as always, and did as asked.

"Whatcha up to, Arethor?" Amber asked as she stumbled down the stairs drearily. It was rare that she was ever up before the sun was high above the city. But the Whine was unusually busy that morning, some of his usuals already sitting in their claimed booth.

"If you must know, I'm going on a picnic with Tolo." He responded, trying to hold back a smile. Amber suddenly shedded away her tiredness and gasped, wide eyed.

"Oh my Gods, the forbidden love once again! Scandalous!" She said, racing down the rest of the stairs and leaping onto one of the stools. Hemm snickered from behind the bar, and without having to be asked, dropped a mug of orange juice before the young lady. She thanked him with a deep bow, and chugged the drink down almost instantly.

"Actually, she retired, as of yesterday." Arethor felt like a weight was lifted off him after saying it. It wasn't that he was embarrassed or guilty, but it was something he'd just always wanted to say. And finally, it had become a reality.

"Hold on. Wait." The gears in Amber's head seemed to finally be turning. "Have you heard back from Otis, about the Mission?" She finished, suddenly more concerned about it than she had been the day before.

"No, I haven't seen him. You might need to go find him yourself." Arethor shrugged, knowing damn well what he was doing. The young elf's mouth fell open, and words seemed to elude her.

"But…"

"Seriously, you need to figure it out yourself. I did the hard part for you, sis." Arethor finished placing everything inside the basket, and covered it with a cloth. He didn't love hanging his sister out to dry, but he knew she was capable of finding Otis if she really wanted. She had nothing else to do, anyways.

"Fine. But it's your fault if I get killed. Or something." Amber pouted, twisting away from her brother who seemed like he couldn't care less. He reached over and kissed his sister on the head, before subsequently pushing it away playfully.

"You'll be fine. No one's killing anyone." Arethor felt a tinge of sadness when the words left his lips. It almost felt like he was making a promise he knew he couldn't keep. But his thoughts were quickly wiped away as his mind was once again tugged at by the Connection in the floor.

He tried to force himself to not look, to block out its call. But the longer he resisted, the more its cry haunted him. Like a mother calling for her lost child. Slowly, and without much thought, he reached out his hand, taking a half-witted step in its direction.

"You'll want this." Hemm suddenly said, his hand extended with a bottle of wine. The elf blinked emptilly for a moment, before turning around and accepting the bottle. He swallowed the lump that had built in his throat, and made his leave.

As he traveled directly over the spot, he felt a chill shoot through him. It reached out to him, he imagined, snagging only a few hairs as he breezed by. Something told him if he stood still just over the spot, something awful would happen.

Perhaps the whole world would swallow him up, leaving no bones, no blood. And the city would simply scratch their head at his absence. Wondering where the battered, young veteran must have gone.

Before he knew it, he was standing at the gates of the city. And of course, Tolo hadn't arrived there quite yet. He watched as merchants passed by in their carriages, livestock pinned against the walls of their cages as it jostled down the road. He could see just down the busy street, the even busier town square. Arethor imagined Otis standing guard at the steps, watching out over the crowd with revised vigor.

"Sorry, I got a bit caught up. I keep losing these damn glasses." Tolo appeared from seemingly nowhere, with a large quilt draped over her arm. The glasses now resting on her nose fit her face perfectly. That seemed to be the only word Arethor remembered when thinking of her: perfect.

"It's alright, we've still got plenty of daylight." Arethor looked up to the sky, a cloud just skimming the sun. The two spent no longer waiting, and Arethor led them along the curve of the wall until reaching the spot where Otis and him had sparred. It was still untouched, the world around it seemingly ignorant to its existence.

Setting the quilt down across the plush grass, the two laid their belongings down and got comfortable. It didn't take long for them to begin digging into their food. Arethor had eventually pulled out the wine, and two mugs he'd stashed within the basket.

"So ineloquent." Tolo joked, examining the wine poured into her mug.

"I've drunk muddy ale from a cup made of leaves. The Green War was more difficult in many ways than one." Arethor said with a grin as he poured himself a drink as well. He often bought that particular wine for the tavern, and yet it would never sell. Eventually it just became a treat for himself.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

Tolo ran her fingers through the grass, feeling the dirt and soil beneath her palms. Pushing her glasses back up the ridge of her nose once again, she turned to Arethor.

"Where were you again, when they fled?" Tolo asked gently. Arethor remembered it most vividly.

"I was standing at the top of the hill that overlooks Primrubble. We'd been backed into it by a swarm of Jorinian that had flanked us. The ash and dirt was still stirring, just the outlines of figures could be made through the thick orange light of the sunset. When suddenly, all the warcries ceased. Primrubble fell awfully quiet as the dust began to settle. And when it did, me and my men looked out over the endless sea of gray to see nothing but our own people standing tall." Arethor smiled bitterly at the memory, all the while looking into the depths of the Marrow forest as he spoke. "For a moment, we thought we'd simply killed them all. But word quickly spread that they had begun to dig down. The holes left behind seemingly collapsing upon themselves. Some think that killed them, but others believe it was all intentional. Either way, our men celebrated." He finished with a long swig of his wine.

The wastelands of Primrubble acted as the center point for most battles fought in Everdale. So it wasn't purely coincidental that their primal enemy found themselves ambushed there. As it was a necessary travel to reach the northern cities. It was there that the combined armies of Tavernkeep, Brightrock, Hyven, and Torchill all fell upon their forces.

"And to think I was just a young girl." Tolo sighed, her fingers finding Arethors and interlocking against the quilt. Their skin brushing together felt as natural as birds are to the sky. Or butterflies to flowers. Or to stomachs.

"You didn't miss much. Though I won't forgive Malar for wasting the opportunity we'd been given." Arethor remembered the singular shock that had run through the entire Oak when Malar made his announcement. That the Oak would be assisting Everdale in fighting the Green Beasts.

Most simply didn't understand, as the Jorinian avoided Tavernkeep like a rat to a flame, almost to a supernatural degree. Why waste the potential to remain detached from the conflict? Why risk exposure?

Wizards and Warlocks alike could not explain the phenomenon of why the ever growing swarms of Jorinian avoided the city and its residents. But those who attempted to intercept them were only then viciously attacked.

A man who'd traveled to Torchill, as it had been targeted by the Jorinian, returned home to tell his tale of how the Green Beasts never spared him a glance. How the tavern he'd been in was ripped to shreds, every last one of the patrons brutalized beyond recognition. But left in the center, quivering in fear and confusion, was him. Untouched.

"He was a man of morals. He knew it was the right choice. Even if we were throwing away a divine blessing." Tolo shrugged, watching as a sunbeam shifted over Arethors face. The elf squinted and looked away, rubbing his eyes.

"A good man to a fault." Arethor muttered, blinking a few times before looking to Tolo. She looked happy. Not drained like when he'd seen her in the palace. The horrible things she would see and hear. It all affected her a great deal whether she'd ever admit it or not. Though after several hundred years of service, it started to feel like nothing.

"Sounds like someone else I know." Tolo said with a grin, leaning into Arethor and kissing his cheek. You would think Arethor had never met a woman the way he grew red in the face. He felt as she rested her head on his shoulder, scooting closer to him and sliding her hands around his waist. It was the most calming feeling there was. The warmth of long awaited love.

"I hate this. I hate him." Amber mumbled as she put on her shoes, nearly falling off of her stool in the process. Hemm watched her with an amused look about him, and scoffed.

"He's just looking out for you, trust the process, I say." Hemm suggested with a shrug, before dispensing a few more drinks. The young elf sighed, crossing her arms as she watched several more patrons come barging in.

"He's your favorite, and you're not even related to us! No offense." Amber clenched her dress, noting a familiar face stepping inside the tavern. It seemed like she wouldn't have to strain herself after all.

"OTIS!" She blurted out through the rather quiet tavern. All eyes including his now laid upon her in her bright blue dress. The Oakman stopped in his tracks, then quickly made way for her. "Okay, watch this, the charm." Amber whispered over the counter just before the young human arrived. Hemm rolled his eyes and proceeded to distract himself.

"Amber, you look lovely this morning. Where is Arethor? I was just looking for him." Otis scanned the crowd, but didn't see the elf anywhere. He'd made the trek down from the palace just to find him. His sister snorted dismissively.

"Off fencing tongues with Tolo. But this works out because I need you." Said Amber as she jammed her pointer finger against his leather chestplate.

"Need me?" Otis raised a brow, seemingly unsurprised about the news of Tolo and Arethor. After all, he'd heard about her resignation just before Arethor had.

"Yes, the Mission, remember?" She tilted her head down and her eyes widened. For a moment the human lagged, blinking absently, before nodding slowly.

"Ah, yes. They are about a day's journey away, scouts say. I requested a pardon to King Orieth, whom they will be speaking with upon their arrival. I suggest you stay away when they arrive, though, just to be safe. Most likely they'll find your reasoning acceptable, but it isn't entirely up to the king, as the Mission works outside any jurisdiction. What they choose to do with their members, and their runaways, is entirely up to them." Otis seemed unworried, which somewhat put the elf at ease. But not entirely.

"I don't care much for settling on 'most likely'." Amber pouted, as she often did. But Otis had grown up with her, and had learned when she was really upset she simply stopped talking. It was clear right then, she only wanted some assurance.

"I'm not going to let them take you, Amber. I'll lose my sigil before I let that happen." The Oakman rested his hand on the sigil branded into his armor, just at the breast. Its simple design was not feared by all, but unquestionably recognized. Amber stopped for a moment, looking at the red headed young man and smiled. She was nearly a hundred years older than him.

"Thank you, Otis. Now might I ask why you sought Arethor? Perhaps I can relay a message." Amber sat up straight, realizing in her distraught that she'd begun to slump. Otis looked around carefully before leaning in closely.

"I have some news about the Oak. It's important." Whispered Otis. She expected him to continue, but he only stood there and stared.

"So, tell me." She inisited, a feeling of excitement running through her at the concept of the drama. The Oakman took a step back and chuckled.

"Don't be silly, Amber. You'd tell the first person to walk past us." This somehow felt like quite the insult, and Amber promptly gasped.

"I am an amazing secret keeper, I'll mind you."

"Oh, like the time you kept the secret of my date with Darla." Otis raised a brow; he was entirely unconvinced. The elf couldn't help but snort with laughter after trying to hold it back. She quickly took a sip of the ale that Hemm had subconsciously placed there moments ago.

"Come on, everyone was going to find out eventually. You had to run three blocks naked!" Amber covered her mouth, stifling her laughter, but Otis slapped his own hand over her mouth too.

"You are not helping your case here, Elder." Otis often threw that title in there as a nod at her age. He loved nothing more than to tease her about just how old she was compared to him. The elf quickly frowned and rolled her eyes.

"Otis, please! I've got nothing going for me here. It's not like I really need to get a job." She looks over to Hemm, who gives a weak smile in return. Arethor always affirmed that she wasn't going to have to worry about moving out, that there was always room. But she couldn't help but feel a sense of uselessness every now and again.

"Have you thought of finding a hobby, perchance? Maybe even your Art?" Otis shrugged. Amber scoffed and waved her hand dismissively.

"Needle in a corn silo. I just need something to do." She suddenly put on what could only be described as her attempt at puppy eyes. Only it just saddened Otis more than anything. It was clear the girl was lacking a sense of purpose since she'd left the Mission. Or perhaps it had been long before that too. One who was truly devoted to the Mission often had a much harder time leaving it. Her devotion was no doubt going to be put in question when they arrived.

"I suppose I could use a hand…but you can't tell Arethor it was you who helped me. He'd send me over the cliff." Otis caved in, not sure as to why really. A good part of him knew Amber could be trusted, and that she was a tough nut to begin with.

"Okay, sure, of course. Hemm, I'm looking at you." Amber swiveled on her stool and glared the mylian down, who quickly threw his hands up in the air in compliance.

"Good. Now. It's going to require slipping past a few guards." Otis started.