Chapter 13

Danger

Vallen led the gallop away. He could not help glancing over at the smiling elf every chance he got. She fascinated him. The woman materialized out of the wilderness like a wood nymph. The way her silky hair fluttered as she rode, and the glimmer of her emerald eyes held his rapt gaze. Depending on how the sunlight played in her hair, she looked to have auburn locks that lit like fire with streaks of red and orange. He even admired the new wreath of flowers woven into her hair. Daffonil was less obvious with her glances, but she was happy to see the handsome human again, too. There was something different about him, plus he held the forces of The Green in high regard. He was no ordinary human, no ordinary man. She particularly liked the trim beard covering his face. Elven men did not share that trait. After a good half hour of riding, the elf pulled her elk to a halt and the others followed suit. The animals could use the respite and there were facts to discuss.

“What is it? Why are we stopping?” Vallen scanned the trees and then the hills for signs of trouble. He feared while watching her he had missed the new threat.

“It is not danger, but relief, Vallen. We should be safe from the trolls here. They generally do not like to stray far from their den. I was not aware a pack had settled in that area. I rarely leave the edges of The Forest of Shade.” Daffonil stared back down the road, shrugged and returned to them with a grin. This was outside her forest but still she liked to keep tabs on the comings and goings of possible threats. It only made sense as a guardian of the wood. A pack of trolls was noteworthy. “It is good to see you all again.” Her voice was as positively chipper as ever. The small elf woman remained a ray of sunshine.

“We’re glad you decided to pay a visit when you did,” Farrah sighed. “That was about to get very ugly. We should pull off the road and allow me to treat those wounds.”

She had been watching Bronwick closely the entire ride. The man was covered in blood and much of it was his own. The others agreed and they dismounted with each of the men taking a turn allowing her to bandage them. She started with Bronwick since his injuries were the most extensive. Farrah worked with precision and skill. Her healer’s satchel remained ever ready at her side. The woman carried several herbs and ingredients which she mixed into a smelly poultice. She also sprinkled some type of dust that stopped the bleeding. Even the way she wiped the wounds and bandaged them using a bright yellow moss for packing spoke to her training in the healing arts.

“Allow me to add some healing prayers once you’re done. My magic is limited but I can help if needed.”

The elf rubbed her palms together eagerly as she skipped to Farrah’s side. The women worked well together. Daffonil marveled over the human’s awareness of the herbs and plants. She did not expect humans to be so knowledgeable. Both Vallen and Farrah surprised her in that way. Once again it reminded her of how wrong her people could be and how elitist their mindsets could be towards others. She did not like that trait.

“We are very grateful and surprised to see you again so soon, my lady. To what do we owe this pleasure?” Tamaran addressed the elf as Farrah treated him.

His violet gaze held steadfast to Daffonil. He was trying not to stare at the golden-haired beauty so much. Her touch was firm and comforting. He loved the way she gently bit her bottom lip as she worked. That just made this more awkward.

Daffonil suddenly seemed to remember why she was here. Distraction was her biggest enemy. Like a passing cloud she held a tendency to drift at the slightest breeze. She grew serious. “Yes, I came to warn you!” The elf placed her hands on Tamaran’s shoulders and looked directly into his vibrant eyes. “Do you know of a sect of men that worship a dead God, Thruum? He was the God of Aberrations and Father of Deviants?” The way she said everything seemed so out of place, so intense. Speaking of a God of deviants in her happy little voice sounded wrong.

Tamaran met her gaze with confusion. “I do not, my lady.”

The elf continued as if he should know them. “They wear heavy robes of gray with hoods. Some of those robes are covered in runes and marks. They also carry this triangular symbol on amulets about their necks.” She produced her enchanted leaf with the symbol of the dead God traced on its surface. She held it up for everyone to see. None of them knew that symbol by name but its appearance registered to a couple of them.

Farrah gasped. She recognized that image from her dreams at the manor. They were more nightmares than dreams so she doubted this would be good. Tamaran gasped as well. He did not know it but did recall seeing it somewhere recently. He reached into his pocket to retrieve the amulet on the broken and bloody chain he found near the troll den. When he held it up, the symbols matched perfectly. He seemed shocked as did Daffonil. Everyone else looked confused.

“You do know this God then?” Vallen asked. “Is it something from your homelands? I’m not familiar with it.”

“I do not,” Tamaran insisted. “I found this by the stream just before the trolls attacked.” The desert land youth stared at the amulet with uncertainty. “When I first touched it, I did see a vision of men in robes wearing these same amulets. They carried shackles and chains… The she-troll had stray thoughts and anger around her young being taken. Why are they here? What is happening and how does it tie back to me? You thought I would know them. Why?” He searched Daffonil’s visage for an answer. This concept obviously pushed the youth on edge.

“I had a similar dream last night… about the robed figures and that symbol, not the trolls. My grandmother was there, warning me. What does it all mean?” Farrah mirrored Tamaran’s concern. Both looked to the elf for clarity.

The healer’s comment stole the focus from Tamaran’s apparent ability to read the troll’s emotions. He was glad about that. Again, he was too careless with his heritage. He had to be more careful.

Daffonil immediately dropped to one knee in prayer. She placed one palm on the ground and the other over her heart. It was as if their responses sparked something in the elf. She spread her palm wide on the ground and closed her eyes. “I show gratitude for your aid. By the spirits of the land, their guidance and omens are welcomed and immanent.” Everyone watched the druid with growing anxiety.

“Enough of this praying shit! What does it mean? Should we be worried?” Reena’s innocent girl charade fell away as anxiety gripped her and her life in the streets reared its ugly head. The girl studied her surroundings nervously. Stench clung to her leg watching the druid with wide eyes. He didn’t understand any of this.

Daffonil rose and smiled as cheery as ever. “The forces of The Green have brought me to you. This is yet another sign from nature that I am meant to be at your side. I was merely offering appreciation for their guidance. My elder, Faerin, and a powerful ally for good both bade me join you, protect you from these evil forces.” The elf directed her comments to Tamaran now. Her large green eyes bored into his. “I overheard two groups of these robed men speaking in the forest last night. They claimed to be responsible for the beast that attacked the caravan and labelled it an experiment. They also claimed to be slavers that were in search of the desert lander with violet eyes. They seek you for the gifts of your blood. And they use magic to guide them to you.” Her voice was pleasant, like a chirping bird greeting the day. She ended her statement with a big smile and a giggle.

Tamaran gasped again. Hearing the elf speak such a thing aloud shook him to his core. He always felt as if assassins sought him. Ever since his school burned to the ground, he held that gnawing feeling. But until this moment there was no proof of his worry, only conjecture and paranoia. The youth had all but filed away those thoughts as his own mind playing tricks on him. He used the insane thoughts more for fuel to keep him on his path. He stared at the amulet dangling from his hand and slumped to sit upon the ground in silence.

His reaction alone was enough to let Daffonil know her suspicions were correct. He was definitely the one they sought. “Blessed be the spirits of nature that have guided me here,” she whispered.

Bronwick was looking over the bandages Farrah applied but listening intently to keep up with the conversation. He was only mildly understanding it all. They spoke so fast and used a lot of big words and names he didn’t know. The gist of it seemed that the desert boy was being hunted.

“Slavers? Damn! I thought slavery illegal in Villinsk?” Reena chimed in. She still looked nervous. The girl lifted Stench and cradled him like a baby.

“It is illegal.” Vallen clarified. His attention shifted back to Daffonil. “They created that beast… on purpose? For what?”

The elf shrugged. “From what I gathered it was not released but escaped them.”

“If what I hear you saying is correct, then Tamaran is in grave danger. These cultists slavers of a dead God of deviants are seeking him out for some nefarious purpose, and they are also in the business of experimenting to create deadly beasts that kill for sport. Is this correct?” Farrah paused in her treatment to address the elf directly.

Her summation proved quite succinct. “Yes! That’s correct!” The slender girl beamed enthusiastically. She bounced in place, happy that her message was delivered clearly.

“I should explain what brings me here, my friends. I have come to this land seeking refuge from what I thought to be assassins chasing me over my heritage…” Tamaran whispered while still staring at the foreign symbol on the amulet. He never stated that aloud to anyone. He knew his next words were risky, but he trusted these people. “I had no proof of their existence but somehow felt it in my gut. And I somehow overheard the she-troll’s thoughts and emotions when she attacked me. She was angry about them taking her young. In my vision I saw them with chains and shackles. You speak of experimentation and slavery. What awful things are they doing? Who are these people and what do they want with me? What would they want with young trolls?”

His words spurred Farrah to share as well. “The mercenaries I followed, the ones you found slaughtered by those spider creatures,” Farrah looked to Vallen for clarification.

“The arachnidia,” he supplied the proper name and frowned. He did not like to remember that encounter.

She nodded and then shuddered at the thought of them. “Those mercenaries came to my grandmother for a reading. They sought out cultists for a reward being offered. They were labelled snatchers of people. They could be the slavers. It must be these same men. The coincidence is too great.” She recounted this fact as the realization spread through her own mind. Her grandmother told her she would find her destiny in their trail. Was this what she meant?

“I have heard rumors of people going missing in the area. There are rewards posted for their safe return,” Vallen added. “It has become a worry. My father and I just assumed they encountered natural dangers, animals or beasts like the arachnidia or trolls. But the occurrences are growing in number. The council in Lapolin held discussions on the topic recently. He mentioned it weeks ago. A small village even went silent a month past. Such things happen but the frequency of these reports causes concern. It would appear that concern is just. I must inform my father so he can inform the council. Action should be taken immediately.”

Daffonil smiled. “I did here tell of these men gathering slaves from the surrounding lands. It is not farfetched to think them one and the same.” She looked at Tamaran again. “My elder thought your safety to be immensely important for us all. He and the dragon thought it best to keep you away from them at any cost. They went so far as to send me to your side immediately for protection.” She clapped her hands together in excitement and relief. It seemed her presentation did not come across as crazy. She worried it might sound a little crazy.

“The dragon?” Reena did not miss that detail. The shrewd street urchin soaked up every word. “These men, these cultists of a dead God are cooking up horrible beasts and taking slaves. And the elf elders plus a dragon think it’s important enough to send their special happy elf forest guardian to watch over you. Holy shit! What the hell do they want you for, Tamaran? What’s so special about your blood? I just thought you were a damn mage in training. Is it a desert lands tie? What is your heritage anyway?” The girl stared at him incredulously.

The more antsy she grew, the more she crushed Stench into a tighter hug. The little gremlin was struggling to breathe. A squeak escaped him, and a terrible smell filled Reena’s nostrils. She tossed Stench to the ground and the little gremlin giggled while gasping for air.

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The brown-skinned young man sat in silence with his head hung low. She wasn’t sure he even heard her question. He looked distraught. Everyone watched him for his answer. He remained silent, lost in thought.

“It would probably be best if we knew what this was all about, don’t you think, Tamaran?” Vallen asked his question as politely as he could to prompt a reply. He agreed with Reena. This had to be important.

Tamaran looked up with fear in his pretty eyes. “Forgive me, my friends. I have rather special blood, a heritage from a forgotten age. It is a gift I have spent my entire life hiding and cherishing simultaneously. The school where I trained last, a place that specialized in my gifts, was destroyed, burned to the ground. My father and uncle both vanished without a trace along with many others. I assumed they were dead. It transpired so quickly, overnight. I happened to be visiting my mother when it came to pass and I traveled all the way from Paseth to Villinsk in search of those who might be able to help me understand the gifts of my blood better, to help me train and seek revenge for my father and my uncle and all those who perished at my school. I never suspected it could be tied to something so grand and I never meant to bring this danger to any others. Please believe me. I never intended to lead danger here.” He paused as if afraid to continue. It sounded as if this were all his fault for coming. “I also saw something else in my vision. I saw a large group of these cultists gathered around a settlement nestled in a forest. They chanted and called forth dark forces. It did not make any sense when I viewed it. Now it frightens me more because it could be true. It could be here. Mayhap that was the village you mentioned earlier?” He looked at Vallen with a grimace.

“This is awful. It sounds to me like these dangers were here whether you were or not. Tamaran, you only just arrived. You weren’t here when these disappearances began and by these sect members’ own admission the beast escaped, it was not released upon us in search of you. That tells me they must have a stronghold in the area.” Farrah did her best to soothe his mind with her rationale. “I feel as if we are extremely lucky, praise be to Aethine. We have warning of this danger. Had we not come together as we did, we may have each encountered these threats without any knowledge or chance to prepare. We will be wary of robed figures with that symbol now. Knowledge is power. We can combine our efforts, work together and Lord Vallen can alert the proper authorities in the region.” The golden-haired beauty looked to Tamaran with kindness in her eyes. “I see it very differently. Your arrival here may have saved us all, Tamaran.”

Daffonil and Vallen nodded their agreement. Bronwick and Stench nodded too, but these two weren’t quite sure what they were nodding about. Bronwick felt it was the right thing to do at the time. Stench was just happy to get some air and escape being crushed. Reena remained silent, contemplative. The young girl appeared frightened.

“What do we do now?” Vallen asked. “Are we to continue to Sabline? Is that the best course?” He addressed the group but looked to Daffonil for confirmation. The elf seemed the most knowledgeable one present. She came here on a mission.

“That would be my preference. There is a special school there I hope to investigate and possibly enroll in. Perhaps a larger city such as that would be safer for everyone. Then you could all get as far from me as possible.” Tamaran looked desperate.

“It’s but a day and half from us,” Vallen assured them. “We could stop over in Hinny Hill along the way with only a minor detour. That way we won’t have to camp on the road tonight. If we hurry, we’ll reach the village before sunset. We can hold more discussion over dinner.” Everyone agreed that sounded best, even Farrah as reluctant as she was to return to her home. Being in her own house would feel a bit safer.

“That’s a wise choice. I have friends there and I would know any who were out of place if these cultists do come in disguise.” Farrah seemed nervous.

This sounded so overwhelming. What was behind these events and why would this cult suddenly take interest in the fringes of Villinsk? What could they want out here on these trails and backroads? This cult’s reach spanned the continent at least from the Rolling Sands to Villinsk. That seemed quite the accomplishment making them all the more dangerous and mysterious. Could this be just a small string of individuals? She hoped that was the case.

* * * * * * * * * *

They rode a couple more hours before turning from the main road to head down a smaller side road that led to Hinny Hill. Less of a road and more of a trail, it was quickly evident this settlement was not a major town. The trail wound into the edge of the wood and only sat wide enough for a single wagon to pass. Everyone remained silent as they each attempted to process what they learned alongside the gravity of the situation. The sun was beginning to set, and the daylight was waning. Vallen paused at one point to check the path. He spotted numerous tracks, booted feet, adults. They crossed the road but did not travel down it. He could not ignore how suspicious that seemed. Pilgrimages were not so uncommon in Villinsk. Religious groups, monks, magic enthusiasts and sightseers came in droves from the surrounding lands and across the cradle of civilization on Pangias to visit Villinsk. The country, founded on its connection to Mother EL and her sacred energy, stood as a center of spirituality. The Land of Enchantments and The Magic Kingdom were titles frequently used for the country. That distinction remained a point of pride for the nation and its people. From the vast temple libraries of Nickadameous to the museums, religious sites, spiritual retreats, natural energy sights and of course the magic schools, Villinsk held much for visitors to see. If there were a large number of pilgrims, they usually had a cart or pack animals at the least and they rarely deviated from the roads if at all possible. This did not look right. Daffonil joined him and followed the tracks into the forest a bit. She confirmed it was odd. Such a large group of people on foot and avoiding the trails did not make sense. They did head towards the direction of the village though. Maybe it was some sort of hunting expedition? That could be disturbing in its own right. What if another strange beast had surfaced in the area? Truthfully it could be the same beast. That one remained on the loose. This was but one more reminder that the lands here were not safe, not anymore. The elf returned and the party continued down the road to Hinny Hill in a rush. If danger was afoot, they did not want to waste time exposed as they were. Having walls and buildings around them would feel much safer.

As they approached the village, Farrah gasped and rode ahead. She jumped from her horse and raced towards the inn and tavern. The Maple Branch was the first building at the edge of town. It was the place where any travelers would stay while passing through Hinny Hill. She knew it well. The sign with the painting of the branch and leaves always impressed her. May, her best friend, worked there as a maid and hostess. She also knew the owners well. This was where they held their monthly gatherings and shared meals. It was a place of merriment. Thick plumes of smoke rose from the building. It was still burning though most of the flames had died down. Horror gripped her heart. Her blood ran cold. She raced down the main road of the village towards more buildings, houses and barns. All were in a similar state with smoke rising from the rubble. She saw no signs of bodies. She felt a cold sweat cover her. Her mind immediately flashed back to the day she found her own house like this, her original village of Kleph in a similar state. Farrah was suddenly a young girl again, helpless and alone. That was the day her parents vanished. She began to sob uncontrollably as she called for anyone that might hear her. Random names leapt to her mind, and she shouted them at the top of her lungs getting no replies. The woman even called for dogs and whistled, praying to see a friendly face. Nothing responded. She heard her companions arriving at her side. The distinct sounds of blades sliding from their hilts rang out. They were calling, too, for any survivors. No one responded to those calls, either. She paced the road back towards the entrance and the inn. The entire village of Hinny Hill was gone to a man. Unlike her village three years ago, the animals were gone this time, too.

“By the Gods, what happened here?” Vallen whispered as the group hung close to one another and walked the main street. “This is awful. Where is everyone?”

“I don’t know, but I sure as hell don’t like this,” Reena whispered. “It feels wrong here.” The girl wrapped her arms about her body as if a chill took her.

“Nope, nope,” Stench added. “Me no like, feels bad. Very bad.” He raised his arms to the girl. She picked him up to cradle him like a baby to her chest.

“I don’t even see many tracks. It doesn’t make sense.” Vallen studied the ground for signs of anything. With this much fire he expected to see signs of people fleeing to safety or running to and from buildings to extinguish the flames. He immediately noted the lack of any signs that anyone had tried to fight these fires. That alone raised an alarm within the man.

Daffonil stopped and spoke words in elven. She called upon a prayer to her forces of nature. A strong breeze whipped past them. She whispered more words into the wind. A swirl of ash caught in the dust devil of her breeze spun to stop before the doors to a crumbled barn. “It started there,” she grinned and pointed. Her demeanor remained ever chipper.

The elf and the nobleman headed to the barn to check the ground for tracks. The others waited in the center of the road. Everyone searched their surroundings for signs of danger though none wanted to move closer to the crumbled buildings. Reena cradled Stench and Tamaran stood with a comforting arm around Farrah. The woman sobbed into his shoulder uncontrollably. Bronwick remained poised with his massive sword in hand, protecting them all. He kissed Maggie for luck and grunted a loud warning to any enemy that may be watching.

“There were tracks here. Someone went to great lengths to conceal them, though.” Vallen stated aloud. Daffonil agreed with his assessment. The elf was busy checking the grounds for more signs.

“It has been more than a day and I believe they used magic to conceal their efforts. If only we could learn more,” the elf chewed her bottom lip.

“Perhaps we can. Those gifts I mentioned from my special heritage. Let me try.” Tamaran left Farrah with Reena and Stench then headed to examine the spot where the tracks were found. He paused and cleared his mind. He knelt down to lay one hand upon the earth and concentrated, closing his eyes. He needed to calm his mind it was racing with thoughts. He pictured Farrah and the calm came. Tamaran immediately felt that tingle in the back of his head that raced down his neck and then down his arm to end in his fingertips. Images leapt to his mind. He tried to voice them as they came in flashes. “There were people here, a dozen or more. They were religious figures wearing triangle amulets. I see them in the shadows spread about the fringes of the village chanting. It is like the vision I saw before. It feels dark, evil. They are calling on something, using magic, prayer magic. They have candles and blue smoke. So much blue smoke. There is danger. Those eyes!” His own eyes sprang open wide with a gasp. Vallen noted Tamaran’s eyes carried a rainbow sheen like that time at the campfire. The man seemed unsettled. “It was so dark. I think they took them. They took them all and then burned the village as if bandits had attacked.” The desert lander shook as if a chill ran through him. The last image of those red eyes floating in the darkness left him shaken. They felt evil.

“There has been talk of bandits striking the smaller farms in the area,” Vallen gasped. “It has become a point of contention with the locals. My father mentioned it from his council talks recently. So, the disappearances and the bandit attacks are one and the same. But… Hinny Hill is not that small. It’s an entire village, not a single farm! There were nearly five-hundred people here.”

“Hippy Hill… Isn’t this where Martin and Luna came?” Bronwick asked.

Farrah confirmed his thought. “It is. And it’s where I spent the last few years of my life. My grandmother’s home was on the hill that way, but I’m sure it’s burned to cinders now. Her grave is just beyond that rise.” She could hardly control her sobs. “I knew all these people. They welcomed us into their lives. They were like family to me. Am I cursed? Why does this keep happening? This happened to my original village, Kleph. It’s why we came to live here in the first place…” Farrah’s sobs grew more intense.

“I remember a place called Kleph, not too far from here. It was believed to be raided by forest goblins and burned to the ground a few years ago.” Vallen gasped. “We thought no one survived.”

“Two did,” Farrah sniffled while getting herself under control. “My grandmother and I.” The golden-haired woman turned slowly in a circle taking in the sight of her abandoned and burning village for a second time. More images of Kleph smoldering filled her thoughts. Tears streamed down her face. “This means these slaving cultists are responsible. This is too similar. They are responsible for it all. They stole my life!” The young woman grew so angry that she snatched up a stone and hurled it at the nearest smoldering lump. The stone sailed through the air and struck a half-burned wagon sitting outside the inn. She noticed it was one of the Loom wagons from their caravan. She suddenly realized something else. “There were three wagons brought here by the elves, correct? They brought all the wagons from the caravan, did they not?”

“That is correct,” Daffonil answered with a grin. “The druids guided them and the horses here.”

“Then two wagons are missing. That is the wagon that was flipped over in the beast attack, the one that was damaged, but where are the other two?” Farrah clasped her hands together. “Maybe they escaped. They could have taken others with them.”

“She is right. There should be three wagons here. If we can uncover which direction they headed, it could be a clue as to what happened here and where everyone went.” Tamaran spoke up hopefully. “Even if it was the cultists, moving this many people plus animals would have required use of a wagon or two. Would it not? There must be a trail to follow somewhere.”

“Good point,” Vallen leapt at the idea. “If we can locate the wagon tracks or find those wagons, we might find a clue as to where they are taking all these people or what they might be doing with them or even survivors.”

Daffonil scanned the sky with a brief grimace. Night approached quickly. “It’s safe to assume they have left this place far behind from the state of the buildings. I would estimate a day and another half has passed since the incident. It is odd they would take care not to burn the forest. That suggests they are hiding somewhere within. We could rest here and check for those tracks come morning. Traveling the forest at night is not advisable for this group.” The elf druid smiled and shrugged. “Plus, that beast has yet to be caught.” No one liked the sound of that.

“Agreed. We rest for the night and take up the search at first light,” Vallen stated decisively.

“What the hell? I thought they were hunting Tamaran. Aren’t we supposed to be moving away from these people, not towards them? Is it safe to sleep here in this burnt husk of a settlement?” Reena could not hold her tongue. The thought of finding the cultists terrified her as much as sleeping here in the open where ghosts might now reside. If they would burn a village to the ground, then they would have no qualms about striking an orphan or her gremlin down.

“But what about Martin and Luna?” Bronwick grunted. “We need to find them.” Reena dipped her head. She hated to think about what had become of the sweet old couple. The elf spoke of slavers. Did slavers have use for old people?

“We can rest and make decisions in the morning,” Farrah sniffled. “I want to find them as badly as you do, plus the rest of my friends here.” She placed a comforting hand on the big man’s bicep. “There is a cave this way, at the edge of the forest. I’ve been there many times before. A variety of mushrooms grow there. Sometimes the children of the village go to camp there. We will be safe for the night, safer than out here in the open.” The woman began to walk in that direction, lighting her lantern as always to ward away the descending darkness. She seemed to be in a slight daze.

The others fell into steps behind her. There was nothing more to do tonight. It seemed safer to stay here than on the main road, especially if these cultists were bold enough to claim a whole village