Chapter 15

The Hunt

Vallen and Daffonil guided their small group down the hillside away from the abbey and away from the Sect of Thruum. The descent felt a bit steeper than the climb, but they were taking the same foot trail back to their waiting companions. The increased difficulty might have had something to do with their tired legs and weak knees. Or it might have been the additions of infants, clergy and a distraught young mother. Once the adrenalin of the moment passed so did their strength. Between fighting, guiding rescued survivors and the race to get to the abbey in the first place, everyone began to feel the drain. They made good time despite their new responsibilities and the landscape. Bronwick paused to glance behind him, but the cries of the cultists faded long ago. He tried to shake those final images with little success. The elf druid called upon her allies, the plants, to block the passage. She drained her remaining magical strength for the day in a final effort to aid their escape. It worked. Once again, the trees and bushes sprang to life to wrap about the men and hold them in place. The sight of nature awakening to attack was no less impressive this time around. The cultists were only men and did not possess the strength of trolls to break free. They hung among the twisting flora like discarded decorations. Still, Daffonil urged them to leave quickly. Her prayers came with a time limit and that time limit revolved around her relative inexperience as a druid of her order.

The half-orc found the sight of the forest attacking particularly disturbing. Just knowing plants could do that frightened him. They were not supposed to move on their own. It reminded him of his days as a boy in his own village when the shaman, Urga, called animals to kill their enemies and once brought a tree to life to fight like a warrior. Her magic always frightened him, too. She knew things and did things that didn’t seem physically possible. That scared the big man. Bronwick relied on his strength, the power of his physical body. Every accomplishment stemmed from his own two hands. Magic remained beyond his understanding. When it called upon the natural elements around him it made the man think. These thoughts caused his imagination to run wild. What if the water came alive or the sky or the stars attacked? What then? It led him to the most unsettling of ideas. No, Bronwick did not like these thoughts. He preferred the simplicity of swinging a sword and cutting down one’s enemies the way a fight was supposed to be.

“The roadway is just ahead,” Vallen called back to the others. “Soon we can find the horses and be away from this place. We can get these people proper treatment. Keep going. We will pause for water once we’ve cleared the tree line.” He wiped sweat from his brow.

“I’ll swing wide to be sure we aren’t followed,” Daffonil smiled cheerily. The elf leapt into the brush and scampered away like a rabbit before Vallen could offer a warning or word of luck. The druid moved through the natural terrain without any hindrance. He could not help but to admire her skill. This was her element. She seemed a part of the forest.

“She is a quick one, isn’t she? And she must be the most positive person I’ve ever met. I wonder if that’s an elf trait?” Farrah chuckled. “I wanted to thank you again, my lord. Without your guidance that could have gone much worse. We did well to get these people to safety.” She smiled at Vallen appreciatively and squeezed his arm.

“Don’t get too comfortable. We aren’t to safety just yet,” Bronwick stated plainly. “The wolf can still bite if it has its teeth.” It was one of his mother’s sayings. He wasn’t sure he was using it correctly but that never stopped him. “And no, no it’s not an elf trait. I’ve known many elves in the wildlands. None have been so friendly as Daffonil. Most aren’t friendly at all. Most want to fight and scream at you.” The man under his arm, the monk, tried to speak but was doing his best to keep putting one foot in front of the other. His delirium appeared to have lessened. Daffonil’s healing prayers worked miracles, but his injuries were extensive. He probably wouldn’t have survived without her. Bronwick looked at the man with doubt. “This one’s trying to talk.”

“Please brother, conserve your strength,” the blond priest whispered as he cradled one of the babies in his arms bouncing it. Farrah guided the young girl who carried the other infant. The girl was still in shock. The young priest eyed the big barbarian suspiciously. “The orc warrior is correct. We are not safe just yet, but by Kylia’s blessings we will be soon enough. I have faith. May she offer us comfort and protection with her warm embrace.” The cherubic young man smiled wanly. He seemed far too nervous to believe his own words.

“Weak Goddess,” Bronwick grumbled to himself. “I’m half,” he grunted out sternly at the priest. His glare held a challenge.

The young priest seemed confused. “I’m sorry… half? Half what?”

“I’m half orc. I’m also half human,” the big man clarified. The priest nodded nervously. He did not intend to offend the giant man. Bronwick knew of many humans who would belittle him for his heritage. On the flip side many orcs would do the same. He embraced both his parents and their bloodlines proudly. It was the way of his tribe. His mother called them advanced. Bronwick wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but it was a good thing.

The priest returned to bouncing the baby. He found the giant man with his big tusks and massive arms to be extremely intimidating. The young girl they rescued remained silent, she simply clutched the baby to her chest and stumbled forward at the healer’s direction. Luckily, the sweet roots Farrah gave them kept the infants quiet. The young priest proved a nervous talker. He rambled in whispers the entire way. According to him, the girl was a young unwed mother brought to the abbey by her father. Her baby was taken when the abbey was overrun. The girl seemed fragile and could not tear herself from the surrogate baby she rescued. The priest saved the other infant and the monk came to their rescue when they were accosted trying to flee. The way he described the cult invasion, it sounded eerily calm, as if they felt they belonged there. He had no previous knowledge of these invaders. The cherubic youth also spoke of farming and flowers plus an assortment of other unrelated topics as he rambled. The party moved with relative stealth until they reached the road. Vallen paced one way then another. He scanned the area frantically then began checking the ground. He followed something to a small alcove in the trees just off the roadway. Once there his search grew more frantic.

“What is wrong?” Farrah arrived at his side. She could see his panic and it sent her into a similar state. The stench of skunk spray permeating the area did not bode well for their friends. “Where are they?” Her golden eyes met his deep blue ones. She brushed a wave of golden hair from her face.

“They should be here. This is where we left them,” he hissed nervously. “This isn’t good. These tracks, the horses fled. There was a scuffle. I see additional booted prints; a handful of men were here.” Vallen began to retrace the steps. “Do you smell that? The skunk’s spray. There is blood. No! No! No! It can’t be!” He spotted the body of the man facedown by the tree. He wore the robes of the sect. He had a bloody puncture wound in his back.

Farrah gasped. She moved to scan the road and called Vallen’s attention to another robed body there. The woman checked for signs of life, but he was freshly dead. His blood still held warmth. “Tamaran, and Reena!” By chance her eyes caught a speck of blue in the trees across the way. “Stench!” She called to the gremlin who appeared from behind a clump of grass. He began jumping up and down and waving to her. “Vallen, I’ve found Stench, across the road.”

She made sure the young priest had the girl and infants under control before rushing to the gremlin. The young girl they rescued, upon seeing the robed body, began to cry again which in turn caused the babies to cry. There came a lot of crying.

Bronwick grunted at the sound of all the crying and handed the woozy monk off to the priest as well. “Take him.” The tall, slender man was still trying to speak with little success. His mumbles were just that, mumbles. The big man readied Maggie and raced to join Farrah. He needed to get away from that awful sound. Vallen was close behind Bronwick. The nobleman looked worried, too worried.

“Don’t fret… I’ll watch over them all,” the young priest called out sarcastically. The man began rambling to himself as he scanned the lot. “It’s not like I’m an unarmed acolyte from a raided abbey seeking asylum.” The blond man began scanning his surroundings as if he expected the enemy to surface any second. He felt so exposed and vulnerable. He truly wished the monk were in a better condition.

The group arrived to find Stench beaming happily and jumping for joy. “You come back! Yay! You come back!”

“What happened here, Stench? Where are Reena and Tamaran? What happened to the horses?” Vallen scanned the trees but saw no one else. Daffonil appeared at his side from the brush. The elf waited patiently to understand the situation. She also took note of the scuffle, the tracks and the bodies. She did not overlook the smell of Peaches’ spray or her companion’s absence.

“Reena and skunk go to follow purple eyes.” Stench looked at Daffonil with a huge grin. His voice came fast and excited. “She shit-sprayed them! Smell soooo bad. They all screaming. Ahhhhh my eyes! They puke, too!” He giggled. “Man from desert try to lie. I bite fingers of other man. Reena stab him. And me ride skunk like horse, too! Me own black and white horse! Whoo hoo!” He giggled excitedly. Stench made a galloping motion in a tight circle. “Me like skunk! Me like Peaches! Peaches are sweet and good, but skunk Peaches is good, too. Maybe not sweet though. Horses get spooked, run, run away!” Stench lost his focus on the story and began pointing and searching for the horses. Bronwick listened to the gremlin and scratched his head in confusion. The excitable little creature was hard to follow in his explanation.

Farrah squatted down to gain the tiny man’s focus. “Stench, you said Reena and Peaches followed Tamaran? Where did they go? Is everyone alright?”

“Bad men come for purple eyes. But we fight! We fight, fight, fight them! We kill two!” The gremlin held up four fingers and pointed towards where they discovered the bodies. He clapped his hands and bounced in celebration.

“Yes, we saw. Very good work, Stench.” Farrah tried to keep calm though she could hear Vallen’s sigh of impatience. “Where did Reena and Tamaran go? Where are they, Stench?”

Stench chewed his bottom lip and pointed into the forest. “Bad men chase purple eyes. He run. Reena and Peaches follows so don’t lose him. She said she leave… easy… trail… for elf and lord.” He beamed proudly for remembering the entire message. “She say I wait to tell you.” He nodded with a snaggle-toothed grin.

“Clever girl,” Vallen began checking the ground for her tracks. She had indeed left an easy path to follow, scuffing the ground and marking trees with her knife as she went. “They headed this way.” He jumped onto the trail. “It’s fairly fresh. They can’t have much of a lead on us, maybe twenty or thirty minutes.” Daffonil began to bounce away, occasionally pausing to tend to the trees if the cut Reena left looked too deep. Vallen started to follow her. Bronwick fell into step behind them.

“What of the others? We can’t just leave them here, can we? What if more of those crazed cultists appear?” Farrah called out to Vallen and then glanced back at those they rescued from the abbey. The survivors looked pitiful in their huddle.

Vallen came to a halt. Glancing across the road, he could see the angelic priest cradling a baby as he tried to soothe the young crying girl and the other baby all while tending to the injured monk. Vallen sighed with frustration. He directed Bronwick to follow Daffonil and watch her back. “We are spreading too thin,” he grumbled. “I can see from the tracks here, at least five men headed that way before Reena. We can assume one is Tamaran. That leaves at least four cultists. I don’t know if he can handle those odds.” He seemed to debate options. He gazed across the road at the priest and the others nervously. “You’re right. We can’t leave them here. What if cultists from the abbey arrive, or if there are more hanging about? They aren’t safe.”

Farrah read his angst. She needed to offer something besides more problems. Tamaran was in serious danger. “Let me handle them. I’ll guide them back towards your estate and then return once they are well on their way. They’ll need to brave one night on the road if they push but that is the best choice without horses. I’m fast, you know that. I’ll be back in no time. Just leave an easy trail for me to follow. With a little luck I’ll be able to join you by the time you reach Tamaran.” She smiled her perfect smile and rested a hand on his arm reassuringly.

Vallen considered her words and then frowned. “I can’t let you go alone. I’ll let Daffonil and Bronwick chase the cultists. You can join them for support. I’ll guide those from the abbey.” He took a step towards the group they rescued. It was easy to see the man wanted to follow the cultists.

Farrah stopped him. “They need you and your wilderness skills, my lord. They don’t need a healer, but these people might. I will be fine. I’m a capable woman, and I’ve been told I’m quite lucky.” She winked. “I’ll look after them and make sure they get on the right path. You go and save Tamaran, please. He needs you and your combat prowess. I’m no warrior. What would Zane want you to do?”

The nobleman looked to her curiously. She was right. Zane would call him a martyr for acting like everyone was his responsibility. He could hear Zane now saying something about you already saved these losers once, let them fend for themselves. He grinned and nodded. He placed his hand over the beautiful healer’s hand and squeezed it.

“Thank you, Farrah. Your counsel and your skills have been invaluable. I wish you the best of luck. May Menyane and Aethine watch over you all and guide your steps to safety. Tell them to ask for Nimon and say I sent them. Join us as quickly as you can. I’m sure we’ll need you again soon. I’m not just referring to your healing skills, either. You seemed very handy with that staff to me back at the abbey. A little training might go a long way if you’re ever interested. Regardless, stay safe.” With that said, the man raced ahead to join the others on the trail to find Tamaran and the cultists pursuing him. He could not shake Daffonil’s warning about the danger of those men getting their hands on the desert lander.

* * * * * * * * * *

Farrah returned to the rescued group from the Abbey of Repose. She offered her perfect, calming smile and bade them all rise for their journey. The young healer was no leader and she felt far out of her league in this situation, but she had dealt with births and injuries before. Handling people came naturally. If nothing else she could help to calm them and point them in a direction. Farrah prayed that would be enough. This priest was about her age, and she could see the panic behind his baby-blue eyes. She claimed the infant from the young man identifying himself as Brother Vissus and began the trek briskly. The youth supported the monk and made sure the girl carrying the other baby walked ahead of him so she would not stray. The traumatized girl was little more than an automaton following directions. The young priest seemed a kind-hearted soul if overwhelmed.

“We are about two days walk from the Manique Estate. You could make it there before the second nightfall if you push forward with intent. I’ll begin the journey with you and return to aid my companions once you are well on your way. You’ll simply follow the road until the estate comes into view on your right. The manicured green fields will be easy to spot. Look for all the colorful flowers. That road will carry you straight to the manor house. It is impossible to overlook. Tell Nimon that Lord Vallen Manique sent you.”

She glanced at Brother Vissus as she chewed her bottom lip. Seeing the man with the distraught girl and the baby plus the staggering monk did not inspire confidence in the healer. This lot would need a miracle to survive if any threats crossed them. He wasn’t even armed. Farrah immediately thought of the trolls. Maybe she should stay with them. But she couldn’t, Tamaran and Vallen needed her. Facing this cult was somehow her destiny. She felt it in her gut. She bounced the other infant in her arms gazing into those innocent eyes long and hard before speaking.

“Avoid the area where the stream meets the road and cross that site quickly. There are plenty of spots for an easy campsite after that. I assume come morning you’ll have renewed prayers to assist the monk. He seems like a sturdy defender. He’s tall and fit!” The monk leaned against the priest in a daze. At least he was standing on his own even if he mumbled and his eyes refused to focus properly. She chewed her bottom lip again. Trying to put a positive spin on this sounded silly even to her ears. “Normally, I’d require bedrest and tending for at least a day before he was allowed to move. He needs more healing for certain. His wounds have begun mending nicely thanks to Daffonil, but they were severe. He’s lucky to be with us. His constitution is impressive.”

The young man grimaced and averted his gaze. Looking up into the monk’s face was impossible. He felt so responsible. He unwittingly began to chew on the nails of his left hand. He could not bring himself to share that he was but an acolyte with no gift of divine prayer magic. The Goddess had not seen fit to give him the blessing yet.

The young man nodded to the pretty lady more from politeness than as an answer. He felt so lost. “Two days on the road! That sounds like an eternity… umm… I mean a long walk. I’ve never gone much beyond the borders of the abbey grounds aside from my family farm on the opposite side of Sabline. I guess I’m saying I don’t know much about the wilderness or the world I suppose. I feel like we should have a guide maybe.” He grimaced again and shook his head side to side. A quick survey of the situation reminded him that a guide was not in the cards. This young woman was pressed to walk with them at all. Her companions needed her. He should be thankful for the rescue. Why did his mouth spew such thoughts when he was nervous? “I know you have important issues to attend. Forgive me, please. I’m just thinking aloud. I might be doing that too much. My thoughts are scattered… You are certain this trail is easy to follow? We have babies and they are… well… of course. I will make sure we reach our destination… I hope.” The man seemed to ramble. “You said just follow the road. You already answered that. Pay attention Vissus. My mind is racing with possibilities. Please forgive me, my lady. I don’t think I’m the right person for this task. How can we be certain we’ll find this estate, or that they will help us?” The angelic-looking young man started to ramble again. It seemed a nervous habit. Brother Vissus appeared beyond worried clutching his holy amulet and keeping the monk upright. He also avoided her question about his prayers completely. Why should he compound the issue?

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Farrah smiled again. She had a way of putting others at ease with her mannerisms. “Have no fear, brother. Lord Vallen said you need only ask for Nimon at the door and tell him Lord Vallen sent you. Remember that and you’ll be fine. I have faith in you.” She reiterated the instructions slowly and calmly. “We encountered another pair before we came to the abbey, remember. They directed us to help you. They are also bound for the estate and will no doubt see you there. Brother Ullen and Sister Brion led the way. They travel by horse, so they’ll have a sizeable lead. The estate is impossible to miss, a beautiful three-story mansion surrounded by white fences and flanked by golden horse statues at the front entrance and nestled across sprawling fields of greenery and flowers. It’s the perfect paradise for you to rest and recover.”

Brother Vissus looked as if he might continue with his questions, but he stopped. His eyes grew moist. He realized he was nervous rambling again. Fear clawed at him. The man took a deep breath to calm his nerves and clutched his holy symbol to his chest tightly. He let his faith calm him. “By the blessings of the All Mother, thank you, my lady. Thank you all for everything you’ve done! Sister Brion is a capable warrior. Simply hearing her name puts my mind at ease. I also know Brother Ullen, though his presence does not inspire the same feelings.” They shared a chuckle. “May Kylia’s embrace warm our souls.”

Farrah nodded. “Quickly now, let us be on our way. The faster you move, the sooner you reach the estate and a fresh bed and warm meal. Their hospitality is like no other. You will be in good hands, I promise. I recently spent a night there myself.” She bounced the infant in her arms and strode down the roadway, keeping to the edge of the wood for the most basic cover from the sun and prying eyes. The bedraggled procession followed.

* * * * * * * * * *

Daffonil paused to place a hand to the gouge in a tree and whisper a prayer. Green light filled her palm, and the tree was repaired instantly. She thanked the spirits of the land, The Green, for its power. That power was growing scarce. Her prayers were all but depleted. The magic she used on the trees was but a minor spark, a cantrip of sorts that beginning druids used to mend broken branches or cut vines. It could hardly be applied to anything else. Lacking her prayer spells nagged at her, but she refused to listen to the fear. Vallen joined her side and used his boot to create a large line which he transformed into an arrow in the dirt. The arrow pointed in the direction they were heading. He hoped the sign was clear enough for Farrah to find.

Bronwick watched their rituals with mild annoyance. If they did not stop so often, they would have reached scimitar-boy by now. He worried that the boy with the pretty eyes needed them. He could fight, but he was outnumbered four to one and he was small. That wasn’t his fault, but it was the truth. Stench crept along behind them jumping at every sound and every shadow. The gremlin was beginning to worry about Reena, too. He didn’t want anyone to hurt his best friend in the whole world.

“We move faster?” Stench pipped up as the pair paused to clear a slash in a tree and draw another arrow in the dirt.

“Yes, please for the love of the Gods!” Bronwick seconded with a soft grunt. “This snail’s pace is killing me! They will have caught and gutted the desert boy by now.”

Daffonil had almost forgotten what the point of this trail was. She was wrapped up in the game of the search for the next mark. The elf smiled and then giggled. “They might be right about that. We move too cautiously, Vallen. Perhaps I should run ahead. You can follow and keep the trail for Farrah. They can follow me and hold a place somewhere in the middle. If I encounter trouble or locate the others, I’ll get you a signal.” Without waiting for an agreement or establishing a signal, the elf darted off through the trees. Her trained eyes could spot the purposeful trail left by the orphan girl from a mile away.

Vallen sighed. He looked to Bronwick and Stench and gestured after the fleeting elf. “Well, hurry then. You won’t keep pace unless you hurry. She’s a spry one.” The giant man scooped up the gremlin in his hand and placed the tiny man on his brawny shoulder. The barbarian began to jog after the druid with a grin of satisfaction. He was itching for another fight.

Before they were completely out of sight a familiar gruff voice chuckled from behind him. “Still playing the nursemaid that watches over them all, huh? When will you tire of that role, princess?”

Vallen turned to face Zane. He was relieved to see his best friend’s scruffy face again. He pulled the man into an embrace despite Zane’s resistance. “I’m so glad you came. I need you now more than ever. This situation has grown out of control. These cultists are everywhere. How did they infest the lands so completely without us noticing?”

“That’s simple. You keep your head in the clouds, your father’s a bastard that spends his days anywhere but home, and I don’t care.” He shrugged with a wink while pushing Vallen away.

Vallen continued to move along and mark the trail with arrows in the dirt. “Don’t start with my father, please.”

“Eh, he can piss off for all I care.”

“Zane, I need all the aid I can get right now. This is serious. Can you please help us? The land is in peril. Hinny Hill, the abbey… for all we know the estate may be next.”

“Exactly! Your estate may be next. So why the hell are you here? What are you doing crawling along picking up the pieces of these losers instead of taking care of what you know? Your sorry excuse for a family is there. Why aren’t you back at your damn fancy ass estate protecting your own, gathering soldiers? Explain that to me.” Zane stared Vallen down with a look of contempt. The man obviously wanted to head back immediately. He didn’t give a damn about these people.

Another voice interrupted the heated exchange between the men. “Because he is a good man, a caring man, that’s why. Vallen cares about his friends. He cares about people. You understand friendship. I know you do, Zane.” Farrah stopped leaning against a tree some twenty paces away. She ran the whole way back and needed to catch her breath from the effort. Good thing she was fast and didn’t tire easily. “I understand who you are, why you are here, Zane. But I also understand that we need Vallen now more than ever. He is the backbone that binds this random group of wanderers. For whatever reason destiny has brought us together to stop these people and to protect our friend, Tamaran. Vallen is the one that makes this party cohesive and functional.” She spoke in a calm, reassuring tone to the mercenary. Everything about her mannerisms and speech pattern was overly calm and collected. She could see he was torn. She needed him to fall on the side of his pure self.

Vallen spun to face her in a rage. He spoke in a deep, gruff voice. His eyes were hard, stormy and glaring. “Who asked you? You are nothing but a two-copper harlot of a healer that thinks she’s much more. Vallen is a damn fool. He seeks glory and honor and helps every fucking vagabond that stumbles into his path. You know nothing, bitch. You’re just speaking out of your ass. He needs me to survive!” Vallen or rather Zane slammed his thumb into his own chest. “I keep him safe!”

“Please, Zane, I would speak with Vallen now.” Farrah walked towards the man calmly with her perfect smile in place. She did have a soothing effect on people.

Vallen shook his head from side to side and grimaced. He stared off into the forest at nothing. “That’s right, run away as usual, Zane. Leave when we could use your help the most.” He sighed heavily and turned to face her. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Farrah. Please don’t take his insults personally. Zane isn’t a bad man, not at his core. He is just a bit self-centered, that is all. He’s been my best friend since we were children. I know he means well.”

Farrah nodded her understanding. She was putting the pieces together since she overheard the nobleman talking to himself while drinking the whiskey back at the barn. The reactions of his household staff helped her understand the situation better. Her grandmother taught her much in the ways of the healer, including ailments of the mind. “Zane has been with you since your mother died, hasn’t he? You two have been very close, inseparable.”

Vallen nodded and changed the subject as it began to get uncomfortable. There wasn’t time to discuss Zane right now. If he didn’t want to help them then so be it. They had more pressing matters. “I stayed behind to make sure the trail was clear for you, but now we can join the others. Daffonil guides them. We hope to find Tamaran soon.” Farrah gestured for the ranger to lead the way. She prayed that Vallen would retain his better self. They really did need him right now and to be honest, his alternate ego of Zane scared her.

* * * * * * * * * *

Reena crept forward as silent as a mouse. If there was one skill she acquired in her days of stealing on the streets to survive it was the ability to move with stealth. The young girl could become all but invisible. She still found it odd that a skunk would follow her, but Peaches kept pace, creeping quietly along behind her. She knew this was an elf pet skunk so maybe that made a difference. She didn’t know much about elves or skunks for that matter. It was strange not having Stench at her side, but she needed someone to tell the others where she had gone. She hoped the little turd could remember her message. The gremlin was not so good at remembering things. His mind was a grab-bag of random thoughts. She also hoped he didn’t fall asleep. He loved to sleep. Reena began to fear she made a grave mistake. Stench really wasn’t the best person for the job. Damn, she really hoped he delivered that message, or she might be out here all alone chasing a group of slaving cultists with her knife and a prayer. That would be very bad. Again, she wished Stench was with her. She missed his dopy little face and his stupid snaggle-toothed grin. Reena knew she could not hope to rescue Tamaran on her own. The girl recalled how she used to wish for a life that mattered. Well, this was her chance and she felt like it was a bad deal. Maybe she should have wished for a more specific reason to matter. Reena slipped from tree to tree as quickly and quietly as possible. The day grew long. The sun was beginning to wane again. The stupid forest was dark to begin with. She suddenly realized she did not want to be out in this wood alone in the dark. The wilderness was awful! She especially did not want to be out here with crazed cultists and that monster beast they never caught.

She paused to pet Peaches. The animal was softer than she expected. “It’s just you and me little skunk.” Peaches grunted. “I don’t like those odds, either.” She cradled her knife in her free hand and chewed her bottom lip. She heard a shout in the distance ahead. It sounded like men calling out. She slipped stealthily in that direction, her heart pounding and her legs trembling. She carefully cut another mark into the nearest tree. “I really hope they get that message. Stench don’t fail me you little turd!”

* * * * * * * * * *

Tamaran fell against a tree panting. He wiped the flowing sweat from his brow and took a moment to catch his breath again. His lungs were burning. Crossing the dense forest was not easy. He tripped and fell far more than seemed natural. This did not make sense. The cultists and their leader Muhal were chasing him, but they were taking their sweet time. It was as if the man were pacing himself so as not to catch him. Why? It felt more like he was being herded, but to where? He could hear them whisper prayers every so often. Muhal always led those prayers, and the others mimicked him. No doubt those prayers were tracking him. Could he even escape? This forest looked the same no matter which direction he headed. He sorely missed the desert right now. In the desert you could see where you were going. How could the man know which way he might run? The answer was simple – magic. Was he trying to wear him down, tire him out? That made sense and was working but to what end? They outnumbered him. They didn’t need to wear him down to best him in a fight. Maybe he meant to break his will first. Tamaran doubted he could take even one of them if they rushed him at once. There were three of them plus Muhal and that man radiated confidence. He was no novice at battle. Even if his men still fought the effects of the skunk spray, they would be more than a match for him. He made a promise to himself. If he survived this, he would increase his combat training. He could never be a true Psi-Knight without being a great warrior first. Tamaran did not dwell on the topic. He could hear Muhal as he approached with his men. The hunter taunted him incessantly. His deep voice became a mockery of the home he fled and may never see again. The man’s accent was so familiar that he could have been a relative.

“Tamaran Alseid Kophar, where will you run next? I have chased you across half of the continent. By the nine sacred virtues you will not escape me. I was there at your school in the Rolling Sands. Such a quaint little place. It was almost sad to watch it burn. We found healthy resources there, but my prize, you, eluded me. I was there as you traipsed to Paseth, to that woman you call mother, and then here to Villinsk in search of what? What did you hope to find?” Muhal shook his head and clicked his tongue. We are bonded now, Tamaran Alseid Kophar. Hunter and prey bonded as one. You cannot escape me. I am Hunter Muhal, your ambassador to the faith. The Sect of Thruum welcomes you into our folds. We have big plans for you. Very important plans. Come and be one with us, my brother. You are an honored guest. Your father and your uncle have joined us in spirit. Why continue to resist?” Muhal paused to raise his pendulum. He whispered a prayer, and the talisman began to swing in Tamaran’s direction. He continued to walk at a steady pace in the new direction indicated. “Thruum sees you. Thruum welcomes you. Thruum needs you. I need you, my brother. I have dedicated months of my life to you. You should feel honored. You are my special project. I honored the virtue of perseverance in my hunt just for your sake.”

Tamaran felt hopelessness creep into his mind. That emotion threatened to end it all. He felt so tired and alone. He wanted to just lay down and give up. Had this man actually been following him this whole time? How else could he know those things? If that was true, then how could he ever hope to escape? Where could he go? He followed him across a quarter of the continent. This cult seemed bigger than he ever expected. They weren’t mere assassins sent after him because of his heritage. They were an entire sick faith bent on his capture for only the Gods knew what. Did he bring this death with him wherever he went? It sure sounded that way. He crept from tree to tree in search of a path, but it all looked the same in every direction, thick trees and tangled underbrush. Once night fell over The Forest of Shade it would be dark as pitch. He could no longer see his own hand in front of his face. Tamaran knew that was coming and soon. Already the transparent mushrooms began to take on a slight glow. He had no significant light source, but surely the cultists did. It made more sense now. That was why the man was so confident. He knew Tamaran fought a losing battle. He taunted him with words about his father and his uncle. Were they true? No, they could not be. They would never join this man or his sick cult. They must have been taken like the villagers. He could not let this man’s lies get to him. He would not let Muhal break his spirit.

Tamaran took up his march again. He thought of all the reasons he could not and would not fall here to this man. He needed to avenge his school and his father, avenge his uncle. He now knew who was responsible and they would pay. He also needed to understand and master his gifts. If he was so valuable to these people, then he must be capable of so much more. That thought gave him strength to continue. He wiped the sweat beads from his eyes as he picked his way through the trees. The sweat began to cool on his brow as the sun faded. If anyone would have told him several months ago that he would be fleeing a cult of a dead God through a dark forest, he would have called them mad. How life could change in the blink of an eye. He mused over his simple dream of reaching Sabline and enrolling in a magic school. That sounded so basic, so mundane. Now his dreams had diminished to wanting to see the sun rise on another day as a free man.

“Soon all will be revealed, my friend. By the virtue of reverence, I call to you. You need not worry about your path any longer. Thruum has claimed you. Thruum will be your calling. Find the blessings of transformation through our lord and savior.” Muhal shouted out to the forest knowing his words would reach the frightened young man’s ears. “Why not stop and face me. We can discuss your future as civilized men.” A devious grin split his face. He chuckled at his own words while fingering his weapon excitedly.

The man’s voice grew closer. The cultists were gaining on him step by step, inch by inch. He was not accustomed to this terrain. The forest proved exhausting, confusing. Why did they not overtake him already? What the hell were they waiting for? He took a misstep and tumbled headlong into a ravine. He never saw the drop coming through the thick foliage. Leaves and vines parted to reveal a steep plunge. Tamaran cried out as he rolled head over heels through tangled vines to the muddy puddle at the base. The vegetation helped slow his descent. He silently cursed himself for the cry.

“Tamaran Alseid Kophar, are you well? Have you decided to wait for us?” Muhal chuckled. “Men, find him! The time draws near. I can feel it.” The voices of the cultists calling for Tamaran rang out loudly as the men fanned forward in their search for him. Their footsteps moved faster. The rustling leaves grew closer.

Tamaran struggled to regain his footing and crawl from the ravine. It was a steep climb, but he had no choice. He was a sitting target here. He refused to let that man have the satisfaction of him giving up. With his scimitar between his teeth, he began to haul himself from the dip using the many tangled vines for support.

* * * * * * * * * *

Reena knew this was a bad sign. If they were shouting, they had likely found him. She was still impressed he stayed ahead of them this long. She felt as if she had been skulking along through the woods forever. The light was fading. This was only going to get worse. She was already lost as hell. She glanced down at Peaches and grimaced. “Well shit, skunk, it’s time to do this. Although I’m not really sure what this is exactly. May Aethine see fit to watch over us.” She whispered a quick prayer to Chesick, God of Whims and Happenstance, too. “Chesick, may you guide our steps today. We’re going to need all the damn luck we can get.”

The girl crept from behind her latest tree and began to sprint through the forest in the direction of the cries. She dragged her feet to leave marks and slashed a tree with her knife knowing that may be the last sign she left for the others. She did not even know if the others were coming. A shape moved in the brush beside her and a blur dove from the bushes to tackle her to the ground. Reena screamed and kicked as she fell. Her life was about to end in one surprising flash. She never saw it coming. A small hand clamped over her mouth while the other pinned her blade away. She stared into the almond shaped, vibrantly green eyes of Daffonil. They looked so beautiful compared to the death she expected to find there. The woman placed a finger to her lips gesturing for silence. Reena nodded her understanding. Daffonil released the girl and gestured again for her to stay put. Peaches squeaked happily at the sight of her beloved companion.

The elf then kissed the skunk and sprinted away only to return seconds later with Bronwick and Stench riding on his broad shoulder. “We move together. I heard the shouts. The men must have found Tamaran,” Daffonil smiled happily. Reena thought she might be a tad too happy for the situation.

“There are four of them, four cultists and one is the leader. He seems scarier than the others,” Reena whispered. She glanced up at Stench and grinned. “Good work, you little turd.” Stench hopped from the big man’s shoulder to huddle at the girl’s side. She gave him a quick hug. “What’s our plan?”

Before she finished asking the question, the elf was bouncing away through the brush like a rabbit with the skunk waddling happily after her.

Bronwick met her gaze and shrugged while scratching his head. “It seems to be her way. Not a lot of talking. She’s a happy, quiet elf. And quick, that elf is quick!”

“Damn it!” Reena looked from Stench’s grinning face to Bronwick’s confused one. “I guess I’ll have to do it,” she grumbled. What did she know about tactics or rescue plans? She was still a kid. And yet she was suddenly the brains of this group.

They heard a new sound as something moved through the trees behind them at a rapid pace. Reena covered her mouth so she would not scream again while Bronwick raised Maggie to meet it head on. The giant blade swung inches from Vallen’s face to chop into a tree. The blow was so strong it nearly cut through the trunk. The young lord fell backwards with a gasp into Farrah’s arms.

“It’s us!” the woman hissed. “Lower your weapons! We heard the scream, so we ran. Is everyone alright?” Farrah helped Vallen regain his footing then hurried to check on them.

Reena grinned apologetically. “That was me. That crazy elf bitch scared the shit out of me. Speaking of she just raced off to stop the cultists and left us behind after saying we were staying together.” She threw her hands up at her sides in frustration. “What are we doing?”

A strong crease appeared between Vallen’s brows. He raced towards the shouts. “Keep up. We must work together. Tamaran needs us and it sounds as if his time is running short.” Farrah, then Bronwick followed by Reena and Stench raced after him. Everyone readied their weapons for the inevitable fight ahead.