Wind carried a wisp of snow across the frozen meadow nestled in the center of Urak’s Grove. Deventh’s eyes traced the flurry as it traveled to the far end of the clearing and disturbed a group of snowshoe hares, who all snapped to attention.
From his position atop a large boulder, the entirety of the meadow lay sprawled within view. Colorful, hardy winter flowers dotted the expanse, which was surrounded by a ring of mountains rising above the bordering trees. Deventh had decided to take a short break from his work at this vantage point on the off-chance he might spot a woolly pig.
A deep, refreshing breath stung his nose as he savored the majesty in front of him. Precious few of his jobs and contracts took him to the far corners of Grimros, but the silence and the sights made the trip worth taking. Although he enjoyed the company of his guildmates, nothing quite compared to admiring the beauty of a hidden grove in solitude.
While he did enjoy the tranquility, however, he had work to do as well. He peered out from behind a few branches which obscured his presence and surveyed the area once more.
Since leaving Ardmy at the gate, he had spent the better part of the day tracing his path back to the grove and searching for the tracks of wild pigs, and the sun was now falling behind the mountains. He’d begun to lose hope of finding any pigs — let alone the man-pig Captain Tiroirs described, which piqued his curiosity just enough that he decided to keep an eye out. Given the dwindling sunlight, he decided to return to his work and circle the meadow once more in an attempt to find any clues.
Deventh jumped down from his position atop the boulder and walked the meadow’s edge. His attentive eyes scanned the snow in front of him for hoof tracks. After continuing along the circumference for some time, he finally spotted a single set of tracks weaving in and out of the grove, which trailed in perfect correlation to the distance of rustling sounds in the bushes ahead. He depressed a button at the upper knuckle of his thumb, triggering a mechanism which expanded a small, compressed crossbow from the top of his glove.
“Oooh, what’s that?” A voice asked from behind him. Deventh stopped short with a jump, dropping the bolt he’d taken out to dip into a poison. He turned around and found his gaze upon the face of none other than Ardmy. The Gildvar brought a hand to his mouth and drew his lips. He didn’t expect his presence to break the Dronvar’s usually unwavering focus.
“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Admittedly I didn’t even know that was possible.” Ardmy cleared his throat and repeated in a half-whisper, “Sorry.”
“Why are you here?” Deventh asked. “What happened to Ravengarde?” In response to his question, Ardmy’s face fell into a frown.
“It’s nice to see you, too,” he remarked, sighing with frustration. “They wouldn’t let me through the gate.”
“Why not?”
“Apparently – and I’m not sure why the merchant from Beaverton Traders wouldn’t have known this – general travel is still prohibited. I, having no guild papers, fall under that category.”
“That puts quite a damper on your plans. What are you going to do?”
“Well, I have time while my horses are stabled at the gate, so my first idea was finding you...” Ardmy pursed his lips as he trailed off. “And then, well, I haven’t yet planned anything beyond that. Maybe I’ll just... Go back to Kho’Gul for some time.” He sighed despondently. Deventh regarded his friend with pity, and after a moment of contemplation, he nodded in understanding.
“Go back to the Brass Tusk,” he sighed. “Anna should be able to help you figure something out when you get there. If not, I will when I return.” He bent down to pick up the bolt he’d dropped before returning it to a small leather quiver attached to his belt.
“After coming all the way out here!?” Ardmy exclaimed, loud enough for a few nearby crows to startle away, cawing as they flew. “But I can help.”
“All right.” Deventh sighed again. “How?”
“Well...” Ardmy tapped his chin. “I’ve heard of a species of truffle which grows near the roots of silver firs here. The ground should be somewhat thawed from the winter by now and have a good amount of moisture to nurture fungal growth. It might be a good idea to keep an eye out for any pigs looking for a snack.”
“Interesting,” Deventh said, conceding the usefulness of Ardmy’s botanic knowledge. He scanned along the treetops for the taller, sparser conifers. “Let’s head back into the woods, then.”
And so, Deventh led the way onto the natural path between the thick rows of trees. Their cover grew thicker as the two proceeded, until the sun barely managed to sneak a peek between the bristled branches. Splatters of snow spread across the ground from the boughs above having yielded to their weight. The moisture from their slow melt left the soil soft, yet not soppy—an ideal condition to attract wild pigs, the two silently agreed.
Yet, before they could begin their search among the trees for a suitable hiding spot, a peculiar set of tracks, starting in the dirt and running over the dollops of snow, caught Deventh’s eye. Ten toes protruded from two plantigrade imprints, followed by ten fingers from a pair of palms, among which were two opposable thumbs. Without a word, he followed the tracks, his mind racing with the possibilities of what might lie ahead.
Ardmy nearly lost Deventh behind a fir tree before he realized his friend had wandered away. With a few quick bounds, he caught up and followed the Dronvar’s focused gaze to the ground.
“You found something?” Ardmy asked before noticing the prints, which Deventh pointed out.
“A trail.”
“Ah, I see. Man-pig tracks?”
“Or just man. There doesn’t appear to be anything piggish about these prints,” Deventh said as they continued to follow the prints to a small glade which drew a path to the entrance of a cave. Surrounding the entrance were flowers, in perfect bloom despite the frost. Each flower had two rows of three petals, with three vertical stripes on each one. The stripes varied in color and gave an iridescent shimmer as the sun touched the petals’ surface.
“Well would you look at that,” Ardmy whistled as he came up from behind Deventh. “Striped snow lilies.”
“Haven’t seen those in a while,” Deventh remarked. He found himself in a moment’s pause as he couldn’t help admiring their unique beauty from afar. “Fickle little things.”
“Yes, they’re quite hardy, yet they only grow in these numbers in the coniferous swamps of Grimros,” Ardmy said. “They love the peaty ground. Not much use for them other than looking pretty, however.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” said Deventh, astonished by Ardmy’s conclusion given his knowledge. “They have a high capacity for storing magic, so they’re often used to practice regulation of energy flow. It’s also a known practice to charge the dried petals with spells and throw them at things. Or people, for that matter.
“Is that so...” Ardmy hummed, squinting into the shadowy entrance as Deventh started along the path again. “And where did you learn that bit of knowledge?”
“I was registered with the Association for a time,” Deventh hesitated to admit. “Not here. In Drondaris, if you can believe one exists there. Ux-Noria started getting more contact with the outside world, and the novice mages found rather... Creative things to do with imported plants.”
“I remember when I was younger and used to find ‘creative things’ to do with plants.” Ardmy chuckled to himself, thinking back to his days studying alchemy. “Although our professors weren’t too keen on our version of ‘creativity.’”
“Such creativity varies quite little by province,” Deventh answered with his own chuckle, which met its abrupt end as they neared the cave entrance, in front of which stood an old sign. Orcish writing, warning of the abandoned mine within, was carved into the splintered wood, and above the writing were small, crude etchings of men and wild boars. Above the sign, impaled by its shaft, loomed the head of a woolly boar, its scooped tusks sticking out over its head.
“Well, that’s quite inviting,” Ardmy grimaced as he moved in closer to inspect the severed head.
“Charming, even,” Deventh added. Without a second thought beyond his comment, however, he entered the cave, crossing over into the blanket of shadows. Ardmy began to follow, but he stopped at the threshold just beyond the sign.
“So, the disembodied head and the sign don’t worry you, then?” he asked.
“They do,” Deventh said matter-of-factly, turning around to wait for his friend. Ardmy huffed with indecision as he glanced back at the sign, then at the boar’s head which loomed above. When he turned back to where Deventh stood, he had already disappeared inside.
“Well, that’s rude,” Ardmy muttered to himself, his quiet complaint contrary to his hurried pace as he ran to catch up. His eyes took little time to adjust to the shadows, revealing the silhouette of Deventh’s back as he crossed the threshold. He continued walking, either oblivious or indifferent to Ardmy’s slower gait. The walls narrowed to a funnel as they proceeded, leaving Deventh with no choice but to slow down and squeeze through. Ardmy caught up and squeezed through behind him, but he was left with no time to catch his breath before moving on.
“You’re in a hurry. Are you sure that’s so wise? We might run into traps, or... Something,” Ardmy questioned, eyeing the shadows of the darkening space. A faint roar of water sounded from ahead, but the source was nowhere in sight.
“I’ll keep a look out,” said Deventh, neither stopping nor looking back.
Ardmy cocked his head, only surprised by Deventh’s nonchalance when paired with such overt carelessness. Although he’d never traveled with Deventh for a mission before, the Gildvar’s suspicion rose beyond his apprehension toward questioning him.
“Are you certain that’s wise?” He asked.
Deventh didn’t answer. He continued, instead, until darkness enveloped them. A faint pinkish glow in the distance served as the only guiding light, and only the sound of heavy footsteps indicated that Deventh was heading towards it.
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Ardmy huffed as he quickened his pace, struggling to keep up despite the Dronvar’s even stride. Beads of sweat trickled down his face and neck as the cave warmed up, although sufficient time didn’t seem to have passed to descend to such depths.
“You can’t actually see in here, can you?” he asked, his furrowed brow invoking no concern from his friend through the inky darkness. Again, Deventh did not answer. Rather did the echoes of his footsteps, growing further and further away until his outline silhouetted against the far-off glow. Ardmy scratched his head, struggling to make sense of his surroundings.
No longer useful nor trustworthy to him, he abandoned his fundamental understanding of time and distance. He parted his lips in hopes of finding answers, but when the time came to speak, he couldn’t find the question. A sudden wave of nausea overcame him, and he reached out his arm and found a rocky wall to support him.
Ardmy’s eyes closed as the sound of the running water rose in volume, growing to a dull roar in the background of his confusion. A voice called out, drawing his focus away from the noise in his head. After he opened his eyes, he found himself standing, as if teleported, right between Deventh and the source of the pinkish glow: A wall of vines which obstructed the entrance to another room.
“What took you so long?” Deventh asked, his arms crossed over his chest. Equally unimpassioned as his tone was the metal which concealed his expression. Ardmy was surprised he hadn’t taken off his mask in the stifling heat.
“I, uh...” Ardmy said as he inexplicably found himself out of breath. “I don’t know.” He shook his head in confusion, his eyes shut tightly. When he opened them again, Deventh was gone. Rustling sounded from behind him, and as he turned around, he saw the glowing vines swinging left and right. Ardmy pulled back the curtain to peer inside, revealing a long tunnel. The vines which formed the curtain, accompanied by a network of tendrils, crept along the walls throughout to illuminate the path.
Bioluminescent blue mushrooms popped up between them, the colors blending into a soft purple where they overlapped--were he not in a state of such confusion, Ardmy might have taken a pause to admire its beauty. Between the overgrown walls, the light revealed Deventh, who was nearing the end of the tunnel where a corner formed. Ardmy squinted in disbelief--Mere seconds had passed since the two were standing face-to-face.
“He was just...” Ardmy turned around again and found himself almost relieved to find his expectations unfulfilled. “Well, he’s definitely not here anymore.” The Gildvar sighed, expelling his reluctance as he peered into the tunnel once more. After a moment’s hesitance, he took his first step inside and was grateful to discover no unpleasant surprises awaiting him beyond the threshold.
A calming warmth spread throughout Ardmy’s body as he basked in the vibrant light. His eyes widened in awe and wonder as he continued through the tunnel. Not until his cheeks stung with strain did he discover his ear-to-ear grin, having forgotten his worries—having forgotten Deventh, and having forgotten why he came to wherever he was.
A bout of giggles tickled his mind and bubbled up through him as he reached up and patted his face with a contented sigh. Moments later he found himself overcome with intense embarrassment, hoping no one witnessed his moment of uninhibited joy. He tried to shake the prickly sensation from his head, but could only ward off the laughter for a short duration.
Soft laughter bubbled up again as Ardmy’s legs carried him further and further, as if on their own. The moment he turned the corner, the colors began to swirl around him. Blue and pink mixed deeper together to create spirals of purple as turquoise spots flashed and faded. Despite an eerie sensation which loomed at the back of his skull, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the beauty, and he couldn’t stop himself from moving forward.
“Am I dreaming?” he murmured, looking down at his hands; they were remarkably normal. Shaking the thought from his head, he traced the path ahead to what appeared to be the exit to the tunnel, adorned with another curtain of vines. The intensifying sound of running water caused his ears to twitch with curiosity. After a few more steps, he continued through without hesitation, beyond the curtain and into a vast, open cavern. The sight which he beheld within left him speechless, motionless, for quite some time upon entering.
Surrounding him on all sides were vast walls entirely covered by crystals of every color imaginable, as if he were standing in the core of a massive geode. Light streamed in from a crack in the ceiling, refracted in every direction through a giant crystal. Glimmering specks of colored light dotted the raised stone platform upon which he stood.
The Gildvar found himself humbled by the opportunity to stumble upon such beauty that few were likely to ever witness. Feeling infinitesimal among his breathtaking surroundings, he moved in further to get a better view.
The crystals shimmered with each step he took. Lost in a font of visual bliss, his ears had drowned out the roaring water that followed him through all the twists and turns of the cave system. Only at that moment did they find the source.
To the right of the room, a small waterfall flowed out of a circular hole in the crystal wall and into a protrusion which formed a natural spring. The water overflowed into a stream overlooked by the platform. A jagged crevice cut the room in two, carrying the stream to an outlet on the other end.
Beyond that opening, however, the continuing tunnel was much too dark for Ardmy to see. Once his eyes finished tracing the water’s path, he looked forward and found his eyes set upon a simple wooden bridge which joined the platform to another identical one across the way.
At the opposite end he found another opening in the wall, perhaps another exit. Despite wanting more than anything to stay and admire the crystalline room, he was in a hurry to leave; when he tried to remember why, he couldn’t.
Nevertheless, Ardmy proceeded to the bridge, all the while turning his head every which way to take in every last bit of the splendor all around him. Another contented sigh escaped him. At the very same moment, he set his foot down on the creaking wooden boards. In an instant, all the light and dancing colors that had surrounded him vanished, swallowed by a pitch-black void.
“H-hello?” Ardmy called out. The open air of the cavern seemed to have shrunk to a bubble, muting the sound of the running water and trapping his quaking voice close to him. A sudden chill tightened every muscle in body. The room grew colder until his quickened breaths billowed before him. Alone in the shroud of darkness, his mind became clear, and he remembered why he was there.
“Deventh?” He called as he broke out in violent shivers. His cries rippled and modulated as they reached his ears. Unrecognizable, the waves of sound trickled into his synapses and solidified into a disembodied hand which grabbed hold of his mind. The ringing in his ears perched itself at the highest threshold of frequency, soft yet piercing all the same as the hand ripped something away from him.
A surge of colors rushed in, like reflections from the facets of a geode, feeding its own continuous acceleration and flooding every inch of space. A blinding light claimed the entire room, leaving everything blurred and indistinct. The only force that hoped and dared to contend with the overwhelming brightness was the deafening roar of the water, once more uninhibited. Time slipped from his grasp, no longer an object, immeasurable.
The surge came to an abrupt end.
Bright white light hung suspended in the air. It slowly descended in a distorted, geometric ooze. As it trickled away, so too did the sound of the waterfall fade. The light gathered in a jagged pool which evaporated in millions of tiny shapes of all different colors. When the last one faded, once more an impenetrable darkness wrapped the lone figure in its embrace.
A pair of emerald eyes blinked behind two rows of ginger eyelashes. A pair of ears observed nothing but the sound of breath as a cold-stung nose filled a pair of lungs with life-giving oxygen. A heart pulsed, pumping blood to dozens of organs to fulfill their unprompted, intrinsic tasks. A tongue pressed against the roof of a dry mouth, locking away a voice that had nothing to say. Every piece of the collective hid beneath, or sat embedded within, a wrapping of golden skin that tightened to form bumps as the frigid breeze swept past.
A hand emerged from within the skull, carrying something with it. The eyes blinked again, and when they opened once more, they were blind. The something observed the collective from the outside, alone in a sea of darkness. It gazed upon it, tracing the features of a face, locks of red hair, and a scruffy beard. After mere seconds of observation, it found itself overcome with despair and loneliness, despite being unsure why.
A sudden pang rose from the pit of the stomach–and the something felt it. The emerald eyes blinked in flutters. The golden hands clutched the red hair atop the head, strands flowing between fingers. It could feel the heart racing, the softness of the hair, the lump the throat couldn’t swallow, try as it might. It could feel everything.
At that moment, it realized its part in the collective, the very same as the heart, lungs, or eyes. Symbiotic as they were designed, the two would never amount to anything on their own. Despair and loneliness, too, only took form when they were together. What irony, it thought, as it knew it would never be free of such ills while the collective continued to exist, but that each would cease to exist if the other did as well.
Deciding then that it wanted to see no more, the something implored the hand to return it to the skull. It nestled itself in the dark cage of bone and fluid, safe and warm where it was meant to be.
The eyes blinked again, and once more, there was Ardmy. His body had stiffened, shivering uncontrollably, and the pitch blackness still surrounded him. His hands still clutched his head, gripping strands of disheveled hair that clung to the sweat of his palms. Heavy, shaken breaths billowed in front of him in a white cloud of condensation – just as before.
“Gods...” he choked to himself, bringing his hands down in front of him to inspect them. They were remarkably normal.
Ardmy collapsed to his knees. He pressed his palms to the cold stone floor, curling his fingers and squeezing his eyes shut. Slower and shallower breaths made smaller and lighter puffs which shrunk as the temperature began to rise. As the warmth set in, a speck of light burned through his eyelids, coaxing them open. Walls like the core of a geode once again glittered all around him, the reflections of their multicolored facets dotting the floor. He breathed a trembling sigh of relief.
The sudden sensation of another presence left him stunned. A firm hand gripped his right shoulder, familiar and comforting like a friend offering reassurance. Before he thought to turn around and see who had approached, a strong arm wrapped itself around his left shoulder. Something cold, thin, and sharp pressed against his throat, with just enough force that should he make one wrong move, it could easily cut through. A hand that sported a rather unusual glove held the blade in place.
“Deventh?” his voice trembled, and the remainder of his breath trickled out quivering as he glanced down at the strange glove. Glints of seafoam green, purple, and bronze reflected from the iridescent blade onto its dark leather and brass accents. Ardmy found himself frozen, his chest tightening with dread. Try as he did not to move at all, he gulped, and in doing so forced the blade to dig into his skin. Tiny drops of warm blood trickled down his neck. The presumed Deventh said nothing.
“Please say something,” Ardmy reduced his voice to a whisper so as not to push the blade further into his throat. Following the trickling trails of blood was a peculiar warmth which flooded his entire body. A stiff numbness in each of his limbs soon replaced that warmth. “Even if you’re going to kill me, tell me why first.” Silence gave way to the water’s roar as Ardmy awaited a response to his plea.
“Very well,” Deventh answered. Ardmy half-hoped for the resemblance to be pure coincidence, but his friend’s voice – deep, and always somewhat gravelly with fatigue – was unmistakable. “As your friend, I can oblige. Zéah needed something a bit harder to get, along with the pigs’ tusks. It’s not that I had you in mind in particular – had you gone to Ravengarde, anyone else would have suited just fine. Wrong place at the wrong time again, I suppose.”
“And the – Everything I just saw,” Ardmy said, “Did you poison me?”
“Does it matter?”
“No. Just curious. You know how I am.”
“Fair enough,” Deventh concluded. “Yes. I nicked your elbow with a hallucinogenic concentrate. Was there anything else?”
“Only my regret for being so foolish.” Ardmy closed his eyes. “I truly did believe I’d found a friend for once.”
Another pause filled the air with silence as Ardmy’s ears tuned into the gentle flow of running water. After a moment, the Dronvar spoke his final words to Ardmy, his voice eerily comforting.
“That is quite a shame.” In one swift movement, Deventh swiped the blade across Ardmy’s throat, cutting deep into the flesh. The poison, having rendered the fatal slash painless, left him with nothing more to do but gasp for air. Blood splashed against the floor with soft, rainlike pats. Footsteps traveled from behind him to in front, a distorted echo fluttering around the source. Widened, glassy eyes rolled up to behold a towering, impenitent Deventh, who crossed his arms in front of his chest as though he were simply waiting. Although his mask concealed his face, it hid nothing.
Ardmy’s vision flickered and faded from black to blur. He kept his eyes on Deventh, who slowly reduced to nothing more than a monstrous blob of shadow. After a merciful release from the paralysis of the poison, Ardmy fell to his side, watching the soft, blurred dots of color as they danced across the floor. A pool of blood had amassed all around him, and he had no more to give. Warm comfort swelled through him, numbing the stinging cold of blood loss as he relinquished himself.
The hand emerged from the skull once more, carrying the something away.