Ethren was clearing the path. His tribe had been forced to flee yet again and as the lead ranger it was his duty to find the safest direction for them to travel.
For whatever reason, the Twisted had ever been less dense to the northwest. The tribe had been on the move for weeks now and burdened as they were at the end of winter; it had been slow going.
They were moving into a mountainous region where there was no information on what the land would be like, for none had ever travelled this direction and lived. The forests had ample forage and hunting which was a good sign, but no one had voluntarily decided to settle an area like this before. It would take more permanent structures and much more work every year to survive the winter, but hopefully they would be safe for generations against the expansionist attitudes of the Kaila to the south with how far they had traveled.
Ethren mirrored a few bird calls to notify his fellow rangers of a potential threat ahead. His heightened senses allowed him to feel where enemies may be lurking. He had a few channeled skills, but his sixth sense was by far the most developed of the scouts.
He stalked ahead silently through the trees until he laid eyes on the enemy. Four Twisted caribou with stone-like hides moved slowly across a valley as the earth rippled around them.
Drawing his bow to be ready and lining up his shot, he sounded a quick grasshopper noise and waited for the responses. Once all the other scouts had called in he pulled back, lining up his shot carefully and infusing the arrowhead, then whistled loudly to make the beasts pause before releasing.
Four Twisted, seven arrows, four dead. He grunted in a decidedly satisfied manner, then moved towards the Twisted to ensure they were truly slain.
The earth was still, and the beasts no longer drew breath. Ethren called to the scouts to approach.
These Twisted were weaker than those in the south, and Ethren couldn't help but ponder why. Usually the saturation of beasts were much higher which let them live for longer without being culled so they would get stronger, but in this area they suddenly declined in strength. It was a conundrum, but one he was glad to direct his tribe towards.
“Saravren, Deilos, dress the kill. Retreb, Gloast, Signal back that we have found a nice meadow to camp tonight. Ortara with me. We will secure the area.” Ethren directed.
After the area was deemed clear the rest of the tribe set up camp in the new clearing. The pack animals munched on the fresh verdant grass and the tribe began to make ready for the night while setting a perimeter and foraging nearby.
There were just around eight hundred of their people remaining after the initial war that had called so many innocents to death years ago. It was his hope that they could find a new, safer place to set down roots and grow. Only about a quarter of the tribe was male, and so the women had started to fill combat and guard duties.
Ethren quickly reported the scouting to tribal elder Hollen who was in charge of guarding the camp for a moment before finding his own tent and bedroll already set up. During his scouting, he noticed this area was ideal for a place to stay. There was a river at the southern edge of the meadow, plenty of old tall trees, and the land sloped just enough for good drainage.
He would scout further and make a decision once he had all of the facts.
He had no family or connections, and due to his rank, slept alone. It was always cold and lonely, but he preferred that to trying to bed down with others that would just remind him of his lost family.
He spared a thought before sleep overtook him for Saravren; his only surviving cousin. She was turning out to be a great ranger and someone he could count on, but she still slept with the initiates in the larger tent. As the cold was slowly defeated by his warm furs, he dreamed of the past years when his family would all cuddle together, and hoped that Saravren would find that kind of warmth some day.
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Saravren fumed silently at the fact that she was dressing kills when she could be ranging ahead and checking for new threats. Ethren always tried to baby her, and she did understand why. He was the head ranger, and she was his last relative and a woman. It still vexed her to be sitting back behind the lines most of the time. Protecting your family was a virtue, but she felt that he was drowning her in safety. She was an experienced scout, and didn’t need to be coddled!
After the camp was fully established, she decided to let Deilos know she would be ranging ahead alone, and went into very specific detail about the pain he would be in if he didn’t cover for her.
She just needed to get away for a while.
Moving northwest as they had been for a while, she channeled her own skill to fade into the background more easily, barely making a ripple on the Field as she slipped past the sentries.
Saravren had slept well the day before, and napped in the early hours. She would be able to keep ranging for at least a full day, and decided to scout out the route without actually hunting anything. Of all the ranger candidates she was the most skilled in stealth.
It was trivial to slip past the Twisted in the area as she traveled for they were relatively weak, and she made great time.
As she moved, she did notice a peculiar absence of Twisted in the path. Generally, the further north one traveled, the heavier and stronger the Twisted became, but Ethren had accurately found a strange pattern of weaker monsters in this direction.
The tribe had been slowly clearing the area as they traveled, and a curious pattern had emerged. It wasn’t revolutionary, but when one cleared an area of the Twisted, others would move towards it. Why was it that they were weaker to the northwest?
There were a few close calls as she slipped through the woods but she had been trained for that. Eventually dawn began to crest over the mountains to the far east, and she took a moment to scamper up a tree on a hill and watch the glorious sunrise.
Further south, every day was relatively boring, or at least mundane. It was hard to find a place where one could see far enough to truly appreciate dawn, but sitting in a tree on a hill and gazing towards the sky the mountains was truly an awe inspiring sight.
At first, the dark night sky had a blue tint begin to seep in, but not one that obscured the stars in any way. Suddenly there was a great contrast between the peaks of the mountains and the sky that hadn’t been noticeable before.
The sky then began to bleed colors into it. Reds, yellows and streaking purple clouds for contrast, all with the background of the sharp black voids of the mountains on the horizon.
The strangely shaped lakes reflected the sky perfectly, but added a sort of mystical feel to everything. Some lakes were perfectly round, others in strange zig-zag shapes. The hills didn’t flow around here, but seemed to be randomly placed. It all added to the ethereal beauty of dawn.
As the sky lightened, the mountaintops on the horizon began to shine with light. It looked like the sky had been cut by a thin band of gold all across the horizon. If one was to blink, they would miss important parts of the beauty that was a natural sunrise in the mountains so she tried her hardest to witness and reflect.
Suddenly, almost too fast to realize, the whole world around her lit up with light in a wave from the west. The sun finally burst over the peaks of the mountains and daylight came with a torrent of bird calls and animal movements.
It was a beautiful thing to witness, and the serenity it brought to Saravren’s soul was something she would never be able to accurately describe. Her furred ears moved around, trying to capture all the sounds, while her tail twitched happily back and forth, almost breaking her stealth from her perch.
As she sat and watched, the morning was suddenly rent asunder with thunder and flame from the north. She tensed and froze, her head whipping towards the sound as the whole forest seemed to pause. The Twisted nearby roared and began charging in that direction and after a quick breath to gather her nerves she decided to follow.
What horror was her tribe being led to? What kind of monster could create such noise and heat? It was her duty to investigate, let alone to sate her own curiosity.
Saravren’s skills at blending worked as the enraged beasts moved. It was easy to keep pace with them and she soon found herself looking at a large clearing from across a meadow. Jumping up into a tree for a better view of the scene she saw it.
A god. It must be.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
A creature that looked vaguely like a male tribesman was Covered in strange shining armor and surrounded by a blue dome. It held a very long knife of some kind that glowed with power. It was clearing out hordes of the Twisted with every breath she took, flinging frost, fire, and invisible blades of death with every movement.
The sheer scale of the destruction was awe-inspiring.
Never before had she heard of this sort of power except from stories of spirits and gods: long gone from this world.
As she huddled in the tree, she found her hands were shaking, and she was taking small quick breaths. Breaking out of her fear, she realized that there was more noise above and beyond the calls of the beasts and the roars of magical destruction. The god seemed to be screaming - constantly shouting some sort of diatribe in a rough and sharp language that Saravren couldn’t understand.
The longer the fight went on, the more shocked she became.
So much power! How was it possible to wield such energies for so long?!
Eventually the field was cleared, and the god stood among the corpses breathing heavily. Slowly, he started moving towards an area that gave Saravren a headache to focus on. She was too scared to move an inch, worried that she might be noticed.
He seemed to be doing something unfathomable around an area that twisted to her senses. The funny feeling slowly faded, and she could almost see some sort of magic happening near the god. As she switched her focus back to him, he was almost taken by surprise by some flying Twisted. After yelling some nonsense and annihilating them, he slowly began to move east.
It struck Saravren as a little strange that he had been taken by surprise, beginning to crack her belief that this creature may be a god. As he moved slowly to the east, slaughtering a few more Twisted with little effort, she decided it was far past time to return and report her findings. Certainly if he hadn’t noticed the monsters, then she would be safe with her own skill to fade to the senses.
She winced a little inside at what Ethren would say to her reckless scouting, but had faith that the knowledge she brought back would be worth it.
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Ethren was livid at and simultaneously proud of his cousin. Of course, he could never let her know that. She was looking like a contrite child with her dark ears down and face pointed towards her feet, but she still bravely recounted her scouting to the council that was, frankly, hard to believe.
A god, or something like it? Here in the middle of nowhere in the mountains of the cold north? Why was it here? What powers did it command? Was this a threat to the tribe? What should they do? Would this new spot be safe? Did they dare stay close enough to something that powerful? Should he even believe her?
That last question jolted him out of his fugue state. Saravren was nothing if not perfectly trustworthy. If this was the case, he just had to take in the new knowledge and think.
His mind raced as the elders talked in circles without any direction. Normally decisions would have been made by a chief and the elders would advise, but after the chief’s line had been slaughtered during the war none had distinguished themselves well enough to claim that title.
Eventually, he came to the obvious conclusion.
Trust; but verify. It was an ancient creed of their order.
The first thing he needed to do was to travel with a full team and scout out this new wrinkle. There was a river in the valley for water, and the normal guards for the clan could secure the area and hunt or forage for food well enough for the time being. The area was amazingly short on the more powerful Twisted, and so overall it would make an ideal place for a settlement.
Ethren stood up and slapped his hand on the arm of his chair to draw attention to the squabbling elders.
They all became silent fast enough for him to interject.
“I shall take Saravren and a few other scouts to explore this new situation. The remainder of the tribe shall set up here. It is a good spot for a camp for now, and this valley would be ideal to plant some crops and potentially settle for the long term. Whatever may happen in the future, we shall not be moving much further north. Start to settle in, mark out areas that would be ideal for fields, search for deadfall for firewood, down and process straight trees nearby to let them begin drying for shelters or homes. At worst it keeps our people busy, at best we have some lumber to make houses for the winter. This is a decree, as the military leader in a time of crisis, you cannot argue. See it done. I shall return as soon as I am able once the situation has been more fully explored.”
He nodded and waved for Saravren to join him as he walked back outside.
Saravren was still looking sheepish, knowing that there may be a scolding coming, but Ethren couldn’t bring himself to stay too harsh.
He paused and breathed a deep sigh. He had learned long ago that a dissapointed posture and a long silence would make the younger people think everything was their fault and begin to squirm. Small pleasures.
“Sara, you dissapointed me by running off without telling anyone or taking a second with you. That being said, you did fine ranger work, and if the whole tribe wasn’t dependent on us, I would be proud. You risk all of us when you risk yourself. We don’t have enough trained rangers and losing you or one of the others would be devastating.
“Technically, your solo mission finished the criteria for becoming a full ranger. If we end up settling here, I shall put you forward officially as a ranger candidate to the council. That being said, if I ever hear you, or anyone else for that matter, doing something so reckless again, I’ll beat the lessons that need to be taught into them so well that they won’t sit properly for a month, Understood?” He said, as he watched her stand straight with a mix of emotions on her face. She nodded stiffly at him, and Ethren turned to walk away.
”Rest for now, and we shall move out at dusk.” Ethren told her with a soft voice.
The perfect combination of disappointment at first, a hard line in the middle, and hopeful support at the end tempered with clearly understood consequences. He played her like a lute, or a head ranger, he supposed. He felt a tiny but sick doing this to her, but it was necessary for her development… so he had been told. His father and grandfather had loved it… best not to dwell on those memories too long.
He noticed Saravren perked up somewhat and gave a little salute as she stumbled with attempted alacrity towards the initiate’s tent. She had probably been up for close to two days and would need rest before showing the path she took.
Ethren wondered what everything could mean. There were patterns here that were starting to fall into place. The myths of their ancestors talking of a great battle in the mountains, the lack of stronger Twisted in this direction over the years, the report from Saravren about this rampaging god… It all came together into something he didn’t understand, but believed was important.
Huffing quietly in anger with his right ear twitching, Ethren began to issue orders to the scouts and rangers that he could find. He would take a nap soon, but in the meantime the path northwest must be opened and cleared of all hostiles.
For some reason, he felt that they didn’t have much time to waste.
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Richard stopped on his walk. He felt something… strange. He hadn’t made it even half the way towards the salt lick, but there was something funky. It was barely perceptible, but if there’s one thing that he had gotten good at over the years it was noticing incongruencies in his surroundings.
It wasn’t a monster… maybe… but it was something that wiggled on the general magical field.
I mean… it could be a monster. Maybe there are new stealth monsters? Hell, I’ll never sleep if I think about that for too long. He thought, scanning the magical field slowly and concentrating.
“Whatever it is, it’s moving south south-west, fast. Not many monsters that way, but they don’t seem to notice it… I’m too old to deal with this crap. If it leaves, then good for me and it.” Richard suddenly decided, speaking with the voice of a twenty year old and the spite of a great-great-grandfather who had been abandoned with only feral cats for company.
He began to trudge back east, but eventually slowed to a stop.
What if…
Shaking his head vigorously, he decided to be more aggressive and fight back against those insidious hopes. They had barely begun to surface into his consciousness before his well ingrained defensive (see: pessimistic) tactics fought furiously against them.
There weren’t too many monsters on the way to the cliff wall that held the salt lick, and he also subconsciously ignored the fact that there should be more. Clearing out the last remnants, he decided it was time to buckle down and get some salt.
Ever so slowly, Richard began to walk towards the cliff face while he immersed himself in his soul consciousness. The pressure began to arise as he was almost there, and he tried his best to strengthen the bond as he walked.
His eyes were closed - all of his focus on the bond. It had been a weird cycle, and he was feeling pressured to make some progress this year. That, and he really wanted some damned salt!
He was wholly inside of his own soul, pulling the connection along with him, when suddenly his face slammed into an object.
Snapping back to awareness he stared at the wall of whitish-yellow wall that he had just bonked his face into incomprehensively. It took a few minutes of dragging his frayed mind back into focus before he realized that he was standing next to the salt lick!.
“No WAY!” Richard suddenly screamed, his arms flailing above his head as he did a strange victory dance reminiscent of a concussed drunk.
He hadn’t even begun to feel sick or tired!
This was amazing!
Richard sat down hard and began laughing like a maniac - tears dripping down his face. His brain couldn’t understand why he was happy yet - it was short circuited on just the feeling of accomplishment. It had been… a long time since he felt this.
Actually accomplishing a long-term goal? When was the last time he could say that? He certainly couldn’t remember. It had been.. Well, it’d been a long time.
“Salt! Fucking saaaallltttt!!” he screamed at no one.
Richard popped quickly up on his feet and unsheathed his short battle blade again. Layering it with sharp force, he cut out a huge chunk of the more white stone, and then tried to pick it up, giggling like an idiot.
Realizing he was not, in fact, super-human, he cut the stones into smaller chunks and picked up what he could carry before beginning a goofy march with legs flying high back to his base.
Whatever that strange thing had been, it was long gone from Richard's mind. It would show up again, or not. It was rare that anything ever truly changed, but he was good at spotting it when it did. But all that paled in comparison to being able to add salt to his menu.
He was gunna salt everything.