“What? Why?” Valon asked, growing frustrated with the tree.
“It is not my place. Our council made a decision to leave your people be and not interfere. I shouldn’t even be here now, but I wanted to at least warn you, to tell you to bring your people together and leave this place. Even we are facing an absolute crisis, Valon. I beg of you, take your people and sail south. You cannot fight the evil stalking these lands, only escape,” Distichum pleaded.
“But surely we can defeat this foe, right? What if our people worked together?” Valon asked.
“It wouldn’t be enough. You may prolong it, hold it back, but from what we can tell once it takes root it cannot be stopped!” Distichum yelled out, his deep voice echoing through the swamp.
Valon didn’t respond, chilled by the great tree’s words. If such an ancient and seemingly intelligent race had no faith, then how could humans alone hope to stop them? He looked away, thinking of Distichum’s words to sail south. The Ancient Clan didn’t have any ships. Not only that, but he wasn’t aware of any islands to the south.
“You say we should sail south?” Valon asked, turning back to the tree being.
“If you want to survive, I urge all you humans to flee. There is a great land across the sea, one where my people originated. It is a wild, enormous, savage land, but full of life,” Distichum answered.
“I will mention it to my master, however we humans prefer to fight,” Valon said.
“It is your choice. Now, I must leave you, Valon. If you wish for your people to survive, heed my warning. Goodbye, Human,” Distichum said heavily, turning and walking away through the swamp.
“Thank you, great one,” Valon replied softly, watching the great tree-being leave him.
As Distichum disappeared into the growing evening fog of the swamp, the frogs resumed their chorus. It seemed Valon was alone, and the words of Distichum echoed throughout his mind. Regardless, he’d have to tell his master about what he’d seen.
Valon quickly walked back toward the village, the fate of his people weighing heavily on his mind. He approached the warning with every part of logic he could; he wondered if the Arboreals had overestimated the threat, or perhaps were not a race of fighters. Just because Distichum said it was impossible didn’t mean he was right. Or on the contrary, his evaluation had been entirely correct, and the only way to survive was to run. As he returned to his village, Valon was so concerned with the warning he hadn’t even noticed the magic emanating from the cave had ceased.
Kynud opened the gate as he approached, greeting Valon as he walked through. Valon smiled and continued into the village, suddenly realizing there were many people out walking on the boardwalk. He knew the ritual must have concluded and picked up his pace as he headed towards the tower.
As he passed, he noticed many of his fellow clanspeople giving him strange looks. Their emotions seemed mixed, some looking sad, some unsure, some frustrated. Valon didn’t have time to stop and speak to them, and pressed on, his leather boots thudding against the wood of the low boardwalk.
As he approached his master’s tower, he noticed something incredibly strange. For the first time he could remember, the door had been left wide open. Valon slowly walked through the doorway, looking to see a white-haired man sitting in his master’s chair facing away toward the fireplace. Considering he wore the typical brown Ancient Clan robes, Valon found himself wondering with concern who would let themselves in so brazenly.
“Excuse me,” Valon said, staring intently at the man.
“Apprentice, I have been looking everywhere for you,” the man replied.
“What? Master?” Valon asked, walking closer to the man.
Valon audibly gasped as his master turned towards him. His thick jet-black hair had become white as snow, and he looked as though he had aged another year since they had last seen each other mere hours before. The only thing that looked the same was his glowing blue magic-infused eye. Valon stared at his master in surprise.
“As you can see, the farsight took a bit of a toll on me,” Seer Mordou chuckled with a small cough, his voice sounding strained.
“Master, by the gods! Are you alright?” Valon asked, sitting down across the table from his aged master.
“I am fine, simply tired. However, let us not talk about me. Let us talk about what comes next,” Seer Mordou replied, not worried for his own health.
“What comes next? Was the ritual a success then?” Valon asked, still concerned for his master.
“It was,” Seer Mordou replied, taking out his pipe and lighting it.
Valon sat in silence as his master smoked the pipe, wondering why he was being so silent. Valon waited for his master to speak, but the old man didn’t seem to have anything to say. Finally, he couldn’t sit by any longer.
“Well? What happened? What did you see? What should we do?” Valon questioned impatiently.
“We wait,” Seer Mordou replied with a strange laugh.
“We wait?” Valon asked, stunned.
“For now, all we need to do is wait, my apprentice,” Seer Mordou replied, appearing abnormally relaxed.
“Wait for what?” Valon continued, not satisfied.
Seer Mordou only chuckled, sitting back a little further and taking another large toke from his pipe. As Valon watched, he couldn’t help but frown in confusion. His master seemed changed, and Valon couldn’t tell whether it was complacency or confidence that oozed from the man in front of him.
“You will soon see. Now, what have you been up to this fine evening?” Seer Mordou asked with an interested look.
Valon didn’t speak at first, still put off by his master’s lack of caring. It was strange for Seer Mordou to act this way, and Valon only stared at his master for a few moments before remembering he had his own incredibly odd experience to share.
They spent the rest of that night going over Valon’s story, recounting what had happened with his unexpected meeting with Distichum. Each time Valon tried to transition back to what his master had seen, Seer Mordou simply chuckled and playfully scolded his apprentice for changing the subject. It was an odd night, yet eventually Valon found it within himself to stop thinking about it and trust his master. For now, all he could do was follow along with the Seer’s request to wait.
Chapter 13
Anna stared at Olaf, unable to speak. As their eyes locked, she noticed he looked upset. Normally she would try to ease him and make him feel better. After all, it wasn’t his fault; however, she was stuck in a brief moment of shock.
“I’m sorry, Anna, I should have told you sooner. I would have told you yesterday, but you were so busy after the battle I figured you should sleep,” Olaf apologized with a guilty frown.
“I just … I … Are you sure?” Anna stuttered, tearing up slightly.
“I am positive. Magic regarding that doesn’t lie. I’d guess you are a couple months along, maybe a little more than that,” Olaf replied solemnly.
“I see … Does anyone else know?” Anna asked, wiping away a tear as she slowly rubbed her stomach.
“Only Chieftain Barod. He wanted to be here to tell you, but that poison has rendered him … comatose … as you know,” Olaf answered with sorrowful eyes.
Anna closed her eyes as tears fell down her face. She was fraught with emotion, barely able to focus on her news. She knew she should be happy, knowing that somehow Fredrik’s legacy and love would live on. However, he would never know. Not only that, but her child would never know his—or her—father.
“Do not apologize, Olaf, for you did the right thing. I would’ve still gone through with the mission anyway,” Anna soothed, placing her hand on the old man’s shoulder.
Olaf only nodded, not saying another word. Anna knew he was an empathetic person, perhaps even too empathetic, if it was possible. If there was truly a person who looked out for others more than himself, it was Olaf. That’s what made him a great shaman.
“Now, I need to go. Thank you again, Olaf,” Anna said, r
ising to leave his hut.
“Wait. Please, take this and have a spoonful every day,” Olaf said, withdrawing a large vial from his worktable.
“I will,” Anna affirmed, taking the foggy glass vial of blue liquid. “Thank you.”
Olaf nodded and she walked from the hut. The bright sun hurt her eyes, and she quickly shielded them with her hand. It was surprisingly warm for this time of year, making her feel even more uncomfortable.
She looked to see Garon standing nearby against a post, nervously fiddling with something in his hands. Knowing she was somewhat responsible for his presence, she walked over to him. As she neared, they made eye contact, both slightly smiling.
“How are you doing?” Garon asked, knowing Anna was likely exhausted from her mission still.
“Pregnant,” Anna replied quietly, still in disbelief.
Garon’s eyes went wide and he failed to find words. He thought for a moment, unsure of what to say to the young woman he had barely known for a day.
“Oh, er, congratulations?” Garon spoke, as if asking a question.
“Wow, oh, I didn’t mean to say that aloud,” Anna said, shaking her head. “But thank you, it’s just surprising…”
A few moments went by, and Garon didn’t know how to reply. Anna was still staring off toward nothing, obviously deep in thought. He figured the least he could do was change the subject.
“You know, I’m actually surprised your people have a shaman,” Garon remarked.
“Oh? Why does that surprise you?” Anna asked.
“I know your people dislike magic even more than we do,” Garon replied, crossing his arms.
“Ha, dislike is a soft word. Many Narsho hate it,” Anna snorted.
“Why is that? For example, my people think it’s dishonorable. They also partially blame magic for causing the Great Clan to run from the shadows instead of fighting them,” Garon explained.
“I see. The Narsho people hate magic because one of our chieftains from many decades ago was killed by a mage from the Ancient Clan. He considered the mage a friend and never saw it coming. They say the magic drove him to do it,” Anna said with a shrug. “We call it the Great Betrayal.”
“Interesting. I can see why there would be some hatred then,” Garon replied, considering the story.
“Anyway, we should go to the Chieftain’s Hall. We will be discussing what to do next,” Anna said, beginning to walk.
“Ah, is Chieftain Barod awake?” Garon asked, feeling partially responsible for the chieftain’s coma.
“Unfortunately, he is not. It seems your father’s poison is a virulent one,” Anna replied.
Garon nodded and followed her. Neither spoke as they walked through the bustling Narsho village. Many of the clanspeople stared at Garon as they passed, though he didn’t get upset over it. Here, he was an obvious outsider, a red cloak still hung around his shoulders. Anna recognized he was at least here with good intentions, and trusted him for now.
Entering the hall, they found Guard Captain Jarult, Forud Chieftain Wooll, and an exhausted looking Titus surrounding a round table. They all turned as they saw Anna and Garon enter, displaying various emotions. Titus simply waved, sulking low in a chair at the far side of the table. It seemed to Anna that Titus’s wounds from the previous battle were not only physical.
“Ah, Anna. We’ve been discussing what to do. Your and Titus’s detailed accounts gave us a lot to think about,” Guard Captain Jarult greeted, then noticing Garon behind her. “I see the former Highrock prince has joined us as well.”
“Hello, Guard Captain. Yes, Garon hopes to somehow convince his father to join us in the fight. From what I’ve seen, we will need every warrior we can get,” Anna replied as they approached the table.
“She’s not wrong; with each warrior we lose, the Horrors seem to gain them in death,” Titus grumbled from his chair.
“Most disturbing,” Chieftain Wooll added, shaking his head.
There was a moment of silence as they all considered the implications of their comrades coming back to life and serving the enemy. Having seen it for herself, Anna would never forget the horrible sight. Seeing Fredrik like that had nearly broken her, but fortunately it seemed his soul had at least moved on from his body.
“Regardless, Chieftain Barod’s final order was for me to do whatever possible to destroy this enemy. Since I am tasked with upholding his position until he awakes or…” Guard Captain Jarult trailed off, not wanting to admit the possibility. “Anyway, I am sending someone to both the Ancient and Linta Clans.”
“A wise choice. And with them I will send my Champion, for both security and to ensure they understand how grave this threat is,” Chieftain Wooll agreed.
“I will travel back to Highrock Village shortly. Perhaps I can help my father see our true enemy,” Garon added quietly.
“While I doubt that will be possible, I commend you for wanting to try. Given you were exiled in front of all of us, I know how difficult that will be,” Guard Captain Jarult said, his words honest but carrying a slight sting.
“I will try regardless,” Garon answered.
“I would like to go to both the Ancient and Linta Clans,” Anna abruptly said.
The room went silent as the men looked at each other, then back at Anna. Their looks seemed to show they thought they had either mistaken what she had said, or she had misspoken.
Titus, however, looked on with amazement at Anna. “How can you possibly have the energy?” he asked with incredulity.
“It’s not a matter of energy, it’s a matter of our future. If we don’t act now, we won’t have time,” Anna urged.
“While I will not stop you from accompanying them to the villages, are you sure you’re up for such a journey?” Guard Captain Jarult asked.
“At this point I’ve become used to the constant fatigue,” Anna chuckled darkly to herself. “But besides Titus, and I guess young Falu, I’m the only person to have seen them in person.”
“Well, if you think you can manage, I will not stop you. Does anyone else object to Anna being one of our representatives?” Guard Captain Jarult asked, looking at the others.
“Of course not. I’ve only recently met her and have already heard tales of her fierce determination,” Chieftain Wooll smiled kindly.
“I certainly wouldn’t get in her way,” Titus chuckled, wincing from the prior day’s wounds.
“Then it’s settled. I planned on sending three warriors and an elder in addition to the Forud Champion. They are set to leave tomorrow at dawn. Will you be rested by then?” Guard Captain Jarult asked, keeping on task.
“I will be. I will leave with them,” Anna nodded.
“Would you mind if I accompany them as well, Captain? At least, until I have to travel to Highrock Village, that is,” Garon asked.
“Hm. I suppose that’s fine,” Guard Captain Jarult acquiesced, rubbing his well-trimmed moustache.
“Thank you,” Garon replied, stepping back from the table.
“I would go, but unfortunately I need to reserve my strength for the fight to come,” Titus said, shrugging his shoulders unhappily.
“Which is why our Champion shall accompany you should you run into any real trouble,” Chieftain Wooll added. “His name is Goreth Destro, and he should be just outside if you wish to introduce yourselves. You won’t be able to miss him.”
“Now, get some rest. I’ll want you all to travel as fast as possible, or at least as fast as the elder can go,” Guard Captain Jarult said with a hint of command in his voice.
Anna nodded and headed for the exit, Garon close behind. As they departed, she saw who she imagined was the Forud Clan Champion standing close by. He wore plate armor similar to Titus’s, except his was dyed blue—the signature Forud color—in certain spots. He had an imposing sword at his side and a large shield held on his back. Like the other Champions, he was exceptionally muscular, though far from handsome in any way, and his head was so bald it gleamed in the sun almost blindi
ngly.
“Excuse me, are you Goreth Destro?” Anna asked as she and Garon approached the Champion.
“Yep,” Goreth replied, a simple look on his face.
“My name is Anna Myhre, I’m a scout. I will be joining you tomorrow,” Anna said.
“And I am Garon Mace. I will be joining you for a short time as well,” Garon added.
As the two extended their hands toward the Forud Champion, Goreth nodded and slowly shook their hands. They stood there awkwardly, all waiting for the other to speak, but Goreth was quite content standing in silence.
“Well, I shall see you tomorrow then,” Anna smiled.
“Take care,” Garon added.
“See you tomorrow,” Goreth nodded.
Anna quickly walked away, Garon next to her. She didn’t say anything at first, not wanting to have the Champion hear her. However, she wasn’t the first to start speaking about their last conversation.
“He’s a simple one, isn’t he?” Garon spoke, glancing back at Goreth.
“Sh! Don’t let him hear you,” Anna scolded, glancing back to confirm he hadn’t.
“I’m not trying to be rude, I’m just being honest,” Garon chuckled.
“Well, just because the man’s simple doesn’t mean we have to acknowledge it. I’m sure he is quite strong,” Anna replied.
“I’m certain he is. It’s often the simple ones who are most deadly in simple combat,” Garon added. “Not to mention you have to be strong to wear that armor all day.”
Anna didn’t reply, not wanting to feed into the slightly arrogant outlook. Overall, she knew Garon was a kind man, and had enjoyed speaking with him since they met. However, his upbringing as a prince had likely imbued him with some attitude. Still, it wasn’t a fraction as bad as how Titus could be.
They continued back towards Anna’s home, walking through the busy dirt streets of the village. Since the battle, everyone in the clan had been keeping busy making repairs, tending to the wounded, and burying the dead. It was a lot of work, but there were plenty of clanspeople who were not warriors who contributed in this way.
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