by The Ranger
Khora took his blade and shoved it back into its scabbard. She then passed Cake into his arms before he could protest.
"Edmund, take Ranger and conceal yourself in the back of the house," she ordered. "Eren, you'll go with him. Keep her safe as well."
"Why do I have to be the one to hold the cat?" he complained.
Khora brought her face close to his and peered into his startled eyes.
"Because I saw how quickly you swung at the chair," she scolded. "I'd rather not be stuck in a corner with you if the fighting starts."
They stared at each other for a moment before Eren smiled.
"Has anyone ever told you that you have such pretty eyes?" he pointed out.
"Get back there," she huffed, pushing him towards Edmund.
Eren snickered as the young boy led him to the back of the house. Cake stared at Ranger as she was lugged around awkwardly.
"What's the plan then?" Aven asked, huddling near Khora.
"The plan is to hide," Richard reiterated. "If we need to attack, then the plan is attack."
Khora pulled her spear from the table and held it tightly at her side.
"We should have more of a plan than that," she countered. "I suggest you and I remain at the front, Aven. Richard, you could stay behind us and use your senses to anticipate their movements. If things grow dangerous, perhaps you can ensnare them. Otherwise, we shouldn't reveal your abilities too soon."
Aven looked at Richard, but the latter simply nodded in approval.
"Excellent," she sighed, rising to her feet. "Take your positions."
Richard crept into the corridor leading out of the entry room and crouched behind a display case holding some of Rahm's mementos. Aven almost seemed to slither beneath the large table; even though Khora knew he was there, she had difficulties seeing him through the darkness.
After a bit of searching, she found a spot behind a large chest in the corner of the room. She pulled it away from the wall and climbed over it, ducking beneath its cover. She almost held her breath as she hid there— waiting and wondering if Richard might have been wrong. However, the slow creak of the door began to confirm his worries.
After a brief second of silence, it swung open, slamming into the wall. Khora shuddered as the sound rang out across the room but forced herself not to peer over the chest.
"What was that?" a man whined.
"What?" another replied. "It's supposed to be empty."
"Supposed to be," the first returned. "We don't know if anyone's hiding away out here."
"Oh, please. Don't be so suspicious of everything. It's not a good look on you," the second man brushed aside. "Come on, let's ransack the place."
Khora heard a slight sigh as one of the men took a few steps out of the cottage.
"We're all fine in here," the first man announced.
Khora closed her eyes as a flurry of footsteps passed through the door and into the room. It would only be a matter of time before someone decided to go through Rahm's chest. She gripped her spear when a few stray steps grew louder as they approached.
"Rowan," a voice called.
The steps stopped suddenly, and Khora braved a quick glance over the chest.
A man stood near her, with his back turned as he looked towards one of his companions standing in the doorway. He was tall but thin and clumsy-looking— almost like a young boy whose legs had grown before the rest of him. He had brown hair and wore simple leather armor with iron bracers. Khora couldn't quite see his face.
"Weren't we supposed to check for-" the man in the doorway began.
"Oh yes, that's right," Rowan muttered. "I would guess… beneath the table."
The man strode away from her as he drew closer to the table and to Aven, who remained still beneath it. He set his hand on the wood and took a deep breath before quickly crouching down.
"Come on out, little-" he began.
Rowan yelped and jumped back away from the table.
"Ther-there's someone here!" he yelled out.
Khora cursed their luck as she leapt over the chest and brandished her spear. Aven rolled out from under the table and pulled his sword.
"You-you're not supposed to be here," Rowan stuttered.
"Neither are you!" Khora yelled, preparing to fight.
"Except we are."
The hair on the back of her neck shot up as her eyes darted towards the familiar voice. Across from her, leaning on one of his men for support, stood a wounded Bogar. Most of his clothes seemed to be drenched in crimson, and his once tan skin looked pale and sweaty. Even his hair, which had been neatly combed back before, seemed a wiry mess.
"It's good to see you're still alive," he coughed. "With what's happening— I wasn't sure I'd see any of you again."
Richard made his way towards Aven and set his hand on the latter's raised blade, lowering it.
"This man is an ally," he told him. "Get Eren and Edmund; we'll be fine."
Aven kept his eyes on Bogar and the rest but nodded and quickly walked away.
"I'll take a seat here, Eldin," Bogar groaned, stepping away from the man he was leaning on.
The Chief gritted his teeth as he hobbled towards one of Rahm's seats and plopped down onto it. He let out a long sigh as he turned to look back at his men.
"Keep searching. I'm in no danger with them," he ordered.
Eldin, a stout man built like a bear, lowered his head meekly before returning to his task.
"I thought I'd killed you," Khora murmured, staring at Bogar.
He turned back to her, a slight grin on his face.
"Killed me?" he repeated.
"Inadvertently," she clarified. "Through our actions."
Bogar allowed a pained laugh as he heard her words.
"Inadvertently killed me?" he chuckled. "Darling, no one can 'inadvertently' kill me. Not even those who are trying to purposely kill me have managed."
Khora looked at the stains on his shirt and stopped herself from pointing out how close they had come.
"What are you doing here?" Richard questioned.
The calm, almost playful attitude on Bogar's face disappeared— replaced by a more steeled expression.
"Marinia has fallen. Permanently this time, I think," he established. "We've got Rahm with us, and he sent me here to salvage supplies."
Edmund nervously trudged into the room, with Ranger protectively stuck at his side. Eren appeared an instant after, with Cake squirming in his arms uncomfortably.
"We're here for the cat, too," he added. "Rowan?"
Rowan anxiously approached Eren and took the cat from him awkwardly— holding her like one might hold a ferocious creature.
"She won't kill you, son, don't be so squeamish," Bogar scolded.
"Of course, Chief," he muttered, attempting to hide his evident distrust of Cake.
"Bogar," Khora called.
The Chief glanced at her lazily.
"What happened to Marinia?" she asked.
He closed his eyes for a few seconds and leaned back in his seat.
"You were still there when the first battle broke out," he started. "It ended soon after that — once Minatir had drawn enough blood to satisfy his fury — but that was only a short respite. Not even a day had gone by when lines were drawn across the city, and war was the word on the wind. Danis, another leader of a sizable faction, joined in on the bloodletting as well. After the first day of open slaughter, I began to suggest the departure of those unfit or unwilling to fight."
"We met a family that had been fleeing the Ashlands," Richard recounted. "They were on their way to some ship off the coast, they had said."
Bogar nodded.
"I've had a transport at the ready for months. Long before any of you arrived, I had known Minatir was biding his time. The little rat that he is," he admitted. "But none of it mattered. We were too busy fighting amongst ourselves to see the true danger. The sorcerer had finally come."
Eren took a few steps forward, closer to Bogar
.
"Lucan?" he asked.
"Lucan?" the Chief repeated quizzically.
"That's his name," Khora explained. "The sorcerer."
Bogar froze for a moment, his eyes locked on Khora. He eventually wiped the sweat off his forehead and shook his head.
"I… I had never considered he had a name," he confessed. "How foolish, I must sound. But I had always seen him simply as a monster. A shadow looming over our history. Not quite a person…"
Bogar trailed off, his eyes peering off into empty space— a complete absence of focus within them.
"Bogar?" Richard said, concern in his eyes.
The Chief returned his attention to them and stood up sloppily.
"We need to get back to the rest of our group and get on our way," he told them. "You're welcome to come along if you have questions or would rather travel in numbers, but there's no more time to waste."
"What happened with Lucan?" Eren pushed.
"He's not a problem yet," the Chief groaned, hobbling towards the exit. "He and his monsters are on the hills to Marinia's north. They haven't attacked."
Bogar shuffled out, and a sharp whistle drew his followers out with him. They carried sacks of goods and bundles of furs and clothes. Rowan carried Cake out as they made their way out into the woods.
"What do you think we should do?" Aven asked no one in particular.
"We go with them, obviously," Eren put forward.
"Why obviously?" Edmund inquired.
"So we can fight Lucan? Do you need a better reason?" he mocked.
"They're not going to fight him; they're going to regroup and flee," Richard reminded him.
"Well, at least we could learn what's been happening," Eren pushed. "This is as close as we've come to… him. We shouldn't waste the opportunity."
"I think it might be best if we actually avoid all this," Edmund suggested. "Get back home while everyone is too busy with each other to notice us."
"But we lose our chance to take the fight to Lucan— before he even gets close to Azra," Eren refuted.
Khora and Richard shared a momentary glance. She could feel the anger in his heart radiating around him. He was desperate to pursue their foe, but Richard wouldn't make a decision that might endanger them. She almost thought she could see a tinge of yellow in his irises.
"We should go with Bogar," she finally accepted. "If not to battle, then at least to educate ourselves on Marinia's circumstances. This might be our last opportunity to learn more before we strike."
Eren nodded furiously, but Richard simply closed his eyes and lowered his head.
"I agree," he whispered. "We're so close. I can feel it. I sense that he is… that he is just barely out of my reach."
Their eyes were on him for a moment, as he seemed to wallow in their circumstances. Edmund broke the silence when he turned to his friend.
"You've been quiet, Aven," he said.
"Yes," the young man nodded. "I feel conflicted about all this. It's true that we've been presented with a unique opportunity, but… I can almost taste the darkness in the air around us. There is more danger here, in this moment, than there has been before."
"How can you tell?" Richard asked.
"I-I just can," Aven stuttered. "I don't know why it isn't more obvious— just how shrouded our path is. It seems… cloaked in malice."
He looked around as he finished explaining his feelings but was met with nothing more than expectant looks.
"But, I suppose," he sighed. "We should go with this Bogar man then. After that, with whatever we learn, we can make a decision."
"Well reasoned, Aven," Khora agreed. "Are we prepared to go?"
Edmund spared a glance at the painting sitting atop the fireplace. A mournful look washed across his face before it brightened as he was struck with an idea.
"Grab that for me, will you, Richard?" Edmund requested.
He looked at him strangely but did as he was asked— stretching his arm to take hold of the illustration. He handed it to the young boy, who gripped it gingerly.
"It would be a shame if Rahm left this behind. It seemed like he loved this painting," he recounted.
Khora smiled at the gesture. It was a small kindness, but one that she appreciated in such stark times.
"We'd best get moving," Eren advised, peering out a window. "It's starting to get darker out there."
They exited the cottage and began following after Bogar and his men. Khora froze as they stepped into the open woods and turned to look at the cottage one last time. She thought of what Siggfer and Alva might have been doing back in Azra and if word of Lucan's impending arrival had reached them. She wondered, for a moment, if they were thinking of her.
Khora stuffed her questions away and told herself she would have her peace soon enough. They just had to keep moving and keep fighting.
Chapter Eleven
Richard
They had not been walking for more than half an hour when the torches from Bogar's encampment came into view. There was still a small stretch of land they needed to cross before meeting with the rest, but the travelers seemed relieved by the sight of the makeshift camp. However, Richard had little attention left to spare the new locale. His focus was, instead, drained by that which laid on all sides around them.
Aven had been correct, he came to realize; darkness grew and multiplied here, and it continued to swallow up that which met it. He turned to look at his nearly-new friend, the young man with green eyes and a solemn look hanging beneath them, and wondered how Aven could have felt it sooner than he did. He wanted to place blame on the poison Lyla had administered, but he could already feel its effects waning. The range of his perception was growing, growing enough that he was beginning to perceive everything that stirred around them once again, and something else became apparent at that moment. Richard would need to learn how to rein in this ability or otherwise risk blinding himself when he needed his strength most.
"That's a lot of people," Edmund murmured when they approached the camp.
The swirling frost had stopped its assault, but the sun was still shrouded, and soon enough, night would be upon them. However, bits of light managed to filter through the clouds and fall onto the Chief's people; it shone on the huddled forms and meager souls called away from their home. They sat quietly, cold and afraid, as their guardians hobbled back to their posts. Their swords and axes carried by the young, the old, and the miserable. Richard abandoned the notion of counting them all when he surpassed fifty. While he wasn't surprised to see so many fleeing the city, he had expected to see anger on their faces, but there was none. More than anything, it seemed almost like a somber sort of acceptance had found its way among them.
There was only one smiling face to be seen throughout the crowd.
"You've returned!" Rahm cried out as he marched past Rowan and an eager Cake. "Once these dreadful monsters began to appear, I was afraid they'd have killed you!"
"We're glad to see you as well," Richard mumbled, forcing a smile.
His words were sincere, as far as appreciating that the old man had not become a victim of the Seekers, but he may not have shared the same enthusiasm Rahm did.
"Here, I found this along the way," Edmund grinned, fumbling to pass the painting towards its painter. "I didn't think it should be left behind."
"Oh, how wonderful!" the old man cried out. "In all the chaos, I had forgotten about it…"
He held it in his hands tightly, looking over every inch of the illustration, before turning to face the man standing behind him awkwardly.
"Why don't I take Cake, Rowan? And you can put this with Bogar's things?" Rahm suggested.
Rowan meekly agreed, handed the cat back to her master, and gingerly took the painting into his own hands. He waddled over to a far corner of the camp where Bogar had sat down to change his wrappings.
"Thank you for the kindness," the old man said. "There have been few opportunities for light to shine through these times."
&n
bsp; He beamed as he set his hand on the young boy's shoulder and glanced around them. His eyes fell on Aven and Eren, scanning them curiously before turning to Richard.
"And where is the Pr— the redheaded boy?" he asked, sparing a look at the nearby guards.
Richard's expression grew solemn as he heard his question.
"He didn't survive the encounter with the Ancient," he whispered, feeling the heaviness of the jewel in his pocket. "He gave up his life…"
"Ah," Rahm replied, his eyes cast to the ground. "That is… that is a true shame. He seemed… he was a kind young man. I had great hope for his future."
The old man wiped at his nose and cleared his throat before returning his attention to them.
"But did you succeed?" he poked, a glimmer of optimism in his eyes.
"We did," Khora answered. "The nature spirit has provided the power needed to defeat our enemy."
She nudged Richard's boot with her spear, and he brought his hand down towards Rahm's eyes. He exposed his palm and the strange seed within it. It still possessed a faint glow that cast a green light onto the old man's creased face.
"Then there is still a possibility of victory. At least for your people," the old man murmured. "I am… well aware that our cause has been lost."
There was a grim silence as Rahm sighed his last few words, one that was only compounded by the sight of such defeated people.
"Where will your ship take all of you?" Khora inquired, curiosity thick in her voice.
"Syvon, to the far west of the continent," Rahm mumbled. "We can only hope they'll accept so many of us."
"Syvon…" Richard repeated.
He was familiar with the settlement. It was a great elven city, one of three that had been settled in the same region. Before he learned of the Ashlands, he had believed they were the only other independent cities founded along the same coast as Azra.
While Richard knew nothing more than the names of the other two elf territories, he had an adequate understanding of Syvon. It was the only city among the three that consisted of both human and elven citizens. Such an intermingling was unheard of, though, and brought a veil of disapproval over those who traveled through Azra from the settlement.
