by Cody Loewen
At the last second, I sense a strike coming from my left side and dive away from it, narrowly avoiding what could have been a lethal blow from my other enemy. Back on my feet, I reassess the situation, looking for my best route to dispatch them, and settle on the one already bleeding from where I scored hits before. I take advantage of the pause to transform the pike into its traditional longsword form. I feel much more confident about using the weapon I am most practiced with to finish this fight.
As soon as I feel the reduction in weight from the successful transformation, I am forced to take the defensive as both of my opponents launch their own attacks at me. I furiously dodge blows from each of them, doing my best not to use my sword to block, knowing the damage and pain that it could do to my arm. Seeing a hole in the offensive combination of the opponent on my right, I move in for a counterstrike, looking to slip in a quick thrust and finish him off quickly. I score a hit, pulling my sword back out bloody, and the gnoll slows, eyes widening as his arms fall down to his sides, club slipping out of his grasp. A moment of satisfaction comes over me at the death of the second gnoll but it is almost instantly replaced as the third and final opponent in front of me launches a devastating horizontal sweep at shoulder level that I have no hope of dodging. I am forced to drop straight to the ground, landing hard, my breath flying from my lungs. My sword flies from my grasp in the fall, and I raise both of my hands, now empty, in a futile defense against the downward chop that I know is coming next.
The gnoll’s mouth opens in the wide grin of victory, its yellow, razor-sharp teeth bared as it raises the club high above its head. The red mist behind my eyes vanishes as the fear of death seeps in. As the gnoll flexes its neck and arm, gathering strength to swing the club down with as much force as possible, his eyes widen in surprise. The club drops from its fingers and lands on the ground, inches from where I still lie. I blink in confusion at the sudden turn of events, unsure of what just happened. Clarity comes to me as the head of the gnoll rolls off its shoulders and falls to the ground. The rest of his body quickly follows suit, crumbling in a limp heap at my feet.
Rayfe stands behind the body, both swords dripping thick, crimson blood, his mouth open, gasping from the exertion of the fight.
“I thought you might want some help,” Rayfe declares through a ragged breath. I laugh in response, the adrenaline from the paralyzing fear of what I believed was certain death causing my body to tremble.
“Thank you,” I say to him, the simple words feeling inadequate compared to the actions that I am expressing gratitude for. “I thought I was dead.”
“Well, in your defense, three against one is hardly fair,” Rayfe says in response with his customary grin. He wipes the blades of both of his swords on his already blood-soaked pants before sliding them back into their sheathes on his belt. “While I may be able to handle three gnolls easily, a less extraordinary fighter may not be so capable.”
I shake my head. Leave it to Rayfe to crack a joke no matter what the situation is. I remember how the ruby glowed when we dispatched the bandit group and glance down now to see if it is doing the same. It shows a faint glow, growing dimmer as I watch, having already gone through most of the process. Once again, I do not feel any different, but I don’t really expect to.
“Edgar and the people in his village really are just normal farm folk,” I say to Rayfe. “No wonder we couldn't see anything unusual about them. I wonder if this group is the reason that they did not want us to stay in their village overnight.”
“If so, they were trying to protect us,” Rayfe replies. “This pack of gnolls must come and wreak havoc often, and they didn’t want us to share their fate tonight.”
“Do you think we should tell them we dispatched this little problem?”
“Yes. But let’s wait until morning or they might attack us accidentally.”
I nod in agreement, more than ready to head back to camp. With the adrenaline from the fight fading, the day’s work in the fields and the exertion we just performed catches up with me, and I struggle to keep my eyes open long enough to take my boots off and climb inside my bedroll. As soon as my head touches the ground, I slip into a deep sleep, the gem resting quietly in my sword beside me.
Chapter 20
“I think we need to talk about what happens to you in these fights,” Rayfe declares suddenly, a day later as we move towards our next target.
After the short and joyous reunion with Edgar and his community to let them know that the threat to them and their families has been dealt with, we immediately returned to the road, letting the ruby guide us on our way. While the satisfaction of killing these evil beings keeps me moving forward, being able to help the farmers speaks to me on a whole different level. I pull myself away from these happy thoughts of helping good people and focus back on what Rayfe is saying to me, unsure of where this is going.
“What do you mean, ‘what happens to me?’”
“Don’t forget that I can feel your emotions through our bond,” Rayfe replies, holding my gaze. “I can sense that rage that overtakes you right before you engage. It is like you lose all ability to think rationally. You act on emotion alone, and that might get you, or me, killed.”
“I think you might be overreacting a little,” I say defensively, not really wanting to have this conversation right now.
“When you leave my back open during a fight like you did with those gnolls, not sure that is overreacting,” Rayfe answers with more anger than I have ever seen him display toward me. “We are a team. We are Reavers. We protect each other no matter what. You forgot that back there. You were so intent on your own battle lust that you ignored the first rule of the Reavers.”
I start to interrupt, but he continues without giving me the chance.
“And you are getting worse as times goes on. You seem to be more impulsive and angrier going into battle now than before you began wielding the ruby. I feel like you are walking on a slippery slope, the desire to fight and kill coming from the artifact pulling you down into darkness.”
A quick flash of anger comes over me at what feels like an accusation, and I immediately snap back at him.
“Maybe I'm just killing the evil the ruby is sending us after, trying to make the world a better place. I thought you were on this mission with me, and it was pretty clear what we have been sent to do.”
Rayfe takes a breath, obviously trying to find the words to respond without making me angrier than I already am.
“Lykara, I told you I would walk this road with you, and I will be by your side through it all. I am telling you this because of that promise. There seem to be changes coming over you that I don't like watching,” he responds softly.
I hear his words and fight back my snappy response, focusing on the red mist that I experienced in each of these fights, trying to think of the words I need to explain this to him. I talk slowly and steadily as I respond, thinking about each word to avoid getting angry at him, knowing that I have indeed been reckless.
“When we go into a fight against the enemies that the gem sends us after, a blind rage comes over me that I can't seem to control,” I begin. “All sense of reason leaves me, and all I can think about is killing them and stopping whatever horrible deeds they have done and the ones they will still do in the future. I know it is the gem giving me these urges, to push us forward and to keep going, but I don't know how to hold them back.”
“You're stronger than this gem is,” he responds encouragingly. “While it may be leading us on this mission, you are still in control. You wield it in order to achieve your goals, and for it to give you strength, not the other way around. I'm still your partner, and we will figure this out, together.”
He places a hand on my shoulder as he finishes, giving it a light squeeze followed by a reassuring smile. I return the look, grateful for his presence through all of this. I know how much I need him through this journey, now more than ever, both in the fights and out of them. Without his sense of reason,
mixed with the humor and the light he brings during our travels, I don’t know how I would manage this anger and darkness that seems to consume me.
“So, do you have any idea where we are headed now?” he asks as we walk. “I wonder if you can glean more information from the gem about our targets, like who they are and where.”
I place my hand on the hilt of my sword, trying to use the contact as a conduit, reaching out with my consciousness and seeking the gem. As usual, I can tell which direction we should be traveling, and I feel the urge getting stronger as we get closer. I open my eyes after several minutes of concentration, not making any progress.
“So far, all I get is a general direction. I can't see anything about the final destination or who we are trying to find.”
“Then lead on,” he says. “Let's go kill some more bad guys. Wherever they may be and however ugly.”
I shake my head and chuckle but can't help but agree, so far our targets have been pretty damn ugly. I wonder what we will face next. With nothing but my own imagination to go on, I give up, knowing that soon the questions would be answered for me.
We travel efficiently, sleeping in inns on our path and eating our meals as we walk to avoid losing time stopping for food. As always, we let the gem guide our feet, letting it pull us in the direction it demands. After a full week of walking, we come over one of the few hills on the flat terrain. In front of us lies a fair-sized town surrounded by sturdy, vertically placed timbers. The buildings inside are all similar, squat structures built with stones, bricks and wood planks. In the center of town stands a much larger building that looks like its own small fortress inside the walled city. It sports a shorter wall with one gate marking the only entrance into the building, currently closed off from anyone outside the inner wall. From our vantage point up above, I see four entrances into the city, one on each point of the compass, along the wooden wall. The plain, dirt road that we have been traveling on transitions into a flat, nicely paved walkway at the gate that marks the boundary between the city and the outside world.
The sun has just risen to its highest point in the sky, marking the time for a midday meal, and I take note of the bustling crowd of bodies inside the walls.
“Let's go see what we can find out,” Rayfe says as we begin the slight downhill walk into the largest town we have been to since we left Rayfe’s home, which feels like a lifetime ago.
I hope the ruby gives us more to go on here. In a town this size, finding the evil that it sent us after will be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Without some extra guidance, this search will be near impossible.
The gate in the wall in front of us lies wide open, and a single guard stands watch inside the opening. He casually waves us through without saying a word, and we nod our gratitude, making our way inside. The first thing I notice as we cross into the town is the cacophony of sounds and smells all around me. We have entered what appears to be a merchant square, and the smells emanating from each of the different carts culminate in a cloud of fresh cooked bread, flowery perfume, spices, tanned leather goods and all other manner of food and trade items. Each one of the carts is manned by at least one nicely dressed, well-groomed merchant looking to make some coin selling their wares. The second thing I notice is the large number of gaunt, dirty and miserable looking people lining the outskirts of the square. While the merchants appear well off, there are many, many other people around who are obviously struggling.
I take all of this in as we move straight through the square, not stopping, and look for an inn for a quick meal before starting our search.
An old, painted wooden sign hanging over into the street guides us into the first inn inside the gate. The interior of the single-room building closely resembles the struggling, dirty citizens that I saw outside. The tables have been wiped off, but a thick layer of dust hangs over every other surface. Skinny, dirty patrons sit at various tables around the room, and a similarly dressed bartender makes his way around, serving food and drinks as he goes. I am taken aback by the rough, impoverished appearance of this town and most of the people in it. Unlike Willowdale, it does not seem to be a happy place, or one for people who are doing well. We make our way to a table near the entrance of the building and wait for the tired-looking bartender to come to us. Soon after, we are enjoying a simple, but hot and hearty meal, trying to take in as much as we can on first glance about this place.
“Everyone seems to be minding their own business,” I say to Rayfe after several minutes of silence. “But they all look miserable.”
“I agree, they don't look happy, but they are also not unfriendly.”
I not an agreement, thinking of our short interaction with the bartender. Soft-spoken, he was friendly and helpful, bringing us food quickly and even offering a small smile before he left.
“Do you think we can get any information from the bartender here without arousing suspicion?” I ask Rayfe. “I don't see any other way to get more hints about a place as big as this if the gem isn't going to give us any more clues on what we're doing here.”
“I think you are right,” Rayfe responds. He is finished with his plate, leaving a small amount of food untouched, and pushes it toward the center of the table away from himself. “The bartender seems as good a choice as any.”
As if he had been summoned, the bartender comes back over to collect our dirty plates.
“Good sir,” Rayfe begins as the dirty man picks up both plates. “We have traveled a great distance and had never heard of your city before we came across it on our journey. Is there anything we should know about this place, as we plan to spend a few days here before we get back on the road?”
The bartender pauses for a second, his eyes looking up as he thinks about what to tell us. Eventually, he takes a breath, places the stack of two plates back on the table and takes a seat. I lean in, ready to take in whatever information he is willing to provide.
“First thing you should know,” he begins in his soft voice, “is this place here is called Shady Grove. We are located on a stretch of road called Merchant’s Run. There are many towns along Merchant’s Run which produce various resources to sell to the different merchants who travel up and down the road. This town got its name because we are the producers of most of the fruit along the way. The fruit tree grove sits across town, on the other side of the governor's mansion. It is where many of the citizens of Shady Grove work to try to make enough money to get by. The whole town is run by the governor, who lives in the central fortress you had to have noticed on your way in. He controls the taxes on the city, how much of the fruit gets sold to the merchants and what we get to keep, and just about everything else that happens in Shady Grove.”
I think back to all the people inside the bar and out, looking as if they are slowly wasting away, compared to the rich merchants.
“If you produce most of the fruit in the area, why does it look like most of you haven’t had enough to eat in a long time?” I ask him. My face immediately flushes with heat at the blunt question, and I hope I didn't offend him.
“This town used to be a bright place,” the bartender begins again. “We had all the fruit we could ever want, and every citizen made enough money to live comfortably. But in order to fund his rich lifestyle and keep up appearances in his fortress, the governor keeps raising our taxes, leaving us less and less to get by on.”
He looks around nervously, as if someone might be eavesdropping. “Don’t tell anyone I told you that though. He doesn’t like people complaining about him, if you know what I mean.”
Rayfe and I exchange glances.
“I will leave you with one more piece of advice,” the helpful bartender continues. “I do well enough here at my bar, but most others do not. People will do anything to survive and keep their families healthy. Watch yourselves in this place. Thieves and murderers run rampant, and the town guard has their hands full collecting taxes and protecting the governor’s mansion. They don’t do anything to stop what happens outside
of the inner walls. Do not linger here longer than you need to. Finish whatever business you may have within the city quickly and be on your way, for your own good.”
With those dark words, he stands back up, collects the plates and walks back toward the other end of the room. I share a concerned look with Rayfe as he departs, thoughts flowing through my head in all directions.
“Well, this just got a lot more interesting,” Rayfe responds with a bewildered look on his face. He leans back in his chair away from the table, thinking hard. “Not only do we need to track down the specific person the gem sent us after, but we have to avoid all the rest of the criminals in the city while we do it. Any bright ideas on where to start?”
“We could just start killing bad people until we find the one we are after, and the gem is satisfied,” I say with a nonchalant shrug. “We would be moving forward with this quest and ridding this city of criminals at the same time.”
He must sense the seriousness in my voice at the proposition because he doesn’t so much as grin or crack a joke.
“I think that would end up being a much more complicated task than you think,” he answers carefully, and I can tell that he is studying my reaction and response. I wonder if this is about our conversation on the road earlier. I try to mentally step back and examine the plan, looking for signs that what I said shows that the darkness is taking hold again, but come up with nothing.
