by Sam Ferguson
Just then, a knock pounded on the door.
“Come on little brother, open up,” Jason called from the other side.
Jonathan dragged himself to the door and opened it.
Jason shoved a full backpack into Jonathan’s chest. The young archer took it, but couldn’t bring himself to face them.
“It looks like we’re all alone,” Jason said as they came into the front room with large packs in their arms.
Captain Ziegler nodded and closed the door behind them. “Not a single troll to be found as far as we could see.”
Jonathan nodded and turned to set the backpack down by the table before slumping into his chair once more.
“What’s wrong?” Captain Ziegler asked as they stepped into the house.
“Miranda’s gone,” Jonathan blurted out. The two of them stopped in their tracks and looked at him.
“Gone?” Ziegler repeated. “Did she wake up and leave, or was there trouble?”
Jonathan shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure. There was this stranger, he just appeared in the house. He knew all of our names, and he knew about what we are doing. He took her.”
“You let someone get to her?” Jason asked incredulously.
Jonathan shook his head. “No, he never left this room. He used magic. There was nothing I could do.”
“Was it Brykith?” Ziegler asked harshly. “Curse that pig!”
Jonathan shook his head and motioned for them to both sit at the table, and began to tell them of the visitor. As he recounted the experience, the anger and worry started to leave the others’ faces. Jason quit tapping on the table nervously, and Captain Ziegler almost started to smile by the end of the tale.
“What did you say he looked like?” Ziegler asked.
“He was tall, with black hair, and lean features. He wore a green, hooded cloak and held a long spear.” Jonathan shook his head and shrugged. “He looked mostly human, but there is something about him that was…”
“Something very foreign and magical, right?” Ziegler asked.
Jonathan nodded.
Ziegler pulled out a small piece of parchment and then drew something on it. After he finished, he turned it around and pushed it toward Jonathan. “Did you see a symbol like this?” Captain Ziegler asked.
“Yes, I saw that on his collar!” Jonathan exclaimed as he took the paper in hand.
Ziegler stroked his chin and took in a deep breath. He looked to Jason before turning back to Jonathan and speaking again. “There are stories,” Ziegler began, “about just such a man coming at various points in Terramyr’s history. I first heard of him as a boy growing up. Later, I learned a few more tales while I spent time in Battlegrym. I won’t go into detail, but I will say that if the man gave you instructions on where you should go, then we should follow them. All the accounts that I read pointed to this person being some sort of helper, though he never reveals his name. Did he try to stare into your eyes at all?”
Jonathan nodded again. “Yes it was like he was trying to see into my soul.”
“I believe that is exactly what he does,” Ziegler said. “All of the accounts talk about him doing this. My brother and father were obsessed with his history. They said that he creates some sort of hypnotic trance or psychic link if you will, to read the minds of people. Some people fear him as an omen of the end times, but my family believes that perhaps he is a guardian of some sort. I think he means to help us. If he took Miranda, then I would lean toward trusting him.”
“Are you sure?” Jonathan pressed.
“Not entirely, but enough,” Ziegler replied.
“So why come here to Jonathan? Why not come to you, Captain Ziegler?” Jason asked.
Captain Ziegler shrugged and stretched his arms and his back. He then reached down and took the bottle in hand, pausing before he raised it toward his mouth. “He doesn’t see rank like we do. He searches for particular individuals when he visits. Perhaps there is more to Jonathan here than we know.” Ziegler winked at Jonathan and then put the bottle to his lips. Just as he began to tilt the bottle back he wrinkled his nose and made a sour face as he set the bottle back down. “Jonathan were you drinking this?”
Jonathan shook his head. “No, I didn’t. The visitor did though.”
“Sorry, but what about Raven?” Jason asked. “The fastest route to Shuldern would be to cross the river north of Lysander’s Peril. Otherwise, the canyon will delay us by at least a day.”
Captain Ziegler sighed and nodded. “There is no one on all of Terramyr that wishes to see him rescued as much as I do,” he said. “I can’t stand the thought of another tattoo on my body. More than that, I can’t let Raven down. He has been close to me through the years, and has kept me safe both from trolls and myself.”
“Yourself?” Jonathan asked.
“War takes a toll on a man, and it scarred me, though I try not to let it show. He held me together when the world seemed like it was crumbling around us.”
Jason nodded and turned a distant stare to the table. “He helped me too,” he said. “That’s why we have to hurry.”
“And so we will,” Ziegler said. “However, the way I see it, there is another choice here. It isn’t easy to make the call, knowing that it means delaying our journey to find Raven, but if this protector told us to go to Lysander’s Peril, then there is a very important reason for doing so. If it helps us stop Brykith, then it might just be worth it.”
Jason opened his mouth to argue, but Captain Ziegler held up a hand. “If Brykith is responsible for starting the Troll Wars, and creating a blood bath between our races that lasted for generations, then we cannot turn our backs on an opportunity to stop him just to save one man, even if it is one of our own. If we can save Raven as well as stop Brykith, then I will be happier than anyone at this table, but as Captain of the Ghosts of the Quags, it falls to me to make the hard choice. I trust the protector. If he says we go to Lysander’s Peril, then we should prepare with all haste. The faster we get there and find what he wants us to find, the faster we will be back on Raven’s trail.”
“Very well then,” Jason said softly.
“Why do you trust him so much?” Jonathan pressed. “I mean, he didn’t hurt me, but he didn’t ask to help Miranda either, he just took her.”
“That’s a fair question,” Captain Ziegler responded. “In order to understand that, you should know that I come from a very adventurous family. Not just my brother and father, but my two uncles and grandfather as well. They all planned and carried out expeditions in search of lost artifacts or to scout out old ruins, lost long ago to the whispers of time. Lysander’s Peril was always the pinnacle of our goals. Every expedition was to give our family experience so that one day, we would be the first to explore the canyon and survive. Many expeditions have gone there before, searching for the truth of what happened to Lysander, but none of them ever returned. There are even accounts of grave robbers going there in search of treasure, or some other item left behind by Lysander, and without exception they all died. It is said that Lysander’s Peril is cursed. Others claim that demons still roam the bottom of the chasm, hungry for the next fool to come in search of fame and fortune.”
“And we’re going to go on the word of a magician we don’t know?” Jason cut in.
“But that’s just it,” Ziegler said with a wag of his finger. “I know him. My family has records of his exploits. No one ever knows his name, but they all know the symbol. He is always described exactly the same way you described him to me,” Ziegler said as he pointed at Jonathan. “My grandfather first ran across a tale of the protector on his fourteenth expedition. It was a simple tale passed on at the edge of a camp fire. At the time, my grandfather thought nothing of it, but the more expeditions he led, the more he encountered strange tales of a protector who would show up in times of great need. He would never directly interfere with the course of events, but he would give someone just what was required to finish what they needed to do.”
Zi
egler smiled and folded his arms. “All throughout history there are tales of this protector helping people, but you see, he doesn’t come to any old man stuck along the side of the road with a broken wagon wheel. No, he only comes to men of great importance, to people who can change the course of history on Terramyr. He comes to them, and if they are good enough, he helps them. If, however, they are false heroes, he leaves them to their fate.”
“So Jonathan is going to change the course of the world?” Jason asked. “Have I mentioned that my little brother has a large ego?” Jason shook his head and pointed at Jonathan. “This is not going to help that problem.”
Ziegler smiled and chuckled a bit. “It’s true all the same,” he said. “If the protector came here, and gave Jonathan advice, then we follow it to the letter. We go to Lysander’s Peril, and then we try to retrace that gnome’s early steps, just as the protector said.”
“Not trying to be a wet blanket,” Jason interjected. “But if all those other expeditions failed, how are we going to succeed?”
Captain Ziegler nodded knowingly. “The descent into Lysander’s Peril has taken the lives of many, it’s true. Long before I got caught up in the Troll Wars, my father and older brother had planned on making a trek out there. They planned it together for years. They made smaller expeditions with my grandfather until he passed away, and continued making additional journeys to hone their skills. They were fine adventurers, the best, perhaps. They collected every map of the area, they interviewed the surviving family members of those who had searched for Lysander’s Peril before. They wrote down every detail they thought was pertinent. They made theories and plans that, all combined, would fill half of a library for sure. A few cousins even joined in on the planning.”
Ziegler’s smile faded and he scratched the surface of the table with his fingernail. “Ultimately, my father decided that an expedition to Lysander’s Peril was simply too dangerous. He forbade my brother from any further involvement with the idea. My cousins, and my two uncles, on the other hand, carried out the expedition as planned. They were never heard from again.”
“This isn’t helping my confidence,” Jason said. “If they failed, how will we succeed?”
“I’m getting to that,” Ziegler said. “My father passed away of a terrible flue a few winters later. My brother picked up where the others had left off. He said that he had identified a major mistake that each expedition made. He said that they all seemed to search for a way to hike down, without scaling the dangerous cliffs. His theory was that whatever lurked in the depths below, it waited along those easy paths like a spider sits upon its web, grabbing the prey that blindly walks into the trap.” Ziegler smiled. “So in order to reach the bottom, we will need to climb the cliffs. My brother showed me the spot he would use. The two of us planned in secret to explore the canyons ourselves and find whatever treasure was supposed to be there. We were going to honor our relatives by finishing the task, and finally discovering what happened down there, so long ago.” Ziegler leaned back and took in a breath. “When I close my eyes, I can still see the map we used. We were going to find it. Me and my brother, we were going to succeed where all others had failed.”
“What happened?” Jason asked.
Ziegler opened his eyes and his smile faded. “My brother passed away,” he said. A terrible frown crossed his face and the large warrior shook his head. “I have lost far too many relatives and friends. More than a man should have to lose in a lifetime.” He slapped the table softly and looked to the others. “That is why I promise you we will succeed. I will not lose one more person. Not again.” He took in a breath and nodded, as if convincing himself more than anyone else. “If the protector said we should go to Lysander’s Peril, then we will be successful. He does not lie, nor does he lay traps. Those who follow his counsel emerge victorious. We will hold on to that hope. We’ll try the route my brother had planned, and we’ll be the first expedition to emerge alive from Lysander’s Peril.”
“Well then, no use waiting here any longer. We’re packed and ready to go, so let’s get moving,” Jason said.
“You’re sure the protector is on our side?” Jonathan asked again.
Ziegler nodded. “Sure enough that I will do as he says.”
“All right,” Jonathan said after a moment of thinking about it. “Then let’s go.” He rose and took his backpack.
Ziegler took the bottle of liquor from the table and turned it upside down over the floor. “A drink for those who have been lost, so they will help guide us on our way,” he said.
CHAPTER 3
It was nearly nightfall when the trio emerged from the caves of Sierryn. They jogged to the south while the light remained, and slowed to a quick walk after night’s shadow darkened the skies. Fortunately, a full moon and a clear night sky allowed them to see well enough to make their way without stumbling. Ziegler led the group, convinced that they had been given direct instructions from a great and wise guardian of Terramyr. Jonathan was not so sure. He was relieved to know that Ziegler had knowledge of this nameless stranger, but he couldn’t help but question the tall man’s motives. If he was in fact a kind of guardian, then why didn’t anyone know his name? What other plane did the stranger take Miranda to? Would she really be safe, or did this stranger have something more sinister in mind for her?
He kicked a nearby rock in frustration. If this protector was so powerful, and had been alive to witness some of the earliest wars in Terramyr’s history, then he should have found a way to help Miranda. He should have taken the chrysalis away. Surely there had to be some way of opening it without hurting her.
“How dare he take her,” Jonathan whispered under his breath. He kicked the rock again once he walked up to it.
Jason came up to him then and put an arm around his shoulders, leaning in to talk quietly. “Come on,” Jason began, “Ziegler trusts the protector. Perhaps we should give him a chance, yeah? Maybe you are over reacting just a tad.”
“Easy for you to say,” Jonathan argued. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Sure I would,” Jason said. “You like her. I get it, she’s pretty, but you’re both awfully young. Neither of you even really know what you want out of life yet. Besides that—”
“Stop,” Jonathan snarled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jason didn’t stop. Instead, he turned his brother to him and halted the two of them. “Actually, I do. I had a girlfriend once at your age. Things change, that’s all I’m saying. You both found each other attractive, and you had a great, terrifying adventure together, but that doesn’t make you soul mates.”
“Just because you’re about to marry Pig-face, it doesn’t mean you know what I feel or think, or anything.”
Jason squeezed Jonathan’s shoulders, hard. “Her name is Annabell. Don’t talk like that anymore. Not ever.”
Jonathan frowned and pulled away. “What’s your problem? I used to say it all the time, so did you.”
Jason shook his head. “Like I said, things change. Try to think of the task at hand. We have to depend on each other, and I don’t need you moping about or throwing a tantrum for the rest of the journey. We have to get through this together. Got it?”
Jonathan sighed and flared his hands out to his sides before slapping his legs. “Yeah, I get it.”
“Listen,” Jason said. “If the stranger had meant to kill or harm any of us, he likely could have done so very easily, given his power to appear and vanish at will. Besides that, Captain Ziegler has never steered me wrong before. If he says the stranger is on our side, then I still say we go along with that. Even if we’re wrong, there isn’t anything we can do about it now. So let’s hope he’s right and try to finish this mission as quickly as possible.”
Jonathan nodded. His brother’s logic made sense. It didn’t take away all of his anger at the situation, but it did help a bit.
“Hey, hurry up!” Captain Ziegler called from several yards ahead. “What’s keeping you?�
��
Jason was quick to answer. “Sorry, had a rock in my shoe, Jonathan was just making sure I was all right.”
“Well dump out your shoe and let’s get a move on,” Ziegler ordered.
“Yes sir,” Jason replied. He slapped his brother’s shoulder lightly and then smiled at him. “Come on, let’s keep moving.”
As the night wore on, Jonathan resigned himself to the fact that no matter what the stranger intended, there likely wasn’t anything he could do about it now. Perhaps if he finished this mission the stranger had given him, then maybe he could make a deal with the protector to bring Miranda back. Surely there had to be something that could persuade the man. The idea of winning Miranda back after the mission didn’t assuage the guilt building up inside of him, but it did help him focus on the task at hand. He would try to cling to some hope, as Jason had suggested, that the man who took Miranda was honorable, and perhaps open to a trade of sorts.
If there was really a magical bow at the bottom of Lysander’s Peril, then perhaps he could take that as a sign the stranger had been telling the truth. If the bow wasn’t there, then he would have to figure out a way to find Miranda. He had crossed all of the Murkle Quags to find his own brother. Now he was braving Tanglewood Forest and everything it could throw at him in order to find Raven. He wasn’t a true hero of legend, but he was good at finding people. Even if it was another plane of existence, there would have to be a way. Raven might know how to follow the stranger.
Yes, that was it, the answer Jonathan was searching for. If the stranger was lying, then Jonathan and Raven would hunt him down together.
Satisfied now that he had a plan, Jonathan paid more attention to the path the three of them were on. Dark trees loomed over them, but they were not as dense as the rest of the forest. The moonlight easily made it down between the trees to illuminate the ground before them. To the west were scattered patches of moon-flowers, a distant cousin to the sunflowers. Instead of bright yellow petals, the moon-flowers had silvery petals. The blossoms trailed after the moon, turning to follow its path through the sky. The stalks were a bit taller than a man, with some reaching as tall as eight feet. Unlike the green stalks of the sunflowers, the moon-flowers had dark blue stalks. They were a pretty distraction, but they didn’t produce edible seeds as far as Jonathan knew, so he had no intention of approaching any of the flowers.
