by BJ Hanlon
“It’s our only choice,” Edin said.
“Let’s get going then, we’re losing daylight,” Grent said.
“It’s sunrise,” Dephina said as Grent made a tick tick sound and kicked the horse and began riding back through the trees and down the slope away from the battlefield.
They followed the grasslands south, crossed a small bridge over a tiny stream and still within sight of the walls. Edin saw men up there but either they couldn’t see or didn’t care.
After they’d crossed the small bridge, they reached a road that seemed to head generally in a southwestern direction. They were now south of Carrow and a breeze was coming at them head on. The breeze felt warm but smelled wicked. Like a sharp knife gliding up from the grassy valley they were coming to.
They continued on through it with forests hugging the road close to the east and north but seeming to open up as they went farther south.
It was almost a day until Jont’s Pass and the valley and forests opened up into large fields and small hamlets. For leagues, the farms and grasslands popped up on either side and the hamlets, once small tight-knit towns where everyone knew everyone, were empty.
They crossed into a village and they passed a square, a sheriff’s office and a pub.
Of all the world he’d seen, small villages like this, when filled with life of course, made him feel most at home. If he lived the rest of his life in a place like this with nothing but farming, herding, or logging, he’d be happy. Edin grinned without knowing it when the thought came to him. But he was missing one integral part, the part that mattered most.
He closed his eyes and tried to reach out to her, to feel her presence or see through her eyes the way he had in the underground. He wanted, no he needed to see her because despite Suuli’s words, doubt crept in like billowing smoke of an uncontrolled fire. He wondered if the old seer was wrong.
What if Arianne was gone, dead in some distant cavern or underground lake. What if that river flowed below them right now? It could be deeper than the rivers they’d crossed. Or what if the waterway ran into a deep spring or a lake with rapids that would drown her or break her body against stone?
As the questions kept rolling through, he was feeling worse. His appetite disappeared and he felt empty inside.
To the west, the mountains and grassy foothills were silent. There was a large house, two stories at least, on one of the hills. From there, he saw that it was wide at the bottom and growing up almost pyramidal. A stone wall around it covered the entire shape.
Out of the south side, smoke was blowing high and over their heads from a wide sunbaked brick chimney.
There was life out here still despite the dematians. With all of the other homes dark and silent, Edin knew life was hanging precariously by a thread.
“A few miles outside the pass is an inn. The End,” Grent said ominously. “It may be deserted, but I’d rather sleep in a bed before we begin that journey. In my old age, sleeping on hard stone is not my idea of fun.”
“Growing soft I see,” Berka said. “Do you want a warm bath with a bottle of wine?”
Edin was barely paying attention but heard the last part. “That sounds nice.”
Dephina and Berka spurt out laughter and soon Grent did too. “It’s good you finally joined us,” Grent said. “We didn’t know where you were for the past few hours.”
Edin raised an eyebrow and then realized what the warrior meant. “In my own head again. Nothing unusual.”
“No, it isn’t. I hoped you’d have grown out of it though.”
“Not yet,” he said and offered a half smile. Even he knew it looked fake.
A smell began to come over him. The road was flat and the wind swirled and he didn’t know which way it was coming from, but he picked up the odor. It smelled rotten and woody and awful with just a hint of showers coming.
Edin peered into the east and saw something sparkling nearly a quarter mile away in a patch of dead grass. It stuck up like a sign that told of a location or a gravestone. “What’s that?” Edin asked.
Grent stopped and the rest did after him. A moment later he said, “A ring, on a hand.”
Gravestone was right, Edin thought.
Dephina said, “Should we check if anyone is alive?”
“No,” Grent said. His voice was calm and easy like they were chatting about the weather. “You can smell it, can’t you? Everything over there is dead and I’m guessing they didn’t go in their sleep.”
“Dematians?” Berka said. He didn’t sound scared of them anymore.
“If it were bandits, I don’t think they’d have left the ring. There could be others still roaming the lands looking for wayward travelers.”
That got Edin’s hackles up. Luckily, the valley had turned into a more or less flat land with the exception of the mountains and foothills before them, though those were a thousand yards or more away still. That meant they could see an attack coming.
They traveled for another few hours, trudging up the dirt road and getting wafts of death mixed with the warm smell of a late winter.
The group reached the inn a bit before sunset. They’d made decent time and though the horses were big and meant for quick sprints, not long trots, they traveled well.
“Battle steeds,” Grent said, “possibly from the plains south of Frestils or north of Calerrat. Both were known for their husbandry.”
Berka looked large on his, Grent looked average and Dephina… well she looked small, but she rode it like she’d known the animal her entire life.
They stopped at the inn and when no one came to greet them, they led the horses to the stables. There was a sign on the door written in a quick, scribbling hand that said, ‘closed.’ No reason given, but it didn’t need one.
Dephina was on the ground and pulled out her lock picks. In a moment, the wide door was open and she was leading her horse in. They all followed.
They found oats and a trough for the beasts, and took off the saddles, bridles, and gear. “Lock it after us,” Grent said. “I don’t want our mounts to become dematian food.”
Edin stepped outside and scanned the few homes around and the rolling hills, plains, and mountains. There was no one, no movement even from other animals. It felt like they were the only living beings left in the world, as if some mysterious force simply took everyone away.
Then they were at the inn door. Edin reached it first. It too was locked.
Dephina started. “When will any of you learn—”
“I got it,” Edin interrupted and reached in his pockets.
“You learned to pick?”
“A kid taught me but,” he took the thing Yassima gave him and slid it in. He wiggled it and turned the knob and it popped open quicker than Dephina’s picks.
Dephina seized his hand and brought it to her face. “Is that magic? Some sort of spell or something?”
“It’s something,” Edin said. “But I don’t think it’s magic.” He flipped it around in his hand and gave it to her. “If it’s alright with you, I think we should raid the pantry and the ale stores.” Edin took a few steps in.
The place was dark and the windows were boarded up though bits of the red-orange late evening sunlight pierced the slats of wood. Edin summoned an ethereal light.
“We don’t have the money to pay for what we take,” Grent said passing Edin and making his way to an oil candle a few feet to the right. Grent brought out a sparkstone and looked to Edin.
“We’re on a life-and-death mission,” Edin said. He looked back toward the inn. It was wood from the floor to the ceiling. Some tables were flipped up and pushed against windows like barricades. The chairs were stacked together or flipped on top of other tables in a sort of last-stand meets end of night clean-up decor. The mounted heads of a boar, goat, deer, and crillio hung on the wall. Edin had no feeling when he saw that forest monster. He pondered if crillio were the dogs of the dematians.
It would make sense.
The oil lamp flickered as Berka stepped f
orward. “I’ll write a note, I’m sure the duke will reimburse the owners for what we need. We did just end one of the most pressing threats to his land.”
Grent began walking around and lighting the rest of the candles while Dephina slipped behind the bar and then into a dark doorway beyond.
“Well, if you don’t want to you can sleep outside and leave the nice beds alone. Edin said.
A moment later, Dephina reappeared. The Mireshka assassin was grinning back at them from the black portal. She must’ve liked the idea. “We haven’t been without little Horst in a while.” She winked at Grent, “we don’t get a lot of alone time in the big city.”
“Good night,” Grent said and took Dephina’s hand disappearing up the stairs
“He’s changed a bit,” Edin said.
Berka shrugged, “I’m hungry,” then he disappeared back into what Edin guessed was a kitchen.
Behind the bar, he found a half-full barrel of ale. Edin poured a mug and drank. With the barrels being on the first floor, the ale was room temperature and a bit too bitter. It’d do the job though. He brought it over to the table and sat.
A few minutes later Berka reappeared with bread and cheese. He set it on the table and grabbed his own mug of ale.
They ate and drank quietly for a few minutes. Then came loud thumping from upstairs. Literally right above Edin’s head. It took a few seconds before he realized what it was. “Eww,” he groaned in concert with Berka. Berka stood, picked up his chair and started pounding it into the ceiling.
“Get a different room!” Edin yelled upstairs. “In the corner somewhere.”
“Oh, go grow a pair you little blo—” Dephina started but Grent cut her off.
“Sorry,” the formerly stoic warrior bellowed down.
Edin and Berka chuckled. “If El were here I’d be doing the same,” Berka said.
That brought Arianne back to his mind. Edin’s grin faded and he dropped his eyes to the table.
“I’m sorry,” Berka said. “We’ve just—, when I’m with her we can’t keep our hands off each other. You know what I mean.”
Edin didn’t look up but he did know. Or at least he’d had the desire to.
“I’m sorry,” Berka said. “If what Suuli said, her being held and all, it means she’s alive. The gods wouldn’t have let her sleep for a thousand years only to wake her and let her die before she lived another one… right?”
“I doubt the gods have anything to do with it. If they did, they’re the biggest of blotards.”
Edin hoped she was alive, wished it, and also that there was some way to talk to her, some way to find her and make sure she was okay. What if she was alive but couldn’t move or couldn’t talk? What if she couldn’t think anymore and that was the reason? If so, would she still be his Arianne?
“I think I need to go to sleep,” Edin said. “We start in the mountains tomorrow.” Edin left over half of the bitter ale on the table and pushed away from it. The chair scraped and rumbled the floor as he pushed out.
“Edin, the elves, they are real right?”
Edin nodded.
“And we are going to find them?” Berka said. “I mean, we’re not on a wild goose chase for your girl.”
Edin looked up at his friend. He felt numb by it, numb by the questions. He was always getting questioned by everyone, heck even himself. They were going to the valley. They were going to find the she-elf and her tribe. He didn’t answer. Edin smiled and turned toward the stairs.
He found a room as far from Grent and Dephina as possible and had to bury his head under an itchy straw-filled pillow in order not to hear them.
They left the next morning, Berka a bit hungover. Grent and Dephina were dragging as well.
Before they set off, Grent started to test Edin on his skills with the sword. They sparred and went for a long time. Ten or twenty or thirty minutes.
With Grent, it felt like it had when he’d first set off on this long journey. When death was behind and in front of them, as it was now. There were too many things still unresolved. He’d lost friends, family, and a love.
Then as now, the future was a dark shadow before him. A giant thunderstorm ready to kick up the land with tornados and earthquakes and it was getting worse.
Somehow, the giant thunderstorm in his mind felt like a breeze. There was so much to do and he still felt the weight coming down on him. That of the dematians, the wyrms, and who knew what other beasts of old were still to come out. Edin thought of the giant in Olangia, he thought of the old stories of dragons and wyverns, giant spiders, great sea beasts and serpents.
The land was being consumed by the swamps and forests of old. What did the swamps bring with them? How did he stop it? could he stop it?
Maybe the elves knew a way to fix the world. Maybe they had old magic and that was why the prophecy told Edin to find them. Or maybe not.
Edin looked at the road as it wound through a few foothills to the slowly rising Crady Mountains. There were short and tall peaks, some with sheer shelves and steep grades. Others seemed climbable with hands, at least till the snow-covered pinnacles.
Some were taller than Erastio’s Keep. A fall from that height would be long and fatal. A fall he’d imagined one morning after battling humans in the dark entrance to a mountain keep.
He remembered Arianne knocking him onto his butt when he looked over the edge. He hadn’t told her that he was contemplating jumping in order to save her.
Arianne had told him that they stay and fight or they leave together. She must’ve known he’d do something in order to keep her safe. Somehow, even then she thought he was a good person. Edin didn’t know why.
But now, as Edin stared up at the mountains, he saw a gust and crystal-like flakes floating down in a wave of snow. He wondered if he could do what was needed for the world. Could he keep the people safe? Could he do it without her by his side?
The dirt road rose with the soft incline as they began their ascent into the mountains. To the right and behind him, the lands began to drop away. As far as he knew, the pass wasn’t too much higher than sea level. A few hundred feet maybe. But Edin shivered regardless.
“You okay?” It was Dephina and she was riding in front of him and looking back. “We didn’t keep you up all night, did we?”
“All night,” Edin shook his head, “it wasn’t any longer than a breath on a dandelion puff ball.”
“A bit longer,” Dephina said.
“Grent must’ve taken some meadowcat to numb himself.”
“I heard that,” Grent shouted from ahead. They all laughed, even Grent and for a moment, Edin felt a smile.
As the Mireshka turned back, it faded.
A short time later, Grent stopped and the group pulled up on the road next to him.
Edin started, “What is—” Then he saw it.
There was more destruction. The small road toward the mountain pass was littered with debris. Torn and ripped cloth and canvas, shredded belonging, broken down carts, smashed travel trunks, purses with coin twinkling in the morning sun. One crate about ten yards away must’ve been thrown from the broken cart. It was sitting in the grass just off the road with a smashed corner. Coming out of it was what looked like green, moldy meat with bugs buzzing.
“Let’s go,” Grent said. “At least no one died here.”
But Grent spoke too soon.
After another twenty yards they saw them. The first was a little girl, probably no more than ten and wearing what looked like a night gown. Near her stretched out hand was a stuffed animal. A bear maybe or a crillio, Edin couldn’t tell. Her mother, or at least who Edin guessed was her mother, was lying next to her. Both were motionless and pale. The mother had one arm across the child’s chest like she was blocking her from something. The other was on her own stomach. Both hands were saturated in dried blood.
“Monsters,” Dephina said.
“We should bury them,” Berka said.
“We cannot,” Grent said.
&
nbsp; There were flies around the bodies, but with them being upwind of it, they didn’t smell it. Edin guessed they would smell it when they passed the bodies.
“Dematians are still around,” Edin said and he knew he was right. Maybe they were watching the group right now, maybe they could only smell them. Edin wasn’t sure.
“It won’t take a lot of time,” Dephina whined, her voice that of a wife pleading her case.
“What if there are others? Will we stop for them too?”
“Maybe,” Dephina said.
“How many more will die if we stop for everyone? How long will it take? What about the soldiers on the front lines? What of the families fleeing these demons? If our haste saves one life, it is more important than dead bodies.”
“Grent,” Dephina said, her voice grew firm. “We’re burying the mother and child together.” Edin couldn’t see her face but he could imagine an angry glare that she shot his way. Something that would ruffle even the hardest of men.
Grent sighed and dismounted. “Come on lads, let’s do this.” He pulled his sword and headed over to the bodies.
“Are you going to cut them up first?” Berka asked. “That’s barbaric.”
“You don’t want to dig with your hands do you?” Grent shoved his sword into the ground a few inches, twisted, and pulled up. He started doing it over and over. Edin pulled his blade and started as well and a few moments later, Berka’s greatsword was stabbing into the ground.
Sweat was pouring down his forehead and dripping onto the dirt. It was already soggy from the rain the last few days though the mother and the daughter were dry.
Of course, they tried to escape after the rains and the dematians caught them. He was using the sword like a shovel now, flipping mounds of dirt out of the pit that was now almost a foot and a half deep.
Edin glanced back at the bodies. The girl didn’t look bloody except where the hand was; then there were the feet. There was something wrong about them as well.
He stopped and glanced at Dephina. She was picking her fingernails with one of her eluvrian steel long knives. Ironically, it was the same thing Grent had been doing the other night. When she’d yelled at him.
