by Joe Jackson
Auremax licked his wounded snout and spat again. “We should burn these before we go back to the city. Whatever evil lies to the west of us, if it can raise corpses across distances, we must take heed of the necromancer’s warning and leave it no weapons to turn against us.”
“I’ll leave that to you big, strong men,” Starlenia quipped, moving over to Delkantar’s spot along the wall. She slapped his rump and gestured back toward the others.
The woodsman fixed her with a dubious stare, but then smirked and left her to keep watch. Sheathing his swords, he helped Auremax and Galadon pile up the remains. The husks burned with little trouble, dried as they were. It took more effort to burn the necromancer’s bloodied remains, but Yiilu was able to assist with that. Hardly any of them noticed the passage of time but for how fatigued and disgusting they were with the blood drying upon them.
By the time they were satisfied that they had done all they could at the necromancer’s camp, dawn was breaking. Tired as they were, Auremax and Galadon began the trek back to the city by cutting through the cemetery. Leighandra felt like she could hardly walk, much less lift a sword and fight, but she followed along with the others. Curiously, as the sun began to climb into the sky, even though filtered through the trees, there was no sign of the zombies. There were tracks and evidence of the disturbance, but the only undead to be seen were those that had been struck down.
“What a bloody mess,” Galadon grumbled. “Apparently, the city’s temples need to send priests to re-consecrate these grounds. Unless that being that spoke to us is strong enough to overcome even that…”
“That remains to be seen. That was a wholly unnatural power, one I have never sensed, much less dealt with before,” Yiilu answered.
“We knew this was big before we undertook this foray,” Auremax said. “But this may be even bigger than its breadth suggested. If Starlenia’s suspicions are correct and this all has to do with the usurping of the throne in Aurun Ch’Gurra, then we may face not one, but two armies.”
The druidess made a calming gesture. “Let us return to the city and give our report to the council as promised. Once we have informed them and gotten ourselves cleaned up, those of you who wish may accompany me to Laeranore, and we will go meet with Archmagus Karinda. If this is as big – or bigger – than we suspect, she must know something.”
“Yes, we won’t solve this mystery in a day,” Delkantar said, peering cautiously between the crypts as they continued along. “That we were attacked at least gives us one advantage. Our enemies, whoever they are, are not subtle. That was their first mistake.” He took two more steps and then turned back to Yiilu. “Wait, are you inviting us to Laeranore?”
“We will not be going to the court of Queen Tiyaana, but yes. If we wish to visit Lady Bakhor, I will need to bring you into my peoples’ lands.”
The elves didn’t let in visitors at the best of times. To be invited to visit their lands was a great honor, and to be allowed in when there was trouble of this magnitude would mean even more. The invitation clearly resonated with the three humans. Leighandra had lived there for a time during her youth, but gradually left the lands of her mother’s people as she got older and her half-human nature became more of an issue.
The most surprising reaction – or lack thereof – was from Auremax. As she thought about it, though, Leighandra remembered his tale from their lunchtime discussion. “You have been among my mother’s people before, Prince Auremax?”
Yiilu smiled at the luranar paladin, and he bowed his head. “Yes, but please… I do not like being called Prince even among my people. Call me Max if you like, or Auremax if you find you must be formal for some reason. Just as with this meeting of nations, I have served as an ambassador for my people several times to go and meet with Queen Tiyaana and her court, and so have been to Laeranore before. It is still always an honor to be allowed to walk among the hallowed forests of the elven nation.”
“So, you two know each other?” Delkantar asked, gesturing back and forth between the luranar and the elf.
“Not personally, but I have heard of the young prince before,” Yiilu said with another smile. “I know Queen Tiyaana has ever enjoyed her visits from the luranar ambassadors, and… Max has been no exception.”
He bowed his head, though he didn’t manage a smile, covered in blood as he was. They continued on and reached the gate to the city, where there was evidence of many more zombies having been cut down by the militia. The gate had been well-defended, and it didn’t appear as though any trouble had breached the city proper. The guards beheld the bloody, worn-looking group before them but waved them through without question.
“How long before the council comes back into session, do you figure?” Galadon yawned.
“Long enough for us to get washed up, at least,” Starlenia said. “And you two have wounds that need tending. No telling what sort of infections you might get from injuries by undead hands. Better to get washed up and let Yiilu see to those wounds. The council can wait.”
“She makes a convincing argument, if not a proper one,” Max said. “Lord, am I tired. I cannot even imagine what I look like to the rest of you at this point.”
Leighandra grimaced. The image of the luranar paladin, his fur matted with dried blood and the mark of a slash of claws across his snout would likely never leave her memory. It was all at once heroic and yet horrifying, and not the way she wanted to picture him. When he pulled the tail of his mane out of his armor and began clawing through the bloodied strands, it only intensified the effect.
“You would be hard-pressed to look braver,” Galadon answered him. “It will take a good deal of explaining, but my memories have been befuddled since… since the War. But I recall much about your father, and I see much of him in you. It was an honor to fight by your side, young prince.”
“Thank you. I very much look forward to hearing what you remember of my father.”
When they reached the inn, the entire commons went silent. There was a decent-sized crowd for breakfast, but all eating and conversation ceased the moment the group entered. They didn’t even need to say anything to the innkeeper, who gestured for them to approach and then ushered them through to the baths. He had his serving girls begin bringing in hot water, and ran a long sheet down a clothesline in the center of the room to divide the men and the women.
“Give me a minute to get washed up and I’ll help you get all that blood out of your fur,” Starlenia commented before she went to the women’s side. Max fixed her with a surprised stare and the Okonashai woman laughed. “I used to have a dog that got himself into muddy trouble all the time when I was a kid. Oh, don’t get indignant. I’d never compare you to my dog. He was much more fun.”
Max laughed at that and began unstrapping his armor. Leighandra smirked and followed Starlenia into the women’s side. Despite the amount of fighting the woman had done, Starlenia finished her bath in minutes, and shrugged on a younger girl’s-sized robe before she went around to the men’s side. The chronicler could only laugh as their side of the sheet went completely silent for a time.
“Great Spirit, are these scars?” Starlenia asked, and Leighandra turned toward the sheet, though she couldn’t even see silhouettes through it.
“Not as such, no,” Max answered. “More like birthmarks of some kind. You… thank you, you were not being facetious when you said you were used to cleaning fur.”
“I loved that dog,” the woman muttered. “You can handle any bloody fur from the waist down yourself, though.”
“I will, thank you.”
Leighandra burst out laughing along with Galadon and Delkantar, and Yiilu had to make an effort to keep her mirth in check. “How are those wounds, gentlemen? Anything new you see after getting washed up?” the elf called.
“Still nothing major. You can see to them once we’re all proper,” Galadon answered.
Vo’rii had thankfully been spared any spray from the death of the necromancer, and so only Max’s fur dry
ing took any considerable time. He sat down by the room’s hearth to speed things along while Yiilu began tending to their wounds. As promised, the elf applied a sweet-smelling salve to the companions’ wounds. She only had to scold Max twice before he stopped licking at his and left the salve to do its work on his snout.
As tempting as it was to go get some sleep, especially after a warm bath, instead the companions shared a light breakfast before preparing to make their way to the keep. Delkantar stood in the middle of breakfast and held forth his mug of hot coffee in salute. “To new friends, and the road ahead, no matter where it takes us.”
The others tapped their mugs and glasses with his, the clinks and tinks ringing in Leighandra’s mind, yet further notes in the song of her soul.
Chapter III – First Encounter
Mercifully, they escaped the council meeting after only a short time. Each of them described the night’s events from their own experience, and Leighandra was impressed by how well the stories fit together. All told, it still wasn’t much, but they had two things to go on that would be of aid to the many nations: There was a great power aligning to the west, but that power was apparently focused through more local necromancers. It gave the various cities and towns somewhere to start in their countermeasures, at least.
“I still feel dishonest for not sharing our suspicions about Aurun Ch’Gurra,” Auremax said as they left the keep. “However, with the shakna-rir ambassador there, it was the only wise thing to be done.”
“Agreed,” Galadon said. “Either he’d have just contradicted everything we said, or he’d have taken the information straight back to whoever the true source of the problem is. This way, no matter if he’s part of the problem or ignorant to it – or, of course, if the situation in Aurun Ch’Gurra isn’t even the source of the trouble – he’ll give no indication to whoever this Crimson Queen is. We can share more when we have definitive proof.”
“Proof that will likely involve going to Aurun Ch’Gurra to obtain, which we’re not at all ready to do,” Delkantar grunted.
Not yet, anyway, Leighandra thought. But getting into places unnoticed was supposed to be Starlenia’s specialty, and getting information unobtrusively was one of Leighandra’s strengths as a chronicler. Before she could voice her thoughts, though, Starlenia spoke.
“I’m sure it’s going to come to that at some point,” she said as they walked. “If it turns out this Crimson Queen is the usurper in Aurun Ch’Gurra or at least hiding within the city, someone is going to have to go in there and get a better idea of who and what we’re up against.”
“You said you are adept at going unseen… would that include among such a foreign people to your own?” Auremax asked.
I guess I’m right where I belong, the chronicler mused, turning to Auremax. The luranar paladin looked so much better now, the blood all cleaned out of his fur, the wounds on his snout healing, and that regal bearing returned. Leighandra thought he was handsome for a luranar, and she wanted to delve further into his family history when time allowed. But this wasn’t the time or the place for such details.
“Aurun Ch’Gurra is pretty diverse for the capital of an empire,” Starlenia answered. “My people go there to trade fairly often, so my appearance wouldn’t be considered alarming right away. I’m sure with some preparation, we could make it look like I belong there, but that’s not something we need to worry about right now. I’m guessing Karinda will have something to say about any such plans.”
“Have you ever met Karinda before, Yiilu?” Delkantar asked.
“Not personally, no,” the druidess answered. “However, I believe a young woman from my home city serves as her apprentice. Despite her nature that keeps her apart from our nations, I believe Lady Bakhor is a staunch protector of these lands and this world as a whole and will gladly aid us.”
The woodsman looked across to Auremax. “You’ve been to Laeranore before; have you ever met her?”
Max glanced at Delkantar but shook his head. “I have only been to Laeranore a couple of times, and always in the company of older, more experienced ambassadors. We never attempted to go speak with the wizard ourselves.”
Starlenia looked the luranar paladin up and down as they walked. “Why, how old are you? Don’t your people trust their crown prince to act as ambassador on his own?”
“I count nineteen summers,” he answered, and Leighandra wasn’t the only one shocked by the declaration. “I am crown prince only due to a special circumstance, not on account of age or being first-born.”
“Special circumstance? What would that be?” Galadon asked.
“He must be the seventh son of Kalamaris,” Leighandra put in before the prince could answer. She didn’t know terribly much about the luranar, but all the tales of the heroics of King Kalamaris she had heard and sung mentioned the fact that he, too, had been a seventh son. It was a superstition among the wolf-folk, one that seemed to be a lot more prominent among the royal line than the rest of their people. “The seventh son… just as his father before him.”
“You’re the seventh son of a seventh son?” Delkantar asked, a twitch at the corner of his mouth suggesting amazement and amusement in equal measure. “That’s supposed to be quite an omen in some cultures.”
“Honestly, it is less a rarity among my people than yours, given that our women typically give birth to multiples,” Max said with a deferential gesture. “Among my people, a seventh son may be birthed in a woman’s second litter. Not as likely with your people, though I have heard that it is possible in odd circumstances. In my case, it is as much the fact that I was a single birth as that I was the seventh son.”
“Of a seventh son,” Starlenia added. “One born with a whole mess of… birthmarks that look more like scars to my eyes. By the Great Spirit, my people are superstitious enough… you’d tickle everyone’s omen-sense, shaman or otherwise.”
“And then here you are, in the middle of all this,” Galadon said with a snort. “Something tells me we’re fortunate to have you with us.”
Max rolled his eyes, but it looked as playful as exasperated. “I choose not to put faith in such things. Doing the right thing should have little to do with the circumstances of one’s birth.”
“Well said,” Delkantar agreed.
They left the city shortly after, on their way east to the town of Farview, and then to the border of Laeranore. Despite the weight of everything before them, that left an air of excitement among everyone in the group.
~ * ~ * ~
The travel was light and quick despite being through the southern end of the great forests. Delkantar read the trail signs, avoided the territories of wolf and bear alike, and made sure the companions remained on course despite their preventative measures. Whoever the Ghosts of Liam were, Delkantar did their number proud to Leighandra’s thinking. While trailblazers and rangers were common in the northern forests, he seemed of a higher caliber than any she’d ever met. She resolved to ask him about his training once the companions’ fire-side conversations finally turned away from the current events.
They came upon the town of Farview after a few days. It was one of the many forested burgs of Terrassia that had grown from a trading post or rangers’ way-station into a proper town. There wasn’t much of interest in the town, but the companions were able to resupply and spend a night in the comforts of an inn. They left the town the following morning, avoiding any more attention after Max, Vo’rii, and Yiilu started to attract peoples’ interest.
“I’m surprised the innkeeper didn’t say anything about you or Vo’rii,” Galadon said, and Max turned a curious gaze his way. “No offense, my friend; it’s just that many of our people aren’t accustomed to seeing yours. People can act strangely when confronted with something new and different.”
The luranar nodded. “Ah. Farview is the closest town to the border of Laeranore, and my people stop there along the way when we go to visit the elven queen. I have found that your peoples are accommodating, if a bit di
strustful of mine.”
“Border towns do have a tendency to be more open-minded on such matters,” Yiilu said.
“Frontiers towns, too,” Delkantar agreed. “We tend to measure men by their actions, not their appearance. It’s not unusual for even gnolls to occasionally come trade, if they can behave themselves while they’re in town.”
“Do you know much of the gnolls?” Max queried.
“Not really. Nothing useful, anyway,” the woodsman said with an apologetic-looking gesture. “I could say some things about them as people, but nothing solid, nothing fair.”
Max smiled at that, and they continued on.
Yiilu and Vo’rii stepped to the forefront as they approached the elven border, and after a time, the druidess motioned for the others to halt. Ahead lay more of the forest, but something about this particular section was different. These stands of trees looked and indeed felt more ancient than those they had passed along during their journey from Solaris. Though it had been some time since Leighandra visited the lands of her mother’s people, she knew just by sight that they had reached the border of Laeranore.
The chronicler watched the reactions of her companions for the telltale signs as well. Each of them appeared spooked in some sense, with the exception of Auremax, who had already visited the elven lands. This was the product of the nation’s wards; the elves didn’t build walls, lay out totems or markers, or post armies at their borders. There was a natural enchantment, one that had stood as long as they’d inhabited this land, and it sent a chill down the spine of the staunchest of men. When one approached the border of Laeranore, there was no doubt.
Though there was no standing army just within its border, Laeranore was not without its defenses. Leighandra had never witnessed it personally, but the legends spoke of the very trees coming alive to defend the border when necessary. More practically, they had sentries and patrols to watch for incursions. It was possible for those who got lost and simply ignored the warning feel of the enchantment to pass through Laeranore’s outer edge without issue. Those who continued deeper into the realm – particularly those with ill intent – were typically driven out by however much force it took.
