by F. P. Spirit
“Okay.” There was silence between them for several moments, then she rolled her hand in the air slowly, prompting him to continue. “And you want to find the Serpent Cult headquarters for…?”
“I already told you,” Seth replied, still gauging the young woman’s reactions.
She nodded and continued to roll her hand in the air. “And you’re looking for it, because…?”
Seth huffed. This Kalyn was stubborn as hell. He glanced over at the black mage, still pinned to the tree. He was obviously going nowhere soon. If Seth wanted to find Serpent’s Hollow now, he was going to have to work with her. “I’m working for the Baron of Ravenford…”
“The Heroes of Ravenford!” The young woman let out a high-pitched squeal, interrupting Seth and startling him as she suddenly broke into an awkward dance of happiness. Just as quickly as she started dancing, she stopped, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment.
Seth’s smirk widened into a dry smile. That awkward outburst was in sharp contrast to the hardened façade Kalyn had portrayed up till now.
“Oh. Um. You are the halfling that is with the Heroes of Ravenford, are you not?” She asked.
Seth eyed her as he nodded slowly.
“I knew it!” She tucked a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. “The stories about the Heroes are the only exciting stories I hear in Deepwood Fort anymore.”
Seth let out a derisive snort. “I didn’t know we were that popular.”
“Oh, y’all are making an impression, that’s for sure. Me and most of the folk in Deepwood think y’all are slicker ’n snot!” She giggled, then she cleared her throat and crossed her arms, changing her tone. “Anyway, I’m gonna go to Serpent’s Hollow, and check it out for myself, so you can tag along if you want, free of charge.”
Seth knit his brows, trying to determine exactly what was driving this girl. If he had to guess, it probably had to do with that painful loss she’d experienced. “What do you want to go to Serpent’s Hollow for?”
She frowned. “Well, to get the slaves out of there, of course!”
Seth shook his head. She wasn’t telling him everything. “That’s not all. You mentioned something about knowing someone with a snake and skull tattoo.”
At that, she tensed and crossed her arms, shuffling her feet. Her jaw settled into a firm line, and her eyes grew dark and harsh as they darted to the side.
“I’ve got a score to settle with him.” Her tone was soft, short, and dark, mimicking her demeanor for a moment, but then she shrugged and sighed, her mood lightening a little. “But first, I gotta figure out how to help the people who’ve been kidnapped and get them home. They come first, score settling second.”
Seth nodded his head slowly. He had been right. This was personal. Someone she knew had been kidnapped by the cult—someone close to her. “And you know someone who can get us to Serpent’s Hollow? Someone you can trust?”
“Oh, I know someone, and she ain’t no Serpent Cultist, that’s for sure!” She shifted on her feet then, her face growing a little sheepish. “She might be able to tell us where Serpent’s Hollow is. She can’t take us there, though… but I can.”
Seth narrowed his eyes again. “I take it you’re a tracker.”
An indignant look came over her face. “Darn straight. I’m one of the best trackers in all of Deepwood forest! Possibly the best. You just ask anyone here’bouts about the Rhan family and they’ll tell you we’re the best! Yes sir! You tell me where you wanna go, and I’ll get you there faster than a rust monster can chew through an iron pile.”
Seth couldn’t help but smirk. “So, if your friend can tell us where Serpent’s Hollow is, you’re sure you can get us there?”
She grinned with a half wink, then slipped her arrow back into the quiver on her back. “I always know where to go, especially when I don’t know where to go.” She turned to the mage’s stolen horse and untied it from the log.
“Wait, you aren’t just going to leave me here, are you?” The mage asked breathlessly.
Kalyn looked at Seth. “Your call, tough stuff.”
Seth shifted his gaze to the black mage. He was badly wounded, and Seth wasn’t about to waste his own energy healing him. And even if they did bring him along, Seth wouldn’t trust him any farther than he could throw him. Leaving him here was also out of the question. If by any chance, one of the other cultists were to find him, they could warn the rest of the cult. If that happened, he and his friends would be walking straight into a trap.
Seth peered back at Kalyn. She seemed very sure of herself. He didn’t doubt her tracking ability—she seemed very at home in the woods. And the way she handled a bow was probably as good as, if not better than Martan. The real question was, would her friend know where to find Serpent’s Hollow? Seth finally decided that he had to chance it.
“He’s not useful to me anymore.” With that, Seth flicked his wrist, sending a small blade singing through the air, straight into the front of the mage’s skull. The mage stopped moving immediately. The lynx got up and stretched with a yawn, then it stepped up to Kalyn and rubbed its face against her leg.
Kalyn sighed. “Well, Seth, I must say that you really kicked butt a moment ago. Very impressive what you did to that nasty snake.”
Seth narrowed his eyes—he swore he saw her shudder at the mention of the snake. “That was nothing. You finished off the other two.”
She shrugged. “Well, for being a tiny person stuck on the ground, you did better than I probably would have.” With that, she walked over to the mage and pulled Seth’s knife from his skull, tossing it back to him. “I was equally impressed by how quiet you were. Most folk sound like a herd of angry centaurs when tromping through these woods, but not you. I watched you for about ten minutes or so, and you ne’er made a sound.”
So, I was being watched…
Seth cleaned his knife off and sheathed it.
“Though I should warn you—don’t try sneaking past a Deepwood archer while you’re invisible. You aren’t that quiet. They might think you’re a green hag skulking about and shoot you, no questions asked. That would be bad. And it wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.”
Deepwood Snipers! Of course! Now I remember where I’ve heard of Deepwood Fort.
Seth mentally slapped his forehead. Deepwood was home to a group of archers that were so skilled in their craft, it was said they rivalled those of elvish archers. There were stories and legends spanning back hundreds, perhaps even thousands of years, about these guys almost single—handedly demolishing entire races, crushing empires, and turning the tide of war. But many argued that the legendary skills of the Deepwood Snipers were nothing more than good stories for little children. Not so much as an arrow had been seen leaving this forest in a very long time, much less an archer, and Deepwood Fort was little more than a tiny dot on the map.
Seth spiked a skeptical eyebrow. “You can’t shoot something you can’t see.”
She shrugged, a mysterious smile creeping onto her face. “That’s what a few green hags have thought.” Her smile grew, as did the twinkle in her eye. “Well, come on!” With that, she turned on her heel, and walked away.
Seth narrowed his eyes. She seemed awfully certain of herself. Not even Ruka had heard him a few nights ago, on the deck of the Rusty Nail. Still this was a forest, and it was definitely harder to be quiet here, with all the twigs and what-not strewn across the forest floor. He swept his eyes around the clearing, at the dead snake, orc, and mage. “What about the bodies?”
“Something’ll eat ‘em before dawn tomorrow. Or the Patrol will find ‘em and sound the alarm at the fort. Either way, they ain’t our problem!”
The big lynx padded past Seth, sniffing at him as it went by before haughtily raising its tail and trotting after Kalyn. Seth sighed and shrugged inwardly.
This is the path I decided on. For now, I have to follow her, and hope that I made the right choice.
He picked up his feet, and quickly caught up with her.
“We’ll fetch your doggy, then we’ll go see my friend. She ain’t far off, so we don’t have far to go. By the way, are you hungry?” Kalyn asked.
Seth’s stomach growled involuntarily.
Kalyn giggled. “I thought you might be, ‘specially after what you just went through. Well, rest assured, my friend is a tremendous cook. You won’t be disappointed.
Flight of Mercy
Oh, my apologies. I was just checking to see if you were a chosen one.
The lights twinkled softly on the other side of the lake, as Ruka and Aksel sped just above the water, toward the little town of Vermoorden. It was late in the evening; the sun had set long ago, and midnight was only a couple of hours away. The moon, full the previous night, now waxed gibbous in the star-filled sky, its silvery rays lighting a path across the lake in front of them.
Their flight had been extremely smooth, the ground left far below as Ruka flew them effortlessly across the countryside. Aksel was amazed at how fast the dragon girl could travel—even faster than Ves when she had taken the form of a giant eagle. The little cleric could only wonder at the speeds the teen might hit once she was fully recovered.
Ruka veered north as they approached the shoreline, heading for the woods just outside of town. A short while later, they swept over a low embankment, the lakeside here dotted sparsely with lights from the few farmhouses that populated this end of town. They swiftly reached the edge of the woods and skirted over the treetops, safe from any prying eyes.
The young dragon touched down a few moments later in a small clearing just north of town, the woods around them dark and silent. Ruka slowly craned her neck in a circle, silently scanning the surrounding trees. Satisfied that they were alone, she squatted down and allowed Aksel to dismount. Ruka then shifted to the familiar form of a sandy-blonde haired human teen. The two travelers left the clearing and weaved their way through the dark trees, quickly finding the road that led south into town.
After a short walk, a walled structure came into view, seated atop a hill to the southeast—Vermoorden Keep. Aksel had seen the structure before, on their last visit to the small town just a few days ago. The keep’s windows were dimly lit at this late hour, the citadel a tall, dark shadow against the starlit backdrop of the night sky. The castle walls were lined with torches, the shadows of the occasional patrol of guards visible along the parapets.
The duo continued down the road, soon striding past the general store. The small building was closed and dark at this time of night. The Theater of the Festive Spirits appeared to still be open, as the lights were still on, and the sound of music was drifting down the road from the lively establishment.
The duo passed a few more darkened stores before an inn appeared on their right. The lights were still on, and probably would be for most of the night. Aksel cast a glance at Ruka as they walked beside the fence line that surrounded the establishment. “I think we should stop here at Barmann’s, and rent some rooms for the night.”
“I don’t need to sleep,” Ruka responded immediately, with more than a hint of impatience in her voice.
Aksel came to a stop and turned to face the young teen. Ruka halted as well, and stared at him with her arms folded. Aksel was quite aware of how frustrated she must feel, but he also knew that sometimes things could not be rushed. He let out a short sigh, and attempted to pacify the anxious teen.
“It may not be quite that easy. We can try the church, but they may not be open at this hour. Even if they are, there’s no guarantee that one of the clerics prayed for a spell to cure poison this day.”
Ruka glared at him and slowly shook her head. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re too damned practical?”
Aksel responded with a short, closemouthed laugh. “More often than I care to admit.”
Ruka stared at him for a few moments, then let out a long sigh. “Oh, very well, but you might as well just get one room since I’ll end up sleeping on the roof anyway.”
“Fair enough,” Aksel responded with a slight shrug of his shoulders.
When they reached the front gate, Ruka stopped and leaned against the fence post. “You go ahead,” she waved him on. “Wouldn’t want people to see us together and get the wrong idea.”
Aksel paused a moment, but even in the pale moonlight, he could see the smirk on Ruka’s lips.
“Suit yourself,” Aksel responded, then spun around and strode through the gate, leaving the young teen behind. What she hadn’t seen was the slight smile on his lips as he walked away. Ruka was very much like Seth, and the little cleric had sorely missed his friend’s biting sense of humor this last day or so.
“You’re no fun!” Ruka called out as she rushed after him, swiftly drawing up to his side. Aksel said nothing more as they strode together toward the inn, but inside he was still smiling.
A short while later, the duo stood outside the town church. They had appropriated a room at the inn as planned, but once there, Ruka’s fidgeting prompted Aksel to reconsider his original stance. The church was a modest stone structure, with arched windows, and capped with a tall green steeple. The twin symbols of the goddesses Thena and Zesstara, the Lady of Nature and Lady of the Seas, respectively, stood above the tall steeple—a not-unexpected sight for a community whose livelihood was based on farming and fishing.
Not surprisingly, the church was closed. It was slightly more than an hour till midnight, and evening services were well past over. Aksel took a few steps back and peered around the corner of the building. On the one side stood a small cemetery with nondescript headstones, surrounded by a short picket fence. Around the other corner stood another stone structure that was most likely the church rectory. Aksel, with Ruka in tow, strode up to the building and knocked, but no one came to the door. Ruka pointed out a small house situated behind the rectory. There was a light in one of its windows.
“At least somebody’s there,” Ruka noted, with obvious frustration.
Having grown up on church grounds, Aksel was certain the dwelling belonged to the groundskeeper, but he decided to keep that to himself for the moment. He shrugged his shoulders. “Might as well.”
The resigned duo walked over to the house, and knocked on the front door. After a minute or so, an elderly gentleman, with wisps of white hair around his otherwise bald head, slowly opened the door. Despite his advanced age, the man seemed quite sharp, his eyes shifting carefully from Aksel to Ruka, then back again. He pulled his thick robe closer around his body as the chill of the night air hit him, then spoke, his voice low and raspy. “What can I do for you at this late hour?”
Aksel waved a hand toward Ruka. “My friend here has been poisoned. I’ve managed to delay the effects, but she needs a cure as soon as possible.”
The elderly gentleman nodded thoughtfully, as he appraised the young teen from the open doorway. “I see.” His eyes shifted back toward Aksel. “Based on your diagnosis, and your attire, I take it you are a cleric.”
It was more of a statement than a question. Aksel responded with a single nod. “I am—but neutralizing poisons is currently beyond my abilities. Is there anyone at the church who could cure her? Or perhaps you might have a curative potion?”
“Hmmm,” the elderly gentleman pondered, his hand briefly stroking his chin, “I’m sorry to say, but there is nothing we can do for your friend at the moment.”
Aksel cast a glance at Ruka, and gave her a sympathetic smile. He shifted his gaze back to the old gentleman, about to thank him for his time, but the elderly man stepped back from the door and ushered them inside. “But please come in and sit down. I’ll pour us some tea, and then maybe we can put our heads together, and figure something out.”
Aksel exch
anged another glance with Ruka. The young teen shrugged, then strode forward through the entryway with an extremely polite “Thank you.”
Aksel raised an eyebrow, and followed close behind.
“Oh, where are my manners?” the old gentleman said, as he led them through a narrow hallway and into his kitchen. “My name is Lothar. Lothar Feltain. I am the groundskeeper for our little Church of the Two Ladies.”
A rather appropriate name for the church, Aksel thought to himself. He placed a hand on his chest, and executed a deep bow, finishing with a wave toward Ruka. “I am Aksel Alabaster, Cleric of The Soldenar, and this is my friend Ruka.”
“Ah,” Lothar slowly drawled, “a cleric of yet another goddess. Well met,” he added, his eyes sweeping over the pair. Lothar pointed toward two chairs at a rather quaint kitchen table. “Please be seated while I fetch us our tea.”
Ruka wore a bemused look as she sat down at the small table. Aksel sat down next to her, then shifted his gaze back to the old man. Lothar stood at the kitchen hearth, pouring a few cups from a small kettle that hung over the fire. The old gentleman called over to them as he filled up their mugs. “I wish we could have met under better circumstances.”
Aksel couldn’t help smiling. This Lothar was a quintessential gentleman. He peered at Ruka, and noted the soft expression on her face. The normally sardonic teen seemed rather reverent of the elderly gentleman. Aksel silently wondered if it was indicative of dragon kind, or if it had something to do with Ruka’s ‘grandfather.’
Lothar came over to join them, carrying a tray of tea and some small cookies. He placed a mug on the table before each of them, then sat down in an empty kitchen chair. Lothar took a small sip of tea, then set his mug down on the table and folded his hands in front of him. “Now then, let’s think about your problem.”
Aksel took a sip of tea as well. It was quite good—elderberry root, if he had to guess. He watched the old man carefully as he spoke. “Most of the priests are already bedded down for the night. And out of them, only the High Priest, Harper, or Canon Harmin, would be able to cast the spell.” Lothar paused a moment as he mulled things over. “Although I’m not sure we’d be able to count on the High Priest. He’s not quite all there anymore, and we never know what spells he’s going to pray for…”
