The inferno behind Triss glowed violently. She and Declan
were traveling north towards the closest town with a group of survivors. Triss
sent a worried look Declan’s way, he limped clutching at his right side. The stab
wound had stopped bleeding, there would be no scar but it was still damaged
internally. Declan feeling Triss’s eyes upon him locked eyes with her and
attempted a reassuring smile. Unable to cease her fretting she looked around at
the other survivors, to see if anyone else was in better shape, they all
staggered along the road, silent and gloomy.
Declan and Triss had yet to see another member of their
original party. Triss doubted that they would see them again even if they were
alive, they were a very indecisive group she was glad she wouldn’t have to have
any more pointless arguments over who gets what and which job they would do.
Declan’s voice broke her thoughts “Triss, I need a hand
catching up.” He was straggling behind, Triss wrapped her arm around Declan’s
neck and he her waist, trying to keep in step the two moved at a slow but
steady pace.
They continued onwards they watched their step’s as to not
trip on the roots of the forest floor. “Where are the others?” Declan’s whispered,
“I’m not sure Dec, I haven’t seen them since before the
attack.”
“No, the other survivors.” Declan said clearly alarmed.
Triss looked to the
survivors up ahead, seeing no one they both stopped. “What the hell?” The Elf
mage had never known true fear in her four hundred and twenty eight years of
life, in the last few hours she had never been more scared. Triss shivered more
out of fear than the chilly night breeze. She looked examined the ground where
the other people were meant to be. “There are no tracks, it’s like they just
vanished.”
“Maybe we just walked off the track?” Declan said calmly,
his shortsword trembled in his good hand. “I need to stop anyway.” He knelt
down with a groan, silently cursing the pain. Triss looked at her human
companion. Declan was only a boy of sixteen when they met, he lived in a slum
near the Elf border, she took pity on him and taught the boy to fend for
himself. But fate and circumstance had kept them together and now the twenty
one year old man kneeling in the dirt clutching his side was Triss’s most
trusted friend.
“We need to keep moving Dec, those cultists could be combing
the woods for people to sacrifice or something.” Declan shot a feeble glare at
the elf mage, “Declan, this is serious, I sensed dark powers at work back in
Bazinet.” He sighed and pulled himself up, accepting a hand from Triss.
The two continued as they were before, one step at a time.
The soft rustling of wind in the leaves and birdcalls filled the air. They had
been walking for what felt like hours until Declan gestured with his sword
point to a flickering light in the distance. Triss chanted quietly under her
breath, the air around her face rippled and configured, Declan watched coolly
as she cast a spell to make her see long distances. Declan had long grown used
to having magic around, Triss had tried to explain to him the basics but he
just acknowledged that it was beyond humans. “Two men sitting around a
campfire, one is armed the other looks to be a local from Bazinet.” She
reported
Declan asked “Should we ask for a hand?”
Triss shook her head, “we need to be more cautious they
could be enemies.”
Declan let go of her and hobbled towards the camp, “You’re
too distrusting Triss, c’mon it’ll be fine.”
“Wha-“she pouted, “Well you’re too trusting” rushing to aid
Declan with his footing, the Elf and the Human made their way to the source of
the light.
~~
Cynric looked over at Duke Enroth, he had passed out several
minutes ago. Grinning the outlaw started plucking the gold buttons of the
Duke’s soiled clothes, happy with himself for suggesting that Enroth should
blend in. Cynric’s plain brown tunic and slacks gave the dark haired duke a
much needed commoner’s look. His eye’s shifting to Enroth’s fine leather boots,
pondering how if he could slip them of the man without waking him. As Cynric’s
hands edged towards the boots the soft ring of the perimeter bell caused him to
dive for his weapons. Seeing the duke also at his feet and ready in seconds,
discomforted the outlaw. Darkness surrounded them, after staring into the fire
for too long his eyes watered as they adjusted to the dark. A hand signalled
from the gloom and Cynric held his dagger ready to strike. A person walked into
the light, they wore a black hooded robe with an ominous rune on it.
Enroth yelled for Cynric but he was already rushing forward
to cut the cult mage down. Instinctively ducking to the left he entered the
mage’s blind spot and went in for the kill, evading Cynric’s strike with ease,
the mage started chanting softly the air around it shifted. Enroth attempted a
tackle but fell short, readying another strike Cynric watched a speeding bolt
of light hit the cultist staggering it. Cynric took the advantage and ran his
dagger through its chest, the mage wheezed dryly and disintegrated into an ash
like powder. Jumping back in surprise Cynric watched the empty robe fall to the
floor. Brushing the strange powder of himself Cynric looked to see where that
bolt of light came from. Enroth motioned with his chin to two people walking
into the light.
A tall slender elf and a human hobbled towards them. The
elf’s long golden hair shimmered in the firelight, she propped the man up and
they stopped short of the robe on the ground peering at it. They both wore
adventurer’s garbs however he had leather vest and bow slung over his shoulder
and a shortsword at his hip. Enroth examined the two cautiously, “show me your
left hands!” he ordered. Doing as they were told they showed their left hands.
Nothing. Nodding the Duke indicated the fire, “Shall we?” sitting around the
fire the two parties introduced themselves, Enroth unsuccessfully keeping his
identity hidden, and Cynric proudly flaunting his title of wanted man.
“So you’re really one of the most wanted men in the kingdom
Cynric?” Declan asked in his eye’s wide in awe.
The outlaw chortled and reached and stuffed his hand in his
satchel, pulling out his wanted poster he held in front of Declan, “Read it and
weep kiddo.”
“Wanted for high treason” he read aloud, “what on earth did
you do, and wait why the hell aren’t you hiding your identity?”
Enroth interrupted, “Because he’s an idiot that’s why.”
Triss watched the engagement in mock amusement, she said
“Enroth do you know anything about the attack on Bazinet?”
Enroth turned to face her, “yeah I do.” He looked over to
the robe which Cynric had thrown in the fire. “But first I have to ask if you
know anything about what happened to that cultist just now.”
Triss’s expression darkened, “the way that ‘thing’ just
disintegrated, it may have been an undead of some sort.”
“What! That’s impossible undead, summoned or not, can’t use
magic.”
“That’s what’s has me worried as well.” Triss looked over at
Declan and Cynric sharing a flask of booze. “At least those two don’t seemed so
concerned.”
Cynric stared at the elf, “what are you talking about long
ears, I’m shaking in my boots here.” He said with a straight face. Declan
chuckled softly receiving a bitter glare from his elf friend.
“I have a proposition for you two.” Enroth said “Me and this
fool,” he pointed his chin at Cynric. “We already have a contract. So I was
wondering…”
“If we could party up with you.” Triss cut him off. She turned
to face her companion. “What do you think Dec? Should we go along with these misfits?”
“I don’t see why not.” He said taking a swig from Cynric’s
flask.
Triss took the offer and as soon as warm rays of sunlight
pierced the dawn the party formed by circumstance winded through the forest
making their way back to the road without encountering anything of importance.
The sound of boots on gravel was the only noise that passed
between them, as they marched along the road to Màchrl village.
“-you are four hundred and twenty eight and you spent more than
half that time doing nothing in elven cities?” Enroth reprimanded Triss.
“Yeah pretty much, time goes by very quickly when your do
nothing.” She responded curtly.
“But you could’ve done so much in that time!”
“It’s a fairly common story, an elf racks up some debt and has to
go work in human lands, I’ll eventually return to pay off my debt.” Declan face
fell a little at hearing Triss’s statement. Noticing she quickly corrected
herself, “of course I’m a far from having enough money to return.”
Cynric scanned the road ahead, “Should be reaching Màchrl soon.”
Declan looked at his new found friend, “Something bothering you
Cynric, you look concerned.”
“Something concerning the legendary Cynric the Cruel.” Scoffed
Triss “outrageous.”
“Actually yeah,” Cynric responded his tone serious, the others all
curious turned to look at him. “What the hell is this cult called, the one that
burned Bazinet?”
Enroth responded with a sigh, “By the gods does it matter?”
“Yeah cause just calling them cultists is too vague. There are a
lot of cults out there.” He stroked his chin as if in thought, “How about we
call them ‘Mongs’?”
Triss looked back at him her face twisted in a snarl, Enroth shook
his head and Declan giggled quietly brushing brown hair out of his eyes.
“What?” Cynric looked generally surprised at their reactions,
“it’s a shortening of warmonger because they’re trying to start a war right, it
makes sense.”
The party continued on their way in relative silence. Reaching Màchrl they saw houses strewn around a
crossroads, sitting on the crossroads was a worn but bustling tavern. Inside an
earthy smell filled their senses, a few occupants sat scattered about the room
quietly drinking. In the centre of the room a game of poker was being played a
group of adventures and survivors from Bazinet (who most likely had everything
riding on this one game of chance) watched eagerly. Cynric waltzed over to the
bar, and Enroth reluctantly payed for a room so Declan could get some rest.
Taking a seat at the bar he looked to see Cynric drinking a vile grey liquid, Can I really trust an outlaw, even if his
crime was over exaggerated he is still an outlaw. Enroth thought, At least he isn’t bad in a fight. Raindrops
started to fall outside.
~~
Rain poured heavily outside. Declan lay on a sleeping mat, propped
up on his elbows he watched the rain smack against the window, “I wonder if
it’s the start of the wet season?” he thought aloud.
“Possibly” Triss answered him, a faint glow sprouted from her
hands, she held it over Declan’s stab wound, she had closed the wound soon
after he got it preventing him from bleeding however there was still internal
damage. She bowed her head and muttered a prayer to the goddess of life. The
young man watched her with a grim look, “What’s with that look, elves have gods
too.” She commented.
Declan shook his head, his soft brown hair shimmering in the candlelight.
He needed a haircut, “No that’s not it.” He said his voice no more than a
whisper, “You just look really pretty in this light.” not trying to hide her
blushing Triss ruffled his hair and turned to leave.
“Get some rest boy.” She hadn’t called Declan boy since he was
sixteen.
“Sure thing, mum”
Triss gestured rudely to him on her way down to the tavern. The
room was quiet, most of people had went home or were sleeping upstairs only a
few sat tending their drinks. Seeing Enroth leaning over a parchment she made
her way over to him.
“What’s that?” she motioned to the parchment he was studying.
“Information” Enroth responded gruffly.
“No shit. What is it really?”
“Some sort of legend, it was found on a Beastkin corpse.” He
motioned to strange markings scrawled all over the page, “I can’t decipher this
but I think it’s an old one.”
Triss nodded gravely, Enroth looked at her expectantly. “I can’t
read this either!” she quickly added.
“The Iron crown” A gravelly voice came from behind them, they
turned to face a tall figure, its face was like a humans but it bared dog like
teeth, dog ears poked out of its head and a fuzzy tail suspended from behind
it, A member of the wolf clan. A heavy sabre rested on its hip and it gestured
toward the parchment. “I can help you.”
“Show me your left hand!” Enroth ordered
The Beastkin showed his hand, revealing no mark, “I am not with
the cult.” He said, “My name is Wroteger, I wish to help you.”
Triss looked him up and down, “How can we trust you.”
“If you wish to find out what the cult is planning then you must.”
He responded indifferently. He grinned slightly, “I believe one of you comrades
can vouch for me, the grey haired young man”
Enroth sighed dramatically, “If you can find him.”
The elf just know realising Cynric’s absence asked, “Oh yeah where
did he go.”
“He’s been drinking grain alcohol for the past hour and just
stumbled outside not long before you came down.” He said indicating to Triss.
Wroteger grinned “Sounds like the Cynric I know, not many folk
have an obsession with grain alcohol.”
The
three peered outside, the storm outside was at its peak, rain fell heavily and
wind lashed the buildings. Enroth motioned back inside with his chin, “Maybe we
should let him find his own way back.” He said. Nodding slightly the other two
returned to the table. “Okay, Wroteger fill us in, what is this iron crown?”
~~
A small room littered with books of every description greeted the
old caretaker, in the corner a young woman no older then eighteen watched the
rain fall outside. “Isn’t it best you go to bed milady?” the caretakers voice
had weakened with age and now all he could manage were sot croaky words. She
nodded her red hair glimmered in the candlelight. “Have you been watching him
again milady?”
“Yes.” She responded, her voice like velvet. “However I am afraid
I can’t help him.”
“I have been looking after this castle for many years milady, I
know you can do anything when you put your mind to it.”
She smiled at the old caretaker. “Thanks Gregory.” Gregory
chuckled and waved his hand in dismissal. Returning to look out the window she
whispered “Please stay safe... Cynric.”
Points: 2406
Reviews: 43
Donate