“Master Warden,” I utter guardedly, walking up to where Tamara stands beside the battlements. “What are you doing here?”
Light, this is the last thing I need right now.
“It has come to our attention that General Mohr has been slain,” she replies coolly, blue eyes peering at me from beneath a cocked eyebrow. “Does this mean that you are now commanding the city’s defenses?”
Despite myself, I cannot help but let out a small chuckle. “Nothing gets by you, does it? I’ve only just found out myself.”
“I’m the head warden of the rangers,” she replies dryly. “It’s my business to know things before anyone else. And you didn’t answer my question.”
I sigh and rap my knuckles lightly against the stone. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
She nods as if this was the only possible solution. “Makes sense,” she replies, staring out at the unending horde of demons. “You have experience. You directly command half of our troops. There are no military leaders of note who are left to command the other half. It should be you.”
I give her a sidelong look, then reply, “Thanks, I suppose.”
We stand there for a long moment, staring out at an enemy that is impossible to defeat while soldiers rush behind us, frantically trying to get ready for the next assault. The weight of responsibility begins to settle on my shoulders, and for a moment it feels like the entire population of Tarsys is pressing down on me, crushing me against the stones.
This is impossible, I find myself thinking in a rare instance of self-doubt. There’s no way I can save these people. Everyone here is going to die, and there’s nothing I can do to help them.
Tamara seems to sense what I am feeling, and so she reaches over and places her hand on top of my own.
It is a small gesture; her hand, though smaller than mine, carries the same scars, the same callouses of a lifelong warrior. And yet, despite this fact, her touch feels as soft as silk. A connection forms between us for the first time in years and warmth rushes up my arm and into the rest of my body, filling me with strength.
I turn to look at her and our eyes meet, the connection growing more powerful until it seems as bright as the sun itself.
“You can do this, Lord Protector,” she says softly. “My rangers are at your disposal.”
She removes her hand from mine, instantly severing our bond, and takes a respectful step back, her expression growing neutral once more.
For a moment I am speechless, dumbfounded like a young apprentice once again, but the feeling quickly passes. I clear my throat awkwardly. “Thank you, Tamara. I appreciate the support.”
Out on the field, a loud, blaring horn is blown, forcing us to look back at the R’Laar. Their ranks begin to form up again, the front lines bristling with spears and barbed ladders.
Another charge will come at any moment.
“Keep holding your section of the wall,” I say, voice becoming gruff again. “I will send a messenger if we need your support.”
She nods and departs immediately, rushing down the tower steps and back to the northwest. I have to resist watching her leave, forcing my eyes to remain on the threat ahead.
I begin formulating a plan in my mind, preparing mentally for the imminent assault, when alarm bells begin to ring in the city behind me, drawing my attention. Turning, I can see plumes of smoke rising from some of the nearby neighborhoods.
“What now?” I growl, drawing my sword as the demons begin to rush the walls.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Owyn
We leave the inn first thing in the morning, bidding the villagers of Elder Hollow farewell as we ride our horses back out into the Heartlands. Everyone is tired from the late night of feasting and drinking – Zara and me especially – but most are generally in good spirits, the celebration and good company providing a boost to morale.
As our long column moves onto the western road, the two of us ride together at the very rear to gain as much privacy as possible on the open road.
I glance over at Zara, noting the radiant way she looks in the morning light. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail, cascading down her back in perfect strands that dance with the movements of her horse. I remember running my fingers through that hair last night, the memory of being so close to her filling me with a warmth that banishes the morning chill.
That’s my wife, I think to myself in amazement, a sense of pride swelling within my chest. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
She catches me looking at her and gives me a shy smile. “What are you looking at?” She asks demurely, brown eyes ever-curious.
“Oh – nothing,” I reply, grinning. “Just thinking about the wedding... and what happened after the feast.”
“Owyn!” She hisses, cheeks reddening. She shoots a look at the backs of her fellow mages riding ahead of us, then back at me. “They’ll hear us!”
Chuckling, I shake my head and offer her a reassuring smile. “We’re far enough away that the sound of the hooves will cover our voices. Trust me.”
She gives me a skeptical look before eventually breaking into a small smile of her own. “Light, Owyn, you’re incorrigible.”
I nudge my horse to walk a little closer to her, then lean in conspiratorially. “Admit it – you were thinking about the same thing!”
Her cheeks grow even redder, but her smile only broadens. “Yeah, a little.”
We laugh and proceed to spend the entire morning chatting amiably, talking about how strange it now feels to be considered husband and wife. On one hand, nothing is different between us – we are still the exact same people as we were before. On the other hand, everything has completely changed – we are bound together by more than just our friendship, our vows and the Light now making us inseparably connected.
Honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The low-hanging clouds prevent the sun from peeking through, making it yet another grey and gloomy day. In the early morning hours, thick mists cling to the Heartland fields like a blanket, cooling the air and making the trip feel more ominous.
Not even the foul weather can dampen our mood, however, as the reality of our marriage still envelops us, insulating us temporarily from the outside world.
Even the mages seem to be happier, having eaten well and gotten a full night’s sleep indoors. They seem to know instinctively to give Zara and me plenty of space as we travel, something that the two of us are extremely grateful for.
Around midday we stop for lunch, pulling off to the side of the road and letting the horses graze and drink from a nearby pond. The people of Elder Hollow, Light bless them, had sent us off with loads of leftover food and drink – bread, meat, vegetables, fruit and wine. These we eat wholeheartedly, conversing and laughing as we rest ourselves from a morning of riding.
“Oh, to be young and in love,” Sira says wistfully, sitting down beside twin sister and nursing a small cup of wine. “Sometimes I wish I had taken some time away from my studies to pursue a relationship.”
“There’s no man in the kingdom who would put up with you, sis,” her twin Kaleigh replies, tone utterly dry.
Several of the other mages around us chuckle, and Sira shoots Kaleigh a withering glare.
Others attempt to strike up conversations with us, but most come off a little awkward, and soon, we begin packing up our things and setting back out on the road. Refreshed, we set off to complete the final ascent out of the Heartlands.
By the time late afternoon rolls around, the fog starts to burn off and we can see the Emberwood looming before us. It feels a little like coming home, the rolling hills around us becoming populated with familiar trees. Soon we are completely surrounded by the dense forest, visibility plummeting as we delve deeper into the woods.
These lands should be covered in snow, I find myself thinking, staring at the trees and their leafless limbs. Now, it just feels wrong here. It feels like the forest itself is dying.
We continue on the western road
, winding through the forest and over bridges, past abandoned communities and fallow fields. The sense of wellbeing we had gained at Elder Hollow slowly begins seeping away, replaced by a malaise that leaves us all feeling wary. The general unease seems to affect everyone, the mages all seeming to look around as if searching for an enemy. Zara clutches the reins of her horse tightly with one hand, the other straying toward her talisman as she rides.
Yes, I think, reaching for my hatchet as well. Something definitely feels off about this place.
The sun begins to set and we make camp for the night, stopping in a clearing beside a creek not far from the road. We settle the horses and put up the tents mostly in silence, and it isn’t until we begin lighting the campfires that we begin to lighten up.
“Does something feel odd to you?” Zara asks as I bring her a steaming bowl of soup from the cook pot. “It’s almost as if we are being watched?”
I nod my head, taking a seat on a log right next to her. “Yes, it does feel a little strange here, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
She sets down her bowl and scooches over to sit by me, resting her head against my shoulder. We rest there for a moment, enjoying our mutual warmth before quietly eating our meal.
Somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots in the dusky air. The woods grow more menacing around us as the darkness deepens.
Fortunately, the two of us get out of having to stand watch for the night and are able to retire to our tent a little way off from the others. We forget about the eeriness of the forest in each other’s arms, enjoying being together for a short while before eventually drifting off to sleep.
IN THE MORNING, WE awake to a quiet camp.
The mages, most having slept fitfully during the night, seem more subdued, the strange aura permeating the forest seeming to have affected them.
We emerge from the tent and immediately set about with the morning chores. Zara begins preparing food and I go stoke one of the campfires to life.
As I am stoking the coals, a mage comes up behind me and clears his throat. I turn recognize him as a bearded man named Theodore.
“Ranger,” he says, wizened voice sounding concerned. “May I speak with you a moment?”
I nod my head and follow the old mage to the edge of camp.
He gestures out into the woods. “I think there may be something out there,” he says, stopping just beyond the clearing. “During my watch last night I... heard noises coming from the forest.”
I follow his gaze, peering into the trees skeptically. “There are lots of creatures in the Emberwood,” I reply dryly.
His heavy eyebrows knit together to form a frown. “Do you think me daft, boy? I’ve been to the forest before. I know there are animals who roam the woods. This is different. It sounded like something was stalking us, walking the perimeter of our camp. Something big.”
Mirroring his frown, I take another step into the treeline, looking about with the trained eyes of a ranger. Again, I see nothing.
“Whatever it was, it’s gone now,” I reply, glancing back at him over my shoulder. “I’ll do some scouting later, make sure that nothing’s following us.”
He nods, and together we return to camp, where breakfast is being served and the tents are being broken down.
As I settle in next to Zara, bowl of boiled oats in hand, I lean in and whisper, “You lead the group down the western road. I need to check on a few things.”
She gives me a strange look. “Is everything alright?”
“I’m not sure,” I reply, shoveling a spoonful into my mouth. “Theodore thinks he saw something last night, but his eyes could have just been tricking him. I just want to make sure.” After a moment of thoughtful chewing, I ask, “You know the way, don’t you?”
She nods.
“Good,” I reply, finishing my bowl in a few quick bites. “I’ll catch up with you later in the morning.”
With that, I get up and shoulder my bow, then begin making my way over to the horses. Before I can get very far, though, Zara stops me.
“Owyn,” she calls, causing me to stop and turn around. “Be careful out there.”
I give her a self-assured smile. “Don’t worry. I’m a ranger. The forest is my domain.”
As the group is getting ready to depart, I set off into the trees alone, my father’s hatchet on my hip and my longbow slung over my shoulder. The three wastelanders protest, of course, but I sternly remind them that I am their commander, and that they are unaccustomed to moving stealthily in a forest environment. They reluctantly agree, then take charge of watching over Zara instead.
Giving one last look at my wife, I disappear from view, descending into the misty woods and finding myself completely alone.
It feels good, being back in the Emberwood. It seems like I haven’t been alone with nature in ages. It brings me back to the days I had spent here training with Elias, studying the vegetation and animals of the region and learning how to hunt and fight. Those were simpler days, I think to myself as I lead my horse down a narrow game trail.
I decide to shadow the caravan of mages from a distance, taking seldom-used paths through dense thickets and overgrown gullies.
For a time, the eerie feeling I had felt the day before is gone, replaced with nostalgia from returning to my old ranger territory. Deer scamper off in a nearby meadow and birds call in the distance, interrupting the rhythmic sounds of my horse’s hooves stamping through the undergrowth. Still, it doesn’t take long for me to become warier of my surroundings, remembering why it was I had decided to hang back and scout out the wilderness.
The farther we travel, the less I am able to pick up the sounds of the local wildlife. A deadly stillness begins to permeate the air, and after a while, I find myself drawing an arrow and holding it nocked to my bowstring.
There is something following us, I conclude at length, my sixth sense ringing like an alarm bell in the back of my mind.
It hovers just beyond my eyesight, lurking somewhere just beyond my ability to hear, but I can sense that it is there, following me as I follow the slowly-moving mages.
Finally, I decide to investigate myself.
Pulling my horse to a stop, I dismount and sneak into a nearby thicket, keeping my eyes sharp and the hand holding the arrow even sharper. I lay in wait like a predator, crouching amidst brambles until eventually I am able to detect movement coming from just up the game trail.
I bring the bow up, watching grimly as a beast with scythe-like arms comes prowling toward me. It looks like some great bird of prey with its feathers plucked out, its large, sinewy frame moving surprisingly quietly over branches and dead leaves.
A hook horror.
I pull, sighting down the arrow as another of the hook horrors emerges from the brush, then another, until soon, there is a good dozen of them stalking through the forest toward my position.
Eleven Hells, I think, arm beginning to shake from the effort of pulling on the bowstring. There’s so many of them!
It comes to a point where I know that I must act – either to fight or to flee – or risk myself being caught by the creatures.
Taking a breath, I aim at the eye socket of the nearest hook horror and release, loosing the arrow and sending it on a quick path through the air.
Unexpectedly, the demon turns its wretched head ever so slightly and the arrow misses, grazing the top of its scalp and skittering into the woods beyond.
“Damn,” I curse, standing up as the beast lets out a blood-curdling shriek.
Every hook horror then turns to look at me, their beady red eyes alight with an otherworldly hunger as they ready themselves to attack.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Talon
I stagger out of the barracks and into the street, awkwardly trying to buckle a shield onto my crippled arm. Alarm bells ring throughout the city, drawing sharp contrast to the fighting on the walls, and soldiers rush about in every direction, trying frantically to figure out what’s going on.
Damned siege, I think to myself in annoyance, finally managing to secure the shield to my forearm. Makes it bloody impossible to find a little rest.
Looking up, I can see the smoke rising from a nearby neighborhood, the sound of terrified screaming people reaching my ears.
It’s like the entire world has gone mad.
“Talon!” A voice barks from somewhere nearby. I turn to see Elias rushing down the stairs leading up to the wall, his face like a violent storm. “Get yourself a spear. I need you right now!”
“Yes sir!” I reply, quickly ducking into the barracks and reemerging with a spear in hand.
The Nightingales all begin flocking around him, eager to follow his lead in the midst of the chaos. As he stops in front of the barracks, eyes hard as stone, he begins peering around, taking stock of the troops he has to work with.
“I’ve given command of the wall to Captain Kris,” he begins, speaking quickly but firmly. “We need to stop whatever the Hells is happening in this city. Everybody, follow me and be on your guard. Use force only if absolutely necessary.”
A smattering of men bark, “Yes, sir!” Then, we are on our way, marching quickly through the streets toward the source of the disturbance.
We pass large barricades that have been constructed in case the outer defenses are compromised, thick fortifications of rubble and wooden beams manned by archers and mages. Except for soldiers, the neighborhoods are completely deserted, the majority of the city’s population having gathered itself in the center of the city, dwelling in boarded-up homes far away from the fighting.
The closer we get to the inner districts, however, the more we begin to see signs of the rioting. Looted storefronts and shattered windows mar the buildings and refuse fills the streets. This part of the city has gone relatively unwatched, leaving the citizenry to their own devices by matter of necessity.
Our group, which consists of about thirty armed Nightingales, turns a corner onto a wide boulevard. There, we finally run into some people – a crowd of dozens fleeing in our direction.
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