Fasto shook his head. It was all too confusing. Yet amid his jumbled thoughts, one shown through like a clear beacon.
She tried to hurt Fasto’s friends.
That was enough of a reason for him to despise her.
The companions continued running to the south well into the night, until their exhaustion forced them to stop. And so, they collapsed, lost in some forsaken field in the land of Shadow.
♦♦♦
Fasto awoke to the pale sun high in the cold sky, shining down upon him like the face of a celestial. Slowly, he rose from the shriveled grass, scratching his head. His whole body ached; it was as if a searing lightning crackled through his worn muscles. His legs burned, and his head throbbed with a monotonous ringing. He glanced around, hoping to find some end to the desolate meadow. He wanted a forest, needed a forest. The trees gave him a sense of life and purpose, and his thoughts always cleared among the wooded guardians. But there were no trees, no end to the grave meadow. No mountains could be seen to the south.
The other companions were still sleeping around him, so Fasto let them rest. He would not dare disturb his friends. They may still need their energy for later.
Fasto can be alone. Fasto let friends sleep and become strong.
Shrugging, Fasto turned back to the hard earth, his gaze steady and determined. Fasto would be helpful. Savagely, he began to tear the dead grass from the grasp of the earth, creating a barren patch of gray dust and broken earth. Fasto smiled. Perfect. He reached behind him and pulled a white arrow from his quiver. His mighty bow and quiver were still anomalies to the orc. No matter how many arrows he shot from the white arms of his bow, there was always another waiting patiently in the quiver. Fasto did not know how it worked, but he did not care. It let him protect his friends.
Blinking back to reality, Fasto gripped the arrow tightly in his grasp. With a steady motion, he began to etch marks and shapes into the patch of earth. Fasto would be useful. Fasto would help his friends. The arrow dug furiously through the ground, tearing up chunks and sending a cloud of dust into the still air. Fasto’s brow furrowed and sweat began to bead upon his wrinkled forehead. He drew a sharp wave, and a small X. He added some more various shapes, adding onto the masterpiece before him. A dotted line followed by a hollowed-out circle. Perfect. Fasto would help his friends.
Fasto paused for a moment to study his work. Before he could continue, a rough hand clasped him on the shoulder. Fasto flinched in terror, caught by surprise.
“What in the bloody hell are ye doin', ye durned orc?” Nalgene asked, quite concerned. He released the orc, and stood dumbfounded, studying the mangled earth in front of Fasto. “Wha … Are ye feelin' alright? Or did the ground look at ye funny or somethin'?”
Fasto glanced up to the gnome, a proud and beaming smile wide upon his face. Nalgene’s sarcasm passed right over his head.
“Fasto help friends,” Fasto replied merrily. “Fasto draw map, so Fasto know the way.”
Nalgene could only stare.
“What in the bloody hell,” he mumbled. “Yer daft!” The gnome squinted and peered closer at the supposed map.
“Bwahahahaha!” Nalgene burst out in laughter, and patted Fasto on the shoulder again. “Yer bloody daft! I’d say yer face is more o’ a map than this mess!”
With that, Nalgene turned away. “C’mon, ye durned orc, let’s wake the others.”
Fasto smiled.
Fasto’s face is map?
A brilliant idea popped into the orc’s mind, but before he could act on it, another cry from Nalgene broke his thoughts.
“Get off yer arse, ye durned orc!”
Shaking his head, Fasto rose to his feet and marched over to wake the others. Nalgene had already been to SmibSmob and Andromeda, and was heading to the slumbering Ro, so Fasto moved over to Margaret.
Upon reaching her, he studied her for a moment, running his eyes across her body to her demonic arm. Fasto shivered. He was wary of Margaret’s strange powers — even scared. Even though he felt some sense of kinship with the fellow orc, he knew that her demonic side would always tear them apart.
He nudged her gently on her shoulder, trying to softly wake the troubled orc. Immediately, Margaret’s eyes shot open, and an icy chill washed over Fasto. Their eyes locked. Margaret narrowed her gaze, and with a snort of disgust, she pushed Fasto away and rose from the hard ground.
Fasto studied her for another moment, his mouth agape. He scratched his head.
She tired. Or hungry. Must be.
For why else would she push Fasto away? Shrugging, Fasto followed her to the others.
A heavy exhaustion and ache were apparent on all the companions, especially SmibSmob, who had not taken well to the long night of running. The gnome’s face was drawn and pale, looking more ghost-like than fleshy. Nalgene stood beside his brother, protecting the frail gnome. Both Ro and Margaret were still weak with exhaustion, but their eyes shone bright with energy. But it was Andromeda who caught Fasto’s attention.
The feline stood separated from the others, a gloomy aura surrounding her. Andromeda’s tail slashed violently behind her, and her claws clenched at her side. Blood dripped from her closed fists. A sense of sorrow washed over Fasto, and he marched over to her, determined to soothe her turmoil; however, a sharp glare from her toxic gaze froze him in place. A quiet whimper escaped his lips. He wanted to help, but Andromeda made it clear she wanted no part of him.
The companions stood in a grim silence for some time, not daring, or wanting, to break the vigil. They all knew what they had seen. There was no need to speak of it. A slight breeze brushed across the land, and Fasto glanced back to his map in the earth. He had to help his friends. He took a deep breath and mustered all the confidence he had.
“Fasto think go south. Captain friend said to. Fasto want to help Captain friend. So Fasto go south.” Fasto paused, his profound statement complete. Forget what Ashyla had done, forget the overbearing threat of the dreadknight. Fasto knew the Captain would see them again.
The others stared at him for a moment, their faces blank. Slowly, Ro nodded in agreement. “To the south, beyond the mountain pass,” he said. “That is where Captain Osann told us to go.”
“Bloody hell — he’s dead,” Nalgene grunted. “Ye saw what them armored horrors can do. Ye were at the prison. There will be no one to meet us at the lake.”
Ro turned to lock his gaze upon Nalgene. “No. He gave us his word.”
“He friend,” Fasto piped in, but the others ignored him. Fasto sighed. He just wanted to help.
“Much good Osann’s word was,” Nalgene spat, the fires of distrust reigniting within the gnome. “He’s bloody dead, ain’t nothin' gonna —”
“I agree with Ro,” SmibSmob interrupted, turning to face his brother. The gnome’s strength was returning, and he stood with an air of authority that was never seen before. Yet Fasto knew the gnome was still haunted. “I don’t mean to be the obvious one, but we have nowhere else to go. It might as well be to the south, to where the Captain told us. I don’t know what earlier was about, but …” SmibSmob’s voice trailed off, and he turned away from Nalgene, his drawn appearance returning.
“But she wanted to kill us,” Margaret jumped in, her voice harsh. “Much good this little ‘adventure’ is doing.” Her black fist clenched at her side. “She wanted to kill us,” she repeated, her tone offering little room for arguing.
“No, I don’t think she did,” a fierce hiss cut across the forsaken field. The companions paused, their eyes shooting over to Andromeda. The feline would not meet their gazes. She turned away, shaking her head, mumbling to herself. Fasto watched her with a solemn stare. How he wanted to help his friend, but he was afraid that she was going to have to help herself first.
“Durned cat, figure out yer bloody emotions already,” Nalgene grunted. “Are ye a pretty, happy kitty, or are ye some skulkin' panther?” The gnome threw his hands in the air with exasperation. “Bloody hell!”
; Ro glared at the gnome, and he opened his maw to protest. “Nalgene! How dare —”
“Please!” SmibSmob cried, a hint of pain undercutting his voice. “We can’t do this right now. We have to move. I don’t know where we are, but I reckon the Shadow does. Sooner or later more undead will find us.”
“Pffft, bloody undead me arse,” Nalgene growled, his eyes still boring into Ro. “Nothin' we haven’t fought before, eh?”
Margaret rubbed the gruesome scar across the back of her neck, her face shadowed. “And look how well fighting the undead has got us … or at least me,” she mumbled.
Fasto flinched at this. He should have been there to protect her. He shook his head.
Fasto do better next time.
“Nalgene —” SmibSmob started, his voice unsteady, but Nalgene surprisingly cut him off.
“Ah, just a minute, me brother. Durned dragon’s tryin' to start somethin'.”
“I’m trying to protect us,” Ro countered, his voice a harsh growl, and he pointed to Andromeda. “She is one —”
“What, ye can’t let the durned cat speak fer herself, eh?” Nalgene roared, his fists raising in front of him. “Do ye have to try to fight other’s battles? Do ye think they need the help? Ye can’t fight fer everyone. Or is it that ye feel like too much o’ a failure if someone —”
“Nalgene, please!” SmibSmob gasped in a strained voice, placing a hand upon his brother's burly shoulder. “That’s enough. Let us travel to the south. It is the only way we have.”
Nalgene lowered his fists, but still spat at Ro. “Durned dragon.”
SmibSmob’s fist came crashing into the side of Nalgene’s jaw, rocking the rough gnome back. Nalgene glanced up in shock, his hand moving to rub the welt on his face.
“What in the bloody hell!”
SmibSmob stood glaring at Nalgene, his pale hands raised and opened in front of him. Shadowy tendrils swirled about the gnome in a threatening vortex, and an aura of darkness grew from his feet, casting dark hands reaching across the cold ground. The gnome’s eyes were an unholy purple.
SmibSmob raised his hand, a mighty orb of shadow forming within his grasp. An evil smirk widened across the gnome’s face.
“Just another annoyance,” he hissed in a snake-like tone. But before anyone could react, SmibSmob collapsed to the ground, all the dark power disappearing back into the safety of his mind. His eyes returned to their natural shining blue.
Nalgene stood in shock; his mouth wide. Shaking himself back to reality, he rushed over to his brother, embracing him in an apologetic hug. “I’m sorry, me brother,” he mumbled.
The companions stood in horror, not knowing how to react. Fasto’s mouth was agape. What had just happened? The two, loving brothers … His mind could not even comprehend. Everything was too confusing for the poor orc.
Ro took a step toward the two gnomes but stopped as Nalgene glanced up to him. The gnome’s face was twisted with fear. This had never happened before. SmibSmob’s power had overcome the gnome.
“Aye,” Nalgene said, his voice soft. “I be thinkin' we go to the south.”
Regrouping, the companions began their trek to the south. Nalgene kept by SmibSmob’s side, aiding his weakened brother in the rough journey. Fasto and Ro led the march, while Margaret and Andromeda trailed at the rear. Margaret tried to speak with the feline, with little success.
As the first day passed, there was no end to the forsaken plains. Only a steady dread kept the companions at a determined pace. Fasto had the sense that they were being followed, or watched, but nothing appeared. Even still, his wary gaze never ceased its watchful scan across the fallen lands. As the next day’s sun was casting its pale rays across the lands, the peaks of mountains could be seen far to the south, rising high into the grim sky. Their hope rekindled, the companions redoubled their efforts, eager to finally be out of the vast plains of death and despair. But Fasto’s sense of a watcher had only grown stronger. Sure enough, as the second sun was falling to the west, a lone, thin figure crested the horizon in front of the companions.
The companions slowed as the newcomer approached, and warily eyed his thin frame. He did not appear threatening, with his hollow face and frail build, yet still they were cautious. Everything was dangerous in the Shadow. Fasto’s eyes ran across the man’s light armor, only to rest upon the man’s face.
Fasto flinched.
The man was a shallow husk of life, the harsh beatings of starvation apparent on his sunken face. A well of sympathy pooled inside Fasto, and he urged to rush over and aid the skeleton of a man. But something held him back. Fasto frowned.
The man beckoned to them with his sword in a salutary wave, a thin smile spreading across his face. The companions halted, still wary of the thin stranger. Beside Fasto, Ro waved his sword back in response.
Satisfied, the man sheathed his sword, and continued his solemn march toward the companions. Fasto studied the man’s uneven steps, and the unsettling quiver in the man’s right hand. The man needed help. Fasto’s help. The orc took a step forward, his sympathy overcoming his doubts, but an outstretched hand from Ro held him back.
“No. Let him come to us,” Ro said, suspicious of the lone man. Grunting, Fasto reluctantly obliged.
As the man drew nearer, he rose his empty hands out in front of him in a gesture of peace. “Good to see fellow Sparks still burning bright,” he called in a weary voice. The companions flinched. This man was not the first person to greet them in such a way.
“Oh good, now all we’re missing is the great ball of fire,” Margaret mumbled from behind, but no one acknowledged her comment.
“May your light pierce the Shadow,” Ro replied to the newcomer, in what he assumed was the proper response. The man nodded, and he lowered his hands. His right hand still quivered by his side. “Who do you be?”
The man smiled. He had long ago perfected this charade. “Erus, Erus Atrat.”
“Bah,” Nalgene spat, walking forward with SmibSmob by his side. “I’m ain’t buyin' yer filth.”
Erus’s smile disappeared, and he turned to the distrustful gnome, his eyebrow raised. “Pray tell, my good gnome.”
“Ignore him,” Ro said, moving to stand in front of Nalgene. “He can be quite … temperamental.”
“Aye, ye durned dragon, I can bloody well show him what I am,” Nalgene grunted, pushing past Ro and leaving SmibSmob to stand alone. The gnome’s hands raised, and he marched towards Erus, each step a thunder stroke across the ground.
“I ain’t buyin' yer filth,” he repeated dangerously. “How in the bloody hell did ye even find us?”
Erus stepped back, his hands raised in surrender. “Please, my good gnome,” he stammered. “I was sent here.”
“Sent here me arse,” Nalgene growled, unrelenting in his march. “I ain’t be trustin' ye, Shadowfriend.”
Erus steeled, and his gaze turned harsh and cold. “My good gnome —”
“Bah!” Nalgene shouted before the man could finish. “Last time I trusted one o’ yer ilk —”
“Nalgene!” Ro interrupted, shooting forward and clasping his strong hand across the gnome’s shoulder. “Let him speak.”
Fasto studied the exchange with open wonder. So many twisting lines, he could only dream of keeping up. Not for the last time, he felt the urge to find a forest. His thoughts were always clear among the leafed guardians. Scratching his head, he studied Erus with a squinted eye. The man’s hand had gone eerily still. For some unknown reason, this deeply unsettled the orc. But before Fasto could ponder too much, Erus began to speak.
“I was sent here,” he repeated, his gaze growing softer. “I was told you would be coming this way, by the man known as Captain Osann.”
Fasto gasped.
Friend!
Behind him, Andromeda flinched, her gaze fixated on Erus. Margaret’s face was skeptical, yet a spark of hope burned deep within her eyes. Both Ro and Nalgene grew somber at the mention of the name, the gnome even lowering his hand
s. SmibSmob had no reaction.
“Could it be?” Ro wondered; his voice saturated with hope. They had seen the Captain charge the vile dreadknight. They all knew the havoc that hulking abomination could wreak. Was it possible for him to survive such overwhelming odds?
“Fasto happy friend alive!” Fasto exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace Erus. But the man’s empty gaze stopped him in his tracks. Even still, Fasto’s joy just spilled from his mouth in a tide of relief. “Fasto want to see Captain friend! He save Fasto! Fasto must repay friend!”
Erus stared at him for a long moment, not quite sure how to handle the ecstatic orc.
“Indeed,” he finally said. “You will see him, in good time.”
“Eh, that bloody Osann’s alive, ye say?” Nalgene questioned, still stubbornly holding onto his distrust.
“But he is very injured,” Erus whispered, his gaze turning to the ground in a mock expression of sorrow. “He his hidden just beyond the mountain pass to the south. We must make haste, for I fear how long he could last in such a tattered state.”
Ro nodded in agreement. The draconian was completely swayed by the thin man’s story. Fasto, too, was eager to journey to the Captain.
Nalgene grunted, but he did not argue. He merely moved to stand by his brother, who was still weak and pale, and said not a word. Andromeda stalked about, her tail slashing wildly.
“How can we trust you?” Margaret said, stepping forward. “Trouble always seems to come with trust around here.”
Erus studied her for a moment, before reaching into a pouch at his side. His gaze still locked upon the skeptical orc, he pulled his hand out, and threw something on the ground in front of her. It was a small, golden locket. One eyebrow raised, Margaret reached down to collect the trinket, and opened its worn case.
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