Margaret gasped. Imprinted into the heart of the locket was a small etching of the Captain’s son, Kyle.
“He said you would know him by this,” Erus stated flatly, before turning away, a thin smile on his face.
Of course, the locket was fake, but the companions did not know that. He had acquired it as a “gift” for his mission. His right hand began its steady quiver. The bait was set. He knew how to play the game.
“Let us make haste,” Erus called behind him, already marching away at a steady pace. “Let us find your friend, Captain Osann.”
Victim to the Shadowfriend’s woven lies, the companions set off after Erus.
Throughout the first three days, Erus kept them at a brisk pace to the south, the mountains rising ever steadier into the still air. The companions still had many questions for the thin man, and he was more than happy to oblige to their requests.
Brilliant stories about the Captain and how he had survived poured from Erus’s mouth. He gave them just enough to keep them deceived, and never dove too deeply into the details. It was all lie, of course. The frail Shadowfriend had never met the Captain before, had never even heard his name until the Deathspeaker had issued his orders. But he had had plenty of time to masterfully craft his story as he ventured forth from the ruined village. He spent this time gauging the companions, measuring their strengths and their weaknesses. He knew how to play the game.
The companions began to open to Erus, even the distrustful Nalgene and the skeptical Margaret. Only Andromeda shied from him. Even SmibSmob regained some life and was occasionally joining the banter. Fasto welcomed it all with open arms. At every chance he got the orc was asking about his “Captain friend” and how he wanted to “help friend”. Erus tried to ignore Fasto, but the orc was unrelenting. He had to help his friends.
On the third night after the meeting with Erus, the companions stopped to rest their weary muscles for the night. They finally trusted Erus enough to sleep while he stood watch. The southern mountains climbed high in the near distance. It would only be another day before they reached the foothills of the great range. Fasto’s thoughts were still overwhelmed with the urge to help his friends. So, while the others lay down to sleep, Fasto began to tear at the earth once more. He would be useful. He grabbed another arrow and began to score the hard earth with an even more disorienting array of lines and marks. Another map — or so he called it. The lonely night drug on, and still Fasto tirelessly worked on the barren patch of earth, creating his greatest work yet. He would be useful.
The sharp cry of the wind whistled past Fasto, catching a patch of gray dust and casting it into the unforgiving air.
Fasto paused. He looked back at the others, still slumbering peacefully in the inky night. He frowned. Slowly, he counted. Ro. Margaret. Andromeda. Nalgene. SmibSmob. Five. He smiled. All was as it should be.
Turning back to his supposed map, he resumed his relentless scoring and marking.
Another whistle cut across the barren fields, and a rustling echoed from the shriveled grass behind him. Fasto paused again, and he turned back around, his wide, red eyes scanning across the lands. He wished he was in a forest.
Fasto no feel so good.
But there was nothing, just the desolate plains and his slumbering companions. Shrugging, Fasto turned back to his work.
Before he could continue, a thin hand clasped over his mouth in an iron grip, holding his mouth shut and muffling any sound that he could have made. Suddenly, Fasto remembered. He should have counted six.
Erus’s longsword appeared by Fasto’s throat, ready to make the finishing slash. Quick. Silent. Lethal. Erus did not like killing Sparks, but it would be enjoyable to rid himself of this annoying orc. He smirked. It would be another mission completed.
Fasto’s mind reeled.
Thin man no friend!
Then another thought appeared in his mind.
Fasto must protect other friends.
That was all the encouragement he needed.
Fasto bit down hard, his fangs burying into the Shadowfriend’s hand. Dropping his arrow, Fasto’s hand shot up, and he tore Erus’s sword away from his throat.
With surprising strength, Fasto jumped to his feet and grabbed the frail man’s shoulder. Grunting with the effort, the furious orc flung Erus over his hip, tossing him to the hard ground like a limp corpse.
The air rushed from Erus’s lungs, and he landed with a shocked gasp. This dull orc could fight! But Erus would not have survived this long if he could not adapt.
Fasto leaped for the stunned man, his hands outstretched and ready to strangle the weak Shadowfriend. But Erus rolled away, dodging the obvious attack. Still sucking for breath, Erus rose to his feet and braced his sword out in front of him. His hollow eyes gleamed.
His sword in his right hand, Erus darted forward, but the dull quiver misguided the stab, and the sword caught harmlessly in the straps of Fasto’s leather armor.
A feral growl escaped Fasto’s lips, and he scrambled away from the Shadowfriend. Reaching behind him, Fasto grabbed another arrow from his quiver, and brought it out to bear on his attacker. With a twitch of his muscled legs, Fasto shot forward, the shining arrow plunging for Erus’s neck.
Frustrated, Erus released his sword and rolled away from the oncoming blow. He would have to get creative. As he tumbled to his feet, he scooped a fistful of gray dust in his hand, ready to blind the orc with it.
But he had underestimated Fasto one too many times. As Fasto darted forward, his other hand reached around and grabbed his majestic white bow, pulling it out in front of him. Fasto nocked the arrow.
A flash of white light.
The arrow streaked from the bow in a brilliant ray of sunlight. Fasto never missed his mark. Before Erus could move, Fasto fired another, and another mighty arrow into the Shadowfriend.
Erus glanced down at the three, smoldering holes in his chest. He glanced up to Fasto, blood bubbling from his lips. He had made his choice. So be it. He had lost the game.
Panting like a wild bear, Fasto watched Erus collapse to the ground, dead. Fasto had to protect his friends, and Erus was no friend. That was enough reason to kill. Fasto studied the limp body for another moment before shrugging and turning away, satisfied that he had been useful this night.
Fasto sat back at his map, and once again began to tear into the cold earth, but exhaustion quickly overwhelmed him, dragging him into slumber.
♦♦♦
Fasto awoke to the harsh shouts of Nalgene, who was roughly shaking the orc awake.
“Another one o’ yer maps, eh?” Nalgene grunted, turning and walking away from Fasto. “Never mind that, ye durned orc,” the gnome cried. “What in the bloody hell is this?”
Shaking himself awake, Fasto rose to his feet, and found the gnome gesturing to the fallen body of Erus. Fasto smiled. Both Ro and SmibSmob studied the corpse with worried expression, and their sharp gazes turned up to the beaming orc.
“Thin man no friend,” Fasto stated proudly. He pointed to himself, then to the rest of his companions. “Fasto protect friends.”
Ro sighed, and he rose to his feet, a look of disappointment shadowing his gentle face. “So, I suppose that means Captain Osann is …”
“Bah, that bloody traitor’s dead,” Nalgene finished, throwing his rough hands into the air. Ro could only nod somberly.
“I reckon you’re right,” SmibSmob agreed quietly. “We saw what those hulking horrors could do.”
A soft tail brushed against Fasto, and he turned to find Andromeda striding past him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. She smiled at the orc, before joining the others.
“Mmmm, enough of your sad-talk,” she purred, her first words in days. “To the south, shall we?” Surprised, the other companions wholeheartedly agreed. Andromeda had returned to them. Or so they hoped.
Fasto smiled. A spark of connection had jolted between the two.
He had protected his friends.
Chapter 9
>
Margaret glanced down at the smoldering body of Erus, the Shadowfriend, then up to Fasto, a faint twinkle of respect in her eyes. The dimwitted orc was busy musing over his questionable map, nodding in approval. Margaret wanted to berate the other orc, but she glanced down to the corpse of Erus once more. There was no denying the skill with which Fasto had brutalized his attacker. Perhaps he was not as dull as they all thought. Margaret almost laughed aloud at the absurd thought.
Shaking her head in amusement, Margaret turned away. Just another danger in this treacherous world. No doubt there would be many more.
“Aye, are we bloody goin'?” Nalgene called, already heading south toward the mountains. SmibSmob, Ro and Andromeda strode by his side, eager to reach the looming mountains at last. Margaret studied the cryptic feline for a moment. She could not understand Andromeda. One moment she’s secluded and alone, but the next, well … she could not be more alive. As if reading her thoughts, Andromeda glanced back, and gave Margaret a playful wink.
Margaret sighed. There was so much more than meets the eye, and Margaret was not sure if she wanted to explore the possibilities. Shaking her head, Margaret glanced down to her black arm, her prison. She hated it, but she knew she could not escape it, or its dreadful pulsing. Yet strangely, it lay dormant, and so Margaret was filled with optimism and energy.
Perhaps it will never start again.
Margaret snorted. She knew it to be a fleeting hope. But there was always the chance.
Her brooding thoughts were interrupted as Fasto skipped past her, urging on to follow the others who were already well in the distance. Margaret gave one, final look at the dead Shadowfriend, before moving off after her fellow orc. And when Fasto tried to talk to her, she was not so quick to ignore him.
The companions moved at a brisk pace toward the approaching mountains, determined to reach the pass by nightfall, even though they had no idea of knowing where to find the pass. Margaret mentioned this more than once, but her remarks were only met with a hearty laugh from Nalgene, and an unconcerned shrug from Andromeda. Only Ro and SmibSmob seemed remotely concerned that they may never find the Captain's elusive pass. Fasto was just lost, as usual. Much good his maps were doing. Even still, the companions continued south, the mountain peaks reaching high into the air above them like the teeth of a gargantuan dragon. No snow capped the mighty peaks, and the mountains’ bare, gray stone was perfectly matched by the decay of the surrounding land.
As the cold sun fell well past its zenith, and was sinking deep to the west, the companions had at last reached the foothills of the towering mountains.
“Wow,” Fasto gaped at the overbearing masses of stone. “Fasto think very big.”
“Another one of your brilliant remarks,” Margaret snickered.
Fasto glanced over to her, nodding in agreement.
“Bwahahaha,” Nalgene roared in laughter. “Durned orcs. O’ course they’re big, they’re bloody mountains! Haven’t ye ever seen ‘em?”
Fasto merely shrugged, and Margaret glared at the gnome. But try as she might, she could not disprove the annoying gnome. She had never stood so close to the majesty of a mountain, at least not that she could remember.
“Never mind the mountains,” Ro said with authority. “Where is the mountain pass?”
Nalgene grunted, and stamped his feet upon the ground. “Ah, forget the durned pass,” he growled, raising his fist. “We can make our own bloody pass!” Water began swirling in his fist, and with a roar of triumph, he hurled the mighty orb at the face of the mountain, only for it to splash harmlessly against the gray stone.
Margaret laughed aloud, with Andromeda quickly joining. Even SmibSmob could not resist a little chuckle at his brother’s futile attempt.
What an idiot.
Ro was too troubled by the missing pass to join in the levity, while Fasto stood confused, as always.
“My, my,” Margaret shot at the frustrated gnome, not bothering to hide her amusement. “I can practically see the other side of mountains with that blast.”
Nalgene snarled, and he turned to Margaret, his face hot. “Ah yeah, ye bloody orc, let’s see ye do better,” he challenged, his fists clenched by his side.
Margaret glanced down to her demonic arm, a sly smile on her face. She may hate her power, but she may as well use it to benefit her. She clenched her fist, feeling the rippling muscles twist in her arm. But before she could try anything, Andromeda stepped forward as the voice of reason.
“Mmmm, as much as I would enjoy seeing this little … contest,” Andromeda said between fits of laughter. “Let’s find the actual mountain pass, shall we?”
Nalgene growled, but his good sense — what little of it he had — won out, and he nodded in agreement. “Durned cat,” he muttered.
Margaret smirked, and she gave another look across her demonic arm. She was sure she could have done more damage than the annoying gnome. She remembered the devastating blow she had inflicted upon the dreadknight at the prison. But then again, that was after she had already slaughtered a handful of undead …
Shaking her head, she glanced up to Ro, who still stood perplexed. Despite all his bluster and attempts at leadership, the others still did not see him as anything more than equal. Ro’s gaze locked onto Margaret, and he gave her a smile. Margaret shot him a sly wink in return, before turning away from the draconian.
What a leader.
Suddenly, a sharp cry from Fasto drew all their attention. “Fasto see fire!” the orc exclaimed, pointing to the west.
Sure enough, when the companions turned to see where he was pointing, a small, orange fire was burning some distance to the west along the foot of the mountain. Margaret narrowed her eyes at the billowing flame. The everlasting night had already begun creeping in, but even in the growing darkness, Margaret could make out the figure of a woman with flowing, red hair.
“By the Light,” Ro whispered, studying the strange fire. He too had recognized Mariah.
“Pretty fire lady!” Fasto shouted, and immediately began to skip over to the fire, a wide smile beaming across his face.
“So now she decides to show up, eh?” Nalgene chuckled, running after Fasto with his had clasped around his crystalline bottle.
After a moment of hesitation, the others followed quickly behind.
Reaching the fire, the companions gathered about, eager to see what insights the long-missing Mariah had in store for them. But she did not seem ready to give any. Nay, Mariah seemed worn and tired, as if she had had one too many sleepless nights. And she may very well have.
The Flame was not as she remembered, or as she had left it. Personal motives ran supreme, rather than the combined effort of survival. She had not been able to make the reappearance she had so hoped, for darkness now surrounded the once-bright Flame. But that was not her only trouble. Her search for the other mysterious person had been all but unsuccessful, and so she come now to the companions, desperately trying to see the bright future. Even so, she managed a positive outlook, and dared not reveal any of her troubles to the companions.
“You seemed lost,” Mariah quipped in her melodious voice, a shining smile on her face. “I said I would always be watching over you, and so now here I am. Your guide.”
Behind her was the mountain pass, which meandered through jagged canyons and sheer ravines.
“Ah, ye should’ve seen some o’ our other guides,” Nalgene started. “From bloody traitors to shady Shadowfriends, ye be the …” The annoying gnome quieted as Mariah brought her cool gaze over to him, a sorrowful shadow in her orange eyes.
“Ah yes,” she sighed mournfully. “It seems that even the purest hearts can fall to darkness.”
From the corner of her eye, Margaret saw Andromeda flinch, and she shook her head in amusement. More than meets the eye, that’s for sure.
The companions sat in silence for a long moment, their eyes lost in the flickering flame before them. It felt an eternity before SmibSmob finally dared break the overbea
ring vigil.
“So, what … ah … brings you here?” the frail gnome stammered, still unsure how to speak with the majestic woman before him. “I reckon that you mean to do more than just point us along the path.”
Margaret nodded her head in agreement. At least one of the gnome brothers had some sense in him. This was only the second time Mariah had come to them. Last time she had bestowed upon them great gifts. Margaret glanced down to the shining breastplate she wore, a sly smirk of her face. What else could the fiery woman give to them? She clenched her black fist by her side. Unfortunately, the dreadful pulsing had renewed, and was shooting waves of agony thundering through her body. She hated it, wished she could escape it. But there was only one way she would ever be able to free herself of the vile power, and she was not sure if she was ready to pursue that agonizing path …
Shaking the dark thoughts away, Margaret glanced back up to the fiery woman before her.
Mariah scanned the companions. Margaret noted the hesitance in the woman’s demeanor. So much for the all-powerful facade. Margaret smirked.
At last, Mariah began to speak, and when she did, the fire grew dim and ominous. “You are correct, my good gnome, for there is a matter of great importance I have come to discuss,” she said. “I have come to warn you about the Flame.”
Margaret’s ears perked up. The Flame. The lone force standing against the unrelenting tide of the Shadow. The only source of hope for the Light — other than the Beacon, of course. Margaret shrugged. She could only guess what Mariah hinted at.
“The Flame?” Ro jumped in, a hint of desperation in his voice. “What of it? Kraalek already told us —”
“Bah, that durned Kraalek?” Nalgene snorted, interrupting the draconian. The gnome threw his hands in the air. “That bloody snake didn’t tell us nothin'. Just talked in circles and threw his durned die like a bloody madman. Pulled us like we be nothin' but bloody puppets!” Nalgene pounded his fists on the ground in frustration, a scowl shadowing his face.
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