There is some resistance to our actions, of course, mostly from the older folks and the elders, but thankfully their passive nature as slaves makes them a mild nuisance only. They do not attempt to stop us as we prepare to depart.
Alternatively, the youths who had participated in our training and the subsequent killing of the demons have taken it upon themselves to become something of a guard unit, watching the horizon for signs of trouble and patrolling the camp while others work. They carry their spears proudly and always bow their heads in respect whenever Owyn or I approach.
An interesting development, I think to myself as I pass a group of them on the outskirts of camp. They seem to regard Owyn and me as their new leaders... though I’m not yet sure if that’s a good thing.
As the day wears on, the encampment seems to grow smaller and smaller as more tents are broken down. Soon, we are just about ready to make the trek through the hills.
As the supplies are gathered up, being placed upon backs and carried in odd, hammock-like containers, Owyn approaches me on the edge of the plains. “The rear guard is in place, though I doubt they’ll be able to do much good if we get attacked. At least they’ll be able to stand their ground long enough for one of us to get involved.”
“Excellent,” I reply, dusting off my hands after carrying a bushel of grain. "We're making good time. With luck, we should be able to get everyone to the edge of the Arc before night falls, and still have an hour or so to spare."
Wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, he asks, "Any chance you can cast a spell to ward off those quill demons? I have a feeling they're going to want to pick us off if we gather closely together."
I nod my head. "We'll have to be on our guard. We may not get much sleep tonight, but if those ugly demons show their faces, I should be able to frighten them off with magefyre."
I smile at him, but he does not return it. Instead, he lowers his eyes. “Zara, I know this probably isn't the best time but... I’m ashamed at how I acted that night after the feast. I've been thinking about it a lot and... you deserve better – I’m sorry.” He seems to struggle with the words, as if speaking to me about such a personal experience is extremely difficult for him.
Still smiling, I reach forward and take his hand in mine. "There's nothing to be sorry about, Owyn. Things are far too dangerous now for either of us to harbor ill feelings. I love you, now let's move forward."
This seems to put him at ease, and finally he gives me a small smile in return. Squeezing my hand, he says softly, "I love you too."
He gazes at me a moment, then clears his throat, falling back into the 'stoic ranger persona' once again. "Everything seems to be in order. I'll work with the youth if you want to lead the rest." He gestures at the milling mass of people.
"Alright," I reply, releasing his hand. Then, I heave a sigh. "Let us get going, shall we?"
Holding my talisman, I send a spark of blue light into the air. This seems to get everyone's attention as the group grows quiet. "The time has come for us to leave," I declare in their language, trying to make my voice as loud as possible. "Everyone, carry your things and follow me."
With that, I begin walking toward the hills.
It begins slowly, at first, with small families breaking away from the group and making their way behind me. Soon, however, the bulk of the camp shifts into motion, picking up their possessions and following me into the hills. It is slow moving without pack animals, but it is movement nonetheless, a large cloud of dust picking up as we depart the plains and head into the ravine.
In all, it seems to be that more than two thirds of the people have chosen to come with us, a small group including most of the elders staying behind to await the return of the demons.
This gives me hope as we head forward into the unknown. With any luck, we will be able to open up a portal in the Arc of Radiance and make our way into Tarsynium, then work with the king and the Nightingales to unite under one banner.
One problem at a time, Zara, I remind myself, walking in the shade between two hills. One problem at a time...
Chapter Twenty-Three
Owyn
It is nearly nightfall when our beleaguered band finally makes it to the edge of the Arc of Radiance. Halting at the zenith of a large hill, we begin to hastily set up camp, rebuilding tents and cloistering ourselves as close together as is prudent under the circumstances. The howls of the quill demons have already begun to sound in the distance, giving everyone an additional reason to move with all haste, and the swiftly setting sun brings promises of a long and potentially dangerous night.
Above our heads, the Arc looms like a shimmering wall of light, casting the land around us in a soft, bluish glow and offering a tantalizingly clear view of the other side. Beyond, the leafless trees of the Emberwood wait in a clustered tangle that makes it look like a vibrant garden compared to the deserts of the waste.
The slaves, oddly, seem uncomfortable around the Arc. Many of them cast uncertain glances at it over their shoulders while others refuse to look at it entirely.
They’re afraid of it, I think, turning from the Arc to stare out at the darkening hills. Our world is so much different than the one they have always known.
Fortunately, there are no gorgons or any other demons present when we make it to the Arc. Either all of them have been recalled to muster with the greater army miles away, or we miraculously managed to find a section of the barrier that isn't being scrutinized by demonic eyes.
Whatever the case, I am just grateful that no additional violence is required this day. Fighting beside a group of frightened pacifists is exhausting work.
The tents are erected in short order, though no fires are lit anywhere in the camp. With the omnipresent glow of the Arc, the light is not needed, nor does anyone want to spend the energy to dig out the pits. Instead, meals are eaten cold, a mixture of dried roots and berries washed down with spring water, then the majority of people get ready for bed. Everyone is weary after our journey, and emotions are still high for having abandoning their ancestral way of life to follow two strangers.
Overall, the mood is quite subdued in the camp.
Worried about the presence of the quill demons, I organize the youths to the best of my abilities and set up watch posts. There needs to be a constant presence of spears if we are to avoid catastrophe, and I mentally prepare myself for a sleepless night moving from soldier group to soldier group.
Hells, I think to myself as I walk away from one such group. Am I really referring to them as soldiers, now? Being out in this desert must have really lowered my standards...
Once everyone has settled down, I find Zara sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of the Arc, staring into its magical surface while wearing a look of intense concentration. She absently rubs her source crystal in one hand, the other tapping her leg like she is anxious about something.
She seems to relax as I approach, letting out a long sigh when I come and sit next to her in the dirt.
"You look... troubled," I say at length, removing the bow from my shoulder and laying it in on the ground beside me. "Is everything alright?"
“Yes and no,” she replies, blinking away some thought as she tears her gaze away from the Arc and focuses it on me. “I was just thinking about ways I can open up a portal so that we can all get through.”
I sense some hesitation behind her words. “And have you come up with anything?”
She grimaces. “Nothing yet... there is a lot to consider with some something of this size.” Then, she pauses, suddenly appearing very vulnerable. She opens her mouth, then closes it again, as if unsure about what to say. Finally, she glances away and says, “I’m worried, Owyn.”
“Worried?” I ask, keeping my voice gentle. “About what?”
She heaves another sigh. “About everything! The Arc, the demons, these people... all of it is weighing on my mind like a mountain, and I can’t help but feel like I’m inadequate. What if I can’t find a way to get us back thr
ough the Arc? The R’Laar will find us eventually, and when they do, there is nothing that you or I will be able to do to stop them.”
The words all come out in a rush, and I find myself reeling in surprise at the intensity at which she says them. “Whoa... hold on, Zara. Where’s this coming from? This doesn’t sound like you.”
She holds my gaze for just a moment, then looks down at the ground. “What I’m attempting has never been done before, Owyn. The only reason the demons were able to breach the Arc in the first place is because of random holes that started appearing in it. Those holes are unpredictable, and...” she shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m just afraid – afraid that I might fail.”
I put my arm around her shoulders and say comfortingly, “You’re not going to fail.”
She looks up at me, frowning. “How can you be so sure?”
I smile. “Because you’re Zara Dennel! If anyone in this Light-forsaken world can get us through the Arc, it’s you. I refuse to believe that we’ve come so far only to be trapped here. You’ll think of something – you always do.”
She looks up at me, then rolls her eyes, nestling closer to my chest and closing her eyes. “It’s so annoying that you’re able to do that. You shouldn’t be so good at making me feel better.”
I chuckle and pull her close. “It’s one of my many talents, apparently."
We sit there for a time, resting quietly beside one another and watching the swirling patterns of light dance before us. The Arc gives off no warmth, but there is something comforting about its magical thrum, a reminder that civilization is close by, even if we are currently on the wrong side of it.
Eventually, though, the nag of my responsibilities gets the best of me, and I remove my arm from her shoulders, standing up and once more shouldering my bow. “I should get going,” I say gruffly. “Need to check on the guard posts.”
She nods, giving me a warm smile. “Thanks for coming, Owyn. It really means a lot.”
“Of course,” I reply before slinking off into the darkness. As I head over to the first group of guards, I can’t help but look over my shoulder at her. She is sitting cross-legged again with her talisman out, staring up at the Arc with a determined expression.
Shaking my head, I rest a hand on my dagger. I truly hope you can figure this one out, Zara, I think to myself grimly. For all our sakes.
THE NIGHT ENDS WITHOUT incident, the quill demons keeping their distance from our new encampment. As the orange sun rises, drowning out the soft blue of the Arc, the immediate danger passes, allowing myself and the youth warriors to finally relax. After filling myself with a small meal of grain mash and roots, I make my way to an empty tent and sleep away the morning hours.
When I awake it is nearly midday, the heat outside sweltering and the air of the camp is tense.
Blearily, I emerge from my tent and find myself some water, wetting my parched throat and giving me a chance to fully wake up.
Although unable to communicate well with the people milling about, I can sense their unease at their current situation. It feels like the encampment is holding its breath. Most sit in the shade, idling away the time as if uncertain of what else to do.
Walking past the last group of tents, I make my way over to Zara’s position near the edge of the Arc. She had spent a large portion of the night just staring at the wall of energy, and now she appears to be in the midst of casting some sort of spell, her talisman held up and her lips moving in some sort of arcane incantation. Radiant white light gathers at her fingertips then shoots up into the air, connecting with the Arc like spears of glass connecting with a shield. The light explodes, breaking against the blue energy and sending down a shower of blinding sparks – leaving the surface of the Arc unbroken.
Zara seems to deflate as I approach her from behind, and I can hear her muttering angrily to herself in a low voice. “How’s it going?” I ask, attempting to sound unassuming.
She glances over her shoulder at me, then turns back to regard the Arc. “Not good,” she replies, shaking her head. “No matter what I do, I cannot seem to even scratch this thing.”
“Well, keep at it,” I respond, coming up to stand next to her. “I believe in you. We all do.”
She doesn’t reply, but I can sense that she is bristling with annoyance. Hells, did I say the wrong thing?
An awkward moment passes between us, and I break the silence with an uncomfortable chuckle. “None of us died in the night, so that’s a good sign. Those quill demons didn’t even come near our hill.”
Still staring intently at the Arc, she says quietly, “Perhaps they are just biding their time.”
“Perhaps,” I concede. “But we’ll be ready if they finally decide to attack. I plan on putting the men in this camp to work this afternoon. We’re in some serious need for defensive structures to be built.” When she does not respond, I go on. “Could I maybe get your help in translating my orders for them?”
She nods absently. “Yes, yes. Tell me what you want me to say and then I’ll relay it to them.” Then, blinking, she turns and gives me a tired smile. “Thanks for checking in on me. I appreciate it. But, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get back at it.”
I raise my hands in a sign of conceit. “As you wish, Magus. Sorry for disturbing you.”
As I walk away from the Arc, I can hear Zara start muttering to herself again, speaking in some arcane language that I could never hope to understand. Taking a deep breath and exhaling through my nose, I make my way to the far edge of the hill and begin to survey the scene.
The uneven terrain stretches out before me for miles, eventually giving away to the flatlands of the desert and into lands unknown. Everything seems quiet and desolate before my eyes, the only life being the scrubby, thorny bushes covering the hillsides and the occasional buzz of flying insects. For the second time, I feel a brief but substantial rush of fear that Zara may not ever be able to deliver on our promise, and that we would be trapped on this hilltop forever. I quickly push away the thought, feeling that that sort of thing is unproductive. If that happens, we’d better be able to hold out up here as long as possible.
Sighing, I turn around and begin planning out in my head what sort of defenses should be erected.
With the help of Zara’s translations, I spend the afternoon organizing the men into work teams as setting them to various assignments with our limited tools and materials. We spend hours gathering brambles and rocks, as well as digging trenches all around the perimeter of our encampment up against the Arc. It is grueling work in the heat of the sun, but I think the men are glad to feel productive, not to mention the fact that they are already accustomed to hard work.
By nightfall, a semblance of a barrier is in place, though admittedly it would probably not prove to be much of an obstacle to attacking demons. We will add to it every day until it can adequately protect us, I think as I settle down on the ground for the evening meal.
Zara does not accompany the rest of us in partaking of our meager provisions. I bring her some food before bed but she hardly acknowledges my existence. I make her promise to get some rest before heading off to bed myself, pointing out that she will do little good if she burns herself out.
She agrees, then promptly returns to hurling spells at the wall of radiance.
The next few days pass in much the same way, with most working on the defenses of the camp while Zara tries everything in her power to open up a hole in the Arc. Her efforts have thus far proven to be in vain, and the longer we wait, the more agitated she becomes. By the third day, she has dark circles beneath her bloodshot eyes and a permanent expression that betrays her fatigue. Her pyrotechnics, while showy, do little to open the Arc, and no random holes appear for us to take advantage of. She even resorts to joining hands with the youths she had been training, determined to share their power in attempt to open it. This, too, proves fruitless.
The desert folk also grow increasingly restless, muttering to themselves whenever Zar
a or I are near, shooting veiled glances in our direction.
We’re going to have a full-blown revolt on our hands if nothing changes soon.
Late one afternoon, I stand at the edge of our considerably larger defenses, staring out at the hill country and the wasteland beyond. The bulwark of earth and stone has grown to be taller than any man in the encampment, and is now guarded at all hours of the day by our increasingly growing numbers of guardsmen. While not all men in the encampment desire to pick up arms and learn to fight, the number of warriors has extended well beyond just the youth. Their fighting prowess is nothing spectacular, due to their limited training, but I suppose that it is better than nothing.
Yari approaches me from behind, spear on shoulder, and joins me in staring out at the desolate expanse. “Tabrik,” he says in greeting.
“Tabrik,” I return somberly.
We stand there in silence for a time, listening idly to some of the would-be warriors training with throwing rocks on the open expanse behind us. Finally, Yari clears his throat. “You... good leader... Owyn. Thank you... for... teach.”
I turn to look at him, surprise and amusement playing out on my face. “You’ve been practicing with Zara, have you?”
His brow furrows in concentration, then he nods slightly. “Before... come here. Yes.”
I nod my head to him graciously. “You’re welcome, Yari. I’ve enjoyed teaching you.”
He pauses, as if trying to figure out the right words. Then, says haltingly, “Others... they... no happy. Think... we all die.”
“We might indeed,” I mutter under my breath, gazing back out at the hills. After a pause, I add, “But if we die, we die with honor. That’s all a man can really ask for.”
Yari’s eyebrows pinch together in confusion. “Honor?”
“Oh,” I reply, feeling foolish. “It’s... well, honor is when you do what’s right, even when you know you might die.” I try to speak slowly, even though I know he probably won’t get any of it. As I speak my thoughts flash briefly to Elias, and to the men I’ve seen stand their ground in battle, even against great odds.
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