Minor Token of Agility – This charm increases the wearer’s Dexterity by one point. This effect is permanent until the token is given away freely or sold willingly.
Once the token’s identity became known to me, I could feel the two previously joined tokens begin to vibrate against my skin, urging me to join the third with them.
Withdrawing the amulet from beneath my armor, I held it up in front of me. The new token began pulling itself towards the two joined pieces, guiding my hand to its place on the amulet. With a ‘click,’ the pieces were joined, melding seamlessly into one. The hummingbird now sat perched on the green ivy, floating gracefully across from the ivory rose, and the combined pieces grew warm in my hand for a scant moment before they quickly cooled off again.
Turning to leave, I noticed a small scrap of parchment that had been tucked underneath the hummingbird token. Picking up the paper, I read the words that had been scrawled across its surface long ago.
If you have claimed this token and are its rightful heir, I wish you well in the difficult times that will no doubt lie ahead of you. I would wish you peace as well, but I think we both know better than to hope for that. However, it is not my hopes that you will need in the days to come, but something far more substantial than mere words. If you are indeed the rightful heir, then the Dryad is waiting for you outside my cabin with my final gift for you. If it serves you half as well as it did me, you may count yourself well-blessed.
–W
The note’s foreboding words only served to intensify my already strong sense of unease over the events of the last few days. I could not escape the feeling that events around me seemed to have been maneuvered and manipulated, pushing me inexorably towards some predetermined fate or confrontation.
For a moment, I felt trapped by the circumstances—hopelessly caught in a web I couldn’t even see. The moment of indecision passed quickly as I remembered Venna’s admonition. She had reminded me that regardless of any outside meddling, my decisions were still my own to make. I would not let the scheming of some pretentious Godling force me into any preordained course of action. Whatever came my way, I would deal with it as I chose, not in whatever way some egotistical being might want me to act. With my sense of resolve once more firmly in place, I tucked the scrap of paper into the cuff of my glove before leaving the cabin for good. Stepping outside, I immediately made my way over to the Dryad. Pulling out the small parchment, I extended my hand and offered it to her.
“I found this inside with the token,” I told her.
“I do not need it. I still remember watching as he wrote the words,” the Dryad replied. The tone of her voice suggested that the memory was a bittersweet one.
“Who was he?” I asked. “The note is only signed with the initial ‘W.’”
“Despite the many the years we spent together, I only knew him as The Warden,” she replied, notes of pain still heavy in her voice. “He refused to tell me his true name, no matter how often I would ask. He told me his past had only brought him pain and that his name felt more like a curse to him than anything else.”
“Do not let his sad tale dissuade you,” the Dryad quickly added. “The one thing that gave him hope was that the true heir would one day come to claim the treasure he guarded so carefully.”
“You saw the note he left, and you read his words of caution, though I suspect you already knew the path you now walk will not be an easy one,” she continued. “But you should know this as well: The Warden saw the promise of the true heir, the promise that one day someone would come who would begin to set right the wrongs of this world, and return justice to the land.”
“I confess that although I accepted his burden, I never truly believed in his vision,” the Dryad’s voice dropped as she said the words. “It seemed so ridiculous, childish even. To place one’s hope in the coming of some unknown person. One who is but never was?”
“But now that I have seen you Dreya, seen what is inside of you, I know that I am the one who has been wrong all these years.”
“I do not understand what it is, for I have never encountered anything like it before,” she finished. “What is it that makes me believe in you?”
“I am Sintári,” I blurted out without thinking.
I had wanted to wait for the right moment before dropping that bomb on my friends, and I certainly hadn’t planned on sharing the information with anyone else besides my trusted companions, but after hearing the Dryad’s tale and learning of her many years of dedication to a cause she didn’t even believe in, I felt I could trust her as well. And more importantly, I was hoping she might also have some useful information for me. Considering her lineage and long life, I thought she would perhaps have some insight into the Sintári that the other people of the world had lost long ago.
The Dryad’s eyes flew open and she recoiled a step as I spoke. Quickly overcoming her shock, she stared at me wordlessly for a moment, taking in the full meaning of what I had said. After a brief hesitation, she stepped forward, approaching me closely. Reaching out one delicate arm, she raised it towards my face as she spoke.
“May I?” She asked, her words conveyed a tone of reverence that almost made me uncomfortable.
I understood what she intended—she wanted to touch my face. To feel my skin. I assumed that the Dryad thought she could confirm my claim somehow with the physical contact, but my unique sensory reactions made that kind of contact a very precarious thing for the both of us.
“That may not be safe, for either of us,” I said, taking her arm in my gloved hand and halting her advance.
“So, it’s true!” She said in awe. “You are Sintári.”
“I have only just discovered that for myself,” I confessed. “I do not even truly understand what it means.”
“I wish I could help you Sintári, but I only know the little I was told by my mother,” the Dryad replied regretfully.
“Whatever you know would help at this point,” I answered. “At the moment, I know almost nothing.”
She nodded her understanding, and then told me all that she knew.
Her mother had spoken to her of the legends of the Sintári from before the Forgotten Times. The Sintári came from all races, typically having a normal childhood, some even living many years into their adult lives before discovering their true selves. A Sintári, once awakened, would then be taken under the tutelage of one of their elders to be instructed in the particular ways of their kind. Once properly taught, the new Sintári would then be sent forth to find their own place in the world. Although they had great power, most sought not to rule or dominate others, but to instead serve as arbiters of justice among both the people and the Realms. Sadly, as is often the case with those of great power, there were also some who had used their abilities for far less noble pursuits.
“You are the first Sintári this world has known in many millennia,” the Dryad said when she’d finished her tale. “You will not have the benefit of a guide or tutor to teach you the ways of the Sintári. I wish I had more to tell you, but that is all I know.”
“Thank you,” I said in honest appreciation. Even the short tale she had been able to relay increased my tiny store of Sintári knowledge almost exponentially. “I am grateful for any bit of information I can get, but I only ask that you tell no one else about me. I have placed my life in your hands by sharing this secret.”
“Of course, Sintári,” she replied solemnly. “I understand the hazards you will face when the world finally learns that the Sintári have returned. I will not be the one to reveal your secret.”
“Thank you, Lady Dryad,” I said gratefully before turning to depart.
“Do not forget The Warden’s gift,” the Dryad called after me.
With my unplanned revelation and all that had followed, I had completely forgotten about The Warden’s final gift. I turned back to face the Dryad and saw her outstretched hand reaching towards me once more. This time, her hand was not extended in an effort to touch me, but inste
ad she held forth an object, The Warden’s gift.
At first, I didn’t realize what it was. The incomplete nature of it threw off my sense of perspective. Then I suddenly recognized the form—it was a hilt and cross guard, likely from a long sword, but lacking a blade of any sort.
“Take this; I give it to you freely,” the Dryad encouraged me.
By her words, I recognized the formal transfer of a soul-bound item. Obviously, the bare hilt was something far more significant that it appeared to be.
Accepting the hilt, I took it from her hand, grasping it as if it were a complete weapon. I opened the prompt notification as soon as it appeared.
Essence Blade — This weapon maintains the appearance of a simple sword hilt until activated by its owner. Upon command, the Blade can manifest itself in one of three forms: Dagger, Short Sword, or Long Sword. As its name indicates, the Blade draws its power from the Essence of the world around it, using its owner as a conduit. As its owner gains strength, the Blade’s ability to channel Essence will increase as well, growing in power accordingly.
I reread the description several times. The weapon was almost perfectly suited to me. I would have been skeptical of the chances of randomly receiving a gift such as this, had I not already taken note of how circumstances so frequently seemed to provide for me. I knew my ‘luck’ came with no guarantee of success, but it was clear that someone was at least attempting to stack the deck in my favor.
Closing the notification, I held the hilt and carefully pointed it away from my body before concentrating on the image of a long sword. Almost instantaneously, a length of bright steel shot forth from the hilt, extending out and forming the sharp edges of a long sword’s blade. The flawless blade appeared to be fashioned from high-quality steel; plainly made and unadorned, the blade was a suitable match to the simple but well-made hilt.
The Dryad smiled as I marveled at the blade in my hands, and my friends, who had mostly remained silent until now, exclaimed loudly when the blade sprang forth unexpectedly in my hand.
“It has been a long time since I have seen that blade,” the Dryad remarked. “I am glad to see it has finally found a suitable owner—one worthy of its power.”
“I am grateful for the gift, Lady Dryad,” I replied. “I only hope I can live up to your praise.”
“Of that I have no doubt, Sintári,” she said with a smile.
“Tell me though, before you go,” I asked, seeing her preparing to leave, “Do you know what happened to the town back there? It is empty, and all the villagers are gone, but there is no sign of a struggle.”
“That I do not know,” the Dryad answered remorsefully. “I thought the villagers had fallen victim to something searching for The Warden’s treasure. When you first approached, I assumed you were that same evil, coming now to claim the token.”
“I can tell you no more, and though I wish you well, it is long past time for me to leave this sad place,” the Dryad continued. “I must leave here now and find somewhere else to live. Somewhere without so many unpleasant memories to haunt me.”
I bid her farewell, and watched as she disappeared into the forest, seeming to almost melt into the foliage as she walked away from me.
I was not looking forward to what came next. I had held back another secret from my friends, revealing it first to a stranger before entrusting them with the knowledge. Prepared to face their wrath, I turned around and tried to begin the unpleasant confrontation.
Instead, as I pivoted to face my friends, I watched as Stel dropped down to one knee and bowed his head before me. I shook my head at Venna as she made to copy him, pleading wordlessly for her not to duplicate the gesture. I saw her battle with her emotions for a moment before she simply nodded and remained standing.
Khorim and Broda stood silently, observing the drama unfold, and seemed unsure of what they should do. As I walked over to where Stel was still kneeling, I looked to them.
“Don’t even think about it,” I said firmly.
Reaching Stel, I placed my hand on his chin and grasped him firmly by the jaw. Pulling him up from the ground, I maintained my tight hold on his face, forcing him to look me in the eyes.
“Never do that again,” I told him forcefully. “Never.”
“You don’t understand—” He began.
“No! You don’t understand!” I nearly shouted.
“You,” I said gesturing to all four of my companions, “are my friends! You are the ones I am counting on to help me get through whatever it is that is going to be happening to me. I’m not only going to need your help to guide me, but also to rein me in from time to time as well.”
“Stel,” I said, looking deeply into his eyes. “I need you. I need your strength; your courage. And I need to know that you won’t hold back if you think I’m doing something wrong. I don’t need you, any of you, to feel less than me or subservient. As I said before, what I need is for you to be my friends.”
I couldn’t hold back the tears that formed in my eyes as I spoke to him, and I let them flow freely down my face. Though I had spoken directly to Stel, my words were meant for all of my companions, and I made sure to say them loudly enough for them to hear. Releasing my grip on him, I let go of Stel and stepped back a pace.
“I’m sorry for the way you learned about this,” I said to them all. “I only discovered it for myself just yesterday. I had hoped to tell you all soon, when I had a chance to become more comfortable with what has happened to me. But, as I’ve come to learn, the circumstances of my life are not entirely under my control.”
Unsurprisingly, Venna, who had already known the truth, was the first to react. She rushed over and threw her arms around me in a warm embrace. Venna hugged me tightly, whispering in my ear as she reluctantly released her hold on me.
“I will never leave your side from this day forth,” she solemnly repeated her oath to me.
As she withdrew, Stel stood before me.
“You are right; I don’t understand,” he began, “But I promise to be your friend, as I have been. I will do my best to guide and protect you, and to counsel you when I think you fall astray.”
“But it has been countless centuries since the world has seen one of your kind,” he continued, his tone growing in reverence. “All I ask is that you forgive me if I occasionally glance in your direction with a bit of awe.”
As he spoke those last few words, his lips bent upwards, taking the form of his trademarked smirk.
I laughed at his jest, interrupting what had been a near constant flow of tears running down my cheeks. As I wiped the streaks from my face, Broda took Stel’s place in front of me.
“These elves don’t seem to have a clue about what the hell is going on with you, and I know less than half of that,” she began in typical Broda fashion. “But I saw with my own eyes how the Lady of the Forest spoke to you, and I know her praise is not given lightly.”
“I’ll help you,” she continued. “And you can be sure that if Stel ever forgets to tell you your place, I’ll be right there to remind you.”
She punctuated her remark with a hard smack on my arm, reminding me of her ‘sincerity.’
Only Khorim remained, and the dwarf seemed oddly unsure of himself. He grumbled something unintelligible and Broda smacked him hard across his back.
“What my husband seems unable to say,” she offered on his behalf, “Is that he’s willing to help you too.”
“Thank you, Broda,” I replied. “I’m sure that, like me, master dwarf is just overcome with emotion right now.”
Khorim let out a loud ‘huff’ while Broda laughed heartily at my prodding.
“If we’re all caught up now, I think we’ve tarried here for longer than I’d like,” Stel said, reminding us of our precarious surroundings.
“Dear husband, if you’ve recovered enough from the excitement, perhaps you can lead the way?” Broda teased.
Khorim snorted. He said nothing, but moved on ahead, guiding us back along the same way we
had come through the forest.
The rest of us stayed together this time, walking close to each other as we followed Khorim’s lead. I was concerned by the dwarf’s uncharacteristic reaction; he hadn’t managed to speak a word after I had made my revelation to the Dryad.
“Is he ok, Broda?” I asked his wife.
“Yeah, he’ll be fine,” she replied.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, he’s taken a bit of a shine to you,” she continued. Broda’s tone suggested her sincere doubt that I had failed to observe this.
“Don’t get me wrong now,” Broda went on. “He’s a good husband, and despite all of his bluster, I trust the lout much farther than I can throw him.”
“I think it’s just that you’ve suddenly been made into someone well above his station. It’ll take him a while to get used to that fact.”
I wanted to argue that point with her, but I knew it would be fruitless. I had probably gotten all I could from my friends by getting them to agree to treat me as they always had. Perhaps some other time I could work on damping down whatever elevated status came along with being Sintári in their minds.
We emerged from the forest, and once more entered the open fields surrounding the abandoned village. Although it was getting late, none of us wanted to spend the night inside the walls of the town, and whatever had happened to its residents, we were unwilling to take the risk of sharing their mysterious fate. Even though it meant spending another night camped beside the small trail, we walked quickly through the empty town and continued on our way back to the main road, never even sparing a look back as we left the forsaken village behind us.
We stopped for a moment, and after a quick discussion, agreed to make our camp in the same location where we had taken shelter the night before. We knew that we could at least find a decent place to take refuge there, and still reach the main road the following day. As we concluded our discussion and resumed marching forward, a loud series of crashes echoed through the silence of the surrounding forest.
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