Sarion yawned, feeling weary from the long day. It was hard to believe that they had stood above the magnificent but dangerous lake earlier that morning, scaled the hazardous slope led by the deceitful Glefin, and looked upon the overwhelming figure of the incredible Jurvech, all within that same day. He wondered if the monster was even now gliding above the jungle canopy, searching for fresh prey. As fearsome as the creature was, they knew nothing about its habits and other capabilities. It was a most unpleasant thought.
He glanced over his shoulder where he discerned the huddled forms of the horses, restless in their sleep. The fire burned low, and Forlern stood silently past the men who were wrapped tightly in hunting blankets. The man possessed a striking intensity, elevating him over the others in this respect. At times he appeared rash, impatient, but never fearful. He was a natural fighter, and his quickness to depose of the Glefin showed an ability to take action when the unexpected materialized. The Glefin had caught the men by surprise, even the reliable Chertron, but Forlern was ready for anything, and unafraid to take the appropriate measure of response.
Sarion listened to the woods, straining to detect the approach of any wandering predator, but the forest was deathly quiet. Restless, his apprehension continued to grow, enough so that he raised his weapon higher, placing his own brand into the soil, surrounded by several other fixed pieces of burning wood. Something was nearby -- he could feel it. His instincts called to him, that refined inner sense which defied rationalization, but existed.
He sensed something -- a lurking presence, malevolent, and intelligent. But what was the source of his anxiety -- was it somewhere beyond the visible eaves, waiting, perhaps watching him even now? He almost signaled an alarm, but thought better of it. He realized that not every creature in Grammore attacked without provocation. They were still a formidable group even in their diminished numbers, and unfamiliar to the dwellers of the Lowlands. Many beasts would back away unless they spotted an easy kill, and not all predators were large, or unique like the Jurvech. Smaller ones existed, swift and crafty, others roamed in hunting packs, while yet some were solitary animals, surviving on special abilities or living inside a particular environment, be it plant, earth, or water.
Nothing stirred in the forest, no creature visible to his keen hearing or vision. Maybe his natural caution was remaining high-strung, unable to ease down. Sarion looked up into the dark trees, and went cold with dread.
A pair of yellow eyes were staring directly at him.
***
It was one of Sarion's most terrifying moments as he locked gazes with the unknown creature overhead. He hardly dared to breathe, matching the stare of whatever perched above him, maybe twenty feet into the tree. The body of the thing was invisible, obscured by darkness, and Sarion knew it was by design. The eyes were reflective, the orange from the fire gleaming within its orbs, and the first thing which came to Sarion's mind were the eyes of an insect, lifeless and alien. He was being observed, and the creature was fully aware of his own scrutiny as they measured each other. Sarion held his weapon higher, gauging the thing for a reaction. It remained there for several more seconds, then the eyes blinked once and were gone.
He heard a faint rustling as the creature moved away, climbing higher into the tree. Was it gone for good, though? There was no way of telling, or knowing if more of the things lurked overhead. Sarion felt a cold shiver cross his back at the notion of a colony of such creatures living in the vast canopy, like a nest of giant spiders. It was a hideous thought, and he looked over to Forlern, letting out a low whistle. The man snapped his head around immediately, and Sarion gave a curt hand signal upwards, a caution to be on the alert for possible danger overhead. The warrior nodded back, bringing his own weapon up.
On watch now in all directions, time dragged by slowly that night for Sarion until he relieved a groggy Areck later on, telling him what he'd seen. Sarion stayed up late with the fighter, until he was convinced that the creature was not threatening an imminent attack. It may have simply been curious, examining the intruders below, and had went off in search of easier prey. The questions were all disturbing, but no answers appeared to be forthcoming, and the night passed without further event.
The morning dawned slowly, gloomy and oppressive. The warriors had passed through many harrowing encounters while in the Lowlands, barely surviving. They were a tough and durable breed of men, some of them quick to laughter, much swifter to the sword, but the relentless gray which accompanied their travels weighed heavily upon their shoulders, offering no gleam of brightness from the hidden sun. It was a lost friend, a companion from better days and much more hospitable lands. Sarion knew the dreary weather was yet another enemy, one which battled against their fortitude, striving for them to give into despair and panic. Little could be done except to maintain his own hope, encourage the fighters, lend assistance wherever needed, and the men respected him for it.
Cerestin was adjusting a broken harness on his steed, and Sarion walked over, helping him fasten the leather bindings until they were tight. He grinned in satisfaction at Sarion and picked up his helm, which was stained and discolored from their trials in the wilderness.
"I remember a silver glint to this helmet when we first met, Cerestin. Maybe we can polish it up a bit later, what do you think?" Sarion patted the metal, fingers rubbing one of the larger dents.
"I say it's a fine idea, and long overdue," replied the warrior, a smirk covering his lightly-bearded face. "Sorely is it in need of a good cleaning -- and myself, I might add." He rubbed his whiskers, and Sarion chuckled.
"I also recall a face fresh as an infant's, hairless as a woman's. Sharpen that knife for later, when we pause for a rest. We'll both look like civilized men again, once we've had a decent scrub."
"Aye, Sarion. If this forsaken land permits us, that is. After seeing that beast yesterday, I'll never sleep well again, I'm afraid. The night-wings haunt my rest, chasing me like a frightened child in my slumber. I am shamed."
Sarion held up a hand. "I would disagree with you there, Cerestin. You've faced great evil and come through unscathed. Lesser men than our group would have fallen long ago to the sights of what you have borne witness to." He looked intently into the man's gray eyes. "You have stared at the face of horror and evil, undaunted. Take heart from your experience, my friend. You have shown the ability to confront anything -- your nightmares have already been revealed. Darkness is the cloak of ignorance and hopelessness. You have thrown off this burden from your own strong shoulders. And you'll continue to ride with head held high, sword arm ready. I for one am glad to have you at my side."
The warrior nodded, gazing respectfully at Sarion. The words were brave, even though they walked within a den of madness and terror. He inclined his head to Sarion, who walked away. Grundel watched, listening to Sarion's words from a short distance, his head motionless, but his eyes following the man's back, a faint gleam of admiration visible within his orbs.
"Well said, Sarion," he whispered. "The words of a leader."
***
There was little to distinguish this particular day from any other, and the company rode on late into the morning, their clothes damp from the relentless humidity. Dense foliage surrounded the men in every direction, exotic and colorful flowers appearing in scattered patches, while other areas swarmed with the tendrils of green vines which latched onto any wood within their grasp. The sun was still invisible, blanketed above by towering trees shooting upwards into the gloom. They were of a strange variety, and Sarion spoke to Grundel concerning his encounter with the unseen creature, and their mutual observation the previous night.
"It was measuring me, gauging myself as a threat -- or lack of being a threat, perhaps. The orbs reminded me of an insect's, like it was a huge spider waiting at the borders of its web. Flat, expressionless in themselves, but I perceived intelligence in that gaze. It seemed unwilling to press our advantage in numbers, or else I believe it would have attacked."
Th
e captain arched his neck upwards, peering into the sprawling canopy overhead. "A most unpleasant thought, the notion of predators crawling above us, shrouded by night and these abysmally large trees. There's not one region of Grammore I would feel safe in, but this area seems more perilous than some, although I haven't reason to confirm my suspicions. If there is indeed a host of such creatures lurking within the forest eaves, we should make haste to move on. If they mass for an assault, we will be hard put for a pitched battle under the cloak of darkness."
Sarion nodded, his face grim as he stared at Chertron's horse before him. "Even considering all the tragic events which have befallen our quest, it's fortunate that we have not been attacked at night. This may change soon, though."
Grundel paused, his voice lower. "Sarion, I have also decided to make due east, and leave the Lowlands."
Sarion gave him a sharp glance, surprised at the resignation in the captain's voice. Grundel met his gaze, unflinching and determined despite his words. Even after the harrowing brush with the Jurvech, Grundel had remained resolute in his conviction for the company to push deeper into the Lowlands. And now he had changed his mind.
"I can read your thoughts, my friend. Yes, I stated a differing opinion yesterday, confirming the thrust of our mission. But we tread upon delicate ground. Our numbers have dwindled, and the danger grows with each further step into this terrible country, and still there is no sign of our quarry, or anything which could lend us hope for things to change."
The captain gave a curt whistle, signaling for a halt. The afternoon was lengthening, and the terrain had not altered since earlier the previous day, and now a light drizzle had begun to fall, adding to their discomfort and dampening the overall mood of the warriors. Forlern and Chertron acted as watch, while the others dismounted and foraged for nuts and berries. Many of the common fruits and edible plants were numerous in the moisture-rich Lowlands, and they filled their food sacks at nearly every rest. A small spring trickled several yards to their right, and the men led the horses for a drink. Brooks and water holes were plentiful, and they avoided only the larger ponds, fearing for what might be living nearby, or possibly within the unseen depths. Such areas were quickly bypassed, and more than once Sarion had seen footprints within the yielding turf, some of insignificant size, others very large, left by unknown beasts.
Sarion approached Grundel as the men went about various tasks or chose to rest, and he was eager to discover the reasoning behind the man's decision. The captain sat upon a moss-coated log, which had at one time plunged high into the forest canopy, recently fallen by its fresh-looking appearance, lacking any visible decay on the slimy bark. A gray salamander perched near one of the captain's booted feet, scurrying away as Sarion drew close.
"Sit down, Sarion. I understand your confusion, but I'm convinced that we need to leave Grammore."
"Surely I see the reasons for either course of action, but what has changed since yesterday?" Sarion joined Grundel on the log.
"Much, or little, depending on which perspective you use. Maybe it's an accumulation of everything that's happened to us. The loss of my men, watching the monstrous evil which lives within this accursed land, the overwhelming odds facing us. My orders are clear, but the means of carrying them out are not. I've done a lot of thinking, torn between the need to uncover the secrets buried within the Lowlands, learn as to why the ogre marauded the borders of Trencit, and who sent it. I am certain of this last fact, but have not the power to discover the answer."
"And what of the King, will he be content with the knowledge you bring him?"
Grundel nodded his head, looking weary.
"He will understand. I can't ask anymore from the men, they've already far surpassed many of their peers in bravery, endurance, and combat. They have faced creatures which are only legend back in Trencit, demons whispered around a warm bonfire on a cold night, and some of them will not see their beloved homeland again, claimed by the cruelty of Grammore. But we are fighters, and readily accept our fate. None loyal to Trencit would question their command."
"Nor I, Captain. King Gregor is respected and loved by the people, fair and just. He does not act on anything which is not of grave consequence to the survival of our land and its people. What will be his next course of action, do you think?"
Grundel patted the hilt of his blade. "It's hard to be sure, but additional patrols will already be in place by now, scouting parties foraging past our borders, attempting to form a network of protection and communication between the outlying territories and the interior strongholds. The Western Guard is being mobilized as we speak. He may even assign a larger war party to probe the reaches of Grammore. Of course, he will consider our venture foremost, but there is a need for additional knowledge, and he will not be satisfied until more is learned."
"I wonder how the war in the east goes?" Sarion stared off in the direction where he believed their own country lay, but he couldn't be sure. Things were changing, and he would be changing with them. Trencit required his service, and he would answer to his own call -- a position in the Western Watch, Grundel had said. His mind drifted to Edward and the farm, both familiar dream-fragments, constant companions to him whether he slept or walked the earth. He knew the boy would be greatly concerned for his safety, but Sarion had told him to have courage, and remember what he had been taught. Edward would not falter.
"The thought dwells heavily upon my heart," replied the captain. "Trencit requires my services on every border, at each conflict. I held a high command on the eastern front, but was called back for this quest. I was unwilling to go at first, but the King cannot be denied."
"You argued against his orders?" Sarion was a bit surprised by Grundel's statement.
"Not in the manner you might think. He is always open to disagreement and ideas opposite of his own, especially to those he holds within his confidence -- such as myself." He winked at Sarion, who now wondered just how powerful a position Grundel held in the Home Guard. Much more than he let people know, he decided. And how much did the fighters really know about him?
"And you attempted to persuade him otherwise?" Sarion glanced over at Rundin, the bearish man restlessly practicing with his long sword.
"Against sending me...yes. I was needed on the frontier, near the fortress of Druhil, where the fighting has been fierce. When he told me that he would be sending a command off regardless of my decision, then I agreed to lead the company. I knew how hazardous such an expedition would be, and volunteered in the end."
He seemed ready to say something else, but hesitated. Sarion wanted to pursue the matter, but Grundel stood up, gesturing to Rundin.
"Time grows late, and we're still beneath these forsaken trees. Let's make haste and leave this region behind."
Sarion followed him, more curious than ever about the mysterious captain.
***
Twilight had captured the day early, and the rain continued to fall upon them from the lofty boughs overhead. The forest was a shimmering haze of gray, a sluggish mist curling between the vast trunks and limiting their vision to scarcely a dozen yards. Grundel pushed them onwards in an easterly direction, and Sarion felt confident of their progress even in the immense wilderness. He read much from simple things, like where moss grew on trees, the positioning of stars, although the latter had been severely hampered since entering the Lowlands. But the task of leading them back to their own lands was a daunting one, and he confided with Chertron at many points.
One disturbing thing he noticed was the amount of trees that were laying on the ground, the great roots sticking upright from the moist soil, as if having been torn apart at the hands of some enormous creature. They seemed to be finally leaving the area of tall trees, and he was slightly relieved by this, but he also knew that the dangers of Grammore were everywhere, the only difference being the shape and manner.
At times they would catch glimpses of wandering herds of stag, one of the more common and harmless types of animal, similar to the
beasts of Trencit, but these were stouter and more cautious. Other times they heard the passing of some unknown creature, but as the rain increased the forest grew still once more. The air had an unpleasant chill to it, heavy with the dampness from the precipitation, and Sarion realized that it would soon be impossible to maintain a fire. The warriors carried small lanterns for such dismal situations, and had relied upon them many times within the Lowlands. Tonight would be no exception.
At the lead along with Chertron on his right, Sarion swept his gaze front and to his left side, trying to cover as much of the perimeter as possible. Forlern rode immediately behind him, followed by Grundel, Cerestin and Areck, and the reliable Rundin bringing up the rear. Only seven of us left, thought Sarion. Seven against all the countless horrors of Grammore. Bad, but it could have been much worse, he knew.
The trees loomed menacingly on every side, the mist trailing along the forest floor in swirling miniature clouds, hindering their speed. To move any faster would hamper their ability to react quickly, but they also would face danger without any warning due to their slower pace. With such reduced numbers, they all needed to be alert at every moment -- the night watchers doubly vigilant. It was a good thing they were departing the Lowlands, Sarion knew. The men had been pushed far beyond reasonable limits, even for highly-trained fighters that they were. The factors which existed in battle along their other borders were of no consequence here. Grammore was like one monstrous beast, patiently waiting to devour the weak and unwary. They had been neither so far, but things had changed. Fatigue and loss were now their enemies as well.
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