They had passed over nearly half a mile downstream from the island before they finally started wading into the shoal of the opposite shore. Their feet sank in the muck, and they avoided larger branches drifting close by, newly fallen from the previous night's storm. The approaching forest was dark and even denser on this side, gnarled trees hovering above the murky waters like bent old men, moss and vines dipping within reach of the muddy surface. Huge roots erupted above steeper banks, and the men searched for an accessible path to clamber up from the river. Another stream spilled into the channel from a small waterfall and they made for it, as the ground leveled off. Soon, they found themselves on firmer ground and finally out of the tenacious current.
The men went about unpacking their belongings, Chertron and Sarion moving inland to watch for danger. Grundel wanted them well-past the river in short notice, unwilling to tempt a brush with any lurking shoreline predators. The woods here seemed normal enough, squirrels and colorful birds poking around above their heads, insects droning in clumps of scattered thickets and weeds.
The men pushed the rafts back into the river and they scurried off in the current, Grundel thinking it best to leave no indication of their passing. Not even giving the fighters time to unbundle drier clothes, the company moved quickly through the brush and made decent time, hoping that the horrors of the past night would not be soon rekindled. Sarion knew they were still no closer to the edge of the Lowlands, increasingly concerned that they were becoming further entangled within the dark woods.
They rode silently for the most part, Sarion and Chertron murmuring between themselves about the proposed direction. "I wish we could reach some point of higher ground, out of this forsaken fog even for a few seconds." Chertron muttered, shivering as they trotted along.
"It would indeed be a wonderful thing. Sunshine, a pleasant breeze. Such matters we deem of little consequence back in Trencit, galloping along a bright meadow or country pathway. None of us will take these small things for granted once we return to our homelands." Sarion gazed into the canopy above, eyeing nothing suspicious, which only made him more watchful. The subtle dangers were the ones he feared the most, and he did not want to be caught off guard.
"This area appears less sinister to my senses, but that only serves to increase my caution. Keep a sharp look out for trouble, Chertron."
"Aye. Although I can't help wishing for a cheerful blaze to warm my bones."
Sarion nodded, and they rode quietly for the remainder of the afternoon, their fortune seeming to hold out for the moment. But would it last, he wondered?
***
The forest grew thinner as the day wore on, the ground becoming harder and rocks appearing with greater frequency, smooth dull-gray pebbles scattered among them. They picked a suitable spot for camp that evening, a cluster of large boulders stained with lichen and pocked with small openings, many of these filled with water from the recent rains. The mist was a familiar companion, at times breaking up, but never disappearing altogether.
Forlern and Cerestin had the first watch, taking up strategic positions at the edge of two outcroppings, both stretching out like the rocky arm from the main cluster, large enough to offer a haven on three sides for the men and horses alike. Sarion was restless, staying up late with Grundel, discussing the past events and immediate plans. The other men lay wrapped in blankets, and Sarion discerned Forlern's lean figure wielding a long knife in one hand.
"Circumstances have been chaotic ever since we entered the Lowlands." The captain leaned back against the stone, eyes staring intently at the small fire they had started earlier. "There are some things I have wanted to tell you, and now seems as good a time as any."
Curious, Sarion wondered what was on the captain's mind.
"Have a look at this. I had almost forgotten about it."
Grundel pulled out a small obsidian wand fixed with a red orb at the top from beneath his cloak. It seemed to be made from a finely wrought metal, tube-like but strong. He handed it to Sarion, who touched it wonderingly, surprised at the warmth he felt coming from the rod.
"Beautiful little thing, don't you think?" Grundel smiled appreciatively at Sarion's confused expression.
"Where did you come across this wand?" asked Sarion, admiring the texture and design of the object. "I've never seen the like before. Did King Gregor give this to you?"
Grundel shook his head. "No, I found it within the lair of the Killworm. Among piles of bones, weapons, armor, and untold other items. A treasure trove, all buried beneath the remains of the creature's victims. It seemed to glow when I first spotted it, and I took it with me. I've kept it hidden since then, and safe."
"Any idea of its purpose or maker?"
Grundel hesitated. "No, but I am certain it is very old, and was created by skillful hands. I have no recollection of anything with this description from what I've read in the ancient tomes at the palace. I wish to bring it to King Gregor, to see what he can make of it, or any of his elders. My feeling is that it served some purpose in a time long ago -- and still may, for that matter. There's something about it -- something very special."
Sarion agreed. Holding it in his grip he felt a faint sensation, almost a vitality of sorts, from somewhere deep inside the rod, energy that lay dormant. Grundel was right -- there was something peculiar about it, and he was fascinated by the simplistic beauty it possessed.
"You were wise to keep it safe. I would not bring it to anyone's attention either. It might be a divination wand of some kind, or perhaps even an ancient weapon." Sarion was chilled by his own words. A talisman from a lost age? It was a striking notion, but the idea held certain grains of truth, and dread.
The captain agreed. "Hmm, I thought the same. Maybe it's just a pretty artifact, once kept on the person of an unfortunate victim of the Killworm. However, if it is a weapon, or contains any magic, it could prove quite beneficial to the king at some later point -- if its secret can be unlocked, of course..."
"Beneficial, or dangerous." Sarion and Grundel stared at the wand for long moments before the captain concealed it once more.
***
The night prowlers were active, and Sarion took his turn to watch along with Areck into the early morning hours. Howls and yelps disturbed the forest, shrill cries from far off, and some closer. Sarion believed they were from wolves and similar animals, others were of unknown species and a more sinister nature. In the unforgiving Lowlands, you were either the hunted or the hunter. Their company had been both.
Dawn arrived, somewhat less dreary than the other mornings. The fighters were soon ready to be off, their spirits elevated by the drier weather and the uneventfullness of the previous day. Would that the same could be said until they left the Lowlands, Sarion mused.
The forest continued to clear, the trees thinning, patches of grass cropping up, as they moved on in what they hoped was a true easterly direction, the ground sloping gradually beneath their feet. Sarion knew they had not gone nearly far enough to be entering the edges of Grammore, but the change in terrain lightened his heart somewhat. The day brightened, but the sun remained hidden by the ever-present mist, although it was considerably less thick. The forest contained a mixture of hardwoods and other strange varieties, and Sarion was quick to avoid anything suspicious looking, or dense.
At one point, they entered a glade filled with a species of dazzling purple flowers, their petals stretching outwards for several feet. A sweet perfume smell wafted from the unusual plants, and Sarion immediately halted, pressing the company back and taking another path. He was not going to take any chances. He knew that beauty and death could take the same form in the inhospitable Lowlands.
As the land continued to climb, Sarion wondered if they were approaching a ridge, or even a line of low foothills. They still had to be a number of miles away from the borders, perhaps two or three days at least. They traveled using their skills of tracking and instinct, without anything else to go on, lacking maps or experience. The air turned slightl
y cooler, but still was heavy with the permanent humidity and dampness of the Lowlands. By afternoon it was evident that their surroundings had significantly changed, and the denser jungle was left behind. A line of boulders appeared just ahead, the trees fewer and smaller. Sarion was naturally cautious, and he slowed his horse down, motioning to Chertron. They walked forward carefully, eyeing the terrain ahead. There was a lack of tree tops beyond the rocks, and he was now sure the land would soon drop off.
Sarion decided to dismount, and Chertron followed his example, the other warriors pausing until the leaders could scout ahead. The men crouched low, moving forward with weapons raised. The rocks were high enough to offer concealment, and this was Sarion's fear, that they would be waylaid by something lurking behind the boulders. The rocks were actually smaller than they had appeared from further away, broken slags of chipped stone with larger ones between them, forming a crude ridge line. What struck Sarion was the very existence of a structured design, albeit old and weathered. They found nothing unusual on their initial inspection and pressed onward, the ground leveling off at their feet. It appeared to be the remains of an ancient wall of sorts, cracked and blasted, the larger boulders once part of the main barrier. Through a cleared space, Sarion snaked his way past the greater part of the ruins, and found himself looking down from the rim of a tremendous valley, confirming what he'd originally thought. But he'd never anticipated what lay below…
Chertron now joined his side, his own weapon lowering in astonishment. The two men stared for long moments, until Forlern and Grundel himself came forward, concerned by their absence. No stares were exchanged, only gasps of awe.
An enormous valley lay at their feet, the bottom cloaked within a deep and impenetrable mist. The bottom terrain could only be guessed at, as the view was hazy. Climbing up from the middle of the vale were tiered spires, sprawling skywards and ringed about with vapor. Towering battlements and walls stood immense, distant but clearly visible from where they stood, despite the tenacious fog.
It was a vast fortress, ominous and forbidding.
The men were stunned. Even Grundel seemed to be at a loss for words. Sarion stared down at the impossible castle, dread crawling towards his heart. The sensation of foreboding he felt was powerful, his instincts warning him of certain danger. It was evil, built by evil things, and home to evil still. He had not the slightest doubt about his feelings. But what was it, and who had made it? Grammore was filled with unanswerable questions, and everything he thought he knew about the land, which was little, instantly became nullified by the sight of this fantastic structure, his knowledge ineffectual.
The other three fighters appeared, wondering as to their comrade's fixation. Rundin let out an oath, Areck mumbling something incoherent beneath his breath.
"Shades and devils," Rundin hissed. "Tis' a castle of death and nightmares, springing to life in this forsaken land. I can feel the power of it from here. Captain Grundel, we must flee before something terrible happens to us."
Sarion said nothing, keen eyes gazing upon the valley for indication of movement or life. The vale was silent, no bird or animal cry reaching their ears. It was like a corrupt sanctuary, haven for the wicked and lost. Who could have made such an enormous fortress in the middle of the world's most hostile country? Grundel leaned on his long sword, nodding grimly. "So, a final surprise for us as we make to leave this wilderland. What fate has brought us within sight of such a dark monument, is it coincidence or manipulation?"
"I don't see how we could have been led here, Captain," answered Forlern. "Our choices, whether through circumstance or plan alike have brought us here, and I don't like the look of this stronghold, I can almost taste the evil."
Grundel hovered there, and Sarion chanced a glance at the man's face. What he saw startled and chilled him -- he knew that Grundel fully intended on going down there. The captain turned towards him before speaking.
"Our quest has been rife with pain and sorrow, and King Gregor could not have chosen finer men to serve him. We've come so far, survived many dangers, and a long road home still awaits us. But my orders are clear...even if they seem harsh. I owe allegiance firstly to my king, and the price for servitude and valor has always been high." His voice lowered, and Sarion heard the sadness in his tone. "But too many answers lie within that castle -- and they are the ones which I seek. Trencit and King Gregor must have knowledge. I'm going down there."
None of the men stirred, all staring at the glazed look of determination, the unquenched fire, brimming inside of Captain Grundel's orbs. They knew what was being asked of them, understood the dangers, and some of them realized that they would not all be leaving Grammore, never to see their fair homeland again. It was a powerful moment, emotions soaring, but not one of the warriors looked away from their leader's steely gaze.
"We will persevere, though the way is fraught with peril and madness. Our numbers are sorely reduced, yet no more could I ask for, seeing the bravery which has been shown to me every step of the way from Trencit. You will be enough, and word will get back to the King. The sacrifices of many have preserved our freedom and way of life, and sadly, much more is still needed. Who can envision the defeat of evil, if ever it comes to pass? Yet we must try. And so, your loyalty is required once again."
There was a terrible pause as he held their attention.
"All except for Sarion."
The two men locked gazes, a look of surprise flashing across Sarion's face as he measured the man's words. Except for him -- what was he saying?
"You've volunteered for this quest, although the asking was not done mildly, or without regret on my part. Yet you have proven invaluable, a true leader of men. There is not one among this group which would not follow your lead. You held a high position in the Western Watch before, and will again." He swept his gaze across the warriors, several of them nodding, none in disagreement.
"Captain, you honor me -- but I have as much to lose as any other, and fight willingly for Trencit. Regardless of these facts, I cannot allow myself to stay behind while you enter this dark domain. You know me too well by now."
Grundel shook his head. "I can't afford to take the risk of having us all becoming trapped inside the walls of this fortress. Your tracking skills are unsurpassed. You alone of our group have a chance to return back to Trencit and give word to King Gregor if disaster falls. You must stay behind."
Sarion's eyes smoldered. "I can't do this, Captain. It might prove to be through my own ability which can help to bring us out of the castle again. Is that another chance you can afford to take?"
The warriors were silent, tense at the war of wills being waged between the two men. Their loyalty to Grundel was unshakable, but their devotion to Sarion had grown quickly since the start of the journey, reaching the point of unquestioning respect and admiration. To any of them, the captain's orders would have been taken without comment, an immediate acceptance of his decision. But Sarion was not one of them.
"I can't read into the future, Sarion. I am neither mage nor sorcerer, but a fighter, and chosen by the king himself to make terrible decisions. This is one of them. My mind is made."
Sarion fumed, biting back an angry retort. He couldn't stay behind! It was outrageous. His mind whirled, battling strong emotions. Part of him wanted to agree with Grundel's choice, comprehend the logic, but it wasn't enough. He looked around at the others, the bitterness evident in his eyes. His gaze was returned with looks of sadness and compassion -- none of them envied his position -- or there own, for that matter. Sarion made another attempt.
"Captain...please listen to me." Grundel had started to turn away, but he now locked eyes with Sarion, his gaze impassionate. He said nothing, but his look offered no concession.
"We've made it this far as a group, relied on each other's abilities to survive the terrors of Grammore. It doesn't make sense for us to separate now. We should face what's inside this castle together, and we might yet overcome any obstacles. I know more about the Low
lands than any other in Trencit."
"And so you have argued my point. No one questions your skills inside Grammore, or elsewhere. But this is different...You have no more, or less, knowledge of what might dwell within this citadel. It is my belief that our answers do indeed lay inside, and if there is danger, then we will try to prevail. If it proves too powerful, it is quite foolish to take you with us. You must return. I will hear no further argument, time grows short. Men, we take a brief rest, then scale the valley sides under cover of dusk."
Grundel left the edge of the valley, and Sarion's heart grew cold. The shades of his previous visit to the Lowlands swam before his eyes. The only one to return intact of body and mind. Not again, he thought.
Please, not again.
***
Few words were spoken as the men prepared to leave. The horses were to be left behind, since they could not be taken inside the fortress. Sarion would watch them until the men returned. Grundel told him to wait for one entire day, and be on the alert for anything suspicious from the valley. If anything untoward materialized, he was to flee immediately. There was no way of knowing what manner of creatures dwelt within the walls, although the captain hoped to find it long-abandoned. Even then, it might still conceal traps or wandering predators, he said. But his orders were clear. Sarion must not wait past the next day.
Individually, the fighters approached Sarion, offering words of comfort and hope. He wished them all luck, and to be alert for the smallest of things. Sarion was convinced something monstrous waited down there, and the castle appeared to him as a slumbering beast, patient and deadly.
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