by Nikolas Rex
Puck awoke suddenly.
It was still dark. The campfires were dim, more untended glowing coals than actual licking flames. He could see all the soldiers sleeping soundly in their makeshift beds on the ground in small circles.
Puck felt his bonds being loosened and arms helped him slide gently to his knees.
What is going on? Am I being rescued?
Drake?
He voiced his last thought aloud, “Drake?”
He was so happy. He was finally free. His friend had come to rescue him.
Then he felt cold iron shackles clank around his wrists. He was immediately confused.
Then a familiar voice spoke quietly near his ear.
“Stay silent, or I kill you.”
It was not Drake.
Chapter Thirty Two
Mistaken Hero
“Hey there mister.”
It was the voice of a child.
“You got ‘em both, but you got hurt real bad.”
It was the first thing Drake sensed.
Within moments his other senses fired up and he tried to take in the overwhelming assault to his mind as a result of it.
He heard the cry of birds nearby and the rustling of a breeze against dry brush.
He smelled the pungent aroma of blood, thick and heavy, in the air, and along with it, death all around him.
He tasted blood in his mouth as well, his own and that of something else.
His body felt beaten and sore.
He opened his eyes. The sky was clear, and blue, a powerful striking azure. It was bright, most likely midday. He tried to sit up but coughed up blood instead and turned on his side. He felt small hands help him sit up and through the tangled mess of his own hair he made out the figure of a small boy.
“I saw the whole thing from over there,” the boy continued.
The boy was perhaps coming up on his tenth cycle of life, but looked maybe even younger than that.
“I thought you were going to be dead for sure, but you got ‘em mister, you got both of ‘em!” he reaffirmed with awe.
The boy’s face was one of absolute astonishment.
Drake tried to say something but only coughed more.
“I will go get help,” the boy said, “No one is going to believe this! You saved us! You saved everyone!”
The boy turned and ran.
Drake rose his hand to protest but let it fall again.
He was exhausted.
He lay very uncomfortably on hard broken grey rock. Mountains rose up on both sides of his view. He was in some sort of deep canyon or mountain pass but he did not specifically recognize anything.
Where am I? he thought worriedly.
The last thing he remembered was sitting at a small inexpensive wooden table eating an inexpensive meal and drinking a watered down light ale with his traveling companion, Puck.
Puck! Drake looked around again, Where is Puck? Where am I?
Got both of them? The words of the boy penetrated his mind, got who?
Drake shifted his sore frame over and froze at what he saw.
Towering nearby him were the freshly slain corpses of two massive creatures which Drake recognized as Vorstai.
Most believed that the terrifying monsters had been a result of experiments preformed by dark sorcerers during the War of Power attempting to bond draconic beasts with the large avian creatures called Rocs. Not many Vorstai survived the dark magic, but the ones that did went on to breed at an alarming rate. They were used in battle only by those who were powerful enough to subdue the large beasts. Most were killed off during the War of Power, but the ones that survived migrated away from civilization and retreated deep into the Wildlands.
They were large creatures, as long as three men standing on each other’s shoulders, not including the tail, with a wing span of about the same length. They had a mixture of both avian and draconic features. A light almost feathery fur decorated their necks and backs almost down half the tail. Their wings were feathered at the base but leathery overall. They had stumpy snouts ending in downward curving beaks and mouths lined with deadly sharp rows of teeth. Where the fur did not cover, thick scaly hides broke through instead. Their fur and hides were generally dark in color, muted browns and grays, to blend with their favored mountainous surroundings. Because of their enormous bodies and wings they always sought the highest peaks for their nesting grounds. Male and females would hunt together, secure in the knowledge that their nest really didn’t need too much protection, as it was generally already high enough out of reach from any sort of predator to get at.
The creatures were not merely dead, but brutally and viscerally mutilated, specifically in their faces. It was beyond a shadow of a doubt that the two Vorstai were not getting back on their feet or ever spreading their mangled wings to fly again. They were unequivocally dead, whoever had fought the creatures had made sure of it.
Drake’s first thought was that he must be deep in the Wildlands himself. But that would not explain the presence of a small child alone out here.
Not alone, Drake pondered, He said he was bringing help.
Perhaps a traveling band of Relic Hunters? He tried to reason, Exalted! He cursed silently, Revenant! He felt angry enough to invoke both essences, Where am I?
He knew he had blacked out again, and was worried. He did not know how much time had passed since he was with Puck. With a body that would not age, it could be a day or two later, or five or ten cycles later, it was impossible to tell.
The despair began to overtake him again. He had failed to find help, he had failed to find the young man in his vision. He had come so close, he had been in the company of another who had seen the same visions as he, but it seemed that he was doomed to walk the lands forever in this cursed state of perpetual blackouts.
To see two Vorstai before him, and dead on top of that, along with his disorientation and other thoughts, was enough to make Drake, in his already worn out state, close his eyes and welcome the darkness.
He was aware of voices, but they seemed distant, muted.
He felt himself being lifted by several sets of arms.
“My swords!” he was able to muster as he was carried off.
He fell into unconsciousness again moments later.
He woke again after some time had passed, how much he still could not discern.
It was dark. He was inside somewhere. A number of candles and torches illuminated the room in a soft flickering glow. He lay on a bed, his clothes removed. He felt naked, both figuratively and literally. His skin felt smooth against the fine linen of the bed. He had been bathed and cleaned, his wounds wrapped. He wouldn’t need the wrappings soon, as he could already feel his body healing from whatever ordeal it had underwent. He could see better than most during the day, and though everything he saw in the dark was muted in color and illuminated with an iridescent green, he could literally see in pitch blackness, in the failing light though, he often found it hard to focus. His eyesight was still adjusting to the lowlight as a small womanly figure approached his bed.
“Laeyadin?” He whispered incredulously.
But no, it couldn’t be. She was dead many cycles now come and gone.
His eyes finally adjusted and he could see the girl now.
She was beautiful with long shiny black hair and striking blue eyes. Her skin was a light chestnut in color. She had the figure of a girl who had already gone through the beginning stages of womanhood and she wore her simple blue and grey gown in a way that accentuated her female form. She looked to be in her eighteenth or nineteenth cycle of life.
In the corner an older woman sat in a rocking chair. She had hair as black as the girl’s and was fast asleep. No one else was in the room. The young woman had a vessel of water in one hand and clean white wrap cloths in the other.
“You are awake,” She said, “How do you feel?”
Drake looked at her, letting the moment where he had mistaken her for a woman he once loved, go.
“What cycle is it?”
“Depends on which Seal you heed,”
Drake hesitated, “The Noble Seal.”
The girl looked sideways at him in a sort of taken aback way.
“We do not heed to the Noble Seal here,” she replied, “Do you claim Terragurion alliance then?”
Drake mentally kicked himself. I should have asked ‘where am I?’ first.
Trying to recover the conversation he said, “I claim no such alliance, only admit that the Noble Seal is a very accurate record of the cycles.”
She shook her head slightly in a dismissive way, “We heed to the Seal of the Dueling Siblings around here.”
“And where is here?” He asked.
“Terga, in Rawson’s Pass,” she replied.
Drake knew of the place. It was a small outpost turned town which mostly survived on the many travelers making their way from Biarlin to Itherin and the other way around. It was a good place for the weary adventurer in need of a peaceful night’s rest in a warm bed. There was no competition for resources and trade in the area so the outpost had grown fairly steadily since its founding.
Rawson’s pass, he thought, But that would mean I am more than a fortnight’s travel from Puck in Whiteholt, if that is even where Puck is now. Perhaps not too much time has passed after all.
“Those monsters must have really rattled your head if you do not know where you are or what cycle falls.”
Drake shrugged, then replied, “I suppose that is the case.”
“The five hundred and nineteenth cycle under the Seal of the Dueling Siblings.”
So, just about a fortnight or so has passed, just as I guessed. Drake reasoned silently.
“Time to change your wrappings,” she said.
He nodded his head and sat up, pulling the blanket down only as far as just below his navel.
“No need for any shyness,” the young woman said, “I have already seen all there is to see of a man, I am the town healer’s apprentice after all.”
Drake left his hands holding on to the blanket.
The young woman shrugged and began to remove the cloth around his arm.
Her eyebrows rose in surprise.
“Your wounds have progressed in their healing quite rapidly,” she paused, “Are you— Are you an Exalted?”
Drake shook his head dismissively, “More like a Revenant.”
The young woman was shocked at the comment, “How could you say such a thing? You risked your life against two terrifying beasts to save our village, and you succeeded. Many of the townspeople have been invoking the Exalted, cycles on end, for someone to come along strong enough to save us.”
“I did not—” Drake began, about to explain himself and his curse, but after another moments thought, he decided he was too tired of talking about it.
“did not, what?” she asked as she began working on the wrap around his chest.
“I did not realize just how big a Vorst could be.”
The young woman let out a small laugh.
The lady in the chair let out a snort but did not wake.
The young woman put a hand over her mouth, but continued to smile. She lowered her voice.
“You feign ignorance, but your abilities would suggest an astute knowledge of your prey, how else could you have taken out both Vorstai single handedly?”
“What is your name?” Drake asked her, trying to steer the conversation away from a battle he did not remember having.
She smiled. He could tell she liked him. He quickly regretted asking her a personal inquiry. Of course, inside, a part of him was attracted to her and he desired to exchange flirtatious remarks. But harsh personal experiences had already taught him not to let anyone get close to him, and to not let himself get close to anyone else.
The lady in the rocking chair continued to sleep as they talked, occasionally letting out a soft snore.
“Mel, Radan of Terga, and you?”
“I am called Drake.”
“Just Drake?”
“Just Drake.”
“Where are you from?”
Drake paused, unsure of how he should answer.
“I do not remember.”
Mel shifted to remove the last wrap on his other arm. Being on the other side of the bed she had to reach over him. Though he had been conscious of her touch as she undid the other wraps he had not really paid much attention. This time however her neck was very close to his face and her sweet smell filled his nose and her chest rubbed against him. He felt an attraction to her and knew immediately he had to end things.
“Stop,” he said gruffly, pushing her away with a little more force than he had intended.
She stumbled a step back or two but regained her footing without falling. She was clearly put off by his sudden change of personality.
He felt bad but knew he could not weaken now.
“I do not need help, look, I am already healed.” He ripped the cloth from his wound and tossed it at the foot of the bed.
Mel, sensing any sort of electric energy to be gone out of the conversation, changed her tone as well.
“Indeed,” she said curtly.
But inside she felt that perhaps he had only acted out because he was battle weary. Belik, the boy who had found him, and who had seen their hero in action, had gone on and on at the spectacular feats Drake had accomplished to kill both Vorstai. Belik was a boy with a good head on his shoulders and never stretched the truth. Accompanied with the evidence of both dead beasts and the blood soaked and wounded warrior Drake, no one doubted the boy’s story. Mel was certain she had seen Drake’s true heart upon meeting him.
“Can I have my clothes please?” He asked. He stripped the other wrappings off of his legs from underneath the covers and brought them out to lie out on the bed, keeping himself covered the whole time.
“You cannot,” she answered.
He sat there with a look of disbelief on his face at her words.
“What I mean,” she continued, softening a little, “They were ripped and torn beyond repair. The town women have been working hard the past two days and nights on a set of clothes more fitting for a hero. Mother here is working on something for you to wear to the ceremony.”
“More fitting for a—” Drake could not believe what he was hearing, “what ceremony?” In all his many cycles he had not found himself in a situation like this.
“The town is throwing a celebration in your honor, those two Vorstai have terrorized these mountains for almost three cycles now. They arrived suddenly in the area and set up a nest nearby. They are very territorial creatures and began raiding all our wagons sent out for supplies. Travelers have become more and more scarce this way as well because of the danger.”
“Why did the people stay? You could have left, or moved.”
Mel shook her head, “Most everyone in town has been here since the founding of Terga, their whole lives are here.”
“What about my armor? My swords?”
“I overheard Borst, the town blacksmith talking about the damages to your armor. It seemed pretty bad but he said he would set aside all his other projects to devote all his time to restoring your suit. Your blades were in perfect condition, which he found surprising.”
A celebration in my honor? Town savior and hero? Archfiend take me! Waking up surrounded by giant dead beasts covered in blood, Exalted! He chided himself for the cursing, he did not like to invoke the Exalted improperly but he was getting tired from his blackouts.
“Is there something I could wear until the celebration then?”
Mel gave a short curtsy, “Of course.”
She went to a finely carved dark wood dresser and retrieved a simple light brown tunic with belt, a set of matching leather tie breeches, and a pair of soft leather boots.
She had not actually seen the young man entirely, her mother had done the wrappings on the wounds on the young man’s legs, and a part of her wanted to. Her mother had already taught her the makeup of the bo
dies of many species, humans included. She had been truthful when she told Drake she had seen both men and women without clothes in her apprenticeship under her mother. But there was something different about this young man. He was young and very fit, and his saving of her town added something to the mix too. But as she handed the clothes to Drake she pushed aside her feelings and decided to respect him. She faced away from Drake as he stood from the bed, clothes in hand. She busied herself with collecting the wraps and fiddling with the water vase, avoiding looking at Drake.
The door to the room opened just as Drake was finishing getting dressed.
The lady woke and sat up at the door’s opening.
Mel turned as well.
“Ah, up and feeling better already, are you,” A large, cheery man came into the room.
He was dressed in black trousers with silver trim, a long dark green tunic with a belt, and a fancy surcoat and matching boots.
“Mayor Hartshor,” Mel said with a curtsy, “His wounds are already nearly healed,”
The Mayor’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “But how can that be, boy,” he addressed Drake, “You were nearly dead when Belik found you! By the stars, you were truly sent by the Exalted!”
Drake sighed.
He knew that whatever was to happen next, it was going to take a long time until it was over.
And he was already eager to leave this place and get back on the road.
He had to find the boy from his vision.
And soon.
Chapter Thirty Three
The Unseen Pathwalker
Warm golden sunshine bathed Laura from her shoulders up, prodding her gently out of her sleep.
She brought up her hand to shield her eyes and relaxed for a moment in the cool shadow of her arm.
A knock on wood nearby made her realize she was in a room, on a bed.
“Laura? Are you awake yet?”
It was Marc’s voice, slightly muffled on the other side of the door.
“Yes,” She replied, “Give me a moment.”
She looked down at herself. She was still in her now badly tattered Aide uniform robes of the Order of the Leaf. One of the sleeves was missing entirely and the rest of the fabric had tears and unraveling threads in numerous places.