by Jordan Cramm
As they finished up, each of them turned into the bedroom, and Wolflen put his armor on as did Katrina.
“It was a battle hard fought,” Katrina said to break the silence, “and hard won. But the Bloodgrounds, and what happened here will be remembered. Just as we will remember the fallen.”
Wolflen nodded as he pulled on the last of his armor. She rounded the bed to embrace him in a hug. He could feel her heavy breathing as she stood close to him with her body pressed against his.
“What is it m'lady?”
“Just glad it's over. When we found you buried under Werewolves, I thought maybe...maybe you had been killed. Then to have you open your eyes and come to the realization that your back was broken and you were paralyzed...that was scary. Jakarta's Laying Of Hands spell saved your life I think. I guess so much has happened and only now can we take a minute to digest everything and really think about it.”
“I know what you mean. Time has been as a whirlwind as of late. Feels like we just go round and round, caught in it's grasp.”
Katrina nodded.
“So what now?” she asked, “I mean if Mortican has already reached the Ring of Izen, and he has already used it, then who knows where or when he will march armies from the Nexulous Moon back to Fengysha. He could reappear with them at any one of the Spire portals.”
“I know. So we give chase and hope to stop him before he gets there. All the while knowing its likely another trap. For all we know he's used the portal already. I would almost bet on it.”
“What if he already has?” she asked.
“Then we're all in trouble.”
Suddenly, Wolflen heard his name being called from outside the tent. There were two visitors. The first was Flint Calmbreeze, come back to check on his son, which Wolflen invited in immediately so he could. The second was Mage Dawson, who reported that he had finished his own breakfast already, and that he needed to leave the camp.
As Wolflen and Katrina welcomed their visitors into their tent, they had also stepped back into the main room. They were cleaned up now, but like everyone else, still banged up from battle. Mage Dawson looked nervous, and so Wolflen asked if everything was okay.
“I have to leave,” Mage Dawson stated.
“Leave?” Katrina asked, “And now? Why?”
Wolflen seemed equally interested in the answer, so Mage Dawson answered as best as he could, “I must return to Akartha. I have … work to do there. It is part of balance debt for saving Ayvock over there. I am sorry but I cannot tell you the details right now. However, I would feel better knowing I had your blessing to leave Wolflen.”
“Why would my blessing matter?” Wolflen asked.
“You are...you are our leader. And while you may not be the Izenian King, you are revered as much by me, and my many others.”
“I...I don't know what to say.”
“Just please say I have your blessing to leave. I'm going either way, but I would feel better if it were with permission.”
“Of course. Akartha you say?” Wolflen replied.
Mage Dawson nodded.
“Well,” Wolflen remarked, “it would take some time to return by way of boat and conventional traveling. Perhaps I might speed your journey. As you know I can teleport from place to place. If you are okay with it, I could whisk you there in moments and be back just as quickly.”
“It would save time, yes.”
“Very well. Are you ready to leave now then?”
Mage Dawson nodded.
“Wait,” Flint Calmbreeze interjected, “I want to thank you Mage Dawson...for saving my son. What more can be done for him?”
“Nothing,” Mage Dawson smiled, “his body is healed already. Now all that is to be done is to wait another day for him to wake.”
“Thank you. My sword is yours if you ever have need of it.”
Mage Dawson bowed his head slightly.
“Katrina, you want to go with us? Might be able to show you around a bit more this time if so,” Wolflen stated, “since things are a little more settled now.”
“I would love to visit. But not now. Let's wait until others can go with us. Besides we need you back right away if we are to decide our next move here.”
“Good point. Okay Mage Dawson, I am going to ask you to shut your eyes while I teleport us to Akartha,” Wolflen said as he rounded the table and approached, “and I will tell you when to open them when we arrive. Are you ready?”
“Ready here,” Mage Dawson remarked as he shut his eyes and felt Wolflen put a hand on his shoulder.
In an instant, they were whisked away to Akartha at the temple of the Gods. Wolflen couldn't help but recall the last time he had teleported and found himself there. As they looked on, they were in the main sanctuary, and ahead, Priests turned instantly to greet their new guests and also find out how it was that they had appeared out of nowhere.
“Mage Dawson?” The voice asked, “Is that you?”
“Priest Veible,” Mage Dawson said as he opened his eyes, “yes, it is me...and Steward of Akartha Lord Wolflen Darkmoon as well. He has magic of transportation, and we have returned.”
Priest Veible stood covered in robes, but Wolflen noticed what he thought to be leather armor underneath; at least a breast piece and perhaps leggings as well.
“You look to be wearing some armor Priest,” Wolflen commented, “Has there been an attack?”
“You could say that yes. Some phantom Izenian causing havoc. He has struck the temple more than once, and already four of our Priests are slain. Of course most of the city has been busy with fortifications, and everyone knows that Izendune itself prepares for war, as do most of the Izenian cities here on Polithica, but this one phantom has been attacking the temple sporadically. It isn't just confined to temple attacks though. He strikes from shadow all throughout the city. Each time, a note is left, and credit is given to the Katuk clan for the killings.”
“Nambrin,” Wolflen said in a low tone, “so he still hunts for me.”
“Nambrin you say?” Priest Veible remarked, “Well we have a name now at least, but why would he hunt you? And why would he leave such strange notes at the crime scene to claim credit for the Katuk clan?”
“It's a long story, and I don't have time to explain. I shall handle it though.”
“Wolflen you know you are needed back in Molith presently,” Mage Dawson answered.
Mage Dawson was right. Wolflen was on a short timetable, and besides he knew he still had friends recovering from injuries on Molith, as well as a cleanup effort that was still underway there. It was hard for him to make a split second decision as to what to do now.
“You are right Mage Dawson,” Wolflen replied, “but this threat has lingered long enough.”
“You will go it alone then?” Mage Dawson asked.
“No. I will find Shania Arcter, master Ranger of Akartha. Together we will track this threat and deal with it. Hopefully it will not take long. If I am right, this Nambrin will happily meet me once he learns I am here. What I am expecting though is that this time, he won't have Mortican and a Dragon on standby.”
“I see,” Mage Dawson returned. “Well, I will stay and offer some prayers before I begin my work. Will you join me?”
“Not now,” Wolflen answered, “but when this threat is gone I will return for such a cause.”
“Be well Lord Darkmoon,” Priest Veible interjected, “we look forward to your safe return. When last you and I laid eyes, you were but an inexperienced pup. Now look at you though...the wolf has grown up and has become a champion for our people. Kesper be praised.”
“Thank you Priest. I go now to track this threat. I bid you both a safe and good day.”
Wolflen turned and exited the temple. He felt the cold chill of Akartha air engulf him once he was outside. He had to admit it was a bit chilly, and he almost wished he had brought some furs with him. Still, he was Izenian. He knew he would put the cold from his mind in short time, and so he did. He stared at the
platform steps ahead of him a moment. There were workers out using a horse-drawn snow plow that were currently scraping snow from the steps and walkway beyond. Wolflen smiled. He knew that the last time he was upon the temple steps they were completely clear, and he had been in a rush to find out more about his manifest. At that time, the Free Mages (three) had been in town. Their absence since could already be noticed. Their magic wasn't keeping snow off the walkways, and nor had it cleared the courtyard as it once had.
Wolflen began descending the platform steps, still wearing his favorite burnt-orange colored armor, and he continued down the walkway to the large iron gates. He smiled seeing them still standing open. It wasn't currently snowing, but the skies were gray overhead and he knew it could snow at anytime. As he entered the street, he turned left. He knew the way to the Ranger Sect House; the Ranger Guild of Akartha. After all, he had once wanted to become one himself, and had often spent time there in effort to learn whatever he could in advance of the training he might one day receive.
He continued walking. It was silly in a way he knew. I could easily teleport there. Still, he hadn't been able to walk the streets of Akartha freely since he originally left on his quest to find Elven lands, and the answers they might hold for him. Now it was refreshing to be walking the streets again, though the cold nagged at him. He knew he would be fine once he acclimated again, but meanwhile it was colder than the places he had grown acclimated to recently.
He rounded another corner until he came upon the familiar site of the Ranger Sect House in Akartha. It, like the temple of the Gods had platform steps, and a courtyard out front, though there were no iron bars or gates. He smiled as he saw the building. He guessed that the snowy roof and snowy courtyard added to its beauty. Here though, there were no horse-drawn plows scooping snow from walkways, as they at least were clear. Ranger magic. He grinned and strode toward the large double doors after cresting the platform steps and finding himself below the overhang of the massive porch.
At the main doors he paused, reading the markings on the door. They were written in the Izenian tongue, and simply said “Honored House of Akartha Rangers”. He nodded to himself silently and opened one of the doors before entering. Once inside, he was standing in a narrow hallway with doors to the left and right all through the corridor. He knew where some of them led; gardens, training rooms, and one led to the dorms housed within he knew. For the moment however, these destinations were of no interest to him, so he kept walking straight forward toward the large door at the end of the corridor. It was about 200 steps away, and Wolflen opened it as he reached it.
Beyond that door he could smell the scent of incense in the air. It was sweet, and Wolflen knew that the Rangers were likely holding training classes on the second floor as a set of steps was just beyond him now. He climbed them quickly, hearing the voice of an instructor as they taught a class down the hall to the left. It was an herbalism class he could tell, and he recalled how the instructors there always filled the air with sweet scents as a way of giving students an atmosphere conducive with learning and at the same time, keeping them in touch with the truth about the many uses for various plants and herbs.
Wolflen kept walking however, and merely peered into the doorway a moment as he passed. Students were all gathered round a large fire pit and held various plants in their hands as the instructor went around the room to speak about each one. Wolflen wasn't going to linger, but something made him pause. Perhaps it was the sweet smell, or perhaps something more. He leaned in on the doorway until at last, the instructor noticed him.
“Can I help you?” the man asked striding toward Wolflen.
The man did not recognize Wolflen, nor would there be any reason he should Wolflen knew. Wolflen merely smiled and was polite with his response.
“Just pausing a moment to see first-hand what I once thought I would be learning. My name is Wolflen Darkmoon. I come here today on business with Master Shania. Do you know if she is in her office?”
“She should be yes. But Wolflen Darkmoon you say? Class, take pause and meet the Steward of Akartha. Meet the first War Mage of our people...”
Wolflen smiled and straightened himself, nodding in the direction of the students inside. He offered a quick wave, and then turned his attention back to the instructor.
“I wasn't aware that my name was so known here,” Wolflen replied.
“Of course it is Lord Darkmoon. It is an honor to meet you.”
“The honor is mine.”
“Is it over then?” The instructor asked, “The war. If you are here I assume you are here to inform us of such outcome.”
“Unfortunately no. There has been a big battle in Molith, and some of our Knights of the city will not return. War still continues. I am actually here on business now though and must return soon. You say Shania is likely upstairs in her office?”
“Yes,” the instructor replied, “she should be. And should you need our assistance, feel free to stop back this way. These are but apprentices in the craft, but there are some here that might be able to aid you in your endeavors.”
“Thank you. I take my leave of you now.”
As Wolflen turned, he heard the commotion of students in the background fading from earshot. He also heard the instructor reigning in their excitement which he found mildly amusing. He hadn't expected to be noted as a celebrity.
As he continued down the hall, there was another set of stairs which he climbed, reaching another door just beyond. As he passed through it, he entered a large room which was a garden room itself. The flooring was covered in grass above dirt, and the ceiling was high enough to allow for trees throughout. Most of them were evergreen trees, though a few other types were there as well, including some fruit trees. Wolflen walked among them for a moment, this time admiring the scent of pine as he walked. On the far walls he noticed a couple of fountains, no doubt used to give the vegetation needed water throughout the entire place.
He kept walking and finally he reached the back wall after about 2000 more steps of walking. There he saw the doors to Shania's office, but before he could reach for them, he paused. Something he saw out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. It was the figure of Shania, and she was sitting against a nearby tree with a book in her hands. As Wolflen turned slowly, he knew it was her. He had seen her before, and so recognizing her was not hard.
Shania had blonde, braided hair that was tied into a pony-tail at the nape of her neck. She sat in light armor, wearing a fur-lined cloak that flowed over her like water over a stone. Her face was slightly weathered, but despite her age, she maintained a certain beauty about her. She looked up over her book as Wolflen paused, studying him as well.
“She's not in there,” she said at last once she knew Wolflen saw her.
Wolflen smiled and finished turning.
“Lady Shania Arcter I presume?” he asked.
“Perhaps. Who is it that asks?” came her reply.
“Wolflen Darkmoon of Akartha asks Lady Shania. And if you are not her, then I am not he.”
She smiled and stood before bowing her head slightly.
“Lord Darkmoon,” she said as she raised her head once more, “I am honored to see you here. What brings you here this day? Can I offer you some refreshments or a meal perhaps?”
“I wouldn't say no to a cup of tea,” he remarked with a smile.
“Of course. Shall we step into my office?”
Wolflen nodded and waited for Shania to take the lead. He followed her into her office, which had wooden flooring, several tables with various bows and arrows, some cupboards with goblets inside (which she retrieved 2 of) a few fire braziers, a desk, a few chairs, and some plants in the far corner next to a large closet. On the other side of the room, Wolflen noted a sink, and a door to another room which he assumed was a restroom or perhaps personal quarters.
“I have Izenian Black, Jasmine, or Mangleberry. Do you have a preference?”
“Izenian Black would be great,” Wol
flen responded, “if it is not too much trouble.”
“Nonsense,” she remarked, “the visit of yours brings many questions as I am sure you have guessed. Still, to take tea with our new Steward is not too much trouble.”
Shania retrieved a teapot from one of the cupboards and took it to the sink to fill with water. Then she retrieved some Izenian Black tea leaves from a nearby short barrel and added them to the water. She did not hang the kettle over a brazier however, but simply set it on the counter a moment and placed her hands upon it. Wolflen smiled. He knew she was using her elemental magic to bring fire against the kettle until it began to bubble and steep. After a moment, she released the kettle and pulled a large wooden spoon from one of the drawers at the counter and began to stir the tea. Then when it was ready, she filled two goblets and offered one to Wolflen as she turned. Next she invited him to sit with her on a nearby couch, which had oak framing, and furs draped over it for comfort.
Wolflen took a seat with goblet in hand and thanked her. She too sat beside him and took her first sip of tea.
“So,” Shania began, “Wolflen Darkmoon finally comes to the Ranger Sect House of Akartha. I admit, given your own letters of times past, and recommendations from your family, I thought you were to become a Ranger yourself one day.”
“In truth,” Wolflen began (and slipping into Elven custom of small talk over tea), “for the longest time it was my sole wish. However life threw me a curve, and my path became a much different one then I envisioned from the start.”
“Yes,” she replied, “I heard. We all did really. First the Free Mages spread the news—that our people were gifted a War Mage from this very city. We were told that you ventured into Elven lands far to the North, and eventually after the death of our Steward, they led an army North to find you and to bequeath to you the seat of Steward here in Akartha. How are they now?”