by Logan Petty
One day, under Tirinele’s watch, Sawain devised a new formation for scouting and wanted to run it, but Banthan was vocally unhappy with it. This was the third attempt at the formation, but Banthan refused to cooperate with Sawain.
“Why are you putting me in the back? I’m not afraid to take point! My eyes are the sharpest on the team!”
Sawain sighed and rubbed his temples, “This is supposed to simulate a riding formation. I need you in the back so you can watch our flanks. It has nothing to do with anything else, Banthan.”
Banthan growled and began to speak, but Sawain cut him off, “Alright, Mirehawk, fall into position. Let’s run it again. Banthan, just do as you’re told.”
Banthan grew red and snarled at Sawain, but he did not humor him. He turned his back on the ill tempered elf and got to his position in the formation. Banthan wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword.
“You think you can talk down to me because you’re the son of a celebrity who got herself killed? You think I’m going to just pity you and fall in line, even though your leadership is worse than your dead mom’s?”
Banthan lunged at Sawain and drew his sword from its scabbard in a slashing motion. Sawain had a feeling this was coming. He had waited ten months for this confrontation. He rolled forward and avoided the deadly cut. He bounced to his feet and drew his sword in time to parry another slice from Banthan.
The rest of Mirehawk drew their weapons, ready to come to Sawain’s aid. Tirinele’s voice stopped them.
“No! This fight is between them. If Sawain is going to have a solid team, he has to prove his right to lead to everyone. This is the only way Banthan will accept him. Let them have their fight.”
The others silently and hesitantly obeyed. Sawain was still on defense. He parried a swift barrage of thrusts and slashes from the enraged Banthan. He allowed Banthan to continue his onslaught of blows. In his angered state, Banthan fought recklessly, and it did not take much energy to deflect his attacks, though they came quickly.
Sawain knocked away each attack with little effort. He led Banthan in a wide circle. Banthan grew tired as none of his attacks connected. Sawain decided to end the fight. He lowered his defense for a split second. Banthan thrust with all his might, aiming for Sawain’s right shoulder. Sawain rolled that shoulder back and led Banthan past him. This threw Banthan off balance. Sawain spun around and followed the trajectory of his roll, then came around hard with his sword. He slammed the flat of his blade between Banthan’s shoulders. The force of the blow, coupled with his lack of balance, sent Banthan to the ground. He landed hard, face first into the dirt of the training ring.
Sawain placed the tip of his curved blade on the base of Banthan’s skull, “Are you done with your mutiny now, Banthan? Can we get back to training or do I need to beat some more sense into you?”
Banthan swatted the blade away and began to struggle to his feet. Sawain could tell by his frantic movements that Banthan still wanted a fight. He kicked him hard in the ribs, which flipped him onto his back. Banthan groaned and grabbed at his sternum, wrapping both arms around it. Sawain quickly moved in and knelt down on Banthan’s chest, which pinned his arms. Banthan gasped in pain as Sawain put all of his weight into the pin. Sawain snarled at Banthan. He felt the rage building in his chest.
“Have you had enough now? I’m tired of you causing trouble for the team. You are our weakest link, Banthan, and I am about ready to break you loose! If you want to stay as a part of Mirehawk, you need to start pulling your weight and stop complaining about every order I give you! I want you on this team, you are a great spotter and a skilled swordsman when your head is in it. Tell me now, do you want to be on this team?”
Banthan glared at him for a moment while he struggled for breath. Tears welled up in his eyes, though Sawain did not know if it was from pain or regret. He looked away to the dirt and muttered a response.
“Yes.”
Sawain cocked his ear, “What was that?”
“Yes! I want to be on Mirehawk!”
Sawain smirked, “Then can you start following orders?”
Banthan responded hesitantly in a low growl, “Yes…”
“What?”
“Yes! Now let me up, you’re crushing my ribs!”
Sawain stood up and released his opponent. Banthan sat up and rubbed his bruised ribs. Tirinele strode toward the two with her arms crossed.
“Well, now that you two are done with your squabble, can we—”
Her chastisement trailed off as her gaze caught something behind Sawain. He turned to see Captain Nerelis limping toward the group. A misty phantom strode alongside him, dressed in flowing robes and a fur trimmed cap. Naralei gasped when she saw the condition of her father and ran to him. He held up a hand to stop her advance.
“Stay back, Nara!”
He turned his focus to Tirinele, “Lady Tirinele, we must speak with you in private, immediately.”
The director’s face was grim. She scowled, then hesitantly nodded.
“Very well, meet me in my office. Mirehawk, you are to continue running drills.”
She stalked off, behind the other two at a hasty pace. Mirehawk Team was left alone in the ring, exchanging confused and anxious glances. Naralei was separated from the main group by a few paces, but was closest to Sawain and Banthan. She stared in the direction of her father, and grasped at the amulet around her neck. Sawain could tell she was worried. He walked to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sure he’s alright, Nara.”
Sawain mentally grimaced at his weak attempt at consolation. He did not believe his words. He was sure Naralei did not, either. The moment he saw Nerelis’ reaction, visions of the horrors he saw in Underfell Town flashed through his mind. He was certain that the Grey King’s forces found a way into the forest at last. He dropped his hand from his cousin’s shoulder and marched past her. Her voice caught his ear. It was shaky and imploring.
“Where are you going?”
Sawain stopped only for a moment as he glanced over his shoulder, “to find Jatharr. I need to talk to him.”
Tobi called out to him next, “It’s him, isn’t it, Sawain? You think it’s the one who attacked Anvilheim.”
Sawain halted in his tracks. He spun around and made a gesture with his hands that signified silence as he muttered in low tones.
“Keep it down, Tobi.”
He hesitated for a moment, then motioned for all of Mirehawk to come closer together. Everyone eagerly obeyed, even Banthan, who forgot about his irritation in all of the excitement. Sawain addressed them in a hushed voice.
“Do you remember the Grey King that I told you about when I first arrived? He’s an undead giant who uses the magic called Necromancy to control the dead. He is the reason I am here. If his forces are threatening the forest, I may be the only one who can do anything about it. I need Jatharr though, because he has fought these monsters before. He can help me.”
Mari gawked incredulously at him, “So, what? You train with us for a year, you finally pull us together as a team, and now you’re going to leave us? Not happening! We’re going with you!”
Sawain shook his head, “No, this threat is too dangerous. These monsters are nothing like the things we’ve faced in training. They are nearly impossible to kill without a holy weapon.”
Loraleth glanced around. Sawain could tell she had an idea.
“What about a weapon blessed by the Arborhart?”
Sawain remembered reading in one of his books about a legend passed down by the elves of Alfhaven. The Arborhart was a sacred tree. Warriors would dip their blades in the resin of the Arborhart to receive its divine blessing before going out to battle during the great wars of old. It was a long shot, and Sawain did not really believe that tree sap could give a blade a holy edge. He also did not believe in the gods at all a year ago. He was not about to dismiss the idea of the Arborhart’s blessing.
“That could work, but still…”
; Naralei cut him off, “Sawain, we are all rangers. We are made for war. You know full well we can handle ourselves. Have we not proven that to you?”
Sawain hesitated, then smiled and nodded. “You’re right. We are a team. Alright, Mirehawk, let’s get moving. We need to locate some blessed weapons and we need to find Jatharr. Banthan, Mari, Timbrel, Loraleth: You four go to the Resin Pool in the Arborhart and bless our swords and knives. Everyone give them any weapons you plan on using. Try to pick up a bladed buckler or a sword for Jatharr, as well. Nara, Tobi, you are coming with me to find Jatharr and get him on our side. It shouldn’t be hard. I have a feeling he has not just been sitting around, getting fat the past ten months.”
This was more than a mere hunch. Sawain visited Jatharr and Marta often during his stay in Alfhaven. More than once, he was drafted to spar for hours with the energetic halfling warrior. Jatharr made sure his body and mind both stayed as sharp as his blade.
Everyone nodded and signaled comprehension of their respective missions. Knives and swords were passed to the four in charge of weaponry, then the two teams grouped together. Sawain looked them over, proud to have such a loyal band under his charge.
“Alright, meet at the city gates in an hour and a half. That should give both teams plenty of time to accomplish their goals. Be careful not to tell anyone what we are doing. No one needs to know.”
Tobi piped up, “Not even the director?”
Sawain shook his head, “Not even the director. Enough talk, we’re wasting time. Let’s go.”
Everyone agreed in unison, then broke off and headed for their targets. Sawain’s group did not make it past the main tower before a gruff feminine voice stopped them fast.
“Off so soon?”
Lady Tirinele leaned against the tower wall, beside the door. Her arms were crossed and she looked aggravated. Tobi turned as white as a ghost. Naralei froze like a statue, and Sawain stammered while his mind searched for an excuse.
“I— We—”
Tirinele shook her head and waved her hand to cut him off, “Save it. You three come with me.”
Sawain was not about to disobey the Director of Rowan Circle Fort’s direct order. He was sure the other two would agree. They fell in line and silently followed her into the tower.
She’s going to kill us. I think I would rather face Hilmr again.
She led them up to the top of the tower and into her office. Sawain stepped through the door and noticed they were not the only ones in the room. Captain Nerelis sat in an armchair, brooding. His left leg was wrapped in blood-soaked bandages. The ghost that arrived with him stood silently beside the Director’s desk. Jatharr leaned against the far wall, visibly uncomfortable, though Sawain was not sure if it was because of the ghost or the ill-tempered elf. He was just glad to see his old friend.
Jatharr perked up when he saw Sawain, “Yer a sight for sore eyes, Deathsbane! I hope yer ready to put yer training to the test!”
Sawain glanced at Nerelis, “So, I was right? Is the Grey King’s army in the forest?”
Nerelis gave him a sideways glare that told Sawain that his uncle was in pain, “Not exactly. My squad was attacked by… a pack. They weren’t the clumsy zombies that chased you into the forest last year. They were certainly dead. They had no heat signature. Our vipers never sensed them.”
Lady Tirinele shoved past Sawain and strode to her desk. She inquired to Nerelis.
“Those bites on your leg were not cursed. You were lucky. You said the beasts they were riding looked like giant dogs with oversized canines?”
Nerelis nodded. Tirinele sighed and turned to the ghost.
“Elder Haros, do you know what they were?”
The ghost nodded, “In life, I served as the premier historian for the Triumvirate, and in death, I am still sought out for my knowledge. Yes, I know what they were. From the description Captain Nerelis gave the council, I can comfortably say that they are Bjornhunds. In Common, Bear Hounds. This massive breed of feral dog is native to the Frostwylde. Usually white or brown, sometimes black, depending on the region. Black Bjornhunds are more common in the rocky regions of the Frostwylde, near the Cobalt Mountains. The orcs of Grymhook use them as mounts because of their strength and ferocity. My educated guess is that you ran into Grymhook raiders or mercenaries.”
Sawain cut in, “Or worse.”
The eyes of the living and dead turned to him. He hesitated for a moment, then took a breath and went on.
“If Captain Nerelis’ scouts could not pick up a heat signature, that could mean they were already dead. That would also explain how they would even be a challenge to experienced rangers. I think it’s safe to say that they were acting under the command of the Grey King.”
The ghost, Elder Haros, snorted, “Not this talk of undead giant kings again. Come now, boy. Giants are foolish oafs who can barely get along with the clans of four or five they travel with. No one giant can command such a vast force.”
Sawain ignored the ghostly skeptic and turned to Lady Tirinele, “It has to be him. If he is threatening the forest, I want to ride out and confront his forces. Mirehawk is ready.”
Tirinele shook her head, “No. Have you forgotten the reason you came here? We agreed to give you the training you needed to finish Turin’s quest. Now, I personally don’t think you’re ready, but it seems your divine sponsor believes you are.”
Sawain was confused, “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m officially recognizing Mirehawk team as the first squad of Outrider Rangers in over twenty years. It also means I’m appointing you as their leader. We don’t have mounts ready for you, because we honestly weren’t ready for you to leave so soon. You’ll have to go on foot.. Your first mission as outriders is to go to Bitterdeep Bog to the southeast, near the coast. There, you must seek out the witch named Sibilach. When you find her, she will most likely try to kill you. Just tell her Turin sent you. That should calm her down enough. To prove who you are, give her this.”
Tirinele pulled something from a pocket in her robes and stretched out her hand to Sawain. His heart raced with excitement over all he just learned. He strode toward the Director and took the trinket she held. It was a small lion carved from a bone. It was cylindrical in shape, with its legs pulled up to its body. It was attached to a silver chain. The lion itself fit in Sawain’s hand. He looked at Lady Tirinele with curiosity.
“What’s this?”
She smiled at him, “It’s your next focus. This totem belonged to your mother. There is deep magic in it that only you can connect to. It should serve as a perfect icon for you.”
Sawain was shocked. He studied the totem again. He wondered how Lady Tirinele came into possession of it.
“Where did you get this?”
Nerelis smiled, “That would be my doing. I’ve been doing some reconnaissance work lately. I wanted to try to find leads on any surviving Outriders in Jordborg. It hasn’t been easy, with the hordes of undead roaming the fells.”
Sawain’s heart skipped a beat, “You mean you’ve been outside the forest? You’ve seen the Grey King’s army?”
Nerelis nodded slowly, “Aye, his influence is widespread. I could not get far due to the blockade, but I did manage to find the old farm you told me about. That’s where I found the totem, it proves your story.”
Sawain’s heart filled with joy, “You made it to Mistveil? How’s Simir doing? It’s good to know they’re safe still.”
Nerelis looked confused, “Safe? The farm was abandoned and crawling with zombies. I killed a few dozen of them before I even found the totem in the main house. Not sure how it survived the gnoll looting you told me about. It was thrown on the bed. I guess they thought it was worthless. It’s fortunate for us.”
Sawain’s heart sank to his stomach when he learned the farm was abandoned and Simir was most likely a zombie. It made him physically sick. Tirinele cleared her throat.
“Well, now that we have it, we need to make it work. Take it to S
ibilach. She will help you unlock it’s full potential. There is a good chance you will not be coming back to the city again, so keep that in mind. Take what you need, but travel light. May the ancestors of our people watch over you, my young rangers.”
Sawain had more questions for Nerelis, but it was clear to him that Lady Tirinele was ready for them to leave. He was curious about the creatures that must have followed Nerelis and his team back.
“What about those things that are still out there?”
Tirinele scowled, “I will see to them. You are not to seek them out. If you run into them, be careful, do not engage. If you are forced to fight, take them down if you can. If not, just run from them. If you die, all could very well be lost.”
Sawain nodded, not completely satisfied with the command. He glanced at Jatharr, who looked at him expectantly.
“Oh! Lady, Tirinele, may I request the addition of one more to my team?”
Lady Tirinele raised an eyebrow. Sawain continued.
“I would like to add Jatharr of Underfell Town to Mirehawk Outriders.”
Jatharr perked up. He looked proud and ready to go. Tirinele glanced at him and sighed.
“Very well, request granted. He does have experience fighting undead. I had plans for him, but you will need him more. Now, go and get your affairs in order.. You leave as soon as you are ready. Your quest is too important to wait til the morning.”
Sawain nodded. He turned to leave when he was stopped by Nerelis’ voice.
“Wait, I have something for you and Nara.”
Sawain turned back around. Nerelis was on his feet. He had in his hand an object wrapped in linen. He limped over to them and offered it to Sawain, who took it with a slack jaw. He unwrapped it. Inside was a fingerless gauntlet that looked like it was made of bark. Nerelis spoke as Sawain looked it over.
“That is an Ironbark Gauntlet. All of the rangers from our clan wear them. You don’t have to act so shocked, I’m sure Nara told you by now, as close as you two are. I never expected her to hide it for long. Anyway, this particular gauntlet was your mother’s. It has her personal rune on the wrist plate. I found it at the ambush site after… well, we don’t really have time for that now. I know your mother would want you to have it, and to carry on our clan’s legacy.”