by B J Hanlon
Any moment a crossbow bolt or an arrow might fly out and kill him. He held up his hand and summoned a bright ethereal light. The gloomy forest illuminated, he was almost certain a few plants cringed.
An earsplitting squeal erupted as an animal leapt from the underbrush and charged. It took him barely a moment to see it was a boar about two feet tall and built for destruction. Edin leapt into the air, barely getting out of the way of the animal. It tried to raise its head to knock him out of the air but somehow got disorientated. It stumbled and slid.
The horse reared up and slammed back to the ground clipping the stumbling beast in its back. It squealed in pain. A moment later, the wolf leapt forward and sunk its teeth into the animal’s neck. It fought back but the wolf didn’t let go. Even with its injured paw, the wolf had the leverage. Edin ran up and stabbed his sword into the boar’s thick hide. The eluvrian steel blade pierced it like it was a leaf. Blood poured from it and the boar collapsed. A moment later, the wolf let go. Instead of tearing into it, the wolf looked at Edin and lowered its head.
Meat… A fresh kill. At least a hundred pounds of meat, enough to last him for weeks if preserved.
His stomach growled, or maybe it was the wolfs. He looked at the horse, already laden with his pack. It’d protest carrying such a load when it already had Edin.
“I think a break is in order,” Edin said. He took his sword and spent almost an hour dissecting the animal taking the shoulders, legs, loins and part of the back. He loved ribs but didn’t know how to cook them.
A butcher would know what cuts he took and would probably berate him for the job he was doing. During the butchering, Edin tossed a leg to the wolf and hefted probably fifty pounds onto horse’s rump before starting a fire and cooking the shoulder. Or the butt as it was better known.
Edin ate a bit as the wolf wolfed down the leg and gnawed on the bone like a puppy. Edin wasn’t shocked to realize the term wolfing was apt.
He packed and then started forward again though the wolf, he had to give it a name too, was yawning and clearly tired. Edin really didn’t want to camp in the forest if he could help it but with every twist and turn of the road, and the small amount of ambient light lessening he was almost certain he’d have to.
Soon, the sun disappeared completely and the forest turned black and he resorted to his ethereal ball of light.
Another couple of hours went by, he passed stone walls and heard the sounds of the night critters. It was odd since so little moved during the day.
He grew tired and struggled to stay saddled. His mind drifted as he tried to keep his eyes open.
The wolf barked. Edin pulled the reins and looked. It was staring at what seemed to be a break in the trees. A thin path between a large oak and thorn bushes. It was wide enough for the horse but too short for him on top. The branches of the oak were somehow arched like a tunnel.
“What’s in there?” Edin said as the wolf hobbled into the darkness. “What do you think?” Edin asked petting the horse. It didn’t reply.
The wolf returned like the ghost from the day before startling him. It looked, let out a yap and disappeared back in. It wanted Edin to follow.
“Okay.”
He dismounted and led the horse down a sloping trail. After a few minutes, it opened up into a glade with a single tree in the center. Grass grew but no higher than the horse’s hoof.
In the shine of his ethereal light, the tree seemed to be pure white. There were no leaves hanging from it and the gnarled branches twisted and weaved between each other like snakes in their den.
Edin dismounted and glanced around the clearing. It was as if the other plants gave the tree a wide berth out of fear.
It reminded him of the first night his powers manifested… the clearing with the elven ruins. He felt gooseflesh climbing his body as he moved closer to the tree.
A soft glow seemed to emanate from it.
Edin reached out and ran his fingers along a branch. The wolf howled and Edin’s eyes closed.
Again, it felt like he was there in the room with Justicar Merik. The man seemed bigger without his riding cloak. His black doublet was stretched across a hulking body like a sail that caught the wind. His cold eyes moved with his head and zeroed in on a group of men dressed in mismatched uniforms and had a black cloth tied around their arms.
Merik strode over to the table, his body moving with the fluid grace of a dancer and stood before them. Slowly, a few of the men closest to him took notice and quieted.
“I’m looking for a man, he headed out of the south gate last night,” Merik said.
More of them clamped their mouths shut. A few in the center, taller and drunker than the rest either didn’t hear or didn’t care.
Slowly and with some nudges from their companions, men began to turn their heads.
“A loan boy left by horseback, light brown hair and carrying a sword.” Merik said, his voice quieter, yet somehow even more threatening. “Did anyone see him?”
“Who wants to know?” A man said, his hand on his mug and his head bobbing about his shoulders.
“I demand to.”
“Demand?” the man chortled, “you can only demand something if ya pay me… dirty boy lover.” He placed both hands on the table and stood. A few of his mates tried to pull him but he shrugged them off. “You and your cursed church are nothing but ingrates…” Edin recognized him, it was the foreign man, the one that looked like the jeweler’s guard turned thief. He towered over the table, towered over the Justicar. He pushed his chair, it crashed to the ground.
Merik’s deep black eyes stared at him, his mouth twitched. A scar ran from his cheek to his ear with another thicker one just above his left eyebrow.
“Sit or die,” Merik said.
“You can’t demand anything of me. Go from here scoundrel–” the man ordered.
A blade whipped out and caught the man beneath the jaw, its black metal driving into his brain. The man’s mouth tried to move but no words came out.
“The boy…” Merik said casually pulling the knife from the guard and dunking the blade into another man’s mug. He swirled it around absently as the body drop to the floor. Blood pooled as people scooted their chairs back and lifted their legs. None left though. Fear was riddled through their souls at that moment.
“Last seen heading south alone on a gray or black horse. If you saw him, tell me now or the gods won’t help you when I find the truth.”
A man at the end of the table tapped a friend and said, “a young man?”
Merik nodded, “he was heading south, on a gray horse. Light brown hair, said he was looking for the closest western road.”
“Did you tell him?”
He shook his head. “Our employer doesn’t let us converse with other travelers, they could be thieves or con men trying to pull a heist.”
“Where did you see him?”
“Before noon yesterday, took us till five to get to the city, my guess, would be about four leagues south.”
Merik rubbed his chin. His eyes falling to the dead man, “clean this up.” The Justicar turned and walked out of the quiet tavern into the night.
A man in matching cloak with a red badge saluted him, a Ranger, the rank below a Justicar. “What are your orders?” The Ranger said.
“He went south. Though he told a caravan he was headed west I don’t believe it. A mage always runs toward the Isle of Mists.”
“I thought it was only myth,” the man said.
“What does the Citadel say about it? Does it say it’s a myth?”
“No... but we’ve not found it in hundreds… a thousand years.”
“Others have, more than one tongue has been loosened…” Merik sneered, “I need you and half the sellswords to head east, I’ll head south on his trail with the remaining ones. He’s either headed to Alestow or Carrow. Watch the pass and question any travelers who attempt to cross.”
“His companions?”
“An old man, a guard and a wo
man… we need to look for them as well. Now go!” Merik didn’t shout, but his voice held the bestial power of a crillio’s roar.
Everything went blurry and suddenly Edin was somewhere else. A bald man stood before three others, all of them hairless but their eyebrows.
It took a second to recognize one of the men, the shock of red hair was gone but it was Berka. The same as in the nightmare. If Edin had a body, his heart would be pounding and he might just punch the kid.
The room was a gray stone, almost white but not, iron bars covered open air windows and a thick wooden door was shut. Two men had gold badges, another with a white.
“Cadet tell us what you know about your friend from Yaultan,” the man with the white badge said. He looked much older than the others, seventy at least. Skin sagged from nearly every part of his face. He seemed skeletal and in the glowing fire light he possessed a demonic quality.
“Yes, Inquisitor,” Berka said, “when I knew him he showed no signs of the taint. We were friends.” His face twisted into one Edin had only ever seen him use when speaking of Dexal. It was a look of loathing. “We have known each other all our lives, he is the son of Lady Laural who owns… owned the manor. He has light brown hair, stands nearly five and three quarters feet tall-”
“I don’t need a description,” the inquisitor hissed. “What is he like? What does he want Cadet?”
“He wants…” Berka paused for a moment as if to think. “He wants to be what most young boys want… to be the hero, save the princess. We spent years playing at it… then training. Sword play in the forest, a little woodcraft and tracking…”
“Track whom?”
“Each other,” Berka said. “We pretended to be Por Fen, or pirate hunters. Heroes. They were foolish children’s games. He wasn’t an abomination at that time.”
A quick hand lashed out and slapped Berka across the cheek. Just as quick a Justicar slid his hand back into his sleeves. A tear of blood appeared on the pale skin.
“He was always an abomination, remember that,” the Justicar said. “His kind are born evil.”
“No need to strike the lad,” the Inquisitor said. “He was tricked with the boy’s witchcraft.” His voice was calm and even, but it was even more spinetingling.
Berka looked at the Inquisitor. “He must have. He is evil and I am ashamed I ever knew him…”
“And his mother?”
“Laural is kind… was kind.”
“She bred that abomination… she must’ve cavorted with one. Would you have let her live?”
“I…” Berka paused, his giant Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He lowered his gaze to the floor. “I would’ve done my duty.”
Another quick slap crashed into Berka’s face. He cried out as a splatter of blood hit the gray stone wall. “Do not lie to the Inquisitor,” the Justicar said.
Berka looked back, his chest rose and fell at a slow even pace. “Apologies my lords. I am…” he paused again, “young and naive. Laural was kind to me, kind to many in the village.”
“Does that excuse her from being a stain on humanity, on our church and the gods,” the Inquisitor said.
“No sir… though I was not fully conscious when they pulled me from the manor…” Berka swallowed. “I still remember her screams, and Kesona’s. It haunts me… why did Kes have to die?”
“It was said she and the mage were lovers. Anyone who loves a mage is as great of a threat to our world as the abomination itself.”
Berka nodded, “Edin… I mean the abomination did care for her, and she for him. Could it not have been that she was just as much fooled by witchcraft as I was? How come I live and she does not?”
“He makes a good point,” the Justicar said with an upturn of his lips, “maybe we kill this boy. Everyone said they were inseparable. He could be a spy for the abomination.”
Berka’s body tensed.
The old man gave an appraising eye toward Berka and then shook his head. “The cadet applied to join the academy prior to the abomination’s display of powers, he had already committed to a life in service to the Vestion and I do not think him smart enough to be a spy.”
Berka nodded quickly, his eyes moving toward the Justicar’s thick calloused hands.
“You are ready to begin your training cadet, in the field one day you may find a magus that reminds you of the naive friendship of youth.” There was a slow pause as an almost pleasant smile came over the Inquisitor. “All magi are evil and if we find them, they must be slain. It is the only way to keep our world from descending into darkness and anarchy. Merik will end the life of your friend, and all who travel with him. He will be long gone from the world by the time you become an Adept. Think no more of this one you used to call friend.”
Berka nodded.
And a moment later, Edin heard a woman sobbing softly. “Please, someone… anyone come find me. Dear Losilin, father of the gods… please help.”
A crash of thunder exploded over head like two giant’s swords colliding in battle. Thick drops splashed down with a plop. Leaves rattled and cried as the world around him shook. Edin looked up between dead branches as a bright spark of lightning flashed through the dark sky overhead. Another crash of thunder.
Edin stumbled to his feet and felt cold, unbearably cold. He noticed the wolf next to him. Where was his horse? He quickly ran and ducked beneath a tree and tugged the cloak around him. It was no good. The thing was wet. A breeze pushed through chilling him more. Edin’s teeth chattered like a beetle’s rattle. The trees were so dense that no additional water reached him, but it didn’t matter. He was soaked and freezing. Across the glade, he saw the horse calmly standing beneath another overhang eating a bit of grass. His stomach growled again. He was starved but the pack was on the horse.
Slowly, he remembered what had happened and his gaze moved toward the dead white tree.
They weren’t dreams. Edin knew it. He was in the room watching everything unfold.
Edin shivered and brought his knees to his chest, wrapping the cloak around his body. Edin stared at the spot beneath the tree… he didn’t remember lying down, there was no bedroll, no fire. What happened?
Edin shivered for a long time his mind blanking and coming back as if Horston was erasing it on the chalkboard.
Slowly, the rain began to let up, the huge drops turned to a drizzle then petered out. The clouds though stayed giving a gray pitch to the world. He stood, he was starving and wanted some of the boar meat. He began to cross the glade, though steered clear of the tree.
He noticed white, brown and red bones near where he slept. As he reached the horse and saw the boar was gone. Edin raised an eyebrow and looked back at the wolf. The animal was staring at him with all four paws on the ground.
That was curious… Edin thought then he started rummaging in his pack. Did he put some away? He pulled out a damp piece of bread and the aleskin. No meat.
“Did you eat it all in one night?” Edin sighed as the wolf hobbled to him. He was using his leg though he was still shaky… How was he able to so quickly?
He stooped and gently touched the broken leg, the wolf winced slightly, but not much. The beast was tough.
He grabbed the reins and steered it toward the small path. As he did, he looked back at the tree… and thought of the dreams. Then he remembered the crying voice and thought of her. The woman from the mural?
As they went through, Edin tried to piece it together. He’d seen Merik at the manor and knew what he looked like even though it was from afar. Berka had been around him for almost his entire life. They were real people… what about the others in the vision? They had to be real then too…
His thoughts went to his companions, Edin had no idea where this village was and how to find it? What if they already passed through? What if sellswords or Por Fen captured them?
Edin scratched at his chin, he had a small beard and mustache now. What was that place?
Edin ate the soggy bread, though there was little and did no
thing to fill him.
Back through the small path, he mounted and headed on. He guessed he was headed north though he was unsure of what time it was or how much further until he reached the end of these woods.
The wolf was able to move at a faster pace now which was almost as shocking as how he ate nearly an entire boar. The wolf needed a name, he thought, he couldn’t keep calling it wolf… and the horse too. They were his companions now. Ahead of him a wind barreled down the road. Edin shivered again. It was as cold as the blizzard that came down a few months back. The wolf was gray and white like that cold day. Bliz. He thought, Bliz.
“I’ll call you Bliz,” Edin said. “And if he’s Bliz, you can be… Hail.” Edin patted the horse’s mane.
The road was muddy and soon Bliz was half brown. For some reason the horse… Hail didn’t seem to worry about Bliz anymore.
Another mystery, did they have some sort of talk? A heart to heart or something?
The gray light was fading fast through the canopy. His stomach growled and he quenched it with a big drink from the aleskin. A large half mound emerged on either side. The road seemed to have been carved right through it. As he passed, he began to see scattered breaks in the forest.
Short stumps reached from the ground like tombstones on both sides and far ahead, the trees disappeared and he saw smoke and the flicker of a fire in a window. It looked warm and pleasant.
Edin shivered. Most of the wetness from his clothes was gone though that did little to alleviate the chill. He could stop and ask for shelter. Then he remembered the Justicar.
It would be foolish. A blotard move if ever there was one. More people seeing him would mean more eyes for the Por Fen.
But what if this was Mathurn? What if his friends were only a short way away?
It grew nearly black out with the stars and moon hidden. Hail stumbled and whinnied and Edin could barely see Bliz next to him. It was too dark and the animals couldn’t go anymore. He had to camp.