Sorore had never felt such fear in her life - not when they’d left home, not when she’d faced her teachers, not even when the horrible monsters had emerged from the mists. But seeing Frare in her arms, trembling and glassy-eyed as if with a terrible fever, was something that reached deep into her chest and squeezed.
And yet, there was nothing she could do, other than cradle him in her lap as his teeth chattered. Aya was not one for talking, having been just as shaken from the attack of the creatures. Even if she had been up for conversation, Sorore was not entirely sure if she would reply. As irrational as it might be, there was some blame she directed to the girl.
Sorore couldn’t help but look at her every now and then as the troop rode through the trees. Why had Frare rushed to save a girl they barely knew? Was the connection between them that strong? Aya would catch her staring and turn away, flustered at the attention, or perhaps uncomfortable with what had happened to Frare.
They’d made their camp some ways away from the site of the battle - the moans of wounded soldiers finally dissolving as the morning wore on. They had been left alone in their carriage, with sporadic check-in from one or both Paladins. Aya had left, saying some hasty comment about getting air - Sorore suspected that she just wanted to be away from them.
And so, she sat there, humming half-remembered tunes as her brother emerged from his stupor. It was well after the first rays of dawn crept in through the shutters that his eyes fluttered open.
“Whu time is it?” he mumbled.
Sorore couldn’t help herself - giving a little choked cry as she held onto his shoulders.
“Ow,” he said, trying to rise, and failing.
“Rest, tyri,” she said, and he reclined back, “do you remember what happened?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he said, yawning, and yelping as his jaw cracked, “there was the battle, and then there was the thing and I killed it.”
“That’s about right,” she said.
“What I don’t remember… is how we got here,” he said, twisting his head to stare at the beams of light.
“We rode. You were sick,” she said, stroking his head and grimacing, “you sweat all over my clothes.”
“Sorry,” he said, his eyes beginning to lower, “sorry…”
“Just sleep,” she said, as his breathing slowed, “you’ll be fine after you sleep.”
And just like that, he was under, although thankfully not trembling up a storm this time. The two of them stayed like that for a while, Sorore beginning to doze off herself as she felt the air beginning to warm, or at least, as much as it could in the mountains. Time seemed to slide along as she drifted in and out of sleep, until she was rather abruptly jolted out by the carriage door opening.
Aya stepped up into the carriage, moving stiffly as she sat in her usual spot. The two of them sat in silence for awkward moments as each no doubt pondered what exactly to say. Finally, when the tension built up to the point that it felt like a horseshoe around Sorore’s neck, Aya spoke.
“I’m sorry about your brother.”
Sorore wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that, and instead looked at the girl in silence. She could see the deep rings under her eyes, the paleness of her cheeks, and the slight tremble in her hands. And like that, any resentment she had towards Aya melted. Sliding herself out from under Frare’s head, she knelt down on the planks before Aya. Slowly, gently, she slid her fingers under Aya’s face, much to the girl’s confusion.
“I’m sorry too,” she said, “I know we haven’t had much time to talk but… I shouldn’t have been quiet on the way here.”
Frare groaned and turned over in his sleep, leading both girls to jump, and Aya to whack her head on the wooden backing of the seat.
“See? He’ll be fine,” Frare said, rubbing her hand that had smacked into Aya’s leg, “he’ll just sleep it off. He does that for most things.”
“That’s good,” Aya said, grimacing as she felt the back of her head, “I was worried he’d hurt himself for me.”
“He probably did,” Sorore said, leaning in and whispering “to tell the truth, he’s a bit of an idiot that way.”
That was enough for the girl to laugh, and with it so much of the exhaustion and fear fell away. Sorore was left with the realisation that Aya was indeed younger than her, by a fair margin. Grinning, she put her hands on the girl’s knees, and spoke once more.
“I am sorry though. It was hard, leaving home, when we were called. But we always had each other, you’re… alone.”
Aya’s face fell at the remark - she knew the truth of it, but that didn’t make it sting any less.
“But not any more,” Sorore quickly said, “I want to be your friend, Aya, if you don’t mind. And I’m sure Frare would too, once he gets up.”
It seemed like the idea had never occurred to Aya, but the slow smile made all the awkwardness of the request worth it. She slipped her hands into Sorore’s, albeit hesitantly.
“So, friends?” Sorore said.
“I’d like that,” she said.
It was at this moment that Frare chose to yawn so loudly that the two of them nearly jumped again. Sorore in mock fury walked over and jabbed at his shoulder. Shouting in protest, he rolled over and shielded his eyes.
“Hey!” he said, his voice clear, “what was that for?”
“Your sense of timing is excellent,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“What? Why?” he said as he pulled himself up and yawned once more.
“Cover your mouth,” she said as she reached for his ear.
Recognizing the gesture, he did exactly as she told him too, albeit with a squint that related his discontent.
“See. Told you,” she said, turning back to Aya, “he can sleep off anything.”
“I guess he can,” she said.
She was sitting easy now, perhaps not fully calm, but the tension that had ratcheted up her body into a series of severe lines had loosened somewhat.
“What happened while I was sleeping?” said Frare as he rubbed his eyes, “we didn’t get attacked again, did we?”
“Believe me, you’d know. I don’t think even you could’ve slept through that.”
“Is that a challenge?” said Frare, grinning ear-to-ear.
Sorore put her hands on her hips and huffed at her brother, prepared to explain just how rude he was being, until she heard grass being crunched under foot. Before her brother could get another retort in, she held up her hand and looked to the door. Both Aya and Frare quickly silenced themselves as they looked to the western. The footsteps resolved themselves into a pair of voices - Lillian and Niche’s.
“-and you think he’s a threat?” said Niche.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care to find out,” she said.
“He’s a mage. On that alone he’s not to be trusted,” he said.
“And yet, Naia seems to. I don’t understand - he’s barely met this ‘Efrain’, and yet…”
“We’re about to follow him into the woods. To where monsters dwell.”
“What on earth is the commander planning?” she said, “The priority of his should be to protect the children, first and foremost, and we’re going to follow a man who hides his face into heart-knows-where.”
By now, all three of the children were leaning against the wood, Frare and Aya straining to hear.
“Can you make out what they’re saying?” whispered Frare, turning to Sorore, to which she nodded and shushed him.
“We could remove him. We hold equal authority and there are two of us,” said Niche, “the other would have no choice but to…”
“Please tell me you’re joking,” said Lillian, “have you seen his men? Well-armed, well-trained, coordinated, disciplined, and loyal to a fault. It would be us versus slightly under a hundred. We might be able to handle a fourth, maybe a third, if we had the element of surprise, but we don’t. It would be suicide, and worse, the children would be left unprotected. Maybe if Dalia was here…”
Niche sighed as the conversation lapsed into a long silence.
“Knowing her, she’ll wander into the Holy City months after us with a trail of bodies to her name.”
There was something sharper about the silence that followed, as if Sorore could feel the harsh glance given to Niche by Lilian.
“I’m sure she’s fine wherever she is,” he said hastily, “she is nothing if not… independent.”
“I would advise you to speak less ill of your fellows, especially when she has a list of achievements longer than both of ours combined.”
“I don’t understand what the Choir was thinking. Sending us all the way past the Alonshaze, into the Giant’s Stair, with the children no less,” he said, “with a guard composed of merely three paladins and a troop of foreigners and vagrant knights.”
“It’s… not for us to know. Just to follow.”
Another silence, somehow even more heavy than the last.
“You know something, don’t you, Lillian.”
“I don’t. And even if I did know something, it wouldn’t be within my power to change it.”
Sorore found the answer unconvincing, and judging by the sound of his voice, so did Niche.
“Fine then, keep your secrets,” he said, “But that still leaves the question, what do we do?”
“There’s not all that much that we can do, Niche. Follow, protect, and guide.”
“...you’re right, but I wish… never mind. We should tell the children and prepare.”
The three of them stumbled back as they heard the pair approaching the door, finding their seats far more comfortable than before. The door opened, revealing the exasperated faces of the two paladins.
“My lords and ladies,” said Lillian, “are you all well?”
The three offered cursory greetings and a generally positive response. Lillian’s gaze seemed to linger on Aya of the three of them, Sorore found.
“Lord Frare,” she said, “I see you’ve woken up.”
“Good as new,” he said, swinging an arm and nearly hitting Sorore, then grimacing, “or close to it.”
“I’m very glad to hear it,” she said, before pausing to collect her words, “we have been instructed to change paths by commander Naia. He believes the valley cliffs to be too slow, and that there may be an alternate route through the forest.”
“Do you believe him?” said Frare.
“The commander?” she said, “I believe… he believes that it’s a better path.”
“Not him. The mage,” said Frare.
Sorore promptly smacked his head as Lillian’s gaze sharpened.
“You weren’t supposed to say anything,” Sorore complained as her brother pushed her away.
“What do you mean? You never told me not to.”
“So, you heard our conversation,” said Lillian, trying to keep the steel out of her voice.
The twins hung their heads in shame as she surveyed them, not wanting to meet her eyes.
“We did,” said Aya, “you don’t seem to trust the commander, or Efrain.”
“We cannot trust a-” Niche started to say from outside, before Lillian held up a hand.
“Niche, please. Can I handle this?”
Niche looked unhappy with the arrangement, but left, muttering something under his breath.
“Listen, Aya,” Lillian said as she knelt before the girl, “I don’t know how much you know about mages, but I doubt you’ve had to deal with them. I have. There may be some ‘good’ mages, but they are the exception to the rule of those that dabble in sorcery.”
“There’s an entire college of them in Karkos,” said Aya, with a confidence that belied her previous timidness.
“Them?” Lillian snorted, “they are the descendants of those that fled the holy city when they were judged. I doubt they represent a tenth of the dangers their ancestors did. I know you think he may have helped, but you must understand something.”
She folded her hands on the girl’s knees, almost as if she was beseeching her for a blessing.
“Mages are dangerous. They always have been. They contravene the teaching of those Lost. They are volatile, without morals, and entirely self-interested. History tells us that - Angorrah was nearly destroyed during the night of the Burning Trees. Mages may be useful from time to time, but they are not to be trusted.”
Sorore could see that Aya was attempting to formulate some counter argument, but her confidence was flagging. She wondered what spurred the girl to such a defence of mages of all things. Outside of old conjureres that wandered the street and sold their subpar wares, mages were dangerous, everyone knew that.
“Alright,” Aya said, relenting at last, “but he didn’t seem evil to me.”
“It’s not a matter of being evil, so much as it is that they don’t care, not about me, not about you, not about anything except themselves. Sometimes we can offer them rewards to sway their interests, but that can’t replace faith or resolve. Handle them with care, if at all.”
The paladin stood up and rolled her neck.
“That being said, for reasons I don’t understand, commander Naia does seem to trust this one. I suppose he’s not exactly known for his… orthodoxy. Either way, we seem to be following that mage’s directions, for now.”
“You said we were going into the forest,” said Frare, “to where something… evil lives?”
Lillian pursed her lips as she looked back at the twins.
“The woods out here are wild, not like the Angorrah lands. But no matter what is out there, we promised to protect you, and protect you we shall do so. Now, I’d best check our preparations.”
She gave a curt nod, and retreated out the door from whence she came. The trio were stuck in the shade of the cabin as the sounds of packing up echoed around them.
“You don’t think there’s really evil things out there?” said Frare.
Sorore was rather unsurprised that he seemed more curious than upset.
“Monsters, not evil things. You never listen,” she sighed, “these are wild lands, and…”
In the silence that followed, they all knew that their thoughts lingered upon the pale twisted forms and their cold mists.
“My mother once told me, well more than once…” said Aya, “that there were as many good spirits in the lands and waters as there were bad. The trouble was knowing which was which.”
“Let’s hope we find some good ones,” said Sorore, seeking some comfort, “and if we don’t the paladins will protect us.”
Awkward assents followed, and they lapsed back into silence. It didn’t break for a good while after that, even when they started movement, it seemed no one was willing to talk. The gentle movement of the carriage proved soothing enough to Sorore, and he felt herself drifting in and out of the twilight of sleep
The next thing she knew, she was being shaken awake by Frare, telling her that they’d reached a patch of old growth too thick for the carriage to traverse.
“We’ll be riding from here on out,” said Lillian, as she helped Sorore onto the saddle, “we’ve been assured that whatever we’re seeking is close, perhaps an hour or two through the trees.”
The trees here were massive, old things, with thick trunks and canopies casting a gloom over the woods, even though it was the middle of the day. As they rode deeper into the depths of the green, a mist arose, growing thicker by the footstep. Sorore, well past any rest, sat straight in the saddle, feeling Lillian’s armour pressed to her back.
“Does it unnerve you, my lady?” Lillian said.
“What?”
“The mists. I understand if they remind you of the-”
“No, no,” Sorore said quickly, “they feel different.”
“How so?” said Lillian, as she craned her head to look forwards. The other riders were shadows in the mist, close as they were. At this point, they were almost riding in a single file as they walked through the trees.
“They feel… the mists before, when those things came, it felt… cold. So cold. Like it was reaching into your breast and freezing your heart. An angry cold. These feel… unwelcoming, but not angry.”
She inhaled deeply, a faint scent of pine needles and wet earth filling her nostrils.
“And it… I don’t know. It feels… old.”
As the group neared a depression in the earth, Sorore heard an unfamiliar voice from the top of the convoy.
“Here’s the unpleasant part. Just keep going forward, and trust me, don’t light a torch.”
“Lillian, what does that mean?” she said, turning back to the paladin.
Lillian had nothing to offer other than a shake of the head and a stony expression. As they slowed to a crawl in the deepening darkness, Sorore began to hear whispers. In the walls of earth around her, there were things looking at her, reaching for her, calling out to her. Sorore closed her eyes, praying to Falekaze, whose light warded off evil things, clinging tight to the horse’s neck.
The minutes seemed to stretch by as the voices clawed at her. Suddenly, they faded, the cold and dark lifting away like a blanket of snow. Sorore opened her eyes to find that they were in a grove, awash in golden light, the mists settled around her feet.
“Are you alright, lady Sorore?” said Lillian, who couldn’t help but let her mouth hang open at the sight.
“I think so. That place before was unpleasant.”
“I know. I don’t think we’ll be-”
A blossom of fire erupted from the lead, which floated upwards between the trees, flitting this way and that. Sorore was pulled back into Lillian’s chest, a mailed fist protecting her heart. Rather than doing anything in particular, streamers and rivulets of leaves and earth rose to meet it, dancing around it.
“…forest spirits?” said Sorore, gazing upwards at the display.
“I would… guess so?” said Lillian, looking completely unsure.
“Can I get off the horse?” said Sorore as the men began to point and dismount, “I feel a little ill.”
Lillian agreed, and helped her down with a promise that she’d stay where she was. She had just sat down, Frare joining her, when the yelling began. Niche was calling, something about how they’d been tricked and how Naia’s trust was misplaced. The twins watched, at first in a bemused dismay, and then in horror as something peeled itself from the moss covered rocks to tower above the group.
The giant was huge, dripping with moss and vines as it planted itself between the group and the exit with its branch-like limbs. That was all she got to see as Sorore was pulled away into the woods by Frare, panting as he led her over the slick stones. She stumbled and fell hard, rolling several times, and by the time she brought herself up, she found her twin covered in moss and needles.
“That was exciting,” he said, spitting a wad of grass out.
“No! No it was not!” she complained, looking around for the troop and finding only mist and trees, “are we lost?”
“No we’re… we’re…” Frare looked around, “maybe.”
“Maybe?!” she said, offended at her brother’s nonchalant attitude, “for all we know, another one of those things could be lurking around the corner!”
“Calm down. At least we can see more here than out in the forest, it’s not all that bad,” he said.
She was about to give him one of the most scathing rebukes she could come up with, when she noticed the dark thing snaking towards her in the mist. Shrieking, she backed up, and would’ve derived some satisfaction to notice her brother did the exact same.
The thing reared… and resolved into a twisting collection of earth and leaves, twisting this way and that.
“Stay away from it, Frare,” she said.
The thing flitted this way and that.
“I don’t think it wants to harm us,” he said, hesitantly.
“Are you joking? Don’t-”
Frare put out his hand, to which the thing darted away, and swirled a few paces away.
“I think… I think it’s waiting for us. Maybe it wants to show us the way back?”
Two tentative steps, and the thing flitted forwards, and waited.
“No way. I’m not following it. I’m waiting here for the paladins.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, stepping forwards into mist.
“Don’t you dare leave me!” she called out, as he followed the creature, “what’s gotten into you?”
Despite her protestations, his form faded into the mist, and when she tried to follow, she found herself even more lost than before. Leaning against one of the trees, she sunk into the thick moss.
“That idiot,” she said, her mood black at this point, “when I find him, I’m going to make sure he regrets it.”
“Who?” came a clear voice, leading Sorore to jump. When she tried to gauge who or what said it, she realised that it was from the trunk before her.
“Are… you talking? The tree?” she said, as she pressed her hands into the trunk.
“No, it’s just me,” came the voice, now from above her. When she looked above, she found something dark hurtling towards her. Stumbling back, as the thing crunched into moss and stood. A person, looking like the product of a fur trader crashing into a trinket merchant, turned and smiled at her.
“Who are you?” she said.
She lacked hair, head criss-crossed with scars, and her dress clinked with various belts of metal instruments and were those… books? Sorore might’ve been fascinated, if she hadn’t been surprised, frightened, and angry.
“Who are you?” she said, scrambling back, until she hit another tree
“I’m Claralelle,” the woman said, as if it was completely obvious, and leaned against the tree, “I’ve never seen someone like you.”
“What does that mean?” Sorore said, exasperated.
“It means I-” she stopped, and looked down, “Oh.”
“What?” said Sorore, and realised that the tree behind her was… opening?
“We’re being summoned! Today is a day of all kinds of firsts!” she said as vines crept out of the crevice.
Sorore, too late, felt the vines snake over her own body, and yank her backwards, falling into the dark.
Sorore had never felt such fear in her life - not when they’d left home, not when she’d faced her teachers, not even when the horrible monsters had emerged from the mists. But seeing Frare in her arms, trembling and glassy-eyed as if with a terrible fever, was something that reached deep into her chest and squeezed.
And yet, there was nothing she could do, other than cradle him in her lap as his teeth chattered. Aya was not one for talking, having been just as shaken from the attack of the creatures. Even if she had been up for conversation, Sorore was not entirely sure if she would reply. As irrational as it might be, there was some blame she directed to the girl.
Sorore couldn’t help but look at her every now and then as the troop rode through the trees. Why had Frare rushed to save a girl they barely knew? Was the connection between them that strong? Aya would catch her staring and turn away, flustered at the attention, or perhaps uncomfortable with what had happened to Frare.
They’d made their camp some ways away from the site of the battle - the moans of wounded soldiers finally dissolving as the morning wore on. They had been left alone in their carriage, with sporadic check-in from one or both Paladins. Aya had left, saying some hasty comment about getting air - Sorore suspected that she just wanted to be away from them.
And so, she sat there, humming half-remembered tunes as her brother emerged from his stupor. It was well after the first rays of dawn crept in through the shutters that his eyes fluttered open.
“Whu time is it?” he mumbled.
Sorore couldn’t help herself - giving a little choked cry as she held onto his shoulders.
“Ow,” he said, trying to rise, and failing.
“Rest, tyri,” she said, and he reclined back, “do you remember what happened?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he said, yawning, and yelping as his jaw cracked, “there was the battle, and then there was the thing and I killed it.”
“That’s about right,” she said.
“What I don’t remember… is how we got here,” he said, twisting his head to stare at the beams of light.
“We rode. You were sick,” she said, stroking his head and grimacing, “you sweat all over my clothes.”
“Sorry,” he said, his eyes beginning to lower, “sorry…”
“Just sleep,” she said, as his breathing slowed, “you’ll be fine after you sleep.”
And just like that, he was under, although thankfully not trembling up a storm this time. The two of them stayed like that for a while, Sorore beginning to doze off herself as she felt the air beginning to warm, or at least, as much as it could in the mountains. Time seemed to slide along as she drifted in and out of sleep, until she was rather abruptly jolted out by the carriage door opening.
Aya stepped up into the carriage, moving stiffly as she sat in her usual spot. The two of them sat in silence for awkward moments as each no doubt pondered what exactly to say. Finally, when the tension built up to the point that it felt like a horseshoe around Sorore’s neck, Aya spoke.
“I’m sorry about your brother.”
Sorore wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that, and instead looked at the girl in silence. She could see the deep rings under her eyes, the paleness of her cheeks, and the slight tremble in her hands. And like that, any resentment she had towards Aya melted. Sliding herself out from under Frare’s head, she knelt down on the planks before Aya. Slowly, gently, she slid her fingers under Aya’s face, much to the girl’s confusion.
“I’m sorry too,” she said, “I know we haven’t had much time to talk but… I shouldn’t have been quiet on the way here.”
Frare groaned and turned over in his sleep, leading both girls to jump, and Aya to whack her head on the wooden backing of the seat.
“See? He’ll be fine,” Frare said, rubbing her hand that had smacked into Aya’s leg, “he’ll just sleep it off. He does that for most things.”
“That’s good,” Aya said, grimacing as she felt the back of her head, “I was worried he’d hurt himself for me.”
“He probably did,” Sorore said, leaning in and whispering “to tell the truth, he’s a bit of an idiot that way.”
That was enough for the girl to laugh, and with it so much of the exhaustion and fear fell away. Sorore was left with the realisation that Aya was indeed younger than her, by a fair margin. Grinning, she put her hands on the girl’s knees, and spoke once more.
“I am sorry though. It was hard, leaving home, when we were called. But we always had each other, you’re… alone.”
Aya’s face fell at the remark - she knew the truth of it, but that didn’t make it sting any less.
“But not any more,” Sorore quickly said, “I want to be your friend, Aya, if you don’t mind. And I’m sure Frare would too, once he gets up.”
It seemed like the idea had never occurred to Aya, but the slow smile made all the awkwardness of the request worth it. She slipped her hands into Sorore’s, albeit hesitantly.
“So, friends?” Sorore said.
“I’d like that,” she said.
It was at this moment that Frare chose to yawn so loudly that the two of them nearly jumped again. Sorore in mock fury walked over and jabbed at his shoulder. Shouting in protest, he rolled over and shielded his eyes.
“Hey!” he said, his voice clear, “what was that for?”
“Your sense of timing is excellent,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“What? Why?” he said as he pulled himself up and yawned once more.
“Cover your mouth,” she said as she reached for his ear.
Recognizing the gesture, he did exactly as she told him too, albeit with a squint that related his discontent.
“See. Told you,” she said, turning back to Aya, “he can sleep off anything.”
“I guess he can,” she said.
She was sitting easy now, perhaps not fully calm, but the tension that had ratcheted up her body into a series of severe lines had loosened somewhat.
“What happened while I was sleeping?” said Frare as he rubbed his eyes, “we didn’t get attacked again, did we?”
“Believe me, you’d know. I don’t think even you could’ve slept through that.”
“Is that a challenge?” said Frare, grinning ear-to-ear.
Sorore put her hands on her hips and huffed at her brother, prepared to explain just how rude he was being, until she heard grass being crunched under foot. Before her brother could get another retort in, she held up her hand and looked to the door. Both Aya and Frare quickly silenced themselves as they looked to the western. The footsteps resolved themselves into a pair of voices - Lillian and Niche’s.
“-and you think he’s a threat?” said Niche.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care to find out,” she said.
“He’s a mage. On that alone he’s not to be trusted,” he said.
“And yet, Naia seems to. I don’t understand - he’s barely met this ‘Efrain’, and yet…”
“We’re about to follow him into the woods. To where monsters dwell.”
“What on earth is the commander planning?” she said, “The priority of his should be to protect the children, first and foremost, and we’re going to follow a man who hides his face into heart-knows-where.”
By now, all three of the children were leaning against the wood, Frare and Aya straining to hear.
“Can you make out what they’re saying?” whispered Frare, turning to Sorore, to which she nodded and shushed him.
“We could remove him. We hold equal authority and there are two of us,” said Niche, “the other would have no choice but to…”
“Please tell me you’re joking,” said Lillian, “have you seen his men? Well-armed, well-trained, coordinated, disciplined, and loyal to a fault. It would be us versus slightly under a hundred. We might be able to handle a fourth, maybe a third, if we had the element of surprise, but we don’t. It would be suicide, and worse, the children would be left unprotected. Maybe if Dalia was here…”
Niche sighed as the conversation lapsed into a long silence.
“Knowing her, she’ll wander into the Holy City months after us with a trail of bodies to her name.”
There was something sharper about the silence that followed, as if Sorore could feel the harsh glance given to Niche by Lilian.
“I’m sure she’s fine wherever she is,” he said hastily, “she is nothing if not… independent.”
“I would advise you to speak less ill of your fellows, especially when she has a list of achievements longer than both of ours combined.”
“I don’t understand what the Choir was thinking. Sending us all the way past the Alonshaze, into the Giant’s Stair, with the children no less,” he said, “with a guard composed of merely three paladins and a troop of foreigners and vagrant knights.”
“It’s… not for us to know. Just to follow.”
Another silence, somehow even more heavy than the last.
“You know something, don’t you, Lillian.”
“I don’t. And even if I did know something, it wouldn’t be within my power to change it.”
Sorore found the answer unconvincing, and judging by the sound of his voice, so did Niche.
“Fine then, keep your secrets,” he said, “But that still leaves the question, what do we do?”
“There’s not all that much that we can do, Niche. Follow, protect, and guide.”
“...you’re right, but I wish… never mind. We should tell the children and prepare.”
The three of them stumbled back as they heard the pair approaching the door, finding their seats far more comfortable than before. The door opened, revealing the exasperated faces of the two paladins.
“My lords and ladies,” said Lillian, “are you all well?”
The three offered cursory greetings and a generally positive response. Lillian’s gaze seemed to linger on Aya of the three of them, Sorore found.
“Lord Frare,” she said, “I see you’ve woken up.”
“Good as new,” he said, swinging an arm and nearly hitting Sorore, then grimacing, “or close to it.”
“I’m very glad to hear it,” she said, before pausing to collect her words, “we have been instructed to change paths by commander Naia. He believes the valley cliffs to be too slow, and that there may be an alternate route through the forest.”
“Do you believe him?” said Frare.
“The commander?” she said, “I believe… he believes that it’s a better path.”
“Not him. The mage,” said Frare.
Sorore promptly smacked his head as Lillian’s gaze sharpened.
“You weren’t supposed to say anything,” Sorore complained as her brother pushed her away.
“What do you mean? You never told me not to.”
“So, you heard our conversation,” said Lillian, trying to keep the steel out of her voice.
The twins hung their heads in shame as she surveyed them, not wanting to meet her eyes.
“We did,” said Aya, “you don’t seem to trust the commander, or Efrain.”
“We cannot trust a-” Niche started to say from outside, before Lillian held up a hand.
“Niche, please. Can I handle this?”
Niche looked unhappy with the arrangement, but left, muttering something under his breath.
“Listen, Aya,” Lillian said as she knelt before the girl, “I don’t know how much you know about mages, but I doubt you’ve had to deal with them. I have. There may be some ‘good’ mages, but they are the exception to the rule of those that dabble in sorcery.”
“There’s an entire college of them in Karkos,” said Aya, with a confidence that belied her previous timidness.
“Them?” Lillian snorted, “they are the descendants of those that fled the holy city when they were judged. I doubt they represent a tenth of the dangers their ancestors did. I know you think he may have helped, but you must understand something.”
She folded her hands on the girl’s knees, almost as if she was beseeching her for a blessing.
“Mages are dangerous. They always have been. They contravene the teaching of those Lost. They are volatile, without morals, and entirely self-interested. History tells us that - Angorrah was nearly destroyed during the night of the Burning Trees. Mages may be useful from time to time, but they are not to be trusted.”
Sorore could see that Aya was attempting to formulate some counter argument, but her confidence was flagging. She wondered what spurred the girl to such a defence of mages of all things. Outside of old conjureres that wandered the street and sold their subpar wares, mages were dangerous, everyone knew that.
“Alright,” Aya said, relenting at last, “but he didn’t seem evil to me.”
“It’s not a matter of being evil, so much as it is that they don’t care, not about me, not about you, not about anything except themselves. Sometimes we can offer them rewards to sway their interests, but that can’t replace faith or resolve. Handle them with care, if at all.”
The paladin stood up and rolled her neck.
“That being said, for reasons I don’t understand, commander Naia does seem to trust this one. I suppose he’s not exactly known for his… orthodoxy. Either way, we seem to be following that mage’s directions, for now.”
“You said we were going into the forest,” said Frare, “to where something… evil lives?”
Lillian pursed her lips as she looked back at the twins.
“The woods out here are wild, not like the Angorrah lands. But no matter what is out there, we promised to protect you, and protect you we shall do so. Now, I’d best check our preparations.”
She gave a curt nod, and retreated out the door from whence she came. The trio were stuck in the shade of the cabin as the sounds of packing up echoed around them.
“You don’t think there’s really evil things out there?” said Frare.
Sorore was rather unsurprised that he seemed more curious than upset.
“Monsters, not evil things. You never listen,” she sighed, “these are wild lands, and…”
In the silence that followed, they all knew that their thoughts lingered upon the pale twisted forms and their cold mists.
“My mother once told me, well more than once…” said Aya, “that there were as many good spirits in the lands and waters as there were bad. The trouble was knowing which was which.”
“Let’s hope we find some good ones,” said Sorore, seeking some comfort, “and if we don’t the paladins will protect us.”
Awkward assents followed, and they lapsed back into silence. It didn’t break for a good while after that, even when they started movement, it seemed no one was willing to talk. The gentle movement of the carriage proved soothing enough to Sorore, and he felt herself drifting in and out of the twilight of sleep
The next thing she knew, she was being shaken awake by Frare, telling her that they’d reached a patch of old growth too thick for the carriage to traverse.
“We’ll be riding from here on out,” said Lillian, as she helped Sorore onto the saddle, “we’ve been assured that whatever we’re seeking is close, perhaps an hour or two through the trees.”
The trees here were massive, old things, with thick trunks and canopies casting a gloom over the woods, even though it was the middle of the day. As they rode deeper into the depths of the green, a mist arose, growing thicker by the footstep. Sorore, well past any rest, sat straight in the saddle, feeling Lillian’s armour pressed to her back.
“Does it unnerve you, my lady?” Lillian said.
“What?”
“The mists. I understand if they remind you of the-”
“No, no,” Sorore said quickly, “they feel different.”
“How so?” said Lillian, as she craned her head to look forwards. The other riders were shadows in the mist, close as they were. At this point, they were almost riding in a single file as they walked through the trees.
“They feel… the mists before, when those things came, it felt… cold. So cold. Like it was reaching into your breast and freezing your heart. An angry cold. These feel… unwelcoming, but not angry.”
She inhaled deeply, a faint scent of pine needles and wet earth filling her nostrils.
“And it… I don’t know. It feels… old.”
As the group neared a depression in the earth, Sorore heard an unfamiliar voice from the top of the convoy.
“Here’s the unpleasant part. Just keep going forward, and trust me, don’t light a torch.”
“Lillian, what does that mean?” she said, turning back to the paladin.
Lillian had nothing to offer other than a shake of the head and a stony expression. As they slowed to a crawl in the deepening darkness, Sorore began to hear whispers. In the walls of earth around her, there were things looking at her, reaching for her, calling out to her. Sorore closed her eyes, praying to Falekaze, whose light warded off evil things, clinging tight to the horse’s neck.
The minutes seemed to stretch by as the voices clawed at her. Suddenly, they faded, the cold and dark lifting away like a blanket of snow. Sorore opened her eyes to find that they were in a grove, awash in golden light, the mists settled around her feet.
“Are you alright, lady Sorore?” said Lillian, who couldn’t help but let her mouth hang open at the sight.
“I think so. That place before was unpleasant.”
“I know. I don’t think we’ll be-”
A blossom of fire erupted from the lead, which floated upwards between the trees, flitting this way and that. Sorore was pulled back into Lillian’s chest, a mailed fist protecting her heart. Rather than doing anything in particular, streamers and rivulets of leaves and earth rose to meet it, dancing around it.
“…forest spirits?” said Sorore, gazing upwards at the display.
“I would… guess so?” said Lillian, looking completely unsure.
“Can I get off the horse?” said Sorore as the men began to point and dismount, “I feel a little ill.”
Lillian agreed, and helped her down with a promise that she’d stay where she was. She had just sat down, Frare joining her, when the yelling began. Niche was calling, something about how they’d been tricked and how Naia’s trust was misplaced. The twins watched, at first in a bemused dismay, and then in horror as something peeled itself from the moss covered rocks to tower above the group.
The giant was huge, dripping with moss and vines as it planted itself between the group and the exit with its branch-like limbs. That was all she got to see as Sorore was pulled away into the woods by Frare, panting as he led her over the slick stones. She stumbled and fell hard, rolling several times, and by the time she brought herself up, she found her twin covered in moss and needles.
“That was exciting,” he said, spitting a wad of grass out.
“No! No it was not!” she complained, looking around for the troop and finding only mist and trees, “are we lost?”
“No we’re… we’re…” Frare looked around, “maybe.”
“Maybe?!” she said, offended at her brother’s nonchalant attitude, “for all we know, another one of those things could be lurking around the corner!”
“Calm down. At least we can see more here than out in the forest, it’s not all that bad,” he said.
She was about to give him one of the most scathing rebukes she could come up with, when she noticed the dark thing snaking towards her in the mist. Shrieking, she backed up, and would’ve derived some satisfaction to notice her brother did the exact same.
The thing reared… and resolved into a twisting collection of earth and leaves, twisting this way and that.
“Stay away from it, Frare,” she said.
The thing flitted this way and that.
“I don’t think it wants to harm us,” he said, hesitantly.
“Are you joking? Don’t-”
Frare put out his hand, to which the thing darted away, and swirled a few paces away.
“I think… I think it’s waiting for us. Maybe it wants to show us the way back?”
Two tentative steps, and the thing flitted forwards, and waited.
“No way. I’m not following it. I’m waiting here for the paladins.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, stepping forwards into mist.
“Don’t you dare leave me!” she called out, as he followed the creature, “what’s gotten into you?”
Despite her protestations, his form faded into the mist, and when she tried to follow, she found herself even more lost than before. Leaning against one of the trees, she sunk into the thick moss.
“That idiot,” she said, her mood black at this point, “when I find him, I’m going to make sure he regrets it.”
“Who?” came a clear voice, leading Sorore to jump. When she tried to gauge who or what said it, she realised that it was from the trunk before her.
“Are… you talking? The tree?” she said, as she pressed her hands into the trunk.
“No, it’s just me,” came the voice, now from above her. When she looked above, she found something dark hurtling towards her. Stumbling back, as the thing crunched into moss and stood. A person, looking like the product of a fur trader crashing into a trinket merchant, turned and smiled at her.
“Who are you?” she said.
She lacked hair, head criss-crossed with scars, and her dress clinked with various belts of metal instruments and were those… books? Sorore might’ve been fascinated, if she hadn’t been surprised, frightened, and angry.
“Who are you?” she said, scrambling back, until she hit another tree
“I’m Claralelle,” the woman said, as if it was completely obvious, and leaned against the tree, “I’ve never seen someone like you.”
“What does that mean?” Sorore said, exasperated.
“It means I-” she stopped, and looked down, “Oh.”
“What?” said Sorore, and realised that the tree behind her was… opening?
“We’re being summoned! Today is a day of all kinds of firsts!” she said as vines crept out of the crevice.
Sorore, too late, felt the vines snake over her own body, and yank her backwards, falling into the dark.
