The next morning saw dawn’s rosy light breach the rampart-like mountains that surrounded Yanhelm. Water dripped from the gutters and slate roof tiles. Even now, at this early hour, the labourers and shopkeepers of the city were set about their business. Solvi groggily managed to pull herself from the bench-like seat she’d drunkenly dozed off in the previous night. Nursing her head as a screeching wotling passed the open window, Solvi managed to crane her neck to see the outside world. The offending beast had been pulling a cart of tools for the dig, cawing its excitement as it ran. A small note had been attached to the window’s latch, which Solvi plucked curiously. A note from Mara, telling her that they were delayed by a few hours due to bandit blockades along the path up the mountains.
A commotion disturbed the sleep-addled Solvi, who rolled onto her feet with a groan of pain. After unsuccessfully pawing through Mara’s medicine bag for something to ease her ailment, the huge woman decided to use her sister’s cure. After a cold shower, better wasn’t exactly how she felt but it was certainly a start. The constant arguing that had ignited during her shower certainly didn’t hurt her head as much anymore. Grabbing her halberd and casually slinging it onto her shoulder, she set a boot outside the carriage to see Fred and Arthur locked in argument. Fred seemed the most agitated, gesticulating wildly towards the front of the stables.
“Absolutely not! What in Gangrene’s gold is that thing?!” Fred shouted venomously. His eye was wide with terror as he beheld the beast emerging from its den. Solvi looked over to see a relatively normal seeming alleg. It did have unusual colouration, possessing a mottled black and white fur that appeared to be camouflage. Its ponderous, flat paws clacked along the cobblestone courtyard as its large claws struck them. It was a particularly hulking specimen, being as tall as Mara at the shoulder. Though Fred seemed to be agitated less by its bulky, lizard-like body and more the face of the creature. Allegs were omnivorous but primarily ate small hard-shelled creatures called koprans. To wit, they had a large protrusion of a beak and crushing jaws filled with sharp forward teeth and grinding molars that weren’t visible behind the creature’s cheeks. Most likely, Fred was alarmed by the prospect of this creature pulling his wagon.
“It’s called an alleg, Fred. Relax!” Arthur laughed, clapping the man on the back. Solvi had to surprise a snort of laughter as the skitti nearly went careening into the creature. Thankfully for his nerves, the alleg had busied itself cracking open some somat nuts. Solvi nodded with approval, a good diet for such a noble beast.
“Relax?! It’s got more teeth than Sister Porter’s hounds! It’s bigger than a bloody barn!” Fred shook his head wildly, clutching his dagger as if such a small weapon would make a difference to the beast. It may succumb to infection, but Fred would succumb to its jaws long before that. “Why couldn’t you lot just import a soldis? Nice, gentle creature they are. Never bite you in half, them.” He added, referring to the rather dim-witted creatures that resembled clouds with four legs and long necks. With a propensity to stomp things to death if they got angry. Which was always, due to their low intelligence.
“Well, your union chiefs aside, allegs are known to be quite docile so long as they’re well fed. We can’t use your walking rib roasts because these beasts are strong enough to make it up the mountain. As a nice bonus, these allegs appear to be the boreal variety. More fat reserves for the climb!” Solvi grinned down at Fred, who cursed under his breath and began to approach the abeast as if it were made of ready-lit dynamite. Solvi and Arthur shared a look as the skittish man muttered under his breath what sounded an awful lot like a prayer to Arawn, should his soul be taken. Their shared look turned to mischief as Solvi directed her gaze back to the revolutionary. “Not like that, Fred! Allegs are notoriously angry if you sneak up on them!” Solvi shouted at the now distant skitti, whose tail hitched up. His ears, normally level now shot upright as they listened for any hint of a growl from the beast before them.
“Aye careful Fred. The alleg is well known to be partial to skitti.” Arthur teased their companion, who turned to stare daggers at the pair of them before inhaling a deep breath and taking the plunge with confident steps and an upturned snout. Defiantly, Fred took from his overalls a bar of pemican and broke a chunk off for the alleg. It paused in its crunching, tilting its head up to stare with tiny black eyes at the skitti. With a visibly shaking hand even from where the two were standing, Fred offered the pemican to the alleg. To the surprise of everyone, the alleg leaned forward and took the meat gently between its jaws before a long cow-like tongue smacked it into the beast’s gullet. Fred nodded to his new friend, turning his back to return to the smirking cleric and his companion. He only saw Solvi jerk her halberd off her shoulder for a second before the alleg placed its head atop his, emitting some form of low rumble.
Fred took this to be a growl and screeched, fleeing at top speed towards his carriage and leaving a very confused beast in his wake. Solvi and Arthur looked to each other once more, Solvi with a knowing look.
“Ten bullions say I can get him to ride one.” Solvi suggested, elbowing Arthur in the shoulder due to their height difference. The cleric, who staggered slightly from Solvi’s strength, smirked before patting his gold armlet in the shape of a flowering vine. It was a symbol of his devotion to the goddess of life, if Solvi recalled her shaman’s tiresome lectures.
“Oh, I think it would be terribly immoral for me to involve myself in any betting that hinged on one of the Lady’s creatures.” Arthur said in a precipitously highbrow imitation of the responsible cleric he was meant to be. Solvi rolled her eyes before pulling out a small ring from her pocket. A gold ring with an immaculately carved rose set atop it. Arthur’s eyes widened as he sucked in a breath. Solvi’s smug grin seemed to be all he needed to change his mind, shaking her hand with the ring between their palms. “Done. That alleg is going to buck him the second his backside touches it.” Arthur smirked at the tall woman, wandering off to tend to the other beasts that were to be used for the expedition’s transport.
Solvi took a moment to look around for Mara, only to see neither hide nor hair of the mage. Scratching her cheek, Solvi locked her halberd in the carriage and proceeded to borrow the landlord’s telescope. For a small fee, naturally. Climbing atop the stable, Solvi set the telescope to her eye and followed the dark ribbon of the muddy road they would be taking into the mountains. The forests would be pointless to search due to their canopies. She began at the passes and switchbacks that snaked their way to the peaks. As expected, she spotted lines of grey-barked logs from the surrounding area. The bandits had indeed been setting up roadblocks, which perked Solvi’s curiosity. An odd thing to do on such barely traversed roads. A still stranger thing to do if they wished to keep the location of their fortress a secret.
“If Renaud’s such a super wizard, why are you all still alive? You should be a mound of smoking skeletons if he’s half the cold git I think he is.” Solvi spoke to no one in particular, her thoughts escaping her lips as she scanned the roads for further disturbances. She did not notice the figure ominously floating behind her, his fingers knotted behind his back and a comical bend to his posture, as if he too could see through the spyglass.
“Miss Benti, you wound me.” Renaud spoke with mock offense, causing Solvi to almost drop the telescope in sheer panic. Almost on instinct, she whipped her fist backwards in a clumsy strike that Renaud easily avoided with a flat expression. “And here I was making my way up here to formally apologize for my behaviour last night.” The professor smiled at her, but she felt no warmth from it. She saw in his smile a performance that had been enacted many times in her mother’s receptions. He was good, very good at mimicking the emotion, but Solvi had been in nests of vipers too long not to notice when one opened its mouth to bite.
“Well, as impressive as your floating trick is please stop doing it around me. I might not miss next time. And it might not be my fist.” Solvi spoke with obvious discomfort, her eyes sliding down to Renaud’s shoes which even now did not touch the roof. The elf canted his head in a mockery of contrition before sitting himself quite comfortably next to Solvi. Though not before waving his hand to dry the thatch beneath them.
“I shall endeavour not to fray your nerves in future. As to your question, if you wish it answered, the answer is simple.” Renaud said, taking out his pipe and igniting it with a lit tip of his finger. Solvi curled her lip in disgust for a moment before diplomacy called upon her to do otherwise. “You see killing is not in my nature. No, I leave that to fear younger people with a far greater grasp on their own righteousness.” He spoke, yet Solvi resisted the urge to strike him with every word. He must have noticed for, seconds later, Renaud asked after her health. Solvi took a breath and smiled her most congenial smile.
“I drank a little too much last night, no need to concern yourself. Though I can’t help but notice that I didn’t drink enough to forget your exploits during the war, Sergeant Major Renaud.” Solvi spoke his rank with venom, allowing herself a moment of anger. It subsided as the elf’s face twitched in that most satisfying way. She was still the only non-elf that could get to him, it seemed. Most were too polite, entertaining his flights of fancy. But not her. For twenty years she had known this man and for twenty years she hadn’t allowed him a second of delusion as to what he was.
Renaud surprised her, in that moment. He sighed, hanging in his head in what was a very convincing imitation of shame. Solvi was about to sarcastically laud his performance before the elf reached into his robe and produced a hip flask. He took a long draught from it before offering it to Solvi, who looked at him sceptically before taking a light sip. Handing it back, Renaud looked at the entrance to the valley. Solvi knew where he was in that moment.
“I still hear them, you know. Not memories, no. That would be far too mundane for me. My mind races with what they would have done, who they would have loved. And they tell me what I took from them, every night, in my dreams.” Renaud took a moment to reflect before his gaze met Solvi’s. There was genuine regret there, she felt. An understanding passed between them. “We were both tools of those more powerful than ourselves. Like the keenest blade, I carved a swath through my enemies. But like every sword, one day you break.” Renaud took another sip, wincing as if from the impact of some unbidden memory. Solvi could relate all too well to that feeling, remembering how she’d broken down in tears from something so mundane as a butcher going about his work. “Perhaps one day, I shall relate to you the story of how the Blade of Idhara was broken.” Renaud smiled, standing up with some difficulty and almost losing his balance. Solvi stood to catch him with her eyes averted.
“I’m proud of you, Renaud. For just a moment you managed to connect with someone.” Solvi teased, attracting a wheezing laugh from the elf. Plumes of his pipe smoke wafted past Solvi, who nearly dropped him for the foul smell. Once Renaud had righted himself, he looked upon her with something approaching respect.
“What I value most about your people, Solvi, is their resilience. For centuries, you’ve been invading Gard and Renora. For centuries, you are rebuffed. Yet still you persist. Even when the lands in question don’t recognize your dominion.” Renaud commented with a sinister smile, clicking his heels with a jovial little tap before gliding gracefully to the ground. He looked back up at the orsan woman, robes melting away to reveal his human clothing. Taking his flat cap from his pocket, he placed it upon his head and tipped it before wishing Solvi a good day.
She simply stood there, stunned by the man’s cruelty. It felt like more than a history lesson, given how barbed his words had been. With a snarled curse, Solvi slid from the roof, down the barrels she’d climbed. Her feet impacting the sodden ground caused Arthur to look up from feeding the wotlings their leafy meal. Those wise eyes of his saw Solvi’s face and set aside the feeding bowl, striding towards her with purpose and enfolding her in a hug. Solvi’s arms wrapped around Arthur’s head, allowing a sigh to escape her before her resolve hardened.
“I take it Renaud was apologizing how only Renaud can.” Arthur grunted against the woman, before pulling away with eyes full of concern. Solvi met his gaze and nodded weakly, staring daggers in the elf’s general direction. The bearded man arched an eyebrow before seating himself on a bench, idly passing leafy green vegetables up to the beak of the stabled wotlings.
“I don’t understand why he must be so callous. Ever since I have known him, he has been suspicious and vile. He can belittle my culture, my people and our beliefs but why does he insist on their faults being mine?” Solvi questioned, tearing vegetation apart for the wotlings. They appeared to share a look of concern between them, their beady crow-like eyes alight with intelligence. Solvi had always admired these feathery bipedal oddities. Highly intelligent, yet happy to carry anything they could if they received due compensation in food. Ideal mounts, really. Their fleshy tails always had the most splendid iridescent colours, crests standing proud even when buffeted by full-speed running.
“Professor Renaud is a product of his, well, I suppose you could call it upbringing. From the moment he crawled out of the Bay of Fangs he was lauded as special. Naturally, that arrogance translates to everything around him.” Arthur spoke that final sentence with heavy emphasis, indicating with his head towards the gardens where Mara had busied herself helping the stable owner’s wife with the gardening. Solvi smiled as she saw this, not noticing the wotling getting impatient until it pinched her bad shoulder in frustration. The orsan woman swore and gave the beast a look, offering it the whole vegetable in retaliation. It croaked, headbutting the vegetable gently. Solvi grunted with approval and returned to shredding, Arthur nodding with amusement. “At the end of the day, I think the old coot needs to butt out and let his sana get on with it. But that man would sooner sell his ears than admit defeat.” Arthur scoffed, beginning to shine the bridal that would soon rest in their mounts’ beaks. Solvi wasn’t quite sure how the bridals fit in there, but her mind turned to other matters soon enough.
Approaching from the city proper, sat in a buggy pulled by a wondrously speckled wotling, came their greying overseer, Renata. Handing the driver his due, the older elf woman descended to the stables with a wrinkled nose as the hem of her robes dragged in the mud. Solvi had to laud the woman’s pragmatism though for, as she hitched up her robes, she saw that Renata was already wearing thick work boots. As she crossed the yard, Renaud appeared from somewhere with his hands spread in a welcoming gesture, words of greeting and flattery on his lips already.
“Not now you fraudulent fop. Where is the large woman?” Renata demanded, causing her former lover’s bravado to shrivel like vegetables in vinegar. Reluctantly, he motioned with his hand to the rear of the stables only for surprise to colour his features when he spied Solvi sitting there, feeding the oversized birds. Turning on the dime, Renaud swooped upon the door to his cabin and flitted inside so quickly Solvi was surprised he didn’t catch himself. Regardless, she soon turned her gaze to Renata who was approaching with all the uncertain steps of a ballerina over broken glass.
“There you are! Apologies for the impromptu visit but my own departure was delayed by a problem.” Renata spoke loudly as she approached over the muddy path, past Mara and her new friend exiting the garden with their haul. Mara touched the other woman’s arm, causing her to nod with a smile before making her way to where the kitchens were presumably located. “The bandits were present within the forest, but they appear to have aggravated something of your people’s design. It’s a totem of some kind carved into a tree itself. Ribbons and such hanging from the branches.” Renata described with surprising salience considering what she must have seen. Solvi however was less calm, dropping the food with a start. Her eyes were wide, nostrils flared in panic as she turned to Arthur. The cleric shrugged, shaking his head. Solvi supposed it was only natural, he couldn’t be expected to know everything related to the gods.
“What you are referring to is a duta dagen. A reaping tree, depending on the translation. Spirits of animals that die within its considerable radius are enlisted to protect a specific place where the duta dagen is grown.” Solvi explained, squeezing every drop of obscure lore from her lessons with the shamans. She had briefly been shown the theory behind how to make one, though not how to destroy one safely. Something, she remembered, was unsafe about simply burning or cutting the tree down or defacing the carvings. “I should inspect it. Though I cannot be sure how one could possibly exist on the mainland, it must not be destroyed lightly.” Solvi directed, taking the saddle Arthur had been polishing and saddling a wotling. Renata simply stared, wide-eyed at the orsan woman. Her face had paled visibly, and she looked over her shoulder conspiratorially.
“It sounds like necromancy. Who would risk punishment to kill a few bandits?” Renata spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. In Gard, banditry was punishable by death. Moreover, citizens were paid handsomely for their retrieval. It was up to the individual bounty hunter as to what condition outlaws would enter the nearest city in. The elf had a point in that regard. A sword or bow would do the job just as well as any spectral bear or wolf.
“An orsan shaman, most likely. They’re not the most tethered to reality sort and don’t particularly care about contrivances like the law or who stakes a claim to the land.” Solvi shrugged, guiding the wotling to her carriage and tying it to a mooring peg before stepping inside to fetch her armour. Renata, meanwhile, took a pocket watch from her robe and marked the time. She stared up at the sky to make doubly sure before snapping her watch shut and marching into the landing rooms. Moments later, a harried gaggle of stable hands staggered from the rooms to begin hitching the allegs to their respective caravans. Solvi re-emerged to see her own wagon being tied to its method of locomotion. She looked at Renata, who was busying herself looking flustered, quizzically.
“I cannot pay for a day’s loss! I can barely pay for half a day. We move out, hitch a safe distance from the tree then allow you to rid us of it. With any luck, the work will be done by the time we arrive. That being the case, feel free to meet our additional security at the base of the mountain.” Renata instructed, seating herself on Mara and Solvi’s carriage and taking the reins with a confident grip. Solvi was in awe; an elf whose competence matched their ego. Readily confident Mara was in safe hands, Solvi leapt astride her wotling with her armour gleaming in the morning sun. She leaned back to check her saddlebags were properly tethered shut only to find Mara sliding into the saddle behind her, arms wrapped firmly around her waist.
“What the devils are you doing?” Solvi shot over her shoulder, setting her halberd in the helpful leather loops the saddle possessed for such a purpose. Mara appeared to be casting about for a place to store her staff before shrugging and tying it to her back as usual.
“I’m fascinated by your people’s magic. This will be an adequate opportunity to learn. Besides, I’m handy with binding curses.” Mara reassured Solvi, who drew breath to argue before the mage removed all opportunity by slapping the wotling’s tail with a gloved hand, causing it to leap forward at an incredible pace. Such a pace that Solvi found herself squinting just to avoid the deluge of air hitting her face. Memories of racing wotlings on her mother’s estate came flooding back as the creature’s bouncing back soon found rhythm with its rider. Mara was content to deafen Solvi with her fearful mutterings about the speed and suffocate her with a grip that could cut down a tree. At this speed, the plodding alleg could only compete on endurance alone. The wotling didn’t even seem to touch the ground, flinging itself forward with every step. The poor chap clearly wanted the exercise for its beak was open, tiny teeth catching anything it could from bugs to a bird.
Benam Forest spread its leafy wings before them, climbing from the valley floor to the foothills. It had been allowed to grow that the defenders of Yanhelm could hide in it during the war. The orsan’s direct answer came into view shortly after as Solvi followed the deforested scar of the former camp. It was slowly beginning to regrow, which brought a smile to Solvi’s face as she followed the road. She turned off soon after, the wotling slowing beneath her once it had been running for a good half hour. She gently patted it, easing off both the wotling’s endurance and Mara’s nerves. After a further fifteen minutes of gentle trotting, the wotling halted abruptly. Mara, who was swaying gently in the saddle from a mixture of nerves and motion sickness, slid off the creature with a relieved groan. Idly, she began staggering over to a nearby tree to steady herself only to find Solvi’s hand gripping her shoulder. The mage looked over. Her legs were gelatinous as she made a questioning motion with her hands.
“The wotling senses it. The tree’s sphere of influence is here.” Solvi spoke shortly, tilting her head to listen. It was then that the nausea-addled Mara noticed too. The forest was silent. No birds sang nor undergrowth rustled. Not so much as a hedgehog’s nose twitch disturbed the air. Then came an eerie creaking from the surrounding trees. Solvi took Mara’s medical bag from the saddle, attracting a noise of protestation from the mage that was quickly shushed. She began rummaging through the bag, wordlessly voicing her frustration when what she desired clearly wasn’t within it.
“You know, telling the owner of the bag might help you find what you need.” Mara commented with exasperation, placing its contents back into their orderly loops and straps. She even ran her hand over the leather roll that held her surgical implements to make sure all were present and correct. Solvi sat herself down upon a protruding rock and observed the surrounding forest thoughtfully. The ominous creaking of the trees unsettled her, as if the spirits were just out of sight.
“There was a ritual the shamans taught me to divine the true location of the tree. But you lack a few key herbs.” Solvi explained, arms folded in frustration. “Without it, the tree could be hidden by illusion or even underground. A few shamans cultivate trees in caves for that exact purpose.” She then scratched under her chin, watching as Mara pulled her cloak aside to access her component pouch. After taking some small amount of orange sand that Solvi believed was a metal, Mara cast it into the air and watched as it hung there. Its orange sheen glinted in the sunlight before sparks began to race between particles, forming a hazy purple cloud wherever the sand touched.
“I knew it! It manifests an arcanostatic field. Can’t perform passive necromancy without one.” Mara shouted in triumph, causing Solvi to arch an eyebrow in her direction. The mage took out a stylus made from the same metal and wiggled it in Solvi’s general direction. “Observe if you will the power of mathematics.” Mara then flung the stylus into the hanging purple cloud only for it to align with some invisible field seconds later, bending slightly at either end. Mara took some notes before inching the stylus somewhat to the left then somewhat to the right of its original position. After some quick calculations, Mara made a closing motion with her palms and brought the sand and stylus both back into her possession. Solvi stood, assuming this was consequential, and tethered the wotling to a nearby tree next to a bush of berries it could eat.
“By my calculations, the circle is orientated to the west of us. Through those trees. As the crow flies, our tree should be somewhere close by.” Mara instructed with a bright voice, marching into the field with a surprising spring to her step. Perhaps leaving her stuffy office had done her some good, Solvi reasoned. Or perhaps she was simply attracted to the macabre thrill that awaited them at the centre of the circle.
“You should stay with the wotling. Do you even know how to fight?” Solvi asked incredulously, following the marching mage with trepidation. For extra surety, she strapped her helmet on and held her halberd at the ready. Mara looked over her shoulder and, as usual, the mask was doing a very poor job of hiding what the mage really thought. The orsan woman sighed, knowing well that her stubbornness was both one of her most endearing and most infuriating traits. In the twenty-two years she’d known Mara, she’d never known the mage to accept reality if it didn’t sit right with her.
“More likely than not you’ll need my protection. This tree, curse, totem or whatever your people call it has been collating necrotic energy for the better part of two decades. The area around it is likely to be so saturated with it that you’ll be out cold in minutes.” Mara warned, unhooking her staff from her back to hold it aloft as the canopy closed over their heads. The darker part of the woods with its twisting undergrowth and unsettling silence lay before them. Unusual hillocks lay all around, someone taking the time to carve runes into the dark bark of the trees. They slid down a steep incline into a glade, hoping to catch sight of the tree. Solvi, seeing the hillocks, gasped in sudden nerves. Her gauntlets creaked as her fingers tightened against the wood of her halberd.
“Barrows. Those dead we had time to bury.” She whispered to Mara, who stiffened considerably as she heard this. Mara tapped her staff against the ground, igniting its head with a luminance that pierced through the unnatural pall that had infiltrated this glade. In its shimmering golden light, the pair could see their true quarry.
A blackened willow of prodigious size lay atop a rocky outcropping, its roots snaking over boulders to encircle a dark tomb entrance. The tree itself had been carved with the ghastly approximations of human faces, all with their mouths agape and eyes hollow. From its branches hung the ribbons Solvi had expected yet entwined in them were the bones of animals from horned skulls to ribcages. Runes that had been dormant but a moment before ignited, causing a spectral collage of markings to glow all around them. Mara’s mask, in response to this, began to seethe with black mist from the mouth and eye holes. The mage staggered, grabbing Solvi’s hand as they both attempted a mad dash up the hill they had slipped down. It was to no avail as the previous night’s rain had made it a luge of slippery mud.
The pair turned to see the barrows boiling soil onto the ground, skeletal remains emerging with any makeshift weapons they could find in their hands. They wore tattered leathers and rusted metal that bore the crests of the Orsan tribes they belonged to. No sooner had they freed themselves of their earthen entombment did they raise their weapons and charge in an eerie silence with jawbones open in silent mockery of a war cry.
Solvi leapt into action, imposing herself between the skeletons and Mara. With a mighty swing, she sent one spiralling to the ground in two parts. Yet the creature’s torso persisted, savagely attempting to gnaw through Solvi’s grieve. The Orsan woman cursed her halberd and its poxy magic, striking another skeleton with the butt of her weapon. Had the skeleton been living, such a blow would have concussed it. Instead, it merely cracked an otherwise undeterred enemy’s skull.
Mara stood in abject fear, attempting to cast a spell using the dark mist of her mask. Yet her concentration was non-existent. The words didn’t come. She hadn’t the wherewithal to even draw upon the Arcane, instead flailing the motions of magic without truly empowering them. For lack of any other options, Mara’s eyes darted from the skeletons that wrestled with Solvi to the two attempting to claw through her robes. Then she saw something that stuck out to her. Under the willow, just inside the crypt, two glowing lights hovered. Even in the frantic moments of survival, Mara noticed those glowing orbs approaching them. They were the eyes of a woman!
An orsan woman that stood somewhat shorter than Solvi with a stoop. Her hair was grey, plaited with bones and flowers interwoven. She appeared old though Mara could not tell with certainty since she too wore a mask. Her garb of bones, animal skins and metal reinforcement spoke of someone who had made her living on the land for some time. In her left hand she held a vicious-looking sickle that the pair knew didn’t harvest grain.
“Fiends! Defilers! This forest is mine!” The orsan woman cried, pointing a wizened finger at the pair. Mara felt a surge of gathering magic before a bolt of sickly green energy screamed toward them.
The next morning saw dawn’s rosy light breach the rampart-like mountains that surrounded Yanhelm. Water dripped from the gutters and slate roof tiles. Even now, at this early hour, the labourers and shopkeepers of the city were set about their business. Solvi groggily managed to pull herself from the bench-like seat she’d drunkenly dozed off in the previous night. Nursing her head as a screeching wotling passed the open window, Solvi managed to crane her neck to see the outside world. The offending beast had been pulling a cart of tools for the dig, cawing its excitement as it ran. A small note had been attached to the window’s latch, which Solvi plucked curiously. A note from Mara, telling her that they were delayed by a few hours due to bandit blockades along the path up the mountains.
A commotion disturbed the sleep-addled Solvi, who rolled onto her feet with a groan of pain. After unsuccessfully pawing through Mara’s medicine bag for something to ease her ailment, the huge woman decided to use her sister’s cure. After a cold shower, better wasn’t exactly how she felt but it was certainly a start. The constant arguing that had ignited during her shower certainly didn’t hurt her head as much anymore. Grabbing her halberd and casually slinging it onto her shoulder, she set a boot outside the carriage to see Fred and Arthur locked in argument. Fred seemed the most agitated, gesticulating wildly towards the front of the stables.
“Absolutely not! What in Gangrene’s gold is that thing?!” Fred shouted venomously. His eye was wide with terror as he beheld the beast emerging from its den. Solvi looked over to see a relatively normal seeming alleg. It did have unusual colouration, possessing a mottled black and white fur that appeared to be camouflage. Its ponderous, flat paws clacked along the cobblestone courtyard as its large claws struck them. It was a particularly hulking specimen, being as tall as Mara at the shoulder. Though Fred seemed to be agitated less by its bulky, lizard-like body and more the face of the creature. Allegs were omnivorous but primarily ate small hard-shelled creatures called koprans. To wit, they had a large protrusion of a beak and crushing jaws filled with sharp forward teeth and grinding molars that weren’t visible behind the creature’s cheeks. Most likely, Fred was alarmed by the prospect of this creature pulling his wagon.
“It’s called an alleg, Fred. Relax!” Arthur laughed, clapping the man on the back. Solvi had to surprise a snort of laughter as the skitti nearly went careening into the creature. Thankfully for his nerves, the alleg had busied itself cracking open some somat nuts. Solvi nodded with approval, a good diet for such a noble beast.
“Relax?! It’s got more teeth than Sister Porter’s hounds! It’s bigger than a bloody barn!” Fred shook his head wildly, clutching his dagger as if such a small weapon would make a difference to the beast. It may succumb to infection, but Fred would succumb to its jaws long before that. “Why couldn’t you lot just import a soldis? Nice, gentle creature they are. Never bite you in half, them.” He added, referring to the rather dim-witted creatures that resembled clouds with four legs and long necks. With a propensity to stomp things to death if they got angry. Which was always, due to their low intelligence.
“Well, your union chiefs aside, allegs are known to be quite docile so long as they’re well fed. We can’t use your walking rib roasts because these beasts are strong enough to make it up the mountain. As a nice bonus, these allegs appear to be the boreal variety. More fat reserves for the climb!” Solvi grinned down at Fred, who cursed under his breath and began to approach the abeast as if it were made of ready-lit dynamite. Solvi and Arthur shared a look as the skittish man muttered under his breath what sounded an awful lot like a prayer to Arawn, should his soul be taken. Their shared look turned to mischief as Solvi directed her gaze back to the revolutionary. “Not like that, Fred! Allegs are notoriously angry if you sneak up on them!” Solvi shouted at the now distant skitti, whose tail hitched up. His ears, normally level now shot upright as they listened for any hint of a growl from the beast before them.
“Aye careful Fred. The alleg is well known to be partial to skitti.” Arthur teased their companion, who turned to stare daggers at the pair of them before inhaling a deep breath and taking the plunge with confident steps and an upturned snout. Defiantly, Fred took from his overalls a bar of pemican and broke a chunk off for the alleg. It paused in its crunching, tilting its head up to stare with tiny black eyes at the skitti. With a visibly shaking hand even from where the two were standing, Fred offered the pemican to the alleg. To the surprise of everyone, the alleg leaned forward and took the meat gently between its jaws before a long cow-like tongue smacked it into the beast’s gullet. Fred nodded to his new friend, turning his back to return to the smirking cleric and his companion. He only saw Solvi jerk her halberd off her shoulder for a second before the alleg placed its head atop his, emitting some form of low rumble.
Fred took this to be a growl and screeched, fleeing at top speed towards his carriage and leaving a very confused beast in his wake. Solvi and Arthur looked to each other once more, Solvi with a knowing look.
“Ten bullions say I can get him to ride one.” Solvi suggested, elbowing Arthur in the shoulder due to their height difference. The cleric, who staggered slightly from Solvi’s strength, smirked before patting his gold armlet in the shape of a flowering vine. It was a symbol of his devotion to the goddess of life, if Solvi recalled her shaman’s tiresome lectures.
“Oh, I think it would be terribly immoral for me to involve myself in any betting that hinged on one of the Lady’s creatures.” Arthur said in a precipitously highbrow imitation of the responsible cleric he was meant to be. Solvi rolled her eyes before pulling out a small ring from her pocket. A gold ring with an immaculately carved rose set atop it. Arthur’s eyes widened as he sucked in a breath. Solvi’s smug grin seemed to be all he needed to change his mind, shaking her hand with the ring between their palms. “Done. That alleg is going to buck him the second his backside touches it.” Arthur smirked at the tall woman, wandering off to tend to the other beasts that were to be used for the expedition’s transport.
Solvi took a moment to look around for Mara, only to see neither hide nor hair of the mage. Scratching her cheek, Solvi locked her halberd in the carriage and proceeded to borrow the landlord’s telescope. For a small fee, naturally. Climbing atop the stable, Solvi set the telescope to her eye and followed the dark ribbon of the muddy road they would be taking into the mountains. The forests would be pointless to search due to their canopies. She began at the passes and switchbacks that snaked their way to the peaks. As expected, she spotted lines of grey-barked logs from the surrounding area. The bandits had indeed been setting up roadblocks, which perked Solvi’s curiosity. An odd thing to do on such barely traversed roads. A still stranger thing to do if they wished to keep the location of their fortress a secret.
“If Renaud’s such a super wizard, why are you all still alive? You should be a mound of smoking skeletons if he’s half the cold git I think he is.” Solvi spoke to no one in particular, her thoughts escaping her lips as she scanned the roads for further disturbances. She did not notice the figure ominously floating behind her, his fingers knotted behind his back and a comical bend to his posture, as if he too could see through the spyglass.
“Miss Benti, you wound me.” Renaud spoke with mock offense, causing Solvi to almost drop the telescope in sheer panic. Almost on instinct, she whipped her fist backwards in a clumsy strike that Renaud easily avoided with a flat expression. “And here I was making my way up here to formally apologize for my behaviour last night.” The professor smiled at her, but she felt no warmth from it. She saw in his smile a performance that had been enacted many times in her mother’s receptions. He was good, very good at mimicking the emotion, but Solvi had been in nests of vipers too long not to notice when one opened its mouth to bite.
“Well, as impressive as your floating trick is please stop doing it around me. I might not miss next time. And it might not be my fist.” Solvi spoke with obvious discomfort, her eyes sliding down to Renaud’s shoes which even now did not touch the roof. The elf canted his head in a mockery of contrition before sitting himself quite comfortably next to Solvi. Though not before waving his hand to dry the thatch beneath them.
“I shall endeavour not to fray your nerves in future. As to your question, if you wish it answered, the answer is simple.” Renaud said, taking out his pipe and igniting it with a lit tip of his finger. Solvi curled her lip in disgust for a moment before diplomacy called upon her to do otherwise. “You see killing is not in my nature. No, I leave that to fear younger people with a far greater grasp on their own righteousness.” He spoke, yet Solvi resisted the urge to strike him with every word. He must have noticed for, seconds later, Renaud asked after her health. Solvi took a breath and smiled her most congenial smile.
“I drank a little too much last night, no need to concern yourself. Though I can’t help but notice that I didn’t drink enough to forget your exploits during the war, Sergeant Major Renaud.” Solvi spoke his rank with venom, allowing herself a moment of anger. It subsided as the elf’s face twitched in that most satisfying way. She was still the only non-elf that could get to him, it seemed. Most were too polite, entertaining his flights of fancy. But not her. For twenty years she had known this man and for twenty years she hadn’t allowed him a second of delusion as to what he was.
Renaud surprised her, in that moment. He sighed, hanging in his head in what was a very convincing imitation of shame. Solvi was about to sarcastically laud his performance before the elf reached into his robe and produced a hip flask. He took a long draught from it before offering it to Solvi, who looked at him sceptically before taking a light sip. Handing it back, Renaud looked at the entrance to the valley. Solvi knew where he was in that moment.
“I still hear them, you know. Not memories, no. That would be far too mundane for me. My mind races with what they would have done, who they would have loved. And they tell me what I took from them, every night, in my dreams.” Renaud took a moment to reflect before his gaze met Solvi’s. There was genuine regret there, she felt. An understanding passed between them. “We were both tools of those more powerful than ourselves. Like the keenest blade, I carved a swath through my enemies. But like every sword, one day you break.” Renaud took another sip, wincing as if from the impact of some unbidden memory. Solvi could relate all too well to that feeling, remembering how she’d broken down in tears from something so mundane as a butcher going about his work. “Perhaps one day, I shall relate to you the story of how the Blade of Idhara was broken.” Renaud smiled, standing up with some difficulty and almost losing his balance. Solvi stood to catch him with her eyes averted.
“I’m proud of you, Renaud. For just a moment you managed to connect with someone.” Solvi teased, attracting a wheezing laugh from the elf. Plumes of his pipe smoke wafted past Solvi, who nearly dropped him for the foul smell. Once Renaud had righted himself, he looked upon her with something approaching respect.
“What I value most about your people, Solvi, is their resilience. For centuries, you’ve been invading Gard and Renora. For centuries, you are rebuffed. Yet still you persist. Even when the lands in question don’t recognize your dominion.” Renaud commented with a sinister smile, clicking his heels with a jovial little tap before gliding gracefully to the ground. He looked back up at the orsan woman, robes melting away to reveal his human clothing. Taking his flat cap from his pocket, he placed it upon his head and tipped it before wishing Solvi a good day.
She simply stood there, stunned by the man’s cruelty. It felt like more than a history lesson, given how barbed his words had been. With a snarled curse, Solvi slid from the roof, down the barrels she’d climbed. Her feet impacting the sodden ground caused Arthur to look up from feeding the wotlings their leafy meal. Those wise eyes of his saw Solvi’s face and set aside the feeding bowl, striding towards her with purpose and enfolding her in a hug. Solvi’s arms wrapped around Arthur’s head, allowing a sigh to escape her before her resolve hardened.
“I take it Renaud was apologizing how only Renaud can.” Arthur grunted against the woman, before pulling away with eyes full of concern. Solvi met his gaze and nodded weakly, staring daggers in the elf’s general direction. The bearded man arched an eyebrow before seating himself on a bench, idly passing leafy green vegetables up to the beak of the stabled wotlings.
“I don’t understand why he must be so callous. Ever since I have known him, he has been suspicious and vile. He can belittle my culture, my people and our beliefs but why does he insist on their faults being mine?” Solvi questioned, tearing vegetation apart for the wotlings. They appeared to share a look of concern between them, their beady crow-like eyes alight with intelligence. Solvi had always admired these feathery bipedal oddities. Highly intelligent, yet happy to carry anything they could if they received due compensation in food. Ideal mounts, really. Their fleshy tails always had the most splendid iridescent colours, crests standing proud even when buffeted by full-speed running.
“Professor Renaud is a product of his, well, I suppose you could call it upbringing. From the moment he crawled out of the Bay of Fangs he was lauded as special. Naturally, that arrogance translates to everything around him.” Arthur spoke that final sentence with heavy emphasis, indicating with his head towards the gardens where Mara had busied herself helping the stable owner’s wife with the gardening. Solvi smiled as she saw this, not noticing the wotling getting impatient until it pinched her bad shoulder in frustration. The orsan woman swore and gave the beast a look, offering it the whole vegetable in retaliation. It croaked, headbutting the vegetable gently. Solvi grunted with approval and returned to shredding, Arthur nodding with amusement. “At the end of the day, I think the old coot needs to butt out and let his sana get on with it. But that man would sooner sell his ears than admit defeat.” Arthur scoffed, beginning to shine the bridal that would soon rest in their mounts’ beaks. Solvi wasn’t quite sure how the bridals fit in there, but her mind turned to other matters soon enough.
Approaching from the city proper, sat in a buggy pulled by a wondrously speckled wotling, came their greying overseer, Renata. Handing the driver his due, the older elf woman descended to the stables with a wrinkled nose as the hem of her robes dragged in the mud. Solvi had to laud the woman’s pragmatism though for, as she hitched up her robes, she saw that Renata was already wearing thick work boots. As she crossed the yard, Renaud appeared from somewhere with his hands spread in a welcoming gesture, words of greeting and flattery on his lips already.
“Not now you fraudulent fop. Where is the large woman?” Renata demanded, causing her former lover’s bravado to shrivel like vegetables in vinegar. Reluctantly, he motioned with his hand to the rear of the stables only for surprise to colour his features when he spied Solvi sitting there, feeding the oversized birds. Turning on the dime, Renaud swooped upon the door to his cabin and flitted inside so quickly Solvi was surprised he didn’t catch himself. Regardless, she soon turned her gaze to Renata who was approaching with all the uncertain steps of a ballerina over broken glass.
“There you are! Apologies for the impromptu visit but my own departure was delayed by a problem.” Renata spoke loudly as she approached over the muddy path, past Mara and her new friend exiting the garden with their haul. Mara touched the other woman’s arm, causing her to nod with a smile before making her way to where the kitchens were presumably located. “The bandits were present within the forest, but they appear to have aggravated something of your people’s design. It’s a totem of some kind carved into a tree itself. Ribbons and such hanging from the branches.” Renata described with surprising salience considering what she must have seen. Solvi however was less calm, dropping the food with a start. Her eyes were wide, nostrils flared in panic as she turned to Arthur. The cleric shrugged, shaking his head. Solvi supposed it was only natural, he couldn’t be expected to know everything related to the gods.
“What you are referring to is a duta dagen. A reaping tree, depending on the translation. Spirits of animals that die within its considerable radius are enlisted to protect a specific place where the duta dagen is grown.” Solvi explained, squeezing every drop of obscure lore from her lessons with the shamans. She had briefly been shown the theory behind how to make one, though not how to destroy one safely. Something, she remembered, was unsafe about simply burning or cutting the tree down or defacing the carvings. “I should inspect it. Though I cannot be sure how one could possibly exist on the mainland, it must not be destroyed lightly.” Solvi directed, taking the saddle Arthur had been polishing and saddling a wotling. Renata simply stared, wide-eyed at the orsan woman. Her face had paled visibly, and she looked over her shoulder conspiratorially.
“It sounds like necromancy. Who would risk punishment to kill a few bandits?” Renata spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. In Gard, banditry was punishable by death. Moreover, citizens were paid handsomely for their retrieval. It was up to the individual bounty hunter as to what condition outlaws would enter the nearest city in. The elf had a point in that regard. A sword or bow would do the job just as well as any spectral bear or wolf.
“An orsan shaman, most likely. They’re not the most tethered to reality sort and don’t particularly care about contrivances like the law or who stakes a claim to the land.” Solvi shrugged, guiding the wotling to her carriage and tying it to a mooring peg before stepping inside to fetch her armour. Renata, meanwhile, took a pocket watch from her robe and marked the time. She stared up at the sky to make doubly sure before snapping her watch shut and marching into the landing rooms. Moments later, a harried gaggle of stable hands staggered from the rooms to begin hitching the allegs to their respective caravans. Solvi re-emerged to see her own wagon being tied to its method of locomotion. She looked at Renata, who was busying herself looking flustered, quizzically.
“I cannot pay for a day’s loss! I can barely pay for half a day. We move out, hitch a safe distance from the tree then allow you to rid us of it. With any luck, the work will be done by the time we arrive. That being the case, feel free to meet our additional security at the base of the mountain.” Renata instructed, seating herself on Mara and Solvi’s carriage and taking the reins with a confident grip. Solvi was in awe; an elf whose competence matched their ego. Readily confident Mara was in safe hands, Solvi leapt astride her wotling with her armour gleaming in the morning sun. She leaned back to check her saddlebags were properly tethered shut only to find Mara sliding into the saddle behind her, arms wrapped firmly around her waist.
“What the devils are you doing?” Solvi shot over her shoulder, setting her halberd in the helpful leather loops the saddle possessed for such a purpose. Mara appeared to be casting about for a place to store her staff before shrugging and tying it to her back as usual.
“I’m fascinated by your people’s magic. This will be an adequate opportunity to learn. Besides, I’m handy with binding curses.” Mara reassured Solvi, who drew breath to argue before the mage removed all opportunity by slapping the wotling’s tail with a gloved hand, causing it to leap forward at an incredible pace. Such a pace that Solvi found herself squinting just to avoid the deluge of air hitting her face. Memories of racing wotlings on her mother’s estate came flooding back as the creature’s bouncing back soon found rhythm with its rider. Mara was content to deafen Solvi with her fearful mutterings about the speed and suffocate her with a grip that could cut down a tree. At this speed, the plodding alleg could only compete on endurance alone. The wotling didn’t even seem to touch the ground, flinging itself forward with every step. The poor chap clearly wanted the exercise for its beak was open, tiny teeth catching anything it could from bugs to a bird.
Benam Forest spread its leafy wings before them, climbing from the valley floor to the foothills. It had been allowed to grow that the defenders of Yanhelm could hide in it during the war. The orsan’s direct answer came into view shortly after as Solvi followed the deforested scar of the former camp. It was slowly beginning to regrow, which brought a smile to Solvi’s face as she followed the road. She turned off soon after, the wotling slowing beneath her once it had been running for a good half hour. She gently patted it, easing off both the wotling’s endurance and Mara’s nerves. After a further fifteen minutes of gentle trotting, the wotling halted abruptly. Mara, who was swaying gently in the saddle from a mixture of nerves and motion sickness, slid off the creature with a relieved groan. Idly, she began staggering over to a nearby tree to steady herself only to find Solvi’s hand gripping her shoulder. The mage looked over. Her legs were gelatinous as she made a questioning motion with her hands.
“The wotling senses it. The tree’s sphere of influence is here.” Solvi spoke shortly, tilting her head to listen. It was then that the nausea-addled Mara noticed too. The forest was silent. No birds sang nor undergrowth rustled. Not so much as a hedgehog’s nose twitch disturbed the air. Then came an eerie creaking from the surrounding trees. Solvi took Mara’s medical bag from the saddle, attracting a noise of protestation from the mage that was quickly shushed. She began rummaging through the bag, wordlessly voicing her frustration when what she desired clearly wasn’t within it.
“You know, telling the owner of the bag might help you find what you need.” Mara commented with exasperation, placing its contents back into their orderly loops and straps. She even ran her hand over the leather roll that held her surgical implements to make sure all were present and correct. Solvi sat herself down upon a protruding rock and observed the surrounding forest thoughtfully. The ominous creaking of the trees unsettled her, as if the spirits were just out of sight.
“There was a ritual the shamans taught me to divine the true location of the tree. But you lack a few key herbs.” Solvi explained, arms folded in frustration. “Without it, the tree could be hidden by illusion or even underground. A few shamans cultivate trees in caves for that exact purpose.” She then scratched under her chin, watching as Mara pulled her cloak aside to access her component pouch. After taking some small amount of orange sand that Solvi believed was a metal, Mara cast it into the air and watched as it hung there. Its orange sheen glinted in the sunlight before sparks began to race between particles, forming a hazy purple cloud wherever the sand touched.
“I knew it! It manifests an arcanostatic field. Can’t perform passive necromancy without one.” Mara shouted in triumph, causing Solvi to arch an eyebrow in her direction. The mage took out a stylus made from the same metal and wiggled it in Solvi’s general direction. “Observe if you will the power of mathematics.” Mara then flung the stylus into the hanging purple cloud only for it to align with some invisible field seconds later, bending slightly at either end. Mara took some notes before inching the stylus somewhat to the left then somewhat to the right of its original position. After some quick calculations, Mara made a closing motion with her palms and brought the sand and stylus both back into her possession. Solvi stood, assuming this was consequential, and tethered the wotling to a nearby tree next to a bush of berries it could eat.
“By my calculations, the circle is orientated to the west of us. Through those trees. As the crow flies, our tree should be somewhere close by.” Mara instructed with a bright voice, marching into the field with a surprising spring to her step. Perhaps leaving her stuffy office had done her some good, Solvi reasoned. Or perhaps she was simply attracted to the macabre thrill that awaited them at the centre of the circle.
“You should stay with the wotling. Do you even know how to fight?” Solvi asked incredulously, following the marching mage with trepidation. For extra surety, she strapped her helmet on and held her halberd at the ready. Mara looked over her shoulder and, as usual, the mask was doing a very poor job of hiding what the mage really thought. The orsan woman sighed, knowing well that her stubbornness was both one of her most endearing and most infuriating traits. In the twenty-two years she’d known Mara, she’d never known the mage to accept reality if it didn’t sit right with her.
“More likely than not you’ll need my protection. This tree, curse, totem or whatever your people call it has been collating necrotic energy for the better part of two decades. The area around it is likely to be so saturated with it that you’ll be out cold in minutes.” Mara warned, unhooking her staff from her back to hold it aloft as the canopy closed over their heads. The darker part of the woods with its twisting undergrowth and unsettling silence lay before them. Unusual hillocks lay all around, someone taking the time to carve runes into the dark bark of the trees. They slid down a steep incline into a glade, hoping to catch sight of the tree. Solvi, seeing the hillocks, gasped in sudden nerves. Her gauntlets creaked as her fingers tightened against the wood of her halberd.
“Barrows. Those dead we had time to bury.” She whispered to Mara, who stiffened considerably as she heard this. Mara tapped her staff against the ground, igniting its head with a luminance that pierced through the unnatural pall that had infiltrated this glade. In its shimmering golden light, the pair could see their true quarry.
A blackened willow of prodigious size lay atop a rocky outcropping, its roots snaking over boulders to encircle a dark tomb entrance. The tree itself had been carved with the ghastly approximations of human faces, all with their mouths agape and eyes hollow. From its branches hung the ribbons Solvi had expected yet entwined in them were the bones of animals from horned skulls to ribcages. Runes that had been dormant but a moment before ignited, causing a spectral collage of markings to glow all around them. Mara’s mask, in response to this, began to seethe with black mist from the mouth and eye holes. The mage staggered, grabbing Solvi’s hand as they both attempted a mad dash up the hill they had slipped down. It was to no avail as the previous night’s rain had made it a luge of slippery mud.
The pair turned to see the barrows boiling soil onto the ground, skeletal remains emerging with any makeshift weapons they could find in their hands. They wore tattered leathers and rusted metal that bore the crests of the Orsan tribes they belonged to. No sooner had they freed themselves of their earthen entombment did they raise their weapons and charge in an eerie silence with jawbones open in silent mockery of a war cry.
Solvi leapt into action, imposing herself between the skeletons and Mara. With a mighty swing, she sent one spiralling to the ground in two parts. Yet the creature’s torso persisted, savagely attempting to gnaw through Solvi’s grieve. The Orsan woman cursed her halberd and its poxy magic, striking another skeleton with the butt of her weapon. Had the skeleton been living, such a blow would have concussed it. Instead, it merely cracked an otherwise undeterred enemy’s skull.
Mara stood in abject fear, attempting to cast a spell using the dark mist of her mask. Yet her concentration was non-existent. The words didn’t come. She hadn’t the wherewithal to even draw upon the Arcane, instead flailing the motions of magic without truly empowering them. For lack of any other options, Mara’s eyes darted from the skeletons that wrestled with Solvi to the two attempting to claw through her robes. Then she saw something that stuck out to her. Under the willow, just inside the crypt, two glowing lights hovered. Even in the frantic moments of survival, Mara noticed those glowing orbs approaching them. They were the eyes of a woman!
An orsan woman that stood somewhat shorter than Solvi with a stoop. Her hair was grey, plaited with bones and flowers interwoven. She appeared old though Mara could not tell with certainty since she too wore a mask. Her garb of bones, animal skins and metal reinforcement spoke of someone who had made her living on the land for some time. In her left hand she held a vicious-looking sickle that the pair knew didn’t harvest grain.
“Fiends! Defilers! This forest is mine!” The orsan woman cried, pointing a wizened finger at the pair. Mara felt a surge of gathering magic before a bolt of sickly green energy screamed toward them.
