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CHAPTER II
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CHAPTER II
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Before Mavaldi could answer Alma, he heard Draymuth curse as the Aedirn knights pushed him aside. They ran past the toppled over dwarf with weapons drawn.
"You pestilent Witch!" Sir August growled, waving his long sword at her. "Because of you and your devilish magic, we've lost more than half of our caravan and our provisions!"
"Don't deny it either! We saw the wind storms and followed your destruction here! Did you summon those wolves too? Bah! We should've let Sir Guthram gut you and the knife ears when he had the chance." Sir Winfrey gripped his halberd with intent to cause bodily harm. "People were gravely injured because of you, you Witch!"
"Settle down." Mavaldi said, frowning at the two knights like a disappointed father. He rose from his knelt position next to Alma with a calm demeanor. "She might have lost control, but Alma had nothing to do with those wolves."
Sir August's face twisted with rage.
"You've no right to speak on such matters, you murderer! If not for your arrangement with our king, I'd drag you along with this witch to the gallows." The knight's words struck coldly, but Mavaldi's expression didn't change. "The wolves might not have been her doing, but the wind made the carts fall over and nearly crush a merchant couple to death. Come here Alma, so you can be tried for your crimes!"
"Oh, to hell with it, August." Sir Winfrey was fuming at this point. The knight charged forward with his halberd pointed at Mavaldi. "Let's rid the world of this filth and gut them here and now!"
With cat-like reflexes Mavaldi weaved to the side. While doing so, he grabbed the pole arm and Winfrey's hand, redirecting the knight's momentum away from causing anyone but himself harm. Mavaldi made sure to include a kick in the arse while performing this motion, propelling the knight forward and onto a small boulder. The rock jutted into his arm, dislocating his shoulder instantly. Sir Winfrey screamed in pain.
His brother in arms came swinging at the Witcher, but before he could raise his pommel to strike, Draymuth tackled the man onto the ground. The two began wrestling each other for a dominant position, cursing all the while as Sir Winfrey's wailing pitch wouldn't let up. The kerfuffle was so loud that nobody heard Archibald call out to them.
"Um, hey, everyone?" The merchant-bard wasn't paying any attention to the fight that had broken out. His beady eyes were fixed upon the crescent ruin gateway. "Do you see what I'm seeing?"
The open crevasse went pitch dark before a brilliant luminosity flickered from the structure. It came in flashes, then enveloped the entire area in a radiant light. The crescent gateway flowed with an oceanic blue hue, alive with writhing magic, swirling like a tide pool, pulling everything into its glowing mouth.
From one mad vortex into another, Mavaldi was hurled through a tunnel of blue light and into another realm entirely. The sky was as beautiful as an oil painting with an array of wonderful aromas permeating into the fresh, cool air.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Draymuth said. Mavaldi turned to see that the dwarf, Archibald, Indaic, and Alma had made it through. The Witcher looked around for the terrible twosome, but they were nowhere in sight.
"Don't think they made it." Archibald said with a sigh of relief.
"Good riddance." Mavaldi said. "Is everyone okay?"
For the first time in a long time, the Witcher was caught off guard. He didn't hear or sense the two guards as they appeared before them without even so much as a hum from his medallion. They wore gold like royal shepherds, draped in fine white silks, accented with green fabrics, that matched the forestry all around them. One was a middle aged man with a salt and peppered beard, the other, a beautiful woman with a soft, but stern countenance.
"Welcome to Kel Desinthe." The woman said. Her careful enunciation and flowery accent indicated that she wasn't speaking in her native language. Draymuth's eyes widened as Archibald's mouth stood agape. Mavaldi stares with visible scrutiny, in disbelief that any of this was even happening. "My name is Yusia, this is Asef."
"Rizal'c metilth su vache!" The man named Asef grew impatient, his hazel eyes darting back and forth. "We must go, Yusia!"
"Come, we have much traveling to do." Yusia said, pointing to the black obelisk in the distance. It cut into the beautiful scenery as if the night peaked through the drapes of midday. "We take you to see Queen Ygannea."
And so the caravan of twenty became a group of five.
It had been a while since Indaic had been in the midst of such chaos. One minute he was carving a wolf's side open and the next he was being hurled into a tree, only to be helping sort the wreckage only a few moments afterwards. More than slightly bewildered, he did the best he could trying to salvage provisions from the wreckage. All the while, however, he questioned what had happened. No one seemed to have a straightforward answer. Some claimed that it was the workings of a witch who'd been hiding amongst them. Others said it was the wrath of whatever abducted men and women haphazardly.
Although his curiosity was peaked, he held off on finding conclusive answers for now. Survival came first... Though a part of him questioned that instinct. What exactly motivated him to pursue life? He couldn't quite understand it. But for now, he figured he'd heed that instinct. Maybe later, there'd be an answer in another nightmare of his.
For those still hungering to seek the mysteries of Kel Dlesinthe and able to do so after the destruction, it took a while to get back on their feet. Enough time for him to come up with more questions than answers. Draymuth's exclamation of "Witcher!" had been a welcome sound. But with the sudden sounds of fighting, he was disappointed to see them already scuffling on the ground.
Why did nothing ever stay happy and cool? In those few moments, she'd felt lighter and somehow more human than she'd been in a very long time. It was comforting and refreshing, like the sweet feeling of calm night after slaving away in the hot summer sun. Alma was a sentient being and it was beautiful. There was a wonder to living she'd forgotten till that short moment.
But happiness never lasts. And neither did those few seconds of joy mitigated of the cruel fashions that accompanied reality.
Instinctively, she pushed herself backwards and away from the hostile words and actions of the men. Slowly the relief of feeling free and full turned to inky venom within her stomach. Hot red anger flushed her cheeks for a moment, and an unrecognizable look of absolute hatred set in her dark eyes. How dare he judge something so pristine and beautiful? The fool would never know the meaning of being unburdened. To let new possibilities and hope suddenly flood this horrible place, this cynical world, was a gift. Pitiful, was the perfect adjective to detail those too close-minded to see it.
But just like happiness, the animosity didn't burn for long inside her. Guilt set in, accompanied by it's good friend embarrassment. She had lost control. It was her irresponsibility and lust for the liberty beyond what mortal life could offer that had almost killed innocents. It possibly could've been that couple she'd first met that her thoughtless actions had almost harmed. With a dry mouth, she picked herself up, only to cringe as the yelling continued. With sorrowful eyes, she watched as it soon led to violence, resorting to fighting like dogs. Maybe he wasn't the only pitiful one. They all were playing into this lovely farce called life.
"Do you see what I'm seeing?" Pulled from the distraction, she turned around just slightly to acknowledge whoever it was speaking. She never got to identify them before her attention was enraptured in the sudden change of their world into entropy.
It was like gentle bolts of energy pricking at her skin, causing goosebumps to arise. Melting and fusing and becoming whole again, Alma could only recall the same addictive freedom as they traveled, though the same could not be said for Indaic. His stomach was doing somersaults, lifting into his mouth before dropping to his feet. He couldn't be happier for the touch of hard ground again.
However, one thing the two could agree on was the pervasive surprise that overwhelmed their systems once the group landed.
Immediately following their arrival, Alma crouched to touch the ground, as if wondering if she was in another trance. Guilt still ate at the back of her mind, ruining the majesty of this moment. Cursing herself, she tried to shake off the feeling. Unfortunately it just succeeded in making her anxious. It shouldn't have just been them here. If she'd just bitten back on her instincts... Silently, she withdrew into herself, preferring to stand in the back of the group, where hopefully she'd be forgotten.
The elf looked about, walking in a circle before pausing to touch a nearby tree. He paused as the pleasant accent of the Yusia came into hearing. The two strangers looked dignified; their well kept appearances were a welcome change from their company of the last few days.
As the group heeded their command, Indaic studied the obelisk in the distance curiously, his eyes thoughtful as he took the back of the group out of habit. Falling into step beside him, Alma studied their surroundings, chewing on her lip. But her actions seemed to carry an anxious weight to them, much unlike Indaic's steady gait. Catching on on her negative energy, he refrained from asking any questions. Instead he offered her something much more valuable than any words he could possibly say. Holding out her little journal of notes and translations, he tilted his head and motioned for her to take it. Blinking once, she gave him a genuine smile and held it close as if she was holding a babe. There didn't need to be any words. The differences between the two were tangible, but somehow seemed to balance out.
Although his curiosity was peaked, he held off on finding conclusive answers for now. Survival came first... Though a part of him questioned that instinct. What exactly motivated him to pursue life? He couldn't quite understand it. But for now, he figured he'd heed that instinct. Maybe later, there'd be an answer in another nightmare of his.
For those still hungering to seek the mysteries of Kel Dlesinthe and able to do so after the destruction, it took a while to get back on their feet. Enough time for him to come up with more questions than answers. Draymuth's exclamation of "Witcher!" had been a welcome sound. But with the sudden sounds of fighting, he was disappointed to see them already scuffling on the ground.
~~~
Why did nothing ever stay happy and cool? In those few moments, she'd felt lighter and somehow more human than she'd been in a very long time. It was comforting and refreshing, like the sweet feeling of calm night after slaving away in the hot summer sun. Alma was a sentient being and it was beautiful. There was a wonder to living she'd forgotten till that short moment.
But happiness never lasts. And neither did those few seconds of joy mitigated of the cruel fashions that accompanied reality.
Instinctively, she pushed herself backwards and away from the hostile words and actions of the men. Slowly the relief of feeling free and full turned to inky venom within her stomach. Hot red anger flushed her cheeks for a moment, and an unrecognizable look of absolute hatred set in her dark eyes. How dare he judge something so pristine and beautiful? The fool would never know the meaning of being unburdened. To let new possibilities and hope suddenly flood this horrible place, this cynical world, was a gift. Pitiful, was the perfect adjective to detail those too close-minded to see it.
But just like happiness, the animosity didn't burn for long inside her. Guilt set in, accompanied by it's good friend embarrassment. She had lost control. It was her irresponsibility and lust for the liberty beyond what mortal life could offer that had almost killed innocents. It possibly could've been that couple she'd first met that her thoughtless actions had almost harmed. With a dry mouth, she picked herself up, only to cringe as the yelling continued. With sorrowful eyes, she watched as it soon led to violence, resorting to fighting like dogs. Maybe he wasn't the only pitiful one. They all were playing into this lovely farce called life.
"Do you see what I'm seeing?" Pulled from the distraction, she turned around just slightly to acknowledge whoever it was speaking. She never got to identify them before her attention was enraptured in the sudden change of their world into entropy.
It was like gentle bolts of energy pricking at her skin, causing goosebumps to arise. Melting and fusing and becoming whole again, Alma could only recall the same addictive freedom as they traveled, though the same could not be said for Indaic. His stomach was doing somersaults, lifting into his mouth before dropping to his feet. He couldn't be happier for the touch of hard ground again.
However, one thing the two could agree on was the pervasive surprise that overwhelmed their systems once the group landed.
Immediately following their arrival, Alma crouched to touch the ground, as if wondering if she was in another trance. Guilt still ate at the back of her mind, ruining the majesty of this moment. Cursing herself, she tried to shake off the feeling. Unfortunately it just succeeded in making her anxious. It shouldn't have just been them here. If she'd just bitten back on her instincts... Silently, she withdrew into herself, preferring to stand in the back of the group, where hopefully she'd be forgotten.
The elf looked about, walking in a circle before pausing to touch a nearby tree. He paused as the pleasant accent of the Yusia came into hearing. The two strangers looked dignified; their well kept appearances were a welcome change from their company of the last few days.
As the group heeded their command, Indaic studied the obelisk in the distance curiously, his eyes thoughtful as he took the back of the group out of habit. Falling into step beside him, Alma studied their surroundings, chewing on her lip. But her actions seemed to carry an anxious weight to them, much unlike Indaic's steady gait. Catching on on her negative energy, he refrained from asking any questions. Instead he offered her something much more valuable than any words he could possibly say. Holding out her little journal of notes and translations, he tilted his head and motioned for her to take it. Blinking once, she gave him a genuine smile and held it close as if she was holding a babe. There didn't need to be any words. The differences between the two were tangible, but somehow seemed to balance out.
The dwarf took in his surroundings with awe and wonder. The sun made everything glow differently. It was as if there was a milky haze fogging up his vision, giving off a very dream-like state to it all. Was it even the same sun as back home? Are they really in a completely different realm? He’d have to wait until nightfall and compare how the constellations mapped out.
Archibald grabbed a patch of dirt from the ground and put some into his mouth. He spit it out and confirmed that it was, in fact, dirt. He did the same for blades of grass, tree bark, and even the colorful lotus-like fauna in the shrubbery; Asef hit it out of his hand with his walking stick before Archibald could take a bite. Not because they were sacred plants or anything of that sort. According to Asef’s hand gestures swirling from his rear, eating the plant would make for a terrible event, digestively.
“What are you doing?” Mavaldi asked.
“All of it tastes like it would back home. I was expecting it to be more like candied sweets, or something.”
The Witcher didn’t bother to ask why he’d think that. He was more concerned about their two escorts, Yusia and Asef. The woman was more relaxed compared to the man, who was constantly on the lookout for something. Mavaldi paced ahead to match their stride.
“I have some questions.” Mavaldi said abruptly. Asef glanced back at him, then stared at Yusia, who brought a hand up to shield the sun from her gaze upon the distant obelisk. “Who are you people? Who is Izraith? Who is Queen Ygannea, what is that object in the distance-”
“We are guards of Kel Dlesinthe.” Yusia answered firstly, smiling. “Izraith is who summoned you, Lady Ygannea is our queen, and that object will help us get to her palace.”
“Her palace. Is it in another realm?” Mavaldi was growing agitated with her simple answers.
“No. It is here in Kel Dlesinthe of course.”
“What is Kel Dlesinthe, exactly? How is it that we’ve never heard about these lands until recently?”
Asef turned to face Mavaldi.
“All will make sense soon, cat. For now, we must travel quick to safety.”
“What if we don’t? What dangers are out here that worries you so?”
Asef momentarily stopped in his tracks. He wanted to tell cat eyes to shut his mouth, but Yusia slapped his shoulder with her walking stick to get him to keep moving.
“The very same dangers that impeded upon your Elf-Human war.” Yusia interjected. “We will not speak on this matter anymore. Our queen will answer those questions for you.”
The Witcher scoffed, slowing his pace to regroup with the others.
“We won’t get any information out of them. Best stay on our guard. ” Mavaldi grumbled.
The open path towards the towering object did not reveal much. They didn't encounter anyone else, or animals even, just an empty forest without so much as a sound from buzzing flies or nested birds. There were no gusts of wind, and the sun, while bright and radiant, didn’t give off any heat. What worried the Witcher the most was his medallion. Not once did it hum, even when the gate opened and swallowed him whole, or when he landed on his arse in Kel Dlesinthe. Nothing. Had it stopped working? Was it broken? Surely magic was involved. How else could they have been transported into these lands? His thoughts fell onto Master Heryn’s metaphors about sailing calmly through uncharted water, but that only aggravated him even more.
The black obelisk stood on top of a hill. It was made of a peculiar ore, smoothed out, with no visible engravings or swirly designs. It gave off no reflection either, giving it the impression that you were peering into a dark void of nothingness. Mavaldi felt uneasy in its presence.
Yusia quickly approached it with a cautious hand. She felt out the base, then traced along one side as if looking for something. Asef continued to be on the lookout, but was noticeably calmer now in close proximity to the structure.
“Ah.” Yusia said, then turned to the group. “We will set out camp here. Queen Ygannea is busy at the moment.”
“H-how did you gather that?” Draymuth said, clearly disturbed by the obelisk. “Did it speak to you?”
“Yes, it speaks to us all.” Yusia smiled.
She motioned over to Asef, who walked over to the adjacent side of the obelisk. He raised his walking stick and slammed the butt of it onto the base. As he did, a loud vibration hummed from the structure and reverberated outward. Mavaldi clenched his necklace, but it told him nothing. The motion eventually subsided. Yusia nodded approvingly to Asef. She walked from the base and took twelve steps. She tapped at the air, and when she did, a spark of green light sent a cascade of visible energy around them, walling off the entire hill with a protective ward of some kind.
“We’ll be safe here.” Asef said with a sigh of relief.
Draymuth went off with Archibald to stare out into the night for familiar constellations. Asef told them not to wander too far from the hill. When they obliged, he tagged along anyways, making sure they obeyed his instruction. Yusia went to check on the protective wards, not to be bothered with the Witcher's questions about them. Touching the obelisk was also out of the question, so he stayed close to the campfire made within ten yards of it. Indaic and Alma were also there, but he did little to make conversation.
The day was long and eventful, to say the least, and to be able to relax (as much as one can relax in a foreign land next to an eerie construct of darkness) was a welcomed distraction. Still, his head was overflowing with questions neither guard would care to answer. So he sat there brooding, with no ale to drink or food to eat, for nobody had such provisions on their person -- and according to the guards, hunting wasn't allowed. Not that it mattered. The Witcher hadn't sensed another living thing since they arrived in this cursed place.
"Damn it all." He said under his breath.
Archibald grabbed a patch of dirt from the ground and put some into his mouth. He spit it out and confirmed that it was, in fact, dirt. He did the same for blades of grass, tree bark, and even the colorful lotus-like fauna in the shrubbery; Asef hit it out of his hand with his walking stick before Archibald could take a bite. Not because they were sacred plants or anything of that sort. According to Asef’s hand gestures swirling from his rear, eating the plant would make for a terrible event, digestively.
“What are you doing?” Mavaldi asked.
“All of it tastes like it would back home. I was expecting it to be more like candied sweets, or something.”
The Witcher didn’t bother to ask why he’d think that. He was more concerned about their two escorts, Yusia and Asef. The woman was more relaxed compared to the man, who was constantly on the lookout for something. Mavaldi paced ahead to match their stride.
“I have some questions.” Mavaldi said abruptly. Asef glanced back at him, then stared at Yusia, who brought a hand up to shield the sun from her gaze upon the distant obelisk. “Who are you people? Who is Izraith? Who is Queen Ygannea, what is that object in the distance-”
“We are guards of Kel Dlesinthe.” Yusia answered firstly, smiling. “Izraith is who summoned you, Lady Ygannea is our queen, and that object will help us get to her palace.”
“Her palace. Is it in another realm?” Mavaldi was growing agitated with her simple answers.
“No. It is here in Kel Dlesinthe of course.”
“What is Kel Dlesinthe, exactly? How is it that we’ve never heard about these lands until recently?”
Asef turned to face Mavaldi.
“All will make sense soon, cat. For now, we must travel quick to safety.”
“What if we don’t? What dangers are out here that worries you so?”
Asef momentarily stopped in his tracks. He wanted to tell cat eyes to shut his mouth, but Yusia slapped his shoulder with her walking stick to get him to keep moving.
“The very same dangers that impeded upon your Elf-Human war.” Yusia interjected. “We will not speak on this matter anymore. Our queen will answer those questions for you.”
The Witcher scoffed, slowing his pace to regroup with the others.
“We won’t get any information out of them. Best stay on our guard. ” Mavaldi grumbled.
The open path towards the towering object did not reveal much. They didn't encounter anyone else, or animals even, just an empty forest without so much as a sound from buzzing flies or nested birds. There were no gusts of wind, and the sun, while bright and radiant, didn’t give off any heat. What worried the Witcher the most was his medallion. Not once did it hum, even when the gate opened and swallowed him whole, or when he landed on his arse in Kel Dlesinthe. Nothing. Had it stopped working? Was it broken? Surely magic was involved. How else could they have been transported into these lands? His thoughts fell onto Master Heryn’s metaphors about sailing calmly through uncharted water, but that only aggravated him even more.
The black obelisk stood on top of a hill. It was made of a peculiar ore, smoothed out, with no visible engravings or swirly designs. It gave off no reflection either, giving it the impression that you were peering into a dark void of nothingness. Mavaldi felt uneasy in its presence.
Yusia quickly approached it with a cautious hand. She felt out the base, then traced along one side as if looking for something. Asef continued to be on the lookout, but was noticeably calmer now in close proximity to the structure.
“Ah.” Yusia said, then turned to the group. “We will set out camp here. Queen Ygannea is busy at the moment.”
“H-how did you gather that?” Draymuth said, clearly disturbed by the obelisk. “Did it speak to you?”
“Yes, it speaks to us all.” Yusia smiled.
She motioned over to Asef, who walked over to the adjacent side of the obelisk. He raised his walking stick and slammed the butt of it onto the base. As he did, a loud vibration hummed from the structure and reverberated outward. Mavaldi clenched his necklace, but it told him nothing. The motion eventually subsided. Yusia nodded approvingly to Asef. She walked from the base and took twelve steps. She tapped at the air, and when she did, a spark of green light sent a cascade of visible energy around them, walling off the entire hill with a protective ward of some kind.
“We’ll be safe here.” Asef said with a sigh of relief.
***
Draymuth went off with Archibald to stare out into the night for familiar constellations. Asef told them not to wander too far from the hill. When they obliged, he tagged along anyways, making sure they obeyed his instruction. Yusia went to check on the protective wards, not to be bothered with the Witcher's questions about them. Touching the obelisk was also out of the question, so he stayed close to the campfire made within ten yards of it. Indaic and Alma were also there, but he did little to make conversation.
The day was long and eventful, to say the least, and to be able to relax (as much as one can relax in a foreign land next to an eerie construct of darkness) was a welcomed distraction. Still, his head was overflowing with questions neither guard would care to answer. So he sat there brooding, with no ale to drink or food to eat, for nobody had such provisions on their person -- and according to the guards, hunting wasn't allowed. Not that it mattered. The Witcher hadn't sensed another living thing since they arrived in this cursed place.
"Damn it all." He said under his breath.
Archibald's antics brought a lightness to the air as they continued to travel. She wondered how he knew what the dirt tasted like in their home world. Alma couldn't help but giggle despite herself. At least she could definitely be in worse company. Anyways a smaller group was easier to maneuver.
She was grateful for the questions Mavaldi asked. She had a lot of her own she wanted answered, but unfortunately they seemed keen on keeping that telltale air of mystery around Kel Dlesinthe. Looking around, Alma realized she had a lot more questions now that they had arrived than before. She could only hope that there would be suitable responses to them once they reached their new destination.
The strange vibe about the place seemed to affect them differently. It felt like something was missing, though Alma couldn't place a finger on what it was that bothered her. Maybe it was just the change of scenery. After all, they had just arrived. And after everything that had just occurred, it made sense for her to feel off. Somehow, that explanation didn't satisfy her. It was... perhaps too logical to quite trust?
As the looming shadow that was the obelisk came into view, she couldn't help but slow her steps to stare in awe. It was terrifying and seemed to swallow the light around it. But Alma couldn't help but want to touch it. She had to stop herself from doing so, realizing she was no better than Archibald. The thought nearly sent her chuckles, before she suppressed it. On the other hand, Indaic watched it suspiciously, making sure to keep his distance. It was consuming... You could get lost in the pools of void that it created across it's surface.
Dismayed by the news that the Queen was too busy, Alma paused at her next words, a shudder running up her spine.
“Yes, it speaks to us all.”
What did she mean by that? Alma stared at her with wide eyes. She wanted to talk to immobile objects too! If only walls could talk... She wondered if they would speak the language of their creators. Would it even be able to form coherent sentences? Maybe there was a spell she could learn to give voice to the voiceless. She'd have to research it later.
She couldn't help but wonder if Asef or even Yusia would be willing to teach her something to control her own abilities. It was only getting harder to contain herself, she realized with a pang of anxiety. If she did loose her senses, she could end up hurting someone innocent. The thought scared her, maybe a bit more than how little she knew of Kel Dlesinthe and how relieved the escorts were to have the wards placed. What dangers lurked out there?
When they finally settled, she was content to claim a corner around the campfire, wondering if there was a way to snatch up a charred piece of wood to try to write her experiences and findings. After a few attempts, and very nearly setting herself and the book on fire, she gave up. Deciding to bother Indaic, the only other person she'd truly had a conversation with. The elf had set to furiously trying to clean his equipment with what limited supplies he had. It was an old habit of his; a remnant of a life he'd left behind only a while ago.
"You're going to polish that leather into dust, Aen Seidhe," Cautious in her manner, she tried to start conversation with a light-hearted gesture. Indaic paused for a second, realizing that although she had been joking, it wasn't far from the truth. Sighing, he set the hilt aside and nodded as she sat cross legged just a bit aways.
"A'baethe arse, (Kiss an ass)" Wryly, he rolled his eyes at the younger, who only laughed and smiled in return.
"Peidiwch â bod fel hyn, (Do not be that way)" Needing to take a moment to think over the words, she managed to find them after a moment or two, "Ond ym mhob difrifoldeb, sut ydych chi? (But in all seriousness, how are you?)" Playfully swatting him on the arm, she paused after a moment or two to glance back at the fire. Suddenly feeling the need for secrecy, she turned to him, deciding to keep their chat private.
"Dylwn fod yn gofyn ichi. Fodd bynnag, gallwn fod yn well. Mae'r lle hwn yn rhoi teimlad drwg i mi. Peidiwch â theimlo hynny hefyd? (I should be asking you. However, I could be better. This place gives me a bad feeling. Don't you feel it too?)"
"Rwy'n ei wneud. Rwy'n teimlo fel plentyn, yn dysgu rheolau'r byd drosodd, (I do. I feel like a child, relearning the rules of the world again)" She went silent for a moment or two, staring at her hands before looking back up, "Roeddwn i eisiau gofyn i un ohonynt am help gyda'm galluoedd. (I wanted to ask one of them for help with my abilities.)"
"Wyt ti'n siwr? (Are you sure?)" His brows twitched in worry. Indaic agreed she should seek help. But... From one of them? They barely knew anything about this world, much less the people here.
She looked downcast, curls of hair falling over her face as she shrugged. But before she could answer, she paused at an utterance from her right. It was fairly quiet, but she didn't really want to answer Indaic's question.
"Damn it all."
Turning back over her right shoulder, she tilted her head, noticing Mavaldi, "Hail Witcher. How do you fare?" Awkwardly, in her own bumbling way, she gives him a small smile. She wondered what he made of all this.
She was grateful for the questions Mavaldi asked. She had a lot of her own she wanted answered, but unfortunately they seemed keen on keeping that telltale air of mystery around Kel Dlesinthe. Looking around, Alma realized she had a lot more questions now that they had arrived than before. She could only hope that there would be suitable responses to them once they reached their new destination.
The strange vibe about the place seemed to affect them differently. It felt like something was missing, though Alma couldn't place a finger on what it was that bothered her. Maybe it was just the change of scenery. After all, they had just arrived. And after everything that had just occurred, it made sense for her to feel off. Somehow, that explanation didn't satisfy her. It was... perhaps too logical to quite trust?
As the looming shadow that was the obelisk came into view, she couldn't help but slow her steps to stare in awe. It was terrifying and seemed to swallow the light around it. But Alma couldn't help but want to touch it. She had to stop herself from doing so, realizing she was no better than Archibald. The thought nearly sent her chuckles, before she suppressed it. On the other hand, Indaic watched it suspiciously, making sure to keep his distance. It was consuming... You could get lost in the pools of void that it created across it's surface.
Dismayed by the news that the Queen was too busy, Alma paused at her next words, a shudder running up her spine.
“Yes, it speaks to us all.”
What did she mean by that? Alma stared at her with wide eyes. She wanted to talk to immobile objects too! If only walls could talk... She wondered if they would speak the language of their creators. Would it even be able to form coherent sentences? Maybe there was a spell she could learn to give voice to the voiceless. She'd have to research it later.
She couldn't help but wonder if Asef or even Yusia would be willing to teach her something to control her own abilities. It was only getting harder to contain herself, she realized with a pang of anxiety. If she did loose her senses, she could end up hurting someone innocent. The thought scared her, maybe a bit more than how little she knew of Kel Dlesinthe and how relieved the escorts were to have the wards placed. What dangers lurked out there?
When they finally settled, she was content to claim a corner around the campfire, wondering if there was a way to snatch up a charred piece of wood to try to write her experiences and findings. After a few attempts, and very nearly setting herself and the book on fire, she gave up. Deciding to bother Indaic, the only other person she'd truly had a conversation with. The elf had set to furiously trying to clean his equipment with what limited supplies he had. It was an old habit of his; a remnant of a life he'd left behind only a while ago.
"You're going to polish that leather into dust, Aen Seidhe," Cautious in her manner, she tried to start conversation with a light-hearted gesture. Indaic paused for a second, realizing that although she had been joking, it wasn't far from the truth. Sighing, he set the hilt aside and nodded as she sat cross legged just a bit aways.
"A'baethe arse, (Kiss an ass)" Wryly, he rolled his eyes at the younger, who only laughed and smiled in return.
"Peidiwch â bod fel hyn, (Do not be that way)" Needing to take a moment to think over the words, she managed to find them after a moment or two, "Ond ym mhob difrifoldeb, sut ydych chi? (But in all seriousness, how are you?)" Playfully swatting him on the arm, she paused after a moment or two to glance back at the fire. Suddenly feeling the need for secrecy, she turned to him, deciding to keep their chat private.
"Dylwn fod yn gofyn ichi. Fodd bynnag, gallwn fod yn well. Mae'r lle hwn yn rhoi teimlad drwg i mi. Peidiwch â theimlo hynny hefyd? (I should be asking you. However, I could be better. This place gives me a bad feeling. Don't you feel it too?)"
"Rwy'n ei wneud. Rwy'n teimlo fel plentyn, yn dysgu rheolau'r byd drosodd, (I do. I feel like a child, relearning the rules of the world again)" She went silent for a moment or two, staring at her hands before looking back up, "Roeddwn i eisiau gofyn i un ohonynt am help gyda'm galluoedd. (I wanted to ask one of them for help with my abilities.)"
"Wyt ti'n siwr? (Are you sure?)" His brows twitched in worry. Indaic agreed she should seek help. But... From one of them? They barely knew anything about this world, much less the people here.
She looked downcast, curls of hair falling over her face as she shrugged. But before she could answer, she paused at an utterance from her right. It was fairly quiet, but she didn't really want to answer Indaic's question.
"Damn it all."
Turning back over her right shoulder, she tilted her head, noticing Mavaldi, "Hail Witcher. How do you fare?" Awkwardly, in her own bumbling way, she gives him a small smile. She wondered what he made of all this.
Mavaldi looked over to Alma, still entranced in a dreary state. The soft features of her face were lit by the flames of the campfire. Fearing his gaze would overstay its welcome, he turned back to face the crackling pile of burning wood.
"Annoyed." He finally answered her. "Annoyed of our tight-lipped tour guides, annoyed for leaving my horse Chuvalo all alone back in our realm, and annoyed that I lost my crossbow."
The brightness from the moon above was momentarily blotted out by the obelisk. When the pale light returned, so did Draymuth and Archibald. Asef, who'd been their chaperone, went off to join Yusia in securing the wards.
"But never mind all of that, Almonds." The Witcher smiled. The nickname he jokingly gave her back when they first met was only three nights ago, but after everything that’s happened, it felt much longer than that. “I feel like we haven't had a chance to truly talk. How are you holding up?”
The dwarf and merchant-bard quietly rejoined the group at the campfire, acknowledging them all with nods as they listened intently to Alma's response. Archibald unpacked his bag and set aside his lute. He then brought out a folded blanket and carefully unrolled it, revealing apricots, berries, pieces of chocolate, and dried jerky. The Witcher's mood immediately shifted for the better upon seeing each item. And when Draymuth passed around a large gourd full of Mahakaman mead, he nodded graciously to both men for their silent hospitality.
Archibald quietly shared his food to the group as he stared longingly at Alma. He was finally getting to know her and couldn’t wait to officially introduce himself. He cursed for not picking out flowers to give to her, and was disappointed that none of the bushes nearby had anything to offer. I'll have to make up for that with a ballad, he thought.
Listening to his complaints, Alma gave him a sympathetic glance. Turning so her front faced the fire, she rested her back against the log Indaic sat on. This way she could better hold a conversation, rather than constantly turning to listen.
Attentive as always, she nodded sympathetically. Alma, and certainly Indaic, didn't trust the tour guides either. But what else could they do? This place was eerily foreign. It could be both frightening, yet alluring.
Other than that, she found it curious that he actually named his mount. It was rather charming. A part of her questioned the origin of the name Chuvalo. It was rather different; Alma decided she liked it. She hadn't even bothered to name her own mule. She wondered where it was now... More importantly, where were all her master's books and journals? Those familiar yellowed pages had been filled with information and now it could be gone. At least she had spent what felt a lifetime studying them. Still, that did nothing to diminish the loss she felt.
Before she could reply, the world seemed to go dark, save for the pinpricks of light from the stars overhead and the orange hues of the fire. Shivering, Alma paused as finally the moon revealed itself and the others appeared. Briefly, she greeted them warmly, while Indaic offered them a small smile and wave.
A chuckle escaped her at the nickname: at least there were somethings that hadn't changed. It felt as if, in just an instant, everything she knew to be true was being questioned with their arrival to this new land. Her thoughts were interrupted as the ale and food was shared. Thanking them heartily; she found herself rather content with her current company. She made sure to drink little and eat less. She felt bad enough about destroying so much of the caravan and putting their lives possibly at a greater risk, and now here she was, dependent on them. Guilt churned in her stomach.
"I'm fine... I'd just like to apologize for earlier," Twiddling her thumbs, she shifted subconsciously, "I'm sorry I lost control. I've never gotten so lost before." She paused for a moment, drawing her sword. If she truly was to travel with these people, she decided they deserved to know a bit more. Laying it over her legs, she treated it carefully, as if it was a babe. However, it was rather ugly and useless to anyone who'd dare wield a weapon. The sword was broken; a crack and subsequent split revealing the iron metal inside it. But the engravings that had been carved into it's iron flesh were mesmerizing, changing with the differing lights of the campfire. From the buzzing in her mind, Alma could feel it's connection to her own energy as though it was another limb.
"That's why I carry this around. When I was little, I had trouble--" She paused, realizing that was something she didn't want to talk about. Recovering, she shook her head and continued, "I was given this to help me control the energy. I guess they could've given me a pendant or something smaller to carry around, but a sword tends to chase off villagers wielding pitchforks and torches. Anyways, a pendant can be easily lost. It'd be harder for me to loose a sword." Why was she so prone to rambling? Cursing herself internally, she pulled some strands of hair behind her ear and tried to get to the point.
"I guess the problem is," Trailing off, she struggled to find the words to sum it all up efficiently, "It's not as effective as it used to be. And I'm scared. But not discouraged! I'll just find another way to fix it." Her fear showed in her voice; she sounded dismayed and slightly terrified. However she immediately followed it up with a hopeful tone and a determined glance down at the sword. It didn't stop her mind from wandering. A voice in her head wondered if the answer to "it" lay six feet under. Maybe she was bound to get progressively worse? Cold hands of dread began to choke her. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile and put it away.
"I just thought you all should know. I owe you all at least that much. Anyways, how are you two? Quite the trip, huh?"
Attentive as always, she nodded sympathetically. Alma, and certainly Indaic, didn't trust the tour guides either. But what else could they do? This place was eerily foreign. It could be both frightening, yet alluring.
Other than that, she found it curious that he actually named his mount. It was rather charming. A part of her questioned the origin of the name Chuvalo. It was rather different; Alma decided she liked it. She hadn't even bothered to name her own mule. She wondered where it was now... More importantly, where were all her master's books and journals? Those familiar yellowed pages had been filled with information and now it could be gone. At least she had spent what felt a lifetime studying them. Still, that did nothing to diminish the loss she felt.
Before she could reply, the world seemed to go dark, save for the pinpricks of light from the stars overhead and the orange hues of the fire. Shivering, Alma paused as finally the moon revealed itself and the others appeared. Briefly, she greeted them warmly, while Indaic offered them a small smile and wave.
A chuckle escaped her at the nickname: at least there were somethings that hadn't changed. It felt as if, in just an instant, everything she knew to be true was being questioned with their arrival to this new land. Her thoughts were interrupted as the ale and food was shared. Thanking them heartily; she found herself rather content with her current company. She made sure to drink little and eat less. She felt bad enough about destroying so much of the caravan and putting their lives possibly at a greater risk, and now here she was, dependent on them. Guilt churned in her stomach.
"I'm fine... I'd just like to apologize for earlier," Twiddling her thumbs, she shifted subconsciously, "I'm sorry I lost control. I've never gotten so lost before." She paused for a moment, drawing her sword. If she truly was to travel with these people, she decided they deserved to know a bit more. Laying it over her legs, she treated it carefully, as if it was a babe. However, it was rather ugly and useless to anyone who'd dare wield a weapon. The sword was broken; a crack and subsequent split revealing the iron metal inside it. But the engravings that had been carved into it's iron flesh were mesmerizing, changing with the differing lights of the campfire. From the buzzing in her mind, Alma could feel it's connection to her own energy as though it was another limb.
"That's why I carry this around. When I was little, I had trouble--" She paused, realizing that was something she didn't want to talk about. Recovering, she shook her head and continued, "I was given this to help me control the energy. I guess they could've given me a pendant or something smaller to carry around, but a sword tends to chase off villagers wielding pitchforks and torches. Anyways, a pendant can be easily lost. It'd be harder for me to loose a sword." Why was she so prone to rambling? Cursing herself internally, she pulled some strands of hair behind her ear and tried to get to the point.
"I guess the problem is," Trailing off, she struggled to find the words to sum it all up efficiently, "It's not as effective as it used to be. And I'm scared. But not discouraged! I'll just find another way to fix it." Her fear showed in her voice; she sounded dismayed and slightly terrified. However she immediately followed it up with a hopeful tone and a determined glance down at the sword. It didn't stop her mind from wandering. A voice in her head wondered if the answer to "it" lay six feet under. Maybe she was bound to get progressively worse? Cold hands of dread began to choke her. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile and put it away.
"I just thought you all should know. I owe you all at least that much. Anyways, how are you two? Quite the trip, huh?"
"Well, Lady Alma..." Draymuth said after he swigged from the gourd, passing it over to Mavaldi, who graciously accepted. "I must admit that you gave me quite the scare. Seeing you in such a state was unnerving, especially with the Witcher caught in the throes of your magic. He looked like an upturned sheep getting tossed by a whirlwind!"
Mavaldi grumbled as he took his swig from the gourd and shoved it over to Archibald.
"What happened exactly?" The Witcher asked. "I can’t recall anything after the dimeritium bomb went off, which I now realize I didn't apologize for. Sorry Almonds."
Mavaldi lied. He remembered a lot after his collision with Alma, but none of it made any sense. He was still trying to piece together what those visions even were. He’ll have to find time to discuss it with Alma, alone. The dwarf took a deep breath and began his retelling of the events that unfolded.
"Well, I chased after the Knights and ran into a pack of wolves. The beasts surrounded Bernard and Tully, who were panicking on the roof of the cart. We were in for a real romper for sure, but the fierce gale winds scared them all off. We gathered what we could and headed back. Boy were the winds fierce! Felt like I'd be carried off at any moment. When we arrived back onto the pass, I saw you running towards Lady Alma, then, boom!"
Draymuth gesticulated with his hands an explosion of some kind.
"The wild current of the gales compacted, gathering back to you, swallowing you both up into a tornado. Then it moved, and boy did we chase after it. Almost lost it too if it weren't for the Witcher swirling about in its current. We veered off the pass and down several slopes, then found you both in that crevasse next to ruins."
There was a moment of silence, and just as Archibald was about to use that as his cue to introduce himself, Draymuth continued.
"But listen here, Lady Alma." The dwarf's icey blue eyes glowed. They were like two spheres of clear blue oceans swirling amidst a ragged desert of leathery skin and blond hair. "If that sword helps you control your powers, then it's important that we reforge it. I am not familiar with magical imbuements, but I am a seasoned blacksmith. With the proper tools I can help you make it anew."
"That would be ideal if we were back in our own realm." Mavaldi said, stuffing his face with jerky. "We're not even sure what rules apply here in Kel Dlesinthe, if her magic even works. My senses give off the feeling that it's like a desolate wasteland here, and yet there's rich and fertile plant life, as far as the eye can see..."
"Indeed." Draymuth nodded. "The stars here do not match with the ones back home. At least I don't think they do...some constellations look familiar, but they’re either misaligned, or have a different glow to them. It's quite odd."
"Ahem," Archibald finally found his courage after a couple of swigs of Mahakam mead.
"What's even more odd is that we all haven't formally introduced ourselves! Where are our manners? If we are to brace this unfamiliar territory as one, we should at least know each other's names, should we not?"
Mavaldi agreed and in fact felt sheepishly rude about not knowing his name, especially after eating his shared goods. The merchant-bard straightened his posture, raising his chin and winked to everyone, especially Alma.
"Well I'll start then. My name is Archibald Tournes of Griddlesmith Village of Aedirn! It is a small farming village known for its honey crisp apples and giant red wind mills. I sought to weave my own destiny, selling wares and singing songs on the road. Yet debts are debts, so I came in hopes of earning a reward that will give me a clean slate. I must say that part of the reward has already been earned, what with being graced by a beautiful lady such as yourself. Unlike the cowards of our former caravan, I rushed after you, and prayed for your safety! Thank the heavens my prayers were answered."
“Did you pray for my safety too, Archibald?” Mavaldi grinned.
Archibald's half-drunken smile went from cheek to cheek.
"Well, our bard here is right!" The dwarf laughed, slapping the man's shoulder as he grabbed the gourd from Archibald’s lap and took a swig. "Forgive me for being so discourteous. My name is Draymuth Rov of Mahakam. I am the sixth of twelve brothers and sisters, all of whom never had the stones to leave our homeland. I am the first to have ventured out into the world and have never looked back since. I ran with a mercenary guild of gnomes, elves, and dwarves in Dol Blathanna, but earned an even better living as a traveling smith and tanner. So I'm not after coin. My curiosity for adventure has clearly reeled me in since that night in the tent, and boy has this become an adventure!"
Archibald grabbed his lute and began twisting nobs and plucking strings. When he felt satisfied with its tuning, he lightly strummed, creating a nice melody in the background as the group continued their formal introductions. The dwarf passed the gourd over to the elf with a warm smile.
Mavaldi grumbled as he took his swig from the gourd and shoved it over to Archibald.
"What happened exactly?" The Witcher asked. "I can’t recall anything after the dimeritium bomb went off, which I now realize I didn't apologize for. Sorry Almonds."
Mavaldi lied. He remembered a lot after his collision with Alma, but none of it made any sense. He was still trying to piece together what those visions even were. He’ll have to find time to discuss it with Alma, alone. The dwarf took a deep breath and began his retelling of the events that unfolded.
"Well, I chased after the Knights and ran into a pack of wolves. The beasts surrounded Bernard and Tully, who were panicking on the roof of the cart. We were in for a real romper for sure, but the fierce gale winds scared them all off. We gathered what we could and headed back. Boy were the winds fierce! Felt like I'd be carried off at any moment. When we arrived back onto the pass, I saw you running towards Lady Alma, then, boom!"
Draymuth gesticulated with his hands an explosion of some kind.
"The wild current of the gales compacted, gathering back to you, swallowing you both up into a tornado. Then it moved, and boy did we chase after it. Almost lost it too if it weren't for the Witcher swirling about in its current. We veered off the pass and down several slopes, then found you both in that crevasse next to ruins."
There was a moment of silence, and just as Archibald was about to use that as his cue to introduce himself, Draymuth continued.
"But listen here, Lady Alma." The dwarf's icey blue eyes glowed. They were like two spheres of clear blue oceans swirling amidst a ragged desert of leathery skin and blond hair. "If that sword helps you control your powers, then it's important that we reforge it. I am not familiar with magical imbuements, but I am a seasoned blacksmith. With the proper tools I can help you make it anew."
"That would be ideal if we were back in our own realm." Mavaldi said, stuffing his face with jerky. "We're not even sure what rules apply here in Kel Dlesinthe, if her magic even works. My senses give off the feeling that it's like a desolate wasteland here, and yet there's rich and fertile plant life, as far as the eye can see..."
"Indeed." Draymuth nodded. "The stars here do not match with the ones back home. At least I don't think they do...some constellations look familiar, but they’re either misaligned, or have a different glow to them. It's quite odd."
"Ahem," Archibald finally found his courage after a couple of swigs of Mahakam mead.
"What's even more odd is that we all haven't formally introduced ourselves! Where are our manners? If we are to brace this unfamiliar territory as one, we should at least know each other's names, should we not?"
Mavaldi agreed and in fact felt sheepishly rude about not knowing his name, especially after eating his shared goods. The merchant-bard straightened his posture, raising his chin and winked to everyone, especially Alma.
"Well I'll start then. My name is Archibald Tournes of Griddlesmith Village of Aedirn! It is a small farming village known for its honey crisp apples and giant red wind mills. I sought to weave my own destiny, selling wares and singing songs on the road. Yet debts are debts, so I came in hopes of earning a reward that will give me a clean slate. I must say that part of the reward has already been earned, what with being graced by a beautiful lady such as yourself. Unlike the cowards of our former caravan, I rushed after you, and prayed for your safety! Thank the heavens my prayers were answered."
“Did you pray for my safety too, Archibald?” Mavaldi grinned.
Archibald's half-drunken smile went from cheek to cheek.
"Well, our bard here is right!" The dwarf laughed, slapping the man's shoulder as he grabbed the gourd from Archibald’s lap and took a swig. "Forgive me for being so discourteous. My name is Draymuth Rov of Mahakam. I am the sixth of twelve brothers and sisters, all of whom never had the stones to leave our homeland. I am the first to have ventured out into the world and have never looked back since. I ran with a mercenary guild of gnomes, elves, and dwarves in Dol Blathanna, but earned an even better living as a traveling smith and tanner. So I'm not after coin. My curiosity for adventure has clearly reeled me in since that night in the tent, and boy has this become an adventure!"
Archibald grabbed his lute and began twisting nobs and plucking strings. When he felt satisfied with its tuning, he lightly strummed, creating a nice melody in the background as the group continued their formal introductions. The dwarf passed the gourd over to the elf with a warm smile.
'Lady?' Smiling at the title, she thought absently about it. That was probably the first time she'd ever heard "lady" in front of her name. To be fair, she'd only known the small towns of the back country. And lots and lots of solitude.
Alma laughed at the description before waving Mavi off, "No worries. I didn't feel anything." It wasn't until afterwards that she had somewhat gained her senses. She wondered what those images had been. Maybe a strange hallucination conjured from the depths of her mind? She didn't even stop to consider if Mavi had similar dreams, or whatever it was. After all, she'd never heard of anyone sharing dreams.
Listening intently to Draymuth's story, she leaned back. She was shocked that the gale she'd conjured had actually served some purpose. Relief spilled throughout her. Maybe she shouldn't have taken those Knights for their word. After all, they had taken Guthram at his word. Hadn't much bothered to talk to Indaic and understand what he had to say either. She scolded herself; she should've known better.
In awe, she wondered if it had been her magic that had created the tornado. Maybe she was more powerful than she thought. Alma wished she'd been alert to her surroundings then. To be lifted into the air and just be carried by mad winds? It sounded amazing. Maybe similar to flying? With that she was taken by fantasies of flying.
The only thing that pulled her back to reality was Dray's earnest tone. Blinking a few times as if regaining her senses, she brightened at the notion of repairing the sword. She remembered when it had been intact. Her late master had made it clear to her that it was just a brittle old thing they'd had lying in the cellar and had enhanced it for her benefit. She'd accidentally broken it trying to defend herself against a drowner. The memory gave her shudders. Alma had been close to death many times, but that particular memory sent cold fingers of dread down her spine.
Mavaldi cut in, poking flaws in the idea. Of course his points made sense. And it drove her to consider another issue. What the hell was wrong with this place? The imbalances in the vibe of this place were almost tangible. Or would a better word be intangible? It felt more like absolute silence than anything else. Not a natural silence either. Energy existed in the natural word, through just the everyday order of things. If you paid attention and concentrated enough, you could feel it. You could hear it, like a wonderful chorus of otherworldly voices. But here... It was just silence. Strange, complete silence. It unnerved her. But it also brought a lot of questions to mind.
Her musings were interrupted by Archibald. Glancing up and at him, she gave him a smile, finding the newfound bravery amusing. She didn't seem to understand or even register the extra attentions granted to her. Of course she found it odd, but Alma chalked it up to her lack of understanding.
Laughing at the jests, she turned her face between the two. Listening to the round of introductions, she made a mental note to ask them both about their experiences. Especially about Mahakam and Dol Blathana. Oh, and maybe inquire about any songs Archibold might know.
As the ale was passed to Indaic, she glanced up at him, curious to hear what he had to say.
Needless to say, the elf was grateful, and offered a grin in return. He hadn't expected to talk at all. Maybe act more as a silent observer and pitch in any ideas when he deemed it necessary. However, he wouldn't be rude. After all, they'd been more than kind. And that was more than he'd ever expected.
Raising it to his lips, he swallowed and wiped his mouth before speaking and passing the bottle to whoever was next, "My apologies as well. I'd forgotten all about introductions. Latest events haven't given us much time to converse. My name is Indaic. I hail from Dol Blathana, but I've only really known the Mountains. My brothers died during Aelirenn's Uprising. Being the fool I was, and maybe still am, I decided that I'd do what I could to achieve vengeance. Unfortunately, I found that vengeance, lightly put, is for fools. Looking for a change or some sort of revelation, I joined the caravan." He looked about, observing the wilds of Kel Dlesinthe. In the light of the fire, the tan of his skin took an orangish hue and reflected off his tawny hair.
"Guess that change found me," He chuckled, hazel eyes glancing down to his boots.
Alma laughed at the description before waving Mavi off, "No worries. I didn't feel anything." It wasn't until afterwards that she had somewhat gained her senses. She wondered what those images had been. Maybe a strange hallucination conjured from the depths of her mind? She didn't even stop to consider if Mavi had similar dreams, or whatever it was. After all, she'd never heard of anyone sharing dreams.
Listening intently to Draymuth's story, she leaned back. She was shocked that the gale she'd conjured had actually served some purpose. Relief spilled throughout her. Maybe she shouldn't have taken those Knights for their word. After all, they had taken Guthram at his word. Hadn't much bothered to talk to Indaic and understand what he had to say either. She scolded herself; she should've known better.
In awe, she wondered if it had been her magic that had created the tornado. Maybe she was more powerful than she thought. Alma wished she'd been alert to her surroundings then. To be lifted into the air and just be carried by mad winds? It sounded amazing. Maybe similar to flying? With that she was taken by fantasies of flying.
The only thing that pulled her back to reality was Dray's earnest tone. Blinking a few times as if regaining her senses, she brightened at the notion of repairing the sword. She remembered when it had been intact. Her late master had made it clear to her that it was just a brittle old thing they'd had lying in the cellar and had enhanced it for her benefit. She'd accidentally broken it trying to defend herself against a drowner. The memory gave her shudders. Alma had been close to death many times, but that particular memory sent cold fingers of dread down her spine.
Mavaldi cut in, poking flaws in the idea. Of course his points made sense. And it drove her to consider another issue. What the hell was wrong with this place? The imbalances in the vibe of this place were almost tangible. Or would a better word be intangible? It felt more like absolute silence than anything else. Not a natural silence either. Energy existed in the natural word, through just the everyday order of things. If you paid attention and concentrated enough, you could feel it. You could hear it, like a wonderful chorus of otherworldly voices. But here... It was just silence. Strange, complete silence. It unnerved her. But it also brought a lot of questions to mind.
Her musings were interrupted by Archibald. Glancing up and at him, she gave him a smile, finding the newfound bravery amusing. She didn't seem to understand or even register the extra attentions granted to her. Of course she found it odd, but Alma chalked it up to her lack of understanding.
Laughing at the jests, she turned her face between the two. Listening to the round of introductions, she made a mental note to ask them both about their experiences. Especially about Mahakam and Dol Blathana. Oh, and maybe inquire about any songs Archibold might know.
As the ale was passed to Indaic, she glanced up at him, curious to hear what he had to say.
Needless to say, the elf was grateful, and offered a grin in return. He hadn't expected to talk at all. Maybe act more as a silent observer and pitch in any ideas when he deemed it necessary. However, he wouldn't be rude. After all, they'd been more than kind. And that was more than he'd ever expected.
Raising it to his lips, he swallowed and wiped his mouth before speaking and passing the bottle to whoever was next, "My apologies as well. I'd forgotten all about introductions. Latest events haven't given us much time to converse. My name is Indaic. I hail from Dol Blathana, but I've only really known the Mountains. My brothers died during Aelirenn's Uprising. Being the fool I was, and maybe still am, I decided that I'd do what I could to achieve vengeance. Unfortunately, I found that vengeance, lightly put, is for fools. Looking for a change or some sort of revelation, I joined the caravan." He looked about, observing the wilds of Kel Dlesinthe. In the light of the fire, the tan of his skin took an orangish hue and reflected off his tawny hair.
"Guess that change found me," He chuckled, hazel eyes glancing down to his boots.
"Guess that change found me."
"Aye!" Draymuth cheered.
The gourd found itself back in Mavaldi's possession.
"I am Mavaldi of Verden." The Witcher simply stated.
"In the north near the Brokilion forests?" Archibald probed, still strumming his lute.
"Humans call it the Forest of Death, " Mavaldi nodded, balancing the gourd on his palm. "But for dryads, leprechauns, and pucks? It is their home. At one point it was mines as well."
The dwarf stared with curious eyes. Archibald momentarily lost his rhythm on the lute and strummed the wrong chord.
"Come again?" Archibald said, stopping his hands from playing. "You lived there?"
"Just a foolish child playing hide-and-seek is all." The Witcher finally took his swig. The somber look in his eyes betrayed the playful intent of his words. "Circumstance of my profession has brought me here. I'm contracted by the Aedirn kingdom to investigate their missing soldiers, nothing more."
"Just for Aedirn soldiers then?" Draymuth's tone was less jovial than usual. "What about those in Dol Blathanna? The elves and dwarves?"
"All are equal in my eyes, Draymuth, and I imagine our kidnappers share the same sentiment. However, the arrangement was not of my choosing."
"Of course." The dwarf's expression sternly changed to that of an interrogator. "Forgive me Sir Witcher for being forthright, but what did Sir August mean when he called you a murderer?"
The pops and crackles from the burning wood grew loud in the quiet circle. The campfire reflected off of Mavaldi's eyes, making him look like some raging demon.
"Does Mahakaham mead always make you so moody, Sir Draymuth?" The Witcher grinned. "You're a jolly good dwarf one minute, then an Inquisitor in the next."
"My apologies, I sincerely mean it, Sir Witcher. Perhaps this fine mead has made me loose with paranoia, but we need to know we can trust each other." Draymuth said. He then lowered his voice to a whisper. "We're not even sure what awaits us... If we can even trust these people, or their Queen. What if they are the ones that kidnapped--"
"Quiet your tongue!" Asef yelled. He stomped over from the obelisk, swiping away Yusia's attempt to hold him back. "You think we want your help? To bring you here into our home? If not for Queen Ygannea's trust, we'd have let them keep taking you, until none were left!"
Asef spat on the floor. Yusia finally corralled him away from the group and ordered him to stay next to the obelisk.
"Forgive Asef." Yusia said, joining the circle. She refused to sit beside them, declining their food and drink. "They took his wife and son. They have been missing for... many years."
"Please, Yusia." Mavaldi insisted. "Tell us who they are."
There was a moment of hesitation and the Witcher assumed she wouldn't respond.
"We cannot say their names. They still have power here. You must understand how desperate we are to have broken our isolation. To reach out to you. We've suffered a great deal..." A tear fell across Yusia's face. She caressed it dry, drawing her hand close to her cheek as if shielding some dark and unwanted memory. She turned and walked away.
"Well done." The Witcher said to Draymuth, chasing after her.
The dwarf wasn't entirely sure if Mavaldi was being sarcastic, or if he genuinely praised him for getting their tour guides to finally speak up. The uncertainty rekindled his fears about the Witcher from earlier. He drew close to Alma with a whisper.
"I'd be weary of that man, Lady Alma. Ever hear of the Reaper of Redania? It was rumored that Aedirn paid an assassin to terrorize their lands, offing noblemen like the plague. I fear the assassin and the Witcher are one in the same. We do not know his true motives, but something tells me he will stop at nothing to achieve them - even if it means putting us in harms way."
"Oh, shove it Draymuth." Archibald interrupted. "He is frightening to look at, but Mavaldi doesn't strike me as the sort. Why, he saved that man that was attacked by wolves, you know? He would've bled to death had it not been for our Witcher."
"All I'm saying is we need to be careful." Draymuth insisted, then slumped back to his seated position. "We need to be ready for anything."
"Aye!" Draymuth cheered.
The gourd found itself back in Mavaldi's possession.
"I am Mavaldi of Verden." The Witcher simply stated.
"In the north near the Brokilion forests?" Archibald probed, still strumming his lute.
"Humans call it the Forest of Death, " Mavaldi nodded, balancing the gourd on his palm. "But for dryads, leprechauns, and pucks? It is their home. At one point it was mines as well."
The dwarf stared with curious eyes. Archibald momentarily lost his rhythm on the lute and strummed the wrong chord.
"Come again?" Archibald said, stopping his hands from playing. "You lived there?"
"Just a foolish child playing hide-and-seek is all." The Witcher finally took his swig. The somber look in his eyes betrayed the playful intent of his words. "Circumstance of my profession has brought me here. I'm contracted by the Aedirn kingdom to investigate their missing soldiers, nothing more."
"Just for Aedirn soldiers then?" Draymuth's tone was less jovial than usual. "What about those in Dol Blathanna? The elves and dwarves?"
"All are equal in my eyes, Draymuth, and I imagine our kidnappers share the same sentiment. However, the arrangement was not of my choosing."
"Of course." The dwarf's expression sternly changed to that of an interrogator. "Forgive me Sir Witcher for being forthright, but what did Sir August mean when he called you a murderer?"
The pops and crackles from the burning wood grew loud in the quiet circle. The campfire reflected off of Mavaldi's eyes, making him look like some raging demon.
"Does Mahakaham mead always make you so moody, Sir Draymuth?" The Witcher grinned. "You're a jolly good dwarf one minute, then an Inquisitor in the next."
"My apologies, I sincerely mean it, Sir Witcher. Perhaps this fine mead has made me loose with paranoia, but we need to know we can trust each other." Draymuth said. He then lowered his voice to a whisper. "We're not even sure what awaits us... If we can even trust these people, or their Queen. What if they are the ones that kidnapped--"
"Quiet your tongue!" Asef yelled. He stomped over from the obelisk, swiping away Yusia's attempt to hold him back. "You think we want your help? To bring you here into our home? If not for Queen Ygannea's trust, we'd have let them keep taking you, until none were left!"
Asef spat on the floor. Yusia finally corralled him away from the group and ordered him to stay next to the obelisk.
"Forgive Asef." Yusia said, joining the circle. She refused to sit beside them, declining their food and drink. "They took his wife and son. They have been missing for... many years."
"Please, Yusia." Mavaldi insisted. "Tell us who they are."
There was a moment of hesitation and the Witcher assumed she wouldn't respond.
"We cannot say their names. They still have power here. You must understand how desperate we are to have broken our isolation. To reach out to you. We've suffered a great deal..." A tear fell across Yusia's face. She caressed it dry, drawing her hand close to her cheek as if shielding some dark and unwanted memory. She turned and walked away.
"Well done." The Witcher said to Draymuth, chasing after her.
The dwarf wasn't entirely sure if Mavaldi was being sarcastic, or if he genuinely praised him for getting their tour guides to finally speak up. The uncertainty rekindled his fears about the Witcher from earlier. He drew close to Alma with a whisper.
"I'd be weary of that man, Lady Alma. Ever hear of the Reaper of Redania? It was rumored that Aedirn paid an assassin to terrorize their lands, offing noblemen like the plague. I fear the assassin and the Witcher are one in the same. We do not know his true motives, but something tells me he will stop at nothing to achieve them - even if it means putting us in harms way."
"Oh, shove it Draymuth." Archibald interrupted. "He is frightening to look at, but Mavaldi doesn't strike me as the sort. Why, he saved that man that was attacked by wolves, you know? He would've bled to death had it not been for our Witcher."
"All I'm saying is we need to be careful." Draymuth insisted, then slumped back to his seated position. "We need to be ready for anything."
Playfully leaning against the elf's leg for a half second, she smiled at him. She was glad. Whatever the strange courses of events were that had brought each of them here, Alma was grateful. So far everything seemed far more comfortable than any other group she'd been in. Unfortunately, most good things didn't last.
As Mavaldi's turn began, she tilted her head up at him. She was curious about the Witcher. After all, he was one of the first people she'd talked to, and maybe the person she knew the least about as well.
"Humans call it the Forest of Death. But for dryads, leprechauns, and pucks? It is their home. At one point it was mines as well."
Staring in shock, Alma gave him another once-over, as if maybe there'd be something in his appearance that could account for this unconventional childhood. He followed with a joke, though the smile he wore didn't reach his eyes. She wondered what could be going on in his mind. Unlike Draymuth, her curiosity didn't harbor any suspicion. She had no reason to think something sinister. Neither was it in her nature.
But as more questions arose, she could feel the calm fading away. Sitting upright, she pulled her feet towards herself. Her dark eyes flitted between the two, her lips parting into an unsure expression. She became very aware of the sudden changes in their expression, though she could not claim to quite understand what had brought such tension. Or what strange tricks the firelight seemed to play on the Witcher's face. Her shoulders hunched, finding herself trying to close herself off from the conflict.
Dray brought up a good point, but was interrupted by one of the escorts. She shrunk away from his rage, though she stared at his expression in what seemed a mixture of curiosity and a small amount of nerves. What brought on this sudden anger? What ever it was, she was relieved when Yusia appeared.
Strangely enough, with the sudden tension and then outburst, they began to receive answers. She had thought that Yusia would withdraw again, not giving them an inch of information. Thankfully, she decided to speak. Alma hadn't expected sorrow to accompany it. Though, the more she thought about it, the more it seemed natural. Many had gone missing. Obviously it had to be a big deal to have them resort to outside help, just like Yusia said.
As she strode away, Alma looked down, feeling guilt, even though she hadn't said anything to add to the tension... Perhaps that was the issue. She hadn't said anything to comfort the woman, despite her being distressed. In fact, Alma had almost felt happy that she had finally given in and told them some details of this journey. Slightly disgusted with herself, she pulled her knees close to her face. Wrapping her arms around them, she bit her lip and gave the fire a dejected look as Mavi left to follow her.
As Dray spoke to Alma, her head rose to look at him. Black hair fell over her face as she listened, slowly uncurling herself from her position. She turned to look at Archibold as he scolded the dwarf. She didn't agree with Dray. But what was that the Witcher had told her? Trust no one? Seemed oddly fitting for the situation. Though that didn't totally dissuade her loyalty to him.
Catching the elf's eyes, they shared an uncomfortable glance. For a moment, she tilted her head towards all of them, a strange look crossing her features. Her mouth opened as she began to speak, but thought against it. Instead she slid into her own thoughts, suddenly feeling very shy.
Indaic slid next to her, his head tilted downwards. He motioned to the journal she still had in her hands. Blinking, she sat cross legged again and placed it in her lap. At least the journal gave her some comfort and she was glad to share her thoughts with someone who was actually willing to listen. Flipping through pages of notes, drawings, scribbles, and whatever else happened to be in there, she would pause to explain when she thought it was necessary.
"What's this? You keep drawing it," He points to a symbol she'd doodled on the more recent pages. Alma tilted her head, shrugging a bit.
"Remember the banner from the tent?" She asked simply, "I thought it was interesting... Used to appear in my dreams." Nodding, a look of recognition passed over his features.
"Feels so long ago now, doesn't it? And the journey's barely begun."
As Mavaldi's turn began, she tilted her head up at him. She was curious about the Witcher. After all, he was one of the first people she'd talked to, and maybe the person she knew the least about as well.
"Humans call it the Forest of Death. But for dryads, leprechauns, and pucks? It is their home. At one point it was mines as well."
Staring in shock, Alma gave him another once-over, as if maybe there'd be something in his appearance that could account for this unconventional childhood. He followed with a joke, though the smile he wore didn't reach his eyes. She wondered what could be going on in his mind. Unlike Draymuth, her curiosity didn't harbor any suspicion. She had no reason to think something sinister. Neither was it in her nature.
But as more questions arose, she could feel the calm fading away. Sitting upright, she pulled her feet towards herself. Her dark eyes flitted between the two, her lips parting into an unsure expression. She became very aware of the sudden changes in their expression, though she could not claim to quite understand what had brought such tension. Or what strange tricks the firelight seemed to play on the Witcher's face. Her shoulders hunched, finding herself trying to close herself off from the conflict.
Dray brought up a good point, but was interrupted by one of the escorts. She shrunk away from his rage, though she stared at his expression in what seemed a mixture of curiosity and a small amount of nerves. What brought on this sudden anger? What ever it was, she was relieved when Yusia appeared.
Strangely enough, with the sudden tension and then outburst, they began to receive answers. She had thought that Yusia would withdraw again, not giving them an inch of information. Thankfully, she decided to speak. Alma hadn't expected sorrow to accompany it. Though, the more she thought about it, the more it seemed natural. Many had gone missing. Obviously it had to be a big deal to have them resort to outside help, just like Yusia said.
As she strode away, Alma looked down, feeling guilt, even though she hadn't said anything to add to the tension... Perhaps that was the issue. She hadn't said anything to comfort the woman, despite her being distressed. In fact, Alma had almost felt happy that she had finally given in and told them some details of this journey. Slightly disgusted with herself, she pulled her knees close to her face. Wrapping her arms around them, she bit her lip and gave the fire a dejected look as Mavi left to follow her.
As Dray spoke to Alma, her head rose to look at him. Black hair fell over her face as she listened, slowly uncurling herself from her position. She turned to look at Archibold as he scolded the dwarf. She didn't agree with Dray. But what was that the Witcher had told her? Trust no one? Seemed oddly fitting for the situation. Though that didn't totally dissuade her loyalty to him.
Catching the elf's eyes, they shared an uncomfortable glance. For a moment, she tilted her head towards all of them, a strange look crossing her features. Her mouth opened as she began to speak, but thought against it. Instead she slid into her own thoughts, suddenly feeling very shy.
Indaic slid next to her, his head tilted downwards. He motioned to the journal she still had in her hands. Blinking, she sat cross legged again and placed it in her lap. At least the journal gave her some comfort and she was glad to share her thoughts with someone who was actually willing to listen. Flipping through pages of notes, drawings, scribbles, and whatever else happened to be in there, she would pause to explain when she thought it was necessary.
"What's this? You keep drawing it," He points to a symbol she'd doodled on the more recent pages. Alma tilted her head, shrugging a bit.
"Remember the banner from the tent?" She asked simply, "I thought it was interesting... Used to appear in my dreams." Nodding, a look of recognition passed over his features.
"Feels so long ago now, doesn't it? And the journey's barely begun."
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CHAPTER III
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CHAPTER III
==================================
"Wake up!" Asef was in a panic.
"We have to go, NOW!" He kicked and shook the sleeping bodies around the trampled camp fire.
Malvaldi groaned as a boot hit him right in his ribs.
"What the devil-"
"Follow us, or we leave you behind!" Asef rushed over to the obelisk. It was glowing now, veining green energy with intricate patterns. At the base stood Yusia, gesturing for everybody to come hither.
Draymuth was the first to get to his feet. He helped Archibald gather his things as they scrambled towards the obelisk. Mavaldi corralled Alma and Indaic to go ahead of him, taking up the rear of the group. A sound was heard in the distance, an ungodly howl that echoed throughout the valley.
"Listen to me." Yusia's face had streams of sweat. "You follow the light from our staffs. You look straight ahead, do not look off to the side, not even for a second! Walk at the pace of our staffs. Do not run. Do you understand!?"
The panic in her voice unsettled the Witcher, but he nodded. No questions. There was no time for that now. The howl grew louder, closer, with screams and roars joining in eerie harmony. Asef said nothing. He slammed the butt of his staff on the ground, triggering it ablaze, spewing the green energy, and disappeared into the obelisk's oval entry way. Yusia ushered Draymuth and Archibald next, then went after them.
"Down the rabbit hole, Alice." Mavaldi uttered aloud, gently pushing Indaic and Alma forward as all three followed after the group.
***
The darkness was consuming. Claustrophobic. Mavaldi couldn't see anything with his Witcher eyes, just the two strips of jaded auras from Asef and Yusia's walking sticks. His boots clacked against rough terrain, echoing as if inside of a cave, yet the walls felt further out, almost endless. Mavaldi stopped himself from reaching out with his hands, afraid of what might bite back. Instead, he reached forward, but neither Indaic or Alma was there.
"Don't worry!" Yusia said, as if reading Mavaldi's mind. "We are all still here! Follow our light."
The Witcher tried to focus his senses on the environment around him, but nothing registered. The howl from earlier was faint, but it was enough to make him tilt his head back. As he did, he saw something in his peripheral vision. Off to the side, quick, and at the blink of an eye, for he dared not stare too long. What the hell-
"Eyes forward!" Yusia said abruptly. The Witcher obeyed.
"Don't run! Archibald!" Yusia screamed. "Mik'ajit! Mik'ajit! Shit! Everybody, run! Run quickly now!"
Mavaldi broke out into a full sprint. Whispers erupted like violent winds, swirling about with incoherent words. The glowing walking sticks were like shooting stars, firing at amazing speeds. The whispers grew louder, converging into one singular voice that called out to each member of the group. It flashed again, in Mavaldi's peripheral, showing an unsettling image.
Come here, (name). We've been waiting for you...
"STAY THE COURSE!" Yusia yelled. "THE END IS NEAR!"
***
From darkness came gold, warm and embracing light. The whispers, dark imagery, and that godforsaken howl was nowhere to be heard. In its place were herrings chirping in the distance. Mavaldi began to register the visuals around him. The group stood on top of a circular platform, and Asef was kissing its marble floor with relief. Behind them was an ivory obelisk they must've exited from, plain and smooth, a stark contrast of the one they entered on the other side. All around them displayed a magnificent city with unparalleled architecture. Golden roofs with elaborate arches, columns, and flying buttresses, snaked up to a massive, cathedral-esque fortress penetrating into heavenly clouds above.
"Welcome to the City of Aysalion, home of the Kel Dlesinthe people, Pearl of Queen Ygannea." Yusia said, still catching her breath. "Unfortunately, the Queen is still preoccupied. Please, our hospitality here is at your leisure."
"Now wait a minute!" Mavaldi yelled. "What the hell was that back there? Did you see that? Did any of you see that?"
Draymuth nodded. Archibald said nothing, but you can see in his eyes that he saw something. Mavaldi looked to Alma and Indaic for confirmation.
Asef shook his head as he walked down the stairs descending from the platform.
"That is what we're fighting against. All will be revealed soon, my friend. You have my word." Yusia bowed to the group. "Rest assured. You're safe here. Safer than you ever were before. Go now, embrace our city. We will get you when it is time."
She immediately paced down the steps to catch up to Asef, who for a brief moment, flashed a smile as they hugged, affectionately. They both looked relieved to have accomplished the task they were given. But what of this foolish errand, to bring an unlikely group of adventurers into a world they knew nothing about? What did they hope to achieve? Did this Queen Ygannea truly believe these outsiders stood a chance against her enemies? Mavaldi shuddered at the the thought of the red cloaked figure and the bodies dangling from the branches of a dead tree.
"Well," Archibald finally spoke up, his voice now hoarse from yelling for his dear life. "What should we do?"
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