Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright © 2013 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

Jaden and his friends arrive at the town of Rosehaven in the kingdom of Alband, and they can finally relinquish the obsidian idol to the temple of Kuros.
With some distance between themselves and their troubles back in Tier, they take a much deserved rest.

Flashback: Rhyce is given the opportunity to turn his life around

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Chapter 10: Unbroken Rose

RHYCE

It had been a bad idea from the start. Greed and contempt made for bad allies, especially when you added laziness as well. They should have known better.

Rhyce kept his profile low as the fighting continued. For some reason, his arm didn’t feel as steady as before. Whenever he raised his bow, those brown eyes looked back at him; unblinking, but with pity rather than accusation. He slammed his head backward into the tree he was hiding behind, and took a deep breath.

The band had walked into a trap. While spending their stolen silver in one of the many roadside taverns in these parts of the country, rumour had reached their ears of a gold transport coming down one of their usual roads. During the winter, no less. They should have known better. After a couple of years of picking off travellers and merchants, someone had eventually decided to put an end to Enold and his band.

He had been positioned on the rise at the bend of the road as usual, where his arrows could deliver their message with deadly precision. This time it had been different. The caravan had guards like usually lately, but when he took aim at the lead rider he saw a glimmer in the winter light. A golden sword on a chain around her neck.

She had blocked his first arrows with her shield, but the band hadn’t waited to see the effect. They always charged after their Deadeye had let his bowstring speak. It was their signal to attack. But instead of dead guards, Enold’s band had found themselves fighting prepared knights.

He had quickly moved to a different position where he had a free line of fire through the caravan of wagons. She was fighting some of his comrades by herself at the front, still. He followed them with the tip of his arrow, trying to find a clean shot. The fighting was chaotic, and everything moved very fast. The snow around the wagons had begun to turn red.

He could see everything so clearly, even through the gently falling snow. Her sword made a bright arc as it separated one of the bandits from his life. That was his window. He knew could take this shot. That’s when she looked at him. He could see the green eyes find him despite his cover of underbrush. Were her lips moving? The remaining member of the band fighting her tried to take advantage, and swung his hatchet low to get in under her shield. The archer let his arrow fly. Arrows couldn’t lie.

The knight took a step to the side as the bandit fell to the ground, the arrow in his heart a farewell from a former ally.

Rhyce ducked back around his cover and sat with his back to the tree. The fighting continued a while longer, but he already knew what the outcome would be. He was ready, after all. He had been ready ever since digging those two graves next to the large chestnut tree behind his house.

Heavy footsteps snapped twigs, and the sound of metal plates was loud in the winter forest. She had come for him at last. He didn’t bother getting up.

“Did you miss, earlier?” She had an accent he hadn’t heard before. It sounded like marble halls and exotic spices.

“My arrows cannot miss,” he said without pride or humility. It was a fact.

“Why did you kill your friend?”

“He was never my friend. He was just someone who sat next to me.” Rhyce rubbed his closed eyes with a cold hand. He didn’t wear gloves when he fought, despite the cold. He needed to feel the bow in his hand. It made a connection.

She was silent for a while. He could tell she was watching him intently, looking for something only she could see.

“I sense no ill intent in you. I’m going to tell my commander that you were a hunter who happened upon this place and decided to help out.” She turned to tread back down the incline to the road.

“You should tell them the truth. I should hang together with the rest of them for my crimes.”

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” she said. He could tell she believed that, too.

“No matter how fresh the water if the glass is not clean,” Rhyce answered, but got up nonetheless. He would put his fate in her hands for now.

Summer nights in Alband were pleasant, but could get slightly cool. The country was at the northern edge of the old empire, after all. Beyond Alband was only the area known as the Northern Lands, where ice eventually overtook ground and locked the world in perpetual winter.

Mirena sat by the fire. Her thoughts were on the letter in her hand, rather than her duty to watch the camp while the others slept. Rhyce had woken her up an hour earlier, around midnight, when it had been her time to take the watch. The letter had found its way to the Green Raven inn only two days after they had returned to Tier following their previous journey. Even after more than a year, they still kept track of her. The message had been the same, as had the arrogance. She was more than a negotiation tactic. Why wouldn't they see that?

"Copper for your thoughts, helmet-hair."

Mirena jumped a little, and a hand went automatically to her head. She had, of course, already brushed her hair before going to bed. Old habits were hard to break. Oleander snickered and wrapped a sleeping blanket around herself as she sat down next to the knight. Mirena noticed how the other woman had a strangely happy expression for this time of the night. Maybe she had good dreams for a change?

"What are you reading there?" The redhead asked, not being very subtle about trying to peek.

"Repeated old words, Oleander. A conversation I had nearly two years ago." Mirena sighed, and imagined how easy it would be to just toss the letter into the fire.

"Well, if it's not important, don't worry about it. You'll get wrinkles, and then you'll never be able to seduce Stann."

"What? I'm not-" Mirena blushed slightly. She hadn't even considered the idea. Not before now, that is.

"I'm just teasing you, iron-skirt. You know Stann only has eyes for the elven ladies." Oleander suddenly giggled, and held up two fingers above the sides of her head to make pointy ears. "He's more likely to fall for Jaden than us."

"Good night, you brat," Mirena joked good-heartedly, and went to her waiting bedroll. The letter was still in her hands.

Jaden awoke when someone nudged him roughly. He forced an eye open and saw Rhyce walking away from where Jaden had been sleeping. Judging by the faint light and sounds of others stirring, they had decided on getting an early start to reach Rosehaven by the evening.

He yawned and stretched a little, before sitting up. There had been some dreams, but he couldn’t quite remember what. He just had a lasting impression of something warm, and soft. Jaden blushed slightly and checked his kerchief. It was still secured around his head, in the appearance of a hat. None of the others had commented on him going to sleep still wearing it; but then again, nights around here could get a little chilly. At least now his feet wouldn’t get quite as sweaty with the thick winter socks he had to wear to get his boots to stay on. At least until the sun started bearing down on them again.

The last one to keep watch usually started the breakfast, and this time it was Stann. Their watch schedule often kept Jaden and Rhyce both before midnight. Until the moon rose high enough to shed some light, they were the only ones with any night-vision to speak of. Jaden’s of course being the better of the two, as far as he knew anyway, due to his heritage.

The smell of porridge chased the last bits of sleep from Jaden, and he went out behind the nearby copse of trees to take care of his morning needs. Despite the illusion hiding his form, his hands could still feel the truth underneath. It was a daily reminder that he was running out of time.

When he returned to the rest of group to have his breakfast, he saw Kellen talk with Mirena as they finished up their own meal.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, Kellen, but when you decided to… lend your support during our final confrontation with the Sons of Husk, you almost buried Jaden and me alive.” The knight gave the rune seeker a pointed look.

“Now, milady, if you can’t trust a Northman to know how to properly tear down a house, what can you trust?” Kellen smiled slightly, not looking the least bit embarrassed.

“While I have a lot of faith, a worryingly amount as it turns out, in you or Stann’s ability to demolish my home city…” Mirena began, recalling a previous incident.

“Then again, I may have seen fire spreading from a certain part of the building and deduced that a fight involving at least Jaden was happening around that point. I anchored my quake spell on the other side of the house to give you enough time to get away.” As big and strong as Kellen was, it was very easy to forget that he was most likely the smartest person in the group. “Mirena, you don’t give me enough credit, here. I would never recklessly endanger any of you.”

“It’s good to know you’d only carefully endanger us,” Mirena countered with a smile of her own, and got up to see to her gear.

Oleander snickered at the two as she sat down next to Jaden with her own bowl. Oleander always took the time to check her things before she had her breakfast, a habit she picked up from her childhood. She watched Jaden eat for a while, until he looked back at her with mild annoyance.

”So, why do you keep telling people you’re not an elf?” Oleander asked when she had his full attention.

With a sigh, Jaden rubbed a temple a bit before putting down his half-finished breakfast.

”Oh, I don’t know. Because I’m NOT an elf, maybe?” He replied, making an emphatic expression.

She looked at his ears again. She’d seen a couple of half-elves before, and those ears looked pointy enough. Almost enough for most full-blooded elves, as well, come to think of it.

”Well, you’re clearly not orcish, that’s for sure,” she pondered.

Instead of answering directly, Jaden leaned in a little closer.

”Do you want to know the funny thing about this?” He asked, as he tugged his hat down a bit to cover his ears again.

”I’m sure you’ll tell me,” Oleander quipped, biting back a wittier retort.

”Nobody asks. They just assume I’m elven, or half, or… something. They just make their assumptions, and that’s enough for them. They never just, you know, ask me.” She could tell he was a frustrated about this, but also a little bit wryly amused.

”Okay, alright. I’ll bite. So, if you’re not a treehugging, dandelion eater… what are you?”

Jaden fought the urge to stick his tongue out at his friend.

”I’m a mutt. We’ve got all sorts of things in my family tree,” he began. It wasn’t unusual among the Lacunai. Their close connection with some of the other intelligent, magical races created very peculiar lineages. Add the Mystic drift, the way they eventually assumed traits of their primal spirit, and it was anyone’s guess how the next generation would turn out.

”Anything elven?” Oleander couldn’t resist.

”Shut up. Do you want me to tell you or not?” He shoved her a bit, but not hard enough to make her spill her breakfast.

”Fine. No elves.”

”Well, there might’ve been elves,” Jaden admitted reluctantly. He vaguely remembered his father mentioning an ancestor’s liaisons with a certain Sorunese sorcerer.

”I knew it! You go around, shouting from the rooftops that you’re not an elf — and what am I hearing, now?” Oleander smirked, in her mind victorious.

”I didn’t- I never-!” He protested, waving his hands around. Oleander leaned back with a spoonful of food in her mouth, but held up a finger in the air. ”Well, okay. Maybe that one time. But Stann wouldn’t stop asking me about elven courting rituals, even as we were about to burst into the assassins’ headquarters!”

”Good times,” Oleander reminisced, stirring her spoon dreamily. ”But in his defence, that elven barmaid was really cute.”

”The redhead?” Jaden picked up his own food. It was getting a little cold.

”No, the one with the raven tresses, back by the tradegate,” she explained. ”Though, he flirts with all the elven girls, doesn’t he? Lucky for you, you’re a guy!”

Oleander had tilted her head back to get the last out of her cup of traveling ale, and didn’t catch Jaden’s twitch. However, she did note that his usual reply came a little slower.

”I’m not an elf!”

The weather held out just barely as they continued along the northbound coast road toward Rosehaven. Clouds had come in from the sea, and it was very likely it’d rain during the evening or night. The more weather-wise of the group agreed that it should remain dry until they reached the town, however.

Jaden didn’t really know from just looking at the clouds. The climate back in the mountains had been different than here at the seaside border. The Mystics used magic in so many of their mundane activities, he often felt a little handicapped when in rural areas. Even things as simple as heating water, or taking care of waste, became a lot more complicated than simply using spells to manage everything.

He rode in the back behind the wagon so he could keep Oleander company when she needed a break from talking with Stann at the driver’s bench. Fortunately, they seemed to be deep in a conversation about what Rhyce and the merry Northman had been up to while the redhead was sleeping. That suited Jaden just fine, since he didn’t really feel like talking too much at the moment.

He had felt off ever since having to resort to his inner spirit a couple of days ago. Out of balance with himself, both physically and emotionally. He tried to clear his thoughts by going through the mental exercises that had been taught to all the initiates back in Talraman. The spirit was an ally, and a guide on your path to power. It couldn’t control you, but you had to be aware of how the drift could subtly change the way you viewed the world. Jaden swallowed the horror he felt when he considered what that would mean for him.

At the front of the group was Rhyce, riding ahead as usual. He was silent too, but for other reasons. Unlike Jaden, he paid very close attention to his instincts. Every mile along this road brought his thoughts back to his past, however.

Rhyce looked a bit distracted when Mirena urged her horse into pace next to him. She had left the cousins back by the wagon to entertain Oleander, so she felt she should see what was up with the group’s scout.

"What weights on you, my friend?" Mirena asked, as she nudged her horse closer to Rhyce's.
The archer let his gaze linger on the road for a little while.

"I'm reminded of home whenever we visit these kinds of villages."

Mirena considered the tone of his voice, a little hushed, almost as if he was speaking to himself.

"What was it like?" Her question caused another pause.

"Much like Rosehaven will be, I imagine. A close community, but not closed. Welcoming travellers and the stories they bring. Honest neighbours. Good people."

"It sounds like a lovely place to grow up"

"It was a place that was hard to leave. But sometimes things... changes happen. Now it's only a home in my memories."

Mirena gave Rhyce a gentle smile. She knew what that felt like. She also felt she knew what to say at a time like this.

"I know this man. He is always full of wise counsel and old sayings. I wonder what he'd say?"

Rhyce lowered his head, and his lips twitched in a hidden smile of his own.

"I imagine he'd say something akin to 'You cannot heal a bleeding wound by cutting a new one'."

"That sounds like him. Would you take that advice?"

"I just might, Mirena." Rhyce nodded, and sat a little straighter. The wind swept back the light brown hair out of his face.

Before Mirena let her horse fall back to the rest of the group, she saw that his eyes once more looked towards the horizon, but now focused rather than wistful.

The hills that marked the southern parts of Alband continued inlands as they moved on along the coastal road. Farmlands spread out as far as they could see, here where the country was at its flattest. Most of the grain and produce in Alband came from this area along the border to Olmar and Tier, as the forests grew thicker the further north you got.

While they rode on, Kellen talked a bit about the latest military campaign the North had waged against Alband some generations ago, and how the south country had been generally spared from the effects. But closer to the northern border feelings still remained as people remembered the stories their grandparents had told them about the fighting. Alband had treaties with the North now, though, allowing merchants to cross the border freely. It wasn’t strange, though, that most of them continued through the country to sell their wares in Tier. Sometimes they weren’t made to feel welcomed in the upper country. A few generations weren’t quite enough to make the countries forget.

Had they been born in earlier times, Stann and Kellen would have been expected to join in the fighting, instead of peacefully traveling through the countryside. Fortunately for them, these days the clans’ attention were more focused on keeping back any advancement made by the orc tribes from the mountain area of the North.

The coastal road was well made, being one of the main routes connecting the northern continent to the south through Tier. It went straight, and was in good repair. Jaden felt this was impressive, since he recalled that the main source of stone in Abland was from the mountain range that defined the natural north-western border of the kingdom. They must bring material all the way across the country, which explained most structures in Alband were wooden and not stone. Jaden was so caught up with his thoughts that he didn’t first notice as they crested a gentle hill and the town of Rosehaven spread out before them.

Rosehaven, named in part after the rebel group that eventually brought about the independence of Alband from imperial rule over a hundred years ago, was just large enough to be called a town in its own right. As the local stories told it, the Circle of the Rose was formed by a couple of displaced nobles, some guildsmen, and a pair of magicians. They hid their operations right here in Rosehaven, even as the empire built one of their temples in the town to mark the expansion of the realm.

These days, the temple of Kuros was a welcome part of the town, but the priests had to struggle many years before they finally became accepted. Today, the Five Temples faith had spread throughout all of Alband, even as the empire had collapsed all those years ago.

The temple was by far the most recognisable part of Rosehaven. The stonework alone was enough to set it apart, but the style was, as with all the temples, decidedly Etrian. It had been built further inlands than the town, but over the years the former village had grown and began to close the distance.

The rest of Rosehaven was as could be expected of an Albander town: mostly two-storied wooden houses with slightly slanted and tiled roofs. Most houses were painted white or blue, the colours of their flag, but there were some exceptions. It was a welcome contrast from the tall stone buildings of Tier.

“Let’s see about our lodgings,” Stann spoke up as they led their horses and wagon through the streets. The townspeople they passed gave them friendly nods or looks. They were clearly used to strangers passing through here, being along the major trade road. “There’s got to be an inn somewhere around here.”

“Looks like there’s a marketplace up ahead,” Oleander peered from her seat in the wagon. “I bet there’s one right there. Always is.”

“While you see about that, I will continue on toward the temple. Let’s not keep this thing around any longer than we have to. Warded or not, it’s an evil thing we should be rid of.” Mirena pointed toward a street heading west, leading up to the temple at the fringes of the town.

“I never had the chance to visit it when we came down from the North,” Kellen said, gingerly picking up the clay sphere from the wagon. “We took a different road. I’d like to accompany you this time, though.”

“You’re welcome to do so, Kellen. I would probably need your knowledge as we explain our experience with the idol, anyway.” Mirena nodded, and handed her reins to Rhyce. “We’ll be back as soon as we have handled this matter.”

“Don’t get into any fights without us, Rena!” Stann chuckled. The Five Temples were of one faith, true, but the followers of the gods sometimes didn’t see eye to eye with members from a different temple. Kuros, the sheltering hand, was quite far from Telum, the sword of heaven.

“Guess that leaves us to do all the unpacking,” Oleander groaned from where she had slacked the entire day.

“And by ‘us’, you mean ‘not you’?” Jaden commented as they brought their horses around the marketplace toward the larger building the redhead had spotted earlier.

“Well, clearly. I’m still sick, see?” She coughed a few times. “I shouldn’t be part of any strenuous activities, after all!”

“You’re going to be absolutely unbearable about all this, aren’t you?”

Oleander just smiled, and held a hand to her forehead in a dramatic gesture of weakness. Jaden shook his head, but couldn’t help but laugh a little too. She could be so over the top when she wanted something. Or, didn’t want to do something, as the case often was.

“’Connor’s Well’? That sounds promising.” Stann stopped outside the inn, and waved a stable boy closer. “Can you show us were to put our horses and wagon, lad?”

The boy, with the common dark blonde hair in an unruly mop, took them around the inn to a large stable made to hold several wagons at a time. The inn was clearly prepared to deal with merchant travellers. There was already another wagon and several horses stabled, showing that they wouldn’t be the only guests at the Well tonight.

The inn was a big place, they noted as they stepped through the door. The common room with several round tables was made larger by the high ceiling that reached the second floor. A couple of separate rooms faced the indoor balcony, allowing groups to have some privacy if they wanted to. It was easy to imagine over fifty patrons at once without anyone having to stand unless they wanted to.

“Welcome to the Well, travellers. I’m Emik, the keeper,” the easy-going man offered his hand to Stann, who had walked in first. “What can I offer you this evening?”

“We need room for six people, and food for twelve!” Stann obviously liked what he saw when he looked around the room. The smells coming from the kitchen reminded them all that it had been a long time since their lunch, as well.

“We’ve got some other guests tonight. Are you alright with doubling up in your rooms?” Emik led them toward the long table that served both as a place for the locals to drink, as well as his office.

“That’s what we usually do,” the Northman answered truthfully. Over a year of fighting together, travelling together, and sleeping in the same camp made them used to it. It also offered some extra safety, in case something happened. It wasn’t as if they had anything to hide from one another.

“Good! Then I won’t have to feel like a poor host for having you do that.” The innkeeper laughed easily, and looked at the rest of his new guests. “By how your little lady there keeps staring at the kitchen, I’m going to get the cook started on those twelve suppers. Just hold on here for a minute, and I’ll take you to your rooms afterwards.”

“I wasn’t staring. I was inspecting,” Oleander told Jaden as the innkeeper left them alone. “Because I’m keen and pay attention.”

“Your stomach just growled at me, Ollie.” Jaden was holding both their packs, so he was allowed to tease her.

The other men had double loads as well. Stann had carried his cousins as well as his own, and Rhyce had grabbed Mirena’s without a comment. After a short while, Emik returned from the kitchen with a smile.

“Food is being prepared, my hungry travellers! But let’s get you sorted first, shall we?” He gestured toward the stairs. “Room are all on the second floor, just down the hallway next to the private rooms.”

Emik took the lead and showed them where a number of doors led to the guestrooms. One of theirs was next to the private area, but luckily there were no parties going on this evening. It was easy to imagine sound carrying through those inner walls.

Stann slapped Jaden on the back, and pointed at one of the rooms.

“I’ll share rooms with the lad,” he said. “I don’t have any plans on listening to my cousin snore all night!”

“Thanks,” Rhyce murmured drily, since that meant he would end up with the rune seeker.

“And this’ll be the ladies room,” Oleander picked the one furthest down the hall, away from any noise coming from the common room. She grabbed Mirena’s pack from the archer and stepped inside to look around.

“I thought you said you shouldn’t carry anything, Ollie?” Jaden still had her bags.

“I’m carrying hers. That’s completely different,” she shouted from inside the room.

“That armour must be heavy, though?” He wondered.

“Incredibly!” There was a thump from inside the room as she dropped the bag with the plate mail on the floor.

It had a strange duality, the temple. It looked both out of place and as if it belonged. It wasn’t anything they could put their fingers on right away, but somehow it had become a part of the town despite the foreign design. It sat on a low hill, giving it a slight view of the town and the harbour.

Mirena recognised the style of the Five Temples, the pillars and arches so common to imperial buildings. Her own temple in Tier was a lot like this one, only bigger and with a large courtyard for arms training. There would be no squires with swords here, though. While the Sheltering Hand priests weren’t exactly pacifists, it wasn’t in their calling to bring more violence into the world.

When they passed the great doors into the temple proper, doors that were never closed, they saw two different groups of pilgrims as well as a couple of local families.

“The temple of Kuros sees to the health and wellbeing of all,” she spoke softly. “These people are probably here for healing or perhaps a burial.”

“Digging your fallen into the ground is just a bad practice, Mirena. The brave dead should get a proper farewell,” Kellen replied, comparing the imperial culture the temples brought here with his own.

“We don’t burn our people, Kellen. We return them to the land.”

Before they could get into a debate on burial customs, an acolyte approached them. She was young enough to be Kellen’s daughter, but wore the robes of a priest in training. A cloth cap with long sides hid her hair, but her eyes were of that light-brown common to south Alband.

“What brings you into the safety of the Hand, good people?” She asked.

“We are here to see Prelate Matrick. He should be expecting us. Please tell him we brought what he requested,” Mirena answered. She wore the symbol of her god openly: her presence did the rest.

“Of course, Paladin. I’ll tell him right away.” The girl hurried away toward one of the doors leading further into the temple.

While they waited, Kellen studied the frescoes on the walls. They told stories with pictures about the five gods of the temple, but focused mainly on the merciful healer Kuros. He couldn’t help but notice that the required painting of Telum was to the side where most visitors wouldn’t see it until they left.

“Paladin Kaladon! I’m happy you made it here safely,” an older man with thinning hair came up to them, and offered his greetings. He looked kind and fatherly, and wore the ceremonials of priest of the order.

“We had some setbacks, Prelate, but we prevailed.” Mirena turned to Kellen. “You remember Kellen Winterheart, our rune seeker?”

“Yes, of course. Hard man to forget, aren’t you?” The Albander priest had to crane his head to look the Northman in the eyes. He then looked down at the runemarked clay sphere in Kellen’s hands. “Is… that it?”

“Ah, yes. We took some precautions after an early mishap that almost cost us one of our own,” Kellen explained. “It should be perfectly safe to handle, but you are most welcome to do, uh, whatever you wish to secure it further.”

The priest took a final look at the object and shivered a little inside. Such a small thing had caused so much suffering. It was an honour to be part in keeping that thing away from the rest of the world.

“Let’s take it to the temple reliquary right away,” said the Prelate, and ushered them into the corridor he had arrived from.

Away from the main hall, the decorations gave way to more utilitarian forms. They passed several doors and rooms belonging to the clergy, before turning a corner and seeing a large door at the foot of a short stairs down into the basement of the temple. The doors were guarded by two temple guardians, who were armed and armoured to keep anyone out without the Prelate’s say-so.

Mirena had trained with guardians such as these back in Tier. They were the nonmagical branch of the Temple structure, unlike the priests, but they fought with every bit of the same skill in the protection of their charges. If brought together, she estimated that the Five Temples had a standing armed body the size of a country’s army. Sometimes she wondered if people knew that.

The guardians gave her an acknowledging nod as they were allowed to pass down into the reliquary. They understood that even in a sanctuary for healing, there would be need of a strong arm and a sharp sword.

The basement was slightly cold, and the acolytes on duty soon appeared to take the clay ball from Kellen. Matrick explained the situation to them, and after the exchange they carried it into the depths of the most secure parts of the temple to put it away where all the other treasures, and things never meant for daylight, were kept safe.

“Well,” said Matrick to the two adventurers. “How about we return to my office and we can handle the remaining part of our arrangement?”

“Gladly, Prelate. It will be a weight off my heart to know that this is dealt with.” Mirena agreed, and they returned the way they came. The guardians shut the door to the reliquary with a thump of finality.

The Prelate’s office was a busy place. Stacks of papers and notes were all over his writing desk. Correspondences, announcements, and records lay in scattered heaps. If there was a system to it, it was beyond Mirena’s scope. Kellen shrugged slightly when she looked at him.

“Ah, here we are.” Matrick brought a bulging and clinking sack from a strongbox. “Your reward for a job very well done! You have the gratitude of the Temples, my friends.”

Mirena reached out to touch the bag, but stopped halfway.

“I feel a little bad about accepting payment for a deed my faith drives me to do anyway,” she confessed. Kellen turned around with a slightly worried expression. She had passed up rewards in the past, though not such a lucrative one.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Paladin,” Matrick smiled warmly. “Our temple receives its funds through donations as well as a generous budget from the main temple in Etrana. We would not be able to offer help and hospitality to every visitor without this, after all. All organisations that provide a service needs to finance it somehow, and heroes can’t accomplish their great deeds if they can’t afford to eat.”

“You are correct, Prelate,” Mirena admitted reluctantly.

“My people would be proud of how we take riches away from a southern temple,” Kellen said with a grin. The Northern clans habitually raided places like these during the wartimes.

Mirena looked a little taken aback by his comment, but the priest of Kuros just laughed at the joke in the spirit it was given. Mirena began to smile a little herself when she realised her counterpart hadn’t taken any offense. Kellen shook the bag of coins once again with a wicked expression, and managed to turn that hesitant smile into a laugh. It was times like these she could really tell Stann and Kellen were close kin.

They spent a little longer talking about what had happened in Tier during their struggle against the cult. Mirena explained how the Sons of Husk had a strong presence in the golden city, and she feared how they may have expanded even into Alband. Matrick agreed it would be wise to keep a vigilant eye on any suspicious activity happening along the border communities in the future. When she mentioned that due to their various actions in producing the skull, it might be a good idea for them to avoid Tier for a while, the priest of Kuros had a new offer.

“If you are going to be in the area for the next few weeks, maybe you could look into another matter for me?” Matrick asked, as an acolyte set down a tray of cups and a kettle of freshly made tea.

“Oh? I hope it’s nothing quite as dangerous as this was, Prelate,” Mirena replied, feeling a little more comfortable now that she was getting to know the other priest.

“I honestly don’t know. But please, call me Matrick. This is not official Temple business.” Matrick filled their cups and took a careful sip before continuing. “While I grew up here in the town, before taking my vows to the Temple, I have — like many around these parts — family in nearby villages. My younger brother married a wonderful woman from Redwall, a small logging village in the forest north of here. Lately, the mood in his letters has changed. He isn’t saying anything clearly, but I get the impression that something is not quite right with him and his family.”

Matrick took another sip of the tea to wet his throat.

“When I had the opportunity to do so, I paid them a visit. I was headed there to conduct a wedding ceremony, in any case. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but there was a tangiable feeling of… foreboding around the village. The people there mostly didn’t seem to notice, or didn’t want to notice as it were, but it felt like a shadow had passed over me when I entered the village proper. It is enough to worry me, and I feel Kuros’ wisdom compels me to seek answers. I will reimburse you for your time out of my own pocket.”

Mirena held her hand up, causing Kellen to groan inside.

“That won’t be necessary, Prela- Matrick. The reward we already have is more than enough to at least look into the situation. Maybe it’s nothing? At the very least, this will perhaps warm up the relations between our orders.”

“I am very grateful to you, lady Kaladon.” The older priest shook their hands before escorting them out of the temple.

When they began to walk back to the town, it sun was already starting to set over the mountains far to the west.

“Don’t tell our little fox that you gave away a potential reward, Mirena. It would hurt her greedy little heart.”

Rosehaven had several small stores and shops, showing that it was a town in its own right, rather than a village with only a single place to get supplies. After having spent a couple of days on the road, there were things they needed to get; especially since their departure from Tier had been a bit hurried, leaving them with little time to prepare. That’s how Jaden found himself together with Oleander and Stann in one of the houses selling traveling gear and other dry goods.

“Oh, this is a true prize! Such beauty.” Stann ran his fingers along the outside of the thing that had caught his eye.

“I’m not sure, Bear,” Jaden gave it a critical look. “I mean, how will you even bring it with you? I can’t see you strapping it to your saddle.”

“We will find a way, little brother. This was meant for us. We can’t just leave it here with these people,” Stann glanced up at the proprietor, who was looking amused. “No offense, good man.”

“Stann… it’s a barrel of beer,” Jaden remarked, and then went back to looking at the boots displayed on a shelf. “We can get that at the inn, surely.”

“This is kulsu, Jay. Northern beer. We can’t pass this opportunity up.”

“It could be a barrel of gold,” Oleander chipped in. She didn’t see anything she needed in here, but it was getting a little late to visit the other shops. “You’re still not going to be able to bring it on your horse.”

“You two lack vision! My cousin will no doubt be able to magic up something to let us carry this wonder with us.” Stann patted the barrel affectionately.

“You know, that’s not a particularly large barrel,” Jaden said as he turned one of the boots around in his hands. “Between the two of you, and any others you drag into the revelry, you should be able to polish it off tonight. We’re going to sleep in tomorrow anyway, right?”

Stann stopped what he was doing, and grabbed Jaden’s shoulders. In the dim light of the shop, nobody saw how the Northman’s fingers sunk through the illusion.

“You… are a genius, little brother! Good man, I will take this barrel!” Stann slapped his coin-pouch down on the counter.

“Very good, sir,” said the man, happy to do business. He raised an eyebrow a little when so many coins fell into his hand. “That’s… quite generous!”

Stann grabbed the barrel of beer in an affectionate hug, and carried it out of the shop. Exchanging a look, the black-haired mystic and the redheaded troublemaker followed.

“What was with you and those shoes in there, by the way, Jay?” Oleander wondered as they crossed the marketplace back to Connor’s Well.

“Oh, the ones I have are just getting a little worn down,” he lied without thinking twice. It was definitely becoming easier.

She glanced down at his boots as he walked through the door first. They looked fine to her, but she didn’t argue the point. She was just happy to have him back.

It was nice to be able to sit back and relax. They treated themselves to a more extravagant meal than usual when they all gathered back at the inn. Most of them had expressed a desire to get a bath as well, but it would take some time to heat the water so Emik suggested that they should just eat first anyway. Mirena grumbled a bit, but eventually they all sat down after just having washed their hands and faces. Most of the men were still in their dusty traveling clothes, although Jaden looked immaculate as always lately.

After they had eaten most of their meal, Oleander couldn’t help herself any longer.

“Okay. Enough is enough. Show me the gold, sister!” She demanded.

“Our reward is in this bag, Oleander. Split six ways, it should still be more than enough, even for you,” the knight patiently explained.

“Don’t forget, I get extra since I had to bribe that old servant, and I lost one of my tools. I want that taken out of Jay’s cut, by the way.”

Jaden rolled his eyes.

“I blame you for that, just so you know,” she pointed out to him.

"Aw, come on! That wasn't my fault!"

"I didn't say it was your fault. I said I was blaming you." She stuck her tongue out at him.

In the end, she ended up with more than her fair share. Oleander often did.

While the two of them were arguing like usual, Kellen had noticed that Stann looked unusually smug for some reason ever since Kellen and Mirena had returned from the temple.

“Alright, cousin of mine, what should I be worried about?”

Stann didn’t say anything, but instead removed his traveling cloak from the previously covered barrel by their feet. He reached down and patted the seal of Strom, their hometown. For a moment, Kellen was loss for words. He even felt some tears well up in his eyes. The cousins shared a very manly moment. Then the women had to ruin it by sighing dramatically.

“Well, that tells me it’s time for us to get our bath, Oleander. This place won’t be safe after the first few tankards,” Mirena dismissed the Northern culture with a wave of her hand. “I’ve got a bath salt and some soaps I’ve been saving for a nice moment, as well.”

“Fine. Abandon us to our merriment, Rena,” Stann complained, then turned to his neighbour by the table. “But you, Rhyce, you appreciate a stout Northern beer, yes?”

“Bit of an acquired taste,” the archer nodded guardedly. “But one I can enjoy.”

Jaden stood up as casually as he could. He didn’t really want to be part of this. Also, too much drink could do interfere with your control of magic, and if the trickle into his veil was interrupted, he would have to answer some uncomfortable questions. Before he could step away from the table, Stann had him by the sleeve however.

“Oh, no you don’t! We’re brothers in battle, my mystic friend. We drink together tonight!” Stann seemed entirely too excited about the prospect.

“It’s tradition, after all. True Northmen always drink after a war,” Kellen explained how things would be, all while nodding sagely. He then turned around and asked a barmaid to bring them four clean tankards. It wouldn’t do to have their treasure diluted by even a droplet of the southern swill.

“I’m not a Northman, Kel. Also, burning down a house is hardly equivalent to war,” Jaden protested, sitting down again more due to Stann’s hand on his shoulder than anything else.

“Mere details! We celebrate!”

Such was the battlecry of thirsty Northmen.

"Mirena?" Oleander rested her chin on her folded arms over the rim of the bathtub in the cellar room of the inn. There were a number of generous wood tubs, and some separation screens for any self-conscious guests.

One of the tubs was of a lighter wood, and as the hot water filled it a soothing note seemed to emanate from within the very fibres. Mirena had recognised the quality immediately, and commented on how rare it was to see songwood outside the upper class.

"Hmm? Oh, yes?" Her friend had put her long hair up in a twist to keep it dry while she was enjoying her long soak. The gentle humming of the songwood was very relaxing.

"That skull... what did it do to me?" She began, hesitantly. "I had a lot of dreams, nightmares really."

Mirena had expected some more light-hearted gossip, but at Oleander's serious tone she set her sponge down on the edge of the tub and gave the redhead her full attention.

"You were stricken by a curse, Oleander. The Sons of Husk had woven a terrible enchantment on their prize, and we're not sure what the full effect was intended to be. We were able to start counteracting the curse quickly, under the circumstances, and your inherent... strength of will served you well, too."

"You were going to say 'contrariness' or something, weren’t you?"

"Maybe. Kellen and I worked for most of the day to undermine the curse any way we could think of. In the end, I believe it may have been mostly up to you."

"I remember seeing you in my... when I was out. You showed me the way out of the nightmare once or twice." Oleander sunk down a little, the soapy water reaching her chin.

"Well, however you made it back to us, we're happy to have you, and your contrariness." Mirena smiled cheekily. Oleander sat up at threw her sponge at the other woman.

After they had settled down again the water was starting to get a little lukewarm. Neither was ready to get up yet, though.

"You've been a little subdued ever since then, Oleander." Mirena looked over, finally reaching for her towels. "I won't ask what you saw in those dreams if you don't want to tell me..."

Both of them got up, and started drying themselves off, Mirena with the ease of someone who's accustomed to bathing for pleasure, Oleander still with all the grace of the grown-up urchin she was.

"Stop rubbing that towel so harshly, dear. You'll give yourselves wrinkles or rashes." Mirena pointed out, and received a tongue stuck out at her in response. "Very mature."

Oleander sighed and wrapped herself in the towels, sitting down on the edge of the tub again.

"It was... horrible, Rena. I kept seeing my worst fears over and over. You got hurt, or died."

"All that's behind you now. You're safe, and you're with us." Mirena walked over and hugged her close.

Oleander hugged back, remembering another embrace from her dreams. A different one, for another kind of comfort.

"Are you blushing?"

"No! I just got too hot from the bath."

Mirena didn't mention how the water had long since gone cold.

It was a loud experience. Jaden had been involved in some drunken parties with his friends in the past, but for some reason this seemed unusually annoying to him now. Had they changed, or had he?

Between them and other patrons they pulled into the celebration, they had guzzled down most of the barrel of Northern beer. The locals were very tolerant with their behaviour, or maybe they were just used to seeing things like this. Jaden found that hard to believe, as right now Kellen stood on top of a table, leading the entire common room in a clan victory song. What they didn’t have in talent, they brought with enthusiasm.

Rhyce was slightly more careful with his drinking, but even he admitted to enjoying the beer, and appeared to lower his guard a little for once. He didn’t sing, though. One of the songs about a band of bandits falling before the swords of Northmen warriors even made him seem a little sad.

Jaden grabbed a tankard early on and made a show of drinking from it. The minute Stann looked away from his own tankard, though, Jaden quickly swapped the two.

“It is fortunate that we share our room, Rhyce,” said Kellen, almost tripping over the words as he was every bit as drunk as his cousin. “Stann snores loud enough to break the walls when he has had beer!”

“Thanks for leaving him to me, Kel. You’re all heart,” Jaden complained, glancing at Stann, who was roaring with laughter at a joke told by one of the local craftsmen. Stann always got louder with merriment as the evening went on, and with each passing tankard.

“It will toughen you up, little mystic!” Kellen stood up once more, and burst into a drunken recital of one of the many Northern epic legends that inevitably ended with a bare-chested fight against a dragon over a prize or a maiden, or both. While Jaden enjoyed Kellen’s stories, he could do without the Northman stripping off his own shirt to lend the telling more authenticity.

It was later, when most of the villagers had returned to their homes with an evening's worth of Northern tales. Kellen had already staggered off to answer his own call of nature. Rhyce was conspicuously missing, probably having slipped off when things started winding down.

"And Ollie calls me the sneaky one?" Jaden put his hands on his hips and looked at the snoring warrior who spilled out of his chair over the table. The innkeeper was sweeping away some of the mess on the floor, but left them alone.

"Alright, Bear. Up you go." He slung Stann's thick arm over his neck, and hoisted the big man to his feet. "Garda’s fires! I'll never complain how heavy she is again. What do they feed you northpeople? Iron ingots? " Jaden buckled under the weight. "Come... on! Wake up already! I need some... cooperation here, you big... beer bear."

Stann mumbled something, but seemed to take some of the weight back on his own feet. They slowly made their way toward their rooms in the back. Seemingly coming back to some lucidity, Stann gave him a hearty hug when they were next to their open door.

"You're a true friend, little wizard!" Stann leaned down a bit to get to face level with Jaden. His breath was like drinking beer yourself. "But we need to put some more meat on you. You're as frail and soft as a girl!"

Jaden twitched a little bit, and gave Stann a hard shove into the room. The Northman stumbled in and fell into his bed more out of drunkenness, and less from the force of the push. Jaden remained outside for a minute, looking at his hands. He was getting a little bit weaker, he was sure of it. Not much, but the lack of bulk was starting to become noticeable. He sighed with frustration, and followed his already sleeping friend into their room.

With some reluctance, he began tugging the boots off Stann.

"I'm not going to touch the rest of your clothes, Bear," he told the sleeper.

Making sure Stann was fully asleep, he started to remove his own clothes and folded them away. No need to be messier than you had to be. His hands finally touched the nondescript hat his veil appeared as, and that pulled another sigh out of Jaden as he yanked it off his head.

"I guess I won't be able to show myself without you anymore, huh?" He accused the garment. It allowed him to look like himself among his friends, but a simple touch would tell them something was wrong. Hopefully Stann wouldn't remember how he got into bed tonight.

The faint light from the window provided him with more than enough to see clearly. His mixed-blood eyes had always been good at night, but he could tell they were becoming even more sensitive. He felt he could almost pick out colours he couldn’t see before.

From the window he could see out across the backyard of the inn. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he could see even farther during the night. The details were so clear. In the moonlit shadow of the stables, breaking up through the flagstones, was a single yellow rose. It shouldn’t be able to grow there, but something made it struggle on and thrive regardless. Could he do that as well? Could he be that unbroken rose reaching for the light?

He couldn’t help looking at himself again. His hands that had trained so hard with the sword back at the mountain looked slimmer. He had begun wearing gloves a while back when they started to change. The calluses from many days of martial training had faded away, leaving only the soft palms of a... of someone else. Were the lines different, as well? Jaden had never put much stock into palm reading, but now he wondered.

The hands were not the only thing that had begun to soften. Jaden had never been truly muscle-bound, but he had been clearly defined. The traditions of the mystics of the mountain were harsh and brought out the best of his kind. He couldn't feel any of those definitions anymore, just the soft, small swells. With a small, irritated noise, he dropped into his bed. He'd find a way to reverse this. That's why he left home, after all.