Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright © 2013 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

In the city of Tier, a place of intrigue and mystery, a group of adventurers takes the first steps into a dangerous place.

Prologue

Think about magic.

Magic is a force of change. It can change the colour of a flower. It can change the fate of a nation. It can change a life.

There are many kinds of magic, and they each change lives in their own ways. The shamanism of the northern clans can change the very ground, and bring either fair winds or harsh storms.
The sorcerers of the Arcane Order bring fire and lightning in the service of their kings, changing the outcome of wars.
The devotees of the gods are granted the power to bring the changes their creed calls for.
For each temple or academy proudly displaying their magic to the world, there are a dozen hidden factions, secret cults, or half-forgotten cabals working their own arts behind the scenes.
Change will happen, whether we see it or not. That is the nature of magic.

Changes come naturally to the secretive Lacunai Mystics in their mountain stronghold. They embrace the change, and draw their power from it. Every mystic, once they finish their initiate training, goes on a vision quest to find the monster that will forever after be their spiritual form. While they are able to pull power from other creatures they encounter throughout their lives, the one they meet during their vision will always be with them.
It will always wait beneath the surface, to be called when needed.

As the mystic grow stronger, their bond with their inner spirit grows as well. With time, this shows as physical signs on the mystic. The sentinel of the stronghold, Alam Hetagon, blessed by his gryphon spirit, soars above the walls on strong wings and tears through steel with his claws.
Most mystics take great pride in the changes their spirits bring them. They are treated as badges of honour.

It is only rarely when a mystic would be ashamed enough of their signs to hide them, or even refuse to call upon their spirit’s power unless they had no other choice. Such mystics often leave the Lacunai’s mountain home and find their lives where they can hide the truth inside them as long as possible.
Some become bitter recluses. Others, though, strive to become great heroes.

Let’s follow one of them for a while.

---

Chapter One: Opening Steps

A wind started to blow. It rushed across the skies, bringing with it the faintest promise of the summer to come. It whispered of changes.

The clouds moved back enough for the moonlight to pass over the rooftops of the city. The tall skyspire reaching up above the other buildings, the domed great temple, the arc of the clarion bridge — shapes that let there be no doubt about where in the world you were. A city where the plains of Olmar met the hills and forests Alband, where the ocean met the land, where stories began and legends were told. The moon painted a silvery picture across the rooftops of Tier.

While the taverns still shed light into the dark streets, most of the city was asleep. Only a few people walked those streets, going home after a long day, or a short stay at one of those taverns. Some guards dutifully did their patrols. Fortunately, the guards seldom raised their eyes toward the rooftops.

Barely visible, almost hidden, behind a decorative outcropping on top of a proud old townhouse was a figure leaning over the edge. Whoever it was couldn’t fully appreciate the large house, fit for a lesser noble or wealthy merchant, since they were struggling to hold onto something.

From hands covered by supple leather gloves, the kind worn for fashion rather than warmth or protection, dangled another person. Her short, red hair was just barely visible in the darkness of the alley between the two houses. She worked deftly on an upstairs window, prying at and teasing the firm clasp.

A small tremble made her look up sharply at her companion, a look that was heartily returned.

“Why am I up here?” He asked, adjusting his grip around her legs a little. Moonlight wasn’t enough to make out all his features, but the tips of his slightly pointed ears showed through black hair tied back with a string.

“You’re the only other one who doesn’t have metal underwear,” came the hushed reply from the woman below.

“That’s not true. Rhyce and Kel dress sensibly,” he protested. As sensible as their lifestyle permitted, he supposed. Rhyce favoured his heavy leathers, and Kellen tried to avoid the thick robes most of his sort wore.

“You know how Kel is about heights. Don’t be mean to him.” The redhead paused to brush some grime out of the window’s frame. The owners clearly didn’t clean the outside as much as they ought to.

“Well, what about Rhyce, then?”

“He didn’t want to.”

The rest of their friends waited down in the cover of the dark alley, too far away to hear the hushed conversation above. From time to time, the moonlight managed to make its way far enough to reflect on the metal some of them wore. They were clearly ready for any danger that might lurk inside that house.

The one named Rhyce, athletic rather than strong, solid rather than tall, was closest to the street side of the alley. They trusted his keen eyes and sharp hearing to warn them if any guards would break off from their tired routine and explore their alley. You could never be too careful. His bow was still tucked away in a special quiver made to carry both arrows and weapon, but it would be in his hands in the blink of an eye should the need arise.

Up by the rooftop, the black-haired man struggled on.

“How are you this heavy? I can’t feel my hands anymore!”

“I’m not heavy! Shut up!” She complained.

“Seriously, you’re a foot shorter than I am, and of the girly persuasion. I should be able to dangle you like a cat’s toy.” His hands were really starting to hurt. Either that window was locked tighter than a dwarven vault, or his friend was starting to get rusty.

Oleander glared up at him, her face red from either embarrassment or from hanging upside down for too long.

“And what does that tell you?” She hissed.

“That you’re impossibly heavy?” He could just barely see her face. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to tease her?

“No! That you’re really, really weak!”

Jaden scowled back down at her. He wasn’t weak. He was… average. It wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t a musclebound Northman like Kel or Stann. He shifted his grip again, causing Oleander to sway a smidgen. Hopefully some blood would start flowing back into his hands.

“Say, do you know who’s stronger than me?” He asked.

“Everyone?”

Jaden was quiet for a while. He grimaced.

“This is true. However! You could’ve made a bit more of an effort to badger Rhyce into being your living foothold. He’s got strong hands from pulling that bow of his all day long.” There was no real doubt about it. Rhyce could probably break Jaden’s wrist by just squeezing hard enough. Now, Jaden was by no means frail; Rhyce just had a grip like that.

“I told you already. He didn’t want to.”

“Neither did I!”

“Well, it’s that special connection we two share. Also, I don’t have blackmail material on him.” Her tone had gone from irritated to sounding amused. He could always make her smile.

“I’ve been telling you that the bathhouse incident was not my fault. Not entirely. Completely blown out of proportion,” he explained. Someday he’d live that one down. Clearly not tonight, though.

“’Blown’ being the operative word, eh?” She was definitely smiling.

“I’ll drop you, Ollie.”

“No you won’t. You know you love me too much.”

“You’re right, of course. I love you like I love that special cousin, who lives under the stairs. And eat socks.”

Oleander couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image, causing one of her tools to slip and drop down into the alleyway.

“Shoot! Look what you made me do? I dropped one of my picks!” She almost had it, too. The bracing pick had the clasp nudged almost out of the way.

“I can’t see anything since my view is blocked by your impossibly large-"

With a careful push, she flicked the clasp up, and it fell away. The window tugged open reluctantly.

“Ssh! I got it open. Call the others.” There was no lock she couldn’t pick. Especially with friends to lean on.

It was a while later when they were all gathered by the rooftop. It had taken Jaden two tries to send a magic message down to his friends in the alley. The spell required precise gestures, even if they were quick and small, and his stiff, abused hands didn’t want to cooperate.

Even this late at night, they didn’t dare risk raising their voices high enough to be heard in the alley. While he was flexing his fingers, Oleander had been busying herself with putting her precious tools back into her pack.

Shortly after the magic whisper snuck down into the alley to deliver the invitation, the two of them could hear the approaching noise of people in armour trying to be sneaky. They exchanged a smirk. Of all of her friends, only Rhyce and Jaden could walk across a room without waking the neighbours. Stann and Mirena used their heavy armour as an excuse; Kellen had only his bull-like grace to blame.

The wall blocking off the alley from the street behind it shuddered slightly, and simple stone steps pushed their way out and formed a crude stairway.

The first one up was the strong, tall Northman in his noisy chain mail armour. Long, blonde hair, clear blue eyes and the short beard made him the very image of a winterland warrior. Stann stepped to the side, and offered a hand to the even more heavily armoured knight who followed close behind. Mirena smiled politely and accepted the help, her brown hair made up into a sensible braid. Unlike many of her fellow knights of her order, she wasn’t too proud to take the offered hand. The noise of their metal died down as they gave the last two of the group room to come join them.

Next up was another tall and blonde man, the resemblance between the two clear enough to speak of their close family bond. Kellen, though, wore simple wool trousers and a light leather jerkin. The softly glowing symbols on both arms spoke of why he needed no armour. A thick belt carried several pouches where he kept his runes. One hand clutched an inscribed stone tightly, a focus of his earth magic. It was one of many like it. Kellen walked close to the wall and hurried the last few steps. He didn’t turn to look out over the city like the others did, but instead focused on the roof under his feet.

Rhyce brought up the rear, as always. Slightly curly light brown hair moved in the wind. His brown eyes never left the street below them. He must have heard a noise, since his hand was raised, close to his quiver and the bow.

“Another patrol comes. Lose the steps, Kellen.” Rhyce didn’t command. He just said what was needed to be done. Pragmatic only began to describe him.

The taller of the two Northmen let his hand relax around the stone, and the stair created by magic fell apart into dust. The cloud would settle over the alley and cover any tracks they left behind.
They waited until the city guards had strolled past the house before moving on to the next step of their plan. Put a knight, a rune seeker and a cat-burglar around any map, and there would be plans. This was one of the strengths of the group. Unlike some of their colleagues in the adventuring business, they were well prepared before entering into potential danger. They had all heard the stories about groups who weren’t as willing as they to spend the extra time. Most of those stories were tragedies.

“Here we are. Good work, Oleander, Jaden,” said Mirena. The knight wasn’t the leader of the group. They didn’t really have a leader, but when a situation called for expertise in a subject, they respected the direction of the one best suited for it. She always had a kind word ready, though. “Kellen? Please give us steps to the window.”

The stone had never left his hand, and Kellen called on the power of the rune once more. As he shaped the stairs from the roof down to the open window, his kinsman held a comforting hand on his shoulder. Kellen never liked being too close to the edge.

“Same order. Red and Jay, Rena and I, Kel and Rhyce.” Stann wasn’t a tactician like Mirena, but he was very familiar with close quarter brawls. Keep the ranged people in the back, with Mirena and him in front. Oleander and Jaden had their own mission, and the rest of the group would provide the diversion for them to work.

Rhyce stepped back from his watch to give Jaden a wry look.

“Was she teasing you again? I could hear you bickering, like mice fighting over cheese.” The archer had a slight accent, betraying his background as a borderlander. Jaden glanced over at the redhead and shrugged.

“If you go with her next time, you’ll find out,” Jaden offered. Rhyce gave a slight, lopsided smile and shook his head, declining the experience.

The quiet grinding of stone stopped as the stair was completed. The red and black hair was caught in a sudden night breeze as the sneakier two of the group headed into that proud old townhouse. The quiet wouldn’t last long. The plan depended on a ruckus loud enough to draw everyone in the building, but not loud enough to concern the city guards. Stann smiled at the moon, feeling the blood start rushing deep inside.

He and his cousin were very good at just the right amount of commotion.

The night before

Three people leaned over the map.

“As far as we know, the Sons of Husk keeps the obsidian skull inside this old building. Rumour has, the previous owners disappeared mysteriously shortly before the house passed to a previously unknown nephew.” Oleander pointed at a section of the rough sketch of the house. “We should be able to get in through this window, bypassing the guards we spotted on the first floor.”

“How reliable is this map?” Mirena brushed some hair back over an ear. When not preparing to enter into a fight, she preferred to dress according to her station and let her long brown hair fall freely down over her shoulders. The soft blue velvet gown contrasted greatly with her usual plate mail.

“I paid the previous manservant enough to jog his memory. Working fifteen years for the old couple, I trust he got the rooms and hallways right.” The redhead looked pleased with herself. She was almost as good with picking knowledge out of people as she was picking locks, or pockets. “By the way, I’m taking that back out of the reward, just so you know.”
Mirena sighed and turned back to the map. At her other side, the much taller Kellen just grinned.

“Let the girl focus on her gold coins, while we turn out attention to the plan.” His voice was resonant. He could’ve been a great storyteller back home, but home had other plans for him. Mirena nodded resolutely.

“See here, the only obvious way to the third floor is the stairs here. We could easily hold most of the cult there long enough for Oleander and Jaden to secure the skull.” For all her skill in battle, it was her tactical knowledge that had brought her the most recognition amongst her peers back in the order.

“And anyone lurking up there with us?” Rhyce asked, mostly for the groups’ benefit. He already knew what to do. As the oldest, he had a lot of previous experience planning ambushes and traps. More than he ought to, in fact.

“You and Kellen will focus on suppressing them while Stann and I guard the stairs. Once the top floor is cleared, return and help us.”

“And while you’re doing that, I’ll sneak down the secret passage the old man told me about — uh, with Jay — and grab the skull before anyone’s the wiser!” Oleander stabbed a finger down at a marked section on the map. The previous owners apparently enjoyed classics like a hidden door behind a bookshelf, leading to the basement. Whether it was intended as an escape route or just a novelty hadn’t been made clear, but for now it would serve the group’s purpose wonderfully.

“Just remember to let Jaden inspect the skull first, Oleander. We don’t want you to get stricken by any curses the cult may have placed upon it as protection.” Mirena looked up from the map to make sure the other woman had heard her.

“Yes, okay, mommy. I’ll let big brother Jay poke it until he’s sure none of us will turn into frogs.”

Jaden looked up from where he and Stann were sitting with their playing cards. There were two tankards, both on the Northman’s side of the table. Most of the copper coins they were playing for were, too.

“Actually, knowing a little about the Sons of Husk, any curses are more likely to rot your insides or turn your blood into bees, than make you small and green.” He waggled his fingers ominously at Oleander, who looked like she was getting a little nauseous.

“Here’s an idea: Jay takes the skull!” She pushed back from the table, and pointed at the young mystic. Her friends were smiling.

“Very well. Then we have a plan.”

Things never go according to plan.

Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright © 2013 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

Jaden, a reluctant Lacunai Mystic, is a part of a group of adventurers tasked with retrieving a dangerous item from a dangerous place. That's the kind of life he leads these days. After carefully discussing how to get to the obsidian idol of the dark cult, now is the time to follow through.

They have a plan, a couple of Northern warriors, and a keen nose for trouble. What could possibly go wrong?

Flashback: Jaden considers his place in the Lacunai stronghold

---

Chapter 2: Hidden Things

JADEN

He turned his back against the wind. It had been blowing down from the north all day, bringing with it the chilly air of an early winter. He pulled his cloak closer and hugged himself for warmth. Sounds from the courtyard below reached him where he stood at ramparts of the only place he had ever called home. The mountain citadel. The Lacunai stronghold. It had held many names over the centuries, but to him it had always been Talraman.

Down below him was a small gathering of people. He recognised Master Viskeri’s large stature, but the rest must be new arrivals. He remembered when he had first stood there. Despite having grown up in the citadel, having to stand there with the other initiates made the whole place seem different somehow. Those people had a lot of hard work ahead of them before they would be allowed to enter into the ranks of the mystics. He wondered about them, what had brought them here. Maybe some of them had, like him, been born here. From this distance it was hard to make out any familiar faces.

A movement in the corner of his eye made him turn into the wind a bit. He blinked to clear his eyes, and saw that someone else had joined him up at the high walls. She was tall, and had her long black hair pinned back. His own was flying free in the wind. Her ears bore a slight point, and her eyes were of a deep amber. She was his sister.

“Lilya,” he greeted her, and turned back to watch the Master of Initiates hold his speech. He couldn’t hear the words from here, but he recognised the feelings they evoked.

“Jaden,” she returned. Ever since their spirit quests, they had drifted apart a bit. Never the closest of siblings, the divide felt ever greater these days. He had himself to blame. At least some of it. He hadn’t borne his trial well. Her hard, light brown eyes sought his.

“Father is asking if you have made your decision about the offer, yet?” She spoke with crisp, clipped words. Ever since her quest, she had grown harder to read. Harder to feel. Just plain harder.

“Why doesn’t he ask me himself?” It was hard to keep bitterness out of his voice. Was he being petty?

“You’ve not been home lately. I’ve seen you in the library.”

“I’ve been… busy. Tell father I’ll give him my answer tomorrow.” Buy a little more time. He hadn’t made up his mind yet. How could he? Throw away everything he’s ever known, or throw away everything he’s ever been? Life had been easier before. Change was hard.

The night before

“So, what do we know about the Sons of Husk?” Stann had finished off his second tankard.

Some playing cards were lying face up on the table between him and Jaden, and they were overwhelmingly in his favour. Jaden had long since said his farewells to the copper coins they were playing for.

“They have managed to keep the ‘secret’ part of being a secret cult relatively well during the last decades,” Kellen began, using his deep voice to draw the attention of everyone in the group. He was still studying the map with the two women, but seemed to focus more on the outside of the building than the interior. “The stories that float around make them out as a strong, organised group of death worshippers.”

“Any organised opponent is dangerous, but it also makes them slightly more predictable.” The lady knight nodded slowly. She was already drawing up contingencies and strategies, being an organised opponent herself.

“That remains to be seen,” Kellen continued. “I’m concerned about the amount of magic defences we might have to deal with aside from the skull itself.” One of the group’s advantages was their unusually high number of magic users. In most of their previous battles they had been able to simply overpower their foes if they had the opportunity to prepare themselves.

“Do you believe they hide undead in their midst?” Mirena fiercely hated the unliving, one of the reasons she had argued for accepting this assignment. A death cult could harbour many horrors within its halls.

“It wouldn’t surprise me, but we can’t know for sure. There just isn’t very much knowledge about the Sons to go around to begin with. Either they have had very few defectors…” He left the last bit hanging meaningfully.

“Or the ones who got out aren’t talking. Can’t talk,” she finished.

“Precisely. However, Jaden? Don’t the Mystics host a grand library documenting many of the magic phenomenons of our world? Do you keep track of the different societies as well?”

Jaden put his hands together in thought, the thin gloves brushing against one another. Talraman did have a large collection of books about many kinds of magic. The very nature of the Lacunai depended on knowing as much as possible about every other source of magic, whether by man or monster.

“While the citadel archive is a match for the great library of the Solaris academy here in Tier, it takes a while for new knowledge to reach us, naturally. Anything I may have on them is at least a generation old,” he explained.

“Better than nothing,” Rhyce offered laconically. He sat by the table next to Stann and Jaden, one hand petting the inn’s cat. The fat tabby had taken an immediate liking to the archer when they arrived some days ago, and was by his side whenever they were here.

“You look like a storybook villain when you do that, you know?” Oleander laughed. She had tried to lure the cat away with treats, but to no avail. Rhyce had a good enough hand with animals it bordered on the supernatural. But she was also right. If he took better care of his unruly light brown to dark blonde hair, and dressed in something else than traveling leathers, he would make an iconic bad guy. Especially with a cat on his lap.

“Anyways,” Jaden stretched the word out to turn the attention back to him. “What little I do know about them paints a rather grim picture. After the first mentioning of them in various correspondences, it seems like they established a strong presence in northern Olmar. Obviously they’ve extended into Tier by now, and maybe even further north into Alband.”

He paused to gather his thoughts. He’d only read those letters once, when he was researching other magic using groups; and to be honest with himself, he spent more time reading about the spellsingers of the Ruby Lotus and their performances.

“As far as I can recall, they delved heavily into dark magic, nethermancy, and various soulbinding rituals. The name comes from how the ritual leaders essentially tie dead spirits to their bodies, drawing power from the semi-possessed state without surrendering control.”

“They eat ghosts?” Oleander succinctly summed up the explanation. She took a bite out of a wedge of cheese to demonstrate.

“Sure. Though the fact that they produce the ghosts first takes it beyond simply disturbing.” Jaden looked solemn. The practices of the Sons of Husk in the past were nothing short of abominable. There would be no telling how they’ve changed since the Lacunai first encountered them more than twenty years ago.

“To bind a soul, they reave a soul.” Mirena looked like she was trying to control her temper.

“Yes.” The looks on their faces showed that they all began to take the cult much more seriously.

The house looked like it had seen its best days. While still beautiful, and very spacious, most of the decorations and little things that made it into a home were missing. Even in the half-light they saw empty rectangles on the walls where paintings once had been displayed. Ten years ago, this home must’ve been awe-inspiring for visitors. Now it just felt empty.

They ran down the hallway as quickly as they dared to. At any moment, one of those doors could open up to reveal an armed cultist and without any of the real warriors of the group with them, Oleander and Jaden could end up in trouble before their job even began.

The splitting up had all been part of the plan. The others would cause a ruckus and draw any cultists in the building into a trap by the stairs, while the two of them snuck into the cult’s inner chamber through a secret passage. The plan was elegant in its simplicity.

By the sound coming from behind them, the plan was working magnificently. Kellen’s deep roar reached them at the same time as the building shook slightly. With his rune magic granting him mastery of stone and sea, the very walls here would become his weapons.
With no surprises heading their way Jaden pushed open the door to the library at the far end of the upper floor. He held up a hand, causing Oleander to stop close behind him. He went in first, sword drawn. Jaden might not be as skilled with the blade as Stann or Mirena, but he could definitely hold his own against most opponents.

“Alright, it looks clear.” He stepped in and let Oleander start looking for the opening mechanism of the hidden door. He didn’t close the door behind them. If anyone got in that way would have to get past their friends. They might also have to flee quickly once they had what they came for.

“What are we looking for?” He felt a little useless in situations like these. He wanted to help, but would more than likely just get in the way.

“We’re looking for a seeecret dooor,” she teased him.

“Well, clearly! But what does it look like?”

“Like something that wouldn’t look out of place in a library.” She was pulling at books expectantly, then twisted a heavy brass paperweight around a few times. She tapped her lips as she looked around on the other shelves.

“What, like a book? Or a bookend? One of the candleholders?” Jaden hadn’t picked up on her sarcasm the second time. The stress of borrowing time from their friends made him miss even obvious things, until they caught up with him. “Wait, you’re still joking, aren’t you?”

“Ask a stupid question,” she sang, scooting over to the next shelf. “Be of some use and show me what those keen elven senses of yours can do.”

“I’m not an elf, Ollie.”

Oleander just snickered and went on with her search.

“Fine, be that way. The door must be behind one of the shelves, right? Can’t we just tear them down?” Jaden had begun hearing the sound of fighting on their floor. Each minute they wasted would increase the risk of their friends getting hurt while buying them that time.

“And draw attention to ourselves? What if they heard a loud thump when one of those bookshelves hit the floor? That would jeopardise the entire plan!” He didn’t like it when she made more sense than he did. It made him question himself.

“Why can’t you ever just agree with me, Ollie?”

“If I agreed with you, we’d both be wrong!” With that she went to the last shelf, closest to the outer wall. Jaden threw his hands in the air.

The redhead let her fingers skim across the books, before reaching in behind them with a triumphant squeak. Her hand found the handle that allowed her to swing the bookshelf door open, revealing a narrow and steep stairs going down into the darkness.

Stann slammed his shield into a tall and heavily built cultist. The man was knocked back down the stairs into the thick mist Kellen had called upon earlier. He heard the satisfying thud when the cultist’s tumble came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. His mirth was short lived as several more shapes stepped out of that mist.

Mirenas plan to hold the stairs was working. They could only come at them two at a time, and both of their shields provided a metal barrier that the cultists couldn’t easily overcome. While they stood their ground, groans and creaks from the house itself told them that Kellen was working his magic to create a painful experience for anyone willing to climb those stairs. Those who got up to fight the knight and the warrior all wore scrapes and cuts. Their eyes didn’t show any of the pain they must be feeling, however. Cold and hard. They had tombstone eyes.

Something buzzed past Stann’s ear, and another cultist fell back into the mists. A liquid howl told him that Rhyce’s aim was true. The archer didn’t seem to care about the poor visibility, and kept shooting down the stairs as soon as he saw the slightest swirl.

“Come, you walking atrocities! Face the sword of Telum!” Mirena yelled at their foes. She carried her god’s blessing of war, radiant and terrible. They would give the other two all the time they needed.

Soft boots padded down the steep, dark stairs. Oleander was reluctantly walking in the front if the Sons had known about the secret passage and left them any traps. Her attention to detail was excellent, and she often saw the tell-tales of pressure plates or hidden needles before anyone else. Jaden was a couple of steps behind her, two candle sized flames dancing above an open palm, his sword in the other hand.

They reached the bottom of the hidden stairs without any surprises. That was a good sign that the cult either didn’t know about the passage, or didn’t bother with it. There was a simple wooden door leading into what awaited them. From what Oleander’s sources had told them, behind that door was an old wine cellar. The cult had turned it from a collection of fine vintages, into a theatre of horrors. They looked at each other for a moment, and then she held up a hand with three fingers raised. She lowered the first, then the other, and finally the last. They burst out through the door with swords and knives drawn in case the cult left anyone behind to guard their treasures.

The cult had left an entire roomful of people.

They were clearly in the middle of a ritual, several standing in a circle around a dark altar dedicated to their dread lord. Next to the altar stood a man almost an entire head taller than Jaden, towering above the rest. His cowl was thrown back and showed a face heavily lined by years of watching the suffering of others, short hair more grey than brown. Their eyes met for a heartbeat, before they went to the centrepiece of the room. On the altar was a life sized skull carved out of a single block of obsidian, every surface covered with dark glyphs. The moment passed.

“Get them!” The tall man roared, pointing with his claw-like hands at the two intruders.

“Eat knives!” Oleander ducked down, almost throwing herself to the ground. Her knives made a ripping noise as they slashed the back of the closest person’s thighs and knees. She was rewarded by a surprised scream of pain as her foe dropped down next to her.

Jaden brought his sword up. They were incredibly outnumbered. At least nine to two. Well, eight now. They wouldn’t survive this without cheating. He swung his sword to drive back the nearby cultists who suddenly had heavy daggers ready to cut him down where he stood. He could see no mercy in their eyes and realised that he could not afford to offer any in return.

“Ollie! Cooking time!” Three to the left, one to the right. Another three right behind the first four, and the tall man. The leader. A magician for sure, but would he be able to counter Jaden’s spell?

When Oleander heard what her friend said, she immediately backpedalled behind him. They had done similar things in the past, and long since worked out a way to pass along combat tactics without alerting their enemies of what they were up to. Jaden held out his free hand like a fist. She could swear his amber eyes gleamed with a golden fire.

“Valignat!” The cultists screamed in surprise as flames fanned out from his hand.

It lifted its head from the shimmering caldera and gazed far toward the west. It could feel the pact draw upon its power. The scales of the salamander glowed bright as its Mystic borrowed some of its strength. It wasn’t a mighty salamander, but that explained why a novice Mystic had managed to bind it into a contract to begin with. It settled down against the scalding rocks again, content that whatever struggle its Mystic was involved in would not disturb a very important afternoon basking.

The tapestries depicting awful scenes or vividly celebrating some horrors were burning. The fire had spread quickly and almost reached the ceiling. As the initial flare died down, they could see how the ritual leader was surrounded by a dark purple bubble that held off the effects of the fireburst. The closest of the cultists were singed or burnt, and backing away from Jaden. The ones in the back seemed reluctant to get any nearer.

“Sorcerer!” One of the cultists backed up even further, pointing in alarm at Jaden. “They’ve sent mercenary mages against us!”

The protective bubble seemed to flicker, betraying how it was almost spent. That meant that the ritual leader was about the same strength as Jaden. He took this as a good sign, since that meant that together with his friends they could overpower the nethermancer if need be.

“Fall back. Get the others!” The tall man commanded, as they began to retreat out of the chamber.

Jaden sent another threatening gout of fire out of the door to make sure they stayed well clear. As soon as he stood clear, Oleander slammed the door shut and together they lifted a heavy bar to hold it shut. The cult clearly had intended to be on this side of the door if their enemies came to visit.

“Okay. Jay? We scared them off for now, but they’ll be back any minute with reinforcements.” She still held her knives ready, expecting hidden assassins to leap from any shadow.

“I know! We didn’t expect them to be holding a… a ceremony tonight. We saw most of them leave the house during the day!”

“Well, clearly some of them stayed behind! Nevermind that now. The skull, is it safe? Can we nick it?”

“Give me a few seconds,” Jaden sighed, stepping closer to the dreadful artefact. He tried to clear his mind. The Lacunai weren’t like other magic users around the world. It was a secret they liked to keep. Empty your mind. He could hear Oleander’s voice fading away as he opened himself to the world.

The strands of magic were all tangled up in here. The Sons of Husk had been practicing in this chamber for many years, and the resonance of their rites hung heavily in the air. It tainted the walls and floor. Trying to perceive a single aura in here was like grasping for a feather underwater. Push too quickly, and it would just float out of the way. He could hear heavy thumping, almost pulling him out of his trance.

“They brought axes!” The underwater analogy was fitting. Oleander’s voice sounded like it came from above the surface. Which it did, in a way.

He couldn’t get a clear read. Everything was flowing into each other.

“Is it safe? Can we grab it already?”

“I… I don’t know!” He returned to his normal senses, and saw the splintering of the door. They would be through in moments.

“Then guess! You’re the one who knows all this!” Oleander approached the altar, looking at him. They didn’t have any more time.

“But I…” he stared at the skull. It felt as if it was staring back at him, laughing at him. “Yes. They wouldn’t be using it in a ritual unless it was safe to handle.” Right?

“Good enough for me!” She didn’t even hesitate, but reached out and closed her hands around the obsidian death idol.

She immediately fell to the ground. She wasn’t moving.

Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright © 2013 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

While carrying out their cunning plan to "let's split up", the group of adventurers find themselves in a bit of a situation. When dealing with disreputable death cults, things have a way of going sideways.

Flashback: Stann reflects on his life in his clan homestead

Since there are many characters introduced in the first chapters, please visit the “who’s who” page to read about the main faces:
Who's who in Horizons of the Heart

---

Chapter 3: Smoke and the Mirror

STANN

It would be a glorious day. The sky had barely any clouds, and despite the thick snow covering the roofs and streets of the town, it was cosy and warm indoors. The fireplaces burned cheerfully and made the bed almost too warm with the thick pelt cover.

He sat by the bed, still not dressed. He ran a hand over the pelt. He had felled that bear with his own hands when he was barely old enough to join the hunting party. His arms were strong, and the spear was sharp. That was the day he earned the nickname ‘Bear’ with his friends. It was years later when he let the shaman tattoo the animal on his right arm, a powerful totem to protect him in the battles to come.

He wasn’t alone in the bed. Yesterday had been full of revelry when their betrothal was announced. The Winterheart clan never needed much cause to throw a celebration, but if the cause was just they went the extra mile. That was almost a proverb to them.

Her flaxen hair spilled over creamy shoulders. She would make a fine wife come spring, and even if he was as far removed from the crown as a clansman could be, any marriage between the Winterhearts and the Ravenwings would serve both clans well.

She stirred a little as he rose to his feet, rolling over to feel the warmth still left behind by his body. Would he be teaching their sons to hunt bears?

He lifted the thick curtain and looked out across the commons. People were already going about their daily chores. He sighed happily. He had until midday to relax before meeting the rest of the warriors. His uncle would be talking about the plans for the summer campaign.

A tall and strong man passed by his window, carrying a fishing pole. Upon seeing Stann he waved and let out a deep, rumbling laugh.

“Good morning to you too, cousin! Now put on some trousers!”

It was a glorious day. Stann grinned widely as he batted the blade out of a cultist’s hand and kicked him down the stairs. At his side stood Mirena in all her glory, her sword was making brilliant arcs as she swung at any foe brave enough to approach. Then he saw it, some of shapes in the mists were retreating down, away from them.

“They’re falling back? Cowards!” He slammed his sword against his shield and laughed. Mirena didn’t look as amused.

“I’m troubled by what that means.” She raised her shield and blocked her remaining attacker’s heavy swing. The large butcher’s knife made another furrow in the metal.

“Rhyce?” Stann called out.

“I’m on it.” The archer let loose a final arrow before leaving the stairs to the others.

Kellen reached out with both hands, each clutching a runestone of power. The roof above trembled and dropped fist sized chunks of stone down into the mists. The rocks made satisfying thuds hitting the stairs, and anyone remaining there. The visibility was getting slightly better however. Without him constantly reinforcing the magic, the mist was dissipating into the air.

She was just lying there. Jaden felt his heart beat harder.

“No, no no no.” The sound of splintering wood got louder. He could see the first axes make their way through the heavy oak door. He had been so wrong. It wasn’t safe at all.

Oleander sprawled on the ground, her hands still holding the obsidian skull. Jaden backed up to her, sending a burst of fire toward the door. The door would be gone in seconds anyway. Having it burn might buy him more time at the rate things were happening.

The flames died away almost immediately, leaving a purple smoke in their wake. He could sense, more than hear, a faint otherworldly wailing in the air. The nethermancer had returned, and was clearly prepared to deal with his magic.

Jaden’s face fell. They were able to deal with one of his sources of magic, that is. He still had another couple of tricks up his sleeve. A first one that might possibly work, and the other that most definitely would. He looked down at Oleander again. If it had been just him, he would’ve chanced the less reliable way. It wasn’t in him to gamble with the life of a friend, though.

The door shattered, showing a pair of brutish cultists with axes. Maybe it was just the stress and fear playing tricks on him, but they seemed larger than before. The purple smoke seeped between them and into the chamber, extinguishing the lingering fires of his first attack. There were many cultists out there, much too many.

“I guess it’s just you and me now,” he mumbled. The Lacunai drew their power from other creatures, but when they complete their first spirit quest they create a primal bond with something that will always be by their sides. A guide, a companion, an avatar of their magic. Most Mystics relish the bond.

“Come out and play.” He surrendered himself. Since his quest, he could count on one hand the number of times he had called on his inner spirit’s power. He actively avoided doing so unless it was absolutely necessary. Jaden knew what it would do to him in the long run, and he had decided to fight it every single step of the way.

But to save Oleander, it was necessary to give another piece of himself.

It had been the main reason why he chose to make a pact with a salamander in the first place. It gave him another source of fire magic. As long as he could call upon the fire, other Mystics would not know whether it came from a contracted creature or from his inner spirit. After all, what sort of Mystic was afraid to use his main spirit? His strongest ally?

As he felt himself being taken over from within, he enjoyed the irony for a moment. They were fighting against the Sons of Husk because the cultists forced dead spirits to possess their members, and then used the ghost’s essence for their own ends. Here he was doing almost the very same thing. His vest and shirt tore off from his back and barely covered his chest, the trousers stretched tight over his hips. He could feel himself grow warmer.

“What the…” a Cultist began, confusion turning into fear.

The nethermancer pushed his way to the front, tools of his trade glowing with that sickly purple light. He too lost his stride as he saw the transformation happen before their eyes.

“That is no Sorcerer! That’s a-“

“Hellfire!” Jaden’s voice didn’t sound anything like it used to. Whatever protections the nethermancer had woven to fend off the previous flames weren’t prepared to handle the kind that engulfed them now. It came from a place too far below for a mortal mind to fathom.

One of the Sons managed to scramble forward in an attempt to avoid the same fate as his allies. Jaden slapped him back into the howling inferno with a wing, and bent down to scoop up Oleander. She still clung to the skull.

The room was completely aflame, any cultist that had chosen not to flee were either dead or dying. Jaden couldn’t see the nethermancer, but there was no more time. The heat or the smoke would soon kill Oleander if she wasn’t already dead, struck down by whatever curse they had put on that skull.

The sound of footsteps running down hidden passage stairs caught Jaden’s attention. Over the dull roar of the fire someone shouted their names.

“Red? Jay? Are you down there?” Rhyce’s voice. He sounded uncharacteristically upset, bless him. But he couldn’t see them like this. They didn’t know, none of them did, and Jaden planned to keep it that way as long as he possibly could.

Folding the wings close around the unmoving redhead, Jaden crashed through the remains of the door out into the rest of the cellar and didn’t stop running. They went up the stairs to the first floor and straight through the closest window. The shards sparkled in the moonlit night.

The street was mercifully deserted at this late hour, but any guards patrolling past the house next time could not avoid seeing the broken window, or hear the faint yells coming from inside. A couple of powerful beats of the wings brought them to the roof across the street. One hand free allowed Jaden to make the same magical gestures he had such trouble with earlier that night. He hated how good this felt.

“Yeah, I can’t see anyone down there.” Stann noisily backed up again to the top of the stairs. The magic mist had cleared enough to see several bodies lying in the rubble in various places, most with arrows telling the story of their final moments.

“Something must have happened.” Mirena scowled through her visor. “Let’s see if we can-“

“Rena?” The Northman turned to look at the knight, who had gone quiet. A glance toward his cousin showed a similar preoccupied expression.

“I heard it too, Mirena. Let’s find Rhyce and get out of here.” Kellen already stood well clear of the top of the stairs. The runes on his arms had faded to the faintest glow as stray bolts and thrown knives had depleted his magical protection.

“Jaden just sent us a far whisper — they have the item, but Oleander is hurt. They are already on their way back to our place.” She avoided mentioning what they came for, or where they were going. There was no telling who could hear them, after all.

Faint noise to their left made them ready their weapons and magic, but soon Rhyce came into view. He had a grim expression.

“The cellar is completely ablaze. Everything down there is ashes,” the archer reported.

“That was probably Jaden’s doing. They’re already out of here,” Kellen explained, as he motioned for everyone to make it back to the window where they got into the building. It would also be their exit, hopefully.

Stann and Mirena brought up the rear this time, to fend off any surprise attacks that might come now that they had abandoned their choke point in the stairs. Faintly, the smell of smoke started to make its way up to the top floor. The secret passage must be working like a chimney for the fire in the cellar.

Rhyce was the first to the window, and leaned out quickly to scan the alley below. He couldn’t hear any neighbours raising a call for the fire yet, so at least the guard wouldn’t be surrounding them yet. However, that was only a matter of time. The fire he had seen down in the cellar had been unlike anything else. It had burned the very stone walls. Just looking at it had felt like touching a hot plate, only inside his soul. What was left of it.

“We’re clear, but we need to go right now,” he whispered back to his friends.

“Kellen?” In the darkness of the unlit room, Mirena’s voice called for action with a single word.

Strong hands grasped the inscribed stones once more, and the walls began to groan anew. Sacrificing some convenience for brevity, there were fewer steps down this time. One by one they climbed out the window and hopped down from one stone platform to the next. The armoured pair made a loud noise as they crashed down the improvised stairs, but stealth was no longer an issue. Now it was all about speed, quickly putting distance between themselves and this place. Kellen released the magic, and more dust rained down to join the rest of it already coating the dead end alley.

“Let’s go.” Stann waved them on, and soon they were well on their way away from the proud old townhouse. In their hurried escape, they failed to notice how the front doors were wide open.

There wasn’t a wound on her. No scratch or burn. Aside from the smell of smoke on her clothes, she looked just to be sleeping. Her hands gripped the black crystal skull hard enough that her knuckles had turned white. Jaden didn’t dare to try and pry them off, however. He could just as easily fall victim to the curse, or it might hurt her even further. A quick glimpse at the magical threads surrounding the dark artefact told him that much, at least. Vicious, purple strings bored into her heart.

Jaden had put Oleander in her bed as soon as they made it back to the Green Raven. It was way past midnight, and neither the innkeeper nor any other person working there had been awake. Jaden doubted they would’ve been able to help anyway, but at least they also wouldn’t have raised the alarm or tried to attack once they saw him. Jaden looked at his hands, and clenched them into fists. They were the wrong colour. They were also slimmer than his own, but not by much. Not since the changes had begun shortly after his first two transpossessions.

Returning to normal, or what passed for it these days, wasn’t any harder than calling upon the other form to begin with. It was all deceptively easy. Many of the other magic societies had some form of shape changing. Some Shamans could turn themselves into animals, and at least some Sorcerers could assume elemental forms. There were other isolated cases, but in every situation the cost to the magician was very high, in some cases almost crippling. For a Mystic, it was — almost literally — second nature. It also became ever easier with each switch, but there was a cost attached for them too. Some gladly paid that price, but not Jaden.

His hands, and the rest of him, changed as he pulled the spirit back inside. He quietly snuck back to the room he shared with Kellen to find some new clothes. There would be time to inspect the damage later. For now, he replaced his ruined shirt and vest, leaving the shreds of the previous garments in a wadded up ball inside his pack. Perhaps they could be salvaged as polishing cloths, or patches for repairs. Rummaging around he also found his second pair of gloves. He hated leaving Oleander alone at a time like this, even for a minute, but there was nothing he could do but wait for their friends to arrive.

The door slamming shut in the common room below brought him back to the present. Sword in hand, just in case, he went to meet the group coming up the stairs to where the guest rooms were.

“Stormfather’s beard, Jay, what happened down there?” The larger of the two Northmen pushed his way past the rest. “Rhyce said he saw nothing but fire!”

“Ah, yes, things got a little out of hand…” Jaden tried to explain, without explaining too much. “That fire won’t spread, though. It will just consume the-“

“We can talk all about that later. Where is Oleander? You told us she had been hurt,” Mirena interrupted the men.

“She’s in your room, here. I… left her like she was. I didn’t know what to do. She’s still holding the… item.” He pulled the door open, and pointed at the short redhead in her bed, lying motionless. “I believe it’s some sort of spiritual attack. As far as I can tell, it is still active, so please take every precaution.”

“Kellen, we need to get to work right away. The rest of you, please stay out of the room unless we need you.” Mirena walked into the room she shared with Oleander, and fell to a knee next to the other woman. She pulled the gauntlets off her hands, and set the helmet next to them on her bed.

The rune seeker just pushed the door shut with a serious expression. The two of them would do all they could to fight whatever had hurt their friend.

The rest of them were left in the hallway. They would just be in the way, and there was little else to do but get some rest. Jaden felt powerless and upset, but there really was nothing he could do right now. Stann looked like he felt, and he was sure Rhyce shared their feelings too, even if he seldom showed anything.

“We should… we should get some sleep. They will probably be at it all night. Let’s make sure we’re in a state to take care of them tomorrow,” Stann reluctantly conceded, patting Jaden with a heavy hand on the shoulder. “You did well there, little brother.”

“I’ll keep watch,” Rhyce said, not leaving any room for discussion. He had already replaced his lost arrows from the pack in the room he shared with Stann, and was apparently ready to stand vigil.

They exchanged some nods, and Jaden retreated back into his room. Kellen would be busy with the unravelling of the Sons of Husk’s curse. That gave him a chance to do something he would rather not. Jaden dug through his pack and came up with his shaving mirror. It was buried deep down with the other odd knickknacks, since he didn’t use it anymore. He hadn’t shaved in months.

It wasn’t a big mirror, but with the light from the moon through the window his sensitive eyes could see almost as well as during the day. Jaden sighed heavily as he took in what was now his body. The changes were subtle, to be fair. The arms and shoulders were just a little softer than before. The softness had also spread down, into a pair of tiny swells. He made himself look at his face. Something with the jaw made him seem even younger. When he tilted the mirror, he could tell that his waist was becoming more slender than his hips. Nothing a thick shirt wouldn’t hide, but summer was coming and with it the warm weather.

He allowed himself another sigh in frustration, and pushed the mirror back down in the pack. Every time he lost just a little more of himself, but this time he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. None of his friends would hesitate to take an injury for him. This was just like that, right?

It wasn’t like that at all. Sometimes he felt like crying.

A figure bent down and brushed some dust away from the cobblestones. A small metal prong gleamed in the early dawn light. The old man pulled his lips back in a way that showed how he had forgotten how to smile. As he turned it around in his bony hands, a small purple smoke trail poured from the lockpick and started to worm its way down the street.

Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright © 2013 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

While the rest of the group remain behind at the Green Raven inn hoping to help Oleander, Stann and Jaden head out into the city on errands. Jaden feels he has to do something about his increasingly untenable situation, and does the first thing that comes to mind: he lies.

Flashback: Rhyce wasn't always an adventurer

---

Chapter 4: Other Faces

RHYCE

Unlike people, arrows didn’t lie. They were meant to fly, and they were meant to strike. The cold air made his breath steam and face tingle, but his hands didn’t waver. His arrows didn’t lie.

The rest of the band broke cover and approached the wagon. One of the horses tried to pull away, but the reins were trapped around the yoke. The other horse was still. It had been one of the victims of the first volley.

Rhyce stepped around the fallen tree that blocked the road. Three men sprawled next to it, their sleeves pushed up. He recovered his arrows. Their message had already been delivered.

“This is a big haul, boys! This family was comin’ back from the festival by the looks of it. Sold all them furs or potatoes, or whatever these here people do.” Their leader pushed a body down from the wagon’s bench with his foot. The fine gown twisted around the dead woman as she fell to the ground. The men cheered. The spoils would see them with beer and wenches through the winter for sure. There were fewer travellers during the snows anyway. Little reason for the band to hide and wait unless they knew someone wealthy was going to pass through.

Rhyce knelt by one of the children. None had been spared. That was the way of Enold’s band. He closed the boy’s eyes. They were brown, too. Just like his own, and just like the ones he had buried some summers ago.

“Did ya find anythin’ innerestin’, Deadeye?” Enold asked, from atop the wagon. When he smiled, the scar on his cheek pulled sideways.

“Yes. Kid had a new knife.” Rhyce noticed it sheathed by the boy’s belt.

“Prob’ly a gift from his pa. Add it to the haul.”

They called him Deadeye. Only partly because of his skill with the bow. He had buried all human feelings when he dug those two graves. Now he was just aiming and releasing, waiting for the inevitable.

Unlike people, arrows didn’t change.

The lights suddenly went out. She couldn't see anything. Until her night vision returned she was an easy target. Instinctively, she dropped into a crouch, and backed up to where the wall had been.

"Ollie, quickly. We need to go!" Jay called out.

"I can't see anything!"

"Serves you right to tease me about my elven eyes. Come on, I'll get us out of here." She felt a hand close around hers. His hand, with those thin gloves. Jay pulled at her, and she followed through the darkness. Suddenly, noise returned from the distance, coming closer toward them at a fast pace.

"Damn, the cultists are catching up to us. Let's go up the stairs. You first. It's just straight up, remember? I'll cover you." Jay pushed at her, and she started quickly up the stairs. She still couldn't see anything, but they had been down this way just a few minutes ago, and she had a very good memory for navigating the city landscape.

She heard him unsheathe his sword, and she quickened her pace.

"They can only come at us one at a time in these narrow stairs. I'll hold them off, just get back to the others!"

Oleander scrambled up the last bit. Why was it still so dark? Hadn't there been windows in the library?

Behind her, she heard Jay cry out in pain.

"Jay! Jay? Are you alright?" There was no one to answer her. She held a hand to her mouth. Jay. She needed to get the others. They needed to come get Jay.

The darkness wasn't as black anymore. Were her eyes slowly adjusting? She ran as quickly as she dared. The hallways seemed longer than before, a trick played by the darkness no doubt. Finally she got back to the place where the rest of the group were going to set up their distraction ambush on the cultists; she couldn't see anyone waiting for her. Where had they gone? Didn't they know she needed them? That Jay needed them?

Her foot stopped against something on the floor. It was metal. Armour. A long braid, matted with blood fell from a pale face.

"No... No, Mirena!"

"Don't just stand there, Red! Run!" By that window she had picked open stood Rhyce, his bow in his hand. He had hardly any arrows left. "The others have already gone ahead. We need to leave now!"

Oleander ran up to him, and grabbed the rope that dangled down to the street. Stann and Kellen stood at the bottom of the alley and urged her on.

"Move, Red!" Rhyce pushed her back against the wall, as crossbow bolts struck the windowframe. One ripped across his hand.

Down the hallway came several of the cloaked men, weapons raised. They didn't make any sound, but the malevolence coming out of them screamed louder than any voice.

"You need to go now! Climb down!"

She looked out of the window. The cousins were fighting other cultists, and they looked to be losing. Kellen was already down on one knee, bleeding from a wound on his head. Stann was swinging his sword in a wide arc to try to keep them back.

"It's no good. They're down there too."

Rhyce fired his last few arrows into the approaching Sons in the hallway. They fell silently to the ground, only to be stepped upon by their fellows.

"Then we go up. Climb back up to the roof." They were both skilled climbers. Oleander could scale any house facade.

She jumped up on the window frame, and crabbed one of the many handholds on the outside. Expertly, she was up to the top in seconds, right where she had been just a little while ago when Jay had held her. Jay.

She leaned out to help Rhyce up. He had already stepped off the window frame and was reaching up to the first handholds. She stretched her arm down to grab his hand. They were going to get away. They were going to come back with as many people as they could cajole, bribe or threaten into joining them. They would save their friends. Rhyce's fingers touched hers, and their eyes met. His suddenly looked surprised, and before she could even open her mouth to cry out he was dragged back into the window, and was gone.

They were all gone. She was alone. So she ran.

The sound of the door creaking open woke Jaden from his fitful sleep. The sky outside had already turned a light rose. Dawn had caught up with them.

“Didn’t mean to wake you, my elven friend.” Kellen sounded absolutely exhausted.

“I’m not an elf, Kel.”

“Just need an hour or two, a little rest, before we continue.” The Northman sat down heavily, not really hearing Jaden’s usual denial, and unlaced his boots. Even rune seekers ran out of strength eventually.

“Is she going to be alright?” Jaden rolled over to face the big, blonde man. Kellen’s normally neat goatee beard was disappearing in the stubble.

“We’ve done what we could for now. We’ll try again in a little-“ The rest was muffled as Kellen fell into his pillow. Rune seekers didn’t expend nearly as much of their own power when casting spells as the rest of the magical societies, being much more dependent on their material foci, but they were still mortal beings at the end of the day. Everyone had their limit.

Jaden watched the Northman for a little while, being lost in his own thoughts about what happened yesterday. Untangling himself from his own bed he got up and pulled the rumpled blanket up over the already heavily asleep man. Jaden tucked his friend in, without realising he had a slight smile on his face

He didn’t feel like trying to go back to sleep himself, so he dressed quickly to see if the others had heard anything more. One pair of socks wasn’t enough, though. His boots kept almost slipping off his feet, and he was sure that if there would be any running, he would trip himself up. A thick pair of winter socks made them fit a little better, but would probably get uncomfortably warm.

Jaden resigned himself to sweaty feet, and stepped out in the hallway. Rhyce was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. The fat cat that lived in the inn had curled up next to his feet, having the good sense to catch a few more hours of rest.

“Heard anything?” Jaden didn’t bother to elaborate.

“Mirena’s keeping an eye on Red for now.”

“She must be as tired as Kel was. He fell asleep mid-sentence.” Jaden glanced at his door. He could hear the snoring from here.

“Whatever they’re doing seems to be working, though. She looked less worried than before.”
They remained silent for a while. Faint noises from a city waking up reached them. Jaden paced a little. His boots were a little too warm already.

“I feel responsible for what happened, Rhyce. I actually had only one job yesterday. To tell her if it was safe. This was all my fault.” He had forgotten to put on his gloves again. He must still be tired to miss something that important. Jaden kept his hands in his vest pockets instead, for the time being.

“Good,” Rhyce replied.

“Good? You think I messed up, too?” Jaden tried not to whine. He really did.

“A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.”

“Thanks Rhyce. I feel much better now.”

The archer just grunted a little, and shifted his position.

“I’m heading down to see if they started on breakfast yet. I’ll bring you something, if you want?” Jaden began to leave the corridor by their rooms.

“Yeah. Thanks. And bring something for the cat, too.” Rhyce was more considerate with animals than he was with people.

“That cat does not need anything more. The beast must’ve already devoured half the larder,” Jaden muttered, as he snuck downstairs.

Later that morning Mirena made her way down the stairs, keeping a hand against the wall. Despite whatever holy vigour coursed through her body, it couldn’t stave off all of the fatigue from praying the entire night. Her green eyes looked a little dimmer than usual when she eased herself down in a chair next to Rhyce and Jaden in the common room. They had moved down from the second floor hall when another guest had finally complained about them lurking up there to the innkeeper.

“Any changes?” Jaden leaned forward to keep his voice down.

An attentive maid was already bringing some late breakfast refreshments over to their table, and Mirena gratefully accepted both the bowl of porridge and a fresh cup of tea. She took a long sip before replying.

“We’ve managed to keep the effects of the curse from damaging her too much, I believe. She’s still… trapped inside, but we’ve created beacons of strength in there with her. I’m afraid it’s more or less up to her. One of us will stay by her side, if anything happens. Also, we need to maintain the blessings to make sure the curse won’t regain any ground.”

“Can I help? Any magic I have is yours, if it’ll make any difference?” Jaden balled up his hands to keep from wringing them instead. He would have to deal with the guilt either way, but if he could at least lend a hand it would feel better.

“How much do you know about spiritual wards or sanctuary blessings?” She smiled gently at him, trying to let him down without hurting his pride.

“Not… that much,” he admitted.

“It might be a better use of your talents to make sure we won’t get any surprises from the rest of the world.” Mirena started on her porridge. She realised that she hadn’t eaten anything since last evening, and then only a light meal. She quickly finished her bowl, and asked for another serving. Even tired, and almost shovelling down the food, she made it seem like she was attending a nobility soiree.

While she ate, Rhyce filled her in on what had happened during the time she had been cooped up in her room with Kellen and Oleander.

“We weren’t followed here, or the Sons would’ve paid a visit the inn during the night. I didn’t get the impression they were subtle about how they exact their revenge.” Rhyce pushed the cat off the table. It landed with a heavy thud, and waddled away.

“They’re really not,” Jaden agreed.

“But with their soul magic, who knows what they are capable of? I’m going to act under the expectation of them attacking sooner or later. The Green Raven is barely defendable. We may want to relocate as soon as it’s possible to move Red.”

“How long that will be, I don’t know. I’ll let you know if her condition start to change for the better, and we feel we can risk it.” The knight had finished her second bowl, and hid a yawn behind her hand.

Stann came down the stairs clad in his more casual clothes, a sleeveless shirt and vest, and the heavy wool trousers favoured by the Northmen. The tattoo on his upper arm showed, the one that gave him his nickname. He still wore his sword, though, not willing to abandon that much of his cultural pride to blend in. Stann had been down earlier after he woke up, and had already eaten.

“Morning to you, Rena! Good to see you managed to endure being cooped up with my ugly cousin for that long a time.”

“Are you headed out?” She asked, frowning at the idea.

“Aye, we need to confer with our respectable contact now that we have the… object, after all.” Stann caught himself in time. “We’ll need to know where to drop it off. I’m not keeping that thing around any longer than necessary.”

“Are you sure it’s wise to go alone? The previous owners will no doubt be out there looking for us, and it.” Mirena didn’t like the idea of people going off on their own. Maybe it was because how knights never rode alone.

“Wisdom seldom speaks when my heart make decisions, milady,” Stann declared with pride.

“We know,” Rhyce added his opinion.

“Speaking of going out… I may need to leave for a while, as well.” Jaden tugged on his gloves a little bit, they still fit well enough. “I need to buy something.”

Mirena visibly perked up somewhat. She had very few vices, but filling her travel pack with even more clothes was one of them.

“You’re going shopping?”

“Ah… I need to replace some, uh, magical ingredients. During the fight with the S- with the other people, I ran out of some of my supplies.” Jaden used a little white lie. Lying had become strangely easy lately, something he did not like one bit.

Mirena made a slight face, and wished him a pleasant trip. With Stann going, it was no point in arguing to keep Jaden here as well. Maybe they’d have the good sense of going together. Looking at some of the cities selection of summer gowns would have been lovely, but if the morning would involve poking dried bat wings, she would rather stay at the inn. She had to be available to take over when Kellen needed a break, too, but it was nice to entertain the idea for a bit.

Rhyce got to his feet as well, unnoticed by the others, but went out the back door into a small enclosed area behind the inn. There was a small backyard here and a well the Green Raven shared with the other nearby houses. If he was going to keep watch of the inn by himself when the others were running errands, he had to make some preparations.

Tier was a huge city, arguably the largest one on the continent. While Etrana or some of the other capitals approached it in size, the mix of travellers and different cultures meeting in the arcades made it seem almost endless. You could walk the streets of the golden city for days and never have to retrace your steps. There was a local saying, ‘anything you desire, you can find in Tier’. Jaden hoped this would be true.

Stann and Jaden headed toward the large Inland Street that would take them all the way through the city toward the west gate. The locals called it the Tradegate for a reason. The city taxed permanent structures more than temporary ones, and that had naturally caused a large number of tents and market stands to spring up just outside the western gate. Over the years, it had sprawled ever larger, and was now bigger than most small villages. If you were a canny bargain hunter, you could find some really good deals out there from all over the world.
When they had first met with their contact, a representative of the Temple of Kuros, they had used one of the more discreet drinking tents outside the Tradegate to avoid being overheard by any agents of the Sons of Husk.

Almost noon, the streets were bustling with people heading out for lunch or enjoying a mid-day stroll. When the sun stood high above Tier, it really brought out the rich colour of the stone used in many of the buildings and the inner walls, giving it the name ‘golden city’.

As they passed a familiar tavern, the Moon and Keg, Stann stopped and looked a bit wistfully at the door.

“Stann, you had breakfast just an hour or so ago. You can’t be hungry already.” Jaden made as if to continue down the street. “And we’re not making a beer-stop either.”

“Do you think she is still working there?” The Northman asked as he caught up. He was subconsciously tidying his short beard a bit.

“Who? Oh, no, not another one of your elven barmaids. Stann, honestly?”

“Her name was Belane, hair as dark as midnight,” Stann sighed with one last look at the alehouse before they rounded the corner. “You know, since you’re both-“

“I’m not an elf, Stann. Leave it alone.”

As they passed the bored-looking guards who had sought shade under the arcs of the outer wall, they stepped outside the city proper. There were still as many, if not more, people around, but stone and wood buildings gave way to large tents and wagons.

“Well, little brother, I’m off to see our associate. I probably won’t be long, though. Shall we meet up for a lunch about town afterward?” Stann patted Jaden heavily on the shoulder.
‘Little brother’ was his favourite nickname for the Mystic. Jaden guessed it was endearing.

“Did you have a specific place in mind?”

“Perhaps. I might.” Stann glanced back at the gate, not a single guilty bone in his body.

“We should probably return to the Green Raven right away. It’s not fair to leave everything to Rhyce.” Jaden did not want to end up as the ‘elven wingman’.

“You’re right, of course,” Stann admitted grudgingly.

They parted ways, with Stann heading off in a different direction from the general market area. Jaden felt that this would be a good time to look for something he had been considering for some time now. His clothes were starting to hang quite loosely, but that could be refitted or exchanged. What couldn’t be altered was his height. Jaden estimated that he had lost a good inch or more since last autumn, and even if it wasn’t immediately obvious he couldn’t be certain it would stop any time soon. His friends were no halfwits, either. They would pick up on the changes soon, especially if he kept wearing heavy clothes into the summer. Magic was the problem, so magic would be his solution.

Jaden took a deep breath, and headed into the sea of stands and tents.

It didn’t take Stann too long to find his way to the matronly woman selling bouquets of spring flowers. She wore a small brooch with the symbol of Kuros, the Sheltering Hand, as a clasp for her light cloak.

“Imelia, good to see you!” He inspected the wreaths with feigned interest as they spoke, pretending to be a customer.

“Well met, Northlander. You look to be in good health. Did you find anything interesting on your last excursion?”

“Aye, we came across some interesting glassware from our farming friends, but one of us cut herself during our visit.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. The Sheltering Hand will provide for her, I’m certain. Oh, our mutual friend asked me to pass along that you’re ‘welcome to visit the flower sanctuary’. Here, take a nice bouquet of red mariganas for your injured friend.” She handed Stann a bundle of flowers of a warm red hue, almost orange, with long petals.

“Thank you, I will.” He looked a little confused. He wasn’t entirely sure what the message meant, but would relay it to wiser people than him as soon as they returned to the Green Raven.

They exchanged farewells, and Stann left with his flowers.

“Welcome, dear customer, to Zajid’s Tent of Marvels and Delights! I am, yes, Zajid, and also honoured to provide any assistance you may need to find that special something!” The voice belonged to a swarthy man in a richly adorned robe of an earthy burnt umber. His oiled hair curled down well below his shoulders, and he kept his beard almost as long.

The tent where Jaden had ended up was indeed filled with a splendid amount of trinkets, clothes and various bottled things. He had let his Mystic’s sight guide him along the winding paths of the market to where the largest concentration of magic threads coincided.

“Akam sal narot, jiet,” Jaden returned the greeting. “You are a long way from Etria, to bring your wonders to our door.”

The merchant broke out in an endearing belly laughter.

“You speak Estal, miss- ssir?” Zajid corrected himself in time, but still looked a bit uncertain. “What a pleasant surprise! Most customers only know midland Trade. Sit, let me provide you with a cup of finest Etrian tea this warm day, and you can tell me what brings your person to my humble tent?”

They sat down by a small, round table where a kettle was already waiting for them. Maybe the merchant treated all his guests this way?

“Ah, hmm, I am looking for something quite specific,” Jaden began, stopping the other man from adding yet another spoon of honey to his tea.

“Yes? Let me guess.” Zajid inspected the slender, clearly elven… young man? “A gift for a friend? A nice garnet bracelet? Beautiful craftsmanship by the finest goldsmiths in Etrana.”

“While that does sound lovely, jiet, I must ask for something else. Do you sell any mirage veils?” Jaden sipped his tea. It was probably the best cup he had tasted since leaving home. His mother loved Etrian tea.

“Indeed?” The Etrian merchant leaned a bit closer. If the customer asked for enchanted items, it opened up a whole new realm for profit today. “As it happens, I may just have something for you, dear customer!”

Zajid rose to his feet and tapped his lips in thought. Jaden took another sip, and debated whether this was such a good idea after all.

“Something discreet, if it is available? That will allow me to change my looks?”

"Ah, I know what you want, dear customer!" The owner browsed through a display of large cloths before selecting one of them, a rich saffron and cream kerchief with waterfall patterns. "This one was made by Kasmani nymphs. Very rare, very beautiful."

"I realise that merchants embellish on their wares to push the prices up, but really now, nymphs?" Jaden sounded sceptical. He put the empty teacup down on its saucer.

"I swear, no falsehoods, under the eyes of the Judge! Here, smell it! Tell me you can't feel their touch?" The larger man held the cloth close to Jaden's face, and he reluctantly leaned in closer to take a whiff.

It was subtle, that's for sure. It had probably been washed repeatedly by a previous owner, but memories of summer, laughter and love tickled Jaden's mind.

"I... stand corrected, jiet. My apologies for doubting you."

The merchant beamed with pleasure. He obviously took great pride in his wares.

"It is the finest glamourweave you are likely to find this side of the mountains. You will be the envy of your friends, on my honour." Zajid puffed himself up yet a bit further.

"Well, that's a sales pitch if I ever heard one. Alright. What do you want for it?" This was more or less exactly what Jaden needed. Too bad it was a pretty feminine headcloth, but once his magic ran through the glamourweave threads it wouldn't matter.

"Oh, a mere... two thousand crowns?" The merchant pursed his lips, and looked expectantly at Jaden.

"Wha- that's-" Jaden sputtered. He didn't have that kind of money. They hadn't been paid for their recent assignment yet, and they wouldn't until they delivered the skull. He doubted the entire group had that amount put together, in ready coin.

"Nymphs made it," the merchant reminded Jaden.

"I... Yes, they did. But that is still a rather steep price. Especially for a second-hand item?"

"Then what do you offer, dear customer?" Haggling was the lifeblood of any trader.

Jaden had expected a high price, but not more than a couple of hundred crowns. Despite having been away from the isolated life in the citadel for more than one and a half years now, the world still managed to surprise him every so often.

"Will you take a trade-in?" He considered what he had at his disposal: some mementos from Talraman, some minor jewellery that had caught his eye over the years. The merchant was appraising Jaden's outfit as well.

"Hmm, while I don't normally trade with them, I would definitely take that sword off your hands. I would even offer a little something to balance the scales."

"My sword?" Jaden cringed. That sword was given to him by his father. It was enchanted, yes, but not impressively so. He suspected it was one of the older blades from the time when Talraman had been at war with, well, everyone else. It was one of a hundred just like it.

"I'll offer you two hundred crowns aside from the veil, and your pick of any of these rare and precious perfumes." Zajid gestured at a number of small bottles in various colours.

"Were those made by nymphs, too?" Jaden said sarcastically as he unhooked his sword. He really needed that kerchief. He could always get another weapon at the market.

"Alas, no, but by the hands of the blind elves of the Ral Sona monastery," the merchant went on to describe a fantastic tale of how the bottles travelled through the deep Sorun wilderness on the backs of panthers, wrapped in velvet and rose petals.

Jaden tuned it out, having already handed his sword over. What sort of perfume did he want? Why would he even want it? When he left the tent he looked down on a tinted bottle labelled 'violet'.

“Maybe I can give it to Mirena as a souvenir?”

After all, why would he want to keep it for himself?

Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright © 2013 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

As the intrepid adventurers struggle to make sense of their contact's cryptic message, the death cult close in on them. They might not be as safe as they thought they were.
Kellen has a plan on how to make finding them more difficult.

Flashback: Mirena was born and raised in the golden city, and struggles with certain expectations.

---

Chapter 5: Lying Flowers

MIRENA

The music changed its pace once more, and the dancers took their positions. Two rows of finely clad members of the social elite filled the open floor in the middle of the great hall, and on the starting note they approached one another with measured steps. The men took the hands of the women, and led them in a circular dance in harmony with the tune. From the sides, the older nobles and people otherwise occupied watched the dance progress through each carefully planned phase.

As the musicians put their instruments away, applause filled the ballroom. The men escorted their partners back to the waiting families and exchanged some pleasantries, before returning to their own.

She curtsied as her dance partner walked away, her fine silk gown brushing the polished marble tiles of the floor. It was newly made of course; nothing else would do for a gathering such as this one. They had visited their favourite tailor only yesterday for the final fitting. He had done a marvellous job, as usual. The gown flattered her form, a little too well in places, and the deep verdant green brought out her eyes. She didn’t have the heart to tell the tailor that she really preferred blue, though.

“Well, daughter, that one seemed a perfect match, don’t you agree?” The older man, her father, was also dressed in his best. Because of generations of success, their merchant house could afford the finest the city had to offer. He stood tall and strong for his age, though grey streaked the sides of his chestnut brown hair.

“Father, I don’t see the point in this. You know I’ll be ordained to the temple knights come winter.” Mirena kept from wrinkling her gown. Her argument was with her father, not the poor cloth.

“Nonsense, sweetheart. We’ve indulged this… chapter of your life long enough. That man is the son of the Baron of Risan. Firstborn, no less! You would do very well indeed with him.” Her father looked very pleased with himself. “I have already spoken with the Baron, and he is quite willing to join our houses together. That would give us a second port city to expand to!”

“Father! I am sworn to the temple. I will not betray that oath, and I will most certainly not give up an opportunity to become a knight of Telum because you want to marry me off to some… some Olman fishing town!”

“That’s enough, Mirena! You will do your duty to your family, and that’s all there is to it.” Her father grabbed her arm, hard, and turned her toward a group of people across the dance floor.

An olive skinned noble in the scarlet colours of Olmar raised his glass toward her father and nodded. Next to him stood her dance partner, excitedly talking with a woman Mirena presumed to be his mother or aunt.

Her father leaned down closer to her ear and whispered harshly.

“Now, you will dance with young Garrad, and you will be on your very best behaviour.”

Mirena felt trapped. Her chest hurt from bottling up all her feelings. She had found a place where she felt she truly belonged, in the temple of Telum. She had worked twice as hard as any other squire to prove that she was more than just a rich child whose parents bought her way into the Order. She had earned her place among the ones selected for knighthood. She also loved her family, despite their shortcomings. Regardless of their values, she knew that they had the potential to be a force for good. Could she give up her own dreams and settle for the life of a nobleman’s wife, hoping to affect these changes from within? Could she make that sacrifice?

Despite her best efforts, her hands crumpled the delicate fabric of the gown as she fought against herself.

Just a trickle was enough. As the magic flowed through the cloth, it shimmered softly and the colours began to waver. The name “mirage veil” felt very appropriate, even if different veils in fact did very different things. They could cloak the wearer and hide them from sight entirely, or blend into the surroundings. Most items weren’t even proper veils at all, but they all had to cover part of the user to function.

The shimmer enveloped Jaden as he tried to visualise himself. Not that… person who stared back at him though the mirror, but his real self. The one he still saw in his dreams. Aside from the tingling as the magical veil settled around him, he couldn’t feel any changes. After all, it was only an illusion; but under the circumstances it was the best he could hope for.

Jaden left the relative privacy of the market latrine, and stepped back outside in the fresh and spicy air. None of the people passing by gave him a second glance. He adjusted the nymph kerchief around his head slightly. To a casual observer, it would look like a nice, but normal, hat. As an added bonus, it covered his ears.

After making sure everything was in order, Jaden began to push his way through the busy dirt streets lined with tents, stands, and loud voices. In his belt was the replacement sword he had picked up just a few stands down from Zajid’s tent. It was a very nondescript blade, and in that way it was ironically a lot like his old one. He had kept his scabbard, and the sword fitted more or less. Just like him and his clothes, he supposed.

He made a note of being more careful about touching people in the future. The illusion showed him as his normal self, who was slightly bulkier than the truth. If someone paid any attention when they hugged him, they would notice the discrepancy.

“Ah, there you are, little brother!” A booming voice announced the return of Stann. He was carrying a bundle of flowers, for some reason.

“Ready to head back, Bear?” Jaden wasn’t the only one with a nickname. Stann had tattooed his to his arm, shown proudly in his early summer outfit. The Northman had arms as thick as Jaden’s legs.

“Aye, all done here — unless, that is, you changed your mind about an ale at the Moon and Keg?” Stann tried to sound casual, but couldn’t help grinning towards the end.

“I’m not helping you with picking up any more elven girls. My shin still hurt sometimes,” Jaden recalled a particularly ill-fated encounter.

They strolled back toward the Tradegate and the long Inland Street. They would be back in time for lunch, and let Rhyce get some rest. The man had probably been up all night. Jaden sometimes wondered what drove the archer so hard.

“You looked a bit frail this morning, Jay, but a walk in the sun did you good. Say, is that a new hat?”

The men didn’t look out of place in this part of the city. Simple craftsmen heading toward someone’s home to help with repairs, perhaps, or on their way to a guild meeting. An older man walked in their midst, his fingers touching a small metal wire, or a thick needle. Every so often, they stopped at an intersection and appeared to be having a conversation about the weather. After a while, the older man had picked out a new direction, and they continued to walk.

On a nearby rooftop a single crow tilted its head, following them with a black eye. As they disappeared down the street, it took to the air and circled the neighbourhood before heading off.

A second crow joined it in flight, and together they floated on the warm updraft from the chimneys for a while, before swooping down toward an enclosed area behind several large buildings. They landed on the branches of a lonely tree that was just now starting to bloom. One of them cawed, flapping its wings.

Rhyce stepped out from under the roof of the porch and watched the birds.

“They’re getting closer,” he murmured to himself. Fatigue was starting to become an issue, but he knew from experience he would still be reliable for almost another day. They would be here before then, and he would be waiting.

“When did you see them?” Mirena tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes. After breakfast, she had borrowed Kellen’s bed to grab an hour’s rest or so. Next to her on the table they shared was a beautiful bouquet of red mariganas. One of the maids had found a small vase to put them in.

“I became aware of them just a short while before Stann and Jaden returned,” Rhyce nodded toward the other two. “I’m sure they are able to follow us somehow.”

“That’s bad,” Stann grumbled. “It looks like we have no choice but to move. We can’t fight them in here. Darim and the girls would get slaughtered.”

The innkeeper looked up from the shelves at the mention of his name. The group smiled and waved at him, which he returned with a curious expression. They were too far away to overhear unless they spoke loudly, in their private corner of the common room.

“Agreed. Making our stand here is not an option.” Mirena set her jaw. “We might have to risk moving Oleander sooner than I’d like. Speaking of which, Stann?”

“Yes?” The warrior looked up from his tankard. He was very used to indoor brawling, and knew how easy it was for innocents to get caught in the fray.

“Did you meet up with our contact?”

“Oh, I did. Not sure what to make of it, though.” He eyed the mariganas. “She said we were welcome to the flower… castle?”

“Flower castle?” Jaden sounded confused. “What does that even mean”?

“Your guess is as good as mine, little brother.” Stann did not enjoy riddles. He was a straightforward, honest man. He would fight by your side, match you drink for drink, but if you asked him to solve a puzzle he was more than likely to break it trying.

Mirena and Rhyce shared a thoughtful look across the table.

“The closest castles are in Radent to the south or Farcrest to the north. We’re too far from the northern Alband border to warrant any fortifications — no insult intended, Stann.” In previous generations, the Northern clans had been very aggressive in their expansions down into Alband. The kingdom had raised several keeps along their northern border to fend off the attackers during that period.

“None taken, milady. My ancestors were quite honoured by that, in fact.” The Northmen appreciated a good fight.

Something with the name tickled a memory in Jaden. He frowned as he tried to catch that fleeting thought. Suddenly both he and Mirena looked at each other.

“Rosehaven!” They exclaimed at the same time.

“Doesn’t Rosehaven have a temple dedicated to Kuros, as well?” Jaden asked, almost certain of it. He remembered reading about the expansions of the temples during the imperial era.

“Yes! It was founded by King Ambermane’s great, great grandfather, the duke of Farcrest during the imperial rule, as a sign of good faith toward the emperor.” Mirena knew her military history and the noble houses.

“That’s not far off,” Rhyce added. “A few days by horse, just up the coast.”

“But will Red be well enough to ride?” Stann wondered.

Was it raining? Her face felt wet, and it was almost too dark to see. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

"Okay, Ollie. Let me take the watch." A gloved hand patted her shoulder. She looked up and saw those pointy ears barely hidden by long black hair.

"I... I think I dozed off. I had a dream."

"Go get some beauty sleep - you need it." Jay teased her, and pointed towards her bedroll.

"Shut up, Elfboy." She shoved him playfully, and got up.

He just grinned, and took her spot by the fire.

As she was lying down to go back to sleep, she felt that something was wrong. She looked up at her friend, who hadn't noticed the same thing.

“Hey, Jay? Where's Rhyce?" Maybe the archer was answering the call of nature?

"Who?" He turned around and looked at her strangely.

Oleander blinked, and felt something clench her heart.

"Rhyce. You know, mister grimdark arrowshooter?"

"Not sure what you're on about, Ollie, but you clearly need that sleep more than I thought you did."

She looked around the camp. The two huge blonde men were impossible to miss, one of them snoring. Next to them, between Jay's and her beds, was Mirena. The pieces of her armour were covered by another blanket to keep dewdrops away. No archer. No Rhyce.

"Wake up. Wake up! They found us!" A firm hand shook her. Had she fallen asleep again?

She looked around, and saw that the others were already on their feet. Mirena in her nightgown and unbound hair had a sword ready. Jay stood by the edge of the firelight, pointing into the darkness. Knives of ice were already hovering around him defensively.

Before she could say anything, Stann hoisted her to her feet, and pushed the bag into her hands.

"If we need to run, it's better if you take this."

"Is this the thing?"

"Yes. You'll know what to do." He sounded more sure than she felt.

"They're coming!" Jay backed away from the darkness, and brought up a hand to throw frozen magic into the night. Before he had a chance to attack whatever he had seen, several black bolts escaped from the darkness. The icy knives blocked a couple, but two struck him in his chest and pierced his heart. He fell to the ground before she even had a chance to scream.

"Villains! You will not win this day!" Mirena brought her sword up, ready to attack as soon as their enemies emerged from the shadows.

Oleander couldn't tear her eyes from where Jay had fallen. It felt horrible and familiar at the same time.

"Rus og bol!" Glory and blood. The cousins roared and charged toward where Jay had pointed. Sword drawn and runes shining.

She clutched the bag closer to her chest, and moved up next to Mirena. The knight had tried to stop the Northmen, but to no avail. Now she had a grim expression.

"Oleander? I want you to run. The path behind us is safe."

"The path? It's so dark, Rena. I can't see anything."

"It's there. Just trust me. The path will lead you to safety." When had she donned her armour? Mirena turned back to guard against the darkness, her braid swinging slightly.

"I... alright. You know I trust you." Oleander hugged the bag and tried to see the path.

"You need to go, now!" Mirena raised her shield, as the darkness roiled and seemed to try to swallow them both. The light from the fire made just a tiny circle, barely big enough for both of them.

Oleander trusted her heart, and ran. She kept running, even as she heard Mirenas scream suddenly being cut off. Her face felt wet again.

Jaden looked around the backyard a second time, before waving the others on. The two large Northmen trundled out, carrying their small, redheaded burden between them. Mirena had stopped the innkeeper in the corridor, and was telling him that everything was in order and that there was no cause for alarm.

They gently laid Oleander down on the grass and stepped back. Mirena joined them, carrying a tankard that Kellen gratefully accepted. He would make do with beer, when there was no rest to be had.

“So, how will this work, cousin?” Stann gestured at the comatose woman. On top of her lied a small bag that contained the source of their troubles.

“It pretty much follows the principle of ‘walking a mile in someone’s boots’. I will create a rune that will cause our hunters some confusion.” Kellen handed the empty tankard to Jaden, who looked a bit annoyed with acting as a maid.

“What do we need to do?” Stann wanted to help, but surrounded by the groups magicians he felt a little left out.

“Well, just shove her bare foot into the soil, nice and deep.” Kellen had begun to sort through his many pouches, selecting a number of inscribed stones.

They helped to manoeuvre their unconscious friend to the edge of the porch. One of her legs slipped over the side, causing her sleeping tunic to scoot up to her thigh. Mirena took the foot and pushed it down into the grass and earth as firmly as she dared.

“That’s good. Now, stand back.” Kellen held a runestone in each hand. There was a slight tremor, and the soil beneath the footprint released two clumps of clay.

The rune seeker walked around the floating bits of dirt, shaping them into vague cubes. With the rune in his other hand, marks began to take form on each side of the cubes. Finally, they visibly hardened and took on a burnt finish.

“I’ve not had a reason to make drawstones for, well, for a long time. I can’t say how long they will remain potent, but for the next few days there will be three Oleanders as far as the Sons are concerned.”

“Thank the Stormfather that’s not true,” chuckled Stann. One Oleander was quite enough for the world to handle.

“So the idea is to split up, again. Kellen, I assume you will be taking care of Oleander?” Mirena began to lay out the plan. With the knight, there would always be plans.

“Aye, I’ll need to maintain the safeguards on her, as well as the drawstone enchantment.”

“Won’t they be able to just, I don’t know, track the skull instead?” Jaden raised an important point.

“Unlikely. The curse has muddled their auras together, and the drawstones should mirror both of them.” Kellen gestures vaguely above the girl and the bag.

“Will the… the drawstones require magic from the carrier?” Mirena leaned in a little to inspect the crude clay dice.

“Not as such, no, but a presence of magic or a blood familiarity will make it easier for me to project the enchantment from a distance,” Kellen coughed a little, and looked around for more beer. Jaden shrugged at the empty tankard, earning a slight scowl in return.

“But you might want to, ah, not handle it, Mirena,” Jaden stopped her from touching it.

“What? Why is that?”

“From what I can tell by the spells on them, this is technically Deception magic. You being a priest of Telum…” Jaden trailed off, letting the knight fill in the blanks.

“Any magic of mine would likely destroy Kellens enchantment. Telum abhors falsehoods.” She sighed. “Well, it’s good that both you and Stann should be able to carry them safely.”

“It might be a good idea to separate you two, as well,” Jaden pointed at Stann and Mirena. “You were right up there, hacking Sons to bits side by side. You’d be very recognisable together.”

“Good point. That leaves me with Rhyce, and Mirena with you, little brother.”

“Not to mention that I probably know the streets of Tier better than any of you, with Rhyce as a close second. Having us in separate groups only make sense.” Mirena was born and raised in the golden city.

Rhyce walked around the corner of the Green Raven inn with his pack on a shoulder. A pair of black birds flew past him up into the sky.

“We’re out of time. I just saw them a couple of streets away from here.”

Stann swore and ran inside. They could hear him crash up the stairs, and the alarmed voices of the innkeeper and the maids.

“It should be safe enough to just tie her to a saddle,” Kellen speculated, as their eyes were drawn to the girl at their feet.

“Catch!” Stann’s voice from above them was shortly followed by him throwing down their packs.

“Stann! Don’t you dare toss my dresses that way-“ Mirena trailed off in a sad wail as an armful of colourful gowns sailed down. She did her best to catch them before they fell to the dirty ground. Whenever they settled at an inn long enough, she enjoyed unpacking her clothes to let them air, and to ease the wrinkles out.

“I’ll get the horses,” mumbled Rhyce, already heading toward the stables.

Together they managed to get Oleander into her saddle, and secured her with a length of rope. Kellen prodded her experimentally, before nodding in satisfaction. She’d stay put for now.

“Stann, Rhyce? You’ll take the southern gate, and catch up with us as soon as you can,” Mirena finished stuffing her clothes back into her pack as she explained the plan. “Kellen and Oleander will head toward the Tradegate. It’s the easiest way out of Tier, though not the shortest. Jaden and I will head north.”

They sat up in their saddles, the two carrying the drawstones making sure they had them close at hand.

“Our destination is Rosehaven. If we won’t meet on the road, we’ll regroup there.” She turned her horse around. “Now, Telum be with you!”

The first lesson any veteran explorer will tell you about the adventuring life: never split the group.

Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright © 2013 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

Knowing that the cult is on their trail, the group decides to try a time-tested tactic in evading the pursuit. Splitting up, they hope to evade the Sons of Husk long enough to escape the city.

Flashback: Back in the Northern Lands, Kellen tries to balance his own dreams against tradition

---

Chapter 6: Drawn Apart

KELLEN

The book looked small in his hands, but despite the size it spoke of great things. The air had that briskness that told anyone with a good head on their shoulders that the winter had only begun to blanket the northern lands. His breath created a puff of mist that soared up towards the nearly cloudless sky, the infinite blue.

“Uncle? Uncle! I caught one!” The eager voice of the young boy brought him back down to earth.

“Truly? Now, the trick is to let it tire itself out,” Kellen joined his nephew by the river. Ice had crept in along the sides, but the middle still ran free. You could still fish. “Careful. Hold it. Don’t pull, just hold it.”

Together they watched how the line jerked several times, and eventually went slack.

“Now, pull it in. That’s it, nice and even.”

“Look uncle! It’s a big one, isn’t it?” The boy held up the twitching salmon with a huge grin on his face.

“Quite the catch, Ravon. Now, remember to clean it the way I showed you, or your mother will scold me,” Kellen smiled, and tussled the boy’s hair.

“Yes, uncle! Wait until they see this!” The boy was already running with his catch, fishing pole forgotten by the river.

As Kellen bent down to retrieve the pole, he caught a glimpse of some of the elders entering the clan longhouse. He had a good idea what they could be conferring about: him. His hands held the book as if it was a fragile bird.

He remembered what they had said when he first broached the subject. That he was abandoning the ways of his people. That he was insulting their traditions. That he was disloyal to the clan.

The spiritual leader of the clan had revealed that Kellen could become one of the greatest shamans of his generation. That with him showing the way, the North would again experience an age of glory and honour. A new era of war.

It was true. Kellen had a knack for hearing the ancestors’ spirits, but he felt his calling showed him something else. The book in his hands was written long ago by other Northmen. The knowledge had since then spread over the world, become part of it. The elders said that this meant it had lost its meaning to the clans, but Kellen disagreed. To him, it meant that the ways had transcended their own culture, and become greater than the creators had originally intended.

Truth lay in words, the book told him. There was power in words. Words formed into symbols allowed a seeker of such knowledge to harness that power, the power of the runes. With the runes, it was possible to understand the entire world.

Knowledge and understanding, he mused. Could there be anything more beautiful?

He brought the fishing pole and the book and headed back to his sister’s house. The rest of the village would be waking up, and salmon sounded like a delicious breakfast.

Jaden’s stomach made another noise. He hadn’t had a chance to eat anything since a very early breakfast, and the smells coming from the taverns along the northbound Archen Way kept reminding him of that.

“Why are we walking our horses, Rena? Wouldn’t it make more sense just to make a run for it?” He asked as they made their way up the street.

“I’m sure Oleander would agree with me when I say that there are times for flight, and there are times for stealth. We’re blending in, Jaden. If they looked up this street, they wouldn’t immediately pick us out.” Mirena glanced from side to side. She felt vulnerable without her armour, but there had been no time to don it. Everything was packed down in the bulging saddlebags.

It was their hope that the Sons of Husk, now trying to follow three tracks instead of one, would split their forces and not succeed in catching any of them. Rhyce had also pointed out that they seemed to rely on the guidance of a single magician to follow the group as well.

“Yeah, I suppose…but it still feels as if I’m standing in a cold spot for some reason.” Jaden squinted up at the bright summer sun. “I can’t shake the feeling that something bad is about to happen.”

“Hopefully, that is just your common sense speaking,” Mirena gently teased. She glanced around just the same.

Jaden walked a little faster to get ahead of his horse, and then fell back on the other side so he was next to Mirena. He held out a gloved hand towards her.

“Lead the way for a little bit, Rena. I’m going to take a peek.”

As soon as he felt her hand close around his own, he released a breath and opened himself up to the magic around him. Colours shifted, and the physical world faded into the backdrop. He could still make out rough structures, but they were indistinct and almost didn’t feel real at all. Mystic sight only showed places magic had touched, after all.

The domed great temple blazed to the inland side, the concentrated faith of hundreds of priests bathing the holy site with magic. The skyspire lit up like a lightning rod, where the airships used to dock during the first empire. These days, there weren’t as many of those old ships around. The age of the old empire had passed.

A bird flew past overhead, briefly illuminated by magic for some reason, before fading back into the grey of the real world.

Threads leapt over the translucent rooftops, signs of the magic web the Arcane Order created long ago to provide the city with protection against dangerous weather. Some of the nicer areas of the city even had sorcerers maintaining street lights after nightfall. It was probably exorbitantly expensive, but provided an amount of safety you wouldn’t find elsewhere.

He turned his head around, and the unease inside him crystallised. Thick, purple strands were attached to his back, like parasitic worms feeding off an open wound. How had he not noticed this until now? Jaden had grown too used to ignoring the strange sensations within. Now even his instincts suffered.

“Rena,” he hissed, sweat beading on his face despite feeling chilled to the bone. “They know where we are. They’re following us, not the others. Us.”

Mirena squeezed his hand, and began to walk faster.

“That’s… that’s good. That means Kellen has a free path.” She tried to sound confident.

Jaden allowed his senses to return to normal. Now that he knew what to look for, he could feel the clammy touch of nethermancy clinging to his aura. He could try to unravel the connection, but that would alert their pursuers. It might also cause them to pick another ‘Oleander’ to follow. They had to keep up the façade as long as possible.

The crowd began to ease up a bit as they moved toward a road leading away from the temple district. Many travellers took the opportunity to see the great dome dedicated to the five gods when they visited the golden city. Even during a normal weekday such as this, there would be sermons in several of the halls inside the temple grounds. Mirena probably received her training there, Jaden mused as he let his mind wander for a moment.

As they led their horses around the corner where Archen Way met with the north gate road, they saw several ordinary looking men block their way. A quick glance over his shoulder showed Jaden how another group had closed in behind. He recognised one of the men, the ritual leader from yesterday.

“Curious. You are not who we expected, Mystic, unless there is another layer of surprises waiting for us.” The man’s voice was strangely inflectionless, as if he was reading from a page rather than talking to someone.

“You will dearly regret it, if you try to stop us,” Mirena spoke softly, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword hanging from the saddle.

“Ah, yes, the woman who fights. But consider this: if you attack us here, in the busy midday street, we will be forced to defend ourselves. Collaterally. I’m afraid the consequences for the unknowing bystanders will be tragic, and grisly.” His lips pulled into a poor semblance of a smile. One of his hands began to boil with a sickly purple light, as he slowly raised it in the direction of the people walking by.

Mirena trembled with anger. She wanted nothing more than to lash out and strike down this… this man who threatened innocents. It was her duty as a knight. But her oath as a knight also forbade her from endangering those whom she sought to protect.

Jaden saw her hand drop from the sword, and realised that they had been defeated without a fight. He took one last look around, desperately seeking anything that might give him some hope. The only thing he saw was happy people moving past the gathering, not two strides away. It felt like an entire world away.

“Excellent. Walk with us,” the man commanded, as the other cultists took the reins out of their hands and surrounded them.

They turned around and walked back into the heart of Tier, the north gate disappearing out of sight.

The Inland Street was always busy during the day, and it was no different now. Kellen carefully made his way forward as quickly as he could. It was important to put as much distance as possible between them and the inn, where the cult was likely already searching for them. He tried to think if he had left anything behind that would tip the Sons off about their little scheme.

“Aside from how there are now three trails to follow, instead of just the one,” he muttered.

At least Oleander was still securely tied to her horse. Had he seen her move a little just then, though? She was still fighting the effects of the curse. There was a lot of fight inside that small woman.

Still, a Northman riding down the street with a bound and unconscious Olman girl drew its share of worried glances from people. Kellen did the only thing he could think of: he scowled.

"Are you asleep?" Someone asked her in the darkness.

"I'm not sure. I felt like I was dreaming."

"Funny girl. If we've got your attention now, could you please handle this window?"

How long had she sat in front of this window? Oleander shook her head, trying to clear it. Everything felt strange, as if something was missing. Missing from her, maybe, or from the rest of the world. Maybe both?

They were next to an old building, a house fit for a wealthy merchant or a minor noble. It felt familiar, somehow.

"As soon as you get it open, Jay will hide us with his spirit veil as we make our way to the basement, just like we planned."

Did they plan it like that? Wait, since when could Jay hide people? Wasn't his thing fire magic?

"I thought we agreed you and the rest would distract their guards while Jay and I snuck in and grabbed it?" Oleander was sure that was the plan. Wasn't it?

The knight and the mystic looked at each other. Jay shrugged, and smiled that little smile of his. Had it always looked like he was hiding some sort of sadness?

"What others?" Mirena asked, looking genuinely confused.

"Maybe she feels your might in battle makes you a one knight army?" Jay looked a little happier, almost like himself.

Oleander looked around. Aside from her two friends, they were alone. Where were the others? Where were... Weren't there more? Strong men. She remembered strong men, didn't she?

Her friends kept looking at her, one with amusement, the other with worry. She felt like she had to say something, anything really.

"Yeah, that's it. Just me making a joke. What others are there, right?" It sounded just as empty as she felt.

"Well, alright. The window won't open by itself, though. Please hurry."

Mirena turned away to watch the entrance of the alley. Wasn't that someone else's job? Oleander let her eyes wander around a bit, taking in the dark alley. At the top of the building sat an owl, one of those white and speckled northern owls. It must be very far away from home, she thought. How had it ended up here, in Tier?

"Ollie? Window?"

"What? Oh, yes, of course." She leaned in close to focus on her task.

"What's gotten into you today, Red? You're all over the place."

"Bad dreams, Jay. Really bad dreams."

Jay didn't push any further, but instead gave her room to work. She got the clasp open in seconds, as if she'd done it before. They crept in through the open window, into a featureless room. It looked abandoned, forgotten. Perhaps as if the owners hadn't even discovered it yet.

Jay crossed his arms, and whispered magic words that made no sense to her. Suddenly, a mist settled around them, flowing through them as if they were a part of it. When she looked down on her hands, she could see through her own fingers. Suddenly, she felt a fear grown inside. Would she fade away as easily as the mist, too?

All her instincts were screaming at her, as they quietly moved through the old house. The magic even silenced the usual noise from Mirena's armour, making her steps as soft as the gentle brush of the wind.

A group of guards, hidden in their great cloaks, stalked down the hallway towards them. The cultists seemed too large, too tall. Their arms reached low, almost to their knees, and were thick with muscles that did not look natural. Oleander wanted to back up, hide, run away, anything except continue towards them. The magic that hid Oleander and her friends truly made them as mist, as the guards just passed right through. As if she wasn't real at all.

Suddenly, one of the guards stopped, and raised his head. She couldn't see his face underneath the hood of the cloak, but it seemed as if he was sniffing the air.

With a growl, the guard turned around towards them. Somehow it had sensed their presence.

"Go, now! You know what to do!" Mirena stepped forward out of Jay's mist, becoming solid and ready to fight. She raised her shield, fully intending to hold all the feral cultists back long enough for her friends to get what they came for.

"Come on!" Jay took her hand and ran towards the stairs leading down. It was so dark. How could it be so dark?

"What if there are more inside the basement room?" She asked in a hushed voice. She felt there might be, must be. She almost remembered it.

"Then we'll deal with it any way we can. But we have to get that thing out of here!"

They burst into the room where the cult performed their rituals in secret, where they kept their treasured items. It was empty, and that felt wrong. As wrong as if someone had told her she would forget her best friends one day.

"Look, do you see them?" Jay pointed towards two pedestals in the centre of the room. "Remember, the magic wards only allow you take one. You'll need to leave the other behind."

Oleander walked closer and the darkness parted enough that she could see the two statuettes, one on each pedestal. One a lady knight, the other an elven magician.

"I can only take one?" Her hand hovered between them.

"Yes. The other will be left behind here, with the cult."

"Which one do I choose?"

"I can't answer that for you, only that you'll need to decide soon."

"But the one I don't pick... what will happen to it?"

"It will remain here. Forever." Jay didn't look at her. He kept watch up the stairs. Maybe he saw something she couldn't see. It was so dark.

Oleander looked from the knight to the elf, and back again. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and reached out. Her fingers closed around a statuette, cold and hard in her hands. When she dared to look, the elven features of the mystic looked back at her.

"You chose to leave the knight behind?" Jay sounded as if he was disappointed.

"No- I- I didn't mean to-"

"You made your choice. We must go. There's a secret door to the top floor behind this panel, here." Jay pushed against the wall, and a section of it moved to the side. A narrow set of stairs led up into the darkness.

"After you, Ollie. Just hurry up."

She clutched the statuette close to her chest and climbed as fast as she dared to.

"Only a little bit further." He said, right behind her.

They moved silently yet quickly through the library. It seemed more vivid than the rooms on the bottom floor. Maybe the owners spent more time here? At the end of a hallway was a window that would let them easily get to the roof. She was sure of that, but didn't remember how she knew about this.

"This way," she whispered. "We can get out here." We can get away.

The window opened easy enough. It was even darker outside, but she knew she could find the handholds to climb to the roof. Her hands knew where to go even if her eyes did not.

"Don't look back, Ollie. Just climb."

"I can't climb while holding the statuette, Jay. Can you hold it while I go up?" She was leaning out of the window, letting her free hand feel around for the handholds.

"No, only you can carry it."

"But I can't climb with it! Can't I put it down for a little while?" She asked the darkness over her shoulder.

"You can let it go."

"I'll just put it here for a moment, then." She carefully lowered the statuette down next to the window. Maybe she could ask Jay to put a string around it once she got to the top?

Across the dark alley, on the top of the opposite building sat a white owl. It almost glowed in the night.

Go. Climb.

Her hands easily found what they needed, and almost without any effort she was at the rooftop.

"Okay. Jay? I'm up." She grabbed a roll of string in her beltpouch and let it down in front of the window. "Tie this around the statuette, and we can get out of here."

It was so dark, she almost couldn't see the window.

"Jay?" He didn't answer her. "Jay!"

She had left him behind again. She had abandoned all her friends. She was all alone, just like before.

The owl hooted, and flew up into the sky. She followed it with her eyes as it passed the moon. For a moment, the darkness seemed to retreat before the light of the moon. It was almost as it was a tear in the cloth of the night, and she could glimpse the day through it.

Did it shine for her?

Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright © 2013 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

With Jaden and Mirena in the hands of the cult, their friends desperately scour the city trying to find them. The captured Mystic and knight face a terrible decision.

Flashback: Before joining her friends in adventure, Oleander took care of another group of people

---

Chapter 7: Treading Places

OLEANDER

Even though it seldom snowed during the winters here in Tarad, it could get cold, and most certainly bleak. The sky became overcast and grey, and there would be entire days spent without ever seeing the sun. Everything was washed out in a subdued half-light that made people unwilling to leave their homes. It was a very bad time for the homeless.

“Stop, you thieves!” An older man stopped to lean forward and rest, out of shape and out of breath. The two children just continued running, clutching their ill-gotten goods close to themselves.

As the young boy and girl scampered through the alleyway they saw a familiar shape up ahead. She waved them through the hidden gap in the fence, and then replaced the loose plank before the pursuing baker could catch up with them.

“Looks like you found some good stuff, Talem!” She praised her young protégées.

“Uh-huh! We even got some sweetcakes, Lea!” The girl held up a deliciously smelling bundle.

“Well, let’s head back to our place, then, and share the goods.” Oleander took the lead.

Growing up in the streets of a town at the very edge of the Olmar kingdom had been hard. You had to be smart and quick, and learn who you could trust, and who you should stay away from. Stealing had been necessary to survive.

She looked on the two children trailing at either side and smiled. How much easier wouldn’t her life been, if someone had taken care of her when she was their age? At least with these she would be able to make a difference; them and the other forgotten kids.

It wasn’t much, but it was theirs. An abandoned house where the town bordered the forest. She didn’t know what it had been used for before they claimed it, but for now it was their castle.

“Alright, you dirty urchins, wash your paws before you eat!” She clapped her hands and pointed at the barrel of rainwater. “We don’t want to catch the rot, do we?”

“No aunty Lea!”

It was a bad time to be homeless, but home was anywhere you felt loved.

Rough hands pushed them into a cellar room that had served as a holding place for any previous unwilling guests. Stone floor and outer walls, but the ceiling and wall around the door were all wooden.

After they had been forced down the stairs they had also passed another room on their way through the corridor, that could only be described an abattoir. Skinned animals hung from thick chains, and a chopping bench was stained after many years of use. Jaden couldn’t help but wonder if that room was used for more than just slaughtering beasts.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” the tall, wrinkled man said as he gestured across the barren room. “We will talk again, soon.”

The Sons had relieved them of their weapons, of course, and other apparent items of power. As a couple of the men had roughly gone over them, it hadn’t taken them long to discover Kellen’s drawnstone in Jaden’s vest pocket. The ritual leader had been intrigued by it, and kept turning it over in his bony hands as he watched the process.

As the door slammed shut, they could hear other voices coming from up the corridor. The thick wooden door muted the words very effectively, though. They couldn’t tell what was being said; only that someone was giving out orders.

“Are you alright, Jaden?” She looked dishevelled and tired, but Mirena’s first concern was always for other people.

“I’m fine, Rena. Don’t worry about me,” he mumbled, thoughts preoccupied with something that could be important.

When the Sons relieved them of their weapons and gear, they hadn’t taken Jaden’s mirage veil. Of course, it was disguised as a simple hat, but it meant that the nethermancer couldn’t tell enchanted items from mundane. He had just dismissed it as the hat it was.

To be fair, only experienced craftsmen could tell items like that apart, and only some magicians possessed the skill to distinguish spells from different traditions. Most magicians only bothered with understanding their own brand of magic. At least, that was true for the rest of the world. As a Lacunai Mystic, perceiving the strands of magic was a basic sense like sight or hearing. It was vital for their way of using magic at all, so it was easy for Jaden to forget that most of the world didn’t share that sense. To them, it was just an ordinary hat.

Did it matter, though? A greater veil would be able to hide him from sight completely and offer an opportunity to escape, but his kerchief was merely a cosmetic effect, no matter how many nymphs made it.

The door unbolted and swung open again, admitting two heavily muscled cultists and the nethermancer himself. A barely visible purple bubble surrounded the man. Apparently they learned from previous experiences. The air suddenly felt thicker, as if something unseen pushed against it. Jaden could see how Mirena’s eyes narrowed. She felt it as well.

“Now with preparations out of the way, let us talk about what is going to happen,” the man explained, briefly touching the side of his head where his hair had grown almost white. Had it been that colour before?

“What do you want, heretic?” Mirena was straight to the point.

“Our property, of course. You stole something very… important to us, and we want it back.”

“Forget it. I’m willing to die to keep monsters like you from infecting my city any further.”

Jaden noticed that she was also apparently willing to add him to that fate, but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure if she was bluffing or not. At the moment, it wasn’t as they had a lot else they could do but stall. Stall and hope.

“Of course, of course. A knight of Telum such as yourself, a true paladin of the temple, would gladly sacrifice herself for — what do you say? ‘The greater good’?” The nethermancer pulled his lips back in that unsmile of his. “That’s why we won’t threaten you, if you won’t comply with our demands.”

“You wish to hold a civil discussion?” She didn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Oh, no no. We will threaten someone else. Not your friend, since you seemed all too willing to throw him to the wolves, so to speak.” Mirena looked guiltily at her friend. “No, there needs to be something more poignant. Something like… a barely familiar innkeeper?”

“What? No! Leave them out of this. Your quarrel is with us, fiend!” She took a step toward the older man, but the meaty hand of one of the cultists shoved her back heavily enough to make her stumble against the wall.

“That decision has already been made, I’m afraid.” The man shook his head in a mockery of sadness. “What was his name… Hakim? Dakim? He will be brought here, and he will be killed.”

Jaden and Mirena stared at their captors, who calmly described the murder of a man.

“You can’t do that!” Mirena yelled.

“The decision has been made,” the nethermancer repeated. “It is up to you, now, to decide whether it is worth your while to save the three girls who worked there with him. Take until the evening to mull it over, we can wait.”

He turned to leave the cell, but stopped as if he remembered something.

“Yes. We will probably flay them.”

Then that heavy door swung shut and a heavy bolt slid into place, leaving them with their thoughts.

Riding had been slow ever since entering the busy Inland Street. Too many people were pushing past each other, too many wagons trying to negotiate their way through the crowds. Kellen fought back another tired yawn, and checked that his redheaded bundle was still on top of her horse. She looked like she was sleeping. In a way, he envied her.

Both of his hands were occupied, holding the reins of both horses as well as his runes. It was a difficult balancing act in more than one way. He needed to keep maintaining the enchantment that mirrored Oleanders aura on the persons carrying the drawstones.

It was a most unusual enchantment. Most rune seekers dealt primarily with elemental powers, like earth and sea. Thanks to his Northern heritage, he had studied some of the preserved books containing the old rune magic, from the time when it had a more spiritual component. He knew just enough to add an interesting twist to the much more common enchantment that switched footprints. With his improvised rune, he had been able to switch soulprints.

“Too bad the others couldn’t appreciate the finesse involved,” he mumbled to himself.

He checked the enchantment once more. It gave him a very rough idea in which direction the recipient was, and how far away. His cousin must have left through the south gate already. Jaden’s rune was still in the city, though. Perhaps they took a sneakier approach than a full on gallop like Stann must have done? Though, to be fair, the north side of the city held the temple quarter. There would likely be more people there. Almost as many as Kellen had to wade through near the Tradegate.

Suddenly, the connection with Jaden’s rune flickered and went cold.

“That’s not good.” Kellen chewed on his moustache in indecision for a while, and then turned his horse around.

“I think we can slow down now,” Rhyce shouted over the loud thudding of their horses galloping.

“Did you see their faces? It was glorious!” Stann laughed and let his horse slow down enough for him to sheath his blade.

As they had approached the Olmar gate, the south exit out of the city, the archer had spotted some suspicious people who kept watch over anyone passing through. When they got closer, they had both recognised one of the cultists they had fought in the stairs back at the Sons’ hideout. The heavy build and broken nose from Stann’s shield-slam gave him away.

Rhyce had wanted to do something clever, perhaps leading them into an ambush, but any such plans had gone out the proverbial window when Stann had simply charged through them. This had upset the guards as well, but without horses of their own to give chase they had resorted to simple name-calling. In their defence, some of the curses had been particularly inventive.

“We might want to avoid using that gate again for a few weeks,” the Northman said with a smile.

“No doubt.” Rhyce stood in his stirrups and shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked back toward the city. A couple of birds circled high above the two men.

“Well, now we just circle around and meet up with the rest on the north road.” Stann nudged his horse into a trot.

“Wait. Plan’s changed.” The archer looked grimmer than usual.

They looked at the sturdy, barred cell door. It would take a tremendously strong person to break it open, and probably tools as well. Their combined glaring at it for the last hour or so hadn’t seemed to do any good either. They felt as if they were running out of time.

"My faith grants me strength…" Mirena began. But I'm not that strong, went unsaid.

"And my magic will only put us into more peril." Jaden frowned, imagining being trapped inside the cell with a fire raging. He would probably be fine. The fire wasn’t going to hurt him. Not with his… condition. But the roof collapsing or choking on the smoke might.

He glanced at Mirena, and was suddenly reminded of yesterday. This could easily become a very similar situation. He had to avoid that, any way possible. He just couldn’t lose any more of himself like this. He had made a promise.

"What about... Jaden, I know you don't like talking about your-" Mirena cleared her throat. She wasn't usually at a loss for words, but the ways of the Mystics were strange to her. "Your tradition is known for their fierce battle-shapes. Maybe..?"

Jaden looked apprehensive, and slowly shook his head.

"It's... not suitable for breaking us out that way, Rena."

Mirena looked at him carefully, weighing their situation against pushing further. But the situation being what it was, though, she couldn’t afford to reject any possible resource without examining it. The military commander inside her refused to do so.

"Implying there might be other ways that it could?" She asked.

They looked at each other, as her friend shifted his weigh from one foot to another. The young mystic looked increasingly uncomfortable. Mirena didn’t know the reason behind what had brought Jaden into their adventuring group almost a year ago, but they had all their own reasons for leaving home.

"Under some specific circumstances, it might help us. It's pretty unlikely we'll find ourselves in an appropriate setting for that, however." Jaden looked sideways, and blushed a bit. This was clearly embarrassing him.

Mirena smiled a little, and decided to back off for now.

"Did you know that Oleander believes your battle-shape to be a sea serpent? That's why we don't see you use it, she says."

Jaden grimaced, the subject of his spiritual form something he'd rather avoid talking about. Or even thinking about.

"Look, I'm not a... she's wrong, okay?" He said, gently. "And, we don't call it 'battle-shape', though I imagine some of my friends back at the mountain would like that phrase."

"May I ask what you do call it?" Mirena softly pried, trying to understand her friend.

"Have you noticed how Stann is letting his sideburns grow, lately?" Jaden deftly tried to steer the conversation into another direction.

"Would you like to talk about something else?" Mirena had an eyebrow raised.

"Was I that obvious?"

"Of course not, my friend. The very picture of subtlety." Mirena reached out and patted his hand.

They sat in silence for a while longer before they heard some people come down into the cellar. There were sounds of conversation barely audible coming from up the corridor, from the slaughter-room. This time, the noise ended with a muted shriek that went on for much too long.

Mirena looked shaken, and held herself. She couldn’t do anything to stop this, and it was killing her inside. Something terrible had happened in the other room. After a moment, they heard footsteps stop on the other side of their cell door. They could feel the wrongness of the presence outside, stronger than before.

“His name was Darim,” said a dry voice.

The table broke apart when the second man landed on top of it.

“I don’t think this is working.” Rhyce considered the terrified man he had pinned to the wall with an arrow through the wrist. He had a very good aim, but not good enough to hit a sleeve and not the arm in it. It was close, though.

“Why would you say that? They’re cooperating — aren’t you, lads?” Stann shouted the last part at the mostly unconscious men sprawled around his feet. He got some groans as a reply.

“We’re still not any closer to finding out where they took Jay and Rena. We’re just wasting our time with these lowlifes.”

“You know, I wonder what Oleander would do?” Stann always appreciated how the small redhead could ferret out useful morsels. Most of the time without resorting to larceny, too.

“Let’s never ask ourselves that question again.” The archer left his pincushion and helped unbury the still moaning person under a couple of his resting friends.

They leaned over the poor man, and grabbed him in one arm each.

“Stop! Don’t… I don’t know what you want?” The man protested through a split lip. One of his eyes was swelling over.

“The Sons of Husk. Olmani cultists. Probably deal with dark magic goods,” Stann told their new acquaintance and rattled off the same message they had used at the last three places they visited.

“They might also supply meat. I saw many of them using butcher’s knives last time,” Rhyce added. That was not a weapon you used just to make a statement.

“Wait, are you talking about the Umnir slaughterhouse? They’re that new group that began selling Olman beef and mutton here in Tier,” the man sputtered. “I heard some strange rumours about them.”

Stann and Rhyce looked at each other for a moment, then turned back to him.

“Where can we find this… Umnir place?”

Kellen turned the bag around in his hands. He was careful not to touch the actual idol, and used the bag as a makeshift mitten. His drawstone rune allowed him to mirror an aura, and feel its distance and direction, in a very rough sense. Could he, somehow, use the skull to find the cult’s new location?

When he had decided to try and find Mirena and Jaden, he needed a place to work. The busy streets — or horseback for that matter — would not do at all. In the end, he had simply asked a fellow clansman merchant if they could use his wagon house. There were a few of them here in Tier, and clan loyalties ran strong. Someone had even found him a tankard of beer.

The groaning by his side made him look at his responsibility. She had been stirring more recently. Whatever hold the artefact had over her had clearly faded away, though whether it was by his doing, her fighting it, or something else, he didn’t know.

“Whu-“ her eyes fluttered. “Don’ leave…”

Her voice was weak, and somewhat sad. That she was speaking at all was a surprise, however. Kellen smoothed back her pixie-short red hair.

“Don’t worry, little fox, you’re safe.” His voice, meant for leading men into battle, was calm and reassuring.

It took her a few more tries to fully regain consciousness. During her relapses into sleep, he kept examining the skull. It was covered in glyphs and marks. Symbols. Language. He could work with that.

After a while he noticed that she had rolled over on her resting place on an unused cart. Her grey eyes were focused on him.

“Where are we?” Her voice was a little raspy.

“In a shed, not far from the clarion bridge. You can see it if you cross the road,” he offered her a sip from his beer.

She took a gulp, then frowned as she held her head.

“Are the… there are others, right? Others than just us? Jay?” She suddenly looked uncertain.

“Yes, of course. We split up to avoid the Sons. Only, it turned out that didn’t work as well as we had hoped. Mirena and Jay are missing.” Kellen filled her in on what had happened during her absence.

“We have to find them!” She struggled into a sitting position which brought on a coughing fit. The large Northman just pushed her back down with a single hand. “Kellen! We need to help them!”

“We will, Red. And I am.” He gestured at the skull, safely tucked into the bag.

She shuddered and tore her eyes away from it. She didn’t want to look at it any more.

“I’m certain I can find them using this. I just need a little more time.” He spread his hands.

Oleander looked at him for a while, as he worked on the puzzle. Eventually, she looked resigned and moved to a more comfortable position.

“Can you at least give me some water? I’m thirsty.” She coughed a couple more times.

Kellen stood up, and made sure the skull was safely wrapped.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be right back.”

He knocked on the back of the leatherwork store his clansman owned, and was met by his wife. Darya was a good, solid northwoman as tall as any Tier man, and able to beat him senseless with her apron if he looked at her the wrong way. For Kellen, though, she only offered a smile and the hospitality of her house.

As he returned to the shed with a pitcher and two cups, he stopped cold in the doorway. The skull was still in its bag, untouched. Oleander, though, and her pack were missing.

He hurried back out around the shop and into the street, looking either way to see if he could see a tiny red spot in the crowds. He cursed his carelessness, and chewed on his moustache in frustration. Slowly, he walked back to the shed. His best bet was to find the Sons before she did. Worst come to worst, he could always collapse whatever building those cultists had holed up inside and flood the rubble. If he could only find it, that is.

Kellen stared into the mocking sockets of the obsidian skull.

“They’re going to kill those girls,” Mirena repeated herself, slamming her palms against the heavy wooden door. She felt so powerless.

“What can we do? Far whisper is limited to a couple of hundred yards, and if I don’t know where any of them are, the message won’t reach them anyway. I mean, how can we even surrender if we can’t tell our friends to bring that thing back?” Jaden paced the small cell. His feet felt really sweaty in those thick socks.

“Maybe they know something we don’t,” the knight mused to herself.

“They might also be crazy. Have we considered that? They could be actually, porridge-knife crazy.” What a frightening thought. Captured by madmen and expected to comply with impossibilities.

“No… They’re too organised, too rational. Everything that man did to capture us, it felt like being a piece on the board. I suspect they might have herded us into that ambush without us even knowing about it.” Mirena sounded thoughtful, her hands still against the door as if she could just will it to break.

“The drawstones! They probably think they’re communication enchantments!” Jaden burst out. It made sense, in a way. “The nethermancer can’t tell magic apart. He must believe we could talk at a distance.”

“But we can’t use them like that. When they make their demands, we can’t keep up our end of it, and then those girls will die.” She forced herself to relax her jaw. Knights didn’t grit their teeth. Ladies didn’t grit their teeth either. She did her best to be both.

“We can’t warn the others, we can’t do what our captors want,” Jaden ticked things off on his gloved fingers. “We can’t even escape. It’s not as if I can just burn that door down.”

Mirena looked up, with a strange expression.

“Why not? Why can’t you do just that?”

“Mirena? We’ll die,” Jaden gestured around the cell. “We’d choke, cook, or burn before that door gave out.”

“But you can protect yourself from the fires, can’t you? I remember you almost immolating yourself to escape that Kynian Horror back in Carrick Field.” She recalled one of their previous adventures.

“Not one of my best ideas,” Jaden grimaced, vividly remembering the snapping mandibles. “But even if I can survive it, you can’t expect me to… to martyr you on the off-chance I can escape from here on my own?”

“They may have taken my sword, but my faith remains strong. Telum will keep me whole even as the fires burn me.” The look in her eyes showed just a hint of the zealot she could’ve been if her life had gone down a different road.

“Mirena…”

“We have no choice. We can’t expect the others to find us. Not in time.” Not in time to avoid innocent blood spilt, or worse. Much, much worse.

She backed away from the door as Jaden approached it. He gave her one last reluctant look before he raised his hand against the hard wood and made a fist. It always seemed to return to fire. His condition. His solution.

“Valignat!”

The man straightened his cap for the second time, and dabbed a folded cloth across his brow. Across from him sat that… that girl. She had walked in just a short while ago, and was making an absolute pest of herself.

“Don’t bother denying it, Pered. You know I know what you do, on the side. I know all about your Whitewater connections.” She coughed again. She looked really pale.

“So what if you do? It’s not like you have any proof.” He looked at the cloth. It was a bit dirty. Just like him, he supposed.

“Maybe I do? Maybe I came across a certain satchel a week ago? Maybe it contained some Etrian black zalach, and a sizeable letter of credit written to your establishment?” She smiled wanly.

“That was you?! You… you thief!” Pered was getting red in the face. This short, meddling Olman girl…

“No more than you, buttercup. I know you deal in more than just zalach. You sell all kiiinds of weird herbs, to the right buyers.”

“Even if that was the case, I would never betray a business contract.” He looked down his nose at the woman.

“They call themselves the Sons of Husk. They recently took over that old townhouse, previously owned by the old Lorian couple, next to Lantern Street — why do they even call it that? The street was dead dark.” Oleander digressed a bit.

“You wouldn’t understand. You’re a foreigner.”

“The Huskies are Olmani too,” she said with a singsong drawl.

The merchant of many strange goods, sweating in the afternoon sun, glared at the cheeky girl for a moment.

“Never let it be said I would stand by and watch my city be tarnished by some cultist filth,” Pered changed his tune quickly enough.

Oleander always knew how to find the right leverage.

“Now, tell me where they run their business?”

Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright © 2013 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

Having decided to try and break free from their captors, Jaden and Mirena are faced with the struggle for their lives. The rest of the group use their various means and talents to find them before it is too late.

Flashback: Jaden seeks to complete the last trial of his Mystic's training.

---

Chapter 8: Taking Breath

JADEN

When the worst heat of the summer had left the mountains, it made travel almost enjoyable. Even with the sun high in the sky, the air was still fresh and invigorating. Clouds chased across that big sky. From up here, you could almost see from one horizon to the other. If you let it, it could be a breath-taking view, the world.

It had been a long day of walking, but he wouldn’t admit to any weakness. The family motto was ‘strength in all things, strength above all things,’ and he would live up to that just like every member of his blood was expected to. He would make his father proud, and find a strong spirit. Something dangerous and powerful, so he could stand by his father’s side as an equal.

“You didn’t tell me how far you were going to go?” His companion asked. The hood shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked across the valley stretching out below the mountain path.

He had caught up with her an hour or so ago. Perhaps he had been walking faster than he should have, he was still not used to traveling on his own; but he wanted to get this quest of his underway as soon as possible. It was the most important part of his training, after all.

She had been just another traveller like him, dressed sensibly for the season with a light dustcloak to keep the dry mountain dirt from clinging to her clothes. He guessed she was a relative of another initiate in Talraman, having paid a visit, or perhaps a messenger. The Lacunai employed a number of them to keep informed about the events of the world.

When he saw her on the road she had been just a silhouette, but as he kept walking he began catching up with her. Clearly she wasn’t in any hurry.

“Honestly? I’m not sure,” he said. He looked down the road as far as he could see.

Every quest had to be personal, Master Viskeri had said to the gathered initiates. It was up to them to try to find a place that felt right, however long that could take. Only then would they be able to commune with the flow of magic, and attract the spirit that would be their ally for the rest of their lives. The offering and the truename would then seal the pact.

“That’s not a very good place to start a journey,” she laughed. “Unless you’re running away from something, rather than towards it?”

“I’m not running away!” Jaden frowned at the woman. “I’m just taking things one step at a time. I’ll start in Tarad.”

“Good enough place, I guess. It’s the closet town, right?” She smiled again, and reached up to keep her hood in place as a wind played with their hair. She had the kind of black hair that was common around the southern kingdoms. She didn’t look Etrian or Olman, though.

“That’s right. It’s just at the edge of Olmar, bordering the Sorun wildlands to the west.” Jaden remembered the map he had studied several times back home. “Talraman gets most of the supplies we need from there.”

As the road was winding down the mountainside, they reached a small campsite. A welcome stream gushed out of the rocks nearby, brought up from some underground lake, Jaden imagined.

It felt good to sit down for a bit. A couple of large logs made for makeshift benches. A number of trees tried to eke out an existence along the mountain, but not all of them made it through the dryer months.

Jaden poked around in his backpack. He had enough food to last him several days, more than enough to reach Tarad and resupply there. Though where he was headed after that, he wasn’t sure. Follow your instincts, Master Viskeri kept telling them. Jaden had never put a whole lot of trust in his instincts. They always tended to land him in trouble. No, he preferred to know.

The woman had picked a spot on a nearby log and stretched her arms and neck. Jaden snuck a glance at her while he was unpacking his food. She was really quite pretty, from what he could tell underneath her cloak, even beautiful.

“Do you want anything? I have more than I can eat.” Jaden unwrapped some fruit and bread from a square cloth. He could at least be polite.

“Oh, that’s so kind of you,” she said, smiling widely. She went over and sat next to him as he divided up their food. She smelled really nice up close. Some sort of subtle scent he couldn’t quite place. Was it violets?

Taking a bite out of the fresh bread, Jaden took a long look around the campsite. Beyond the ridge, the west Olmar valley was visible. It wasn’t too hot, and the burbling spring made the air less dry. He could see why people had made camp here before. It was a nice place.

“You know, I don’t know what to call you,” he asked casually. She seemed like a nice person, a good companion for the road. Maybe they would continue together after they got to Tarad?

She finished chewing her fruit, and gave him another one of those big smiles. His heart almost skipped a beat when she leaned in close to his face with downcast eyes. Their noses were almost touching.

“Do you want me to tell you?” That scent was stronger, compelling.

“Y- Yes.” Jaden felt his face flush red. Something with all of this felt so right.

Wait.

Felt right?

“No! You’re it?” He stared in disbelief at the face in front of him. Not a dragon, not a basilisk, not even a sea serpent. “No, that’s…”

She gazed at him. Those eyes, hidden by the hood of the cloak before, were bright golden. Demon eyes.

“I accepted your offering, Jaden.” She held the half-eaten fruit in her hand. “I’m yours, now. Spirit and all.”

She leaned in and whispered her name in his ear.

Jaden opened his eyes, and released a pent-up breath. He was covered in sweat.

The mediation chamber was silent, except for the sound of the two burning braziers. The air was thick with the ceremonial incense, and the scent he couldn’t get out of his mind. He had completed his spirit quest.

Jaden said the only thing he could think of.

“Oh shit!”

They coughed as smoke started to fill the room. This had been a bad idea. Just yet another one in a whole string of bad decisions lately. Maybe even the last he’d make.

Jaden drew upon the bond to his salamander. The fire lost some of its heat, but he knew that would only be for him. Mirena kept moving her lips in a prayer, sweat beading on her face. It was getting much too hot in here for her.

The dull roar of the burning wood drowned out most of the other sounds, but they were sure they heard commotion outside the cell door. Their captors had to react to this. A part of the cellar was on fire, after all. The question was, would Mirena and he make it out of here before they were put in another hostage situation?

Some water leaked in underneath the door, and began to steam as it fought the fire.

“They’re trying to put it out with water?” Mirena held her sleeve across her mouth, trying to avoid inhaling too much smoke.

“That means the nethermancer isn’t here, or involved in something so important that being on fire comes second,” Jaden replied. More water sloshed in.

“Either way, this is our best chance. The door should be weakened from fire and water both.” She seemed to brace herself for a moment. Jaden had a pretty good idea what was coming next, and backed away from the steaming door.

“Telum, grant me strength!” Mirena kicked the door with all her holy might, sending splinters flying and cracking the frame. The door still held, but only just barely. When she put her shoulder to it, ignoring the fire that engulfed it, the door finally gave way.

On the other side, two cultist guards had been thrown to the ground by their violent escape. Pieces of the burning door littered the cellar corridor. Mirena didn’t miss a beat, and slammed into the first man trying to get back to his feet. He didn’t try a second time.

Without a weapon, and unwilling to risk more fire at the moment, Jaden felt like he couldn’t contribute as much to the fight. But he could still pick a page from Oleander’s book of negotiation.

“Stay down if you know what’s good for you,” he commanded the other man who had regained his feet. A ball of fire hovered over Jaden’s hand, ready to explode.

“You wouldn’t! We’d all burn if-“ The cultist staggered and fell over. Mirena wasn’t done fighting just because he felt like talking. A straight punch to the throat sent the Son gasping to the ground.

“You’re all heart, Rena,” Jaden quipped.

“Later, Jaden. Let’s get their weapons.”

Mirena grabbed the simple sword one of them had been unable to draw in time. The other guard carried only a knife and a cudgel. More of a glorified stick, actually.

“I guess I have to settle for the knife?” He held it up. It looked a lot shorter than Mirena’s sword. It didn’t do much for his dwindling masculinity.

“Don’t complain. You have your magic to protect yourself with.” She put out a small fire that had caught on her skirt with her other hand.

“For now,” he mumbled, as they made their way toward the stairs.

They passed several other cells that thankfully were empty. Whatever the Sons were doing here, they had enough space to keep several people locked up down here. These were clearly cells. After all, why would you put bars on the outside of storage rooms?

The door to the abattoir near the foot of the stairs was open. On a slab was the body of the innkeeper who had taken good care of them for the several days they had stayed at the Green Raven. He looked frozen in his final moments, twisted in a torment that belied the simple knife-wound in his chest. Darim had deserved better than this.

Mirena put her hand on the dead man’s shoulder. They could do nothing for this man now. They could only make sure no other blood was spilled because of them.

“Jaden, look out!” Mirena suddenly tackled him to the side as a couple of crossbow bolts zipped into the room. One stuck to a skinned sheep, suspended in a chain from the ceiling. Mirena cried out as the second bit into her side.

He could see the cultists, perhaps three of them, standing by the foot of the stairs. They were reloading their weapons without a care in the world. After all, they had their prey pinned in a room without other exits.

“Telum keep us, and protect us,” Mirena chanted in a low voice. She had already pulled the bolt out and held the bleeding wound. A soft glow emanated from her hands. She would be fine.

“Valignat!” Jaden drew upon his pact once more. He could feel the strength waning. Too much fire, without much magic in return. He would have to repay his debt when this was over. But he had two or three good bursts left before he had to look elsewhere.

The fire had the intended effect. The least lucky one was rolling and screaming on the ground, the other two made no effort to save their comrade, but instead dropped the ruined crossbows and advanced with heavy butchering knives.

“Here they come, Rena!” Jaden called over his shoulder.

“I’m ready,” she replied, already back on her feet with the borrowed sword held high.

The much larger and heavier cultist men crashed into the two, sending Jaden stumbling back into a hanging carcass. Mirena was trained in receiving charges, and pushed her blade through her opponent’s thigh. She immediately stepped closer and grabbed the pommel with both hands and pushed it downwards. Some of the spray touched her face.

Jaden ducked back under the swinging sheep. The one who tackled him battered them aside with his arm, only to be struck in the face by a thrown chair. He glared balefully at the Mystic, and approached with murderous intent.

Jaden looked around for something else to use as a weapon. He did not fancy getting into a knife-fight with someone who slaughtered things for a living. Well, he didn’t actually have to. He gave the angry cultist a speculative look, then raised his hand and pointed.

The Sons fought without regard for their own lives. They were terrifying opponents who would accept any injury if it meant hurting them. Even while bleeding to death from his ruined leg, Mirena’s opponent grabbed her throat in an effort to strangle her.

“No more shadows can linger, when the flesh has forgotten!” The dying man rasped as he clawed at her neck. She pushed him off, dismissing his cryptic rambling, and tugged at the sword buried in his leg. She caught Jaden shouting a strange word, and then heard some clattering noise from where he and his opponent were hidden behind the hooked meat.

“Rena! Help?” Jaden didn’t sound very frightened.

When she ducked past the carcasses, she saw Jaden trapped under the body of the second cultist. He tried to push the man off, but wasn’t strong enough to move the huge bulk. That cultist was almost the size of Kellen. Together they managed to drag the man off, and as soon as he rolled over Mirena saw to her surprise that he was still conscious. He was even moving slightly, but couldn’t seem to muster the strength to do so. His lips were moving too, and he managed to wheeze something at Jaden as the Mystic got to his feet.

“I wonder what that meant,” Jaden straightened his hat as they looked at the weakly struggling cultist.

“What did he say?”

“’The last to serve the eyeless, the first to blind the world’. I’ve never heard anything like that before,” Jaden admitted. “Then again, I think we’ve already discussed how crazy these people are.”

“What did you do to him?” She asked, as they left the slaughter room.

“Another time, Rena. He’ll be back up in a couple of minutes, so let’s not be here by then.” Jaden adjusted his new nondescript hat again, and they headed for the stairs.

Like called like. Some might argue that opposites attract, but in the world of magic it was always ‘birds of a feather’. Kellen held the carefully wrapped bundle as he walked through the streets of Tier. It helped when he didn’t actually look where he was going. He just followed the pull of the skull.

The Sons of Husk had held this icon in countless ceremonies. They had shed blood before it. They had enslaved ghosts with it. It was tainted by their rites, as they were tainted by it. It was a filthy feeling, like wading through a latrine of liquid hatred for all life, but it was what he needed right now.

Hopefully his way would be faster than Oleander’s. He didn’t know where she was, but he did know she was extremely weak from her experience with the very item he carried. No wonder. He could feel it eating away at him even now. He also knew that he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if she got hurt when her safety had been his responsibility.

Kellen cursed his fate silently. This was one of the reasons he had left home. Responsibility. Everywhere he went, people seemed to look to him for advice, for help, for reasons. He didn’t want to carry that burden. Losing someone under his care would break him, he was sure. No, he left leadership to other more capable souls. Like Mirena. She was a true leader. Reliable and honest, brave and strong. Even his cousin, with all his faults, was a better commander.

The pull drew him through an alleyway. It was probably an unwise idea to walk alone and unarmed in this part of the city, especially in alleys, but Kellen’s sheer size made any would-be robbers think twice, and back away. They would be running if they knew he was carrying a skull.

He was close now. He could feel it. Without the shaman training to fully understand the world of spirits, he couldn’t tell for sure. It was as if there were silent screams coming from somewhere nearby.

Rhyce almost did a double-take when he saw who walked by just on the other side of the street. He tapped Stann on the shoulder to get his attention from whoever he was harassing at the moment.

“I just saw Red over there,” the archer said as he pointed toward the slowly walking redhead.

“What? That’s imposs- well, okay, there she is.” Stann gave him an acknowledging nod, and they left a seedy-looking man alone to catch up with their wayward friend.

“Hey, Red!” Stann tried to shout over the general racket of the street. Rhyce shook his head, and tried another method.

“Stop! Thief! Get her!”

That made most people stop what they were doing and look around. Oleander instinctively hunched down a little, looking a bit guilty. When she looked their way, both of the men waved. Stann was smiling widely.

Several people had formed a circle around hoping to witness a spectacle of some kind. A concerned person came up next to them.

“What did she steal?”

“My friend’s heart, of course!” Stann laughed, and sent the elderly man on his way. There were sighs of disappointment from the gawkers, though at least one of them said how romantic this was.

As the gathering cleared up a bit, Stann and Rhyce took Oleander to the side of the street, which was just as well. She didn’t look like she should be out of bed. She was quite pale and stopped to cough a few times. A couple of black birds squawked from their perch at a nearby roof.

“Good to see you awake,” Rhyce said, as close as a welcoming hug you were likely to get from him.

“But where is that ugly cousin of mine? He was supposed to take care of you,” Stann grumbled. He trusted Kellen more than anyone else in the world. It didn’t make sense for the rune seeker to leave Oleander behind.

“He was too caught up with that stupid… thing,” she made a face. There was no need to specify what. “He just wanted to sit there and stare at it until harvest time, so it was up to me — as usual! — to get the job done. I know where the Sons’ other hideout is!”

“The Umnir slaughterhouse off harbour road, near the Olman quarters?” Rhyce deadpanned.

The look on Oleander’s face was worth waking up to her irritating whistling every time she had breakfast duty.

“What… how?!” She stomped the ground weakly.

“Oh, you know: ask enough people and eventually someone has answers,” Stann brushed some imaginary dust off his chain mail.

“It’s not far,” Rhyce had already begun walking again. The birds had flown off.

The fires had spread a bit, despite the cultists’ earlier efforts to put them out. Fighting their way up the stairs provided some fresher air, despite the cuts and scrapes inflicted in the battle. Mirena’s wounds seemed to fade even as they fought on. Those sworn to the temples could draw upon the collective strength of their entire order if their cause was just, only the individual priest set the limit. By the look of her right now, Jaden couldn’t see her limits.

The area they burst out into, pushing the implacable Sons before them on a tide of sword and fire, was big enough to hold a sizeable gathering. Several open doors led to adjoining rooms. It was probably intended as a main storage area. When they were brought here, they had been marched directly down to the cellar. This room had been pretty much empty then, but now the Sons of Husk had mustered whoever was available to put an end to their escape. There were quite a lot of them, and probably more coming.

Over the shoulders of the closest cultists they saw the ritual leader, the nethermancer himself. Jaden hadn’t stopped to consider how the dark magician had survived the hellfire attack yesterday, but now he had to assume the man was protected from even his most powerful magic. The strong, darkly purple bubble that surrounded the man promised that much. They had to know he could repeat the performance from last night. They might even be counting on him switching to that form. He just didn’t know enough about spirit magic to tell whether he could be walking into a trap.

“Well, well,” said the nethermancer with that dry voice. “Do we have to do this all over? I thought that putting you in that room together would quell any more… fires.”

Mirena tossed her hair angrily, the soot on her face looking more like war-paint. She had been burnt many times during their breaking out of that cell. Jaden took stock on the situation, and didn’t like what he saw.

“You must enjoy having innocent blood on your conscience, lady knight!” The older man seemed to vibrate slightly. The air grew heavy, oppressive. It was getting progressively harder to see straight. Jaden could hear a ringing noise in his ears.

“Your little operation here is already gone,” Jaden chanced. “The fire will claim it all, and you won’t be able to sacrifice those girls to your dark lord!”

“You fools! I can choke your pitiful fire like it was a baby in the crib!” The nethermancer spat. “And did you truly believe we would bring them here? We are more numerous than you think, and I will relish pulling the souls from their cold, dead bodies and adding them to my collection!”

Mirena straightened up and looked hard. So the hostages weren’t even here? Then they wouldn’t have to worry about hurting them by mistake.

“This ends now, fiend!” She pointed with the borrowed weapon. It had started to shine with an inner light. To her, it wasn’t the sword itself. It was merely an extension of her faith.

“Just words, little paladin! Just words! Do you have any final ones to share with us before their fate becomes your own?” The purple sphere around the nethermancer crackled with stolen power.

“I am a Sword of Heaven, and this place is lost. Jaden? Burn it all.”

With that, she threw herself against the cultist guards, her unbound hair flying behind her like a battle standard. The gleaming arc of her sword pushed them back several steps before they could recover. She seemed unstoppable.

Jaden couldn’t attack the group, not with her in the middle of everything. That purple sphere would no doubt unravel his fire anyway, just like the ritual leader said. But that left the rest of the house…

He felt his connection dry up, along with a burst of annoyance along the bond, as he let a sustained fiery fan brush across the floor and the ceiling. A salamander’s fire burned hotter than most normal flames, and this place would be completely ablaze within minutes.

The Sons were surrounding Mirena. Without her armour and shield, even her boundless faith wouldn’t save her from being overwhelmed. Jaden had to even the odds. He took a few steps to the side, as if lining up a trick throw of the horseshoe. He drew an imaginary through the group of fighters that didn’t touch his friend. It didn’t even take a single heartbeat. He pointed at the division line.

“Noctophyx!”

The leaves of the forest parted way silently as the shadow sinuously glided toward the lit windows of the cabin. It felt the rhythm of life within the small home. Soon, one of the smaller ones was left alone in a room. It pressed up against the window, pale fingers feeling around for a means to open a way inside.

Suddenly, a pulling sensation deep inside warned it how The Other demanded its strength. The shadow drew back into the darkness and waited, patiently, for the feeling to pass.

The breathing inside the cabin continued for now.

Several of the Sons staggered and fell to their knees. The effect was diminished when many were affected at once, but right here and right now, it might just be enough. Mirena took the opening and broke free of the surround, injuring many of the weakened cultists.

“I will have no more of your meddling, you pathetic beast!” The nethermancer pulled wispy strands from the heavy air and thrust his bony hands toward Jaden. They seemed to crystallise into slivers of spectral agony as they tore through his body.

The world flickered in front of Jaden. Fragments from his past mixed with images of endless fire. It was all he could do not to scream.

Mirena dared to take a look at her friend. He had withstood the assault as if it had been nothing. His clothes weren’t even touched, despite how the slivers punched into a nearby table as if they were made of iron.

“What? How can this be?” The nethermancer grumbled in frustration, he held out his hands and began gathering a mass of screaming fragments.

Jaden’s world was pain. He couldn’t move. He felt the blood run down his body. The aim had been a little off, and that was likely the only thing that saved his life. The illusion that hid him was cast according to his old size, after all. His waist was several inches thinner these days. He was really hurt nonetheless, but none of it showed. The illusion hid any outward signs of injury. The nethermancer raised his hands to unleash a ghost storm to extinguish Jaden once and for all.

“No!” Mirena shouted, trying to bash her way through the almost mindless thugs.

The house began to shake. Large fractures spread throughout the walls. The wooden support pillars started to break.

“Curse of the netherwo-“ the ritual leader began, but as the roof above them collapsed they were flung in different directions.

There were a couple of minor quakes before the house settled. Mirena had managed to get to where Jaden had fallen down, and from their side of the room they saw that most of the central part of the building had become rubble and crushed wood. Limbs of cultists who had been too weak to get out of the way stuck out from underneath the chunks of stone. A faint purple smoke seeped down through the cracks in the floor.

As they sat there, panting, Jaden slowly began to regain his functions. He hurt immensely, but he saw that Mirena bore equally painful wounds from her solitary fight against the entire cult. But they were alive.

“Anyone still breathing in there?” A deep bass voice reached them through the cracks in the wall. They couldn’t help but smile. Kellen.

When they got closer, knowing what house the Sons of Husk must’ve been inside was hard to miss. The street was home to many import businesses and storages, and only one of those large buildings had collapsed in on itself, and was on fire.

People from all around had formed lines to haul buckets of water from nearby wells, and even the harbour itself. It looked like they had the fire under control. At least it wouldn’t spread. Some of the water appeared to behave oddly, rolling like snakes through the broken parts of the house. Apparently one of the volunteers had magic at her command.

“Do you think… this place must be it, right? It would be too much of a coincidence otherwise.” Oleander fought back her fatigue with worry. “What if they’re still inside?”

A couple of Olman harbour-workers ran past with another few buckets of water. Standing on an upended wagon, they saw a tall figure moving his hands in a rhythmic pattern, as if he was painting in the air. The water flowed freely according to his brushstrokes, drowning any fire it found.

“Hey, ugly cousin!” Stann shouted over the noise of the fire fighting effort. He pointed at Oleander when he got Kellen’s attention. “You dropped something!”

“Have you seen Rena and Jay?” Oleander yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth.

Kellen nodded and spared a hand to point toward the other side of the road. There, several people sat with their backs to a baker’s shop, being tended to by some of the local women. Even with torn clothes and a dirty face, they recognised Mirena immediately. Jaden looked strangely unblemished by the experience, but sat like he was in a lot of pain. Oleander almost cried as she ran up to them.

“I’m… I was… You’re okay. You’re here, and you’re okay,” she repeated, as she hugged Jaden close. He breathed in sharply, and stiffened. She felt something wet on her hand. “You’re hurt!”

“No, not that bad. That’s not my blood,” Jaden lied. It wasn’t as if he could unmake his illusion and show his wounds. That would show too many other things as well. “I just got a few ribs cracked when the house dropped on us.”

“The important part is that we’re all alive,” Mirena breathed. “And that the Sons of Husk finally are wiped off the face of the world.”

When the fires had died down, they helped each other back to the Northlander leatherwork store. Clan loyalties, after all, were strong. They would not have to stay at a strange inn with their injuries. The good clansman had plenty of space where seasonal workers were lodged as they came down from the north with pelts and skins during the spring, but by now they had already returned back home as the summer had arrived. It wasn’t luxury, but at the time even a simple straw mattress felt like the finest down.

For now, they could take a breath and rest.

Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright © 2013 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

Barely recovered from the events last night, the group sets out to deliver the obsidian idol to the temple of Kuros in a nearby town. Jaden and Kellen work together to ensure their safety.

Flashback: The cousins Winterheart are faced with an important decision

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Chapter 9: The Lighter Way

STANN AND KELLEN

During the coldest nights of the winter months, it was important to keep the fires burning. The chill would enter a home like a whisper and rob every room of their warmth. It was that cold that brought families together. Winter showed the true meaning of the heart.

The longhouse in the middle of Strom was not a home, however. It was a place where the high chieftain met with his trusted advisors, or made decisions when traditions or laws didn’t provide any answers. This evening was one of those times. Tradition and laws were being challenged, and a decision would be made.

Olev was the leader of the Winterheart clan, and the high chieftain of the Northern Lands. His final word was the law, and sometimes that weighed heavily upon his shoulders. He sat on his throne, made by woodcarvers long since passed into the hall of the ancestors, with his head in his hand. These were the times when he felt the burden of his crown.

In front of him stood two of his clansmen, ready for his decision. He knew them both well, having seen them grow from boys into the men they were today. Their grandfather and Olev’s father had been cousins, he remembered. Not close family, to be sure, but as with any true member of the clan they shared blood.

“From as early as your tenth summer, our shaman could tell us what your path would be, Kellen,” Olev spoke, and the gathering of clansmen listened. “You should be honoured to have been given the privilege of entering into the shamans’ lodge.”

“Yes, chieftain, I am.”

“Even though you still persist with pursuing this southlander magic of yours, instead of focusing on the teachings of our elders?” Olev frowned.

“Yes, chieftain… I am.”

“It will not be allowed!” The high chieftain of the North rose to his feet, easily looking the unusually tall clansman straight in the eye. “The omens have been shown to me by the shaman. It is clear that you will be a powerful spirit-talker to guide the next generation. If you will not abide by the traditions of our clan, then you are not of the clan!”

Kellen looked shaken. He had come before the chieftain expecting a strongly worded suggestion to accept the place as the shaman’s apprentice; he had not foreseen being threatened with banishment.

“Now, listen here, chieftain!” Stann took a step forward. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Kellen and he had grown up together, and being the only two sons of their fathers they were close as brothers.

“Do you question your chieftain, warrior? Then you will share your kinsman’s fate, by his own mouth.” Olev would not be spoken to like that. He was the law of his people. “Speak, Kellen. Will you stand by the clan?”

Kellen stared at his chieftain, then looked at his cousin. He knew Stann had everything here: a place among the warriors, and a newly betrothed. He clenched his hands. The old ways had been forgotten. The traditions the shaman and chieftain spoke of were not from the songs of the ancestors. Seeking the runes that had been lost from the North, maybe he could help recreate the old ways and light the fires of wisdom in these frozen hearts?

Stann watched his cousin struggle with this decision. Even without the high chieftain’s command, he would probably follow Kellen anyway. Women and warriors came and went, but family was forever. He would not blame his cousin. Stann nodded at Kellen, who turned toward the law of their people.

“I have made my decision, chieftain, and I stand by it.”

The building had originally been for workers back in the day when the flying ships from the empire still anchored by the skyspire, but as time passed and the ship grew fewer it fell into disuse. Rothald had been able to get it rather cheaply when he and his family had already purchased the rights to the store for their northern leather goods. While it mostly saw use as extra storage, it also served some of its original intention when clansmen came down from the northern lands with their wagons loaded with furs and skins. Fine tools and thread was much cheaper in Tier than in the north, that his kin stayed here to make their actual products. Rothald then put them up for sale in his store. Spring was always a very busy time in his household, when they were overrun by more than a dozen of his extended family. It helped to hold the homesickness at bay.

Now the old bunkhouse turned storage saw guests again. Darya and the girls were a little annoyed with him, of course. It had only been a few weeks since they had cleaned all the extra linens and put them away for the next spring, but it wouldn’t do to turn away two of his clansmen in need of a place to stay for the night.

Rothald puffed at his pipe as he considered the strange group that had turned up at his door this evening. Two he recognised from earlier that day, of course. Kellen and that little Olman redhead, deep asleep at the time, had asked him for a quiet corner for an hour or so. He had given them the use of his wagon shed with some concern for the girl, but he knew that if anything more was needed, they would surely ask for it.

No, the people that had shown up just earlier were another thing entirely. One was a Tierborn lady, by the sound of her, then another clansman he vaguely recognised from the hall of warriors in Strom. Finally, two more men he couldn’t rightly place since they weren’t talking. The black-haired one looked vaguely Olman, too, and the man with the bow could very well be Albander. A strange collection of faces, to be sure.

Rothald tapped the pipe against his boot before heading back inside. He could hear the bear-marked warrior give a stirring rendition of one of his adventures, keeping the youngest of Rothald’s children in awe.

Jaden lay down as carefully as he could manage. He didn’t even bother removing his clothes, since that might just open up his wounds again. To anyone else, he looked just fine. His mirage veil, a cloth of enchanted silk that hid his true appearance, saw to that. His friends would only see what his magic allowed them to see, and an unfortunate side-effect of him being smaller than the illusion meant that his wounds would also remain unseen.

Not for the first time Jaden wished that he had managed to bind something useful into a pact, like a Tsagoth, or maybe a Lernean — something that would let him heal quickly. That would be nice, he felt. Ignoring the pain, he began to release his remaining magic back through the pact bond. He had been very greedy with his contracted creatures these past few days, and he had to start repaying them. Jaden kept a little for himself, though. The veil still required some to maintain his mask.

He hadn’t bothered lighting any of the oil lamps in the large lodging room, one of four just like it in the building. He could see well enough with only the rays from the setting sun. Jaden shut his eyes and tried to rest, despite the throbbing pain in his side. He had a number of scrapes and cuts all over, but the nethermancer had almost eviscerated him with that spectral blast. Only his illusion had saved him at the time, making the spell partially miss him.

A knock at the open door made him force his eyes back open. Mirena’s silhouette greeted him, as she waited for him to acknowledge her before entering the room set aside for the men.

“You said you might have some broken ribs, earlier,” she mused as she sat down next to him on the bed. “I can help alleviate the hurt, if you will let me.”

Jaden thought for a moment. He couldn’t just keep pretending that he wasn’t hurt. He wouldn’t be able to ride with the wound he had suffered during that fight, and his own bandaging only just kept him from bleeding.

“I need to remove your shirt so I can see the bruising.” She reached out to unbutton his clothes.

Knowing that her fingers would simply pass through the illusion, and cause a very embarrassing situation, Jaden quickly withdrew the tiny flow of magic from his glamourweave kerchief. It was dark enough that she wouldn’t immediately see his features changing, he hoped. He stopped her when she had unbuttoned enough to see where he had dressed his wound. Jaden didn’t want her to see anything else he was hiding underneath his shirt.

Mirena didn’t make any comment, but focused on her task and gently probed the bandage with her hands. When she saw the patches of dried blood, she shook her head sadly.

“Jaden, you should have told me you had been injured,” she admonished him as she carefully removed the strips of cloth.

“It wasn’t that bad, Rena. Just scratches,” he lied. The torn skin on his side told another story.

She moved her mouth in a silent prayer to her god, and a soft glow around her symbol of faith seemed to chase all the pain away. After a little while the only sign of the previous wound was dry smears of blood on his stomach.

“I’m worried about you, Jaden. You look so thin.” Her hand rested on his waist. She couldn’t see his face clearly in the unlit room, but Jaden’s amber eyes could make out every crease of concern on his friend’s.

“I’m okay, Rena. I promise,” he spoke softly. “Thank you for patching me up.”

She left it at that, and left him alone in the darkness.

When he was by himself again, he tore the kerchief off his head and stared at it angrily. He couldn’t decide whether it had been worth it or not. After a while, his irritation subsided and gave way to resignation. He felt the soft silk slip through hands and fall down on his healed stomach. He would have to wear it for the rest of his life, until he found a way to reverse what was happening to him. A way to cheat fate.

He tied the cloth around his head again, and let the remaining trickle of magic return to it. He had no mirror nearby, but his hands filled out as he willed his image back into what it should have been. He couldn’t help himself, though, and let his hands travel up his chest until they bumped into the small swells there. There had to be a way. There just had to.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, such a mundane and reliable thing, but the simple act of sunrise touched him especially deeply that morning. Yesterday had been filled with worry and pain, with fear and death, and here the world just continued along as if it hadn’t meant anything. Sometimes Jaden envied people like Mirena, people who held to faith that strongly. He didn’t know what it felt like, to put your trust in something greater than yourself like that. Every child growing up in Talraman was taught from the moment they could walk that you could trust only in three things in life: your family, your spirit, and the mountain.

Mystics were either born into the tradition in the mountain citadel, or they came from outside, seeking to train under the masters of Talraman. Those who grew up there knew the close bond of their family, echoing the sentiments of togetherness from the time of the wars when the only thing they had were each other. While the living generations hadn’t seen those days, the stories were a part of their blood. You should trust in your family.

As the Mystic initiate grew up and completed her spirit quest, she became a true member of the tradition. The bond between Mystic and spirit was as close to sacred as the Lacunai understood the word. Of all the possible spirits in the dreaming world this one matched your inner nature most, and that allowed your soul to merge with it, becoming something stronger than either of the parts. You should trust in your spirit.

Talraman, the stronghold, the citadel, the heart of the Mystic tradition. It was the one permanent fixture in a life dedicated to change. Above all else, you must trust in the mountain. Jaden tore his eyes from the rising sun and wiped away a tear, whether from the bright light or from a painful memory.

“Everyone ready?” Stann checked the straps on his saddle once more out of habit. “After the hornet’s nest we’ve stirred up, it’ll be good for us to stay clear of Tier for a while.”

“Especially the south gate,” Rhyce added with a sidelong glance at the Northern warrior.

“I agree,” Mirena nodded. “When we confronted the nethermancer, he bragged about how many they were. I doubt they’ll be able to maintain their hold here without him, but enough of their ilk remains that we’d have to look over our shoulders.”

“Also, I understand that the kidnapped maids of the Green Raven ended up in safe hands?” Stann glanced at Oleander, who smirked back. “Something about thugs from the Whitewater cartel making a complete mess out of an alehouse controlled by the Sons in the harbour districts?”

“Maybe so, maybe no. Who knows? Let’s just say that someone told someone else an interesting fact or two about the Sons.” The redhead shrugged innocently. Oleander felt it had been worth giving up a very generous letter of credit and a parcel of quality black zalach. She liked those girls, and didn’t want anything bad happening to them. They had even tried helping her bribe the inn’s cat once.

Jaden looked at the wagon they had borrowed from the cousins’ clansman. Oleander wasn’t quite ready to ride on her own yet, seemingly channelling all her energy into her mouth she sat slumped against the side rails. Kellen had just dragged himself out of bed, put his pack in the wagon, and gone straight back to sleep in it. He had been going for two days on little rest or food, and would need some time to return to his normal self.

“Jaden? Would you like to ride in the wagon as well?” Mirena gave him a pointed look. She had seen his injuries last night before she asked her god to heal him. The wounds had closed, and only some minor bruising showed how he had nearly been severed in two by the nethermancer’s spells.

“Thank you, Rena, but I’m fine. I really am,” he assured her. She looked a little sceptical, but let it slide for now.

Mirena went back to securing her sword next to her saddle. One of the workers going through the ruin of the Sons’ hideout had found her temple-made blade amongst the rubble. It was very dear to her, and she had thanked the blushing man profusely. It was the one thing in the world she had earned by virtue of her own hard work.

Stann took the reins to the wagon and hopped up on the bench. He had helped driving similar wagons back home, and was as close to an expert the group had on such things. As long as he could keep it on the road there would be no complaints from anyone.

With a wave of farewell, they left Rothald and his family. Despite their initial refusals, claiming that they gladly helped another member of the clan, Stann had given them some coin as thanks. It was the least they could do for the hospitality and the extra laundry.

Both Mirena and Jaden remained tense as they rode the same path as they had done the other day. She caught him looking at her, and smiled in return. This time there would be no cultists waiting for them at the corner.

They had started early, to avoid the crowded streets that always happened in the late morning. The ride to their destination up the coast, Rosehaven, would also take two or more days. Most of them didn’t particularly enjoy spending the nights outdoors, though as summer was coming it was much more pleasant. Jaden recalled how they had been stuck in a ruin deep in a forest for the better part of a week during a particularly heavy period of snow last winter. It had been one of the coldest things he had ever experienced in his life. Never before had his fire magic been that popular.

As they reached the north gate that would take them to the road into Alband, Mirena slowed down and looked back at her home. She was Tierborn, and it always pained her a little to leave her golden city.

“Come on, milady, we have many miles to go before you can claim homesickness!” Stann laughed from the wagon, and took the lead with a snap of the reins.

“Stand tall and shine, towers of Tier,” Mirena whispered as she urged her horse to catch up with her friends.

The changes in the scenery were gradual, but they hadn’t travelled far before they saw the unmistakable rolling hills of Alband. Further north the trees would begin, stretching out into the famously deep forests. Even further north the evergreens would take up a larger proportion, eventually replacing the deciduous trees. They wouldn’t need to go that far, though. Rosehaven was one of the closest villages — small town, really — to Tier. Even with the slower moving wagon, they should be there by tomorrow evening if the weather held up. Alband was notorious for sudden rains.

Rhyce had long since gone on ahead, ever acting the scout. The rest of the group rode on in relative silence, except for Jaden and Mirena sometimes exchanging some words.

“I didn’t think of you when I said that,” Mirena suddenly confessed. She looked uncomfortable.

“Said what?” Jaden was confused. They had been talking about the Rosehaven temple a while earlier, so her change of subject came as a surprise.

“When we were held by the Sons of Husk, I was prepared to give my life if it meant stopping their plans, and saving innocent lives.” She looked at her riding gloves. “I didn’t mean to include you in that. I didn’t even think of it at the time.”

“Mirena, that’s alright. After rolling it around a little in my head… In a way, I’m even a bit honoured.” Jaden gave her a reassuring smile he even felt. It was good to be honest for once.

“What do you mean?” Now it was her turn to look confused.

“It means that you, at some level, treated me like you would any other knight of your order. I didn’t feel you were sacrificing me. I felt like I was your peer.”

“That’s… Jaden, that’s a very kind thing to say, but I-“ she began. He interrupted her by shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it, Lady Kaladon,” he joked, using an outrageous Tier nobleman accent.

“As you say, Sir Tarasov,” she laughed as he did a poor imitation of a knightly salute. They rode on in silence, but with light hearts.

As lunch came, even the skyspire of Tier had disappeared behind the hills of Alband. They stopped by the side of the road, and brought out the food Darya had thoughtfully provided them with. It was simple and hearty, just like the people of the North liked it. The midday sun and the fresh winds coming in from the sea made it easy to forget that they were still on a very important mission.

Kellen had woken up a couple of hours ago, probably from his cousin’s poor wagon-driving. After they had stopped for lunch, the two had been rather excited about something they had found tucked away in the wagon next to the feeding bags for their horses. Apparently, their clansman back in Tier had left them a parting gift.

Among the various bags and packs in the wagon, was the otherwise inconspicuous sack containing their dreadful cargo. Jaden and Kellen found themselves side by side and staring at it when they were rearranging the load.

“We should probably do something about this. It doesn’t feel safe to leave it in the sack like that. One touch was all it took to almost kill Oleander,” Jaden craned his head back to look at the head and shoulders taller rune seeker.

“Hmm. Now that we won’t have to consider its influence on our little fox over there, I could probably use a more powerful rune of warding. Like in the legend ‘the Hall of the Mountain King’, where Tyron Wolfstone hid the giant king’s sadness inside his shield.” Kellen always had a special timbre in his voice when he spoke of the Northmen’s stories.

“I think I’ve heard that one, actually,” Jaden realised. “You want to hide something terrible inside a normal object. Well, if your runes can do that, what’s stopping us?”

“Power, mostly. Don’t get me wrong, Jaden; I’m as strong as they come, but sealing away evil is often left to a circle of shamans back home.”

“Is it because the spell requires the extra magic?” Jaden didn’t have a whole lot of that to offer until his debts to the salamander had been repaid.

“It’s more to overcome the power of the artefact, in this case. Mirena and I together were just barely enough to give Oleander a fair fight.”

“Well, we’re not trying to break it, just create a container that will make it safe enough to handle. What if the artefact wasn’t as strong anymore?”

“How do you mean?” Kellen crossed his arms, interested in what the young Mystic had to say.

“The artefact is a ritual focus, right?” Jaden watched the Northman nod. “That means it has its own repository of death magic.”

Kellen nodded again and waved him on. The debate was merely academic so far.

“If I can… weaken its magic,” Jaden reflexively glanced to the sides. He knew nobody nearby would be able to connect the dots, but years of having secrecy drilled into him was hard to ignore. “If I can lower its strength, you should be able to complete your seal, right?”

“Certainly. But it begs the question… if you could do this, why didn’t you from the start?” Kellen had a bushy eyebrow raised, not in accusation but in honest interest.

“I didn’t really know what we were getting into at the time,” Jaden shifted his weight around a bit, and then added with a mumble. “And various other reasons…”

“I see. Well, let me dig up my old sealing runes and we shall see what we can do.”

As Kellen busied himself with going through his many belt pouches for the tools of his trade, Jaden began a series of mental exercises. It was almost like how he opened himself to the pulse of magic that flowed through the world, how he could distinguish the threads of different styles. It was similar to that, but instead of opening his inner eyes, he reached out with his inner hands.

The very core of the Lacunai tradition was in understanding the flow and form of magic. Making a bond to allow that magic to run both ways between themselves and the target of their pact was just one expression of this; a historically recent addition, in fact. In older days, there had been no pact, no mutual benefit. The Lacunai had simply taken what they wanted. That had led to strained relationships with greater entities, and most of the other magical societies of the world. Accords had been made and enforced to make sure those days didn’t repeat themselves. This didn’t mean the technique wasn’t still taught, though, just that it must remain a last resort.

“I have what I need. Do you want to attempt this before we sit back up? The others are still cleaning up after our lunch.” Kellen had returned, and cast a broad shouldered shadow over the back of the wagon.

Instead of answering, Jaden set his Mystics’ sight on the carefully wrapped obsidian skull. He could almost see it through the burlap cloth. The strands of darkness were coiled tightly inside the bag. Hatred of life just out of sight.

“Siphon.” Jaden held out his hands with his fingers splayed toward the bag, almost as if he was catching something thrown at him. In a way, he was. The dark strands began to vibrate and jerk. One by one they slipped free of the icon and trickled toward his outstretched hands.

Kellen couldn’t see anything, but he saw the look of concentration on his friend’s face. He heard a faint, ghostly moaning in the air. Something was happening, that was sure.

“Do it now, Kellen. I’m contesting it for its magic,” Jaden spoke through clenched teeth. He had handled nethermancy before, but he could never get used to the oily feeling. That was probably a good thing. The dark threads coiled in a thick web around his hands.

The rune seeker didn’t drag his feet, but placed his inscribed stones in a circle around the bag. With the remaining two runes in either hand, Kellen called upon the power of the land to imprison this blight upon the world. The ground underneath them yielded a clump of clay that engulfed the skull, bag and all. Kellen completed the seal with a warding rune drawn on the hardening surface of the melon-sized sphere.

“It’s done. This should hold more than long enough for us to deliver it to the temple. Likely, it will hold for hundreds of years. Well done, Jaden.” Kellen reached out to give the shorter man a friendly pat on the shoulder. Jaden quickly backed away from him, and shook his head in warning. “Jaden?”

“I’m holding quite a lot of really dark magic, Kel. I need to get rid of it before I’m safe to be around.” Jaden kept holding his hands out, as if he was handling a poisonous snake. They looked around the campsite. There was the road they came on, and further inland pastures and farms would appear. Toward the sea, a small cliff led down to a rocky beach.

“As good as any place, I suppose?” Kellen nodded toward the craggy shore.

Jaden walked up to the edge of the cliff, as Kellen remained behind. He didn’t enjoy heights at all, even small ones. With a shake of his hands he released the black strands he had caught, and they ran like thick tar down on the sand and pebbles of the beach. Jaden could see how some grass and tiny seaside flowers wilted as the taint left him. Nature would recover, given time.

“Well, that was unpleasant,” he said as they returned to the wagon and their friends.

“But our work is done. We won’t have to worry about accidentally triggering that evil thing now,” Kellen raised his hand toward his friend hesitantly.

“It’s alright, Kel. You can touch me now.” Jaden said before he realised how it might sound.

Oleander peeked up from on top of the wagon and gave them an innocent look.

“Have you boys been touching each other?”

“Shut up, Ollie.”

It had been a slow day, which they had welcomed. They had met a couple of other travellers along the northbound road as they rode deeper into Alband, but most had been farmers on errands, though a couple had been pilgrims on their way back from the Rosehaven temple. A true follower of the five gods made a point to visit all of the established temples during their lifetime, a pilgrimage that could take quite a while to complete which is why most did it in portions.

As evening caught up with them they once more took to the side of the road to set up their camp for the night. It was a nice enough place with a small group of trees nearby where they found a small stack of firewood. A considerate previous occupant must’ve left some for them, and as the Northmen began to start a fire Rhyce spent most of the evening replacing what they had taken with freshly cut pieces that he would leave out to dry for the next visitors.

Oleander sat on the back of the wagon and watched the men make everything ready. She was still feeling a little off, but that was just to be expected, she guessed. From her perch, she could see the archer tirelessly chopping new wood for the fire.

“Hey, Jay?” She called out, and saw the black-haired Mystic stepping into the light of the fire. Where had he been going? “Do you think Rhyce is looking a little bit happier than usual?”

“I’m not sure I see any difference,” Jaden admitted after they had watched Rhyce working for a while.

“Well, clearly I’m a better judge of human behaviour than you are, pointy-ears,” Oleander decided, swinging her legs a bit as she sat on the edge of the wagon.

“I’m not an elf, Ollie.”

“Yeah, sure,” she waved her hands dismissively at her friend. “Do you know what I think?”

“It’s one of my greatest fears,” Jaden teased back.

“I think he missed the outdoors. You know how at home in the wilds he is. All this being cooped up in cities made him grumpy. Grumpier.” Oleander’s analysis was flawless.

“Actually, the reason he’s so happy is because of how quiet everything was when you was unconscious. He got to rest his ears for most of two days!” Jaden explained how it really was.

The redhead stuck her tongue out at her friend. They noticed how the sound of chopping had stopped, and looked over at Rhyce. He was watching them across the campsite, and slowly raised his hand in a thumbs-up gesture. He had heard every word. Oleander couldn’t help but blush a little. It was easy to forget just how keen that man’s hearing was.

While Jaden and Oleander was arguing as usual, the cousins had taken it upon themselves to handle the supper. They had caught some fat and sleepy Albander hares earlier that day, and busied themselves by the fire. While they were preparing the meal, an old song from the North came to their lips. It was something their grandmother had used to sing when she was cooking, and it brought back memories of home. Kellen brought out the cooking pots to begin this family recipe.

Mirena had just finished taking care of her armour when she saw them huddled together. Having the Northmen do the cooking was almost as bad as leaving it to Oleander. Last time they promised a truly Northern experience, they had simply stuck a few knives into a roasted boar and claimed that dinner was served. To this day they still claim that was a much beloved, traditional fare in their homelands. How the entire culture hadn’t succumbed to malnutrition by now was beyond her.

They must’ve sensed her watching them, and eagerly beckoned her closer.

“Fear not, milady! We’re not above accommodating the needs of our delicate southern neighbours. We brought some greens this time!”

Mirena inspected the selection. The row of bottles wearing Northern markings did not make her happy.

“This is kulsu, Stann. That’s beer. Not vegetables.”

“Though partially made from vegetables, yes?” Stann looked much too cheerful. She gave him a hard look.

“You have got to be joking. Kellen, please talk some sense into your cousin.”

Both men looked at each other with childlike innocence, and shrugged.

“Clearly she doesn’t appreciate the essence of true Northern cooking, Stann.” Kellen shook his head sadly.

“Now, look here-“ Mirena began. Kellen leaned back and nodded toward the second pot with carrot and potato stew already prepared to be put over the fire.

She stared at it for a little bit, her expression softening.

“You two are really hilarious when you have too much time on your hands. Never change, you brutes.” She kissed their heads and returned to making sure her sword and shield were still in good shape. The cousins chuckled, and continued skinning and cleaning the hares.

Oleander watched all this from the wagon, and smiled. It was good to be with her friends again.

Jaden sat back and closed his eyes. After supper, Kellen had taken to reciting the legend of the Tyron Wolfstone, inspired by their earlier talk. The story he was painting with words came alive in Jaden’s imagination. The Northman had a wonderful voice, both deep and clear. It was as if the words that left his mouth didn't bother to go through your ears, but directly into your heart. He could listen to Kellen talk for hours.

It was a story of the North, a brave hero, a perilous quest, an evil foe - and the love interest, of course. Though, as was the tradition, she was hardly mentioned after she left the hero's sight. She didn’t really matter in the story. Jaden grimaced a bit, then wondered about why he felt the way he did. After a while, he pushed the whispers of confusion deeper back out of his mind, and tried to listen to the tale instead. Even if he didn't like the story, he enjoyed the telling of it.

To the other side of the fire sat the knight. She was barely listening to Kellen’s story, being a bit lost in her own thoughts.

"Hey girl. How are you holding up after all that business in Tier?" Oleander eased herself down next to Mirena with a sigh. She still wasn't back to full strength. Whatever that curse had done to her, it had really left a lasting impression. They had told her that it was probably a killing curse, and that she only had her freckled luck to thank that they had been able to pull her back from the threshold.

Mirena smiled at the redhead. She was happy she wasn't the only woman in the group.

"There is no need to worry about me, Oleander. Telum grants me strength, and my injuries have long since faded." Mirena had loosened her braid, and was brushing her hair out for the evening.

"I wasn't talking about those kinds of hurts, panzer-panties." Oleander leaned over and held her hand over Mirena's heart. "Those gnollspit sods held you for hours. I don't want to think about what they did to you two."

The knight let her hand fall down to her lap, and turned the brush around a few times.

"It was bad. I knew they wouldn't let us go, even if you gave them the skull. I accepted that we might not leave that place alive... but I was still afraid."

Oleander brought them together with a one-armed hug across the shoulder.

"It's okay. You're still human. It's alright to feel. No matter how much steel you carry around to prove your point, you're still a person on the inside."

"Thank you, I guess. You're still not very good at these kinds of talks, though." Mirena smiled. Oleander rolled her eyes. "You're looking brighter, however. Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah. Still feel a little faint, so no upside down action for me for another few days, I think."

"You know, I definitely recall asking you to let Jaden inspect the skull before you grabbed it." Mirena scolded gently. She was a kind person at heart, but she also had a need to rub things in from time to time.

"He did! He totally did, and said it was alright to take. I guess he could've said 'a blighted mistake', but why would he talk like that?"

The women turned and looked at Jaden, sitting with Stann and Rhyce while Kellen was standing before the fire to deliver the legend.

"What did you do, Jay?" Stann wondered.

"Eh? What?"

"The girls are glaring at you."

Was she dreaming again?

She almost bumped into someone when she turned around.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. The crowd pressed against her as she made her way back to the table. There were many chairs, but only a single person was waiting for her.

"Did you have any trouble?" A hand went up to brush the black hair down over the pointed ears.

Oleander set down the tankards she carried in either hand. Her fingers had itched as she moved through that crowd. If she hadn't had her hands full, she would have been sorely tempted to lighten someone's purse.

"I asked around, but the barkeep didn't know of any other adventuring sorts that were between jobs." She sighed and sat down. Jay reached over and slid one of the tankards closer.

"Well, that's alright. We've been doing fine on our own so far. We can continue doing our thing, Red."

"You and me against the world, Jay?" She smiled a little. She didn't mind that idea too much.

"That was a little unintentionally sappy, wasn't it?" He laughed, and took a long drink. It hurt her a bit, but she was used to not letting it show.

"Heh, yeah. I meant that we'll be fine. A few fighting types wouldn't be bad to have, but at least we can outwit anything we go up against, right?"

"Definitely, and if it comes to it, there's nothing my spirit sorcery can't defeat. Just believe in me, Ollie, and I'll keep us safe." He gave her a full smile this time. She leaned over and brushed some ale foam from his mouth.

"I do," she said, softly. "I do believe."

"There's nothing to be afraid of." His voice sounded a little strange. Not bad, but more melodic than she remembered it. There was something about Jay. Almost...

"Are these seats taken?" A Northern accent woke her up, and she looked up at a rugged man holding out one of the chairs for a woman with long, brown hair. Two other men stood behind them, with several tankards of their own.

"No, they're free. Please join us."

The room suddenly felt so bright.

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

---

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.

Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright © 2013 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

After accepting a fellow priest's request to look into a matter in a nearby village, the group finish their preparations before saying goodbye to Rosehaven. Oleander sees something while poking around the inn, and Mirena tries to understand the Mystic tradition of magic.

Flashback: Mirena has received her first assignment as a knight, and brings along a new friend

---

Chapter 11: Roads for Thought

MIRENA & RHYCE

The door swung shut as she left the Lord Captain’s meeting room. Her hands were clenched into fists, and it was all she could do not to scream out her frustration. Again, they meddled. Again, they tried to control her. Well, she had turned the tables on them now, at least. It had hurt her almost as much as it had them, but at least now her family would not be able to tie her down in a ‘safe’ temple assignment.

Mirena stalked down the wide hallway where the officers had their chambers. Her ceremonial armour chimed and clanked with every heavy footstep. ‘Tactical field patrol’ was just a polite way of telling her to stay away from temple business, now that she had stirred the hornet’s nest. She wasn’t even sure she would get any support from her order. It was amazing, and infuriating, how far her family’s influence went. How great the reach of wealth was, even into the halls of faith and justice.

When she emerged from the hall of justicars, the cold fresh air of a Tier winter night hit her face like a rude awakening. She was all but alone, now.

“How did it go?” The faint borderlander accent wasn’t that out of place in the golden city. All kinds of people found their way here. Leaning on the wall next to the guardhouse was the man she had brought back with her.

“Worse than I expected, and better than I hoped,” Mirena told her new friend. Her only friend, right now. “I’m ordered to keep my eyes open and seek out injustice, basically.”

“Wasn’t that what you wanted?” Rhyce asked, as he shoved off the wall and join the knight as they walked through the temple grounds.

“What I wanted was to ride with my fellow paladins. Now it’s just me,” she sighed, and looked at the scruffy man. “Me and you, I suppose?”

“A proud heart and a beggar’s purse agree not, milady Kaladon,” he replied. She had come to learn that Rhyce favoured cryptic expressions.

“Please, I’ve asked you to call me Mirena. I don’t want to hear the name ‘Kaladon’ for a long while. I’ve had quite enough of them.” She had no use of that name now. She wore the symbol of Telum on her shield now, not the crest of her house.

Rhyce simply grunted noncommittally and held the gate open for her as they left the temple and stepped into the active streets of Tier after dark. Who knew what awaited them here? It would be interesting to find out.

Morning came all too early, with all the noises of the village waking up also bringing Jaden out of his dreams. They had been pleasant. There had been some sort of music, and someone had been running their fingers through his hair. It had been calming, and calm was something he desperately wanted these days.

Stann was already up, and seemed unaffected by his excesses last evening. He was even humming a merry tune as he dug a fresh tunic out of his pack.

"How are you not hungover, you monster?" Jaden groaned, and rolled to keep his back against the sunlight from the window. The feeling of his chest shifting slightly reminded him that he had removed his mirage veil the night before, and it would not be a good idea to stand up right now.

"Healthy living, my friend!" Stann boasted proudly.

"There is nothing healthy about what you and Kel do to yourselves!"

"Now, now. Get up and face the day, firebug!" Stann shook Jaden by the shoulder, friendly but rough, and headed for the door. "Don't make us wait for you, or I will eat your breakfast as well!"

As soon as the Northman had left, Jaden rolled over on his back again, blinking at the warm sunlight through the window. He tried to remember the dream for a little while. It had been so very relaxing, he remembered, but little else. With nothing else to do, he finally got up and started dressing. He should probably go for a bath too, before they left Rosehaven. The washbasin in the room wasn’t enough to get that truly clean feeling. His feet felt too hot as well, with the extra thick socks to keep the boots on. Without thinking about it, he had begun humming on a tune he couldn’t remember.

Before leaving the room to join his friends downstairs, Jaden made sure that his nymph-made kerchief was getting all the magic it needed to maintain the illusion he had to present. Most of his debt to his salamander was repaid, so he had more than enough available power to go around for a change. It wouldn’t hurt to keep a positive balance with his pacts for once. He could almost feel the approval trickle back from the link he shared with the two creatures, as he increased the feed.

Oleander scooted to the side when he walked into the common room moments later. She patted the seat next to her with a smile that looked unusually honest. Maybe a good night’s sleep was the best cure after all?

“You look well, Jaden,” Mirena observed as he sat down with the others. His illusion would of course hide anything that would say otherwise. “I was afraid for you when we left you with the brutes and their beer.”

“Give him some credit, Rena! He’s a man, and can drink like one. He matched me tankard for tankard the entire night!” Stann raised his cup in a salute.

“Really?” The knight gave Jaden a worried look, as if she expected him to fall over in convulsions at any moment.

“So your battle-shape is a beer elemental, Jay? That explains so much!” Oleander laughed, and then got up. “I need to visit the washroom. Be right back!”

“It’s… we don’t call it that!” Jaden turned on his seat and shouted after the fleeing redhead. The others looked amused. “We don’t. It’s ‘manifestation’, alright?”

“Battle-shape sounds much better,” Stann decided, earning nods of approval from Kellen.

One of the serving maids came to take Jaden’s order for breakfast. Unlike many of the inns they had stayed at before, the Well actually had a selection, which was nice. The girl had beautiful long, blonde hair done up in a loose tail. A small bowtie tied it off at the end. When she listened to what Jaden would like to eat, she kept eyeing his own hair with a slight frown.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, sir, you really should take better care of your hair,” she had her hands on her hips, which was never a good sign. “It could be so pretty, if you just treated it right.”

“I wash it,” Jaden tried to defend himself. His hair was almost as long as hers, well below his shoulders but tied back in a much more manly fashion. As many as he could manage, anyway. Before he could react, she had her fingers through the ends of it. The illusion and the reality were much closer to one another there, so no discrepancies were immediately visible.

“Even so, it looks worn and dry,” she rubbed her fingers against it, and looked a little confused. She murmured quietly. “Though it feels amazing…”

Jaden realised that he probably projected his own expectations of his hair, how it had looked when he grew up. But these days, despite the little care he gave it, it had grown thick and almost annoyingly glossy.

“So, what should I do about it, then? Do you do anything special with your hair?” He tried to steer the conversation back to the maid. It seemed to work as she let his hair drop, and touched her own.

“Well, I use some of the soaps and oils we make here in Rosehaven. We’ve got a large plantation here where we grow a lot of different flowers, as well as an offshoot of the Royal Arboretum!” She claimed with some pride.

“That sounds interesting,” Kellen joined the conversation. “Is it close to the temple? I think I saw an orchard close by when we went there yesterday.”

Happy to let the two continue chatting, as long as he would get his food, Jaden leaned back and drank some of the breakfast tea. He saw that Oleander had returned without him noticing it, and she had a strange expression on her face. Was she playing with her hair?

“Well, we’re in no hurry today, so let’s relax and do some shopping,” Mirena said. She was obviously interested in the latter, as there were a couple of local seamstresses she would love to look into. “We’ve all earned this.”

One by one, the group got up from the table to look around town, leaving Jaden more or less by himself. As he finished his breakfast, a remarkably spicy omelette, he caught the long-haired maid’s attention again.

“Would it be possible to get a bath? I was too… preoccupied last night,” Jaden nodded at the stains on the floor where the revelry had taken place.

“Oh, of course. Uhm. Actually, we’re scrubbing the big tubs right now. Do you mind using one of ours instead? They’re a bit smaller, but that only means we can get the hot water done quicker?” She shrugged a little in apology.

“That’s fine. I just want to get clean. Thank you,” Jaden said as he let her take his plate away. He toyed with the idea of offering to heat the water himself, but then had an unhappy vision of the inn burning to the ground and a lot of blame going around. Maybe it was best to let things take its time?

The two Northmen didn’t exactly fit in as they walked around the marketplace, but the good people of Rosehaven were happy to have them regardless. Having seen that barrel of good beer from Strom yesterday had made them more than a little homesick, so they sought the sun and the breeze from the ocean to chase such thoughts away.

As they walked toward the sea they had to step out of the way from a group of playing children running past. Stann followed them with his eyes until they were out of sight. Just another reminder of home.

They soon found themselves standing down by the harbour and watching the fishing boats throw out their nets. A few birds sat on the supports on the pier. Mostly seagulls, but also a pair of crows for some reason.

“Do you miss it as well, Kel?” Stann didn’t have to say what.

“Seldom a single day pass without me asking myself whether I made the right call back then,” his cousin had his eyes fixed on the boats.

“You know I never blamed you, right? Our clan… it couldn’t understand you, or any strong individual with new ideas honestly. Us staying would only have split Winterheart in two.”

“I know. I know. That doesn’t stop me from dreaming about our return, one day, welcomed with open arms by our family and friends.” Kellen sighed morosely.

“How did that song go, now? ‘Where every hand that you shake’?” Stann tried to bring a smile to his cousin’s face.

“’… feels like a warm embrace’,” Kellen finished.

The fishermen looked up from their boats as the Northmen’s voices carried out over the water.

“Could only be one sweet place!” Home and the heartland.

Oleander had just left the breakfast table for a short while to go freshen up. When she had tried to go there this morning, a lot of the maids had been busy cleaning up the washrooms so she decided to go straight to the common room and eat first, instead. When she came back she saw Jay talking to one of the blonde serving girls, and she heard him talking about the maid’s hair. The woman had even had her hands on him while they talked!

It had made Oleander think about her own appearance. It wasn’t something she spent a whole lot of time considering, normally. As long as she was clean, she figured she had done what was expected of her. Her priorities lied elsewhere, really. But having spent more than a year with Mirena, she had started to get a good look into the world of how ladies took care of themselves. She couldn’t help but wonder if it would make a difference for her as well?

That pretty blonde girl had talked about the sort of oils and fancy herbal soaps they used to look beautiful, so Oleander figured they would have some around the inn for them to use when they got ready for their day. Sneaking into the back rooms where the staff had their rooms was the only reasonable course of action.

As she tiptoed down the short corridor, she heard some splashing from inside a room to her left. With utmost care, she eased the door open and took a peek inside. It was the bathroom the staff used, clearly. It didn’t have the large tubs the guests bath had, nor the bell pull that alerted the maids if you needed something. Then she looked at the occupant who was facing away from the door in the small tub.

Wet, black hair clung in ringlets to slim shoulders, showing the tapered ears of an elf. Wait, was this Jay? What was he doing here? She looked further down. Below the shoulders, as the person raised their arms to wash their hair, was a modest, but unmistakable bust? Nope, definitely not him. That was a girl, no doubt about that.

Oleander eased the door shut, and snuck away. She would have to come back for those oils another time. She couldn’t help but smile, though.

“Wait until Stann gets to hear they have an elven maid at the inn,” she chuckled to herself.

Jaden pulled on a fresh set of clothes. It felt really good to be clean again. Everything smelled nice for once. He shook out his hair before returning it to his customary tied-off style, then gave his oversized boots a hard glare. Now if it wasn’t for those…

He almost bumped into Rhyce as he headed down again. The archer was coming up the stairs carrying a small bag that made metallic noises. Probably new arrowheads, knowing him. Rhyce preferred to make his own arrows, but he wasn’t any blacksmith.

When Jaden stepped to the side to allow the other man to pass, Rhyce slowed down and gave him an odd look.

“Are you wearing perfume?”

“No, of course not,” Jaden said. Was he? He did smell nice.

“You smell like violets, Jay,” Rhyce pointed out, still not moving from where he had stopped.

“That’s cra-“ Jaden trailed off. Now that he knew what it was, he could smell it too. Time to lie. “Uh, there was a lot of salt residue in my tub. No wonder the maids had to scrub them out today. Guess the girls went a little overboard last night, huh, if it made me smell too?”

Rhyce made a noncommittal sound, but started walking again, and soon disappeared into the room he shared with Kellen.

Danger averted, Jaden continued down to the common room where he met up with Mirena and Oleander. They were resting their feet by a table near the entrance. The knight held a carefully folded bundle in her hands, spoils from her trip around the shops in the town, no doubt.

It was promising to be a warm day, so Emik had placed a pitcher of water and some bowls of fruit on his table to tide the guests over until it was time for lunch. When Jaden sat down, one of the maids he recognised from yesterday came over to ask if they wanted any of the offered refreshments. Mirena smiled and thanked her for the kindness.

They were brought a glass of somewhat cold water each, and then offered some of the fruit from the bowl. When the maid came to Jaden’s side he reached out to see if there were any that he liked. As his fingers closed around one of them, he suddenly remembered another time. It had been sunny weather too, and she had held a very similar half-eaten fruit in her hand when she had ruined his life. Jaden yanked his hand away from the fruit as if it had burnt him.

“I… I changed my mind. Please take it back,” he stammered. The maid looked surprised, but brought it away. His friends were looking at him as well. He hurriedly finished his water and stood up.

“Are you heading out?” Oleander asked, about to get up as well.

“Yeah. I need some more ritual components,” Jaden said, forgetting he had already used that excuse a couple of days ago.

“Again so soon?” Mirena raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you restock your… supplies back in Tier?”

“Well, as you recall things didn’t go as planned, and I burned through a lot of my components when we were leaving the Sons of Husk hideout.” The lies flowed easily out from his mouth, mixed with just enough truth to be palatable. He had more than enough to last him through many such fights. Mystics didn’t really consume material focus like, say, Sorcerers did, but none of his friends were very familiar with the Mystic craft. At least he hoped they weren’t.

“Literally burning through them, huh?” Oleander quipped, waving her fingers around in a show of imaginary fires. Mirena groaned at the pun.

“Yes, quite,” Jaden agreed. “I’ll be back later. I think I know where to look for the things I need.”

“Get me some raisins for the road, Jay!” The redhead shouted after him as he left the inn. He waved over his shoulder and headed off toward the village merchants.

Oleander chewed her fruit for a bit, and then smiled. She leaned in close to Mirena and nudged her in the ribs.

“Never knew Jay was so picky about his snacks. I’m going to hide some of those inside his bed next time he tries something,” she said.

Mirena cast her eyes skyward, asking her god for strength.

"Those look to be a little small for you, good sir. Maybe something closer to the size you are, ahem, already wearing?"

The shopkeeper was only trying to be helpful, of course, but Jaden felt his composure wearing thin. A calming breath masked by standing up straighter helped him shake off the childish desire to set fire to the man's hat.

"They're... not for me." He turned the boots in his hands. They looked like they would be too tight a fit on his apparent form, but not for the shape that was hidden underneath the magic veil.

"Oh? Maybe a present for that red haired lass who came in with you yesterday?" The shopkeeper smiled broadly, clearly approving of the young couple his mind made them out to be.

"What? Uh... yes, that's it," Jaden stammered a little. "Do you think that she will like them? They're a bit, ah, practical, don't you think?"

"I'm certain she will. She has the look of a practical young woman." The older man had no idea just how practical Oleander could be. "And she'll love you even more for the gift!"

Jaden almost dropped the boots. Ollie didn't really have those kinds of feelings for him, right?

"Well, you've sold me, goodman. I'll take them, and one of those bags of raisins."

He took his purchases and started to leave before he caught himself.

"Ah... would you happen to know any seamstress in the village, who could make... uhm... underclothes for her?" Jaden felt himself going red in the face, but this was his best chance to buy something before they headed out, and he did not enjoy the chafing that had been going on lately one bit.

The shopkeeper had a wide grin on his face. He even waggled his eyebrows.

Rosehaven was a community that straddled the line between large village and small town, and as such they could accommodate a number of more stores and shops aside from the ubiquitous general store, and a small market by the central square.

The shopkeeper of the traveller’s goods and general outfitting had pointed Jaden in the right direction, a house that no doubt doubled as the home for the seamstress, and allowed her to keep her business on the bottom floor.

There were thankfully no bells chiming when he pushed the door open. He was nervous enough without needing the extra startle, and embarrassed by the idea that he was just around the corner from the inn. The last thing he needed would be for Oleander or Mirena to walk in on him right now. Sweet mercy, if Oleander saw him in here, she would never let him live it down.

"Good day, sir! How can I help you today?" A cute brunette was putting away a measuring string when he entered, and was now looking at him expectantly. She couldn't be more than a couple of years older than him. Maybe one the seamstress' daughters?

"Ah, yes. Good day to you too." He could feel his cheeks flushing slightly, and send a heartfelt thanks to his mirage veil. As long as he wore it, it would only show what he wanted to show.

On shelves along the walls were bolts of fine cloths, some too thin for everyday wear. Clearly they made a variety of garments, but leaned more toward things for special occasions. He wondered for a moment if there really was enough business for a business like this in a smaller town, but a vague memory about the differences in some taxes between Alband and Tier might cause people from surrounding villages to go to Rosehaven rather than the metropolis for purchases. Also, the temple of Kuros was large enough to attract its own share of travellers, who might bring back a souvenir or two from the local shops.

"Sir?" The woman had walked out from behind her busy workbench. She had an eyebrow raised, and a small smile. Maybe they weren't strangers to bumbling menfolk in their shop after all?

"Apologies, I was... I'm sorry. I'm looking for, ah, something to..." Definitely blushing. Red as a salamander's tail. "You see, I have this friend?"

"Yes? Go on." She didn't even bother hiding her smile now, and had leaned back against the workbench with her hands folded patiently.

"A female friend?" He explained.

"Of course."

"And I wanted to get her a... something to keep..." Jaden made embarrassed gestures around his chest. Maybe this would've been easier if he had just magically veiled himself as a woman? But what would he have done if the seamstress wanted to take measurements?

"A corset? A bodice?" She was laughing when she spoke, but not cruelly. He was thankful for that, at least.

"Oh, no! She's not that, ah, big. Just one of those underclothes? Something very soft please, if you have?"

"Aha! You want a chemise? Well, then you are in luck. They don't have to be as individually tailored as a good corset, so we have a few available in different sizes. We even have some in silk! Is she about my size? Taller? Shorter?"

Jaden reluctantly imagined what he saw in the mirror, and held out a hand slightly below his illusory height.

"Almost as tall as me, and with a somewhat slighter build."

"Oh, that beautiful knight who you arrived with? She came by just a while ago, to browse our selection. She seemed very refined and we will find just the right thing for her!"

"Ah, yes. That's it." Wonderful. One shopkeeper thought he was with Oleander, and now the seamstress believed he was courting Mirena.

"I'm Keyla, by the way," the young seamstress introduced herself while she went through the carefully folded underclothes.

"Nice to meet you." He had begun to regain his composure, hoping now that there wouldn't be too much gossip in the small town once they left.

"Does she have a favourite colour? She had a nice skyblossom blue dress today, I remember." Keyla chatted amicably as she critically held up one embroidered chemise to the light.

"I- She does enjoy blue, but I feel... I mean, I think she might enjoy some variety. Do you have anything yellow?"

"Yellow? With her brown hair and green eyes? Hmm... I think this deep sea green would look wonderful for special moments, don't you?" Kelya held up something with scooping neckline and flowery decorations.

"Ah, no. I really think it should be something more along the yellow or gold."

"Something to remind her of your rare eyes?" She grinned and glanced at him sideways while carefully rummaging through another box. "You're an elf, right? I can tell by your ears."

"I'm not an elf," Jaden said automatically. "I mean, yes, the eyes. Sure. Do you have anything like that? Very soft, though?"

"All these are made of finest cotton or silk, and quite soft indeed I assure you." She continued to dig through the shallow box while singing to herself, and finally produced a something creamy and off-white, with sparse gold-thread embroidery. "This might be a nice compromise. A little pricier, I'm afraid, because of the gold detail..."

"That shouldn't be an issue." At least since they just got paid for their last assignment against the Sons of Husk. If there was ever a time to spoil himself a little, this was it. Wait, spoil himself? By buying clothes? Jaden shook his head.

"Don't you like it?" Keyla looked concerned, taking his internal dialogue the wrong way.

"No! It's fine. Please, I'll take it." Jaden hurriedly explained, putting a handful of coin down on the workbench.

"Sir, this is a little too-"

"It's fine!" He repeated. "Thank you. Goodbye!"

Keyla blinked a couple of time as the strange customer grabbed the silk chemise and hurried out. "Ah... alright. Have a nice day?"

Coming down from the upstairs living quarters, her mother glanced toward the door as it slammed shut.

"Who was that, dear?"

"Oh, just a customer. Nervous suitor type."

"Ah, youth," her mother reminisced with a smile.

Jaden started to walk down toward the inn, but turned around almost immediately and hurried the other way. He kept his hat pulled down to hide his face as he rounded a corner. Kellen had been not twenty paces away at a vegetable merchant's wagon. He was probably restocking their supplies for the next journey, or regaling the hapless merchant with stories from his frozen home.

It was only luck that the Northman had his back to Jaden when the Mystic had walked out of the... the women's shop. He hid the silken bundle under his cloak and made his way around the block back toward the inn. Walking this quickly only made the chafing worse.

Most of the others were by their table once he returned. He glimpsed a map rolled out and secured with tankards and plates. They were obviously in the planning stages, which was normal for the group. 'Think first, plan second, act last', Mirena had once told them.

"Hey, Jay! Found what you needed?" Oleander called from the table where she had her head close together with the knight.

"Quite!" Jaden didn't even slow down, but took to the stairs immediately. The women exchanged a look, and the redhead shrugged.

"I suppose Jaden is in a hurry to get started with his rituals?" Mirena offered, and then went back to tracing a finger along their map of the region. It was woefully inadequate, showing only the major cities and borders. They might need to get another one.

"I guess?" Oleander wondered aloud.

He hurried up the stairs and down the hall to the room he shared with Stann, and yanked the door open. Stann stopped pulling on his rust-stained undershirt for a moment. He was halfway through putting on his travelling clothes, and Jaden got a good look at his hairy chest.

"Oh, for the love of-" Jaden whirled around to face away from the half-naked man. Again his nondescript hat saved him from showing any blushing.

"Welcome back, little brother! Don't concern yourself for my modesty." Stann laughed heartily.

"You don't HAVE any, Bear!"

"Precisely! Gaze upon me as much as you will. I'm proud of who I am, as should anyone be. Except my cousin, who is clearly hideous." Stann laughed again.

"You two could be brothers." Jaden disagreed, still keeping his back turned. Those two really looked a lot alike, except where Kellen was taller and broader, and Stann had even fairer hair.

"You are lucky I am in such a good mood after yesterday's celebrations."

"Are you finished yet?" Jaden had crossed his arms, and regretted it. It pushed... things up. The noise of chainmail settling told him it was safe to turn back around.

Stann just kept on chuckling as he made his way past Jaden, slapping him on a shoulder as he did. The fingers passed through the illusion unnoticed once again.

"I'll see you downstairs once you're done, little brother."

Jaden just nodded, carefully keeping his silky secret hidden. 'Little Brother' was a title of honour. Northmen warriors called each other 'brothers', brothers in battle. He had fought alongside Stann many times, despite how he would make a fairly unimpressive Northman if you went by stature and strength alone. There was no insult intended with the 'little' bit. Stann was the oldest of his siblings, so everyone was little to him, even if his cousin was a couple of years ahead of him. Jaden held out the chemise and studied the embroideries. They were some sort of vines clinging around the hems. Maybe 'brother' was as bad a fit as his old boots.

Making sure the door was shut tight, he stripped off his outer clothes and finally, grudgingly, allowed his mirage veil to show his true form. First order of business was to replace the boots. The thick winter socks went back into his pack with a sigh of relief. He wiggled his toes a bit and glared at the slim feet.

The new boots fit much better, and it would take care of one of the things chafing him. He looked down his chest at the other cause of discomfort.

"Well, I've got something for that too, now."

The chemise fit well enough. A little tight around the waist, but that was alright with him. The main concern was how the silk felt so much better against his... sensitive areas. He put his tunic back in a hurry, making sure it covered everything completely. It had a straight neck and full sleeves, fortunately.

He replaced the gloves, vest and cloak almost as quickly, and then finally the kerchief that obediently resumed its appearance of a hat. He felt the veil settle around him once more, and only then realised he had been holding his breath almost the entire time.

Jaden bounced in place experimentally, and felt that the previous chafing had been replaced by a slick caress instead. It was still a little distracting, but much better. There was ... jiggling, however. Maybe he should've asked the woman, Keyla, about a bodice too? He shook his head. No. No more of this nonsense. It was time to focus on a solution to the underlying problem. He was sure there must be a way to deal with this. There had to have been Mystics in the past who were unhappy with the spirits they had ended up with. He just had to retrace their steps. There was always a way when magic was involved.

When lunch came around, they had gathered in one of the private rooms. There would be a bit of professional discussion, and there was no need to scare the locals.

"We didn't ride blindly into Rosehaven since we already had some contact with the temple of Kuros, but what do we have on this so-called ‘troubled’ village, Redwall?" Mirena asked the group, now all gathered around their table.

"They've both got something red in their names?" Stann joked.

"There's nothing wrong with being red." Oleander shot him a look.

"Not all roses are red," mumbled Rhyce. He sat leaned back far enough to not really see the rough map of the upper continent. Jaden wasn't sure what to make of that comment, since the archer often added deeper meanings to the things he said. It seemed like most of the others weren’t sure either.

"Aside from that, please?" The group's mother always tried to keep their attention at the task at hand.

"It's not too remote from Tier, but lies away from the main trade routes through Alband. Further inlands, too, in the forest. They might be somewhat isolated, and anything occurring there may take time to reach the rest of the kingdom?" Kellen followed a sound line of reasoning.

"But there's clearly some exchange between Rosehaven and Redwall. If anything really noticeable had happened, don't you think the word would've gotten here by now?" Oleander countered.

"What did the priest say, exactly?" Jaden spoke for the first time. He had been squirming a little in his seat.

"He didn't give us any specifics, only that he had been getting a bad feeling when he visited his extended family there a while back. I trust in his intuition." Mirena would stand by another member of the Temples, especially one who asked her help.

"Something that raised a priest's hackles? We're walking into something horrible again, aren't we?" Jaden shifted in his seat again.
Oleander leaned down against the table and put her chin on her arms. "'Not it' on getting cursed this time!"

"We have no way of knowing what could be waiting for us, Red." Stann patted the small woman on the head.

Rhyce mumbled something else, but only Jaden sitting close enough heard anything.

"Demons."

Their world was not alone in all of reality. Surrounding it were countless different shards and realms just out of sight, separated by a metaphysical wall. But like the waves of the tide, sometimes one came crashing upon the shore of the world of men and something from that distant plane spilled over. Strangers from beyond the wall, called ‘visitors’ by scholars, sometimes showed up where the wall grew weak. Some were benevolent, and became the angels of myth. Others were not, and the witnesses of what transpired gave rise to the legend of demons.

The citadel archives were filled with recounts and stories of people meeting these visitors. Some were first-hand experiences of Lacunai Mystics who had the opportunity to speak with one of them. It was from a particularly amicable visitor, who in fact spent a considerable time with one of Jaden’s ancestors, that the Lacunai learned about a place called the Myriad Nether, and its terrible denizens.

Jaden had read all those books, most of them quite recently while trying to come to terms with the lot fate had cast him. He couldn't help but feel a peculiar kinship with the demons of the Nether realms. After all, was he not one of them, in a way?

While Kellen and Mirena had left to see the temple again, and to try and find a map of the local area that included smaller villages like Redwall, Jaden found himself in a discussion with Rhyce.

“What makes you believe demons are involved?” Jaden tried to sound casual.

“There have been signs,” the archer replied laconically.

“Like for instance?”

“I haven’t seen many predators. When I looked around outside the town earlier, there were no tracks of foxes or badgers. I haven’t seen any hawks or owls either.” Rhyce listed off some of the smaller hunting animals that usually lived in this part of Alband.

“Explain that to me, would you?” Jaden started paying attention.

“Predators like that are mostly nomadic. They run away from danger, and keep running, rather than staying to defend their territory like a bear would.”

“We’ve passed a lot of farms, though. I saw the cattle they kept. They didn’t seem too alarmed?” Jaden countered.

“Generations of breeding and control by humans has eroded their natural instincts. They don’t hear the warning bells in their souls anymore, telling them to run.” Rhyce tapped his head. “People are like that, too. They’re too busy listening to their own thoughts, to hear that inner voice.”

“So, we have no way of anticipating this kind of danger anymore, because we got too civilised?” Jaden didn’t want to accept that. It seemed too bleak. It also struck a bit close to home. He knew he usually ignored his own instincts, often to his regret.

“There are still some who can. Certain sensitive people, children, or the insane, can still hear the warning,” the archer shrugged a little.

“Since you’re not a child, do you fall under the ‘sensitive’ or the ‘insane’?” Jaden half-joked.

“You tell me,” Rhyce replied and turned his head away. That conversation was over.

Kellen decided that he liked Rosehaven. It was a good place, with nice people. It was close enough to Tier that some culture splashed this way, but far enough to avoid the stressful bustle of the big city. Also, the fish here seemed to bite close to the shore. Fishing opportunities was a large tip in this town’s favour, if Kellen had anything to say about it. He looked back over his shoulder toward the temple on the hill. The blessed hall of Kuros overlooked the town like a kindly shepherd watched his woolly charges. It would have been nice to stay a little longer and speak with the priests more, but there would always be another time when they eventually came back down south to Tier. He couldn’t imagine them staying away from the golden city for too long. It was, after all, the place where stories began and legends were told, if the bards were right.

The bell above to door to the scribes’ house pealed as Mirena stepped out into the noon sun with a rolled up parchment in her hands. Sometimes Kellen wondered if her obsession with maps and ahead planning didn’t bordered on the compulsive, but it didn’t slow their progress down too much, and it made her happy. He couldn’t complain, honestly. It was even fun to be part of the process from time to time.

“They were most accommodating, Kellen. I have a rather detailed map of the landmarks and road to most of the middle and north Alband villages. It’s a smaller version of the one their tax collectors use, so it should serve us well.” Mirena straightened her pale blue dress with a smile, and handed the map to her friend.

“Excellent. Did they say how far it was?” Kellen asked as he accepted the roll. “Stann and I got some basic supplies this morning, but if it’s a long trip we might want to get some of that dried stuff. You know Rhyce enjoys his jerky.”

“That he does,” she agreed. It must be an Albander thing. “It’s not far at all, really. Rosehaven lies more or less in the middle between Tier and Redwall. We should only need to camp out the single time on our way there.”

“Curious. If it’s just two days each way, you’d think there would have been more word locally, if something had happened over there,” said Kellen with a raised eyebrow.

“We made a promise, my friend,” Mirena reminded him.

“Oh, I wasn’t suggesting trying to weasel out of it, just that it might not be a lot for us to do once we get there. Anyway, I will see if there’s anything else we need after all.”

Together, they walked back along the sunlit streets, enjoying a moment of peaceful thought. Some townspeople even waved at them as they passed by. Yes, Kellen thought, he could definitely see himself coming back here one day and maybe staying for a while. Maybe some of the others would like to return too? At least Mirena would, given how she seemed to have enjoyed the visit to the temple. Their little fox would probably be bored out of her mind, though. Oleander had a hard time handling too much tranquillity, having grown too used to the city.

A pair of crows landed on the Well’s rooftop when they finally made their way back. Their beady black eyes trying to look everywhere at once.

“If you’re going in, go in. If not, step out of the way!” Stann startled them a little when he came hurrying back. He had a half-forgotten sack of fresh fruit in a hand, and Oleander in tow.

“Hello to you too, cousin,” Kellen said as he gracelessly gave way for the busy warrior. Some patrons of the inn looked in with surprise at the exchange, but the shrugged and went back to their lunch. That they were Northmen gave them a lot of leeway with etiquette in the other lands.

“Yeah, yeah. Now, where did you see her?” Stann asked the grinning redhead, who just pointed at the backrooms.

“Oh dear,” Mirena sighed and shook her head. “Please don’t let them do anything that will make us unwelcome here, Kellen?”

“Of course not, milady. Here’s your map, if you want to get started with that while I rein in my witless cousin.” Handing the rolled up parchment back, he once again went to temper a situation the other Winterheart might have gotten himself into.

“Thank you,” she called after him. The innkeeper had already intercepted Stann, and they were talking animatedly. It seemed good-natured, though, so she was hopeful they wouldn’t get thrown out. When she made her way back up the stairs to the balcony, and the private room they had all but claimed to themselves, she saw only Jaden there. He was still wearing that new hat of his. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that it actually looked pretty bad on him. With that shirt and vest, he should keep his hair clipped back, or even free.

“Hi Rena. More excitement down there, I hear?” The black-haired Mystic observed as ruefully as she felt.

“Never a dull moment, is there?” She agreed. “By the way, have you seen Rhyce?”

“He was a little, uh, antsy. Though, he did mention taking the horses to get reshod. We haven’t really done that since forever, honestly.” Jaden shrugged.

“That was very thoughtful of him. I haven’t been paying as much attention to my poor horse as I should, ever since completing my training. I always assumed I would have a squire of my own to handle that.” Mirena rolled out the map, using candlesticks to hold down the corners. As she did, she tilted her head a bit. Was there perfume in the air?

“Why didn’t you get a squire?” Jaden seemed actually interested. “I don’t know a lot about the practices of temple knights, but if you were a squire yourself at some point, it seems reasonable that one would be appointed to you once you’re an, uh, ordained member?”

“Politics, I’m afraid. After my first assignment into the field, breaking up a group of bandits in west Alband, I was stationed in the temple rather as the knight-errant I dreamed to be. Apparently, there was some… pressure, to keep me in the city.” Mirena frowned, and some bitterness flashed across her eyes. “I took certain measures to get reassigned into the field, but was denied a squire as punishment. I believe they thought I’d cave in and return to the temple after a while, without the help a squire would provide.”

“Well, the jokes on them. You didn’t get one squire, you found five!” Jaden smiled widely. He was really quite pretty when his face was lit up like that. It was such a shame he was so brooding lately.

“True enough, my friend. True enough,” she laughed. “Now, if we were to begin here, in Rosehaven, we should be able to make it to the treeline by nightfall…”

“Final checks, everyone,” Stann called out as he sat on his heavy Olman horse. The chestnut stallion tapped its hooves against the flagstone experimentally, and then snorted with equine satisfaction.

“We’re all set, Bear,” Jaden spoke for the group. “You seem to be in a hurry to leave, though?”

“Eh. We’ve got a mission and… things, right?” The Northman warrior leaned forward in the saddle a bit. “Also, turns out she had already left, so there’s no reason to linger.”

“Who? Nevermind, I probably don’t want to know.”

With some small coin for the bother, the local shoemaker had agreed to send his nephew back to Tier with their wagon. The Winterheart’s clansman had borrowed it to them when they had to leave, and he probably expected it back before soon. With all other needs and necessities taken care of, the group once more set out along the north coastal road that would continue all the way up to Farcrest, and from there eventually into the Northern Lands. They would, of course, only follow it part-way. Alband was generally good with signposts and milestones, so they didn’t expect any trouble finding the branching road that would take them to Redwall.

Oleander nudged her horse up closer to Jaden’s once they got out on the road proper.

“Hey? Want to know why Stann was so keen on hitting the road?” Her eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Not really. It’s probably something embarrassing.” Jaden didn’t want to imagine what could have happened, only that they probably would need to cross off Rosehaven as a place to return to in the nearest future. “If I give you your raisins, would it make you keep it to yourself?”

“Turns out, there was another elf visiting the inn while we were there. Of course, Stann wanted to meet her. Surprise, surprise, right?” She was laughing now, holding onto her saddle.

“I didn’t see anyone,” Jaden thought back. It wasn’t as if elves were that rare, but they usually lived deeper inlands, not far from Sorun. “Also, I’m not an elf.”

“Yeah, she didn’t stay for long. I only saw her when I almost walked in on her bathing,” Oleander looked ahead where Stann rode, and shook in another bout of giggles. “Are you okay? You’re looking a little stiff.”

Jaden clutched his reins hard enough to make his horse fidget. The redhead didn’t seem to notice, though. She never really seemed to notice when she did something that might have hurt another’s feelings. Jaden’s thoughts began to wander of their own accord, however. Thinking about feelings always seemed to trigger something within him, distracting him. That might be one of the reasons he tried to ignore his inner voices so much. Listening to them always seemed to bring unhappiness into his life.

“Do you mind if I ride with you for a while?” Mirena spoke, suddenly by his side. He hadn’t noticed her slowing down enough for them to catch up.

“Oh, of course not, Rena. No need to ask,” Jaden replied. Had the knight some reason for being so formal? They were friends, after all.

For a short while, they simply rode on with Jaden in the middle, and the women on either side. Mirena chatted lightly with Oleander, about how she had seen some ballroom slippers at the seamstress’ store, and had heard that some Tier culture seemed to have made its way up into the communities close to the border. There was hope for Alband yet, according to her. Jaden didn’t really follow the conversation, that sometimes literally went over his head. He had started to drift off again when he was addressed.

"Jaden? May I ask you some questions?" Mirena nudged her horse into step next to where Jaden was riding.

"As long as I can claim Oleander is to blame for anything you may have hard?" He didn't like to answer questions, especially personal ones. While his trust for his friends was strong, there were some things he would rather not tell them.

Mirena smiled, and shook her head at the antics of the two. Oleander was trailing behind a bit behind, distracted by two crows that flew from tree to tree next to the road.

"I was going to ask you about magic, but if you'd rather talk about the things you two have been up to-"

"No! No. Magic is fine. Good subject. Much to talk about." Jaden hurriedly explained.

"As you wish," Mirena smiled. "I was interested about Mystic magic, specifically. I know some about Northern shamanism, and to some degree, runic magic. And, of course, I'm familiar with both temple magic as well as the sorcery of the Arcane Order."

Having grown up in a wealthy family, she had no doubt encountered the sorcerers for hire at some time, Jaden imagined. The other two traditions surprised him a bit. The shamans were every bit as miserly about their secrets as the Lacunai, and while rune seekers were more open about their craft, they were often too busy with their latest endeavours to stay to talk for long.

"Ah. Mysticism." Jaden said slowly. He had to be careful not to divulge any of his kind's secrets. Much of their position in the world depended on how the other magic societies didn't know the source of the Mystics' power.

"You've spoken about your pacts, before." She urged him along.

"That's a good place to start. Mystics make special bonds with magical creatures." Or individuals, but that practice was more or less discontinued these days. "This allow us to draw upon their power, in essence using their natural abilities as other magicians use their spells."

"So, your fire magic comes from your connection to the creature you're bonded with?"

"Precisely. In my case, a salamander. Though, other fire-using Mystics may have other sources. Elementals, dragons, anything can be a part of the contract." Or anyone, he added silently.

"Why do you call it a contract?" She wondered.

"Partially to show that we don't simply steal the magic." Anymore. "We enter into an agreement with mutual benefits."

"What do the... the other party gain from this connection?"

"The magic flows both ways. Most creatures can't shape raw magic the way a magician can, however. To them, it simply means greater health, usually larger size or extended lifespan. For a shorter lived creature, like a stormfalcon, it could mean a dramatically longer life. As long as the Mystic is alive, the surplus magic that flows back to the creature will essentially keep it from aging."

"I see. How many contracts can a Mystic hold at any one time? I assume that if a creature was to meet an unexpected demise, the Mystic would lose that connection?"

"That's right. That’s one reason why some Mystics keep their bonded creatures close, to make sure they are safe. In my case, my salamander ally lives on a southern island. It seems to be doing alright, as salamanders go, but it has been a bit annoyed with me."

"Annoyed?" Mirena sounded surprised.

"We've been fighting a lot lately, and when I use too much of its power, it becomes weakened. I'll have to let that bond rest for a few days to rebuild its strength." Jaden cleared his throat. "As for how many? Each Mystic is different. There seems to be an innate limit on how thin you can spread yourself, bond-wise. Most can easily handle four or five contracts, though."

"And you?"

"I have... two." Jaden caught himself in time. "My salamander, and a breathstealer."

"Undead?!" Mirena turned toward him sharp enough to make her horse nervous. She really didn't like the undead. She also forgot all about how she had meant to ask which of those he turned into.

"A common misconception, Rena," Jaden tried to defuse the situation. "Breathstealers are fey, not undead. They're often mistaken, though, since they're shadowy and... well, steal peoples' breath."

Mirena blushed a little, angry with herself for losing her temper. They rode in silence for a little while. Oleander had passed them a while back, looking at them with curiosity, and joined with the men in the front. Talk about magic didn’t really interest the redhead, but she kept glancing back at the two anyway.

"I apologise for my outburst, Jaden."

"No need, Rena. I'd be alarmed too if I thought one of my friends had her soul bonded to an undead monster."

"Just so," she laughed, relaxing. "Just so."

Since they had all slept in a little back at Connor’s Well in Rosehaven, none of them had been particularly hungry when they set out around lunchtime. Their late breakfast had carried them through so far, but several miles away from the town they decided it was about time to let the horses rest, and for them to eat something.

Jaden stretched a little. The hidden silk chemise had done wonders for the irritation and redness his regular shirt had caused. After a while, he had even managed to forget about the constant jiggling, as well. Adapt and survive, Jaden told himself. That’s all there was to it, really.

"Did you get a new sword?" Stann had wandered up to help him unsaddle the horses while they ate. There was no sense in having their mounts sweat more than they had to. “Yours had a flat pommel, I recall, but this one’s round.”

"Well, I got a sword," Jaden smoothly lied without blinking. "I lost my old one when I had to drag Ollie out of that burning place back in Tier."

"A sad day indeed, having to choose between your blade and your friend. You made the right decision, though," Stann approved. He would probably have slapped Jaden on the shoulder again, had there not been a horse in between them.

From the campfire, Oleander's tuneless whistling told them that she had cooking duty. They grimaced at a particularly jarring note.

"Are you sure about that?" Jaden asked the Northman.

"Eh... ask me after lunch," Stann eyed the pots with some trepidation. Oleander didn’t have a very good record with her culinary pursuits. She tended to experiment and improvise in the face of convention and common sense.

“We will definitely need to spend a night before reaching this village,” Kellen announced, as they sat down to eat. Oleander had provided them each with a bowl of some very fragrant soup.

“Good,” Rhyce nodded. He seemed more alert recently, if that was even possible. His eyes constantly tracked movement along the hillside. Whenever they had met other travellers on the road, his hand had twitched ever so slightly as if it wanted to reach for his bow.

“That’s easy for you to say. There are bears and wolves and, uh… squirrels in that forest,” Oleander jabbed a finger accusatorily at the treeline that had just began to appear. They would likely spend most of the next evening and the next day traversing that sea of leaves.

“No there aren’t,” the archer disagreed. He couldn’t imagine any animals voluntarily staying in those woods. There was something ill on the wind. He could almost smell it. Rhyce turned his head sideways. He could also still smell the violets.

“Well, if you say so,” Oleander sounded sceptical.

"So, still think not leaving her behind was a good idea?" Jaden looked up from his bowl at Stann, who sat next to him.

"I'm not sure what I just ate, but no sword was worth that!" The warrior smacked his tongue with a puzzled expression. He had managed to get some bits of it in his beard, prompting Jaden to lean over to clean it up with a napkin.

"Friendship should overlook some shortcomings," Mirena said diplomatically, and scraped the bottom of her soup with a spoon.

"I make the kind of soup that ENDS friendships!" Oleander proclaimed with pride, thrusting a small fist into the air.

“Can I take the next time Ollie’s supposed to cook?” Jaden asked his friends. Of all his mediocre talents, he had picked up a number of highly appreciated recipes during their brief stay in Etrana last summer.

“Yes!” Four voices replied immediately.

“Hey!”

Offering to do the cooking got Jaden off the hook from cleaning up after this mess, though, which left him to his thoughts again. They came unbidden, and quickly. It had happened more often recently, these moments of introspection. It was as if his refusal to listen made something inside just raise its voice instead. Eventually it made itself heard over his conscious thoughts.

This time, though, it touched upon something he had wondered about many times before. The Mystic drift, the way they assumed qualities of their spirit, was a slow process. His father, proudly merged with the powerful dragon Ironscales, hadn’t shown his first traits until well over a year after his rite of the spirit. Even today, hundreds of manifestations later, he had only developed some obvious signs. So, how come Jaden, who had assumed his spirit’s form less than ten times, had drifted so far? The eyes, the… shape. His size. It was too much, too quickly.

Jaden tried to remember what his Masters had told him about the bond between the Mystic and the spirit, and more importantly about the drift. It had been something about harmony. The closer the two were, the more profound the drift would be. But that made no sense. He and his golden-eyed demon was a world apart. They had nothing in common, after all, right? Maybe… was it because he was struggling so hard against it? Was the drift like quicksand in that regard? The more you fought, the quicker you became submerged?

Or, even more frightening, was there something wrong with the spirit? He remembered her voice, when she whispered her name in his ear.

“Ashomi Kian…” His lips moved by themselves.

“Huh? What was that, Jaden?” Kellen looked at the smaller man. That hat hid Jaden’s eyes, but Kellen could tell something was bothering his friend. “That wasn’t Elvish, was it? Hmm… oh! That’s Nethertongue! I had no idea you knew that, too. Does that mean you believe Rhyce’s theory about demons in Redwall?”

“Huh? Ah, maybe. I’m not sure.” Jaden blinked, and looked up at the rune seeker. “Being prepared for the worst never hurt, right?”

“True words, I suppose,” Kellen tightened the strap of his saddle, since they were about to set out again. “What you said right now, that means ‘two skies’, or something like that?”

“Something like that,” Jaden mumbled, and sat up as well. They still had miles to go.

Notes: With apologies to Bill Whelan (for the Winterheart song)

Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright © 2013 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

Jaden and his friends make their way through the Ealbourne forest, and Redwall village that lies within. The Kuros Prelate Matrick in Rosehaven had told them of his bad premonitions while visiting his brother there, and they begin investigating what might be going on. Rhyce makes a surprising admission, and Jaden begins to feel something strange.

Flashback: Oleander roams the streets of Tarad after a happy turn of events that makes her sad

---

Chapter 12: Truth in the Mirror

OLEANDER

It was for the best, she guessed, but something inside her still felt sad. It had been sometime after the Midwinter festival when the lord of Tarad had announced that a generous donation had been made to keep an orphanage for the many abandoned children of the border town. There, each would get a warm bed and warm food, until they grew old enough to care for themselves, or a caring family decided to take them in. Oleander was too old for an orphanage.

Some of the children hadn’t wanted to leave their aunt Lea, but she swallowed her own pain and made them go. It would be better for them, much better, than anything she could provide. Cold and hunger was always just a bad day away at the best of times.

She would survive, though. She always survived. Oleander had to grow up on the streets on her own, and she would be just fine alone. She would miss them terribly, though. At first, she had offered to help out at the orphanage, but the governess had refused her at the door. Apparently a thief and an urchin like Oleander was bad influence on the children. She wiped away the tears that spilled over her cold cheeks. Winter could be hard for the homeless.

She hadn’t even paid attention to where she was going. A mistake she would never had done before. Oleander had grown up in Tarad. She knew every street, what to avoid and what to trust. Without thinking, she had wandered into the wrong part of town for a girl on her own.

When she looked around, and started to find the quickest and safest way back to her usual haunts, she heard the sound of fighting down an alley. Had this been before, she would’ve hid and waited, hoping to sneak in afterwards to see if anything had been left behind. She wasn’t too proud for picking things off a body in the streets. You did what you had to do, to survive.

Peeking around the corner, she saw a gang of thugs, Krogan’s crew by the looks of it, harassing a lone man. She almost tripped and fell when the man shouted a strange word, and fire struck the closest assailant. That was more than the thugs were prepared to deal with, and they were running away with their screaming, charred friend held between them.

The light from the opposite street allowed her to make out some of the features of the strange magician. His long black hair had fallen over his face, but the tips of the ears told her everything she needed to know. It was like an elven prince out of the stories.

Oleander sat with her chin on the heels of both her hands, elbows rested on her knees. She looked utterly bored. To her left, Stann just smiled and continued cleaning his boots. She sighed, and blew some hair out of her face.

”You should be thankful, Red. Not every group manages to land this many magicians, you know. We’re pretty lucky.” Stann gestured, still holding a boot in his hand.

”Lucky? We get to sit here and… and just sit, while they do their magicky preparations for the day. Everyday it’s the same,” she complained.

”You know you could find a productive way to spend the time, if you just looked hard enough.” Stann put the boot down, and started tugging it on his foot.

”Out here? There are no dwarven merchants to pickpocket.” Oleander smiled a little. She was still spending the gold she got from a particularly fat ring that ended up in her hands after browsing a jeweller’s displays.

”I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, you raccoon. Me, I’m happy they’re with us. I can’t count the number of times Rena’s blessings has pulled me back together, or Kel saving the day by knocking a monster flat with a well-aimed chunk of stone.”

”Okay, I’ll give. But sometimes I wish half the bloody group weren’t nose-deep in their magic books or meditations the entire morning.” Oleander worked her neck and shoulders a bit. Rhyce looked up from waxing his spare bowstrings.

”Half?” He asked.

”Yeah, you know — three of them, three of us?” She gestured at the other three, still concentrating on their respective rituals.

”Speak for yourself. I’ve got magic, too,” Rhyce shrugged and went back to work on the strings.

Oleander and Stann looked at each other, and then turned back to Rhyce.

”Wait, what? We’ve been together for more than a year. You’d think we’d notice if you spent your days reading dusty old tomes,” she pointed out while also pointing at him. Oleander was always very animated when she spoke.

”Yeah, I don’t do that. Doesn’t mean I can’t, though. I just don’t like it.” With that, Rhyce returned his finished strings to a pouch in his belt, the conversation apparently over for him.

Stann and Oleander exchanged another long look, and huddled down together.

”I think he can use enthralling spellsongs. He’s too embarrassed to do so, though.” Stann glanced over at their friend.

”Oh, good one! I was going to guess wind magics, to make his cloak billow dramatically whenever he feels the urge to pose,” Oleander grinned.

They continued their speculations, trying to top the other in absurdities, as they waited for their friends to finish their rituals. Meanwhile, Rhyce just listened with a hidden half-smile. He turned his head slightly towards the crow sitting on the lowest branch by the nearest tree.

”Let them keep guessing,” he murmured. ”They’re having too much fun.” The crow turned its head slightly, and flapped its wings.

Eventually, the more magically inclined finished their devotions to their respective sources. Kellen carefully returned his collection of runestones to his many belt-pouches. He spread them in a pattern around himself as part of his morning ritual of invoking his magic power. Every day he placed them differently. After all, even if the letters are constant the words change meaning over time, and his ritual reflected that. Mirena had spent her time in prayer, as a priest of Telum, asking the god of war and justice to bless them this day. Jaden reconnected with his pact-bound creatures, feeding them with his magic across that intangible divide in return for their services. They were prepared to face the day, and whatever it might hold.

“Catch.”

Jaden barely brought his hands up in time. He looked at a ration of dried meat and fruits, and remembered that it was Rhyce’s time to prepare breakfast. He couldn’t wait until it became Stann’s or Mirena’s turn again. You knew you’d get to eat something warm and hearty with either of them tending the fire.

“Really, Rhyce, again?” Oleander complained as she gnawed on her own breakfast. “This is twice in a row. Make an effort, already!”

“You’re not really in a position to speak, Red,” Stann laughed. He didn’t mind trail food as much as the rest.

“I like jerky,” the archer explained in his laconic fashion. “You cook, you decide. Today was my turn.”

“I will! You’d better prepare your stomach, because I am going to amaze you next time!” Oleander declared.

”Actually, that would be me,” Jaden spoke up, waving a finger in the air. “I stole your next time, remember?”

“Ancestors be praised,” Kellen chuckled over a mouthful of the dried food.

“Don’t you have regular cooking today, too?” Stann asked as he swallowed the last scraps of his breakfast.

“I don’t mind. I enjoy it. If we had some fish, I would make that Etrian dish you lot like, but I’ll think of something appropriate by lunchtime,” Jaden smiled as he spoke. He actually did enjoy cooking. It was one of those things that his changes hadn’t made harder, instead almost the opposite. He could taste things so much clearly, lately. A single bite told him almost the entire recipe of anything he ate, which was why eating Oleander’s food was so terrifying.

“Alas, this deep into the forest any chances of that are gone. Too bad we didn’t think of that while we rode along the coast.” Stann looked sad. He really liked that lemon-basted grilled carp Jaden had made for them while they stayed in Etrana, the Etrian capital.

“I’m sure we’ll find something, don’t worry,” Jaden patted the mourning warrior on the arm, and then turned to roll his bedding up. If they kept a good pace, they would reach the village by late afternoon.

The trees formed a corridor of whispering leaves as they travelled through the Ealbourne Woods that separated the village of Redwall from the rest of the country. It was mostly beech and birch, making a green canopy where they could see far into the forest. A few evergreens showed up here and there, and would become much more common if they went up further north. If you crossed the border into the Northern Lands, the pines and firs would be uncontested.

They passed a couple of timber wagons pulled by several workhorses on their way deeper into Ealbourne. The wood was the primary livelihood of the village, so there were several transports each week leaving Redwall for the coastal road to either the capital in the north, or Tier to the south. The drivers tipped their hats in a friendly fashion, when the group nudged their horses to the side of the road to let the wagons pass more easily. One of the workers rode on top of the stacked pile of logs, playing a flute as the heavy wheels rumbled along the forest road. The tune was slightly familiar to Jaden, but he couldn’t quite place it.

Rhyce had been right about one thing, though. They had travelled most of the day, and they had yet to see many animals. It was somewhat eerie, riding through the forest without many of those sounds you took for granted. Something was missing from the song of the world. Even so, there was still something there. Every mile closer to Redwall brought a feeling upon Jaden. It was faint, so subtle he didn’t notice it at first, but he felt… welcomed.

When the sun had climbed to the peak of the sky, the light streamed down in an almost mesmerising fashion through the green ceiling of the forest. It also told them it was time to settle down for lunch and a rest. Luckily, being a well trafficked road, there were plenty of campsites along the way.

“So, what are you making for us, little brother?” Stann peeked over Jaden’s shoulder as the black-haired Mystic knelt down and began to unpack the pots and pans the group shared.

“Well, without fish or fresh meat, I thought we’d have pancakes. With the fresh fruits we picked up at the Rosehaven market, it should be a nice summer meal,” Jaden said while chasing away a fly from sitting on his pointed ear.

“Breakfast for lunch? What manner of foul sorcery is this?” Kellen called out from his seat. He was joking, of course, but someone who didn’t know him would probably expect an axe to their throat by the tone the rune seeker used.

“The most delicious kind, of course!” Oleander bumped the huge Northman’s arm with a fist. She would probably have to tiptoe to reach his head.

“Though, speaking of fish,” Kellen continued, ignoring the small redhead. “Did I ever tell you about the time when I hooked this enormous silver pike at Breakstone Lake near Agerhon?”

A storyteller at heart, with as many fishing tales as there were hairs to his beard, he began to spin the great adventure of his trials against this crafty old pike. Jaden tried to tune it out as best as he could while mixing the ingredients together. Working with his hands left him with his thoughts, though, but he didn’t mind it as much this time. Cooking was strangely calming for him. His magic was all destructive in different ways, fire or weakening, or even more fire. This was his way of creating something for a change. It made his friends happy, and that in turn made him feel good.

While the men stood by the fire, Oleander plopped down next to the brunette knight. Mirena had her hair unbound, as she often did when not wearing her steel. The braid was as much a part of her armour as the shield or breastplate.

"Say, Rena? Do you think I would look nice with long hair?" The redhead ran a couple of fingers through her pixie cut hair, kept short because of her lifestyle. Her eyes didn’t leave the young man by the cooking fire.

"Don't you always say it'd get into your eyes when you jump around? I mean, you’re usually more… mobile than me, when there is trouble." Mirena stopped combing her hair for a moment, looking at her friend.

"Well, I could just braid it like you do, right?" Oleander imagined a long red tail flying behind her when she vaulted a faceless opponent. It could look good, she guessed.

"Of course. What brought this idea on, though? I've never heard you talking about growing your hair out before?" Mirena resumed her combing, since they were talking about hair anyway.

Oleander looked a little pensive, and glanced to the side where the others were busying themselves around the fire. Kellen was talking loudly about some fish, and had captured the men's attention.

"No reason. Just entertaining the idea about a change, that's all."

Mirena followed Oleander's sidelong glance, and kept her face smooth when she saw the boys holding their hands out at ever bigger distances. Jaden appeared to be rolling his eyes and tried to shoo them away from crowding him as he worked on their food. There was a small stack of pancakes grew as the Mystic flipped another one from the skillet with a wooden spatula. He looked quite natural doing it.

"Change can be good, as long as it is for the right reason." She looked back at Oleander meaningfully.

"What do you mean by that?" The other woman looked a little guarded, letting her hand drop from her hair.

Mirena opened her mouth to calm her friend's worries, when Kellen raised his voice.

"That can't be true. A leviathan like that would snap an ordinary fishing line, or rip a net!" The rune seeker sounded incredulous, and a little accusatory. He took his fishing a little more seriously than he should.

"I fish with the spear." Rhyce calmly explained, and pointed at the bracelet at his wrist. "I made this from its teeth."

"Those are some pretty big teeth for coming from a fish" Stann sounded impressed.

Kellen inspected the bracelet with an increasingly dark expression, then turned to the pot of batter and stirred with more strength than was necessary. Jaden tried to ask him to stop, but the Northman would have none of it.

"We'd better join the others. Our lunch appears to be ready soon." Mirena rose to her feet, and smoothened out the folds of her travelling clothes.

They had seen the shapes of houses between the trees for the last mile or so, as they got ever closer to the village. Many of the trees looked older, though, which was a little strange. Wouldn’t the woodsmen cut the largest and closest trees first? The sun had begun to dip down from its seat at the throne of the sky for a while now, but it would be hours yet before the horizon claimed it, and they would have long since arrived at Redwall.

“Why do they call it that, Kellen? You’re the historian here,” Jaden looked over at the fellow magician.

“As with many things Albander, us Northmen are to blame for it,” Kellen started to explain. “During the third war, before imperial occupation, our warriors had fought their way down to about this area. This was before the north border keeps were built, of course. The village here, named Ealbourne at the time, became an important strategic outpost for the Alband army. They used the forest paths to quickly move their forces around the North’s warriors. It was quite clever, until Brinal Nighthammer, the Shaman advisor to our war chieftain, divined the location of the village.”

Kellen gestured with his large hands across the forest.

“We’re riding across a battlefield. The warriors of the North clashed with the army of Alband right here. Neither had expected such a large force from the other side, Alband moving one of their main bodies at the same time our war chieftain sent a large portion of our invasion group here. The fighting went on for days, but the Albander had the advantage of knowing the land, and with our Shamans too far from our home soil we lost. It’s called Redwall, because the walls ran red.”

Oleander looked around and shuddered, imagining the fighting and screaming to still echo between the trees. This forest was a great graveyard as well.

“It’s an honorific. Alband was proud of its victory here. This village turned the tide of the war, becoming a symbol for the wall it had become against the red warriors from the North,” Mirena was a military historian too, but she had of course heard another version of the event. “The myth about blood-stained walls was probably just an exaggeration to turn a prolonged skirmish into a legendary battle.”

“Still, the village changed its name?” Jaden asked, as they approached the last stretch of the road as it led up to their destination.

“Probably just because ‘Ealbourne’ sounds a lot like ‘Alband’, and the king didn’t want the confusion when the country regained its sovereignty after the empire retreated back south,” Mirena didn’t quite share as romantic a view of history as the cousins. “It’s a relatively recent change.”

“I don’t know… I think I like Kellen’s version more,” Oleander decided, and popped another raisin into her mouth.

“You can’t just pick your history, Ollie. There’s what really happened, and there’s myth,” Jaden pointed out.

“Yeah? Then, please, tell me what really happened?” The redhead fluttered her eyelashes at the Mystic.

“Uh… I don’t… Dragons did it, okay?” He really didn’t know. While he had been taught some of the history of the countries, as was any child receiving tutelage these days, he was more interested in the current state of affairs than anything that was long since gone or half-forgotten.

“That sounds even better!” Oleander agreed.

The village of Redwall, no matter how it came by its name, appeared fully out of the forest as the trees gave way into a clear area. Many of the solidly built wooden houses stood only a single floor tall, and several roofs were thatched, but they could see signs of more than one house replacing its old roof with new tiles. As they rode along the main street, Jaden noticed a couple of men in the process of building a new section to one of the houses. One of them stopped to wipe his brow, and waved as the newcomers passed his home. The village seemed to be doing rather well, by the looks of it.

But there was something in the very air. Jaden couldn’t quite place it; an aroma, maybe, or a fleeting sensation. It made him remember places he had never been to before, somewhere there was a river in the sky and the stars sang. It called to him, and he could feel something inside respond.

“Let’s find the Prelate’s brother first, shall we?” Mirena dismounted with practiced ease, and led her horse up to a man pushing a wheelbarrow’s worth of tiles toward the house they had passed earlier. While she exchanged words with the locals, the rest of the group sat down from their own horses one by one. Jaden was especially happy to be out of the saddle. It wasn’t as comfortable on his behind lately, and he didn’t want to think of why.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” Rhyce gave Jaden a sideways look.

“I’m not sure what I feel, honestly,” the Mystic replied truthfully. He made an effort to silence the strange call, and it drew back into a muted whisper. Jaden hoped that he was sensitive, and not insane. Some days it was hard to tell. “There’s something though.”

“What are you two muttering about? “ Oleander wondered, stretching her back from having slouched in the saddle for most of the day. She had the posture of a lazy cat, sometimes.

“Beards, Ollie. We’re talking about beards and other manly things,” Jaden passed back, for no other reason that his wry amusement. It had been a while since they had bickered about something, after all. In fact, the redhead had been remarkably nice to him for the last day or so, and that worried him.

“What? Fine, okay. Don’t tell me,” she turned around and stared at the village instead.

When Jaden turned back, he noticed the how the archer was looking at his face a little too intently. A pair of crows sitting on a nearby roof fluttered their wings.

"Do I have something on my face?" Jaden reached for a handkerchief to brush off whatever smudge must've found its way there. Riding during the summer was always a dusty proposition, but in rainy Alband dust turned to mud.

"When was the last time you shaved?" Rhyce asked, his eyes inspecting the smooth face of his friend.

"Yesterday?" The Mystic lied. "Why, did I miss a spot?"

"No, you look very clean. Maybe I’ll ask you to be my barber sometime.” With that, the archer joined the other men closer to the village square.

“What was that all about?” Jaden mused, as he followed along.

Mirena had returned by then, with directions on how to find the relatives of the Kuros priest. Apparently, they lived just off the main street in a small, but comfortable house. The brother of the Prelate had not shared Matrick’s strong faith and worked in the village as a tutor to the children. There were even plans to devote a separate building as a school, instead of just having them stay in whatever home was available during the day.

They found the house easy enough, Redwall not being a particularly large village, and Stann strode up to knock on the door. They could hear the sound of several young voices talking inside, and before the Northman’s fist reached the door it opened to let out a number of children of every age between five and ten. They bunched up in the doorway and stared at the warrior towering above them, who was clad in his chain mail ever since setting foot in the forest.

“Uh… hi?” Stann said, and glanced at his friends for help. The youngest girl looked like she was about to start crying.

“Hey, who want sweets and a story?” Oleander clapped her hands together, stealing the attention away from him. The response was predictably loud.

“So, my brother sent you here?” Samul asked, as he poured the tea for his guests. It was about the only thing his wife trusted him to prepare in the kitchen, but since she wasn’t due back home from her work as the tavern’s cook until sundown, he had to make do.

“Yes. We have worked with him previously, and when he asked us to look into matters here, we could hardly refuse him,” Mirena said, and mouthed a thank you as she took her cup.

“Or accept any compensation,” Kellen mumbled into his own tea, unheard by most, and then raised his voice. “I must say, there seems to be quite a lot of activity going on in the village?”

“Oh yes. Ever since the new baron took this land some five years ago, they’ve been spending very generously to improve life around here. That went a long way to garner the goodwill of the people of Redwall, let me tell you,” Samul nodded a few times.

“I heard talk about a proper school, too. Was that the baron’s initiative as well?” Mirena asked, making smalltalk.

“Ah, well… that’s a yes and no case. I had brought up the idea to the old baron, but that old codger was more interested in spending his time anywhere else than here. After Baron Tassard took over some of the people here began to ask for things, like repairing the road to make the wagons run safer, or helping out with equipment to dig new wells.” Samul sat down after handing out the final cup to Jaden. “And, well, the baron agreed to all of it. Said that to make Redwall into a prosperous community, he would have to spend a little out of his own coffers. He wasn’t wrong.”

“All the things we saw around here are out of the baron’s own purse?” Mirena sounded surprised. That was not how she was used to nobles acting.

“Oh, no. The baron focused mainly on making sure the logging business got what it needed. It all sort of sprung from there. More timber and quicker deliveries meant more money to the village, and to each working family. People could suddenly afford things.” The teacher finally sat down. “But the baron has been part of several other local projects as well. Which is how word about the school eventually reached him, and he claimed it was a marvellous idea to ensure the future success of Redwall.”

“That sounds… like a very generous man,” Mirena still couldn’t keep all the doubt out of her voice. “But, please tell me of what your brother said when he visited you a while back.”

“Mat was always the more, ah, spiritual of the two of us. Unsurprising, since he eventually went and became a priest of the Five Temples. I suppose the village has changed a bit. Things have gone, uhm, almost a little too well. But a few months ago, some people started to complain about headaches, bad dreams, things like that. It has mostly passed now, of course, but it was a strange thing when it happened.”

“Mostly passed?” Kellen observed, looking a little strange sitting in a chair made for a smaller person. The living room had a number of mismatched chairs, where the children sat during class earlier.

“There were one or two who persisted. Old Nias simply ran into the woods one night, trying to… I don’t know, get away from his own dreams. We never saw him again. He was always a little, let’s say, troubled — but we will miss him, still,” Samul hurriedly added.

“And the other?” Mirena listened intently.

“Lyrissa? She’s a magician. Well, almost. We don’t talk about it, but she failed her apprenticeship to a Sorcerer in Farcrest. That was before I moved here nine or so years ago, but to this day she’s still rather… she doesn’t go out much,” Samul made a helpless gesture with a hand.

“Can we speak with her? It might be important,” Kellen asked, and looked at the rest of his friends. Magicians, failed or not, were more sensitive to the world than other people.

“That’s for her to decide. I can take you to her cottage once Romi gets home; I don’t want to leave the girls by themselves.” He looked out through the window, where Oleander sat on the lawn with his entire class, including his own children. She held them spellbound with some sort of adventure, waving her arms around as she talked. Was that explosions she was pantomiming?

“Thank you. Kellen and I will accompany you. No need to scare the poor woman with our entire entourage,” Mirena decided. “The rest of you? Group up and see what you can find out before nightfall.”

“What do you say, little brother? Shall we unearth the secrets of Redwall together?” Stann leaned forward to slap Jaden on his back, but the Mystic scooted out of the way. Stann remained stretched out for an awkward moment, before turning it into standing up. He looked a little hurt, though.

“Sure. We can swing by the inn, or tavern… uh, Cup-something?” Jaden tried to remember. He had been a little distracted at the time. He still was, to be honest. “We might as well sort out our sleeping arrangements while we’re snooping around anyway.”

The door opened, allowing an older teenager inside. He had the tanned skin of someone who worked outside during the day, and his brown hair had grown paler by the sun.

“Da? I saw a stranger outside,” the youth checked into the living room and stopped when he saw a whole group of other people.

“Oh, good timing Emmet! Let me introduce you to some people,” Samul gestured at the others. “This is my son, Emmet. He can help show some of you around if you want. Emmet, this is Mirena, a knight of the Temple, Stann and Kellen from the North, Rhyce of… uh… the hunter, and Jaden the elf.”

“I’m not a-“

“Pleased to meet you, Emmet. I’m sure your help will prove invaluable. Would you please show Stann and Jaden here around?” Mirena stepped forward to take the blushing teenager’s hand.

“Well, that’s decided, then.” Stann grabbed Samul’s son by the shoulder with his arm, and steered them out the door. “Tell me, have you ever had any elven maids at your inn, here?”

“I’ll… keep him on track, Rena. You go see what you can get out of that hermit woman.” Jaden hurried after the warrior and his new captive audience. Hopefully they’d get something done before nightfall.

Rhyce didn’t look out of the window. Children just reminded him of what he had lost. By now, Oleander’s story had reached its end, and the parents who had come here wondering why their sons and daughters were still not home from their daily class could finally pry the small ones away from the Olman redhead.

When the teacher left, leading Mirena and Kellen to see the reclusive, failed magician, Rhyce stepped out as well. The sun was noticeably lower now, but they still had plenty of time before the evening would catch up with them.

“You and me, eh?” Oleander looked up from her spot on the lawn where she had been waiting for him. “Team sneaky skulks again!”

“I thought you and Jay was the sneaky team?” Rhyce asked, looking around the outskirts of the village. The crows were circling the currents of the wind high above, but dark clouds had grouped at the edge of the forest

“He complains too much. I bet that if it had been you down in that cult cellar with me, you would’ve told me not to grab the skull,” she joked. A flash of the dreams came back suddenly, but faded with a shake of her head.

“I would’ve told you to use a bag.” Rhyce offered her a hand up, and together they left to see what they could find out.

The oldest son of the village’s teacher led Stann and Jaden on a stroll through the few streets. He told them that all in all, there were probably just around five hundred people living here, with most attached to the timber trade in some way.

“It was much worse before the new baron got here. Redwall was pretty poor. Sure, they sold their timber to the surrounding towns, but Baron Tassard has business contacts in the capital and even in other countries. I hear some of the wood we cut here end up as far as Marsantias, or even Gion. That’s made a huge change for everyone here.” Emmet ducked under a low branch on a fruit tree growing near a house. Many of the homes here had their own little gardens, since there was no plot of land cleared for farming here in the deep forest.

“This baron of yours sure made a lot of changes. It’s only been - what did your dad say, five years?” Stann waited for Jaden to follow first, but stopped to rub his eyes. He thought he had seen that branch pass right through Jaden’s hat. He must be tired from their long ride.

“Yeah, he’s been busy. Dad and I had only been here for a couple of years when the Tassards picked up the barony, and it’s mostly been good things ever since,” Emmet waited for the guests to catch up as they took a shortcut behind some houses. He was leading them back to the tavern now. Showing them the village hadn’t taken very long, since it wasn’t very big.

“What about that thing with the nightmares a while back?” Jaden tried to gauge the young man’s reaction when he asked that.

“That was pretty scary. It had been… I don’t know, building? Like a storm brewing out to the sea? Then suddenly one night, a lot of people had these horrible dreams. My little sisters cried all night. It went on like that for almost a week, before people began to feel better.” Emmet’s eyes still remembered that night. It would stay with him forever.

“But not all, right?” Jaden pushed.

“Nah, there were still a couple who just didn’t come out right after that. Old Jitters… I mean, old man Nias, he just upped and left one night.”

“Did anyone see him leave?” Stann asked, now walking side by side with the other two as they got out on the street next to the tavern.

“Eh? Surely someone did, right? But I always heard it from someone else, who knew a person who had seen him run off into the woods.” Emmet shrugged. There was no other explanation than that, to him. He held open the door to the Woodsman’s Cup, a squat building that served many purposes in the small village.

“You’re probably right. Now, let’s see if your proprietor here can house the lot of us tonight,” Jaden said and waved at the woman in apron lecturing a greying villager about not grabbing her serving maids.

“Beryl? You’ve got guests!” Emmet shouted to the middle-aged woman, who looked up from berating her patron. It was a bit noisy in the tavern this time of the day when all the workers were back from the logging camp. The talk died down as Stann and Jaden entered, though, causing Emmet’s voice to be louder than intended. The youth looked a little red in the face, but to his credit made the introductions with more grace than most would have.

“We’ll see about getting all of you a bed, don’t you worry boys,” the keeper, Beryl, said with grandmotherly affection, and sent one of her girls to get fresh linens. While they didn’t get many visitors to Redwall, their tavern still kept a couple of rooms for guests.

“Tell me more about the baron, Emmet,” Jaden said as they sat down at the only empty table left, closest to the door.

“Don’t know what else there is to say. He brought his wife and two children here with him. Younger boy, about ten I guess. I don’t see him very often. He’s pretty shy and keeps to their manor. Then there’s Callandra…” Emmet grew a bit dreamy-eyed.

“Let me guess: she’s around your age?” Stann asked with a grin.

The boy was about to answer, when the door opened again. Turning around and expecting to see some of their friends, Stann and Jaden instead met a well-dressed man in house colours. He looked cleaner than any of the men in the tavern, and carried a carefully folded letter in a gloved hand.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Are you associated with the recently arrived party?” He spoke with the clipped accent of someone who grew up in the court of nobles. He spoke like he didn’t have any feelings either way about the matter.

“Who’s asking?” Stann demanded brusquely.

“Stann, please, this is clearly an envoy of the baron’s,” Jaden tried to smooth things over. “Yes, we’re they. Can I take your message?”

“Certainly, sir. I will await your response.” With that, the servant handed the letter to the Mystic, and then stepped back a discreet distance to let them read it in peace.

“What does it say?” Stann asked after a little while.

“The baron asks us to join him for supper. Looks like we’ve been extended an official invitation,” Jaden waved the letter a little. Mirena was probably dying for an excuse to dress up. He turned to the servant, who immediately stepped forward. For a moment, something passed across the boundary of his awareness. “Please tell the baron that we graciously accept, and will be there as soon as we’re presentable.”

“Very good, sir,” the servant bowed correctly, and then left as suddenly as he had arrived. Jaden couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something about that man. But what he couldn’t avoid, he could ignore. Nothing good ever came from listening to his instincts.

The door closed in Kellen’s face as soon as they had left the cottage slightly outside the rest of the village. The talk with the failed apprentice Lyrissa had been short, but strained. When the reclusive woman learned that both her visitors aside from Samul were magicians she withdrew even further, as if their presence had reopened old wounds. She only answered their questions with terse, bitter comments, making even the compassionate and patient Mirena eager to leave. They were clearly neither wanted, nor welcome.

“I apologise for her behaviour. I know she’s had a rough life, but she was downright rude with you two,” the teacher said as they took the short path back into the village proper.

“That’s quite alright. She wasn’t angry with us in particular, rather with all magicians, whatever tradition they may follow.” Kellen had heard of masters sending their pupils away before their training was complete, for various reasons. He could only imagine what that would do to a person. The broken woman had his deepest sympathies.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Samul? Your son Emmet is much older than your two girls who were in your class earlier,” Mirena couldn’t help but ask.

“Ah, yes. Emmet’s my son from my previous marriage. We lost his mother to the white fever when he was young. I eventually met Romi at a market day in Rosehaven, and, well, one thing led to another. She has been nothing but accepting of Em, and considers him as much her child as the girls. I thought he’d take moving to a remote village like Redwall hard, but he’s been doing well, I think.”

“You have my condolences on your loss, Samul,” Mirena looked sad. The fever had claimed many people ten years ago, even one or two of her own relatives.

“Emmet is old enough to apprentice to someone, isn’t he?” Kellen wondered aloud. The boy had to be fifteen or sixteen.

“Time sure runs quickly,” Samul laughed. “Yes. During the great harvest market in Rosehaven, there will be plenty of opportunity for him to meet with different craftsmen and see where he belongs. He’s even been thinking about joining the Temple with his uncle.”

“Is he a potential magician?” The rune seeker hadn’t even considered that.

“No. Well, at least we don’t think so. But the temple can always use people who are willing to work hard,” Samul glanced at Mirena as if seeking confirmation.

“The Five Temples don’t turn faithful away. If his future lies with gods, they will accept him with open arms,” the knight reassured the worried father. “Changing the subject, is the baron of the Farcrest Tassards, or the Oakborough Tassards?”

“I have to admit I don’t know, milady. All I’ve heard is that they garnered the favour of King Ambermane somehow, and was awarded this barony. Does it matter?” Samul wondered. While a teacher, there were many things he didn’t know. Politics was one of those things.

“Perhaps. I met with the Oakborough Tassards at an event in Tier many years ago. They were quite full of themselves, and avoided talking with my father since he was just a ‘lowly merchant’.” Mirena grimaced a little. She had mixed experiences with nobles.

“That doesn’t sound like Baron Tassard at all. He has always been very close to the people, not to mention his many contacts in the logging businesses around the world.”

They talked more as they made their way to the Woodsman’s Cup, hoping that the tavern would be able to provide them with food and room for the night. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, which was not out of the ordinary in Alband during the summer. Dark clouds had blown in from the ocean, promising an evening of wind and rain.

Mirena lingered at the threshold to the tavern for a moment, letting her eyes rise above the rooftops. It had there ever since they stepped into the village. She couldn’t put a good word to it: a gap, or a divide. When she looked up, she could see no heaven in that sky.

Oleander had emptied her pack on the bed, and stood looking at the mess. Clothes, knives, and useful things were in a disorganised heap. This was her kind of order.

“Oh, is that my old lucky marble? I thought I had lost it when we had to abandon our camp back at the Khuul barrows.” The redhead remembered their frantic scrambling to get away when the tomb children had awoken.

“Oh dear. Oleander, really, you need to lay out your clothes to avoid all these wrinkles,” Mirena chided the other woman. It was bad enough that Oleander barely had anything appropriate for an upper class supper like the one they would attend shortly, but many of her garments were just rolled up and shoved into her bags. “Maybe we can ask the keeper if we can borrow an iron for a little while.”

“Can’t you just make your sword glow like usual, and we can use it instead?” The shorter woman held up a nice tunic, and brushed some lint off it. She liked this one. She had worn it a few times during slow days between their expeditions. Also, Jay had mentioned once how it looked good on her.

“We do not use the symbol of Telum, the Sword of Heaven, to iron our clothes, Oleander,” Mirena explained patiently, and held up one of her spare skirts. She only used these while travelling, since gowns was a little too restrictive on the road, but it was leagues better than the leggings and tights Oleander had. That women didn’t seem to own a single feminine garb. “If we roll up the waist on this, it should work wonderfully. Put that tunic away, and see if we can do something about the jasmine blouse at the bottom there.”

“Mi-re-naaa,” Oleander groaned. “I don’t like skirts. And, what are you talking about? I don’t have any flower-blouses.”

“The yellow shirt, dear. The one right below that shoe. Is that the only shoe? I don’t see the second,” Mirena stepped over to the other bed and carefully poked the pile with a finger.

“Hmm. I think I used the other shoe to knock out a lantern back in Carrick Field,” she held up the suggested shirt, or blouse apparently. It looked clean enough.

“Then why won’t you get rid of this one? There’s no sense in carrying around a single shoe, Oleander?” The knight started to look a little exasperated, and shook the skirt at her friend, prompting her to put it on.

“Maybe we need to knock out another lantern with a well-aimed shoe-toss?” It seemed reasonable in the redheads mind.

The knock on the door prevented Mirena from replying with words she would probably regret a little bit. The men were probably already finished with their preparations, and were waiting for them.

“Are you about done in there?” Stann’s voice carried through the thin door. “There’s a carriage waiting for us outside, and the driver’s starting to look a little thin-lipped.”

“We’ll be done in a moment, Stann. We’re just about done.” Mirena looked down at herself, still only dressed in shift and petticoat. Her favourite nightbloom blue gown was laid out on her bed.

Oleander reluctantly stepped into the borrowed skirt and did up her blouse. She supposed a middleclass woman would wear a corset with this, but she had never been endowed enough to miss not having one. Also, corsets made it too hard to bend over enough to backflip properly.

“I look ridiculous,” the redhead concluded, looking at the almost-dressed knight with her sad, grey eyes.

“Wow, Ollie! You look great!” Jaden definitely looked surprised when the two women finally showed up. Mirena looked every bit the daughter of a wealthy merchant house as usual, fit for any nobility, but since meeting Oleander over a year ago, he had only seen her in skirts a handful of times. Jaden, of course, had simply changed the mirage surrounding him into finer apparel.

“Really?” The Olman woman looked a bit less tense, even a little happy, and a hand went up to touch her pixie-like hair.

“Enough of that, now,” Kellen interjected, straightening his own finery. He had grumbled a bit, but unearthed the ceremonial robe of a rune seeker. He liked those as much as Oleander liked skirts, but he was more willing to comply with formality when it was required. “Where is Rhyce, by the way?”

When the archer and the redhead had returned from their own spying, they had confirmed what the others had learned. Also, none of those they had talked with had actually seen old Nias run away. Some had heard his scream, though. He had just disappeared one night a month ago.

“Oh, you know him. He doesn’t like these sorts of things. He said he would snoop around a little more while we were wined and dined at the local lord’s,” Stann said, shrugging a little. He was wearing his usual clothes, but had replaced his sword with a heavy dagger instead. That was as much dressing up as he was prepared to do.

“Wait, I didn’t know this fancy event was optional?” Oleander exclaimed, forgetting how pleased Jay’s reaction made her.

“It’s not. Rhyce just didn’t want to. You know how it is.” Jaden couldn’t help but turn her own words back at her, even after all this time. She looked adorable sticking her tongue out while dressed like a girl for once.

“Well, let’s not keep our host waiting, shall we?” Kellen led the way out of the tavern.

The driver had patiently waited for them, and now held the door to the carriage while they entered it in order. It was a coach with a full roof, and large enough to seat six people comfortably. Stann and Kellen took one bench, with very little room to spare. Jaden and the women sat opposite, with the Mystic trying to squeeze up against the side as much as he could to avoid any contact. He was only an unfortunate bump away from discovery, after all. Holding his arms together like that made his chest bulge more than he expected, though, but the illusion would cover him.

Jaden mentally reviewed his resources at the moment. After half a week of quiet time, both of his pacts were more than paid back and were even growing fat on the excess magic. His own magic strength had grown slightly over the last couple of years, as was common with any magician. It was like a warrior building muscle through training with their swords, or a dancer growing ever limber through their practice. He imagined he would be able to sustain another contract, maybe two, if he had the opportunity to find an appropriate creature. Thinking back on the painful night after their fight against the Sons of Husk nethermancer, he was really interested in something that would grant him a defensive power. Jaden began to understand his father’s words better now. Attacking alone wasn’t enough, if you couldn’t defend yourself. A sword was weak without its shield.

Garda’s fires, he thought. At this point he’d take a shellcat if that was all he could get.

“Jaden? Are you coming?” Mirena asked from outside the carriage. They had arrived while he was lost in his thoughts.

“Of course! Sorry, Rena. I was a little preoccupied.” He looked up as he exited the carriage, letting his eyes roam across the huge manor. He could see where all the coin had gone, during the previous baron’s rule. While mostly wood, there entire first floor had stone walls, and the sprawling building has two excessive wings in a horseshoe shape from the main section. It looked incredibly gaudy and out of place near a rustic village such as Redwall. The sky looked darker than before, and the wind had picked up. There would be rain soon, he could tell.

“Now this is a house!” Oleander put her hands on her hips and nodded. They must be really rich, living in a place like this. Lots of unattended shinies, she thought.

“If it pleases the party to follow me,” the manservant who waited for them by the large double doors gestured inside the manor. Once everyone had exited the carriage, it drove around to the two wagon-houses behind one of the wings.

“It pleases me indeed!” She whispered to Kellen, who was closest.

“Shush, little fox. Try not to cause any trouble tonight,” the large Northman replied in a soft, rumbling voice.

Jaden walked behind the rest. He wasn’t taken aback by the comparatively opulent manor, nothing would challenge the splendour of Talraman in his heart after all, but that strange sensation had returned. The beckoning.

The manservant ushered them through the welcoming hall, and to the right. They passed several rooms that seemed dedicated to music or different arts, showing that the Tassards had more rooms than they knew what to do with. Decorations were at times sparse, but befitting of a nobleman’s manor.

“Here we are, sirs and madams,” their escort gestured at a long dinner table set in the middle of a large hall intended to impress visitors. Paintings lined the walls, as well as rich tapestries and other works of art. “Baron Ariken Tassard, lord of Redwall and the Ealbourne Forest.”

The baron wore a large, easy smile that put small wrinkles near his eyes. He was closer to Jaden’s former height, and kept his brown hair short enough to draw attention away from a reclining hairline. He wore a rather understated green velvet jacket with his outfit, perhaps as to make his wife seem more beautiful by contrast.

“Welcome, welcome!” The baron extended his arms in greeting. “Once I heard that we had visitors in our part of the woods, I knew I had to offer the finest hospitality of Redwall. Please, let me introduce my wife, Juliss, and our daughter Callandra, and my son Kalen.”

The baroness must’ve been an absolutely stunning woman in her youth, and that had only grown into a mature beauty that her daughter had clearly inherited. Both Juliss and Callandra had lighter hair, almost blonde, done up in an elaborate fashion that would’ve been the envy of the royal court. Kalen sat in his chair and stared at his empty plate, without acknowledging the guests. He had more of his father’s looks, from what they could tell.

Mirena gave a knightly bow to each member, prompting the Northmen to nod a little in recognition. Oleander had no experience with courtly etiquette, but did a good job at a curtsy after catching Mirena’s eye. Jaden didn’t know what to do, since Lacunai culture assumed a hierarchy based on spiritual and magical power and he was sure he outranked the Tassards in that respect. He settled for a slight bow, too, arms crossed over his chest. He regretted that almost immediately as he felt the softness shift against the hidden silk.

“I am Mirena Kaladon, paladin of Telum,” she introduced herself, causing the baron to exchange a look with his wife.

“Kaladon, you say? I believe we may have had business with a Marius Kaladon of Tier in the past. Are you related?” The baron asked with obvious curiosity.

“My father, my lord,” Mirena hid her displeasure at being associated with the man.

“Interesting. Go on, please,” Baron Tassard gestured at the rest of his guests.

“Stann Winterheart of Strom, this is my cousin Kellen,” the younger cousin spoke for both of them this time.

“Winterheart? As in Olev Winterheart’s clan? My, the company is starting to become rather distinguished, Ariken!” Juliss told her husband, clearly aware of the affairs of other states.

“Indeed it is, my heart.” They looked more pleased, knowing they had proper guests instead of random travellers. “And, who is this young woman?”

“Oleander Lockless of the Radent Lockless, and this is my elven spellguard Jaden,” she said with slight boredom and pointed a finger at her friend, who was starting to turn towards her with annoyance.

“Charmed, I’m sure,” said the baron while exchanging a blank look with his wife. She imperceptibly shook her head. “Also, impressed to meet one of the famed sorcerer bodyguards of Ral Sona. I had the pleasure of meeting some of your blade sisters while visiting the city last summer, on business.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” Jaden said through gritted teeth. Ollie would pay for this.

“Though, I’m sure I heard that the spellguards were all women?” The baron had a puzzled look on his face.

“It’s a recent development,” Jaden lied smoothly, despite wanting to scream a little. Though, if things were going the way they were, it wouldn’t stay a lie for very long.

“Very well, then. With introductions out of the way, let us show you our home while the supper is being prepared. We didn’t know how many to expect, so there will be a slight delay.”

“That’s quite alright, my lord,” Mirena assured the baron, and walked by his side as they were led away from the dining hall to see the various sights of the manor.

As they were shown the library and the receiving room, Baron Tassard talked about how it had been a wonderful opportunity for his family when the king had offered them this land. It had boiled down to politics, of course. The royal court had been divided on a trade agreement with Sorun, with the King desiring to reopen a caravan route to the neighbouring elven country. Many of the military families opposed the proposition on account of how Sorun had declined to help Alband during the last war with the North, but Tassard had managed to gather enough loyalists to swing the issue in favour of the King. It had, of course, caused some tension back in Farcrest, which was just another incentive to accept the grant of land here.

“At least now I’m on even foot with my older brother Robel, being a landowner at last,” the baron laughed.

“These are some beautiful paintings, Baron,” Kellen commented, looking at the family portraits.

“Yes, we had them made by a renowned artist back in Farcrest. As you can see, little Kalen was only a young child there, not yet five years old,” Baroness Juliss said with a smile.

“He looks very energetic there, as if the painter captured him between two jumps. I noticed that your son seemed a little, ah, subdued now?” Kellen continued. The baron’s son had not followed them on their tour, but instead had remained behind in the dining hall with a servant.

“Oh, he’s just a little ill. A cold, I’m sure. It’s not something we’re worried about.” The baron dismissed the issue. “He’ll be back to his normal self soon enough, certainly.”

Jaden looked at the painting of the girl from six years ago. She looked terribly shy, not even holding her head straight up to the painter, but instead fixing her gaze at something on the floor. It was a jarring contrast from the vibrant young woman who had silently accompanied them on their guided tour of the baron’s home. Callandra hadn’t said a word yet, but continued to smile with an intensity that bordered on devotion. Jaden could see why the teacher’s son would be infatuated with the girl. She was beautiful, and blossoming into a woman that would break many hearts.

When they started to return back to the dining hall, a servant approached them and announced in those clipped words that an appetizer had been served.

The long table had been set with wonderful, painted Marsander porcelain plates, and precious tinted Etrian glassware. They had each been provided with a skilfully displayed set of greens and fish, with just a thin circle of a salad sauce tying the dish together.

“In the spirit of Marsantias cuisine, I felt we should use their traditional eating sticks. They’re imported, of course,” the baron said with pride as they sat down, and servants filled their glasses with water or white wine. The table also held porcelain spoons for those who couldn’t master the trick of eating with the foreign tools.

Aside from Mirena, who had eaten the Marsander way before, the guests eventually resorted to the offered spoons one by one. While they were struggling, the baron’s daughter all but fed her brother using the eating sticks with a practiced hand. Surprisingly, Stann managed to eat half his plate with the sticks before giving up. Bullheadedness would only take you so far, after all.

"You are impressed, yes?" Stann turned to the redhead next to him cheerfully.

"Positively Stanned." The rest of the group groaned, though Callandra giggled amicably.

"It's always too early for puns like that, Ollie!" Jaden told her in no uncertain terms.

When the servants stepped forward to remove their plates, Mirena took the opportunity to ask the baron’s leave to go freshen up. Jaden had inadvertently splashed a drop of sauce on her dress when his fingers slipped, and she wanted to dab it off before it stained her favourite gown.

A manservant, possibly the same who had escorted them through the manor the first time, showed up to lead her to the washroom. Ever since entering the manor, she’d had a nagging feeling that something was strange, but she filed it away for later so she could focus on keeping her friends in line. They were brutes, but they were her brutes.

While saving her gown, she looked around the washroom. She missed not having a mirror to see herself better. In fact, when she thought about it, she had not seen a single mirror since coming here, not once during their tour of the manor. That was strange. The tavern keeper, Beryl, said she had received a grand mirror as a gift on her birthday a month ago from the baron. She finished up, and returned to the supper feeling that something was a little off.

The archer’s boots made no sound as he circled the lit windows. He was certain he had found the source of the dissonance in the wind, the wrongness he had felt ever since stepping into the Ealbourne. The breeze was picking up, and the first drops had begun to break free from the dark clouds that covered the setting sun. Another person might have had trouble seeing in the poor light, but Rhyce was not hindered by darkness. The rustling of wings told him his other friends had arrived.

“It’s in here. I’m sure of it,” he spoke to the black eyes peering down from the tree.

He would need to get closer, though. The trees provided cover, but the distance to the house was too far, and too open. He chose to circle the building instead, to approach it from another direction. There were fewer windows facing the deep forest to the north.

He had his bow ready when he carefully made his way along the trees; senses open to every motion and every noise. The world told him that his instincts had been right. A dry twig snapped behind him.

Powerful arms grabbed him, too strong to be normal, and wordlessly trapped his own arms close to his body. He couldn’t even reach his knife. An impassive face, frozen like a doll-like mask stepped in front of him, and the last thing he saw was the back of an axe thud into the side of his head before everything exploded into darkness.

Rhyce didn’t feel a thing as the two figures dragged his body into a shed behind the building. He didn’t feel it when they chained him to the wall, and he didn’t feel it when they snapped the manacles shut.

Several black birds landed on the roof of the shed, and as one they let out a squawking call.

Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright © 2013 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

Events in Redwall comes to a close when the source of the strange sensations come to light. Jaden tells himself something he needs to hear.

Flashback: Jaden understands that his future among the Lacunai won't be what he wants.

---

Chapter 13: Embracing Change

JADEN

It was warm inside, a stark contrast to the chill surrounding the fortress. The winters held the mountains in the grip of a jealous lover, but the Lacunai wouldn’t want it any other way. It only served to harden them against the threats from the outside world. The fireplace burned brightly and outlined the silhouette of the man standing before it. This was his study, but the heavy desk stood almost bare; anything important would be said to the face, not in a letter.

He stood slightly above the average height of men, and carried himself with an air of a person who was supremely confident in their own abilities; confidence brought on by many hard-won victories, and lessons learned through defeat. The dark burgundy coat was of the finest velvet, made for him specifically by a Kasman tailor many years ago. It fit him perfectly to this day, as he would allow nothing less. Long, black hair fell freely to his shoulders, parted where a pair of curved horns rose from his brow. Along the hairline were also a number of dull, almost black scales where his draconic signs showed most clearly. Garen of the Iron Scales was one of the strongest Mystics of his generation, a trait he had dreamed of passing down to both his children. Recently, he had received word that this would not be so. He would have to put all his faith in his oldest child, since she at least had managed to remember her family’s iron-clad axiom.

Garen looked up at the banner above the fireplace. The seal of the Tarasov family, three black claws on a golden field, and the words spoken by their patriarch and immortalised here: Strength in all things. Strength above all things. He would be strong. For his family, for the mountain, he would be strong.

“Father, you called for me?” The chill from outside the chamber, more so than the voice, announced the arrival of his youngest.

“Jaden. Good. Attend to me,” the dragon-marked Mystic turned from the banner and beheld his son. Though similar in height, the older man was built much more powerfully, signs of both his inner spirit, and a lifetime of fighting. They shared the black hair, but aside from that both his children took after their mother’s features.

The younger Tarasov joined his father by the fireplace, and remained silent. They would have to address what had happened a week ago. It was not a talk either of them was looking forward to, but it had to be done.

“What do you see, when you look upon our banner, son?” Garen asked aloud, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“Strength and honour,” Jaden immediately replied. It was the only answer, after all. All of his family knew this simple truth.

“Yes. Strength. Honour. The two pillars that have carried the Tarasovs through centuries when others have fallen.” His father took a breath to centre himself. He could feel the red heat roil inside him.

“Father, I-“

“So, why did you decide to throw away both at once?!” Garen roared, knocking over the nearby desk with an angry swing of an arm. It was a heavy oaken writing table, but that mattered little. The dragon’s power flowed through him even in human form.

“I-“

“You had prepared for that moment your entire life. You were to seek out strength,” Garen pointed at the banner with a finger where the dark nail was almost a claw. “Be a Tarasov! But what do you bring back with you?”

It wasn’t a question. Jaden looked at the floor in shame, and swallowed. He had brought disgrace upon his family. Once bonded with a spirit, the Mystic’s path in life was set in stone, just as Talraman was set in the mountain.

“A whore of the Myriad Nether? Unbelievable!” His father took several calming breaths, reining in his briefly lost temper, the fury of a dragon. “I would have had no objection to any other demon. There are many strong dwellers in that abyss. But you… you picked the weakest of them all.”

“Father, no! She picked me! I didn’t even know what was happening until-“ Jaden tried to explain. He hadn’t even seen it coming. Even after all the preparation, he had been blind.

“Enough! Just… enough. There is no place for you among the protectors of the mountain. Not like this. I had such great hopes for you, Jaden. You truly applied yourself in the art of combat. Your weapons trainer was pleased with your skill with the blade. Master Viskeri spoke highly of your progress in the magic craft, as well.”

“I can still fight, Father. She… My spirit, it has powerful fire magic,” Jaden said. The fire might even be as strong as his father’s, he thought. He had dreamt of fire every night since that fateful day; rivers of burning voices.

“Think, Jaden. I taught you better than that. So if you bring fire upon our enemies, what will happen then? You will make yourself a target. How will you survive the retaliatory strike? Will your scales deflect the arrows? Will your body shrug off the lightning?” Garen crossed his arms. No, his son was no dragon, no basilisk. That weakness would be his undoing in any battlefield.

“I can still… There must be something I could do?” Jaden could fight smarter. He was quick in the other form, light and fast on the wind with his wings.

“There is.” His father stared into the fire. This was the part he hated. This was where he had to sacrifice his son for the good of the mountain, and the honour of the family. Garen’s strong hands clenched. “When I got word of… your results, I spoke with a couple of friends in the council. I even called in a favour or two. After long deliberations we reached the conclusion that you could still be of use for Talraman.”

Jaden didn’t like how that sounded, but he waited for his father to finish. His instincts were often wrong anyway, even if they were screaming at him right now.

“Your… new talents might be worthwhile for our information network. If you cultivate your bond, I have no doubt you could become a… capable spy. Distracting certain officials if we need to turn attention away from what we’re doing, and similar things.” Garen no longer looked at his son. It would only make this harder. Every Mystic could serve the good of all Lacunai, but perhaps not in a way they had imagined.

“You want me to… The council expect me to…” Jaden couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This couldn’t be right. He had grown up with stories of his family’s great deeds. He had dreamt that one day he would have a legend of his own. Not so anymore.

“Even in this disgrace, find honour through serving the mountain… son. Let me know what to tell the council, but don’t take too long deciding. This is the best you can hope for.” Garen of the Iron Scales waved his lost child away. It was time to consider the future. “Send in your sister when you leave. I need to speak with Lilya about a position among the protectors.”

Jaden fled the chamber. He didn’t feel like he would ever be able to stop running.

Their glasses had received a refill of water or wine, and the baron’s family was listening to Kellen do a much embellished telling of their adventure into the dark rift below Carrick Field. Jaden didn’t remember quite that many Kynian horrors while they had frantically tried to escape through the maze-like tunnels; the few there were had been bad enough. The noise of the mandibles snapping at his eyes was something he would rather forget.

“So there we were, backed up against the narrow chute where only one of us could crawl at a time,” Kellen directed his story mostly at the baron’s children. The daughter was leaning forward in fascination, that wide smile never leaving her lips; the son had barely moved, aside from pushing his napkin around a little.

One of the doors opened, letting Mirena back into the dining hall. Jaden caught her giving the room a quick look, as if she was searching for something. Apparently not finding it, she smiled at their hosts and rejoined the table.

“Now that we’re all back,” said the baron, interrupting Kellen’s tale without batting an eye, “I believe it’s time for us to try the main course, shall we?”

A servant immediately opened another pair of doors, allowing another one to push a cart into the hall. It carried several covered serving plates, but rather than steel or bronze lids these were woven like baskets. Jaden didn’t know Marsantian customs very well, but he imagined that this would be more common over there where metal was much rarer.

“Tonight, our cooks prepared a nice coriander pork dish, keeping to the Marsander style of course, with ajante noodles and steamed vegetables. Quite exotic, for us mainland people,” Baron Tassard pointed at each tray as they were placed on the table. The servants immediately rolled the empty cart out to bring the second round of food.

“This looks delicious,” Stann leaned forward to smell the freshly cooked meat still steaming in its juices.

“We’ll let our staff know of your kind words,” lady Juliss said with an eager smile. “Now, don’t be shy, take as much as you want. We’ve got plenty more coming.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Stann said, and reached over to take the carving knives from the meat tray.

“Just leave some for the rest of us, Bear,” Kellen reminded his cousin, then turned to a servant for another refill of his wine.

A brief flicker from the polished steel while Stann was sawing the pork apart caused Jaden to pause. There had been something strange in that reflection. Something that shouldn’t have been there. Looking around, his friends seemed busy talking with the baron or his wife. The daughter was intently watching Stann work, and the son was as listless as before. Nobody was keeping an eye on Jaden.

Letting his mind relax, he opened himself to the flow of magic through the world. The table and chairs, the walls of the manor, all fall into a grey backdrop. Only things touched by magic were truly visible through Mystics’ sight. Jaden casually looked around the room, and saw strands of magic wrapped around the baron, his family, even the servants. All of them. On the table, he saw the same around the food that had been brought in. He recognised the feel of the strands. It was deception magic, a mirage, just like the illusion that cloaked him.

Unlike transformation magic, deception was ephemeral. It wasn’t physical, but it could fool every sense but touch. Also unlike transformation, the strands were partially transparent. If you knew what you were looking at, you could see past the mirage and find the truth. Jaden fixed his eyes on the length of pork before him and pushed aside the tangle of lies with his own magic. Stann was happily carving out platefuls from a leg. A human leg.

Controlling his urge to scream, Jaden swept his unravelling eyes across the room. The ajante writhed in its true maggot form. The servants, quietly standing ready by the doors, looked more like human-sized dolls then men. Their faces were frozen in an expressionless mask, and there were no eyes in those dark sockets, only horror. They were surrounded by an infected miasma.

Finally, Jaden turned to look at the baron himself. Black marks appeared around Lord Tassards eyes, and coils of purple nether energy wrapped around both him and his wife, protecting rather than controlling them.

“My lord, my deepest apologies, but all this water must have passed straight through me. Could I be excused briefly?” Jaden fought to keep his voice level and polite. He had to do something without alerting the hosts. He couldn’t dispel the illusion, nor did he know what they were capable of. Also, none of his friends had brought their weapons here. He had to try and keep this from escalating into a fight, but he also had to get his friends out of here.

“Of course, spellguard Jaideen,” the baron’s smile looked strained. He did not enjoy these interruptions, it seemed like. He gestured at a servant by the door Mirena had passed through earlier. “Kudan will show you the way.”

“Mistress Lockless,” Jaden turned to Oleander and gave her a meaningful look. “You wanted to freshen up as well.”

“I- Of course, excellent suggestion,” she stood up and joined him, drawing some curious looks from the rest of their friends.

Mirena narrowed her eyes with suspicion. Those two didn’t go to the washroom together normally, so something must be going on. She looked around the room at the baron’s family and her friends, but nothing seemed out of place. Mirena’s eyes briefly met Kellen’s, who looked a little strained. Maybe he was feeling something too?

The manservant brought Jaden and Oleander down the corridor to one door among many, and then stood quietly waiting for them to finish their business. The man didn’t react when Jaden took the redhead’s hand and brought her into the washroom with him.

“Jay? Uh, what are you doing?” Oleander wondered when the Mystic pulled the door shut behind them, leaving them alone in the small room. Her mind started to buzz with several unexpected thoughts, leaving her with a slight blush.

“This is going to sound a little… strange, Ollie, but I need you to trust me on this. Can you do that?” His eyes, those light amber, almost golden eyes, bore into her with a desperate sense of urgency.

“I do, completely,” the words slipped out of her mouth before she even had the chance to reflect on them. He didn’t seem to notice, though. Something must really be bothering him.

“I want… I need you to cause something that will force the baron to put the supper on hold and allow us to leave, without drawing too much attention to us.” Jaden was playing several scenarios out in his head. If they were going to avoid fighting, they would have to play this very subtle. Not even their friends could know until they were safely away from here. He couldn’t imagine Mirena or Stann to calmly walk away.

Oleander met his eyes with her own for a long time. There were so many things she wanted to ask him, but he had put his trust in her right now. Well, it wasn’t as if she didn’t have any ideas on how to break up a fancy dinner party. A big grin lit up her face.

Upon seeing that large smile of hers, Jaden began to worry if he had made a very bad decision here, but it was too late now. He just nodded at the woman, and opened the door again. The servant stood precisely where they had left him, almost motionless. As soon as they were out of the washroom, they were bid to follow with a gesture and a clipped word, and made their way back to the dining hall where the others were no doubt waiting.

“Ah, nice to see you return, lady Lockless,” Baron Tassard smiled warmly. They stood by one of the paintings of a large Albander city seen from the sea, likely Farcrest of yesteryear. Their host had been talking about how his family had come into their position, a story that was filled with more self-aggrandizing than fact. “Are we ready to sit back down? We wouldn’t want the food to grow cold, now, would we?”

Oleander shot Jaden a look he recognised. She needed to be unseen, so now it was his turn to draw attention away from her.

“Baron, being from… Sorun, I am unfamiliar with some parts of your country’s history. Is it true that the Northern Horde made its way all the way to the walls of Farcrest during the third war?” Jaden gritted his teeth, and did his best to feign a Sorunese accent.

“Aha, a fellow scholar of the past! Yes, you see, it all began after War Chieftain Sogard Skyrune ascended the high seat after the second war,” the baron lapsed into a familiar rendition of a story they had heard from Kellen before. The shamans of the North desired to expand the borders of their domain, and pressured the new chieftain into declaring a new campaign against Alband mere years after the last war had ended. Neither nation was prepared for another conflict, but found themselves locked in a drawn-out battle anyway. The war-tired neighbouring countries of Sorun and the underkingdom of Atun wanted nothing to do with it, leaving either side without allies as well. The third war was a loss for everyone.

While the baron spoke, keeping the attention of the room, Oleander casually moved around the room. The baron son Kalen managed to raise his head long enough to look at her with a blank expression, but didn’t say anything.

“Well, enough history I say, we really should sit down and enjoy this wonderful feast,” lady Juliss interrupted her husband before he could launch into a debate with Kellen about the finer points of the third North-Alband war.

“About time,” Stann murmured. Letting all that pork grow cold seemed like such a waste. He reached for the knives on the tray to lift a good serving of the meat onto his plate.

A loud thud came from the kitchen doors, followed by another one. Everyone paused in what they were doing and looked at noise. The baroness waved at a manservant, who immediately tried to open the doors, but to no avail.

“We seem to be having some trouble here, “ Baron Tassard said with a slightly annoyed laugh. “Get that door open, Kudan. Let’s not keep our guests waiting!”

The servants tried both pulling, and turning the key in the lock. One of them looked up at the baron and gave an expressionless shake of his head.

“Well, this is certainly-“ The baron couldn’t finish the sentence before the windows blew open. The drapes whipped wildly in the wind. The stormy weather that had been brewing all afternoon had arrived, blowing rain and leaves into the dining hall. Yelps and shouts filled the room as those sitting closest to the windows were dripping with cold water.

“Get those windows shut! What is happening here?” The baroness demanded in a shrill voice.

“Is the house haunted?” Stann wondered aloud, shuddering not from the cold but from sensible superstition. The room was much darker as the wind had snuffed out the candles, leaving only two covered oil lamps in a corner. The servants, now soaked, managed to finally secure the windows and shut the storm outside. The damage, though, was done. The food was drenched in rainwater, the table was a complete mess, and half the guests were shivering.

“This is ridiculous,” the baron exclaimed, looking both angry and embarrassed. “I… apologise profusely for this very unfortunate turn of events. I will have to ask you to return tomorrow for a proper breakfast instead. I don’t know how to explain what happened here.”

“That’s quite alright, my lord. It’s a shame about the pork on ajante, but it can’t be helped.” Mirena had sat opposite of the windows, and got away with only a few drops in her hair.

“Kudan will take you back to the tavern, lady Kaladon. It seems there are still some quirks to this old manor, eh?” Baron Tassard tried to laugh, but it seemed flat and strained.

“Good evening, your lordships, and thank you again for the supper, even if it didn’t turn out as expected,” the knight said, and gathered her friends to leave. Kellen looked like a drenched ox with his robe clinging to him, but Jaden seemed to have escaped without being splashed even though he sat almost directly in front of a window.

“Well, that was certainly strange,” the rune seeker offered his opinion as he dug through his belt-pouches. His fingers closed around the desired stone with a triumphant rumble, and soon the water dripping from him pulled into a large hovering ball that left him as dry as he had been minutes earlier.

“Haunted, I say. That place gave me the shivers for some reason. Only ghosts would stoop low enough to ruin such a fine meal,” Stann sulked. That pork had looked really good. Ghosts didn’t know what they were missing.

Jaden glanced at the redhead that walked next to him. It looked like she was fighting to keep a straight face. He reached out with a clammy hand and squeezed hers. When she looked up in surprise he mouthed a silent thank you, making her look away quickly. Was she laughing at him?

They hurried back into the covered carriage that would take them back to the Woodsman’s Cup and sat in much the same way as before, except this time the redhead claimed the spot next to the black-haired mystic.

“Was that enough?” She whispered at him as the carriage began to roll away from the baron’s home.

“Very inspired. I’m afraid to ask how you did it,” Jaden gave her a wan smile. He was too disturbed by what he had seen back there, and what it meant. It was still a jumble in his head, and that beckoning in the back of his mind didn’t help either.

“If that hadn’t done the trick, I could’ve set fire to the tablecloth with the pinches of flashpowder I had spread out while reaching for things. “ Oleander looked very pleased with her flair for improvised destruction.

“Now who’s setting things on fire, Ollie?” Maybe this could be his come-back when she brought up the bathhouse incident again?

“I’m just learning from you, oh prince of the flame!” She nudged his side, and jumped a bit at the wetness. Some rain must’ve hit them when they entered the carriage.

A silhouette watched them drive away from a window on the second floor.

The cold chains keeping him upright against the wall were the first thing Rhyce saw when his eyes reluctantly allowed themselves to open. The blood on the side of his forehead was beginning to dry, and his head was throbbing painfully. He remembered…

“Ah, our lovely guest is coming back to us,” a dulcet voice reached out from the shadows. “Is he alert?”

A figure stepped in front of him. Rhyce couldn’t call it a man, not really. It walked like one, but the face was empty of any humanity, as if it was a porcelain mask rather than flesh. The figure roughly pulled his head up by his hair. The sudden pain forced a grimace on his face, but he wouldn’t give them the pleasure of hearing him cry out.

“The guest is alert, Mistress,” spoke the man-creature with those harsh, clipped words. It sounded like as if several people tried to form a sentence by saying just one word each.

“Wonderful! Human, who is my sister?” That sweet voice spoke again, but the words made no sense.

Rhyce just stared at the shadow, letting his eyes grow used to the darkness. Contours began to appear where there had only been a void previously. If he could see it, he could hit it. His arrows couldn’t miss. His hands twitched in the manacles, almost feeling the grip of his missing bow. His target was right in front of him, but he had no way to shoot.

“Answer me, human!” The voice turned from honeyed song to burning threat in an instant. He saw a gesture toward one of the inhuman guards.

His breath was driven out of him when the man-like creature drove its fist into his stomach. The bitter taste of bile shot up into his mouth and mixed with the blood. Rhyce wanted to gasp for breath, but he knew his body wouldn’t let him breathe. He forcibly relaxed his tense muscles until the shock passed, and only then allowed himself to reclaim his air. This was not his first beating.

“Oh, we have a hero on our hands, do we? Tell me what I want to know, and I might be merciful. If you beg, I could even let you go. Will you beg for me, human?” The sweetness was back again.

“You cannot fill a dry well with tears,” Rhyce managed to say a rasping voice.

“A poet you are, a true wordsmith!” Cruel amusement dripped with every word. “I am an artist as well.”

The half-visible shape opened the door to the shed and was about to step out when she turned back and beheld the defiant man shackled and chained.

“Paint him in a tragedy of violence, my sweets," she commanded, with a sweep of her arm.

He felt the fists of the man-creatures several times more, before one of them showed him the knife that would be the brush on his canvas of agony. Now the pain would truly begin.

The rain was still drumming to the background music of a summer storm when the carriage had left them outside the inn. In the wakes of sundown the weather cast the skies in an even darker shade of black, making the warmth and light of the Woodsman’s Cup very welcoming.

“Alband weather, right?” Stann shook water out of his shoulder-long hair, and glared at the other two men. Kellen had simply kept his water-shaping rune handy, and made the rain curve away before it touched him. Mirena and Oleander had huddled close to the older cousin as they hurried into the inn after getting out of the carriage, sharing in the protective bubble. Jaden, as was the case recently, was oddly unaffected by the weather. He looked as dry as when they had dressed in their rooms earlier, yet a pool was forming by his feet on the empty common room’s floor. Stann frowned at the strangeness of this, but that was the nature of magic, he supposed.

“Nice enough shindig, until the ghosts put an end to it,” Kellen pursed his lips in thought. While he might not believe there were actual ghosts in the manor, he had felt a strange chill when they got there. Sometimes he regretted not being a shaman, and being more aware of the spirit world.

“Did you guys see their kids? What was wrong with them?” Oleander sat down on one of the many chairs around the tables. Almost immediately, she squirmed and tugged at her skirt that had bunched up underneath her.

“Forget about the children; Rhyce was right!” Jaden blurted now that they were safely away from the baron’s men. “There are demons in Redwall!”

“What?” Mirena looked surprised, but not shocked. She had felt too many things since coming here, but she couldn’t quite recognise what. It was as if there was a veil over the village, suppressing her senses, and her connection with Telum.

They had talked about this while riding up, but Redwall had seemed so normal, even happy. It had been so easy to dismiss the archer’s demonic prediction. It had been so natural to just accept the contentment that seemed to permeate most of the villagers. As they looked at each other and began to understand this, it began to come to them that there might have been an outside influence insinuating this acceptance into their hearts.

“I used my Mystics’ sight while we were there. Everything was cloaked with illusions,” Jaden couldn’t tell them what they had almost eaten. There was no need to nauseate his friends like that; just another lie of omission to add to the pile. “The baron and his wife were heavily affected by demonic magic. They wore its dark blessing.”

“Are you absolutely sure, Jaden? We can’t just go and put a nobleman and family to the sword on a hunch.” Mirena looked at him intently, seeking any sign of uncertainty.

“I… Rena, please just believe me this time. These are things I know,” Jaden shivered in his soaked clothes, unseen by all. “I know demons. We were taught about all sorts of magical creatures, as well as the visitors from other worlds.”

“C’mon green-eyes, don’t go all inquisitor on Jay! If he says they’re demons, that’s good enough for me!” Oleander had got up from her seat and took a supportive step closer to her Mystic friend.

“I apologise. I guess I was just afraid to admit it to myself, too,” Mirena made a face, but still managed to look ladylike while doing it. “I’ve had some quite suspicious feelings since coming here. I should have heeded the warning signs, but for some reason I didn’t.”

“Right. Demons. We can handle that, surely,” Stann punched his palm with a smile. “You go ahead making those plans you like, and I’ll put on some dry clothes.”

“I should switch out of my nice clothes, too, if we’re going to turn this village upside down,” Jaden excused himself. Of course he didn’t need to change clothes. He was already wearing his most comfortable summer shirt and trousers, but no matter how many times he switched the illusion covering him, they would still remain soaked to his bones.

While the two went to their separate rooms, Mirena gestured for the rest to sit down. Oleander managed to do a better job of smoothing her skirt out this time. She was not used to wearing anything except trousers or tight leggings, but she was a quick learner — especially with a disapproving teacher like Mirena watching her.

“How do we find the demons? It is obvious that they’re not keeping the people here captive by force, or ruling openly. Are they instead hidden predators? And what is their connection to the Tassards?” Mirena laid out the immediate questions for everyone to hear.

“Are they shapeshifters, perhaps? That would allow them to hide in plain sight?” Kellen grimaced. This was turning into something too much like the skinwalker in Etrana. He could almost feel the paranoia rushing back.

“That would explain a lot,” Mirena seemed also recalling the events in the southern capital. She held her necklace in a hand, feeling the dull prick of the small golden sword. “If we find a suspect, I can always purge their cloak of lies with the power of Telum.”

“But first, who do we even suspect?” Oleander thought back on what she and Rhyce had learned during the afternoon. “A lot of people acted pretty strangely a month or so back.”

“The nightmares,” Kellen nodded. “That was probably when the demons appeared. Even common folks can feel the twisting when a dark visitor breaks into our world. That also means, worse for us, that the demons’ rift is here as well.”

“If it had been open for a month, the entire village and most of Ealbourne Woods would’ve been corrupted,” the knight disagreed. “More likely they just slipped through before the crack sealed itself.”

“But back to suspicious people?” The redhead tried to keep them on track. “There was this guy, Old Nias, who just ran away? Maybe he saw something?”

“Even if he did, he’s been gone for weeks. We have as good chances finding him, as finding the demons directly,” Kellen spread his hands in frustration. This was what he had hated about the Etrana incident: the mistrust and fear.

“What about that woman, Lyrissa? She’s a failed magician. Maybe she tried to prove something, and summoned a demon or two by mistake?” Oleander pointed out. “You told us she had been mighty suspicious about the two of you. Maybe she didn’t want you to see through her trickery?”

“That’s definitely a possibility. Some of us should look in on her again, but maybe someone else than Kellen and I will make her likelier to talk,” Mirena nodded. The woman had definitely been on edge, but from what they wouldn’t know until she was more forthcoming with them.

“But what if she IS the demon?” Oleander asked the obvious.

“Then we cut the monster’s head off!” Stann announced his return, wearing his dry spare clothes and chain mail armour, and affectionately patting his sword. He had brought his shield as well, just in case. “Did you and Rhyce find out anything else while you were looking around, Red?”

“Actually, where IS Rhyce?” Kellen looked at the windows, and out into the raining dark.

“I hope he gets back soon; this will only get worse the longer we leave it. If he’s not back by the morning we’ll have to go look for him,” Mirena looked a little worried. The archer being missing, the oppressive feeling, and the presence of demons made her mind consider all sorts of dreadful scenarios.

Jaden picked that moment to return. The change of clothes felt very nice, but his chemise was still wet. Hopefully it would dry by itself if he could stay out of the rain, but right now it just caused a distractingly slick sensation against his chest. He looked around the common room, and blinked.

“More importantly: where is the innkeeper and the maids? Where is everyone else?” Jaden asked his friends, causing them all to turn around and look, realising that they were all alone in an inn that should be full at this hour.

Blood hitting the floor wanted to sound like the rain outside the shed, but instead of bringing life to the world, every drop spoke of life leaving Rhyce. He hung limply in his chains, almost not feeling the shallow cuts that crisscrossed his chest and arms.

One of the servants of the demon had lit a lantern a while ago. Rhyce had first thought they wanted him to better see what they were doing to his body, but the sizzling noise told him that was not the case. The man, who looked older and blonde when Rhyce no longer could summon the strength to pierce the veil that hid their doll-like flesh, held the knife into the flame. The tip was glowing in dull red.

He closed his eyes. The farmhouse sprang to life behind his eyelids. Their voices brought a sense of home to the place. He had failed them, and only blood would wash the sin from his hands.

Milene, I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there for you. Tivan, your father is coming home.

Another black crow landed on the shed as the knife finally pulled a scream from him.

Stann let the curtain fall back as he stepped away from the window.

“It’s pretty dark out there, but I think the rain is starting to let up.” The situation was miserable enough as it was, without adding a downpour to it. “I think I saw some movement out there, though.”

Mirena and Jaden still sat at the table, with Kellen standing with a runestone in each hand and a frown on his face. Oleander was pacing. She was starting to feel trapped, despite being in a large, empty room. Unseen walls were closing in on her, and she felt a strange chill inside her heart.

“They had no mirrors in the mansion,” Mirena spoke, trying to add as many facts as they could gather to their evidence. “Why was that?”

“Demonic deception is mostly in your mind, unlike a Sorcerer’s mirage that actually changes the properties of light. The mirrors would have shown the demon’s true form,” Jaden explained. The idea of demon shapeshifters struck a little too close to home. This was getting very dangerous. Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to worry about mirrors. “Notice how they didn’t have any metal plates or cutlery until they served the meat? I guess there was no getting around having a knife by then. I saw a flash of the real world when Stann was cutting the le- uh, the pork.”

“There’s something strange going on out there,” Stann called, peeking outside again. “I think people are gathering.”

“This just went from bad to worse,” Mirena stood up. “We have three objectives: we need to find Rhyce; we have to find the demon; and we must avoid hurting any villagers in the process.”

“Why would we want to hurt the people here?” Oleander looked at the brunette with confusion.

“Obviously we don’t, but the demons may have enthralled them, and might pit them against us,” Kellen saw where the knight was coming from. This was definitely becoming Etrana all over again, through that had been with lies and mistrust, rather than mindcontrol.

“Jaden, go with Stann and Oleander to see if you can find out anything more from Lyrissa,” Mirena laid out the plan, pointing through the wall to where the failed magician’s cottage laid outside the village. “Kellen and I will head for the Tassard’s manor. If they’re nethermancers capable of summoning demons, we’ll be the ones best suited to fight them. Catch up with us as soon as you can. Whatever is going on, we’ll likely find some answers there.”

“Splitting up again, Rena?” Stann shook his head a little. “By now, we should acknowledge that we’ve not had a whole lot of luck with that.”

“I know! But I also can’t stop feeling that we’re running out of time. Just hurry, alright?” Mirena headed to the room she shared with Oleander to don her armour. This time she would be well prepared.

“You go ahead,” Kellen told the others. “I’ll stay here and make sure there are no surprises.”

“Rus og bol, Winterheart,” Stann thrust a fist toward his cousin, then went to the door with the Mystic and the redhead in tow.

“Glory and blood, clansman,” the older Northman replied as the three left the tavern.

“Where did you and Rhyce go earlier today?” Jaden asked, as they cautiously walked through the slow drizzle. Some people were standing outside their houses, watching them. Inside the lit windows, they could the worried faces of the unaffected. Most of them were children.

“All over the place, really. I’m not sure if anything stuck out enough for him to want a second look-see,” she shrugged, keeping a hand on one of her knives. She did not feel comfortable with being watched like this.

“Didn’t he say anything? Anything at all?”

“It’s Rhyce we’re talking about here. He just took off and I followed as best I could. That man can walk very quickly when he wants to, let me tell you,” Oleander kept looking around. Some of the people had begun following them from a distance. “It’s a small village, though. There’s basically just two ways to go — up or down the main street.”

“You cannot tell which way the deer ran by looking at the trail,” Jaden tried to think of something Rhyce would say, as he was attempting to get into the mindset of the archer.

“Yes, you can! It’s called tracking!” The redhead exclaimed, waving her hands around.

“… well, alright. It wasn’t a perfect metaphor,” Jaden admitted.

“Will you two shut up? We’re being followed.” Stann nodded to the group of people who had been following them for the last minute. “Also, I think that’s the witch’s house up there.”

Ahead along the smaller road that led from the village a way into the forest was a small cottage with rough log walls and thatched roof. When they tried the door, they found it soundly barred. Stann was about to kick it open when Oleander reminded them why they kept her around. Before a merchant would have the time to realise his gold necklace was missing, she had the door open.

The inside of the small house was one large room, with a bed in a corner, an area to cook, and a small table with mismatched chairs. A haggard woman with stringy brown hair and desperate eyes was backed up to the fireplace, brandishing a cast iron poker at them.

“Away! Away from my home, you monsters!” She sounded shrill, just short of panicked.

“Hey! We’re not the monsters here, miss demon!” Oleander returned the accusation, already having drawn a knife just in case.

“Please, ma’am,” Jaden put a gloved hand on the redhead’s, gently pushing the knife down. “We’re not the enemies here, but we need to know more if we’re to fight them.”

“You’re… you’re not?” Lyrissa seemed to falter a little, her poker dropping down as well. “I thought I was all alone.”

“No, there are plenty of others. But if we’re going to save the village, we need you to tell us everything you know. Please, Lyrissa, all these lives are at stake.” Jaden felt his words begin to take effect, but decided to push it a little further. “Everyone here needs you.”

Stann pushed the bolt back on the door, and kept watch out the window. There were still people out there, but something had happened back in the village. Some of them were beginning to return back there.

“They… do?” The broken woman stood up a little straighter, and suddenly eyed Jaden with suspicion. “How do I know you’re not filthy magicians coming here to finish the job?”

“We’re not. None of us are magicians,” Jaden lied easily, telling the stranger that the sky was green. The woman visibly relaxed. “What can you tell us of what’s happening here?”

“It’s the baron and his wife. They’re demon-worshippers! Their wealth and power? It’s all due to their pacts with the Nether. I see them in my dreams every time I sleep, binding Redwall ever tighter.”

“The nightmares?” Oleander asked, returning her knife to the belt.

“It was when she broke through the wall,” Lyrissa began to shake. “It lives inside their daughter now, a creature from below. She sings to the village when we sleep, and eat our hopes and dreams.”

“It’s the daughter? She did look a lot different from her old portrait,” Oleander and Jaden exchange a look. Jaden had sat just a seat away from Callandra during the dinner. He hadn’t sensed a thing. Or had he, and just not listened?

“Stann, we’re going for the mansion!” Jaden nodded at Lyrissa as they left, hoping she would be alright.

The people were gradually surrounding them outside the teacher’s house. It was on the way to the manor, and when they had passed it they saw the frightened looks of Samul and his family inside. Something was happening in Redwall, that was certain. One of their neighbours had been trying to break through the door, but Kellen had just grabbed the man from behind and thrown him into the street. That had brought all attention on the two of them.

“We’re going to have to make some adjustments to one part of your plan, Rena,” Kellen said, already exchanging his previous runes for something more offensive.

“We’re not hurting any innocents, Kellen. That’s final!” Still, Mirena drew her sword. All around them, people began to press closer. Their faces looked slack, as if they were asleep.

“Lady Kaladon, I know they’re my neighbours, but please don’t let them take my family,” Samul shouted from the window, holding his twins close.

Mirena looked at the crowd once more, and among the sleepwalking villagers she spotted some of the baron’s manservants. They looked stranger now that she knew she had been deceived. Their faces were frozen like masks, and their movements reminded her of the puppets she had seen as a child. This was an enemy she could fight. Mirena raised her sword, the blade beginning to glow with an inner light.

"I stand before the tide. With my last breath, I will protect you. With my least heartbeat, I will save you. I am a knight, and as long as I stand, you will never fall." It was the oath of a paladin, the words she had spoken when accepting the blessing of Telum.

“I see them too, Rena. Time to turn this battle around.” The rune seeker clenched his hand tightly around the inscribed stone. The protective symbols on his arms began to glow brightly as he poured his magic into them. “Invocation of the Four Mountains: Stoneguard!”

Rubble pulled up from the street, knocking the closest villagers over, and formed a moving shield that covered Kellen’s flank. That seemed to break the standoff, and the demonwrought servants threw themselves at the two magicians.

“The Mistress wants you to speak,” the first man-creature told Rhyce as it pushed his head back against the wall. There was too much blood in his eyes to see clearly.

“Speak,” the other said.

“Tell. Where is the Mistress’ sister? Who’s hiding her?”

“I…” Rhyce forced his raw throat to make sounds. “I don’t think I’ve bled enough yet.”

The servants obliged him.

When they came back to the village, the fighting was tearing the street apart. Blocks of stone had pushed up through the ground to keep the enthralled villagers from surrounding their friends. The light from Mirena’s sword had drawn them like a beacon from afar.

“Ymir’s breath,” Stann swore, looking at the scene. He pushed his helmed down, showing his eyes through the holes. The chin-guards didn’t cover his entire beard. Oleander had once told him that his helmet lacked the horns of a proper Northman helm, but he knew from experience those only got stuck on things.

“What are we going to do?” Oleander stared at the chaos. She didn’t think she could help out here at all.

“This is just a diversion, Ollie. We need to get to the demons and put an end to them,” Jaden pointed toward the manor in the distance. If they could get to the root of the evil, he hoped, the rest would wither away by itself.

“Alright, little brother. My ugly cousin and I will keep the locals busy. I’ll send Mirena to back you up. You’ll want her with you when you fight the demon. We’ll catch up once we’ve knocked the entire village senseless,” Stann slammed his sword against his round shield. Apparently there was no getting around fighting these people. It would be a Battle of Redwall all over, the North against Alband.

The moon was only starting to rise, making the village that much darker. Jaden’s eyes could pick out every detail in the night as if it was early morning instead. He led the way as they ran across the backyards toward the manor. The fighting was taking place on the main street, and engaging in that would only serve the plans of the demon, whatever they might be.

The sprawling manor of the Tassards was a bit outside the village, and lacking a carriage of their own it took the two several minutes to run there. They kept the pace sensible, though, to not exhaust themselves getting there. All the time spent in cities lately had made them a little spoiled, and Jaden could feel his heart racing once they passed the outer gate that separated the manor grounds from the Ealbourne. Though, whether it was from the running or the ever stronger beckoning, he couldn’t be sure.

“Jay, what are those things?” Oleander crouched down next to him, and pointed toward the main entrance. He recognised the unhidden form of the servants. They didn’t even bother to move naturally now, but instead jerked across the courtyard in a spindly fashion.

“The villagers were just thralls. Once the demons’ influence is gone, they’ll return to normal.” More or less. “The creatures over there are fleshforms. Think of them as undead, and you’re close to the truth. They’re what happen when a too weak demon tries to possess a human. The result is less than either part, but they’re absolutely loyal to their master.”

“Wonderful. So what do we do now? Maybe we can sneak inside through one of the side windows?” The redhead pointed along the treeline that followed the manor wings.

“Not a bad idea. They seem to be guarding the main doors, mostly.” The two began to carefully edge their way along the trees, mindful not to step on any of the branches that had blown down during the stiff winds earlier.

When they had circled about half way around, they saw a familiar sight through some of the lit windows.

“That’s the dining hall. If we go in through here, we’ll at least know where we are. Doesn’t look like anyone’s in there either, Jay.” Oleander peered inside.

“As good a place as any. From what I can tell, there are just wagon-houses and a shed around the back,” Jaden looked back at his friend. He really could see far during night-time.

“Sometimes I’m so envious of your elven eyes. Are those crows on top of the shed? That’s creepy.”

“I’m not an elf, Ollie.”

A loud crashing sound brought them around to look toward the front portion of the manor again. They made their way back as quickly as they could without breaking cover. When they peered around the corner of the dining hall wing, they saw Mirena slam one of the demon servants with her shield powerfully enough to lift it off the ground.

“Uh-oh. Looks like helmet-hair didn’t know about our sneaky plan, Jay.” The redhead looked over her shoulder. She was alone. Nights of bad dreams came crashing back to her. “Jay? JAY?!”

She wanted to go look for him. It was happening all over again. Her friends disappearing one by one, but Mirena was right there, fighting for her life. Oleander drew her knives, swearing Jay would have some explaining to do once this was over.

“Hold on, girl, I’m coming!”

More lies. Jaden could hear Oleander call for him as he slipped through the window. She had broken the locks earlier, allowing them to blow open by the wind, so getting through now was as easy as opening a door. He hated doing that to her, but he had to make sure of something. The beckoning that had called out to him ever since he had entered the forest had to mean something. If there was a demon behind all this, Jaden would have to see it for himself first.

He snuck through the corridors of the manor, passing the paintings of Tassard’s ancestors watching him intrude upon their domain. He was allowing himself to listen now, and the call came from upstairs. His new boots made a soft patter as he hurried toward the source of that summons. He didn’t stop until he was outside the double doors of a room that must surely overlook the village. He could feel her inside. There was no doubt about it.

Was it even his decision? Knowing what awaited him beyond those doors, he allowed the change to overcome him. The shirt tore as his wings unfurled, and his trousers stretched tightly across his wider hips. The veil couldn’t cover the size of his wings, so he drew back the magic that allowed it to change his appearance. With a push, both doors swung open to admit him inside.

It was obvious where most of the decorations had gone. The sparseness in the rest of the manor had been explained by how the baron had moved here from a townhouse in Farcrest, and they had much more space now. But that had been many years ago. No, the wealth of the baron had been channelled into making this room as opulent, as decadent as possible.

Red silks fell in graceful waves from the walls, brass fireplaces made it almost uncomfortably hot. The air was heavy with strangely familiar incense. As Jaden stood by the threshold, he realised he had been here before, yet this was the first time.

Sitting on a couch to the side were the baron and baroness, holding hands. They looked incredibly pleased with themselves. Jaden could see the nether energies worm its way around inside them.

By the windows stood a woman of Callandra’s size, but instead of Albander brown hair, hers was glossy and black, contrasting against her red skin. Her leathery wings were folded against her back, with the tips touching the base of the tail that was moving back and forth of its own accord. Small horns rose from that black hair, and her large breasts hung free in unabashed nakedness. Despite the differences; to Jaden, it was like looking at a mirror.

She turned around and looked at him.

“Oh, hello. I’m so pleased you finally came. What do I call you, sister?” The demon’s voice was like honey and molten butter.

"I'm Jaden," he said, feeling his tail swish back and forth.

"No you're not." She stretched her wings languidly. "I can smell the Drigorii in you. I was wondering who you were hiding inside. Are you a handmaiden of the Watching One?"

"I'm..." Jaden trailed off. He had never met another demon like her before. The sudden burst of kinship was almost overwhelming. He shook his head to clear it; his friends were fighting in the streets, and they needed him now. This was up to him. "Ashomi. I'm Ashomi."

"What a darling name, oh sister Horizon. I'm Amucia, of the Lectii," she offered a playful curtsy with her wings spread out. “Tassard? Leave us.”

The nethermancer couple just bowed at their mistress, and silently left the room. This was a business between visitors, unfit for humans.

“What are you doing to this village, Amucia?” Jaden demanded as soon as they were alone, taking a step closer to the demon.

“Are you jealous?” Amucia covered her mouth as she laughed, a gesture Callandra had used earlier. “Aren’t they just precious, my pretties? They dance as I will them to, and the energy I take from them is delicious.”

“This stops right now. Release them and end the fighting, or I will destroy you!” Jaden fixed Amucia with as angry a look as he could manage. He could afford to show the fear inside.

“Oh my! Sister, I had no idea this was your hunting ground. You should have said something.” The demon pouted, touching her lips with a finger. “You should have come visited too. My servants have been here for years, after all.”

“It’s not! I want you gone because you’re hurting people!” Jaden began to see that there would be no rational discussion here, but he couldn’t help himself. The mind of the demon was too different from that of men.

“What are you talking about, sister?” Amucia put her hands on her hips and looked a bit annoyed. Her tail was swishing as much as Jaden’s was.

“Stop calling me that! Hellfire!” Jaden brought down his hands, and the far end of the grand room exploded in clinging flames. The silks took fire immediately, spreading across the room.

He heard laughter from the firestorm, and a hand reached out in his direction.

“You want to play? Alright — Hellfire!”

The world around Jaden turned into a blaze, and he felt his clothes smolder. The fires didn’t hurt, however. The warmth just felt… nostalgic. He had other cards up his burning sleeves, though. He made a mental line go through the fire that enveloped Amucia, and then pointed.

“Noctophyx!” A burst of shadowy magic swept across the demon, but he didn’t pause to see the effect before he thrust out with a fist. Maybe she was just resistant to their own fire? “Valignat!”

“Oh! It tickles so!” He could see the demon saunter out through the inferno. The salamander’s fire was consumed by the nether flames almost immediately, but it was worth a try. “Were you trying to weaken me, sister? I have an entire village that feeds me!”

Magic was no good, but what about swords? Jaden drew the blade he had bought at the Tradegate market. He wished for a moment that he had kept his Talraman sword. The enchanted weapon would’ve been useful now. He leapt through the air, almost grazing the ceiling, and slammed the sword as hard as he could into the demon who was just watching him with her head tilted to the side.

“Oof!” Amucia staggered back a few steps, with a gash across her breasts. She ran a finger across the black blood and licked it off her finger. The wound closed before Jaden’s eyes. “This is beginning to bore me, Ashomi. Why don’t we go and play with a toy I caught? It’s being most amusing!”

Much closer to the windows now, Jaden could see the courtyard below. Mirena and Oleander was fighting against the possessed servants of the demon, and most of them were already lying motionless on the ground with knives sticking out of them, or finishing wounds by the knight’s sword. Mirena was fighting strangely, though. She held her symbol in a hand, and used its light to hold the remaining servants at bay. Jaden caught the glow of the sword on the ground a dozen feet away, beyond the servants. The sword was still glowing, despite being out of Mirena’s hands…

“Where are you going?” Amucia called, as Jaden threw himself out of the window, destroyed by the first exchange of fire. His wings brought him over the fighting, and set him down next to the sword. He felt bad about this, but no more so than anything else he had done tonight.

“Mirena! The demon!” Oleander called out, pointing toward Jaden, then slashed the wrists and armpit of a twisted, former man trying to grab her.

“I see it. Wait, what? It took my sword!” Mirena couldn’t believe her eyes. The demon had swept down from its lair and stolen her blessed blade.

Jaden thrust himself back up to the ruined window, his wings effortlessly defying gravity. The sword seared painfully into his palm, but that made him hopeful.

“What are you up to, Horizon? You’re acting very strangely!” Amucia had crossed her arms, and looked with annoyance at him. Well, playtime was over.

Jaden gritted his teeth against the pain in his hand, and swung against the demon again. She flinched back a bit as the glowing blade narrowly missed her, but the reverse swing cut into her arm.

“Ow! What… that really hurts!” Amucia held her bleeding arm, and looked with betrayal at Jaden. “That’s not playing fair. Stop it, sister!”

“I said I’d destroy you, and I will.” As long as he could hold onto the sword, that is. It hurt so much.

“You’re being unreasonable. I have more than enough energy to heal scrapes like these over and over until your hand falls off!” Amucia showed her arm. The wound was mostly gone, though it had taken longer than with his mundane blade.

Amucia was right. She was too strong. Weeks or even months of draining the village had saturated the demon with power, and in turn allowed her to reach even further. It was a dark cycle of ever expanding gluttony.

With her mesmerising hold on the villagers, there was nothing Jaden could do to free them aside from destroying the demon; but destroying her was impossible as long as she kept drawing from her people. However, her magic is not so unlike my own, Jaden realised. We both steal our power from someone else. Perhaps...

Jaden held out his hands with the palms skyward, and reached for the demon. He had let the sword fall to the ground to allow himself to concentrate.

"What, are you finally giving up, sister?" She laughed gaily, covering her mouth with a hand. Too well fed by the energies of her captive village, she didn't notice how the strands of magic began to detach themselves and reach for Jaden instead.

"Siphon!" He grasped the source of her power and pulled as hard as he could. The rush was incredible!

"W- what are you doing? Wait, sister, don't... We can share. I'm not greedy," the demon pleaded with him.

I know how you do what you do. I know how to do what you do. Better than you.

Redwall wasn't his yet, but it wasn't hers either. He would contest her hold on the village as long as he could. Cut off from her source, she was vulnerable at last.

Jaden felt the nether energies soak through his body. The demon had been feasting on the village for weeks, and she was completely flooded with power. The twice stolen vitality caused something inside him to open its eyes from dormancy, synergising with his own nature, but he couldn't think of that right now. He would pay the price later. It was just one more thing to be afraid of.

“Enough, Ashomi! You want to protect humans so badly? How about you protect the one who wouldn’t accept my hospitality?”

“Rhyce? Where is he, you bitch?” Jaden kept drawing as much of her strength as he could.

“I just told my servants to kill him. He’s in the shed behind the mansion. If you hurry, you can save him,” Amucia glared at the Mystic.

Mirena was trained to move in her armour, but running up those stairs was more of an exertion than she wanted to admit. She had seen the demon land in a chamber above the entrance. Oleander had passed her easily, and waited at the top of the stairs with knives ready if something jumped out at them. Their backs were clear, though. The two women had left none of the servants moving. Mirena felt the unclean presence in the house clearly now.

The twin doors to the chamber stood open, and fires burned along the walls. That was usually a sign that Jaden had been here, and they hurried forward to help their friend. Why he had decided to fight the demon alone was not important right now. As they looked inside, what they saw was unexpected.

“There are two of them?” Oleander groaned. They had assumed there was more than one demon from the start, but as they kept running into servants and thralls, she had begun hoping this was the work of a single mastermind. “And why is one of them wearing a scarf?”

“Not now, Oleander. Look, what are they doing?” Mirena pointed at the two demons, who seemed to be locked in some sort of stand-off. They were talking to each other, but she couldn’t make out what was being said.

Suddenly, one of them pointed toward the doors she and Oleander stood by, and the other looked their way with a fearful expression.

Jaden looked toward where Amucia had indicated. He remembered the shed around the back, next to the wagon houses. He could make it there in time. He had to. Wait, was that Rena and Ollie by the doors? Maybe they had a chance yet.

He reached down and grabbed the glowing sword again, the pain reigniting in his burnt hand. Before Amucia could say anything, he leapt through the room and landed next to his friends. Oleander started to move up to attack him, with Mirena readying her shield, when he flipped the sword in his hands and offered her the hilt.

“Get her,” he all but commanded, then pushed past into the mansion. He could get to the back faster by going through, rather than around. Jaden crashed through two doors before going out a window. Mountain, Telum, stars and ancestors, let him be in time.

Mirena held her sword mutely for a heartbeat, and both she and the redhead stared at the trail of destruction the scarfed demon had caused as she fled. When Mirena and that demon had been face to face, she had felt a strangely familiar sensation. As if she knew this being. Then she looked back into the burning room and saw the remaining one. That demon sneered at them.

“Humans. You were interrupting a family affair, and you broke all my toys. I will have to replace them, with you!”

“Fall before the might of Telum!” Mirena charged in, drawing the demon’s attention.

“Wonderful. The paladin. Still looking for heaven in all the wrong places, little girl?” The demon leapt back from the arc of the glowing blade, and unleashed a jet of fire against her attackers. Mirena held up her shield and prayed.

The knives Oleander threw seemed like they just made the demon angrier, and she had to dodge out of the way as even more fire came her way. She was running out of knives. If they lived through this, she would try to get her hands on one of those knives that came back after you threw it. Her foot bumped into a fireplace that had been hidden by one of those long silk drapes. Why would they put braziers in the room if they had a fireplace already? Her eyes paused on a sharp-looking fire-poker.

The knight and the demon fought back and forth. Mirena couldn’t get close enough to strike, and the demon’s fire couldn’t get past her shield. The heat was beginning to be unbearable, though. Mirena knew that if this turned into a battle of attrition, she would lose.

“Are you praying, paladin? No miracle will come. You will make a precious slave once I hollow your soul out for my servants to fill,” the demon taunted, as she flew back from yet another swing.

“Back home, I knew an old man who collected butterflies,” a voice came out of the haze that filled the room. The demon suddenly shrieked, as an iron poker ripped through one of her wings and nailed her to the floor.

“You unwashed, ugly beast! I will laugh when your owner claims your marked soul!” She cursed at the redhead.

With no way of fleeing now, the demon just screamed at the advancing knight. After exhausting her breath, the demon smiled sweetly.

“I surrender! I am now your prisoner, and expect fair treatment as befits my status. That’s what your people do, right? Take care of your prisoners? What do you say to that?”

“I am the Sword of Heaven,” Mirena replied, and swung her sword with all the might of Telum.

Something had changed. The man-creatures stopped pressing the heated tip of the knife against his body for a while, staring at the door. Then they turned back, with their heads at an odd angle.

“The Mistress says to kill you,” spoke the first.

“Death,” explained the other.

“The end.”

Rhyce had made his peace. He had counted each blow, every cut. It might be enough.

The door burst open, sending broken pieces of wood flying. The creatures barely had time to turn around before the winged vengeance was upon them.

“Not the Mistre-“ The clipped voice was cut short as the red-skinned woman smashed its head into the wall, making the shed shake. The other one quieted as quickly when her wing slammed it up against the roof.

Rhyce heard the crows call out. He could barely cling to consciousness and hung limply in his manacles and chains. His left eye was swollen shut, and the other bloodied, but he could still make out the woman in front of him.

"Princess of fire, have you come to claim me for my sins?" Rhyce managed to rasp out, sounding relieved even through his pain. She stopped halfway through the shed, next to the unmoving former men.

"No, I've come to free you."

"Have I finally paid my dues? Are the scales balanced?" He needed to hear something. Anything.

"Yes. Your sins are washed clean by your blood." Jaden didn't know if his words made any difference, but one look at his friend told him enough.

"At last. Maybe the faces will stop staring at me in my dreams..." Rhyce slumped in his chains, allowing himself to rest.

Jaden grabbed at the chains where they were nailed to the wall. They slowly began to glow with heat as his inner fire rushed to the surface; the wood smouldered, and metal softened enough for him to pull them apart. He caught the unconscious man when the last chain broke, and helped him from the place where he fought demons both within and without.

He gently held the archer as they left the torture-shed. It was strange how easy it was to carry the grown man, but Jaden could feel the siphoned power dissipate rapidly. That meant that the source had been killed, just as if one of his pact-bound creatures had died.

Jaden laid his friend down on the grass next to the shed, and stared up at the windows of the house for a long while. He could see no other fighting going on, and the feeling of darkness had begun to recede. A movement to his left showed two people riding away along a forest path. A man and a woman. He wanted to chase them, but he couldn’t leave Rhyce in this state.

"Demon! Step away from that man!" Mirena had a half-healed gash on her face, and held her glowing sword raised against Jaden. Oleander was circling around, trying to remain unnoticed. Was she carrying a fireplace poker?

He raised his hands palms outward, a gesture of peace. He had to do something before the situation escalated out of control.

"Rh- This man was being kept in the shed over there. I freed him." He moved a bit to be able to see both of the women at once.

"I said step AWAY from him. You will get no second chance!" Mirena was close enough to rush him, from Jaden's experience.

"I'm not with that... other demon. I tried to stop her. Didn't you see us fight when you arrived?" His palm still bore the black char where Mirena's sword had burnt him.

"... Yes. I did. Why did you fight her, and free our friend?"

"Mirena! Let's just get her, like we got her girlfriend up there!" Oleander had managed to slip out of sight again.

"I'm NOT her friend. I would've killed her myself, if she hadn't ordered her lackeys to finish off Rhyce!"

Mirena stopped in her tracks, looking surprised. Jaden cursed himself silently.

"How do you know his name?" She accused. "Have you been spying on us?"

"Oh, for the love of..." Jaden was about to lower his hands when a threatening motion of Mirena's sword brought them up again. "No! I'm not a spy! I was fighting her because she was hurting people."

"Why do you care? You demons are all monsters!" Oleander spat from her position behind Jaden.

Mirena took a long look at Jaden, and slowly lowered her sword. Oleander gasped.

"What... are you?" The knight asked, looking honestly perturbed.

"I'm... sorry. If you'll let me, I'll go. After all, there's a lot more of the demon's creatures to clean up before the village is safe." Jaden let his hands fall to his sides.

Both the other women risked a short look toward the village. The noise of fighting reached them.

"You are right, whoever you are. We must save as many people as we can. I sense no evil intent in you, visitor. You are free to go."

"Thank you, Knight." Jaden turned to go.

"Will we see you again?" Mirena called after him.

Every day, Jaden thought, as he threw himself into the air.

Jaden landed in a small forest clearing not too far away. He had to return to his formal form to be able to join up with his friends again, since his mirage veil couldn’t cover extra limbs such as his wings or tail. Most of his clothes were simply ruined, but he noticed with a wry sense of humour that his boots still fit wonderfully. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about what the cost of this change would be as he drew the spirit back inside his body. The summer night was warm enough that he didn’t mind being essentially naked, but the loss of his chemise was a pity. The veil was brought to life once again with a trickle of magic, hiding him in a familiar illusion.

Jaden hoped he wouldn’t be too late to help his friends, though how he would do that would have to wait. With a frustrated grunt, he realised he had lost his sword again, up in the burning pleasure-room of the demon. He didn’t much enjoy the idea of going back up in the mansion, so he set off back toward Redwall, happy that his boots had survived.

The sight that awaited him was spectacular. Kellen had raised walls of stone to keep the enthralled villagers at bay while they fought the much more dangerous soulless servants. After the demon had fallen, most of the people had simply collapsed down in a stupor, and between Kellen’s magic and Stann’s sword they held their own with only a few cuts and scrapes to show for it. Mirena and Oleander hadn’t returned yet, but Jaden expected them to stay with and take care of Rhyce.

“Little brother!” Stann called out when he saw Jaden jog up from between two houses. “Where have you been?”

“I, uh, was held up,” the Mystic offered lamely.

“The entire battle? I’m disappointed in you. We could have used that weakening magic of yours to avoid hurting the villagers,” Stann looked saddened, and gave the younger man a once-over. Jaden looked, as always, untouched by the battle. It could only mean one thing — his little brother had avoided the fight altogether. It hurt the Northman that Jaden might be turning into a coward.

“I’m… sorry, Bear. How are things here?” Jaden looked around and tried to change the subject.

“There may be a couple more of those doll-faced demonthings, but as a whole I believe the village is secure,” Kellen pointed at the unaffected helping their senseless neighbours back into their homes. “I think we should be thankful that we all survived.”

“The demon is destroyed, as well. That’s the only explanation for the villagers returning to normal. That’s good,” Jaden nodded at a comatose woman lying in a heap next to the centre well.

“There’s that,” Stann grumbled, and began to look around after more demon-servants.

A while later, a black carriage weaved its way unsteadily along the main street. By now, most people had been helped into houses, so there was no reason for the driver to steer like that. When it came closer, Jaden couldn’t help but smile. Oleander sat at the bench and wrestled with the reins like they were live snakes. The carriage managed to slow down to a stop nearby the tavern, more due to the routine of the horses than the skill of the driver.

“Everyone alright?” Kellen called as he jogged up to take the reins from the redhead. There was no need for her to keep pulling at them now, after all.

“Rena and I are fine, but we… uh, we found Rhyce, and he’s in pretty bad shape.” Oleander hopped down and opened the carriage door.

Mirena had stayed by his side during the trip, continuing to bring the blessings of her god to the archer. The worst injuries, those that might have proven fatal if left alone, had healed. She brushed his hair back, and saw all the burn marks around his scalp. These would need healing as well, or he would scar badly. At her touch, Rhyce shifted a bit, regaining some consciousness. Despite the pain he must be feeling, a faint smile came to his lips when he opened his eyes.

In the carriage was also the son of the baron. They had found Kalen sitting in his room, staring into space, despite the fire a few doors away. Not the ones to leave a child by itself in a burning building, they brought him along. Hopefully, now that the demon was gone, he might regain his former self along with the rest of the village.

The village of Redwall couldn’t be more thankful. By next morning, most of those who had fallen under the thrall of the demon had returned to normalcy. To them, it had been a strange, hazy dream that seemed to unreal, but one they would have to live with for the rest of their lives.

Kalen remained locked inside himself, but he had been exposed much longer, and much more than everyone else. Samul, who had also privately tutored the boy since the baron settled here, took it upon himself to help take care of Kalen. With the boy’s parents missing and his sister dead, he had no one else. When the news of the Tassard’s nethermancy and demon-summoning reached the capital, they would no doubt lose their lands and titles, but there was hope that Kalen’s uncle, the baron of Oakborough, would adopt the boy.

As for Redwall itself, the king of Alband would have to appoint a temporary governor until a new noble could fill the void. But that was for the future days to tell.

The next morning the group sat together to discuss what had happened. As the only guests at the Woodsman’s Cup, and everyone else spending their time resting at home, it was very quiet. Even the keeper, Beryl, sensed their needs and left them alone.

It was not an easy morning for Jaden. His abandoning of Oleander, and general disappearance during the fighting, caused a lot of concerned looks in his direction. Finally, he realised that he couldn’t just assume everything would be alright. He had to say something. He just wished it could’ve been the truth, but truth would not help anyone right now.

"I have something to say, and I'll ask you to let me finish speaking. Please." Jaden looked as uncomfortable as he felt. There would be enough lying to his friends today.

Stann opened his mouth, but managed to hold back whatever was on his mind. For now. Mirena motioned for him to go on, and kept her face a study of neutrality. She wouldn’t judge until she had listened. Oleander looked both worried, and a fleeting glimpse of something else. Rhyce simply rested against the wall, his eyes open in small slits. Kellen looked almost as disappointed as his cousin.

"I... I'm sorry for my actions yesterday." Jaden began. "We have been fighting so much lately... My magic has been almost completely depleted. I had no salamander's fire left, and without my magic sword..." That he had traded for vanity.

Stann started to understand and spoke, forgetting about his promise to wait for Jaden to finish.

"Why didn't you tell us you weren’t in any condition to fight?" The warrior demanded, slamming a hand into the table.

"I didn't want you to feel I would be a... a liability to the group. I wanted to help. I want to help, as best as I can, but without most of my magic I'm not strong enough to fight demons. I'm sorry for not telling you about this." Saying it hurt him. They were his friends, and they deserved the truth. But lies came easier than truth right now.

"You're right about that. You SHOULD have told us," Mirena said firmly. "We're a group, Jaden. We support one another. If one is weakened, the others step forward to give aid. That's what friends do. Don't stay quiet about things like this. That goes for all of you!"

Jaden felt ashamed for things he hadn't done, and the lies he had told his friends. There was only one thing left to do. One more string to pluck.

"I was too proud to admit it, and that was wrong. Can you forgive me?" He had a hard time meeting their eyes. Deceiving his friends was wrong, but what could he do?

Stann was already on his feet and grabbed Jaden in a firm bearhug.

"There's nothing to forgive, little brother! You are still young, and will do many other stupid things."

"Like Stann!" Said his cousin.

"Yes! Like me!" Northmen forgave as easily as they swore vengeance.

Stann put Jaden back on the floor, and stepped back to stare at him critically. Had the Northman felt something when he grabbed Jaden by surprise? He was different now, after all.

"But we must do something about you. You're so thin, I was afraid I'd snap you in half. You'll never recover your strength if you don't eat properly."

"It doesn't work like that, St-" Jaden got cut off as the bear warrior dragged him to Beryl, demanding that they'll be served three breakfasts. Stann intended to watch his little brother eat every single one of them.

Oleander sat down on the other side next to Jaden, and berated him for leaving her alone. Between Stann all but shoving the spoon into his mouth, and the redhead pulling out embarrassing old stories to punish him with, it was as normal a breakfast as he could expect.

Back in their rooms, Rhyce was lying on his stomach with Mirena sitting at the edge of the bed.

"What do you think about Jaden's confession?" Mirena wondered idly, as she ran her hands over the last wounds on Rhyce's back.

"He wasn't entirely forthcoming with us, but that can easily have been him translating his brand of magic to us. I don't think any of us truly understand what Jaden does."

"Maybe. I too got the feeling that something was off. He's proven himself time and again before, though." Mirena would not forget how he stood by her when they fought the Sons of Husk. It would take more than an odd apology or strange absence to change that. "I tried speaking with him about what it meant to be a Mystic before, but even then I got the feeling he was holding something back."

Rhyce let out a breath as the light from Mirena's blessed symbol mended his flesh. He didn't say anything else. He valued the secrets of others. There was no need to say anything at the moment.

The crows on top of the shed had seen a winged demon land in a small clearing next to the village, but another being had left it. A princess of fire in disguise.

EPILOGUE

Change is a fact of life. It happens whether we want it to or not. Change can come suddenly, or it can happen so slowly you didn’t even realise how much have happened until you look back across your life. If we let it, though, it can change our lives for the better.

The aftermath of the second battle of Redwall left an impression on the village, both in the hearts and in the streets. Kellen’s earth magic had avoided damaging most buildings too much, but it still looked as if there had been an earthquake. The rune seeker was very busy during the next couple of days, restoring the village to its former look and making sure the fires of the mansion didn’t spread to the forest.

Mirena organised the repairs efforts, and making sure that a house that unfortunately had been too badly damaged was demolished properly.

Oleander and Stann felt a little left out, not having any useful magical talents to help out with the efforts, but they found themselves running an improvised daycare for the village children while most adults were busy with putting their homes back together. For a moment, it felt just like old times for the redhead, surrounded by children.

During the first evening they returned to the Tassard mansion and poked around. It was strange, the fires hadn’t spread from the one room, but in there everything had turned to ash. Even metal. The rest had been left in good shape, aside from the damaged adjoining inner walls, and while poking around in the baron’s study they came across some pretty damning evidence that showed how he and his wife had been avid occultists, but without talent of their own, they borrowed their magic power through demonic pacts. Pacts, that eventually led them to giving up one of their own children to host their dread matron. Pacts, that also, unfortunately, had assured them wealth and success. How this would affect Redwall, only time would tell, but the village’s dream of greatness might have been only a brief glimpse, soon lost.

Rhyce refused to stay in bed, despite Mirena’s orders. They reached an agreement that he could be up, as long as he wasn’t moving around too much. The village abuzz with repairs and recovery wasn’t for him, though, and he spent most of the time in the tavern’s backyard, feeding a couple of crows that kept him company however often Beryl chased them away with her broom.

Something had changed within the archer, though. Whatever had happened to him in that shed had made him a bit different. He was happy, as Rhyce went, to talk when someone sat down with him. He might not talk for a long time, or say much, but it was a change. He seemed more relaxed, somehow, instead of his previous vigilance. He also kept glancing at Jaden whenever they were in the same room, but none of them touched the subject.

And Jaden? Like Oleander and Stann, his talents were not suitable for rebuilding, so instead he spent most of the time helping Samul’s wife Romi cook for the working people of the village. The weather was kept nice enough that meals were had together outside, where most villagers attended. It brought the community together in a comfortable way, allowing those unaffected by the demon’s influence to come to accept that their friends and family had been returned to them.

It had been difficult, though. During the first night, once the fighting had stopped and people returned to their homes, Jaden and the rest were back at the Woodsman’s Cup. Rhyce had been given a room of his own to rest, which left Jaden alone too. Once his friends had gone to their rooms, Jaden was still awake. Draining the demon of her power had invigorated him enough to chase away the need for sleep. Instead, he found himself in the washroom. The tavern’s keeper had received a large mirror from the baron as a gift, and Beryl had put it inside the washroom so everyone could use it. It was full length, which was rare this far away from large cities.

It was a hard thing, losing yourself bit by bit like this. The face that looked back at him in the mirror was more like his sister's than his own. There were definite differences, of course. You could see the family resemblance, but while Lilya's was hard and strong, his was softer and... sad. Taking Amucia’s power had accelerated the already unnatural drift by magnitudes.

"This is who I am now," Jaden told himself. "Even if I never call on her again after tonight, nobody will mistake me as anything but a girl."

It was one of the things he hadn't been able to figure out before leaving Talraman. Why had his changes come so quickly? The drift was a slow and gradual process. His father had worn his dragon's form several times before the marks even started to appear. Jaden had changed six times, counting today. Six. How was this fair? How was this even possible?

The masters back home had spoken about the drift, how the speed and extent varied from Mystic to Mystic depending on how closely the spirit resonated with the magician. There was no such thing as complete harmony, of course, but over time the differences between the two would fade. But in his case, this couldn't be true. Nobody was further from their spirit than he. So how was this happening?

Jaden reached up to touch his face. He didn't flinch as his arm brushed against his larger chest this time.

The spirit and the Mystic were supposed to be as one after the spiritquest was completed. But he had never felt that close bond. No, for him it was as if they stood at either side of the world, a different horizon at their backs. How could he come to terms with that enormous duality? How could he fully accept this life?

He stood in front of the tall mirror, and quietly removed his clothes. Even with it right before his eyes, he could still not bridge that divide. Could he ever think of himself like that? As a woman? The person in the mirror certainly looked like she could. Would he be happier if he tried to see the world through her eyes, even if only for a little while?

Change was the very heart of the Lacunai. Their life was dedicated change. They embraced it, despite not knowing where it would take them. No matter what Jaden had done since leaving the mountain, he had never stopped thinking of himself as a Mystic. He had fought the change, but change had touched him anyway.

Here he was, with people he had grown to love. They were strange, driven, and sometimes frustrating to be around, but he loved them anyway. Couldn't he learn to love the person in the mirror as well?

"Hello," Jaden told the mirror. He could do this. He could be this. Just this once. "My name is Jaden. I'm a Lacunai Mystic, and I'm a... a girl."

Acceptance was always the first step. Saying it aloud didn't hurt as much as expected. In fact, it didn't hurt at all. Where the pain should have been, there was just a sense of relief welling up inside instead. Like a pain you had grown used to suddenly letting up. With that realisation, other feelings rushed up as well. Fear, of what the future might bring; regret, of the things that had led up to this point; but mostly, a wave of warm support from within. Finally, the harmony.

Those feelings went beyond the twin horizons of her heart.

END OF BOOK ONE

* * *

Well, this has been an experience! I never thought I’d write something of this length, but here we are!

I hope you enjoyed reading Horizons of the Heart as much as I loved writing it. I’ve learned so much in the process, lessons I’ll remember when I begin with the next book (there will be one!).

Thanks for all the support, the help, and the encouraging comments. That warms all the heartplaces inside this newbie author :D

Since I have several main characters in my novel "Horizons of the Heart", it might be a good idea to present them to you outside their work-environment.

Without further ado, here's who they are!

Jaden Tarasov
Nicknames: Jay, little brother (by Stann)

Jaden is a young man of medium height and average build, with glossy black hair hanging down well past his shoulders. He usually ties it back to keep out of his face, and his light brown eyes. Naturally pale from growing up in a cloudy mountain region, he has only recently begun to get some colour. A distinguishing mark is his pointy ears and slender features that makes people assume he is an elf, or at least of elven blood.
He enjoys taking long walks down mountains, arguing with Oleander, and being himself.

Oleander
Nicknames: Red, Ollie (by Jaden), little fox (by Kellen), Lea (by children), Oleander Lockless (by some), Stop Her! (by many)

Oleander is a woman in her early twenties slightly below average height, with short red hair barely reaching her cheeks. She has raincloud grey eyes, and a ready smile. She is slim and athletic, and much prefers to outwit rather than fight her way through the world. She was born in a small town in the kingdom of Olmar, a country covered mostly with large plains and gentle hills.
She enjoys finding things, debating morality, and letting other people touch cursed artefacts first.

Mirena Kaladon
Nicknames: Rena (by her friends), Lady Kaladon (by her peers)

Mirena is a tall woman with long, chestnut brown hair she takes very good care of, and amazingly green eyes. She is in her late twenties, and hides surprising strength of both arms and character underneath a gentle exterior. Mirena is an anointed knight of the temple, in the service of Telum, the Sword of Heaven. She grew up in the free city of Tier, born into a very wealthy merchant family.
Mirena enjoys smiting evil, making up complex strategies, and wearing fine gowns when not smiting evil.

Stann Winterheart
Nickname: Bear

Stann is a classic blonde and blue-eyed, tall and strong Northman of roughly thirty years of age. He keeps his beard nice and trimmed, his hair long, and his sword sharp. There are a couple of visible scars that shows how many fights he’s been in. He usually dress in sleeveless tunics, heavy wool trousers or chain mail armour, as the occasion requires. Helmet and shield are optional, depending on the impression he wants to make. There’s a tattoo of a bear on his upper right arm.
Stann enjoys a good joke, a large family, and elven barmaids.

Kellen Winterheart
Nickname: Kel

Kellen keeps his blonde hair short, a neat goatee with a slightly larger moustache. The older cousin of Stann is even taller and more muscled, despite not even carrying a sword. He eschews the traditional robes of a magician in favour of the everyday clothes of a Northman, simple wool trousers and tunic. He keeps a large selection of magical runes that gives him the power to control stone and water.
Kellen enjoys fishing in peace by a gentle brook, crushing responsibility, and suffering from vertigo.

Rhyce
Nickname: Rhyce (by friends), Deadeye (other people)

Rhyce looks, from a distance, like a normal borderlander man with unruly dark blonde (or maybe light brown) hair, and deep brown eyes. He’s seldom seen without his unique longbow made from some strangely dark wood, and a hooded leather outfit with metal studs. He is in his mid-thirties, and takes better care of animals than he does with the feelings of people.
Rhyce enjoys giving cryptic advice, knowing things he really shouldn’t be able to, and staring grimly into the night.