Travis Starnes
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The Threads of Destiny - Chapter 13
🕑 Added 2024-05-10 15:00:04 +0000 UTCChapter 13: Farvale
The city of Farvale was a completely different world than their small village of Eldham, and not just because of the cobblestone streets and large stone buildings. The place was crawling with people, everywhere they looked, and all of them moving with the same urgency of people being chased by wolves.
And the noise. It was all-consuming.
Merchants hawking their wares, saws and hammers and all other sundry clanging away in workshops, people in small and even large gatherings in every direction, and children laughing and darting between their legs or small gaps in between groups.
There were so many people.
“I know this is a far cry from Wolfridge,” Osric said, craning his neck this way and that. “But I don’t remember the capital being so … busy.”
Rowan chuckled and said, “Because it isn’t. Wolfridge is a larger city and has more people, but these border towns move at a pace like nowhere else. So much trade goes through here on its way down to Everton and the four corners, especially out of the western forest where it doesn’t make sense to carry it all the way up to Wolfridge just to bring it back down the Great Road. So yeah, a lot of it filters out by the time it gets that far. Also, the market is on the edge of town, not near the center, so that makes a big difference.”
“You’ve been to Southwatch?” Osric asked, now staring at Rowan with as much amazement as the town.
“Only as far as Everton, and not on Ranger business. Our purview doesn’t go past into our barony, but I we picked up a fugitive from the crown and there’s an outpost for the Knights of the Gold there I could hand him over to.”
“And you met the knights?” Osric said, even more fascinated.
He’d met a few Knights of Greenwood, who served as liegemen to the baron, when they’d come to Master Ironhand for repairs to armor or weapons. Those, however, were a far cry from Knights of the Gold, who were liegemen directly to the crown itself, which only accepted the most elite warriors.
“Some. Bunch of jumped-up bastards, if you ask me. Too good to talk to someone from out in the sticks.”
Osric wasn’t sure he’d call Greenwood the sticks. Sure, it was the barony furthest from the crown, well, with the exception of Easthave, just north of Greenwood. But it sat on an intersection of the Great Road and the road to the kingdom of Brackendell, and also shared a northern border with the Caellond League, so it seemed to get more credit than Greenwood.
Osric went back to admiring the city as they continued to push through the crowds towards its center. That was made easier by Rowan and Cinder. While Greenwood Rangers might be less common in this area, he was sure one accompanied by a full-grown wolf, which they probably assumed belonged to the ranger, was something most had never seen.
Cinder, for his part, seemed unperturbed by the attention. The street turned a sharp corner and it became readily apparent they were close. It opened up into a vast central square, dominated by a sprawling open-air market. Stalls of every color jostled for space, their owners loudly proclaiming the quality of their goods. The air was thick with the scents of exotic spices, fresh-baked bread, and the musk of livestock.
But what caught Osric’s eye was the building on the far side of the square. Rising above the surrounding structures was a grand mansion of pale stone fronted by large arched windows.
“That must be it,” Talia said. “Miriam said it was the biggest damn house she’d ever seen.”
“That isn’t a house, it’s a castle.”
Rowan laughed again and said, “Far from it. Come on.”
The three made their way up the ornate carved granite stairs to a large pair of double doors with massive golden door knockers in the shape of lion heads. Osric looked at the other two and then reached up and wrapped the heavy knocker three times.
A minute passed where nothing happened. Osric was about to reach up and knock again when a thunk could be heard on the inside, followed by the door creaking open, revealing a young girl of no more than fourteen. The harried expression she had on her face shifted to one of curiosity as she took in the strange party. Osric couldn’t blame her. With him now in good metal armor, a full-grown wolf at his side, accompanied by a girl with an ornate staff and a Greenwood Ranger, they would be a strange collection.
“Good day, miss,” Osric said, giving her what he hoped was a warm and disarming smile. “We’re here to see your master. Elder Miriam from Eldham sent us.”
The girl blinked, then nodded. “Please, come in. I’ll see if he’s available.”
She stepped aside, ushering them into a grand foyer. Marble floors gleamed beneath their feet and massive tapestries adorned the walls. On pedestals here or there were small but well-crafted golden statues and delicate vases. Making sure they knew to stay there, the girl hurried off down a long hallway to their left.
Osric turned in a slow circle, trying to take it all in. “Can you believe this place?”
“I knew city folk lived well, but this...” Rowan said. “The Rangers pay a gold a month. If I’d known working in a single city paid like this, I might’ve considered a career change.”
“There’s no way this comes from a city salary,” Talia said. “Even for a former member of the Conclave. This wealth is immense.”
“My master will see you now. Please, follow me,” the girl said, reappearing a few minutes later and giving them a curtsey.
She led them down the hallway and through a set of double doors into a study that made Elder Miriam’s book collection look paltry. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, packed with leather-bound tomes. A massive desk dominated the center of the room, its surface covered in parchment and strange, glinting instruments.
The line of bookcases was only broken on one wall by three, amazingly carved, wooden and metal statues. The materials twisted together until it was unclear if the wood was woven, or the metal grown. The detail was so fine that Osric could even make out the faces of the statues, each with a unique look that made them stand out as much as strangers in the street would. The one thing they all shared was a sour, cruel expression.
They were beautiful and hideous all at the same time. Why someone would want these around them, Osric would never know.
Behind the desk sat an elderly man, his white hair and beard neatly trimmed. He wore robes of deep blue, embroidered with intricate silver patterns. As they entered, he looked up from the parchment he was studying, his piercing blue eyes taking in the group.
“Welcome,” he said. “I am Godfrey Harrow. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
“Master Harrow, thank you for seeing us. My name is Osric Yarrow, and these are my companions, Talia, Rowan, and Cinder. We’ve come seeking your help. We’re looking for someone, an older man who lives in the forest, or at least older than us, I should say. We don’t know his name or exact location, but we know he has a well-stocked library, including some very ancient tomes. His home is not in a large city, but rather one of the smaller woodland huts or cottages in the Great Forest.”
“Interesting,” Godfrey said, leaning back in his chair. “And what makes you think I might know of this individual?”
“We were sent to you by Elder Miriam of Eldham,” Talia said. “She said she knew of you by reputation from her time at the Conclave.”
“I do not know anyone named Miriam, but it is good to know my reputation precedes me,” he said with a small, self-satisfied smile. “However, I must admit, your request is rather unusual. You know what this man’s home looks like, what he looks like, but not his name or precise location?”
“I know it sounds strange, but it’s what we have. The information came to us secondhand, and all Elder Miriam was told was that there was a man in the forest who might be able to aid her,” Osric said.
“And why, exactly, is this Elder of yours seeking this man’s assistance?”
“She was doing a search for a copy of a very old book and heard of a transcribed copy in the possession of this man, but the person who told her that only knew that he lived in the forest. Miriam is getting on in years and a search like this would be difficult for her, so we offered to take on the task instead,” Osric said.
“What is this book, exactly?”
Osric exchanged a glance with Talia before responding. “We don’t know, since honestly it didn’t matter for what we were sent to do. We were just asked to come and ask you in person if you knew who this man was. Depending on where he lives, we would then determine if Miriam could travel to him directly or if we needed to go. It honestly didn’t occur to me to ask about the book itself. All I know is it’s very old, about the early days of the Aeloria, before the formation of the Conclave.”
“Before the formation of the Conclave? That is indeed very old. I can see why she would go to great lengths to find it. A book like that would be extremely hard to find. I, myself, am something of a collector, and I don’t believe I’ve ever seen one from that time period.”
Osric gave a shrug. They were walking a tricky line, and everything he said seemed to pique the mage’s curiosity more and more. Which was something Osric wanted to absolutely avoid, if he could.
“Well, you may actually be in luck, as I know a man that fits that description and does collect older works, although I wasn’t aware he had anything that old. There’s a washed-up old cleric, a collector of relics, who lives in a cottage on the edge of the forest where it passes into Eldamar. I’ve never been to his place myself, mind you, and that is still a large area, but I’m sure some of the locals might know of him. Although from what I’ve heard, he’s something of a hermit, so perhaps not.”
“Really? That is excellent news,” Osric said excitedly, showing the first real emotion since they’d been escorted into the study. “Thank you, Master Harrow. This information is invaluable. We appreciate your help.”
As they turned to leave, the door to the study slammed shut all on its own, followed by the noticeable clicking sound of a heavy latch securing in place.
“Off so soon?” Godfrey asked, a small smile on his face as he pushed himself up from his desk. “I think not.”
“What? Why?” Osric asked, confused.
“Do you think I don’t know who you are, boy from Eldham?” Godfrey said, his voice becoming menacing. “You’ve been so busy, running around the forest, killing my brothers and causing havoc. I know what you’re carrying too, and you’re going to give it to me.”
Osric’s blood ran cold. They’d walked right into the hands of one of the Brethren. Delivered themselves to him.
“You have no authority here,” Rowan said. “Release us, or face the consequences of detaining a Greenwood Ranger.”
Godfrey ignored him, keeping his attention on Osric.
“The ranger and the girl can leave, but you’re going with me.”
“We’re not leaving without him,” Talia said, gripping her staff.
“Dead is just as good as alive,” This time the mage did look to her, ending his threat with a cold, hollow laugh.
Osric did wait for him to make the first move.
“Cinder. Attack,” Osric commanded as his hand reached for his sword.
Cinder didn’t hesitate, leaping forward with fangs bared, to tear into the mage. Godfrey was prepared and moved faster than Osric would have thought someone his age capable of. His hands whirled around each other until he finally pressed one hand forward, fingers curled. Papers and even small objects went flying into the air by an unseen blast of wind that struck the wolf, sending it tumbling sideways, smashing into one of the ornate bookshelves.
He didn’t even pause to see what happened to the animal, his hands continuing to weave around him, faster and faster. As he finished the next progressions of movement, the air in front of him shimmered and a leathery lizard-like creature with wings that connected to front claws materialized in mid-air, flapping its arms in steady strokes to float above the ground.
Osric had never seen a wyvern before, but he’d heard about them in fairytales and stories, although he’d imagined them much larger.
“Osric, Talia, watch out!” Rowan said as he took several steps back, pulling his bow off his back and pointing past Osric.
The three strange statues that had lined one wall had started moving, arms outstretched, coming for them. Osric pulled his sword and Talia took a step back. Lifting up her staff, she smashed the butt end of it into the ground, causing a bluish, shimmering light to reach up from the bottom of the staff and stretch around her before fading like water on sand.
She had said the staff had abilities, but Osric had never imagined something so amazing. Not that he had a chance to dwell on it. The statues were closing in, their metal and wood fists already rising for a strike. One lunged at Osric, its blow glancing off his armor with a dull clang. It was his first time being hit with the armor on, and it still hurt more than he thought it would, the force pushing him back. But he didn’t feel injured in any way, so it did its job.
Another had moved toward Rowan, swinging at him, but the agile Ranger slipped past its swing, avoiding the hit. The third went for Talia, also swinging at her, its fist connecting with the side of her head . . . and bouncing off in a shimmer of blue, the very air around her body rippling like water on a pond.
The wyvern had turned its attention to Cinder, and made an attack at the wolf as it recovered from hitting the wall. Claws tore through fur and teeth through scales and the two animals grappled one another, the blood of both hitting the wooden floor.
Rowan ignored the statue that had swung at him, an arrow already pulled back in his bow, aiming past it to the creatures master halfway across the room. Loosing the string, the arrow ripped through the air and sank into the mage’s thigh. Godfrey hissed in pain, but his eyes stayed focused on the three as his hands moved around him, creating a shimmering shield-like circle in front of him that vanished much as Talia’s had.
Osric couldn’t watch them, though. He had a statue to deal with, slashing at the thing with his sword, hoping it would have some effect on the animated wood and metal. His blade skidded across some of the finely wrought iron, breaking through it and cutting hard into the branches of the statue. The thing opened its mouth, or what Osric thought of as its mouth, and emitted a rattling animalistic screech that seemed to be the thing of nightmares.
Talia likewise jumped back from hers, her hands, one holding the staff, dancing through the air until what looked like a translucent greenish arrowhead as large as her palm, appeared in her outstretched left hand, shimmering and flowing like it was made of an emerald water. She threw her hand forward and the arrowhead shot out, smashing into the chest of the statue facing her, seeming to splash like water as the energy dissipated. Suddenly, the metal where the green arrowhead had been began to darken, smoke and pit while the wood around it melted, the wood becoming almost a sludge that fell to the floor, eating into the very floorboards.
Cinder and the Wyvern continued to tear at each other, the animals locked in a death struggle until the beast managed to slash with its razor-sharp claws, cutting deep into Cinder’s flank. The wolf yelped and stumbled back.
Osric tried to disengage from the statue and help his friend, but a searing wave of fire smashed into him, streaking out of Godfrey’s outstretched hands, searing the metal of his armor until it almost glowed red and scorching Osric’s exposed skin. Thankfully, the fire only lasted a moment as the mage’s spell was cut off when another arrow smashed into him, this time into the man’s shoulder, knocking him back and ending the flames.
Osric fought through the pain, swinging his sword in a wide arc with every ounce of strength he possessed as he backed away from the statue. The blade sliced through its wooden and metal-laced torso, cutting it in two. He must have severed whatever piece of the veil that had been imbued inside of it because it crumbled into a heap of loose materials as he finished cutting through it, any semblance that it had once been a solid mass gone.
Talia managed to block a swing from the statue that opposed her, pushing its massive fist out of the way, sending it whistling past her head instead of into it. Releasing the staff with her left hand, she made the complicated gestures he’d seen her make before, causing three glowing white darts of energy to spring from her hand and streak across the room, smashing into Godfrey’s chest, sending him stumbling back a second step.
Her attention diverted, the statue facing her tried to take another swing, and then froze in place as the acid eating away at its middle cut through the same thing that Osric’s had. Like the one he’d faced, hers collapsed into a pile of raw materials, its enchantment removed.
Rowan had been backing up the entire time, avoiding the third statue while he shot arrows at the mage, but he’d run out of room, bumping into one of the bookcases. Slinging his bow over his back in a single motion, the Ranger drew the short sword at his side and reversed direction, charging the statue closing in on him, plunging the sword into the wooden construct’s center, pushing it back, but not collapsing it as Osric and Talia had managed.
Godfrey pulled the arrow from his shoulder and managed to get his now-weakened arm to lift. Slowly he began weaving another pattern. No longer hampered by flying arrows, he managed to finish the incantation, thrusting his hands forward, again emitting twin rays of searing flame.
One shot at Rowan, who managed to move aside, interposing the wooden statue, which absorbed some of the flame. Its back now crackling, as it became wreathed in flame.
Talia wasn’t so lucky. She hefted her staff, but the flame blasted through the invisible energy around her, causing it to become visible again for a moment as it was shredded away and the flames hit her directly. She screamed as her skin blistered and seared before dropping to the ground, unconscious.
Osric’s heart stopped as he saw Talia fall. He turned from the attack he had just started on the wyvern and ran to her side, sliding the last few feet on his knees and placing his hands over her still form, calling in his mind for the veilguard to aid him again, as they had before. He begged with every fiber of his being for them to heal her.
He felt it the moment something touched him. Like water filling a bowl, he felt energy flow into his body, more powerful than it had before, and then his hands glowed, a warm light emanating from between his palms and Talia’s scarred body. Slowly, the blackened skin turned back to its more natural, pale color, and her eyes fluttered open.
“Osric?” she murmured, her voice weak but filled with gratitude.
“I’ve got you,” he reassured her, helping her to her feet. “We’re not done yet.”
“Demon,” Godfrey yelled. “You are no cleric. How do you wield power beyond the veil?”
“The gods favor us, mage,” Osric spat. “They won’t let you and your kind continue to destroy this world.”
Osric hated the brethren, for good reasons, but it wasn’t until that moment he became a believer in what the Sage had asked him to do. He agreed to this quest because of what the Sage had told them, but it was an adventure. Fun. In that moment when the gods, whichever ones from the Veilguard had aided him and filled him with their energy, it had given him a glimpse. Just a brief flash of what the brethren were doing. He saw the world rip apart, planes of fire and pain on the other side as all manner of obscenities crossed from their side of the veil to his.
He saw the world burn. Not only saw it. He felt it. He felt the pain and the horror. In that moment, he knew what this quest was really about. They weren’t simply trying to help the Sage to repair the damage already done to the veil. They were trying to stop it from being destroyed outright.
This was larger than the Sage had told them. Or maybe even known.
“It’s your kind that wants to destroy the world,” Godfrey snapped back.
As Osric began a charge toward Godfrey, Rowan was still close in to the statue attacking him, pressing the Ranger close enough to the bookshelf, its hands reaching for his throat, that he couldn’t extract the blade. Instead, the Ranger ducked under the statue’s hands and, grabbing the hilt of the sword with both hands, he spun around the construct, pulling the blade with him, causing it to rotate as he did, shredding wood or metal as it twisted.
He must have finally found the spot both Osric and Talia had, because suddenly his statue collapsed into its constituent parts, just as hers had done.
Osric could see the mage calculating, watching his last statue fall and the Cinder with his fangs now clamped down hard on the wyvern’s neck, pulling it to the ground and shaking the last bits of life from it. Backing away as Osric cleared the desk, the old man began weaving his hands. Osric wasn’t going to give him the opportunity and launched off the desk, sinking his sword with both hands into the mage’s chest just as his body began to shimmer and turn invisible.
A look of sheer surprise crossed Godfrey’s face before the rest of Osric collided with him, knocking the now very dead mage to the floor.
Osric pulled his blade from the mage’s chest, wiping it clean on the dead man’s robes before sheathing it and turning to look at his friends. Rowan, his own sword still in hand, glanced around the room, taking in the destroyed statues and the lifeless forms of the wyvern and its master.
“We need to leave. Now. This man held a position of authority here, and it will look very badly for us if they find us here with him.”
“What? Why?” Osric asked. “He attacked us. We were just defending ourselves.”
“You think anyone in this town is going to believe that? Who knows what kinds of connections he has here, while we arrived just today. I’m a ranger, but we aren’t immune from arrest. If we’re lucky, no one saw us enter.”
“He’s right, Osric. We can’t stay here,” Talia said.
“Okay, let’s go.”
Osric saw Cinder limping toward him, blood matting its fur as the wolf struggled to breathe. Kneeling next to his loyal companion, Osric placed his hand gently on the animal’s flank, whispering a soft prayer.
Once more, he felt the divine energy flow through him, albeit much weaker than before. A faint glow emanated from his fingertips, and Cinder’s wounds began to close, though not completely. The gashes remained visible, in spite of the magic.
Osric tried again, but nothing happened. Was there a limit to the gods’ power? Did it determine how or who he asked for the power to be used on? There wasn’t time to dwell on this, but he needed to investigate it. His ability to heal had quite literally saved their lives, but he needed to understand its use and, more importantly, its limitations. Not doing so, they might rely on it at the wrong moment, dooming themselves.
Talia was already at the door, her hands moving, weaving a spell. When she finished, he could hear a soft click as the door unlatched. Rowan pulled it open and stopped in his tracks.
On the other side stood the young girl who had greeted them earlier, her eyes wide with fear. She must have heard the whole thing.
“Don’t run, we aren’t going to hurt you,” Osric said as gently as he could. “We’re sorry your master is dead, but he ...”
“I’m not,” the girl said, fear still evident on her face, but hardening as it shifted to almost anger. “I hated Master Harrow. He was … mean. His friends were mean.”
“Do you have somewhere to go?” Talia asked.
“No,” the girl said, suddenly looking worried for the first time, as she seemed to realize her predicament. “I … The only reason I stayed was because he was teaching me magic. Now that he’s gone, I don’t have anyone to learn from. The Conclave is so far away ...”
Talia stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder. “If you still wish to learn, there is a woman in the village of Eldham who can teach you. It’s a long and dangerous journey through the forest, but...”
As she paused, trying to think of how to get this girl all the way to Eldham, Rowan reached into his pocket, producing a small wooden disk.
Pressing it into the girl’s hand, he said, “Take this to the Ranger station at the edge of town. Tell him that Rowan Rynard asks that you be escorted to Eldham by the next Rangers to go that way.”
The girl nodded, clutching the disk to her chest.
“I will. Thank you.”
She cast one last look at her now-dead master and ran out.
“She could just go straight to the first guard she sees and tell them what happened, that we killed her master. That could have all been a ruse,” Talia said.
“Right. Let’s go,” Rowan said. “The story about this Jasper person sounded at least somewhat true. We should try to find him.”
They hurried from the mansion, pulling the door shut behind them and making their way out of town. Osric was now thankful for how busy it was. No one seemed to notice them as they left.
Now they just had to search a large corner of the forest for one man in a hut.
