Posting several more, so take your time, but please, I pray all members of the guild, review? Or even just say hello?
*6
The noon Sun saturated the autumn forest of Kinntar, a tender breeze keeping the fallen leaves animated in the air. Tranquillity permeated the environment, seeping far into the forest floor, and all was serene. That is, until a young sorcerer approached the vicinity, running and screaming exuberantly.
“I am the wind, the wind! Nothing can defy my brute strength!” The boy, around thirteen years of age, spun around, the force of gravity depriving him of orientation. Nish fell to the soil, giggling uncontrollably.
His two companions walked peacefully down the dirt trail, in careless pursuit of their mentally unhinged comrade.
“You know, I did warn you about letting Nish have too much temmerin on his breakfast this morning. That spice is too sweet for his blood,” Shaina observed emphatically. Her intonation implied that she was fully aware that she’d just politely said ‘I told you so’.
Fyryth grimaced. “I have already stated my regret of this issue several times this morning. I am not going to apologise again.” The Merrah bent down and grasped Nish’s left arm, hauling his friend to his feet.
“Well, while we’re travelling together, I am going to insist that I retain the sole responsibility of preparing any and all food. At least while we are away from civilisation. I don’t want another episode such as this.” The poor Mageblade could not even comprehend at this moment that she’d made a fatal mistake. Shaina was the worst cook in all of Kernirn!
Fyryth smiled knowingly. “If the lady insists...”
*7
The light slowly fading into dusk, Nish sat cross-legged atop a sizeable boulder adjacent to the forked pathway. One trail led straight ahead to Mennistr, but that was not the trio’s path. No, the companions’ path was along the other trail, leading southeast. The dirt track would then merge with another trail, directing travellers southwest to Lauristr.
Nish sighed heavily. He had only just now recovered from his bout of sickness, and though the brunt of the temmerin induced fever had dissipated, a slight ringing and confounding headache plagued the young boy’s body.
“I’ll never consume temmerin again in my life!” the boy bellowed exasperatedly, although he was entirely conscious of the likely possibility that he would not stay true to that oath for much longer than a week. “There is one bonus to having this headache however.”
Fyryth peered up at his friend from his position next to Shaina, who was busily working about the small campfire. “Oh? And what would that advantage be?”
“I am too concerned with my throbbing head to worry about the foul taste of Shaina’s stew.” Fyryth sighed, for he foresaw the argument that would now rise up between his two companions. Humans are fickle things.
“If that is how you feel, Nish, I shall poison you the next opportunity I have!”
“As long as you place it in a meal that doesn’t taste like fish guts!” Having been sick from the excessive consumption of temmerin, Nish’s reflexes had weakened considerably. This was evident when Shaina picked up the stew pot from above the fire and emptied its contents over Nish’s head. His skin was still a deep red hours later. In retaliation, Nish halted his screams of pain and focused his magical energies.
“Enough! I refuse to travel with a hacked up red skinned boy and a pile of burnt dust!” Fyryth scowled at Nish, who immediately unclenched his power. The aggravated Merrah jerked Shaina’s arms from the sword hilts on her back. “You two better apologise, or I’ll skewer both of your hides with arrows!” Fyryth rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Humans!”
Inhaling a deep breath, Fyryth walked over to his bedroll. “I am going to sleep. If another argument arises, so help me…” Fyryth wrapped himself in a woollen blanket and turned over, facing away from the campfire and the two bickering humans. Shaina and Nish muttered an informal apology to each other before following suit and retiring to their bedrolls.
*8
“Is it just me, or do you two attract kidnappers?” Fyryth’s attitude was highlighted with boredom. Sitting around a campfire with coarse rope tied about your arms and legs is hardly exciting.
“No, I think it’s you,” Nish replied, giggling at his friend’s observation. That was a moment where Shaina would’ve felt obliged to slap her younger comrade, but like the other two, she was restrained by rope.
“You know,” Shaina began, looking at the trio’s captors, “your captives might insult you a whole lot less if you bound them with comfortable cord. This itches. In fact, next time you pursue us, it might be beneficial to all parties if you decide not to chase us at all.” The Mageblade was in a sour mood, but it was hardly surprising. Very few would react positively to being woken up in the wee hours of the morning by fuming men pointing sharp swords at them.
“Quiet, ya wretched wench! I dun wanna ear a nuva word outa you. As it is, we’re gunna av a li’l fun slicing you an your friends inta pieces! Maybe you’ll cunvinse us ter av a go atchu first!” The brigand who spoke not only had a horrible grasp of language; his body odour indicated that it had been months since he last bathed. If not for the vicious looking blade in the man’s hand, the trio would have completely ignored him.
“Just out of curiosity,” Fyryth stated offhandedly, “would you mind explaining to me why you are pointing weapons at us? It could be seen as an aggressive gesture, you know.”
The smallest of the six brigands responded before the others could knock the wind out of the Merrah. He clearly had intelligence that was greater than the average nutshell. “You have caused our lord, Amar, to be arrested. We are going to carve your spleens out and send them to Lord Verdun in retaliation. Nobody disrespects a Sirrel and gets away with it.” Well, his intelligence wasn’t greater than the average nutshell as he made the mistake of giving dangerous information to a hostage, but at least he could speak properly.
Fyryth’s eyes squinted. “The Sirrel? I’m sure I’ve heard that name before.” But where? Fyryth would have to report this to another Merrah; just in case the word ‘Sirrel’ had some significance.
-
“Ehnuff waitin’. I wanna slice em up now! What ar we waitin’ fer?” The reeking brigand hefted his sword above his head, ready to swing the weapon into Nish’s skull. The other brigands did nothing to stop him. It was a serious moment, so unsurprisingly Nish began giggling hysterically, unable to breathe.
The ground underneath rumbled with the thudding of one thousand hooves. How an entire battalion of cavalry could gallop through the forest of Kinntar so swiftly was the only thought in Fyryth’s mind, and he decided to let this play out. After all, the six brigands were all quaking in their boots, fearing an imminent death.
“Let’s get outa here!” shouted the putrid brigand, and he ran in the opposite direction of thundering horses. The other five bandits followed their associate into the woods.
“It was nice knowing you both,” Nish remarked, fearing that the three would be trampled by hundreds of hooves.
The trio gazed at each other one last time before peering over at a nearby low hill, the general direction of the roaring racket. The suspense was ghastly. The three companions waited for what seemed to be many minutes, and anxiety steadily increased.
Nish sighed in frustration. “Why aren’t we dead yet?” It was then that a lone horse rider galloped over the low ridge, looking fairly pleased with herself.
“Greetings. I noticed that you were surrounded by brigands and decided to chase them off.” The girl, a year or so older than Fyryth and Shaina, was attired in dark leather armour with knee high riding boots. At her side was a scabbard sheltering a sabre and across her back were two attachable pieces that formed a pike.
The rider dismounted her grey gelding and smiled compassionately at those she had just saved. “My name is Leoni.” With ocean blue eyes, Leoni stood tall and proud with a lithe figure. Her brown hair was drawn back into a ponytail, and there were polished brass coils at intervals throughout this ponytail, preventing stray hairs. Leoni drew her sabre and deftly sliced Fyryth’s binds. The Merrah bowed to the girl as she released the other two of their restraints.
“We are grateful to you, Leoni. I am Fyryth, and this is Shaina and Nish,” the Aldar said emphatically, gesturing to his friends when he uttered their names. “We are bound for Lauristr. Nish here must visit the Mages Guild.”
“I am heading that way myself, actually. Mind if I tag along? You’ll only have to put up with me for a day and a half.” Leoni looked about the campfire, as though the trio had already accepted her request. Fyryth shrugged and kicked dirt over the fire, readying to resume the journey to Lauristr.
*9
The rest of the journey was highly uneventful. At least, the journey itself was uneventful. Nish had become possessed with the possibility that the group would fall prey to more brigands, and for the last day of travel, the young and passionate sorcerer jumped through the bushes along the side of the dirt road, foolishly attempting to stay hidden. Shaina informed Nish several times that he was taller than all of the bushes they’d past and that any bandit could easily spot him from a mile away, but the inflexible boy remained adamant about hopping from shrubbery to shrubbery.
“We can be thankful that Nish doesn’t jump around noisily when we stop to rest,” Shaina pointed out joyously when they had stopped for lunch on the last day. Nish was three feet away, holding up two broken twigs for camouflage. Fyryth ignored that remark as he was too busy drooling over the meal Leoni was preparing over a small fire. She was an adept cook, but even a hopeless cook was better than Shaina, so Fyryth considered this a luxury.
The companions devoured the prepared meal and doused the campfire before continuing onwards to Lauristr.
*10
The afternoon Sun shone heavenly overhead, its rays showering upon the enormous village of Lauristr. From the knoll less than a mile to the north, the four companions gawped and stared at the sheer vastness of the townhouses and trading houses, all made with stone and dun coloured thatching. The streets comprised of stone roads, with shallow gutters at the very rim of the streets. There were straight streets, curved streets, and Fyryth claimed he even saw a spiral street.
“How many people live in Lauristr?” Nish asked as the group entered the immense village. He absently counted all the people around him, although there were too many for this method to be effective.
“Last year’s census indicated that Lauristr’s populace is greater than ten thousand,” Leoni replied heartily, smiling briefly when Nish whistled. “The guild chapters are in the mercantile sector, near the northern entrance. I’ll take Nish to the Mages Guild and then rent us some rooms at a reputable inn. It is called ‘The Oak Leaf’. Ask anyone in town and they can direct you to it.”
Shaina nodded. “Fyryth and I will seek a tradehouse to restock our supplies. We are low on foodstuffs.” The four arrived at an intersection of several streets and split ways, becoming two pairs.
-
Fyryth and Shaina walked along a wide road heading south-east. It was not long until they sighted a sign hanging above a wooden door to their left, ‘Enihv’s Tradehouse’. The two entered to find a sombre looking man behind a polished wooden counter. The room was lit by candles-which didn’t brighten up the place-and the air was soaked in a musky odour.
“I am Enihv. Can I help you?” the sombre man stated after the pair entered. As his eyes adjusted, Fyryth could make out the bright blue tunic that Enihv wore.
“Greetings, Enihv. I am Shaina, and this is Fyryth. We wish to purchase some provisions.” The Mageblade approached the counter, placing her pack upon it.
Taking out a piece of parchment, Enihv handed it and a charcoal stick to his customer. “I’m afraid we are low on temmerin. However, everything else is fully stocked.”
Shaina scribbled swiftly on the parchment, seemingly content that there was no temmerin to obtain.
Enihv gazed at Fyryth as Shaina scribed the list of provisions she needed, and he smiled. “Are you here on pilgrimage to the Lake of Founders? It is rare to see a Merrah such as yourself travelling with a human. I consider myself a historian when it comes to the Lake of Founders.”
Intrigued, the Merrah questioned about the Lake of Founders.
“Ahh, so you aren’t here on pilgrimage. Well, the Lake of Founders is where the Irn Council was formed by the ancestors of the current Fort Commanders. There are six in total. The Irn Council swore an oath to protect the inhabitants of Merranor. I can give you directions if you’d like. It is just to the east of here.”
Shaina paid Enihv for the goods before the pair walked out of the building and headed eastward to find the Lake of Founders.
*11
Minutes before dusk, Shaina and Fyryth stood about a bulky boulder, a pure silver plaque set into the top of the polished surface. Fyryth cleared his throat and read aloud. “’This plaque commemorates the creation of the Irn Council. The six members of the Council swore fealty to the protection of Merranor’.”
“My ancestor was once here,” Shaina murmured in an astounded manner. “I am the direct descendant of one of those Council members. They each formed their own Fort to guard this land.”
“A noble effort by any standard,” Fyryth nodded respectfully. The Aldar was about to utter something else, but the two were interrupted.
“Look who we have here?” bellowed one of the bandits that had held them captive days earlier. Three other brigands stood behind him, rusty weapons drawn fiercely. It seemed that this was only half of the raiding party, so Fyryth assumed the others had left or were lying in wait.
“Back up against the lake, or my friends here might be inclined to puncture you with arrows.” This brigand was definitely straightforward in his thinking.
“We can take them,” Shaina whispered to her comrade.” Her hands flexed; her fingers poised to reach back and grasp her broadswords. Fyryth shook his head with great subtlety. He looked into her eyes, holding out his left hand. The Aldar smiled slightly when he had Shaina’s palm in his, less than a half-second later. The two stood with their backs facing the magnificent depths of the Lake of Founders, escape routes guarded by brigands. At least, most of the escape routes.
“Do you trust me?” Fyryth asked of Shaina. In response to her immediate nod, Fyryth whispered gently, “Inhale deeply.”
With a resounding splash, Fyryth and Shaina dived beneath the water’s surface, plunging further into the lake. The two paused for a moment, dodging a well thrown javelin. Shaina squeezed Fyryth’s hand, indicating that she was losing her breath. Fyryth turned his body towards her and embraced her with his arms, wrapping her protectively. He then pursed his lips to hers, their two souls melding into one refined entity. This one kiss displayed supple, pent-up emotions that seemed to run as far back as their birth.
Before Shaina could understand it, Fyryth inhaled as she breathed out, and within seconds he returned the air to her as renewed oxygen. The puzzled look on her face disappeared almost as soon as it showed, for she remembered her education. For an entire month a few years back, Shaina had been taught about the peculiarities of the Merrah, and one particular lesson came to mind. “Merrah breathe in what we, humans, breathe out, and turn it back into oxygen; just as the trees do,” her father had dictated one gloomy autumn morning.
Arrows streaked past the embracing couple, inches away from piercing flesh. Fyryth and Shaina, whilst retaining their hold on one another, swam deeper into the lake, arriving at the floor a minute later. Finding some large kelp attached to the lake bottom, Fyryth tied it about his and Shaina’s waist, allowing them to stay weighted without floating to the surface. Keeping watch for more stray projectiles, Shaina and Fyryth continued sharing that one breath of air for what seemed hours.
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