12th day of Ransalacue, 5571A
The Corridor, Samseed Wood
(about 16 miles north of Talantier)
Oliver Athraite listened to the sounds of the night.
A bird whistle sounded somewhere in the distance.
"Churr-churr."
The mage thought Sebastian had called it a nightjar but he wasn't sure.
He looked over at the sleeping barbarian, stretched out on his bedroll next to him.
Technically Seb was supposed to be up with Oliver as they both had first watch tonight, and his friend would undoubtedly be furious with the transmuter when he discovered in the morning that he had dropped off and Oliver hadn't woken him up but had rather let him sleep.
But Athraite wouldn't have it any other way.
The physical changes Sebastian were undergoing were taking a toll on the barbarian, no matter how much he denied it. Anyone watching him for more than a minute could see that any kind of prolonged movement, including walking, ranged from uncomfortable to downright painful, so when Seb had dropped off about twenty minutes ago, Oliver was determined to give him the extra rest.
The wizard certainly wasn't worried. The Corridor was probably about the safest forest road in all of Tristoland, although that was admittedly a guess.
Freezing to death is more likely, Oliver grumbled to himself as he pulled his woolen blanket more tightly over his shoulders and skootched a little closer to the campfire. A cold snap had arrived and temperatures were a good twenty degrees lower than normal for mid-Ransalacue.
Much better. The arcanist rubbed his hands together, feeling the circulation return.
Oliver was not a fan of long overland travels and when he had reiterated this often-repeated fact to Sebastian earlier, the soon-to-be-half-dragon had shrugged and simply said, "At least it's not raining. Your ale mug is always half-empty, my friend."
I'd rather it was completely empty, the mage thought to himself. I'd be that much closer to getting drunk.
On a low branch of the tree nearest him, Fiach sat still and quiet. The mage assumed the raven was asleep, but it was too dark to see for sure.
He glanced again towards the actual forest path, situated about twenty feet from their current position. Abandoned campsites were abundant along the entire length of the Corridor, situated anywhere from ten to a hundred feet off into the woods and the Light in the Darkness had simply appropriated one for tonight.
The mage contented himself for a few moments by imagining Illumenatta in her leather catsuit.
Looking around the campfire again, Oliver watched the flickering light from the flames illuminate the five one-person canvas tents scattered nearby. The only two-person tent here was empty, that being the temporary abode of Seb and himself.
The wizard had noticed the change in some of his companions as they had entered the Corridor.
Bjorn Sigmundson had come this way on the last leg of his long southward trek so the priest of Balder had recounted his pleasant recollections of his journey (as well as his one not-so pleasant recollection, although that had occurred in a swampy area about a quarter-mile off the path). However, as Bjorn's recollections tended to have a narrow focus on the local flora, he soon lost the attention of his fellow party members save Caffrine, who managed about another ten minutes before the teenager's eyes glazed over as well.
A white light appeared about fifteen or twenty feet away in the woods, hovering at about waist height. It blinked on and off silently
Firefly.
Oliver sighed. Fireflies or pieces of them were material components needed for his light cantrip. He had one or two currently in his component pouch but it certainly wouldn't hurt to have a few extra.
But he was honestly too tired to get up now and move away from the soothing warmth of the fire to go chasing after lightning bugs.
Illumenatta Duskwind had not been nearly as cheerful as Bjorn to see the Corridor again.
Athraite had originally thought the moon elf's somber mien was due to her being reminded of the not-very-happy circumstances of her leaving her home of Evistar but the group had passed by the bridge on their left that led over the Arlos river and the trail that eventually led to that elven enclave a mere three hours or so after entering the forest.
Lumen's attitude had not improved since then but at least, under some prodding by her third cousin Dark, she had explained why.
Illumenatta finally revealed to the others the details of her meeting with the Talantier head jailor Tarrow Shick and of the mission he had offered to her.
The reaction of the Light in the Darkness to this was mixed. Qidarchios and to a lesser extent Sigmundson were in agreement with the moon elf that the job seemed a little too unsavory. Caffrine, on the other hand, was very vocal in pointing out that the job was a perfectly legal one and that coin was still very much an ongoing issue for all of them and perhaps it would have been better if Lumen had consulted with them first before turning up her nose at it.
Saito Takahashi had actually agreed with the rogue on this one, which surprised Athraite more than a little.
It seemed that the dynamics of their little group were still very much in flux.
Oliver stared absently at the firefly, which continued to blink on and off silently.
It seemed, now that he thought about it, to be staying lit as often as not.
The mage wracked his brain trying to remember if this was normal or not for fireflies but couldn't for the life of him remember.
Did fireflies even come out on nights this cold?
He'd never wake Seb of course but Bjorn would probably know. Oliver imagined himself rousing the cleric out of a sound sleep to ask him a question about lightning bugs and grinned to himself at the priest's reaction, especially considering that he and Caffrine weren't scheduled to be up until third watch.
Lumen had unnerved everyone by suggesting that they should keep their eyes peeled for any southward-bound travelers who appeared to be escorting two prisoners.
"And if we do encounter them?" queried Saito, his almond eyes narrowing even further and his harsh voice becoming even harsher than normal. "What are you suggesting?"
"I think a few questions about imprisoning people for their beliefs might be in order," Lumen had replied in what seemed to Oliver to be a deliberately vague fashion.
The others seemed vastly uncomfortable with this topic of conversation so it was swiftly dropped.
The firefly was no longer blinking at all, but its glow did not remain constant. It seemed to be pulsing now.
Oliver Athraite, for all his ignorance of the natural world, was reasonably sure this was not normal behavior for a lightning bug or indeed any other kind of bug.
Feeling somewhat uneasy but not actually afraid, the transmuter continued to stare at the light.
Saito Takahashi was being even more laconic than normal but Oliver knew this had nothing to do with the wood elf's current surroundings but rather the information he had received right before their group left town.
Lt. Anderson had given the samurai, whom he seemed to respect more than any other member of the Light in the Darkness, details about the city guard's interrogation of Needles, who had been desperate to avoid a long prison term for his many crimes
He had taken pains to remind Saito that neither he nor his fellow officers believed everything that the half-elven Nightsong member had told them.
About three hundred miles northwest from Talantier as the crow flew was the great metropolis of Fargate; the largest city in the Divided Lands if not all of Tristoland.
Everyone knew this.
Some distance north of Fargate once lay the lair of two evil human wizards, Venom and Hoos, who until a half-century ago had made life miserable for the surrounding communities, including Fargate, for several years.
Another fact not in dispute.
At some point, Hoos had apparently left the area permanently and Venom, a mage of exceeding power as well as depravity, had utilized an unholy ritual to turn himself into that most powerful and dreaded of all undead abominations, a lich.
This was as much rumor as anything else but accepted as such by those with an interest in such things.
Venom, now calling himself Kar-Vermin, himself disappeared sometime after this but now, according to wild gossip mostly muttered only after heavy inebriation, seemed to have returned to his lair.
This was anyone's guess.
The "Hawkins" referenced by both Johann and in Gareth's letter was in fact a servant of this same Kar-Vermin.
No one believed this for a second.
Except perhaps, Saito Takahashi.
Without warning, the light expanded; a blinding, brilliant, white.
It was now roughly oval-shaped, with the vertical axis being the long one, but the shape shifted and distorted. It's length seemed to range between five and seven feet.
There was still no sound at all.
Oliver continued to stare. The wizard still did not cry out.
He couldn't decide if this was fear… or curiosity.
It was if some inner piece of his soul had actually been expecting this.
An indistinct figure began to take shape within the light.
But it never finished taking shape.
Writhing and distorting in the white glow, a figure which could only roughly be described as humanoid twisted and shifted constantly.
The number of limbs varied every second.
Hair, scales, fur, wings and skin disappeared and reappeared without pause.
At any given moment, the number of eyes visible ranged from none to a dozen.
But then, for a space of time that couldn't have been longer than six seconds, the figure achieved a semi-stable state.
It was a man and it looked like it was staring out at Oliver, who didn't know if the figure could actually see him or not.
But now the transmuter was genuinely afraid.
And in the last instant of stability, the recognition that suddenly flooded over Oliver Athraite was enough to make him shriek in fear.
The others jerked awake with shouts and cries of alarm.
A hundred eyes and mouths covered the figure in the light.
Eyes wide in terror. Mouths silently screaming.
Then the figure broke apart completely and both it and the light were gone.
The transmuter was absolutely rigid as he continued to stare at the spot where the apparition had been. The others, from what he was hearing, had caught only the last moment of the white light as it had vanished but had not seen the figure within.
Sebastian Sanders brusquely waved the others away and knelt down on one knee next to his friend.
"Oliwer," he said softly while shaking the arcanist's shoulder with just enough force that he knew the mage wouldn't be able to ignore, even if he was in shock.
The wizard's head turned around to face the barbarian but Sebastian knew those teal eyes weren't seeing him.
They were still looking at whatever had made him cry out like that.
"Oliwer," Sanders repeated. "What was-"
Oliver Athraite suddenly grasped the draconic barbarian's arm with a strength that the burly Roos man could never have imagined existed in his slender friend.
A strength that could only be born of fear.
"Seb," Oliver Athraite croaked. "I just saw Orin Mathos."
