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Chapter 05

"Monster!"

Maryden shot up from her bedroll taking in a heaving gasps of air as her heart hammered away in her chest. Stray strands of red hair clung onto her sweaty face that she wiped away with trembling hands. She was still acclimatizing to the waking world when she laid back down with palms pressed against her eyes. Willing the unwanted memories to go away.

Slowly the pounding of her heart stilled along with the sweating and tremors as the memories became suppressed once more and disappeared beneath the surface of her conscience. She let out a large sigh that was sort of an encouragement for her to get her day going and hoisted herself up once again. With a cloth she wiped at her neck and face, erasing all traces of sweat and started to put on her brigandine armour and boots.

The weight of it all on her body was unexplainable comforting. She was cased literally and figuratively in armour. Finally she grabbed her greatsword and its sheath and exited her tent, the crispness of the air a blessing.

Outside it was still dark, but in the sky there were the traces of light that were still a faint yellow but soon would turn to gold and orange. No bird had woken yet at this early break of dawn, keeping the world around her doused in silence aside from the rustles of trees in the wind and the occasional snore or sleepy murmur of her other companions of the group.

Durance, who had taken the final watch of the night, was seated in front of the bonfire or what was left of it. His eyes had been staring intently at its dying embers, the faint light of it making his glow like embers themselves. Together with his gaunt, scarred face he almost looked like one of the dead.
It unsettled Maryden, but she ignored it and crushed it down especially when his eyes shot up from the embers straight into hers when she took her first step on the grass.

"The dreams could not keep you warm?" He inquired, his eyes looking at her strangely when she approached. It was if he knew, or felt it. Maryden wasn't sure how to feel about it.

"No. They did not," she said curtly and sat down opposite of him on a log. The fresh air of dawn and forest was threatened to be overshadowed and Maryden could not help but to pull a grimace. Durance shook his head and prodded the embers with the bottom of his staff.

Durance was a strange man, claiming to be a priest of Magran who was one of the gods that had purged Eothas. He was the definition of ugly; long unkempt hair and scruffy dirty beard, burnt robes and a sweaty and scar-riddled face that even a whore had a hard time looking at. The smell he emanated did not help much.

He spoke in almost an aggressive straight forwardness and riddling at the same time that was off-putting to everyone at first. But at the same he was a man of secrets. Maryden had this gut feeling.

"How do you know I'm a Watcher?" Maryden finally asked, her eyes lifting from the embers to his own. They were black in this lighting.

The priest seized his prodding and leaned on his staff, which was engraved and could be seen glowing in her peripheral vision, but when she focused the glowing seized. Weird. Durance seemed oblivious to it though or chose to ignore it.

"I saw you in the flames, nor your face but that soul of yours," he grunted with narrowing eyes. "All tight and bunched up like a knot. I believe there are things we can teach each other."

"Such as?" She sounded almost skeptical.

There was a strange flicker in his eyes. It was as if the embers had gone alight again, but instead of the fire place it had nestled into his black depths. It drew her in like a moth to a flame, absorbing her thoughts before she could stop it with the whispers increasing and threatening to overwhelm her hearing. The engravings staff that he clutched with his grimy hands seemed to glow a bit brighter than it used to and everything but the depths of his eyes blurred.

"We'll have to see and wait."

By the sound of his gruff voice, she instantly snapped out of it and shut her eyes. Not even a second had passed but that moment had felt like an eternity. Maryden instinctively reached up and touched her head, an ache settling over it as the whispers reduced to its normal and ever present murmuring. When she looked up again, she saw the priest stand up and walk away past the tents. Murmuring something about water and food.

Only now did Maryden notice that it dawn had come and the birds were already chattering away. This was going to be a long day.

"Durance!" Maryden shouted after her swipe with her great sword, taking one half of a xaurip with her. The blood was warm on her face. Instantly something divine bestowed itself on her, washing most of her fatigue away.

With renewed strength the Godlike ploughed through the heavy sand where she could barely get a grip own. The xaurips however did; they were small, agile and reptile like creatures. Chirping and hissing as they bounced around the group, not slowed down by the sand like they were. What the xaurips lacked in height and strength they got in numbers.

Maryden hauled up her greatsword and charged, using its weight to give her moment and cleaved down several of the little monsters in one swipe. She was ablaze, a speck of light on the battlefield and attracting most of the xaurips due to her nature. The sensation of magic building up in the air made the hairs on her neck stand on end, it was instantly gone in the form of a gigantic fireball Aloth had summoned. Frying a clutter of xaurips to a crisp.

"Bloody annoying- " Edér grunted when he finally struck down the last one, his face sweaty and his blade bloodied. He sheathed it, cleaning it up later when they would set up camp. Maryden followed his example and walked back towards Durance and Aloth, who had been casting some distance away. They looked tired as well.

"Have I already told you that I hate sand?" Aloth groaned when they ploughed through it. The Elf shook his leg and he pulled a face. "God, I have it in my boot."

"Elf, if you can't take on the hardships of life than maybe you shouldn't be here," Durance snapped at him.

"I- what? How rude," the Elf stammered with a fluster of anger. Durance laughed quietly.

The priest and the wizard did not like each other, that was for sure. Durance could press all of Aloth's buttons that made him stammer or flush red. They were complete opposites where as Aloth was discreet, almost posh, the priest was loud and not shying away from sensitive topics, voicing his views on matters openly no matter how rude, harsh or sexual they were.

He was figuratively prodding him with a stick, seeing of the wizard would dance.

Maryden closed her eyes and breathed, forcing her adrenaline high away and she could feel her flaming hair turn practically normal and the heat in her gaze reduce to a smolder. The wind picked up the strands that weren't plastered to her face by the sweat, cooling down her heated skin. She opened them when a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, only then realizing that she had been swaying.

Edér looked at her, a frown on his face and concern in his eyes. "You okay?" He murmured softly, not willing to put her in the spotlight as Aloth bickered behind them, trying to argue with a bellowing Durance. Dance monkey, dance.

Maryden nodded and wiped the sweat and blood from her brow with the back of her hand, the thick leather of her gloves coarse on her skin. "Yes, just a bit tired."

It was a half-truth. She had not been sleeping well, tossing and turning as her dreams were filled with nightmares and whispers. The visions of people strung up or being tortured when they walked on the road during the day did not help either. Maryden felt stressed, thinned out to the point of breaking. Were it not for the problems of others that she could focus on or her companions Maryden was unsure of how would she fair.

Edér kept looking at her long enough that a faint trace of terror curled up in her guts. The fear of that he would keep asking questions Maryden did not want to face or knew the answer to. But he dropped the matter letting her go of her shoulder with a wink and a reassuring squeeze. Maryden was unsure of what he had seen in her eyes that caused him to drop it, but did not want to dwell on it.

"Hey, we need to get back to Ranga. Your marriage can wait!" the Eothasian yelled over his shoulder. Stopping Aloth's stuttering and Durance's laughter effectively. Both spellcasters winced at the idea, Aloth even turning a bit pale of disgust.

A chuckling left her lips and she took point. Trying to keep her feet light, choosing quick steps through the heavy sand instead of letting her feet sink deep. One had to be quick, but it proved to be quite effective and less tiring. Still, when they reached Ranga Maryden felt disgusted.

The Aumaua woman was easily towering over them, even taller than Edér. Her skin was golden brown, faint dark markings across it. Her hair was braided closely to her skull, among the dark chocolate coloured strands hints of grey. Odd green eyes took them in when Aloth told her that they had gotten rid of the xaurip tribe that threatened to kill her assistant, a xaurip as well.

The woman looked at her expectantly, her golden gaze set hesitant. "Is it done?"

Maryden nodded. "The xaurip tribe is no more, we've also gotten the spores that you needed for the potion?" She handed the Aumaua a small bag, its contents soft.

Her eyes instantly lit up, squeezing the bag carefully. "Excellent, I will get started on it right away!" The woman walked towards her cauldron and began to work.

Maryden turned when a hand touched the side of her elbow. She looked into Aloth's eyes.

"Are you sure a simple potion is going to work against Hollowborn?"

The Elf voiced her doubts, but what choice did she have? Leave Aufra, the sister of her deceased friend just out in the ocean in a manner of speaking? At least there would be no harm to try.

'But if the cure was a simple potion shouldn't the Hollowborn have gone already? Shouldn't there be normal children running around instead of those without a soul?' A sceptic voice inside her chimed. Adding fuel to her doubts.

"Here," the Aumaua woman came back before she could answer Aloth, handing her a vial with the still warm potion in it. It was reddish orange off colour. The smell of it odd. "Tell her to drink it before bed, she should feel more energetic in the morning. Also tell to eat more fish and cheese. If I remember Aufra well she is a frail woman-"

"Wait," Maryden cut her off, holding up her free hand. "You said that you would make a cure."

Ranga crossed her arms over chest and regarded her coolly. "I can tend to ailments of the body, but not the affliction of the soul. As I've explained many times; people believe what they want."

"You-" Edér began, the tendrils of anger lacing in his voice. "You are telling us to lie to her? To let her believe that this will prevent her child from being Hollowborn?"

"Faith is a powerful thing, so let her believe. If her child is not claimed by the Legacy it will be healthy, if that I can assure you," Ranga continued, unfazed by Edér angry gaze.

Maryden stared to the potion in her hand. There were so many wrongs into lying against Aufra, tell her something that was false and will probably not work.. but would it be so bad? She clenched down on to the potion, the leather of her gloves groaning as she breathed deeply through her nose. She felt the group around her waiting for her answer.

"Thank you Ranga, for your expertise," the Godlike murmured softly and calculated trying not to betray her inner turmoil. The Aumaua smiled down at her.

"Your welcome. If you need any rest or come by from time to time, my campfire is yours."

"Use your weight!" Riordan bellowed at her.

Sweat ran down in droplets down her face and her neck. The clothing on her back was soaked and her arms were trembling from exertion. But still, she charged again and again and again towards the makeshift dummy in front of her. It had been the victim of her onslaught. The marks on the tough wood were proof.

"Harder!"

She did try, truly. Maryden Treshyr gave it all her might but she could do no more and crumpled down on the forest floor on hands and knees, her old heavy practice sword forgotten on the ground next to her. Her arms were trembling as they struggled to support her weight. Maryden gulped a few times, willing the nausea to go away.

There was a shuffle of leaves, the ground slightly trembling beneath her finger tips as footsteps came towards her. A pair of large feet stuck in thick leather boots stopped in front of her.

"Get up."

Riordan was not an easy man. He was unforgiving, pushing her until she dropped down and making sure she made an effort and did her best. If he had an inkling that she didn't his temper was known to flare quick and hot. Something that reminded Maryden too much of her father, though Riordan had never struck her. But the disappoint that would settle in his gaze was harder than any punch she'd received back at home. So Maryden pushed herself to her limits, trying to gain his approval and to get better every single day.

Scrambling to get up, Maryden threatened to sway, but a large gloved hand on her shoulder prevented her from doing so. The hand moved down to her elbow, grasping it lightly and helped her on her feet. When she stood, Riordan instantly let go. He may be harsh in time but he was never unkind.

Maryden looked up at him, the upright position giving her room to breathe and the nausea slowly vanished. Riordan looked down at her, his dark brown gaze set sternly and observing. Maryden noticed that his left eye was starting to get milky, less bright than his right. But he never told her about it, nor seemed to have any type of hinder from it in their day to day life.

"Scale?" He inquired with his gruff voice. It was odd, somewhat scratchy. Maryden figured the scar on his throat had something to do with it, but had never asked.

"Eight," she replied.

"Get your sword, take a breath and practice your footwork," he commanded. She nodded and did as he asked.

The scaling was a measurement of how tired she was and he would ask her that on multiple occasions during their training sessions. Depending on the scale he would either increase it, or make her do something else that would make her heartrate go down and her body to recuperate. So instead of charging again, he would make her think and concentrate.

Riordan gave pointers now and then, in the beginning he had to teach her everything. From how to hold a sword to her feet and her breathing. Now he could so from the side line with a single word or look. She had improved quite a lot in a year.

"Good job." He finally said and with that he turned around and left. Maryden took this que to clean up the training site and follow in his footsteps to the trail back to the hut.

Riordan had found her when she had ran away from home just about a year ago. He had taken her in, training her and forging her in a weapon that she was slowly becoming. The reason he had never told her, but he was kind and gave her purpose. One day, he had said, one day he would take her on one of his treks as a mercenary. One day when he had nothing left to teach her.

As she caught up to him and smiled, one that Riordan returned his eyes and not his mouth, Maryden half-hoped and half-dreaded for that day to come.

Aloth was humming a tune in the distance, a tune that unknown to her but nice to the ear as Maryden sat in front of her tent scribbling away in her journal. It was nice to keep a log of important things that had happened or tasks that she needed to be reminded off. She could always take a look at it and instantly remember.

"So you're the type of gal to have a diary?" Edér asked with amusement in his voice.

Maryden looked up to see his eyes shimmer with mirth and she chuckled, finishing her final sentence before laying away the quill. Screwing the inkwell shut and placing it in her backpack along with the quill after carefully wrapping it.

"I'm the type to write things done in order not to forget," she said with a wink and blew carefully on the shining letters before placing it down on the ground so that it could dry. Her handwriting wasn't that fancy as Aloth's, but quite simple and readable. She learned to read and write on her travels with Riordan and reading books. A lot of books.

"I can understand why you do it, you have a lot on your mind," he stated. Maryden merely nodded at his true words. She rubbed her temples, fighting back the thousandth headache of the day. There was some rustling and she looked up to see the fighter sitting down next to her.

"I can always ask Aloth to make something," Edér murmured, his tone soft and concerned. Maryden gave him a quick weak smile, hoping to reassure him and quell his worry.

"Don't. We need him at upmost capacity and not waste his magic on my headaches and lack of sleep. Besides, I doubt that it will help," she countered and sighed defeated on the realization of it. What would she do for a good night's rest? To get rid of those damn whispers..

"Where are you from?"

The random question made her mind tumble, screeching to a halt and she blinked several times as if he asked her some sort of mathematical question that even the greatest scholars could not solve. And of all the replies she answered with a dumb 'huh'?

Edér laughed.

Not a chuckle or a grin, but a full throwing the head back laughter. It was infectious and it caused Maryden to clutched her mouth as she guffawed right there with him, bent over when she couldn't contain herself. The reason of their cackling that bordered on the edge of insanity was childish, stupid, but they couldn't help it. The disturbed look that Aloth shot them did not help to quell it, only sending them off in another round.

After a moment, Maryden could breathe again wiping away the tears that had been streaming down her cheeks, her headache was also less prominent than before. She grabbed Edér's forearm, giving it a squeeze.

"Thanks.. I guess I needed that," she said with a slightly hoarse voice, stilling the occasional hiccup that threatened to come out due to their little moment of craziness. Edér looked at her, his eyes filled with so many things that Maryden almost had to tear her gaze away for their intensity.

"It's been so long since I laughed like that," Edér recalled fondly, but in an instant the light in his eyes started to dwindle as they glazed over. "Not since.. not since-" he stopped himself and let out a deep breath that was almost heartbreaking.
Maryden saw it then, small flashes of men holding their banners high with pride as they marched. In their midst was a man, shining bright and holy. A God among men. Forgiveness. When she blinked and the vision turned into the real world, she realized she had been talking out loud. Edér looked at her as if he'd seen a ghost. His face that had been browned by the sun had now turned to a sickly pale, his eyes that were first twinkling were now the size of dinner plates and filled with fear.

Not just any fear. Fear of her.

"Edér-" she began, wanting to explain to him that she couldn't help it. That she had no control of it and just saw whatever spilled across the veil or from his soul. She wanted to say so many things, that she was sorry for what happened and what was probably wrong judging by his reaction, but he had stood up and fled from her. His cape swishing around his ankles, hastily following the man it was attached too.

He took up his sword and shield and walked beyond the ring of light that the bonfire casted. Disappearing in the shadows that was casted on the world around them.

Maryden met Aloth's gaze desperately searching for help, but he was looking at her strangely. Torn with fascination and horror. The wizard then stood up and followed in Edér footsteps, calling out his name. Durance merely sat near the bonfire, not saying a word and had merely observed the situation.

She felt his curious gaze on her back when she retreated to her tent, hiding from any eyes or judgement and buried her face in her hands. Scolding herself for her lack of control and feeling more alone than she had ever been.

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