It wasn't even midday and Darien had had enough. For the past twenty years of her life she had lived in predictable tranquility among the shores of Cassardis. At most, she would face off against the occasional goblin or saurian. For the first time in her life, the future was wildly unpredictable.
Darien had slept in that morning; guiltless, considering she had recently faced a Cyclops and a hydra. She only rose when Chief Adaro knocked at her door. Apparently, Quina had been missing for a full day. Darien knew that her childhood friend was a grown, responsible adult, but it was unlike her to disappear.
A minute had yet to pass before she marched to the front gate, mapping the fastest route to the Witchwood in her head. She hardly noticed Zillah jogging up behind her, Darien's sword and shield in hand, and Rook a little behind her.
A winding trail and a steep mountain climb later, Darien was attempting to negotiate a peaceful solution to the bandits' greed. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't working.
"Pray, let us pass," Darien said. "No one else need die, ser." It felt like a strange thing to say considering the two bodies behind her and the pawns. The blood on her blade seemed to weigh the sword in her hand. Zillah's bowstring creaked from the tension as she drew the arrow back and kept still. Rook stood to her other side, knees slightly bent and staff held in hand.
Four armed men stood on the trail before them. Darien could just imagine the Witchwood behind these blokes, and every moment of her time wasted was another moment she wasn't catching up to Quina.
At least the bandit leader still seemed to have his humor. "You've offed two of my men, lad, and that don't come cheap to a businessman such as myself."
Funny man. "They tried to flatten us with a boulder," Darien replied.
The thug shrugged. He was a tall, muscular man with a shaved head and a greying beard. "'Tis just a friendly reminder to travelers."
Darien and her pawns were decently spaced away from the bandits. It was likely her allies' ranged weaponry that kept them momentarily at bay. But they were close enough for Darien to make out the leader's hungry stares toward her main pawn.
"These bandits are unlikely to let us pass unharmed, Arisen," Rook said.
"Unharmed, perhaps," the leader replied. "For a fee."
"I have nothing to give," said Darien. And it was true; she had run off without collecting her purse.
"I don't know about that…" He glanced at Zillah again, and the bandits behind him snickered. "Your one woman for a free pass, lad, make your choice."
Darien narrowed her eyes. "Zillah, put an arrow in his head."
"Wait-"
The arrow struck the man's shoulder. Two of his fellows charged forward. Rook unleashed a volley of fireballs that struck them both. One lifted his shield a moment too late. He clutched his face and screamed. Darien gawked at the other who sprinted through the flames, broadsword in both hands before him. She blocked his wide swing and felt the impact of his blade like a hammer to her arm, despite her shield. He came for her again when she staggered, but she parried his attack with her sword. Darien considered herself stronger than the average person, but this man was a boulder.
Rook was occupied with trying to distance himself from the last man while he casted his next attack. Zillah abandoned her bow for her daggers. Even with an arrow sticking out of his neck, the bandit leader wasn't content to abandon the battle.
The man with the broadsword swung his sword down toward Darien's head. Her arm felt numb. Instead of blocking, she sidestepped his blade and brought her shield down hard on his arm. He swore and she swung her sword from his right shoulder up across his neck. He staggered back, weapon falling from his grip. Darien watched him try wiping the blood from his chest as it leaked out the wound. A few heartbeats later, the man fell forward onto his chest.
Darien flicked her sword, sending droplets of red to the ground. Human blood felt messier than the blood of goblins or saurian. Rook began to chant a healing spell and Zillah went from body to body recollecting her arrows. They were an odd sort, pawns, but they could handle themselves in a fight.
But Darien had to ask anyway, "Are you two alright?"
"Yes, master," both said in near perfect unison. It was uncanny.
Bloody hell, she thought. "Then let us make haste. I want to catch Quina before she gets herself killed."
Darien had never entered the Witchwood. She didn't believe all the stories regarding the woods, but she finally understood how the place could terrify. Whereas the sun had been bright moments before, it was now blocked by the overshadowing trees. A breeze blew through the thickness of the forest, causing Darien to catch movement wherever she looked, and it played with her mind. The slightest path she could make out was obscured by a thick fog. Never mind the tales of witches or ghosts; the risk of losing themselves was risk enough.
"Advance slowly where visibility is poor," Zillah suggested.
Darien glanced back at her. "There's no time for that. We must find Quina."
"I only suggest patience, Arisen. 'Twill give us time to react to any situation."
The fisher observed the pawn fully. "Quina is out there by herself," she said. Darien tried keeping her voice even but failed. "She's alone. In this forsaken place."
Zillah tilted her head and regarded the Arisen. Darien did not wait to decipher the pawn's face. She spun around and all but stomped deeper into the forest. The pawns followed close behind.
Darien knew she should've been patient. She couldn't deny the strider's suggestion, but their lack of urgency was irritating. In fact, their whole demeanor angered her. Cold. Calculating. They didn't have to care for Quina, but Darien did. She locked her eyes onto the path and trekked on.
With the sun hidden by the fog and foliage, it was difficult to discern the time. It felt like an eternity to Darien. Once in a while she called out her friend's name, but it only seemed to echo off the dimness of their surroundings.
"Arisen," Zillah said suddenly.
Darien took a deep breath. "What?"
"There," she said. "A woman?"
Darien's head shot up. She peered into the white mist and made out the silhouette of familiar shape. The Arisen shouted out the woman's name.
Quina spun around, her hands over her mouth. She lowered them when Darien ran up to her, but still wore shock upon her face.
"Oh! What are you doing?" she asked.
"What am I doing?" Darien said. "What are you doing? Here? By yourself?"
Before her friend could respond, Darien felt her words spilling out.
"'Tis beyond reckless. We had to fight goblins and bandits to get here." She emphasized her statement by pointing to the ground at their feet. "Goblins and bandits – before that, a Cyclops. And a hydra. Those exist, now, and they are awful."
"Wolves, too, Arisen," Zillah said.
Darien spun toward the pawn and, remembering who she was really cross with, turned back to Quina. She balled her fists to keep from shaking.
"And wolves, too," she added. "And were you aware that wolves hunt in packs? Hunt. In. Packs."
Quina held her hands in front of her stomach and looked down. Her slender shoulders slumped as if she was trying to minimize herself.
"Forgive me," she said, "I would never wish to worry you."
Darien did not know what she expected. She stared at her childhood friend and then let her eyes wander the forest, suddenly feeling guilty. Darien relaxed, releasing the tension in her fingers, back, and shoulders.
They used to fight like this, when Quina used to be bullied by the other children. Long before goblins and sauriens were a threat, their struggles included obnoxious young girls who believed beauty had to be won, and unruly lads who paid no attention to the quiet girl, and when they did it was verbal abuses and petty promises. Darien couldn't recall the first time she had defended Quina against her oppressors, but she remembered the numerous times she picked fights with the kids who dared upset her friend.
Darien could hardly remember her parents. That was partly a blessing, for she couldn't miss what she never had. Quina, on the other hand, could. It was obvious, sometimes, when the other children remarked cruelly about the loss of her parents, and how she would do nothing but cry. Darien took on the unhealthy habit of full on tackling any of the kids who upset Quina. Yes, she was the one who technically started most of those fights, but she regretted nothing. Unfortunately, Darien's rush to protect Quina also made her a target for bullying, but it didn't matter. At least not to her. The Arisen vividly remembered her anger toward Quina as well. "Why do you not stand up for yourself?" and "You need to fight back."
Darien automatically mumbled an apology beneath her breath.
Quina looked at her. "Beg pardon?"
"I said I accept your apology," she said and crossed her arms.
Zillah made to say something, but Rook shook his head with the slightest movement.
"Let us leave this place behind before-"
"But I had to come," Quina interrupted, hands folded together in front of her chest. "A witch walks these woods – one who understands the language of the dragon."
"Language of the dragon?"
Suddenly, Darien was back on the beach with her back against her sand, body overcome by numbing pain. The impossibly large beast looked down at her, huge maw moving to sounds as hard as thunder.
She resisted the urge to touch the scar across her chest. When she came back to, Zillah was standing next to her, seemingly searching her face for something.
Darien ignored her and cleared her throat. "What about the witch?"
"If I may find her," Quina said, "I will beg her aid in healing your wound."
The Arisen sighed, loudly. She glanced at the pawns behind her.
"'Tis a friendly gesture," Rook said.
Zillah added, "Perhaps we should accompany her on her journey, master."
"Do not encourage this," Darien growled and turned back to her friend. "Have you not seen this place? Dark, uneasy, foreboding?"
"'Tis true. This fog does bode ill," Quina said thoughtfully, and then looked at her with wide eyes that caused Darien to lean back a bit. "I would walk easier with you at my side."
Darien weakly raised an objection even knowing that it were futile. She was touched by Quina's efforts, and could not conjure any reasons to dismiss their venture into the woods. Yes, Quina's plan – however reckless – was as good as anything else.
At least Darien was able to lead the way, beside Rook who seemed the most confident of the group. The "path" they followed winded through the thick trunks of the trees and alongside the rocky hills. It was a tangle of shadowy wilderness, and the inhabitants consisted of a wolf pack that stalked them for some time before Rook lit his staff aflame and frightened them off – at least Darien hoped they departed, and were not waiting for an opportunity to leap onto Quina.
There were spiders, too, as large as human heads and keen on shooting globs of sticky silk at anything that came too near. Darien was the unfortunate victim to discover this. The company came upon a wide stone tunnel. The Arisen neared the entrance and one of these said spiders shot her in the face with its projectile web.
Darien screamed and jerked back.
Quina lifted her hands to her mouth but failed to stifle her laughs. She giggled even harder when Darien began peeling the webs off her face and tried hard to glare at her fellow fisher through the strands of silk across her eyes.
"Since my fellow is too busy cackling to help," she sneered, "can you see if anything's on me, Zillah?"
The pawn circled Darien, assisting with peeling off the spider's web. She paused, staring at her master's back.
"Do the little ones frighten you as well, Arisen," Zillah asked.
"What? Why!?"
Darien started to flail, which only seemed to alarm her pawn who could only stare helplessly as the Arisen began to spin. Rook watched silently nearby.
"You'll face a dragon," Quina said, "but falter as the sight of spiders?" It was more a comment than a question.
"Leave me be," Darien replied.
"Pray, allow me to help."
Darien was about to ask how Quina could possibly assist, but stopped when she saw the top edge of her friends staff begin to glow with a dim, white light. The mage stepped toward the tunnel and finished a silent incantation. Small, wispy orbs of fire danced out of her staff. She didn't aim at anything specifically, but the spiders crawled away from her and out of opposite end of the tunnel.
Quina turned and smiled sweetly. Darien had only ever seen her friend use healing magic. She tried not to look impressed as she went to the mage's side, and they started through the tunnel.
"Thank the Maker!" Darien sighed loudly as they entered a large clearing. She looked around the opening, cautiously stepping out from the thick tree line.
Without the overhead trees and the oppressive fog, they could see the sky from where they stood. Moonlight lit the otherwise dark area, revealing massive tree trunk on the other side. Numerous thick roots had wound around the area, in and out of the earth. Built along the slope were obvious steps leading toward the trunk's upper edge where a small cottage sat upon a wooden platform. It took her a moment to realize that it was a treehouse of sort.
"'Tis an impressive shelter," Rook said.
Darien had to agree. "It is quite the sight," she said.
"I am pleased you are no longer frightened, Master," Zillah said.
The Arisen eyed her pawn. "I was not….Why would this scare me?"
"The roots reminded me of spider legs. I am glad you do not share a similar perspective."
Darien stared at her. Was that supposed to be a joke? Quina chuckled.
Quina tapped Darien on the shoulder. "Perhaps this is where the witch lives. Let us go."
They made their way toward the house. Quina seemed most excited, moving quickly without taking her eyes off the home. Darien stayed close but kept alert, and was pleased that the pawns seemed to share her caution.
Quina knocked on the front door. When there was no response, Darien took a deep breath and slowly pushed open the door and paused.
The hut appeared quite homely. In the middle of the room was a wooden table where fruits and vegetables lay upon rustic plates. There were shelves of what appeared to be poultices and dried herbs. Roots and unfamiliar sages hung from the ceiling on the other side of the room. A handful of straw baskets lay on the ground, one holding four or five bottles of some sort of drink Darien hoped was wine. The room was lit by a large, stone fireplace where a girl stood beside.
She held her hands behind her back and swayed forward and back on her heels in a way Darien had seen children do. She had long, raven black hair pulled into two side ponytails, and she wore a simple dark green dress. The girl didn't acknowledge them as Quina slid to Darien's side.
"Begging your pardon, "Quina said sweetly, "but we seek the witch of these woods."
Straight to the point, then, Darien thought.
The girl glanced at them briefly before peering back at the fire. "Oh?"
Quina continued, "Yes. A great and aged woman? Perhaps you might have seen her?"
"The…witch?" She turned toward the two and peered at them before continuing, "You seek…Grandmother?"
Darien sighed quietly. So this little girl isn't the witch in a little girl's body. So much for my theory. "Is your grandmother at home?" she asked.
"She is…dead. She…died. As all must."
Quina and Darien looked at each other. "My sympathies," the latter said.
"What of you then?" Quina asked. "Know you aught of the dragon? Can you read Wrymspeak?"
It took much of Darien's strength to keep her patience for the rest of the conversation.
"Gran told me," the girl said, "The Faith…knows. It cloaks…the dragon. Cloaks…the truth. Those who search for truth…outside the Faith…are branded heretic."
As emotive as a pawn. "Then this was a colossal waste of time." When the girl turned her attention to her, Darien added, "But that, of course, is not your fault. Just my own for thinking something could go right."
"Do not distress, cos," Quina said. "Now we know we must turn to the faith if we are to learn more." She turned to the girl and smiled. "You have our thanks. We leave you in peace to return to our village."
Quina turned to leave, and before Darien could follow she spotted Zillah observing the food on the table. The pawn picked up a carrot and began sliding it into her pack.
"What are you doing!?" Darien shouted, louder than she had intended.
The pawn looked at her, eyes wide with confusion.
"Put it back. You can't just take – Rook! Did you just break that crate?"
The mage seemed slightly remorseful behind that mustache of his. "I lost myself there, Arisen."
Darien spun around, but the apology on her lips died. The girl was standing closer to the Arisen now, looking up at her face with wide eyes. They honestly reminded Darien of the eyes of a dead fish, except that there was…something else, a glimmer, perhaps.
"Uh…"
"Might I know you?" the girl asked quietly.
"No," Darien said, taking a step back. "I do not believe so." She felt strangely uncomfortable under the gaze.
"My name is Selene."
"My name is Darien," she said nervously, "Take care."
The Arisen stood next to the door and motioned her pawns out. Then she closed the door behind her as she left, making sure not to catch the girl's eyes.
Quina had already gotten a head start, likely planning her next move. Darien caught up with her and was silent on their journey back to Cassardis.
HA! I'm back! And I WILL finish this story.