Hello to all! Here is the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy, and I'm looking forward to your reviews!
Agarth's weathered voice carried a note of caution as he spoke, his eyes narrowed in distrust. "We can't trust her. Never met a Dokkalfar who'd give me a straight answer, even with a sword at their throat. That said, she wasn't wrong about the codex. Just be careful out there when you are with her."
A contemplative silence hung in the air before Agarth shifted the topic, his thoughts moving like ripples in a pond. "Meanwhile, we can't just ignore the Tuatha that are tracking you. We need to do something about them."
Elrid nodded, his determination unwavering. "Sure we do! But how do we find them?"
Agarth's eyes gleamed with a glint of strategy. "She said they came through Didenhil, didn't she? They don't belong in these lands, so they probably left a trail wide as an Ettin's backside. Meet me there, and we'll tr—"
"No need for the kid to join us, Agarth," Enconeg's gruff voice cut through the Fateweaver's words. "I should be sufficient enough to help you find whomever you are looking for and deal with them."
Elrid's astonishment was palpable. "Don't you want to go back to your shack and tend to your gardens? Live a calm and simple life, away from the civilizations as you have mentioned? There's no need to put yourself between the hammer and the anvil, you know? Me and Agarth can do this on our own!"
"Kid," Enconeg began, drawing out his pipe and filling it as he spoke, "I've been sitting around in that swamp for many years now. And yes, during my times travelling, all I had seen was selfishness and cruelty. I didn't think that you two were much different—I had thought you went into the ruins for some hidden treasure." He ignited his pipe with a wry grin. "I realized not long after that I'd gotten myself into some far, far bigger trouble than I imagined."
Enconeg exhaled a cloud of aromatic smoke before continuing. "I also realized that I can't unsee what has happened here with all of the Tuatha and these deadly creatures. I will help as much as I can, for I can't stand while these whimps go around terrorizing people this deep into our territory. So yeah, I'll help Agarth with tracking down the Tuatha and you worry about your little lady." he winked coyly at Elrid.
A smile tugged at the corners of Elrid's lips, gratitude evident in his eyes. Turning to Enconeg, Agarth nodded in agreement. "Well, that's that then. Meet me there, in Didenhil, and we'll track them. Maybe we can find out why they're after him, or more importantly, how they can find us so easily. You can go now; I've got some final rites to perform before I leave this place. Me and Enconeg will travel to Didenhil right after I'm done here."
Elrid's mentor turned toward the cylindrical plinth, his footsteps echoing solemnly as he chanted in a language unknown. Elrid seized the moment to express his gratitude to Enconeg, his voice sincere and appreciative.
"Don't mention it, kid. You know, you remind me of my nephew a bit. A little bit adventurous, and sometimes too stupid to see the trap that he is going into. I never got to warn him as he went about on his way, and I regret it now. I won't make the same mistake here, though."
The old man removed the pipe from his mouth, his gaze penetrating as he fixed his eyes on Elrid. "I know we haven't known each other for more than a day or two, Elrid. But please, be safe out there. We can't let all our effort go to waste if you go dead on us, right? Now go, we've all got work to do, and you've got quite the journey to the House of Ballads."
"Right, I best get going. Good luck to y'all," Elrid replied, his voice carrying a sense of determination that matched the weight of their shared destiny.
Emerging from the shadowy depths of the Dellach ruins, Elrid found himself bathed in the cool embrace of the moonlight. The transition from the oppressive gloom within the ruins to the open night air was a welcome relief. Each inhalation brought with it the scent of the swamp, mingling with the earthy fragrance of nature at rest. The faint rustling of nocturnal creatures and the distant croak of frogs filled the stillness of the night, a stark contrast to the eerie silence that had enveloped the ruins.
Yet, the tranquil beauty of the night sky held an inconvenient truth—time had passed swiftly, and darkness blanketed the landscape. Elrid's progress was hindered, for navigating the swamp in the dead of night was treacherous, a labyrinth of murky waters and unseen hazards.
A glimmer of recollection pierced the fog of uncertainty in Elrid's mind. There, on the fringe of his memory, he remembered. There was a campsite stationed just across the entrance to Dellach. If I can just sneak in and get what I need and be on my way, it should be sufficient until I reach the House of Ballads!
It was a risky endeavor, trespassing on another's territory, especially Ettin, and especially now that he was alone, but desperation whispered that it was a risk worth taking.
Elrid set forth, his footsteps light as he moved through the swamp's concealed paths. Each step was calculated, each shadow a refuge, as he approached the campsite. The soft glisten of moonlight on his blade hinted at his intentions—a silent, stealthy acquisition of supplies before vanishing into the night once more.
As he drew nearer to the camp, his senses sharpened, attuned to the possibility of discovery. The tension in the air was palpable, his heartbeat quickening in anticipation. He observed the camp's occupants—a single Ettin stood by the campfire, while the other two slumbered beneath their giant tents. A pair of wolves lounged by the campfire, their eyes gleaming in the flickering firelight.
The situation appeared relatively relaxed as the Seeker made his way behind one of the tents.
The one good thing about doing this at night is that I've less monstrosities to worry about. Now, what could I take that would be of use to me..?
Stalking the camp's periphery, Elrid ensured his movements remained unnoticed, each footfall a whisper on the swamp's damp earth. He finally found something that could help him, potentially - a row of big chests.
The young Almain pulled out a lockpick out of his backpack and started picking the first one, making sure to not make too much noise. He stuck the pick in at a forty-five degree angle pointing to the upright corner and applied some pressure. He heard a click, his head bopping upwards a little to check for noises of movement. None heard, he continued by readjusting the pick towards the second pin of the chest. Once again, applying pressure to the lock, but unfortunately, the pick broke with a sound similar to a branch snapping.
However, fortune took an unfavorable turn as the lockpick snapped with a sound akin to a branch breaking. Elrid's heart quickened as he registered a grunt from the campfire, followed by the ominous sound of colossal footsteps drawing nearer. Swiftly, he concealed all evidence of the broken pick, retreating behind a cluster of barrels just meters away from the chests, every muscle tense with anticipation.
The Ettin, its curiosity piqued but finding nothing amiss, continued its watchful patrol around the back of the tents. A cursory glance at the chests, left undisturbed, brought a low grunt of contentment. Satisfied that all was well, it trundled back to the campfire, its attention once again fixated elsewhere.
Elrid, concealed behind the stout barrels, released a silent sigh of relief as the looming danger passed him by. The immediate threat dissipated, he composed himself and retrieved another lockpick from his backpack. This time, he proceeded with utmost caution, his fingers moving deftly as they worked the lock. With a satisfying click, the chest yielded to his efforts, revealing an assortment of human weapons. He frowned, knowing these armaments held little value for his journey, but he persevered.
The next two chests proved more promising. In one, he unearthed a compact backpack with a tent roll attached to it's top. A quick search revealed a meager stash of spices and a handful of provisions, which he deemed worthy of acquisition. Delving deeper into the backpack, he discovered an intriguing collection of potions, their vials sparkling in the pale moonlight in many various colors. His curiosity was piqued, prompting him to carefully stow them away for later investigation.
With his findings secured, Elrid expertly closed the chests, leaving no trace of his presence. He cast a final, vigilant gaze around the camp, ensuring no unexpected threats lurked nearby, before melting into the concealing shadows. The night remained his steadfast ally as he made his way off the main path as a precaution, eventually finding refuge at the base of a towering tree, its branches casting a protective shroud. It was here that he felt safe enough to unfold the map, the parchment illuminated by a sliver of moonlight. After a few moments of puzzling over the chart, he determined his location.
His mind already held knowledge of the House of Ballads' position on the map from his previous journey. With a calculated estimate of two days' travel, possibly one and a half if he minimized rests and hastened his pace, he set his course. "Okay, this taken care of, let's get some shut-eye," he whispered to himself.
Ten more minutes slipped away, and he lay on the tent roll, nestled amidst the colossal tree's roots. He abstained from lighting a fire, wary of attracting wild animals or unforeseen anomalies. Might be cold, but it's better this way, he reasoned as he surrendered to the embrace of sleep, grateful that his dreams were, for once, untroubled.
Emerging from the dark abyss of the Dellach ruins, Agarth and Enconeg found themselves bathed in the cool, moonlit night. Stars sparkled in the vast expanse above, casting a serene glow over the marshy landscape. Agarth, his characteristic humor intact, turned to Enconeg with a teasing glint in his eye.
"You know, Enconeg, I can't help but think that all this misfortune we've encountered is my bad luck rubbing off on us," he remarked with a playful grin, his voice a mixture of jest and genuine amusement.
Enconeg, the seasoned old hunter, let out a hearty laugh, his accent adding a touch of charm to his response. "Bad luck? Nah, mate, there's no such thing. Just poor choices by dumb people," he declared with a chuckle, his tone unapologetically jovial. "And by the way, I've got a cabin in the swamps not too far from here. We might reach it in an hour or two if we're 'lucky'."
Agarth rolled his eyes at Enconeg's playful jab. "Enough with the philosophical wisdom, my friend," he retorted, the twinkle in his eye suggesting he was playing along. "Let's just get a move on, and maybe your 'luck' will lead us to that cabin of yours before the night gets any colder."
They traversed the swamp in silence for a few minutes, Enconeg leading the way with a keen sense of direction that seemed born of a lifetime spent amid the tangled foliage and hidden pathways. Agarth couldn't help but voice his admiration, his tone laced with genuine surprise.
"I never knew there were ways to navigate this swamp so smoothly. I must say, I'm quite impressed. Then again, I made my best attempts to avoid it if I could."
Enconeg's response was characteristically matter-of-fact. He shot a knowing glance over his shoulder and quipped, "Well, when you have to live in a swamp teeming with Ettin, wolves, and all manner of creatures itching to make you their supper, you learn to become one with your environment and adapt to it."
The duo continued their journey in silence, the serenity of the night broken only by the occasional chirp of unseen creatures. It was Enconeg who finally broke the quietude, curiosity getting the better of him.
"So, Agarth," he inquired, "how did you end up with the kid? And why do you both seem to be tangled up in matters that, I presume, hold the fate of the world?"
Agarth, ever the master of playful teasing, flashed a wry smile. "Ah, my friend, even if I told you, you probably wouldn't believe it."
Enconeg, however, remained resolute, his eyes fixed on Agarth. No laughter accompanied his reply, just an unyielding determination to hear the tale.
Agarth sighed quietly, realizing that Enconeg was not one to be brushed off lightly. "I shouldn't even be telling you this, but after you helped us out, I guess I owe you one..."
With a reluctant nod, he began to recount the tale of how their journey began.
The Fateweaver began, the words hanging in the cool night air like echoes of a distant memory. He spoke of his lifelong friend, Fomorous Hugues, and the extraordinary life that he had.
"Fomorous is, or rather, he was a gnome of insatiable curiosity and a relentless thirst for knowledge," Agarth began, his voice carrying the weight of nostalgia. "But his pursuit of knowledge was unlike any other gnome I've known. He sought to achieve what no one had ever dared to attempt."
With a swift motion, he pulled the flask from his hip, took a fortifying swig, and continued, the moonlight dancing in his eyes.
"He dedicated his entire existence to a project that set him apart from his own kind and cast him into exile, far from the embrace of his people. This project was the infamous 'Well of Souls,' housed in the Allestar Tower near Gorhart. The 'Well' held a singular purpose—to defy the very fabric of life and death by resurrecting the recently departed."
Enconeg stopped in his tracks and turned to face Agarth so suddenly, the latter almost crashed into him.
"Wait, what on Amalur are you talking about? How would there possibly be such a thing existing. And if there was, surely at least the locals would know about it, no?!" he doggedly asked of Agarth.
"The project was highly-coveted. It wasn't something that was common knowledge. As far as I know, only the Templars in Adessa knew of it.
"Well...okay, but, that is impossible, right?" he stared at the old Fateweaver. "Right?!"
Agarth's response came as a whisper, but in the silence of the night, it was as loud as a thunderclap. "I once believed it impossible, my friend, just as you do now. But then I saw the Allestar Tower fall...I once did a reading for the Professor - the cards told me that the Well of Souls would work, but Hugues' success would come on the day of his death. It was that day that Elrid came to me, right after the Tower's fall. And the Dverga never came out after the fall. "
He continued, his voice carrying the weight of the incredible revelations he was sharing. "I had no idea who or what he was when he first appeared. All he told me was that Fomorous had sent him. When I attempted to read his Fate, I found nothing—no vision, no glimpse of his destiny. It was as if he were a void in the tapestry of Fate itself. I had thought I just couldn't see this deep into his Fate, some people are difficult like that. So I sent him to a friend, Arden, for guidance. But when we learned that he had been killed, we had no choice but to set our course for Dellach ourselves."
Agarth paused for a moment, his gaze steady on Enconeg. "He then defied Fate in ways I could never have imagined. He slew the very Ettin that was destined to end my life, a vision I had seen. He retrieved the Codex of Destiny—something accessible only to the Fae High King himself. He is a Fateless One, a Seeker of Destiny. He is unbound by the laws of our world, and he holds the power to reshape it, for better or worse."
With his revelation hanging heavy in the night air, Agarth's voice trailed off. Enconeg could only stare at the old Fateweaver, his eyes wide with newfound understanding. Without a word, he turned and resumed walking, each step a contemplative echo in the moonlit swamp.
Enconeg's gaze held a mixture of curiosity and amusement as they walked through the moonlit swamp, the muffled sounds of their footsteps adding to the atmosphere. He finally broke the silence with a question that had been nagging at him.
"And what about you?" the old hunter inquired, a glint of knowing in his eyes.
Agarth met his companion's gaze, his expression inscrutable. "What about me?" he replied, his voice calm and measured.
The old hunter's tone grew more serious as he continued, "Why did you conceal your true identity, Agarth the Unyielding, Blade of Avgrunn? I understand the kid might not recognize you, but anyone who has crossed paths with the war wouldn't mistake the likes of you."
Agarth's reaction was subtle, a mere shift of his demeanor, but he didn't give away anything. "Those days are long gone," he responded evenly. "At best, I'm Agarth the Fateweaver now. Most of the time, I'm just a wandering drunkard, following the currents of fate wherever they may lead. Or, in this case, wherever Destiny dictates—after all, it's the only adversary that's ever bested me."
A wry smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he continued. "I once glimpsed my own fate, and it was far from what I had anticipated. It reshaped me into who I am today. But then I met Elrid. Fate decrees that I should be dead, yet here I am, walking beside you."
His gaze turned thoughtful. "I've learned there are ways to challenge and defy Fate itself. That, in itself, is reason enough to keep going. But I also see a reflection of my own journey in the kid. He's lost and struggling to navigate newfound power. He needs guidance, and I happened to be the one there when he emerged from that tower."
Agarth chuckled softly at the twist of fate. "Isn't it ironic? Here I am, talking about defying Fate, only to realize that Fate brought him to me. I suppose I owe it a rare toast," he added, raising his flask as if to offer a silent salute to the enigmatic force that governed their lives.
As the relentless midday sun bathed the lush forests with its brilliant rays, Elrid found himself far from the oppressive gloom of Ettinmere but in the embrace of intense heat. The sweat glistened on his brow, coursing down his face and staining his clothing. Yet, determination burned brightly within him, an unyielding resolve to make the most of every moment and cover as much ground as possible before the day's end.
His thoughts meandered, settling on the enigmatic figure of Alyn Shir. Why had she chosen to extend her help? The question lingered in his mind like a riddle without an answer. Her motives remained a mystery, and he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that there was more to her actions than met the eye.
"Why is she helping us anyways?" Elrid mused aloud, his voice lost amidst the rustling leaves and the drone of insects. "I understand she's not our enemy, but it's all so peculiar. Well, I suppose I've got no choice but to unravel this mystery," he murmured, his determination to uncover the truth propelling him forward despite the oppressive heat.
As he journeyed deeper into the forest, Elrid remained vigilant, his senses keen to the subtle signs of the wilderness around him. He knew that in this vast and untamed realm, mysteries could unravel as quickly as they formed. And as the day wore on and the forest embraced him in its tranquil embrace, the young Seeker resolved to confront Alyn Shir and uncover the truth behind her cryptic assistance.
I hope you've all enjoyed the new chapter! After the last 2, 3 chapter, I think I've finally got into a groove with my writing. This means that I'll be able to deliver chapters on a specific schedule (hopefully I can stick to it! If not, I will update with a note on my profile.)
The schedule for a chapter will be every two weeks starting from the moment that you are reading this.
Next Chapter - 28/09/23