The Journey to Tombigbee
The journey to Tombigbee began at first light. Halmares, Nira, and Fergus departed from Talmorath with little fanfare, though the weight of their mission pressed heavily on all of them. Halmares had spent the previous evening preparing messages and sending them via trained birds to the other Chasind leaders, summoning them to the great meeting. Whether the summons would be heeded was another matter entirely.
The Wilds were as treacherous as ever, their dense foliage and uneven terrain demanding constant attention. The three travelers moved carefully, their steps muffled by the damp earth and moss beneath their boots. Halmares led the way with the confident stride of a man who had spent his life navigating the Wilds, while Nira followed close behind, her bow slung over her shoulder. Fergus brought up the rear, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his sword.
The first day of travel was marked by uneasy quiet. Fergus's thoughts often strayed to the words of Flemeth and Jehala, replaying their revelations over and over. His heart was heavy with the knowledge of his family's fate, and though he fought to keep his emotions in check, the grief and anger lingered beneath the surface.
It was Nira who eventually broke the silence as they passed beneath the gnarled branches of ancient oaks. "You haven't said much, Fergus," she remarked, her tone casual but curious. "Still brooding over Flemeth's words?"
Fergus glanced at her, his expression somber. "It's not something you move past easily," he admitted. "Learning that your entire family is gone… it changes you."
Nira nodded, her gaze softening. "It would. But you don't have to carry it alone."
Halmares, who had been walking ahead, spoke without turning. "Grief has its place, but don't let it blind you. The path you're on demands clarity, Cousland."
"I know," Fergus said, his voice firm despite the turmoil within him. "But grief isn't something you can just set aside. It's part of me now."
Halmares gave a curt nod, his pace never faltering. "Good. Use it. Grief can be a weapon if wielded properly."
The conversation died after that, the three of them falling back into silence as they continued deeper into the Wilds.
The second day brought heavier rain, the sky gray and oppressive. Water dripped steadily from the leaves above, and the ground turned to thick mud beneath their boots. Progress was slower, the Wilds more unwelcoming than ever.
"I can see why the Chasind don't get many visitors," Fergus muttered as he wiped rain from his face.
Nira smirked, though her expression was strained from the effort of trudging through the muck. "The Wilds don't care much for outsiders. They're alive, in their own way, and they guard their secrets fiercely."
Halmares stopped suddenly, raising a hand to signal silence. He tilted his head, listening intently to the sounds of the forest. The faint rustle of leaves and the distant caw of a raven were all that reached them. After a moment, he relaxed and motioned for them to continue.
"What was that about?" Fergus asked as they resumed walking.
"Spirits," Halmares said simply. "Or worse."
"Worse?" Fergus raised an eyebrow.
"Not all who wander the Wilds are friendly," Nira explained. "Some are creatures of the Fade, drawn here by the chaos of the Blight. Others are… less natural. It's best to avoid both."
They pressed on in uneasy silence until the rain began to let up, the sky clearing just enough for weak sunlight to filter through. As they paused to rest beneath the shelter of a large tree, Halmares finally spoke again, his tone serious.
"Tombigbee is no ordinary village," he said, addressing Fergus directly. "It is the heart of the Chasind tribes. If the leaders do not unite there, no other meeting will succeed."
"And if they refuse?" Fergus asked.
Halmares's expression darkened. "Then we are already dead."
By the third day, the terrain began to change. The dense, oppressive forests gave way to wider clearings, where patches of golden grass swayed in the wind. The Wilds here felt different—older, quieter, as if watching them with hidden eyes.
As they neared Tombigbee, Halmares grew more pensive, his steps slowing as he took in the landscape. Fergus noticed the change and fell into step beside him.
"Something on your mind?" Fergus asked.
Halmares glanced at him briefly before answering. "You," he said bluntly. "I underestimated you, Cousland. Few outsiders would walk into these Wilds willingly, let alone stay when given the chance to leave. You have courage. Foolish, perhaps, but courage nonetheless."
Fergus offered a faint smile. "I'm not here to prove anything to you," he said. "I'm here because it's the right thing to do. The Chasind saved my life. If I can repay that debt, I will."
Halmares regarded him for a moment, then gave a short nod. "Good. Hold onto that resolve. You'll need it before this is over."
As the sun began to set, they finally crested a low ridge and saw Tombigbee in the distance. The village sprawled across a wide valley, its wooden walls encircling a collection of large, thatched huts and central firepits. Smoke rose from several fires, and the faint hum of activity reached their ears even from afar.
Nira exhaled softly, her expression a mix of relief and apprehension. "We made it," she said.
Halmares nodded, his gaze fixed on the village. "Now comes the hard part," he said. "Convincing them to listen."
As they descended toward the village, Fergus's grip on his sword tightened. The journey had tested his resolve, but the real trial lay ahead. He could only hope that the Chasind leaders would see the truth of the danger before it was too late.