Writer's Note: Valor, Part 1

Hey guys, this clearly isn't a story update. I wanted to put up some sort of short story, but I couldn't think of anything that I couldn't also just work into Valor at some point. I'm a lazy bastard like that.

However, that isn’t to say I haven’t been doing work. As I said in the comment below Chapter 4, I’m working on making sure I know where I’m going with Part 2. I have a rough outline of things, but I leave quite a bit of wiggle-room for the story to develop. Part 1 actually ended up being much longer than I expected, though for different reasons. I actually cut things I thought would make it end, or ditched “good ideas” at the last minute to not break the story’s flow.

I can say I’ve done some rather heavy editing in for Chapters 3 and 4. Enough so that I’d recommend reading Chapter 4 again if you already have. I was somewhat rushed to get it up on time, and reading back through it, it shows. Here’s the biggest example, and the biggest change.

In Chapter 3, Ildun acts rather grateful for William’s help. More than Elias, even. Yet, in the original version of Chapter 4, when William expressed remorse towards the dead orc, Ildun ended up mocking him and his religion.

I won’t lie; Ildun’s kind of a dick. Or at least, he’s supposed to be. But that seemed a bit too far, a bit too easy, and a bit too contradictory towards Ildun’s past interaction with William. Likewise, William then turned around and kind-of-not-really-maybe threatened Ildun. Which I felt was in-character, but if Step 1 was wrong, Step 2 couldn’t be right either.

So I changed it. Ildun still clearly wouldn’t heal an orc, and tries to express that, but he’s far more tactful about it. Likewise, rather than becoming angry at Ildun, William focuses that more internally, thinking about some of the racism and prejudice typically associated with his religion.

What can I say? I’ve expressed before this is very much a work-in-progress, and though I’ll try not to make too many huge changes, there tends to be a direct correlation between how tired and how inspired I am… which means I may FORGET entire character interactions, apparently.

Thanks for reading. No idea if we’ll be back in full-swing next week, but I’ll keep you informed!

Valor: Chapter 4

            Not long after Elias had woken, they set off. It was somewhat exasperating, but he knew it had been coming. Ildun griped, but so long as Elias’ coin was going to his pocket, he’d go along; at least until anything too violent or unexpected happened. He had some doubts as to how steady Ildun would be under extreme pressure. He was brave, but more acquainted to less dreary places than this, clearly.

            “We don’t even know if this village near Goldbottom is inhabited by friendly people.” Ildun sneered the name the humans had given Tagen Rynns, and honestly Elias didn’t blame him there. Especially as it wasn’t even a good translation.

            “As you’ve shown,” Michael responded, glancing down from his horse, “trying to force our way through this swamp at night would be dangerous.”

            “It’s dark enough as it is,” said the horseman whose name Elias kept losing. He honestly seemed somewhat of a boring sort, looking much like the human guards around Aurosimmar. He’d have to ask if he had family there. Otherwise the resemblance was uncanny.

            “Humans,” Ildun muttered quietly, provoking an amused smirk from Elias. Honestly, he could see in the forest quite fine. He understood humans weren’t quite as geared towards such conditions though.

            Although occasionally the humans got jumpy at some sound or another, especially at first, it began to fade with time. It didn’t hurt that Elias, Gustav, and occasionally even William would cast spells to peer deeper into the swamp around them.

            Of course, Elias didn’t say how much that wouldn’t show them. After all, they could detect beings of evil intent, or magical origin. A hungry animal, however, would count as neither. Nor, necessarily, would territorial orcs register.

            Speaking of, they’d travel not much longer after that particular thought had crossed Elias mind when Michael put up his hand, motioning for everyone to stop. He’d come to the top of a hill, and being on top of a decent-sized horse, he had more perspective than most.

            “Perry, come with me. There’s something on the road I want to make sure is safe.”

            “Are you sure, Michael?” William asked concerned.

            Michael gave little more than a nod before he and the horseman (Perry, if Elias could hold onto it this time) made their way down the road. Elias hastened to the top of the hill to see what they had, and in the dim light, he saw Michael had dismounted and was looking over a body on the road.

            Michael stood straight and, surprisingly, shouted for Elias. That made the hair on the back of Elias’ neck stand-up. He ran down the hill, stopping only to regain his footing on a muddy patch the horses had churned up, before coming to Michael and Perry.

            “Please,” he said before anything else, “be quiet. We’re safer during the day than at night, but-”

            Michael nodded, glancing at Perry, who was barely containing a knowing smirk. “Perry actually just said the same thing. I’ll admit, I forget myself. Still… does this one look familiar to you, Elias?”

            Michael stepped aside so that Elias could see the body. Leaning in, he could see the wounds were vicious and unrestrained. Knicks and cuts along the arms, and many scars the body over, but the killing blows were several deep slashes and stabs in the back, if Elias was to be asked.

            The skin was a grayish-brown, and the blood itself somewhat yellow in tint. Not to mention the rough facial features, pointed ears, and size, there was no doubt to Elias that it was an orc. He glanced around, and saw the faint imprints of skeletal tracks nearby, some mottled with the orc’s blood.

            “I didn’t get a good look at them,” Elias admitted, “but he certainly looks to be in hunting gear,” he said, leaning in tugging at the light leather armor, “and that’s what got caught by the undead last night. A hunting party.”

            Michael frowned, tilting his head to side slightly as he looked at it. Elias stood up straight, brushing his hands off. “Something wrong?”

            “I guess I just pictured them… greener.”

            Elias smiled lightly. “In life, he probably was… as we turn pale, they turn a grayish brown.”

            “I guess the Green Blood tavern is based on fairy tale, hmm Perry?” Michael said, glancing up at the horseman.

            “Quite, sir,” Perry said, though didn’t take his gaze from the forest. He was dedicated to his work, Elias couldn’t doubt that.

            “God on his throne,” came another voice, and Elias turned around. The others had been picking their way down the hill, and now Michael and Ildun had gathered around the body.

            “They got this one good, hmm?” Ildun observed with altogether too much detachment for Elias’ taste. He had no love for the orcs, but he wouldn’t wish this sort of death on anyone.

            Judging from his face, William felt the same, but said nothing, instead looking down at the body. Ildun must have caught that, and after rolling his eyes, said “I wouldn’t worry too much William. I get that you have to save life, but I can almost guarantee this one wouldn’t return the favor.

            “No,” William said sadly, staring down at the body. “The Church only commands I save the lives of those who are good and pure, innocent and honorable… which some claim means only humans.”

            Ildun gave Elias a wary look, but Elias shrugged it away. William seemed a good sort, and it wasn’t as though Elven society didn’t consider elves superior to humans. Or maybe Elias was just more used to it.

            Gustav, thankfully, broke the tension, as he arrived the same time as those with the supplies. Giving the body a look of distaste, he glanced around and threw his hands into the air. “Well? Yes? Let’s move the damned thing if that’s the point.”

            “Not really,” Michael started, “more just trying to-”

            “Then let’s go,” Gustav said, urging his horse over the body and motioning for the workers to follow. They looked to Michael for a moment, who nodded his permission, rolling his eyes.

            Elias grinned. He knew that expression. “Not even death will stop Gus when he sets his mind to something.”

            That provoked a laugh from Michael. “Too true, well, come on. He is right, we can’t spend too long looking after the dead.”

            Elias nodded, and began down the road, rushing to get ahead so to keep pace with the horses better…

            Even though the sun was setting, William’s mind was still a few hours and miles back. Ildun’s comment was ringing in his ears, and the sight of the dead orc burned into his eyes. He kept asking himself the same question.

            Would I have saved it?

Ildun had been right, of course. The orc would most likely, upon being healed, just outright attack them. He’d heard tell that some orc tribes were able to live more or less peacefully with civilized folk, but more often than not, orcs simply raided and plundered when they saw fit. Such savagery certainly fell outside of God’s protection.

            Likewise, while the Asarian Church was fairly welcoming of other races, particularly dwarves, he had read the works of some Triune scholars saying that only humans should be protected by God, being his chosen people.

            Part of him felt his comment on such matters had disturbed their elven companions, but the topic was too distant to breach now. Distant, and buried under his far deeper thoughts of whether a savage life was somehow worth less than a “civilized” one. It was a train of thought he was struggling heavily with.

            “William!” Michael’s voice broke through his stormy thoughts, and William looked to him with a start. He really shouldn’t have allowed himself to be so distracted.

            “There you are, you looked a hundred miles away,” Michael said with an amused smile.

            “Only a few years away,” William responded, and didn’t elaborate further when Michael gave him an inquisitive look. “What is it you need Mike?”

            “We’re getting close to the village’s supposed location, and I was hoping you and Gus could give a quick scan of the area.”

            William frowned slightly, but nodded, and he and Gustav rode to the front of the line. Gustav looked over, cocking an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you? Look like you just bit into something sour.”

            “I know I offered my magic,” William said quietly, “but the Lord’s magic is meant for more than looking around.”

            “So is mine,” Gustav retorted, “but I’d rather know what I was getting into, so swallow your pride and do it.”

            Discontented, William took a breath and focused, and Gustav did the same. As he’d done the day before, William was able to see the world in terms of aura, though only those of evil purpose and intent would truly stand out. He saw nothing. Still, something pricked at the back of his neck.

            “Well, I see some more magic than the rest of the swamp, but that’s to be expected if elves live here,” Gustav said. “Anything on your end?”

            “No, but-”

            “Well, onward then.”

            How quickly things changed! Although William had just been griping over inaction and using his powers to sense things, he reached out and pulled Gustav back, almost pulling him off his horse. “Still yourself for a moment Gus, I want to see something.”

            Gustav had squawked indignantly, and he urged his horse back slightly, grumbling. “What? You see no evil, I see some magic, and-”

            “Evil and hostile are different things,” William said bluntly. “Besides, I think what I fear would fall under neither term, technically.”

            Gustav asked more, but William ignored him, shutting his eyes and said a quiet prayer. His vision expanded, his spirit pulling from his body slightly (or so it felt) as he saw things he shouldn’t be able to see. Further up the road was a trench, covered with branches. A few boards offered save passage, while the rest of the trench was filled with sharpened wooden spines. There was also a chest-high trip-wire, thin as spider-silk, and his vision saw the wire connected to the trigger of crossbow, firmly tied between into the crook of a tree and its branch.

            “They certainly don’t want visitors,” William said as his eyes opened, and he relayed to Gustav and the others what he’d seen.

            “Are you positive there’s nothing more?” Tresbos asked.

            William shook his head. “I can’t be one hundred percent certain, no, but I wouldn’t expect God to warn me of two to see me slain by the third.”

            William glanced over at Ildun, cocking an eyebrow. The man seemed more focused on the path before them, but William swore he had heard a derisive cough. He sighed, and began forward. “I’ll go through first.”

Urging his horse forward, William lead the way. He moved his horse around the trench, and then when near the trip-wire, he reached out, his mace in hand, and snapped the wire with a quick blow. There was the sharp sound of metal snapping in the woods, and the crossbow bolt flew through the air. William couldn’t see exactly where, but close enough that he felt his breath catch. Bravery and foolishness went hand in hand, he thought with a smile.

He heard another horse behind his, and glanced back. Michael was close on his heels, with Tresbos not far behind Michael. The others were still somewhat hesitant. William smiled, and continued leading them on.

It wasn’t until William, Michael, and Tresbos had progressed a fair distance that the others began to warily follow. William turned his horse slightly, to wait and watch. Despite his faith in God’s protection, he wasn’t one to blindly follow. Just as a stern father may tan a boy’s hide to teach him respect and responsibility, so too may God. Luckily, though, everyone made it past the trench fine, and no other traps revealed themselves. At the very least, if God had a lesson to teach here, it wasn’t a violent one.

The sun was falling fast, and as soon as everyone had made it past the trench, Michael urged them onward. “Come on then, let’s find this village before nightfall.”

No one would argue that, thankfully. Though the sun still had some time yet before it sank beneath the horizon, the thick swamp seemed to swallow much of the light, and it was already far darker than anyone, even the magically inclined seemed a bit more nervous.

Michael wouldn’t blame them. On the contrary, he understood it far too well. There just seemed something deep and primordial about the darkness. Michael wasn’t prone to deep thought, but as he rode on, he glanced to his right, scanning the darkness for unseen threats. He realized the futility of course, and looked forward, only to realize there was no change. They had no torches on the advice of Elias, who claimed the light would only give them away.

He wasn’t used to working in such darkness. He supposed it had been a luxury of his class that he could pick and choose when he helped the guard, and for the first time in many years he wondered if he was cut out for this sort of thing. Shadows of the branches, shifted by the wind, made his eyes dart back and forth.

“The path is more stable here” Tresbos said, and after a moment Michael realized he could feel it too, even if he couldn’t see it.

“We must be getting close,” Michael said, urging Perimor forward slightly.

“Careful, m’lord,” Tresbos hissed after him, and Michael thought he heard protests from further back too.

He didn’t get much of a chance to look back before a shape fell from the trees, knocking him off of Perimor. It was silent, and he felt its weight as they both slammed into the dirt. Perimor’s hooves slammed nearby in panic.

Before Michael could react, he felt a blow against his helm, striking just off from the opening of the eye. It was dizzying, but he shifted his head to the side so the next hit also struck the helmet.

“Blakdad kuul,” the being whispered harshly, before he saw the hand rise again. It looked like a mace or hammer of some kind. “Nu onkuinuu!”

As it fell, Michael’s instincts finally kicked in, and his hand shot up to grab his assailant’s wrist. Then he tried to twist them around so Michael had the leverage. His foe was rather light, so he wasn’t able to hold Michael down, but he did manage to wriggle his way out of Michael’s grasp. Michael grabbed for his sword.

Suddenly light ballooned around them, and Elias yelled out “hid! Hidat! Serica lorn!”

Michael wasn’t sure exactly what was said, but Elias stood between him and his foe, though his cleaving blade was brandished. His foe was now in plain-sight, magical light being generated by Ildun nearby. His foe… was an elf.

The elf said something to Elias, and there was a brief exchange. Michael took a moment to study his foe. A leather cuirass, but no other armor, just normal clothing. In his hand was a hammer, and though it was clearly capable of killing a man, it looked more built for work than war.

“Everyone stay calm,” Elias said, “and put down your weapons. Everyone.”

Michael glanced around, and saw he was far from the only one with his weapon at ready. Tresbos had his bow trained on the elf, while William’s mace was clenched in his hand. Michael grit his teeth, and matched his assailant’s gaze. It was not a look you gave someone you didn’t plan on hurting. Michael was sure his wasn’t much different.

Hesitantly, Michael sheathed his sword and stood up straight. William followed suit. Tresbos…

“At ease Perry,” Michael said, and after another reluctant moment, the cavalryman eased his weapon back. He sent Michael an unimpressed glance that Michael gave no response to.

The newcomer’s gaze shifted from Michael to Perry to William to Elias, and then back to Michael. “Who are you?” he asked briskly.

“My name is Michael Niels. My companions are Willi-”

The elf chopped at the air with his hand. “I don’t care about your names human. What are you doing here?”

Michael felt his face grow hot, but he took a deep breath and continued. “Taskurr Swamp has come back into the possession of the kingdom of Torem under King Peter. I am hoping to be Lord of this land, and protector of those within.”

The elf sneered. “I thought I’d heard the humans were coming back. Not that it seems like you ever left, with your haunted remains still walking the swamps.”

“Do you have a name?” Michael asked evenly.

“I do,” the elf said back… and then gave no more.

Michael gave an exasperated sigh. “Right. We’re looking for a nearby settlement to rest at before we move on to Goldbottom tomorrow. Do you know of it?”

“Goldbottom?”

“No, not that, the settlement.”

“Where in… what’s Goldbottom?” the elf asked, suspicion and irritation flavoring his voice. Michael set a hand on the hilt of his sword, but looked to Elias, nodding.

After a moment, Elias got the picture. “Oh, ah, Tagen Rynns. We’re aiming to clean it out and reclaim it.”

The elf started, his eyes widening at the prospect. He said something in Elven, and then Elias said something else back. He thought he caught his name. Michael didn’t like the language barrier. It left him more out of the loop than he liked…

“Tagen Rynns? You want to cleanse Tagen Rynns?!”

“Yes,” Elias responded back, in Elven. The other elf seemed to hardly believe it. “That’s our goal. Cleanse it, and then Lord Niels will take over…”

“One sort of scum for another, hmm?”

Elias winced, and glanced around. Ildun was smirking, while most of the others were somewhere between confused and irritated. Except Gustav, who was just irritated, as Gustav could speak Elven more or less fluently.

“These ‘scum’ won’t hunt you and kill you for sport,” Elias said bluntly.

Ildun broke in here, saying “although whatever does will notice this light soon enough. Take us to your village, damn it.” For effect, he waved his hand around in the air, the glowing orb on the end of it causing the shadows to shift around them.

The other elf fixed Ildun with a steely glare, but finally gave an exasperated breath, before dropping into Toremen. “Fine. My name is Bisa Banao.”

“Banao?” Ildun repeated.

“Yes, problems?” Banao snapped back, and Ildun shook his head.

“Good. Our village is this way, though I’m afraid we’ve limited lodging. The rest of you will have to sleep outside.”

Michael nodded. “That’s fine. Do you keep watch at your village?”

“Of course” Banao said indignantly. “You have to keep watch constantly in this blasted swamp.”

Michael cleared his throat. “Well, if you’d have it, some of our men could help with the watch, to give some of your people a rest.”

Banao looked Michael over suspiciously. “We’ll see. Come.”

Elias wished he could say he was surprised when Banao moved off the road and into the underbrush, but he wasn’t. “Our horses will have a hard time of this,” William said as they began to pick through the mud.

“You brought horses into a swamp, not me,” Banao said without pity.

Ildun leaned towards Elias and whispered “I like this guy.”

“You would,” Elias said back, and then in a low tone, asked “what did you make of his name? Had you heard of it?”

“No,” Ildun said. Elias gave him a skeptical look, and Ildun sent a confused one back at him before sighing. “I forget, you’re almost human, and young too. Most family names have one of a handful of common roots, and his has none of those.”

“Oh,” Elias said, and though it explained Ildun’s reaction, he seethed at the comment about how human he was. Was this the fate his parents had condemned him too? Too alien for the humans, too foreign for the elves? I suppose Gustav’s plan is a good one then, he thought to himself. A member of a human court for an elven land.

They trudged through the swamp, the humans having to dismount and lead their horses. Elias had fallen back towards Gustav, who was no more pleased at having to get into the mire at much of this trip, as far as Elias could tell.

“Robes were a poor choice,” he said bluntly, yanking on the cloth to untangle it from the swamp’s foliage.

Elias looked down at his own dress, a mix of light, breathing cloth with leather boots, bracers, and a cuirass to match. “Aye, I believe they were.”

Giving another yank as he became entangled in brambles, he shot Elias a glare. Elias shrugged. “What, I’m agreeing with you.”

“Not that,” Gustav hissed, but jerked his head towards the front of the line, where Ildun and Banao were leading them. “Your rather vocal new friend.”

Elias flushed. “He didn’t know you could understand him, Gus.”

“That makes it better?” Gustav grumbled, jerking as his robes became caught once more. This time he reached to his belt, pulled out a small curved dagger, and began to saw away at the affected piece.

Elias waited, glancing around the swamp casually. Unlike most of the humans, Gustav excluded, he could still see somewhat, so the swamps weren’t quite as intimidating. Still, the thought entered his mind that there was something he couldn’t see, so he quietly cast a spell to better see malevolent auras. Nothing around them…

Gustav had noticed the spellcasting, though. “Have you checked Banao?”

“Yes,” Elias lied, glancing towards the front of the line. Luckily, he was still right. Sighing, he said “Gus, you had to expect this. I told you most elves, especially those in the Borderlands, aren’t fond of humans.”

“As much as orcs and undead?” Gustav asked, again proving a point with a question. Elias glanced down at the mud, and then helped Gustav get unstuck once more.

“Give them time,” Elias said after a few minutes had passed. “They probably don’t know much about humans other than stories, and the undead that wander around… or hell, some may be old enough to have fought humans in the last war.”

“Hrrm, I’ll concede that last point,” Gustav grumbled, leaving Elias with what felt like victory, if a slight one.

When they finally reached the village, Elias quickly saw they certainly weren’t dealing with any vestiges of High Elven culture. No, these people were, either by circumstance or by choice, not the sort who needed prestige and fanciful decoration in everything they did.

It was a handful of small huts, suspended above the ground by stilts or bound to nearby trees. There was little ground to walk on in-between them, instead most navigation done by small rafts or rope bridges. An older elf, followed by a pair of others, both wielding axes, met them at the “path” to the village.

“Who and what are these, Bisa?”

“Humans,” Bisa said at once. Ildun and Elias glanced at each other. Bisa rolled his eyes. “For the most part. They’ve come to cleanse Tagen Rynns, amongst other things.”

“Now what the devil are they saying?” Elias heard Michael whisper harshly to William.

The older elf looked at Michael. “Is that one the leader?”

“I…” Banao looked to Elias and Ildun, unsure.

Elias stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Lord Niels is the leader of this expedition, sir. He-”

“He can speak for himself,” the elder said, and motioned to Michael. “You!” he said, switching to Toremen. “Lord Niels, is it? Over here.”

Michael strode forward as confidently as he could, and he perhaps felt he had reason to be. Elias was the tallest elf here, which put him about the same height as Gustav. Michael towered over all of them.

“I am Ormakin Zabrao, Elder of this village. What is your business in Zabraska?”

“My apologies for our intrusion,” Michael said evenly, bowing his head, “and for my ignorance. Is Zabraska the name of your village?”

Ormakin nodded curtly. “Yes, this village is our home amidst hell, but away from the jackals of the Empire.”

Ildun physically jerked at that, and his mouth opened to speak. Elias promptly elbowed him in the gut, and smiled sheepishly at Ormakin’s guards when they looked their way. Still, it put a pit in Elias’ stomach, or rather, made him notice one that had been there.

“I understand your suspicions and security, Elder. I too would not be so trusting of strangers in such a hostile land.”

“Good. Then you understand why I want to tell you take your chances in the swamp and leave us be.”

“I ask for only one night’s rest,” Michael said quickly. “At least until we prove ourselves. Have you heard of the land’s exchange between-”

“Our Empress and your King? This land belongs to no one but the orcs and dead, no matter how much the high and mighty think otherwise.”

“I hope to change that, sir.”

The Elder’s eyes narrowed. “Oh do you?”

Elias fidgeted, and leaned in towards Michael. In as low of tones as he could muster, he said “people living the swamp who call the government jackals-”

“Yes yes,” Michael said dismissively, and then looked at Ormakin straight on. “I don’t intend on changing your lives for the worse, Elder, but I do intend on changing them. The Swamps of Taskurr have spent too long without security, without peace. I hope to cleanse, ah, Tagen Rynns, and from there use it as a stronghold to help the current inhabitants of the swamp live fuller, happier lives.”

“Bold words for one so young,” the Elder said. “Lean down.”

Michael glanced at Elias and Ildun. Ildun merely shrugged. Elias nodded. Michael leaned down, and Ormakin looked directly into his eyes, intensely staring into them.

“… You may enter,” Ormakin said finally, provoking a sigh of relief from Elias. “Secure your horses here. We will make room in one of the huts for you to rest, but it will still only fit half your number.”

“We’ll gladly volunteer some of our men to assist in your watch,” Michael added, “as thanks for your hospitality.”

Ormakin merely nodded, and ordered his guards to follow him. Calling back, he said “Bisa, make sure our guests are comfortable.”

Elias could tell Banao wasn’t too pleased to hear that, but looked to them. “Alright then. Figure out who’ll be helping with the watch, and we’ll get that squared away. They’ll need some time to clear one of the houses anyways.”

Elias sighed in relief. Although the situation had started off rather tense, it appeared that, at least for tonight, they would be safe. He looked over at Michael as he began to work out the watch, speaking with William and Tresbos. Elias took a few strides over to Gustav, who was ‘admiring’ one of the Elven homes.

“Well… one step closer,” Elias said, giving Gustav a small smile.

Gustav nodded. “Mmm… true. But why do I feel like I just stepped in something awful on the way here?”

Elias laughed, and after a moment Gustav chuckled, but Elias could see with a second glance that Gustav wasn’t entirely kidding. Elias’ laugh faded off, though he forced a smile. “Well… I had better help Michael,” he added before turning off. The pit in his stomach seemed that much bigger now.

Valor: Chapter 3

            “I can’t say I’m fond of this, Elias.”

            “Hush,” came the other voice. “I’m giving you ten gold at the end of this, the least you can do is quit complaining.”

            The second elf merely frowned. “We’re not even near the northwestern edge of the swamp!”

            “I know,” Elias hissed. “We can’t go directly there, and you know why. Bloody orcs are hunting in that area, we’d be caught in a heartbeat.”

            “We can turn invisible Elias,” his comrade hissed. “They can’t kill what they can’t see.”

            “Their hounds could track us all night though, and didn’t I tell you to be silent Ildun?”

            Ildun sighed, pressing his head against the tree behind him, pushing the dark green cowl over his eyes, but sitting in the crook of a swamp tree, there wasn’t much to look at.

            Elias knew that as well, but he kept his eyes open. He had thought bringing a ranger such as Ildun along would be greatly beneficial, but it had been anything but. He was clearly used to dealing with far dumber game than orcs. He was a crack shot, Elias wouldn’t deny that, but he suffered from an overzealous sense of invincibility that he’d noticed in many of his kind.

            “You’re as flighty as a human,” Ildun grumbled, shifting the cowl from his eyes and glancing around. They were able to see fairly well in the swamp’s pre-dawn darkness, but that was relative to a human, who wouldn’t be able to see at all. As it was, Elias could make out where various shadows were, but he wouldn’t have been able to read a sign if it were but five feet away. What starlight filtered into the swamp was intermittent thanks to the thick foliage.

            Such comparisons to humans occurred to Elias often, and applied just as much. That Ildun was comparing him to them now was nothing new. “Good. The last thing this swamp needs is more elven bones.”

            This simply provoked an indignant mutter from Ildun. Elias smirked to himself, but continued scanning the nearby stagnant waters from above. “We may want to wait until daylight” Elias said after a moment’s thought. “The orcs will be less active then.”

            “You say that,” Ildun countered, “but we almost got caught by several orc patrols during the day.”

            Elias opened his mouth, and then closed it. It wasn’t something he’d forgotten, but he hadn’t truly made the connection. “That… is true. The swamp is dark enough, even during daylight, that the sun doesn’t bother them.”

            “Do the damned things ever sleep?” Ildun said, looking around. “Are we sure they aren’t undead, shambling around eternally?”

            Elias shivered. He’d been scouting these swamps for what felt like weeks now, and he’d run across some of the undead. “Trust me, I’d prefer the orcs.”

            “I’d prefer your comrades, human though they may be.” Ildun sighed, and gestured towards a sinuous ‘clearing’ of water, a stream snaking through the swamp. “I say we make our way through there. The water may hide our scent, should the orcs get too close, and it seems to lead to the northwest.”

            “We don’t know for how long, though,” Elias countered.

            “Who is the woodsman here?”

            Elias admitted that with his silence. Having spent more of his time in cities and studying magical books than he had in forests, he wasn’t as skilled a woodsman as many elves. It was the reason he had hired Ildun. Half of the time he had spent in the swamps of Taskurr had been simply trying to find his way back out, something he didn’t care to repeat.

            “Then let’s go,” Ildun said, beginning to climb down the tree. After a moment’s hesitation, Elias followed. He didn’t doubt Ildun’s experience, but the swamps of Taskurr were a violent place. Not only were their orcs and undead, but he could sense residual magic here and there, speaking to other beings lurking within. Ildun was older than Elias, perhaps by twenty years or so, but he’d spent much of that as a guard, not a ranger.

            In his own way, Elias felt them of equal experience, in their respective fields.

            They crouched down by the stream and moved swiftly but softly down its length. They kept low, in case of those watching, and never strayed far. Elias focused more on following Ildun’s path than anything else.

            Ildun held up a hand, and Elias froze. He felt his ears twitch slightly, and heard the sounds of movements, and the guttural speech of the orcs. Ildun pointed to the stream, and they moved into it, trying to wade in slowly, so as to not cause too much noise.

            The stream deepened in the middle, and then, taking deep breaths, they both dove under. The water was almost impossible to see through; even if it was clearer than the normal swamp water, it was still thick with silt. Elias closed his eyes and tried to follow Ildun by the feel of the water, occasionally feeling the muddy sides of the stream.

            After a minute or two, he finally moved towards the surface. He covered his mouth as he came up, so to better mask the instinctive gasp. Not a moment later, Ildun followed suit, though with a more practiced ascent.

            Once the sounds of their breathing and heartbeats faded from their ears, they listened to the sounds of the swamp. Elias could still hear the orcs, but they had passed them by, and were becoming more distant.

            “Good,” Ildun whispered, and they waded out of the water. Their clothing was drenched, but it would hardly be the first time since they had entered Taskurr.

            Several minutes more travel, and once the dawn sun peaked over the horizon, they tried to make the most of it, picking across the landscape with a bit more haste than they had been. Elias didn’t know about Ildun, but he was looking every direction he could. The feeling of danger was omnipresent, and caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand.

            And then, both of them heard something that made them freeze. Steel striking steel, and sudden screaming.

            “What is that?” Ildun yelled, drawing his saber.

            Elias listened a moment longer. The yelling was in orcish… “Ukshya,” he said bitterly.

            “Ukshya” Ildun repeated, thinking for a moment. “… Undead?”

            Elias nodded, but then looked to his right. Yes… the sounds were coming closer. Ildun noticed too. Neither were too concerned with being quiet this time, instead just aiming to get into the water. They had come near what passed for a lake, and dove into it.

            Elias, curious, made for the tall grasses at the edges and poked his head out of the water, just enough to see and hear. He saw the orc hunting group, perhaps three strong men, all armed, but lightly armored. He then saw the undead. Completely denuded of flesh to the bone, but the iron armor, though rusted at the edges and worn, still hung to their frames. They outnumbered the orcs as well, at least two to one.

            The orcs were more or less retreating, though being orcs, they weren’t good at running away. It was more they continuously allowed themselves to be beaten back, trying to strike at a distance. The skeletons had no such reservations, charging forward mindlessly. If Elias felt a pang of kinship with the orcs, it was only because in regards to the undead, everyone who drew breath was a brother.

            Of course, in this case, they were brothers he didn’t exactly like. He looked around and saw Ildun nearby, also watching the spectacle. He thought he saw the same thoughts filtering through his eyes. Helping the orcs wouldn’t happen though. Their reward for such generosity would be a quick death. Better to let the two groups eliminate each other, or…

            He brought his mouth above the water’s surface. “We’d be no better off with one group than the other. I think we should break for the northwest. I think they’d be too busy fighting each other to go after both of us.”

            Ildun looked over to the skirmish. The orcs certainly had muscle and intelligence on their side, but the skeletons had persistence and the relative invulnerability of undeath. Ildun pulled himself up onto the bank, saying “let’s go” in a harsh whisper.

            Elias followed, pulling a cleaver-like dagger only a second behind Ildun pulled his saber. Neither wanted to get into a fight, but what one wanted wasn’t always what one got, and neither wanted to be caught unprepared.

            “I don’t think any are behind us!” Ildun said after a minute of running, pausing to catching his breath and look through the swamp. Elias followed suit. Both were in good shape, but Ildun was more used to prolonged activity than Elias was. Any rest he could get would be appreciated.

            Elias peered into the swamp. All Elves had an inherent connection to nature and, by extension, the arcane. As his arcane connection was stronger than Ildun’s, his senses, particularly his eyesight, were that much stronger.

            “No,” he said, and began to cast a spell. “I think there are…”

            His eyes glowed for a moment as the spell took effect, and sure enough, he could see the auras of evil and undeath pursuing them. Only a couple had turned to attack the elves, however…

            “Let’s keep going,” Elias said, urging them on.

            “How many?” Ildun asked, not hesitating to follow.

            “Two, perhaps three? This swamp’s too thick to tell.”

            Ildun did hesitate now. “Is that all? Surely we can handle them.”

            “Move, Ildun,” Elias said with as much authority as he could muster. “We have no idea if more will follow their brethren. The more distance, the better.”

Ildun, for a wonder, didn’t argue the point, and they continued on. Hopefully they would come out near Gustav’s camp. Because otherwise… well, the elves would tire eventually. The undead would not.

The last watch was shared between William and Gustav. Michael had ended up with the first watch, which he had shared with one of the workers, and Tresbos and another worker with the second.

William was tired, and found that he had somewhat less patience for Gustav right now than he would otherwise. He seemed to complain from the moment he woke up. “I’m not quite used to ‘roughing it’ either, Gus, but by the Light, you act as though the ground has offended you.”

“It’s offended my spine, certainly,” Gustav said, which prompted William to roll his eyes and get some space. He sipped out of a tin cup which had a chicory coffee within. It was somewhat bitter, but it would help him get started. He wasn’t fond of coffee, but he couldn’t afford himself the time he needed to properly wake, not if he was on watch. Gustav, meanwhile, was fussing over getting some tea made.

William shook his head. This would be a long trip if Gustav insisted on the comforts of ‘home.’ Perhaps he’d spent too much time at Aurosimmar’s academy, as it had transformed him into someone who had more in common with Michael’s family than either William or Michael.

He glanced to the right, hearing some kind of rustling. It wouldn’t be the first time, of course. Wildlife tended to explode from the swamp, usually a deer or two bounding across the fields to graze. Nothing had bothered them, at any rate.

His vision strained against the low morning light, but he thought… those weren’t deer. “Gus, can you make out what’s going on over there?” he called.

Gustav stood up and shuffled over, squinting. For reasons no one really understood, those with arcane powers seemed to see better in the dark than those without, and at a time like this, it was certainly useful.

“Why… God alive, that’s Elias! And another elf! Elias!” he called out, waving a hand.

The two elves, having been running out of the wood, turned, but didn’t slow down. They yelled something, but Gustav and William simply glanced at each other. Neither had understood it. “What?!” Gustav yelled back.

“What’s going on?” said a perturbed sounding Tresbos, who had clearly been woken by the commotion. Glancing back, William saw Michael and the rest of the camp stirring as well.

“It’s my Elven friend, and he’s… wait,” Gustav leaned forward. “They’re being pursued! That’s what they’re yelling about. Three figures just burst from the trees.”

“What are they?” Tresbos asked, irritation in his voice at being unable to see them clearly.

“I’m not sure, they wear a man’s armor, but they’re running…  oddly.”

William’s breath caught, and he clasped the cross from his necklace and said a quiet prayer. Within moments, his vision changed, the same warmth he spoke of to Gustav the previous day. When it finished, he saw what amounted to a bilious smoke rising from the pursuers, as if they were constantly burning. It was black, but seemed to glow with a sickly orange light against the fading darkness around them.

“They’re undead,” William said in a distant voice. He felt his heart quicken in his chest. He pulled his mace, released his cross, and charged forward.

“Will, wait!” Gustav called after him, but William was deaf to it. This was part of the reason he had come to this swamp.

He met with the Elves quickly, one of whom was panting by the time they stopped. The other ran a few more feet before stopping. “They’ve been following us for at least ten minutes,” the panting one said. “We’d hoped we would lose them, but…”

“The undead are tireless in their hatred of the living,” William said bluntly. He glanced back at the other one. “Are either of you hurt?”

“Knicks and scratches from the brush,” the fair-haired one, the one who seemed less tired, said. “Nothing of concern.”

“Good,” William said, and didn’t say anything else before the rattling skeletons before him closed in.

Gripping his mace in both hands, when the first skeleton closed with him he swung at the creature’s shoulder. The mace came down and knocked the arm completely off, staggering it. Before it could do anything else, he shoulder checked it, knocking it backwards into another one.

A third skeleton charged and swung its glaive, but the darker-haired elf caught the wooden shaft with his blade, a brutal looking cleaver that was different from any knife William had ever seen.

William took the opportunity to close in, getting low under the spear’s length and swinging his mace to crush the creature’s knee. It buckled, but did not break.

“Keep them busy!” he yelled, and with a growl the other elf broke in, swinging his saber at the skeleton’s torso. The unfortunate truth was the light, precise weapons of the elves were poor against the fleshless nature of these undead.

The other realized this, and put his blade away, pulling a quarterstaff from his back. William doubted it would do much damage in this case, but it would better occupy them than a saber.

William clutched his cross again, and yanked, causing the cord holding it to his neck to come undone. “By God and his divine light,” he began, and a white light started to emit from his eyes and mouth, “I cast thee to thy eternal rest! Begone!”

The last word seemed to explode from his mouth, a wave of light bursting from him. It enveloped the elves and undead both, and everything seemed to freeze for a moment, at least from William’s perspective, as the light clung to the undead. Then, they dissolved, rapidly crumbling into powdered bone, and their equipment fracturing and crumpling, as if it were paper suddenly exposed to flame.

The three breathed heavily. William’s heart was pounding in his ears. William, after a few moments, closed his eyes and brought the cross to his chest. Thank you, he thought silently.

“William! Elias!” Gustav yelled, finally catching up with William. Tresbos beat him by a few steps, holding his spear at the ready. “Are you alright?” Gustav asked, concern etched on his face.

“We’ll live Gus,” the dark-haired elf said, laughing slightly. He straightened his stance, and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Is this your friend, ah, William?”

“Does it matter?” the other elf asked, and stuck out a hand in William’s direction. “You helped us out there, friend. Ildun Naes, and you have my gratitude regardless of your name.”

The other elf, clearly Elias at this point, laughed. “Of course, forgive me.” He’d shake William’s hand next. “Elias Lyttler.”

Michael and another worker wandered over now, armed with sword and shovel respectively. Gustav quickly made the introductions, and was introduced himself to Ildun. William, admittedly, was only half there through the proceedings, and as Elias and Ildun filled Gustav in on what they’d found, he stepped away.

Michael followed rather quickly. “Are you alright, Will?” he asked, setting a hand on William’s shoulder.

William smiled, nodding and looking back. “I’m fine, Michael, it’s just… I’ve never felt that before.”

There was a beat before Michael understood what he meant, saying “oh, the, um, turning of the skeletons?”

“Somewhat.” William glanced down and away, not sure how to put his feelings into words. “For a brief moment, I felt their spirits. I felt the burdens they carried, and how time twisted them for evil.” He tilted his head upwards, and looked towards the rising sun. “They were… bound, and I freed them, Michael. Despite all else, I don’t think I realized that, under the rage and misery, the undead are still trapped souls.”

William didn’t blame Michael for the silence that followed. Michael, though devout, never felt God in the way William did… and William was realizing that there was more to those feelings than mere faith.

They had allowed the Elves a few hours of rest as the sun came up. Michael had expressed some concerns to Gustav that they would be too tired to be useful once they got into the swamp proper.

“It shouldn’t be much of a problem,” Gustav said, closing the book he’d been reading. “Elias has told me before that elves don’t need as much sleep as we do. I guess they occasionally go into some sort of hibernation trance every year or so, for a few days, but… they can control that. They should be fine within a few hours.”

It seemed alien to Michael, but it would probably help for future night watches, if the elves needed less sleep. “What do you think of the other one?” Michael asked quietly. “Ildun, I believe he said?”

“Hmm,” Gustav grumbled to himself, fingers idly tapping the book. “Elias says he’s a ranger he’s worked with, knows his way around a forest and what not. I feel like there’s something more there, but he’s not talking.”

“Something bad?” Michael asked, concern furrowing his brow. He didn’t like the idea of looking over his shoulder anymore than he had to.

“Bad?” Gustav repeated, and shook his head. “No, not bad. Will would’ve seen signs of evil on him when they were approaching, I asked him. I don’t doubt his intent, more hisss…” Gustav dragged the word out as he looked for the right word, “capability.”

Michael decided to change the subject, asking Gustav his opinion on the map. It wasn’t that he didn’t value Gustav’s opinion of Ildun, but he’d also noticed Gustav’s opinion on someone’s ‘capability’ seemed proportional to how magical they were. Michael was somewhat suspicious of both elves anyway (perhaps more of his upbringing clinging to him than he’d like), but Elias had been vouched for rather heavily by Gustav.

Ildun? Hmm.

The map was rather well made. It had a leather backing to help prevent water-damage, and even a small clasp to make sure it stayed rolled when it wasn’t needed. It was a bit large and cumbersome, more like a military planning map than that Michael had pictured in stories of pirates and treasure hunters, but it also was well-designed.

“Traveling the road would get us as close as we can as fast as possible,” Michael said, bringing his finger down the road.

“Didn’t Tresbos say the road looked washed out?”

Michael winced. He hadn’t thought of that, but tried to recover. “Yes, but I imagine the road will still be clearer and in better condition than much of the land around it. We certainly can’t bring the mules and horses into the thicker mire of the swamp.”

“True,” Gustav said, which Michael took as a small victory.

Tresbos had come over at hearing his name. He quipped in here, saying “I spoke briefly with Elven ranger, before they went to sleep, and asked about that… it’s much the same as the forests around Yewmark, sir.”

Michael frowned. Where was his head in all this? “Ah, yes… it’s clearer going, but we’ll be visible.”

“Aye,” Tresbos said with a nod, “and we’re expecting far worse than bandits and boars.”

Michael thought for a moment, studying the map. Perhaps if they really moved, they could reach the site of… he looked at the map, and frowned. “What was the name of the fort again?”

“Hmm?” Gustav looked at him quizzically, and then looked back to the map. As Michael had seen, there was no name listed.

“I’m not sure.” He’d reach into his robes, pulling out the letter Elias had sent him before, and skimmed over it. “Mmm… ah, here it is. The locals call it Tagen Rynns. If I’m right, it means something like ‘Gold Bottom’ in Elven, though with a, ah, negative twist?”

Michael gave an unsatisfied grunt. “So we don’t know what the fort was originally called?”

Gustav checked over the letter again. “Um, Elias didn’t say, at any rate. Does it matter?”

Michael frowned, and he saw Tresbos give him a hard look. Gustav and Tresbos seemed to get along like oil and water. He decided not to answer Gustav. “Perhaps Elias can shed some light on it when he awakens.”

He tried to get back to thinking about the actual plan. Though they could make it to ‘Goldbottom’ in one full day’s travel, it would mean traveling at night. From what the elves had said and shown, though, the swamps were far more active at night.

“It looks like there’s a small settlement here,” Michael said, tapping at a spot off the road dotted with small buildings. “I say we make for that, rest there for the night, and then leave for Goldbottom the next day.”

Despite their disagreements, both Gustav and Tresbos seemed concerned by that. Michael questioned that with a mere raise of an eyebrow. Tresbos cleared his throat and looked away, saying nothing. Gustav, of course, felt no compunctions towards silence. “The map is an amalgam of smaller maps, and somewhat old Michael. If mere error hasn’t made it somewhat off, time may have done the job for us.”

Michael frowned. “Of course I know that,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and casting a sour gaze over them both. “I’m not foolish. I understand we may find nothing but rotted swamps there, but it gives us a goal, and at least then we’d see whether the village stands or not.”

The two nodded, with Tresbos muttering a quick apology under his breath. Gustav, however, did not. Though Michael knew that Gustav had no reason to treat Michael any better than anyone else, he had just accused him of ignorance. But even with Michael’s glare resting on Gustav for a moment longer, Gustav simply nodded again, and walked away, opening his book again before he had even sat down.

Michael gave an exasperated sigh. “Get some rest Perry,” he said, glancing over at Tresbos. “I have a feeling this may be a long trip.”

Valor: Chapter 2

Michael looked himself over in a mirror. His armor was polished, and he had new gauntlets as well. His sword was polished to a shine and razor sharp, and just as new as the gauntlets. He’d spent part of the morning learning its balance, and practicing.

He also now had a shield, which was something he hadn’t much experience with. It had the crest of the Niels house on it, matching his tabard; an amber-tinted yellow with a black lion, reared up and facing to the left.

“How goes the planning?” came a voice from the door, and he saw his mother standing there. He smiled lightly… how diminutive she looked now, her years weighing her down. At the same time, since his father died, although she had mourned more than anyone, she seemed… almost refreshed. Released, perhaps, was a better term.

After all, she was no longer matron of the estate; that fell to Solomon’s wife, Phillipine. So his mother was left to spend her remaining days relaxing, only having real power over her unmarried daughters, of which two remained.

“It goes well,” Michael said, moving to sit at small table within his chambers. “Solomon has offered to assist with some funds.” He laughed slightly. “I imagine the idea of me being out of his hair for good is combating heavily with his sense of, ah, frugality?” It was a far nicer word than ‘greed.’

His mother smiled. “You know that Solomon does love you, yes? He just followed in your father’s footsteps rather directly, and it hurts him to see you stepping out of them.”

“I suppose,” Michael said, rolling his shoulders. “And you, mother?”

“And me?” she repeated, thinking for a moment… “I think you are too young to remember your grandfather, but you remind me of him very much. Believe it or not, for a brief time, your father wasn’t much different… don’t give me such a look! Your mother doesn’t lie to you. The problem was at the time, this family was not rich enough to afford their only son taking off for his ideals.”

Michael gave a quick snort, adjusting in his seat. “Forgive me mother, but it’s hard to see father in that light.”

“He had to grow up quickly,” she said calmly, “and he always had the best for his children at heart.”

“And no one else.”

Her eyes narrowed, and Michael realized a moment later than he should have that he had overstepped himself. His mother walked over and, as if he wasn’t a grown man wearing platemail armor, slapped him across the face.

“Michael Niels, you won’t speak ill of your dead father, not while I still draw breath. Your father was not a kind man at times, I’ll afford you that, but he did what he could with what he could, and when you made clear your devotion to Yewmark,” she gestured sharply towards the window, “I assure you it wasn’t the stunt that almost cost Solomon his hand that convinced him to do it. As I said, the same fire that burns within you once burned within him. If you are to be a Lord, though, you’d do well to learn to temper it.”

“Forgive me mother,” Michael said, keeping his gaze on the carpet. In truth, he did regret saying what he had. “It was just a moment of… youthful arrogance.”

“Well you are not young anymore, Michael,” she said, and with a wag of her finger made him feel just as much guilt and shame as she had when he had been in shortpants. “You’ve been on this earth for twenty-four years. Old enough to be above such boyish rebellion.”

She shook her head, making a ‘tsk tsk’ sound, and then tilted his chin up. After leveling a disapproving glare into his eyes, she smiled and then pat his cheek. “You are a good boy Michael, and your father would be proud of the man you’ve become. He was proud, even if he never said it. Of you and Solomon both.”

“I truly am sorry mum,” he said, and then moved to stand and hug her. It was somewhat awkward in the armor, but he managed regardless. “I suppose the preparations are just… taxing me.”

“Well, leave some to William and Gustav!” she said after breaking the hug, patting him on the chest. “They are both smart boys. If you are truly worried about finances, I will even convince Solomon to help, or perhaps Stephanie? It’s unbefitting for a lady to worry herself with math, but your sister has always taken to it.”

The thought of asking his second youngest sister for help did not strike him as a good one, even if she was probably better at it than he. “I’ll be fine mother, I promise.”

“You had better be,” she said, and then turned and left the room. Hardly the visit Michael had expected from his mother, but perhaps just the visit he had needed.

“What was your name again?” Gustav asked, somewhat perturbed.

“Perry Tresbos, sir.”

“And… why?” Gustav asked, looking back to Michael, quizzically.

A slight frown crossed Tresbos’ face, and William flushed somewhat, while Michael reddened. “Perry is a bowman who has rode with the Yewmark guard for the last four years, and he’s a hell of a shot, even on horseback.”

“That doesn’t quite answer my question,” Gustav stated rather simply, not really sure why Michael was getting upset.

And yet, he was. “Gus, agh… look, we’ve discussed this. I know you are against bringing more people than we have to, but Perry has volunteered to assist us for no more than his usual salary, no more than 30 silver a day.”

Gustav grunted, and looked at Tresbos again. “I don’t mean any disrespect, Mister Tresbos,” Gustav added, which prompted a (promptly ignored) mutter from Michael, “I just suppose I don’t see much purpose for a cavalry archer in a swamp.”

“I can fight off of my horse as well, sir,” the man said as respectfully as he could.

“Gustav,” William interjected before Michael could start in again, “as I understand it, Mister Tresbos will also be acting a sort of guard captain while we three, and your friend Elias, go into the dungeon. After all, we won’t be able to bring all of our supplies into it.”

Gustav’s face contorted, and he grumbled, but nodded. “Very well! Welcome aboard Mister Tresbos.”

It was already more people than Gustav wanted. Not only was Tresbos joining them, but so were a few workers from House Niels and a couple of villagers from Yewmark, the latter two only assisting so far as helping to bring supplies to the swamp’s edge.

            At the very least, they were finally leaving. Although Gustav had known some preparation would be needed, he had clearly underestimated how meticulous Michael was in such manners. To finally be leaving Yewmark, and heading south to the Taskurr… as far as he was concerned, it was a godsend.

            Sensing Michael’s hostility, though, he rode a few strides ahead. Michael was riding upon a well-kept red horse he called Perimor, the most impressive looking beast of the bunch. Two mules pulled a cart with their supplies, while Tresbos rode a fast-looking black horse, leaner than Perimor, but just as experienced seeming.

            William’s horse was light gray and one that he had purchased from the Niels stables, while Gustav’s was a dark gray horse on loan from the Royal Academy. His was, in a way, the least experienced to such long travel there… but they weren’t aiming for a rapid pace regardless, having to let the mules keep up.

            Riding up alongside him, William leaned over. “Gus, perhaps you shouldn’t be so hard on Michael’s hires…”

            “Hrrm!” Gustav snorted. “It simply seems needless to me. I’ll admit this to being my plan, but we’ve yet to even look over the land ourselves, or clear the dungeon. What good are all these supplies if we are overrun immediately?”

            William cocked an eyebrow. “You’ve seemed rather confident about this, and I feel Michael shares your confidence.”

            Gustav merely grunted.

            “Do you believe we’ll fail?” William pressed.

            “Of course not,” Gustav said, his voice rising above a whisper, and drawing a glance from Michael and Tresbos behind them. He cleared his throat before lowering his voice again. “No, I don’t. But we don’t know what to expect, and some of these are barely more than peasants with any experience in dealing with petty thieves, let alone orcish raiders.”

            “And I suppose you have experience?” William inquired somewhat bitterly.

            Gustav shot him an irritated look. “No, but I can shoot fire from my hands, amongst other things.”

            “There is only so much magic within a mortal frame, Gus.”

            “I know that, William. I do have… some basic training, mostly in using a knife.”

            William seemed somewhat surprised at that, and then remembered… “aah, huh. Kept up on that, did you?”

            Gustav cocked an eyebrow. “You didn’t?”

            William shook his head. “Bladed weapons in general are frowned upon by most Clerical Orders except in the most extreme of circumstances.” He reached down and gripped the handle of his mace. “This should handle any problems I come across that God and the Light cannot assist me with.”

            Glancing down at the heavy, flanged mace, Gustav couldn’t say he saw how that was any less violent, and said as much to William. William merely smirked. “It is far easier to survive a broken bone than a severed limb.”

            “Given what we are going after, I’m not sure we want them to survive.”

            “Perhaps not,” William admitted, “but God doesn’t allow for such distinctions, and small though the chance may be, if an orc has an opportunity to change his ways, I must at least give him the option.”

            “I hope you won’t mind that I wouldn’t do the same,” Gustav said uneasily. The idea of beating a creature as fierce and violent as an orc, then allowing it to live, to one day strike back at you… it seemed like madness to him.

            “If they surrendered, would you accept their surrender?”

            “Of course,” Gustav lied. He’d found, in recent days, that was becoming easier and easier to do. In some ways, he missed the old William. Gustav was no criminal, but he considered himself realistic. If someone would kill him, or if he felt they would not accept his surrender were the positions reversed, he’d kill them. End of story.

            If there was one thing he’d learned, being both different and a bit of a runt, if you were getting into a fight; hit first, and hit last. William used to be of a similar line of thought, though that was clearly not the case any longer.

            William’s gaze said that he wasn’t sure whether Gustav was lying or not… and Gustav was okay with that. “Reluctant, of course. Suspicious, certainly. But I’m not an animal William.”

            That seemed to be enough to sate William… and it wasn’t a lie, either. Gustav supposed he could accept surrender from an orc, if only because it was so unlikely, if it did happen, he would be curious to see how it turned out.

            As they rode on, Gustav supposed he had been somewhat harsh on the man who was only trying to help. He was so used to the relative seclusion of his lab, and his only other encounters being with those of other mages, that he found himself gravitating away from most normal, non-magical folk. Michael and William being exceptions, of course, though William wasn’t non-magicial, to be fair. In fact…

            They had been riding for several hours. William had never come this far south before, and even though the sun was starting to sink in the sky, the temperature seemed to be a bit warmer than it had earlier. The very air seemed to taste different, it felt. Were they closer to the sea? He imagined they must be.

            “Will, a question?”

            William jumped slightly, provoking a laugh from Gustav. “Sorry, lost in your thoughts?”

            “Aye,” William laughed. “What can I help you with Gus?”

            “A personal curiosity, though… one I will understand if you don’t wish to answer.”

            “I can only try,” William responded, smiling.

            “What’s it like, casting magic, for you?”

            William blinked, and then, after a moment, realized what Gustav meant. Although William was not as skilled in magic as Gustav was, he used Divine Magic, drawn from the heavens, while Gustav drew from his own energy, or that of the world around him.

            “What’s it like? How do you mean?”

            Gustav shifted in his saddle. “I mean, I suppose… what do you feel? What goes through your mind, your soul, your body?”

            William’s brow furrowed. “Per… haps if you say what you feel with yours, I can better answer.”

            Gustav laughed. “Fair enough. Let me think…” he paused, picking his words. “It varies from spell to spell, of course, but in general… after I’ve cast the spell, mind you, my body feels somewhat cold. As if a cold wind is cutting across me, ignoring my robes. It seems to chill my very spirit. But… my fingertips, my eyes, my tongue, and my mind, they all seem electrified. I feel such a heat within them. My mind whirls for a moment, and then whatever I’m hoping to focus on, I see it, hear it, sense it with such steel-like focus…” he took a breath, shaking his head. “It’s, admittedly, almost addictive. We’re taught early on not to feed off that, because the chill we feel is fairly literal… the magic drains us, but because all that energy seems shift to our mind, we don’t feel it as deeply.”

            Though Gustav spoke of it rather casually, almost excitedly, it honestly sounded somewhat horrible to William. The Asarian Church, or at least, St. Lennin’s Monastery, had never given a firm stance on how to handle the arcane. The impression William had gotten, however, was that though a holy man should never dabble in it, for fear of compromising a spirit that rightfully belonged to the Lord, an arcane mage could still be a good man.

            “I think I see what you’re saying,” William said, and thought for a moment. He laughed slightly. “I’ll do my best to explain, though I fear I’ve never really given it much thought. It’s very… flowing, I suppose. Almost as if a wave of liquid warmth is filling my center. I feel more conscious of all things around me. In a way I’m not sure I understand, I feel both lighter and heavier… as if my body is slowing down my spirit.”

            “Fascinating,” Gustav said.

            “It is?”

            “Oh yes,” Gustav nodded excitedly. “I’ve never studied it exclusively, but there are some who are very interested in the difference between Arcane and Divine magic. Especially when you think of long ago days, where there were more gods than ours… there are theories that Arcane magic only became prominent due to the ‘spill-off’ of the death of the old gods.”

            William’s eyes widened. “I’d never heard that before.”

            “Theories, of course,” Gustav added quickly. “I mean no offense, but as you may imagine, higher church officials don’t wish to delve too deeply into the connection between our respective magics.”

            “I suppose I can see that,” William said, and started to say something else, but stopped himself. It was the sort of thing he wasn’t supposed to talk about.

            Gustav saw that, and nodded. “It does raise some questions about Void magic, I’ll give you that,” he said, before taking his horse a few steps away, leaving William to stew.

            Void magic… drawing from the literal voids left from the death of the old gods. It wasn’t evil, per se, but many saw it as… unholy. Even if the old gods were enemies of the One True God, they were still beings of great power, and worthy of respect, even in death. To essentially draw power from their divine corpses seemed wrong. It didn’t help William that Asarianists believed that, with time and devotion of their followers, even the old gods could be absorbed into the Holy Triune.

            He shuddered, and put a hand to his cross, and looked down at it. The wooden cross he was now holding in his hand, a sign of not only his graduation, but his faith, was intricately carved, and dyed red, same as the cross embroidered onto his tabard. By His holy power, I will protect His sovereignty over the Earth, his thumb moved over the horizontal bar of the cross, and from the Heavens above, his thumb slid to the top of the cross, to the depths below, it then slid down the length of the cross, hallowed will be His name.

            He took a deep breath, and whispered “amen.” But as he looked at the cross, he wondered… where did the void of the old gods fit into all that? Were they merely left to be as meat for the vultures of the mortal realm to pick clean? How did they fit into God’s plan?

            A dangerous question, William thought, and decided to think of it no more. Unlike Gustav, unraveling the mysteries of the universe didn’t seem exciting to William, but induced a feeling more akin to dread… and he felt he’d have quite enough of that in the days to come.

            “Truly, we’d assist you further sir…”

            “But the idea of entering these swamps is terrifying.”

            Michael laughed heartily. “No worries, men, I understand.” Scanning the area, Michael pointed to one spot at the base of a broken oak tree, and another near a large stone. “My last request is if you can help us hide some of the supplies until we’ll need them. An extra thirty silver to you both regardless,” and without hesitation he dug into his coinpurse and doled out the coins.

            The two men nodded in appreciation. “We’ll do our best m’lord!”

            “Yes we will. Best of luck on your quest, sir.”

            “Thank you both, and may you get home safely.”

            The two men set out, along with the other three workers, to begin burying parts of their cache. Tresbos came riding up, having scouted the swamp’s edge.

            “Master Michael,” he said, offering a small salute. “I see a stonework path leading into the swamp, but at your order I didn’t follow it in. From what I can see, though, it’s rather shoddy.”

            Michael nodded. “I imagine stonework in a swamp would need frequent maintenance. Anything else?”

            “Nothing I could see,” he said. “Swamps are quite thick, and though I saw what may be a few other paths into them, they still looked somewhat overgrown.”

            “Thank you Perry,” Michael said, smiling. Gripping Perimor’s reigns, he rode over to the small, makeshift camp that had been set up in the last hour, glancing down at Gustav.

            “Do you know when your friend will be here?” Michael asked, somewhat concerned. “The longer we spend out here, the more time our enemies will have to see us.”

            Gustav grumbled something Michael couldn’t catch, but said “I don’t, no. I sent another letter to him two days before we left, saying when we planned on being here, but I have no way of knowing if he received it.”

            Michael sighed, and nodded. He knew why Gustav was irritated. He had wanted to leave as soon as possible, to try and catch his Elven friend while he was still patrolling the swamp. He surely wouldn’t have spent the last week and three days milling about in the swamp.

            “Very well,” he said, already forgetting he had shown he had understood, and rode back over to the cart. Gustav and William had been bonding somewhat over the trip, and though he supposed that was understandable, it made him feel… put out. But then again, William barely knew Tresbos and the others, and Gustav didn’t know them. Meanwhile, they all knew Michael rather well, and seeing as how he wasn’t as quiet as William nor as… grumpy as Gustav, he supposed they were all more at ease speaking to him.

            He slid off his saddle and then tied Perimor to the cart. He trusted Perimor to not run off for any reason, but he wasn’t so foolish to forget he was dealing with an animal. Indeed, he’d thought about bringing dogs along as well, but was convinced they’d be more trouble than they were worth. If we send for a second group, perhaps then.

            Tresbos dismounted his own horse. “The mage didn’t give a good answer, I take it?”

            Michael frowned slightly. “No, not particularly. Not an unexpected one, though.”

            Tresbos sighed. “What’s the plan if this elf doesn’t show?”

            Michael looked towards the swamp. The trees quickly began to thicken, and the whole thing just began to look that much more foreboding as the sun went down. They were sitting on a slight rise now, and you could see where pockets of trees seemed thinned out in the distances. Remains of old forts? More recent camps? Or simply open water?

            “I’m tempted to make a go of it anyways,” Michael said bluntly. Tresbos opened his mouth to speak, but Michael brought up a hand. “Tempted, and not foolhardily. We’d move slow, and not go too deep. But we have the supplies to at least stage some raids into the swamp, and could perhaps carry off some sort of bounty, or assist some locals we may find.”

            “Supposing they want it,” Tresbos said. “The mage says that elves live in these swamps, yes? Hardly seems like they’d want help from a bunch of a short-lived humans.”

            “Desperation can make for strange bedfellows Perry” Michael said with a grin, provoking a startled laugh from the cavalryman.

            “Too true, sir. Any instructions?”

            “We’ll set up camp nearby,” Michael started, motioning to the clearing where Gustav and William were already setting up, “once we bury the bulk of the supplies. Sean and Rigby will be heading back to Yewmark. After that, I suppose we’ll take watch in shifts, perhaps two to a shift? I’d want either you, I, or William during each of those shifts.”

            “Of course sir,” Tresbos said with a nod. “Shall I take the second watch? I’ve done so before, and I’m used to splitting my sleep.”

            “The second is yours, Perry,” Michael said with a grin.

“Very good. As for now… should we help the workers bury the supplies?”

            Michael paused, and then looked over. While the peasants were making good progress, another pair of hands couldn’t hurt. He grabbed another shovel from the cart. “I’ll help them out Perry. You keep an eye on the forest, hmm?”

            “Yes sir,” Tresbos said, saluting once more and then getting back onto his horse, bow at the ready. As Michael went to assist, he found himself appreciating the cavalry archer’s presence more and more. Sure, it was more of an expense, but the man was clearly worth it.