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‘WELL, THAT WAS CERTAINLY SOMETHING,’ Mitztail said before erupting in laughter. He clutched the moon crescent lyre close to his chest and gazed up at the moon. ‘Thanking you for restoring my heart. I shall never forget your kindness, Moonweaver.’
‘Come, we shouldn’t dwell too long in this realm,’ Tarasque called, standing before the portal. She scooped up the automaton bumping into her leg and stuffed him inside her pack.
The reflection of the beach where we formed our friendship eagerly awaited our arrival. She hooked an arm around Barcius aiding him carefully through the gate, his feet lacked fluidity, walking as though he had two left feet. Things were more dire than I originally thought.
How are we going to make it through two more trials if he cannot aid us in battle?
Barcius was a key member of our team, a powerful warlock with the intelligence of my entire tribe put together. We’d be lost without him.
I stepped closer to the portal, passing Mitztail as I walked, but when I got to the gate I realised he wasn’t following in my footsteps. ‘Are you coming?’ I asked gently. I didn’t like to rush him but I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind.
Mitztail exhaled his breath before replying, ‘Yeah, Saria. I’m right behind mew.’ I watched as his eyes were still trained on the night sky. The stars twinkled, as if they were saying goodbye to their favourite bard. ‘I wanted one last moment to say farewell to my adoring fans.’
He breathed in the open air, taking one final look around the amphitheatre before adjusting his hardee and walking over to join my side. ‘Now I’m ready.’
Together we left the realm of the moonweaver behind and returned to the secluded beach that had become our temporary home, where our comrades awaited our arrival. As we stepped out the portal, my eyes fell to Barcius, propped up against a nearby rock. His body limp and frail.
I rushed to his side, taking one hand in my hand and with my other rested it upon his brow, ‘How long has he been like this?’ I asked. His temperature felt unusually warm to the touch, yet his pulse seemed normal.
‘As soon as we came out of the portal, he collapsed. I hauled him to this rock for a little comfort at least,’ Tarasque said. She stood a short distance away, her arms folded across her chest.
Cogsworth stood beside her, gazing out on the horizon, chirping in his usual fashion.
Mitztail knelt next to me, ‘Can I get mew anything? Assist in any way?’ he asked.
‘Water,’ I said aloud. Not realising who I was asking to procure it; a tabaxi who made it known he hated water, or a fire genasi that I’d never seen go near it.
The tabaxi nodded, rummaging in his pack until he found his waterskin. He placed it on the ground before taking his new harp and plucked at the strings. Purple wisps danced off the harp and morphed into a domestic cat at his feet. Mitztail gave the waterskin to the cat and silently commanded it to retrieve the one thing he hated. The cat returned a few moments later and dropped the waterskin into my hand before dissipating out of sight.
‘I need rags,’ I said, holding out my hand. Scraps appeared in my hand, yet I didn’t see who’d put them there. I was too busy looking over my patient. I wet a couple of the strips, placing them on the tiefling’s brow before beginning my diagnosis. ‘When we met he didn’t have these sigils on his body. I believe they were sustained when we rescued Tarasque, I-’
‘What do you mean?’ the fire genasi said, cutting me off. She slumped down beside us with her brow furrowed, ‘What happened to him?’
I recounted our time in the Tempest’s realm, ‘Shortly after our encounter with the Raven Queen, you fell. Remnants of her entered your body, a weird inky parasite was poisoning you from the inside. Barcius tried this spell, I’m not familiar with the name, not once did he utter it in my presence,’ I explained, moving my attention to my pack, rummaging around for potion components. My magic weakened by our battles, I sought to create a healing elixir to aid my comrade’s recovery. ‘We entered your consciousness and located the parasite, an inkling pool holding you hostage. Barcius… Barcius he dove in, without a second hesitation, to save your life. They clawed at him, beat him, trying to pry you from his arms but he never gave in. He kept you safe and I, I kept him alive.’
When I looked up Tarasque seemed taken back by my admission, ‘I’d no idea you two went through such lengths to ensure I made it through, for that, I thank you,’ she replied, bowing her head to me.
I shook my head, ‘That’s not necessary. We’re a team after all, and although I am new, I will always have your back. Every single one of you.’ I said, mixing several ingredients together in my wooden mortar; star anise, sprigs of thyme and a handful of cardamom seeds, crushing them with the pedal until they blended into a fine powder. ‘This should help him recover while he sleeps. There is little I can do for him while my magic is spent.’ I added a few drops of water until the powder turned into a watery paste. I held the tiefling’s head and forced the liquid down his throat. He choked and spattered but I refused to stop until he drank every last drop.
Mitztail dug through his pack, fetching a bedroll to make our comrade comfortable. Together the three of us laid him down and allowed him to rest. We all left him to sleep while we erected a campfire in the clearing, ensuring our friend stayed warm. I prepared an evening meal for us all, and by the time I was finished cooking, Barcius started to stir.
A simple homemade stew of boiled vegetables in a lightly seasoned broth was all it took to bring our comrade from the brink of death. I watched Barcius haul himself up and out of his bedroll, his midnight-blue tresses wild and his bark-coloured orbs still tired despite his long rest. I spooned a helping of stew into a clay pot and handed it to him. The utensils we found were taken from the Grand Sorcerer’s cabin, a silent sentry watching us from afar, and since he wasn’t about when we went looking, we left a note, vowing to return them once we’d concluded our meal.
When we made our exchange, I looked the tiefling over. My eyes drawn to the inky sigils still scarring his body, yet I was thankful for the lack of pigment in them. Once black and pulsating, now greyish markings you were unable to see unless you sat beside him.
Barcius joined our trio, closing the awkward shape we sat in. Each of us had a warm meal in our hands, with full waterskins and a single bread roll at our feet.
I couldn’t recall the last time I’d shared a meal with others. All that time alone when I lived in my tribe and all that time I spent alone after my banishment. It was a pleasant feeling, a sense of calm washed over me. Comfortable was a word I never thought I’d use to describe anything but my homeland, but this moment, sharing a meal with friends, came pretty close. I kept my eyes trained in my stew, dragging my spoon around the bowl and feeling my eyes well with tears. Comfortable, yet overwhelming. A novice healer with a strange connection with the earth, had found a new path and a found family to take the journey beside.
Mitztail drained his bowl, slurping the last of the liquid before burping loudly. The fire genasi threw him a glare, shaking her head as she finished her meal, taking the empty bowls ready to wash.
Everyone had finished except me.
‘Saria, you alright? You’ve barely eaten your meal?’ Tarasque asked when she came to collect mine. ‘You did an incredible job, you might have to cook more often.’
I knew she was trying to make me laugh but something within my soul told me I shouldn’t allow myself to be happy. That I shouldn’t enjoy this or any moments that were to come in the future. Fear still controlled my heart and my head, even though that fateful night was far in my past.
‘Thanks,’ I said sheepishly, unwilling to meet my comrade’s gaze, yet handed her my bowl. Once out of sight, I quickly wiped the fallen tears from my eyes, unwilling to share my thoughts.
Mitztail sat upon a nearby rock, gently strumming on his crescent harp and hummed peacefully to him. His melody lulled Barcius back off to sleep, now with a full stomach, he could rest easy once more.
Tarasque returned to camp with cleaned bowls and utensils before setting off to return them to Ser Raexius’s shack. She made it back to camp, carrying Cogsworth under her arm, it seemed the little automaton had trailed after her when our backs were turned. She didn’t appear impressed.
I busied myself brewing a simple pot of chamomile and lavender tea for us. A small treat to ease the stress of our previous battles and the anxiety that remained in our hearts about the next two trials. I handed a mug each to my comrades, before nestling myself beside the arched gate, covered in an overgrowth of ivy and flora. Its presence seemed to ease my restless mind, and after a few sips of my tea and the gentle melody of the bard’s harp, I fell into a dreamless sleep.
Several hours must have passed before I awoke in a daze. My comrades dotted around the dwindling embers of our campfire, safely tucked inside their own bedrolls. A chill spider-climbed down my back, a similar ill presence called out to me. A raspy venomous tongue tempting me to follow them. I was tempted, considering their words for but a second, yet my body refused to move. I was paralysed, pinned to the earth by an invisible force. I screamed out, but all that came out was silence. There I laid on the ground, begging for someone to help me while tears streamed down my cheeks. I close my eyes, finding myself back in the Wynduff Woodlands, watching my brother fall. The same scene repeated, over and over. Each time, my brother fell and all because of me.
It’s just a bad dream, it’s just a bad dream. I chanted inside my head.
But it didn’t matter, the more I saw that image, the more I realised I couldn’t allow myself to get close to my new comrades. Because of me, my brother was gravely wounded, I didn’t want the same ill-fate to follow them too.
Mitztail had almost given up, Tarasque too, on their own lives facing their greatest fears. Barcius was still fighting off a parasite like a champion, claiming it was merely a scratch and was nothing to worry about. I couldn’t be brave like them, not when the same fateful night still plagued my dreams. But I’d no way of knowing what the future might hold for the four of us. None of us did.
The images stopped, my mind finally free from reliving that moment, just as my tears ran dry. But yet the raspy voice called out to me, taunting me.
‘I know you hear me, child of the forest,’ it said in a mocking tone, ‘Do you not tire of reliving the same scene. Night after night, tossing and turning, wishing you could turn back the hands of time. Well, too bad.’ It laughed, a dark and venomous shriek.
‘But what if I told you there was a way. A way to rid yourself of this curse.’
I’m listening, I said to myself, communicating with the earth the only way I knew how.
The voice continued to laugh, mocking my attempts. Yet it knew, it could hear my thoughts, ‘Poor little, Seer. Banished from her homeland, left to fend for herself and join a band of adventurers just to stay alive,’ it said. ‘Now tell me this, why does one, so pathetic as you, cling to life so. You and I both know, you wish it’d been you that night. You should have stood in his place. You should have let me drain you of your miserable existence. Mother would have been so proud of me, to steal a soul as delicious as thee.’
Your mother?
‘Yes, she. Mother to all fae, yet I am forbidden to speak her name.’
I do not know who you speak of.
‘Fool,’ the voice snapped, hissing as it spoke. ‘There is a way you can rid yourself of this curse, all you need to do is follow the voice from home.’
A voice from home?
‘When you hear it, you’ll know.’
In the next moment, the voice called to me no more. I wiggled my fingers, control over my body returned. A heavy sigh of relief, I rolled onto my side, running the tips of my fingers through the grass. The earth stirred beneath my touch, tiny sprouts curling themselves around my hand, once again I felt solace with nature, a smile on my lips as I drifted off to sleep.
A scream awoke me next, not even an hour after my last encounter. I threw myself up, frantically scanning the campsite for any sign of life, other than my comrades sleeping soundlessly.
‘Who is there?’ I called out into the night. But no one replied. I got onto my hooves, picking up my crook and holding it with two hands close. ‘Please, tell me who you are. I hear your call.’
The clearing was silent. My mind was clearly planning tricks on me again. First the raspy voice from my past and now a scream. Moments passed and nothing stirred. I kept my eyes trained on my comrades, scared they’d be taken from me at any given moment.
Once I was satisfied nothing was lurking in the shadows, watching our every move. I wandered back over to the wooden arch, but something in the earth beneath my hooves began to stir. Barely audible voices crying out in pain and an invisible force pulling me towards the arched gate. I stared up at the structure towering over me, a faint glow pulsed off the foliage like fireflies. The trial gate was alive. I placed my hand against the woodgrain, a chorus of hums vibrated on my palm. A symphony of songs reminding me of the songs my Tribe Elders would sing while they worked.
No, it can't be.
There amongst the soft gentle rhythm called out a voice. Singular and alone. One that seemed too familiar yet impossible to place. But it didn't stop the dread I felt in my stomach or tightness in my chest. I thought it was merely coincidence I'd found the Ashen Order that day, but fate weaves our paths there are never mistakes. I focused on that single familiar voice, a sadness in their tone, yet they only spoke one word, over and over.
'Saria.'
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