A Wizard's War - 38. Heading North

Zolgrim clutched to his belongings tightly as he followed his fellow Ahir north along the Vile River. Hot, arid wind had begun to drift into the forest from the desert as the trees grew sparser. They were escorted by five elven guards who had helped them flee the city during the attack. A whole roving group of refugees stretched for miles, moving north to reach the Bastion. For several nights, they could see the glow of the burning city behind them.

Zolgrim desperately wanted to go home, but he’d seen the forces that attacked Votu Morgana. He’d witnessed the elves torn from their homes and slaughtered by men in dark, spike-covered armor. The elves thought their magic would be more than a match to thwart the invaders, but they underestimated the sheer scale of the enemy force. And the enemy had appeared in their midst almost without warning. Wave after wave of them had poured into the city and destroyed everything in their path.

The elves knew the desert was dangerous and had arranged for magic sand skimmers which would be waiting to transport survivors to the Bastion when they reached the designated meeting point. The Bastion had sent no aid that Zolgrim had seen, but orders had gone out to dispatch any able-bodied forces to defend the Bastion and any displaced citizens of the Votu Alliance to seek shelter within the Bastion.

It was just after midday, and Zolgrim was being told by Ahir-Ehlark, a tawny elf with deep reddish-brown eyes, that they should reach their destination by nightfall. Zolgrim wondered if his feet could carry him that much farther when he saw an elvish woman go running by through the forest. She was followed shortly by another group of elves and human survivors running in the direction opposite of their current route. Just before Zolgrim could inquire about the odd behavior, the screams began.

Among the shouted words, Zolgrim could hear the distinct mention of spiders. A cold trickle of fear slid down Zolgrim’s spine as he turned his back to the desert and scanned the forest. He began to recognize the stealthy figures crawling above and dropping silently down upon their unsuspecting prey. The eight-legged monstrosities had set up all manner of traps and hiding places as they waited for victims in their sticky webs.

“Get out of the forest!” Zolgrim suddenly shouted, “Run! Get out of the forest!”

Zolgrim grabbed the confused Ahir-Ehlark and began to drag him out of the forest and away from the river. Ehlark yelled to some of his companions from the Temple of Raigar, urging them to follow. After several moments of confusion and screaming, the fear and urgency began to register with more and more of the survivors. Soon they were sprinting in great groups to flee the forest and the spiders within.

Zolgrim felt his arm yank and Ahir-Ehlark slipped from his grasp. Looking back, Zolgrim witnessed a great black spider clutching the fellow priest and sinking its venomous chelicerae into their neck. Immediately, Ehlark’s face purpled and began to swell grotesquely in response to the poison. The numerous void-like black eyes of the creature seemed to turn in unison, tracking Zolgrim and his every move.

Zolgrim did not hesitate, he took the opportunity to keep running. He was not a particularly brave person; he’d dedicated his life to study and worship but current events were pushing him to limits, things he would see in his nightmares until the day he died. But the instincts of all living creatures to survive pushed Zolgrim to keep moving, darting and weaving between the trees as he fled.

__________

Atop the largest bluffs overlooking the raging seas sat the crowning jewels of Votu L’Shoa, the palace where the royal family resided and the grand Temple of Neptune. The temple was built in such a way as to jut out over the water. Enormous blocks of aquamarine crystal, enchanted to be virtually transparent, comprised the main temple floor allowing visitors a glimpse of Neptune’s splendor as the white foam crashed upon rocks below. If the floor was not extravagant enough, the entire wall was decorated with impressive murals depicting the many blessings and dangers of the untamed sea. Above the altar was a massive stone carving of an octopodal face glaring down upon the people who dared to enter the temple.

“Gives you the chills,” Mirva spoke nervously.

Amos looked at the woman, hesitating between the solid floor and her first step onto the clear aquamarine crystal. He reached out a reassuring hand to her and smiled.

“Come on, it’s solid, I promise.”

She gripped his hand tight enough to make Amos wince as she shuffled her feet out over the invisible barrier.

“Why’d they have to make it so terrifying?”

“The sea is dangerous,” Amos considered, “Neptune is certainly the most unpredictable of the four gods.”

Eventually, Mirva loosened her grip as they proceeded toward the line of people that were waiting to visit the altar, but she never let go of Amos’ hand. Amos didn’t mind, he found her presence comforting, motherly in a way. His own mother had passed when he was so young and when he closed his eyes it was getting harder and harder to remember exactly what she looked like. What he remembered most was her melodic voice, so soft and soothing. There was a great deal of his mother in Ellina, even though they had never met.

“You all right, dear?” Mirva asked.

“Yes,” Amos smiled wanly, “Just memories. Hard not to think about all the people I wish could see this with me.”

“I so worry about my former mistress, Jemma,” Mirva nodded knowingly, “She was not my child, but she was like a daughter. So many things I wish I would have said.”

“Do you really think this will help?” Amos asked, looking down at the pouch at his side.

“It can’t hurt,” Mirva patted the back of his hand with her free hand.

The altar at the head of the temple was not the usual structure, but more like a massive circular well made of chiseled seafoam-green stone. Every day the visitors at the temple would stand at the altar and cast their wishes into the well; requests made to Neptune to be answered or ignored at the god’s whim. It was best not to consider the temple’s early days, when human sacrifices were cast down instead.

Amos had nothing of Ellina’s to cast into the great circular structure so he’d written a letter, with Dagon’s help, telling Ellina all the things he wished he could say. And his most earnest of wishes that he could see her again. It felt like a foolish exercise, but Mirva had been very supportive of the idea. She had even agreed to accompany Amos to the temple. Amos was glad, at the very least, he’d written the letter. Whether or not Neptune would answer his request remained to be seen.

At last, Amos and Mirva were next to visit the altar and they each took a quiet moment to reflect. Amos removed his letter from the pouch and made a quick prayer to Neptune for her safe return, before watching the parchment flutter through the air and disappear into the sea below. Mirva had taken out what appeared to be a small muffin.

“They were always Jemma’s favorite,” Mirva spoke to Amos’ curious expression, then she also threw her baked good into the ocean with a sad smile.

Amos hugged the kindhearted woman and then they walked home together in silence.

Dagon anxiously paced the floor of the small apartment where they were staying. His curly dark hair hiding his worried expression.

“Why are you doing that?” Gregor finally asked gruffly. He’d been watching Dagon pace since he’d gotten back from the docks.

“Oh?” Dagon turned to look at Gregor by the fireplace as if noticing him there for the first time.

Gregor had not exactly been comfortable in his apartment with Mirva, but now it was quite a burden having two other grown men in the cramped space too. Gregor was also slightly annoyed at their frequent bouts of passionate love making and sickeningly furtive glances.

“There was quite a bit of commotion today,” Dagon answered hesitantly, “Not sure how I’m going to tell Amos about it.”

“Was there news about Ellina?”

“No,” Dagon waved the idea away and continued pacing.

“So, what then?”

“The Bastion has called for aid,” Dagon answered finally, “Any able-bodied fighters are requested to be sent north for a coming conflict with the Order. A Lady Evening, or something like that, is meant to lead the forces away at first light.”

“Evynee?” Gregor asked with distaste.

“Yea, that’s it.”

Gregor regretted that he owed Evynee his life, because he would never forgive what she’d done to him. It was her decision that ultimately led to the destruction of Southport. Gregor had wanted to stay and help his friend, but in the chaos, she had taken his choices away from him. To make matters worse that friend had returned in the arms of another. While Gregor respected Dagon, and Amos’ decision to be with him, it was still a bitter medicine to swallow.

Thoughts of Evynee had distracted Gregor, but he soon recognized the implications of what Dagon had just told him. He understood at once why the man was so nervous.

“You want to go?”

Dagon stopped pacing and turned toward Gregor again, but his face remained hidden behind his long locks of hair. Gregor could only imagine the turmoil there.

“I can’t stay here,” Dagon replied, “I can’t stand on the side and do nothing again.”

“What about Amos?”

“I care for him, but…” Dagon paused and put his hands to the side of his temples as if pressing out the thoughts, “Some things are more important, you know?”

“You’ll be in good company with Lady Evynee,” Gregor growled irritably, making Dagon push his hair aside and really study the other man’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Dagon spoke cautiously, “About the way things have turned out.”

“Don’t be,” Gregor felt immediate shame at his outburst, “I just remember feeling useful once too. It’s so frustrating having that taken away.”

“What did this Evynee do?” Dagon asked as he sat across from Gregor. He listened intently as Gregor told him about the fall of Southport and the way Evynee had sacrificed the city.

“She will not hesitate to send people to their deaths,” Gregor warned, “Just be careful when she issues you orders.”

“I’ve always kept my own counsel,” Dagon smiled mischievously, and Gregor glimpsed the magnetic charm that must have captured Amos’ heart.

“He’ll come with you; you know.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Dagon grimaced, “I know he wants to wait for his sister.”

“I know,” Gregor nodded knowingly, “That’s just who Amos is. He won’t be able to stand on the side either, especially when someone he cares for is going into harm’s way.”

“He’ll have my back.”

“Take care of him, won’t you?” Gregor felt tears sting his eyes.

“Of course, I will.”

The door opened and Amos’ huge frame was silhouetted by the afternoon sun. He held out a hand and ushered Mirva inside of the apartment. She busied herself preparing to serve tea and additional muffins that she had made for the others. Amos immediately noticed the odd pair sitting next to the fireplace with grave expressions.

“Is everything all right?” Amos asked.

“We need to talk,” Dagon rose with a determined look on his face, “Let’s go for a short walk.”

Amos knew how most of their recent walks had ended and felt a thrill of excitement, but based on the atmosphere in the room he knew that was not likely to happen. Dagon was unusually tense, and Gregor looked about ready to be sick.

“We’ll be back soon,” Amos spoke to Mirva as they headed to the door.

“Ok, dear,” Mirva smiled sweetly, “I’m sure tea will be ready when you get back.”

As they walked, Dagon told Amos about the news he’d heard around the city that day. Amos had taken note of the increased activity near the barracks on his way back, but thought they’d been running some sort of drills. Now, he understood.

“I want to join them,” Dagon began to babble anxiously, “I’m a skilled archer, I could be invaluable to the cause… I mean, you saw what they did in Southport! How can I just sit by? How can we…”

“I agree,” Amos cut him off and grabbed the archer’s hand in his own, “but you know I’m going with you. I know Mirva and Gregor will continue to watch for Ellina.”

Dagon couldn’t help but break out a broad grin as he looked at Amos’ own smiling, reassuring face. They kissed briefly in an affectionate way and Dagon felt close to tears. He’d been so worried that Amos wouldn’t want to go.

“I see you,” Amos whispered as their foreheads were pressed together.

“And I see you,” Dagon whispered back breathlessly.

“You never have to worry if I’d leave you,” Amos considered, taking his turn to be nervous, “I think I very well might love you.”

Dagon hid his face bashfully under his curly hair and Amos noticed his cheeks turn an uncharacteristic pink.

“I love you too, Amos.”

Much to their surprise, their walk ended in much the same way as it usually did, with a quick roll in the hay.

__________

“This way! Come this way!” an elven mage called to the scattered group of survivors.

Zolgrim saw that the old elf had conjured a great fluffy white cloud that tracked his movement across the desert floor. An ingenious way to protect against the harsh afternoon sun. The spiders had ambushed the caravan, but they refused to leave the protective canopy of the trees. The exhausted few that remained had been forced to walk across the burning desert.

“We must reach the sand skimmers before nightfall!” the aged elf declared, “The spiders will not be afraid to move at night!”

Zolgrim joined the others under the shade of the conjured cloud and was grateful to see water skins being passed around. Zolgrim knew too well how ruthless the Mythic Desert could be in broad daylight and felt the familiar discomfort of sand everywhere.

Seeing that more and more survivors were joining as they made their way, another elven mage conjured an additional cloud to shield the people. Everyone kept a watchful eye on the trees still visible on the horizon to the east. There was little to be said as they moved silently. The weight of what had happened to their home and to their loved ones was as oppressive as the desert heat.

“This world needs the Seeded One,” Zolgrim thought to himself, “We need saving from this madness.”

Zolgrim would reach the Bastion and he would follow Simon wherever this journey might take them. He just hoped the young man he’d met was ready. He hoped the Bastion had given Simon the tools he needed to fight the good fight.

“I’m so glad you found us, Magister Inaxalys!” Zolgrim heard someone say to the older elf that had first gathered them together.

“You’re Magister Inaxalys?” Zolgrim croaked in a hoarse voice.

“Yes, I am…” the old elf replied with curiosity.

“Raigar’s beard…” Zolgrim whispered with amazement and sent out a silent prayer of gratitude to his deity.

“I have questions about the Moon Stone…” Zolgrim began.