Chapter Three

They searched the room together before leaving. There was no key, so they guessed that the Alchemist must have kept it on him. They didn’t find his body.

“So this cube, you found it?” asked Strad.

“I was hunting, deep in the woods, and I noticed the straight edges. I thought it might be a crystal formation, but then I found this.” He pointed to the scrap of paper, a sketch of the cube. Fendrith, or whoever made the drawing, had scribbled down lines of glyphs from it in the margins, along with rough dimensions and a location.

“Then what?” asked Oia.

“I got closer, tried to brush it off, and it started making weird noises. Then I passed out. A few hours, at least. Once I came to, I ran. Then, well, then everything happened.”

“And you think the Black Knights have something to do with that cube?” asked Oia from under the desk where she was looking for valuables.

“The metal that the cube was made of looked just like the armour that they were wearing. And they showed up right after I found it.”

“So you think it called them?” Strad stood by the doorway, guarding.

“I don’t know. Maybe. But right now, that’s all we have to work with. That, and Fendrith.” Jorick carefully folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket. “If we can find him, he might know more.”

“And where do you suggest we start?”

“From what I remember of him, I don’t think he would try to hide in the woods. If he knew there was some sort of danger, would have gone somewhere with more protection. I think our best chance is the city.”

The others were silent. Strad seemed to be contemplating something, while Oia munched on a dry sweetbread.

“Okay,” said Oia, crumbs tumbling from her mouth.

“Okay?”

“Let’s go. The city’s not far, and there might be cool stuff there.”

“And we can figure out a way to get to Eugo.”

Again, Oia visibly blushed and quickly turned away. “Oh, yeah, totally. Eugo. Yep. Let me just pack a few things...” She unclasped her cloak and threw a thin backpack on the bed. She began grabbing anything within reach, paper scraps, dry quills, small wooden figurines, and stuffed them into the bag.

Jorick whispered to Strad, “What’s with her?”

“Are you blind, or an idiot?”

“Excuse me?”

“She liked Eugo. Why do you think we are still in this shithole town?”

“Oh, well, uh...”

“Ready!” Oia stood with a comically forced smile and a poorly buttoned cloak. “Let’s go! Like, right now. Seriously. Now.”

 

Dusk was setting in, so they decided to wait until morning to travel. The town had remained quiet, but they did not want to risk a surprise in the middle of the night.

“We can stay in the woods until morning. If they come back, they would go to the town first. We should be able to stay hidden.”

“Yay, I love camping!”

“I hate camping.” Where Oia had the emotional range of a bard’s guild actor, Strad seemed to only possess one: stoic disinterest.

Before leaving, they found a general store and gathered as much as they could carry. It seemed like the attackers had not been interested in stealing. Just taking. Jorick gathered a hachet, a large tarp, and a length of rope. Strad loaded a pack with cookware, oil, bedrolls, and sparkstones. Oia added small wrapped sweets and a pair of hunting knives to hers.

Jorick and Strad walked in silence while Oia chattered, some directed at them and some to herself. Her thoughts leaked out like smoke from a campfire, unfiltered.

They travelled into the woods until they could no longer see the ruined town walls, then found the nearest clearing. A small hill, devoid of trees, would make an acceptable shelter. Strad chopped down a pair of straight trees while Jorick tied them into a basic A-frame. They threw the tarp over it and secured it to the ground with makeshift pegs. Oia built a small but efficient fire and had it crackling before the men had finished the tent. Orange light danced on their faces.

“I’ll take first watch,” Jorick offered.

“No. You two need sleep.” Jorick didn’t think that Strad was much older than himself, but it was clear that Strad acted as such. It had been a long time since anyone had treated Jorick like a child, and he did not appreciate it.

“I can do it. I know these woods better than you do.”

“You need rest.” The indifference in his voice was infuriating.

“Look, I don’t know who you think you are...”

“Jorick, listen to him. He might be big and dumb, but he’s right. We need you to be alert. You’ve had a rough day.”

Jorick conceded defeat. “Fine.”

He was deeply exhausted. It was the kind that came from spending the entirety of one’s mental and physical energy, as well as a second and third wind. But he wanted to prove that he was tough; able. He felt a strange need to want to protect Oia, even though she had proved herself fully capable of besting him. Maybe it was the older brother part of him that had suddenly lost everything.

Oia removed her travelling cloak and the outer layer of loose clothing, hanging them on a tree branch near the campfire. If it hadn’t been for her feminine haircut, Jorick could have easily mistaken her for a boy.

“Nite, Strad.” She hopped up and planted a kiss on his unflinching cheek, then disappeared into the tent. Jorick removed only his coat and began moving towards the tent. He was stopped by Strad’s forearm, which may as well have been a rock wall.

“Don’t get any ideas. I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“She’s just a kid!”

“I know.” Strad’s eyes said more than his words. There are bad, sick people in this world, and I can’t trust you. I’ve seen dark things, evil things. Don’t make me regret not strangling you.

“Yeah, I got it.” He pushed past Strad’s arm and into the tent.

There was barely enough room to crouch under the tarp, so Jorick carefully manoeuvred himself into the vacant bedroll, doing his best to not step on Oia. She was already nestled into the rough fabric bag and turned to face the opposite tent wall. Jorick slid into his own bedroll and turned his back to hers.

“Nite,” she muttered.

“Goodnight,” he replied.

It wasn’t long before he heard gentle snoring from the other side of the shelter. Jorick tried to fall asleep, but it eluded him. His awareness was still tuned to every rustle of wind, every chirp and squawk of small nocturnal creatures, even the occasional movements of Strad outside the tent. He thought about Eugo, alone and scared, if he was even still alive.

Why had they taken Eugo, and not him? Where did they come from? Eugo thought they were from the sky, but Jorick didn’t believe it. How could their massive ship have gotten into the sky in the first place? There were hot air balloons in the city and small flying contraptions that floated on large hoverstones, but there was no way it could lift something that big.

Fendrith will know. He has to. Someone had to know.

Jorick managed a couple hours of restless sleep and woke more exhausted than the night before. He was alone in the tent and smelled tea wafting in from outside.

The grass was dew coated and glistening, orange light from the small campfire danced in the droplets. Smoke mixed with fog as a sliver of sunrise burned red on the horizon. Strad and Oia sipped from steaming mugs.

“Rise and shine, sleepy-head!” Oia’s enthusiasm was physically painful this early in the morning.

“Where did you get tea?” asked Jorick.

“From the shop,” replied Strad. “Gathered a few wild plants too.”

“Here, drink up!” Oia handed him a small tin cup filled with amber liquid that smelled floral. “We have to get going.”

“Thanks.”

They packed up the campsite and snuffed out the fire. Jorick led the march, with Oia behind him and Strad in the rear. They walked out into the fields between the forest and the destroyed town and followed the border. It would give them a quick escape if there was any danger.

The city, Novaris, was three days away by horse carriage from Far Basin. Jorick had travelled there once before with his parents, before Eugo was born, for an archery competition. He remembered the awe inspiring size of Novaris, and the equally awe inspiring stench. He placed sixteenth.

The fields turned to thick scrublands dotted with sparse pockets of trees. The ground was more sand than dirt. The unfamiliar footing put Jorick on edge.

“Why aren’t we taking the road again?” asked Oia.

“Too dangerous,” replied Jorick. “If the Black Knights were looking for people, that’s where they would patrol. Not to mention the bandits.”

“I think we can handle a few...”

“Shush.” Jorick cut Strad off mid-thought. A gentle wind rustled the scraggy bushes, but something else caught his eye. A dark shape floated just above the horizon. It was moving, completely unaffected by the wind, and getting closer.

“What do we do?” asked Oia.

“Hide.”

They bolted for the nearest cluster of trees. Jorick kept an eye on the thing in the sky and it didn’t seem to change course.

As the ship floated closer, Jorick heard the low hum, the same that the massive ship and the cube had made. This smaller vehicle was an elongated diamond, big enough for two or three of the knights. There were no visible windows or doors. It was almost overhead and it filled the air with electricity. Jorick could make out the patterns on the metal. Then, it stopped.

The hum grew to a roar that pulsed through his mind. His skin felt it was peeling and his vision blurred. The ship was now a black blur in the sky, descending.

“Come here!” Strad grabbed his arm and pulled him in.

“What are you doing?!” Jorick spurted.

“Shut up!” Oia grabbed him and Strad by the wrists, linking them into a human chain. The next instant, Jorick felt a rush of energy pass through him. The world vanished and was replaced with something different, something he had never seen before. Everything was painted black and glowing in vibrant slashes of rainbow colours. Everything, except Oia and Strad.

He looked up and saw the ship, or at least the something where the ship had been. The background was black and lines of reds and blues outlined the thing in the sky. A plume of violet gas surrounded it, morphing and changing like ink in water. The ship slowed and spewed a thick cloud of violet towards the ground, but Jorick couldn’t taste or smell anything. Then, a burst of orange light erupted from the rear of the ship - outlined with more dark purple gas - that propelled it forward and away. Once it was out of eyesight, the strange altered vision changed and he was staring at the now boring forest.

“What... what was that?” asked Jorick.

“How ‘bout a ‘Thank you Oia! You’re the greatest Oia!’”

“Ghost field. Never tried cloaking more than two with it, but looks like it worked.”

“That’s what you used before, at Fendrith’s?” Jorick clambered up and picked twigs out of his hair.

“Mhm, I was born with it. It’s great for when you want to sneak out of the house and swipe candies and scare kids in town.”

“And those colours?”

“When we ghost, it changes what we see.” Strad hefted the backpack over his shoulder. “We see heat, cold, mana flows, things that are normally invisible.”

“Yeah, people look funny when we are ghosts. They’re bright red all over their faces, hands, and between their legs.” Oia blinked out of existence. Jorick heard giggling.

“Hey, stop it!” Jorick tried to cover himself.

“Oia, please.” Strad put on the stern fatherly voice. She reappeared instantly.

“You’re no fun.” She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Now is not the time for fun. There could be more patrols. We need to keep moving.”

Strad left the cluster of trees, and Oia silently pointed and laughed at Jorick before following. Jorick couldn’t help but smile. There was something about her that reminded him of Eugo, and that jolted him out of the pleasant moment and back into the harsh reality of the now.

Eugo, I will find you. I promise.