Chapter 5- Midnight Besieged

The next couple days passed by contently. After affirming their newfound alliance, Gane and Yhora elected to remain in the Albatross for a few days. Oswain and Lycce were accommodating and allowed them to take board in the upper rooms of the ship, and offered them a meger wage for helping out with odd jobs around the wreck. Gane and Yhora obliged, they were both low on money and needed to coordinate their next few moves carefully. It was a nice change of pace to stay in one room for more than one night after so long, even if it was an inn room. 

After a day’s work of tallying goods and hauling around large carts of various things, Gane sat down at his bedside and removed his pen and notebook from the bag that he kept at the bedside. He tapped the pen against his lip and looked around the room. Would he need Yhora to grab a slice of parchment on her way up? He wasn’t sure if they were going to write the plans down or not, and he didn’t want to use another page of the notebook. The notebook was for animals, plants artifacts, magic phenomenon, culture, architecture… But not for plans, he needed to save room for all those other things. Gane’s winding train of thought carefully derailed itself as Yhora knocked on the door. He let her in and they sat down to discuss the mission further. Gane was ready to divulge what little he actually knew about this grand quest to her, and hopefully not undermine all confidence in their success. 

“So how did you end up getting chosen for this anyway?” Yhora inquired as she sat down on a desk chair beside the bed. 

“My Grandfather, he was approached by a wandering monk on the day that I was born, who told him that I was destined to carry out the Restoration. He left my grandfather with the information that’s in this notebook and that was the last we’ve heard about it.” 

“But it’s meant to be completed by a pair of people, why would they only give the destiny to one?”

“Well...it was given to two. There was another boy in my village that was born that same day. His name is Sajazar, and he was given the same prophecy. We were raised together and made to be friends, so that later in our lives we could complete the Restoration together. But Saj’s family didn’t take well to the talk of prophecy, and moved him away to a remote cottage in the foothills and lived as an island. My grandfather tells me that they were crazy, and very likely were Tone Cultists. I didn’t see Saj again until a few months ago, when he showed up at my home. He demanded we get going on the journey and my grandfather dropped all of this on me.” Gane Explained. 

“That’s terrible, what became of Sajazar?”

“He set out on this journey with me, but some time ago we had an argument and we couldn't keep traveling together.” Gane kept the details of this altercation to himself. He hoped that they would never have to worry about Sajazar again. Gane’s thoughts were ripped back into the moment as he heard frantic footsteps moving up the stairway and towards the room. He slapped the notebook shut and threw it in his coat pocket. And made silent frantic gestures to Yhora. Act natural, he thought as sat cross legged on the side of the bed and pulled a picture off the wall which he pretended to be closely observing.

 Three hard knocks were heard at the door. It was Lycce’s voice. “Yhora! Oswain needs you outside!” 

Yhora tore across the room and swung the door open. She nodded to Lycce and told her to stay put before running down the stairs. Gane set the picture back slightly crooked on the wall and ran over to Lycce as well. “What’s going on?”

“Please just stay here. Oswain and Yhora will handle it.” Lycce begged him, pushing him lightly back into the room.

“B-but, what’s happening? Is it something I can help with?” Gane asked confusedly, accidentally letting out a hint of annoyance.

“Just stay here and you’ll be fine.” Lycce closed the door on him as Gane watched her usher a group of traders and clients up the stairs, presumably to hide as well. Gane heard the door to his room lock from the outside. Gane fiddled with the doorknob, confirming this. 

Gane ran over to his window, which pointed out of the front side of the building. The glass was cloudy and old and the frame around it was rife with an old dilapidating wood covered in flaking paint. He leaned his head up to the side of the window and could make out only a vague image of a few people holding torches outside. The torch light pierced through the night and blurred any clear image that he could hope to get through this rancid old window. Gane grabbed at the two notches and pulled on the window. It didn’t budge, he could barely get leverage from pulling on such tiny knobs. Gane reached over the bed and grabbed his sword. He lined it carefully up with the bottom of the window. Jamming it in and pushing down hard, he managed to break the window loose and then open. 

He could now begin to get a better image of what was going on outside. Gane crawled forward slightly, holding onto the side of the window with one hand and perching on the sil. He sat squatted in the window now, looking down on the front yard outside the Albatross. Yhora, Oswain, and a few of the stronger looking Roni from before were standing in front of the building. Across from them was another group of Roni, they were the ones holding the torches. They wore blood red bandanas over their faces, with various pieces of mix matched mail and leather armor on their bodies. Some carried Tsuks, others had spears, and more still wielded long curved swords. There were about eight of them, with two in the back mounted on armored elk. The one in front of them was thin with a small frame. He carried a sword and had long scruffy hair that extended to his lower back. It was a vibrant rainbow of colors, resembling a macaw’s coat. Out from it jutted a pair of sharpened white antlers. The front man was yelling at Oswain. 

“We’ve faar morthin yeh! ‘Vacuahte yorrechid clan from thees woods! He had a voice like a choked snake, and he was red faced with rage. He stepped back and one of the other masked men whispered something in his ear. 

Oswain stood salwardly before these marauders. He didn’t flinch or falter, despite the best attempt of the masked men. Yhora and the rest of his posse had weapons drawn like all the rest, but Oswain stood with his arms crossed and his apron still on. He took two steps forward towards the marauders. He was face to face with the colorful haired man, revealing that he had about a whole head length on him. Oswain emphasized this as he looked down on the man. “This has been Nohanja Clan territory for more than seventy seasons. You Jaarekin can’t push us out with cheap threats!”

The Colorful haired marauder tore his blade from its sheath. Seeing this everyone from both groups began drawing and brandishing their weapons, all except Oswain, who didn’t budge. “We Jaarekin hafmaed poweful allize! You woudent want the saymfate asure Nohanja Saettlementz!”

At this remark Yhora burst forth and charged at the man. A wave of yelling erupted from both sides as the marauders all moved forward to attack. Gane held his sword hard and looked around for a way to get down and help, but the commotions died down again as Oswain grabbed Yhora and held her back. “We’re not doing this tonight! There’s a building full of innocent traders. If you want to fight you’ll do so with honor!” Oswain yelled at the marauders. 

A shriek rang out from behind Gane. The men outside clearly heard it as well, they looked up and noticed Gane crouched in the window for the first time. Gane quickly scrambled back inside. He was the closest of any of them to whoever had just made that noise. Gane ran towards the door and leapt into a shoulder first lunge. He bashed into the side of the door, succeeding only in hurting his shoulder and making a loud noise. Gane prepared to make another attempt, when another bash came from the other side of the door. An armor clad arm came straight through the middle of the door. Another arm came through, and they both pulled at the remaining bits of wood that held the door together. It came crumbling down, and a tall figure donned in full plate armor stepped inside. His armor was a dark silver, cut cleanly and polished. He had an ocean blue cape hanging from his back, and a metal mask covering his whole face. The mask was carved to resemble a slumbering withered face, halfway between a skull and a living visage. Hanging from his waist were two thin swords. The man said nothing, and swung his arm towards Gane. Gane managed to scuttle back and leap behind the bed as the man’s fist crunched into the wooden floor. He turned his cold iron face up towards Gane as he heaved and pulled his fist from the floor. The man stood up and grabbed Gane by the collar, throwing him across the room into the wall on the opposite side. Gane smashed into the wall and knocked down the desk as he fell. Paintings and a mirror came down with him. Bits of shattered glass and splintered wood covered Gane head to toe. His body ached and writhed. With a din of ringing echoes in his head, Gane looked at a dizzied blurry image of the man rifling through his things. The armored man picked up Gane’s sword and bent it in half. Tossing it dismissively to the ground as he dove back into the bag. Grabbing hold of his consciousness and wrestling control over his body again, Gane began to grunt and move from his heap on the floor. The armored man saw this movement and dug quicker before finding his prize. He pulled Gane’s notebook out and dropped the rest of the bag. He rounded the bed, passing Gane before leaping out of the opened window. 

Gane lay motionless for a few more minutes, the pain began to subside and his thoughts turned from raging rapids back to a smooth cognitive river. He shook the broken glass off of him, a few pieces had cut him, but considering the circumstances of being launched into a wall he got off alright. He felt his back, which had a steady drizzle of blood coming off of it. Gane sat up and picked up one of the pictures that had suffered through the crash with him. Only a foot wide, but torn and smashed all the same. It was a painting of the Aldanor Mountain range. They weren’t far from here, likely came from a trader going across the mountains. The perspective was tilted up, standing in awe of this range. The bone white tips of the mountains bit deeply into the night sky. What an experience for that trader to cross such indomitable mountains, and not only that but to paint them on his way out, and leave said painting on the wall of a rest stop. What would that trader think if he heard that his painting was destroyed by a man thrown into a wall? 

“GANE!? GANE! Are you alright!? What happened up here?” Gane snapped from his focus as Yhora shook his shoulder. “We heard a crash up here, and you’re bleeding all over.” She helped him up and led him to the bed. Yhora handed him a warm rag for his wounds. “Wash yourself down with that. Owsain and the guys chased the Jaarekin and we’re assessing the damage.” She started out the door again but turned back. “You should stay there for the night. You got hit pretty bad.”

As Yhora left, Gane trembled as he laid back in the bed. He removed his shirt and applied the warm rag to his back. It stung for the first moment, but the shot of pain was followed by a wave of numb warmth. A tickling sensation jolted up his spine and the numbness spread over his whole body. Gane flopped down on his bed and stared off at the ceiling. The rag had been soaked in rejuvenating magic. Brewed by a fine cleric, this batch had managed to really take the edge off. It always feels great going onto the wound, but Gane waited for a second for what he knew was coming. There it was, a tormenting feeling of pins and needles poked at him all over his body. The stuff was a godsend, but it would always leave you sitting uncomfortably for an hour or so. It was impossible to fall asleep while the stuff was doing its work, and moving only made the pins and needles worse. It had been a long time since Gane had felt the sensation. He’d always get it as a kid after a bad fall or any assorted roughhousing accident, but never in a dose like this. Then again he hadn’t ever really been in a fight like that before. He’d hunted animals sure, but he was never the type to get into a fight with a person. Never mind a person like that.

About an hour later, after feeling normal enough to get up, Gane walked downstairs to see what he could do to help. He stepped over the ruins of his door and down the stairway. As he made his way into the pub area he saw a decent amount of ransack damage. Tables and stools upturned. There was dirt and a bit of blood tracked across the floors. The room seemed to have suffered very little damage. Oswain and Yhora were sweeping and fixing things up. Yhora looked up with surprise after seeing him come down. 

“What are you doing up?” She asked.

“Couldn’t get to sleep. How bad are things down here?” Gane reciprocated. 

“We got off easy, the Jaarekin usually make a much bigger mess of things than this. They brawled a little bit with us after hearing the commotion from your room, but ran off before things could escalate too far.” She replied with disgust at the mention of their name. 

Gane sat down at a table and put his hand up to his forehead. “Jaarekin? Are they a rival clan?”

“Rival isn’t accurate, they are an infamously roguish clan. The Jaarekin work as headhunters, and loot settlements of other clans.” Oswain spoke up as he swept the floor.

“But they’ve only been getting worse recently. They seem to take a sick pleasure in being as brutal as possible. And after the way their leader spoke tonight, I think they’re working with the Cu’maru.” Yhora grimaced.

“If Th’raush has any ounce of honor left in him, he’ll stay far away from anything of the sorts.” Remarked Oswain. 

Roni were magic sensitive creatures, negative magic had very extreme effects on them compared to other peoples. If a Roni were to delve too far into use of negative magic, they would twist and contort into the dark creature known as the Cu’maru. This was a high crime in Roni spirituality. 

“Th’raush is a lowly man, but he has never sunk to alliances with monsters. However I’ve never seen that armored assailant before. He could be a foreign Mercenary, they love Kellylin what with all the constant clan scuffles. Usually pull a fat check for very little work.” Oswain continued as he lifted up the ragged dusty carpet and rolled it up against the wall. He took a small crooked broom and began scratching away at the dust flat that he’d revealed. 

“No. I’ve no doubt in my mind of who that man in the armor was.” Gane cut in again. “He knew I was here and went straight for the Notebook. He has to have been tracking me for the past few months since we parted ways.”

Yhora turned up to him with a mix of shock and fury on her face. “He took the Notebook?! We have to go after them!”

Oswain shot up from his work and moved closer towards Gane and Yhora. “Now hold up just a moment,  you’re getting way ahead of yourself. You can’t chase after a Jaarekin raiding party. You’ll be flayed alive, look at what they’ve done here!”

Gane stood up to Oswain. He looked up at the mighty man and held himself with all the confidence that he could muster. “Sir, I’d like to thank you for everything that you’ve done for me. But my mission is to bring that Notebook to Sohouta. I’m not going to let anyone stop me from doing that. I know you’re a man who prides himself on his ability to read people. I ask you, do you believe that I will let this be the end of my quest.” Gane was trembling a bit after asserting himself for the first time in a long while. Maybe he went on a little too long with that, it kinda ruins the impact if you let it drag on.

Yhora put her hand on Oswain’s shoulder. “We have to do this. To complete the Restoration.”

Oswain stood down at their comments. “I suppose...If you really have a higher goal then it’s not my place to stop it. But at the very least you shouldn’t go out like that. Let me get you something.” He excused himself and went up the stairs.

“You're still sure you want to do this? Now’s your chance to back out before things get really tough.” Gane asked Yhora.

Yhora gave him a smug look. “I’d be sneaking off anyway to go after those guys. Doing this together is the safest possible scenario.”

Oswain returned a few minutes later and handed out some supplies. Leather bracers, riding boots, and armor for the torso for both of them, he brought Yhora an assortment of bombs that she happily lined around her bandolier. For Gane he gave an iron tipped brickwood spear, seeing as how his sword was beyond repair. He warned them to travel light, and not to engage the Jaarekin. They were to take the Elk as mounts and travel under cover of darkness. The goal is to catch them in their camp and steal the notebook back without being detected. He sent them off to the stables with some hesitation. Giving Yhora a hardy hug and Gane an firm respecting handshake. He promised to send out a search party should they not return in two days. As they walked from the Albatross around to the elk stable, Lycce met them outside. She had saddled up the two elk for them. Standing whispfully in the moonlight, she gave them her sendoff as well.

“If you are really off to complete the Restoration, then everything I know rides on your success.” She paused a moment. “I don’t mean to put pressure on you, I’m sure you have more than enough. But you cannot fail. For the good of all peoples who are alive now, or who ever will be. You have to complete it.” She pleaded.

“Of course we will Auntie Lycce.” Replied Yhora softly.

“And I have one last thing for you.” Lycce removed a small black necklace from her pocket. The chain was thin and gray, with a pitch black heart shaped stone in the middle. “This is called the Smoke Heart, I got it back from my days as an Arcanium apprentice.” She handed it to both of them, unsure who to give it to. Yhora graciously requested that Gane have it, as she had enough on her. They thanked Lycce and mounted their elk.

Gane donned the small necklace and watched as Lycce shuffled back inside. He took the elk’s reins in his hands and looked to Yhora. 

“I hope to the Root Mother that you know how to ride at least.” She said snidely as she looked back.

“I do.” He sat for a second and took in the fear at what he was about to do. Chasing after murderous raiders in the middle of the night. His mind began to race into how easily that could all go wrong. They could be eaten alive by the beasts of the Kellylin woods, tortured and killed by raiders, slaves if they were lucky. His mind was slapped back to reality when Yhora spoke. 

“Then let’s go!” She waited for Gane to return to the moment, and the two of them rode forth into the woods. 

The Elk he rode was far more agile than anything he had ever rode before. It darted through the winding root splattered forest floor like a horse through an empty field. He barely felt the need to steer, the beast was too far beyond him when it came to navigating the forest floor. What’s more, the elk were nearly silent moving through the woods, their hooves kissing the ground and pulling away before anyone is the wiser. Yhora’s ranger instincts and Roni sense of direction was enough to keep them on the trail of the Jaarekin Raiders. They rode for about two to three hours on the heels of the Jaarekins. Fresh tracks moved through. The raiders had not gotten a very big lead on them, and they did not come with enough mounts to all ride back, so they were forced to return on foot rather than split in hostile territory. Yhora suspected that they had not intended on being turned away at the door from the Albatross. 

The temperature seemed to drop further and further down as they processed deeper into the bowels of the forest. Gane breathed out deeply and watched as his breath clouded out from his nostrils. He stared forward placidly until a pearl colored gleam hit his eye from the treetops. He first grabbed at the lance mounted on his elk’s right side, but let go as his image of this white creature grew clearer in the moonlight. A dove perched on the extended branch of a twisted tree. It stood perfectly side facing, only its right eye, right wing, and right tail feathers visible at that height. It hopped down branch by branch as Gane trotted nearer on elk-back. Never taking flight or taking its gaze off of him, it seemed to perfectly adjust its position so as to only show its right side. Gane’s heart fluttered and warmed, this was the only drop of pleasentry he had seen all night, and this friendly bird seemed to be hopping down to face height. Perhaps to say hi, what a lovely fellow. “Sruuaaawwk!” The bird leapt into air and dive-bombed at Gane’s face. He threw his hands up and only sustained a light scratching. Yhora swung her tsuk around in the air and yelled at the bird to go away. It flew now around them in circles, revealing that the left half of the bird was black as a raven’s coat. It crowed and cackled at them from afar. Perching again with its left side showing, it looked to be a midnight crow with a bloodshot yellow eye piercing into Gane’s heart. The bird turned to face forward, revealing both personas at once, before throwing its head back and cackling violently. Its little head undulated with twisted glee. The bird flew off in the direction they were headed, satiated. It was neither a raven nor was it a dove. This beast was known as a Craven. They live off of torment and hide in plain sight. Gane thought for a minute to write this creature down in his Notebook, but sadly returned to his placid forward stair. 

The elk stopped abruptly as they crossed into a new area of the forest. After stubbornly holding back from proceeding, they carried on hesitantly and with their heads low, the forest around them didn’t resemble any other part of Kellylin that Gane had seen before. In all directions ahead of him there was decay. Gnarled trees hung lifelessly all around him. The air was eerily still, not a taste in the wind nor a sound besides their breath. The violet hue of the rest of the woods bled away as they processed further, it was a lifeless gray that scratched at the eyes from all sides. The trees were not a blanket that wove around them like before, they were skeletons. Frozen in their last traumatic pose, mangled around with limbs flung out in fear. The corpses silently called in unity for them to turn back. To leave this potter’s field of nature’s children. Gane looked down to the ground they walked on. It was covered in a desert of ash, not even dead leaves could be found. In a healthy part of the forest, death could be found, leaves lined the ground and gave their nutrients to the next seeds to come. This ground was devoid of healthy death, it did not exist as part of an equilibrium, or as an inevitable part of existence. The forest around them had been murdered in cold blood. 

Her skin crawling at the very energy of this place, Yhora noticed Gane’s unease. She spoke up. “It’s called a Flesh Wound. It forms when the forest is carved at by evil and negative forces. Normally the forest heals as we do, gradually but steadily. When one tampers with Negative Magic it can leave a more permanent mark. Intense and widespread negative emotion will create large wells of such magic, like the one we trudge through now. Someone did something heinous here, and the forest never forgot.” 

Yhora threw her hand up indicating for them to stop. Gane tugged at his elk’s reins and they paused in place. Yhora hopped off her elk and put her head closer to the gray lifeless ash.

 “Come look at this.” She called. 

Gane climbed off his elk as well and crouched down by her side. 

“Looks like footprints.” He said after giving a good look at the indentation of several person-sized feet. “How close do you think we are?”

“They’ve got to be slowing down by now, it’s nearly three in the morning and they can’t make it back to their base in one trip according to Oswain.” Yhora mused as she dug her hand into the ash. She pushed deeper before ripping her hand out abruptly. There were three white maggots hanging off her hand. “This is a vile part of the forest.” Yhora exclaimed, swiping them off with disgust. 

Yhora and Gane remounted their elk and set out again. This time they moved slower and split a small ways apart. They could still see each other, but they needed to hold the element of surprise if they wanted a chance at stealing back this Notebook. Yhora dipped her ear into the well of deafening silence that flowed throughout this Flesh Wound. The ash muffled noise like a fine snowfall, and there were no insects making their usual sounds. Staying on task she shook away any thoughts about how unnatural the ambience was here. Noise! She heard something. The snap of a stick. She shot a look to Gane, it wasn’t him, but he noticed it too. Another snap, and whispers to her forward right. Yhora sped her elk up and pursued whoever had made this mistake. She crowned out from the brush and saw two men walking on foot. They were clearly Jaarekins, and turned to her in utter fear. It hit Yhora that these men had no idea she was coming or who she was. All they saw as a rider illuminated by shadow in the most evil part of the dangerous forest. Yhora realized that she wielded the blade of fear, it felt nice to have it on her side...for this scenario. She cracked her reins and charged the two men who took off in a sprint. The elk lowered its antlers and swung its head at one of the Jaarekin’s backs. It cut several gashes through his thin armor. He yelped and his companion attempted to pick him up and help him run away. Yhora turned back at them. Would these dirty savlak have let her parents or sisters run like that!? For a moment a white hot rage moved to her hands and she considered running these men down. She sat motionless, her mount stood still and the Jaarekin ran away. They were going to remove their element of surprise and ruin the mission, they had attacked her people first, if she had ever had a justified kill on her hands it was them. But Yhora had been scared by the rage she felt a moment ago. It didn’t care about the strategic value or moral question, it could have run down anybody, and that was terrifying. This Flesh Wound had been getting to her. Gane leapt out from the brush ahead and turned his spear horizontal. He rode in between the two fleeing Jaarekins and clotheslined the two raiders with the pole of his spear. They dropped to the ground unconscious and Gane rode up to her side where he skidded to a stop. 

“Did you see that?!” Gane commented on his achievement “We just set those guys up and knocked ‘em down!” He was giddy and a little confused as to how he had pulled that off. Yhora suspected it was a fluke, but congratulated him anyway. They might have revealed their position anyway with all this commotion, but at the very least there were two less Jaarekins left to deal with. Yhora pushed the thoughts of whatever she’d been thinking before that aside and got back to the matter at hand. There was a smell of fire that wafted out from the direction the two grunts had run towards. If they were going to find the Jaarekin camp tonight, it would be there. They dismounted and pulled their mounts behind them on leads.

 Circling around the increasingly visible camp, Gane went left and Yhora around the right. Their plan was for her to keep watch and in the event of being found out, ride in on elk-back causing as much confusion as possible for them to get away. Gane’s job was to sneak in, get the Notebook, then get out. Peering in, Gane spotted five tents built around a bonfire. There were two Jaarekins pilling tinder into the fire, they had shoved rocks around to prevent the spread through this dry wound of kindling. Gane kept an eye on Yhora on the other side, making sure she was still in range. He focused now on the largest tent, centered in the middle of the site; it was a dead sell for where the Notebook would be kept. But the man in the armor was not to be seen, this was concerning. Gane sunk back into trees to hide his elk a little ways away. Gane scooched closer to the camp again on his own. Sneaking into a Jaarekin tent wouldn’t be the first stupid decision that Gane would have made today, but it definitely would be most dangerous. He moved closer with as much caution as possible, second guessing himself and slowing down. The tent flaps flew open and the chief Th’raush stomped out. He turned to someone who was still in the tent and yelled. “Yougotte what youwantaed! Our deal was thachyou help us crush the Nohanja! Weare going back withan army and you willup hold your endoff the deal! He flung his head around and glared at his fellow kin. “Wherar the scouts!? Thiereturn should have been around now!” As he yelled, he scanned around the perimeter of the camp. Gane hid low to the ground and hoped the Yhora did the same. She presumably did so, because chief Th’raush sat down on a log that had been rolled near the fire. He pulled a haunch of venison off the spit and bit down onto it. 

The armored man was bound to be in the large central tent. And where he was, the Notebook was bound to be too. The thought dawned on Gane that the man had maybe transcribed the contents of page 138 and wouldn’t need the notebook anymore. In which case his quest would turn into a race against the clock, the thought was stressful, Gane tiptoed around the back of the nearest tent. The light of the fire flickered around the corner and the Jaarkin’s seemed to be conversing in a thick Ronic that he didn’t understand. Gane moved lightly by the tent, he hoped not to touch or disturb the side, lest he give himself away to whoever was inside. He reached the other end and looked at the corridor of exposed space between the tent he hid behind and the central tent. It was wide enough to merit three brisk paces, he couldn’t lurch across in one go, and running across would only be more eye-catching. Gane listened but hesitated to peek around, for all he knew all eyes could have been on that corridor. Listening to the Jaarekins converse loudly through their full mouths wasn’t helpful. He could only pick pieces out of what they were saying. He recognized Oswains name being mentioned a few times and the word for “hanged” seemed to get a laugh out of them. Gane’s instincts for fear were beginning to seep back into his mind. He formulated a plan, he would head back into the brush, take a wider circle around the camp and then leave the brush again behind the central tent. This would be the least risky way to cross without the possibility of being seen. Gane trudged back into the dead sticks and wilted brush, creeping quietly, the Jaarekins were entertaining themselves fairly loudly, there wasn’t too much risk of being heard. 

He circled around and waded through thick ash. The quiet slithered around his head and closed in again. The noise and commotion came from the camp area. Gane abandoned all attempts at stealth and begun running back towards it. Please don’t let that be Yhora. He couldn’t see the camp again when he skidded to a halt. From behind the corpse of a tree stepped the armored man. He stood between Gane and the cacophony of noise coming from the camp. The moonlight glinted off of his polished armor. In one hand he held one of his swords, in the other he held Gane’s Notebook. Gane held in place and tightened his grip on his spear. He had never fought with a spear before, but it didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to beat this man. 

“You’ve fallen in with a bad crowd Sajazar.” Gane broke the silence.

Sajazar stepped forward, his metal mask showed no emotion but his trembling fists wreaked of rage. “We could have ended this without bloodshed. I gave you the chance.” His voice croaked out from the hardware that he covered himself in.

“Saj, you asked me to give up the quest. To take the greatest responsibility of our lives and throw it away. To let magic fade from the world.” Gane responded in a pained voice, he moved cautiously closer and tried to look around Saj’s shoulder at the camp. 

“You don’t understand, we were asked to keep this blight on the world. Look around, this is what magic does!” Sajazar gestured to the decaying trees and light downfall of ash. The world around them was bleak but it was certainly only one aspect of what magic did to the world. 

The sounds of fighting coming from the camp rang like a church bell in Gane’s ears, when though he heard Yhora’s voice yell. Gane snapped “You just didn’t have the courage to stick through! You hide in shame behind that mask!”

Sajazar plunged his sword down at Gane for that remark. Gane turned his face away and held out his spear horizontally, catching the sword and holding it back. Gane backed away holding his spear out to catch whatever swings came. Sajazar marched forward with two more swings of his blade. Deflecting off of Gane’s spear he stabbed it into a dead tree, nearly splintering its brittle trunk. He pulled the blade out from the trunk splintering out pieces of cracked wood. Gane swung his spear like a bat during this opening. Sajazar, immediately catching it, ripped the spear out of Gane’s hands and stabbed it two feet deep into the ground. He welled up another swing when Gane grabbed at the necklace around his neck. The Smoke Heart that Lycce had given him illumined with a dark black light. A thick smog flowed out from the gem on the necklace. It created a massive smokescreen around Gane. To Gane’s eyes, the smokescreen was almost translucent. Applying a haze to everything around him but not necessarily blinding him. As Gane watched Sajazar swing his sword  around sporadically as he lurched back and forth, he assumed that for Sajazar this smoke was effectively blinding. In his stupor, Sajazar had dropped the Notebook, which Gane scooped up as he ran back towards the camp. 

Yhora watched as Gane crept off back into the brush from the other side of the camp, what was he doing? Maybe approaching at a different angle, but he didn’t need to, all of the Jaarekins were drunk off their asses and carousing in the center of camp. They slurred and blathered about how their great army would ransack anyone who dared insult the Jaarekin name. One particularly ugly raider cracked wise about how they might try to hang her Uncle Oswain after taking the Albatross, but he was too fat and the gallows would collapse. This of course tickled the fancy of the other drunken morons who howled with laughter at the remark. Yhora restrained herself through this flurry of despicable insults directed at her clan. She loaded a chaos bomb into her tsuk and remained low, waiting to see Gane come back. She saw no such progress, but her attention returned to the Jarrekins after Th’raush returned inside the central tent. The armored man from before left and headed out in the direction that Gane had gone. Yhora prepared to chase after him, when Th’raush re emerged from the tent. 

Donned in an elk skull mask, a most blasphemous icon, he emerged and approached the fire with his arms raised out at his side. The previously rowdy Jaarekins bowed down and began chanting in Old Ronic. “Eat From the Flesh! Flesh of the Forest!” Yhora felt the white hot rage building up again as she watched Th’raush reach into the fire and pull out two bowls of boiling maggots, the same maggots from before. Th’raush poured one bowl into his mouth and chewed as the sound of sizzling flesh hissed out of his mouth. The other he poured across his shirtless body. These maggots seemed to somehow still be living, they crawled across his body in swirling patterns and ate the skin off of him. All the while the other Jaarekin chanted on. “EAT FROM THE FLESH! GIVE TO THE FLESH!” Th’raush stood silently as the maggots finished their rounds, they shriveled up and fell from his body, Th’raush proceeded to bite from his own hand, the small hole he made poured out black blood, which he held above his head, pouring it into his eyes. The chanting rose in volume before surging into one final phrase. “RISE AS CU’MARU!” Yhora stood frozen in place, she was in full view of them now, not even trying to obscure herself. Th’raush turned his head towards her slowly. His eyes were not visible, only black sockets behind the elk skull. His colorful macaw hair was drained away into a lifeless white drape. His antlers twisted and defromed until they resembled the corpse trees around them. He stared at Yhora with a lifeless apathy, she stared back with a fuming rage. This was the man, no the monster who had cut down her parents, her sisters, her whole home. She flung the bomb she had loaded at the Cu’maru. It shot out and exploded in a flurry of load bursts. Yhora let out a primal yell and charged at the monster and the other Jaarekin that surrounded it. She bashed the first raider with her tsuk before lobbing another bomb at several on the other side of camp, which detonated and knocked them to the ground. She stood face to face with the Cu’maru and swung at it. The monster dodged with an inhuman level of agility. Its fingers were long and sharp, it swiped at her and cut her shoulder. The stinging sunk deep into her flesh. The Cu’maru bashed Yhora in the head and knocked her prone. It stood towering over her with its dead eyes taunting her for her greatest failure. Yhora looked up at the twisted form of the creature, and then to a stranger sight. From out of the brush came a cloud of smoke, running straight at them. The cloud of smoke was pursued by the armored man from before. The cloud of smoke charged towards her and dove in front. She felt a hand grab hers and suddenly the smog cleared to a translucent steam. It was Gane and he had unleashed his Smoke Heart necklace.  

“We have to get out of here, I’ve got the..” Gane’s plea was cut off as a big flailing armored arm slugged him in the back. Gane fell down and the necklace’s stream of smoke stopped short. 

Sajazar grabbed the arm that Gane held the Notebook in and squeezed with a pythonic strength. Gane resisted for a second before the pressures nearly broke his wrist, he dropped the Notebook. Gane stood dumbfounded as he watched Sajazar lift the Notebook off of the ground, holding it briefly before tossing it into the bonfire. Gane stood still. His hand extended out in the direction of the curling tinder that was once his notebook. Not just page 138, but 1 through 300 were gone. Yhora saw this too and decided it was time to cut their losses. She called for their elk, which came running out from the brush. Yhora grabbed Gane by the hand and pulled him along as she fled. Gane’s eyes were frozen in a confused expression. His feet stumbled along but his mind still sat by the fire watching the little book burn. Th’raush poised to give chase, but Sajazar held him back. Th’raush took a swing at Saj and the two began to argue as Yhora and Gane hopped on their mounts and rode back the way that they had come.