Chapter 28: A City on the Brink
The sun had crept well past its zenith, casting a golden glow on the towering Redwood trunks. It was difficult for Elaine, Xin-ta, Joseph, and Seraphion to gauge the true time of day in this forest of giants, each trunk so broad it felt like a fortress wall. Nonetheless, Xin-ta estimated that this was the twelfth hour of daylight. After well over half a day of constant travel—plus the harrowing events of the previous night—they were all on the brink of collapse.
The group’s unspoken truce had deepened into something resembling camaraderie. Yet, an unending weight bore down on them: Outpost Wyvern had likely been overrun, and the monstrous dwellers could be closing in on the heart of the clan’s territory. They were perhaps a few hours’ journey from the main clan city, still uncertain whether they would arrive before the next nightfall or if they’d arrive to find it already under siege.
It was Xin-ta who first sensed the presence of something ahead, freezing mid-step on a crest where the ground gently sloped downward. She motioned for the others to join her. “Look,” she murmured. Dense pockets of leaves obscured what appeared to be a shallow valley, but in the breaks of the foliage, Elaine saw the faint outline of buildings—wooden huts, seemingly clustered near a stream. A small banner, dyed in reds and yellows, hung limply from a tall post. Smoke curled skyward from several points, presumably cooking fires or furnace pits.
“A settlement,” Elaine whispered, relief mingling with caution. It felt almost surreal to see a sign of civilization. Up until now, the Redwood had offered little but gloom, monstrous predators, and the promise of dire confrontation. Here, at last, was a place of mortal life, presumably allied to Xin-ta’s clan.
But in the next moment, Elaine’s spirits sank. Seraphion, who had been drifting near her, wings drooping from fatigue, gave a soft hiss and rubbed at her forehead. “I cannot maintain this form,” she murmured. “I need to return to your soul space.” She fixed Elaine with a serious look. “I’ll rest, gather my strength for the night. If we find trouble here, I might not be able to intervene quickly.”
Elaine’s heart constricted with worry. She pressed a trembling hand against Seraphion’s. “I understand. Rest as long as you need. We’ll handle any complications.” Elaine’s own body ached with exhaustion, but she recognized how dire it must be for the archangel if she was actively retreating.
Seraphion smiled weakly, eyes full of both regret and faith. “I’ll be ready if you truly need me. Call me by name, and I will attempt to manifest again.” Then her form glowed with faint, luminous energy, shimmering away into an ephemeral haze that sank into Elaine’s chest. Elaine felt a brief inward pull, then emptiness, as if a comforting presence had just withdrawn.
“She’s gone?” Joseph asked, scanning the space where the archangel had stood.
Elaine nodded. “Yes. She needs to recuperate.” She felt oddly exposed now, but also grateful that Seraphion could gather more strength for when night fell, and all manner of horrors might reemerge.
With a final check of their weapons—Joseph’s battered sidearm, Xin-ta’s spear, Elaine’s makeshift staff—they descended into the small settlement. A rutted path led past a grove of trees, opening onto a row of crude huts built against massive Redwood roots. Each structure had walls of thickly woven reeds or bark, plus a pitched roof of animal hides. A cool breeze carried the smell of cooked grain and, faintly, the musk of tanned hides.
As they emerged near the settlement’s edge, Xin-ta stepped in front, ears pricked forward in an attempt to appear at least somewhat official, though her ragged appearance told a different story. She spotted two men armed with spears standing near a makeshift gate—little more than a fence of sharpened stakes. They wore hardened leather chest wraps, bone ornaments clinking at their waists. Their stances stiffened the moment they noticed the strangers.
Xin-ta raised a hand in a universal sign of non-aggression. “I am Xin-ta, a Seeker from the Redwood clan city,” she declared in their language, her voice carrying across the short distance. “We seek entry—my companions are in need of help.”
The two male guards exchanged wary glances. One stepped forward, spear angled. He spoke with a sharp edge. “Xin-ta… that name is known. But who are these outsiders? None look like Redwood folk. They reek of blood and foreign mana.” His eyes flicked to Joseph especially, who towered in battered gear. “I see a Kul man among you. That is suspect.”
Joseph froze, not understanding the dialect. But Elaine, thanks to Seraphion’s earlier partial translation, gleaned bits and pieces. She recognized “Kul,” and his tone was full of distrust. She tensed, hand hovering near her staff.
Xin-ta held out a small carved token from around her neck—a twisted piece of bone engraved with flowing lines. “I come bearing the seal of a Seeker,” she insisted. “Sent by the Elders to investigate the star-light that appeared days ago in the Redwood. I have found a non-Kul being who manifested. She is vital to my report. And yes, the male is Kul—but do not fear. I must take him to the Elders, that he might answer for his actions. I vow to keep him in check.”
The guard’s eyes narrowed. He spat on the ground. “A Kul… we seldom allow them in Redwood lands, and never in our settlement.” He jerked his spear in Joseph’s direction. “He cannot enter.”
Xin-ta’s tail flicked in irritation. She clenched her jaw, bracing for an argument. Elaine felt her stomach lurch—she knew Joseph was worn out, not about to cause trouble. But these beast-folk had reason to despise the Kul, given the Guardian’s death.
“I will vouch for him,” Xin-ta pressed, voice firm. “But if he must be under watch or placed in a holding pen, so be it. Let us in, or do you wish me to remind the Elders of your refusal to assist a Seeker?”
That threat made both men pause. The second guard, younger, frowned but softened when he noticed how heavily bandaged they were. He muttered to his partner, eyes flicking to Elaine’s pale face. “They look half-dead. If we deny them help and they die, we dishonor the clan’s vow to aid those who carry its seal.”
The older guard glowered, wrestling with his distrust. After a tense moment, he lowered his spear fractionally. “Fine. We will permit them inside—minus the Kul,” he growled. “But we cannot let him roam free.”
Xin-ta nodded, exhaling a small breath of relief. She turned to Joseph, speaking in halting words he could grasp. “You, stay close. They not want you. Let me talk. We get you to Elders.” She flicked her tail, eyes carrying a subtle apology. Joseph gave a reluctant nod; better to accept mild imprisonment than face a standoff.
With a wary nod, the guards parted enough to let the group shuffle into the village. Low huts clustered around a central fire pit. A handful of wide-eyed children peeked around corners, and a few older beast-folk emerged from dwellings to assess these battered strangers. Most wore simple leather garments, though a few had ornamental bone pieces. The entire place exuded a frontier vibe—far removed from the advanced city Elaine had half-imagined. No metal glinted anywhere, reinforcing that this clan had yet to adopt forging technology. She saw only polished stone knives or spears with sharpened bone tips.
They were guided to a small clearing near the largest hut. The older guard jabbed a finger at Joseph. “He will remain here, under watch,” he barked, summoning two more men to flank the Kul soldier. Joseph raised his hands in meek compliance, murmuring a quiet word of acknowledgement to Xin-ta. Elaine felt a rush of protectiveness but bit her lip, trusting Xin-ta’s plan.
The guard turned to Elaine and the beast-woman. “We will fetch the healer for your wounds,” he said curtly. “After which, you shall arrange transport out of here. Our settlement does not welcome trouble or strange Kul criminals.”
Elaine whispered to Xin-ta, “He’s… not exactly rolling out a welcome mat.”
Xin-ta shrugged. “Better than I feared. At least we get a healer.”
Within minutes, an elderly beast-woman approached, her fur graying around her temples and chin, draped in a cloak of woven leaves and stitched hide. She carried a satchel stuffed with pouches, from which a variety of pungent aromas emanated—herbal balms, ointments, dried roots. Her eyes swept over Elaine’s bandaged torso, Xin-ta’s battered arms, and Joseph’s bruises. She also noticed Elaine’s unearthly black nails, partially retracted plating near her forearm. A flicker of alarm crossed her face, but she masked it quickly.
“I am Haln-rah, the village’s elder healer,” she said, voice gruff but not unkind. She nodded to Xin-ta, taking note of the Seeker seal. “And I see you bring trouble, Seeker. But if you are truly from the main city, we must honor tradition and offer you aid.” She motioned for Elaine to follow her to a low bench fashioned from a fallen log. “Sit. Let me see those wounds.”
Elaine sank onto the bench, letting the older healer gently unwrap old bandages. The contact brought stabs of pain, but Elaine clenched her teeth. Xin-ta hovered close, summarizing the group’s plight in the clan tongue: “We encountered Magic Demons by the Redwood outskirts, forced to flee. The Outpost Wyvern behind us… fell. We have been traveling all night and day to warn the Elders of the main city.” She cast a grim look at Haln-rah. “Outpost Wyvern is lost.”
The healer went still, eyes widening. A hush fell over the watchers. “Lost?” Haln-rah repeated, voice dropping. She busied herself applying a pungent salve to Elaine’s raw flesh, but her hands trembled slightly. “This is grave news indeed.” She clicked her tongue, carefully threading new bandages. “And the horde… if it overcame an outpost, it may come here next,” she murmured, frowning. “We have barely over a hundred folk in our settlement. We cannot stand against a legion of demons.”
Elaine winced at the stinging ointment but forced herself to speak. “You must warn them, please,” she said, words stumbling from her lips. “We saw dozens—Nightmare Stalkers, Vanguards… even specialized Casters. They might move on the next outposts or even the clan city. You’re too close to them. The Redwood is compromised.”
Haln-rah’s features turned bleak. “We have known such threats before, child. Things have slipped past outposts more times than you might guess, though rarely in such numbers.” She finished tying off Elaine’s bandage and turned her attention to re-dressing Xin-ta’s cuts. “We will speak to the lord of this settlement—Ulan. If your warnings ring true, we shall gather the townsfolk and relocate closer to the city.”
Xin-ta’s ears pricked. “Time is short. They struck Wyvern last night. Another 12 hours or so of daylight remain, then night falls again.” She locked eyes with the healer. “We barely survived the last onslaught. This settlement must evacuate soon.”
Haln-rah nodded in understanding. She gleaned from Elaine’s battered frame, the fresh scarring on Xin-ta, and the bruises marking Joseph’s arms that they’d seen real combat. She applied salve to Joseph, pausing when she saw the gem in his wrist that glowed faintly with a Kul signature. A flicker of disgust crossed her face, but she mended his bruises nonetheless, though the watchers refused to let him remove his binds entirely.
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When finished, Haln-rah stood, shoulders set. She offered Elaine and Xin-ta each a small flask of medicinal water. “Drink this. It will ease your pain a little. Then I must away to speak with Lord Ulan about your tidings. If outposts are falling… we are in dire need of safer grounds.”
Joseph, understanding some of the exchange, gave a short bow of thanks.
“We— we appreciate your help,” Elaine said, voice laden with gratitude. “But please hurry. The next night might bring them right to your doorstep.”
Haln-rah exhaled sharply, eyes distant with worry. “Very well. Rest here a moment. I will arrange for your transport to the city.” With that, she left them, stepping briskly across the village square, disappearing into a larger hut.
Elaine sipped from the medicinal flask. The fluid tasted bitter, laced with unfamiliar herbs. Yet warmth coursed through her limbs, dulling the sharpest edges of her pain. She allowed herself a brief, shaky sigh of relief. They had found at least some measure of healing, if not full acceptance.
The villagers watched from a distance, some with open curiosity, others with clenched suspicion. More than once, Elaine overheard whispered curses at Joseph, references to “Kul scum,” or murmurs about the Guardian’s demise. She placed a comforting hand on Joseph’s shoulder, mindful that he likely sensed the hostility, even if he couldn’t parse their words fully.
Xin-ta waited, tail flicking in restless arcs. She refused to mention Joseph’s exact crime—killing the Guardian—to these guards. Let the Elders decide his fate. She turned to Elaine. “Stay calm. If they discover he’s the Guardian’s killer, they might try to murder him on the spot. For now, we let them believe he’s merely a captive I’m bringing to the Elders.”
Elaine’s heart twisted. She still harbored resentment for Joseph’s role in the Guardian’s death—an act that had opened Redwood to unspeakable horrors. Yet, she also pitied him. If he had known the Guardian’s importance, would he have done it? She suspected not.
Shortly, Haln-rah reemerged, accompanied by a younger beast-woman wearing a necklace of carved shells. They approached the group. The older healer offered a curt nod. “Lord Ulan has decreed that we must prepare to relocate most villagers deeper into Redwood territory for safety. However, for you, a small transport to expedite your journey has been arranged. The faster your Seeker arrives at the main city, the better for us all.”
She pointed behind her. Two villagers led forward a pair of extraordinary creatures. Each stood about the height of a tall horse, with six recurve-jointed legs that ended in broad, webbed pads. Their bodies lacked fur, instead covered in sleek, scaled skin that gleamed in shades of aquamarine and dull gray under the sun. A slender tail extended behind them, ridged with finlike protrusions. Their heads tapered into a gentle muzzle, ringed with short, flexible whiskers. Elaine’s jaw dropped in wonder.
Zeraphine’s whisper stirred in Elaine’s mind, awakened by the rush of fascination: “Oh, they are adorable!” The archangel’s telepathic voice felt bright with curiosity. Elaine almost giggled. She remembered how Zee had always exuded a whimsical side, even amid grim times.
Xin-ta noted Elaine’s astonishment and explained, “These are Kaanaris. They thrive in watery shallows, but also on land. Their speed across Redwood terrain is unmatched. Our clan uses them for travel. They’re docile, but you must handle them carefully.”
Elaine approached one Kaanaris with wide eyes, enthralled by the intricacy of its scaled limbs. She murmured softly, mindful not to frighten it. “Amazing,” she breathed. “A six-legged amphibious mount… I’ve never seen anything like it.” The creature huffed gently, whiskerlike sensors brushing Elaine’s palm. She felt a childlike thrill surge through her battered body.
Joseph, flanked by guards, looked on with equal awe. He risked a faint, apologetic grin at Elaine, as if to say: I’d share your excitement if I wasn’t half-prisoner here.
Haln-rah offered reins made of braided leather. “They’re used to carrying one rider each, sometimes two if not heavily burdened. But you four… well, you must decide. Possibly the Seeker and your female friend on one, and the Kul plus the rest on another. Or we can lash a small wagon if needed.”
Xin-ta grimaced. “Time is short. We’ll ride them directly. We can double up—Elaine with me on one, and Joseph alone on the other. That might be fastest. The Kaanaris are strong.” She turned to Joseph, repeating in simpler terms. “You ride alone. But these guards watch you. Understand?”
He nodded stiffly. “Yes.”
Elaine worried about how he might handle such a creature alone, but time was pressing. She trusted Xin-ta’s judgement. Meanwhile, Haln-rah studied Elaine’s face. “You must depart soon. Night is not far off, and we cannot guarantee your safety here if the horde comes early. Move swiftly. I will speak to Lord Ulan and see that our people start heading for the main city. Travel safe. May the goddess watch over you.”
The group thanked Haln-rah, each in their own way—Elaine with a heartfelt “Thank you,” Joseph with a respectful half-bow, and Xin-ta with a formal clan gesture by pressing a hand over her chest. The village guards parted to allow them through. A hush of anticipation lingered among the villagers, many of whom had begun hastily packing carts. The reality of Outpost Wyvern’s fall had struck them like a hammer.
Before they left, Haln-rah caught Elaine’s arm gently. “If the outposts truly fell,” she said in a hushed tone, “this is not the first time something has bypassed our defenses, but rarely have so many. We must be prepared for the worst. Thank you for risking your life to bring word.” Her old eyes shone with gratitude. “You might save many.”
Elaine swallowed. “Then do what you must. The demon horde isn’t normal. We suspect they have a cunning leader—or worse, multiple. Please hurry.”
Haln-rah’s mouth hardened in resolve. “Farewell, child. Goddess willing, we meet again in safer times.” She swept away, voice echoing for the villagers to gather their essentials.
The group mounted the Kaanaris, Elaine clutching the saddle behind Xin-ta’s seat. She found herself awed by the creature’s sinuous six-legged gait. Each step was smooth but powerful. Next to them, Joseph clambered onto the second mount, brows knitting in confusion as he studied the reins. The guards—still suspicious—hovered close, ready to intervene if Joseph tried to flee. But Joseph gave no trouble.
Xin-ta urged the beasts forward with a short chirping command. The Kaanaris responded, lurching into a steady, ground-covering stride. The watchers parted, letting them pass the stake fence. Then they emerged once more into the Redwood forest, forging a faster pace along a half-formed trail that cut between giant roots and meandering brooks.
Now traveling on the Kaanaris, they shaved hours off the journey that would otherwise be spent on foot. The creatures proved remarkably sure-footed, bounding over knotted roots and splashing through shallow streams with ease. Elaine felt every jolt in her battered body, but she was grateful to spare her feet the full brunt of the journey. She tried to ignore the dull throbbing from her side and arm.
Joseph, to Elaine’s relief, managed to coax his mount competently, though with occasional muttered curses as it sidestepped or jolted unexpectedly. Xin-ta guided them on a route that angled around steep ridges and dense thickets. The Redwood soared overhead, branches weaving into a thick net of leaves, tinted by the descending sun’s golden beams. Time felt compressed yet urgent: a swirl of mental images hammered Elaine’s mind—burning outposts, monstrous dwellers, an uncertain clan city.
“Tell me,” Elaine asked softly, leaning close to Xin-ta. “What should we expect from your Elders? Will they trust me, or see me as a threat?”
Xin-ta exhaled. “Elders rarely trust outsiders. But they honor a Seeker’s testimony. Once I give my report about your arrival, and that you are not Kul… they might be open to hearing about your story. Joseph is the bigger risk. They will want to punish him for the Guardian’s death. But…” Her voice trailed off. A flicker of conflict crossed her eyes. “I will not let them kill him outright. Not now. We need him for… what’s coming. It’s a messy situation.”
Elaine’s chest felt tight with guilt. She also recognized the necessity of forging an alliance if they wanted to repel the demon horde. “We must unify,” she whispered, half to herself. “We can’t afford divisions. Not with such a threat looming.”
Xin-ta steered the Kaanari around a massive trunk. “Precisely. The Elders are wise. Let us pray they see the bigger picture.”
Zeraphine’s mental voice chimed softly in Elaine’s mind: “We’re close, Elaine. I can sense many living souls in that direction.” Elaine offered a minute nod, comforted by the archangel’s presence in her thoughts, even though physically absent.
Hour after hour rolled by as the Kaanaris trotted, unstoppable across Redwood’s uneven terrain. The day shifted from bright midday to an afternoon glow. The sun angled lower, painting the forest floor in elongated, dappled shadows. Lichens and bright mushrooms glowed among decomposing logs, forming a patchwork of muted color. They paused only briefly at a clear spring to let the Kaanaris drink.
With each mile, the Redwood canopy opened slightly more, and the ground softened into gentler slopes. The forest’s hush felt less oppressive, though the undertone of dread never fully vanished. Elaine scanned the surroundings, her heart yearning for a glimpse of the Great Redwood she had heard of—a legendary tree around which the clan city thrived.
At last, as they emerged from a thicket of lesser shrubs, Xin-ta pointed forward with her spear. “Look!” The group followed her gaze, and Elaine gasped softly. Far in the distance, silhouetted by the lowering sun, rose a truly colossal Redwood, dwarfing even the giant trunks around them. Its canopy spread wide, an imposing green crown, and at its base flickered countless pinpoints of light—lanterns or torches, no doubt belonging to the city. A swath of pathways and scaffolding appeared to ring the titanic trunk.
“We’re nearly there,” Joseph breathed, relief and apprehension mingling in his voice. He recognized how large the settlement likely was to produce that many lights visible from miles away.
“Give or take an hour’s ride,” Xin-ta confirmed, ears perked with a mix of eagerness and anxiety. The Redwood was still quite far, but it loomed over the horizon like a silent sentinel.
Elaine’s pulse quickened. They had maybe an hour of riding, then perhaps two hours to explain themselves to the clan’s leadership—Elders who might be suspicious or even hostile. Then night would come, potentially bringing the unstoppable horde of dwellers. She bit her lip, resolved not to buckle under the mounting pressure.
The Kaanaris picked up the pace, spurred on by Xin-ta’s urgent commands. Elaine felt her battered body protest the rapid swaying, but she clung to the reins, focusing on breathing steadily. Joseph, a short distance behind, managed not to lag, though his face was drawn with pain and exhaustion. The Redwood domain around them glowed in shades of copper and amber as the sun inched downward. Each fleeting minute eroded their margin for error, the darkness waiting like a predator poised to strike.
Elaine found her thoughts swirling with dread:
Would the clan city be prepared for the news that Outpost Wyvern had fallen?
Would the Elders accept Joseph’s presence, or execute him on the spot?
Could she possibly help strategize a defense, or would they lock her up as some heretical foreigner?
Zeraphine’s voice whispered in Elaine’s consciousness once more: “Stay strong. Seraphion and I are here if the worst comes. We just hope we have enough energy to matter.” The weight of that reassurance carried Elaine through the last strenuous miles, as the Great Redwood’s crown slowly expanded to fill more of the horizon.
At length, as they rounded a final bend in the trail, the canopy opened dramatically, revealing a massive clearing around the Great Redwood’s trunk. The trunk itself was easily half again as wide as any they’d seen, with thick wooden walkways and small huts perched on higher boughs. Beneath the giant canopy, the clan city sprawled—an interlocking patchwork of huts, scaffolds, rope bridges, and carved steps, all lit by an abundance of torches and oil lanterns. The lights glimmered in the impending twilight, an ethereal tapestry in the Redwood’s looming shade.
Xin-ta brought the Kaanaris to a halt at a vantage point, letting the group stare at the breathtaking sight. Elaine felt a flutter of awe. Even in her battered state, the city’s organic grandeur nearly stole her breath. She spotted swirling tiers of platforms around the Redwood’s trunk, teeming with the shapes of beast-folk going about daily tasks. But the watchfires atop the highest walkways also attested to a city braced for potential war.
“How… how big is it?” Elaine managed, stunned. She glimpsed glints of movement—hundreds, perhaps thousands of clan members. She couldn’t even see the top of the Redwood; it vanished into the receding daylight sky.
Xin-ta’s expression was grave. “Big enough to house many, but… perhaps not enough to withstand a massive horde if they come all at once.” She inhaled, her voice resolute. “We have about an hour to reach the city gates. Then we must speak to the Elders quickly. Night’s not far behind us.”
Joseph, guiding his mount alongside Elaine’s, let out a ragged breath. “So we have an hour ride… then maybe two hours of daylight. Enough to present our case.” He glanced at the horizon, where the sun hung low, gilding the Redwood’s highest boughs in fiery gold. Shadows lengthened around them, creeping across the ground.
Elaine swallowed. Her eyes flicked to Xin-ta. “I hope they’ll listen. I hope we can help them fortify.” She didn’t voice her deeper dread: that if the Elders refused them or delayed, the city might be no more secure than Outpost Wyvern had been. The idea made her blood run cold.
Zeraphine’s thought prodded gently: “No matter what they decide, we stand with you. But we must hurry.”
“Yes,” Elaine whispered aloud, spurring her Kaanari onward. “We can’t waste another second.”