《Jale's Journey (Temp Name)》


 The Routine Escort

    Cold mist swirled around a large pile of smoking rubble, the skeleton of a school. Nothing worse than a historic landmark being torn apart by a single man, reduced to waste in a matter of hours. Even the moon seemed dull and saddened, her rays barely touched the group of armored and armed men standing around a bound prisoner through the smoke.


    Without any witnesses, the words spoken by the arsonist would be considered lightly. His only witness had perished to the hungry flames. Yet, this poised man seemed unconcerned about the situation, averting his gaze in a respectful submission.


    "Commander, we found the lord mage," a strong voice spoke up from the building.


    Jale''s attention shifted from his prisoner, looking over towards the large stout male. His arms cradled a smoldering skull, flesh melted and barely clinging to the bone. No one deserved to burn to death, especially not a well loved lord.


    With a careful grip, he took the skull and looked into the vacant eye sockets. "Lord Levitt Malin, I offer my guidance, respect, apology, and thanks. A life lost in this manner is preventable, but we shall celebrate his deeds. Guides be with you on your journey, may you find your promised land."


    His gentle prayer filled the thick air, each guard dipped their heads in silence. It weighed on him, but he couldn''t let it show, instead the tall commander straightened his jacket and took care to hold the remains against his chest.


    Though his group contained rather tall men, Jale stood above them all. His height added a command to his figure even if he didn''t give it any thought.


    After a moment of silence, the male with long red hair in the center of the circle looked up. He appeared distressed, a touch upset perhaps, his green eyes shining with emotion.


    "I didn''t mean it. He was dead when I found him..."


    The way this man spoke stabbed the commander with conflicted doubt. It sounded so sincere, but he knew enough about this creature to know it had to be lies.


    "I''m sure you found him dead, there''s no reason someone of your... Attention-seeking ways may start a fire to gather attention," Jale said, glaring down at the man.


    "It wasn''t my fault! I can''t always control it! How do you even know I''m the one who started it?"


    Before the commander could respond, a sharp horse cry bought the attention of the group. A single equine beast burst through the smoky mist, its green eyes piercing across the veil. Behind it, rolled a wagon, built with sturdy dull grey wood and bright silver metal.


    Wooden grinding against stone could be heard under the strong hoofbeats as the vehicle rolled up to the tall man. Atop the front sat a woman, short and lean, with blonde long hair.


    "Jale, your wagon as requested," she said.


    He gave an acknowledging nod, leaning down to grab the prisoner''s metal bindings. As he did, a hiss slid through his teeth.


    "I know because only a monster would be out at this hour."


    Jale pulled the other male up, forcing him to stand with a single arm. The prisoner was light despite his wide shoulders. His men fell onto a wall, lining both sides of a path to the cell attached to the cart.


    The woman watched with curious eyes, relaxing the reins to give the beast a moment to stretch. "What did he do this time?"


    He glanced at her, guiding the ginger man down the path. "Arson, murder, destruction of a landmark, treason to a lord... More once we reach Selude and they judge him I''m sure."


    A snort came from his prisoner. "I''ll claim all those, but I did not kill Levitt!"


    "Save your breath. You''ll probably want it when you''re screaming your soul out." Jale countered, pushing him into the step.


    Luckily, the guy didn''t resist. Just stepped into the metal cage and found the bench without another word. His long red hair shrouded his pale body like a cloak, only adding to the caution from the guards.


    The commander found his way to the front while the stout male locked and secured the cell. He approached the horse, laying a hand on the large black beast¡¯s flank. Normal for stallions, this one had a bright green streak in his mane, matching his hooves. Their way of saying they''re healthy.


    "Will he be alone the whole way? Or do you want us to get him a friend?" he asked.


    The female tilted her head back and forth thoughtfully. "Sire''s a strong boy, raised on a raw meat and grazing diet, sadly this has made him more aggressive than our cooked meat raised steeds. Personally, I would say he should go alone, but it''ll make it slower since your men can''t ride."


    He nodded. "I see. Well, sir, the strong ones are always wild aren''t they?"


    Though the tall man spoke fondly to the animal, he remained stern and steady. At least the horse couldn''t speak back.


    "Commander, we''re ready when you are. The mayor has sent supplies to the Center, as well as a message to the King." A man interrupted his thoughts.


    He patted the beast and turned to his men. "We will cycle through sitting on the back, I don''t want any of you fine soldiers corrupted by his foul trickery. Sah, James, you two can start. The rest of you, flank the wagon and be mindful of the horse''s range."


    After commanding his men, he climbed up next to the woman, who turned away a touch at the skull that remained in his arm.


    "Jale, sir, do you want a traveler to join you?"


    Jale pondered the question, did he need someone to drive the vehicle? Those men have such rough hands, he''d hate to watch this fine creature suffer at the end of a whip.


    Finally, he shook his head. "No, it''s alright. I can drive, and less numbers mean less a threat to the trolls."


    She hummed a doubtful agreement and urged the horse on. "Well sir, if you think fifteen men and a warlock would be less intimidating than that plus a harmless traveler... I suppose you know the trolls best."


    They had stopped by the Center, a large elegantly decorated building at the very center of the city. It was the oldest building in the town, and the town was the second established for the Kingdom of Seludance. Exchanging the woman for supplies, and making sure Levitt''s remains would reach his family before heading off.


    Through the dark they traveled, hoping to get ahead of an oncoming storm. Once a solid hour on the road had passed, Jale decided to stop, knowing good and well how dangerous night in the wetlands was. Trolls weren''t the only threat, plenty of animals wouldn''t mind a feast of human flesh.


    Thankful the night brought no trouble, the commander awoke to a meal being cooked. Smelled meaty and oddly sweet. He could tell by the sugary hints underlying the near salty scent it was a deer. The marsh deer were known for their natural sugar levels that brought their meat a seasoned taste even when plain.


    He sat up from the ground, bringing his sight up to speed to match his other senses. Prisoner escorts were never fun he hated taking criminals to Selude, but his job demanded it. Honestly, it wasn''t the traveling, constant guarded state, or even the sleeping on the ground that bothered him. It would always be the way his prisoners were often dangerous that unnerved him.


    Often they carried mages that try every spell imaginable to escape. Maegik scares him enough to keep him paranoid around mages, a warlock threatened to make his fear visible.


    Shaking his concern off, he brought his frame up onto his feet, checking the surrounding landscape. Faded tones met his gaze, thirsty plants begged for a drink. What is supposed to be sticky mud had been hardened into solid ground, which cracked and crumbled. The drought made the dangerous land even more hostile as everything here wanted moisture, even if it was blood.


    He had memories of the land being lush and green, with the plants giving a blue tint and the dark brown mud tempting young folk to see how deep it was. With the promise of a storm, these memories attempted to come back.


    "Commander, should we give the prisoner any food?"


    Jale turned to the man who asked him the question, Sah. He stood half a foot shorter than the commander, and his skin lay four shades paler. Pretty average male human, with his brown hair and brown eyes.


    With a soft sigh, he moved his blue gaze to the wagon where the red-haired man lay curled up on the floor in a rather peaceful looking slumber.


    "We''ll give him food at our next stop. Make sure Sire there is fed, raw only." He answered, heading towards the wagon.


    Along the way, the tall man had grabbed a single mug and filled it with clean water. Reaching the cell, he banged the sturdy container against the metal.


    "Get up. This is your only chance for a drink before nightfall. And in this heat, I suggest you take this offer."


    The prisoner squirmed at the abrupt awakening, coming to his senses concerningly fast. He stood and lunged for the drink quick enough to force the commander to step back.


    Jale narrowed his eyes at the smaller man, before handing him the mug. "Try anything and we''ll feed you to Sire out there. Or the trolls."


    The pale man nodded, taking in the clear liquid with haste. Though hesitant, he returned the container to the commander. He watched the prisoner retreat to the far side of the cage, stretching his back in a small curve before finding the seat.


    Odd, he seems content in there. Very odd. He silently commented before returning to the small campfire. Shaking these thoughts off, the tall man worked on cleaning up the small camp, helping his men roll up the leather from their breakfast.


    Once everything was packed away, James worked on passing out portions of the venison to each of the guards. Jale nearly passed up the food but knew he had to eat, despite his impressive height and strong body he didn''t take that much care of it. He accepted the meat and joined the others on a nearby log.


    "Commander, I think the horse needs more water," the brunette man said.


    He let his gaze fall onto the stallion standing nearby, the creature had his head lower than normal and seemed to be interested in the plants around him. All wildlife know how to get water from the fauna, even with the drought. But, the domesticated beasts have never needed to learn this talent, and the man knew this.


    "There''s not enough water in this bog... The Guides must hate us," the commander said with a sigh. "Let me take him to the watering hole, he''ll get as much as he needs there before we leave."


    One of the other men chuckled around his bite of food. A blonde man with blue eyes and a scar across his right cheek. "Sir, are you sure that''s a good idea?"


    An amused smile grew on his face, and he nodded. "Of course, it''ll be fine, and good for him. Dehydration will always kill you before hunger."


    "But what about the trolls?" Sah asked.


    "What about them? A troll would never endanger a beast as fine as a horse." Jale patted the man on the shoulder before standing up from his seat. "Besides, Sire could easily defend us."


    The men sparked up a conversation about trolls as the tall man walked away. His clear blue eyes circled in their sockets, humans were all the same. Dangerous creatures driven by power and greed, their need to expand has pushed the trolls to the ends of the marshland which has made the border tense.


    He never wants to harm a troll or anyone for that matter, but his job required defending his kingdom by any means necessary. His hands worked the rope holding the black horse free, patting the beast on the shoulder. Horses were powerful and just as deadly as a predator if you can''t handle them.


    Sire''s heavy body followed him along the small game path with dull but sure steps. It wouldn''t take them all that long to get to the water, it would just require a good bit of fighting the brush and climbing a small incline.


    "Sire, what do you think about the drought? I think it''s terrible, actually, concerning. We used to get rain often, nearly every other day it would seem. Now the land is dry, the water is scarce and it seems everything has gained a thirst for blood to make up for the lack of moisture. You weren''t even alive when the water was here."


    The commander spoke to the creature as if it was another person, it had always been easier to speak to animals to him. Sometimes he swore they could understand him. He laughed softly at the thought the horse cared and pushed through a group of green bushes. The lush green leaves were closer to a teal color and the branches reached out with soft yellow tones. Enough proof that water was near.


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    Sire pulled his head away, attempting to pull the lead from the man''s hands. With a shrug, the tall man let go of the rope, aware the beast just wanted a soothing drink. Sure enough, the black mass pushed past him and stepped into the shallow pool, lowering his large head to take in the warm liquid.


    "Drink as much as you need, we need your strength."


    With his words said, he decided to kneel next to the edge and scoop some of the spring water to his face to inspect it. It was clear and rather clean for the muddy floor it sat on. He let the liquid drain from his hands before cupping them to collect more, with his new makeshift cup, he brought the water to his lips and slid the refreshment down his throat.


    Natural water energized him, buzzed around inside him like bees. That and the liquid reminded him how thirsty he had been. Another handful was delivered to his mouth, the taste crisp despite being warmed by the sun, rich and earthy.


    "Must be my mother''s side that makes it so appealing... oh well, you done yet good sir?" he asked his steed.


    The stallion lifted his head and nickered a deep bellow. His bright green eyes shone behind his black bangs, and the green stripe in his mane seemed to grow more vibrant.


    Jale chuckled, holding a hand out. "I''ll take that as a yes, come then, we should head out before we lose much more daylight."


    Sire brought his frame over, allowing the man to take the rope. Along with the mane, the horse''s hooves glistened with healthy statements. This brought a smile to his guide''s face.


    It felt good knowing the creature felt better, even if he couldn''t voice it, he knew he had been grateful. All animals are born with natural maegikal abilities, and most of them have the energy displayed on their body to attract mates. Humans are rarely born with this same talent, and thus they have no visible marks or patterns.


    He would be lying if he said he hadn''t been curious about witches and warlocks, the natural mages. Did they have a mark like the animals? The maekgik races do, why wouldn''t they?


    The commander''s thoughts would die down as he got closer to the camp. He could hear the chatter and laughter coming from his men and felt relieved their spirits were high.


    "Commander, we''re ready to move. Is Sire good now?" James asked, breaking away from a conversation.


    He nodded. "Yes, he should be good for a few hours. We''ll take a break at the river on the edge of the forest, which should only take about five hours to reach."


    His second in command nodded and turned to relay the message while Jale brought the horse to the wagon. With some snaps and grunts, he hooked the heavy wooden harness to the beast. Then connected the metal chains to the vehicle before giving him a comforting pat.


    "Carry us far."


    The tall man took a moment to inspect the wheels, large round grey wooden rims fitted against light silver metal rungs. They seemed to be in good shape, which was relieving.


    "Alright, we move. Sah, I want you up front with me, James I refuse to let you ride in the back today. Lucas, Derik you two can start the cycle." His commands silenced the group with ease, power but a form of calmness tangled his tone.


    A few of the men gave verbal acknowledgments and the others nodded. Once in position, Jale urged his steed on and the cart rolled forward.


    They hadn''t made it far down the road before the prisoner spoke up, not uncommon for someone facing his fate. Usually, they begged to be freed into the unforgiving lands or even to be killed before facing their torture. But this one was different, he didn''t do any of that, instead, the man asked a question.


    "Think the Divinities will end the drought soon?"


    Silence hung in the air, the guards not rewarding him with a conversation.


    Unphased, the ginger tried again. "They can''t keep rain away forever, right? Unless they want this to become a desert, but that seems unlikely, the forest isn''t as bad."


    Still, no one responded, but the words made the commander think. This man had a point, unfortunately.


    The sting of the air got worse as they traveled with the rambles, but not in a normal sense. Jale felt chills spreading over his body, and he reacted by glancing around.


    "Shut up."


    The warlock seemed hurt. "Excuse me, can I not spend my last week trying to share my opinions and thoughts?"


    He slowed the horse and stood from the bench. "Be quiet."


    When his group noticed where his attention had strayed, they turned and formed a circle around the wagon, which finally silenced the prisoner. Stale air and quiet winds, trolls had to have been close.


    The Guided race only moved with aid of the spirits, hunting when the conditions were favorable. And these conditions were very favorable.


    "We''re not in city limits anymore men. Don''t let your guard down until we reach the woods," he said, caution weaving his words.


    The guard fell back into form, only now they had the two in the back facing away from the cage and the ones on the side grabbed their shields. With a silent prayer, he commanded the horse to move again.


    "What would the trolls want with incapables such as yourselves," the warlock muttered.


    He had enough, sighing and breaking down to respond. "We are fifteen guardsmen from the military. We are a threat, even when carrying a disgrace to punishment. An open target is fair game and they will take the opportunity to reduce our strength."


    That shut him up, probably because the threat of trolls scared any reasonable man. Either way, peace, and quiet was appreciated.


    As the sun set, the group found themselves not out of the wetlands yet, which concerned Jale. They should''ve been out by now, but Sire had been drained of energy sooner than he should''ve been. Having to stop three separate times for water, even his men had worn themselves down.


    Setbacks or not, the wellbeing of those in his presence would always come first. They had stopped along a riverbed, the water trail only a stream in the center of the wide bed. Concerning but not surprising with the lack of water in the land.


    Dusk settled on the horizon, giving haste to the humans while they settled into a camp. A fire was built and water was purified, unnecessary seeing as the river ran over gravel and sand. One of the cleanest rivers in the marsh.


    "Commander, where should we leave Sire? There''s no vegetation close enough to keep an eye on him," Derik, the blond man, said.


    He brought his gaze to the surroundings, spotting lots of rocks. But the blonde man was right, the horse wouldn''t be comfortable out on the bed.


    "Well, let''s put him over here, I trust he can defend himself. That and-..."


    "Yeah yeah, trolls don''t harm horses. You''ve said it enough times, sir."


    Jale handed the man the long rope and gave him a single pat, or rather push, on the back. "Go tie him up."


    With that taken care of, only one thing remained before they could rest. Food. The tall man brought himself to the wagon, removing the meat from earlier, raw and wrapped. He knew it remained fresh, the leather protected it from the air and heat, even if it had dried.


    Skills such as open flame cooking came with the job, often being out for weeks hunting for criminals or dangerous trolls. Even if he liked it, Jale could only stand the plain meals for so long.


    The commander unwrapped the sliced meat and skewered the chunks with sharp rods to let them cook. Once set, he grabbed a mug and filled it with the water, knowing the prisoner needed the water as much as his own men.


    A clink sounded from the tap he gave the bars, alerting the warlock to his offer.


    "Well, commander, I thought I was a disgrace." The guy spoke the title with a mocking tone.


    Emotionless, he still held the cup through the bars. "Disgrace or not, they want you alive. You don''t deserve the release of death."


    His prisoner crossed his pale arms, the green eyes narrowing. "You can''t make me drink."


    Jale stared into the other''s eyes, a harsh glare that promised harm or worse. "Actually I can. But, considering the setbacks we''ve had, we may need the food for the horse."


    "Would still be better than the elves. But, I doubt even they could break me worse than I''ve done myself."


    A single sigh of defeat fell from the caged male, and he took the drink.


    He took a step away, turning his head to add. "You''ll be given food tonight as well. Know this isn''t a requirement, you can survive the trip to the King without food."


    The commander found feeding the prisoners made them more tolerable during travel. That and oftentimes they could spare a portion anyway, why waste the meat of an animal that needed to be taken to survive? No waste also led to better karma with the trolls.


    Sitting along the edge of the fire pit, the tall man rotated the food and let his body relax in his position. A day spent on the wooden wagon hurt his back more than he''d care to admit.


    A figure sat next to him, the brunette. "Sir, I think we''ll make better time once we cross into the rainforest. The drought hasn''t reached far into it, right?"


    He hummed thoughtfully and gave a shrug. "It hadn''t been very far in when I passed through a few months ago, but with each new moon face it becomes drier."


    James sighed and averted his gaze towards the wagon. "Jale, why do you feed the scum?"


    Six years and he only now wants to ask? He thought while a hand ran through his black hair. How could he answer this without sounding like a Divined touched?


    "The main reason is to make them less agitated on the road. Hunger tends to lead them to be paranoid and much more aggressive. That, and less waste."


    The guard nodded. "I suppose that makes sense."


    Jale took one of the rods, checking the food stabbed to the end. "Besides, might as well make their final days of reasonable comfort better."


    His companion laughed while the tall man stood, shaking his head.


    He knew the man wouldn''t understand his point of view, these humans were trained to be barbaric. Excusing himself with a wave, he brought the venison to the cage.


    "I''ll trade you."


    His prisoner stood at the far end of the cell, the mug lay on the floor on its side. A good look at the male told him the pale man had been frightened of something. This led him to look behind him into the dark distant brush.


    "Food in your belly will help whatever you''re seeing. I promise."


    But the warlock didn''t budge. "You don''t see that?"


    Jale wouldn''t give a second glance, he knew this man, in particular, had a history of Insanity filled moments, hallucinations had to be common.


    "No. Eat."


    Green eyes darted to the food being offered but fixated back to the spot of an unseen danger.


    The commander moved his long legs back, backing up from the cage. "Fine. I''ll offer you some in the morning before we leave."


    With that, he bit into the portion and returned to the fire. Savory meaty flavors filled his senses, all while the sweet sugar hints tickled the underside of his tongue. At least it wasn''t as bland as boar or fish.


    The men had gathered to eat, but a subtle headcount showed they were a man short. Though anyone would shrug it off with a reasonable solution as to where the person was, he became unnerved.


    "Where''s Sah?" he asked the guards.


    James had been the first to respond. "I assumed he had gone to relieve himself, sir."


    Though most likely the case, Jale couldn''t help worry. "Alone?"


    "Most of us have been busy setting up camp, commander," Derik spoke next.


    A rattle from the cell stole his attention. The warlock seemed distressed, and the commander almost shrugged it off. Until the guy cried out.


    "How can you not see that! Look! Please just look, there''s something out there!"


    The commander turned his frame towards the vegetation line, wondering now if it had been crazed hallucinations or not. Even from a mad man, fear is a sign of danger.


    Unsheathing his sword, he waved a few of his men to follow. No harm in checking. They crept their way past the wagon, across the gravel ground with eyes watching for any sign of movement. Without the signs of Guided air, he doubted it would be trolls, but plenty of animals were beyond dangerous. Boars could rip you apart with their tusks alone, throw in their ability to grow armor and become near impenetrable and they were a nightmare to kill. Pumas are one of the worst things out here, invisible cats that have mastered stealth.


    The Quiet Wetlands had gotten its name for a reason, sound doesn''t travel well through the marsh, and you would be a fool to underestimate it.


    Derik stopped moving and checked upwards towards the treetops that overhang the bank, but he shrugged a light gesture to him upon spotting nothing.


    He held his long thin sword out and pushed a bush aside. Sitting behind the cover was a ghostly-looking bird, it had a broken wing and stared up at the men with fearful eyes.


    "Hah!" the blonde man exclaimed. "It''s just a bird!"


    Jale glared at the bird with distrust, it was not just a bird. His men could see it, and he knew what it was by the way it seemed transparent and fake. With a quick movement, he sliced his blade through the animal.


    His pale metal passed through the creature and left it unharmed.


    "No. It''s an ambush."


    Quickly as they could, the group rushed back to their camp. His men seemed concerned at the way they approached, readying themselves for a fight, but he feared it was too late. More of the guards were missing, there had only been eight of them standing there. Plus the two he took, that made eleven.


    "Form a circle, do not leave the circle," the tall man ordered, turning his attention to the cage. "If the prisoner escapes, shoot him."


    The illusionary decoy made the experienced soldier assume it would be wolves, their hunting numbers only made worse with their knack for making illusions. Smart enough to know how to distract most prey, including humans, and pick them off one by one. While there were worse ways to go, being eaten alive wasn''t a good one.


    "Sir, I think the warlock could be useful."


    "James, don''t make me laugh. We are not letting him out."


    His second in command frowned a bit. "I''m being serious, mages are powerful enough to fend off a lot, imagine what a warlock could do!"


    He turned to the man, now appearing to tower over him. "He stays in that cage. If he ends up dying in there, so be it."


    The group grew tense, the air bitter and concerning. No amount of experience made being ambushed in the dark easy, and nothing helped ease the tension of the power contest.


    "You know, I agree with James. Sir."


    Although he knew the men only wanted to survive, he disliked the idea of how quick they were to suggest getting help from a murdering crazed demon. "I don''t care."


    A breeze tore through the brush, ripping through the open riverbed with a light whistle. Some of the guards shivered at the cool wind, but Jale remained still. No telling what was waiting for the opportune moment to strike humanoid or animal, anything would be dangerous.


    Light grunts and whispers came from the distance, alerting the commander to the possibility of trolls. He brought his frame down a bit, ready to lunge should he need to. The group followed his lead, though he knew they were still thinking of freeing the prisoner.


    Thud. Something landed beside his feet, a medium-sized red rock. With another thump and a wince, James fell to the ground to grasp his shoulder. Shields were raised to provide cover from the onslaught of stone rain, with one of the men pulling the brown-haired male into the center of the circle.


    "May the Guides help your blades find their path."


    Jale spotted the deformed shapes of vaguely solid figures moving across the gravel, of course, they would hide themselves during a fight. But he knew his men couldn''t fight against someone invisible to them, even if he could see the figures just barely. Bowing his head in the defeat that rose inside him, the commander dropped his sword.


    "Commander?"


    "We cannot fight them, lay down your arms. Don''t give them a reason to kill us," he said.


    One of the faint shapes moved to stand in front of the tall man, which caused him to look down at it. The figure seemed to raise something over its head. A few phrases had been muttered by his group while they put away the weapons, but he remained focused on the shape, awaiting whatever it wanted with him.


    A pain split across his skull, stars lit up in his vision as he had no time to react before collapsing to the ground. Darkness overtaking his senses with almost relieving haste, confirming the ambush had not wanted to kill them.

 Chapter Two (unnamed)

    Warmth against his face told Jale that the sun had risen, but his eyes refused to open to greet the morning. As he woke up, he became aware of the disorienting pain radiating from his temples. Every moment the pain worsened, and soon it became unbearable. Flexing his arms, he attempted to pull his arms down to relieve the tension on his numb limbs, but nothing budged. A grip tight around his wrists told him he had been bound to something, though his legs rested on the solid ground.


    Birdsongs rang through his mind, encouraging him to pry his eyes open. The sun rays welcomed him with a glare, causing him to blink a few times before being able to use his sight.


    Bright green plants greeted him, the marsh as lively as he remembered it from childhood. He sat on soft mud and the clearing had been in the center of thick vegetation, walls of brush and trees seemed to trap the man in the open area. Despite a few huts scattered around the clearing showing signs of a village, the land felt wild and untamed. His blue eyes scanned his surroundings, wondering where the death and drought had gone. Even the air felt happier; humid and moist.


    Jale''s next step was to examine his bindings, well-crafted sturdy, white rope. Snared around each wrist, they prevented him from moving too much, however, he had room to stand. Curious.


    When his frame stood, the world spun for a moment. Once settled, the man looked around again. As beautiful and relieving as it was to see the land as it should be, something was wrong. On the wind, he could hear faint whispers, pleads, and prayers.


    A Trollish sentence sounded beside him, bringing him to gaze over. His eyes found a group of trolls standing near the other guards, who were also tied up, whispering to each other. The humans were bound together, but their bindings kept them around a single post. Tied up like hunting dogs after a bad chase.


    "He''s awake," a smooth and melodic female said.


    "That he is. Perhaps you hit him too hard though, he seems dazed." The next voice came from an equally song-like male.


    Jale shook his head lightly. "What do you mean?"


    His words sounded foreign to him as if he himself didn''t even speak them. It concerned the commander. Maybe I had been hit too hard. The way the captors and his own men looked at him told him he didn''t sound right either.


    "What happened to the marsh?" he asked, raking his gaze across the trees.


    Nobody answered, instead leaving him to listen to the whispers once more. They sounded desperate and he could''ve sworn some were asking for guidance. One, in particular, rang out clearer than the rest; it asked for freedom, relief, and clarity. A strong prayer that was filled with fear.


    Most of the voices sounded distant: faint and soothing. He attempted to hear what these calming words were, but the more he focused the fuzzier his brain felt.


    A spell of dizziness hit him and the tall man collapsed back onto the ground with a soft gasp. The world spun before him, twisting and turning, and shapes crept towards him. Dark disfigured creatures crawled closer and he couldn''t move away from them.


    Ice-like grips grabbed his leg, the low temperature slicing through the fabric protecting his skin. Fear raced through him as the undivined beast stretched its way up his body, faceless and hard to focus on.


    "Commander!"


    The sudden call jolted him back to his senses. When he blinked and reopened his eyes, the figures were gone and the plants had lost their green joy.


    Tilting his head back, Jale looked up at the man who spoke; a male troll. Sharp orange eyes framed by dark clay-like skin met his gaze, staring down through the gap between his tusks. Judging by his iron rings hanging from his nose and wrapping his tusks, this was the chief.


    "Well well, he''s back with us finally." A familiar mocking tone rang out.


    Across the clearing, behind the troll, tied by both his wrists and ankles hung the scrawny-looking ginger.


    The commander scowled, ready to reply, but a pair of trolls walking over stopped him. A larger¡ª tuskless¡ª male with white symbols contrasting against his dark blue skin and a woman, covered instead in a dusty grey skin tone.


    "You''re rather odd. Tallest human I''ve seen, and I''ve seen plenty of humans," the larger troll mused.


    "My mother was tall, it happens," he explained as calmly as he could. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a tuskless troll.¡±


    The female laughed and shook her head, commenting in her native language to the larger troll.


    While they went back and forth, the tall man found himself looking down at his legs. Aware the added comment about the troll¡¯s appearance may have doomed him.


    "Commander Jale? I¡¯d recognize you anywhere,¡± the chief said in Common.


    Jale brought his eyes back to the smaller male, wondering now what they had planned for him. His title came with a lot of baggage, most of which wasn¡¯t welcoming to other races.


    "Lucky that warlock doesn''t have any negative wishes against you. He told us what you did."


    The commander glanced across the way towards his criminal. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Kneeling, the woman hummed in amusement. "He told us how you gave him water and offered him food even though he''s your prisoner. And how you refused to waste meat."


    Jale shifted his gaze back to the trolls; that sounded promising. Surprising, why would he say good things about me? He could¡¯ve lied and had me killed, they would¡¯ve freed him I¡¯m sure.


    "Even if he didn''t, we''ve been watching your team since you left Bogsgate,¡± she added.


    "Why?" Jale asked, bending his legs to stand up.


    This time the larger troll spoke. "You''re interesting. Guides are with you. The Divinities are stressed and you seem to agitate them."


    "Hah! I knew you were an annoying swinekin.¡± The warlock laughed from his bindings.


    The female sighed and locked her gaze with the tall man''s. "Ignore him, the sun drives even the strongest towards insanity. I''m Tesk. This is chief Tunskin and his son Jor''al."


    Jale gave a polite half-body bow and stood. "May I ask what you want with us, Chief?"


    Tunskin grunted something before tilting his head to look up at the human. "That is a bit complicated, commander. We want our land back, but I do not believe you can help us there."


    "Perhaps we should hang their tongues from rope across their gates!" The larger troll suggested with a touch too much excitement.


    More conversation in Trollish, and he wasn''t sure he wanted to know what they discussed. Instead, inspecting his men to his right. They all sat on the ground, and other than looking a bit sore they appeared fine.


    Prompted by a growl, he brought his attention back to his captors. Jor¡¯al¡¯s face had scrunched up in distaste as he slunk backward a few steps.


    "You see, Jale, here¡¯s our issue: humans are distressing our habitat. The Divinities aren''t happy with your manners and thus punish everyone. So, I hope you have a good reason we should let you go," Tunskin said.


    Jale raked his brain for a reason, his chest swelling with a deep breath. "We haven''t attacked any of your hunters or warriors in a long while, but I''m afraid if you kill us I can''t promise the city will keep it this way."


    Tesk laughed. "Let them come. Even your trained mages couldn''t win against us."


    He didn''t have a counter for that for he knew it was true. Trolls were born hunters, warriors of the swamp, they could take on the humans of Bogsgate with ease. Even if the humans did outnumber them.


    Before anyone could speak further, a chitter sounded off behind Jale.


    "Chief! Do you know what you have?" This new person sounded large, a deep guttural tone that didn''t fit the melodious trolls.


    A zerdal joined the trolls, which explained the tone. This new race stood even shorter than the trolls and half the height of the commander. They held their sleek canine head tilted to the side at the chief, with one of the large ears fallen to the side. A row of six golden rings in its perked ear caught the sun, shining into Jale''s face and forcing him to look towards their bare chest. Coated in fine- though thick- grey fur, its lanky body confirmed to him that this curious creature was a male.


    With a curious and intrigued expression, the creature looked up at the tied captive. His ghostly blue eye pierced the commander, while the deep brown eye greeted him."Oh, pardon me! I''m Roon! Explorer from the west, here to learn all I can of the eastern lands!" Behind the short man, a black-tipped tail wagged lightly.


    "Roon, what do you want?" Tunskin asked.


    The zerdal turned to the chief and perked up their ears. With ease, they responded in the troll¡¯s tongue.


    After listening, the chief turned back to the human. "Who was your mother?"


    Jale shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea, I never met her."


    "I have been reminded of a prophecy. Of an elf hybrid who held promise to restore the world as it had been." Tunskin twisted a pair of rings around his tusk thoughtfully. ¡°Perhaps Tesk should prepare to check you and your men.¡±


    Paranoia crept under the commander¡¯s skin. "Well, unfortunately, human hybrids are killed at birth. We can''t help you."


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    Roon looked personally offended at that phrase. "How could you be so cruel?"


    Tesk laid a hand on the small man. "Humans aren''t as open to strengthening their species through cross-racial means. You must remember not everyone is as advanced as your culture."


    With a soft nod, Roon excused himself and made his way towards the warlock, probably to ask questions.


    "I''m afraid my people have their own mind set. If you wish to keep your own alive, you must help us." The chief¡¯s demanding tones were not lost


    He didn''t look up at the man, but he listened to the words. Did it surprise him? No. Humans have been pushing borders and impeding on the troll''s land for as long as they''ve been on this continent, they have all right to wish us dead.


    "If I agree," The tall man started, raising his head to look across the open area at the ginger and zerdal. "You''ll let them go?"


    With a laugh, Jor''al leaned in to whisper to his chief. Jale had no choice but to wait, watching the warlock and the fur-covered man chat. No telling what the vile criminal was telling the eager creature about the human society.


    "Yes. If you agree to help us, we will let all your men go. They will return home and we will not touch them," Tunskin said, interrupting his thoughts.


    "What of the warlock?"


    The chief glance back at the man in question. "He''s not yours to command correct?"


    Unfortunately, that had been true. Jale sighed lightly a bit defeated. "No, he''s my prisoner, he''s intended to reach the king to answer for his crimes."


    "A criminal? Human warlocks are rarely stable enough to be helpful to society. We can¡¯t let him go. He''d face the mercy of our soul breakers."


    Well, that would make my life easier... But, do I want him to suffer at the hands of trolls? No one deserves their soul broken in such a manner, not even him. Jale pondered what he had been told, concluding that he didn''t wish to let the warlock out of his sight.


    "He is to answer to our king. If you want my help, whatever that may be, you''ll allow me to keep my prisoner,¡± he said, locking a demanding glare on the chief.


    Tunskin stared him down, considering the negotiation brought to him. His strong hand gripped his left tusk, messing with the rings in deep thought once more. With the other two remaining silent, awaiting the wishes of their chief.


    Tunskin grunted and waved the other man off. "Fine. But I pick the troll to accompany you."


    "Why would a troll need to travel with me?"


    With dismissive tones, Jor¡¯al responded. "Eat, drink. Rest. We''ll talk in the morning, Commander.¡± He laughed, walking off with his leader.


    What had he gotten himself into? He turned his head to gaze over at his soldiers. They were eating and drinking. That relieved him; at least his men would be safe. All life mattered to him, even the criminal hanging across the field. To Jale, how they''re handled is a matter of life or death, and he''d never choose death for another soul.


    After a few minutes, he had been given food and refreshments: cooked alligator and what appeared to be goat¡¯s milk. Though he''d never personally liked reptilian meat, he ate the meal; not only was it polite, but he needed it. Plus, with his hands bound how they were, a troll had fed him the food and he couldn''t exactly refuse it.


    With his meal eaten, he settled into the ground to watch the ginger, who had been more eager for the food, naturally. The man took each bite offered and used his teeth to take the cup from the troll, downing the milk before dropping the container. A reminder that this male had not been used to going a full day without food, something nobody should have to experience.


    Jale didn''t mind the sun beating down on him, but the other men, especially the paler ones, had already started turning red. Sun''s rays were not kind to the thin-skinned race. With his own skin being both dark and thicker than the others, he had the advantage of not turning into a painful display of damaged skin.


    <hr>


    The day had passed with little more event, they had been given a second meal before dark, but that had been it. Despite his unfortunate ties, the tall man had managed to sleep under the nearly full moon and bright stars.


    Awaking to some excitement next to him, the commander observed as some trolls freed his men from their imprisonment. Though they seemed sore and uncomfortable, their moods were high.


    "Next time, maybe we should pay you. Two meals and a nice soft dirt patch to sleep in. Hospitality!" Derik joked, only to turn to his commander respectfully.


    Jale smiled at the comment. "Perhaps."


    Tunskin walked over, his shoulders draped in a cream-colored scale hide. "You men will return to Bogsgate, if you wish my own warriors will ensure you get there."


    "Thank you, chief. My men should be fine though," the commander said, nodding towards James.


    "As you wish. Your horse and cart are north a few paces." The chief followed the comment with a gesture in the direction.


    "May the Guides bring you smooth roads," Sah said, giving a polite nod to the troll.


    He watched his group march off out of the village, knowing he may not see them for a while. Or ever again. At least they¡¯re free and safe.


    Tunskin huffed and untied the ropes encasing his wrists. "Since you demand to travel with the wiked, you can listen with the wiked."


    Jale nodded, lifting himself off the ground. "Of course."


    The smaller man looked up at him. "Without the ropes, you stand even taller. Impressive for one of your kind."


    Offering a sheepish shrug, the tall man remained silent, unsure how to respond to that. His captor led him over to the warlock, who somehow seemed content in his binds.


    He inspected the man with a curiously raised eyebrow. Hung from his wrists, the ginger had his head against the post and had his muscles slacked. Besides the angry exposed skin, he looked happy to be there.


    "Hellspawn, you get to join the commander on his journey to save our world," the troll said, bringing his hands to free the human.


    The warlock sucked his teeth. "Hard pass. Pardon me, Commander, but traveling a broken continent in a cage doesn''t sound as appealing as hanging here being fed twice a day,¡± he hissed.


    Jale scowled at the warlock, resisting the urge to inform him that he was offered food under his watch.


    As Tunskin freed his wrists, the criminal fell forward, hitting the ground with a series of scornful curses. A hearty laugh fell from the troll before the rope around the human''s ankles was undone.


    "You don''t have a choice," Jale mentioned with delight, grabbing his arm to pull him up.


    His captive winced, trying to pull his painful arm away, but failed. "Ugh, I''d rather die."


    Tunskin led the two into a large hut, the building stood strong; made of tanned leather and dull grey wood. While shiny golden scales scattered around the walls glinted in the sun, stating the importance of the house from the surrounding houses.


    Inside the air was several notches cooler, and it smelled of herbs and smoke. Guider''s tools. Knelt on her knees was a familiar troll, her hands were mixing a green smoke trail with a white cloud.


    "Tesk, would you care to explain our prophecy?" the chief asked the female.


    She looked up, pausing in her movements to scan over the humans. "This is who Roon suggested?"


    The male spoke in their language, leaving Jale to glance at his prisoner, who returned the gaze with a weary bored expression. Though an underlying pain could be seen in the green eyes, that wouldn¡¯t make the commander release the blistering arm.


    "Fine, but I demand a strand to confirm his suspicion,¡± Tesk said suddenly in Common.


    "Strand of what?" the ginger asked.


    Tesk stepped over to the men, reaching up to pluck a hair strand from them both despite the warlock¡¯s protest. "Hair. Now we can see who''s supposed to be our savior."


    Tunskin sat on a small fur mat. "Roon thinks it''s the commander, but Jor''al believes it is the warlock. Seeing as humans don''t normally have such... expansive energy ability."


    "Think we¡¯re what?" Jale asked.


    "The hybrid. Our legends passed from the first Guiders back from before we even set foot on this land tells of a hybrid born of two worlds destined to save our lands. Offspring from the Divined Touched race and the Blind race, capable of soothing both the spiritual and physical souls,¡± Tesk explained, returning to her place in front of the fire. ¡°As the Blind race pushes the Divines and Guides away, the land suffers, death and destruction following their spread.


    It''s believed, this savior will soothe the world, and our rains will return. Not only that, but the troubles to the north with the elves would also end. They suffer the most from the poisonous spread." She spoke with an eerie monotonous voice, eyeing both the humans down.


    Under the glare, the taller man dropped his eyes. Perhaps it wouldn''t be too late to back out, the warlock had a point. Being fed twice a day until you bake away in the sun was sounding extremely nice.


    "Wow... Imagine that, our race is poisonous and blind." This was all the smaller human had to say.


    The female searched for a response in her chief, who gave an encouraging nod. She sighed and took a branch of smoking leaves from the fire, it emitted the green smoke and smelled of spice. Snakestail, named for the slender shape of the single-pointed leaves hanging off the branch.


    She placed the plant on a flat wooden plate, taking the red strand in her right hand. The troll laid the hair across the small flame eating one of the leaves with a steady and fluid movement. Shortly after the strand started smoking, she muttered a Trollish prayer, guiding the smoking in a circular pattern.


    With hissed at them, the red hair caught fire, burning away to nothing. With a tsk of her tongue, she repeated the process with the shorter black strand. While guiding the smoke, the trail turned black momentarily, before vanishing. Curling at the ends, the hair refused to catch fire¡ª instead, the leaves extinguished themselves.


    Tunskin stood from his seat, narrow-eyed as he watched the smoke dissipate from the hut.


    "Well... I suppose the Guides have spoken," Tesk said, looking up at Jale.


    "You''re hilarious. Don''t kid yourself, lady. Mutants aren''t allowed power in our society, so how would a hybrid of such bloodline become a commander?¡± The ginger scoffed. ¡°A king''s commander to be exact."


    His prisoner''s words whipped his brain, reinforcing why he worked so hard to hide the truth. "What did the Guides say?"


    Tesk picked up the strand, bringing it over to show them. "You see, they never speak clearly to us, we aren''t elves. But, we know how to read signs, and this sign," She shook the hair lightly, "Tells me that you have elf in you."


    More disbelief spilled from the warlock. "Why would that of all things tell you such an outlandish thing?"


    "Because, L''ineshed,¡± Tesk hissed the Trollish word, ¡°the branch of snakestail is a plant of the Guides, they come to see what we need when it is burned. Since elves are Divined touched, the Guides could never harm them, not physically or figuratively. This includes putting out a flame to prevent a single strand from burning."


    Jale let go of the smaller man''s arm, using the hand to brush through his hair. The coarse and rough strands had always been a pain to hide. Knowing it could''ve easily given him away, he didn''t know even disguised it could still reveal his identity.


    The chief spoke up. "Commander? You''re quiet for hearing such things. Are you more versed in this?"


    Shaking his head, the tall human sighed. "It''s not that. I don''t know much about your culture or practices. I do know many people come to troll Guiders for help, and I trust your knowledge."


    "Then what silences you?"


    Jale brought his gaze to the chief. "Knowing it¡¯s right."


    Tesk gave a semi-relieved sigh, glaring a prideful glance at the ginger. "We listen to what the Guides have to say."


    "You don''t strike me as an elf." His prisoner commented.


    "Half-elf. Mother was an elf..." When he had been given expectant looks, he added. "Father was a human if you''re curious."


    The chief nodded. "Roon had been right. I ask you to take him and Tesk with you on your journey. I''m not sure what the prophecy wants you to do, but please, commander. End the suffering."


    Presented with the new goal, Jale raised his shoulders to bring his frame a touch higher. "Yes, sir."


    "He''s not the king. You can relax. If you know how to," his captive said.


    "Darael Snyder was it?" Tunskin asked the ginger. When given a nod, he continued. "I hope your captor comes to his senses and leaves you here for our soul breakers. No one enjoys folk like you."


    The commander smirked at the silence, bending in a respectful bow. "We shall leave whenever Tesk and Roon are ready, chief."


    Tunskin chuckled. "He''s got a point, don''t forget your mission, but you might as well enjoy the traveling."


    Of course, Darael had been right, this guy had probably never worked hard for anything. If anyone knew how to have fun in even the worst situation it was him. But, with the fate of the world in his hands, could he afford to relax?

 Chapter Three (unnamed)

    "Well, Commander, your men are safe, I''m still your prisoner, and now a troll is going to travel with us. Happy yet?" Darael¡¯s tone was harsh and mocking.


    "I did what I''ve been trained to do. Protect my people and help when I can,¡± Jale said, refusing even a glance towards the criminal.


    He didn''t mind the way the warlock spoke to him, it¡¯s not exactly like he could blame the hostility.


    His prisoner scoffed and muttered under his breath, angry curses that bore no harm.


    Awaiting Tesk and Roon to gather their things, the pair of humans stood in the shade under a tree. It hadn''t reached noon yet, which was good. They would travel with the sun and rest with the moon, no need to travel tired in the unforgiving darkness.


    "All set!" Roon called as he approached.


    The short zerdal had a well-crafted zerdalian bag secured to his back, full of supplies no doubt. Made from leathers and metals not found here, the pack stood out among troll crafts.


    Hey, zerdalian supplies¡­ That gives me an idea. "Roon, have you been to The Market yet?" Jale asked.


    With a shake of his head, Roon opened his arms to gesture to the village. "This was the first place I came across after landing here. I decided to learn the troll way since we don''t have any Trollish towns on my homeland."


    "Well, you won''t be disappointed, we''ll head there first. We need supplies and I know the zerdals will have everything we could need."


    Darael scoffed at the comment. "We have to cross not only the Golden Pastures,¡± he sneered, ¡°but also the Dry Sea? Are you trying to get us killed?"


    The commander laughed at him. "I could drop you off at Selude first if you''d like?"


    Going silent, his prisoner crossed his arms and looked away. Childish maybe, but did its job of getting his thoughts on the journey across.


    Roon''s tail wagged in a light amused manner. "Such interesting behaviors. Is this exclusive to human friends?"


    "What do you mean?" Jale asked, though as soon as he did he squared his jaw in realization. "We are not friends."


    The short man only seemed to gain more amusement and delight at the statement. "Oh, I see!"


    "No, you don''t. In case you missed it, I''m a criminal.¡± Darael tilted his head. ¡°Do you have those where you''re from? I''m supposed to be on my way to punishment right now, but mister ''I must help'' here is going to drag me across the continent to help the trolls." He spoke with a low tone, almost a snarl.


    Confusion swept over the zerdal''s face, and he tilted his head a touch, lowering one ear. "What could possibly be worse than death?"


    Walking over to the shade, Tesk spoke up. "Humans are fragile, their mental strength isn¡¯t high enough to handle torture to the mind. It breaks them down and drives them more insane than pain could ever hope of. Spiritually weak too, soul harming is just as dangerous.¡±


    "What did you do to deserve such a punishment?" Roon questioned the warlock, his eyes scanning the man.


    A soft chuckle escaped the ginger. "Killed my teacher, a lord of the mage council. Isn''t that right, commander?"


    Jale scowled at him and rolled his right shoulder before marching off. "Come on, we''re losing daylight."


    He led his small group out of the village, finding the road with ease, or luck. The three behind him remained silent as they headed down the hardened and bare path. Wagon tracks had carved the road over many years of driving along it, but the drought had made the road solid and easy to walk upon. At least it would make traversing out of the marsh easier.


    After almost an hour of quiet walking, the zerdal perked up with a question. "Jale, may I ask how you became a commander?"


    "What do you mean? I worked for it." The tall man responded.


    "Well, you said human hybrids are... Not allowed to live, so how did you make it?"


    It took Jale a few minutes to pick his words, secretly hoping if he didn''t answer the inquisitive man, he would stop asking questions. But, zerdals were made to learn, and it was his nature to ask when he wanted to know something. Besides, if they survived this dangerous journey, someone had to tell the tale.


    "I don''t know. All I know is my birth parents died because of me and my aunt raised me, I had to find work to support her after my uncle died. Military is always hiring in Bogsgate and they promised support for family if you joined. Like I said, I worked for it."


    This only prompted more questions from the zerdal. "Is your aunt taken care of then?"


    Jale sighed over his shoulder, the blue and brown eyes tracking him while he searched for the warlock. His prisoner remained behind him with the troll, though he had his head down.


    Returning his gaze forward, the commander finally gave a response. "Yes, she has a house and is given a part of my paycheck each week. Her children also help her, which helps in the long run."


    Darael hummed in a soft, curious manner. "That''s not true... The military didn''t want me."


    Stopping in his tracks, the commander turned to face the ginger. "Now, why would the military refuse an unstable, dangerous man who hates authority and could destroy a town if one person made him angry?¡± His right hand found the hilt of his sword. ¡°Sounds like the perfect person to join the military that represents the Selduian kingdom."


    His prisoner came inches in front of him, meeting his harsh glare with an unconcerned and contesting look. "Why would the military accept a lying, illegal, mutant in their representation?"


    Jale narrowed his eyes and straightened his spine to tower over the warlock. Both men could easily end the other¡¯s life, but this didn''t deter either from staring down the other.


    Roon reached his snout up to whisper to the troll, who chuckled softly before stepping forward.


    Pushing the humans away from each other, Tesk growled. "We don''t have time for this. The Market won''t be on the western side for long. If you two want to fight over nothing, wait until we''re resting at night." She scolded them, marching past to lead the way.


    Jale scowled a deep frown before following the troll. I hope the king''s elves tear him apart. A fate worse than death suits him, undivine monster. His poisonous thoughts swirled around his head, fouling his mood even more than the dried marsh or heat. It wasn''t good to wish such harm onto another person, but this warlock triggered his anger like nobody he''s ever met before.


    The sun seemed to hunt them as they traveled along the path, the scent and pressure of a promised storm had faded away without even a drop. Divines must have cursed the land, and he wouldn''t have blamed them if they had.


    No matter what had caused the drought, the drained and withering plants seemed to bow before the sky in prayer for moisture. Each leaf wrinkled and curled, their faded green-brown color never failed to remind everyone how bad the wetlands really were.


    Behind him, he could hear the zerdal quietly chatting to the shorter human, not close or clear enough to understand what he was saying. But he knew by the tone what they were talking about, Roon sounded as if he attempted to calm the warlock.


    Tesk dropped back a few steps so she walked beside the commander, though she remained silent for now. But he knew what she was doing.


    "What do you want?" he asked after a few moments.


    The troll snorted a Trollish phrase before looking up at him. "Can you hunt?"


    Though caught off guard by the question, he nodded. Of course, I can hunt, but what do you want from me?


    She returned his nod. "Good. Sun is highest now, we should stop and get some water. Do you wish to hunt and eat now, or later?"


    Jale brought his eyes up to the sun, squinting at the light before returning his attention to his companion. "Right now the animals will be resting right? We could try to find some hiding in the shade, but I don''t want to spend too much energy hunting hidden creatures."


    The woman nodded. "There''s a spring nearby, we should rest there. Let your prisoner get out of the sun and soothe his burns."


    "Leave him unwatched?"


    "Roon can watch him, besides do you think he''ll run? Does he know where we are? Can he survive the bog?"


    She had a point, the warlock hasn''t attempted to get away even with the chances he''s had. The young man must not have enough survival skills to confidently run away from them.


    "Fine." Jale reluctantly gave in.


    Tesk gave a nod and pointed towards a treetop that peeked through the other vegetation. "The spring is behind that tree, let me tell them what we''re doing."


    He studied the tree, it had been brighter and appeared to be happier. Leaves perked up and shone with a healthy blue tint, definitely a sign of water. As the troll dropped behind him, he turned off the path and headed through the bushes.


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    A small game trail led through the plants and towards the green brush, as Jale walked through the small path he saw the greenery growing brighter. Faint trickling brought attention to a small natural fountain, it couldn''t be far now with how happy the plants looked.


    Sure enough, under a large tree sat a clear pool of running water. The liquid had been rising from the ground, before flowing down a small decline and towards a creek that ran away. Surrounding the little pond was thick vegetation that created a green wall of privacy and protection.


    A beautiful spot for a midday rest, I just wish the rest of the marsh still looked like this. Jale commented to himself before unsheathing his sword, the red-tinted blade cut some of the branches off with ease. He took the branches and piled them neatly, planning to use the leaves to rest the food on. By the time he had cleared a circular area for a fire, the rest of his party had shown up.


    After the camp was made, Tesk took the commander to bring back food. She had given a spare bow to the man, though smaller than he''d had liked he could and would use it. They chose to head down another small trail, and he let the troll lead the way.


    "Can you track?" she asked once far enough away from the camp.


    Looking up from the ground at her, he gave a hesitant nod. "Sure, but from what I know trolls are the best trackers in the world."


    Though appearing flattered, the woman shook her head. "We are, but I want to see what you can do."


    Jale didn''t know how to feel from that. It made sense, but also worried him, why did the skilled tracker want to see his skills instead of leading the way to find an animal easily? Seemed like too much of a risk to him.


    Passing the female, he guided his companion down the path. Watching the ground for signs of an animal, they moved for a good while before he found anything. In the hardened dirt were a set of scratches, about three markings that looked like something had dragged a foot over the ground in a limping motion.


    The tall man crouched down to examine what he found, his finger traced the shape formed in the soil. Triangular shapes with a long point spaced pretty decently apart¡ª perhaps two feet. Curious, definitely an animal but the question was, which one did they belong to? Deer wouldn''t weigh enough to leave a track in the hard ground, but boars shouldn''t be that small and alone and elk or horses don''t normally wander this south.


    Observing his surroundings, he spotted a broken branch from a bush. Moving closer, he could tell it had been bitten, not snapped, the edges were too shredded. That eliminated the deer idea, elk and horses could still be an option though, and the most likely. Boar.


    "Not a deer, I think it''s a boar trail... Unless a horse or elk wandered too far south of course," Jale said, standing back up.


    His company watched him with a neutral expression. Even without an expression, he could tell she was judging him.


    Give me some sort of acknowledgment... Tell me I''m wrong or something. He quietly pondered her reaction before moving down the path once more. Eyes trained to the ground for more signs of the beast they were now tracking, finding more impressions as he walked.


    Stopping at the edge of a thicket, Jale peered into the thick bushes; into the side where a hole had been forced through the vegetation. An obvious sign that something had gone into the thicket to hide.


    Not much to do other than inspect the plants to see if something was in there currently. Crouching down once more, he stared into the thicket. It took him a good moment before he saw it; a large dark figure that blended perfectly into the shaded cover of the bushes, the creature had its head down to hide its identity.


    With quiet and slow movements, he removed the bow from his torso. He could feel the movements the troll behind him made, even without seeing her he knew she readied her axes.


    Trained on the hidden creature, the tall man took an arrow from his hip quiver. His skilled hands notched the feathered stick along the bowstring, a fluid display of strength as it was pulled back. Tension vibrated through the weapon while he aimed the sharpened tip, laced with a film that glistened menacingly.


    A slow inhale filled his lungs, the dry air a harsh but familiar sting. He steadied the arrow onto the shape, and with a carefully balanced position, he turned his foot. The thick heel in his boot scratched the dirt with a dull crunch, causing the beast to lift its head to investigate.


    His fingers let go.


    With a violent and harsh squeal, the figure burst out of the thicket; crashing into one of the trees before rushing into the clearing.


    Jale sprang up and used every extra inch his mother gave him to travel across the ground and chase his prey. His companion reacted when he was already up and moving, it would''ve reminded him how great his reflexes were. If he wasn''t already focused on the hunt.


    In the sunlight, he could see the creature had indeed been a small boar, perhaps a young one. The various shades of brown shimmered under the sun, glistening an angry flash of red. Large boils grew and bubbled along its body and when the boils shrunk they appeared to melt along the boar. Dark brown armor solidified on the previously normal animal, embracing its body and even covered under the soft belly. An extra plate stretched over its large head, covering the throat and snout.


    Tesk joined his side, staring down at the angry beast. Sticking out from the neck the arrow had been infused with the armor.


    "Good luck hurting it now." The woman grunted, spinning one of her axes.


    He didn''t have to look at her to see the disappointment, she thought his move to shoot the boar had been a bad one.


    "We don''t have to, just don''t get hit."


    As he spoke, the animal threw its head and charged, its hind leg barely moved and dug into the ground. The long tusks jutting from its face were sharp and stained from previous stabbings.


    Jale used his bow to smack the top of the boar¡¯s head, it created a thud that rang out, but the creature didn''t flinch. It threw its head at the weapon and the commander used the force to propel himself over the beast. His bow creaked a warning but didn''t snap.


    The troll laughed at the way the animal slid to a confused stop, though it died down when she became the target. Although the boar squealed a sharp warning and charged again, this one had been sloppy. It stumbled over its front legs and missed the troll by several inches.


    Standing there, the creature wobbled and gave a weak croak-like grunt, turning towards the commander with hate in its brown eyes. A single step forward caused the beast to fall onto its belly.


    Jale crept over to the fallen animal, it wheezed and struggled, but could not rise. He put his bow down as he approached, with a single hand resting on the boar¡¯s snout, he removed his dagger and slid it into the creature''s eye.


    A sickening squelch signaled the blade reached the soft target. With this simple movement, the animal fell limp and its life drained away.


    He couldn''t shake the pressure in his head, but he ignored it. Instead, he muttered a soft thanks to the Divines and removed his blade. Now dead, the meagikal armor faded off the boar, allowing him to take his arrow back.


    Tesk approached him. "Well, you surprised me. I didn''t know humans used poisons."


    Jale looked up at the troll. "I find it''s easier to poison the beasts here than attempt to fight with brute strength."


    The woman gave an amused huff. "Smartest human I''ve met."


    He wiped the blood and juice off his blade with a small cloth before returning it to its sheath. Grabbing his bow, he stood, bringing this boar back would be hard, even if it was small it still weighed at least 300 pounds.


    "You don''t get to train and command the military without some intuitive thinking. Now, how are we taking this back?"


    The woman put her own blades away before crouching next to the beast. With a soft grunt and a Trollish curse, she lifted the creature onto her shoulder.


    "Easy enough. We didn''t go far."


    Jale watched her for a moment. A very impressive display of trollish strength, a reason any sane person feared them. They''re capable of ripping you limb from limb, why he doubted her ability to lift a small boar he had no idea.


    With a nod, he led her back down the path to the camp. They walked in silence which didn''t bother him, it allowed him to ponder the hunt and in turn his pressing headache. Figuring it was from lack of water, he settled on drinking when they got back even if he didn''t feel thirsty.


    A glance at the sun would tell him they had been gone an hour, the hottest hour of the day passed already and would encourage traveling after lunch. He just hoped the others would want to move. Darael would probably not, he seemed like the type to enjoy luxury and hate the life of a traveler. That thought only made him set his mind on getting back on the road after they ate, and as they stepped into their makeshift camp he knew it would happen.


    Roon had made a fire, and one of them had made a small bench-like object to sit on. But no building or shelter, which told him the zerdal knew they needed to keep moving.


    "Oh my! That should keep us fed for several days!" The small humanoid exclaimed.


    The warlock gave a glance but didn''t express his thoughts on the boar or even Tesk''s impressive strength. He had been sitting on the stone slab with a stick in his hands and looked rather annoyed at their return.


    "It should. If we ration it right I think it''ll keep us happily fed for at least half a week," Jale said.


    Roon perked his ears. "You think it''ll last five days?"


    The troll placed the beast on the leafy branches with a small sound, then she turned to the men and nodded. "I agree, boars are dense and full of edible meat, and heavy bones that make good soup."


    "You expect us to eat the bones?" Darael asked in dismay.


    Jale turned to the shorter man. "Yes. Unless you want to leave the bones behind and hunt for us next time."


    "You think I can''t hunt?"


    The commander gave the man a hard look over, wide shoulders and a strong build said he should''ve been a great warrior. Warlock talents and pure entitlement told him he was not a good fighter. A taunting smirk filled his lips as he met the green gaze once more.


    "I know you can''t hunt. You''d be too loud, too clumsy... Can you even pull a bowstring back? How about throw a dagger? Say you could, which I doubt, are you quick enough to dodge a raging beast if you didn''t kill it with a well-aimed shot?" He berated the ginger without hesitation, hoping to put him in his place.


    Roon stepped off to the side, crouching next to the boar with the troll. Quietly observing and staying out of the humans'' behavior while helping Tesk skin and prepare the beast.


    Darael tilted his head a touch. "So, because I was gifted with energy that you''re jealous of... I can''t hunt? Or from what you said, fight at all?"


    "Have you had to do anything even remotely hard? If I gave you a sword could you put up a good fight?"


    "Oh, pardon me mister ''had to get a job young to support my poor family'' if I grew up in a better place than your mutant ass. I still had to work, I still had to learn life skills. Besides... We both know you wouldn''t dare give such a dangerous criminal a weapon."


    The commander snorted in anger, his hand wrapping around the handle of his sword. "So, you learned good skills then wasted all your time and efforts by resorting to thievery, maegik manipulation, arson, threatening, assault, and murder? I''m sure your parents are very proud of what you did with your life."


    "I wasted my life? At least I have fun. I don''t spend my entire life being stern and strict and forcing unreasonably high standards. My parents love me... Can you say the same?"


    Jale pulled his lips back in a snarl, forceful steps brought him up to the warlock. "My parents died so I could live. Yours sent you across the ocean to get away from you."


    "I chose to move here on my own! Because great kingdom Seludance is full of ways to help me.¡± With both hands, the ginger shoved him back. ¡°But instead, I found control freaks who can''t stand anyone with an ounce of natural power."


    Gritting his teeth, the commander released his sword, only to lunge and grab the smaller male''s shirt collar. Pulling him close and off-balance he growled into his face. "Don''t hit me."


    Though fear sparked in the green eye, Darael hissed back. "Or what."


    Flexed fingers strained the cloth in his hands, but the tall man paused to think over what he could do to display dominance without really harming the guy. He released his grip and brought his hand over his own shoulder, tension rippled through his muscles for a second. A snap sound accompanied the movement his hand made, the back of his hand hit the sun-burnt man''s red face.


    "Don''t hit me," Jale repeated before backing off to get some water.


    The warlock turned his head away at the slap, keeping his eyes away from all the other people. An angry mark was prominent on his already burnt skin.


    The commander scowled to himself as he settled on the shoreline a good few feet away from the camp. This has to be his doing, fucking warlock is probably trying to get into my head¡­ Maybe that¡¯s what this headache is. Not dehydration, but a manipulation spell. I can¡¯t wait to be free of him.

 The Dry Sea

    Hot rays shone down on the party, slowing their already tedious travel quite a bit. Because the savanna had even less humidity than the drought-ridden marsh and rainforest, the midday heat was unbearable. They had been on the road for about three weeks now and Roon expected them to be on the edge of the savanna in barely an hour which meant they were almost to the hostile desert.


    Since Jale had physically hit the warlock, the humans haven''t said a real sentence towards each other, and he kept a stern rein over what the ginger could do. Both the others seemed to think they were both overreacting with the zerdal taking every chance to attempt to get them to talk to each other. Now that they were in the more open area the commander''s paranoia on losing the criminal had died down, but he still refused to treat him as an equal.


    Currently, the party was resting at the small pond on the edge of the biome. A small shelter had been built by previous travelers long ago, free to stay in and use. Provided you cleaned up after yourself, of course.


    With freshwater sitting still, bugs had become an issue that most of them hadn''t had to deal with in ages. Poor Darael seemed to be the tastiest, with the mosquitoes biting him twice as often as the others. Even with Roon¡¯s natural herbal mixtures to repel them.


    Jale was crouched on the shore, inspecting the water. Unlike their other resting areas, this time he agreed the liquid should be purified. Larva and fish swam around and it smelled... Stagnant. Wouldn''t kill them, but would definitely go down easier if boiled. The zerdal had begun that process, while the warlock took refuge inside the hut with the troll.


    At least the scenery had improved during their last week of travel. Dry, yet tough, grass grew long and vibrant here, and few trees provided shade with huge wide tops. It was cooler here, and a gentle breeze brought even more relief through the arid atmosphere.


    "Perhaps we should head straight to The Market... This is a lot of water and I feel stopping at the Pool would be unnecessary." Roon had voiced his thoughts a bit randomly, catching the commander off guard.


    He turned his attention to the short furry man. "It would be a full week of travel, perhaps more if the heat really harms our pace."


    His company shrugged. "Better than spending extra nights out there without protection."


    "I guess you''re right. Last thing we need is a sand creature tearing us apart."


    The zerdal chuckled. "Provided the spark snakes don''t get you first."


    Jale tilted his head in a semi playful manner. "Me? I''d be more worried about that warlock. Acts like he''s never been outside before."


    The other man studied the commander for a moment, taking in his playful eyes but serious tone. "Not everyone has to feel the harsh nature. Is that not what prosperity means?"


    "Every man should know how to make a fire though."


    "Darael has made most of our fires," Roon said, dropping his ears a touch.


    He averted his gaze, instead looking down at the water once more. "I mean the normal way."


    His companion stirred the pot before using the ladle to pour the clean drink into the canteens. Silence overcame them while he did this, which Jale didn''t mind one bit.


    The zerdal took a deep breath. "If you could clean mud off your boots with a wave of your hands, why would you want to scrub the caked soil off your boots ever again?"


    "Because work leads to real rewards. Cheating only hurts you."


    Roon chattered softly, a sign of annoyance, and seemed to give up. No more curious eyes or expectant analysis. Just quiet judgment.


    Whatever he can assume what he wants. A natural maegik using human is a mock to the Divines. He complained to himself, stretching his legs out from their folded position. They still had so much land to cover, and in all honesty¡ª he still had no idea what the trolls wanted him to do.


    Soft ground that almost melted under their steps had slowed the pace in half once entering the desert. And the further they got into the Dry Sea, the softer the sand got. It had taken over a week and miles of sand to reach the grand city of the nomads.


    When dusk would settle into the horizon, the group gained speed in the cool relief. Unfortunately, as nice as it was, it didn''t last long. Once the sun sets completely, the land freezes over. Jale couldn''t exactly complain about the warlock''s skills when they sat huddled under a solid shelter Darael had built with maegik. Though the cramped sleeping positions unnerved him, he managed to sleep, and a good thing too. They had really needed their strength. Thankfully on the twelfth day of traveling, the enticing scents of food and civilization urged them over their last dune.


    A sprawling city of hide tents and covered wagons welcomed anyone who dared come this far. Walking down the small marked road, the group passed through a long stretch of trading shops. Anything you could imagine had been out on display, herbs, tools, furs, scales, animal parts. Literally everything.


    Roon looked so happy here, his ears stood as tall as possible, and his tail never stopped moving. The western zerdal brought attention to them with many of the natives greeting them and offering a meal, but Jale knew where they must go, who they must visit.


    Even the humans were relaxing and smiling at the friendly air and behavior of the small fox race. Wares and food caught all four of their eyes more than once, but they didn''t stop to look. Some of the zerdals seemed to be observing Jale with interest, but he didn''t pay it any mind.


    The commander led them to the center of the village, scanning the less crowded area for a familiar face¡­


    "Jale Vadren?" a rough but intrigued voice called.


    Turning, he spotted a light creamy-colored zerdal sitting in front of a grand hut. Matching the furs that built the home, this man wore a small cloak from a white animal, the milky drape both standing out and fitting in perfectly.


    "Rardor!" He responded, bringing the group over to him.


    Roon bounded over to stand next to the tall human, eager to meet this person.


    "I never ever thought I''d see you here. Let alone so soon! It must be something very important." The tan zerdal thought out loud before looking at the black zerdal. "Always a good day when our cousins cross the ocean to say hi!"


    Jale let the two greet each other, yips and growls exchanged, with Roon even giving a spin for the other. Even if it was important, one can''t interrupt a greeting.


    "Beautiful!" Rardor exclaimed. "Now. What brings you here Commander?" he asked, bringing his yellow eyes back up to the tall man.


    "Well, we need supplies to travel. That, and your advice is always appreciated."


    The lighter zerdal examined the group before him, trailing his gaze over the troll with great curiosity before settling them on the warlock.


    "You poor thing... Sun has not been kind to you. Come, get out of the heat and we''ll see what we can do." Rardor offered, standing up to pull the flap to the hut open.


    "Oh thank the Divines," Darael muttered, being the first to enter.


    Inside the house was cozy, but not as tight as their traveling shelter. They were offered seats on cushions of various colors and patterns and a bowl of stew.


    "Tell me, commander, why did you come all this way to ask for supplies? You haven''t been stripped of your title have you?" the light zerdal asked once everyone had food and a seat.


    Jale stirred his food aimlessly. "No no, I''m fine. But Darael over there is preventing us from walking into a human city for supplies. That and I thought we could get aid."


    The ginger sneered in pure distaste at him, eating his food silently.


    Rardor observed the two for a moment. "And, why is that?"


    "He''s wanted for treason. Oh, I''ve been missing for half a month now, two whole moon faces. If I walked into a city they wouldn''t let me leave for a while," he replied, giving an equal glare at the other.


    Tesk hadn''t looked up from her bowl, but she didn''t have to. "They''ve been this way the whole journey here. Best to ignore it. Are you well versed in prophecies?"


    "Of course, I knew the moment I saw you accompanying Jale what you folk wanted,¡± their host said.


    Jale brought his eyes to Rardor. "If you knew, why did you ask me anyway?"


    The tan zerdal''s solid-colored tail curled and unfurled casually. "I had to see for myself if it was true what Roon told me."


    "About what?" Darael asked.


    Roon chuckled and put his bowl down. "Don''t you worry about that now."


    Rardor stood. "I have a proposal for you, Jale. If you''ll pardon me one moment to get the items."


    The tall man watched his old friend leave the house, but when he brought his attention back to his group Tesk had been staring at him. "What?" he asked her.


    With a shrug, the troll finished her stew before speaking. "How do you know the head of The Market?"


    Jale cleared his throat and shook his head. "Ah, well... Chance."


    Darael finally spoke up. "He''s a commander. He has to know the figures of power, in case they become a threat." A soft snarl spread across his own lips.


    "That''s not true. I happened upon him before he became the Head thank you. Who do you know, swine? Jail mates? I''m sure they treated you well, and hopefully, you''ll be reunited soon enough."


    Roon dropped his ears, watching the humans stare each other down. The creature of love didn''t understand why these two people couldn''t get along.


    Before the two could do anything more than glare, Rardor returned with a bundle wrapped in leather. The light zerdal laid the gift on the ground in the middle of the group. This bundle stole Jale''s focus, being lured to look at the leather.


    "You may have noticed some of the Marketeers showing interest in a certain item you carry," Rardor explained, undoing the bindings to reveal a spread of weapons.


    On the left sat a longbow made of blue shaded wood and a short flint-headed spear. In the middle; a broad sword that looked nearly identical to his own, and a pair of pale metal axes. Sitting on the right was a golden dagger and an empty spot.


    Tesk leaned over and admired the tools. "I''m glad to see you care for them well."


    "Of course, we would never disrespect a culture by damaging or degrading their crafts."


    Jale ran a finger of the sword hilt on his hip. "You want my blade? But you already have an orcish sword."


    Darael snorted a laugh but didn''t speak a word.


    After shooting him a silencing glare, the commander removed his sheath and laid it along the spread. "Well, yours looks a bit older."


    Rardor wagged his tail lightly. "Human arrogance is purely unique. Your weapon is only a mere imitation dear Jale. Crafted by humans, stolen from orcs."


    The commander furrowed his brows a touch, confusion and vague interest sparking in his eyes. "How can you tell?"


    His friend held his hand out, to which the human handed him the sword. The zerdal removed it from the protective case, while Roon did the same to the orcish broadsword. Rardor held them side by side, and in this manner, the differences stood out better.


    The commander''s sword was paler than the real orc-crafted blade and the hilt had been wrapped in boar leather. Though he couldn''t identify what the Orcish broadsword had been wrapped with, he knew it wasn''t boar. His sword also had a smaller guard and the blade had his military branch branded in the center.


    "Orcish crafts are expensive. We can''t blame your ingenuity for making your own weapons." Roon commented, returning the weapons to their sheaths.


    Jale tilted his head and pondered over this information. Boy did he feel stupid now.


    "Honestly, it''s odd you didn''t know your own weapon''s origins," Darael said, his mocks aimed right at the other''s pride.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    But the taunt missed its mark and the commander glanced at the warlock but didn''t give a hostile look or snarky come back. No, he found himself gazing at the weapons in front of him¡ª namely the bow.


    Tesk grunted something in her tongue, causing both the zerdals to return a comment in trollish.


    It''s a well-crafted bow... That wood is it... Shimmering? Stained no doubt, natural blue trees never remain that color once harvested. Jale thought while admiring the ranged tool.


    "Jale?" the light zerdal asked.


    He looked up at the creature. "Hmm?"


    A small smile spread over Rardor''s lips. "Interested in a trade? I noticed your hip quiver, but lack of a bow."


    "Why is that?" Tesk asked.


    "My bow was stolen, but I always carry my quiver when traveling,¡± the commander said.


    Roon had been caught staring at the hide container strapped to the tall man''s thigh. "How do the arrows stay in place?"


    Amused, Jale smiled and removed the quiver to let the inquisitive creature inspect it.


    "The arrows latch to a magnetic rock." Rardor hummed softly.


    "An elven technique." Darael scoffed. "Yes, they put a rock in the thing on your leg, very smart. Give them a hand for the ingenuity."


    Jale pierced through the warlock with his blue gaze. "You''re just jealous I have something more interesting to share. Attention whore."


    The warlock seemed a tad pleased at the show of annoyance. "At least I''m an attention seeker and not a real whore like your mother."


    Within a single moment, the commander launched himself towards the smaller man with balled fists¡ª and with a forceful impact¡ª made contact. His knuckles met the hot angry skin of the paler man, but his target hadn''t been clear. He smacked at the other''s arms and threw a few punches at his sides, but tried not to do serious harm.


    With a cry from Darael, who brought his arms up to protect his face, he could feel the fear. It radiated from both the man under him and someone behind him. His onslaught didn''t last very long and ended abruptly.


    Jale locked up, unable to move much anymore while a tingling ran up his spine.


    "Get off me hot-headed swine!" the warlock exclaimed, pushing him away to stand.


    Pain split through his body and once pushed back, he collapsed to the ground. Writhing as much as he physically could without the ability to move.


    "Darael. Stop it. You''re hurting him." Rardor demanded, standing to get involved.


    "Everyone loves the illegal mutant more than the gifted mutant. He attacked me!"


    Roon stepped over and took the ginger''s arm. "Yes, but you did call his mother a whore... Please stop it. You got him back, now stop it."


    Darael pulled his arm away, his burnt skin already growing purple and blue with bruises. "Don''t. Touch me. I can''t stop it, I''m doing it."


    Jale couldn''t focus on the conversation any longer, his mind-melting pain taking all his attention. Not able to keep his eyes working, they rolled back and he closed them. Stars crept around the edges of the darkness, threatening to steal him away. As sudden as it came it vanished. Freed from the constricting pain he coughed and grunted, rolling onto his stomach to get up. But he couldn''t, it had been as if all his strength had been stolen away.


    "Needless violence in the presence of a Divine gift... Shame." A voice stabbed his mind.


    He gave a confused sound, trying to figure out where it had come from.


    "And to a gifted... You should apologize!" the voice hissed.


    Gentle pressure from a hand resting on his shoulder forced his eyes open. He saw the cream-colored zerdal peering down at him with concern. Behind him, the commander noticed the warlock storming out of the house with Tesk following.


    "You should be careful," Rardor said, sitting next to him.


    Jale grumbled an unintelligible sentence, shifting his weight to sit up. Luckily his old friend helped.


    "Here, drink this."


    He was offered a shallow cup filled with a purple liquid. Smelled like fruit and dirt, but he knew what it was; cactus wine. While he sipped on the smooth but bitter drink, the two creatures chittered to each other about his outburst.


    Soon Roon turned his head to study the human. "Your mother was an elf right?"


    Without the strength to speak, the commander nodded an affirmation instead.


    Rardor flicked his muzzle towards the weapons and the darker zerdal nodded, fetching the bow with great care.


    The light zerdal turned his yellow gaze to the wooden weapon. "It''s possible... That you may have a deeper connection to an elven gift than we thought before. I offer you this bow for your sword."


    I''ve had this sword for years, it was a gift. Do I want to trade away a piece of my humanity for an elven weapon? His mind swirled for a moment, unsure if he wanted to say goodbye to the only weapon he''s mastered over the years.


    "I¡ª I don''t know. It was a gift, a congratulations..." Jale muttered.


    His friend patted his leg and nodded. "I can respect that. At least hold it before you decide."


    The human reached a hand out almost involuntarily at the permission granted. His shaky fingers wrapped around the blue-tinted bow, settling in the carved grip. Strange soothing energy washed over him and it showed in the way his eyes perked and posture improved. He brought the skillfully crafted weapon up to inspect it.


    Now close to his face, he could see the wood¡¯s grain naturally had a marble pattern. A beautiful weapon smooth to the touch, with a strong string woven from a material he didn¡¯t recognize. The object made him happy to be in the presence of, though he couldn''t explain why.


    "It''s beautiful, no?" Roon asked, his big two-toned gaze admiring the craft.


    "It is... And it''s long, you can tell it was crafted for a tall person," the commander said.


    Rardor chuckled lightly. "Elves need the longbows. This one, in particular, is made from the Bleeding Tree, a traditional weapon gifted to elves who succeed in the annual hunt. To make the wood gift into anything else is forbidden."


    Jale only grew more enamored to learn the history of the object. Imagine an actual gift from the Bleeding Tree, being all yours.


    "Perhaps you should sleep on it, your group must be weary from traveling all the way from Bogsgate to here." The light zerdal suggested, placing his hand on the bow to lower it.


    The commander nodded, laying the weapon down respectfully. "Okay, you''re right. I suppose I can decide in the morning before we leave."


    Rardor hummed in amusement or admiration. "You need to learn how to slow down and enjoy where you are. It''s always the goal for you, never the journey."


    He looked down at his old friend, a soft smile staining his lips. "So I''ve been told. I''m just eager to help the trolls so I can return home, and finally, turn that disgrace to the kingdom."


    Roon sighed. "You make me feel as if I was wrong. Hopefully, you''ll see what needs to be done before it''s too late."


    Rardor gave a soft bark, a zerdalian command. Not a common thing to hear, but it told Jale the dark zerdal had overstepped a boundary.


    "One thing you should know," the light zerdal said, "Men sleep in one side and women in the other, and since we''re busier than usual you and Darael must share a hut."


    Jale scowled at the thought. "Fine."


    His friend leaned close and whispered to him. "No more fighting, you don''t know what it''s doing to you."


    The commander searched the yellow gaze staring up at him, wondering what the elusive words meant exactly. Why can''t anyone tell me things straightforward? Why must we do a roundabout conversation to which I misinterpret and nobody benefits?


    Growing aware that someone was staring at him from behind prompted him to avert his gaze. Without another word, he stood up, offered a farewell bow, and walked out into the heat. Bright, though fading, light bounced off the white sand and blinded him for several seconds. He had to pause until his vision adjusted before continuing his path, headed towards the inn Square.


    Rows off smaller houses stretched this area, and plenty of people rested in the provided shade. Roon had chased him, walking beside him to show where their hut was.


    The small man led him to a building made of dark red hides and dull grey wood. Each inn room was made slightly different, using different materials to help sort the travelers. Fittingly, they were assigned the hut made of marsh native supplies.


    When he pulled the flap open and stepped in, he had been met with a most displeasing sight; Darael. The ginger sat on one of the four cots, cradling his legs with his knees under his chin.


    "I''m going to go request supplies. Please don''t kill each other, I like my cross-sea cousins." Roon pleaded, giving a stern look to Jale.


    Before he could think of a reply, the short man scurried off. Leaving them with stale air and hostile positioning.


    "I''m sorry."


    The apology rang out, a lonely call in the still air. With large saddened eyes, Darael looked up at the tall man.


    "What?" the warlock asked, his brows furrowing in doubt.


    Jale peered down into the emotion-stained emeralds. "I stepped out of line, I''m sorry."


    His companion remained silent for a minute, before scoffing softly as if to counter it. But nothing ever came.


    "I''m blinded by shadows of the Wiked... I promise not to hurt you again."


    Darael picked his head up. "I''m still your prisoner, calm down. I deserved it anyway."


    Jale shook his head and straightened his stance. "Nonsense. When we''re done the king''s elves will have their way with you, you''ll get what you deserve. I''m simply your... hmm... Escort."


    The ginger snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah."


    Make it super hard to be friendly, perfect. He moved his gaze to scan the cots on each side of the circular building. Lined with various thick furs and wonderfully woven quilts, they seemed cozy and inviting. The beds also appeared to be made for the average orc, which made sense. Orcs often come by to trade their metal crafts for exotic materials, and they were the biggest race.


    The commander found his way to one of the beds, sitting on it to feel the fur. As he got comfortable with his legs folded over each other, the other man made a sound to draw his attention.


    "You''re missing your sword. I didn''t think you went anywhere without it."


    "Well, Rardor offered a trade... But, I also forgot about it, my head still hurts." Jale responded.


    Darael tilted his head, his cheek laying on his knee. "What would make you consider leaving such a decorated piece of authority."


    "The bow," The tall man said casually, before sighing. "I want it, I don''t know why. It''s like I''m drawn to it."


    His company hummed as if intrigued. "Elven weapon compelling to a half-elf. Where''s my shock..."


    The warlock''s comment actually made the commander crack a smile. It was perfectly reasonable when put like that, but the sword was his. Who had owned the bow?


    "I wish the choice was as easy as that logic."


    With a shrug, Darael looked away. "Sleep on it. But, to what it''s worth if it''s elven and you''re drawn to it. Could it really hurt to take the offer? Besides... A quiver without a bow isn''t a good look."


    Jale laughed gently, more or less out of courtesy. "That''s what I plan on doing."


    The pale man looked over towards the door. "Do we get a wagon? I don''t think I could survive another trek on foot through the sand..."


    "Yes, I told Roon to get us one. He says he can drive them, why pass up a faster means of travel?"


    He knew that even though he struggled with the desert landscape, his human companion felt that tenfold. The sun alone hated his pearl skin, add the soft sand that showed the man''s true core strength and you had one miserable week.


    Perhaps I should''ve just left him with the trolls... Would''ve saved him a lot of pain I''m sure. Jale contemplated before giving a yawn and shaking his head.


    "I''ll ask Rardor for some herbs for your burns. No reason you should suffer at the mercy of the sun too."


    Darael hummed a form of gratitude but seemed lost in his own head.


    Accepting what the man wanted, the taller male nodded to himself and repositioned to settle into the furs. The comforting call of rest beckoned him, but he fought it for a few more moments. Since the night was almost here he knew he needed to bundle, even if he wasn''t cold right now. As he slid himself under the warmth of the quilts, his eyes wandered to the warlock. The ginger still sat on the bed, curled with his arms around his legs. Hopefully, he was alright.


    "So... Did you pick?" the rough, but sweet, voice of Rardor questioned.


    Jale nodded, bowing his head and holding out his own blade. "I did. I decided I would be insane to pass up the offer to have a bow of such importance."


    The light zerdal grinned and wagged his tail. "A good trade. Thank you!"


    As they exchanged the weapons, the commander admired his new bow. Knowing he¡¯d miss the melee weapon even if the bow was better, he decided to secure it to his torso before wanted to cancel the trade.


    "I agree." Roon watched with curious eyes, zerdals always found a trade interesting. Even if it wasn''t their own, but he seemed to be interested in something else.


    "Jale, I wish you luck, and I trust you''ll find what''s waiting your fate. I hope we''ve been of good assistance and remember you''ll always welcome under my roof," his old friend said.


    Offering a fond smile, the commander bowed. "Thanks, you''ve been a big help. Should come visit if you''re ever in town again... Don''t expect me to crawl across the desert again."


    Rardor chuckled deep and genuine. "Trust your company a bit, Roon is an excellent traveler, and Tesk one of the best navigators."


    Jale could''ve taken that and left, but as he stood something poked his mind. "What about Darael?"


    "A powerful warlock. Humans aren''t built for natural energy, but he seems to be handling it better than most. Loosen up a bit, you''re more threatening than you think."


    I expected nothing less from him, zerdals can''t say anything bad about someone... Even though he sighed, he nodded. "I''ll try. Trade well."


    His strides carried him over to a small cart; gold wood built the frame, with dark ebony planks forming the front bench. No hitch or place for an animal, just a balanced three-wheeled wagon. Zerdalian transportation is centered around the knowledge that no animal should carry their loads through the desert. Instead, they''re powered by maegik.


    Roon hurried after him and even beat him to the vehicle, climbing up into the driver seat with zeal.


    Jale inspected the back, it had three bags of goods; one with non-perishables, the second had fruit and the last one held various road necessities. Aside from that, there bags there were some hide bedrolls, good for all environments.


    Tesk approached from the women¡¯s huts. "We ready to leave already?"


    The commander nodded back. "Yep! Helps to have friends in high places.¡± A soft chuckle. "Or a zerdal who encouraged everyone here to help."


    The troll laughed before leaving him to claim the remaining space up front. While the tall man knew she''d pick that seat, it had become clear to him those two were fond of each other, he didn''t want to share the back. Especially not with the human.


    Sitting in the back with Darael doesn''t seem very joyous... Don''t have much choice, though. As he thought his complaints, the soft crunches of footsteps on the sand brought him to glance behind himself. Speak of the Wiked¡­


    Darael approached with a careful poise, he seemed happier today. His body swayed a bit with the red cape of hair trailing behind, the most noticeable change lay in the pearly skin lighter once more. The zerdals had offered natural creams made from herbs to heal the burns and it had helped a lot.


    "So... Where are we headed now? Somewhere cooler I hope," the warlock asked and commented as he climbed into the wagon.


    Jale hadn''t realized his eyes lingered until the words were spoken. He shook his head and followed the shorter man into the vehicle. "Gro''lun. Rardor believes the orcs can help you, and I need a new blade."


    The troll breathed out a soft sigh of dismay. "We should head to the elves. They are the only ones who can really help."


    "Orcs first. The grassland is hostile and I refuse to step foot there with an unstable source of energy." The commander demanded.


    His companions quieted down, with the ginger averting his gaze to gander at the city around them. Perhaps he had been a bit too stern.


    He softened his tone to add. "We''ve been in this drought for almost twenty years. A few more months won''t hurt anyone."


    Tesk hummed before speaking in her native tongue, to which Roon nodded.


    Jale settled into the side of the wagon, sitting with his back against the wall dividing the storage with the bench. "We''ll be fine..."

 Chapter Five (unnamed)

    Crackling of a hungry flame kept Jale company while he awaited the three others to build a shelter. An unexpected sandstorm had halted them yesterday and set them off schedule. In a bold, and perhaps dumb, move they had chosen to push on even after the moon came out. Trying to reach the oasis to reduce the time spent there.


    Unfortunately, the cold bit at exposed skin like a thousand tiny flies. Stinging your nerves until you were both numb and in unbearable pain. All while white fingers spread across any vegetation you could see, freezing whatever moisture they could reach.


    Times like this really made him wonder what he had signed up for, and how he got here to begin with. Most of them answered led back to the criminal, if he hadn''t been escorting him that fateful night, they wouldn''t be here now.


    I could be warm in my bed right now, resting from a day of serving my people... His silent complaints swirled around while he waited.


    "There! Insulated, quick! Get out of this wind!" Roon called to him, slipping into the small shelter.


    Jale jumped up, kicking sand over the flame until it died before rushing over to take cover. Inside had been a few degrees warmer just from the lack of wind, a fire would make it perfect.


    "Let''s never do that again," Darael grumbled, rubbing his bare arms.


    "You did want cooler weather." The commander teased back, blowing into his own hands.


    With a scoff, the ginger rolled his eyes. "I wanted cooler weather. Not to freeze to death."


    After that, the warlock held his hands out, touching his fingertips to the ground. As he slowly raised them, a small flame grew from the sand. The maekgik display instantly warmed the shelter to a wonderful cozy temperature.


    With a hummed note of approval, Jale embraced the warmth the small fire gave off. Red and orange danced in the center of the hut, giving off no smoke and consuming no fuel¡ª maegik fire. This was a moment he could find appreciation for the talents of the warlock, real fire would suffocate itself or the people in such a confined room.


    Roon didn''t seem very phased by the cold, which was understandable with his fur coat and western origins. Instead, he let the others huddle around the flames, his own insulation fluffing up while he checked the sealed walls.


    "No wind, we''re good. I agree with Darael though, no more night travel until we''re out of this desert," the zerdal said, sitting in the soft sand.


    Jale gave a single nod before moving back to find the food bags. Digging through the well-crafted hide and linen container to find four apples and some jerky for the team.


    He passed the food out and settled on the fine sand. It had been the only good part of the nights here, comfortable even when cold. A crunch welcomed his teeth as they sunk into the fruit, sweet juices flowed down his chin and tickled his neck.


    Pressing his lips to the skin of the apple, he sucked while biting into it. Its crisp taste and tender flesh delighted his senses more than he cared to admit. The fresh fruit had been a most appreciated supply the zerdals gave them, eating just what you hunt gets tiresome.


    The warlock watched him from across the fire, either disappointed in the mess or amused. It was incredibly difficult to read the red-haired man.


    "What?" Jale finally asked when his apple was reduced to just the core.


    "Nothing. I''ve just never seen someone... devour a fruit so messily." Darael tossed the words across the flame with concerning neutrality.


    The commander narrowed his eyes, studying the other man. What did he mean by that? Unable to tell if it had been an insult or playful comment, he could only stare.


    "Calm down. It wasn''t negative."


    Tesk brought her hand up to silence their weird conversation. "Listen."


    The tall man picked his head up, slowing his breaths to listen. Snaps and faint cracks came from the fire''s dance, gentle rumbles growled against the walls as the wind rushed by. But he couldn''t hear anything odd.


    Roon did though. The zerdal perked his ears up before rotating them to focus on Darael¡ª or rather, behind the pale man.


    The troll moved to crouch low to the ground, her hand snaking out to grab the ginger by an arm. His light vocal protests were ignored and he was pulled away from the wall.


    "Ask me to move, why don''t you... Fucking Divine crazed lunatics..." The warlock complained, plopping down behind the commander.


    He barely glanced at the man, training his attention to what the others had. Once the fire was blocked from his brain, he could hear it. A gentle scraping, or scratching, against the wall. Something had been trying to find a way in.


    "What do you think it is?" Jale asked, instinctively reaching for his missing sword.


    Roon''s tail twitched and he offered only a shrug. But Tesk gave him a look and responded for the zerdal.


    "No telling for sure, native animals to this environment can withstand the freeze much better than us. None of us are experienced with desert creatures."


    It made sense and he returned a nod, all the more reason to fear and respect the area. Even the locals avoid being out here at night, traveling only in big groups to deter unwanted visitors.


    With the four of them pressed against the wall, it got real cramped real fast. But, the three able to hear the noise refused to move back nor let the warlock crawl back.


    The commander tilted his head. "It stopped."


    Roon growled lightly, his ears continued to track something on the outside. Telling the humans that the sound hadn''t stopped.


    Darael opened his mouth and took in a breath to say something, but he never got the chance.


    Tesk moved first, she lunged forward with her hand ax ready. The troll hit the sand with the first swing and the wall with the next.


    The short furry man observed for a second, letting the warrior fight. Until a creature slithered from the sand and coiled itself. A flurry of snarls and curses of every tongue fell from the usually peaceful zerdal.


    Once spotting the snake, he knew why. The creature¡¯s scales were nearly identical to the color of the sand, with blue-tinted white lines crossing its back. Bright red eyes shone from the reptile¡¯s face, now glowing to show its anger and maegik warnings. No telling what it could actually do, red was associated with self enhancemental maegik.


    Roon barked out zerdalian curses that even Jale didn''t know, keeping himself low to keep the snake focused on him.


    The vile critter hissed and coiled only tighter. Its white patterns shimmered deep red with additional warnings, as it spit out a squirt of liquid.


    With a strong thud, metal sliced through the neck of the reptile. Blood flooded over the sand as the separated head collapsed under the force and the body withered. The length of the snake curled and convulsed, muscles reacting to the lack of brain in an unsettling manner.


    Darael had, during the entire scuffle, pressed against the opposite wall, finally expressing real fear. Whether it was from the critter or troll''s display of aggression, one couldn''t be sure.


    Jale didn''t have time to do anything amidst the chaos, only able to watch in horror mixed admiration. A look towards the zerdal caused concern, however. The left side of the small man''s face was scrunched in reactive pain.


    "Roon?" the commander asked, relaxing his posture to express his worry.


    "It hit me, I just don''t know what with," Roon responded in his tongue, which Jale understood. Lifting a hand to touch his injury before Tesk stopped him.


    The troll grabbed his hand and pulled it away from his face. "Bloodneidr... We must wash where it spit. Toxic blood or paralyzing poison, either one you don''t want on your face."


    He bit his own tongue, an immediate solution crossing his mind. Would it work? Would the man even agree?


    "Darael... Can you... Conjure water?" Jale asked a bit tentatively.


    The ginger looked up from the snake, blinking a few times at the question. But, he did nod.


    They made the zerdal lay on his back, covering his eye with a cloth while the warlock worked. Hands clasped together, then were pulled apart. His pearl fingers and the muscles in his arms flexed to show how hard he had been pulling. Clenched teeth and furrowed brows, strained and struggled breaths. Even someone naturally born with an advantage had to work to manipulate such a demanding task.


    To bring moisture where there is hardly wouldn''t be without tax. As a glob of odd-looking water formed in the gap between his digits, Darael let out a faint grunt. When about a bowlful had been conjured, the warlock relaxed and brought the now normal-looking water down to Roon''s face.


    The clear liquid ran down the zerdal''s cheekbone and through his fur, filling the off-white sand with a brown film. Unfortunately, the dark grey fur joined the saliva remnants on the ground.


    "Does your skin hurt? Burn?" Tesk questioned, inspecting the exposed skin.


    "No... Not anymore."


    Darael pressed his hands into the ground, leaning back before sitting a bit forcefully. "Can your eye see?"


    Roon removed the cloth and blinked. His multicolored gaze traveled the room before the brown one was hidden behind his eyelid. A relieved sigh left his lips.


    "Yes."


    The troll patted the small man on his shoulder and nodded. "Good."


    Jale brought his own eyes to the dead snake. There had only been two spitting snakes in these parts; the leechsnake, and the much less dangerous mimic. He, however, was not well versed enough in desert animals to know the difference. Leechsnakes paralyze victims with their venom to drain blood from, while cactus drinkers feast only on the prickly plant''s milk.


    He took the reptile by the tail and exposed spine, pushing through the door to fling the carcass into the dunes. No need to risk their own lives to eat it when they had plenty of food and many other animals could enjoy a snack.


    Once the entrance was sealed again, the tall man laid his gaze on the warlock, he didn''t look very good. Paler than normal and overall drained.


    "Darael?" he asked while crouching next to him.


    His human companion raised his eyes, but not his head. "I''ll be fine... I just... Can''t make something out of nothing."


    Jale didn''t know how he felt about that and moved over to bury the bloody ground under fresh sand. It would appear Tesk had already done that to the water mark from Roon''s rinsing.


    He''s used to it, he knows how to recover from such a taxing spell. But, perhaps... No. He''ll be fine. Both of them. His conflicted feelings swirled in his skull, distracting him from his surroundings. They would just have to see what happens.


    Strong rays welcomed the morning, melting the frost to add a touch of moisture, even if it would be gone in a handful of minutes. A distant animal called across the land, alone and sad. Yet, with a small twist of knowledge, the lone cry turned into a hopeful song.


    Jale sat in the sand, listening to the distant calls, while he waited for the rest of his group to stir. After last night he knew Darael would need extra sleep, and the troll insisted Roon stay up until they knew the venom hadn''t done anything to him.


    In his lap, laid his new bow. The blue shimmer fascinating him simply because wood doesn''t retain its maegik energy when cut and crafted with. Yet, this weapon proved that wrong. His hands gently cradled the object while he enjoyed the dawn''s warmth, and he couldn''t tell which one made him happier.


    Even after a scene of panic from wildlife, he could admire the desert and all the life in it. A dry region with salty sand and intense temperature changes, anything living here deserves appreciation.


    Rustling from behind caught his attention, and looking back he could see Roon.


    "Good morning," the dark zerdal greeted.


    "Morning." He replied, patting the ground beside him.


    His companion settled beside him, but his face looked odd. Even if you got past the missing fur, something was different.


    "How are you today?"


    The short man sighed and licked his lips. "My face is numb... But other than that, I''m okay."


    Jale frowned lightly. "Numb? Or paralyzed?"


    His friend scrunched his face, but the muscle on his cheek didn''t move. Part of his mouth also refused to move on its own, which confirmed his fear.


    "Will it wear off?"


    Roon dropped his ears. "Maybe, Tesk isn''t sure. She thinks the fur protected my nerves from the brunt of the venom, but we''ve never seen a bloodneidr in the flesh. Have no idea what their venom does."


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Taking a deep breath, the commander nodded a response. Hopefully, it wouldn''t be permanent, zerdals are very expressive, and even losing half a face of expression would stress them out.


    "Well, what are you doing out here, Jale?"


    A subject change that anyone could have seen coming.


    He held up the bow a bit. "Just admiring the craftsman of this... And appreciating the sunlight."


    His company hummed. "So... How did you learn zerdalian?" This was asked in the zerdal''s native language.


    Jale gave a sheepish shrug. "Rardor taught me, and before you ask, we met at a bar back when I just entered training. He thought if he taught even one of the blind warriors following the rules to see what he saw, that it would somehow fix the world."


    He had spoken in the same tongue, though his speech wasn''t as deep or rough. His growled letters natural but odd, someone comfortable with the language even if their vocal cords couldn''t make the right sounds.


    Roon gave a rather impressed sound, his tail brushing the sand aside in soft wags. "So, do you know what Rardor told me then?"


    A nod was given. "And he knows it too."


    His companion laughed, shaking his head. "Then you are unwise to ignore or dismiss the words. He''s not Head of the Market for nothing."


    Jale scoffed a deep sound, running his fingers over the bow. "I couldn''t. He told me the same thing for years. But, I can''t go chasing tails when I have a city to protect and men to train."


    "And that is exactly your problem."


    Shaking his head, the tall man tilted his head back. The sky had woken up completely now, and the warmth had turned to heat. They''d have to leave now to make up for yesterday.


    "We need to leave now if we wish to return to our schedule. Darael can sleep in the wagon."


    Roon sighed, his expression dropping into a dejected manner. But, he nodded and stood. "I''ll get the cart ready."


    Jale stretched his legs out before bringing himself up. His hand secured the weapon back to his torso as he walked over to the hut. Inside the shelter the troll sat to the side, ensuring the bags were ready for travel.


    Curled around the flames lay Darael''s frame. The fire licked mere inches from his skin, but he seemed content in his sleep. Looking peaceful even.


    Shaking the thoughts away, the commander knelt and gave the pale man a gentle shake. "Darael."


    He was met with a groan and the other rolling away from him.


    "Come on, you can sleep in the wagon, but we must leave."


    Another irritated sound. "Let me sleep."


    "I just said you can keep sleeping, you just have to get into the wagon," he said, grabbing the man''s arm.


    "But... The sun..."


    Sighing, Jale pulled his arm before scooping his own arm under the warlock''s frame. With relative ease he pulled his companion over his shoulder, they''d just have to do it this way.


    "Put the fire out please." His commanding pleads to the troll were uttered as he carried the pale man out of the shelter.


    Darael whined complaints at the sunlight, giving zero attempts to help Jale move him. Like a sack of potatoes, he remained rather limp.


    As he sighed, heaving him into the back mutters fell from him.. "Don''t help me. I got you..."


    The ginger didn''t even respond this time, instead, he settled into the wooden bed. His hair had collected a handful of mats and plenty of sand, but neither were concerns currently.


    I never knew maegik could drain you that much... Divines don''t torture him so... He silently pondered and prayed. Though he didn''t care for the criminal, he wouldn''t want to see him wither away.


    A loud crack brought him to look behind him, where the hut crumbled into the ground. Gone without a trace in seconds¡ª the power of maegik.


    Roon stepped over, glancing at Darael before climbing into the driver''s seat.


    Tesk joined the zerdal at the front, leaving the tall man to sit in the back once more.


    "Jale, make sure he''s comfortable, he spent too much of his own energy to conjure water. I''d prefer our warlock is feeling normal before night." Tesk commanded, it was not a plea.


    He scowled but nodded. "Of course."


    While traveling, the two in the front chatted about things in trollish, most likely to prevent Jale from understanding their conversation. While he quietly made arrows from spare supplies. The ginger slept, rolled around, and slept some more, but nobody could blame him.


    They didn''t stop this day, choosing instead to eat and drink on the go. Although it made better progress, Roon slowly felt the work catching up to him. By nightfall the zerdal turned their vehicle into a hut, hoping to avoid the same situation as the previous night, and crashed pretty hard.


    Jale had to nearly force the warlock to drink through the day and food had been nibbled before night. Better than nothing, but the idea that his man may be suffering bothered him in ways he refused to acknowledge. He himself had a hard time falling asleep that night, pressed against the others as they all crammed together in the cart.


    Morning came and they went. The warlock had given a few of his normal snarky responses but still remained pretty out of it. Was a definite improvement, however, and it made the group travel in better spirits.


    Out of real things to do, the commander gave in and lain himself in the cart. Watching the sky as they moved, there was something ethereal about it. Weightless clouds danced on the blue canvas, happy and without a single care. How nice it must be.


    "Sleeping on the job... Shame on you..." Darael''s voice teased.


    Jale didn''t turn his gaze to look at him. "I''m not sleeping..."


    His company hummed a doubtful sound, rolling onto his back. "Ugh, I feel like... Like I''ve drunk too much."


    He chuckled. "All the reasons you need water."


    The warlock mumbled something unintelligible, scratching at his peeling skin.


    "I''m sorry?" Jale tilted his head to look at him, reaching out to gently slap his hand. "Quit, it won''t heal if you pick at it."


    "It''s not going to heal under the sun..." The first question was completely ignored.


    While true, the commander just stared. This man never listened, but always heard him. Such a strange person.


    Darael grumbled, resting his forearms over his eyes to shut the light out.


    And just like that, he had fallen back into his restoring slumber.


    "A river!" Roon cried, commanding the wagon away from the path.


    Jale sat up, peering over the front of the vehicle. Sure enough, off the well-worn trail ran a line of water. He chuckled and nodded.


    "That is a river. What a sight."


    Twenty years of a drought, then two months of traveling through the driest of lands made this natural and common water more than beautiful.


    They had been on the road two weeks since leaving The Market and had entered the cool forest that bordered the grasslands and mountain range. Great time for sure, but to the commander, it couldn''t be fast enough.


    "Oh thank the Divines, I want a bath." Darael sighed, not even stirring from his rested position.


    While he couldn''t blame the ginger for wishing for a cleaning, he had been thinking more of a camp spot and fresh unboiled water. Though, a bath sounded good too.


    When the cart rolled to a stop on the bank of the river, all four of them climbed out to greet the water. Tesk and Roon knelt on the side to inspect and drink the liquid, while the humans watched from a bit of distance.


    "Clean as always," the zerdal said, wagging his tail.


    The troll nodded, then removed her top leather, though the other cover remained, and jumped into the water.


    Darael tossed his own cloth clothing aside, which included his trousers. Left only in his birthday suit, the lightly tanned man dove in after her.


    Jale watched, only to avert his gaze when his companions removed clothes. He had nothing against the idea of nude river bathing, but it felt odd to watch the other''s strip down.


    A third splash told him the zerdal had joined the other two. Giggles and delighted laughs came from the group, it pulled the commander to lighten up.


    Giving in yet again, Jale pulled the thread that held his leather breastplate together. It fell to the ground in an almost relieving manner, a large swell of air filled his lungs. Without the armor, his chest felt odd and it took him back a moment.


    Has it really been that long since I''ve taken it off completely? While on the road, I live in my armor... He sighed and loosened the guards protecting his wrists and they joined the other leather.


    His final move was to remove the clothes that he wore under the armor¡ª down to his underwear of course. Not quite as confident or free as Darael.


    Relieved of the hide protection Jale felt both lightened and exposed, but the pros were outweighing the cons currently. The tall man strode over to the bank with long steps, judging the depth from how the zerdal and troll swam and the human seemed to switch between standing and swimming.


    "Look at you!" Roon called to the commander.


    He hummed back, shrugging a bit as he crept into the cool water. Without his added bulk his graceful frame really shone through, even if his muscles messed up his outline.


    "I didn''t know you could remove the armor," Darael commented, standing in a small current to comb through his hair.


    Jale scoffed, letting the liquid rise up his abdomen and to his chest. "Out here, I just prefer sleeping in it should we get ambushed."


    Tesk gave an amused sound, swimming over to sit in the shallows. "Didn''t help you much when Jor''al got you on the head."


    "I meant more, animal attack. An ambush by trolls or elves is one-sided, a human would never stand a chance."


    The warlock absent-mindedly fiddled with his strands. "Your clothes really make you seem..." He trailed off before restarting. "Your legs are longer than your clothing makes it seem."


    Roon had joined the troll on the edge, enjoying his own natural state with his partner. "Probably his elf blood. They have legs for miles, their torsos never really stretched to keep important muscle and fat over organs. Long legs help them cover flat and uneven land quickly, like a horse."


    Jale didn''t respond, unsure how the attention to his body made him feel. Instead, he filled his chest with air and submerged himself. The water clear and soothing, he looked at the bed. Covered in flat and featureless rocks that gave him a sense of reassurance; all the rocks were different, yet the same.


    While under, he combed through his own hair. The black mess was thick and a bit out of control as the current swirled it around. He could faintly hear a conversation above him and it brought him to glance towards the warlock. A red stream of silky ribbons flowed through the river, reaching out to follow the waves.


    Dull thuds grew in his ear, though he ignored it a moment longer. Enchanted by the pale man''s locks as they painted a streak through the water. Then, he remembered where they were and what this man was, or not, wearing.


    Ringing screamed at his ears, his heart pounded in his chest and his eyes faded, all demanding air. At a soft sound, water spilled into his lungs.


    Jale pushed himself from the water, coughing at the sting of liquid in his chest. Forcing the water back through his nose, he shuddered and looked down at the zerdal¡ª who had appeared at his side to help.


    "Why didn''t you come up sooner?" the short man asked.


    He shook his head and backed up a bit, sitting on a rock. "I¡ª I don''t know."


    Roon studied him a moment, before pressing an ear against the tall man''s bare chest. The soaked fur felt weird against his skin, but he''d let the man listen.


    "You don''t sound full of water. Good. Now, what on Soilth made you push your limits so far?"


    He shrugged, averting his blue gaze to observe the river¡ª and unintentionally the ginger.


    A doubtful huff came from the zerdal. "You don''t know?"


    Though, a moment of silence caused Roon to glance where the commander''s attention was and a gentle chuckle rumbled from him.


    "What?" Jale asked, finally turning his head to the short man.


    "Nothing. Get some air and then enjoy yourself. I''ll set up the camp and get some lunch cooking."


    He watched the zerdal walk over to the cart, wondering what he meant by that.


    I hate when people do that, just tell me what you found funny at least. The tall man let his mind drift while he sat waist-deep in the water.


    Tesk stood from her seat and went to join Roon, which left Darael standing neck-deep in the river. The ginger was still combing through his long hair, hardly a surprise given how long it had been since it got a cleaning.


    Perhaps I''ve been too hard on him. No, no, he murdered someone, my actions are justified. He sighed and leaned forward, pushing the water away with his shoulder as he launched through the shallows. Still, no reason to be stiff out here in the wilderness; laws don''t apply outside human borders.


    "If you tell me to cut it, I will remove your tongue."


    Jale brought himself to stand on the riverbed but kept his shoulders under the surface.


    "Pardon me?" he asked.


    Darael shrugged his right shoulder nonchalantly. "My dad doesn''t like the length very much and a lot of my classmates mock me, tell me to cut it or try to while I''m not looking."


    The commander frowned a touch. "That''s rude... I think it suits you."


    "That so? Odd, I wish I could say the same."


    "What do you mean by that?" He gave a playful pout and ran his fingers through his black hair.


    The warlock hummed a chuckled and moved his own hands away from his hair. "Not to be... Hypocritical, but I think it''s too long for you. It looks as if it wants to stand up, even wet."


    Chuckling back, he shook his head. "Well, it takes forever for my hair to grow out, this took almost fifteen years. I don''t think cutting it is an option."


    "Fifteen and it only just touches your shoulders? Keep spinning such excuses and I may just have to believe the tale that you are indeed a hybrid."


    Darael always spoke with certainty, words always chosen specifically. So, when he said hybrid vs mutant, it caught him off guard.


    "You don''t believe it?" Jale asked, standing a bit straighter to expose his shoulders.


    "I believe desperate humans can agree to anything to save people they care for."


    He watched the other man for a moment, studying his mannerisms and posture. Did this man really think this was all a ruse?


    The ginger looked up at him and flared his nostrils before sinking into the water. His playful gaze taunted the commander, green jewels of beckoning peering through the crystal clear water.


    Rolling his eyes, he dove under after him¡ª only to see what he was up to. His companion smirked lightly and grabbed one of the rocks lining the bed, pointing to him then the ground to indicate he should also grab one.


    It wasn''t a normal thing he does while in a river, or even at a beach. But, he''d play along; grabbing a fist-sized stone before following him back to the surface.


    "So, why did I have to grab a rock?"


    Darael hummed and held his empty hand out. "Because, commander, I still don''t think you understand fun."


    He handed the stone over. "What fun can you have with rocks?"


    The warlock dropped both the rocks, down they sank. "You can''t really, I just wanted to see how opted you are to follow me."


    Jale made a minor mistake of watching the objects fall through the water, past the pale man''s body. Which prompted the other to laugh lightly and spin around once, his hair wrapping loosely around his body.


    "Bet you can''t catch me," his company said before swimming backward.


    With that verbal¡ª and playful¡ª taunt, he pushed off the ground to launch through the river. The other shrieked at the intent visible in the commander and turned around to swim away, his red hair tangled around his limbs.


    It brought a smile to his lips, a genuine one. Chasing the ginger through the slow current and deep center, then back over the shallows had actually been fun.


    When they decided to stop it had been because the food scents brought them out, swimming around worked up their appetite. Roon had been making some stew with their various meats and seasonings.


    Darael had, thankfully, put his trousers on before sitting next to the fire. Wringing his hair out and trying to keep it off the ground.


    When he sat nearby, he caught a weird gaze from the zerdal¡ª sly maybe. He tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. "What?"


    Roon hummed and shrugged. "Nothing, you just seem happy."


    Jale found himself wondering if that was a good thing or not. What does that mean? Do I normally not look happy?


    The warlock smiled at the small man. "We come from a land lacking water, of course, a river would make him happy."


    "That and it''s been a long while since I''ve been able to play tag without trying to actually harm someone." He added, taking one of the bowls offered.


    Tesk looked at him. "You don''t have fun with friends? You don''t look that old."


    "I''m flattered you think chasing me is fun," Darael hummed in amusement, being given a bowl as well.


    As he ate lunch, he wondered what they were implying. It''s not right for him to make a joke that indicates something so... Wiked. Temptation like that isn''t normal, I know he''s mentally unstable but...


    Silence filled the air while they ate, with Roon giving the humans odd looks. As if he knew something they didn''t, or maybe knew harmful knowledge. Nothing worried him more than thoughts that lie behind sly eyes and knowing smiles. Well, maybe the elves. He knew they''d have to reach the elves sooner or later, but he didn''t want that. Helpful or not, the last thing he''d want to do is crawl into an elven village and beg forgiveness for the human''s actions to them.

 Chapter Six (unnamed)

    Bird songs echoed around like a hauntingly synchronized orchestra above them, calling out in love or fear. Dawn had brought energy to the whole wilderness¡ªwhich included the group of travelers. The small cart moved across a hardened dirt path, through a forest of relatively flat land.


    Even with summer in full swing, the woods had a chill in the air. The closer and closer they got to the mountains and tundra, the colder the breeze got.


    Since their day relaxing by the river a week ago, Jale hadn''t put all his armor back on. Only the wristguards and thick boots had been worn since. He''d say it''s because the breastplate needed repairs, but honestly, he just didn''t like the heavy¡ªconstricting¡ªweight anymore.


    The two humans were relaxing in the bed of the wagon, which had become the norm for them, and as they rolled towards the great city Gorh''un they chatted away about anything that crossed their minds. Currently, that was home.


    "A commander like you must have a lavish place, what''s your house like? There a missus to return to?" Darael had asked, casual and easy.


    Jale chuckled, humming thoughtfully for a moment. "There''s no one waiting for me at home, I live alone. But uh, it''s nothing too grand, I never was one for large homes. A simple house on the wall barely has two bedrooms."


    Roon chittered before glancing back at him. "You live on a wall?"


    The warlock answered for the commander. "That''s what we call the streets that line the inner side of the wall. A shitty part of town, full of crazy people."


    "Surprised I never see you around." The tall man flashed a playful grin.


    "Oh, ha-ha." His companion rolled his eyes and shook his head. "No wonder nobody wants you."


    Jale sighed a soft breath. "You''d be surprised how many wealthy men throw their daughters at me. Even Mariette asked for my hand."


    The troll beat the others to it. "Princess Mariette?"


    The commander nodded. "Yep... But enough about me, how is your home Darael?"


    With a small shrug, the warlock remained silent for an unusual amount of time. When he did speak, his voice had been heavier than normal.


    "It was okay, a bit small. Shared a dorm room with a guy in school... Probably a good thing I''ll never go back huh? Accidentally burnt my own house down, and with my dad... Yeah, I''d rather the elves."


    An uneasy pause hit their conversation, the idea of never returning home clearly bothered the man. But, he also seemed to have come to terms with it.


    "May I ask what happened that day?" Roon questioned, his voice gentle.


    Darael sighed a deep sound. "It was just overall a bad day... Woke up late, late to class, late to lunch, late to my own therapy. Night came and I couldn''t sleep, happens from time to time, so I went to my professor¡ª the only person who understood. I never got to even ask for help, never even got to say goodbye."


    Another sigh swelled in the ginger''s chest and when he continued he sounded angry almost. "I don''t know why they''d do this to me, but he was just... Gone, slouched over his desk, didn''t get to go home to his family that night. Didn''t even get to finish the book he was reading."


    The zerdal tipped his head down. "I see."


    But, the warlock wasn''t done. "Something had just taken his life away like it didn''t matter. Divines, Guides, Wikeds... Whatever it was, he didn''t deserve it. It¡ªit should''ve been me instead."


    Jale didn''t know how to respond, to think he would''ve taken this man without a doubt to the King for punishment. Yet he may not even have done it? What kind of system does he follow?


    "So, these... Emotional outbursts, do they happen often? A mood change followed, or a result of, a burst of maegik?" Tesk asked.


    Just as Jale feared, the man nodded. A verbal agreement was also given, but he was already lost in thoughts. I could ruin some poor struggling man''s life... Divines... Do you want him to live, and live well? He''d ask the beings even though they couldn''t respond.


    It would never be fair, how the wiked preyed on the people who already suffered. Tempting you down the worst path until they pull you into an inescapable position that ultimately leads to death. Or worse. Once a human''s mind breaks completely, they fall into a state of insanity that drives them to unthinkable actions.


    "...It''s weird, sometimes I can feel a cold grip around my shoulders when I get angry or upset. Just odd, but nothing like that, no." Darael had been in the process of answering someone.


    Jale found himself turning his head to look at the warlock, the mention of cold grips brought his attention back to him.


    Tesk nodded. "I see. Well, it''s a good thing the smoke is rising in the distance. Perhaps someone here can aid your struggle."


    The ginger returned a strange questioning look at the commander, before sitting up to peer over the front.


    With the promise of a city, Jale sat up too, and sure enough¡ªthere had been a pillar of smoke. "Gorh''un, the grand city of metal and fire. I hope they''re accepting of us barging in."


    "They''re orcs... Not humans. Why wouldn''t they?" Roon asked over his shoulder.


    "Um... Well, we have been threatening their city for a while."


    Darael huffed lightly. "As a member of the military he has to be serious and they probably won''t like a commander waltzing in like he owns the place."


    The commander dipped his head, knowing that was both fair and true. "No, they wouldn''t like it."


    The tall man would just have to not be a commanding leader here, shouldn''t be all that hard; they have laws and people to respect. Perhaps they wouldn''t stay here very long, that would be nice. But, knowing politics, he would have to.


    I have to convince a leader so proud of his might that humans aren''t worth the energy to fight. And also keep Darael out of trouble... ugh. He didn''t like the idea of having to watch the criminal while trying to plead to the monarch not to launch a war.


    If anything, the orcs would just melt him and Darael away and end both of their suffering from one wrong word or movement. No, that wouldn''t be good, that thought bothered him.


    His distaste must have been visible because the troll clicked her teeth against her tusks. "What bothers you now?"


    "Nothing, I''m just thinking is all. Gorh''un isn''t a familiar place."


    "The Market was a new place for all of us, why did you not hate that place?" Roon questioned.


    Jale hummed in thought, resting his body back down on the wooden bed. "Well, because I know Rardor, the whole city may have been unfamiliar, but I had a friend there."


    That''s when Darael chimed in with unexpected news. "I have a friend here, I''m sure they''d let us stay with them."


    Curious, Jale asked, ¡°How do you know an orc?¡±


    "How do you know a zerdal?"


    Both Roon and Tesk laughed, amused by the ways the humans bothered each other.


    But, Jale wasn''t having it this time. "No no, see. A zerdal is a traveler, it would be more concerning if we didn''t know one. But an orc? No, that needs explaining, we haven''t had a registered orc in Bogsgate for almost sixteen years."


    With a clump of red hair being whisked back behind his back, the ginger met his gaze. "Because, Commander, they aren''t dangerous freaks, and plenty live right under your nose. Choosing potential death over staying out, because believe it or not¡ªsome people like the protection our town offers."


    Lips quivered as the tall man prepared a comeback, but it never came. He didn''t have anything. The man beside him had been visibly crumbling and he had pushed anyways. What brought Jale to do this time and time again?


    After a few heated moments, the commander rolled over. Out of sight, out of mind. Not true, however, since his mind remained locked on the warlock.


    He could be lying, there''s no way so many orcs could be living there. We''re one of the biggest military towns in the world, but... I suppose they are talented in maegik that could help them squeeze past us... But, we should still know they''re there. His thoughts slid away from him once more, leaving him unfocused from the world.


    A jolt told him their cart had met paved ground; smooth but loud. Though he didn''t get up to investigate right away, wasn''t sure he wanted to. Orcs have a very unique glare that can pierce through anyone''s mental armor.


    Plus, the last time he saw an orc was during the war when he had to strike the Monarch''s child down. These folk would definitely remember him, perhaps he could pretend he had been brought here against his will.


    "So, Darael, where does your friend live?" Roon questioned, inspecting his surroundings while carefully maneuvering the cart along the paths.


    The tall man heard the warlock sit up, a subtle sniff alerting him to the man''s true state.


    "Um... Oh! Over there, by the forge with the green jewels in the walls." Darael''s response had been noticeably happier, a bit higher, and quicker.


    Curious, Jale sat up as well, peering over the driver to see. A city of red. Smooth chunks of crimson stones paved the way, each crack filled with a pale green substance; mortar. Short but wide buildings lined the road in neat uniform lines, all made from the same design of deep scarlet bricks framed by dark brown wooden logs. Some of the buildings had a chimney on the flat roof, others did not. A few had blue gems decorating the outer wall in patterns unrecognizable to him, others had green.


    Just on this one street, he could see a total of three forges. One was open and had a few orcs tending to it, the other two were sheltered porches on houses.


    Most of the orcs were off away from the wagon, way more wary of strangers than the friendly zerdals. Offering only a nose flare and head tilt towards the band of travelers.


    Roon pulled the wagon up to a house with the forge and green gems. The ginger couldn''t wait for the cart to fully stop, launching over the side to rush to the door.


    While Darael knocked, Jale gathered his bow, throwing it onto his back before climbing out. He didn''t like the idea of staying here long, as grand as it may be. Gorh''un was the largest city on this continent, barely beating Selude¡ªand they only got that through slaughtering many humans and burning cities.


    The nearly pink light red door opened to reveal a large burly shape. Their shoulders were twice that of his own, probably six feet across and the creature¡¯s sides seemed level with their barrel of a chest. Powerful legs bulked under the cloth kilt they wore, which was all they had on.


    A smooth face where eyes should''ve been tilted down to "gaze" at Darael. Four large slits flared open wide, a deep breath filling the already large chest. As they let the air out a large pleased smile spread across thin lips.


    "Darael!" The orc''s deep, hoarse voice boomed, arms tossing to the side.


    The, now apparently small, warlock grinned up at his friend. "Krun''gun!" Without a single hesitation, the human leaped up onto the orc, his arms wrapping around the other''s deep chest. The orc returned the gesture, but its head remained facing Jale.


    Unexplainable sounds came from Krun''Gun and somehow the warlock returned similar sounds. Orcish no doubt.


    "I see. Any friend of Darael is a friend of mine. Lorr''un durr''un."


    Roon had crept over at the sound of a new language. "Ooh! Hello! Can I know what that means?"


    Krun''gun chuckled a low laugh. "Of course little zerdal. ¡°My home is yours¡±, a greeting to a friend or friends of a friend."


    Jale found himself straightening up at the orc''s unnatural gaze, unsure if he wanted to submit to the creature or not. The grey and textured face sent waves of unease through him, pushing him to try and contest the power. Until Krun''gun grunted.


    "I see your company has worsened. Next, you''ll bring me a soulless wiked."


    Darael hummed a soft sound but didn''t speak. He did, however, fall from the orc¡¯s grip and push into the house.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Tesk heaved two of their bags on her shoulders, stepping up to the doorway. "So, do you often take in travelers?"


    "Hmm, depends. I always repay my friends, sometimes that means harboring questionable folk." Krun''gun gave a heavy step out of the way to let the troll enter.


    Little Roon, who was absolutely towered over by the orc, bounded after her. His own hands carried a bag while his body showed he expressed excitement in the only way a zerdal can¡ªlots of tail wags.


    Jale let them enter first since he didn''t have any supplies, but when it was his turn to step in the orc blocked him.


    "And, questionable folk have to follow very specific rules. Understand, Commander Vadren?" Deep unmistakable threats reverberated from Krun''Gun''s huge chest.


    Scrunching the side of his face in dismay, the commander nodded. "Fine, I''d hate for a certain someone to catch wind of me."


    The orc bellowed a large laugh. "The Monarch already knows you''re here... Nobody could mistake a certain tall, sure-footed, well-armed, tense... male." The word male had been forced out and sounded very foreign from the orc.


    Fucking Wikeds... A curse filled his brain, but he only gave a curt nod and followed the large creature inside.


    The interior had been very spacious; sanded redwood planks filled the floor, with a pair of cushioned benches standing against the far wall. Large furry rugs covered the area in front of the couches, their grey hues a welcome sight amongst the red. Along the stone wall hung furs, hides, fabrics, wood, and a bunch of other miscellaneous materials used for insulation.


    "Oh, it''s so quaint! I like the living space Krun''gun," Roon complimented, walking over to admire the fur rugs.


    The orc laughed. "Thank you little zerdal, I had no idea I would have company, or I would have cleaned or straightened things up."


    Darael hummed and sat on one of the couches. "Well, I had no idea I would ever come visit you... Let alone when I''m sentenced to the elves."


    With that unnerving statement about how the warlock knew he''d never have been able to see his friend again, Jale sighed. He never wanted to take the pale man to the kingdom for such a terrible punishment. But, laws require it. And he has to enforce the laws.


    "I''m afraid I only have one spare place for people to sleep. Two of you may be able to fit in the room, but a few of you will have to find the inn," Krun''gun said as they joined Darael on the couch, relaxing into the cushions.


    Tesk clicked her tusks quietly, thinking. "Me and Roon could find the inn since Darael is your friend and Jale shouldn''t be unattended in the city."


    With a silly smirk, Roon wagged his tail. "Right, I agree. There''s no telling what trouble he could get into here."


    The commander tipped his head down a touch, cocking his hips and resting his hands on them. "I''m not the one you should be worried about, I can respect authority."


    Darael rolled his eyes, scoffing. But, whatever he said had been uttered in the guttural Orcish. It did cause the orc to laugh though.


    "Have you eaten yet? We can eat and then you can settle and figure out what you wish to do for everyone." Krun''gun grunted, waving a hand towards a small furnace and stone table.


    On the table sat a pot with thick food. Though the house smelled sweet, the mash looked yellow and perhaps a mixture of many foods.


    Tesk nodded, stepping over to investigate the meal. "We appreciate the offer, nothing like a home-cooked meal after a solid month on the road."


    The zerdal immediately offered a pout. "Excuse me, my home is the road, therefore my meals are always homecooked!"


    "The pot has potatoes mashed in it, there''s some goat in the furnace that''s cooked. Try not to ruin the carcass, the better you leave it, the better I can preserve it," Krun''gun said.


    Intrigued as a fan of foods, Jale found his way to the small kitchen corner. Joining the troll with inspecting the potatoes, he hummed in approval.


    "Mountain potatoes?" he asked, gathering a bowl.


    The orc grunted. "Yep."


    The commander stirred the pot a moment then scooped the mashed starchy plant into the container. Setting it aside, he peeked into the oven. Grand scents of spicy, heat-infused meat hit his face. Lovely smells tickled his nostrils as he took the hide glove to remove the metal rod the food clung to.


    Once in the open air, the goat produced only stronger enticing scents to the air. He could identify peppers, herbs¡ªeven salt with just a quick analysis and he couldn''t wait to try it. That being true, he wasn''t going to feed himself first.


    Taking a knife from the table, Jale slid the steel through the meat in clean, thoughtful chunks. Tesk helped by filling the bowls with a cushion of mashed potatoes for him, and it didn''t take long for everyone to have a portion.


    The tall man swept the goat back into the furnace, picking up his bowl and joining the group by the couches. He planted himself on the rug next to Roon, not minding settling on the floor. Delight filled his senses as he bit into the meat; a tinge of spice bit his tongue, while the blend of herbs soothed and complimented the heat. Savory juices flooded his mouth, his teeth cutting through the tender piece as if it was cream. Just heavenly.


    "Orc spice is nothing short of perfect," Darael said, his body relaxing in the presence of food.


    Tesk and Roon gave an agreeing nod and sound, both too focusing on eating to answer.


    "Pair it with the naturally soft and distinctly gamey flavor of the goat..." Jale added, pausing to take a generous bite. "Divine praised."


    Krun''gun rubbed his hairless head with a big thick hand. "I grew up on this meal, one of the only I can cook without overcooking something."


    The warlock reached a hand out to pat the orc''s shoulder. "Better over than under, remember when you tried to cook the chicken?"


    "Oh, Ra''gur. Don''t remind me, even those hounds didn''t deserve such food."


    Jale let the two chat, listening in on how much they seemingly enjoy their memories. I''ve been too hard on him, yet I can''t seem to shape myself up to be better. But, at the same time... Multiple accounts of theft, manipulation, threatening, and then that arson... Ugh, I hope we get to reach Selude soon...


    He could hope, though the realization of how much the constant travel had been affecting them made him less interested in leaving. Months on the road, many different moon cycles, almost every environment. No wonder zerdals are welcomed everywhere¡ªtraveling sucks.


    Tesk stood from the couch''s cushion. "Real fresh meat has been a good change of pace. I enjoy traveling and eating on the road using scavenged ingredients, but sometimes I miss sitting down in a house to relax."


    Darael took in a deep breath before nodding. "At least traveling forces you to open your palate to new flavors."


    "We aren''t known for our food, but our metal skills." Krun''gun waved a heavy hand towards the kitchen. "This is a pretty standard meal around here."


    Setting his bowl aside, the commander ate his last heavenly piece of goat. "Much better than what I''m used to, I miss meals a lot with my tough work schedules."


    "I''m sure you have a grand palace with people to cook for you. You''re nearly royalty where you''re from," the orc said.


    "No. He lives on the wall apparently." Darael asserted with a slow gaze traveling over to Jale.


    Krun''gun laughed with a force that shook their body, body language showing doubt where missing eyes couldn''t.


    Overwhelming threatening pressure filled Jale, encasing him in an urge to protect himself. From what, he couldn''t say. All he knew was the criminal already worked him up, and now the orc was there to add stress.


    With his arms wrapping his chest, he scoffed a soft irritation. "I chose that though, I prefer the simple small houses."


    Roon stood up from the floor, gathering the empty dishes. "I agree with Jale, simple houses have a big charm to them. Once you find a reason to be put, why would you want a bunch of useless clutter?"


    "I think if you have the wealth and ability, why not show off?" The warlock countered, crossing his legs.


    "Because..." Jale locked his eyes onto the smaller human. "What does that do besides make you look like an insufferable asshole?"


    Stiff tension swelled between the humans as if any one movement could invite another fight. His blue eyes shot warnings while the criminal''s green gaze taunted him. Nobody moved, not a word was uttered. The two men sat there glaring at one another, both awaiting a chance to claim a small and irrelevant victory in one way or another.


    Like a siren at sea, a soothingly melodious voice tore through the tension. "I believe we should get some rest, it''s been a long day. Long month. It may help you two chill as well."


    Jale felt like a little kid when the troll talked to him like that. But, it did work and he gave in with a reluctant nod.


    Tearing his eyes away from Darael, he looked up at Tesk. "Yes, Ma''am."


    Krun''gun raised his heavy body from the couch. "I''ll show you two the spare room."


    Amusement hummed from Roon. "Are you sure leaving them together unsupervised all night is a good idea?"


    Darael grumbled in Orcish, remaining on the couch.


    "Darael says he''ll stay in here tonight. Don''t even have to worry about a fight then," the orc translated, tossing his head to gesture for Jale to follow.


    As the commander stood from the floor, he heard the zerdal mutter to Tesk. Haunting Zerdalian words that pierced his thoughts. "A fight from jealousy maybe." Those words would haunt him all night.


    <hr>


    "So, I''ve been told you''re missing a blade?" Krun''gun asked, adding a log to a baby flame.


    Jale nodded, watching the orc tend to the impressive black stone forge, feeding it through a large hole. "A shortsword."


    His companion laughed. "You don''t seem like a sword person to me, you move too... Careful."


    "It was a gift when I took my title. One of the only weapons I''ve known for my entire career."


    Krun''gun lifted a cauldron to hang it above the forge''s open hole, then turned to face the commander. "Yet you traded it without much prompt for a bow." They slapped Jale''s chest. "That tells me you didn''t like it very much."


    The tall man had moved back a step at the orc''s hand, scowling a bit before reaching to grab the bow off his back. "It''s elven... I was drawn to it. I tried to think it over, but Darael convinced me."


    "Odd, he told me you convinced him that you needed it."


    Jale felt his eyes roll in their sockets. "Typical."


    Deep chuckles reverberated from Krun''Gun as they shook their head. "Sounds to me, you two should step into a ring and get all your unnecessary aggression out. I''d love to observe you fighting."


    "He''s a warlock, he''d tear me apart in a heartbeat." His scowl deepened. "I''m sending him to the King, without me he could slip away and nobody would care."


    Nostrils flaring, the orc tilted their head. "So why do you care so much?"


    Krun''Gun''s question reached over and punched Jale square in his nose. Taken aback, he had no idea how to answer this. I''m a commander, it''s my job. I could get fired, my aunt would suffer I''m sure... My whole life would be ruined if he got away. But, I could say he died, nobody would even check. No, that would be a lie.


    Finally, a sigh left his lips. "I don''t have a choice. My job supports my parent, she needs the money to get medicine. If I fail now that so¡ªso many months have passed, they''d strip everything from me."


    "Ambushed by trolls, chased the prisoner across the continent, lost said captive, came home after a very dedicated search. Everybody wins," the orc said, offering a solution.


    "We''ll see. I have to fulfill a prophecy first."


    With a polite pardon, Jale moved away from Krun''Gun and towards the front of the house. Tesk and Darael were out here peeling potatoes, Roon had joined the orc the moment the commander left.


    "Mighty Commander, do aid us your strength!" Tesk called over, holding up a knife and a potato.


    Jale chuckled, taking the items and sitting next to the warlock, whose bucket was already filled. "Only fair, I''ll help."


    So far north, the summer sun felt great, putting them all in a better mood, even while performing a tedious task such as skinning potatoes. Jale was peeling the vegetables while enjoying the midday heat, and a fun competition had grown.


    The tall man was attempting to beat the number of potatoes his maegikally inclined companion had prepped. Arm with only a knife and a drive to be the best, Jale was pumping out the bare plants.


    "Mm... I think he has you beat, Darael." Tesk laughed, tossing her own potatoes into the bucket.


    Darael leaned forward to inspect the amounts in each bucket. "How? I pulled the skin off in one sleeve!"


    Chuckling in pure delight, Jale patted his companion on the shoulder. "There there... I''ve been doing this since I was old enough to handle a knife."


    The warlock scoffed, playfully, and slouched back on the bench. "Ah, well. I can do things you can''t."


    "That is true, yeah. But, in most scenarios, I can do it better."


    "Please. I''d like to see you try," Darael said, his hands lifting to show his palms.


    Jale pushed his bucket aside and offered a shrug. "I don''t have to, I''ve already proven myself enough times."


    "But do you believe that?" Tesk chimed in.


    He nodded. "Of course."


    In truth, Jale struggled to believe the words implying he had succeeded. Aware one wrong day and he would be reduced to the unworthy freak he was.


    "We should use some local spices tonight, I don''t want to waste all our supplies," the troll interrupted his thoughts.


    Standing up, Jale nodded. "I agree, I could probably run to the marketplace and pick some up."


    Darael jumped up at the mention of a marketplace. "Oh! I wanna tag along! I love seeing different cultures representing their own wares."


    The tall man hummed, waving his companion to follow as he walked off. "I''d feel better being with someone on the streets... even you." Over exaggerated disgust being used to show it had been a joke.


    "Haha. Should''ve been an entertainer," Darael said from behind.


    Unable to explain why he wanted company in the city, Jale fell silent. I hate this, this city makes me so nervous and I don''t know why. There''s no war anymore, peace, I''m safe here. I am safe here right? He aimlessly searched for the marketplace while his anxiety grew. Surely they wouldn''t attack a commander without any men, right? I have to assume even they suffered during the war... Few lives were lost, but supplies and trade suffered.


    "Jale."


    Snapped from his thoughts, the commander glanced over his shoulder at the warlock. "Hmm?"


    A soft gaze combined with a subtle frown met his eyes. "Are you okay?" Darael asked, no jokes or teases. Just concern.


    "Of course. We''re just going to find some spices." Lies, lies, lies... He already knows you''re acting odd.


    The pale man stopped in his tracks, forcing his guide to halt. "You look a bit lost... But, not... Not physically."


    Great, now he thinks you can''t even go to the store. A chill ran up Jale''s spine, cold pricks poking through his temples.


    "He knows you can''t do this, I bet he''ll suggest you go back... He''ll run. Don''t let him go or you''ll lose your job, your aunt will lose your support and perish." His panic made his thoughts louder as if someone whispered to him.


    When the commander didn''t respond, Darael frowned harder. "Jale, do we need to go back?"


    "We?" A dumbfounded response slipped from Jale.


    "As in we both head back to Krun''s place. Maybe Tesk can offer better help. You''re acting weird."


    "Don''t do it. You don''t need help from a tusk-faced jackass or a blind salamander." Haunting voices hissed, bringing him to realize they couldn''t be his own thoughts. It echoed and didn''t sound alone.


    Concluding it would be wise to listen to a real person vs voices, the tall man gave a single nod. "Okay."


    His companion grabbed his forearm, firm, but understanding. "You know, I hope you know I didn''t mean to imply I thought you couldn''t do it."


    Being guided back down the street, Jale barely heard the other spoke. His head was clogged with uncertainty and dangerous thoughts.


    "You should''ve listened to us, now they''ll all know exactly what you are. A weak, useless, coward." Hazy berating swirled in his skull. "Make him release you."


    He was growing agitated at the thoughts that may or may not have been his own, but still, he allowed Darael to lead him. No... He hasn''t given me any real reason to distrust him. Even when captured by trolls, he never spoke ill of me.


    Muffled conversation passed Jale by, his bright blue eyes glazed over with absence. He knew they had made it to the house, and that Krun''gun and Tesk were both near him. But everything else was lost.

 Chapter Seven (unnamed)

    Watching as the commander was guided onto the couch, Darael let his frown speak his concern. His green gaze searched for any signs of improvement, but his body remained out of the way.


    "Jale?" Tesk asked, peering into his hazy eyes.


    When the tall man didn''t respond, Roon brought over a canteen. "Here, this should help."


    The troll popped the stopper out and pressed the opening to Jale''s lips. "Drink, or I will have to force you."


    Unable to help, Darael watched from across the room. Propped up against the wall nonchalantly, he tried not to express much concern. He was still a prisoner.


    I''m glad he''s got people who can help on his side, I don''t think I could''ve helped him much, or at all. But why do I care? He just wants me around so he can ensure I get my punishment... Wondering about his own thoughts, he almost missed the next words being spoken.


    "Divines... What is in that," Jale said meekly, coughing as he came back to.


    "Sow fat and blueberries," Tesk answered before standing up straight, "You''re okay, I think you got overwhelmed."


    A tinge of worry sprawled on the commander''s face. "By what?"


    Roon took the container back. "Hard to say, probably the orcs. Last time you were around so many orcs¡ª."


    "Was during the war." Jale finished, sinking into the cushions.


    Poor thing, you never should''ve offered to go. Darael sighed and averted his eyes. "Maybe I should get the spices then."


    The moment his lips uttered the words, he knew his captor would protest; he wasn''t allowed out of his sight.


    "Okay," the tall man agreed.


    "Really?" The warlock felt completely stunned, but he didn''t even look up.


    A pause, which he assumed was Jale giving a nod before a verbal agreement was said.


    With his freedom, Darael offered a soft and reassuring smile before leaving the house. As he stood in the afternoon sun, he felt his eyes drawn to the road leaving town. Tempting for sure...


    He''d shake this off and head deeper into the city; towards the shops. I have a bit of trust, a bit of... Freedom. Why would I ruin it all now? Sure, he''ll turn me in next chance he gets, and I''ll be brain tortured until I forget my own name. But, I kinda like seeing the continent before my fate, learning and experiencing better societies.


    It wouldn''t take him long to reach the market. Clean streets and vaguely merchant-looking stalls called the human down the road. Strolling down the square designed for selling, Darael saw all sorts of orcs working the stalls. Some sold fish or meat, others spices or vegetables, and a small handful sold metals and wood.


    "There''s a human here, perhaps he needs a bed," one orc said in Orcish.


    The warlock kept to himself until he reached a promising stall with plenty of options for food. Dried herbs hung from rungs, while baskets of ripe fruits and vegetables sat on the counter.


    A light grey orc stood behind the wooden window, their nostrils opening wide to take in the new scent.


    "I can''t speak Human, you''ll have to look elsewhere."


    Darael relaxed upon hearing the statement in Orcish, knowing he could answer anyways. "What if I know Orcish?"


    Impressed, the merchant waved a large hand over their wares. "In that case, what would you like?"


    Running a hand thoughtfully through his hair, the ginger inspected the food. "What do you have in terms of spices?"


    A few vials were moved front and center. "Dragon salt, ground cave moss, sweet dust, and some mule milk."


    Darael hummed thoughtfully, fetching an iron coin from his pocket. "How about some moss and milk?"


    The orc nodded, taking a basket from the ground to place the two items in it. A jar of mossy crumbs and a second larger jar filled with a cream-colored liquid rested snuggly in the woven container.


    Giving a grin, the warlock placed the coin in their hand. "Those look lovely! Thank you so much, rah."


    With his fingers gripping the handle, he grunted an Orcish sound in a farewell and left the stand. His once polished shoes clicking faintly against the stone road under the city sounds, bringing him back to Bogsgate.


    I loved walking along the paved streets at night, listening to the sound my shoes made in the still air... I used to have so much. Now, look at me. Reduced to a common prisoner under the great Commander Jale Vadren... He gave a soft sigh, reaching Krun''Gun''s house.


    Guess I can say I accomplished something, right dad? Only reason I should do a man''s every bidding... Darael frowned at the door, no longer wanting to return. Surely you''re not like that. You have rules to follow, laws to enforce... Plus, Wikeds pull at my mind, why would you want me around if not to turn me in?


    Standing outside for a few minutes made him think harder on the subject of his life and how close it was to being over. I don''t want to die... And I certainly don''t want to face the elven fate destined for me. Why are you so hellbent on taking me to the King?


    The warlock took a deep breath and finally pushed open the door standing in his way. Entering the house he looked around for his friends and traveling companions. Of course, only Jale sat on the couch, with the others nowhere to be seen.


    "What did you get?" The commander asked him.


    Darael walked over, setting the basket down on the floor. "Cave moss and mule milk, great ingredients for sweets."


    A wave of doubt crossed Jale''s face. "Moss? In a dessert?"


    "Have a little trust, I know a lot of Orcish recipes and culture."


    The taller man leaned forward to inspect the jars. "If you say so."


    Darael own eyes lit up with mischief as he sat on the table. "I do."


    He spent the moment of quiet to observe his company. Skin that had been untouched by the sun''s glare, a body full of physical strength, and a face holding deep blue pools of knowledge. No telling what was on his mind today. As his gaze shifted around, it settled on the commander''s hair. Perhaps I''m going crazy already... Wasn''t his hair darker?


    "So, how does a man of..." Jale drummed his fingers against his leg in a moment of thought, "Your life, know an orc?"


    The warlock gathered his hair over his shoulder, gently working his fingers through it. "It''s a long story, nothing entertaining for a man like you."


    His companion huffed, tilting his head. "You mistake my title with the barbaric higher-ups. I''m not a fan of violence or things like that."


    Doubtful, a commander is a higher-up. Darael tilted his head. "If you insist."


    He folded his right leg over the left, leaning back to prop himself on his hands. "Well, first you have to understand most people in school and on the bad streets aren''t like us. No good house, no real food, barely any support," a soft sigh left his lips, "Imagine, being in a city guarded by the best military and a solid wall, only to live in despair."


    The way the commander dropped his head shamefully told Darael more than enough.


    "Krun''gun had come to your grand city hoping for refuge. The war had torn rai family apart and left without a house or job." He continued, focusing on the other''s body language. "Despite how bad the humans left Krun, our city still promised protection. Rah came all the way south only to find the protective wall blocking the path."


    "After the war, we couldn''t just let any orc in. Surely you understand that?" Jale asked, but gone was his commanding tone.


    Darael scoffed through his teeth. "That''s fine, I understand the hostility. But when this scared orc begged to be saved, begged on their life for entrance. What did your men do?"


    With a grimace, the tall man sighed. "Imprisoned them."


    "Every. Single. One." The warlock turned his head away, sitting up. "Yes, I broke into your dungeons, yes I manipulated your men, yes I broke laws. But I''ve never regretted anything I''ve done, I''d go back and free them again."


    Silence spread, Jale unable to offer any more words. Good, you can''t hear when you''re busy arguing. If I''m going to die above death, might as well push my limits.


    After a few minutes, the commander ran his fingers through his hair and shifted his weight. "I never cared that you freed them. I cared I had to do it in the first place."


    "Well, you don''t get to the top being nice to everyone."


    With an agreeing hum, Jale looked back over at him. "Then what happened?"


    Darael glanced at his companion momentarily. "I let Krun court me. Until I slipped away from morals and found myself convincing rah to break the law with me. Rightfully, once rah found out, we distanced ourselves... then I show up 7 years later asking for help."


    "Well, h¡ª," a moment of hesitation, "rah let you in and helped. Surely they understand." The tall man suggested.


    The suggestion hit the ginger like a brick, threatening to topple his wall. With any luck, he could remain composed as he talked about this.


    "I just wish I had better offers to bring." Catching a soft smile forming on Jale''s lips, he added, "What?"


    The other shook his head and gestured forward towards him. "As much as a pain you are on the road, I''m sure under your snarky facade you bring a lot to a relationship."


    He called it a facade and not personality, why? What could he possibly be seeing to think my behavior is fabricated? Darael gently braided the end of his hair, nerves and swirling thoughts demanding more attention than he''d like.


    Jale broke his wandering thoughts with a sound. Curious and soft.


    This time, the warlock didn''t verbally ask what he wanted, instead, he just met his gaze and waited.


    "If you put in the same amount of time into meditation and mental health as you did breaking rules. Imagine where you could be."


    Darael couldn''t t help but laugh at that. "My dad was so disappointed to learn I was a criminal. He wanted me to be in the military so bad. If I hadn''t broken a few laws he would''ve gotten his way."


    His company nodded quietly, folding his arms to settle into the couch comfortably. No more words being said.


    The silence was nice now, no more pressing questions or judging looks. Just thoughts and wonder. I wonder what he thinks about me now? Doesn''t matter in the long run, but it would be nice to not have to worry about the end... Ah, a commander couldn''t stop the wishes of the king anyways. Or break the rules in any manner to help me.


    Darael sighed and stood from the table, might as well get to cooking something to take his mind off everything. He took the basket over to the stone table, removing the jars to set them aside. I miss Orcish pudding, but their pies are super good. Hmm... opening a few small boxes, he found Krun''Gun''s supplies and used them to influence his decision. Pie it was.


    Preparing the crust had been a favorite thing to do for the ginger, even going so far as to not use a single spell to flatten, line, or cut the crust into shape. Having fun while he used his hands, he forgot all about the commander in the background.


    He found himself starting to hum to himself while making the dessert, just a soft tune he recalled from an inn. A surprisingly subtle and elegant song, a tale about a waterfall conquering a cliff.


    Before long, Darael had a pie filled with snow squash and dried raspberries sitting in the oven. Taking the cooking time to clean his mess and look for mugs and plates.


    "Oh Divines, you''re letting him cook?" Krun''gun question with over-emphasized disappointment.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The warlock spun around and pointed a rag at the orc. "You''re the one that taught me to cook. If it sucks, that''s solely on you."


    An amused hum sounded from the couch, where Jale had stayed. The commander now had a soft smile on his lips and seemed quite entertained.


    Krun''gun chuckled and opened his nose to sniff the air. "Now where did you get milk?"


    "The marketplace, I also got some moss." The warlock answered, giving the commander a soft head shake and confused look.


    "And where did you get the money for these?"


    Darael scratched his jaw absent-mindedly. "I have my ways. But, if you must know, I borrowed some of yours."


    His friend grunted in disapproval and stepped up to the door. "I have some things I need to craft, you better get me when that''s done"


    "Of course," he muttered, glancing up at the orc momentarily.


    Jale hummed a second time once the orc was gone. "Why don¡¯t you act this way on the road?"


    The pale man looked over at his darker companion. Unsure how to really answer for his different personalities, he shrugged. "Maybe cause traveling to my above death causes me to not be as relaxed as I am here with an old friend?"


    The tall man averted his gaze. "Yeah, that''s fair."


    Darael sighed and slung loose strands over his shoulder. "Why do you act so high and mighty?"


    "Comes from the job I suppose, I can''t let the criminals, or even my men, see me forgot authority." Jale brought his eyes back to the warlock. "How come you haven''t run yet?"


    A snort rang out from the ginger. "And go where? Home? Wanted for murder and treason, remember?"


    His superior didn''t respond, which helped him relax a bit. Good, he''s finally starting to understand I have nowhere to go. Maybe now he''ll calm down with how much of a chokehold he gives me.


    "At least, when we stop by the real elves... Well, Roon has told me they could help me. Even if it ends up being pointless, they could soothe my Wikeds," Darael said, aware of how little the commander probably cared.


    As a surprising twist, Jale nodded gently. "They definitely could. They could also kill us in our tracks just because we''re human." He sighed heavily. "We haven''t been kind to any of the natives... Orcs, trolls, elves, yahmas. Only zerdals are given any respect."


    Looking over, the warlock traced his green gaze over the other''s physical expressions. Weary eyes and a subtle frown met his search.


    "But, are you not half-elf?" he asked softly.


    "Sure, but even elves have tight laws about reproducing with humans. My mother couldn''t even return to her life after having me. I think I killed her too."


    This had already been known by Darael, but hearing this strong commanding man slowly break down while explaining what his birth caused. That hit differently.


    He brought himself over to the living area and sat promptly on the table once more. "You know, your parents must''ve really loved you. To take one look at you and decided you were worth losing everything for... Not everyone can say they had the same."


    Jale looked up at him, his blue eyes welling up a little. "They shouldn''t have done that, they should''ve kept themselves alive. I haven''t done much that would''ve made them proud."


    The warlock scoffed. "You''re one of the highest-ranked, best praised, and most successful commander Bogsgate has ever had¡ªand you think they''d be disappointed?" He pointed a finger at himself. "I was literally destined to bring pride to my family and I screwed that up. You should be happy with what you''ve done."


    "And what have I done? Slaughtered innocent folk, imprisoned them, and sent more than enough people to be torn apart by the king''s elves," his company said in a low defeated tone, "I never asked to be in this position. I just wanted a quaint farm to raise livestock."


    Well, well, it would appear you''ve misjudged him just as much as he misjudged you. Good going Darael. With a sigh, he decided to try and bring the mood back up a bit.


    "Trade swine for swine, huh?"


    Jale huffed a soft chuckle. "Absolutely. I think James would make a fair Commander, which would force me off the title obviously... But, I''m okay with that."


    Darael smiled at him. "Perhaps when you return home, you can get the life you want."


    Glancing over with an odd look, the commander nodded and hummed a light agreement.


    A full day had passed since the humans'' breakthrough in understanding each other, and while none of their companions had been there during the conversation. They seemed to know something positive had happened. Roon especially had become overjoyed at their growing friendship. And even Jale appeared to enjoy being able to relax for once.


    It''s odd to think; the most successful people tend to be the most stressed. Why would anyone strive to succeed if they''re just going to end up unhappy anyway? Darael had found himself wondering. Unhappy or dead, of course. Plenty of knights, hunters, and soldiers enjoy what they succeed in.


    Krun''gun had brought the warlock to the healer orc Bor''ma earlier in the day, and he had remained there all day.


    "You have to try," a white orc said, holding up a branch.


    With a groan, Darael tossed his hands in defeat. "I can''t do it¡ªit hurts!"


    A sharp sting bit his knuckle, the orc hitting him with the branch.


    "Ow! You''re supposed to be healing, not hurting," the ginger grumbled, rubbing his hand.


    "Physical pain is easy. Remove the source, treat the wound, manage pain. Mental pain isn''t so easy. Since you are in charge of the source, you must learn to treat the wound yourself," Bor''ma said, sitting in front of the man. "Let''s try again from the beginning; What bothers you?"


    Darael respected rah, of course, but right now they were getting on his nerves. Resisting every urge and whisper to harm them or their house, he shrugged lightly.


    "If my last answer wasn''t good enough, why would it be now?"


    The orc leaned forward a bit, nose flaring to smell the air. "Because you''re going to give a different answer."


    With an agitated whine, the warlock pushed his palms into his eyes. "I already told you, I''m about to have my brain mangled by elves, what else would bother me?"


    "You want my honest thoughts?" When the man nodded, rah continued, "You''ve come to stay with an old courting partner, feelings remain between you two. But, a new partner may feel jealous or left out, so how do you give both of them attention without starting unnecessary drama?"


    Darael felt himself fill with the prickles of unease and embarrassment. "No, you''re wrong. There is no new partner."


    The orc moved their head back, giving an "ah" before crossing thick arms. "Is that what bothers you?"


    He knew exactly what rah meant, and unfortunately, they were right. That''s not lawful though, there''s no way he''d even accept it, that''s suggesting he even feels the same... A long drawn-out sigh left his lips.


    "I suggest telling this, ¡°non-partner¡± what you wish of. It will relieve some weight off your already overwhelmed psychic." Bor''ma reached over and patted the man on the leg. "Worst case he sentences you to death, right?"


    The warlock shook his head lightly. "I guess... Maybe I''ll say something when we get to the native elves. I''d hate to make the travel awkward for the other two as well." He paused and scratched his ear. "That, and right now we''re at a good peace."


    His company gave an approving nod. "This works. Until then, I suggest practicing light physical or enhancemental spells daily. You need both an outlet and better control."


    "I can control my maegik."


    The orc laughed softly. "I didn''t mean to imply otherwise. I mean control over your fears."


    Darael didn''t respond for he knew that was true. I''ve always been scared of hurting people, but it''s my first urge when upset. Why am I like this? Why couldn''t I have been born normal? It''s not fair... Darcy got to be normal.


    Drawing a large swell of air into his lungs, the warlock stood from his kneeling position and grunted an appreciative Orcish farewell. As he stepped out of the small brick building, he noticed a cloth flag hanging nearby. It was small, black, and smelled of wet fur.


    Huh, I guess the cat festival is today... I wonder if Jale would enjoy it, I know Roon would¡ªseeing as he wants to learn Orcish culture. Guess I can ask them. He huffed a determined hum and marched himself down the red road.


    It didn''t take the pale man long to return to his current residence, using the time to wonder about the commander and what he had been told the day before. When he entered the small house, his orc friend had greeted him.


    "Where¡¯re the others?" Darael asked.


    Krun''gun swung his head back a bit. "In the back, Roon is showing Jale how to care for his bowstring."


    The warlock nodded softly. "Thanks, I''m going to take them to the festival, might be good to have fun and enjoy our hosts'' culture."


    "I''ll be there if you do go, my partner has a pair of windsailers," his friend said happily.


    "Fancy! I''ll be there for sure!"


    Walking back towards the bedroom he and Jale shared, he found himself hoping they''d want to join him.


    Roon looked up from the weapon, wagging his tail gently. "Hello! How did it go?"


    "It was alright, rah said I''m fine though." Darael leaned against the doorway. "Want to come experience one of the biggest Orcish festivals this side of the sea?"


    The zerdal perked his ears up and gave a faster tail movement at the offer. "Absolutely!"


    Turning his gaze to the commander, who sat across from Roon, the ginger tilted his head. "What about you, Commander? Think you can loosen up for some fun?"


    "I mean, someone has to keep an eye on you," Jale said, though it had been playful.


    "It''s not a festival of metals is it?" Tesk asked.


    The troll''s words startled Darael a bit, he hadn''t even seen her over on the other bed. All relaxed up against the wall, she blended right into the dark red stones used to build the room.


    "Of course not, orcs don''t just work! They know how to have fun too." The warlock chuckled and pushed away from the wall. "Come on then, I want to meet Krun''Gun''s Renitrekas."


    Roon''s eyes lit up with pure joy as he sprang off the bed. "I''m not familiar with that word, what does it mean?"


    With a wink, Darael backed up. "You''ll have to wait and see."


    Even Jale seemed intrigued now, and the ginger felt proud of himself for being able to convince them all¡ªwithout the aid of maegik. He beckoned them on and led his company outside.


    "Is it... A market festival? Set to sell or trade work after a long good harvest?" Roon asked as they walked along the streets.


    "No, I said it wasn''t work-related." Darael giggled lightly at the zerdal''s zeal, before holding up a hand. "Well, I suppose a lot of work goes into this, but it''s a huge part of Orcish culture."


    Jale pipped up, "Is it animal-centered?"


    The warlock glanced behind him to look at the commander. "That was an incredibly lucky guess. Too lucky, how''d you know?"


    The tall man laughed, pointing to one of the black markers. "Orcs are blind, they can''t use flyers like the rest of us. I assume these scent flags that weren''t here yesterday are related to the festival?"


    Humph, I forgot elves have incredible senses... He nodded, a bit in defeat. "It is yes."


    "Is it... sport or animal fighting?" Tesk asked, sounding uneasy.


    "Great Divines, no! Orcs are not barbaric!" Darael sighed. "And, if it was, I wouldn''t have offered to take you, Tesk."


    The troll relaxed at the reassurance, which relieved the warlock. Much better to enjoy something when it''s completely naturally interesting.


    With his group in tow, the ginger strolled up to the large open field on the outskirts of town. A sturdy stone fence walled off a circle in the center of the meadow, huge and ready for fun. Surrounding the fence; lots of seats and food stands, plenty of orcs, and noise.


    Oh, I do hope this doesn''t freak Jale out... Hopefully, he''ll be having too much to let that happen. Darael fussed silently before pushing through the crowd, checking behind him to ensure his party followed.


    When they reached the contained field, he propped himself against the fence and turned to his companions. "Remember, huge part of orc culture."


    Roon chittered something in his tongue, which Jale laughed at. Which bothered him, until the commander pushed one of the wooden chairs closer for the zerdal to stand on.


    "Orcs don''t build fences with short zerdals in mind." Tesk laughed, sitting next to the zerdal.


    Some Trollish sentences were said, which encouraged Darael to looked at the commander. Got to make sure he''s doing okay and doesn''t want to go back.


    Luckily, he seemed fairly fine, a bit overwhelmed at all the orcs, which was evident in the way he kept looking all around them. And honestly, the warlock couldn''t blame him.


    "Hey, it''ll be okay. Orcs really like showing off their skills to others, this is extremely important for them, but also super fun."


    "What is though?" Jale asked.


    The warlock pointed over towards a pair of orcs entering the ring. Each of them had a large black animal walking beside them; both sleek and elegant felines. Long and rather tall cougars, with a single uniquely different set of glowing white spots on their ears.


    He leaned fully on the fence, admiring the beasts as they made their way to the center.


    "Are those renitrekas?" Roon asked in awe.


    "No, those are forest pumas or garnums." The warlock explained, pointing to the pair of orcs. "The handlers are going to show off what their cats can do, very showmanshipy."


    The bigger orc stepped up to the center, standing on a small rock. As he spoke in Orcish, Darael momentarily forgot that the others'' had no idea what was being said.


    A bit sheepishly, he cleared his throat and worked on translating for his group. "Torlas¡ªtheir version of ladies or gentlemen¡ªI''m pleased to announce the start of our hobby show: Bher''un Dro''a!"


    The warlock gave a soft smile towards Roon, adding, "The festival of pumas and fire."


    The orc didn''t use much body language, much like Krun''gun, but he threw his arms to the sides and bowed. Throwing out his last sentence in Common. "To our rare, but appreciated, non-orc viewers: Enjoy our display!"


    Jale glanced over at Darael, before hesitantly leaning against the wall. Propping up on the solid stone seemed to feel good as if relieving weight from his spine in some manner.


    Odd, I would never have even guessed he was hurting... He should get himself a seat if he does. The warlock turned his attention back to the show, eagerly awaiting his friend''s turn.


    The two orcs and their black pumas set the stage for the first show, with the cats using their maegik gift to lift and move boxes without touching anything. Sparking ripples of praises and conversation from the crowd.


    While very impressive, the first few acts only consisted of a single forest puma pushing various objects through the air. A few boxes and tools, as well as a balancing cup on a plate. Surely the grand festival could wow his friends as it had wowed him.


    Just as he was giving up on the idea that he made a good choice, Darael spotted Krun''gun and a second orc entering the ring. He grinned lightly when he saw absolutely nothing next to them.


    "Oh! They must have saved the best for last, showmanship after all." The warlock commented, perking up a bit.


    Tesk laughed softly. "They better be like our marsh cats, or I''d worry for your sanity."


    "Festival of cats and fire. What have we not seen yet?" Darael asked, leaning further on the fence.


    Krun''gun took a position in the middle of the ring, waving a large arm in a sideways arc. A second arm movement in the opposite way caused a shape to appear in front of them. This shape pale and ghostly, the figure of a large cougar sitting.


    The second orc grunted and spun their fingers in a tight circle, catching sparks to form a ball of fire. With a focused toss, the fireball was launched towards Krun''gun.


    With a soft chuff, the ghostly puma lunged and caught the flaming orb in its paws before it hit the orc. Containing it, the cat smothered the hungry fire and turned to face the crowd.


    "That... Is a renitreka. Windsailer, a rare breed of mountain cats named for their apparent wind riding abilities," the warlock said in awe.


    Roon gaped and chittered in excitement. "Does it use illusionary spells?"


    Shaking his head, Darael pointed towards the faded cat. "They''re actually elemental users, but they have full control of whether or not you can see them."


    The zerdal gave a soft hum and peered in at the beast. "I thought you said they had more than one?"


    While the ginger knew what that meant, he decided to shrug. This is best experienced without warning, and knowing Krun, he''ll do it to us.


    His orc friend grunted a command, doing a similar finger circle to build a fireball. Once formed, rah forced the fire straight up into the air. Their puma crouched low before springing high, sailing clear over the tall orc''s head with feet of room. Landing with the flame dying in its mouth, the cat growled and circled Krun''gun.


    The second orc spoke an Orchish word, then a second. Bold commands for the beasts. As the handlers gathered in the center, their ghostly cat crouched low and waited.


    Krun''gun flared his nostrils and smiled, then waved a hand dismissively towards Darael.

 Chapter Eight (unnamed)

    Jale had been watching the semi-transparent cougar perform its tricks, but the unease of a second invisible predator lurking forced him to remain alert. When Krun''gun commanded something in Orcish while gesturing towards the outsiders, he removed himself from the fence. Oh Divines, elemental, invisible pumas coming towards us? What is this place?


    Before the commander could prepare, the cat fully vanished from sight, and a soft distorted outline leaped to stand on the stone wall.


    Staring at the beast, he felt as his hands grabbed air, attempting to remove his missing sword out. A glance downward reminded him he still didn''t have a blade, and when his eyes connected back on the shape a stream of water hit his face.


    With a light exclaim, Jale stepped back and wiped a hand over his face to remove some of the liquid. While his companions gave a mixed reply of squeals and giggles.


    Two identical off-white cougars now stood on the stone wall. Their backs were traitorin creamy brindle stripes and a solid brown line traced their spines. Bright purple eyes stared back at the tall man, shining with clear displays of health and joy. Lacing their necks were matching purple bands, glowing pridefully.


    "Whoa," Roon uttered, admiring these beasts that were much bigger than him.


    A call from the orcs and the pumas jumped down to return to their owners. Smooth gaits that promised little sound but great distance carried the pair.


    As the first orc, the ringleader, took their spot once more and began speaking, the group watched Krun''gun and the other orc take their cats off to the side.


    "And thus concludes the opening day of Bher''un Dro''a, thank you to all the lovely folk who showed up today! Make sure to visit tomorrow to see our wonderful cats show their hunting skills!" Darael had translated the Orcish before turning to wave his group on. "Come, I want to meet the cats!"


    Jale hesitated but followed the warlock. "Cats, Darael, they''re pumas! Wild, dangerous beasts."


    The ginger scoffed, barely throwing a glance back at him. "They''re domesticated, beautiful, graceful creatures. We have hounds, they have cats."


    Roon wagged his tail in light amusement. "He has you there, Jale. If these orcs live with and train these animals for a living, why should they be any different from your hounds? Or the elves'' antelope?" Of course, the zerdal had said this in Zerdalian.


    Irritated, the commander crossed his arms, one hand resting on his shoulder as he followed his company. He didn''t have a counter, but the thought of approaching the cougars bothered him. No, don''t lie... The cats don''t scare you.


    They were quiet until reaching the pair of orcs, with Darael greeting his friend in Orcish.


    "I''m glad you made it out, I was worried you would have stayed home!" Krun''gun laughed. "But here you all are."


    Roon perked up with his standard zerdal interest. "It was lovely! I''ve never even heard of renitrekas, let alone their impressively rare talent."


    Wait a second, if they had invisible, fire-starting, large, predatory cats on their side. Why didn''t they use them during the war? Jale wondered quietly, watching from a few steps behind.


    "They''re very rare to find, and even if you do find them not all will take to this lifestyle," the orc explained, clicking his tongue.


    In response, one of the cats lifted a large paw. Thick and covered in fine fur, it had to be bigger than the humans'' hands.


    The zerdal reached out and gently took the paw, which the cougar shook before retracting the leg to return standing.


    Both Darael and Roon giggled in delight. With the ginger offering the other animal a pat on the head.


    "Oh, they''re so beautiful! Shame for not telling me what you had." The warlock huffed. "What''s their names?"


    Krun''gun''s partner responded this time. "It was a surprise, why do you think rah was keeping you here so long? As for names, the female is Dro''a, and the male is Draeg."


    After an expectant look from Roon, Darael added. "Fire and Dragon."


    Jale huff a soft sound. "Fitting."


    The pair of cats looked up at him after he spoke, causing those purple glares to ensnare him. Almost as if warning him not, or even daring him, to do anything. And just like that, he understood what was wrong with the beasts.


    Putting his hands down, he crouched and offered a hand to each cat. "Oh I''m sorry, we''re those two not giving you enough attention? Huh?"


    Someone said something in Orcish, then Trollish, but Jale ignored them and gave the cougars some pets.


    Very thick and tightly pact fur covered their bodies, protective against the weather and physical scratches. Solid and well-built muscles sat on their shoulders, perfect for making those high and long leaps.


    Dro''a chuffed, curling her tail in a relaxed manner, while Draeg pushed against the human''s hand eagerly.


    "Yes, yes... My attention is superior, I know."


    Darael chuckled and squatted next to him to pet the female. "Sooo... No hard feelings for spraying you?"


    Jale shied away a bit, now conscious about how public this area was. "No, it was just part of the show. No harm."


    The warlock nodded. "Good, still think they''re, what was it? Wild, dangerous beasts?"


    "No more than you."


    Both Roon and Tesk laughed at the comment, with the orcs saying something in their language. Oddly, Darael displayed embarrassment afterward, a tilted-down head and a rosy hue joining his pale complexion.


    I wonder what they said to make him shy up so much. Jale shifted his eyes back to the cougars, giving the male some ear rubs.


    Placing his large paws on the commander''s shoulders, Draeg butted his heavy skull against the human''s head.


    "Sweet Divines! Gah, you weigh too much!" The tall man exclaimed, stumbling back a step.


    "Very vicious..." Roon mused, chuckling before excusing himself.


    Tesk laughed. "These beasts are nothing like our gator-eating monsters back home."


    Krun''gun nodded giving a command that got the puma off Jale before responding. "Rer''gun found them as kits, siblings starving and covered in... What do you call them, land leeches?" The orc snorted and shook his head. "Dying. Rah found them dying. We nursed them back together and now they''re pretty much our family."


    The troll hummed softly. "Cute. I''d say they have your eyes... They have your ears for sure."


    "Don''t be rude, these cats are more beautiful than Krung and Rer combined," Darael said, patting the male before standing up.


    Reg snorted a laugh. "Adopted family is a good way to ensure your kids look better than you."


    Entertained at the light banter, Jale gave the cougars a bit more attention before standing up. "I think we should head back... It''s lunchtime and I need to fix my bow."


    His human companion seemed a bit disappointed. "It''ll be fine one more day, we don''t plan on going anywhere soon."


    "I do agree, I can only stand being around so many animals for so long," Tesk said playfully.


    Krun''gun reacted in Orcish, then nodded. "Lunch would be nice, save me some."


    Darael sighed dramatically. "Fine, if we must. Goodbye pretties! You were so amazing today, oh yes you were!" He cooed to the cats before turning to the tall man.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Think Roon can find his way?" Tesk asked as they began walking off.


    The commander nodded. "I believe he can, he''s got incredible senses. Plus he knows where the house is."


    <hr>


    Two solid weeks had flown by as the group enjoyed the fun of Gorh''un, almost forgetting they had to see the elves entirely. But, between the unusual snow patterns in summer and a few rampant goats, Tesk became stressed to get moving. The troll''s demeanor had changed completely from her laid-back, observing nature; to a tense, controlling personality.


    Eventually caving in, the group had agreed to leave the orc city and head south. Leaving civilization once again had been a bit disheartening, though for the humans it just meant reality had caught up. With Jale forced to accept he was going to come face to face with elves, and Darael understanding he was closer to his punishment.


    They had traveled for a handful of days, barely half a week, when the warlock began showing small displays of anxiety. Being more eager to chat or organize their supplies, even accepting an invitation to join a hunt.


    While odd it started so late, Jale couldn''t say it surprised him. Nerves and fear before an elven punishment was something he saw all the time.


    As he laid in the wagon watching the sky above, he could feel his human companion shifting a bit beside him.


    "What do you think we should make tonight?" the tall man asked his company.


    Darael sighed a light huff, shrugging. "I don''t know, more goat?"


    "Just roasted goat?" Jale turned his head to look at the pale man. "I thought you liked cooking?"


    His friend lazily met his gaze. "When there are ingredients to play with, sure."


    The tall man scoffed. "We have plenty of ingredients you could use to make something more interesting than stew or slabs of roast."


    "Like what?"


    Running a hand through his hair, Jale went quiet as he thought about it. Finally chiming up. "We have a tiny bit of fruit left, and plenty of potatoes, squash... I''m sure you could whip up something."


    Darael watched him comb his hair, curiously inspecting the thick mane. "Perhaps..."


    The commander blinked over at him. "What?" Questioning the way the warlock stared and trailed off.


    "Nothing. Just, what color is your hair?"


    Even though that question seemed reasonable, the tall man didn''t know how to respond. They already know I''m half-elf, I don''t have to hide it from them... But, if I let my appearance slip up now, no telling who at home may find out. He ate his mind away with worrying thoughts until his companion nudged his arm.


    Darael had elbowed him gently. "Don''t worry about it... Maybe your age is just starting to show."


    With a sheepish and soft chuckle, Jale sighed. "No, I''m not that old. Naturally, my hair is kind of... White? White, blonde, and tan, if I remember correctly."


    Roon popped in with a question. "You don''t know the color of your own hair?"


    "Why three colors?" The warlock asked almost over the zerdal.


    "Well, field elves have fur-like hair instead of traditional hair." Jale paused to mess with his hair. "Their hair stops growing at a certain length, standing up to help them blend into the grassy lands they live in. And no, I''ve been dying it so long, I don''t remember my own combination."


    Frowning a soft pout, the pale man looked up at the sky. "You shouldn''t have to hide such stupid things. Your mother was an elf, who cares?"


    "The king, he cares." Was all the commander could think to say.


    Tesk glanced back at them. "The King can swallow a hive of wasps. He''s not been very kind to the land." Her usually angelic voice had been replaced with a low growl.


    The troll¡¯s threats sat above the tall man, forcing him to shrink up and bite his tongue. She''s absolutely right, King Trevino has been nothing but a problem. A heavy sigh fell from his lips. And I''ve pledged my life to serve him.


    A soft touch brushed his arm, unlike the jolt Darael gave moments ago. Darting his gaze down, he spotted a pale hand patting his forearm. Slowly Jale brought his blue eyes to meet the other''s green lures.


    "If you''re killed on the job, what happens to your family?" The warlock inquired gently.


    Though the physical contact drove him crazy, the commander didn''t react. "Well, unless I''m marked as a tratior, or commit other various crimes, my aunt will continue getting payments."


    He desperately searched his friend''s expressionless eyes, seeking a hint or sign for this behavior change. Once again, the only reasonable conclusion he could think of was manipulation. Unable to actually harm, or even care if he was being manipulated, all he found himself able to do was pull his arm away a touch.


    As he laid his arms on his stomach lazily, the warlock looked away and nodded. "I see, well... Just wondering why you don''t run away and let them presume you''re dead."


    "Lying about one''s state of living usually never bodes well," Roon said, "I imagine if you retired she would still be paid, right?"


    Jale tore his attention away from the pale man to sit up. "Sure, but... Then what would I do? I would lose my purpose."


    The zerdal cooked his ears. "And what is your purpose now? To kill people who disagree with one man?"


    Divines... When you put it like that, it sounds stupid. "This job is almost all I know. I don''t just imprison people, I protect my city too."


    Tesk turned her torso to face him. "You said almost, what other kind of life do you know?"


    "At this point, probably traveler." Darael chimed in with a light amused tone.


    "I used to work the stables, working with the horses was some of the best experiences in my life." Jale tilted his head a bit. "Traveling is fun when you don''t have to do it for a year or more straight."


    The troll laughed. "You think a year is good? I can hardly stand a few months before it bothers me."


    Roon gave a playful scoff. "A year is nothing, I don''t even have a place to call home and crawl back to."


    The group laughed at the zerdal''s comment, all four of them settling into the cart to enjoy the scenery once more.


    Scattered ebony trees and knee-high blue-green grass had slowly been replaced with the meadow. Trees vanished and for miles, all one could see were rolling waves of golden grass. The grass stretched up high enough to touch the driver in the wagon, taunting everyone with its steady wave.


    "Great Divines... I''ve never seen grass so tall," Darael muttered, breathing out in soft awe.


    "You think the swamp is a pain to traverse." Jale paused to scan the top of the grass. "At least there only one thing turns invisible."


    The warlock looked up at him. "Everything turns invisible here?"


    Nodding gently, the commander looked at the pale man. "Illusionary gifts grace this land. If not invisible, they have plenty of other tricks to mess with you."


    Roon shushed them, halting the cart to scan the surroundings. Why a zerdal was getting so tense in an unfamiliar place was beyond Jale, but he would follow where the short creature looked.


    Ears twitched here and there, snapping around to identify each sound. After a few seconds, his head swung around to listen on the other side.


    That''s really weird, he shouldn''t be so paranoid already, plus he''s a zerdal. Nobody harms them. The commander glanced at his friend before climbing out of the wagon. His line of sight sat just on top of the grass, with his tall frame really putting the height into perspective for the others.


    "Perhaps we should set up camp, it''s nearly dusk anyway," Jale suggested, turning back to the group.


    "Here? Where the completely passive person feels threatened?" Darael asked in disbelief.


    With a nod, the commander gestured around them. "We don''t know where the elves are, making a camp here is the best way to find them."


    Tesk made a noise but returned a nod. "I suppose you''re right. Come on Roon, let''s make a camp."


    The zerdal grumbled in Trollish before moving the cart into the grass¡ªaway from the safety of the path.


    While nothing eventful happened as they made camp, or even ate and slept. In the morning Jale could feel the difference in the wind. Cold and hostile. The cool air wasn''t even refreshing under the beating sun, just a generally miserable region to be in.


    Grass constantly grazed their skin, giving them all the sensation that bugs were eating at them. Which made the group more than eager to get up and back onto the path.


    As Jale worked on cleaning the campsite away, a chill raced down his spine. A dull humming clawed at his mind, pushing him to lock up in his spot.


    Moments of uncertainty on what to do passed before he turned his head towards the others. "Elves."


    "What, where?" Roon asked, shooting up from his position.


    "I can''t explain it, but even with the King''s elves, I can feel when they''re nearby."


    The warlock didn''t give any snarky comments, instead choosing to creep closer to the commander. With Tesk following.


    The zerdal grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. "Well, let us try to make a good first impression, then."


    Jale felt the vibrations of his companions moving, which was weird. I''ve never felt so much movement before... It feels weird, I''m sure that''s not normal.


    Wind played with the long blades, which danced along with it. For the longest of time only nature made any noise, everything still without remaining motionless.


    "Are you sure?" Darael questioned, hesitation wrapped around his words.


    The commander surveyed the edge of the camp, wondering if he was sure or not when his eyes connected with a set of bright curious eyes. Shining blue, they stood out against the golden grass, and after a short staring contest. They moved.


    Coming eye to eye with Jale, they blinked and seemed to inspect him.


    "Yeah, see. I knew it." The tall man glanced at his company.


    Tesk gave an uneasy laugh. "Pardon?"


    Returning his gaze to the pair of eyes, Jale titled his head. "Guess you can''t see them. I just don''t know how to tell them we don''t mean any harm."


    "We could smell your intentions on the wind, fear not. You carry heavy weight with you, Wikeds no doubt." The feminine voice filled his brain, giving him goosebumps.


    "He''s the one that wishes for help," the commander said, gesturing to Darael, "I''m supposed to be helping."


    Roon chittered softly. "Jale?"


    With a shimmer of blue, a tall figure appeared in front of Jale. Darker, warmer skin than his own filled her sleek frame. A pair of pointed ears twitched to focus on the whole group at once, while her sharp blue focus settled on each of them one by one.


    "Afraid physical tongues are hard. Follow, be welcomed." The elf''s speech had struggled but was more than understandable.


    Jale gave a nod. "Thank you."


    With a gesture to follow, the elf stepped into the grass wall. Vanishing behind a golden curtain.

 The Elves

    "You''ll have to excuse most of us, besides elven, many of the younger elves can''t speak physical languages," a particularly tall male elf said, "But, know that you are welcomed here and to share our food or housing."


    Bowing politely, Roon looked up at the elf. "Thank you! Your hospitality is much appreciated, but if it''s alright, I would like to set up a small camp right outside the village."


    Jale gave the zerdal a pat. "We can relax though, they have shelters and fires."


    "And food," Darael added.


    "We weren''t starving, or exposed," Roon grumbled.


    Tesk whispered to the zerdal, which made the small man sigh and nod in defeat.


    Turning back to the tall elf, Jale held his arms forward. "Sei''naeve, I think we should talk. How can I help you?"


    Sei''naeve laughed. "Either by dying or changing drastically."


    Holy shit, be brutally honest, please. "Erm, elaborate?" The commander rubbed his neck.


    "You''re stressing our Divines. And being here, so close to our gift... Without fixing yourself, you cannot help us."


    Darael cocked his head. "Why is that?"


    The tall elf sighed, waving for them to follow. "You see, everyone is connected to our Divines, one person being unhappy or stressed isn''t enough to bother them. However, elves are connected directly to the Great Divines," he brought his hands upwards, "which means we feel what they feel, and vice versa. I believe Jale is an exceptionally rare elf called a Seer, who are twice as connected to the Divines."


    Jale sighed a soft breath. "Poor things."


    "Let me ask you, how do you feel at night?"


    The commander looked up at the elf. "What?"


    Sei''naeve placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him away from the group. With another elf keeping them from following.


    "I''d advise you to be honest. I would know if you''re not," the tall elf said, leading him into the grass that surrounded the village. "When you''re awaiting sleep, how do you feel?"


    Jale sat on the question for a moment, deep down knowing he wouldn''t like the answer. "Anxious."


    "And when you wake up?"


    The commander scratched at his arm. "Worried or tired."


    Sei''naeve nodded, listening to him. "Now, why do you feel these?"


    Bringing his eyes down, Jale muttered. "I wonder when my identity will be revealed and my life ruined. If my life gets ruined, then my aunt will suffer the consequences."


    "So, you''re stressed over hiding and fitting in, while convinced you''re not doing good enough?" The elf shook his head. "You''re lucky a drought is all the marsh has."


    Curious, he brought his gaze back up to his companion. "What do you mean?"


    The elf stopped moving and pointed towards a puddle on the path. "What do you see?"


    Peering in, the commander simply saw his reflection, his eyes drawn to the faded grey hair on his head and never-growing light facial hair. Dull blue eyes searched his own face, which no longer seemed connected to him.


    "A shell."


    Nodding again, Sei''naeve turned back towards the village. "I can give you everything a Seer like you needs, but it will be up to you to make the connections and find your joy."


    I suppose it makes sense. If I''m not happy, why would the Divines be? I''m linked to them and them to me, we''re just feeding each other bad emotions. Jale sighed once more and nodded.


    "Okay. But, the warlock, Darael, he needs help too."


    The elf looked down at him. "Is he not a prisoner? Why would a commander seek help for someone who is on their way to be broken regardless?"


    With averted eyes, the commander shrugged. "I just thought, maybe if he could straighten up... Perhaps I could convince the king to let him go?"


    His companion hummed in curious thought, and Jale took a few steps towards the village. He doesn''t deserve to suffer anymore, but why do I feel this way now?


    Sei''naeve followed his steps. "Very well. If he needs and accepts help, we will give him aid too. With what does he need fixing?"


    "He''s a bit, hmm. Scared, I think, and anxious as well... He''s been nothing but a sarcastic ass all trip."


    The elf laughed at him. "While I''m not familiar with the term ''ass'' for a human, I understand the mood you describe. Common in indecisive or fearful folk."


    Jale pushed through the edge of the grass, breaking into the clearing filled with huts and elves. A sense of comfort swelled inside him, but he blocked it off and turned back to the tall elf.


    "Do you have a spare place for us?"


    "Of course. You have to set it up though."


    The commander smiled lightly, amused at the thought of his human friend setting up a large hide tent without maegik. "I''d love to get that situated now if that''s alright. Might put Roon at ease."


    Sei''naeve stepped in front to lead him towards the empty space. "I don''t blame him, she may develop complications. Cross-racial reproduction can cause a lot of trouble."


    "Pardon me?"


    Even though he knew the elf meant no real offense, the comment hurt Jale. Knowing many people dislike cross-racial relationships and hearing it firsthand fell differently on the hybrid''s soul.


    His tall companion sucked his teeth gently. "Look, I mean physically. Most races aren''t very compatible and bodies tend to reject vastly different people."


    "No. I understand."


    Sei''naeve waved someone over and bowed his head. "Rest, enjoy safety. Tomorrow you can worry about training to become a proper elf."


    The commander gave a subtle face twitch, not interested in responding anymore. Which, luckily, his companion understood and backed away. I already wish I wasn''t here, why did I have to come here? The orcs could''ve helped plenty I''m sure... He sighed and studied the ground. Light grey dirt covered the grasslands, cleared of all plants in the village. Twisting his foot a bit, he watched the soft soil move like sand, though a solid layer ground against the sole of his boot.


    "When they said they had a spare house, I didn''t expect us to make it ourselves," Darael said from behind, "but, I guess it could be fun."


    In the presence of the warlock, the commander straightened up and turned to look at him. "Traditional elven huts... seems easy enough."


    Roon approached the supplies to inspect the material. "Great Seradra, what manner of beast did this come from?" He asked, holding up a hide twice the size of his own body.


    Jale twisted his head to see the skin. "Hmm, light yellow and a large flank and rump... Horse or elk. A very small horse or elk."


    The warlock widened his eyes. "That''s a small one?"


    "Juvenile most likely, yeah." The tall man chuckled before walking over to help the zerdal. "You''re the expert, tell us what to do."


    "Expert in Zerdalian travel huts..." Tesk mused, bringing herself over to help.


    Between the four of them, they managed to set up the rather large tent. Solid blue logs built a sturdy frame, while the yellow hides stretched over it to provide shelter. Walking inside, Jale tested each support before lining the dirt with soft furs.


    When they were all done with building, midday had already come and gone. With Roon and Tesk going off to help gather water, the two humans were left to help the elves prepare for a hunt. Wrapping a bundle of leathers together tightly, Jale could feel stares from the people around him. Unsure if this was good or bad, he ended up sticking closer to Darael than usual. At least a warlock could prove a good fighter if needed.


    As night approached, the commander could feel the anxiety over the next day creeping in. Trying to push it away, he settled into the fur mat to relax.


    "Hey, Jale?" the warlock asked meekly.


    Looking up, Jale noticed the ginger was sitting a few feet away on the soil. "Yeah?"


    His friend averted his gaze towards the entrance of the hut. "Do you have to take me to the King?"


    Fucking hells, what kind of a question is that at dusk? Sighing, the commander laid his arms across his chest. "I don''t know."


    "You don''t know?"


    "No," Jale said, scratching at his chest, "I hope the elves can help you so that I don''t have to. Better these elves than his, right?"


    Giving a light shrug, the warlock glanced back over. "And if they can''t?"


    You don''t want me to answer that... I still have a job I have to keep. Another sigh left his lips and he shook his head.


    "Could I ask for a merciful end instead?"


    Jale shot his eyes back to the ginger, sitting up a bit at the question. "I''m not going to kill you. You''ll get better. Elves are the best at, erm, changing a human''s mindset."


    His companion flinched lightly. "Couldn''t stop the King, could they."


    The tall man relaxed his body a bit to remove as much of the tension as he could. "That''s because he killed the elves who tried. Just don''t kill the elves."


    "I don''t think I can promise that." Darael dropped his eyes and crawled over to a nearby bedroll.


    "It wasn''t a suggestion."


    Crowing of a scornful bird brought Jale to his senses the next morning, a scratchy song that you''d have to be insane or deaf to ignore. Groans of displeasure came from the warlock, but the commander brought himself to get up. Tesk hissed something, rolling over to sleepily console in her partner, who whined at the sound.


    I''m sure they''ll bring themselves up sooner or later, but I''m up now so might as well go see what I can help with. Jale secured his wrist guards and took his bow, quiver, and daggers.


    Stepping outside, he found an already busy village. Taken aback at how many of the elves were already moving around to get things done. Even in Bogsgate when he worked with other early workers, he''s never seen so many people up with the sun.


    "Jale! Good good, I was worried you would miss your first day of training," Sei''naeve called him over, smiling at him.


    "I wouldn''t dream of it. What do I need to do?"


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    The elf chuckled and pointed to the commander''s hair. "You''ve ruined your mane, we should fix it."


    Jale subconsciously ran a hand through his hair. "What''s wrong with it?"


    "You''ve polluted your beautiful color with human stains, and however did you get it to grow so long? And stay down?"


    "A lot of hard, needed work," the commander said, knowing already he was not getting out of changing his hair.


    Sei''naeve laughed. "Come then, I''ll get Eriss''Sai and we can start fixing it."


    Jale had no choice but to follow the tall elf, for once in his life feeling out of place. Even among the orcs and zerdals he had felt welcomed and wanted. These elves made him realize just how unwanted he was. Should just be glad they didn''t kill my mutant ass on the spot I guess, but do I have to change everything I used to fit in to help? How is my hair color or length going to help make me happy?


    His guide led him to a female elf who had been cleaning a bow before joining them.


    The woman stood up and gave Jale a long look over. "Look odd. Why the grey?"


    "It was black, I had to do it to survive." The commander explained, following the pair out of the village.


    "We''ve never had an elf so focused on looking human, what ever compelled you to do so?" Sei''naeve asked.


    Soft crunches under his feet became Jale''s focus, wondering if he should bother to even tell them again. After a few moments, he shrugged.


    "An elf living in Bogsgate, raised by a human? My aunt would''ve been killed like my parents. I''m just lucky my dad gave me enough genetics to blend in."


    Eriss''Sai hummed thoughtfully. "Might not have a mane."


    The commander huffed. "I wish. I very much do, it took ages to train my hair to lie flat instead of stand."


    "Tsk tsk, we need to fix that," the taller elf said, gesturing towards a small pond, "luckily we have such creams to remove such potent pollution."


    Jale glanced down at his shirt, sighing at the realization that he didn''t want to dry it out for hours. He removed the article of clothing and stepped into the warm water.


    "Naturally warm water?" he questioned out loud.


    The tall elf laughed. "Yes, the sun warms it."


    Eriss''Sai waded in after him, giving a bowl of green goop. "Let help? Be faster."


    Nodding, the commander took the container in one hand. Using the other to begin the tedious process of coating each strand in the goop.


    With the woman''s help, it went by faster, but it still took a good while to get all of his thick hair. Then he had to wait.


    "Toxic stains, thankfully you haven''t used any in a while, makes it way easier to remove," Sei''naeve said, giving him a nod.


    Jale took the nod and brought air into his lungs to submerge himself. Underwater, he could see the greenish-grey mixture swirl into the clear water around him. Watching the swirls a moment, he found himself thinking back to the moment in the river all those months ago.


    Shaking his head, he worked on scrubbing his hair until he couldn''t stand holding his breath any longer. Emerging with a gasp, the commander wiped water from his face.


    "Did I get it all?"


    A soft hum, before Eriss''Sai spoke. "Almost."


    With an internal groan, Jale leaned back to submerge just his hair. Running fingers and hands all around through his locks, he looked up at the sky. The sun had barely finished displaying an orange and red greeting, and here he was. Nearly drowning already.


    This time, when he got up the taller elf nodded again. "Better, now it just needs relief and freedom. Did you get the shears?"


    The woman held up the tool in question, a pair of sharp iron blades secured together.


    I don''t want to cut it... No, it would take ages to grow back out. I wouldn''t be able to blend in anymore. His worried thoughts plagued him as he made his way to Eriss.


    As the soft clicks and snips sounded around his ears, he could feel the wet clumps falling past his bare torso. Though concerned and extremely scared at the consequences, it slowly began to excite him. Now Jale couldn''t wait to see what he''d look like in his natural state.


    After the trim, he could feel his hair reaching upwards, no longer limp against his skull. Satisfying almost.


    "Two more things and you''ll look just like a field elf," Sei''naeve said, handing the woman one of the Orcish daggers.


    Eriss''Sai agreed and took the weapon. Holding it up, she scraped it carefully along Jale''s jaw, even up his cheeks some.


    "Darael could benefit from this too," Jale commented, even if it seemed irrelevant, it was what he thought honestly.


    His companions laughed, though the taller elf sounded stiff, almost disapproving.


    It''s because he''s a human warlock I bet, superior pricks. Jale conferred in his thoughts, letting the elf clean him up.


    When she stepped back, he crept over and knelt next to the pond. Though hesitant, he leaned over and gazed into the pool.


    A beautiful elf stared back. Wild white and tan hair stood messily atop his smooth, sleek face. Even just those two changes made him look drastically different, almost as if they brightened his whole face up. Strong, bold, blue eyes gazed up at him, telling him it would be fine.


    Smiling down at his reflection, Jale sat back on his heels. "I like it... Now what?"


    Sei''naeve shook his head. "You move too fast, slow down a little! But, if you''re eager. A weapon and some practice, all Seers must see the tree at least once in their life."


    "The Bleeding Tree?" The commander gasped, standing up.


    "What other tree would I mean?"


    Jale shook his head. "I don''t know... But if you want me to do these things, I''ll do them. I''ve never been near such a... Active place before."


    Eriss''Sai handed the commander his dagger back. "Must look the part."


    The taller elf nodded. "Yes, all elven visitors must follow the traditions, which includes offering a meal."


    "Elk are Divines'' favorite!" The woman exclaimed.


    Nodding, Jale put the blade back in its sheath. "Okay, I can do that."


    "Come then, let''s get you some real armor." Sei''naeve waved them on, walking back.


    Following, the commander glanced over at Eriss''Sai, who smiled back at him. It was warm and relaxed, but it unnerved him.


    I thought elves disliked cross-racial relationships, why does she seem attracted to me? She could just be nice, perhaps I''m jumping to conclusions...


    Back in the village, he found his friends gathered around a small fire to enjoy breakfast. Beaming slightly. He excused himself to go eat¡ªand show off his changes.


    "Eating without me already? Damn, can''t do anything by myself," Jale complained, though light and playful.


    Darael looked up and proceeded to gasp, choke, and stand up in the span of seconds. Rubbing his throat a bit while looking the commander over with a curious expression.


    Roon laughed at the warlock''s surprise, tilting his head back to look up at the commander. "How do you feel with this new look?"


    "Hasn''t quite hit me yet if I''m being honest. My hair has already started to bother me¡ªthe way it stands up." Jale sighed lightly. "It''ll hit me sooner or later what I''ve done though."


    Tsk, Tesk clicked her tusks. "Shame. You''re embracing your ancestors, it should not worry you."


    "You''ve been unusually quiet, Darael. What''s going on in that mind of yours?" the tall man asked, resting his hands on his hips.


    Cocking his head to the side, the warlock huffed a soft note. "See, that hair suits you."


    Well, that''s positive, I suppose that''s something. "No, snarky comments or sarcasm today?"


    His friend curled a light smile. "I mean, if you want that, Commander. But, honestly... No, I like it, that''s all."


    As the two humans fell into silence, peacefully watching each other, the zerdal nudged Jale and offered a plate of food.


    "Ah, thanks," the commander uttered, sitting in between Roon and Darael.


    However, the warlock didn''t sit back down or resume his meal. Instead, he quietly excused himself and walked down the water path.


    Great, I must scare him like this, I don''t blame him either. Elves should be feared and now I am one. Unfortunate thoughts crawled his mind and forced him to slink down in his seat a bit. Which caught the attention of the ever-attentive zerdal.


    "What''s wrong now? It''s not coming to you negatively now is it?"


    Jale shook his head. "No, I''m just... I''m hoping I''m not scaring Darael or anything."


    Tesk leaned forward. "And why would you scare him now if he hasn''t shown any fear of you before?"


    "Well, humans are trained to fear elves, and now with me becoming one more and more. I don''t know, I''m worried I''m pushing him away by doing this," the commander said, realizing just how much he likes the human''s company now.


    Roon gave him a pat on the back. "Being part elf has obviously not done you any favors when it comes to judgment." He dropped his ears in amusement. "To be fair, elves aren''t very wise to it either."


    "To what?" Jale questioned.


    The troll stood up, placing the empty plate on the stack. "To genuine feelings. And a little bit of emotion too."


    The commander huffed a scoff, but couldn''t think of verbal retaliation.


    "Don''t worry about it, focus on your training. Once we leave, you can focus on Darael." Roon chuckled, standing to follow his partner.


    Focus on Darael, why would I want to? Stupid, pale-faced long-haired, wild, beast. Another scoff left his mouth. I just don''t want him to suffer anymore if I don''t have to. Why should he? Where did he even go?


    Jale scowled at his thoughts and ate his elk steak alone. Settling on the idea to take Roon''s advice and just focus on his training.


    <hr>


    "You can use a bow, but you''re not feeling the bow. Connect to the weapon, let it be but an extension of your mind," Sei''naeve called from behind.


    The commander hissed under his breath, taking an arrow from his quiver. Blackened feathers grazed his fingers as he notched the arrow. Feel the bow, how in the hells do you feel a piece of wood if it''s not hitting you?


    "And silence those vile thoughts."


    Jale curled his lip and pulled the string back, aligning his arms to aim the blue weapon. Looking down the shaft, he took a deep breath. Keep snarling commands and you''ll feel the bow. Even though he could practically see the elf recoil behind him, he remained focused on the target.


    A small wooden plank swayed gently in the breeze, hung from a tree with dark rope. Large bright yellow rings painted on the wood invited an arrow to hit it, which he planned to let happen.


    Relaxing the grip, his arrow sailed through the air with a faint whistle. Unfortunately, the commander heard a soft clatter as the projectile missed and hit something else.


    His elf trainer walked up to him. "Give me this."


    Jale handed him the bow and an arrow. "I''m used to blades. I can use a bow but not against such small moving targets."


    "Excuses." Sei''naeve loaded the bowstring and gave it tension. "You must feel the vibrations, the tension, and demands of your weapon." When he let the arrow fly, it hit the small dot in the center of the plank. "Try again."


    The commander only sneered lightly at the elf. Hours of the same thing, he felt like a moron out there, and with a few of the women watching, shame joined that.


    Notching another arrow, he hesitated. Maybe I''m not elf enough to feel what he''s talking about. Then what? Wasted a whole day when I could have been doing something useful like Darael and Roon. A few seconds later a hand smacked the back of his head.


    "You are not focusing."


    An irritated hiss slid through Jale''s teeth, and he pulled the bowstring taut"I am."


    The elf crossed his arms. "Then hitting that target should be easy. Pretend it''s the warlock."


    Fucking, hells combined... At the comment, Jale let go of the string, letting the arrow go. Of course, it didn''t come close to hitting anything, but that wasn''t even registered in his brain.


    "You sure think of him often. I assumed you hated or feared him."


    "Shut up, and... let me focus." The commander huffed, taking another arrow.


    Sei''naeve held his hands out and took a step back.


    That''s stupid, why would I pretend this plank is my friend. I don''t want to shoot my friend. With a slow deep inhale, he lifted his bow while pulling the arrow back. A blue and yellow plank waved even more than before after being hit, taunting the commander with an evil spin.


    Narrowing his eyes, Jale lined the weapon up to target the vile plank. Feel the bow, what does that even mean? Tension? What tension, that''s in the string, not the wood... His eyes drifted from his target to the bow itself. In his hand holding the arrow ready, he could feel soft vibrations, while the other hand felt sturdy and solid wood. Watching the wood, he slowly relaxed the string, then brought the arrow back out again.


    Sure enough, the handle quivered just faintly at the strain. Huh, I guess it does vibrate. When Jale finally had the bow ready again, his blue gaze rested on the intimidating rings. Focus on what though? The movements? The circle or the wood itself? Or something else entirely? Usually, a commander should explain what you''re doing, not give vague orders.


    "Don''t even say anything. I''m processing this." The commander snapped at Sei''naeve.


    The elf hummed gently. "Fine."


    Focusing, focusing... Soft wind song sang through the dancing grass, which, now that he had been brought up, made Jale think of Darael once more. I do hope he''s having a better time than me. Hopefully, they don''t cut his hair off, that''d be devastating, it is rather pretty.


    An inhuman hiss stabbed the air. "You''re worse than a child chewing canes. How dare you think such things. Focus or I''m going to send you back to the human kingdom where you belong!" Sei''naeve growled.


    "Yes, Commander." The sarcastic laced words dripped off the commander''s tongue even more poisonous than Darael has ever said it.


    Should have warned me elves are a bitter dad. Jale yanked his bowstring back even further, the wood creaking faint protests as it stretched beyond limits. While his pectoral muscles clawed his brain for relief, he trained his harsh glare onto the taunting target. Thinking back to his comment on the red hair being pretty, he glanced at the grass.


    Soothing fans of golden encouragement, the blades leaned towards the south. So, the commander twitched his aim north a touch, feeling the arrow scrape across the groove as it waited to fly.


    With a slow exhale, he gave the projectile what it wanted. As it released from his grip, the white-tipped arrow soared through the air eagerly towards the plank.


    Thunk. Solid impact accompanied with a violently spinning, jolting target told Jale what he''d been waiting to hear. He did it.


    "Did you feel it? Or get lucky?" The elf questioned.


    Turning to face the tall elf, the commander shrugged. "You tell me. Did I sound like I figured it out?"


    "Sounded like despair. But, yes, I suppose you did."


    Jale nodded a curt nod, taking another arrow.


    Sei''naeve waved a hand towards the women. "We''ll let you practice then. Whenever you''re done, follow the trail home."


    A few of the ladies followed the tall elf, but two stayed back, which bothered him. But he wouldn''t express it.

 Chapter Ten (unnamed)

    Gentle bubbling provided background noise as Darael looked into the water. Smells of herbs and meats of all kinds tickled his nose and threatened a sneeze or two. In the water swam small fish, each one mindlessly on the lookout for food. Imagine the carelessness of being a fish, just eat and avoid everything, possibly get eaten.


    He sighed and sat back on his heels, waiting for his elf companion to return. I doubt this will help, I''ve been to plenty of mind welders, and melters. Good luck.


    Doubt trickled into his mind, a dangerous feeling he knew all too well. Shaking it off, the warlock brought himself to wonder instead what the commander may be doing right now. Hunting or training with a weapon most likely, if he needs to bring down a full-grown elk for the Divines. He probably needs the practice... Not that he''s not in great physical shape, nor that he lacks combat skills...


    Thankfully, a voice broke his train of thought. "Alright, Darael. Let us begin."


    The warlock crawled over and sat himself across from the speaker.


    His companion brought herself down, moving a ring from one finger to another. "What troubles you?"


    "Everything," Darael said, watching her flex a hand and pull fire from the ground; loose blue and silver bands sliding along her arm as she did.


    "Impossible, you have pleasant things in your life."


    The warlock glanced up at her over the flame. "Like what, Nerianna?"


    Nerianna''Naeve scoffed. "You have the zerdal and troll friend, and the strange relationship with the half-human."


    "He''s a friend too."


    The elf nodded, though doubtful. "You also have a rare and beautiful talent."


    Darael brought his attention to the ground. "A gift that does nothing but harm people."


    "You fear your talent?"


    A heavy sigh accompanied his nod. "Why wouldn''t I? I''ve only hurt and pushed people away with it. I just don''t want to do the same to Jale."


    Nerianna chuckled. "You have no concerns over losing Roon or Tesk?"


    "They understand," Darael said, collecting his hair in the front to comb it, "Jale is incapable, he has no idea what''s wrong."


    "Then tell him. He can never know if you don''t share. Plus, talking about your fears would be good for you." The elf hummed softly. "Some mild maegik practice could be good too."


    The warlock scoffed softly, anxious and stressed already. I do mildly practice my maegik, I went to school for it... What else could I possibly do that would be beneficial. However, he knew he couldn''t say this to the elf. He did say he''d try.


    "How did you learn Elven spells?" Nerianna said, breaking his thoughts once more.


    Darael gave a light shrug. "I don''t know, I listened¡ªer, no that''s not the right word. I studied how the elf in prison did it."


    His companion raised a thick brow. "And you just... Understood?"


    "Well, yeah. big deal, natural-born warlock. Aren''t all races born like that?"


    The elf shook her head. "Elven spells are Divine given. One does not simply learn them."


    Fuck, fuck, fuck. I don''t want to be any more special, I hate it. Turning his head to the side to look away, the warlock slid all ten fingers through his hair. Why couldn''t I have been born normal?


    A slow inhale came from Nerianna. "You know. You have built yourself quite a bubble, but eventually, every bubble pops."


    "It''ll pop when the king gets a hold of me."


    The woman stood and made her way to the pond. "You like the water?"


    That''s... an unusual subject change. Darael glanced back at her but nodded. "Sure, who doesn''t? Half the reason I was excited to move to Bogsgate."


    "But when you got there, a drought had stabbed the marsh." The elf dipped her hand in the water and scooped a ball of water out. "Come, I''ll show you what I want you to do."


    The warlock turned to face her and cautiously made his way over. "Okay."


    She looked down at him and held the ball out. "Take the orb."


    But, you didn''t even show me what to do. With a sigh, he reached out and gently placed his fingers on the surface. Warmth clung to his fingertips as he slid his hand to wrap around the water. But, he didn''t take it. Instead, choosing to scan the elf''s body language and emotion.


    He could feel the energy focused in the liquid, it tingled his hand. Furrowing his brows lightly, Darael rolled his wrist and scooped the orb from her hand. Making sure he kept it infused with a similar energy field Nerianna had on it.


    She hummed and smiled wider. "Perfect! I see you must be able to read the energy displayed, or even tap into my knowledge. Incredible!"


    The warlock cradled the water in his hands, nodding lightly. "I can feel, what I can only assume is, the maegik coursing through the orb, what spell and how strong. Even if I can''t tell you the name or strength out loud."


    "So astonishing, I''ve never met a human capable of such reading skills."


    Darael focused his gaze on the ball in his hands. "I wish I wasn''t. Nothing is a challenge, nothing keeps me entertained for long. Where my classmates would''ve had to study your move for days if not weeks to get it right, I can just do it."


    Nerianna chuckled, shaking her head. "My dear boy, do you not have hobbies?"


    "I had one, but that put me in chains and locks. A danger to society."


    The elf frowned lightly. "And you believe that?"


    Silence. He knew he did, but to say out loud that he agreed to the claims may break him.


    "It''s okay to admit it. But, I think you could be really beneficial to the world. Perhaps you should look into being a Guide Seer."


    Hands played with the orb gently, while the ginger thought it over. "Nobody would trust me to help."


    Nerianna let out a doubtful hah and stood. "It would be a challenge, and you wouldn''t be hurting anyone. Such a powerful maegik user, human or not, needs to use their talents to keep themselves safe."


    He huffed, dropping the water. "Because dealing with assholes like myself all day sounds fun."


    "I suppose you could learn how to stitch or weave."


    A physical hobby? I''ve never really thought of that, those are hard to learn but can be fun to do... "Okay."


    The elf bowed gently. "If you open your bubble a bit, all the elves here could communicate to you. Plenty of women wouldn''t mind teaching you a skill."


    Darael hummed lightly, crouching down to grab a new ball of water. "We''ll see."


    With the birds singing and the sun radiating energizing light, the ginger couldn''t help but smile. Welcoming warmth in the shrinking days brought excitement to the day as if everything was happy. Even the golden dancers jittered with energy, accompanied by the wind. Clear still water shimmered the rays all around, putting on a beautiful display of refraction patterns. Serene and peaceful.


    As the warlock relaxed by the pond, he could feel the anxiously delighted atmosphere. Jale''s making the world even more cautious... Good job, Commander. Sighing, he dipped his hands into the crystal pool. Fingers grasped at nothing but wrapped around something solid.


    With a small shift, Darael pulled a large orb of water out into the air. Focusing on keeping it intact, he hummed to himself while playing with the sphere. He allowed the water to take the shape of a small bird, before a snake. Once seeing the new creature it was forming, the warlock pushed the solid-liquid back into the pond.


    "I''m so over snakes, ugh," speaking out loud to nobody, he raked his eyes across the land.


    They landed on a group a little ways away, down a hill near a tree. Elves, oh and Jale. Practicing, naturally.


    Darael glanced at the water before creeping towards a rock to watch them from. Once settled into his seat, he watched as the tall elf¡ªSei''naeve¡ªsmacked the back of the commander''s head. His friend didn''t flinch or react, just aimed higher. Weird, I thought he was good with all weapons, has he not been hunting with a bow all this time?


    A light noise reached the spectator as Jale hit the target, which made him oddly giddy. Awe, what kind of practice do you need, Commander? You seem to have this in the bag... Sudden realization hit the warlock.


    "Fuck, fuck. He''s already super good... We''ll be out of here in no time."


    Slipping off the rock, he slid back towards the pond. "No time, how much time I have left to prove I ain''t an issue to society."


    His legs folded in front of his chest, while his arms wrapped around them securely. "None of the others could help, why did I expect Nerianna to be able to?"


    Although nobody was around to listen, it didn''t stop him from thinking out loud. And with him processing the information, the ginger felt sure he wasn''t going to be fixed in time.


    "Goodbye field elves, hello torture elves. Would say it''s been nice knowing you, but honestly, I''ve been neutral and I''m not going to remember you at all." Rambles fell from him, working himself into a worry.


    Darael cradled himself as his mind swirled in worry and fear. Staring down at the water, he could see the happy sun and scene around him, and all it did was sour him more. No such thing as good days, happy days. Only shit days and less bad days. Doesn''t matter how pretty the world is or how "happy the Divines are". Darcy never had to worry like me, neither did dad.


    Growling at his own thoughts, the warlock dug his rough nails into his own arms. "I never even got to say goodbye, she has no idea where I am... She probably thinks I''m dead. But, at least she never has to worry about me outshining her again, right fish?"


    With a large sigh, he blinked out a tear. "I wanted to protect her, why must I be cursed?"


    He clenched his teeth and let go of his arms, only to force the pearl fingers into the dirt. Clawing at the soft top layer, his nails struck the solid soil underneath, which only pushed him to dig harder. Why must the commander enjoy toying with my life so? Why can''t he just kill me and let my misery end? No, his job demands I get taken to the torture dungeons. All because of a fire...


    Deranged ideas trickled into his mind, riding whispers of Wikeds and evil. "He''s scared of me, someone of his... Rank could never respect someone like me."


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Fire grows wild, wilder than I. Fire is dangerous and hungry... "Much like me," he muttered.


    His fingers stopped digging, searching his thoughts for reason, he couldn''t find it. He''s going to take me to the elves regardless of my progress, anything to get his life back to normal. A green glare shot over to the rock, and he found himself crawling over to it.


    He doesn''t know fear, imagine living as a timebomb, ready to hurt your closest friends. Or worse. With a soft snarl on his lips, he flexed his hands and pulled a spark from the air. Holding a small flame in his palm, Darael looked down into the shallow valley.


    But, the elves¡ªnor Jale¡ªwere there anymore.


    The warlock stumbled backward, resuming his leg cradle position as earlier. Only, he forgot about the eager fire and as soon as his hands gripped his own arms, a splitting pain shot through his bicep.


    Crying out in emotional distress and physical pain, he pulled the maegikal flame''s energy back in to extinguish it. As tears rolled down his cheeks freely, he gripped the burn in frustration.


    "Good for nothing swine... Dad was right."


    With a rather loud breath, he scrunched his face up and tried to fight fully sobbing. I don''t want to say goodbye, I''m not ready. Please don''t let him take me from my sister...


    A few moments of nearly mocking silence passed, with Darael calming into a grief mood rather than his upset rage. While tears still dripped down his neck, he no longer wanted to die.


    Soft crunches behind him made the warlock inhale sharply and promptly ran a wrist across his face.


    "You okay?" It was Jale, asking with genuine concern, or so it would appear. "I heard you scream and was worried something got you."


    The ginger didn''t look up or even say anything. All he did was lift the hand hiding the burn.


    His friend walked closer and observed the wound. "What happened? This is nasty..."


    "A mistake. I''ll be fine."


    With a sigh, the commander sat in front of him. Folding his legs to sit on his heels, he looked down. "Has this week not been nice to you?"


    Darael didn''t want to respond, what was this man up to? But, eventually, he shrugged. "Not entirely."


    "Is there a reason Nerianna hasn''t been helping?"


    It''s been a single week... How does he know it hasn''t been helping yet? The warlock scoffed. "Yeah, I told you. I can''t be fixed."


    Jale hissed faintly between his teeth, a habit he''s begun to pick up from the elves. "You''re not a hunting hound. You do not need to be fixed. You just need... Mm, stability."


    "And where is someone with a timeline like mine supposed to get stability?"


    His friend tilted his head to look at him once more. "Timeline? How long do you think it''ll be before I can leave this village?"


    Oh, don''t play that game with me, asshole. He scowled at the darker man. "I''m sure I''ll be in the kingdom in a solid month. If that."


    A loud rather harsh laugh came from the commander. "A month! Look, if it was just based on my ability to shoot a bow or throw a dagger, yes. I''d probably be out of here in a week."


    The tall man paused and shook his head. "No, I have to learn to track the elks and hunt with the antelope... And then, as a Soother, I''m required to go on the Divine Hunt. That itself takes place in four months and lasts two moons."


    Somehow, that reassured the ginger more than even he thought it would. "Five months? At the bare minimum?"


    His companion nodded.


    "And... If I still can''t get better?"


    Jale actually smiled at him. "If¡ªbig if you still can not recover, we may just have to stay here until you do."


    Cracking a little smile, Darael giggled a light sound. "May have to live here awhile then."


    "Nonsense, find a schedule, fit in a hobby or even two, and you''ll be feeling better in no time."


    His friend stood up, towering over the curled-up warlock, but his smile was growing and he seemed relaxed. The tall man offered a strange soothe to the warlock¡ªAs if nothing bad could happen while he was around.


    Strange, there''re only two people who have ever calmed me in the way he does... No. No, I cannot, it''s not right... It''s wrong. I can''t like him. Even with his racing thoughts, the pale man offered a reassured look and loosened his grip on his arm.


    "I''ll get something for that burn, just come home after your practice so we can fix it up."


    With a nod, the warlock stood up. "I''ll probably come back with you... I''m¡ªI''ve done enough maegik today."


    Gazing out over the serene pond, the commander hummed. "If you say so." He nodded towards the water. "Very relaxing place to practice, you lucky fucker."


    Darael laughed and shrugged. "I like water, I''ve been told to make water statues for daily practice." Pausing, he tilted his head and added. "I''m sure it''d be a great place to swim."


    His friend returned the laugh and nodded. Leading the way back to the village. "Absolutely; direct sunlight, no underwater currents... Would be an absolute pleasure to play in that pond."


    "I may just do that. You know, before the chilly seasons hit us completely," the ginger said, following his tall companion.


    While they walked, the pair chatted about training and what each of them were completely doing. It was nice to just slow down and catch up after such a hectic first week with the elves. His friend''s new look had taken a few days to get used to, but now that the white and tan hair had relaxed and appeared wild. It really suited the half-elf.


    He didn''t mind how odd the two of them looked when they walked together; one tall, dark, and fit, the other short, pale, and scrawny. Friendships always tended to bloom between near opposites anyways.


    Inside their hut, Jale had collected some of Tesk''s herbs to blend up a creamy solution. The blue paste stung his blistering angry wound but also felt good on the painful skin. Each light flinch caused the commander to apologize and apply the mixture lighter, weird, even for a friend.


    I''m just overthinking. There''s no way he could see me as anything more than a trouble-causing friend. Even if he somehow did, which is impossible, he could never admit it or have me. And if he could, why would he want to?


    After such an... Eventful day, all Darael wanted to do was lie down and waste away the rest of the day¡ªand he pretty much did. Besides making some dinner for his group, the warlock didn''t do anything or even leave the tent. He just wanted a break, to just lay among the soft fur-lined bedrolls and bask in the security of the home away from home.


    Waking to the buzz of the early bird elves, Darael had an undivined time trying to pull himself from his bed. Ensnared by the relaxing warmth, he didn''t want to leave or even move. But, the pale man somehow crawled out and met the day with a lethargy even he didn''t like.


    My limbs feel so heavy, I can''t focus... What are these elves doing to me? Finding his way to the pond, he sat next to the shore and tried to grab an orb of water. With a wobble, the ball of liquid quivered and slid through his fingers. Odd.


    He attempted it again, only to have the same result. "The hells? Hands, can you please just do what I''m asking."


    When his hands cupped the water a third time, all that happened was a small puddle of clear drink rested in the clasped hands. A soft groan left the man as he dropped the water and fell back on his back.


    Blue and pink spun around in the sky as his head reeled at the sudden movement and impact. Whining at the inability to see straight or even think at this point, Darael closed his eyes and gripped his temples.


    Spinning, spinning, spinning... Shadows danced under his eyelids, shapes of black that blocked out the sunlight. Is this death? Or worse?


    Deep, low humming filled his ears and his heartbeat drummed around his senses. Surely the dark figures would take his torn soul and leave his body empty.


    The warlock had no idea how long he lay there in excruciating exhaustion, just feeling the world turn and flip. But a soft voice broke through his fading thoughts and pulled him back down.


    "Darael? Divines, what''s wrong?"


    Between his reeling brain and blocked-out ears, he couldn''t tell who spoke to him. Roon, Jale, Sei''naeve... Could have been several men.


    Strong hands lifted his arms and legs, and his weight was heaved off the ground. Rested back into soft fine furs, the warlock curled to attempt relief in his skull.


    "Heat sickness?" Someone asked, a different voice than before.


    "We''ve been through the desert... This heat is nothing compared to that. Or even the marsh," the first voice said. Though it was sounding more like Roon the more he heard it.


    Whimpers cascaded from him when the makeshift lift was placed back on the ground. Though, now a cool air pushed against him and the light had been nearly removed. Inside a tent no doubt.


    Fingers touched his face, and his eyelid was opened. The world was a blur as his vision tried to focus.


    "Can you hear us?" Roon questioned, his brown eye peering into the pale man''s eye.


    Nodding a small affirmation, Darael lifted a hand and reached out. "I¡ªThe... Where..."


    Unable to form solid sentences, he went silent. The sheer difficulty he was having just trying to think sent fear and anger through him like nothing else. As the hand collapsed back on the mat, his eye rolled back and he accepted the darkness¡ªalbeit, against his will.


    Melodious instruments rang out around him, deep and powerful, a cello resonated all around. Behind the vibrating song, a sharp but peaceful flute enhanced the strings. Darael opened his eyes to be met with foggy scenes of a large stage, grey wood built the platform, with tall red curtains framing it.


    In the center sat a young girl, bright red hair, fair complexion, and a happy smile. He could feel his heart sink at the sight of her, knowing now where he was and what would happen.


    "Darcy... No, please, it wasn''t my fault!" His cries would be drowned out by the enchanting hums.


    The girl drug the blond bowstring across the thick cords, her fingers sliding around the top to produce a plethora of different pitches. Encased in a pure white dress, her body swayed gently with the instrument. She was amazing at this, and she looked content. No, better than content. Blissful.


    Darael pushed his way through a thick hazy crowd, with no idea what the mass he couldn''t pass was. Stuck at the edge of the stage, he tried to call out for his sister, but the louder he cried, the louder her song grew.


    A young, pearl-skinned, medium-length red-haired boy came running onto the stage. His green eyes shone brightly in delight as he sat behind the girl. After a few moments, a yelp came from the crowd and an arrow flew towards the boy.


    The warlock couldn''t bear to look, shutting his eyes he shook his head. "It wasn''t my fault. It wasn''t..."


    "But it was," a voice thick with malice hissed.


    Wide-eyed, his eyes flew open and he scanned his surroundings. The crowd around him was in pure chaos, while the girl lay behind her chair, a wooden projectile sticking from her stomach. His green gaze locked on the boy''s green eyes, fear coated the brightly shining eyes.


    "Look at you, so powerful, even as a child. What did you even do here? Protection charm?"


    Darael spun around, desperately searching for the source of the voice. "Can''t protect against a pierced organ... I froze her to keep her alive."


    "Doesn''t matter. The mayor saw it, the city saw it... You were a prodigy."


    He scowled and wrapped his arms around himself. "I never asked to be. I didn''t want the spotlight."


    Mocking laughter filled his senses. "Yet, you did everything in your power to stay there. Pranks in school spells in town. The crimes. Yes, you ate the attention right up, we''d be stupid to pass you up."


    He shook his head again and smacked at his face. "Wake up, this isn''t real."


    A black figure emerged from the stage, its body appeared to drip and morph around. Constantly flowing, yet holding the form of a bear-looking beast. It lifted a large square head and opened its jaws. Pure black, it was hard to focus on but seemed to be licking its lips.


    "As real as the fires."


    Freezing up, the warlock muttered, "Fucking Wiked, if you even try... I''m in a village of elves just so you know!"


    "Elves don''t scare me." The creature crawled up to him, taking a moment to circle him. "We''ve been gracing a Leevier with our opinions here and there. Thankfully, tempting him into unthinkable human standards was easy."


    Once he realized it meant Jale, he growled and pierced it with his cold glare. "The elves can help me."


    "Not even the Divines themselves can help you now. No no, you must fight us alone."


    "No one has to fight you alone. But plenty lose to you alone."


    The creature snapped at him, sending black inky saliva at him. "I have you trapped between worlds, using memories to keep you alive. Let''s see how far your words get you."


    Darael scowled more and glanced up towards the dark abyss above him. "So far, my words have gotten me far."


    "Luck runs out eventually."


    The warlock watched the Wiked melt into the ground and vanish, accompanied only by a menacing laugh.


    "I''m glad you wasted all that money on him, just for him to turn around and throw his life away," the young girl, who was now an adult, said.


    Her haunting echoes lingered in the air like the smell of death. Causing him to soften up and scan for his sister. There she stood in the middle of a well-decorated room, arms folded and bruised.


    Darcy had been speaking to an older man; a blonde-haired, rough-faced, grouchy man. A large scowl covered his face and his body language emitted hatred.


    "Time, money... Boy wasn''t worth an ounce of work we gave him. I will never understand why your mother wanted to keep him."


    Darael dropped his gaze, even though he already knew how his father felt about him, once again the words tore him apart.


    The man grumbled something before turning to face an out-of-focus object. "He always wanted to be a part of those vile elves. Now he can experience them all he wants."


    With a long sigh, the warlock fell to his knees. "Why are you doing this to me? I''m trying to get better!"


    No response.


    "Divines, Wikeds, Guides, elves... They''re right, nobody can help me anymore. The elven torture would be too kind a fate for me," he said, covering his face with his hands.


    "Hopefully now he''s happy. At peace even," his sister commented.


    The man laughed and sighed. "Darcy, you''re too kind to folk."


    Darael shook his head. "I don''t deserve peace, not even the release of forgetting everything and having my brain flipped inside out. I should be rotting somewhere."


    Tears welled up behind his eyes. "Everyone already hates me, nobody would care if I was strung up and forced to live out my life on a chain."


    Nobody protested or implied otherwise. So, with a whimper, the ginger curled up and let his emotions spill out in the comfort of a dreamscape.


    Dreary echoes of all the negative words he''s received filled the once empty air. Slurs and degradation stabbed his heart and mind with deafening accuracy. Most of the words were said by his own father, the rest by himself or friends. But they all hit the same, painful nerve.


    "Useless waste of space. Why couldn''t I have died with my mother and saved everyone the trouble?"


    After saying that, Darael succumbed to hysterical sobbing¡ªmore than a little past his breaking point. Unfortunately, his heavy crying was not even enough to drown out the negativity whispering around him.


    Completely lost in his personal hell, the warlock scratched his face in frustration and defeat. Coming to accept he''d die in this inescapable nightmare.

 Chapter Eleven (unnamed)

    Quiet winds stirred the air outside the hut, cool and threatening winter. As Jale sat next to the entrance, he couldn''t help but frown. With Darael fighting himself and Wikeds, it was impossible to focus on training or even keeping himself happy.


    The commander could no longer bear watching Tesk and Nerianna struggle to keep the warlock with them, and had been sitting outside for a few hours now.


    Sure the elves gave him strange looks for doing nothing, but he didn''t care. Nobody deserves to suffer, especially at the hands of the Wikeds. He still beats himself up over how he treated Darael when he first found him in Bogsgate, even if it was his job. The idea that he had been so set on doing his job to keep the mayor and king blind to the truth, that he would''ve had this young, troubled man tortured had absolutely begun to bother him.


    "Jale... Our efforts aren''t strong enough," Nerianna said, opening the entrance. "We need the help of a Leevier."


    Jale looked back at her, wondering if he should or could say no. But, considering how much he didn''t want to lose the warlock, he stood up.


    "Okay..."


    He followed her inside, resting his gaze on the scrawny ginger; he shivered and sweated, whimpered, and flinched. No telling what his dreams were filled with.


    Tesk waved him over. "Quick, you need to give him calm energy. If it is a Wiked like we believe, calmness will chase it away."


    "At least temporarily," the elf added.


    The commander rubbed the back of his neck. "I don''t know how to give energy, I''m not maegik capable."


    Nerianna grabbed his hand and pressed it against the ginger''s burning forehead. "Just think calm thoughts and imagine the thoughts traveling down your arm."


    With a deep breath, Jale closed his eyes and tried to bring a stillness to the struggling man. Filling his own mind with the swaying grass, running rivers, weightless clouds, and careless fish.


    Right when he was about to give up, Darael''s whimpers stopped. Opening his eyes, he looked down at the warlock. A soft grateful feeling waved through the commander, which made him crack a small smile.


    "Fast learner," Tesk said, nodding appreciatively. "That should soothe the vile thoughts for a little while. Hopefully, enough time for him to come back too."


    Nerianna sighed. "Hopefully. Be warned though, many humans can not handle the influence of Wiked."


    Retracting his hand, Jale brought his eyes to study the human''s breathing. "He''ll pull through, he''s stronger than people think."


    "Optimism is fine, but don''t shut out reality. Even we cannot save everyone." The troll''s words, though not what he wanted to hear, were very true.


    The commander sat beside Darael and nodded. "I know. Just let me hope."


    Deciding it''d be best to remain with his friend in case he needed to offer relief and peace again, he settled next to the furry mat. Both Tesk and Nerianna whispered to each other on the other side of the tent, but the tall man had little interest in what they said.


    After a few quiet minutes, the women left, and thus he was alone with the unconscious warlock. While he was left alone with him, he found himself looking back on how unjustifiably guarded he''s been around the pale man. Finally, it took its toll and the tall man shook his head, letting out a long sigh.


    "Divines... I will never be able to bring you peace if you let Darael fall from our hands." His soft prayer, or threat, broke through the silence. "Please come back to us, w¡ªI need you."


    A soft intrigued hum came from behind him and glancing over, Jale saw little Roon walking over.


    "Hope I''m not interrupting some... Heartfelt confession," the zerdal said.


    With a shake of his head, the commander sighed. "No, just, trying to convince him to keep fighting."


    Roon studied over Darael before sitting next to them. "He looks relaxed now, it seems like he is."


    "He better. I can''t help him if he¡ª," Jale started before shaking his head. "I don''t think I could help the Divines either if they took him away."


    His small friend rubbed his large ear thoughtfully. "Well, there''s a practice in Zerdalian culture for aiding one in the fight against long sleeps. However, I don''t know if your bond is close enough yet, or if it would even help here."


    The commander raked his eyes over the warlock''s body. Soft content breathes rose from his chest, now calm and quiet.


    Roon gave him a shoulder pat. "You''re a Leevier, have you tried meeting him in the memory realm?"


    "I''m still incapable of maegik, especially elven memory manipulation."


    His friend turned his attention to the warlock. "No manipulation, no maegik. Traveling across the planes to reach where his consciousness lies to pull him back to his reality."


    Jale didn''t want to get his hopes up too much or even assume he could do this. But, he had to try.


    "Have you done it before?"


    Roon chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, Jale. No. Only trolls and elves can see or feel these non-reality realms, but only Leeviers or Guides can cross."


    Great, now I feel stupid. "Well, can you help me? I really don''t want to lose him, I''ll do anything to help."


    The zerdal wagged his tail gently and nodded. "Of course, it''s nice to see you finally accepting your feelings."


    "Shut up," Jale grumbled, glancing at the furry man before turning his gaze down. "So, what first?"


    His friend chuckled again but stood up. "First, herbs and fire."


    "Then?"


    Digging through Tesk''s bag, Roon hummed thoughtfully. "I believe, we need a quiet area, which we have, a fire burning a mixture of herbs, an anchor, a bridge, and, of course, a Leevier."


    The commander repositioned himself to sit upright. "I guess... You''re the anchor?"


    "Yes, and you are both the Leevier and the bridge. Since we need a bond to link with."


    As Jale nodded, taking all this in, his small friend brought over a few dried branches and some flowers. The branches were placed in a circle, with the delicate flowers being laid in a small X. Soft white petals soaked up the dread around it, clinging to skinny brown stems. A flower of hope.


    Sitting beside the kindle, the zerdal gestured towards Darael. "You''ll have to maintain a constant physical touch on his body to stay in his memory lands."


    "How does this work? Am... Am I endangering either of us?"


    Roon looked up with caring and protective eyes. "Well... As a commander and well-ranked soldier, you know anything can be dangerous." He offered a reassuring smile. "Neither of you will encounter physical harm though."


    The commander took a deep breath before nodding. "Okay."


    "If, however, there is presences of a Wiked... You''ll have to deal with it mentally, physical attacks do not affect the vile monsters," his friend said, removing a blade from his sheath. "Darael is a troubled man, Jale. With or without a Wiked, you''ll have to convince him to come back on his own."


    Jale nodded again. "I see... How come?"


    The zerdal took a small rod of flint. "They only exist outside of the physical realm. As for the part about him, it''s his psyche you''re entering; if he wishes to stay he''ll always win. That and if he doesn''t want to come back, he''ll probably slip back into a state like this again."


    I suppose that makes sense... I hope I''m enough to help this time. With a sigh, Jale reached out and grabbed a pearly hand. It was cold to the touch, unlike his burning head. As he secured it in his grip, Roon struck the steel against the rod until the dry wood caught a spark.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Subtle bitterness filled his nose as the branches burned under a small fire, it encouraged him to sleep, begging him to close his eyes.


    "Close your eyes and focus all your energy on entering the realm behind Darael''s mind."


    Doing just that, Jale lost the sounds of fire, and shortly after the smell. His thoughts raced to find a realm, whatever that means. Using the same tactics to push positive feelings on the warlock to provide his full consciousness, he felt the ground fade away and the air grow cold. Nothing. All he sensed was nothing.


    Assuming he failed, the tall man opened his eyes. More nothingness. Mild panic grew inside of him, completely lost with no senses or idea what to do, Roon didn''t tell him what to expect.


    No concept of time made it impossible to say how long he existed inside this undetermined hellscape. But, a voice called out in the far distance eventually.


    Jale felt solid ground under his feet once more and with that, he marched towards the sounds. Hard to make out, he thought he heard pleads or cries, only urging him to move faster.


    Then it hit him. Everything all at once.


    "Disgusting swineshit, hanging out with eyeless monsters instead of focusing on your future." Resentment poured from every word spoken by the hostile, and unseen, male.


    "He never even tries. Except when it comes to getting in and out of trouble." Envy dripped off the female''s sentences.


    "I deserve worse than the release of forgotten life... I should be a display." The familiar voice of Darael echoed around in despair.


    Jale fought every urge to call out, knowing there could be a Wiked controlling these memories. Shaking his head, he continued on his path, looking for signs of his friend. Once blank space now bursting with negativity and hatred, provoking him to question how long the warlock has been in trouble.


    As the voices got louder, he began to pick up a faint cry. Sobs that drowned in the sea of pain, desperate pleads for relief or help. It hurt the man as he walked through the void. Always able to feel another''s emotions, the fact that so much distress went undetected by him bothered him.


    Moonlight filled the air a bit suddenly, throwing him off guard as he walked down a now-familiar setting. Dull grey stones reflected the pale light from the ground, guiding the commander down a street. Lining the road; tall brick and wooden buildings seemed to confine the lone figure.


    A stark comparison to the open-world he''s come to expect during his travels.


    "Bogsgate... You feel like a prison now..." he muttered out loud, checking his surroundings.


    It didn''t take long for him to find his way to the grand school for mages. The three-story, blue and green brick establishment stood out beautifully in the middle of the dull city. Windows coated the walls to provide a glimpse inside¡ªor out.


    As he approached the building, the depressing calls grew unbearably loud, and so did the crying. Jale took a deep breath and pushed through the heavy stone doors. Empty. The lobby lay barren, so he wandered the halls to pinpoint the cries.


    "Worthless freak."


    "First elven spells, then the orc friend. What next?"


    "Fucking swineshit, I hope you find a suitable hell to rot in."


    With everything getting louder, he knew he had to be close. Remembering the warlock mentioning a room here, he began to search living quarters. Nobody was here, nothing moved, but the voices oozed out of every wall, ceiling, floor,  and window. Negativity came from everywhere.


    "Divines... Why couldn''t it have been me instead? Mother didn''t deserve it, and father didn''t deserve me... Why did that stupid man ensure I survived? He should''ve let the trolls tear me limb from limb..."


    Pausing, Jale turned to peek into a room. Upon peering in, he saw a pale ginger curled up on the floor. The long red hair confirming it was his friend.


    "Darael?" he asked, moving closer.


    Although the warlock sniffled and picked his head up, he didn''t turn his head to look back at him. "Yes... Thank you. Remind me how close everything I desire is, dangle the reward in my face and yank it away again. Stupid Wikeds."


    Darael''s words had heavy dread and doubt tangling them, telling Jale he had probably already seen him in here.


    "Darael, I''m not a projection, I promise."


    His friend scoffed. "Yeah? Prove it."


    How does one prove they''re real inside someone else''s mental space? While he had no idea, he had to try something.


    The tall man walked over and sat across the pale man. "Well, I don''t know how to do that... But, I can tell you that Roon is currently burning lilies and branches to keep me here."


    "Say you are real... How did you get here?" His friend''s doubt trickled from his eyes.


    Jale scratched his chin, tilting his head in thought. "Well, because I am a Leevier I can bring my... Spirit across realms? Something like that." He scanned his friend over and moved the hand to hold up a finger. "Did you feel my presence earlier? I offered soothing emotions, physically it made your body relax, so I''m just curious."


    The warlock searched the commander''s face for a long moment. "That was you?"


    A bit hopeful, the taller man nodded. "Yes, Tesk and Nerianna couldn''t help you, so they asked me to try."


    "But, why come here?"


    Jale sighed gently, looking his friend in the eyes. "Because the elves don''t think you''re going to make it through¡­" He paused to toss his arms out to the sides. "Whatever this is."


    Darael quieted down, but the haunting voices did not. Even though he knew these comments were memorial projections from his companion, quite a few of them hit home for him too. Doubts and regret hang heavy in the air.


    After an extensive wait, the scrawny man finally nodded.


    "Okay."


    "Okay, what?" Jale asked.


    Standing up, his friend took a deep breath. "Let''s go. If you attempted something you never have before,¡ªand are possibly scared of¡ªto help me. Perhaps I should listen to something other than my head."


    The commander stood himself up, smiling lightly at the smaller man. "Forget the elves, maybe what you need is just a friend."


    Darael looked up at him and returned the smile. The dull, but intrigued, green and purple eyes watched expectantly. "Hey, you know what?" the ginger asked.


    "What?"


    His friend gestured around with open arms. "They seemed to have stopped."


    Gazing all around, Jale noticed that yes, the dreadful comments had been silenced, and it delighted him. With a growing smile, he held out a hand. "See what happens when you stop listening to that brain of yours?"


    His friend chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, I guess you''re right..." The warlock took the hand and brought his attention to the door. "Just, don''t let me get lost again."


    "I''ll guide you all the way back. I promise. I already failed you once, I''m not going to do it again," the commander said, leading the other man forward.


    Darael walked by his side, and even with the breakthrough, he still seemed anxious around the ghost of his school.


    There was nothing Jale could do besides bring him out. He didn''t have the faintest idea how to leave this fuzzy, depressing, empty nightmarescape. But, he had to try.


    Leading his companion through the desolate halls, he kept an eye on the man next to him. Through the large entranceway and out the heavy doors, on the streets at last. A glance left and right told him he should take the warlock left. The city felt like a maze now, with so many turns and streets, not enough signs or landmarks. How he had ever lived and maneuvered here, he couldn''t recall. Just like a childhood memory, his recollection of the layout seemed barely off and false.


    Somehow, Jale made it to the gates of the wall. Once security-bringing iron bars now towered over the pair, daunting even in memory.


    "The worst part of the city," his friend muttered.


    Unable to agree, or bring himself to disagree, the tall man just marched forward. Under the sharp prongs of the imposing gate.


    "Even directly outside of our own walls, the world is wild and untamed," the ginger murmured.


    "As it''s supposed to be¡­" Looking down at the warlock, the commander turned towards him. "I think¡ªI think you need to wake up for us to return."


    Darael glanced up at him, only to train his eyes on the ground. "I don''t know how."


    Jale offered a reassuring smile. "It''s just a nightmare, close your eyes." When the other man closed his eyes, he continued. "Deep breath in... Out... Feel the air, it''s not so muggy as in the marsh. Move your limbs, they rest on solid ground. Find Roon''s presence, use it as an anchor."


    "For someone who doesn''t know what he''s doing, you sure know what you''re doing."


    Though he smiled more at the sarcasm, he shook his head. "Shut up and focus."


    Silence. Then, faint mumbling. Though this voice was very distant and friendly, excited even.


    A tight grip around his hand made Jale jolt a bit. Taking the hint, he closed his eyes and attempted to follow his own advice.


    "Darael?" A voice, though not to him, greeted him.


    Opening his eyes, he was met with Roon and Tesk knelt over the scrawny man next to him. As he came back to the real world, he could feel the hand he held tightening around his own.


    "I''m surprised you did it, Jale. You''ve been gone for so long, we almost pulled you away," Tesk said, glancing over at him.


    With a light squeeze to the hand, Jale gave a puzzled look at his friends. "Odd, it didn''t feel that long."


    Darael grumbled and reached his free hand up to rub his face. "I''m so tired of sleeping for full days."


    Roon chuckled. "He seems to be okay though... Good job."


    The commander nodded, checking the smaller man out to ensure he looked fine. Other than the sheen of light sweat and the exhaustion visible on his face, he appeared okay.


    "I think... You''ve really started to connect to your elven ancestry," Darael said, looking up at the tall man.


    Jale smiled down at him. "Sei''naeve wants to get me traditional armor for the hunt, then I''ll really be connected."


    His friend laughed softly, lazily bringing his gaze towards the group around him. "I''m sorry for being so much trouble to you all."


    Roon frowned. "You''re our friend, we can''t let you suffer. This trouble is worth it."


    "And who knows, perhaps you are destined for a much better life," Tesk added to her partner''s statement.


    The commander felt the pale hand squeeze his own before it let go and pulled away.


    Darael sighed lightly. "It couldn''t be, lest you forget I''m still considered a wanted criminal. Dare I set foot in a human settlement, I wouldn''t walk back out."


    Dropping his own gaze, Jale felt especially responsible for that. And by all named Divines, he would fix it.

 Chapter Twelve (untitled)

    Autumn scents floated on the chilly breeze, promising a cold winter and lots of change. Jale stood at the end of a small trail that barely traced through the thick grass. Gray painted the sky, warning of an approaching storm and blocking the natural warmth from reaching the lone man.


    He didn''t necessarily mean to go off alone, not while many beasts were preparing for winter, or while a storm brewed, he just had. Needing a walk to clear his head, it seemed reasonable to do.


    After many months on the road with Roon, Tesk, and Darael, he found himself hating his old life and even his old self. I don''t believe much of what I used to anymore. Protection? Seems a lot like segregation now. Domesticate the land? More like destroying it... The humans are but a weak species pretending to be bigger and tougher than they are. Many of us can''t even make a fire with maegik. I used to think only wild monsters were powerful in maegik, now I know only the strong are...


    His mind shifted as he sat down along the small creek at his feet. And there''s nobody stronger than Darael, physically or mentally.


    Peering into the slow trickling stream. A wild, almost carefree, elf stared back. No longer did a stressed and depressed commander appear. Most of the weary lines around his face had vanished, making him look happier.


    Jale had come to accept and appreciate the elf life, even loving his natural-born appearance. Though the training was the hardest thing he''s done, he could tell it was helping already. Imagine how happy the Divines will be when I give them an elk and can offer good emotions for once.


    Smiling at the thought, the lone man rolled his head back to look up at the sky. "First time I''ve seen real rain clouds in¡­ Divines, ten years?" His smile grew. "I hope the marsh is getting some of this"


    The dark man remained where he was for a long while, watching the clouds billow above. Letting his mind wander all around to fill his head with carefree, and maybe forbidden, thoughts. Until a voice stirred him from his daydreaming.


    "Jale? What are you doing out here all alone?" Darael''s voice asked.


    Glancing over, Jale saw his friend walking over. "Just wanted to clear my head, that''s all, I don''t plan to go any further."


    The ginger nodded an acknowledgment, stopping to stand right next to the commander. "I''m not the best at it, but since you help me, it''s only fair I return the favor... Talk to me?"


    The dark man brought his gaze down, back to the water''s edge. "It''s just stressful, the upcoming hunt, the changing seasons, the divines. Everything is starting to weigh me down, but just like in Bogsgate, I have to tread onwards."


    "Jale..." His friend gave a soft sigh as he sat beside him. "The Divines have been around for an eternity, I think they can survive a bit longer in mild depression¡ªplenty of us do it."


    Weird that he''s being serious for once. "Yeah... But remember their mild depression only makes mine worse, which makes theirs worse..."


    "And dwelling on the endless cycle of the never pleased beings of stupidly emotional spirit dust makes everyone depressed."


    Jale huffed a soft chuckle, but it didn''t last. "Past... However long it''s been, everyone I''ve spoken to has told me the same thing: "You''re the one to fix the world". That tends to cling and make one worried."


    Giving the commander a light smack on the back of his head, Darael shook his head. "You''re very good at seeing what others want of you, but man do you have to work on seeing what you want from you."


    "I want this though."


    The warlock cocked an eyebrow. "You wanted to travel all across the hostile continent with an unstable warlock criminal, a chatty, curious, handsy zerdal, and a stern, human mauling troll? Only to stress out the whole way?"


    Falling silent, the dark man scratched his shoulder. When put like that, no. Instead of responding, he watched the river''s surface as light ripples appeared all around. Small sparse raindrops had begun falling, the grey clouds heavy enough to let go.


    "So what on Solith do you want?"


    Jale grumbled and shook his head. "It doesn''t matter."


    Another impact hit his head.


    "It literally does. More than anything in the world."


    The commander lifted his eyes to look over at his friend. "I thought you didn''t think the Divines were that connected to everything or something?"


    Darael turned his head away. "I don''t recall saying it was important to them."


    A pause before Jale nodded. "I see¡­ I''m not sure you want the truth."


    His friend scoffed gently, looking up at him once more. "I do. Why else would I ask?"


    With a deep breath, Jale glanced down while he thought. Bringing his gaze back towards the warlock''s encapsulating eyes, he gave a meek shrug. "I can''t have what I want."


    Darael stared up at him, offering a confounded blink.


    "What?"


    The warlock shot a look to the sky. "And, what is that? Your human life back?"


    Jale furrowed his brows in light confusion. "What? No."


    "Well then what is it? It''s probably only out of reach because you don''t want to try."


    The commander took a deep breath and shook his head. "It''s not that I don''t want to try. I really do¡­ I just don''t want to ruin what''s already there."


    Darael stayed quiet for a long while, and the commander respected it. Eventually, the ginger scoffed. "You''re an idiot."


    Before Jale could respond, his friend continued in a now semi-nervous ramble. "I tried to make it obvious, I thought I was doing good. Last moon when you saved me, I thought maybe¡­ Maybe there was more to it."


    The tall man elbowed his companion gently. "Here I was, overthinking your simple actions. Assuming I was making up a connection and that you would never."


    Both the men found themselves looking out towards the water''s surface. Steady raindrops were now falling, bringing sound to the silent grasslands. Was this conversation really going the way Jale hoped?


    Sighing, Jale dropped his gaze to look at his hands. "I want you. It''s the last thing on my list, the only thing missing."


    Darael sniffled a soft sound, before nudging him. "So, you have meant those confusing thoughts?"


    The dark man moved his head to look at his friend. "Wait, when did the elves¡ª..."


    Smiling, the warlock interrupted. "They didn''t do anything, it''s one of the ''forbidden'' elf spells I learned while in school."


    Jale dipped his head a touch while a warm sensation crept across his cheeks. "This whole time, you''ve been able to hear our thoughts?"


    His friend hummed, almost in amusement. "Technically speaking, yeah. But, I do have to focus on a person to do it, and some people are really good at keeping spells like that out."


    "How long have you known?" the commander asked softly.


    With his smile growing blissfully sly, Darael trained his eyes skyward again. "Before we made it to Gorh''un, that day by the river was when it finally clicked for me. It was a rock, it was such a stupid thing¡­ Yet you did it for me anyway."


    And then he added, "Plus you wouldn''t shut up about the hair, how pretty it was."


    Rubbing the back of his neck, Jale groaned in embarrassment. "I wasn''t thinking in the moment¡­ I was so confused by the rock."


    "I know, that''s what made it so good." The other man teased.


    The commander looked up at his company. "Do you think this is even¡­ possible?"


    Darael brought his head down so he could return the gaze. "What? Courting each other?"


    The two fell silent, both quietly mulling over what had just been brought up. Even as the rain picked up and slowly soaked them both to the bone, they remained still.


    Captivating green eyes, with swirls and flickers of purple, shined with optimistic zeal, while the naturally pink lips curled in a smile. Darael''s eyes moved a bit to observe the commander''s face, but his content and confident expression never wavered.


    Jale had no idea how long they sat there staring, but he decided it had been long enough. He took his arm and reached out, gently his hand grabbed the warlock''s fine face. When the other man didn''t shy away, he leaned over and let his eyelids fall shut.


    Soft warm lips met his own and a delicate hand rested itself on the dark man''s neck. Ecstatic it was well-received, he pushed his kiss into his companion.


    A light buzz filled Jale, spreading from the points Darael touched him and couldn''t contain a shudder. Not from distaste or cold, but instead from the energy spreading from his partner. It was like nothing he''d ever felt before; electrifying spurts prickled through his head and around his chest. Even down in his fingers, he could feel this odd tingle. Whatever it was, it felt amazing.


    When they pulled apart, the warlock ran a hand over the tall man''s arm.


    "Is the cold already getting to you?" Playful words spoken through a large grin.


    Jale hummed, returning a giant grin. "No. No, that was pure joy, don''t worry."


    His partner scanned him over but flushed after a moment. "Such a shame it''s raining... Or I''d¡ªI''d ask..."


    Quickly hitting the commander what Darael was hinting at, he also gained a¡ªalbeit harder to see¡ªpink hue. "Oh, well... At least nobody should be wandering."


    "Well, Commander, if you think you can have fun. Neither of us are going to be needed for a while I''m sure," the ginger teased, giving him a soft kiss.


    Humming an intrigued sound, Jale huffed. "I''m capable of having fun."


    Darael slid out a light giggle. "I want to see you relax, Commander."


    As the warlock said that, his hand pressed into the exposed skin on Jale''s chest. The light-dyed tanned leather only covered the right pec and side, leaving plenty of skin exposed to the elements.


    Pressure prompted the commander to lie back, the slick mud cold against his body. Looking upward he saw the ginger crawling over him, the red cape of silky hair falling down his shoulders to brush against the ground. Barely touching the tall man''s arms.


    "Well, Commander, it would appear the tables have turned and you''re now at my command," Darael whispered.


    Giving a soft nod, Jale brought his hands up to grab his partner''s sides. "It has been like that for a while, let''s not lie about it¡­"


    His companion giggled and leaned close, kissing him with a deep passion.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Four whole weeks of travel and the group of elves had made it, finally. Jale was in the front beside the other Leevier, Vrielich, as they crested the hill.


    All the sightseeing he had done the last year paled in comparison to the view he saw now. An unfathomably large tree that dwarfed every other tree he knew of stood proudly in the center of a large valley. Shimmering blue wood shot up from the ground, demanding attention as the branches spiked off to hold the violet-tinted leaves miles above the ground.


    Standing in pure awe, all the hybrid could do was stare. He had no words. But, a single thought crossed his mind. Darael would¡¯ve loved this.


    ¡°Come, we do not wish to keep them waiting,¡± Sei¡¯naeve said, nudging the two on.


    Behind the two Leeviers stood sixteen of the best hunters the entire Golden Field elf population could offer, plus four elven guide seers. An event they would never miss. Each group of hunters had two elk, with the eastern elves also carrying a foal and an antelope. The foal had been found dead with no obvious wounds, so they took it to give it rest, and the antelope had drowned. ¡°Take no more than you need, but waste nothing either¡± was a way of life every race followed.


    Everyone but the humans.


    Jale followed Vrielich down the sloping trail, still stunned by the sheer beauty of the tree. He knew it was sacred, but this surpassed his expectations by a long way. As they approached the tree, he could feel¡ªand even hear¡ªthe energy that radiated from it, it came through the ground and air, bringing him to grin. Indescribable feelings crawled through his body, but it was welcomed.


    ¡°Speak truth, gain freedom,¡± Vrielich spoke, breaking the hybrid from his thoughts. ¡°Divinities will know.¡±


    Nodding, the ex-commander looked at her. ¡°Of course, I¡¯m here to fix my mistakes, not make new ones.¡±


    Sei¡¯naeve snorted gently and pushed past them. ¡°That failed already.¡±


    Jale knew the elf was talking about the warlock, nearly the entire journey with them he has continuously commented on the unforgivable relations the two had. Which he didn¡¯t understand, the elves told him to work on being happy, and now that he was they wanted to take it away from him?


    With a sigh, he followed the elves down to the roots of the tree. They emerged from the soil like serpents, winding and tangling around, seeming to pulsate as it shimmered.


    Even with the elves bearing down and judging his every move, the grand tree pushed his shame aside. It¡¯s so¡­ unbelievable, it¡¯s beautiful and sings such a beautiful song¡­


    ¡°You can hear it?¡± one of the hunters asked.


    Glancing back at them, Jale nodded. ¡°Yes¡­ It¡¯s hard to describe, but yes I can.¡±


    Vrielich smiled at him. ¡°Only Leeviers can hear it.¡±


    ¡°Really? What is it?¡±


    The woman shrugged. ¡°Guess is the Divinities, but tree could also sing.¡±


    The thought that only a handful of people in the world have ever heard this energy sound made Jale feel special, more so than being the best commander ever did. He was glad those mysterious chains of events happened to lead him here. Never before has he felt glad to be an elf.


    ¡°Now what?¡± he asked, gazing back up the trunk of the tree.


    Birds of all kinds could be heard calling to each other, but that was not the sound he heard. It sounded like a heartbeat, only less rhythmic and more sporadic. Perhaps he heard life itself, or perhaps some animal climbing the tree?


    Sei¡¯naeve chuckled, bringing the rope he held up a touch, lifting the elk¡¯s head. ¡°Feed.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    Vrielich gestured for them to follow as she climbed up onto the root system. ¡°Put where the tree eats.¡±


    Though it took some time, they were able to get all the animals tucked securely into the roots of the tree, definitely a new challenge Jale never thought he¡¯d have to do in his life. But, once the offerings were tucked in their spots, the guide seers led the others through a soft prayer, which the hybrid barely understood.


    After everything was done, Vrielich nudged Jale and turned to the trunk. ¡°The best place to speak is in the head.¡±


    Before he could ask what that meant, the woman began climbing the tree. She called for him to follow, and as he hesitated, the rest of the elves pushed past to begin their own climb.


    Divines, what have I gotten myself into? The hybrid watched the group for a moment before taking a deep breath and following their lead. Surprisingly, the tree trunk was easier to climb than he originally thought, the way the colors pulsate made it look smooth. That wasn¡¯t the case, however, the wood was rough with thick plates of bark that easily held their weight.


    Challenging, but rather swift, as the hybrid got higher up, the more he realized how hard coming down maybe. And divines-forbid you fell from this height.


    Once among the branches, the elves spread out along the thick limb, resting all along the wide bottom ones. Each one of these old arms was big enough to easily support the whole group, but for reasons a bit beyond Jale, each quartet of hunters sat on a different branch, leaving the Leeviers and guide seers on the biggest.


    ¡°So, what do we tell the brain?¡± Jale asked as he knelt on the wood.


    ¡°Tell them the truth, what you are, who you are. And why they shouldn¡¯t kill you.¡± Vrielich¡¯s voice rang into his head for the first time.


    ¡°Just, ¡±hello I¡¯m Jale¡°?¡±


    The woman furrowed her brows slightly and looked him over. ¡°Truth.¡±


    Sighing, the hybrid gave a single nod, he knew what she meant. And he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to do that. To tell them, would confess I¡¯ve been wrong for so long¡­ He brought his eyes to the higher branches, searching for something, but he didn¡¯t know what.


    Thump, thump, thunk. Thunk, thud. Thump, thump, thunk¡­ The weird heartbeat was louder up here, especially as he stopped to observe the tree. Birds of all kinds could be seen through the leaves, singing, fluttering, living.


    Jale nodded softly to himself and glanced at his companions, each one seemed to be in some form of meditation, probably speaking to the tree. But, he didn¡¯t feel right doing that, no, instead he walked over to the trunk and made his way into the higher limbs. Higher and higher he went, further and further from the elves.


    Finally, he sat himself on a branch, well he straddled it. It was but a twig compared to the lower older ones. With a sigh, he rested his forehead against the trunk and closed his eyes.


    ¡°I¡­ I do not think I belong here. I know the history lessons of my¡­ of the humans. Cursed and shunned by you, they made so many mistakes to get here. Why are they still here? Are they beyond your reach?¡± He paused to open his eyes and look off to the side, watching the birds. ¡°Do you regret anything you¡¯ve done? Do you regret giving humans such power, to begin with?


    ¡°They said to speak the truth, so I am. I don¡¯t belong here. Part human, part elf, but a full mistake. Humans don¡¯t want me, the elves don¡¯t want me, why have you been so hard on me?¡±


    Though now Jale was a bit angry, he tried to keep himself level-headed. Knowing it wasn¡¯t fair to blame the Divines for his own mistakes.


    ¡°Do you regret giving me to my mother?¡± he asked, resting his chin on the trunk so he could gaze upward. ¡°If you hadn¡¯t, your link to the world wouldn¡¯t have been tainted, you wouldn¡¯t have felt such pain and poison¡­ The humans call me Jale Varden, but my mother named me Jal¡¯Elrris Vadren. I¡¯m sure you know that already, they said to tell the truth though.¡±


    Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind and he moved his head again so his forehead pressed against the bark. ¡°If humans were cursed if they can¡¯t hold maegik anymore, why was Darael born?¡±


    A warm prickle hit his shoulders, and before he could look to see what it was, a voice draped his mind. ¡°Jal¡¯Elrris¡­ A product of joy, a mention of peace. Darael Snyder¡­ An unintentional necessity.¡±


    The sound was musical, yet grating, comprehensible, yet, nonsense. Jale was left in awe as the voice resonated in his mind, fizzling into silence.


    ¡°Whoa,¡± he exclaimed lightly, sitting up and looking around. ¡°I¡¯m, I¡¯m sorry. Why would you bless him though?¡±


    Unfortunately, the mysterious voice didn¡¯t respond again.


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    Still nothing.


    After a few minutes of quiet, Jale decided to rejoin the group. Carefully making his way back down, he noticed the birds had gone silent too. Odd, maybe my presence was finally noticed.


    As he reached the bottom branch, he was met by curious looks from the guide seers. While Vrielich looked on expectantly.


    ¡°He¡ªllo¡­¡±


    The woman approached him and brought her head in to look down at him. ¡°Answered you?¡±


    Jale rubbed his forearm and nodded. ¡°I think so, wasn¡¯t very much though.¡±


    ¡°Answered¡­ What say?¡±


    The hybrid shrugged a bit. ¡°Just that I was a product of joy, and a promise of peace.¡±


    Vrielich brought her eyebrows up and tilted her head. ¡°That all?¡±


    ¡°Well, and uh, that Darael was an accident, but is needed.¡±


    Sei¡¯naeve seemed to have issues with that, as he jumped down from his branch and hissed lightly. ¡°No need for a human warlock. Useless.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not useless,¡± Jale argued back, stepping towards the elf. ¡°He¡¯s got a use, everyone does. Just because you don¡¯t like him doesn¡¯t make him useless.¡±


    Standing tall, showing his height over the hybrid, Sei¡¯naeve pulled his lip back. ¡°Dislike him, a lot. Distract you with¡­ poison thoughts. A man needs a woman.¡±


    That was not the first time the ex-commander had heard that statement. Years of being told what was and wasn¡¯t right by the standards of old folk who can¡¯t even tell you what color the grass is had trained him to stay silent and nod along. But, not today. It doesn¡¯t matter what someone else thinks, why can¡¯t people just be left alone to be happy? Why must someone be happy by someone else''s idea of joy?


    ¡°No. If he hadn¡¯t, if he never came into my life, I would never be happy. He makes me happy, why is that a bad thing? Would you rather crawl back to my miserable life and let the Divines keep punishing you?¡± Jale shook his head. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand, you¡¯re blind. You are all. Imagine, imagine an elf, blind to the Divines.¡±


    A solid impact hit his temple. Immediate stars filled his vision, leaving him a bit dazed as he recoiled from the sudden attack.


    Hisses came from all around, and as his eyes focused again on the angry elf, he could only see rage. Sei¡¯naeve seethed in front of him, being grabbed and yelled at by the others. Yet, his face said he wasn''t listening.


    "A bad Leevier. Gave nothing but suffering, all humans do."


    Jale put a hand out, Blinking away the haze. "Sei''naeve, I''m trying, if I can be part terrible human, why can''t you see my elf half too?"


    Snarling, the elf pulled away from his restrainers and lunged for the hybrid. "Any amount of human is bad. Ruined. The land you walk on dies. Bad things happen to friends."


    "My friends are fine¡­ Remember I got rid of the Wikeds in him."


    Sei''naeve hissed sharply and pushed his victim into the trunk. "If smart, the elves gave warlock back where he belongs."


    Jale gasped, the sturdy bark that added his climb to freedom now jabbed into his exposed back. His lungs lost whatever breath was in them and now he felt fear. But, not for himself, no.


    "No¡­ The King¡­ He''ll¡­ He''ll kill him."


    The elf scoffed, grabbing the forehead of the hybrid. "Good."


    Gripping tightly on the arm that pinned him to the tree, the ex-commander tried desperately to push his attacker off¡ªto no avail. His head was brought forward before being slammed back into the solid wood.


    Once. Twice. Thrice.


    Jale brought his clouded and unfocused eyes to look up at the elf. Stumbling over the weight of his own tongue, he managed a single word. "Why?"


    "The world is better off without you."


    The beautifully hypnotic banging he heard was drowned out by the ringing now in his ears. And as he watched the man above him with concern-ridden fear, he saw those stars change.


    Soft light filled in behind the elf, giving him an imposing silhouette. Convinced he was losing consciousness, Jale shifted his focus to the strange light. Might as well embrace whatever it was.


    A single shape began to form, only it didn''t seem to be a shape. Somehow the object looked transparent and opaque, while simultaneously being every color he could comprehend and completely white. The more he focused on it the less sense it made, and a second one appeared beside it.


    Sei¡¯naeve hissed softly and tossed the hybrid''s head back, discarding him as he backed up a few steps. "Worthless."


    Jale lifted a hand slowly, trying to reach the mysterious shapes. Unsure if they were even real or just due to being hit so hard so many times. A faint sound pulsated from them, and with the ringing fading, he could identify as the sound the tree was making.


    Thunk, thud. Thump, thump. Thud, thump, thud¡­ The unusual heartbeat was back, and it made him smile a bit.


    "Listen¡­" the ex-commander said, swallowing the blood in his mouth. "It''s coming¡­ from them."


    He didn''t hear anyone reply, and a scary thought darted through his spinning mind. I''m dying.


    His attacker looked down at him in disgust, opening his mouth to comment, which tore Jale''s thought of death away. But the words never came. Instead, the elf lost his balance and rolled towards the edge. Stopping himself in time, Sei¡¯naeve glared over at the hybrid.


    "They''re so¡­ beautiful."


    The elf propped himself up to come for the ex-commander once again, but as the shapes grew brighter, Jale lose sight of him. Waiting for the attack, all the man could do was slouch again the trunk, staring into what seemed like the sun.


    And then he heard it; an exclaim followed by several cries out, accompanied by a drawn¡ªand fading¡ªscream.


    Lights and colors darted around his vision, prompting him to lift his arm once again. His fingertips made contact with something, it was moving and seemed alive, but he couldn¡¯t tell who he touched.


    ¡°Jal¡¯Elrris, your time isn¡¯t now. Opened to us, first in a long time. You must live, or greed and translation will end us.¡± That voice rang inside his head once again, only it sounded clearer.


    ¡°W¡ªwhat?¡±


    ¡°Humans lost touch, punished for not understanding. Elves are losing touch, keep traditions sure, understand them no longer.¡±


    Jale tilted his head, watching as these shapes¡ªnow believed to be living beings¡ªfloated in front of him. Three now appeared before him, each as difficultly identical to describe as the last, while also being unique to each other.


    ¡°Asked why Darael was blessed, mother asked us for a son to help the world. Gave her someone capable of helping you.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡­¡± The hybrid pushed himself to sit up more. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Warlocks can feel us, Leeviers can find us. The elves have forgotten the maegik connects us. They think they connect us.¡±


    Shaking his head in light disbelief the man just stared up at the beings. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you helped him then?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t. We can only bless or revoke blessings. Rain, soil nutrition, animal comfort, maegik¡­ Blessings.¡±


    The light began to dim down, scaring Jale that he was losing his grip on the creatures. ¡°Wait, why me?¡±


    ¡°Your parents knew. Blessings are given to those who deserve it. Darael is not only a warlock given to us. For you too.¡±


    A reassuring warmth graced his head, and as his vision focused and came back to him, the light and colors were gone. Nothing more than a memory.


    ¡°Jale?¡± Vrielich asked, standing over him.


    The ex-commander looked up at the woman and smiled. ¡°I saw them.¡±


    ¡°Sure?¡± she asked, before helping him stand. ¡°It true, all saw it at night. The warlock is in danger.¡±


    Jale¡¯s face fell, and he looked over the land, towards the swamp¡ªonly a small smudge in the distance. ¡°Then¡­ I must go, now.¡±

 Chapter Thirteen

    Dull stone bricks stretched upward, towering over the ex-commander. He felt small in the presence of such an amazing wall, a wall that even the orcs couldn¡¯t get through. Selude claimed to be the mightiest city in the western lands, and from a glance, it was easy to believe it. However, Jale knew better. Behind the sturdy structures lay one of the worst places to live in the world. Controlled only by greed and wealth.


    A deep breath filled his lungs with humid and sticky air¡ªsomething he had forgotten he missed. With his head set on one goal, he marched up to the iron gates and cleared his throat. Years of training had not been lost in his year of relaxing, his posture was straight and sure, hands clasped behind his back.


    ¡°Men, I wish to see King Maverin.¡±


    One of the guards at the gate looked him up and down. ¡°An elf wishes to see the king? Yeah, okay. Let me just let you right in and to our leader.¡±


    The other man laughed heartily.


    Jale sighed and dropped his shoulders a touch. ¡°I¡¯ve been gone for so long, I could see how my appearance may possibly give you the idea of that. However, I¡¯m Commander Jale Vadren, and I wish to see my king.¡±


    Humming with intrigue, the first man tilted his head. ¡°Jale? Commander Jale? How come your prisoner showed up a year late, without you?¡±


    ¡°Well, after being ambushed by the trolls, I¡­¡± The ex-commander trailed off, unsure how to even explain his journey. ¡°Please, I have to see him, it¡¯s important. I was with the elves and¡ª¡­¡±


    ¡°You were with the wild elves? Lord, that would explain the appearance.¡±


    The second man leaned closer to his partner. ¡°And the claims of an elf alerting us of our prisoner being in the grasslands.¡±


    With an uncertain gaze, the first guard pushed the large peg into the socket and began to push it away from the gate. Causing the iron bars to lift from the ground. ¡°You understand how this works then, right ¡°Commander¡±?¡±


    Jale nodded. ¡°Of course. I¡¯m the one that suggested this change in the first place.¡±


    While the guards seemed doubtful it was him, at least they had let him in. The gate was shut behind them and his hands were bound behind his back. His dagger was removed, but they seemed too scared to touch the pulsating blue wood.


    ¡°Come then, maybe we can get you this important audience with our king.¡±


    As he was marched through the streets, people had come out to watch, the gate opening being heard throughout the city. Some of the older folk seemed to get the wrong idea, nodding and jeering at the ¡°caught elf¡±. While the children looked up at him with curious¡ªthough weary¡ªeyes. Every other race had at least asked him what he wanted, these humans had their minds made for them.


    They didn¡¯t like elves.


    Selude was built so the keep sat in the middle, surrounded by all the citizens living and working areas, keeping a wall of innocent lives between an invasion and the royal family. A very human idea. Zerdals don¡¯t fight wars, they have the openest cities anywhere, not hidden or protected. Trolls had gators and blended their houses into the scenery, not to mention their pure strength that kept humans away. Orcs had no walls, no hiding, but their Monarch sat their house right at the front of the city, being backed by a mountain¡ªif you wanted to invade, you would have no reason to hurt the citizens.


    But not the humans. Normal everyday humans, bakers, cleaners, and farmers would be turned into soldiers during wars, and if they died, they died.


    A large stone brick building greeted his vision as the hybrid was brought around a turn, and sure enough, it was protected by another wall.


    The bridge was down, letting people walk into the keep. Of course, the real illusion in life was freedom, guards prevented the subjects from wandering into the castle.


    And now he was being paraded in as a wild elf, a disgrace, an enemy.


    Guards of all kinds practiced moves inside the large open spaces inside the second wall, practicing with the human standard swords. While they were good, uniform, and smooth, with the fresh eyes of an elf-trained hunter, Jale could see how their flaws.


    Grand grey wooden doors invited them in, positioned open for audiences. Also something Jale had a hand in setting up. Inside the floor was white, exotic marble from the eastern continent tundras, while the walls were covered in red stone from the northern mountains. A large raised stage seemed to command all attention, even without any fancy colors or designs. And in the center of it, sat a red-wood woven throne.


    ¡°Who¡¯s this?¡± A loud, commanding voice called to them as they entered.


    ¡°Claims to be Commander Jale, sir.¡± One of the guards said.


    The man who called to them stood from the throne. ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡±


    Jale looked up at the man, a rather average-looking human, brown hair that barely passed his ears. And of course, a suit that bore the mark of the king. ¡°Sir, if I may.¡±


    (Author¡¯s note: I¡¯ll be giving King Maverin a better introduction in the second draft)


    The King looked at him for a long moment, before giving him a nod and sitting back down.


    Walking forward a few steps, the hybrid watched his old friend. ¡°Maverin, I know how it looks and seems. But I promise to you, it is me. I was sent to deliver a criminal, wanted for Lord Levitt¡¯s death. Along the way, we were ambushed by trolls¡ª¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes. We were told that by your men. But they told us the trolls killed you.¡±


    ¡°No, they didn¡¯t kill me. I was sent on a¡­ wild journey. Darael was with me the entire time and¡ª¡­¡±


    One of the kingsmen snorted. ¡°Darael? I didn¡¯t realize you two were on first name bases.¡±


    As the court broke into light laughter, Jale could feel the shame covering him. The only relief he got was when King Maverin silenced them.


    ¡°Sir, surely you can understand, a year of traveling with someone. You¡¯re bound to get comfortable with names. And¡­ Not even to mention how he saved my life.¡±


    The King leaned forward in his seat. ¡°He saved your life?¡±


    Jale nodded. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    The ex-commander shifted and looked down to think. He wasn¡¯t expecting him to ask for specifics. ¡°Several times.¡±


    Maverin sighed and shook his head. ¡°Jale¡­ That warlock is a powerful manipulator, the fact that you can¡¯t even think of one time you claim he saved you is concerning. And that¡¯s overlooking your questionable appearance and timing.¡±


    No, no they don¡¯t believe me¡­ Divines you didn¡¯t say it was going to be so hard¡­ The hybrid stepped forward more. ¡°Let me talk to him, please.¡±


    One of the guards stepped to him and grabbed his arm. ¡°Absolutely not.¡±


    The King, however, seemed interested in the idea. ¡°That wouldn¡¯t be a bad idea actually. We have control over the warlock.¡±


    Scowling, the guard holding Jale let go of the man and walked away, disappearing into a hallway.


    ¡°Jale, you still haven¡¯t explained one thing. Why are you dressed like that?¡±


    Glancing down at the exposing, painted, leather, elven armor, the ex-commander shook his head a bit. ¡°Uh, I don¡¯t think you would believe me anyways.¡±


    With a soft sigh, The King shifted in his seat and stood up. ¡°Commander, I think you should know. My elves have a firm grip on that warlock, he will not lie to us.¡±


    Jale brought his eyes back to his superior. ¡°He¡¯s not one to lie anyway. Not even to the trolls.¡±


    The kingsman that laughed earlier spoke up again. ¡°How would you know?¡±


    ¡°We were with elves, trust me, they enforce the whole truth-telling thing.¡±


    Maverin looked on curiously. ¡°Do you trust this warlock, Commander?¡±


    Presented with such a question, the hybrid dipped his chin to think. I do, with all my being. But, if I tell them that, what would they think? They wouldn¡¯t trust me being free-willed would they? Finally, he gave a single nod.


    ¡°I do.¡±


    The King ran a hand over his scruffy chin. Thinking deeply for a few minutes. In that time, the light noise from outside was the only sound in the grand hall, men training and chatting about life.


    Whatever he was going to say never came, as the guard brought Darael in before he had the chance to collect his thoughts.


    ¡°Ah, there he is. Our warlock of insight, please please, bring him over here.¡± Maverin¡¯s commanding voice came back to address the prisoner.


    The pearl-skinned man walked over to the king, followed closely by an elf. His face read one thing only: submission. Along his wrists the clear marks from being chained up, as well as a stiffened gait¡ªperhaps trying to hide a limp or other soreness.


    Jale¡¯s heart sank at the sight of his beloved, reduced to a husk of his personality. No unnecessary movements to wave his hair, no cocky expression, no lively energy radiating from him.


    ¡°Robyn, if you don¡¯t mind, entertain us with something.¡±


    The elf that accompanied the warlock was every bit a prisoner as Darael, his binds were just prettier. A Kingself is what Robyn was; an elf born to serve the king and nothing else, not even the Divines. Not allowed to leave the keep without escorts and permission, and under no circumstances was he allowed a weapon.


    Robyn bowed his head and placed two fingers on the warlock¡¯s forehead. With a pause to collect the focus, he gave The King a nod.


    ¡°Jale, why don¡¯t you start with the beginning?¡±


    Jale watched his partner as the elf prepared to extract the memories, the ginger¡¯s body language said it all. It was very unpleasant. I¡¯m so sorry Darael, I shouldn¡¯t have suggested talking to you.


    Sighing softly, he looked up at the king. ¡°The very beginning or like, just pick up from where my men left us? I don¡¯t think we have the time for the full story, I mean¡­ You already know how hard I worked when I first joined.¡±


    Maverin wasn¡¯t impressed. ¡°Don¡¯t be smart with me. You know what I mean.¡±


    The ex-commander nodded. ¡°Yeah¡­ After being ambushed by the trolls, I told them they could do whatever they wanted with me if they let my men go. However, I didn¡¯t know what they wanted with us, I just didn¡¯t want my men harmed.¡±


    He rubbed his thumb against his other hand as he went back in time to recount what happened. ¡°I knew what they said was true, they were talking about a hybrid, elf and human, that would relieve the drought and save the marsh. Divinity gracious stuff.¡±


    ¡°Divinity? Sweet gods, what did those elves do to you commander?¡± the guard asked.


    ¡°That is the official term for it. Want to know how I¡¯ve survived being ambushed by almost every race? I do hold some levels of respect for the other creatures on this planet.¡± Jale scoffed. ¡°They would¡¯ve killed you.¡±


    Maverin held up a hand. ¡°Please, let¡¯s hold off on threats until we get to the bottom of whether you¡¯re a threat or not.¡±


    Rolling his shoulder, the hybrid brought his gaze back to his superior. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Recollecting his thoughts, he continued.


    ¡°The trolls didn¡¯t know if I, this tall lanky human, or Darael, a very powerful natural warlock, was the hybrid in question.¡± Glancing away, his voice dropped to add, ¡°I did.¡± With a head shake, he looked up at the warlock. ¡°I simply asked if they would let me keep him by my side as I went to do what they wanted, as he was still my prisoner.¡±


    One of the kingsmen interrupted again. ¡°Why? The trolls surely would¡¯ve killed him, would¡¯ve been dealt with one way or another.¡±


    Jale expected someone to ask that, and why he struggled to answer right away he couldn¡¯t say. ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t want that. I think I believed him from the start that he didn¡¯t kill Levitt. I mean, the arson to a historic and large building would¡¯ve brought a bad enough punishment. Claiming to not kill the Mage Lord wouldn¡¯t have lessened his punishment very much.¡±


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    The King waved a hand to shush his men. ¡°So, you didn¡¯t want the trolls to kill him, you wanted to deliver him to us for a fair trial, that¡¯s expected from you Commander. Why did this task for the trolls take over a year to complete and why did you not drop him off on the way or at the very least, send a message?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± The hybrid fidgeted with his hands a bit. ¡°Firstly, I didn¡¯t expect it to take so long, we had some unintended detours. I wanted to get it done as quick as possible, but one of the trolls came with us, and with her, her partner a zerdal. We were headed to the Golden Fields but we needed supplies first.¡±


    While Maverin seemed interested in the idea of a troll and a zerdal being together, he didn¡¯t comment on it. He cocked his head and glanced towards Robyn. ¡°What does Darael say on this matter?¡±


    The elf shook his head softly and looked up at his king. ¡°I can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t, or won¡¯t? He knows the punishment for messing with the elves.¡± The King stepped down the stairs to stand next to the warlock. Taller than the human, towered over by the elf. ¡°Let him in, or we will force it out of you.¡±


    Darael¡¯s green eyes didn¡¯t pierce or glare, they just dropped to the ground. The once bright reflections of spirit lay dull and distant, and with the threat, they moistened.


    Jale couldn¡¯t stand seeing him so broken down. His intelligent bright eyes quite literally shone with life before¡ªbeing a warlock meant they shimmered just like other maegikally inclined creatures¡ªand now they looked almost identical to a human¡¯s. And even from the distance they stood, he could feel the pain and fear coming from him.


    Robyn¡¯s blue eyes flickered a bit as they tried again. As he searched through the mind of the warlock, the warlock flinched and wavered.


    When he found the memory in question the elf shrugged gently. ¡°Seems good enough. Of course, the warlock has no memory of Jale speaking to the trolls for protection of his men, but the guards themselves back that statement up.¡±


    Maverin was watching the ginger, obviously to prevent any ideas. ¡°What were these ¡°Unintentional detours¡±?¡±


    Jale took a deep breath, trying to stay focused. ¡°We went to The Market in the Dry Sea for supplies. It was the only place I thought a high human commander, a human warlock, and a troll would be welcomed enough to get supplies.¡±


    Robyn nodded to the king.


    ¡°Then¡­ Uh, well then we went to Gorh¡¯un. The head of the market suggested we head there to get some help for Darael. So¡­ So when we got to the elves they wouldn¡¯t, you know, kill us on sight.¡± The hybrid hoped deeply that this would be enough, but he could feel the grip of doubt grabbing his brain.


    The elf took longer to search this time, with such vague explanations, he had to sort of pinpoint details. ¡°Technically, true. From Darael¡¯s understanding, they went to the orcs for help and weaponry. Since¡­ Jale traded his sword for the bow he wears now.¡±


    The King brought his gaze to Jale at this information. ¡°Why?¡±


    Unsure how to explain this without endangering himself, the ex-commander had no choice but to just say it. ¡°It called to me. It¡¯s an elven bow, made from the Bleeding Tree, elves, we can feel the energy from it.¡±


    More laughter from the guards and kingsmen, however, that statement earned him a glance from Robyn.


    ¡°Oh, how would you lot know? I¡¯ve always been able to feel things like that. Emotions, strength, maegik. Heck right now, there¡¯s a hidden kingself on the rafters. Even if you look you can¡¯t see him.¡±


    Maverin hushed his men again, looking at his prized commander with a straight face. ¡°We¡¯ve known of your, unfortunate, family tree since you joined us. A super-tall teen joins us, with the grace and power of a trained soldier? Come on, we aren¡¯t that dumb.¡±


    ¡°However, we thought, well my father believed, if we just trained you well enough¡ªlike our own elves¡ªwe could earn your loyalty forever. Seems like he was wrong.¡± A gesture to Jale¡¯s appearance was made to emphasize his beliefs.


    Jale took a step forward and shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t want to break that loyalty, but sir, here I stand, bound and tried. With¡ª¡± He stopped and shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m a Leevier, okay? Laugh, go on. I¡¯m a rare type of elf that can speak directly to the Divines, I had to take part in the elven tradition, it was necessary. And guess what? I saw them, spoke to them. If you hurt that warlock there any more than you have, you will be directly hurting this planet.¡±


    Just as he had assumed, laughter filled the halls once more. Only this time, Maverin joined in.


    Darael¡¯s face, which had screwed up in pain with the elf constantly digging through his thoughts, suddenly fell into relief as Robyn pulled his hand away and stepped back a bit, wide-eyed and uncertain.


    The King chuckled off and looked at his elf. ¡°What¡¯s the matter with you? If he shut you out you know the drill.¡±


    Robyn shook his head softly. ¡°No uh, it was one of his memories, sir.¡±


    Dread immediately hit Jale, he knew exactly what the elf meant, and judging by the paling of the warlock¡¯s already pale face. So did he.


    At least the elf had the decency to whisper it to the king.


    With the laughter dying down at the hushed secret, Maverin stepped over to Jale, arms out to the sides in a grand display of freedom. ¡°That explains the missing information as to why you kept him with you for so long.¡± The King began to walk around his once-beloved commander. ¡°Manipulated? Perhaps. There¡¯s no denying this warlock has the ability, and lack of morality, to brainwash such a figure of power.¡±


    His booming voice carried through the hall, while his thick boots created a background beat as he walked. ¡°My little bird tells me that warlock there has ruined my perfect commander. Mariette was the best offer for you, and now it¡¯s gone.¡±


    Jale didn¡¯t bat an eye at the man, his gaze locked forward, he didn¡¯t want to give this human the pleasure of intimidating someone. He knows how much they love that.


    ¡°So tell me, Commander, why? Why throw away this great offer for a princess? It would¡¯ve made you prince, this kingdom would¡¯ve been yours one day.¡±


    The hybrid turned his eyes to look at The King as he reached in front of him. ¡°Doesn¡¯t interest me. Never did.¡±


    Maverin stopped his circling to return his stare. ¡°Who doesn¡¯t want power?¡±


    ¡°Me.¡± Jale stated as simply as possible. ¡°Your daughter doesn¡¯t interest me either. No woman does.¡±


    The King snorted, huffed a deep breath through his nose. ¡°I told father you weren¡¯t good enough for this kingdom. Hybrid or not, a man with interest in another man is¡ª¡±


    ¡°Is what? A disgrace? You guys really need to work on your insults. I tell myself worse, I¡¯ve told Darael worse.¡± The ex-commander shifted and looked at Robyn. ¡°Want to know what the Divines said to me at the tree? They told me Darael was a blessing, his mother asked for a son to help the world. I was a gift because my parents believed the truth.¡±


    Maverin opened his mouth, but Jale interrupted him. ¡°No. Here¡¯s something for you King. A highly respected hunter, Sei¡¯naeve, told me the same thing, he attacked me at the tree because of my relations with Darael. Said I was a mutant had no right to be there at the Bleeding Tree, I as a¡­ a, we don¡¯t even have a word for it. Oh, the zerdals do, because they¡¯re the only ones that care.¡± He growled the word and shook his head. ¡°Sei¡¯naeve was pushed off the tree. Miles high. By the time we got out of the tree, the roots had already wrapped around him to eat him. So please. Try me.¡±


    From the corner of his vision, he saw Robyn look at Darael, before looking back at the two in the center.


    The King snarled and hit Jale. His open palm slapped into the hybrid¡¯s cheekbone with stinging strength. ¡°You¡¯re in my house, my kingdom. You listen to me.¡± He waved over his guards. ¡°Ex-commander Jale Varden, you have been officially relieved of your duties. For treason and contempt of royal trials, you are to be given punishment beyond retirement.¡±


    Leaning in close, he took his dagger and cut the bowstring. ¡°I will hang you, like your mother and father before you.¡± The bow was pulled free and tossed aside. ¡°Where¡¯re your Divines now?¡±


    <hr>


    A flock of humans crowded around the execution stage, hungry for the justice they believed they were to see; a wild and dangerous elf wanted for aiding in the murder of the beloved Mage Lord Levitt. They waited anxiously for the show.


    Meanwhile, in the cells below, Jale hung from his restraints, chained by the wrist and suspended in the air. Maverin really wasn¡¯t risking him getting away. Across the way was some thief, wanted for killing for some gold. She watched the hybrid with distrust, as far as everyone else was concerned, Jale was just an elf.


    Hearing the crowd speculate how the elf would be killed definitely unnerved him. He had to hand it to the king, he knew how to torment his prisoners.


    ¡°Hey, elf, how¡¯d you do it?¡±


    Jale slowly picked his head up to look at the woman across the way. ¡°Pardon?¡±


    She shrugged gently. ¡°I¡¯m curious, how¡¯d you help kill Levitt?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t. The only crime I committed was trusting a human.¡±


    The woman scoffed gently. ¡°Okay.¡±


    Letting his head submit to gravity again, he sent a wish to the Divines and an apology. I¡¯m sorry, not only did I fail, I failed to the point where even you cannot help. Humans are so blind and raged by the presence of stronger races, they didn¡¯t even listen to me. And they won¡¯t come to their senses any time soon. Divines¡­ Just¡­ Just let Darael be okay, give him the strength to resist and make it out of here. And to move on.


    With a sigh, he let his senses fill with the memories of the warlock. At least he came to his own senses and got to spend that one night with him, free as could be. Completely intertwined and happy.


    A loud squeal of hinges pulled him from his happy place, opening his eyes to look he saw Robyn walking over.


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised they waited so long¡­ I¡¯m completely incapable, other people can pry as much as they like. Unlike Darael.¡± Jale chuckled sadly at the thought of the warlock¡¯s ability to peer into his thoughts.


    The elf glanced around, alerting the hybrid to his anxiety. Robyn slid a key into the cell lock and clicked it open. ¡°I may be a Selduancian elf, but I still know our¡­ beliefs. I can¡¯t let the humans blindly kill a Leevier.¡±


    With relief and gratitude in his eyes, the hybrid watched as the elf came close and undid the chains that strung him up. ¡°Thank you, Robyn.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t thank me yet. We have to get you out of the city.¡±


    Jale fell to the ground and grunted softly as he moved his shoulders. ¡°No, we need Darael.¡±


    ¡°Sir, that¡¯s not a very smart move.¡±


    ¡°He is mine. I will not leave him here to suffer at the hands of the king.¡±


    Robyn sighed but seemed to understand the importance of the warlock to him. ¡°Fine. But if you get caught. It wasn¡¯t me.¡±


    Nodding to his aid, the hybrid followed him out of the cell and down the corridor. They slipped around corners and under the noses of the guards until they got to the maegik cells. An area specifically designed to hold anyone with the ability to cast spells.


    As they walked down the walkway, he saw several grassland elves and even a troll or two in the cells. Each one cowered in fear at the sight of kingselves.


    ¡°Elves shouldn¡¯t fear other elves¡­ This is terrible.¡±


    Robyn agreed quietly and kept his gaze to the ground as they passed them.


    Jale came to a cell that had nothing in it at all, yet it was locked. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    The elf beside him hummed and shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know, it was like that when I was first brought here to work, The King says it¡¯s a Wiked, but¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not, we¡¯d be able to feel it.¡± The ex-commander sighed and kept on his quest to find his warlock.


    ¡°Well¡­ Human raised elves, we¡ªwe don¡¯t have the full senses a regular elf does. I¡¯m not sure why.¡±


    Jale looked back at his companion and raised an eyebrow. ¡°Really? Humans are barbaric. They¡¯re pretty much breeding elves to be hounds for them.¡±


    Robyn nodded, pointing forward a bit. ¡°He should be on the left around this corner.¡±


    Unable to physically contain his hopes, the hybrid hurried forward and around the bend. Immediately he felt the presence of the rich-with-maegik-energy-warlock. It was undoubtedly his.


    ¡°Darael?¡± he asked, looking into the cell. At first, he didn¡¯t see anything, but the subtle gasp and fear spiking from the corner showed him where the warlock sat.


    Darael sat motionless in the dark corner of the cell, his dull eyes barely producing a glow of energy. The red cape of hair clung to his body from the humidity of the dungeons¡ªtangled and oily, and his body was curled into a ball to feel any safety he could.


    At the sight of Jale, the warlock only stared. Terrified of the elf in front of him. And when Robyn joined his side, he visibly shook a bit.


    ¡°Darael, it¡¯s me. Jale?¡±


    The ginger couldn¡¯t seem to remember, he just quivered at the implied torture the pair of elves gave off.


    Robyn unlocked the cell for Jale, who slipped in and crouched in front of Darael.


    ¡°Please, Darael, I don¡¯t know what I¡¯ll do if you¡¯re lost. You¡¯re the only thing that made me happy enough to try.¡± The hybrid begged, dropping his shoulders in defeat.


    The warlock watched him, eyes darting to the elf outside the cell and back to the one in front of him. He couldn¡¯t seem to process what sort of trickery this was.


    Jale reached forward and grabbed his hand. ¡°Please, we don¡¯t have time for this, please you have to remember.


    Darael pulled away, but the hybrid kept his grip, scared for his life, the ginger whimpered and pulled his arm back harder. When Robyn stepped over quickly and pushed his fingers to his head.


    The ex-commander watched as the warlock struggled for a moment before relaxing a touch. The elf¡¯s eye glow flickered as he tried to force the memories back to the human.


    After what felt like an eternity, the ginger pulled his head away and muttered a soft ¡°That¡¯s enough¡±


    Jale looked on eagerly, hoping his lover had been returned to him, his hand loosening its grip in hope.


    Darael was quiet for a moment, before looking up at the hybrid. ¡°Was the tree beautiful?¡±


    Chuckling softly, the hybrid nodded and kissed his forehead. ¡°But not nearly as beautiful as you.¡±


    With a soft groan, the human pushed him back. ¡°You stink, Divines, what have you been doing?¡±


    Jale smiled at the comment, already his partner was returning to his snarky ways. ¡°Rotting in a cell for treason. What about you? You¡¯re a mess.¡±


    ¡°Well, sitting here, being tortured, being neglected, sweating. Home sweet home.¡±


    Robyn shifted his weight, probably a mild bit uncomfortable. ¡°We should go, they¡¯ll be going to your cell to collect you any minute now. If they find you¡¯re not there, they will come here.¡±


    Darael unfolded himself and stood with a soft sigh. ¡°We literally never have time for ourselves.¡±


    ¡°Once we get out of here, I promise you I¡¯ll make time for you.¡±


    The warlock stretched his bones and joints and slid past the hybrid. ¡°Well, let¡¯s get out of here then. I think we¡¯ve overstayed a bit.¡±


    The elf waved for them to follow as he darted out of the walkway and into a second passage. As the trio wove through the cells, they could hear the commotion from the guards and kingsmen who had discovered their prisoner to be executed was gone.


    Jale was in the back, not wanting to let the warlock out of his sight, while Robyn led them through the smaller tunnels in hopes of avoiding the guards. With several detours and a few backtracks, they managed to slip out into the main hall, it was empty.


    ¡°Wait. Wait this isn¡¯t right,¡± the ex-commander said. ¡°This room should never be empty.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. The King wouldn¡¯t leave the only entrance and exit completely unguarded,¡± a voice called from above.


    Jale hissed softly, he could now feel several people above them. ¡°Well, shit.¡±


    Darael looked around, scooting a bit closer to his lover. ¡°We can take them, I mean. I¡¯m the most powerful human right?¡±


    A different voice from above spoke. ¡°Eh, calm down. We aren¡¯t interested in fighting a Leevier. Or a human warlock. Robyn, what are you going to do?¡±


    Robyn was looking directly at nothing, but from his eye contact, he could probably see one of the elves. ¡°I¡¯m not sure¡­ I want to help them get out of the city, then I¡¯ll figure it out.¡±


    ¡°Brave. Hey, go see the meadows for us will you?¡±


    The visible elf nodded. ¡°I will.¡±


    Jale waved his companions on. ¡°We should go. Thankfully the citizens will be distracted by my execution.¡±


    ¡°They were going to kill you?!¡± Darael asked, hurrying after him.


    ¡°Yep¡­ Mavrin said he was going to hang me, just as his father did to my parents.¡±


    Robyn sighed. ¡°We have a great king.¡±


    ¡°Oh, the best.¡± ¡°Truly a prodigy.¡± Both the other men said over each other.


    (Apologies for all the notes, but yes the second draft will also include them actually getting out of the city)


    As the trio looked at the great walled keep from the distance, Darael clung to the hybrid¡¯s side, the reality of how close they were to losing each other all too real.