I managed to avoid any additional encounters with the mer-folk. For the rest of my journey the majority of what I encountered was blackness, strange creatures, and emptiness. When I did start to feel the land tilting upward and saw plant life begin to be more colorful I felt immensely relieved. The cold darkness had left me with nothing, but thoughts of Aurum and my companions. Nothing, but dark thoughts in the dark. I gave a few large leaps and quickly approached the nearest sandbar.

A peek above water revealed that it was a rainy and miserable day on the surface. There was a small fishing village on the coast ahead of me and I could see a few smaller vessels nearby being manned by orcs wearing their patterned wool sweaters casting nets. I maneuvered myself to ensure I wouldn’t be caught in the nets and walked to the rocky shore. My emergence from the water was greeted by a flurry of curse words and looks of fear from two older orcish men sitting on the docks above me.

I gave them what I hoped was a jaunty wave and walked the rest of the way onto the shore. They both looked at half empty bottles in their hands, poured them into the water and started stumbling away. A third orc who hadn’t reacted at all continued to stand, or rather sit, his ground. I watched him pull his line back in, add a particularly squirmy grub to his hook, and cast it back out. He was clearly older, with gray green skin and white hair. His eyes never left the water where he’d cast his line.

“Hail,” I said, approaching him.

“Hail,” he grunted back, not bothering to look in my direction.

“Any luck today?”

“No.”

“Does the rain make the fishing easier or harder?”

“Neither, so far as I know.”

“Can I ask where I am?”

“Eastlands.”

“Can I ask for a more specific answer?”

“Ballyton.”

I looked around. Ballyton was as unimpressive up close as it had been from the water. Lots of simple wooden buildings, a shared dock, and what looked like a rudimentary longhouse. Still, I could feel a kind of charm about the place, the rain, gloom, and disrepair gave off a kind of consistent melancholy that felt romantic in a way. “Nice place.”

The man snorted.

“I’m looking for Carntuff. Meeting a friend there.”

“North, along the coast.”

“Thank you.” I looked out at his line. “Good luck with your fishing.”

He nodded, still not taking his eyes off the water, and I started making my way north. Carntuff was where Lythia’s partial memories told me I might find Vash. Chances were she was looking for me already considering both Caedus and Talen knew I headed east. If I struck first I could avoid having her following me and possibly get her to reveal more about their plans.

A little ways from Ballyton I found a road heading north and started along it. I decided to bulk myself up a little to look more like I was being worn by an orc. I didn’t have any plans to hide what I was anymore, but a lone human figure may draw attention that could slow me down interminably and I was already playing catch up.

The road itself was more of a simple dirt path. Around me were large grass hills with occasional patches of stone. The soft rain created an almost barely perceptible ting as it hit my armor and between that sound and the simple trail I found myself enjoying the change of scenery. Certainly the depths of the ocean are likely something only I and the mer-folk have really experienced, and it contained sights unimaginable to the average person, but could that beat a really green hill? I mean, it could, but when you’ve been walking through the spectacular for too long it tends to become mundane and the mundane you haven’t seen in awhile becomes spectacular.

After cresting a particularly green and wonderful hill I saw a small town. The place was bustling in spite of the rain. Orcs moving from building to building, boats coming and leaving at the docks, carts arriving to load and unload. It seemed like a place that saw a lot of movement, which made it the perfect place to look for someone.

I entered the town without any trouble, though I did receive quite a few looks. Adventurers were less common in the Eastlands, the head clans would handle requests from villagers involving monsters and in general orcs tended to be more capable of handling their own issues to begin with. Still, they had a few and the majority of the town seemed to assume correctly that I was one.

I made my way to the center of town and found the ‘Tuff Nuff Tavern’. It was busy, with orcs of all kinds sharing drinks, talking, and doing business. Aside from the orcs I also saw several dwarves and an elf with the look of a sailor. I sat at the bar and waited for the barkeep to finish pouring a drink for another patron before turning his attention to me.

“Ale?”

“Yes please.” I’d up to this point not met a bartender who would answer a question without me buying a drink first.

“Three copper.”

I pulled out the copper and set it on the table. He picked one up and squinted at it.

“Caedun Coppers?”

I had not considered the problem that I had only foreign currency. I rarely considered the problem of currency at all. “I uh, did a job for some Caedun merchant or another recently that’s what he paid me.”

“Did a ‘job’ for a Caedun merchant eh?” The bartender gave me a smile that showed off his impressive orcish canines. “We’ve got a lot of folks who do ‘business’ with them.” He nodded at a table and I saw a tough looking group of orcs at a table who gave the impression that the business he was talking about was piracy. “I’ll take your coin, don’t worry. We’re used to men coming back from sea with it. It’ll just be one copper extra, their coins aren’t as heavy as ours.”

I nodded and placed another coin on the table in front of him. He went back to the spout and poured me some ale. I took a sip and placed the mug back down.

“So, I’m assuming, given the armor and such, that you’re an adventurer.”

“I am.”

“Well, there’s only one reason an adventurer would come to a tavern, so go ahead and ask.” He held out his hand expectantly.

I sighed. The tavern keeper and adventurer relationship was tried and true, but somehow the bartender’s straightforwardness about it made me feel a touch bitter.

“I’m looking for someone.”

He simply smiled and gestured to his hands with his eyes.

I took out a single gold and handed it to him.

“Caedun gold coins are also lighter than Eastland's coins.”

I slowly dragged my gauntleted hand across my face, wishing I had temples to rub, and grabbed another gold coin to hand to him. I didn’t need money, but I also wasn’t a fan of being taken advantage of.

He smiled and palmed the coins. “Who is it I can help you find?”

“Vash, she used to be a captain operating out of here.”

The bartender’s expression turned from affable to venomous in an instant and he spat on the ground. “That clanless dirt?”

I nodded. Her being clanless is what had so impressed Lythia about her. A clanless captain was almost an impossibility, a clanless captain of four vessels had never happened before.

“Since she got two of my clansmen killed she’s run off to the highlands. Last I heard she’s calling herself the ‘Queen of the Highwaymen’. I knew we should never have let some clanless wench lead a vessel. The best they should hope for is to be allowed to clean the decks.”

“Where in the highlands is she?”

“Last I heard she was picking people off on the eastern road, between here and the desert.”

“Is she working alone?”

“No, she’s been exiled by all clans. She’s beyond clanless now, an outcast. Those working with her are outcasts as well.”

“Thank you for the information.”

The bartender nodded. “Are you planning on killing her?”

“Probably.”

“One of the clans hire you?”

“No, it’s more...personal. She tried to kill me once.”

“Ah, well good luck to ya, we’d all be better off with one fewer outcast.”

I nodded and stood to walk out.

“You gonna finish this ale?”

I ignored him and continued walking. I felt conflicted. Vash had tried to kill me, but from what I’d seen her crew had trusted her. Whether or not that trust was deserved I didn’t know, but they likely wouldn’t have wanted her to lose what she’d worked so hard to earn because of their deaths. Besides that their deaths were technically my fault rather than hers. Though the kraken was the one truly at fault.

I made my way out of town and got onto the main road that headed east toward the desert. The Eastlands had once had a large central province, but due to some kind of agricultural mistake in the distant past it had turned to a massive desert. That had driven all the orcish clans to the coasts and turned them from farmers to raiders and fishermen. The desert was now inhabited by naga and lizardmen tribes that had seemed to sprout from nothing once it had formed.

Aside from Usulaum and the university there was nothing of value there for most civilized people. Usulaum itself was an independent city founded by Rubrus the Great, a great wizard of some kind. He built a tower and created an oasis in order to study in peace and eventually others flocked to the tower until it turned into a city in its own right. Exiled dwarves, outcast orcs, and mages hungry for the knowledge of Rubrus had settled there. Shortly after founding the university Rubrus vanished, but the city has stood strong as a place of acceptance and learning since then. I wondered if Stone had ever been, the city generally seemed like his kind of place.

All of this history from Pebble flooded through me as I walked the eastern road. It was a pleasant distraction from the thoughts I’d been avoiding and the rage I could still feel simmering. Were my companions okay? Were the children of Aurum making any more big moves? Was it safe for me to be away from them? Now that I was done going over the history of the Eastlands in my head I had nothing else but those questions to plague me. What I really needed to help clear my head was a fight.

…

It was early evening when I got exactly what I needed. Two orcs on horses rode down the path in my direction at full speed with lances. I decided, rather than wait for them to meet me, I would charge them right back. I loosed the greatshield from my back, pulled my new sword from my helmet, and ran toward the one on the right. Just as I was about to hit their lances I dropped low and angled the shield in such a way that rather than crashing against me, the horse tripped and fell, tumbling with its rider for a dozen yards into a small rocky outcropping.

The other rider continued past me, but then turned his horse around to charge me again. This time, rather than meeting him I hefted my new curved blade and threw it, sending it spinning in the riders direction. He ducked under it, barely avoiding being beheaded and continued toward me. I prepared to take a blow to my shield when I realized that the sword I’d just thrown was still in my hand. I sidestepped the horse at the last minute and struck at its rider with my blade using his own momentum to bisect him diagonally. Half of him sloughed off the other half and the horse simply kept running, the rider’s legs eventually falling onto the side of the road.

I looked at the sword in my hand. It was the same one. I was certain I’d thrown it, so I went to where I had done so and found the sword I’d originally thrown embedded in the dirt. I picked it up and held it for a few moments before it faded and disappeared. I turned my attention to the original sword and, grabbing at the hilt with both hands, I pulled another copy from it. I then stuck the copy in the ground. I did this about twelve times and by the twelfth time the first sword faded, followed by the others. I held up the curved blade. I’d apparently stumbled onto a second enchanted item without even looking for it.

After I was done experimenting I walked over to the corpse left by the orc I'd bissected. Aside from the damage I'd done to it, the horse had also trampled the body into a pulp. I consumed what I thought was his head. I sorted quickly through the memories and impressions I was able to obtain. He'd respected Vash as a leader and preferred living with a group of other outcasts rather than living alone. Beyond that I gained nothing of import, not even the location of the camp.

I approached the area I’d seen the other orc and his horse tumble into. The horse was dead, its neck snapped, but the rider was alive and cursing in orcish, his legs broken. His cursing grew louder when he noticed me and he started trying to push out from under the horse.

“Having a bit of trouble?” I asked in orcish.

The man spat out a slew of vile epithets about my mother while spitting in my direction.

“I don’t actually have a mother.” I lifted up my visor revealing the nothingness of my face.

The man went pale and stopped yelling in the middle of a particularly gruesome description of what he intended to do to my ancestors' graves.

“That’s better, thank you. I’m looking for your boss Vash. If you tell me what I need to know, I won't kill you. I’ll even carry you to her.”

“Kill me then. I ain't selling out the Queen.”

“You didn’t let me finish. If you don’t tell me what I need to know, I’ll cut off your head and eat it and that’ll tell me what I want to know anyway, except you’ll also be dead.”

The orc thought for a moment, grimacing from broken bones and a need to think beyond what he was likely used to. “The first one, I’ll lead you to her.”

“Thank you.” I moved over to him and lifted the horse off of him. It wasn’t too heavy, but it was unwieldy to lift so it took awhile to position my feet in such a way that allowed it. I then tore off pieces of the saddle and made a rudimentary splint.

“I can either carry you in front of me or behind me. In front may be easier on your legs.”

“Behind, please.”

“Suit yourself.” I bent down and the man climbed onto my back. I hefted him up and heard him inhale sharply, but he managed to keep from screaming.

I was glad I’d already sized myself at orc height. The man was small for an orc, but if I’d still been Sevald’s height I’d have been dragging his feet along the ground as I carried him. I began walking along the road.

“Where too?”

“About a mile up the road and then we’ll make a turn.”

“Alright.”

I saw the man reach for a dagger and slam it into the gap between my shoulder plate. I chose not to react and simply keep walking. “The pain made you forget there’s nothing in here huh?”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

“So, what’s your name?”

“Burias.”

“Well Burias, since I’ll be carrying you a ways why don’t you tell me about yourself? Though I suppose you could keep trying to kill me as well. Either way I’ll be entertained.”