Dexter

I felt the fatigue in my body grow as we made our way back to the hideout. Healed or not, the cuts had made an impact on my health. The bitter aftertaste of iron was present on my tongue as we walked through the still intact cavern. I couldn’t help but rub my chin absentmindedly, knowing the scar that now dashed across it would never let me forget this day. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind though as I squeezed my way back into the Elite’s hideout. Bruga, Amelia, and Orthan turned our way as I let out a groan and we trudged down the sloped path of the cavern. Amelia rushed over and practically tackled me as he held me tight. “Don’t ever make me worry like that again.” She muttered into my chest.

I let out a tired sigh as I nodded and patted her head, looking around the room. The Elites that were bound by various means were now bound by thick rope and set against each other in the center of the room, next to where the fire once sat, now a splatter of ash and clay. I let out a determined sigh as I nodded again. “Never again,” I muttered back, pulling away from her and trudging over to the bound Elites. I crouched and balanced on the balls of my feet as I inspected each of the four closely. They were all panting to some degree and one had a trickle of blood running down the side of his head. I glanced curiously at the long knife-like ears that seemed to twitch ever so faintly. Now that I had a decent look at these ‘elves’ I could see the resemblance to local lore. They had long point ears, longer than the orcs, large eyes that presently contained a look of hatred as the four were unwillingly bound to their fate. Their height was the most intriguing. They seemed noticeably taller than the elves I’d fought previously, but still short by my own standards.

I pushed the intrigue to the back of my mind, however, as one of them, the one with blood trickling down the side of his head, spat a wad of blood at my face. It landed with a heavy splat as I turned to glare sharply at him and gave me a taunting grin. “Enjoy it while it lasts, outsider.” He growled. “We know every orcish settlement on this side of the river. There’s nowhere you can keep us that our brothers will not find.”

I gritted my teeth annoyedly as I wiped the drop of blood from my face. He did not know I had already considered that. I let out a sigh as I glared directly at him. “I get why Amelia hates you,” I growled, meeting his cocky gaze. He seemed to falter as he saw the determination on my face. “You had the audacity to take someone from the depths of the tribe and use them for a potion ingredient. I doubted there was a lower place you could take it. Then, you mentioned dumping him in a bear cave and, what was it, leaving them a nice meal?” The Elite’s face fell as he appeared to come to a dire conclusion. I grinned at his obvious discomfort. “Don’t worry, I have other plans for you.” Before he could say anything to that, I stood and turned to Brokil. “Do you think you can manage a few more detect magic spells?” I asked hopefully.

Brokil let out a tired sigh and started to step forward, but Dumag held up his hand and stopped him. “Save your strength.” He ordered. “I can fill that role.” Brokil nodded thankfully as he approached expectantly.

I nodded and gestured at the bound Elites. “The others had magic items of their own. Search these four for theirs.”

Dumag nodded as he crouched and began casting the spell. Bruga stepped forward worriedly as she watched Dumag search the Elites. “Are you certain they have concealed artifacts?” She asked.

I nodded as I rubbed my chin again, thinking back on my charge into that cavern. “One of them mentioned I was a fool for thinking that those cubby holes were their only items on hand. Given that he also had a set of bracers that were annoying as fuck, I’m pretty sure each of them has some form of primary armament, besides the knives they seem to be so fond of. We need to see what kind of weapons they are so that we can anticipate what the others have. Besides, they might be useful to us.”

Just then, Dumag grabbed one of the Elites, causing him to start struggling. The Elite tried to pull away as Dumag worked at his wrist. “Unhand Me, Beast.” The Elite practically roared. “I will not be treated this way. I am a soldier of Alma-”

He was cut short as Dumag quickly elbowed him in the face and finally pulled away. Dumag grinned as he held up a pair of chain-link bracelets. “Finally,” he growled. “This is the enchanted item. Now then.”

He then turned and began searching the other three as the Elite he took the bracelets from continued to protest. “Surely you sibpledons know a drinket when you see oned.” He growled through what was likely a busted nose. “Albar will Hund You do-”

Dumag socked the Elite in the back of the head to silence him. “Quiet. Almar has no power over the Tribes.” He then turned back to rummaging through the other Elites. They put up considerably less resistance to the search. After another minute of searching, Dumag turned back and held out four items. I looked closely as I examined them. The bracelets, now that I could see them closer, had several charms dangling from one, all some kind of ranged weapon or small blade. The other only had one charm, in the shape of a bronze key. Another item was, in and of itself, a medieval iron key. Nothing seemed to be particularly special about it, but if Dumagh had grabbed it something must have been weird about it. The third item was a small coin pouch, about the size of the bracelet and key it sat next to. The pouch sounded like it had coins in it but knowing magic I couldn’t be sure. Again, nothing seemed weird about it, it just looked like a coin pouch. The weirdest thing was probably the last item. It was a black feather, about the length of my hand, that seemed to give off a smokey aura. I had no idea the specifics of its magical enchantment, but it was the strangest of the four items Dumag had grabbed.

I finally nodded approvingly as I mentally counted four items and four captives. “Perfect. Go ahead and pocket those. We’ll figure out what they do later.” Dumag nodded as he reached into his satchel and pulled out one of his own enchanted pouches, slipping the items in in one quick motion before pulling the string tight. Predictably, the pouch looked tiny for the items it had just inhaled. I let out a tired sigh as I nodded and glanced at the Elites, considering our next step carefully.

The one with a broken nose spat a wad of blood into the floor as he glared up at me. “dhis vicdory wild nod lasd.” He warned. “Our brothers will come for us, wherever yo-”

“For sard’s sake, Elas!” Another one of them roared, knocking his own head into Elas’s. “Silence your babbling before they or I silence it for you!”

Elas roared angrily as he swung his head in retaliation. “Silenced yourself, fool. Aldar would nod stand for sudch-”

I let out an annoyed growl as I grabbed his face and began casting. “You should have listened to your friend there.” I spat, light beginning to glow from my fingers. Elas suddenly let out a roar of pain as the healing spell took hold and his nose snapped back into place. The roar turned into a pained groan as I pulled away, the spell complete and his nose repaired, save for the mysterious pain I know he was experiencing. I bent down and grabbed his head, pulling it back as I got as close to his face as I could. “I could have had anyone else do that,” I muttered angrily, “but you had to make me do that. Now shut up while we discuss things.” The Elite let out a pained groan as I straightened and turned to the others. “Anything we want to grab from here?” I asked. “We can’t grab everything. We don’t have enough space and we have to haul these guys anyway. Hell, most of this stuff is borderline useless and the Institute is going to want to clear this out when we get back, but we should think about what’s important and bring that first.”

Dumag nodded as he glanced at the wall with the hidden compartments. In the scuffle, it seemed that a few of the Elites had managed to reach the wall and reveal a handful of the cubbyholes, their stones laying discarded beneath them. Dumag gestured towards the wall as he turned back. “We should take the documents they created. We should inform the Chief of their existence as swiftly as possible.”

I nodded as I glanced towards the wall. “Good idea. Plug up those holes before they have a chance to leak, so to speak.”

Dumag nodded before furrowing his brow as he glanced towards the bound Elites. “What of them?” he asked, gesturing. “Are their threats of confidence to be trusted? Or are they merely deluded?”

I glanced as well as I thought for a moment. I finally nodded as I fiddled with the hilt of my sword, eyeing the pile warily. “I wouldn’t be surprised if their friends tried,” I finally answered. “They did manage to get the general out. I have no idea where they found out he was in there, but that wouldn’t matter to them anyway. If they didn’t know at first, they would do their best to find out where they were taken. Then it would just be a matter of executing a jailbreak.”

A smirk crept across one of the Elite’s faces as Brokil limped forward concernedly. “Will White Rock not be sufficient?” He asked. “Surely extra precautions would be enough. If we do not disclose their location, the others would not be able to find their companions.”

I nodded thoughtfully as I glanced at Dumag, the pouch of pilfered products still in his hand. “That would be the case if they didn’t have precautions against missing members,” I replied. The expression of unease and apprehension on Brokil’s face was enough for me to continue. “When I was fighting the Elites in that other cavern, I saw one of them pull out something. I have no idea what it was, but he looked at it and said there were others still in the city, meaning he knew their general location.” I then pointed at Dumag. “We shouldn’t keep those anywhere nearby. That might be how they keep track of each other.” Dumag’s eyebrow raised as he held his pouch away and eyed it cautiously. I waved dismissively as I continued again. “We won’t have to worry right now but keeping them long term might draw them towards us, which we can use to our advantage.”

Dumag nodded understandingly as he finally pocketed the pouch. “I presume you have a plan for them then?” He asked, motioning with his head towards the pile of Elites. “Or are we about to discuss our option in terms of imprisonment?”

I shook my head as I turned back and continued glaring at the Elites, the one that had broken his nose grimaced as he looked up at me, hate and contempt still in his eyes. “No, I already have a plan,” I admitted. “It’s really out of the way and I’m certain they won’t be able to escape. Hell, of the people here, only Amelia and I know where it is.”

The others were suddenly alight with confusion and apprehension as if a large exotic animal had just gone traipsing by. Gremach was the first to step forward and ask the obvious question. “What is this location you speak of?”

I let out a sigh as I stared at the elites for another moment before turning to him. “It’s time that you all met Mabel.”

Erendriel

The egress we found from this cavern was particularly narrow, forcing each of us to squeeze through with care and precision. I was the last of us to leave, emerging just as Raibyn and Elephon began to escalate their argument. Raibyn shoved Elephon angrily as he gestured to where I was just climbing out. “I Stopped That Scoundrel’s Sword From Slicing You!” He shouted. “Surely That Should Save Me From Your Scorn!”

Elephon shoved back as he pointed angrily at Raibyn. “I’m Not The One That Fled The Fight At The First Sign Of His Arcane Abilities!” He bellowed in response. “Nor Did I Delay Him Rather Than Countering His Blows And Ending His Miserable Existence!”

Raibyn held up one of his enchanted bracers before gesturing angrily at me. “My Armaments Cannot Swallow Incantations Like Erendriel’s!” He countered venomously. “Nor Could I ‘End Him’ As You So Eloquently Put It! Even In That State, He Was Far Too Cautious!”

Raibyn opened his mouth to retort, but Ettrian’s voice sliced through the squabble like a saber through a sow. “Banish Your Babbling!” He bellowed, brandishing his blade without bounds. His blade gave off a weak smoky aura, an indication that one of the charges had been used, leaving two more ready for action. Ettrian’s outburst elicited an expression of unease as he edged closer to the fear struck Elites. His voice vacated his vocal cords in a veritable sigh. “That slave stealing outsider was supposed to be secured in Snakhagr,” he hissed. “Imprisoned in that Institute with no intention of interfering. Yet, you and your useless yammering fail to find the fault in our fort!” The apprehension on everyone’s faces faltered for a moment as they glanced at each other.

I stepped forward as I let out an annoyed sigh, determined to bring some sense to our mess. “Sheath your dagger, Ettrian,” I growled. “Your proclivity of alliteration has gotten worse.” Ettrian gritted his teeth at the order, but still angrily reached a hand out towards Elephon. Elephon hesitated for a moment then reached into a satchel that was slung across his torso and pulled out a silver sheath, the perfect size for Ettrian’s dagger. The air around him seemed to grow dimmer as the cover was removed from the bag as if it had been containing some cursed magic that was only now seeing the light. The sheath itself was an odd one to me, but I was led to believe it sapped any light around it, regardless of its intensity. It gave its holder an appearance of darkness and isolation, but it was also necessary for Ettrian to continue utilizing his enchanted weapon.

Elephon held the sheath out as Ettrian snatched it away. The dagger appeared to let out a humming sound as it was brought towards the cover, the darkness of the two appearing to grow and merge as the blade glided inside. With a sharp click the humming vanished and the darkness subsided for the moment. It would grow once more in approximately six hours, signaling the blade was recharged. Ettrian let out a sigh as he tied the sheathed dagger to his belt. “The outsiders are clever,” he growled, the alliteration in his tone now vanished. “Far more clever than we anticipated. They knew of our presence in the city. Why else would they lay such an ambush.”

I nodded as I gestured towards the narrow hole we had emerged from. “They are also of arcane birth,” I added, the shield on my arm still humming from the spells it had absorbed. “The new one, I can comprehend, but the canary was also manipulating mana for the brief moment we saw her. They have not been idle. The orcs are teaching them their magical arts.”

Ettrian growled as he turned towards the hole, gripping the hilt of his dagger with intent. “Then our approach must change.” He muttered, his attention focussed entirely on our escape. “They are far more dangerous than before. We must warn the others.” Ettrian then turned to Khatar, who was sitting on a nearby stone, hands intertwined in front of his face, eyes unfocussed in deep thought. “How many others remain in the city?” He asked.

Khatar looked up as he was suddenly pulled from his stupor, hesitating for a moment before reaching into a pouch on his belt and pulling out a silver ornate mirror. He examined it carefully for a moment before responding. “Three more have left since I last checked,” He replied. “This leaves nine more still wandering about.” He slipped the mirror back into his pouch as he looked up. “We should move to intercept them and warn them of the ambush. We will need to reconvene, in any regard, and decide our next course of action.”

Ettrian nodded as he glanced around at the others. They were all covered in dust and blood, a few with blackened traces of ash on their armor from the outsider’s wreckless blasts of fire. Ettrian glanced towards a north-western direction, appearing to consider the best path ahead. “I believe that much is obvious,” he replied. “We must return to Adympia and warn Eltaor. We will need to formulate a new method of tracking and capturing the canary and eliminating the other one. I fear that our ordinary tactics will not work on these quarries.”

I nodded as I glanced at my shield again, the heat of the outsider’s spell still fresh in my mind. “Then let us away,” I muttered, gesturing to where Ettrian was facing. “Eltaor is already far ahead, but we may yet reach Nione before they depart for the springs.” I began walking as I gestured for the others to follow. “But first, let us convene at the other egress. We should discuss with the others what has occurred today.” The others nodded as they followed my lead and we began to trudge through the land, being cautious to avoid major roads and pathways, heading towards more familiar grounds.

Dexter

The Elites were small in comparison, but they were dense for their size, making it a bit of a task to carry them to the beacon and emerge from the cave. Dumag, Gremach, and Bruga each had one draped over their shoulders, leaving me and Brokil to carry the last one together, Brokil holding up the torso while I let the Elite’s legs rest on my shoulder. Dumag had shoved a bundle of fur into each of their mouths to prevent them from talking as we trudged through the woods and headed south. Brokil, tired as he was, insisted on carrying the documents and rifling through them, trying to find something worth noting that we might have missed before. Orthan walked beside Bruga, examining the elven dagger he had as we went. Amelia walked along quietly, cradling her arm where she had been cut. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of stabbing guilt at the idea that I had unintentionally hurt her, as good as my intentions were. I silently cursed myself as I mentally ran through the healing spell once more, trying to find where I had gone wrong, but nothing was becoming apparent. My silent musings were interrupted as Dumag cleared his throat, walking beside me and Brokil as we made our way towards the southern forest. Dumag’s face was filled with apprehension and concern as we walked. “You are certain this Dryad will aid us?” He asked, adjusting the bundle he had slung over his shoulder. “We saw the remnants within the Archive. They were not there for pleasantries or festivals. They expired in there and likely caused Vedug to be abandoned.”

I let out a sigh as I nodded and turned to focus on the path ahead. I could see Snakhagr in the distance, off to the left of our current path. We would come close to it, but the plan was to use a long-range teleport to ensure we were not discovered by leftover Elites making their way towards us from the city. I turned back to Dumag as I gave him a tired, but reassuring grin. “She’s different from the others,” I assured him. “As far as I know, she was rejected from their society and has been living on her own ever since.”

Dumag gave me a stern before turning towards the southern forest. “That still does not bode well.” He growled. “What reason would she wish to aid us? Surely she has no need for us.”

I shrugged as I thought back to when I first met Mabel, back before I even knew that Dryads existed. “She seemed fairly bored when I met her,” I replied. “She was fascinated by my existence and even had some knowledge of human history. I don’t know why, but she seems pretty open to just talking with people.”

At that last remark, Amelia stepped beside me and offered her interpretation. “I think she’s just satisfying one of her other needs,” Amelia supplied, still nursing her shoulder. “She might not need any physical resources, but I think, as much as she puts on this air of power, she gets lonely and someone to just talk to may be what she wants, unconsciously at least.”

I bit the inside of my mouth as I guiltily glanced at her shoulder, remembering the yelp of pain that she had made earlier. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind, however, as I nodded in agreement. “That sounds accurate,” I said thoughtfully, turning back to Dumag. He seemed far from convinced. I let out a sigh as I shrugged my shoulders, causing the elf to tilt briefly before returning to a horizontal resting position. “The best I can promise you right now is that we ask,” I admitted. “She might ask for something in return, she might not. If she asks for something reasonable, I’ll try and accommodate the request. If not …. well, we’ll just have to come up with something else then.”

Dumag let out a low hmm as he glanced forward again. We were getting close to the edge of the northern forest, the trees slowing thinning as we made our way south. “I pray it does not come to that,” he muttered quietly.

I nodded as I glanced at Brokil. “Up for another spell?” I asked. “If we want to avoid the open, now might be a good time.

Brokil nodded as he reached into his shawl and grabbed a small pouch of beads. “I have enough for two more.” He muttered, pulling out a handful of small manastones.

I nodded as I signaled everyone to stop and gather around Brokil. With the extra bodies, we had to squeeze in a bit to get everyone in place, but we could manage. I turned to Orthan, wondering what was on his mind. He carried a similar exhausted look to Brokil, the Adympian armor still wrapped tight around his chest. “One more stop,” I said, trying to be encouraging. “Then we’ll take you to Uloth.”

Orthan glanced up as I spoke, but did not change his expression. He appeared to hesitate for a moment before letting out a sigh. “Thank you, for all that you have done,” he sighed gratefully. “I am eager to see Uloth after this day.” I gave him a reassuring grin and a silent nod as I let the moment hang in the air. Orthan nodded in response as he looked down again and placed his hand in the circle. With a minute of gesturing, we disappeared from the northern forest and reappeared a little way into its southern brother, jumping closer to Mabel’s glade.

The warm air and meandering animals were a familiar sight to me, but I could tell it unnerved the others as we entered. Even Amelia hesitated as we dragged the tied and bound Elites out of the treeline. I lifted my free arm and waved it as I shouted towards the tree at the center. “Mabel!” I called, cupping my hand to amplify my voice. “Could You Come Out Here For A Minute? We Need Your Help With Some-” I stopped as I realized we weren’t the only ones in the glade. Clustered at the base of the tree were five orcish mages, each wearing a different colored shawl; black, white, red, green, and yellow. They had turned towards us as I shouted, likely interrupting a hushed conversation they were having.

Suddenly, Mabel revealed herself and stepped out onto the branches of her tree, grinning down as she saw who had called her. “Dexter!” She called back. “It has been too long.” My face lit up as I watched a section of the branch extend and carry Mabel down to where I stood. The branch quickly retracted as Mabel stepped off and took in the group I had brought in. “These are some of your friends?” She asked, gesturing to the others.

I nodded as I motioned for Brokil to set the Elite down. “Guildmates, to be specific,” I replied, wiping a veil of sweat from my forehead. I then pointed at everyone in turn as I introduced them to Mabel and Mabel to them. Dumag, Gremach, and Bruga were visibly apprehensive at the sight of her and only waved in response. I let out a tired sigh as I scratched an itch on my chin. “You’ll have to excuse them. They only just learned that you existed. They’re friendly once you get to know them. These guys,” I gave the Elite I'd be caring a sharp kick “on the other hand, aren’t ever going to be friendly.”

Mabel crouched onto the balls of her feet as he examined the elf, rope wrapped tight around him and gag preventing him from making a peep. Mabel turned to me as she pointed at the prone figure. “And they are?” She asked.

I nodded as I pointed to Bruga, Dumag, and Gremach, each of whom was eyeing still Mabel warily. “The four in gift wrappings are the reason why we’re here,” I replied, turning back to Mabel. “They’re part of a group that helped facilitate an escape back in Snakhagr so we couldn’t just leave them in a random cage in the city. Sooner or later, their friends will find them and break them out.”

Mabel nodded as she stood and walked around to examine the face of the Elite. The Elite glared angrily at Mabel, but couldn’t say anything with the wad in his mouth. “And you wish for me to guard them while you deal with their companions?” She asked, seemingly knowing where this was going.

I nodded as I adjusted my glasses slightly. “Which may take a while,” I admitted. “There are about fifty of them total and these are the only ones we were able to get after setting up an ambush.”

Mabel nodded as she turned and gave me a wide smile. “I would be happy to guard these troublemakers,” she said cheerily. “Do you have a preferred method of containment? Or may I contain them how I desire?”

I gave her a quizzical look as I glanced towards Amelia. She had a similar expression of confusion as she continued to cradle her arm. “That’s it?” I asked, turning back to Mabel. “You’re not going to ask for anything in return?”

Mabel shook her head as grinned down at the Elite. His expression had shifted to one of fear and dread, like a rat trapped in a cage. Mabel flexed her fingers and caused a few stray tendrils to emerge from the ground. “Leaving them here would allow me to see just how potent some of my creations are.” She looked back up at me as she gave me an excited smile. “Unless you prefer some other method of containment for them.”

I let out an apprehensive hmm as I bit the inside of my cheek, trying my best not to betray the unease I felt deep in my stomach. Mabel always had a way of taking things and making them sound unnaturally ominous. However, she was my only option at making sure these four did not escape. I finally sighed as I shrugged and gestured at the bound Elite. “Just make sure they stay alive,” I responded. “We might want to question them later.”

Mabel nodded understandingly as she turned back to the prone elite, grinning wickedly. “Naturally,” She said. In a moment, her fist clenched tight and more roots sprang from the forest floor, wrapping themselves around the Elite as his eyes shot open in surprise. Through the wad in his mouth, came a muffled scream as the tendrils entangled him and pulled him into the ground with a dry sucking sound. The muffled shouts quickly grew quiet as the grass reformed and left no trace of the sudden and violent display. More muffled cries of surprise came from the Elites still resting on the others’ shoulders as they watched their companion disappear into the ground. Mabel gestured to Dumag, Gremach, and Bruga as more tendrils tentatively rose from the ground in preparation. “You may drop them now. They shall be safe in my guard.” Gremach and Dumag glanced in my direction, uncertain whether or not to trust her.

I nodded as I gestured towards the floor. “The Elites will find them otherwise.” I reminded them. The trio hesitated for another moment before dropping the Elites to the ground. The tendrils quickly wrapped themselves around the Elites as the ground opened up once more. The panicked shouts of the three briefly surged then died as the earth closed up once more. I let out a tired sigh again as I turned to Mabel. "Just in case they do find out about this place, I want there to be a password for anyone that wants to see these guys.”

Mabel gave me a condescending look at the proposal. “Certainly, I should be able to recognize the difference between an elf and an orc.” She said, grinning.

I shook my head as I jagged a thumb over my shoulder. “That won’t matter to them. They have potions for that. The only way to be certain is if you keep your guard up and listen for the password.”

Mabel’s eyes narrowed curiously as she briefly glanced at the ground. “They were truly that difficult, eh?” I nodded scratching my chin, remembering the ones that escaped through the cave system. Mabel nodded understandingly as she glanced back at her tree, ensuring the other mages were far enough away. “I suppose that is a good precaution then,” she finally admitted. “At the very least, I hope my gift was able to serve you well.”

I felt a surge of confusion as I gave Mabel a dumbfounded look. “Your gift?” I asked, not having a clue what she was talking about.

Mabel gave me a concerned look and nodded as she gestured to a nearby deer. “The antler that I gave you,” she explained. “I imbued it with a modicum of my power. Have you not been utilizing it?”

I let out a tired yet annoyed sigh. “How the fuck could I have known that antler was important, you stu-” I bit the inside of my cheek as I stopped myself. “You’re tired.” I reminded myself. “Don’t go off just because you’re tired. She made a nice gesture, now thank her for it.” I let out a forceful, but calming sigh as I turned back to Mabel. Her face had shifted, to one of muddled but barely contained fury. I let out another calming breath before continuing. “Sorry. Thank you for the Antler. I didn’t know you had given me something so important.”

The expression on Mabel’s face softened, her eyes conveying a mixture of relief and calm as she crossed her arms. She nodded as she glanced at her tree once more. “Well, I suppose I should have been straightforward with the item. I had not taken into account your lack of magical experience.”

I let out a guilty sigh as I nodded. “Wasn’t exactly caught up with my classes when you gave that thing to me,” I admitted. “Hell, I didn’t even know for certain how enchanted items were made at the time.”

Mabel nodded understandingly as she waved towards the ground. “Pay it no mind. Now then, what word shall be used to ensure I can trust those that request the Elites.”

I paused for a moment, giving the idea some thought as I tried to come up with something that the Elites would never try and guess. A felt a grin creep across my face as a phrase, instead of a word, came to mind. I turned to Mabel as I tapped my thumb to my chest in a pointing fashion. “If they’re to be trusted, they’ll say the cat sent them.”

Mabel smirked amusedly at my answer and let out a short chuckle before responding. “Am I correct in assuming this ‘cat’ is you?” she asked, barely containing a laugh.

I chuckled guiltily as I nodded. “That’s the idea,” I replied, glancing at my watch. It was creeping close to 5 PM. The sun would be on the horizon soon. I turned back to Mabel as I gestured towards the exit of her glade. “In any case, we should get going. We still have one more stop to make. Don’t let anyone see the Elites if they don’t have the password.”

Mabel nodded as she gave me a contented smile. “Travel safely. I look forward to you returning for another sparring match.” With that, the ground beneath her shifted and Mabel suddenly rose on another tendril that lifted her towards the branch she had descended from earlier.

I waved goodbye as the tendril retracted and I turned back to the others. “Easier than I thought,” I remarked. “But now we can focus on the other Elites.” I then pointed at Orthan. He was still looking around in amazement, clutching the dagger tightly to his chest. In the darkness of the cave, I couldn’t get a good look at him, but standing in the glade I could note his features clearly. I could see the resemblance to Garthan. He was definitely his son, save for the demeanor and irritability. His dark hair was cut short and had spatters of dirt scattered about it. His full height barely reached Brokil, but his arms bulged with muscle. The elven armor that he wore looked even tighter than it probably looked on me. A few straps rested, unbuckled, across his arm. I let out a tired sigh as I stretched my fingers and caused the joints to pop quietly. “We can take you to Uloth’s now if you like,” I said, getting his attention. “Or, we could take you into the city to sleep for a bit. It’s been a long day for us and it’s definitely been a long few days for you.”

Orthan glanced down at the dagger in his hand, the dull twisting blade gleaming slightly in the glade’s light. The dagger itself looked like a twisted shard of marble if said shard had a gemstone for a pommel. Orthan stared at the blade for a few moments, rubbing his arm as he thought. He finally looked up as he lowered the dagger to his side, still keeping a tight grip on it. “I-I wish to return home,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice. “I must speak with my father. I wish to convey my thoughts before I lose my nerve again. In any regard, he will want to know that I am alive.”

I gave Orthan a concerned look as I met his gaze. “You sure?” I asked. “You can rest up if you need to.”

Orthan shook his head as he let out a nervous sigh. “I will not have the courage after today,” he replied. “I must do it now when the wounds are fresh.”

I paused as I considered his request then finally shrugged as I glanced back the way we’d come. “If you really want to, sure.” I turned to Dumag. “Are you okay with visiting your brother?”

Dumag glanced towards Orthan. His expression was a mixture of concern and stern, but beyond that, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Dumag finally nodded as he turned back to me. “It would inevitably occur,” he replied. “One way or another, my brother would want to know of his son’s rescue.”

I nodded as I stretched my neck and turned to Brokil. “Can you make the entire jump from here?” I asked. “We can just walk back once this is all over.”

Brokil nodded tiredly as he reached into his shawl again. “I have enough for one more,” he sighed.

I nodded as I gestured for everyone to come close again. “One more stop, then we’ll head home,” I said encouragingly. They nodded as we clustered into a circle around Brokil. Within a moment, we disappeared from Mabel’s glade with a loud pop.

I let out a tired sigh as we popped into existence at an all too familiar field. The sick feeling following a teleport quickly subsided as I looked around and spotted the sod-covered house in the distance. A thin plume of smoke was rising from a chimney as our group composed itself. I turned to Orthan as I pointed towards the house. “Do you want us to stick around or…”

Orthan was silent for a moment, but Dumag was the one that answered, stepping forward and placing a hand on Orthan’s shoulder. “I shall accompany you,” he said sternly. “I would have a word with my brother, in any case. There is something I have been meaning to discuss with him.”

I looked at Dumag with a curious expression. “Do you want us to go with you? Or…”

Dumag shook his head as he looked up at the hut. “No,” he replied. “I must be the one to do this.”

I hesitated for a moment then nodded as I gestured towards the house. “We’ll wait for you then,” I said, sitting in the dirt once more. Dumag nodded and strode forward as he began leading Orthan towards the house.

Dumag

I was unhappy that these were the circumstances that had befallen me. My brother and I used to be quite close, actually. We were inseparable as children, united in the struggle to survive the upbringing our parents were giving us. Our father was not a harsh man, but he was not one to spare the rod if we made an egregious mistake. I can still remember the day I left the cow pen open, a mistake that cost us a day of work and three healthy cows. For my brother, it was likely the time he inadequately repaired our coop. The coyotes had a feast that night and we were left with but four quails and two chickens, all of which were severely injured. In our time growing up, we learned the mistakes the other would often make and ensured they would not be caught by our father. We grew up relying on each other and knowing that we could face any hardship if we did it together. Most importantly, though, I remember the day he met Shagar.

She was the daughter of a woodsman, often accompanying her father as he delivered timber to the farms about the land. He only ever learned of our farm once our father had enough goods to sell in Snakhagr. The barley was plenty in the city, but the eggs from our farm were rotund and delicious. Our father took great care to prepare the feed every week, creating a mix of barely and herbal seeds that I still do not know to this day. It filled the hens and gave every egg a savory flavor. In any case, the trade was welcome and it meant our father did not have to travel into the forest to chop his own firewood. The first trade was when my brother saw Shagar for the first time. My brother took one look at her and was smitten. I could not blame him. She was a beauty to behold. Her skin was flawless and smooth. Her tusks barely poked out of her mouth before halting in a razor-sharp point. Her youthful face would hold for long after she began to bear children. Her hair at the time was choppy and uneven, cut shorter than intended, but that didn’t matter to Garthan. Evidently, their grooming knives were growing dull and they required a new whetstone. So, my father traded one of ours, along with a dozen eggs, in exchange for a bundle of firewood. Garthan, however, was focussed entirely on Shagar, almost forgetting the weight of the tray he was carrying.

In any case, I knew my brother could not woo her alone. He had always been a timid fellow, prone to panic at small discrepancies and shifts in the norm. I doubted her could manage to take her hand as he was then. So, I aided him, advising him where I could and helping him save up for an engagement gift. She was coy, at first, but eventually came around to his gestures of affection. They were so happy together. Things were so well for a time. … Then our mother died.

I have seen many men broken in my days, but seeing my father break was the hardest. It had come about suddenly and without warning. She had practically fallen in the field where she stood. My father had rushed her to the city, but no manner of magic was able to heal her. My father fell into despair, one he would never be able to climb out of. His care for the animals dwindled. His feed for the chickens grew basic. He became devoid and empty, seemingly unable to do anything else but work and stare at nothing. He took the barley and made crude beer. It tasted terrible, but it was what he drank in the evening.

My brother changed in those years. In one fell swoop, we had lost our mother and our father. We were suddenly in charge of a farm that we had no experience managing. The best we could hope for was a plentiful season, a plentiful season that never came.

I shook my head as I brought myself out of my reminiscing and focussed on the house ahead. It was the house me and my brother grew up in, I was certain of it. However, it had fallen into disrepair since I had last left when I first enlisted in the army. I stopped just shy of the front door. The same door I had passed through all those decades ago. I let out a slow sigh as I hesitated for a moment, lifted a hand to the door, and knocked. Shagar’s voice radiated from behind the door as the sound of shuffling accompanied it. “Just A Moment,” she called. The sound of metal on metal lasted for another second before the door let out a click and was pulled open. “I told you, father, we have enough wood. You don’t need to-” Shagar stopped as she finally saw who was knocking so late in the day. Her expression shifted to one of relief as she wiped her hands on a rag tied to her belt. “Dumag,” she said happily. “What brings you out this-” Shagar’s eyes suddenly grew wide as she glanced to my side. Tears began to well up as her lip quivered. “O-orthan?” she stammered.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Orthan smile and give a tired wave. “Hello,” he sighed. “I apologize for making you worry.”

Shagar ignored Orthan’s apology and simply rushed forward, throwing her arms around him and holding him tight. “You Live!” she exclaimed with relief. “I thought you were lost, but you are alive.”

Orthan could no longer hold back tears as he slowly reached up and embraced his mother. “Not lost,” he replied. “Only gone for a while.”

Shagar turned to me, still clutching Orthan as she whispered “Thank you.” I felt my heart swell as I saw the relief on Shagar’s face. I wanted to apologize to her, for abandoning the farm, for leaving her and Garthan to tend to the fields on their own. I was so tempted to allow my emotions to flow, just for this moment.

Suddenly, I heard my brother’s voice boom from behind the door. “Shagar!” He bellowed. “The Stew Is Boiling Over! Where Are-” The door was suddenly yanked open again and out stepped the familiar face of my brother. His face was flush and covered in sweat, likely from preparing the field for the upcoming season. The bandage on his arm was frayed and caked in dirt. His eyes widened for a moment then narrowed as he glared at me. “What are you doing here?” he growled. “I thought I told you, I do not wish for your-” My brother’s chastising stopped as he spotted Orthan, still clutched in Shagar’s arms.

My brother’s face grew slack as Orthan gave him a relieved smile. “Hello, father,” Orthan sighed. “The road was fixed, as you asked.”

My brother stood there, frozen in disbelief. He hesitated for a moment before stepping forward and embracing his wife and son. His expression was still cold and hard, but he held the pair with all his might. Even then, I could swear I saw tears of relief speckling the corners of his eyes. “I am so glad you are okay.” He said in barely a whisper. “I am so sorry, for everything I said to you.”

Orthan let out a relieved sigh as he felt the embrace of both parents, a welcome sensation after the events that had befallen him. “I am sorry for putting you through this. … And for what I am about to say.”

Garthan was silent for a moment, then relaxed his grip as he turned to Orthan. “Son, there is nothing you can say that will make me upset with you.”

Orthan bit his tongue and bowed his head guiltily. He hesitated for another moment before finally speaking. “Father, I cannot stay on the farm anymore.” Garthan’s face fell again as he heard the words leave his son’s lips. Orthan continued quickly before his father could protest. “Can we go inside? I have been meaning to speak to you for some time now.”

I stepped forward and placed a hand on my brother’s shoulder. He looked up to me, confused and bewildered. “There is something I must discuss with you as well, brother,” I said. “Something we should have discussed long ago.”

My brother gritted his teeth, a pained and fearful expression on his face. He finally let out a sigh as he released the embrace and turned to his house, his face hardening once more. “If that is what to occur, so be it,” he growled. He then stepped forward and marched into his home, leaving Shagar still embracing her newly returned son.

I turned to the pair as I gestured for them to follow. “Come. This will take time to explain.”

Orthan nodded sternly before turning his mother. “I shall stay for as long as I can,” he promised, “but I do not wish to stay forever.”

Shagar nodded as she pursed her lip, fighting back a smile. “I should have guessed this day would come,” she sighed. “You are so much like your grandfather. He would have been proud to see you today.”

Orthan could not help but grin at the praise. “I hope to make all of you proud,” he replied. “But first I must find my own path.”

Shagar nodded solemnly as she glanced at the house. “Your father will come around, in time,” she said, mostly to herself, finally releasing Orthan from her embrace.

Orthan nodded as he let out another sigh and stepped forward, following me towards the house. “I can only hope,” he sighed. With that, he stepped forward and returned hop, leaving the door open for me and Shagar to follow.

I turned to Shagar as I gave her an apologetic expression. “I should have returned sooner,” I repeated.

Shagar gestured dismissively as she gave me a grin and walked past. “Think nothing of it,” she replied. “It was better that you returned late rather than not at all.” Then, she too entered the home, leaving the door open for me to enter. I let out a low sigh as I looked at the door once more and finally stepped forward.

The homestead was just as I remember it, a low ceiling, small kitchen, cramped space. Very little had changed since I had left, save for more repairs and a change in food stores. I brushed pasted a bundle of hanging herbs as I turned to my brother. He was presently sitting at the head of the table, fingers intertwined in front of him. Orthan sat opposite him, nervously fiddling with the ornate dagger he had brought in. He still wore the elven armor from the cavern. I believed it to be a method of comfort. After all, he had insisted on remaining for the ambush. Shagar was now in the kitchen tending to several pots that were sitting on the woodstove. I pulled out the chair nearest Orthan and sat down as I turned to my brother. “Foremost, I must apologize for disregarding your desires. I could not allow our blood to be harmed, even if it went against the wishes of my dearest relative.”

Garthan gritted his teeth as he untangled his fingers and allowed his hands to rest on the table. “I should have known you would ignore my request. You were always so stubborn.” Shagar suddenly shot him a glaring look from the soup she was stirring, causing Garthan to flinch and let out a begrudging sigh. “However, I suppose I must thank you for your interference.” He gestured towards Orthan. “Without you, I would no longer have my son.” He then crossed his arms as he sat back in his seat. “However, am I correct in assuming you now wish to take him away from me? To join that army as you did?”

I let out an annoyed growl but held my tongue as dismissed the idea with a wave. “My intentions are not as such,” I replied. “Your son has harbored his desires on his own accord. I have not counseled him for or against the army, but I know he would not fare well in their ranks.”

Orthan nodded timidly as he rested the dagger on the table. “I know my limitations,” he added, “and I know why my passion lies. It is not with this farm and it is not with the army.”

My brother’s expression shifted to one of hesitation, his arms still folded in front of him. “Then where-” A look of understanding suddenly came over him.

Orthan nodded as he reached to a nearby table and grabbed a glass jar of pickles. He held it up as he finished his father’s thought. “I know I have been bothersome with my carvings, but it is the only method I have of practice.” Orthan suddenly stabbed the jar with the ornate dagger, sinking into it instead of shattering it as I expected. It was only then that I realized that the jar was no jar at all. Instead, it was a block of wood painted to look like a glass jar of pickles. He set the piece down as he gestured at the detail. “I have been honing this skill for as long as I can recall. I know it is no use on the farm. So, I wish to find an apprenticeship and learn all I can of woodworking.” Orthan let out another nervous sigh as he fiddled with his creation anxiously. “I understand if you have a disdain for my desires, but I know that I cannot be content remaining-”

“Do you have a teacher in mind?” Garthan asked suddenly, his arms no longer folded in front of him. “Or are you waiting for the next training season?”

Orthan hesitated at the sudden questions, taken aback by his father’s interest. “I-I was going to wait for the next training season,” he replied. “Another eight months would have allowed me to create a proper piece to present at the market. As it stands,” he gestured about. “I only have replicas of mundane items.”

Garthan nodded as he looked about, likely trying to spot the items that were not as they seemed. He turned to Orthan as he gave him a saddened but approving nod. “If you do depart, I ask that you take said items with you. I would rather not find out an item that I require has been replaced with a wooden replica.”

Orthan hesitated again, likely surprised by his father’s lack of disapproval. “O-of course.” He practically gasped. “I would not dare leave you with such a burden.”

Garthan nodded as he turned to me, seemingly finished with his son for the moment. “Well then,” he growled. “What does my brother wish to discuss with me?” he asked, cutting swiftly to the matter at hand. “What, pray tell, kept you away from this house all these years?”

I let out a tired sigh as I closed my eyes and recalled the last couple of days. I had mixed emotions seeing my brother after so long, but I suppose these circumstances had been a sign, an indication of the proper path ahead. I let out another sigh as I turned to look at my brother once more. I had spent my life learning my brother’s demeanor, but the one that sat before me was different yet eerily familiar. He held the appearance of my brother, but he reminded me greatly of my father. I sighed as I gestured towards him, feeling a growing sense of sorrow as I spoke. “I wish to discuss this act you have been putting on,” I growled. “When mother died, father lost himself in grief. He became cold and empty, a shadow of his former self. Even then, his presence has lingered in this home since his passing. You have allowed him to remain, long after he left for the fields of Mulvanoc.”

Garthan slammed his fist into the table as he pointed at me. “I did what was required of me,” he hissed. “After you left, I was the only one that could tend to the fields. How else was I meant to take up those responsibilities?”

I jabbed a finger squarely at Garthan as I felt a surge of disgust. “Not become our father,” I spat in response. “Our father was a great man, but you are not him.” Garthan gritted his teeth and stood up from his seat, but I continued before he could interrupt. “I know the pain you are feeling. I Have Felt That Pain Since That Very Day, But I Cannot Allow You To Dwell On Our Past. I Cannot Bear To See My Own Brother Turn Into The Man We Both Vowed To Never Become!”

Garthan let out another annoyed growl as he stood there, mid-gesture, pointing towards the ceiling. He finally lowered his hand as he gritted his teeth angrily. “Then what was I to do?” he hissed. “Father was the only one that could make this meager plot of land fruitful. What else could have made it so?” I hesitated for a moment, surprised by the question. I was more surprised, however, by the damp streaks that were beginning to pool at the corners of his eyes. My brother’s hand slowly clenched into fists as he stood there, pressing knuckle first into the table. He let out a slow sigh through gritted teeth. “I just wish we could go back,” he finally admitted. “Back to before all this madness. Back to when the future was bright and just.” He looked up at me, tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks. “Before our own mother died in the fields.” His last statement was barely a whisper, but it stabbed the very pit of my stomach.

I gritted my teeth as a surge of emotions washed over me, anger grief, sorrow, pain. Every thought I ever had at the ill fortune that had befallen us. I hated that it happened. I hated this place for making it happen. I hated the very fields for being the place that it happened. Only now could I put it into words. That was why I could never stay. I was envious of the fields, envious of this farm, for taking my mother away. I bowed my head as I felt my own eyes well up with tears. “The world is not fair,” I sighed. It was a mantra I had told myself every day for the last seventy years. A mantra that haunted me like a ghoul in a crypt. I had joined the army to change that mantra, to bring what I felt was a balance to the world. It hounded me at Zadreg, where I saw elves slaughter women and children out of sheer glee. I thought I could change it when I learned of my arcane abilities and began learning at the Institute. Yet even there, far away from the farm, the mantra haunted me. The first outsider had brought ruin to Snakhagr, robbing it of their beloved Chieftess and bringing a stark reminder that, despite all my efforts, the world was still not fair.

I looked up at my brother as I swallowed my sorrow, determined to make amends for my departure. “The past cannot be undone,” I said to him. “Nor can we change the fate the has befallen us. However, that does not mean we should be cold and cruel to one another.” I finally stood from my seat, causing it to scrape along the ground as I marched solemnly towards my brother. He looked up as I approached, a hesitant expression forming on his face. “I cannot undo my own decisions,” I admitted. “But that does not mean I cannot apologize for leaving you in such a state.” I clenched my right hand into a fist and slammed it into my chest, just above my heart. “And I can vow to make things right, for you and your kin.”

My brother hesitated for a moment before nodding and straightening. He mimicked my movement and slammed a fist into his chest, tears still slowly trickling over his cheeks. “As I can with yours.” He said, jaw clenched against further tears. I felt a wave wash over me as if a weight from my shoulders had finally fallen. I stepped forward and pulled my brother into a tight hug, feeling the sense of relief swell as he returned the embrace. “Thank you,” he finally said, head still buried in my shoulder. He had always been the shorter of us and even now his full height barely came up to my nose. “I would not have my son back if it were not for you.”

I let out a soft chuckle as I patted his back. “That is what family does,” I replied. “They look out for one another.” I glanced towards Shagar as I notice her turned towards us, a wide smile on her face. I returned the warm expression as my brother and I finally broke the embrace. I turned back to him as I placed both hands on each shoulder. “If you require any assistance, merely ask. I am certain my guild and I would be more than happy to assist you in any task you require.

My brother grinned and chuckled at the offer. “I would be more than happy to have my brother return to the farm once more.” He replied. “But I know you have your own path, as I have mine.” He placed his own hand on top of mine, not pulling it away, but rather feeling a sense of comfort from the contact. “If you never find the need to return here again, I will understand.”

I laughed at the absurdity of the sentence, still in disbelief that this is where the day had ended. “You are here, that is all the need I require,” I countered. With that, I released his shoulders and turned to Shagar. “Thank you for your hospitality. I hope to see you again soon.” Shagar grinned at the remark but did not say anything in response. I then turned to Orthan who appeared to still be in disbelief that his father had been so understanding. “If you wish, I can escort you to Uloth’s. I am certain she would wish to know of your good health.”

Orthan looked up in surprise, pulled from his disbelieving stupor. He quickly nodded as he stood and rushed towards the door at the back of the room. “Let me grab something first,” he said.

I nodded as he left the room and I turned to Garthan who had watched his son dash towards the door with a saddened but proud expression. I felt myself grin again as I saw my brother returned to the house once more. “Your kin will do you proud,” I said, turning back towards the door. “As he will our father from the fields of Mulvanoc.”

My brother nodded as a grin crept across his face. “I know he will,” he sighed. “and I look forward to seeing him rise higher for it.” I nodded as we stood there silently, waiting for Orthan to return from his room. One final thought drifted through my head as the door opened again and Orthan returned carrying a bundle of cloth. “Today has been a good day.”