Chapter 4

“Tarlin?” Garman asked, sitting down in front of the old man he had been told to find at the Guild Branch headquarters.

Tarlin was in his usual position, a full glass of ale in front of him. Night had descended on Ur, although it lacked the Skylights normally seen, the chaotic mana of the Wilds was at reduced levels, and the summer Nights usually were tame compared to those occurring later in the year.

The Guild was rather empty, most of the adventurers preferring to spend the Night recovering from a busy month. With the Wilds being subdued lately, many of the non-local members had left, preferring to spend their time elsewhere. The borderlands were quiet, which was good for the locals but bad for Guild business.

“That’s me.” Tarlin responded, looking up from his drink and taking in the pair that had joined him. The man was large, clearly a warrior, although his stomach was threatening to breach his armor. He had the look of a former adventurer or soldier, turned house guard. Tarlin could spot the signs immediately.

The other was a woman, a beautiful blond, with blue eyes and dressed in rich silks. She was mundane, lacking in mana, but had a commanding presence. She also had an air of money about her, something Tarlin could also spot right away. That had him perk up, sitting straight in his chair.

“I was told that you were the person to talk to by a mutual friend. Greaves?” Garman informed the old man. Greaves had a surprising number of contacts, a trail of them leading all the way to Ur. Everything had been set up before Garman’s arrival, through the man in front of him.

“Aye. Everything’s ready. But I’ll tell you what I told Greaves. You won’t find Brookmoor, not if he doesn’t want to be found. The Wilds isn’t some place you go traipsing around on a lark. You could spend years searching and not even explore half of it.” Tarlin said, eyeing the pair in front of him.

“Maybe no one could find him because he doesn’t trust any of you. Anyone willing to kill a child-” Quentin began, before being cut off by Garman.

“Let us worry about finding him. I just need to know if the people and supplies are ready.” Garman replied.

“Ready and waiting. They’ll meet you at the North gate at first light.” Tarlin said, ignoring Quentin’s words. Night would be over in two days, giving Garman time to prepare. Pulling out a pouch filled with coins, he dropped it on the table.

“Half now, half when we get back. The group you prepared better be competent, not like those other nitwits the Guild sent out.” Garman growled. Tarlin didn’t bother responding, merely taking the coins, and waving them off. The pair left, making their way back to their inn.

“What are the chances he keeps his mouth shut?” Quentin asked, looking behind them at the Guild. Tarlin didn’t seem like the type that wouldn’t sell them out. She wagered everyone in Lund would know they were looking for Wil by tomorrow.

“None. That’s what we’re counting on.” Garman replied.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It had only taken Garman a full day of arguing, yelling, cursing, and pleading to convince Quentin to stay in Ur. The Wilds were dangerous, and a Mundane without any mana would not only slow down the group, but Garman also wouldn’t be able to guarantee their survival.

As a compromise, however, he was forced to take along her Caravan Guard Leader, in order to ‘keep an eye on him’.

‘Gods damned Quentin, I should have swam.’ Garman cursed silently.

Scowling he rode his horse through the North Gate of Ur, trying to ignore the person on their horse beside him. Mara, seeing how unhappy he was to have her along, grinned at him, obviously enjoying his reaction.

The slim woman had risen to Rank 6 recently, making her more than powerful enough to brave the Wilds. He had tried to argue that Quentin needed protection while they were gone, and that maybe Mara should stay, but that had gotten nowhere.

“Just so we’re bloody well clear, I’m in charge.” Garman groused, making Mara’s grin even wider.

“Whatever you say!” Mara mockingly saluted, before laughing. It was like she had made it her mission to annoy him, taking to it with gusto.

Before he could explode in anger, they arrived at the meeting point, just outside the gates, where Tarlin had promised his experienced adventurers would be waiting.

There were five of them, two women and three men. Their leader was a mage, with fine robes and a long staff. Beside her, a man with a longsword and plate mail armor eyed Garman and Mara cautiously. What attracted Garman’s attention right away was the large man, wearing only leather leggings and no shirt, with more muscle than what he thought possible.

“Good morning.” The woman said, stepping forward.

“Ready? Tarlin brief you on the details?” Garman asked, not wanting to waste time with a ‘Good Morning.’ If the woman was offended, she didn’t show it.

“Yes, he did. I’m-” Garman cut her off before she could finish.

“Wasting time. We’ll do introductions on the way. Let’s go!” he said, pushing his horse past the others and down the trail. The mage looked at her companions, before mounting their horses and following.

“Apologies for his behavior. I’m Mara, and he’s Garman. And before you ask, he doesn’t get any better. He’s pretty much always an asshole.” Mara said, slowing her horse down so she was close to the others.

“Good to know.” The mage said, giving the woman a small smile. “I’m Una.” She said, before gesturing to her companions. “My husband, Aldwin.” The swordman gave Mara a nod. “This is Desh, our cleric.” A Yellow robed older man gave her a smile and a wave.

“Diera is our scout.” A hooded woman gave her a long look, before ignoring her and looking back to the trail. Strapped to her legs were two long daggers.

“And finally, Terok.” The large, half naked man, on a horse nearly twice the size of the others, gave a seated bow, surprising Mara at the display.

While they were chatting, they reached the end of the passage, giving Mara her first view of the Wilds. It was incredible, a verdant wilderness filled with strange and wonderful plants and colors. Her Elven heritage pulled on her to explore, to learn everything she could about this new land, but she reigned in her desires, focusing on the task at hand.

Trying her best to ignore the landscape of the Wilds, she nudged her horse forward, the animal coming to a stop next to Garman.

“Alright, so what now?” Mara asked as Garman stared out over the Grassland that stretched to the horizon.

“We head out until we find Junior.” Garman replied, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“Any particular direction? Any leads on where to find him or are we relying on your amazing tracking abilities that I know you don’t possess. The only thing I have ever seen you track down was a brothel, and the signs helped.” Mara teased, shaking her head at the older man.

“First, I’ll have you know I’ve never needed a sign to find a gods damned brothel. Secondly, it doesn’t matter which direction we go, Junior will find us. Why do you think I visited every tavern in Ur over the last two days?” Garman said.

“Because you’re a drunk?”

“Up yours. I did it because everyone in Ur and their mothers now know that a group of Illyrians just showed up, looking for Wil. So, either someone from the Guild, or the Palace, is going to let Amora know that we’re looking for him. Once she contacts Junior, he’ll be chomping at the bit to get to us.” Garman explained, while urging his horse down the slope towards the grassland.

“And why is he going to do that? He’s been avoiding everyone that’s been sent after him!” Mara said, following closely behind.

“Because I’m here. He knows that I wouldn’t come to this shit hole unless it was important. Just watch, give it a week, maybe two. He’ll track us down.” Garman explained, leading the group through the high grass.

Garman was wrong, it only took three days.