A Record of Ash & Ruin: The Grieving Lands

Chapter 37: Rules of the Road

Ansan, known as the Jewel of the Grieving Lands, is the seat of power of the Children of the Tides. The city has an insatiable hunger for slaves, which is its very lifeblood, acquired through both trade and their mercenary campaigns where payment is more often demanded in flesh than in gold.

The city's greatest exports are the result of suffering and bloodshed. The high-quality iron from its mines and fine lumber harvested from the nearby Sainba forest are its greatest assets and are famous throughout the known world. Lying along the famous Dust merchant route, the city is a veritable hub of trade. It is said that anything can be purchased in Ansan, for a price.

Beyond the Sainba forest lies the untamed frontier of the Wildlands, the hunting grounds of the Adventurer's Guild. It is a place of great danger, where only the bravest or the most foolhardy venture to collect rare and valuable materials.

- The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC

Defiantly, I held my tongue. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see that both of my companions had been similarly accosted by the hooded group. Slowly, we all raised our hands in the universal sign of surrender, completely powerless before them.

Two of their number came to face us, both lithe and predatory in their movements, talking to each other in a strange language that was unknown to me. Their words were soft and lilting, and it was difficult to recognize if they were singing or speaking to one another. Needing to know what they were saying, I went through the mental gymnastics required to cast Identify silently on their words.

“One of the Tide’s Honored Ones,” said the one to the left, who was considerably shorter than all the others in the group. The figure turned in my direction, “A middlingly gifted one at that. We should just leave them here, and quickly. We need no more complications. Also, the death of an Honoured one will...” the words turned back into incomprehensible, yet pleasantly lilting singsong as my spell faded.

I noticed, even in my rising panic, that this one, was probably female. The slight curves of her female form drew my eye, and I cursed inwardly at the momentary distraction. Curled blonde ringlets fell around eyes that held all of the deadly playfulness of a cat toying with a doomed mouse. The knife pressed a little harder against my throat, almost drawing blood, and drew me back to the desperation of my current predicament.

There seemed to be some disagreement between the two leaders about our fate. I had to know more about who had waylaid us. Stealing a glance at the one who had recognized me as a magic user, I cast an Identify in her direction. The spell appeared to be resisted to some degree, taking far too long before providing some clarity.

Arimea Lostariot - Spellsinger (Wood Elf lvl.19) Health 176/180 Stamina 31/32

This chapter upload first at NovelUsb.Com

Mana 13/17

I kept my expression neutral as I went over the information, while at the same time, my eyes scanned left and right in search of an opening. These were elves, but I had little idea how I could use that to my advantage to wriggle us out of this situation. My mind raced through every myth, legend, and modern portrayal of elves, but none offered any insight into how I might escape this situation. The only potential advantage I could recall was that elves were often physically weaker than humans, but that seemed of little use in our current predicament. Also, almost all of my second-hand knowledge agreed that elves were portrayed to be as deadly as they were mysterious.

If the elf I had identified earlier was any indication, this group was not to be trifled with. Their strength was clear. But I had to keep searching for a way out, a glimmer of hope that might yet save us. A growing sense of powerlessness and frustration came over me; I needed more information, so I cast Identify silently on their conversation again.

“Bah, the day spawn’s Honoured Ones kill each other all the time in their futile power struggles. Make it look like an assassination…” one of the elves, indistinguishable from others, added to the conversation.

“...We must keep up our efforts to find the Daughter of Chaos. She is close, our informants at the guild...and this will be a poor salve for your revenge. Remember our mandate,” said the one on the right tersely, in a clipped male voice, like a teacher reminding a child of a forgotten fact.

I was taken aback by the masculinity of his voice, for his face was more beautiful than it was handsome. Even in the poor light, a jagged scar that was intertwined with creases of concern did little to detract from that beauty. Though I could not fully understand him, I judged by his manner and tone that he was suppressing a deeply-buried exasperation. Similar to his comrades, he possessed a lean and svelte frame, with a slightly broader breadth at the shoulders.

I burned through another point of Mana on deciphering their words, as adrenaline surged through my veins, and beads of sweat formed on my brow as I struggled to focus on their conversation.

“...They have seen our faces. If we are to deal with them be quick about it, we must hurry on. Time is of the essence, and seconds count. We must make it within the city boundary soon for I can not keep this veil up forever...” said Arimea, the figure on the left, and I could hear a budding frustration growing in her musical voice.

“How did they even pierce your veil Lady Arimea, such magics should beyond the day spawn,” another of her attendants added.

You have gained 1 Wisdom

Panic was beginning to seize me even as the notification flashed across my mind’s view and my bladder grew heavy in fear. Before I could cast another spell, the pair seemed to have reached a decision, made clear by the one on the right nodding to the elf behind me.

A knife cut a shallow slash across my throat, and I could feel a numbing sensation followed by my limbs locking up, paralyzed. I crumbled to the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, mere moments later, I saw my companions struck down in a similar fashion, falling to the elves’ blades. A whisper later, the hooded terrors faded into the twilight grey, leaving us for dead.

Somewhere inside of me, a primal instinct, the simple desire to live at all costs, commanded me to take action. Yet, like a mouse who had escaped the claws and teeth of a predator, fear still ruled my heart and threatened to reduce me to a gibbering mess.

With a great effort of will, I stamped down on this mind-killing fear. Desperately, I searched my mind for a way out of this dire situation, a way to save my companions and me. Surely this was not where my journey would end? My health was rapidly dropping, and I felt a constriction about my heart. Was it possible that their blades were poisoned? The thought lingered even as my lifeblood continued to pour out from my throat with every weakening pulse. Certainly, with my current Mana, I could cast Heal and save myself, but I would not have enough energy to save Kidu and Elwin. It would be a repeat of Durhit all over again. Without a word, I took a chance and cast one of my new spells, hoping that my choice was the correct one.

Golden energies ever so slowly began to pulse from me, an echo of angel’s song ringing softly in my ear like a celestial lullaby. The glow spread over me, slowly closing the wound at my throat and repairing the damage done by the vile substances that had ravaged my body. The poisons remained within me, but their vicious bile had been blunted. My health fluctuated in small ticks as the damage they were doing was mitigated by the slow healing.

The aura spell's energy left me feeling both warm and chilled in equal measure before it flowed over to my companions, soothing them as well. I could only pray that it would be enough. A notification appeared, telling me that I had gained a point in Luck, but I dismissed it rapidly from my mind.

Staying on the ground, in fear of the group's return, I waited for my shaking limbs to still themselves and hoped that the elves would not notice the glow and return to finish us off. I forced myself into a state of calm, to check my Status. The attempt on my life had reduced my Health to around half, and my back-to-back use of magic had put my Mana down to six points.

On shaky legs, like a newborn foal, I slowly got up and hobbled to check on my companions. Kidu stirred his enormous bulk, and I felt great relief that my magic had worked in saving his life. Elwin looked to be in worse shape, his breathing shallow and his face pale. Using most of my remaining Mana, I cast Heal on him, which slowly brought the color back to his face.

Realizing that we had made it past the worst, I stopped channeling my aura spell and said, "Kidu, we must move. Those elves may return, and they have the advantage over us." Within me, adrenaline was fighting a losing war with exhaustion. Kidu took several deep breaths, like a bull preparing to charge, before he moved with great effort to help me with Elwin, who had just begun to stir.

A mixture of disbelief, gratefulness, and awe dogged my companions' steps as we half-ran, half-shuffled towards a dip in the grassland where we could lay low, and hoped that it was enough to cover from prying elven eyes or ears. Every now and then, Elwin would look at his hands and whisper thanks and a prayer to some sort of "Dark Lady." Kidu would mutter to tell him to stay quiet, while also secretly shooting me a look filled with wonder.

We settled down on the soft grass. I felt haggard and demoralized from the clear difference in the strength we had witnessed from the elves. We were like children before them.

Now in a relative place of safety, Kidu volunteered to take watch over Elwin to give him time to recover from his brush with death. I hunkered down next to them shivering more from fear than from the cooling twilight air.

Hours passed, and I heard the hoot of a night owl somewhere in the distance. If we were going to survive, we needed the supplies in our bags. They represented all of our worldly wealth, the wealth we would need to travel to more gentle climes. I needed to get my things back, but the brush with death had unmanned me.

Kidu was keeping watch, but even in the dying light, I could tell that he had lost some of his usual confidence and energy from the slump of his shoulders and the cast of his eyes. After putting him through so much, I almost felt guilty that I would be asking more of him.

“Kidu,” I whispered, “we need to see if they have left anything behind. We need those things,” the Hunter looked at me for direction, “Perhaps enough time has passed and you are by far a better…”

“Yes, I see. I will go to see if those old ones have left and recover our things. You must stay with Elwin of Tucker. He may be needing further healing. Also, you make more noise than a rutting boar when you move, hah!” he added, some of his usual verve and confidence returning as he stood to his full and impressive height.

Glad that I was able to save face, I nodded to him in thanks. In my current state, I could barely keep myself together let alone venture out in the growing dark on a mission to recover our things.

“Be safe, Kidu,” I begged of him as he left.

“Fear not! They will not find me such easy prey this time!” he growled before leaving me alone with Elwin.

My mind was filled with narcissistic fantasies of vengeance against the elves as I sat down on the dry grass next to the comatose Elwin. Every minute alone left me feeling weak and vulnerable. I touched my neck and recoiled at the memory of the blade slashing my throat. The remembrance put paid to flight my remaining thoughts of vengeance.

I did not know how much time had passed, but suddenly, there was a hand on my shoulder that made me almost jump out of my skin.

“Be well, Gilgamesh!” a familiar voice said from behind me.

“Kidu, thank the heavens you have returned,” I said, turning around.

The Hunter returned with our belongings, his massive frame weighed down by the weight of our bags. His appearance brought a glimmer of joy to my countenance, and I exhaled all of my tension in sweet release.

“Yes, the old ones did not touch a thing. They are not worthy of respect, those who kill only for sport,” he hissed angrily, dropping our bags down by his feet.

I assisted in unrolling the stolen bedrolls, it was the least I could do, and between us, we maneuvered the unconscious form of Elwin into his bedding. He mumbled something about dice in his sleep, which gave me some measure of reassurance. If he could still talk, then there was hope that no enduring harm had been inflicted upon him.

Curling up into a ball, it took a long time for the dreams to find me.