Bellimar sighed. “A party of five Sil’ath warriors of consummate skill, and they have not returned. You are now two more such warriors. Even with the considerable talents of an old man and a half-breed healer, how can you hope to prevail where they did not?”
“There is something you should understand,” Amric said. “The Sil’ath are feared not just for their skill in battle, but also because they cannot be deterred. They will sacrifice themselves to the last man to defend or avenge one of their own, and even rival families or entire tribes will put aside their hostilities to band together over this racial principle. Call it loyalty or call it pragmatism if you wish, but no one wrongs a Sil’ath lightly. I sent my warriors here to determine the source of the corruption that has spread so far as to assail our home to the south as well. Their task needs completing, even if they can no longer do it. Defense alone is a losing strategy, as the spread is increasing unabated. We must find the source.”
Amric paused, and when he spoke again, his grey eyes were shards of ice and his words rang with an iron conviction. “I will know what became of my warriors. I will find them alive, or I will avenge their deaths. But with them or without them, I will find the source of this darkness. It must be found and understood, so that forces can be united against it. If it is not stopped, I fear this remote region will be but the first of many to fall. I do not ask you to follow me, but I will not turn aside.”
Valkarr grunted assent, his lifted gaze a challenge. Bellimar regarded Amric for a long moment, and then broke into a sudden grin. “I came here to study this mystery as well, so what better way than at its root? And I still wish to unravel the riddle of your aura. After all,” he said, spreading his hands, “what have I to fear of death? Let us proceed.”
Amric looked over them all, and found each unwavering. Bellimar seemed relaxed and even amused, while Halthak sat taller in his saddle and stared back with increased resolve. Valkarr fidgeted at the reins, impatient to be off. Amric gave a grave nod and swept his gaze over the house and barn one last time before guiding his bay gelding onto the road that joined the farm to the main thoroughfare that ran from the city to the eastern forest. They passed between expanses of fallow field, and Valkarr rode ahead while Halthak fell a dozen paces behind, struggling to provide direction to his mount. Bellimar, appearing well accustomed to riding, guided his sway-backed dun alongside Amric’s horse. The old man had raised the cowl of his cloak and kept his head tilted against the morning sun, still cresting the horizon to the east, so that his face was in shadow. Peering back at the healer, he spoke to Amric in a confidential tone.
“You mask it well, swordsman, but every time you turn to check on our hapless Half-Ork rider back there, your eyes linger overlong on the city in the distance. What do you see there?”
Amric chuckled. “Those old eyes miss very little. I thought I saw a lone rider departing the city long after we did, but it vanished from sight in a valley of the road and has not reappeared.”
“How curious,” Bellimar mused. “Traveling alone out here would be folly.”
“My thoughts as well.”
“Surely not following us, since the price on your heads has been suspended.”
“Hard to unfire a bow,” Amric muttered. “It could be that word did not have time to spread before we departed.”
“Perhaps it is merely someone retrieving possessions from the abandoned residences outside the city’s walls,” Bellimar suggested.
“Perhaps,” Amric said. “In any event, we have ground to cover, so there is little we can do except continue onward and wait on his intent.”
The four travelers reached the wide eastern road and rode into the embrace of the new sun.
Night had long fallen when at last they found a suitable place to camp.
The rolling plains had risen in altitude as they traveled, and finally gave way to a more stern landscape as they neared the forests. From the maps Amric knew that, to the north, great cliffs fell away to the Vellayen Sea. Their destination was more east and southward, however. Here the gradual rise of the plains met the spare and rocky foothills which climbed further into the mountain range cradling the desert to the south. It had been a long, hard day of travel, and Halthak was swaying with fatigue such that Amric feared he would soon tumble from the saddle. Camping in the open was a dangerous proposition, for they would be exposed and visible from a distance, and then a fire would be out of the question.
So they pressed on in the hopes of finding a more defensible location, and at last Valkarr’s keen eyes picked out a cave set into a large hillock and high up the slope of the foothills. Its only visible approach was a narrow, winding trail. They scouted the cave and found evidence that it had once been a large animal’s burrow, but the faded scent and spoor indicated it was long unused. It had no other entrances, was deep enough to house them all and the horses as well, and the slope of the ceiling would permit the smoke to escape if they built a fire. All in all, Amric decided, a very fortuitous find.
They cooled and watered the horses, and while the animals grazed the travelers gathered dry wood for a fire and cut brush and saplings for the mouth of the cave; this would both mask the glow from the fire and help disperse the smoke rolling from the entrance so that it would be less visible against the night sky. Then they brought the horses up the treacherous trail with great care, and once deep within the cave, gave them their feed bags and hobbled them. Without a word, Valkarr brought his meal with him to the cave entrance to take the first watch, while Amric and Halthak ate around the fire. Bellimar waved off all offers of food, citing delicate digestion and asserting that he had partaken often of his travel rations as they rode. The old man showed no signs of fatigue, and Amric marveled at his constitution despite his age.
They ate in silence for a time, except for the staccato snap and crackle of the fire, and the occasional snort from the horses. Amric sat cross-legged, lost in thought, watching the flames writhe and dance. It was Bellimar’s voice that finally roused him from his reverie.
“Valkarr is not much for conversation, is he?” he said.
“He is more comfortable in the Sil’ath language,” Amric admitted. “But even then, he will not share much until he knows and trusts you well. I suppose that makes me the talkative one.”
Bellimar smiled. “I would know more of the Sil’ath party you seek. What caused you to send them here?”
“You have most of the pieces by now, but I imagine the story bears repeating in order, and in more detail.”
Amric sighed and leaned back against his bedroll. “Strange as it may seem, I am the warmaster, the military leader, of a large Sil’ath tribe. They are my family, the only one I have ever known, and I would die for them just as any of them would for me. I would have you know this, so you may understand I did not lightly send them into harm’s way. We live to the southwest, near the human city of Lyden. We are allies with the people of Lyden, enjoying a relationship of trade and mutual respect that was built over years, and that both sides now strive to maintain.
“Months ago, the residents of the countryside around Lyden began disappearing. Only a few at first, but more over time, and there was no explanation. Speculation and rumor soon filled that void, and there were some among the citizenry that feared their Sil’ath neighbors were responsible, for vaporous reasons that only made sense to a fearful populace. A number of rural Lydenites were found brutally slaughtered one day, and our carefully wrought alliance was nearly undone in that moment. Tensions exploded, and there were cries for the blood of my tribe as atonement. We were baffled that they would look to us as the source of these atrocities after so many years of peaceful coexistence, but that would not have prevented us from raising our blades to defend ourselves against the attack so many were urging.