“My name is Rone, I’m a Thorn Caller, and my business is my own if it’s all the same to you,” Rone replied, hoping he didn’t sound to standoffish with his remark.
“A Thorn Caller? You mean one of the wild rangers that talks to trees?” Scud asked, surprisingly. Rone just nodded and took a drink of the wine from the bag.
“That’s right,” he said finally after wiping the wine from his chin.
“Well then, sir, if your one of them lot, we are humbled you would take the time to chat with us common folk,” Shanty said with a sincere smile on his face.
“Oh, believe me, Shanty, we are just as meager as yourself. We just happen to live in a forest, rather than a city.” Rone said with his own toast tip of the wine bag.
“That’s not what I hear tell, sir. I hear you lot stand up for the folks out here, help protect ‘em and such.” The big man said, sounding more and more excited.
“We try,” Rone said humbly.
“Well, that’s more than most will do for us, sir,” Shanty added with another grin.
“Is it true you talk to the trees?” Scud asked as he placed his feet closer to the fire to dry his boots.
“Something like that, though we call it communing. As we don’t talk to them as much as share thoughts.”
“You mean to tell me trees think?” Scud asked, even more curious. Shanty to had leaned forward a little waiting for an answer.
“Sure, they do. They’re as alive as we are.” Rone said with conviction.
“Then what do they think when we cut them down for firewood? Or to make houses and such out of them.
“It’s different for them,” Rone answered honestly.
“They don’t feel pain, at least not as we know it. And they know their place in life. Therefore, they don’t mind it. They are content with where they fit into the scheme of things.” Rones said with a shrug. His statement more a matter of fact than a philosophical one.
“I’ll never piss on another tree as long as I live master ranger, I swear it,” Scud said, looking embarrassed for something. Rone and Shanty both couldn’t help but laugh at the man’s sincere confession.
“I’m sure they would appreciate that,” Rone said before again laughing a little.
The three men finished their meal and bid each other goodbye. Though Rone did offer to share his camp for the night. But both men declined his offer, preferring they said to keep moving.
Their hope was, they might reach the village in a week. Which would be no small task, as the town itself lay on the very eastern edge of Agnar. A good four days ride on horseback, let alone on foot.
After they had walked out of sight into the blackness of the forest, Rone whistled for Fang. The great wolf rose from where he was hiding and came up to nuzzle Rone's hand.
“They were harmless, buddy, but I’m glad you had my back.” The big wolf let out a short growl that told Rone he understood, then went to lay beside the fire.
Rone decided to lay back down as well, hoping to get a few more hours sleep before crossing the river and heading into the Black Marsh.
He hoped he could avoid running into a Drakeling patrol, but if it did happen. He would prefer not to be exhausted. He had only faced the Faespawn race of lizard men a few times over the years. But each one had taught him to respect their ferocity in battle.
While elves, dwarves, and even half-bloods were considered Fae races. The beast men of Earthera were known as the Faespawn. And Drakelings were right up there with Orcs, on the wrong idea to piss off on the scale of things.
Neither had any love for the Fae races or the Mortalis. And both were sturdy warriors, with little problem killing anyone, not of their own clans. Including each other.
Rone was still thinking of that risk when he whispered a small prayer for luck and drifted back off to restless sleep.
This time it wasn’t Fang that disturbed his slumber. It was the dreams.
He could see Briarthorn village as if he stood on a high cliff looking down. The briar wall that had protected it for centuries was now blazing into the night sky, and he could see the bodies of his fellow rangers scattered all over the village streets.
As he stood there watching this horrifying visage, A lone figure walking the streets caught his attention. The figure was most certainly a Fae, though he could not recognize the robe they wore.
It was black as the night with the image of a golden dragon embroidered on its back. Try as he might though Rone could not see the person's face.
Instead, it appeared only as a featureless blur. As the figure approached the steps to the main house, Rone remembered that’s where Max was.
He screamed at them as he desperately tried to get their attention, hoping to draw them away from that house. But his screams were lost to the wind that whipped around him.
As the stranger made it to the top of the porch, they stopped just before opening the door. Turning their featureless face upward, as if looking directly at Rone.
With an ear-shattering scream, the figure suddenly transformed into an enormous red dragon. It's wings sounding like thunder as it beat them downward to lift its massive frame from the ground.
It circled the sky for a few moments before coming to a hover just out of Rones's reach. As it sat staring at him, Rone could have sworn it was smiling as it quickly turned and dove towards the village again. As it did, a pillar of flame erupted from its gaping mouth, burning everything in its path.
It made a few passes over the village then came to rest on the peak of the main house, once again looking up at Rone. With another beat of its great wings, it was air born once more and spilling that deadly fire onto the roof of the house.
Rone was still screaming when his eyes opened, and he felt the cold, wet tongue of Fang. Fiercely licking the face of his friend, as he tried to wake him.
He hurriedly sat up in the bedroll and looked around, almost expecting to see the dragon that had haunted his sleep. Thankfully though, he and Fang were the only ones that he could find as he rose to his feet and began packing for the trip across the river.
He had no idea if the dream meant anything or not, but whatever it was. It was enough to put a fear in his heart that urged him to make haste for Crag Moor.
Drakelings be damned, he thought as he packed. He would pass through Black Marsh and reach the crimson tower. As it was, after all, the fastest way there. And if the lizardmen got in his way, well, he needed a new pair of boots anyway.
5
Far to the north resting deep beneath the surface of Earthera, is the cavernous world of the DokalFae. A place known as the Undervoid. Derived from the mountain range that rests above them, called the Voidspine mountains.
Mountains that mark the edge of lands controlled by the humanoid races of Earthera, and the beginning of those controlled by the SkyFae. Enormous immortal dragons that decided long ago they wanted nothing more to do with mortals.
It is in these vast caverns and twisting tunnels of the Undervoid, where the city of Luna’Dwell was built. It’s not the only city of the DokalFae, but it is the most prominent.
Here is where the DokalFae seat of power rests. Where the nobles of the great houses come to vie for more power and knowledge from the queen.
And what a city it was, with its massive stone and ivory buildings. Each representing one of the six significant houses that make up the nobility of the city.
With their extended families occupying smaller homes that spread in winding spirals around the grand mansions of each ruling member. Each major house also held a place on the council of elders, all trying to advance their families' influence and holdings. While each house was influential, all of them bowed to the queen of the DokalFae, Esmerelda Daltorea.