In a grassy valley abundant with wildflowers a hummingbird hovered near a purple flower.
A red fox snatched the hummingbird out of midair and devoured it and the the bird didn't make a sound. It sensed something coming, and ran off with its catch, three humans walked past the scene of the killing without knowing what had occurred.
A narrow canyon appeared at the bottom of the valley, the tanned walls had lines strewn about like the cracks in a creator's canvas. Leyden threw up a hand, stopping Yeera and Eilee. He lingered there for a moment with his hand up, seeing if anything would come out of the passage but nothing did so he urged them on to follow behind him. They walked cautiously, none had ever been in the canyon so they were unsure of what was around every bend. They eventually came to a rise in the middle of the pass the world had ripped apart many eons ago, the rise was all that was left of what was once connected. Eilee noticed something at the top of the rise and pointed. It was a Harkin, looking down at them from above, not riled yet. They looked like big bats with eagle beaks and eyes. Leyden figured it was best not to make any kind of sudden movement and the others figured the same, but still, one of them must have breathed menacingly because the creature took flight and swooped down heading in their direction. Leyden and Yeera dove out of the way. It went for Eille who was frozen with fear, and Leyden thought she was certainly dead until her body willed her down, dropping with her hands over her head and he breathed a sigh of relief. The one was just the watchman, more shrieked, there had to be a hundred of them and their groans were lost in the sounds as they covered their ears.
With ringing ears, Leyden gained enough composure to rise and draw his sword. He couldn't see them anymore, they were trying to scare the intruders off. The shimmer of his sword must have drawn at least one, he heard the flapping of wings and it landed before him and threw out its massive wings and shrieked, trying to be as intimidating as possible. Harkins were not the type to engage in direct combat, that wasn't how they had adapted and survived, they survived using fear, most potential predators would flee at the sound of the first shriek. Leyden was not a typical predator however, he was driven by desires beyond the simple minded. He resisted the urge to drop to his knees and writhe in agony, his senses were telling him to do absolutely anything to get away from the awful sound. The harkin finally decided it was not going to win the way it was used to, so it turned to a different instinct and lowered its head and charged. It was Yeera who came to his rescue, slashing one of the wings and the harkin stumbled around in pain. With the sound lessening, Leyden's attention returned, he lunged forward, the harkin tried to take flight but struggled to with the damaged wing and only made it a little off the ground. Leyden buried his blade in harkin's chest, taking flight for about a foot, landing on top of the dead thing upon impact with the ground again. Yeera rushed to Eilee who was shaking, she hadn't been hurt, she had left her body and gone completely into her mind. It took a slap in the face from Yeera to wake her.
"It's fine, just, damn things are something else, huh?" She smiled, Yeera knew it was just to calm herself so she smiled back.
"Sure it didn't get you?"
Eilee checked herself but she didn't hurt anywhere and there wasn't a sign of blood. "I normally don't cower and stay down like that. I promise."
Yeera smiled and nodded. Eilee didn't know the woman was capable of so much smiling, she hadn't seen her do it much since they left.
"Sure, you're young, probably had never seen one."
"Right, yeah," Eilee agreed, though she would have agreed with anything that didn't make her look like a coward.
Leyden joined them and pointed up at the rise. "Should see where the others went."
From atop the rise they could see much of the world around them. Siladrin over some trees, the clouds were even darker. It was a very clear day otherwise, a light blue with few clouds. Leyden noticed something near the edge and walked to it before they knew what he was doing. There was a huge nest dangerously close to falling off, it was made of leaves and branches and such. Two baby monsters were inside, they'd fallen docile, afraid, yet they still looked upon him with their mouths half open, looking to him for food. Not knowing what had become of their mother. Leyden had killed creatures before, had hunted, and he knew what he had killed had come from a mother, a father. He had never felt remorse until he saw the baby birds. Yeera didn't like the sight of them anymore than he did, Eilee nearly cried.
"If we took them there would be more than enough to eat."
Eilee was horrified at Yeera's idea. Leyden decided quickly.
"We'll cut the wings off the alpha and take the corpse with us. Leave the babeis to the heathens." He stepped away, unable to look upon the helpless things anymore. They had made all the noise, out of fear, without their mother, and their mother would never return because of him. One of the babies shivered, Eilee didn't want to leave them.
That night clouds moved in again but it hadn't started raining yet so Leyden made a fire. The fire embers danced among the stars.
The alpha harkin was roasting over the fire, in truth he didn't know entirely if the thing was safe to eat or not, he couldn't recall hearing of anyone who had tried before. It didn't seem poisonous, it would taste like any other bird, like shit.
Leyden rose to stretch, the camp was just outside the other end of the canyon. Near a forest, much darker than the woods they'd passed through on the other side of the bog. The Srayill sea was visible now, a blue horizon to the north-east.
--
At the lake with the dragon corpse in it, a prostitute was being chased by a man with a knife. He'd chased her there all the way from the brothel, nobody had done a thing to stop it, the guards at the gate hadn't seen the knife.
"Get your ass back here!" He shouted, he didn't seem to be very well trained with the knife, he was waving it around so much he was just as likely to cut himself before he cut her. He caught up to her at the dead dragon and he pinned her against it while holding the knife very close to her throat. She fought him off as best she could, until the knife was against her skin. She submitted, it wouldn't be the first time she was forced to do something she didn't want to do. Though she wasn't as good at taking her mind elsewhere as some of her more experienced coworkers. He only got the top button of her blouse undone, before the wolf came, rabid. He had to face it, it was a greater threat, and that gave her time to escape, and he realized he could no longer gain anything from the situation, he was fucked. He made a run for it, rather than facing it heroically, he ran towards Siladrin, and the dragons. He did not get very far, the wolf tackled him and ripped into his flesh, he only managed one pathetic cry for help before he stopped making noise entirely.
Larian couldn't believe how fast he'd lost control of the place. It was as if they were punishing him for not killing the man on his anniversary. Bar fights were spilling out into the streets, drunks howled, and glass shattered in candlelit windows. Street Vendors chased thieves with brooms. Near the castle stood a tall, balding man named Hans. He was preaching to a group of three our four people, but he wasn't religious, he wasn't quoting ancient books, he was too angry and drunk to do that.
"We all know the pretender isn't ready! We all know if we keep him on the throne our families will be ash! Protect your homes! Your families! Yourselves! Burn him first!"
His small group sounded off drunken war cries for a lost cause with him, he lit their torches with his.
Larian and Amlin stood on a balcony, against a railing above the thrones. It was the space where the King and Queen would stand for ceremony, or for trials. Larian looked annoyed to be having the conversation and Amlin was trying to reach him and it was making her shake with concern.
"I'm worried about you," she said, rubbing his arm.
"Don't know why."
"You haven't even been outside in two days. Do you know what's going on out there?"
She took his waist with both hands. "Please, talk to me. It's okay if you're afraid." She moved her lips towards his but he was staring off into space. "Let me help you."
Larian turned his head, Amlin's mouth went dry, her eyes glistened. "Are you nothing but a coward?" They made eye contact, Larian's stony gaze unsettled her. Ronson Caladin interrupted them, and it was then that they both smelled something burning.
"We need to go, now, Lord!"
Larian watched as the last of the flames were extinguished in the main hall. He pulled Ronson in close with anger.
"You prove your incompetence by the day!"
"I can only apologize, my Lord!"
"How many more times?!"
He let go of Ronson and he stepped away brushing himself off. "Hans is, was, my oldest comrade. I didn't suspect him for that reason."
Larian turned his attention to Hans, he was being restrained by other guards at the door. He recognized him, he'd seen him before he became a shut-in, was often found sleeping on the wall. He calmed himself with a deep breath then turned back to the Guard Captain he'd assaulted mildly.
"Is the castle safe now?"
"Yes, Lord, the last of the flames are gone."
Larian nodded, "bring Hans to the throne room then."
"Right away, Lord."
Larian started up the stairs, but called out once more, "and the other conspirators!"
Hans did not protest as he was shoved forward. His friends however looked drunk still, drunk and scared.
A small crowd had moved inside to witness the Regent's justice. Larian sat on his father's throne. His swiftness led to reason it would be a swift trial, there would no need for show, he wouldn't need to look intimidating on the balcony. Hans, the leader was pushed to his knees in front of Larian by Ronson, who knew he was on thin ice himself, his followers were nearby in shackles.
"Is there anything you'd like to say for yourself?" Larian asked, he sounded anxious to move on with the verdict and truly didn't care if he had a thing to say or not.
Hans stayed quiet, stubborn.
"Nothing at all then?" Larian asked, smiling.
"You're weak," the fat man finally spit out, quite literally.
Many were shocked to hear such insolence, directly to the man who held his life in his palm.
"Weak!" Hans continued, spitting less, but raising his voice more, "all of us will die if you sit there! Dragons are coming and you can't even quell drunken mobs! Your father would be ashamed of you."
There was mumbling in the crowd and Larian felt they were actually agreeing with the man. He had to do something to draw their attention back to him, so he clapped once, then rose clapping at a steady pace, applauding as if he'd just seen a magnificent performance. He paced in the prisoner's direction.
"I'm not unreasonable, Hans."
The former guard wasn't interested in anything he had to say.
"Swear you'll at least give me a chance. Swear allegiance, if you're right and I'm wrong, you can chop my head off. Say you'll be a good boy from now on and you can join your comrades in prison with your head attached."
Hans groaned, almost amused, "I'm loyal to the King of Dim-Eden. Erimon, first of his name."
"And what if Erimon, first of his name, no longer draws breath?"
Hans gave him an angered look, "the Queen then."
"And if she's gone?" Larian wondered, amusing himself.
"I'm loyal to King Erimon and Queen Galian!"
Ronson wanted to say something but just let his lips shudder sealed.
"Very well, bring me my sword, Captain."
Ronson fell still for a moment, the look he gave the King was a pleading one, as if to tell him not to do it.
"Now, Captain Caladin!"
Ronson called another guard over to watch Hans while he went to retrieve the blade, it rested near the thrones. He had it in a moment, and unsheathed it, bringing gasps. He looked the blade over, it was so clean, it had been years since he was in a proper battle and the blade had become more of an ornament.
"So, Hans, tell me once more who you're loyal to."
Hans spat in his direction, "you're not gonna do anything, boy!"
"Bring him outside!"
Hans was pushed to his knees again at the top of the stairs and Larian waved the guards aside. The crowd behind him tried to get good looks at the action, scurrying to various vantage points, none of them tried to slip past the King outside.
"You are charged with conspiring to kill a monarch, attempted murder of dozens of castle guards, attempted murder of countless civilians, and destruction of royal property!"
"I..."
Larian in a fit of rage swung once, and it was enough to sever the head. The lighter body slouched and the head rolled down the steps and there was silence. Larian was sure his heart would burst as he came down from the jolt, he looked at the body like he didn't remember altering it so. He'd certainly never beheaded a man and the act made his stomach knot and sweat stung his eyes. He could only hear his breath, there was nothing else. He looked around, the people were scared, for the first time they looked afraid of him. He couldn't calm himself down, though his mind was still, his body was scolding. He went inside, heaving, hunchbacked looking like a monster, bloodied after a kill.Amlin tried to pull him close inside, he blew past her, nearly knocking her over, and she did not ambush him in his bedroom. She just wept, and Ronson took his old friend's body out of sight, and boots swept by the head as the crowd dispersed.
--
Morrigan, Cara, and Sandril sat in camp just before the entrance to the canyon. Sandril sniffed around with purpose, certain there was something of great interest nearby.
"Seems like he thinks somebody was here before us," Cara pointed out.
"We might be close."
Sandril pawed at the grass and dug in. They sat up more attentively. "Looks like he found something," Cara said.
Morrigan had a sick feeling she did not want to see what he unearthed. After just a moment longer he emerged with a small bone in his mouth and yelped happily and started chewing with a wagging tail. Morrigan exhaled, luckily he hadn't given her much time to go over every terrible scenario. She lied down by the fire.
"I need to sleep."
"It's your turn. Go ahead."
Cara knelt down and pet Sandril while the world went black around Morrigan.
Cara had fallen asleep too, and she, like Morrigan, was awoken by the sound of growling. There was a bandit there, a short figure in dark clothes, stayed in his path by Sandril, he surely had wanted to get at Cara or Morrigan, or their stuff. Morrigan rose swiftly and drew her sword, feeling a rush of confidence and energy by how graceful the movement had been. The bandit backed away, wanting no part of her sword.
"Get out of here!" She commanded in a broken yell. She charged him but did not engage, he was moving faster than she was. He ran into the canyon and Morrigan gave chase until a voice called her back.
"Let him go! Maybe he'll die in there anyway."
Morrigan watched him run away until he was out of sight, and chuckled a bit at Cara's statement. "What does that say about us then?"
Cara raised an eyebrow, "oh yeah."
Morrigan turned back to camp and nodded at Sandril while sheathing her sword.
"We're lucky he was here."
Sandril rolled over on his back and Cara rubbed his belly. "I guess he likes me again. Who's a good boy? Who's a killer dog? You are! That's right! You are!"
Morrigan rolled her eyes, but had to admit it was a smile-inducing sight.
Cara turned to the canyon, wondering if she could still see the failed thief. Something else caught her eye and she rose to try and get a clearer picture.
"Whoa," she said aloud to get Morrigan's attention and it worked.
There were glowing blue forms on the canyon rise. They seemed to have bodies, but they weren't humans, at least they weren't like people they had ever seen.
"Think they're friendly?" Cara asked hopefully.
"Doesn't matter, we're going in."
Cara nodded and dumped a bit of water from a canteen into the fire.
Heathens enclosed on the harkin nest.
The heathens did not have the most distinguishable features, even up close, they glowed bluish white, like the sky on a mostly clear day, they clearly had bodies like humans and walked on two legs, their faces however were like blotches of paint, they seemed to follow one who looked like he had a band on his forehead.
The starving birds calmed in the presence of the ghosts. The leader very gently picked them up and cradled them like he had cradled his own children once. Suddenly, his followers turned and drew glowing swords that looked far more dangerous than Morrigan's short sword and Cara's knife and Sandril's teeth. The leader had sensed them coming, knew they would come, so he waved his people off and they stood down, like they were expertly trained, and it sounded like they wore armor but it didn't look like it.
Morrigan had her sword out but it wasn't raised. Cara had suggested trying to sneak past them but for whatever reason Morrigan had convinced herself it was best to face them, she hadn't convinced Cara but it wasn't like she could turn back so she followed. Morrigan regretted her decision as she made eye contact with the leader, she knew he was looking upon her, the black smudges. Sandril was hiding behind Cara, Cara wasn't afraid, there was a scholarly curiosity in her eyes.
"Heathens," she said. Cara had read about them but looking upon them was beyond anything she had imagined.
Morrigan swallowed and looked at the harkins in the leader's arms.
"What are you doing with them?"
The Heathen Leader spoke, it was a breathy voice, and it carried like the wind. "Giving them a chance."
Morrigan noted there was no hint of a mouth moving as it spoke, "a chance at what?"
"Harkins actually care very little about other races. They defend their young without prejudice, even if it kills them. Their reputation as evil creatures is unfortunate. They are misunderstood, like many in this world."
The Leader looked the closest like a human, some of the wings on the other twitched like they wanted to leave.
"What are you?" Morrigan asked in wonderment.
Cara nudged her, "be nice, it's- who are you?"
"If you put that weapon away I will tell you much."
The Heathen did not command things, he spoke clearly and fairly, Morrigan had a hard time denying him. She held her sword at her side.
"Why should I trust you?"
"We have ancient magic and are well trained in using it. In order for us to speak, we must no longer consider you a threat. It would be unfortunate to resort to violence without knowing a thing about each other."
Morrigan reluctantly emptied her hand, dropping the blade on the dirt. The Heathen Leader then put the baby harkins back in their nest, Morrigan thought he'd maybe been protecting them more than his own people. Himself.
"My people once roamed the lands you now call Dim-Eden, freely. It was our paradise. We had few enemies, though it only took few to cast us out. For helping, allying ourselves with the misunderstood. Now we are wanderers. Protecting the innocent from the ignorant."
"Do you have a name?" Cara asked, though she wasn't hopeful on getting their information.
"Not anymore," he said, and they felt pain, sensed it.
The babies cried, alone in the nest.
"Why are they alone?" Morrigan asked.
"Some came through recently, the mother sprang and she fell, an outcome that was not unexpected. One she deemed necessary though."
Morrigan felt optimism return, her eyes sparkled. "Can you describe the men?"
"Two were female. The man, who seemed to be leading them, was older than he looked. He killed the mother."
"Do you think it was him, Morrigan?"
"Had to be! Do you know where they went from here?"
"These people are important to you? They took the mother's corpse for food no doubt and continued on down the path, I don't know where they are now, perhaps they were heading for the water, a day away. Perhaps two."
The Leader turned to Cara like she'd said something, and she didn't remember saying anything and fell disquieted. Her hair was always covering her ears, like it was plastered into place.
"Who was your mother?" The leader asked, and Cara didn't know why the attention was suddenly on her.
"I don't know, I was adopted when I was very young."
Morrigan had heard her talk about her parents, but learned with the heathens they weren't her real parents. She wished she'd known sooner, though she didn't know why.
"Hm," was all the Leader said next, leaving Cara to ponder the odd change in the conversation.
"Ooookay then..."
"Who is this man to you?" The Heathen asked, turning his attention back to Morrigan.
"My Father. King Erimon was kidnapped from the capital by a dragon, he was tasked with freeing him from Siladrin."
"He was tasked... not you?"
"I'm... trying to protect him."
"Hm. I'm sure Erimon and this dragon will have a great deal to speak about."
Morrigan turned to Cara hoping she would know what he meant by it but she didn't know either. The Heathen took the babies again and his followers flapped their wings.
"We must find a new home for these two before it's too late. Farewell, young ones."
They both had more questions for him but he was gone into the sky and the others Heathens followed him. They flew the way they came, back towards the mouth of the canyon. The sky was grey.