Cyrus opened his eyes to a ceiling of rippling stone, draped in beards of thick moss and knotted roots. Droplets of water dripped from the stalactites, forming sparkling puddles beneath the rays of sunlight. His muscles ached as he pushed upright, and glanced around the cave.
Berrodin sat opposite of him, his mouth set in a firm line. Dark circles hung beneath his sunken eyes, and blood dyed his torn trousers. In the dim light, a deep gash was barely visible, layered with grey skin.
"Are you alright?" Cyrus asked. He reached forward, but Berrodin pulled back with a wince. Frowning, he dropped his hand, and glanced towards the cave entrance. "What happened? The last thing I remember was the boar charging me down. Did you stop it somehow?"
"Do you take me for a fool?" Berrodin asked, scowling. His voice was hoarse, and his body trembled as he spoke. "It's clear what happened out there, yet you ask me if I did that?"
"What do you mean?" Cyrus asked. He crawled towards the front, and brushed the roots to the side. Dirt and rocks shifted free from their holds, and bounced away as he stepped outside.
"Gods above."
The forest resembled a battlefield, filled with fallen trees, and deep ruts carved through the dirt and mud. Brambles and bushes lay flattened, trampled beneath broken hoofprints, while jagged stumps and splintered branches cluttered their surroundings.
Even the old elm tree teetered forward, its branches swaying in the warm summer wind. Dirt piled around its trunk, churned loose by its roots, which now twisted around the remnants of the boar's corpse, whose foul body appeared half petrified in black stone.
'Did… I do this?' Cyrus wondered. He winced as the memories from the night swirled through his mind, until at last, he recalled the woman's voice, echoing in his ears.
"Do you see what I mean, now?" Berrodin asked, staggering out. "I'd have to be blind not to recognize magic when it's this obvious. Tell me, Cyrus, was everything you told me really the truth, or is there something more going on here?"
Cyrus glanced down at his shaking hands, stained with dirt. "I don't know. My memories are no more than shattered fragments, whirling through my mind. I swear, I know nothing about these boars, nor the magic I used to control the plants. Even if I wanted to, I doubt I could do it again."
"I see… I figured as much," Berrodin said. He broke into a fit of coughs, and black blood dribbled down his chin. Cyrus moved to help him, but the old man waved him away. "I'm fine. I'm fine."
Cyrus stepped back. "Do you fear me?"
Berrodin wiped his mouth off with the hem of his sleeve as he stared hard at the ground. "Listen, Cyrus. You must understand that magic has a dark history in this world. It's brought entire kingdoms to ruin, and left desolate lands behind in places once bountiful. With a single spell, one could slaughter thousands, or wipe away cities with a swipe of their hand."
"But I would never-"
Berrodin held up his hand. "While I may know, deep down, that you aren't the person who would do such a thing, it still takes all my effort not to run. It's the natural response anyone would have, when faced with something so dangerous."
Cyrus clenched his fists. "What will we do now, then?"
"Well, I was thinking I'd take a small break, to regain my strength before we continue heading to Galeden," Berrodin said. He hobbled over to a small ledge, and sat down, slumping against the cave. "My legs feel a bit stiff, and I think the boar broke a few of my ribs."
Cyrus furrowed his brow. "You're willing to continue traveling with me?"
"What? You thought I'd leave you behind, and limp the rest of the way myself. You must be mad," Berrodin said, half grinning. "Apologies, but I'm afraid you're stuck with me for another few days."
"Thank you," Cyrus said. He scratched the back of his head, and scanned the trees. A glint of light caught his gaze, lying near the end of the broken trail. "Hey, hold here for a moment. I'm going to go check on something."
"No need to worry," Berrodin said. He rested his head against the stone, and closed his eyes. "I won't be going anywhere for a moment."
Nimbly as he could, Cyrus picked his way back through the trees, climbing over the fallen logs, and slipping around the puddles whose depths were hidden beneath their murky water. Eventually, he stumbled back onto the road, where the remnants of the wagon lay scattered about.
"I don't think Berrodin's going to be too happy about this," Cyrus said, kicking a stray wheel. On the other side of the road, the remains of the stone boar spilled out of the tarp, while their supplies of food and water sat flattened into the mud.
Sighing, Cyrus squatted beside it, and rummaged through the debris. Out of all the food, only half a pack of jerky, and three hardened, half smushed rolls remained, while only one of the waterskins was still in decent condition.
'If we're careful, this should be enough to get us to Galeden,' Cyrus thought, tying the bags together. As he stood, a twig snapped behind the bushes, causing his heart to race. His body went rigid, his eyes wide, watching as the leaves spread, and the white head of a donkey poked through.
"Gods above, Starvhost, you nearly scared me to death," Cyrus said, relaxing. The old donkey eyed him for a second, then returned to munching on the leaves.
Shaking his head, Cyrus approached the donkey, and unraveled his reins, before dragging him out of the bushes. Some time during the night, the wagon shaft had broken off, leaving only a frayed rope behind. He tied the packs to it, then checked the donkey for any wounds.
Fortunately, Starvhost appeared free of injury, so Cyrus rubbed his head, then pulled him along as he returned to Berrodin. The old man peeked through slitted eyes as they approached, before they shot open, and he jolted to his feet.
"You managed to find Starvhost? How? Where was he?"
"Easy, there. You're still injured," Cyrus said, leading the donkey over. "I found him near the wagon, tangled in a bush. I also gathered a few supplies, which managed to survive the encounter."
Berrodin gave him a slight nod as he hobbled over to Starvhost to rub the donkey's nose. "Thank you, Cyrus. You don't know what this means to me. Now then, I think I've rested long enough. Would you mind giving me a hand up so we can be on our way?"
"Not at all," Cyrus said. He clasped his hands together, and hoisted Berrodin up, ducking as the old man swung his leg over. "What will we do about the stone boar, and the remains of your wagon?"
"We'll leave them for now, and I'll come back later with the guards to show them," Berrodin said. He gripped onto the rope as Cyrus took the reins, and guided Starvhost through the trees. "There won't be any doubt when they see all this."
Cyrus bit his lip as he stepped around a fallen tree, the roots of which intertwined with the rest encasing the stone boar. "Does that mean you plan to tell them about me?"
"The thought passed my mind, but only briefly. I'd be a fool to turn on a warlock. Especially the one who saved my life," Berrodin said. He paused for a moment to shift on the donkey's back. "That being said, I'm afraid once we get closer to Galeden, we'll have to part ways. They may know me, but you're different. Suspicious, even. It'll be better if they think you're just a traveler, passing through."
"I suppose you have a point," Cyrus said, pushing through the last of the brush before they returned to the main road. "What will you tell them, then?"
"I'm not quite sure," Berrodin said, rubbing his chin. "Fortunately, we have another couple days for me to figure it out."
…
Clear skies followed them as they traveled, accompanied by a light breeze, and the warm sun. Around them, the forest of oaks and elms faded, replaced by a series of towering pines, rich with bright red needles, and thick brown trunks. A heavy carpet of moss coated the forest floor, rife with deer and foxes.
Despite the scenery, neither Cyrus nor Berrodin spoke very much. Their hard stares remained fixed at the ground, while their supplies dwindled down to two strips of jerky, and half a roll. Cyrus' stomach rumbled as he stared at the pack, bouncing from Starvhost side, and he regretted not eating more while in the village.
Berrodin mumbled something beneath his breath, then broke into a fit of coughs, which he covered with his bloodstained sleeve. His movements caused his leg to crack, like a stone being broken open.
Cyrus winced. "Are you going to be alright?"
Berrodin took a haggard breath, his eyes fluttering as he clutched the rope. "I'll be fine. I'm certain it will pass in a week, or so, but if need be, I'll visit an alchemist. One of their potions will set me straight."
As they spoke, they came across a fork in the road, splitting to the west and the north. An old redwood sign stood in the middle, directing travelers to the three different destinations. Moss grew over the words, but they were clear enough.
'Galeden or Faldersel?'
Cyrus glanced at Berrodin. "Faldersel… That's the seaside kingdom you spoke of, isn't it?"
"Yes. They're a merchant kingdom, with one of the largest harbors in Delahost," Berrodin said, taking a deep breath. "If you can't find any hints about your past in Galeden, then I advise you to go there next."
"I'll keep that in mind," Cyrus said. He pulled on Starvhost's reins, guiding him down the road towards Galeden.
The day passed quickly, until it was evening, and the sun hung just barely over the distant mountain range. By then, the large stone walls of Galeden appeared through the tips of the swaying pines, while the clatter of wagons and carriages echoed through the forest.
"Wait. Stop here," Berrodin said.
Cyrus glanced over his shoulder with a frown. "What is it?"
"I'm afraid it's time we parted ways," Berrodin said, stretching out his hand. "Help me down."
"Are you certain?" Cyrus asked. "We can go a bit further together."
"No, it'll be better this way," Berrodin said. He took Cyrus's arms, and swung off Starvhost, his legs cracking as he landed. With a grimace, he straightened his back,and shook his leg. "There. That's better. I was getting a bit stiff from all the riding anyway."
"Will you be able to make it into the city on your own?"
"Of course! You've no need to worry," Berrodin said, chuckling. "It you we need to worry about."
Cyrus furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"
"I'm talking about your hair, and eyes," Berrodin said, unclasping his grey cloak. "While there's nothing we can do for your eyes, at least take this, and use it to cover up. Trust me, the last thing you want to do is draw attention to yourself with all that's happened. The less people can describe you, the better."
Cyrus frowned, but took the cloak, and draped it over his shoulders. The clasp to hold it was a wooden emblem, carved in the shape of a hammer. Berrodin adjusted it for a moment, gazing at the emblem, before patting Cyrus's shoulder, and stepping back with a grin.
"It looks good on you," Berrodin said, nodding to himself. "Oh, and one last thing."
Berrodin grabbed his coin pouch, and retrieved a handful of coins. "It's not much, but it should cover the cost of a few nights at the tavern, and some food. I hope you'll be able to get a lead on your past before it runs out."
"This is too much," Cyrus said, shaking his head.
Berrodin grabbed his arm, and twisted it around, forcing the coins into his hand. "No. This is barely enough. You saved my life, Cyrus, and I will never forget that. Should we ever meet again, I'd like to catch up, and buy you a drink. What do you say?"
Cyrus nodded. "I suppose I can agree to that. I guess this is farewell then? I'm glad I met you."
"I feel the same," Berrodin said. He held out his arm, and Cyrus clutched it. "A word of advice, before you go. Be careful of others, especially the ones who claim to be Followers of Dilthane. They're a strange bunch, and one of the main reasons magic is feared. If they come to learn about you, they'll stop at nothing to hunt you down."
"I'll stay on guard," Cyrus said. He flipped his hood up, and waved farewell, before turning to make his way to the gates of Galeden.