"Rushing water… There must be a river nearby."
Cyrus scanned the forest, then pointed. "Look, the path ahead appears to dip down, doesn't it?"
Sylven nodded. "You're right. They must have crossed before the storm hit."
Cyrus pushed off the tree, and followed Sylven down the trail. At the end, a raging river surged past, sweeping twisted branches and mud towards the ocean. Cyrus scanned the opposite bank, and spotted the footprints of the urghast, sunken deep in the mud.
"How do we get across?"
Sylven studied the river, then gestured towards a fallen log further down, wedged between two trees. "There. We can use that to get across."
They hurried down the river bank, scrambling over the mud. The knotted log teetered on the edge, as the water below splashed against the bottom.
"It doesn't look that stable," Cyrus said. He searched the forest. "Perhaps we should find a different way."
"No, this will be fine," Sylven said. "I'll hold it while you cross, then you hold it for me. We don't have time to find a different way."
"If you say so," Cyrus said. He climbed onto the log while Sylven held it. It wobbled beneath his feet, but he balanced carefully, and kept his body low. With ease, he got to the other side, then hopped off, and turned around to hold it for Sylven.
"Go slowly. I don't want you to rock it and accidentally fall in."
"I know," Sylven said, his voice muffled by the water.
He crept onto the log, inching his way forward on his hands and knees. Cyrus gripped the roots of the tree, holding it steady as it rocked back and forth. Suddenly, there was a loud crack from down the river as a large flood of water broke through a bramble of branches.
He swore, and tightened his grip on the roots. Sylven was barely halfway across the log, his eyes wide as he stared down the river.
"What are you doing? Hurry up," Cyrus shouted.
Sylven narrowed his eyes. "I'm not going to make it, Cyrus. Let go of the tree."
"What? Are you out of your mind? You're almost here!" Cyrus cried back.
Sylven shook his head. "It's too dangerous. I'll find you, alright? Just keep going!"
With that, Sylven stood, and dived into the water. Cyrus cried out, but his shout was muffled by the crashing water. As it surged towards him, he had no choice but to fall back. A second later, it crashed into the log, smashing it into slivers.
As the danger passed, Cyrus hurried over to the edge. He scanned the river bank further down, but there was no sign of Sylven. Trembling, Cyrus got back to his feet, and looked around.
'He'll be fine… I'm sure he will. Now, I just need to keep going, right?' Cyrus nodded to himself, making up his mind.
He hoisted his pack further up his shoulder, and continued onwards, following the trail of the Urghast, and the priests of Dilthane. By now, his entire body was soaked, and the rain showed no signs of stopping.
…
Hours passed, and the land began to rise, until at last, Cyrus found himself creeping up knoll. As he neared the top, he overheard the sound of people talking, and chains rattling. Cyrus ducked down, and darted into the bushes.
He kept his head low as he crept forward, and peered over the top. On the other side, he spotted a group clad in black robes, and the urghast, trailing behind them. Its scales rippled as it lumbered forward, crushing everything in its path, while its grotesque head swung back and forth, sniffing at the air.
A line of men and women bound by ropes trailed behind the beast, their clothes torn, and stained with dirt and blood. Their ages ranged from fifteen and up. There were no children amidst them.
Gritting his teeth, he pulled back his gaze, and studied the group. Sylven was correct in his guess. There were at least thirty men in robes headed west, towards the kingdom of Cilthrin, along with two swordsmen, and a man on top of a black steed.
Unlike the others, he wore a suit of black armor, expertly forged. A dark cloak draped over his shoulders, its hood raised to hide his face. Cyrus ducked back as the man raised his hand, bringing the group to a halt.
"Is there a problem?" One of the knights asked, placing his hand on the hilt of his blade.
"This is where we're meant to meet with the officials of Cilthrin," The hooded man replied. He slipped off his horse, and pulled back his hood, revealing a pale man, with tangled black hair, and sunken grey eyes.
Cyrus reeled back as pain erupted in his head. Doubling over, he clutched at his head as shards of memory pieced together, along with the emotions of guilt and betrayal. When his head finally cleared, he found himself left with a name, though that was all.
'Stonesworn…' Cyrus furrowed his brow, and stared at the man. 'As well as the knight from Phisloke, it seems.'
Cyrus narrowed his eyes as the stranger crossed his arms, and stared into the forest. Nearby, the Urghast let out a low growl, and the villagers trembled, clutching onto one another. Then, two men emerged from the woods, both hidden by cloaks.
"Are you Helmen, from the temple?" The first man asked. He was a tall, lean man, with a simple sword strapped to his waist.
"Yes. I am he," Helmen replied. He eyed the men. "Why do you keep your hoods? How will I know who I am talking to, if you don't reveal yourselves."
"Apologies," The man said. He pulled back his hood, revealing an older man, with short grey hair, and a scar that ran from his eye to his lip. "My name is Klyne. We can't be too careful, you know. There are still those in Cilthrin who refuse to see reason."
"They will come to understand soon enough," Helmen said. He eyed the other man, who stood a foot shorter than the first, and his cloak bulged out around his waist. Despite his glance, the short man refused to remove his hood. "I see there are still those who don't trust us."
"It's not that!" Klyne said, raising his hands. "It's just, when we heard of your power, we were amazed, but we still find it difficult to believe. A small… example, perhaps? To ease our worries."
"You wish to test me?" Helmen asked. His expression darkened, and the ground beneath his feet rumbled. Klyne, and the short man fell back a step, their faces paling. After a moment, the pressure faded, and Helmen straightened his back. "Very well. It's only fair I prove myself, I suppose. Eren, bring me one of the villagers."
The knight who first spoke to Helmen headed towards the villagers, and grabbed a young woman by the hair. She screamed and thrashed against his hold as he dragged her back. One of the village men tried to stand up, but was hit in the back of the head by the second knight.
When Eren returned to Helmen, he threw the woman on the ground, and took a step back. Her screams faded into a whisper as Helmen knelt next to her, and squeezed her shoulder. He whispered something in her ear, which made her eyes widen, then leaned back with a smile.
Cyrus felt his blood run cold as a faint light spilled out of Helmen's hand, and spread over the woman. When it covered her completely, it flashed brightly, then faded, revealing a fair stone statue.
Cyrus clenched his fists as Helmen stood, and turned back to the two men. "Are you satisfied?"
"Yes, that will do," The second man said. He flipped back his hood, revealing a pudgy face, with a thick brown mustache, and a narrow gaze. "We will leave the west gate open for you in two weeks time. Choose your most trusted men, and come to the high tower, built with a crimson circle window."
"Very good. We will arrive later in the night. Make sure no one is around," Helmen said.
The two men nodded, and left. With that, Helmen climbed back into the saddle, and motioned for the group to continue forward. Cyrus waited until they were far out of sight, then slipped down the hill, and approached the stone woman.
She appeared to be around his age, her face forever frozen in fear, while a single tear streak ran down her stone cheek. Cyrus bowed his head for a moment, then stood and clenched his fists. Hoisting his pack, he started after the priest of Dilthane, and the one known as Helmen, determined to do whatever he could to save the others.