The heat of aether rushed through Cyrus, burning his veins. He winced, letting go of the elm and jumped to the side. Behind him, the ogre's claws tore through the trunk, sending splinters of wood hurtling through the air.
Cyrus staggered back as the ogre growled, and stepped towards them. It narrowed its eyes, and its rancid breath filled the air. The ground rumbled as it took another step, and raised its club.
'Any time now,' Cyrus thought, his gaze jumping between the ogre and the elm. He held his breath as the ogre's hand stopped beside a branch. Suddenly, there was a loud crack as the elm's trunk split down the middle, and tendrils of wood whipped out, snaring the ogre.
It grunted in surprise, and pulled on its arm, but the tendrils only tightened their hold. The ogre growled, and tugged harder. A few of the strands snapped, but more quickly replaced them, dragging the ogre in.
The veins on the ogre's arm bulged, and it dropped its club, before using its other hand to claw at the tendrils. Shreds of wood and bark fell away, but then a branch swung over, and wrapped around the ogre's other arm, snapping it in two.
The ogre howled, its guttural cry ringing through the forest. Before it, the crack splitting the elm widened, and the tendrils retracted, pulling the ogre into the gaping hole. By now, the tendrils had wined down the beast's arm, and wrapped around its torso.
Inch by inch, the ogre fell deeper into the tree, its body writhing against the tendrils. Its grunts were muffled by the wood, and the cracking of its bones. Finally, once the entirety of it was dragged into the tree, the trunk closed around it, sealing the split.
Cyrus staggered back, his strength dwindling. Turning, he hurried into the cave, and set Berrodin down against the wall, before slumping to ground beside him. The old man stared at Cyrus, studying him.
"You- You can use magic…"
It wasn't a question, and a hint of fear intertwined with the words. Cyrus leaned his head against the cold stone. Water dripped from the stalagmites, splashing off the puddles on the ground.
"Of a sort," Cyrus said. "It came in handy while I was trying to survive the mountains."
Berrodin laughed, but it broke into a cough. He beat against his chest, and took a deep breath as it faded.
"Halls of Osyras. I think I broke a few ribs," Berrodin said. He arched his brow. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know any spells to heal me, would you?"
Cyrus shook his head. "I'm afraid not. My magic doesn't really work like that. It's more like a force that does what it wants to keep me safe. I'm afraid I don't know how to quite control it yet."
"A shame. I was hoping you could make us a comfortable bed. I don't think I'm going to sleep well on this rock."
Cyrus pushed off the wall, and rose to his feet. "Wait here. I'll go see what I can find from the wreckage."
"Try to find the food while you're at it. I'm starving," Berrodin said. His pale face shone in the flicker of lightning, streaked with mud and rain.
"I'll do my best," Cyrus said. Stripped bark, and chunks of wood littered the ground outside the cave, while a trail of trampled grass and bushes led back to the wagon. Starvhost stood next to the wreckage, shifting nervously.
He whipped his tail back and forth as Cyrus approached, and shied back a few steps.
"It's alright," Cyrus said, stretching out his hand. The donkey hesitated, then stepped forward and nuzzled his palm. "There we go. Let's grab a few things, and get you back to the cave."
Cyrus scanned the wreckage. Iron nails, hinges, and knobs cluttered the ground, scattered about. The wagon itself laid in two, its wheels broken, and the shaft snapped in two. At the moment, it'd serve as nothing better than scrap wood, cast into the fire.
'Let's see. I believe Berrodin kept his supplies beneath his seat,' Cyrus thought. He made his way around the wagon, and rummaged through the remains. When he stepped back, he held a leather pouch, and a locked chest, though he didn't find the key.
Shouldering the pouch, Cyrus scanned the wreckage one last time, before grabbing Starvhost's reins, and guiding him back to the cave. Inside, Berrodin glanced up as they approached, and sighed in relief.
"Oh, good. You were able to find Starvhost. I thought he was gone for certain," Berrodin said. He tried to climb to his feet, but cried out, and fell back to the ground.
"Easy, there," Cyrus said. He led Starvhost into the cave, and tied the reins around one of the stalagmites. "We'll need to get you to an alchemist once we reach Galeden. Do you know of one?"
"I do, though I've never met the man myself. I tend to avoid alchemists. Never quite trusted their potions."
"I'm afraid you don't really have a choice this time," Cyrus said. He set the pouch down on the ground, and sifted through its contents. There was a single leather mat, a few days worth of jerky and porridge, and a second set of clothes.
Berrodin frowned. "Is there only one mat? I could have sworn I packed two."
"It's fine," Cyrus said. He rolled out the mat on the flattest spot in the cave. "I'll stay up and keep watch. You can use it."
"Are you certain?" Berrodin asked.
"I am. Go ahead, and get comfortable," Cyrus said. He stretched his shoulders. "I'm going to try to find some dry wood for a fire."
Cyrus slipped back outside as Berrodin moved to the mat, and laid down. It took him a while to dig through the forest, and find a few dry slabs of wood, and by the time he returned, the old man was snoring.
With a weak smile, Cyrus set up the wood, and lit it on fire. As the flames grew, he sat back, and grabbed a strip of jerky. The hard meat was tough to chew, but helped him replenish his strength.
'True enough, today was one long day.'
Chapter Four - Galeden
Early the next morning, a stream of light broke through the heavy clouds, dispersing the storm. Cyrus stretched his back, then shook Berrodin awake. The old man woke with a yawn, and grimaced as he sat up.
"I made porridge. Would you like some?" Cyrus asked. He held out a bowl, which Berrodin took with a nod.
"Thank you," Berrodin said. He glanced outside. "It looks as though the rest of our journey will be easier. Hopefully, we'll reach Galeden before nightfall."
Cyrus scanned the forest outside. The leaves and grass glistened in the sun, while streams of water trickled down the rocks. The morning chirp of birds filled the air, while squirrels and other critters chittered away.
"What about all your wares?"
"I'll pay someone to help me collect them in a few days or so," Berrodin said. "People rarely take this road, and I doubt anyone would stop long enough to pick through the debris."
"If you're certain," Cyrus said. He stepped out of the cave, and looked at the tree. It had turned to stone during the night, and black tar seeped from its ash-colored bark.
"Did you do this?" Berrodin asked, stretching out his hand.
Cyrus grabbed his shoulder. "Don't. That wasn't me. Whatever curse ailed the ogre now affects the tree. I don't know if it's contagious, but the possibility…"
"I see. That could have been bad," Berrodin said. He stepped back. "I'll need to let the commander of Galeden know."
"What will you tell him?" Cyrus asked.
Berrodin eyed Cyrus. "I'll tell him I, alone, was attacked by an ogre in the forest. It appeared out of wits, and I managed to escape with minimal injuries. If he asks me how I got to Galeden, I'll tell him a passing stranger helped me get there. I never got to know their name."
Cyrus furrowed his brow. "Why would you do that?"
"Magic may be a forbidden practice, but I'm certainly not foolish enough to turn on my savior," Berrodin said. He patted Cyrus' shoulder. "You saved my life. I won't endanger yours."
I- I'm grateful," Cyrus said. He glanced skyward. The grey wall of clouds drifted away, pushed back by a clear blue canopy. "I suppose we should head out now. The sooner we reach Galeden, the sooner we can get you to an alchemist."
Berrodin scratched his stubble. "I hoped you had forgotten about that."