Myrel nodded, and gripped Sylven's shoulder. "Good. The place won't be the same without you. And Cyrus, although our time together was short, I enjoyed getting to know you. You've progressed much faster than I thought you would. It makes me glad. Keep practicing what I taught you, and I'm certain your magic will come naturally to you in no time."
"Of course." Cyrus nodded.
"Very well then, you best be off," Myrel said. He handed Cyrus his pack, and walked them to the door.
The night air was cold, and the stars sparkled overhead. Cyrus pulled his cloak taunt, and glanced over his shoulder. He was surprised to find the building to appear run down, with cracks in the walls, and gaping holes in the roof. Several of the windows appeared broken as well, though Cyrus knew they weren't.
'Magic is incredible,' he thought, waving farewell to Myrel, who remained at the door. The old man waved back, and with that, the two were off, with Sylven taking the lead. They dashed down the road, keeping to the shadows and away from any open windows.
When they neared the marketplace, Cyrus paused, taken aback by the wild vines, and patches of moss coating the ledges. The surrounding buildings were dark, with broken windows, and crooked doors. Trees swayed in the wind, their roots digging into the foundations, while bushes and shrubs sprouted between the crevices and cracks.
"Come on. We're almost to the gate," Sylven said. He stood behind a wall, and peeked into the street beyond. After a moment, he waved, and darted forward.
Cyrus took one last look at the destruction, then hurried to catch up. A ways ahead, Sylven came to an abrupt stop, and squeezed his body into a narrow alley. He grabbed Cyrus's arm as he caught up, and yanked him in just before a pair of guards rounded the corner.
Cyrus cursed inwardly, and ducked down, crouching as low as the space allowed.
"Hey, did you hear that?" One of the guards asked, stopping. His armor gleamed as he raised his lantern, and the bear insignia stood out on his breastplate.
The other guard shook his head. "It was probably just some stray cat or dog. Come on. The sooner we finish this round, the sooner we'll be by the fire again."
The other guard looked around, then sighed and scratched the back of his head. "I suppose you're right. All these late nights are wearing me out."
Cyrus tensed as the guards continued past the alley, and he nearly jumped when Sylven tapped his shoulder. The young man held a finger to his lips, and motioned for Cyrus to follow. From there, he led the way down the alley, and out the opposite side.
"That was a close one," Cyrus said, rolling his shoulders.
"True, but we're not done yet. Look," Sylven said. He tilted his head to the end of the road, and the gate which led out of the kingdom. Four guards waited outside, puffs of steam rising from their lips.
"What are we going to do?" Cyrus asked.
"Hold on, I'm thinking," Sylven said. He looked around, then narrowed his eyes, and pulled off his pack. "Wait here for a moment, I'm going to check something."
Before Cyrus could protest, Sylven handed over his pack and darted away, fading into the shadows. Cyrus frowned, and turned his attention back to the guards. As he watched them, he noticed one was looking over a piece of parchment with a toothy grin.
"You know, I'd be able to buy a new house, with a decent bit of land with this," The guard said, handing the scroll to another. "Wouldn't that be nice?"
As the second guard straightened it over a brazier, Cyrus spotted a man's picture on the paper, above a reward for five gold coins. Curious, he squinted his eyes, only to fight back a gasp. The image on the parchment was his own, drawn in great detail, and accompanied by a list of his description.
'They're offering half a crown for my capture!' Cyrus thought with a frown. 'Isn't that a bit much? How much hatred for magic users do they possess?'
Cyrus cursed his luck, and pulled further back into the shadows. If they knew what his face looked like, then it'd only be a matter of time. Now, he had even more reason to escape Galeden, and hope that he could reach Phisloke before word of him did.
As he waited, he heard a crash on the other side of the gate, followed by a shout. Peeking out, he spotted the guards running away from the gate, leaving it empty. He held his breath, waiting to see what happened next.
"Are they gone yet?"
Cyrus jumped, and whirled around. Sylven stood behind him, quiet as a ghost.
"How did you- Never mind. Yes, they're gone."
Sylven grinned. "Good. Let's go."
He took back his pack, and raced through the gate. Not wishing to be left behind, Cyrus hurried after him, but risked a glance in the direction the guards ran. Down the wall, he spotted a broken window three floors up, and a hundred meters away.
The sight left him questioning how Sylven managed to break it, and get back to him in the time he did. He shook his head, chalking it up to magic as they ran into the woods, not slowing until the light of the braziers faded from view.
Chapter Eight- Mourtop
Cyrus slumped against the trunk of an oak, and watched the sky brighten with hues of orange and red. The sun's golden rays streamed through the branches overhead, bringing to life the waking forest. Nearby, Sylven bent over a small fire with a pot of bubbling water.
"After breakfast, we should continue on our way," Sylven said, stirring the pot. "If we continue at this pace, we should arrive at Mourtop within the next four days."
Cyrus pulled the map from his pouch. "Myrel said it would take us around three weeks to reach Phisloke, right? Will we need to stop at another village besides Mourtop?"
Sylven retrieved two bowls, and filled them with porridge. "I don't believe so. As long as we stock up enough food once we reach Mourtop, it should last us until we reach Phisloke. If not, we'll just hunt and forage what we need along the way."
"You didn't bring a bow," Cyrus said, frowning. "How would we hunt anything?"
"Trust me. I don't need a bow to hunt," Sylven said. He handed Cyrus a bowl, then sat on a boulder off to the side. "Also, Master Myrel timed our journey off of foot. As long as we can find a pair of horses, it will decrease the length of our journey by at least a week. More with good weather."
Cyrus nodded, and took a bite of the porridge. It was a bit bland, but the warmth was nice in comparison to the cold morning. They could see the road from where they sat, though they had yet to pass anyone.
"Do you think they'll send people after me?" Cyrus asked.
Sylven shrugged. "A bounty hunter perhaps, though I doubt we'll need to worry about them. Most people stay away from those who use magic. Other than that… perhaps another warlock? There are those out there who would try to capture you if they thought you knew magic they didn't."
As Sylven spoke, Cyrus caught sight of a shadow in the distance, walking along the road. He only saw it for a moment, before it vanished, leaving him wondering if he was just seeing things.
"Have you ever met another warlock besides Myrel?" Cyrus asked, pulling back his gaze.
"I'm fortunate enough to not have" Sylven said, scraping at the bottom of his bowl. "Most warlocks and wizards spend their lives in seclusion, studying the mysteries of aether, and forming new spells and incantations. Out of them, there have been those who lose their minds, and are consumed by the knowledge they possess."
"What happens after that?" Cyrus asked.
"They seek out sources of pure aether, such as those with a newer connection to aether, and capture them. Myrel has told me stories of warlocks in the past, who went mad, and tried to take over kingdoms."
As Sylven spoke, he collected his and Cyrus's bowls, and rinsed them in a nearby trickling stream. Meanwhile, Cyrus kicked a pile of dirt over the fire, snuffing it out. The final traces of smoke faded into the morning sky as he shouldered his pack.
Through the trees, the snow-capped peaks of the mountain ridge towered over the forest, jagged and domineering. Thick white clouds drifted around them, catching the golden rays of the sun.
"You can see the pass we'll be taking from here," Sylven said, pointing towards a pair of twin peaks that resembled a set of boar tusks. "It gets narrow towards the center, but at least we won't have to worry about falling off."
"How long would it take us to pass through on foot?"
"About two days. Only one as long as we don't run into any issues purchasing horses. The remainder of our journey will be spent surrounded by flat plains, and sparse trees, so enjoy the scenery while you can," Sylven said. He grabbed his pack, and tossed it over his shoulder. "Come on. The quicker we travel, the quicker we arrive at Mourtop."
…
Over the following two days, Cyrus and Sylven kept to a steady pace, walking during the day, and camping at night. Once again, Cyrus kept his hood low whenever they passed people, but few took notice of him.
On the third day, the road turned sharply towards the mountains, and they began the slow ascent towards the base. The gradual incline slowed their speed, but not by much. Ahead, Cyrus spotted an alcove in the mountains.
"Is that where we are headed?"
Sylven nodded. "It is. Mourtop is nestled at the bottom, and serves as a resting point for caravans on their way to Galeden."
Cyrus thought for a moment. "When we reach the Cilthrin shores, what will we find there?"
"Well, for one, the nation of Cilthrin, which borders along the mountains of Arkenthell, and the Ilthen'mist forest."
"Do the people in Cilthrin also forbid magic?"
Sylven shook his head. "No, but they stand as a barrier between those who wish to exploit the ones hidden within the mountain. They've remained neutral for over a century, long before the war began."
"I see," Cyrus said, rubbing his chin. "What else is out there? Besides the Ashveil, I mean?"
"Well, let's see. You have the Runefel in the south, and the Orelins to the east. The Solforn reside near the volcanic isles of Selcrest, while a myriad of other races hide in between."
"I wonder if we'll meet any of them," Cyrus said. He kicked a rock, which bounced across the road, and into the bushes.
"Certainly, though the ones I mentioned are those who have kingdoms, or did once, in the past. They keep information about themselves well guarded, to avoid humans."
"Have you ever met them?"
Sylven shook his head. "I haven't, but my master has. Long ago, the races flourished across the land, each with their own nations, and laws. It wasn't always peaceful, but there was trade among the different races at least."
Sylven took a sip of his water skin, and wiped his lips. "Then human greed took over, and the nation of Tulmuth rose up, attacking anyone who wasn't human. War followed, and the world was thrown into chaos for a century before things finally calmed down."
"Who were the first to fall?" Cyrus asked.
"The Runefel," Sylven said. "Their kingdom bordered the desert sands, where Tulmuth resides, and was already weakened from years of bad harvest. From there, it was only a matter of time before Tulmuth attacked the other races' nations, while garnering support from the surrounding kingdoms."
Cyrus frowned. "Why would they suddenly start an all out war?"