Raiten
"So, how has your day been thusfar?" Kiren asks me. I give him a good enough glare for the poor mancer to finally give up on his attempts at small talk. Ours is a quiet party. Zyla tails a whistling Saegor, whose eye roves the dark trees. We have yet to pass the extended walls and stakes of the fortress, even passing by a couple of poor guardsmen stationed this far out into the briars.
Yet the further we move in, the quieter the briars get.
It is as if the forest itself is aware of the horrors it beholds. The trees, straight and column-like along the Old Road, now twist and bend into each other. I reach my hand out and feel the curves of some rotted, mossy bark.
Umbrahorn moves in front of me, half of his body surfaced. The other half remains underground, getting preferential healing. Apparently, being underground helps him recover faster, which makes sense considering he's a wood spirit.
At the beginning of the journey, he pouted and whined, but I threatened to clart him once more and his prattle soon after ceased. His black eyes turn around often to steal a glance at me—as if he's afraid that I'll rip into him once more. I don't blame him.
That fight was simply another one of my petty indulgences.
Finally, we reach the end of the fortress's extension. Saegor stops there, staring out into the thickening, twisting woods that splay out before us. He turns around and gives us all a wide smile.
"This is it! Now, a few rules for our… newer members," he says, giving pointed looks at both Umbrahorn and I. "Rule number one: I am your ally. Don't let my dastardly charms fool you — I am your staunchest friend in this troop and as such, you should always listen to me. Always. Especially if anything magic related occurs. Don't ask too many questions, don't ask too many favors — just follow along, and we'll get through this in one piece."
Kiren nods along fervently to each and every word. Zyla stares at me, blank faced, as if studying my response. I don't really mind if Saegor takes this lead—magicks are his territory.
"Understood," I say. Umbrahorn gives a hmph! But eventually, after I deliver low kick to his back, he nods his assent.
"Well then, my terrible little mancers," Saegor says, rubbing his hands together. "Follow me. Hopefully, we can pass through this devilish place without attracting too much attention. And then, we can give our Sorayvladian friends a nice, big surprise."
We pass through the denseness. Whenever our root-filled path is blocked by twisting, knotted branches, Saegor raises his hand and yawns out some magicks that bloom forth and carve through the trees. A simple light of flame or pure energy is sufficient most of the time. Once, he even freezes a larger blockage, though that takes some time.
"Is ice not his specialty?" I ask Kiren afterwards.
The boy shakes his head. "Nay. Old Saegor's a warlock, sure, and he's formally studied ice. But, it exists outside of his personal circle of magicks, so he has to reach forth into the wells and —"
"What does any of that mean?" I mutter, cutting him off.
"It's awfully hard to explain to someone not familiar with magicks. So… don't think about it for now, I guess? It's not like it matters for you anyhow. You just want to kill your damned quarry — what was his name again?"
"Masaru," I spit.
"Right. That one," Kiren shuffles his feet, slowing down. "What do you hate him so much anyways?"
This was a mistake. You're not here to make conversation or friends. "You know what, you're right. I'm not familiar with magicks, so I won't ask about them. In turn, you're not familiar with me, so don't ask about me, or my past, or… just, don't ask me anything at all really." I turn to look at him, meaning to glare. But, instead, he imitates some sort of kicked puppy, moping with wide eyes. I sigh. Saegor's dog wants to be friends with me I suppose.
"I was just… you know what? Nevermind. Sorry Raiten," he says, before scampering off on ahead, traveling next to Saegor. Thos two strike up a conversation pretty fast and I catch tidbits here an there — murmurings about magicks, academies, training methods.
"You're quite the ass, you know that?" A feminine voice says to my left. It's Zyla, the other bald headed twin. She's got brown eyes and a hollowed face, pretty in a strangely masculine way.
"I do my best," I say in a dismissive tone. I'm not trying to have this conversation right now. Clearly, she doesn't care, because she strides up next to me, green tassels snapping against the black of her uniform.
"You know, whatever shit is going on with you, I hope you can get it under control before we face Sorayvlad."
"Focus on yourself."
"See!" She says, pointing at me now. "That stupid arrogance of yours will get us all killed."
I don't rise to her bait, instead, walking on further.
"There's no getting through to him right now," I hear Umbrahorn tell her behind me. Traitorous fish. "He's got no thought of what he's doing. Just let him be… and I guess try not to get in his way."
Sound advice.
Anybody who does get in my way today will regret it. I'll make sure of that.
"Yes but—" I hear Zyla begin behind me, before she cuts off abruptly. I turn, ears perked, eyes flitting. But she's just standing there, unmoving. Umbarhorn also looks at her with confusion.
I squint and notice that her eyes have rolled up.
"Saegor!" I yell. "I think we have an issue."
"What is it— ah shit, already? Kiren, your sister is at it again. Ready yourself."
They run back to us, with Kiren approaching his sister cautiously, hands outstretched and ready to cast magicks of his own. As if his sister is a threat.
Is she?
My worries are availed when her eyes roll back though and she stumbles, nearly fainting, falling into her brother's arms. I look at Saegor, confused.
He doesn't even give me a glance, but he can tell what I'm about to ask.
"Zyla is a seer. If her eyes go up like that, she must've been warned of something. Meaning —"
"The Turned are heading our way!" Zyla spouts. Her voice is high pitched, different than before. It is as if something, some other entity, has possessed her. "They are coming, coming, coming, running, jumping, sprinting, raking their way over, run run run RUNNING–"
To my surprise, Kiren slaps his sister hard across the face. I step forward out of pure instinct but Saegor grabs my hand. Zyla blinks away a few tears, displaced, like she's just finding her way back into the world.
"Are you back?" he asks.
She nods slowly.
"Where are they coming from?" Kiren follows up.
She points to the North.
And that is when the forest itself begins to rumble.