II - Sigh of Smoke

Chapter 12 - Make Haste

-Lucan Worshire-

He felt a strange uneasiness wash over him.

They were standing at the edge of the Barren Wastes, and the reluctance to go inside reflected in all of their statures. The land looked just like what it was called.

It was as if a jagged border was scratched into the ground, where one side of the land looked fresh and fruitful, while the other seemed dull and shadowed. The grass itself seemed awfully dark, and the trees further in looked mangled and coiled. What kind of battle would have brought this kind of land to be? Just how much blood was shed, and just how much poison was spilt to affect the earth this much? 

A distance away at the corner of his eye he saw Atlanta, and she didn't in the slightest look happy to be there. Her cold eyes raked over the expanse of the Wastes, her short silvery hair fluttering in the soft wind. The deep scowl on her face was perhaps the most expressive she'd been for the past few days.

A spoiled scent wafted from the forest.

Dareon, next to him, looked awfully concerned. He had made countless comments on the state of the land, mostly in distress about how this could have possibly happened. He had tested the ground, and faintly there were tracks of horse hooves belonging to the Zarkarian bred horses. Further on there were the faint imprints of wheels rolling over the bumpy ground. Dareon had said they were lucky it hadn't rained, for the tracks would've been gone, considering they were already a few days old or more.

Atlanta was right. Lucan knew nothing about what was outside of Wyvengard, and simple stories could not possibly suffice to portray the rot of this land. Perhaps there were strange creatures hiding among the shadows of the trees and the comfort of poisoned groves right then. Right now however, it was midday, and he could feel that Lady Bane was much farther than he expected.

That thought was far more unnerving than any malformed creature.

"We'll never catch her at this rate," Dareon groaned, squinting in the summer heat. The boy had taken to wearing nothing but a pair of britches, his hair oiled and fairly messy due to the leaves he had been trying to remove. "If these tracks are days old, they're long gone by now."

Emiloseph Piper, who had been quiet for a while, finally spoke up. "We'll find her we will, you kingdom folk have such little hope it's making my heart hurt for you."

Dareon's expression deepened into a scowl. Lucan expected that a man as spirited as Emiloseph would've had a better impact on the forester boy, but it was in fact the opposite. However, Lucan would've never found out why. Other than commenting on the state of the nature around them, Dareon had very much kept to himself, which wasn't that much different compared to the norm.

The boy had begun training by himself as well.

Lucan held back a sigh. Determined to find Aleksandra and return her to his care was the only thing he had in mind, and his companions' lack of contribution to this objective did not faze him. 

After what Dareon had said about them only going after her because of her purpose, Lucan felt as if something was misunderstood.

Aleksandra was the last thing from Wyvengard he had, though he surely did not possess her. She was as much as duty to him as she was a reminder. She, though very strange in mind, was what King Willim and King Bathyl intended to protect. Lucan thought he owed it to them to look for her, rather than just him being told to.

After what he heard about what was currently happening to her, he felt as if he needed to work harder to retrieve her. She could of course, fend for herself. He would never have doubted that fact. However, after learning what happened to a Wielder of the Old Blood when they used magic, and what kind of price they had to pay to use it, he did not intend to leave her to her own devices. Aleksandra had, for all he knew, abused her abilities.