Late the next day, they finally arrived at what was considered to be the extreme south end of the Marg, at village called Madington. It was the southernmost human city and less than three day’s travel to Warthen, the great troll settlement. Back at the keep, Dymorla and Trever debated going first to Warthen to ask Thag Olrood for assistance, but they decided against it. They were planning on visiting Aeilronic at the southern edge of the boughs before their final push to Illum, and so they were afraid that they would expend too much time because that was quite a distance north. They anticipated the journey taking nearly twenty days just to get to The Boughs. Then, they’d most likely spend a couple days with Aeilronic. Then it would be at least another twelve to fifteen days to get to Illum – a long trip, indeed!
Enlisting the help of the powerful trolls would have been great, however, and it was something they planned to revisit. Of course, if they had decided to go to Warthen, they would have taken a more direct southerly route from the keep instead of heading west.
They crossed the river via Maddington’s only ferry. The Ferry master charged them what they all felt was a pretty unreasonable fare, but no one had the strength to argue. Also, Djar’s purse was still fat with both Silvers and Golds. One thing their journey had been thus far was cheap! The ferry master was a quiet man, clearly not a conversationalist.
“Good sir, is there a village whereby we can purchase mounts for each of us? Asked Dymorla. “We are on a long pilgrimage and are tiring of the long walk.”
“Um. Teran is just north on the river. Horses can be bought.”
“Thank you. Is it right on the river.”
“Yes, near the swamp.”
***
They purchased horses for all, and they really were quite marvelous creatures. Being right on the border of the plains, most all the villages had a good amount of quality animals. Horse traders frequented all the villages and cities near the plains, where the best riding was to be had in all The Land. The animals – and the best saddles and tack they could find – were quite expensive, so Djar finally put a dent in his purse. Dymorla conjured some matching flourishes, so everyone’s saddle looked as if it were custom made matching their each of the little company’s armor.
They purchased more provisions: Food, rope, extra blankets, and other items they could now fit into their saddlebags. They also asked for directions to the best trail to take northwest to get near The Boughs, which was a bit out of their way as Illum was due west. Unfortunately, to get onto the trail, they would first have to travel a bit north along the southwest edge of the Marg, but at least they could avoid going directly through the swamp.
After readying the horses, Dymorla conjured beautiful helmets for everyone except Cookie. She said it would simply get in her way.
“Poor Snork had all he could carry before we purchased these marvelous steeds,” said Dymorla. However, I want us to be as well guarded as possible. Plus, it ads to our look.”
“Yes, and it would have been a burden for us to wear them all the time or carry them when on foot,” said Trever.
“Exactly. We don’t need to wear them all the time – unless anyone wishes to. I’ll let everyone know when and where we should wear them, if that’s all right?”
Djar strapped his to the left side of his saddle. “That sounds good. They’ll also help when I’m giving Zack his lessons. I’ve had to avoid any head attacks because I didn’t want to accidentally hurt him. Even one of those practice swords to the head could really hurt.”
Zack apparently liked his helmet, because he strapped it on proudly. “This is cool. How do I look?”
Djar looked at Dymorla, then back to Zack, “Like The One Who Would Be King.”
Everything went fine until well into the afternoon of the next day. The swamp was overflowing a thick fog onto their trail and thick clouds hid the sun. The entire world looked a sickly fish belly white. And even though it wasn’t too cold, the dampness gave them a bit of a chill.
They rode on in silence, wrapped in their cloaks. Suddenly, Dymorla raised her arm meaning for them to halt. She quickly got down off her horse signaling for Zack to get behind her. The boy dismounted and got behind the sorceress. Djar quickly reached for his helmet, and then drew Dybol from its new scabbard. Instead of its signature green glow, it cast a much more intense emerald – just like when they encountered the demon. Djar groaned at the sight and noticed the others – except Dymorla – glancing at Dybol as they readied for battle.
Cookie swung down from her mount and notched an arrow into her short bow. She moved toward Dymorla and Zack, preparing to help defend the boy. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, “you’ll be fine.”
Trever stayed mounted. He notched one of his huge arrows, the large point looking menacing. He squinted through the fog looking for a target, but could see nothing through the white fog. He edged his horse closer to Dymorla.
“There …” she said, pointing out in front of her. “I can’t see anything, but I can sense a strong presence.”
“What is it?” whispered Cookie.
She didn’t have to wait for an answer as two huge figures walked out of the cloaking fog. They were probably the ugliest creatures Cookie had ever seen. They looked like goblins, only taller and more muscular. They wore studded and spiked battle armor, made from thick leather with articulating plates in the stomach and shoulder areas. Their heads were huge – and so were their teeth, which were nearly as long as the girl’s thumb. She could see them so easily because they were both snarling. Moments later the rest of the company saw them as well.
“Tormentors!” cried Trever, pulling the string back on his great bow.
“Hold,” said Dymorla, keeping her gaze set upon the pair.
“We bring a message from Fralgarzener, old witch,” said the one on the left.
Each drew a sword from a studded scabbard. Cookie shuddered as she thought back to what Trever had said about the Tormentors having enchanted blades.
The Tormentor on the right curled its lips. “He told us to tell you to die!”
Dymorla had no time to negotiate; the creatures sprang into action. However, she was ready. She raised her arms and the same blazing white lightning that she used to kill the raven issued from her fingertips, lancing out towards the Tormentors. They brought their blades up to block the twin beams, sending splinters of the powerful light in all directions. Djar’s horse was clipped in its flank by one of the ricocheting beams. In pain and fright, the poor animal spun wildly around then reared up on its hind legs. Djar tried his best to hang on for a moment, then jumped of his mount in fear of it going down. It ran toward one of the tormentors and nearly too quickly to see, the vile creature swung its sword in a long arc, severing the head of Djar’s horse.
Both Cookie and Trever unleashed a string of arrows, both of them as quick as the Tormentors. Cookie’s arrows bounced of their thick armor, but Trever learned quickly. He sent his third arrow home, straight into the neck the closest of the advancing Tormentors. There it stuck for a moment, before the creature gripped it with his clawed hands and simply ripped it out. Dark, wine colored viscous blood dripped out of its neck and down its chest plate. The attack only seemed to madden it.
Djar saw the situation spiraling out of control, so he sprang into action. He charged, employing Dermatt’s own Striking Serpent. The Tormentor was clearly surprised by the move and was a split second too slow to react. Dybol severed the behemoth’s sword arm, sending both the arm and the sword spiraling to the ground. Djar was then equally caught off guard as the creature brought up its remaining hand, bringing its own brand of lighting to bear. A bluish bolt came straight for Djar. He rolled to the ground, keeping Dybol out in front of him as best as he could, trying to block the beam like he saw the Tormentors do just moments before. His block wasn’t nearly as effective, however he did manage to roll away from most of the blow, only getting caught by the very edge of the bolt. But this was enough. The force of the energy blast sent him sprawling nearly ten feet. He tired to spring to his feet, but staggered with pain and fell down again. The Tormentor was outraged and advanced on Djar.
Meanwhile, Dymorla and the other Tormentor were locked in a powerful struggle. The creature had advanced upon her and struck at her with its blade. She had both arms outstretched, and they were enveloped in a blazing light. The sword met her protected arms and they became locked, neither giving nor gaining any momentum for what seemed like an eternity.
The Tormentor had nearly reached Djar when it finally had to deal with both Trever and Cookie. Trever was still mounted and unleashed arrows with ferocity, two more finding homes in the creature’s throat. Cookie knew hers weren’t that effective, so she took aim at the monster’s eyes, and the third arrow of her latest volley hit home. The Tormentor screamed a terrible scream, then waved its good arm. This time its blue energy fanned out in front of it, not nearly as concentrated, but it covered the full area between Cookie and Trever. Cookie rolled but wasn’t quick enough. She was knocked unconscious nearly instantly. Both Trever and his mount went down in a heap.
By this time, Djar could stand, but he was still dizzy. However, the tormentor was not in the best shape either, with the arrows protruding from its eyes and throat and its shoulder bleeding profusely where Dybol had severed its arm. It was also starting to feel the effect of Dybol’s enchantment. It put its remaining hand on its knees, trying to keep on its feet. Djar simply stood where he was and watched.
Suddenly, Dymorla was at his side. She had apparently dispatched her Tormentor and was ready to do more battle. She raised her hands just as the creature began to topple over, but she didn’t stop. She sent one of her powerful blasts directly into the monster, sending it sprawling. It landed in a heap, smoldering and clearly dead.
The next several hours were spent tending to the wounded and setting up camp. There was no way they would be traveling any more this day! Dymorla set up several wards out on the periphery of the camp. If any tormentors – or anything else for that matter – were nearby, she would know it.
Cookie had been unconscious for several minutes, but she ended up being fine. She had a large bruise where the beam had connected with her chest, and her ribs were tender, but that was the extent of her injuries.
Trever was another story. He took much more of the beam than Cookie had. His formerly splendid armor was dented and blackened where the power had most connected. His face was burned and he bled from too many cuts to count. He had yet to regain consciousness. It looked bad.
Dymorla was clearly tired, walking over to where Cookie and Zack tended Trever. “Please step back,” was all she said, as she stepped over to the fallen man.
Cookie grabbed Zack’s arm and pulled him away. The boy was the only member of the little company that wasn’t injured or completely tired.
Dymorla began an incantation, lightly brushing her hands over Trever’s wounds. She then put a hand on his forehead and left it there for a few seconds. Suddenly, he opened his eyes.
“What happened?” he groaned.
“Shhh,” said the sorceress. “I want you to hush and try to get some sleep.”
“Thanks,” was all he said before he smiled and closed his eyes.
***
The next day all was well save for the fact that Djar’s horse could not be saved. Even Dymorla couldn’t heal and animal with a severed head! Fortunately, she saved Trever’s horse, or they would be down two mounts; one was bad enough. Snork Was also fine. He had wandered away after the battle begun, but they were able to find him without too much trouble. Trever was nearly as good as new, however his armor looked a bit worse for wear. Dymorla told them that she would wait to “fix them all up” because she wanted to save her energy and not use as much magic – even though she said she expended so much in the battle that there was no way Fralgarzener didn’t know where they were.
As Dymorla directed, Zack began readying his things.
“So, Dymorla told us that you were the one to dispatch the other Tormentor,” Cookie said, waking up to the boy with Djar alongside.
“Yeah. She seemed to have her hands full, and she certainly had that monster’s attention, so I used the Springing Tiger, just like you showed me, Djar.”
Djar ruffled the boy’s hair. “Good man!”
“I just basically swung and Tempest did the rest,”
“Tempest?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m naming my sword. I think it sounds pretty cool – it means a real bad storm. It’s also one of the old classic video games me and my dad used to play sometimes. You travel these worlds and …” Zack could see they were completely lost, so he just smiled.
“Well, it sounds like a … cool name to me too,” said Djar.
“And from what it accomplished today, it seems pretty appropriate,” added Cookie.
Dymorla had spoken to both of them after the battle. She said that she and the Tormentor were locked in combat. She knew she’d eventually best the creature, but admitted that she was worried that she would take too much time and expend a lot of energy. After all, there was the other Tormentor to worry about; having no idea that Djar and the others had pretty much taken care of it. Suddenly, Zack sprang from behind her, bringing his sword to bear. The Tormentor had no choice but to take the blow without moving. She further explained that ordinary weapons could hurt a Tormentor, but rarely could a person kill one without the aid of magic, so it simply prepared for the hit it was about to take. However, the enchanted blade came slashing down through the shoulder of the monster and didn’t stop until it was nearly halfway through the Tormentor’s midsection! The Tormentor lost concentration and let its blocking spell down instantly and was nearly burned to ash from Dymorla’s power.
“That was a brave thing, Zack. I’m proud of you!” Cookie leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. The boy blushed.
“Okay, enough o’ the mushy stuff, let’s get going,” said Trever with just the hint of a smile. Yes, the frontiersman was certainly back to normal.
***
Several days past without incident, much to everyone’s delight. Being down one horse, Dymorla thought it would be best for Cookie and Zack to share Cookie’s grey gelding so they could give Djar his own mount. However, Djar quickly volunteered to share the large roan with Cookie, saying Zack should ride on his own so he would look like The One Who Would Be King and Trever, being a large man, really needed his own mount. Both Dymorla and Trever exchanged a strange look, but agreed. It actually worked out well for both men. Trever did want to ride solo, and Cookie sat behind Djar, holding him even though she didn’t need to. Of course, the others in the company also noticed this, and started to pick up on other small changes in the two’s behavior such as when they would sneak off for a few minutes when they broke for camp, and how they slept so near each other around the campfire.
“You know, if you’re in love you shouldn’t be ashamed of it,” said Zack as he pulled his pitch-black mount up to Djar’s.
Djar made a strange face. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s easy to see that you two love each other, so why hide it?”
Cookie came to Djar’s rescue. “Well, Zack, Djar and I have known each other for many years, and we were more like best friends than anything else, so this is kind of new to both of use.”
“Oh. I get it, but you still shouldn’t worry about what we all think.” He scrunched up his face “We all see how you sneak little kisses when you think no one’s looking.”
The young boy was a bit direct, but he was right. Both Trever and Dymorla were also listening. Trever was clearly enjoying this.
Djar rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, you caught us.”
Late that afternoon it began to rain. It wasn’t a downpour, but a slow, steady drizzle. They set up camp, and huddled around the fire.
Dymorla took a stick and began drawing in the wet sand. “We’ve just come around the bottom of the Marg and are now well up the west side. Right about … here. From the information I’ve gathered, this trail makes pretty much a straight line to the south end of the Boughs. We should be there in a little less than a week.”
“Do you really think Aielronic will help?” asked Cookie.
“Yes. I’ve known him for many, many years and he always listens to reason. I think nearly all the leaders have changed their minds about this situation by now. It’s undeniable that this isn’t simply a short-lived struggle to gain a bit of land. This is a battle for the domination of all The Land!”
Djar wiped the rain from his eyes. “So, what is the plan with Aeilronic? Are we going to ask for accompaniment to Illum, or ask of raid back east in the duchies?”
“Both,” said Dymorla. “As you’ve read, Djar, the prophecies state that The One Who Would Be King will be escorted with the leaders of many nations. You – and possibly Trever – are the leaders of men.”
“Possibly? Why thank you too,” he said grumpily, though they all knew he wasn’t at all upset.
Dymorla continued. “Yes, so that leaves just about every other nation not being represented. Of course, Cookie can represent the Sprites, but we need some of the other powerful nations. Since Illum is in elvish lands, it only makes sense to ask the ancient people for assistance.”
Zack was a bit puzzled. “Dymorla, why is Illum in the West Wilders if that is the land of the Elves?”
“Because Illum was built about 800 years before the five different regions were created at the Darian council – that was only about two hundred years ago. And don’t forget, it’s not like anyone can’t live in any of the lands, except maybe in the Goblin Lands. It’s just that the different peoples have settled in certain area more than others.”
“Yes, there are quite a few dwarves and elves living in Mahhrain – or there used to be,” said Djar.
“Okay, so when were these prophecies written?” asked Zack, clearly taking an interest in his seeming destiny.
“The Waypriest have been writing prophecies for a thousand years. But the Book Of Asmun was only written a couple hundred years ago – in 1102.”
“1102? What year is it now?”
“It is 1320. Our dating system is really quite simple. The year one – The Year of Illumination – began with the commencement of the construction of Illum. The priests were the first to care about dates and such, and were the foremost archivists in The Land. Sorcerers also were archivists in those days and now, however, we were and are a small lot, and mostly concerned with actual spells and such. Now, of course, great cultures have been built – many being very different from each other. But in an effort to maintain some uniformity, all nations have adopted the dates of Illum.”
Dymorla and her companions talked and planned well into the evening before settling down to sleep.