The town guard rushed from all directions. Orders were being barked on one end while wounded were already being dragged from another. Sir Theodore asked that Renzer and I hold the tavern entrance with a group of unlikely Returned.
One was a tall Cestral who carried himself a bit more casually than one might think during an attack. He looked comfortable with his loose white shirt and brown trousers basically fluttering with the wind while his green pointed cap laid snug on his dark hair. He introduced himself as Cooper and was, as expected, a friendly man.
The other was a half-demon. Two horns laid twisted on his head and his eyes were like a black mask on his stony face. He had a wicked, triangle edged blade, one that I was sure could cleave a horse in half and held it easily as I would a pen. His name was Gorn and while he was not the talkative type, he did respond to a firm handshake, so that was good.
I did not get the name of the other two that joined us, but they did leave an impression. While I thought it would be awkward for a chronicler to be in a line of soldiers, the man to my left wore a bright blue tunic and pants. A satchel was slung over his shoulder and his right hand presented a wide iron mug. He had a wide smile too, but unlike Cooper's, his was a bit inebriated. I don't even think he had a weapon.
The man to his left did not smile at all. His expression was frozen in a focused state and not the kind that seemed to be deep in thought. This one was a fighter, no doubt. He wore a brown gambeson, held a long sword, and bore eyes that were fixed towards the coming battle, even when he looked at you for a handshake.
Forgive me, my dear reader for being a bit wordy with these men. I had taken images of their faces and mannerisms because I knew they were to be my brothers-in-arms that night...
...they broke the line the moment the fighting began.
"You know how to use that?" Renzer asked.
"Of course I do," I said rushing to the nearest scuffle.
Howls blared ahead - wolves. I found a place in the inconsistent line of Returned and picked my kill. I thrust my spear towards a big black one, but underestimated the grip on my weapon. The head slid just under the beast's snarl, leaving me face-to-face with its sharp, gaping maw.
Before it could take a bite off my vulnerable head, Gorn's wicked blade cut across its muzzle, sending it bleeding a few feet away from its pack. The half-demon glared at me with his dark eyes, as if to tell me to stand back.
I did and was once again side by side with Renzer.
"Are you sure?" he said with a raised brow.
"You're not helping."
Soon the wolves retreated into the darkness, but the night was far from over. Imps and then stitchers filled the surrounding roads, emptying the tavern of the Colish men and women. They joined the fight smelling of hard liquor and cut through the horde with their knives, scimitars, and rapiers.
I'd say they were all swashbucklers, but I managed to catch Doc Silver huddled behind their messy advance. Instead of throwing steel he cast magic and instead of opening wounds he closed them. I remembered when he was just a confused man with bandages, hiding several feet away from any sort of battle. Now he was focused, his wide eyes now sharp towards any goal he needed to accomplish. At the moment it was making sure everyone didn't bleed out.
His presence inspired me to charge into the battle, only to find that most of the horde had already been chopped down by the Colish skirmishers and the town guard.
"Maybe you should just stay in the tavern, Merry," Renzer said.
"Look, I want to fight. If you don't, you're free to go to the tavern yourself."
"I don't understand why you're so determined to join battles. You're a chronicler."
"Battles are where the stories are and if I want an accurate depiction of it, I'd have to-"
Renzer snapped his eyes towards Dagger Road and gestured for me to stay silent.
"What?!" I sharply whispered at him.
"Hush," he squinted. "Don't you see that?"
"See what?"
"The lights."
I tried to share in his view but found only the stars on a moonlit horizon. "No?"
"Look," he pointed harder. "There!"
The stars started to move behind the trees and against townhouses. An unearthly sound hummed from each light.
"Shades!" I shouted to the guard, before charging headfirst into the fight.
I'm sure Renzer shook his head the moment he saw me run, and I was pretty sure there were some guardsmen telling me to hold back, but you'd be a fool to die to shades.
However there was one thing odd about this bunch. I couldn't see their ethereal faces and their lights were sharp to my eyes. One was even green.
Suddenly I was overwhelmed by the presence of several other figures. The town guard - around twenty at once too. Then I looked more closely at them and realized that many didn't even have shields. A couple had bows while a few more had hands glowing with magic fire. The fighting began and within seconds, these figures banished the odd lights into the darkness.
"What's going on here?" I asked out loud and got a collection of shrugs and confused stares. Soon the real town guard joined in, asking them the same questions and receiving the same answers. Then it dawned on me. Those people were Returned. Newly Returned.
*** *** ***
Have you ever seen bees inside a nest? A fellow classmate of mine sliced one open during a presentation. Inside you'll see dozens, maybe even hundreds of bees pushing against each other to find room in a honeycomb that probably already have a few bees in it. Granted I only got to see a glimpse of that before the swarm started stinging the rest of the classroom. The tavern was exactly so, minus the stinging.
Apparently the Newly Returned I had helped find was but a fraction of those that spawned in the gathering. I've heard some say fifty, sixty, and even seventy new heroes have joined in the struggle. I could believe it. The line to Chef's cheese soup had already recklessly poured outside.
Not wanting to get stabbed over dinner, I made like a bee and pushed my way in. Thankfully there was space, on a table of ten that was made for six.
There, Governor Kenrin Arakai was speaking to a couple of Returned on the topic of Father Bellamy and his Celestine followers.
"As far as I know," Kenrin flipped through the pages of a book. "As far as we know, the Sorrowful haven't done anything illegal. Unlike the Ardent Choir."
"Ardent Choir?" I asked.
"Radical followers of Chorus."
"And what makes them radical?"
"Their hatred for anything they consider abominations," Kenrin sighed. "Anyone who isn't human, basically."
"They're here?" the Returned by Kenrin's left asked. This one was a half dragon, half effendal with bright crimson eyes and a patch of glossy red scales on the left side of her face. I'm sure she had ever right to be concerned.
"We're trying our best to make sure they don't set foot on this town."
"As long as something like this doesn't happen..." I raised the knot around my neck.
Kenrin eyed the noose and quietly nodded.
Suddenly a runner pushed through the crowd and delivered a message that demanded the governor's immediate presence. No surprise there. If anything I was shocked that the conversation lasted so long. Kenrin pardoned himself and exited behind the soup line.
Most of the table followed him, leaving me with the crimson half dragon woman. She'd later introduce herself as Amisi, and while we had a nice conversation about my noose, she seemed distant from the table. Her red eyes, while they were on me, appeared to be focused on something else. A memory perhaps or maybe she was simply exhausted. For her sake I hoped it was the latter, though I doubt it. She was kind from the start of the conversation until the moment she left and the kind ones always have a pain to carry.
I checked the line for dinner and found it still full of famished Returned. Among those I recognized was Moira, the Cestral Huntress and the first Newly Returned I spoke to in the tavern. She changed since last we met and all for the better. She hardly looked scared or confused and was now a bit more confident and carefree. I also noticed that she had new arrows, each one probably fletched with some sort of glowing enchantment.
Then another person took my attention - a somber-faced effendal by the name of Folorian. Unlike many I've met, he actually welcomed a handshake without a second thought. We traded each others' stories but once he told his - one of battle and tragedy - his somber demeanor quickly turned hawkish. My dear reader, as much as possible I'd like to tell stories the best way I can and very rarely do I suggest that you ask a story from the source itself. Folorian's story is his and I don't dare add my words to it. At the end of our exchange, he rested both hands on his sheathed swords and bid me farewell before disappearing into the night.
"Hiccup!" the familiar voice of a particular fae passed by.
"Evening, Hiccup," I bowed to it.
"Hiccup," it replied back before fluttering to another table.
Hiccup never looked at me eye-to-eye but I could tell when it spoke to me. An unpredictable creature, that. One moment it would offer you a nice flower and jewels, and on the next it would freeze every joint in your body for trying to pull it back to safety during a battle. A fair warning to my dear readers.
I checked the line again to see its progress. There was barely any, but it did spawn another Returned that piqued my interest. A woman, with a painted face and hair as dark as night. Two pommels stood behind her black feathered pauldrons and she moved between crowds and tables as if they were beaded curtains. She took one of the newsletters on the table, and so I gestured for her to share it with me.
"Meridias Trevel," I shook her hand. "Chronicler and Teller of stories."
"Raemara," she sat down with a smile. "A chronicler, you say?"
"From Ad Decimum, yes," I said. "And you're from?"
Raemara opened her mouth to answer, but then froze as if unsure of it.
"I am from the Gael Lands," she said. "But things are a bit...you know... faded."
I nodded and proceeded to tell her more about me, but as I did I couldn't help but notice the odd lilt in the way she spoke. The Gael, if they did bother speaking, almost always barked out their words in a sort of bestial manner. Raemara gently pushed her voice out from her chest rather than her mouth, a trait one can notice with the Saek or those who lived further down south.
Our conversation found its end after she asked me tips on who to trust or who were honorable amongst the returned. Smart move to ask the chronicler. She parted with a small nod and left.
Once again, I was alone on a table surrounded by an army of new faces. When I finished the last word on Raemara's notes, the noose around my neck suddenly felt lighter. I smiled at that and even better news - the line had finally dissipated.
I joined it immediately, ready to fill my empty stomach, but before I could even get a bowl, several town guards from within the tavern picked up their weapons and charged towards Dagger Road.
"Ardent Choir!" one of them shouted.