Annice rubbed her face with a palm,
wakefulness was a struggle at the moment and she rebelled against it. Her eyes
fluttered closed a few times, head finding the softness of her mat, but Wilhelm
shook her again and the world came crashing back. She jolted again, this time
all of the blissful sleep being chased from her mind. She inhaled sharply, and
pushed herself to a seated position. She yawned and looked at Wilhelm, the man
looked positively grim and she saw dark bags under his eyes, she frowned.
“How much sleep did you get, Wilhelm?”
She asked, tilting her head to examine the weariness etched into his features.
“Not much.” Was all he said. “I
want to get started before first light, earlier we start the more distance we
cover before needing to camp on Lost Road.”
“Of course.” As the last vestiges
of sleep drifted away Annice was able to grasp at the severity of their
situation again. She nodded to the man reassuringly. “Let me do my prayers, I
imagine Syrene’s blessings will need to be upon us today.”
“Her’s and whatever other godly
bein might deign fools doin something foolish. Let me know when your done, I’ll
help you with your armor, need to make sure it’s secured properly.” Wilhelm was
trying to be reassuring, but Annice knew that a chain shirt, a pair of bracers,
and a shield would do little against the might of one ogre, let alone three.
Annice kneeled silently once
Wilhelm was done and settled her breath into an even deliberate pace. She pulled
from her bag some incense and a plate, placing the incense between thumb and
forefinger a spark of holy light emanated and a slow stream of pleasant-smelling
smoke floated into the air. The incense wasn’t necessary to the prayer, but it
helped Annice in meditation. The Cleric’s daily prayer was how they gained
their powers, reaching out to their deity and asking from them their daily
spells. Once a connection was made a Cleric would select the spells they wished
to cast that day and the magic would fill their mind, how many spells and of
what variety was up to the Cleric’s strength of body and soul as well as their
personal relationship with their deity, but there was always a limit to how
much magic a mortal being could hold inside their mind and all but a few truly
gifted casters could keep spells in their mind for more than a day. This is how
magic of all practices worked Holy, Arcane, or even Druidic. Sudden bursts of
spell knowledge, like what had happened to Annice, did occur on occasion to
Arcane and Druidic spell crafters, especially amongst the Arcane casters known
as Sorcerers, but Clerical magic like that only came in bursts in Miracles,
when a God or Goddess drew their full attention on one follower alone… Annice
certainly wasn’t worthy of a Miracle from Syrene, was she? The Half-Elf pushed
all thought from her mind and focused on her prayer, reaching out to make
connection with her holy goddess. Feeling the warmth of Syrene’s love wash over
her she went about asking for the powers she would need for the day, calling
for spells and abilities she never dreamt of asking for. She felt them fill her
mind, slightly surprised Syrene would grant them to her. She was relieved at
that but then also dreaded the idea of using them.
The two packed up the camp in a
dreadful silence, there just weren’t any words that could uplift their spirits
or distract from the task at hand. Slowly they trotted their horses to the
barrier, Annice stared at the darkened path, the valley closing off all light
in the dark hours before first light. She swallowed hard and steeled herself as
Wilhelm grabbed hold of the barrier and pulled, the man strained against a
rusted chain which shrieked in protest before one link, weaker than all the
rest, warped and came loose, freeing the barrier and allowing enough space for
their horses. The two mounted and made their way inward. It was at that moment
that Annice half remembered the eyes she dreampt of the previous night, and couldn’t
shake the idea of being watched.
They were more than an hour in when
first light broke, not that the two could tell all that much. By now they were flanked
on both sides by massive hills that elevated rapidly, the grass that had managed
to grow down at this path was sparse and hardy weed grass, gray and motted in
patches over the dirt. Annice turned her head at some movement and spotted a
small creature with mottled fur poke it’s head out at them, a wolverine of some
sort she guessed, it watched them with beady eyes and let out a warning hiss as
they passed, Wilhe;ms head snapped to it. Annice had a sudden realization and
moved Kasimira up next to Ale.
“You can’t see in the dark…” She
stated to the man, who in turned his gaze to the woman with a perplexed and
confused gaze.
“Not… as a rule, no?” He seemed
confused by the assertion, like being told that water is wet. Annice shook her
head.
“Half-Elf, again.” She
reminded the man. He took a moment, and
then nodded in understanding.
“Right, your lot can see in
darkness.” He looked up into the sky, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, another obvious
sight of the Human’s inherent superiority.” He said in jest.
“Mm.” Annice said. “What I mean, is
that I should take point, since I can actually see?” She started to move Kasi
forward, but Wilhelm reached out to take the reigns. “Hey!” She called out in a
harsh whisper.
“I don’t think that’s the best
idea, Annie.” Wilhelm pleaded. “You don’t exactly know what to be on the look
out for.”
“Are ogres that subtle?” She asked,
narrowing her eyes at the man.
“Well, no…” He stated.
“Then I should be able to see them
just fine.” She placed her hand at the man’s wrist and lifted it away. “I
appreciate your concern, Wilhelm, but I must contribute to this journey when I
can, otherwise what point is there to me being here?” Wilhelm obviously still
had objections, but he held them back and let her go forward.
The road was long and barren, they
crossed a few down turned trees, roots splayed in the air with mounds of pitted
dirt where they once stood, a couple of wodden structures too splintered and
rotted away to tell what they once were, and they also crossed one very
humanoid skeleton. Annice gasped at the sight and held her palm over mouth to
prevent herself from shouting in surprise. The bones laid against the slope,
slanted forward in a death knell, the left arm lay on the ground no longer attached,
a shoulder of jagged and broken bone telling the tale that the arm did not fall
off after this poor soul’s demise, the jaw hung slack in a silent scream, and
it’s eye sockets seemed to follow the two as they passed. Annice whispered a
silent prayer for this loss of life and Wilhelm simply stared in silence at it
as they passed.
The day was dragging on, there was
now enough light in the valley for Wilhelm to see, not that he did. The man was
pulled back onto the path no less than three times by Annice, reaching out and
jerking Ale’s bridle to the center of the road, causing Wilhelm to snap back to
attention. Each time Wilhelm assured Annice it would not happen again.
“Alright, enough of this.” Annice
said, stopping her horse.
“What?” Wilhelm asked, pulling on
the reigns and stopping a few short steps ahead of the woman.
“You are about to fall off of that
beast, Wilhelm, you’re exhausted.” Annice said, crossing her arms over her
chest.
“I’m fine, Annie.” Wilhelm assured
her. “I didn’t get a good night’s rest, my fault. But I’ve gone longer without
sleep before. Sides, not like we can stop now for a cat nap, we have to make it
as far as we can or we’ll end up three days in this place.”
“I wasn’t suggesting we stop.”
Annice reached out a hand and placed her hand on Wilhelm’s face, wrist resting
against the bridge of his nose, with dingers stretching over his forehead and
onto his scalp. Wilhelm tried to raise a protest to this, but Annice shushed him.
Her hand flared with holy light and it seemed into Wilhelm, when she pulled her
hand free the bags under Wilhelm’s eyes vanished and he looked revitalized and alert.
“Wow.” He grunted. “What was that?”
“A restoration spell.” Annice
stated, starting her horse on again.
“And why didn’t you use this
earlier?” He asked as he had Ale follow suit.
“Because the restoration spell only
lasts for eight hours. In eight hours you will be just as tired as you were
when I cast the spell. More so, even.”
“Right, that would be bad. Thank
you, Annie.” He said, smiling to her.
“It was that or lash you to your
horse.” She said, smiling back.
The two let the brief moment of
levity hang in the air, they held to it, keeping it for as long as they could.
Gods above knew that this was not a realm for levity. It passed, as they knew
it would, and the two continued on ever vigilant. Two more hours passed by when
Wilhelm pulled them both to a stop. Annice’s brow knitted into worry and she
looked around. She couldn’t see anything, one of the few trees that wasn’t torn
from the ground was to their left, a sickly and leafless birch tree that looked
like it held the weight of a thousand sins. To their left an overturned wagon,
by how fresh it looked it was obviously some caravan merchant who thought the
detour was ridiculous and attempted the Lost Rode path on their own. Other that
that? Nothing.
“Wilhelm why have we st-“ Annice
began.
“Shh.” He lifted his hand to her
quickly and looked around. He looked worried. “Get off your horse, follow me.”
He said, offering his hand to her. He slipped off Ale and aided her off of
Kasimira. They moved to the wagon, which as both a blessing and a curse was a
large and sturdy make. Wilhelm grunted as he dug his fingers into the dirt to
finger the lip of the wagon, pushing
breath from tightened lips as he struggled to lift it. Eventually he found some
leverage and gestured with a nod for Annice to lead the horses in. She did and
pressed down the sick in her stomach that threatened to make itself known. Once
both horses were kneeled under the cart Wilhelm shifted under the lip and as
slowly as he could lowered the mass. The cart may have been large, but with Wilhelm,
Annice, and two horses one being a rather bulky Clydesdale, it was a squeeze.
The world wend dark as the cart made contact with the ground again, a sliver of
light coming from a cleft in the wood being the only exception.
“Annice, I need you to keep as
quiet as possible, and pray to Syrene that the horse stay sile-“ Wilhelm’s lips
continued to move but no sound escaped, he bewildered for a moment at this
sudden muteness, but noticed that Annice held her hand aloft and seemed in
thought. He didn’t know the particulars, but he understood that there would be
no sound from any creature in the cart.
Annice’s Silent spell hung, and she
held the spell into her mind, the weakness of this particular form of magic,
she needed to keep her concentration on it for the entire duration. Though she didn’t
need to keep still and her curiosity drew her to the notch in the wood, shifting
herself to lean towards it. Peering out she had a moment of relief, had they
taken a moment longer they would surely have been dead, the moment was quickly
filled with an absolute dread as she watched not one but two of the Ogres stomp
into view. Wilhelm had said they weren’t friendly but here they were, walking
side by side, she would chastise him for that when they could both speak again,
assuming they still had lungs to speak with. Her heart pounded giving no sound
but the pressure in her ears. They were utterly hideous creatures with a washed
out and dull yellow skin, bloated and swollen torsos supported by massive and
muscular legs and arms. The nails on the creatures each extended half a foor
from each digit and were as black as onyx. One of them sported a greasy and
matted beard that stretched from ear to collar,
but both had drooling mouths filled with misshapen and extended fang like teeth,
two beady yellow eyes, massive misshapen noses, and bald heads. They were
mercifully both covered, one wearing a leather loincloth and the other an assortment
of furs that had been fashioned to resemble trousers. But what frightened Annice
the most is what they carried. One of the creatures carried what was simply an
entire tree trunk, the massive girth of it slung over his shoulder like the
weight of it was nothing to it. The other carried a much smaller, but equally
worrying weapon. Planks of wood, all different material and lengths, lashed
together to form a club, but with the swords of what Annice assumed to be a dozen
victims stabbed through one end to form two foot spikes that jutted out at all
angles. The color washed from her face and for a brief and harrowing second,
she faltered in her concentration.
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