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Hey Chamber-mates! Here is the next chapter. Enjoy!




Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


Jovial voices joined in song, in the small tavern on the glen. Many of the men in the room still bore the ashen faces and bloodied scars of the most recent fight against Myrthza’s forces. It had been a vicious one but they had finally managed to push the king’s men back, it had been valiantly won. Many lives had been lost and so they had come a few by a few to this tavern to rejoice and hope that it would be the last.

One could not help but be caught up in their revelry. They made for interesting entertainment for the quiet pair that sat heads bowed in the corner of the great room.

“The world is changing brother, you can feel it in the very air that rustles in the trees, taste it in the water. You must have sensed it as well.”

“I have. Just look at them they will a splendid party tonight!” he spoke his eyes dancing and tone joyful as he took in the merriment happening beyond their table.

“You must be serious. We must make a plan!” the man spoke running his hands over his sweating pate. The Hermit was sure he would be pulling at his hair, if he had any left to pull.

“Calm yourself, Brother Jedit, added stress will have you picking at your scalp again and as you well know no one will enjoy having to apply hornet’s rum to your scabs. For a man of the cloth you do have the most colorful language when you are in a snit.” He laughed.

“Forgive me Brother, I just cannot understand how you could be so untroubled. All I can do is pray for the better understanding that which you possess.”

“Do not mistake me, I am but an old man who has seen many things, come and go in their own time.” Pausing briefly the Hermit turned fully to the brother with an outstretched hand, “Spare a coin, Jedit.”

“What for?” Jedit asked thrown by the non sequitur.

“Hand one over.” He stubbornly replied.

 Reaching into his garb Jedit searched blindly for his coin pouch at the sudden jingle of the loose metals, he retracted the oil-skinned pouch and withdrew the coin and placed it squarely into the Hermit’s hand. No sooner than the closing of the Hermit’s hand along with a brief nod of thanks, did a young girl, in tattered garb and sotty face, approach their table.

“Spare some change Sir?”

The hermit smiled broadly, the emotion etched deeply into the folds of face. “You my dear are in luck, I just happened to find this very coin on the floor.” He placed the coin into her small dirty hand, “Here you take it and get you and your little brother something to eat.”

Surprise, widen her eyes and lit the young girl’s face as she grasped the coin desperately to her chest.

“Thank you sir, thank you.” She gushed before rushing away from the table and back into the crowd.  

“Yes brother, it is those very things you see that concern me.” Jedit mumbled beneath his breath, casting his eyes on the revelry before them.

“Fear not, Jedit. Now is a happy time.”

“How could I not? Surrounded by death as we are. Just this evening we received word that Camun—,” he paused briefly, “You already know don’t you?”

“That he has passed? Yes, I already knew.” He replied solemnly.

“Passed? No he was executed, they slit his throat at sun rise in full view of the Citadel, a message they had meant for all that would stand against them. Do not think he will be the only one of us to meet that fate!” Jedit snapped angrily as he glared into the Hermit’s face, that now for one of the first times he could remember truly showed the man’s considerable age.

“No he will not. They will come for all of us.” He said gesturing to the crowd in the tavern. “All the more reason to celebrate now; while there is still chance to.”

Jedit rushed to his as he tossed back the last of his drink, “I must go then and warn the Brotherhood, maybe there is still time to make preparations. Where will you go to?”

“For now I will wait. I am expecting a most interesting visitor.”

“No it is not safe! Not even for you Brother!” Jedit implored careful to keep his voice low as to not excite the other occupants of the tavern. “Come with me, the brotherhood will-,” he stopped suddenly at the Hermit’s raised hand.

“Go Jedit, do what you can. There are things that must be done, that only I can do. Farewell my brother in hopes that we will meet again.”

The Hermit’s eyes swam with unshed tears although his smile was as gentle and cheery as usual. Jedit could not help but wonder if the sadness he saw was for him or the Hermit hisself. What more has he seen? He wondered silently to himself, for he knew the old man would never tell if he asked.

With a final bow of his head, Jedit turned from the table and strode purposefully through the crowd and out of the tavern.

The din continued within the tavern; Jedit’s exit having gone unnoticed by the partiers. Only the Hermit felt his loss and he was sure he would carry this one to as he did the others til the end of his days, his burden to bear for all that he had gained.

Drawing deeper into the darkness surrounding him, the Hermit breathed in the scent of stale ale and the plethora of unwashed bodies too closely crammed together within the tavern, settling his mind. Losing himself in the moment and allowing his mind to drift into the nothing, where space and time did not seem to exist.

It was there in that nothing that he felt her presence the most; when he let go he could almost touch her mind. For the ages that they had been separated, he had done all he could to establish another bond with her but they had all been gifted with different abilities and as much as he could feel her presence without a physical re-connection, she would only ever be smoke in the wind; unobtainable and within an instant undetectable.

For long has he had searched for her, he had also served her enemy. But that was the choice he had made on that faithful day. He had tried comforting himself that for these many years he had simply been bidding his time watching for signs that the final hour had reached. It had been the only choice but that did not make it any easier to live with. His purpose was clear and his part in this macabre comedy was not yet complete.

Pushing the thoughts of regret and resolution aside, the Hermit relaxed his suddenly tensed body and focused his sight on a more pressing existence. It was there as he knew it would be, a pulsing flame that constantly flickered in and out each time growing larger and more unyielding, exuding a steely focus in search of its query.  The feeling sent a chill down his spine. The instability of such a force meant nothing good for any who found itself within its vicinity when it imploded.

Her greed and desire was growing.

It was why he stayed away, but he knew Alysa would not let him escape her grasp for much longer.  She would not be denied for much longer, he knew that.

But did they? Did these people, in earnest, know what they were fighting against? He could only bury the thoughts that only served to darken his heart.

The Hermit looked once again over the crowd of men and women in the throes of liquored gaiety. He noted their leathered faces, twinkling eyes and various ages committing each and every one of them to memory. Their voices raised in song and laughter. Some were covered in ash and blood, bandages ignored for a moment as they celebrated their victory against the forces of Myrthza who had come to conquer them.

Jedit’s words came back to him as he studied the crowd, maybe there is still time to prepare, he had said. May it be that there was, still time.  But for now while there is still reason, let them celebrate, for today is a good day.

 

 

Kalo had been in a quiet mood since they had left the prison compound. Kit didn’t know what he had found down that staircase but since he had emerged from its depths, he seemed to be troubled as though too many different thoughts scrabbled about in his mind. With the slightest of grunts to acknowledge his presence, Kalo signaled for him to follow and they slipped through the winding passageways and left the compound as unnoticed as they had entered.

They then made their way back to the room at the Feather Grove Inn as the last hours of night stretched into dawn. Kit had been all too ready to return to the inn and promptly flung his wiry body onto the thinning down mattress and fell immediately to sleep.  

Hours later, when the protest his stomach was throwing had awoken him, Kit found Kalo much as he had been the night before, lost in thought. Not even when Kit had tripped over his feet on the way to the chamber pot had Kalo even budged. Later, when his stomach refused to be denied any longer lest it begin to consume itself, Kit and Lycia paired up together in a contest of wills to see who would be able to break his concentration. What seemed like hours and a few bruised limbs and prides later, Lycia caught herself a mouse and Kit begun to contemplate the merit of stewed leather.

 Kalo, through it all, remained as he was. 

Kit could not understand what sort of thoughts could make a man forget the importance of regular meals and began to wonder if the priest had cast some sort be devilry over Kalo. Until that was, with the setting of the sun that Kalo had sprung from his seat and hastily packed their meager possessions into rucksacks and made for the door, then he was sure of it.

In the sudden frenzy of movement, Kit and Lycia only had a moment to look questionably at one another before they too sprung into action. By the time Kit had managed to find and don his errant shoe, Kalo had already moved quickly down the stairs of the inn pausing only just long enough to toss a few coins, in payment, at the proprietress before quickly eating up the short distance to the door and out onto the crowded street.    

It was by no small feat that Kit managed those same stairs without breaking his neck. He was so flustered and dashed out the door as it made to slam shut behind Kalo. The packed streets only proved a hindrance to Kit’s slight frame as Kalo’s larger one plowed through the crowd as though they were air and Lycia being altogether more agile and limber raced across the awnings of the shops that lined the street.

Pressing through the compact streets Kit finally caught up to Kalo at the edge of the town as he made his way like a man possessed down the very lane they had walked to enter the town the day prior.

Kit raced to catch up with Kalo jogging to keep pace with the longer limbed man, huffing away as he asked, “So we are headed back East?”

Kalo stopped suddenly and turned to Kit grasping his shoulders as he stumbled into him. “Hmm” he grunted in reply before just as suddenly resuming his pace down the road.

Kit could only look after him in mild shock as Lycia brushed her softly furred body against his sore legs. Kit looked down at his companion and stated briefly with a shrug, “I guess we are headed East.”

Lycia, maowed her agreement to Kit’s words and as one they turned and toddled after Kalo along the road, away from the setting sun.

That was four days ago. Since leaving Damisk, they journeyed further and further into the wilderness of the Eastern lands. By day they walked openly on the roads blending in amongst the merchants traveling with their wares to local markets taking only short breaks when they came across a stream to refresh themselves or a particularly shady grove for shelter from the hot sun.

At night the small group fared little better, instead of walking along the roads, Kalo led them into the thick brush; where little of the moon’s light made it through the towering trees and only the sound of leaves and twigs crunching below their feet as they, Kit, stumbled and slurred their way over the uneven floor of the wood.

Tirelessly Kalo led them on, night and day, headed to a destination unknown taking what little rest he afforded them. His pace relentless.

It was on such a night, camped in the woods for their evening repast of roasted meat, of which Kit did not inquire as to its source but instead consumed greedily, that he heard them.

 Soft distant sounds of growling raised the hairs at the back of Kit’s nape and froze the hand that held up a piece of the roasted meat before his opened mouth. A quick glance at Kalo, showed him reaching for one the many weapons hidden within his great coat. The flame of the fire glinted against the polished edge of the blade he withdrew as he stared off in the direction from which the sounds came.

Lycia stood before the young boy her heckles raised as she hissed into the darkness.

The sounds grew louder as more voices joined the first. Kit turned slowly towards Kalo, his voice a breathy whisper as he called out, “Kalo?”

“Shh” Kalo snapped out.

 Air caught in his throat at Kalo’s admonition, forcefully stemming his need to ask more as they listened to the stillness of the forest. They dared not even breathe, as they awaited indication of their unexpected company’s intention.

Abruptly, a beastly cry rendered the air, shocking them out of their frozen states. The rustling of leaves and the sounds of snapping bones and tearing flesh freed the air within Kit’s chest his face ashen and eyes large as he turned to Kalo who was gathering his things before the fire.

“I do not know what that thing was but it sounds big.” He said.

“All more reason for us to get going.” Kalo spoke as he kicked dirt over the fire extinguishing it.

“Right.” Kit replied popping the last of the meat into his mouth as he to gather his meager possessions. Turning briefly he saw that Lycia had not moved from her position the called quietly to the feline and followed in Kalo’s wake.

Drawing even with him Kit noticed that Kalo still, he was happy to see, held the blade in his hand.

“Do you think there are more of those out there?”

Howls echoed through the wooded area around them and sent chills down Kit’s spine as their footsteps quickened, carrying them closer to the edge of the brush.

“If there are I intend to be ready.”

“Good idea.” Kit whispered unable to stop himself from looking behind him to see a pair of glowing eyes fade into the darkness.

 

 

Night had fallen by the time the Hermit finally made his way out of the crowded tavern, the brisk air refreshing after hours spent coped up with the drunken revelers. Filling his lungs with the air he turned his head to the darkened sky exalting in the stars above him as he released the breath.

The soft fluttering of wings preceded the gentle, yet familiar, weight that settled upon his shoulder. Badbah adjusted herself upon the perch, her sharp talons cutting into the material of the Hermit’s robes.   

“You have come have you?” The Hermit spoke glancing at the crow upon his shoulder.

With a sharp cry the bird lifted from his shoulder in a rush of black wings and appeared as haggardly woman before him.

“You almost sound glad to see me Mordan.” The old woman chuckled dryly.

“I will work harder next time.” He answered.

“Come now you cannot still be upset with me? I told you it was only a bit of fun.” She spoke reaching one of her gnarled hands to his face.

Sidestepping her touch the Hermit continued as though she had never spoke. “What brings you here Badbah? It bodes ill with me to see you again.”

“I bring you good news, old friend.”

“How can I trust what you say?”

“Faith, I believe you are familiar with it.” Badbah said her eyes glowing up at the Hermit a knowing smile stretching her thin lips.

“You do not inspire such faith Badbah, even at the best of times.”

“Which these are not, you mean to say? I will admit I find it rather stimulating.”

“I do not doubt that you do, feeding off of discourse as you do.” The Hermit spoke with disdain dripping from each word.

“We are due for some excitement. It has been far too quiet these last few centuries.” Glancing up into the Hermit’s face, Badbah pressed her suit her voice rasing in ire, “You know as well as I, it could not last and only a matter of time,” her words suddenly stopped as though reconsidered before continuing in a more self assured manner, “You should know I have seen him. Izeha, that is.”

“So he has returned?” the Hermit spoke, more to himself than to the hag.

“Had he ever really left? I would not be so quick to believe that if I was you.”

“It is not what I believe, I was there I know what I saw!”

“I for one know that you saw what you were meant to see. So believe that, if that gives you comfort.” She laughed dryly at her words. Foul woman the Hermit thought to himself. What if her words were true? He shuddered to think what his reappearance would mean for all of them. 

A sudden rush of wind blew in from the west; chilling to the bone and unusual for the time of the year. Its icy fingers dancing along his skin, he could not help the shiver as it made its way down his back. The hag fared little better as the wind tossed her gnarled tresses into her face and lifted her crusted skirts.

Belatedly, the Hermit turned away from the sight of the tussled hag to peer over his shoulder back towards the tavern and ensure that no one played witness to their exchange. The warm glow of lights and voices raised in song was all that reached the pair where they stood. Thankfully, they were the only ones who lingered outside of the structure in the pale moonlight.

Mordan’s, the Hermit, patience had run out, there was much that Badbah’s words brought to his attention and he was ready to get this encounter finished. He turned back to Badbah and took a deep fortifying breath; he knew that she would drag on once she realized how much she was affecting him.

“What news have you come to tell me, Badbah?” he slowly spoke forcing the steel out of voice.

“Only that Izeha is not the only one I have seen, Alysa has made it most obvious that she desire’s your return to the Citadel, by any means necessary, I think is how she put it.” She paused briefly for effect. “It is such a shame that this should all coincide with the boy making his way to this very place to see you as well.”

“How long?”

“No more than half a day I would imagine. What will you do now Mordan? I do not think she will be very pleased to know that you are cavorting with her enemy.”

His arm suddenly shot out in front of him. His hand enclosed around her bird-like throat as he lifted her off the ground bringing her up to his eye level. Her feet kicked uselessly in the air.

“I will make this clear, hag. You have no idea what you are talking about and you will do well to stay out of any of this business.”

At his words Badbah, in a great show of strength broke his hold on her throat and returned firmly to the ground. Her eyes danced with glee as she returned her gaze to his face.

“It must be true then. The key lives. Oh, you have been bad Mordan. ” she said mockingly as she backed slowly away from his looming figure.

“You have been warned, Badbah!” he yelled stopping her retreat. “Stay out of this.”

“How sweet, you almost sound concerned. Do not worry Mordan, you have your part to play in this, as do I.”

With sweep of her arms and a sharp cry, the hag before him vanished as a large black crow ascended into the night air leaving only a single plum in its wake.

Picking up the long feather Mordan tucked it safely into his robes as he continued to watch the sky.

Badbah’s appearance although sudden was not surprising, her words stirred in his mind. Knowing that Izeha was involving himself, changed everything and yet nothing at all. He knew there was nothing to be done but he grieved none the less. The dye has been cast, sides have been chosen, and loyalties tested. Everything was falling into place.

The world was changing, beyond what even his sight could tell. He had no clear picture of where or what they would be when this was all over. The breeze played softly through his cropped hair as he stood along the road beyond the tavern.

They are coming, he could feel it.






Chapter End Notes:

So, what do you guys think? Should I continue? I would love to hear from you all!

 Thanks for Readning and Until Next Week!







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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.