Chapter 11

Bidding farewell to the sage, who promised to continue trying to learn more about the half of a document they’d left with him and the people chasing them, the trio followed the reappeared Valen and his friends through the forest, back toward the boundary wall.

Valen told them about living in the forest and his people as they walked. Osric found all of it fascinating and could have listened to the near-musical way his people spoke for hours, finding it incredibly soothing.

It couldn’t last, however.

Soon, they reached the boundary, and Valen and his friends bid them farewell. The pass through the boundary this time, for Osric, was much closer to what Talia had described. It was like passing through a waterfall without getting wet, the energy flowing around him, seeming to wrap him in a cocoon for what felt like both seconds and an eternity.

And then he was stepping out the other side. It was the same forest he had lived in more or less his whole life, and yet, somehow, it felt less. Even when it had just been them, it never seemed to feel lonely inside the boundary, like the very forest was keeping them company. Now, the trees were just ... trees.

“Looks like we’re on our own again,” Talia said, voicing Osric’s thoughts.

“Yeah. I guess our break’s over. Time to get moving.”

Cinder whined, pressing his nose into Osric’s hand. Osric scratched the wolf behind the ears and then started walking northwest, in roughly the direction the sage had indicated.

They walked for almost two hours, following a small animal trail that should lead them where they needed to go. This was a far cry from the woodsman trails or paths around their home village and was not that much different from just pushing through untamed forest.

At first they were silent, listening for sounds around them, as they had the last time they’d been in the forest, being chased by the Brethren, but all they could hear were birds and animals out in the trees. After a while, they started chatting again, keeping the conversation light, neither wanting to talk about the massive responsibility they, or rather Osric in their name, agreed to take on.

While it felt good to have some kind of direction after running aimlessly for so long, it also felt daunting. This was a job meant for someone else, someone who understood how these things worked. Osric was just a blacksmith’s apprentice.

It wasn’t until Cinder stopped in his tracks that Osric noticed the sound of metal on metal ahead of them. At first, he thought it might be equipment or some kind of cart, although they were too deep in the forest for either of those. Then he heard a shout and realized it was the sound of weapons coming into contact.

“Osric, no,” Talia warned as he started to take a step toward the sounds.

“Someone could be in trouble. That’s a fight, not someone chasing us. We have to check.”

A skeptical Talia nodded after a second and followed behind him as Osric pulled out his sword. The steel-on-steel sound grew louder.

Although Osric planned to stay back, observe what was happening in secret, he suddenly found himself in a clearing as he pushed through a particularly large, dense patch of foliage.

A man in a Greenwood Ranger’s cloak was partially surrounded by four other men. A fifth lay on the ground a few feet away from them, an arrow sticking out of his chest. Although Osric couldn’t say how he knew, he was certain these weren’t Brethren. Something about them, maybe their clothes or the way they carried themselves, said they were something else. Bandits maybe. That wouldn’t be so uncommon in the forest.

What was clear to Osric was that the Ranger, whose entire task was patrolling and protecting the people of the forest, was outmatched. He glanced back at Talia, who was thinking the same thing he was. The five people had all suddenly frozen in place, weapons held still as they looked to the newcomers, each probably wondering if the new arrivals were friends or enemies.

“Back away from him,” Osric said in his most commanding voice, which was, admittedly, much less authoritative than he would have wanted it to be.

The men heard it too, each smiling a cruel smile. They’d decided Osric was something else, something more to their liking. Prey.

“Deal with them,” one of the men, presumably the leader, said to two of the men.

Two men peeled off, dashing toward Osric and Talia. Cinder reacted instantly, shooting forward, a blur of dark fur and bared fangs, leaping at the closest attacker. The bandit swung his sword but missed as the wolf twisted mid-leap before his jaws clamped down on the man’s forearm, tearing through leather and flesh. The bandit screamed, staggering back as blood poured from the wound.

Talia’s hands danced, fingers tracing intricate patterns in the air. Three glowing bolts burst from her palms, streaking toward one of the bandits still facing the outnumbered Ranger. They struck him in the chest, sending him reeling, wisps of smoke curling out from the impact points. The Ranger seized the momentary distraction, stepping forward and slashing at the other man facing him, his blade sinking into an exposed thigh.

Osric charged the fourth bandit, his own sword arcing in a vicious overhead strike. For a moment, their blades met in a jarring clang of steel, but Osric had learned a lot in his last several fights and used a move one of the strange men had used on him. Twisting his blade, he sent the enemy’s sword sailing away from him while his sunk into the man’s shoulder, cutting through flesh and bone.

Cinder wasn’t through with the man he’d attacked. Rebounding, after bouncing off the man, the wolf leaped again, this time going for the man’s throat. The sudden second attack was fast, too fast for the man to react a second time or bring his sword up to defend himself as Cinder’s teeth found the man’s throat. Blood sprayed as the wolf wrenched his head back, tearing out the man’s jugular. The bandit crumpled, hands scrabbling uselessly at the gaping wound.

Talia also wasn’t done. Her hands had never stopped weaving, switching patterns as soon as her previous spell was completed. This time, she created an arch of lightning as she moved her hands before sending it slashing across the clearing, past Osric and the man he was fighting, striking the bandit leader, the air splitting with a vicious crack as electricity ripped through the air. The man convulsed as it connected, his mouth open in a soundless scream as electricity coursed through him. He collapsed, his face locked in a rictus scream, smoke rising from his blackened armor.

The Ranger and the remaining bandit traded blows, each hitting only metal or missing entirely, until the bandit, witnessing his leader go down in a frightening display of magic, tried to reverse himself, swinging wildly at the Ranger, who ducked under it easily. Seeing his opening, the Ranger struck, his sword cutting through the man’s body from shoulder to hip, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Osric and Cinder converged on the final bandit. The man backed away, fear clear on his face as the odds had suddenly, in under a minute, turned completely around, leaving him one against four. Osric feinted left, then lunged right as Cinder leaped. The bandit managed a single, desperate swing. Osric’s blade took him in the belly as Cinder’s jaws closed on his thigh, tearing away meat and sinew. The bandit stumbled back, pulling himself free from Osric’s blade and taking two weak, staggering steps, trying to find an escape, before toppling over lifeless.

Osric hurried to the Ranger’s side. The man leaned heavily on his sword, blood seeping from numerous wounds.

“Hold still,” Osric said. “This worked once before.”

He laid his hands on the Ranger, silently imploring the Veilguard for aid. A soft white glow emanated from his palms, as it had from the ring once before, although this time, the ring remained dormant and lifeless beneath Osric’s shirt. Under Osric’s hands, visible through his opened fingers, they could see flesh knitting and wounds sealing as if they had never been. The Ranger let out a groan, almost reflexively, as the pain left him.

“Thank you,” the Ranger said. “I thought I was done for.”

The Ranger reached down and felt the newly mended skin, shaking his head once again before standing and sheathing his blade.

Extending a hand to Osric, he said, “The names Rowan Wycliff. I can’t thank you enough for your help.”

Osric clasped the offered hand. “Osric Yarrow. This is Talia, and the wolf is Cinder. What was this all about?”

Talia nodded in greeting as Cinder padded over, sniffing at Rowan curiously.

“These bandits have been raiding villages in the area, the last one about a day’s walk north of here. They’ve been growing bolder with each attack, taking more and more each time. The villagers are terrified. I was passing through a village after their most recent raid, and they asked for my help, which I, of course, am duty bound to agree to. I followed their trail, which they were making little effort to hide, but there were more of them than I anticipated. I thought I could take them by surprise, but...”

“Well, it’s a good thing we showed up when we did,” Talia said.

“Indeed,” Rowan said, before looking the trio over curiously. “I don’t mean this to sound insulting, but how is it that someone as young as you has what clearly seems to be a loyal wolf companion? Wolves are notoriously difficult to train, yet this one appears completely bonded to you.”

“It’s a very long story,” Osric said, scratching Cinder behind the ears. “Cinder is my friend. He’s been with us through a lot.”

“Well, a good friend to have, I guess. The three of you make for a rather unusual group, if you don’t mind me saying. You’re not exactly equipped for a deep foray into the forest.”

It was true. The Ranger had a pack that looked to carry supplies, was warmly dressed and in armor, while Osric and Talia were wearing the same things they had on since they ran from their village a week ago, only much dirtier and torn.

“I know. It’s ... complicated.”

“We were sent to retrieve something from a place in the forest about an hour or so northwest of here,” Talia said.

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “That’s rather cryptic.”

Osric nodded, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I know. Believe me, I wish I could explain it better. It’s just ... hard to put into words.”