The Blackstar Legacy
Copyright© 2026 by Lumpy
Chapter 4
They traveled south down the road for thirty minutes, until after the sun was well down over the horizon and the sounds of the night started their song. Smaller animals and insects came out to look for food under the cover of darkness, and larger animals looked for the smaller animals.
Finally, Rowan led them off the road a bit to make camp, to give their group a little bit of cover from any additional bandits that might be traveling the road.
In a few minutes, a campfire was crackling softly, its warm glow pushing back the growing chill of the autumn night. Temperatures were already starting to drop as winter neared, and it would not be long, maybe another month and a half or so, before snow would begin to cover the trees and ground.
The travelers sat, pressed together more in search of security than for warmth, looking at their saviors, who must have seemed a strange group indeed. They were eating the small amount of extra food the group had been able to share. As they did, they kept a close eye on Cinder, probably wondering why anyone would let a wild animal sit so close to them, especially after having watched it rip a man’s throat out less than an hour before.
“Thank you again for your aid,” the old man said. “We left Wolfridge a week and a half ago and made good progress at first, but ... the road has become dangerous. Those were not the first men to try to stop us. We’d already been forced to forfeit much of what we managed to get out of the capital, but we were able to get away. This time, we were not so lucky.
“Why did you leave Wolfridge?” Osric asked.
The old man exchanged glances with his companions before continuing. “The baron’s new policies, well ... those of his advisors. From what I hear, no one has seen the baron in five or six weeks, since he returned from some big expedition. He marched out with fifty knights, loud and big as the world. When he came back, there was no fanfare, just word that he returned and his advisors started issuing new rules. They claimed the rules were for security, but ... the guard presence in the city has doubled. They monitor everyone’s movements and people have been ... disappearing.”
“Including my husband,” added the woman, who squeezed the children tighter as she spoke. “Our family’s inn, three generations we ran it. Then, one morning, guards arrived with papers. Said it now belonged to some trading company I never heard of. That we hadn’t paid some tax we’d never heard of. When my husband stood up to them, they arrested him. We’ve not heard from him since.”
“That doesn’t sound like the place my mentor told me about,” Osric said.
“What really concerns me is those bandits,” Rowan said. “This stretch of the Great Road used to be one of the safest in the realm, patrolled by the Greenwood Levy all the way to Farvale. If the guard has increased as you described, why are there so many thieves loose, plaguing the road?”
“We thought the same,” the old man said. “It’s why we felt it would be safe for us to choose this route. But we haven’t seen a single patrol since leaving Wolfridge.”
“Maybe that’s where all the new guys came from,” Grace said. “Pulled in from the patrols instead of hiring new guards.”
“But no patrols at all?” Rowan asked. “What about the Rangers? We don’t usually patrol the road, but we do check the forest along the road often, at least enough to notice if it was unpatrolled or that there were a fair number of bandits.”
“There aren’t any Rangers. Not anymore,” the woman said.
“What?”
“It’s true,” the old man said. “About a month ago, shortly after the baron locked himself into the keep, there was some kind of confrontation between Ranulf Stanfield, the cleric and the chief of all of the baron’s advisors, and the Chief Ranger.”
“Grange?” Rowan asked.
“Yes. No one knows what happened, but word was that he was arrested for treason. Whatever happened, the rest of the Rangers scattered after that. The guard says they are the bandits who’ve been plaguing the countryside.”
“I can’t believe that,” Rowan said. “And Caros would never commit treason.”
“Most of us don’t believe it either, but the guard has labeled many of them as outlaws and put bounties on their heads. It’s why I decided to leave and take my daughter-in-law and grandchildren with us. We thought it might be safe enough for us to get to Farvale, hoping things would be better there.”
“It should be,” Osric said. “We were there a month or so ago. In Farvale, seek out Captain Sable Lockwood, tell her you met us and we asked you to talk to her. Tell her about what’s happening in Wolfridge.”
“Will she help?” the woman asked.
“She’s honorable and just,” Osric said. “If anyone can offer protection and get word to the king in Celestia, it’s her.”
The old man nodded, but he seemed exhausted, barely able to keep himself awake. Their journey must have been exhausting, having their lives ripped out from under them and then chased the entire time they tried to run south.
The kids had passed out almost as soon as they finished eating. Not even the promise of hearing from the adventurers could keep them awake.
“You should get some rest. We have to head north, and it’s still a good distance to Farvale. It’s best if you move as fast as possible. The Farvale Guard patrols a day outside of the city, so you only have to make it, at most, two or three more days. They were active a month ago and I cannot think of any reason why Lockwood would have changed that stance.”
“I hope you’re right,” the old man said, giving a weak smile.
Osric patted the man on the shoulder and walked to the other side of the fire where his bedroll was, next to Rowan’s. Jasper and Talia were taking the first watch. She’d learned some kind of magic that would use threads of the Veil as early warning systems, sending a feedback of magic she could feel if it was penetrated.
Rowan was just staring at the fire with a faraway look as Osric sat down, Cinder stretching out between their bedrolls.
“I’m sorry about the Rangers,” Osric said softly.
“Grange is a good man,” he said without looking at Osric. “Every Ranger looked up to him. Admired him. I just ... how he could have possibly been arrested for treason or the Rangers disbanded. I could never have imagined something like this happening. I know our mission is important, but ... I need to help my people.”
“I know. I mean, I don’t know about the Rangers like you do, but living in the forest my entire life, I’ve admired the Rangers. Even met a few of you. We could go to Wolfridge, help you clear their name.”
“No.” Rowan said, looking at Osric intently. “What we’re doing here, protecting the Veil and stopping the Brethren, it’s bigger than the Rangers. It’s bigger than me. The Rangers guard the Great Forest, but we’re trying to save all of reality. I can’t put my personal concerns first.”
Rowan stood up, picking up his bow and putting it around his back.
“Rowan...” Osric started.
“I’m going to check the perimeter,” Rowan said, cutting him off and walking into the darkness, between the trees.
Osric watched him go, worry gnawing at his chest. Movement caught his attention, and he turned to see Grace kneeling next to the man’s daughter-in-law.
Their voices were too low to make out the words, but he saw Grace press something into the woman’s hands, a blood-stained coin purse. The woman’s eyes widened, and she tried to refuse, but Grace simply walked away, leaving the woman clutching the money.
A small smile tugged at Osric’s lips, but he kept quiet. Grace would only deny it if he mentioned her kindness. Talia kept asking him why he kept the thief around, with her brazen and combative attitude and apparent lack of feeling for what they were trying to do.
He wanted her with them because he knew that was her real armor, protecting her from the judgment of everyone around her. Armor built from a life of hardships on the streets. But he could see past that armor. She was a good person, even if she couldn’t admit it herself.
As he did most nights after a fight, Osric was slow to fall asleep, the excitement and fear taking time to diminish. When he did fall asleep, it was restless.
Usually, he would fall asleep and wake with memories of a dream, or sometimes nothing at all. This night was different. He could feel the beginnings of a dream. He was asleep, he knew that, but at the same time, he was aware that he was asleep and dreaming.
The vision began in silence, the scene painting itself with muted hues. A man and a woman walked down a narrow woodland path, looking worried. A small child, a little girl no more than six years old with thick, curly red hair walked between them, though she lagged behind, her small legs struggling to keep pace.
The scene changed, and the couple with their daughter was at the door of a small cottage. It was in a village, Osric could tell that much, but everything outside of the doorway of the cottage was blurry, lost in a mist. The door opened and a woman wearing a shawl was there, although he could only see her body, the hood obscured her face.