Completed Remember Bhathairk

[Zeri Rekani]

At the docks, and all by himself. Zeri felt bad for a moment. Couldn't help it. Even though she knew he preferred it that way, and that even if he didn't he was too irritatingly stubborn to just wait for help to arrive. Probably if it had not been for Mother Owl he wouldn't have even stopped to eat or so much as rest. Once Weylin set his mind to something, the task may as well have been etched into stone.

A sad fate for nature? What? The Meadow wasn't nature, though. And neither was the Tree. She hadn't seen the Meadow itself yet, but one look at the Tree was enough to convince her that it was a thing devoid of any Spirits--as unnatural and foul as the Risen that were spawned from the Black Dragon's blood.

He doesn't like doing it you know.

Zeri, much in the way of Weylin, frowned at this. Then he shouldn't, and just leave this task to the tribesfolk of Bhathairk. Her mouth had moved to voice this sentiment aloud, but she held her words back as Mother Owl kept talking. It wouldn't matter if she said it or didn't say it anyway. Etched into stone.

Then Mother Owl looked at Zeri in a way that inspired a quiver of fear in her heart and down her spine. She drew back ever so slightly, eyes widening. She didn't respond immediately, so caught in the throe of this tension and uncertainty was she. It was like her talk with Urgish, the souring of what was a friendly conversation into something adversarial, only this time it was somehow worse.

"It's not about m-me," she said. "It's about my p-people an-and our home."

Zeri couldn't look away from her.

Then the moment broke. Her eyes jerked away and she set the unfinished basket of food aside and stood as casually as she could force herself to, brushing off the backside of her loincloth.

"I need to get back to work."

* * * * *​

Urgish did not return to the tribesfolk laboring by the Tree's chasm. He couldn't. He truly could not. He had instead wandered off in a daze, terribly conflicting emotions warring for primacy in his head and in his heart. He had understood fully what the girl Zeri was saying when she was out by the Gates, everything about the Tree and the Meadow and the catharsis--among other things--that would come with their destruction.

But she was wrong. He knew now that she was wrong. He had perhaps been taken in by the hope of that very catharsis she offered, the chance to tangibly do something for the memory of his wife and son where he could do nothing for their mortal lives. Maybe it would have done something. Or, now that the astonishing effect of the Tree's fruit had broken him free from the grasp of grief, maybe not. He was thinking more and more this latter possibility.

And what were his fellow tribesorcs doing now, on that girl's earnest but misguided direction? Destroying something they didn't fully understand. None of them knew, save Zeri and Urgish, what the fruit of the Tree could do. Even then, the girl did not believe it. Urgish was as forthright as he could be with her, and still--in the face of his testimony and likely even in the face of her own experience--she did not believe it nor did she see the Tree as anything other than evil.

They were making a foolish, rash decision. One that would affect the lives of all Bhathairk's people in the future, and not for the better. Through the deprivation of this miraculous Tree, not for the better. But what could he do about it? What could he possibly do? He was only a lone orc. As lone as Zeri herself had been when first she started out by the Gates. What then, should he go and try to convince a larger crowd of tribesfolk who were opposed to the Tree and Meadow's destruction? He had to do something.

Then Urgish heard a noise from amongst the lonely ruins through which he walked.

And he looked.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

The young orc woman froze like a new born fawn at the older woman's last words. It took her a moment but she recovered and then made her little defense. Not about her but her people. There was proof otherwise, but that debate would not happen. The girl decided to run away.

Mother Owl's expression never changed. She simply said in a firm, flat tone, "Running away again. Sad for your parents. They raised a coward."

And the woman just paused a moment. She wanted her words to sink in before she spoke once more.

"Children should never be judged by the sins and virtues of their parents. Be it a person, a beast, or a plant. Judge them by their own actions and you will know who they truly are."

Mother Owl shifted her weight as she continued to sit.

"Is this the kind of person you are Zeri? Is this the kind of person you wanted your mother to see? A girl who runs away because things are hard and painful while blaming another for their problems? The young pup never ran away. He buried his parents himself before he allowed himself to grieve. He blames himself for his own weakness for their deaths rather than those who killed them. Could you have done the same? He struggles even now to help you all alone because he thinks it will help you find peace. Would you have done the same for him? Do not tell me you are doing all of this for your people when you believe the tree and the meadow are evil and could hurt others. You put them in danger for yourself to get rid of the things that upset you when a young man is out there working alone and willing to break himself, again, to bring you peace."

And with that said the woman just went back to eating her meal. Any words spoken to her were ignored. Nothing the orcess could say or do would get a reaction out of her. For all that Zeri would know, she was now no more than a ghost to this older woman.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Zeri Rekani]

Zeri listened to what was said. Tense and anxious.

And then, when quiet came, she left.

Keeping her thoughts to herself.

* * * * *​

"I'm fine," Zeri said, her voice small and mousy.

Thandriel, coming to sit down beside her, said with a father's knowing, "No. You're not fine." He draped an arm around her shoulders. "What happened? Who were those people you went to eat with?"

"Person," Zeri said. "The other didn't come."

"Who?"

"Weylin. From the Spine."

Zeri had come back to the workforce and had joined back in shoveling dirt without ceremony. She worked with frightful energy at first, fueled by lingering anger. But she slowed dramatically as the fire of the anger subsided, and her expression collapsed into a sullen valley. Her Pa had taken notice, and as plenty of orcs began to stop for breaks, to eat, to rest and nap under the night sky, he took her to sit and have a talk. By the standing wall of a building whose purpose was made indistinct by the common rubble it had been mostly reduced to, they sat. They had a view of the looming Black Tree in front of them.

It took Pa a moment. "Oh. Yes, I remember now. So who was this other person then, the one you did eat with?"

"I...don't know her very well."

He moved past it. "Yet something is bothering you. It's okay. No matter what it is, it's okay. I'm here for you, Zeri."

She wasn't looking at him. Instead, down at her hands, bundled together in a nervous bunch in her lap. "Pa...am I..." Her bottom lip trembled and she closed her eyes. "Am I a bad person. Are we bad people?"

"What? No. Of course not. What are you talking about?"

"For doing this." She held her face with one hand and pointed to the Tree with the other. "All of us here. Doing this. Even if I could stop everyone right this moment, I still...would w-want to do it. I want to do it so badly that it hurts my heart. I want to get rid of that Tree and that Meadow. I do. And...I can't see how it's a bad thing. I can't. I just can't. And I think..." Zeri whimpered, and moved her hand to rub at her eyes, her next few words terribly difficult to say, "I think that a good person would."

Pa didn't say anything for a while. Just let her be. Then he gently cupped her cheeks and made her look at him. He spoke to her. She tried to smile, tried to show that she appreciated and loved him as he talked.

But his words did not help.

She still felt as strongly as ever about the Tree and the Meadow. The feeling sincere and earnest. Whether it was feeling that made her a bad person as she had come to fear, she held it deeply, and its very holding was an undeniable part of her.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

The human was breathing heavily. A second cart full of barrels had made it to the meadow and been unloaded. Every step had been taken by him and he hadn't nearly rested enough yet to make up for it. His body wasn't happy with him. His lungs felt they still lacked air. Sweat, new and old, clung to him body. He was a mess that only bathing and rest would fix.

But he wasn't done yet.

The sun was already gone and night had fully embraced the city. It was a time for dreams. Sleep wasn't an option. A few minutes of rest to catch his breath was all Weylin gave himself. Stopping longer than that would mean stopping completely. So he quickly got back to his task: spreading the pitch about the meadow.

Weylin got a bucket and a spade then began to roll a barrel. He stopped before reaching the other side. The lid was popped off and he dipped his bucket inside. Like sweeping a floor he planned to work his way back from the furthest end so he didn't need to walk through it all again.

When he got to his starting spot, the hunter took the spade and began to use it to punch little holes in the dirt like one would to a potato they were about the bake. He spaced the holes out evenly. They would let the pitch soak into the soil and so when the whole thing went up in flames not only the plants but also the soil beneath them would get roasted.

Once he had long enough section punched out with holes, he took the bucket and began to evenly pour out the pitch. There wasn't enough in the first bucket for the section he had made so he punch out a bit more holes and ran back to refill his bucket. He tried again and there wasn't enough space made to empty the bucket. Once again more holes were punched and the last of the bucket was emptied.

Weylin had an idea now of how large an area of holes each bucket could cover. Now it was just a matter of moving as quickly as he could to cover up the entire meadow with holes and pitch. A seemingly endless task for a single person to be undertaking. But one this single person had.

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

Between Night and Morning​

The work went on as the moon and the stars journeyed across the sky. The lateness of night of one day blurred into the earliness of morning on the next, and in the darkness there was no true distinction. Light from the lava in the Tree's chasm and from the celestial bodies overhead made it so that this new Bhathairk left in Neha's wake was not truly asleep.

Zeri worked for a few more hours after her talk with Pa, and then she decided to sit down and have a rest--like many of the other working orcs. Great heaps of dirt had been piled up alongside the Tree's chasm, and while some of the orcs who went in search of those with expertise came back with earthworkers, stonemasons, builders, none had yet come back with any gifted in magic. Perhaps with the coming of the dawn their luck might change.

Zeri and her Pa sat back down by that same standing wall they had earlier. She had only intended to sit and rest, but her head slowly drifted over and came to lay on Thandriel's shoulder. Her last few conscious thoughts, burning brightly in her mind before smoldering away as sleep took her: if they could just get done faster with the Tree, then Weylin wouldn't have to work alone with the Meadow.

And she closed her eyes.

Dreaming of a Bhathairk that did not exist anymore.

* * * * *​

"RISEN! RISEN!"

Zeri shuddered awake to a cacophony of noise: hurried feet in the dirt, shouts, gasps, shrieks, and the rising rumble of a tide of otherworldly, undead snarls. She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, looking around in a daze.

Pa, having gone elsewhere while she was asleep, came rushing up to her right as she woke and urgently grabbed her shoulders. "Zeri! We have to go! Now!"

"Pa! What's--"

The Risen were already upon the workforce, shambling in from the whole eastern side. Fallen tribesfolk, twisted with scales and haunting blue eyes, the very same that warriors like Eren'thiel Xyrdithas, Lazule, Zathria and Vyx'aria had slain scores of. The Risen that were thought to be virtually all put back to rest. And here, suddenly, there were more. Not outnumbering the workforce of orcs, but there were only a handful of actual fighters here. Only a handful with true weapons and armor and experience. These brave few hastily assembled a line, but they would not hold for long. The Grizzled veteran among them was shouting for everyone else to fall back, to hurry all the way back to the Gates.

Zeri went white with fear when she saw the coming horde of Risen--terribly close. The axe! It was over there--no! Risen were already moving past the spot where she had placed it.

"Up!" Pa said as he helped--practically pulled--Zeri to her feet.

"West! The west path is clear!" Zeri said, pointing. Indeed, the Risen were all coming from one side. They were not surrounded.

"Let's go then!"

Zeri stood and shouted as loud as she could to the other noncombatant tribesfolk. "WEST! RUN WEST! HURRY!"

And she and Pa and the crowd of other startled, panicked, terrified tribesfolk began to flood west as the line against the Risen was held by the veterans and adventurers. Zeri led the crowd from the front.

So she was the first to see the ice wall be conjured, manifesting upward from the ground to perfectly block their escape. Zeri slid to a stop, stretching out her hands to halt herself before she smacked right into the solid blue and white wall. Her heart sank terribly in an utter freefall of dismay, her jaw slack and her eyes tiny pinpricks of horror. She looked with a pained slowness toward the southwest path, the thinner of the two but also the last route out from here that was not choked with Risen.

And a second ice wall burst into being there too. Trapping the crowd of terrified tribesfolk in a dead end canyon of magic ice and rubble and emerged buildings from the undercity. Nowhere else to go.

The meager line of defenders was falling.

And the Risen were advancing. Cries of abject terror and sheer animalistic panic arose from the front of the crowd, and bodies began to push against one another.

"Papa!" Zeri said, before both he and she were pressed roughly into the ice wall by the tide of tribesfolk desperately trying anything and everything to escape. A legion of reaching arms and hands were over Zeri's head, grasping for purchase on the ice wall and casting her into darkness. The pressure was building. She was squished tighter and tighter against the wall and the orcs in front of her. She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't breathe.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

The Meadow
​

Weylin might as well have become one of those risen things. Hours had past with him never once stopping to rest. Never once stopping to do anything except replace an empty barrel with a full one. The old ones were rolled so they were in the pitch soaked areas and could act as big piece of kindling to help keep things burning.

But he had done it. He was nearly done covering the whole meadow with holes and pitch.

The human was on the last patch now. The head of the spade sunk into the ground till it hit the shaft. Shake back. Shake forth. Pulled out. And then was repeated an equal space away. Again and again and again. When he was done, he spread the pitch over it.

Now he was done.

Exhausted to nearly the point he had been when he first met Zeri, the hunter took a step back and looked out fully for the first time at what all he had gotten done.

Was it really that big of a meadow? It had felt smaller when he was working. He never expected to be done this quickly, even though he was not having to do too much in honesty. The job was going to be well into the morning he expected and light would have been up for some time before he thought he would be done.

But here he was finished. The shade of the night had tricked his mind and his body into thinking the task would be longer and so the end came as a surprising gift.

Weylin didn't know how to feel exactly about all of it. This place. What he had done. What he was about to do. All of it was so confusing in how he should feel. He didn't even end up needing all that pitch he had brought. A couple of barrels were still left. Perhaps he could roll them out into the meadow as more fuel?

Seemed like a good enough idea so the hunter found some stray cloth to wrap around his feet (where did it even come from? He hadn't packed any... he didn't think) and began to roll those barrels of pitch.

=======================================

Things were looking bad for the orcs. Mother Owl had been watching over all of them as was her purpose for coming here. She flapped her silent wings as she searched out a good place to land. Those abominations had gathered strangely and attacked from the East. The orcs had fled to the West. But now walls of ice had pinned them in.

Someone was being naughty. They would get a visit from Mother Owl soon enough.

But first, she needed to do something for those panicking so thoughtlessly over each other down below.

The woman landed on a bit of debris between the orcs and the risen. She walked forward shaking off a leftover feathers.

"Excuse me. Pardon me." She said as she walked past the few stragglers in the back trying to put up some kind of a rear guard defense for those fleeing. A pat on the shoulders of the defenders she past was made. "Stay right here. Try not to panic dears."

The pepper haired woman reached down and touched the ground. She closed her eyes and focused. She focused on listening to the hum of life. Focused on drawing it out and encouraging it to grow. Grow into a wall. Grow into safety. Grow into something that could buy them some time.

And briar vines began to spring forth out of the soil. Those same thorny vines whose seeds birds had left behind in their droppings. The ones that had already started to take advantage of the calm the great disaster had formed to crawl up rubble and choke tight alley paths. Where normally they would have been annoyances for the rebuilding they were now growing into a thick, thorny wall between the Risen and the orcs.

Eyes still closed, Mother Owl said in a strained but casual voice, "Would someone please tell the fools trying to trample everyone they are safe for now? I can't move or the poor briar will wilt and die. Oh and maybe suggest you try digging a way out from under the big wall of ice? Do hurry. This is all very tiring."

=======================================

The barrels of pitch had been rolled out into the meadow. The pitch covered cloth under his boots had been removed and tossed into the gooey bonfire as well. The hunter's head felt light. His vision was a little blurry. But he got a torch made and lit. He held it high over his head.

He could see it better now. The meadow. It looked strange. Alien. Where flowers and grass created a canvas of green with little dots of other colors now was a blackish blob hinting at what the future held for this once vibrant place. A frown formed. He didn't like this. Burning a meadow. These plants had every right to be here. This was their home and he was the stranger to this land. He had no right to take their life from them and send them into the eternal dream.

Yet that was what he had to do.

Weylin reminded himself of how Zeri looked. The pain. The sorrow. The anger. She was lost. She had lost everything. He knew how that felt. She wanted vengeance. She wanted some way to outwardly express it all before it destroyed her from the inside. The way it had done to him. There was no chance for vengeance as the dragon was dead that did this, but she could find it in the tree and this meadow.

At least he hoped she would find her peace in them.

The hunter turned his back to the meadow and began to walk away from it. No longer was it before him and slowly it was just getting further and further away. But he soon enough stopped and turned. He hurled the torch with all his might.

The flaming stick and cloth bounced a bit as it landed. Angry sparks flew out in every direction. Nothing happened.... But a moment later it was all in flames. The fire spread within seconds across the entire meadow. Every flower and every blade of grass was consumed in visible heat. The once cool air warmed.

Weylin felt like he had his face right next to an open forge. He had nearly forgotten it was still night with how much light it threw off. It crackled. It popped. It made sounds of pure ire to his ears. And through it all he was glad this place was in ruins. There would be no way the inferno could spread and devour more souls.

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

The line fell--completely overwhelmed--shortly after Mother Owl had gone past. The horde of Risen too strong, ravenous, and numerous for them. They had killed some, held for as long as they could, but the ad hoc line of fighters merely delayed the advance of the tainted dead.

A new wall rose up: not one of ice, but one of thorny briar--this as the orcs at the very back of the crowd, closest to the approaching Risen, had turned to put up a desperate last stand with fists and shovels. The Risen smashed into the wall of briar vines, the thorns scraping against the twisted scales that warped their flesh. Undead hands pounded against and grasped upon the new wall, trying to break through. The blaring, baleful chorus of their snarls was just on the other side of the briar--terribly close and frightening for those nearby.

And Mother Owl's casual words, spoken amidst the cacophony of the Risen and the shouts of the some hundred orcs caught in the deathtrap, were heard by no more than five of said orcs--those immediately in her proximity. Of those five, two tried shouting over the chaos of noise, trying to tell the others to pass shovels back to the ice walls and dig. But the message was likewise drowned out. Those tribesfolk in the middle of the crowd, those who could only see that a new third wall had been raised up, had no idea who the summoner of this wall was and that she was ostensibly friendly. They knew only that they were now completely pinned between that briar wall, the Tree's chasm to the north and the drop down to the lava below, and the ice walls and buildings and ruins everywhere else. Confusion, panic, and fear of what might come next still reigned.

Had the shovels been passed to the ice wall, there would not have been enough time to dig anyway. For in light of this new circumstance with the Risen being held back, a terrible, heavy choice was being made by the assailant.

Meanwhile, Zeri was being crushed. One side of her body stung with biting cold from the ice wall, and the other from the sweaty heat of the tribesfolk pushing against her and desperately reaching for some kind of handhold on the wall. One last exhale, and then she found that her lungs had no more room to expand for an inhale. Fright crackled like lightning across a night sky as struggled for the smallest sip of Arethil's precious air. A burning feeling was growing, growing, growing in her chest. She was going to faint. She was going to die.

Then the pressure let up some. Zeri did not know why, did not know that the briar wall's initial summoning had caused many of the orcs to stop for a second and look, but she turned her head up toward the sky and gulped in a huge breath of air.

"Zeri!!"

"Papa!"

"Take my hand! Take it!"

He was close, but the crowd as so tightly packed that all Zeri could see was his fair-skinned hand against the ice wall. She took it, and he immediately started pulling. She shoved back against a tribesorc who was wedged between them, creating enough room to squeeze by and to be reunited beside her Pa again.

"Zeri," he said, their faces so close that their noses were touching as the mass of bodies jostled around them. "I'll try to lift you onto my shoulders. Then you need to jump and grab for the top of the ice wall."

"Pa, no! Not you too! I don't want to leave you!"

"You have to!" he said, quickly and firmly. "If you can't reach the top, and those Risen get to us, then you hide underneath me, alright? Hide underneath and don't move."

Zeri looked up toward the top of the ice wall. "Pa..."

"It's all we can do, sweetheart. I love you. I'll do everything I can to--"

"Pa, look," she said urgently, snaking a hand free and pointing upward.

And he did.

Forming some twenty or thirty feet above the trapped crowd of tribesfolk, a swirl of dark, arcane clouds, like a relatively small and localized blizzard. Countless shards of sharpened ice could be seen manifesting at the base of the clouds, light from the lava in the Tree's chasm glinting off of some of these shards.

Thandriel wasted no time. "UNDER ME!" And he shielded his daughter completely with his body.

Then the Shatterstorm burst. Some of the tribesfolk had seen it as it was forming, others were caught completely by surprise, many never even knew what hit them. Shards of ice as small as hail and as large as arrows shot down upon the crowd in a massive volley, utterly devastating to the crowd of tightly packed tribesfolk--the ice simply could not miss striking flesh and bone.

Scores were killed in an instant, and it appeared as though all at once the crowd of standing tribesfolk had en masse slumped down--bodies made limp and falling as they may on top of one another.

In that moment, only the snarls of the Risen remained.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

The briar wall was holding back the Risen rather well. Mother Owl was very pleased with herself. She was straining and her breathing was becoming faster and heavier with each passing moment from the effort. But she was very pleased with herself.

The orcs were yelling around her. They were when she started this whole affair. But they seemed even more panicked now than before. Was it because of the briar wall? Possibly. Most likely actually. They tended to be rather thick creatures and took a bit of time to adjust.

Then she felt it. The sudden chill in the air. Her eyes instantly snapped up already knowing what she was going to find even before she looked.

Storm clouds.

Mother Owl stopped holding herself back. She began to pour everything she had into the briar wall and tried to get it to angle its growth over the top of them. But she knew she was going to be too late. The trap had already been strung and she was too slow to stop it.

Shards of ice began to cut through her flesh. Their cold made the following heat of her wounds burn all the hotter. But she had all of two seconds to meditate on the sensation before it all went dark. Her body collapsing to the ground. The briar began to wither and die as the little knives of ice tried to prone them.

Mother Owl was having her eternal dream. She had left the land of the waking and become one of the dreamers.

==================================

The inferno had Weylin's full attention. His eyes couldn't look away from what he had done. White stood next to him. A whimper escaped her. Little flecks of ash already were softly drift down like snow.....

Wait. A piece of white felt cold.

The perplexing sensation caught the hunter's attention immediately. He pulled off on of his gloves and held his hand out. Tiny specks of white landed upon it. Most held the instantly dwindling heat of ash. A couple had that chill he knew all too well.

Snow.

His eyes began to dart around the sky frantically. Why was there snow? How was there snow? His eyes continued to scan. And then he saw it. Out in the direction of the tree that Zeri wanted gone barely visible through the glow of the fire were dark clouds. Something was raining down from them and it wasn't water. There was also a faint glow like the kind he could see off the glaciers in the Spine. That meant ice.

Why was there ice?

What was going on?

Was Zeri caught up in it?

The dog already knew what her human's next move was even before he did. Already she was padding herself around the fire and towards the big cloud throwing off snow. Weylin was surprised to find he was already moving with her when he had made his decision. So off the pair ran as fast as they could towards the scene of whatever it was that was going on.

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

The Shatterstorm clouds dissipated slowly, revealing the true night sky far above. Cracks splintered down the two ice walls as the magic which sustained them weakened--for their caster had likewise grown weak from manifesting the spell which devastated the trapped tribesfolk and slain Mother Owl.

Zeri's heart beat with the abject pain of worry. She remembered Pa pulling her close, something slamming into him and the two of them shoved roughly into the ice wall, her cheek sliding down the wall's frigid surface as she went limp from the weight pressing into her from behind. And now she lay at an awkward angle on the ground at the base of the ice wall, her Pa on top of her and only a scant filtering of ambient light leaking through the bodies of tribesfolk.

"Pa..." she said.

She tried to move her arms, to get her hands underneath herself in order to push upward.

"Pa, please..."

She felt him breathing. And then he said her name, "Zeri...Zeri, are you alright?"

Some of the weight came off of her as Pa rolled over--on top of the body of a tribesorc who moved no more. Zeri pushed herself up and turned around so that she sat on her rear. The snarls of the Risen were near, and the horror of what happened had yet to sink in.

"Pa!" She threw her arms around him. "Pa, you're--"

"Ah! Ah! Ow, Zeri--"

She pulled back. Felt the warm wetness on her hands, her arms. She looked at them, and saw spatterings of her Pa's blood. His upper back had been pelted by smaller fragments from the Shatterstorm.

She opened her mouth to make an exclamation, but Pa spoke first, "I'll live, Zeri. But I...ah...I can't move my arms--the pain is too much. You can still stand on my shoulders, but you'll have to climb up your--"

"No!" Zeri said. She smacked her palm to a crack in the ice wall she had only just noticed and said even more emphatically, "I won't leave you! I...I got you into this, Pa, and...a-and I'll get you out!"

Despite further protests from Pa, Zeri started away. Crawling and climbing over the bodies of her fellow tribesfolk. And the true horror of what had happened set in. It was like walking through the field of the dead after the Amalgamation's charge through the Gates--it was that all over again. Only this time she crawled atop them, the very ground covered in orcish bodies, most dead but some hanging on to thin strings of life, weezing or groaning or hollering as she on her hands and knees crawled over them as they suffered. Her stomach turned, but held fast, as if it knew it should hold its sickness until she was far past this. She saw the wall of briar, deteoriating much like the walls of ice, but this was the only thing holding the Risen back. She didn't have much time.

There. A shovel. Zeri grabbed it and yanked it from the clutching hands of a corpse and fell backward onto an orc who cried out in agony. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said sheepishly. Apologizing for falling atop and then crawling over him. Apologizing, perhaps, for more than that.

She crawled with the tool back to her Pa. Stood on what little bare ground was available, there where they both had fallen and gotten up from.

And she clenched her teeth and mustered all of the meager might that she could and swung the shovel and slammed the metal against the ice. A spiderweb of cracks blossomed, with the shovelhead as their nexus. Again. She pulled back and swung again. Swung and swung. Channeling her passionate desperation to save her Pa from this tragedy...

...and also her furious anger at the perpetrator.

Chunks began to splinter and fall from the ice wall, dissipating as the magic left these fragments. Zeri was making some level of progress, but there was no telling how long the withering briar wall would hold. And destroying the ice wall was only the first step--she knew that she and her Pa still had to escape all the way back to the Gates.

But she had to get out of here. Save Pa. And warn Weylin not to trust Urgish.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

The dark clouds of anger grew as the foreign pair drew closer to their center. What rained out of them was unknown to them still, but it reminded the hunter of the razor rain that some times fell in the Spine in those transitions to and from winter. Was this an early winter flurry?

No. No it couldn't be. His parents had spoken on the strangeness of the weather in these lands beyond the mountains' reach. Snow. Wind. Ice. It was rare or lesser for them. Their air thicker, which he could attest to with each breath in and out in this alien land. And something about the ocean made their weather even odder. Less cold and icy. More warm and wet. This winter storm would be impossible.

And now it was fading away....

Weylin's whole body ached and screamed at him. How long since he had properly rested? He did not care. The blacked clouds were vanishing.... But something else was taking their place.

The lights that he had seen before began to make sense to him now. Giant walls of ice had formed. They might not be the glaciers of his home but their effects were much the same here. And they were located in the same place as the clouds had been.

Ice wall and winter storm clouds. What was happening in this place?

A frown had taken over his face. A sick, churning feeling was eating away his insides. Something very wrong had taken place. Something unnatural. Something deadly. And the scent that drifted in as he grew closer confirmed it. It was the stench of death. People had died and in great numbers.

This spurred on the young man to push his body even more than he had been. He rushed to the wall of ice just to see the twisted figures of orcs pressed up against it. It was horrifying.

The hunter nearly tripped and stumbled a bit as he charged forward.

Was it fear or fatigue?

He pushed the thought aside. His gaze quickly scanned the wall. There was movements here and there, but it was all frantic and irregular. Bodies on the top clearly had been sent to the dream by whatever those clouds rained down while the bodies on the bottom were crushed and suffocated by the mass above. Some survived in the middle or had crawled back up to the top after the clouds left, but little seemed to remain awake.

But he did not stop looking.

And Weylin's patience paid off. He spotted a familiar, or at least what he thought was familiar, image in the ice. What appeared to be Zeri was hacking away at a splintering wall. He needed to hurry before it all came tumbling down on the top of her.

Drawing his hatchet, Weylin rushed to the spot he thought Zeri was at. Without a word he began to chop at the same stop she was, or he thought she was, at the wall. He hoped, he prayed, that their meeting in the middle would speed this up greatly and they could save some souls before it was too late.

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

"Weylin!" Zeri shouted the moment she saw his distorted image through the ice of the wall. "Yes! Like that! Hurry, hurry, hurry!"

The mere sight of another friendly face, one who was in a position to help, invigorated Zeri greatly, a surge of desperate hope empowering her arms as she struck faster, fiercer. Her shovel slammed again and again into the wall, webs upon webs of cracks splintering out and shards bursting free and the ice that did fall from the wall dissipating to nothing in larger and larger waves. Weylin's hatchet chipped away on the other side, and together the two of them worked through the thickness of the ice wall until the metal of their tools briefly clanked together through the excavated hole.

The wall gave a groan. The structure of it, as well as the magic binding itself which tied it all together, was severely weakened. A huge fissure split the wall, and branches upon branches cracks shot off from this fissure as the wall lost the magical and physical power to sustain itself.

It shattered into chunks big and small. Zeri shielded her head, but there wasn't much need; the bigger chunks fell straight down and dissipated, only smaller shards bounced off of her and then these too dissipated. There was a slight whoosh and a stirring of dust and frigid air as it all collapsed and disappeared, and then the ice wall was gone.

And judging by a similar groaning and snapping coming from behind Zeri, the briar wall was imminently close to breaking down from the Risens' assault too.

"Weylin, help me!" Zeri said as she tossed the shovel aside and crouched down and took hold of one of her Pa's arms. "My Pa is hurt! We need to get him back to the Gates!"

Thandriel tried to stand. "I'm alright to walk, I just--Ah!" When he put weight on his right foot, he stumbled. In addition to the injuries on his back, his ankle had been twisted when the crowd had fallen over after being pelted by the Shatterstorm.

"I'm sorry, Pa, this is going to hurt more," Zeri said, then lifted his arm ("AHHHHH...GODS!") and draped it over her shoulders.

The briar wall was collapsing. The Risen horde would be through in a matter of seconds.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

Body burning. Muscles screaming. Weylin began to wonder why it was every time he was doing something with Zeri it always ended up with him being pushed to his limits. The little thought proved to be a perfect distraction for his mind, so he brewed over it. This left his body to just keep doing what it needed to do regardless of the signals his nerves were sending to his brain.

The wall creaked and cracked and shattered. Familiar sights and sounds to the glaciers between Summer and Spring. But nothing actually seemed to fall on them. It just vanished into a cloud of cold vaper.

Finally their tools met and they could clear an opening in the wall. But it proved to be rather pointless as the whole wall just gave up on existing. Those who still could move after surviving whatever had closed the eyes of so many began to flee with their new found freedom.

The hunter kept his attention on the orcess and her father.... He had forgotten her pa was an elf.

The human noticed the way the older male couldn't put weight on his foot and knew what it meant. So while Zeri was trying to get herself under him to help him walk, Weylin quickly belted his hatchet as he joined them.

The hunter positioned himself in front of the elf and then slipped the man over his back. With a very noticeable sneer he got his feet under him and began to move as quickly as he could. All protests would be ignored. All his attention needed to be on moving this man to a safe spot as quickly as possible.

Weylin glanced to either side of them as he walked. Whatever they were fleeing from was going to find them first at the rate they were already moving, and he didn't know how long he could keep that pace up. So he looked at the big white dog keeping close by and said, "Find shelter."

The dog made a soft bark then padded off as she sniffed.

Weylin glanced over at Zeri. The exhaustion his entire body was feeling was clear on his face. There would be no doubt how close to breaking down he already was.

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

Weylin picked up and carried Thandriel--though tall, he wasn't nearly as heavy as an orcish male of similar height. Thandriel grimaced and pinched his eyes shut and a terse groan of pain escaped his throat.

Zeri looked back over her shoulder. Fright and horror paled her face as the briar wall gave away and the Risen began to shamble through...and set upon both the dead and those unfortunate enough to still live but who were too injured to move.

(spirits, what have I done?)

"Alright! Let's go, let's go! Hurry!" She said, keeping pace beside Weylin and frequent glances behind them. But as grisly and terrible as it was, the Risen, those tribesfolk twisted by Neha's tainted blood into monsters, descended on the field of readily available flesh.

When it became apparent that they would have at least some time to get away, Zeri stopped looking back. She couldn't bear to watch, and a heavy clutching of guilt squeezed her heart. She never meant for any of this. She only wanted Bhathairk to be beautiful again. Not this. Spirits...not this...

* * * * *​

Much further down the path, there was indeed a place among the ruins and half-destroyed structures that stood relatively untouched by the catastrophe of the Great One's rising. A brewery, of all things, where stout orcish drinks were made and barreled.

Zeri hurried ahead and opened the door. Cautiously. Peeking inside to the left and to the right and calling back while waving Weylin over, "It's okay! We can rest in here!"

She got inside and waited for Weylin to set Thandriel down. He was sweating heavily, her Pa, and the back of his shirt was stained dark with blood. She asked if he was alright and he groaned again and said, no, but he would be fine once they got back out to the Gates.

Then Zeri crouched down by Weylin. Brought a hand up to her forehead as if a headache pounded fiercely within her skull. The edges of her mouth quivered and her eyes turned glassy. But she had to tell him.

"Weylin...M...Mother Owl...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, i-if it wasn't for me none of this would have happened. I don't..."

Want to lose anyone else.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

Each step was a burden. The burden of living. The burden of saving life. The burden of pressing on.

Weylin's body screamed at him, as it had been since he began his work with the meadow. The meadow was still a raging inferno contained by the rubble currently acting like a canyon limiting their options of escape. As a hunter he would love for his prey to be in his current situation. It made it easy to pick off his targets.

Could that have been part of the evil behind all of this meaningless death? Was this all planned out to remove what was left of life from this forsaken, cursed place?

His mind didn't have long to ponder over those thoughts before Zeri got his attention. White and the orcess had found a place to shelter themselves. So slowly but steadily he made his way there with her dad still on his back.

The elven man was gently laid down on the floor before the hunter moved himself to the entry way. As Zeri saw to her dad, he closed the door after White bounced inside. He moved the biggest rocks he could lift behind it and stacked them until he knew there was no way those things could force it open.... At least not quickly. What they were truly capable of was a mystery to him as was their numbers.

But the hunter didn't get a chance to relax. As soon as his task was done, the orcess was crouched beside him and spoke. He wished he hadn't heard what she said.... Mother Owl was dead? That couldn't be. She was an elder and gifted with their wild magic. How could she be dead?

The hunter was frozen in place. He could not move. At first he thought it was because of shock, but he soon enough realized the true reason why. His body was done. His physical limit was truly met and he had neither the energy nor the will left in him for more.

Weylin glanced over at Zeri and his mouth moved as if he was about to say something, to ask something. But he did not. No words escaped him. He saw how she looked. A mere glimpse into how she felt. Instead he just laid a hand on her thigh and softly squeezed. A faint smile forced from his lips.... And then he past out from the exhaustion of it all.

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

Zeri didn't know what he was going to say. If he would be angry, frustrated, solemn, vindicated, or something else entirely. She didn't know it and the wide open range of possibility frightened her to a fair extent.

But Weylin merely touched her thigh, shared a ghost of a smile, and then collapsed.

"Oh no. Oh no, no, no." She glanced back at her Pa and then back down to Weylin. She shook his shoulders, and urgently--not too hard, not too soft--smacked his cheek with the tips of her fingers. "Weylin. Weylin, wake up! We can't stay here."

It was only supposed to be for a moment. Just a moment to catch their breath. The Risen were...(busy, was a fitting word for it, yet Zeri couldn't bear to crystalize any appropriate word into clear thought)...but they wouldn't be for long. They might wander down this way, they might not. But Pa would be in bad, bad trouble if they got stuck in here--he was already paling. He needed to get to the Gates and be seen by the medicine orcs, the healers. They could get out of the brewery through a window, or if they made a hole in the ceiling, maybe, maybe if they had to, but Pa wasn't in very good shape to be maneuvering around like that.

And worse. Worse. What if...Urgish saw where they were going? Came looking for them?

Thandriel had his palms on the floor, head hanging, sweat on his forehead and drops dangling from his brow, and he simply breathed and endured the agony of his shredded back.

Zeri kept on trying to rouse Weylin back to consciousness. He couldn't be out for too long. He just couldn't! Spirits, but what if he was? She couldn't drag him out of here, she knew that all too well. And she didn't want to have to make a truly awful choice.

All she could hope for was that he came around. And soon.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

Things were peaceful in the black void of dreamless sleep. That kind of nothing rest only the most exhausted could experience. The kind that saw not just the body but the mind completely shut down and so time became meaningless as did any attempts to ration away the day in that surreal yet irrational way dreams did.

But something disturbed true peace. Noise. Movement. Something wanted to snatch the sleeper back into the waking world....

And Weylin's eyes very slowly opened up. Everything was a haze. His sight. His mind. Everything was a confused mess of sensations.

Slowly, very slowly, he did come round.

Zeri was panicking. She was squirming about in that way she did when she wasn't focused and yet her mind was consumed by some thought. It was like how she got when they first met in the Spine and the troll and the ghosts and everything else was going on. He had a ringing that was silencing all other sounds in his ears so he had to look around a bit to get an idea of what her issue might be.

His gaze settled on the elf man just laying there. The scent of blood was faint in the air. Oh right, he was bleeding and too injured to move. Weylin was in no better shape when it came to moving. Probably why the orcess was in such a state. Probably had some notion in her head they were trapped and about to die. Well they were trapped, but that didn't mean they were about to die.

The hunter said in more of a whisper as he idly rummaged around his belt pouches (which was the best he could do right now), "Shhhhh..... Here."

The hunter pulled out some dried herbs good for dealing with open wounds. There wasn't much of it, but it was all he had. He just held them out with one hand while he pulled his water skin off his belt and held it up next to the herbs.

"Paste it. Rub over wounds. Cover wounds. Drink water. Lots of water." Weylin said in that whispery voice. "Quiet. Be mice. Wait them out....."

His eyes began to shut on him again with his hand still out. His exhausted body would not allow him to stay awake much longer.

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

He was coming around. He was coming around! Zeri beamed with relief and hope, but he didn't get up. His hand went searching instead to the pouches on his belt. He pulled out a few dried herbs that Zeri recognized. And it was good, it was something for her Pa, but she feared that it wouldn't be nearly enough. Pa's skin was shredded, yes, but the wounds beneath also looked deep--the bleeding severe. He needed the shamans, the healers, the medicine orcs, everyone who wasn't here and was instead at the Gates.

She couldn't be like a mouse, staying hidden and quiet and waiting. No Risen had come shambling their way yet, still occupied with their grisly doings back by the Tree and Urgish's trap. But it might not stay that way for long. She couldn't stay and allow herself to be trapped if it could be helped, not with Pa so badly hurt and time weighing down heavily on her mind. If it came down to it, then maybe she could hide Weylin in here and help Pa back to the Gates herself, then come back.

But it wasn't truly the Risen that were the largest threat. Oh no. It was one reason why she'd come back if she had to go to the Gates herself: she didn't want to face her foe alone.

She accepted the herbs, but said urgently to Weylin, trying to catch his attention as his eyes were shutting yet again. "Weylin. Listen to me. It's not just the Risen! There's...Urgish. A mage. He betrayed us all--that was his frost magic back there! He could be coming for us right now and we just don't know it. It is not safe here!"

She spoke as quickly as she could. An attempt to convey the true danger of the situation to Weylin in the hope that it might spark some empowering motivation to continue on. But her words might be futile against the enfeebling tide of exhaustion that had swept over him. Why, why did he insist on doing everything by himself and ruining his body like this?

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

What? What was? What was she saying?

Weylin was having a hard time understanding what the song bird was chirping about. Something about danger. Danger. Risen. Betrayed. Meat tree.... No. Meat tree sounded wrong. Why would Zeri be talking about a meat tree? Not like she seemed to enjoy sausage all that much....

After a bit a few things barely clicked into place. He used a lot of effort to open up his eyes and slowly looked over at Zeri.

"Can't move. Pa shouldn't move. Bad bleeding might flow again."

His eyes began to shut again as his body tried to drift back into sleep. It took a moment but he got himself back to the limited awareness from before.

"Take White." He tried to make a whistle, but the good girl already knew what he wanted. She was actually paying attention, even if she didn't like the idea. "Guard." He vaguely pointed towards Zeri.

And his body finally shut down. He drifted off into sleep and there was no waking him from it so soon again.

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

And Weylin was out.

Zeri grimaced with worry. She had to get her Pa help, one way or another, and no matter what way she chose she would have to abandon Weylin for a while. Abandon him or watch as her Pa died slowly. It might be nothing--the Risen might not even come down this way, might not even sense that Weylin was inside the brewery, and Urgish might not have even seen them escape, or have seen where they hid if he did. But she couldn't help it. Couldn't help but think of the worst happening. After what happened at the Tree, such terrible thoughts were unshakeable.

"Zeri..." said Pa, lifting his head somewhat to look at her. "Don't worry about me. You...have to go..."

She let out a shuddering exhale, glanced at White, and then made her decision and looked back to her Pa. "I'm coming back for you. I'll bring help. I'll bring a healer and I'll bring warriors. I'll get you out of this, Pa. I'll get both you and Weylin out of this. I should never have..."

She cut herself off. Stood up. Grabbed Weylin by his wrists and glanced around the interior of the brewery and saw a stack of barrels that she could effectively hide him behind. She started dragging him, slowly, and once Thandriel caught on, he started to crawl over that way as well. It wasn't much, but it was a last possible line of defense--just like the metal stirring rod Thandriel secured along the way to the barrels. Not much. But something.

Zeri worked quickly. Made the paste from the crushed herbs and applied them with the best balance of gentleness and haste that she could to Pa's back. She apologized to Weylin even though he was still unconscious, took off his cloak, and did what she could to wrap it around Pa's torso (amidst his hissing and wincing) and cover the wounds of his back. Not much, the paste and the cloak. But something.

Then Zeri beckoned to White. Went into the far back of the brewery, where it smelled strongly of alcohol and the vapors struck her nose hard and threatened to make her tipsy. She went to one of the windows. Opened the wooden shutters. Glanced outside and saw nothing and crawled out and would shut the shutters again once White had jumped or climbed out.

She slunk back up to the front of the brewery, to the road that would eventually lead out to the Gates. There were no Risen at the front door--for now--and that was good. Had there been, had she decided to try to help Pa hobble to the Gates and they were caught out in the open, that would not have been good at all.

Everything looking clear, Zeri took off. Running as fast as she could up the road.

She could make it. She could get to the Gates in a matter of minutes. Get all the help she needed for her Pa and against the Risen.

And then she and Weylin could go hunting.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

The hunter was completely out of it. Sleep had taken him. Not as deeply as it had taken poor Mother Owl, but it would take something hefty to wake him right now. All of the man handling and the theft of his cloak went by unprotested because he wasn't conscious enough to stop her from doing anything she wanted.

No sounds came from him as use to sleeping silently as he was. He was now hidden away in the room as safe and sound as Zeri deemed acceptable.

==========================

White was not happy. She was very not happy. Her human had made an unreasonable request yet again. Guard the female? Guard the female?! Guard him from her maybe! The female was manipulative, selfish, and always, always in heat. Why would he ask her to guard the female when he clearly needed to be guarded instead?

But she did as she was told, again. So she followed the female around as she got her handles all over every male in the building then found a window to crawl out of. Clearly the female was very use to sneaking around the houses of males as skilled and quick as she was at dealing with the window.

White jumped out of the window and waited. The female came out with the grace of an unwelcome and clearly somewhere she shouldn't be guest before closing it back up. Then the two began to run off to wherever it was the female was going. Clearly to find more males to touch. She didn't pay attention when the female was speaking with her human but it was obvious what the female was up to.

So White just stayed close to Zeri and made sure to keep her senses open and alert. One of them had to be proper and graceful right now.

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

Zeri ran with White through the devastated remains of Bhathairk. Ran with all the speed she could force from her legs. Up this path and that road, all that had scorched remnants of familiarity about them, about how the way would bend or curve or go up this slight hill or down, even if the buildings, the homes, all the places she remembered, stood in various states of solemn disrepair or outright ruin.

She ran all the way to the Gates. Out through them and into the sea of tents of her fellow tribesorcs. And though the lateness of the hour blurred the difference between night and pre-dawn dark, there were still some tribesfolk who were awake, fires that were lit, and gentle smoke that drifted upward to the Spirits of Air.

She wasted no time.

From tent to tent she went, pleading for a healer or a shaman or a medicine orc or where to find one. Her efforts had a few orcs, warriors on night watch, following after her, trying to discern what the cause for alarm was. She urgently told them everything. Everything about what happened as she went. The sudden Risen swarm and Urgish, that her Pa was injured badly, couldn't move, and needed help. Some mild confusion among those following after her: weren't the Risen all slain by now? It had been days since adventurers and warriors venturing into the city reported fighting any. Yet it seemed some were missed, trapped in the collapse of a great longhouse perhaps, or other such large structure by some other means. And Urgish? Was it...true? That he did what the girl said he had done?

It took some time. About ten to fifteen minutes. But Zeri was directed to a healer among the camp. A human--an adventuring man--named Owen. Those warriors who had heard that there were yet still Risen to slay within Bhathairk quickly summoned others who then took up arms and armor and joined in.

And a large escort was assembled.

* * * * *​

Thandriel sat upright. His right shoulder lightly pressed against one of the barrels in the lot of them that he and Weylin were hidden behind. He breathed steadily, if slowly. Sweat dripped from his face. And he was trying mightily to stay awake.

Outside the brewery, footsteps and voices. Muffled, faint at first, but growing closer.

"Where are they?"

"In here, in here."

"Keep eyes out for any Risen. There's bound to be more."

"Th-they were mostly down this road, by the Tree, last I saw."

"Ah, look there. She speaks true."

"Form up, tribesorcs! Shieldwall! Axes READY!"

"HAA!!"

A loud clamor, a fierce striking of metal on metal. Somewhere more distantly, the growling of Risen. And the door rattled.

"No, no, we barricaded the door. This wa--Oh!"

The front door of the brewery splintered at the hinges from a heavy axeblow. Once. Twice. Then was kicked down over the barricading rocks. The warrior who did it said, "Get in there, healer. Get in there, girl."

Then Zeri came in--with a shortbow in her hand and a quiver on her back--stepping over the rocks and the fallen, broken door. She was followed by a human man in a tunic and knee-length coat with a heavy utility belt and a bandolier of pouches cross-slung over his shoulder.

"Here! My Pa is over here!" she said, and hurried over to Thandriel and Weylin. Owen followed after her.

Outside, the orcish warriors let out a collective battlecry as the fight against the Risen was joined.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

White knew it. The female began to rush around the place talking to every male in sight as soon as they got where she wanted to go. If she could have words with this heat monster right now she would. But she had to keep guarding her while her human was completely vulnerable and covered in trash that the female had so carelessly laid about. How dirty and clumsy of a female this green skin was.

And after gathering enough males together to sate her needs, the female took back off into the rock rubble. Clearly she felt some kind of need for her human. The sooner they got back the sooner she could stop this idiotic guard duty and actually protect her human from the clutches of this monster.

====================

Weylin dreamed of nothing. Brain and body were completely drained of all their energy. He was drifting about in a dark void of peace. If only the rest of his life could be this simple for him. If only it could be this relaxing....

An hour past when the rescue party broke through the door. They would find a Weylin that wouldn't wake up. He was completely out cold. When the healer went to examine him, most likely after seeing to Thandriel, the man would find that the hunter had been pushed to his limit physically and mentally. Nothing was broken. He just needed rest and likely to drink fluids as he had forgotten to in his rush more than once.

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

THE GATES AT DAWN​

Zeri sat outside the tent, the shortbow she had been lent in the grass beside her. She sat with her knees up, facing east, watching the first orange streak of dawn bring horizon to that far horizon. And in her hand she slowly spun an arrow.

She glanced toward the ruined Gates of Bhathairk.

Then back to the sunrise.

And kept spinning the arrow about her fingers.

* * * * *​

The Risen had been roundly destroyed, the fight with them fierce and feral but with a properly armed and armored group of warriors and the use of terrain and ruins to funnel the Risen's numbers, there were no deaths. Injuries, but no deaths. And these injuries could be seen to by the Avariel to have the Draconic Plague purged from them, and then by the regular healers like Owen at the Gates.

Weylin and Thandriel were carried out of the brewery and back to the large campsite past the Gates after the battle. There had been no sign of Urgish.

One of the orcish warriors let Zeri use his tent, resting his head with a fellow warrior and old friend for the night. There was but one bedroll, and Weylin was put there while Thandriel was brought to a larger tent where the wounded from the battle were. He was going to be okay, the healer Owen said. He just needed to sleep on his stomach and not walk on his right foot for a day, and when Owen had more healing magic to spare he would finish the job. She chatted with Pa for a good while before he too finally closed his eyes for some restful sleep. Then Zeri returned to the tent with Weylin. Sat on the inside much as she was doing now on the outside. Sitting. Slowly twirling an arrow around her fingers. And thinking about what Pa had said to her.

She decided once the hours passed and the faintest twinkling of light came from the gap in the tent's flap to sit outside and watch the sunrise. She didn't go far at all. Just outside. Weylin was liable to panic as soon as he woke up and took a look outside and saw where he was, or if he got a whiff of orcs.

* * * * *​

A blanket of clouds, darkened by the vestiges of night, covered the entire sky save that thin bright line on the eastern horizon.

Zeri's eyes drifted from the sunrise.

She stared down at the arrow she spun in her fingers. A vacant and sullen look.

And she gathered the courage to say it aloud.

"It wasn't worth it..."

She closed her eyes. Swallowed. Then opened them.

"It wasn't worth it."

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

Through the entire night Weylin slept. His body and mind needed the rest. What else could be expected? Everyone had their limit and he pushed himself to his. A running pattern.

Why was he like that?

Memories of his dad pushing him drifted in and out like tiny dandelion puffs in the air. At one time it is hunting. At another time it is making him shoot his bow. Memories of helping people with repairs. Helping with crops and livestock. Being apart of a community.... A community that didn't exist anymore....

Why was his life like that?

And so they came. Dreams of nothing more than the confused and mixed up past.

======================

Eyes began to slowly open. A daze across his mind. A gaze all around. Where was he? Weylin didn't recognize where he was at. The hunter raised himself up off the bedding. His sheet slide down. He was missing his cloak and his shirt. Where were his boots? All he had on was his pants. Everything else was gone....

Oh. It was over in a corner by the wall.

Sluggishly, he got himself up to his feet. His body still felt heavy and his mind clouded. But they were working. He could move and think. That was good.

Weylin decided to ignore his stuff for now and instead walked over to the entry flap. As he opened it up the first thing to greet him was the coolness of the night. Next was the colors of a yet to rise sun. For a moment he took it in until movement around the area got his attention.... Orcs....

This got the hunter to freeze up. Crowds bothered him. Orcs still gave him this sinking feeling. The both together paralyzed him. But he recovered eventually. And it was during this time he noticed Zeri sitting over by herself looking sullen.

The hunter walked over to her and sat down by her. Then he began to silently glance all around at the strange orcs going about their morning routine.

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

Weylin sat down next to her. There was a mild surprise in this, that he would even be willing to come out of the tent unprompted when there were orcs about in the camp. Mild, because he was still wary, glancing around--this she could see from the corner of her eye.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Zeri said quietly, looking toward the hot sliver of sunrise at the eastern horizon, the color bright and warm and contrasting starkly with the long dark blanket of clouds that flatly covered the rest of the sky.

She canted her head down and stared at her knees. A dispiriting was in her eyes, a hard and painful reckoning.

"Pa was right."

And after a moment.

"Mother Owl was right."

And after a moment.

"You were right, Weylin."

And after a moment.

"And I was wrong."

She looked back up. Toward the coming dawn. Something beautiful that was still so.

"This wouldn't have happened if I had listened." Her fellow tribesorcs. The ones who followed her. "They would all still be alive."

I am no hero.

Her hair rustled in a light breeze and she watched still that bright orange afar. "I am a shame to my people."

Weylin Kyrel