Remus Rothwyn Chronicles Box Set 1: Books 1-3

By T.P. Grish

This box set contains the first three books in the Remus Rothwyn Chronicles Series.

The Remus Rothwyn Chronicles is a dark, epic fantasy series with mythological elements and a nuanced world with complex perspectives.

Book 1: Steel, Magick and Faith

In the ancient and wild world of Glenryth, Fey creatures and a nascent humanity have come into conflict, the motives of each other mutually unfathomable and alien. Technological cults and Monotheistic religions are worshipped, any suspicion of pagan or Fey magickal taint is reviled. Prophets spread far and wide, offering hope and comfort to the beleaguered masses. Mankind is not totally separate from the energies that suffuse Glenryth, as an unfortunate few are born as Touched.

When local dwarves put a curse upon the town of High Peaks, Remus, the aloof and irritable woodcutter and sage, must try and ebb the tide of xenophobic anger that could engulf himself and any other folk that are labelled as outcasts. But when a caravan of technocrat pilgrims fails to arrive, and the body of a local child is found in the woodlands, Remus, along with the capricious Touched Elaina, must try to understand the nature of morality in a world cloaked in suspicion and fear, and, ultimately, to prevent a brewing war that could send the region spiraling into chaos and destruction.

Book 2: The Shard of Palrinah

After saving High Peaks from a devastating war between Humankind and Fey, Remus and Elaina head to the grand city of Yondern to continue their adventures, yearning for excitement and the chance to do good.

However, the long-brewing political conflict between the Steelwielders and Paragonites has erupted into open war, and try as they might, the travelers cannot escape the eye of suspicious factions. Once-friendly factions have turned wary, and they find themselves allying with those who they would least expect.

An old friend, the bard Perfidian, confronts them with troubling information, hinting at a deeper objective to the brewing war, and possibly to an object of power that could wreak devastation upon the land in the hands of the power-hungry.

The three friends must discover what the Steelwielder technocrats and Paragonite monks are truly seeking in a remote corner of Glenryth, in a deadly game of cat and mouse involving dark and sinister forces, both Human and otherwise.

Book 3: Though Darkness Comes

Having fled to Norlathaa to hide themselves, and the mighty Shard of Palrinah, from the foes who mercilessly hunt them, Remus and his companions must navigate the deadly political landscape of double-crosses and power grabs that confronts them.

The Steelwielders and Paragonites pursue the holy item of power, taking advantage of the sweltering corruption that plagues the monarchic government of Norlathaa, spreading a web of eyes and ears. Other factions stalk the shadows of the temperate land, agents of the great Cities, and Fey tribes congregate in their lairs, enacting a great magick to counter the rise of whatever group of Humanity claims the artefact.

Old friends and enemies become intermeshed in the conflict, and Remus, Elaina and Perfidian must find safe harbour in the bard’s homeland, struggling to understand the meaning of home and the ramifications of power, and, ultimately, to seek a way to end the threat the Shard of Palrinah bodes for Glenryth, once and for all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.P. Grish
• Release date: Sep 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310197260

T.P. Grish

T.P. Grish devoured fantasy books since he was a kid, particularly liking character-based fantasy novels with exciting sequences, complex stories and a lode of deeper meaning. Although he also loved fantasy movies and hobby gaming, his dream to write his own fantasy novels was always at the forefront. Today, he is a PhD doctoral student and part-time business writer who can't help but daydream about writing novels for you to read.

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Steel, Magick and Faith: Book 1 of the Remus Rothwyn Chronicles

By T.P. Grish

Copyright 2012 by T.P. Grish

The copyright of this book and the characters and setting contained therein are the property of the author, T.P. Grish, and no part of it may be modified, copied or resold.

Cover Art by Jana Pivkova

Thanks to my family and friends for their patience and advice during the writing of this novel.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PROLOGUE.. 5

CHAPTER 1. 6

CHAPTER 2. 10

CHAPTER 3. 14

CHAPTER 4. 17

CHAPTER 5. 22

CHAPTER 6. 25

CHAPTER 7. 31

CHAPTER 8. 39

EPILOGUE.. 42

AN EXCERPT OF THE SHARD OF PALRINAH, THE UPCOMING 2nd BOOK IN THE REMUS ROTHWYN CHRONICLES. 43

BIBLIOGRAPHY.. 45

PROLOGUE

 Glenryth is a world of ancient rules, and savage spirits slumbering in seclusion. From the jungles of the North, to the rocky plains of Corsen, there is a heavy stillness. A quiet violence. For hidden in nooks, watching within veritable evergreens; lie spirits, beasts, forces elemental, vicious, hideous, beautiful. There was balance, harsh and violent like the noxious air in a swamp. But balance, nonetheless. Then somewhere in the fickle mists of creation came humanity, clawing and afraid, grasping and ambitious. Enveloped in a dangerous world, these creatures lived as scavengers; afraid of the greater things of the world. They were beset by disease, lack of claws or fangs, and the lack of habitat to call their own. Lefeyhdie had not provided any particular prey or plant for them to eat. These fleshy, naked beings were doomed to die of attrition. Curiously, these beings never stopped Doing, or Thinking. Breeding to strengthen their numbers. Sharpening rocks, shaping wood, gathering leaves and sticks for clothing and shelter. Eventually they had settlements of great number, crude but effective tools of war. Ancient forces began to pay attention to the growing incursion, plaguing them, slaying stragglers at night. But still the humans held on to the edge of the precipice, knuckles white with effort. Before, they would wait and watch while beasts slew and supped on prey, then spring out, scavenging the scraps of meat. Now they hunted and harvested. Now they stood and fought. No longer was there fear in their eyes, but Knowledge. Knowledge that no matter if four hunters fell at the claws of a fey beast, the ends of their spears would eventually bring the beast down.

Cold and calculating these humans were, from the eyes of the Feykind. Plotting, scheming, invading. But this was not the case. The feelings of dwarves and beasts are slow-moving and heavy felt, but humans felt many different things at the same time, some lightly; some heavily. They mourned when their comrades fell, smiled when their children were born. They envied, and slew each other for no reason at all. They erected barriers between themselves, spawned by minor differences in beliefs or appearance. For, while the creatures of old all followed one tapestry of rules, the humans each had different ideas. If there was one thing they had in common, it was that they were greedy; empty. They must fill every moment of their days with a purpose, with a problem to be solved. And never would they accept limitations. Elves witnessed humans dragging wagons through forests; but when the humans tired of the sweat on their brow; they enslaved beasts of burden to carry their belongings. But the creatures of old could not understand these complexities; to them these hairless creatures were insane, alien, devoid of reason. They took over land and altered it with slabs of stone and travelled on crisscrossing wounds in the earth. Soon they enslaved animals and bent Lefeyhdie to their will, continually reaping and sowing. Now Glenryth is scattered with many small human settlements, with a few cities of culture. Towns and villages are surrounded by the wild. Villagers cower in fear and awe of the supernatural. Horrible stories are told about encounters with these devils and demons, but they are at the back of the common consciousness. For already roads, travelers, settlers and missionaries trek across the wild. Technological cults and Monotheistic religions are worshipped, any suspicion of pagan or Fey magickal taint is reviled. Materials from the outside world are to be altered to suit Man, removing the taint of the wild. Prophets spread far and wide, offering hope and comfort to the beleaguered masses. Mankind is not totally separate from the energies that suffuse Glenryth, as an unfortunate few are born as Touched. The more fortunate of the Touched will never discover that they are so.

CHAPTER 1

A figure skittered through the tall grass, muttering to itself. Small and sturdy, its skin looked hollow, its eyes sour and malign. Scraps of meat and dust clung to its fur garment, which was of dark maroon and leafy brown. As it approached the outskirts of the human village, it gently moved to make not a sound. Its feet could not be seen beneath its loose pants. It heard the chop, chop of wood. The creature muttered darkly, thinking about the inanity of humans chopping fragile wood with their axes… the wooden buildings would crumble, and then they would have to repair the flimsy structures. The dwarves were here before the race of Man was born. But their wisdom and pre-eminence were not respected, it seemed, and the humans had to be taught respect.

Curving around a tree, the dwarf peered at the maker of the noise. In front of a wooden cabin, an adult Man chopped a log of wood placed on a tree stump. The Man cut in almost complete silence, with a barely audible grunt now and then. In the distance the creature could see plumes of smoke, the village proper. Fixating its dark eyes on the man in front of it, the creature decided that this man would be the first victim. How to describe him to his Clan? He was a normal human male, with brown hair. His legs and arms were long, giving it the impression of taller height. The tall one on the outskirts of the village, yes, that would do…

It smiled mischievously. ‘Dra’k Tarluuth Ror’ it muttered. They deserve pain. It must have spoken louder than it intended, for the human seemed to look up and scan the area briefly. The dwarf turned and ran through the grass, towards his Clanhome. There was no fear of discovery on the dwarf’s face, just a malign smile. The plan could not be ruined, no it could not… The Lesson must be taught according to the Edicts.

* * *

Remus was not sure what the noise was. One could never tell what was the wind, and what was one of the Feykind. Putting down his hatchet, he wiped his brow with a piece of cloth. He walked towards his house, picking up the slain deer that had been left outside his door. Elaina had delivered it, as she knew he did not much like to venture into the town market, for purchasing goods or for any other reason. He would have an early night, and after a couple of mugs of Rum he would retire. As he walked to his bedroom, he glanced at his large and disorganized bookshelf and smirked. A woodcutter, a hermit, and a scholar…. was it even worth the scorn of the townspeople?

 * * *

The next morning, a crowd of people gathered outside Remus’ lawn. They were hunched around the outskirts of the land, whispering fearfully. ‘The strange one has attracted them! He has sought forbidden knowledge, this is why they are angered!’ one hushed conversation went. Remus awoke blearily inside his bedroom. Not knowing what to expect, he sauntered outside. What argument could they have with him now? He was not prepared for the vile, earthy stench that greeted him. By Horthrin! Cattle lay in his front yard, dead or dying. Vines rose up to grasp and stab the legs of the unfortunate cows and sheep, slowly bleeding them to death. His grass seemed to have overnight turned a violet hue, and this corrupted plant matter seemed irresistible to the town’s cattle.

Remus glanced around incredulously. A handful of cattle rushed headlong into his front yard, madness in their eyes and seemingly moving against their will. The poor beasts charged into the yard and began chewing the stained grass like they had not eaten in a season. Thorny vines rose unnaturally from the soil and drained the hapless beasts.  This was powerful dark magick. Peasants tried to stop their cattle from approaching the land, pushing them back with their bodies. This was to no avail, as the animals were too strong. Remus saw a deer rush into the yard, roaming nervously to find a free spot of grass. When vines pierced its legs, it struggled and kicked futilely; its lifeblood draining into the soil. A brief pang of sorrow brushed Remus’ heart, then he thought of more practical matters. He glanced at the townspeople, and saw familiar expressions.

Fear. Hate. Suspicion. No doubt they would blame this on Remus, claim he had attracted the ire of the Feykind upon them. What else could they be expected to do, try to understand the Feykind and their powers? Alas, that would be expecting too much! Remus’ acerbic inner sarcasm evaporated as he surveyed the scene. Almost two dozen cattle from the town farms were dead or in the process of dying. On his land. This was either the dwarves’ work, or that of the elves.

The recently erected bridge linking the two segments of the town had spurred even further growth and expansion in High Peaks. The people of High Peaks had laboured hard to finish the stone bridge under the supervision of the local branch of the Steelwielders- the Church of Technology-; previously townspeople were forced to wade across the river to travel from East to West. Traditionally, the townsfolk had crudely drawn areas that they were or were not allowed to travel in or occupy, ‘negotiated’ as per ancient agreement with the Feykind.

Although the Feykind made their presence felt frequently enough, current situation included, the fear and awe of them had subsided slightly, enough for the powers that be to focus on expansion, construction and the economic benefits such moves would bring. The frequent ‘offerings’ made to the Feykind, traditionally of quality local produce like honey and bread, had reduced. Although High Peaks, a modest town, was likely enjoying its highest level of prosperity at the moment, people had been starting to balk at the idea of throwing away the sweat off their brow in appeasement to Feykind. That is not to say that that people were unafraid of the Fey, not at all; it was just that people believed if they steeled themselves and soldiered on, humanity would inevitably dominate the region.

 The dwarves were rumored to inhabit deep caves in the wilds to the west of town, no one ventured there except for miners, who went gingerly and only harvested external outcroppings of ore. That is, besides the occasional traveler foolish or crazy enough to traverse the region. At the back of the mind of every single townsman was the primal fear that retaliation would be wrought upon them for their audacity, by an unseen foe.

Today, Remus mused, that fear had been verified. Two dozen cattle dead. The cost and loss to the town would be quite major, many farmers and land holders would have lost much of their cattle stock. Remus went inside to find his shovel. This could be fixed… let the peasants talk, he would do the practical thing and bury the poor critters before they rotted. Remus took a swig of water from his bucket, and leaned on his kitchen table… he mused with disgust about the attitudes of the townspeople towards the dwarves. They were frightened of them, hated them, yet were in awe of them. They could be understood, these dwarves, strange as they were. All of Feykind could be. They had mysterious powers, but even those could be understood and quantified if one tried. Remus gingerly walked towards the front yard, confident but reluctant to face the peasants. The hate towards the dwarves could be justified, but those that did hate them, did so because they hated everything that was different. Those same people held a distrust of Remus for the same reason. If these dwarves were of evil intent, that did not mean every external influence was harmful, every foreign practice demonic.

Remus balanced his shovel against the wall of his cabin, and began the arduous and grotesque task of lifting and carrying the animal corpses. He would carry them to the edge of his land, and then dig a large grave hole. As he hefted a sheep, his brow was creased in worry thinking about how long it would take him to complete this clean-up. There was still a gaggle of townspeople crying, shouting and pointing at him, only a few had brought shovels to help in his effort. Their assistance was not goodwill, he knew, but pragmatism. Nobody needed to experience the stench of rotting animals or be reminded of the loss.

He saw Perey among the few helpers and smiled. Perey, the town messenger, was an exception, a good lad and more tolerant than most. Remus was not in the mood to talk to his friend right now, despite the fact that he had very few.  It was fortunate he didn’t grow crops in his front yard, as the soil would be corrupted for quite a while. He had to admit he was a little frightened by this display of power. It was natural, yet… perverted.

Shoveling, he heard heavy footfalls approaching and looked up, leaning on his shovel wearily.  It sounded like two or three people. Remus turned to find three peasants closing on him, one who he recognized as Buhl the Farmer. Fat face red, and jowls quivering; Buhl abusively queried what Remus had done to bring this on the town, stubby finger inches from the man’s face. Remus remembered an unarmed fighting technique he had read from a Zhrontian tome, one involving the snapping of an opponent’s finger. Remus swallowed and replied ‘Take your finger out of my face, Buhl. This is evil magic, and has naught to do with me. Obviously this is the result of our failure to properly ‘reward’ the dwarves for their presence in the area’.

Remus did not expect his sarcastic barb at the dwarves to elicit empathetic anger in the stupid man, not Buhl. Violet face struggling against the logic, Buhl spat ‘How did this happen, then?! And on your land, freak! We all know what you do here… we know about your witchcraft and alchemy!’ He appeared to ponder whether to make a direct threat, then gave up, hatefully glancing at Remus one more time before lumbering off; lackeys in tow. Remus turned back to his labours, a grim smile on his face. He speaks to me as if I am a Touched, Remus lamented incredulously.

An hour later, Remus was making steady progress in his task. Sensing a presence but hearing no noise, he guessed Elaina had made an appearance. With a mask of annoyance, Remus looked up, still hefting a dead sheep. Sure enough, the spry young woman had made an appearance in front of him. She smiled worriedly, as if she too were shocked by these events, but was assured it would all be alright. ‘I have spells that can make this task easier, Remus. The townspeople are gone now, it will be fine’. The few helpers had gone, having dug large holes and tossed a few cattle in. Presumably Remus was supposed to finish the job. Remus grunted in response and continued digging.

Elaina was one of the Touched, the very small percentage of humans who were born with an innate ability to harness the powers of Magick. She was the only person in the town who was as reviled as he was. He thought it was ironic, one such as her who thought only of helping others, would be no less disliked than he was. He, the recluse. It showed there was no point trying to reassure their ‘fellow’ townspeople of benevolence, if you were indeed different. Remus’ crime was that he was distant from his fellow man, and that he had an inclination to research the lore that was considered forbidden. Just as Elaina’s ‘crime’ was her Touched nature, something she could not avoid. ‘Elaina’, he grumbled, ‘I have seen enough magic this day, and witnessed the gawking crowds of our fellow men, who refuse to help me. I do not think using your powers will make this situation easier, even if it will clean this mess up more hastily’.

Elaina was hurt, but was used to this kind of cynicism from Remus. She positioned herself to cast her enchantments, balancing in a delicate yet focused pose. It was always hypnotizing seeing her cast spells, but Remus feigned disinterest and continued digging. He could not avoid the sight of the cattle rising up, magickal gusts of wind lifting them. Slowly, it happened, but surely. A pile of corpses began to form. Remus had retrieved his shovel, and was digging a pit to drop the bodies in. He kept on shoveling, his job made a lot easier. Elaina used her magic to enlarge the hole, and began to appear fatigued. Remus started pushing bodies in the pit, again aided with Elaina’s control over the winds. Within one and a half hours of her arrival, by their combined efforts, the mess was gone.

A pang of guilt plagued Remus. Elaina had saved him a whole heap of grueling labour, work that would have become gruesome once maggots started eating the bodies. All despite his sour mood. He looked at Elaina and began to speak, her sparkling blue eyes curling into a smile. He looked away and headed back into his house, stopping to ask Elaina if she would like to come in to eat and rest. She shook her head. Elaina sat in the yard peacefully, as Remus vanished into his house.

Elaina smiled knowingly, brushing her multi-hued hair out of her eyes with a willowy arm. He was probably one of the more open-minded people in the town, a realization that almost made her laugh aloud. She saw herself as someone who could see an individual with potential to grow, and she liked helping such people. Remus, despite his salty roughness, had potential. She still did enjoy those moments where she could disarm him and see him with his guard down, though. She chuckled.

* * *

Outside his window, smoke curled up from a dozen chimneys in the town. The smoke forced itself into the sky, gathering girth as it rose. Remus focused on the book in front of him. He was collecting information about the Feykind. Everyone knew of their existence, the elves and dwarves, but the truth about them was obscured by myth and exaggeration. Remus read through the entries he had made. It was a record of the possible influences the dwarves had exerted in the town. Remus recorded every incident caused by dwarves or other Fey, and every one that may have been caused by them.

Every piece of information or gossip he had managed to collect from travelers or from old lore had been inscribed. For millennia, mankind had spread across Glenryth, surrounded by the unexplainable wild. Why was so much unresearched? It was known that there were other, sorcerous forces at work beyond men, different species of Fey such as dwarves, elves and various beasts, had been identified. But no one pried. It was probably common sense. Remus had, however, heard of men and women who tried to explore the outside world beyond roads and pilgrim paths… Mostly they met bad ends.

The incident with the cattle was not the worst of the lot, there were incidents involving combat and murder. This was the first time when something had happened on Remus’ land, but he convinced himself that it could not be personal. His cabin was on the edge of town, nearer to the wilds than most others, after all. How could the beasts know about his research- no, it had to be coincidence. Remus sighed. His parents, for whatever reason, had left him in the town at a young age, with nothing but a few words to local townspeople to take care of him. The kindly older couple who raised him were long dead now, the rest of the town were not as tolerant of his perceived differences.

Everybody in town was supposed to follow the creed of the local factions: the religious Church of St. Lusian or the Steelwielder technocrats… the powers that be, in this town, and dominant players in much of the known world. Remus would not even pay lip-service to them when he was growing up, despite the well-meaning advice of his adoptive parents. How could people sign their minds over to one simplistic belief system, how was that considered normal, even expected? Remus, like every other child, grew up on stories of the Feykind with the knowledge that many of the stories were real, and everybody would bear witness to the terrifying implications of conflict with the Feykind at least a few times in their life. Remus shared the fear and anger towards the magickal creatures, but he also knew that since they existed, they must have motives; their powers must have explanations and limits. He also had experienced the prejudice and savagery lurking within the breasts of mankind.

Remus sighed, taking a bite of bread from a clay plate on the rustic reading table that was perched in the corner of his similarly outfitted main room. He felt a familiar pang of bitter stubbornness. No, he would find out about the world before he cast his lot in with anybody, and he would keep his eyes open. If that meant he was a hermit for the rest of his life, to Hell with it.    

* * *

The next day was one of Remus’ scheduled trips into the town proper for supplies, a brief inspection of his pantry made it abundantly clear that he was running low on everything. Stroking his accumulated stubble, Remus mentally prepared himself to go into town. His pantry boasted a few slices of stale bread, and meat of dubious lifespan. Packing a few coins from his meager savings, and loading logs of firewood into a hemp sack, he soon was ready. He placed the wood and coins into a push-wagon and rolled it in the direction of town. It was mid-morning. He thankfully would miss the morning rush for goods, peasant women fighting over squawking chickens. But there would be enough people present to make sure he felt unwelcome. There always was. His wagon tore ruts through the squelchy mud, like a grumpy old man stomping home for dinner. Winding down the slightly declining path, he realized that there was a simple beauty to the town of High Peaks, not so much inside the town, but in the surroundings. Brown, bare earth, splotched here and there with grass and modestly leafed trees. Large mountain ranges looming in the background, grand with their grays and greens.

The pale, skinny form of Perey was walking towards him, and Remus stopped to chat. The dapper, cheerful young man seemed out of place in this town, Remus mused. Perey was the uncharacteristic son of Buhl, the farmer.

’How are you doing?’ Perey inquired, ‘I stayed to help as long as I could, Reym’.

‘I know, I took care of it. I’m fine’, Remus responded.

‘Sorry about my father, he….’

‘It’s ok, Perey, I understand. The man is a buffoon, though’.

They shared a chuckle, Perey hesitant of laughing at his father.

Perey went on, ‘The town is going to be aflame at the loss of the cattle, my family lost a few’. Perey lived on his family farm; his family was in the meat and shearing business, while he worked as a messenger and town courier. ‘Why do they do it, Remus? The dwarves? D’ya think this will ever stop?’

‘I don’t know, Perey, my research hasn’t really shown me their motivations, besides the fact that they think we are invading their land, or breaking some cryptic agreement our ancestors made with them’.

Perey related some gossip about a traveler he had run into in his daily duties, travelers being rare in High Peaks. Then they went on their separate ways.

Ignoring the gawking in the town square, he made his way to a local grocer. Remus picked up produce that he was in need of, breads, cheese, freshly skinned meat… Piles of fruit graced one corner of the large wooden case displayed by a particular merchant.  They were of dubious quality, but that was usually the case. Remus felt through an assortment of apples, trying to discern which were of better quality. He wanted to be done with his buying, then sell some of his wood, and retreat back to his cabin.

A horrible shrieking and screaming interrupted his perusal, and he whirled around in shock. A woman ran towards the crowd, pleading for help. Her arm was badly burned, the pretty white dress burned off, along with a lot of her skin. The crowds shrieked in horror. They rushed to help her. The cynical man felt a quick pang of surprise that they helped, but then realized that the people did look after those they considered their own. These thoughts were pushed out of his head at the sight of the woman. Who had done that to her arm? Remus moved closer, the crowds now ignoring his presence. ‘Aid me!’ she shrieked, ‘It was that man, Weylin, he did this! He is one of the Touched, he is a demon!’ Weylin…. Remus remembered the name.

When he was a boy, Remus’ isolation from the other townspeople began. He was not different in any way, was not Touched… He just started inquiring about things too much, about the magick that everyone knew existed outside the human settlements. Weylin was the same age as Remus, and in their teenage years Weylin would always seek to turn the townspeople against Remus, even further than they already were. He did the same with Elaina as a matter of fact, and Remus never found out what his problem was.

Now a man of twenty five years, Remus barely saw Weylin around. He knew nothing of Weylin’s personality, aside from his inclination to demean and ostracize others. Weylin was a Touched?! That did not make sense. ‘He tried to seduce me’, the woman gasped, ‘When I refused, he did this to me! He did it with foul magick!’ She cringed in pain. ‘Where is he now?’ said a male voice. Remus looked around to see Baruvo, the blacksmith. In the background he saw the reassuring figure of Elaina, no doubt listening to the conversation with her innate abilities. ‘He ran to the forest! On the east edge of town!’

A helpful peasant arrived with a bucket of water and an armload of towels. People began pouring water on her arm and wiping it down. The crackle of skin under the water pained Remus as much as her agonized screams… Poor woman. A few people carried the woman into a shack where they would do their best to aid her. There was a commotion as men of the town started boasting and bragging about how they would find Weylin, and the various inhumanities they would perpetrate upon him. The Sherriff and guardsman marched in to calm the unruly mob down, and started making plans to hunt him down. Remus stroked his chin. He had always been interested in the phenomena of the Touched, and how they came about. Quietly, Remus walked back to his house, trailing his wagon behind him.

This man had done evil, so Remus need not be worried about the ethics of any techniques he might use to study him. Remus sympathized with the Touched… if all the non-human creatures in Glenryth used their powers to torment mankind, what was wrong with a few select men and women being able to use the same powers themselves? Of course burning a poor woman’s arm because of some stupid failed tryst was evil and vicious.  Remus had not been able to find out much from Elaina, as she blindly accepted her powers without the thought of questioning them. Her powers could be impressive, the healing powers of water and air, but nothing spectacular. Hmm, it would be better if he left later on in the day, so he could eat, rest and prepare himself for the possible danger.

He knew that Touched, upon first discovering their powers, were rumored to be unable to control them properly. Would he have time to rest, or would the Mayor and his men find Weylin before Remus could? Remus knew the woods fairly well, having traveled there in his occupation as a woodcutter, and in his studies of the region. He would take the chance, he decided, and headed to the kitchen where he would eat lunch before a short rest.

He awoke energized and began grabbing rope, axe, his net and his book and quill. Remus set out. Hopefully, he could overpower and restrain Weylin, and ask him some questions. Afterwards, he would hand him over to the Sheriff. Exiting his house, he noticed it was early afternoon, a dark, cool one. He set out with his pack over his shoulders, his boots crunching on the rocky soil. The start of the forest was mere metres away from his cabin, with small spruce trees and ferns splayed here and there. It took five minutes of walking before the trees grew tall, and the sky became a canopy. It was around then that Remus noticed the first sign of a trail. Leaves and twigs were disturbed, indicating a human-sized creature had run this way. Remus heard noises and saw glimpses of loud townsmen and guardsmen searching the forest. They had split up to cover more ground, but were rather lacking in tracking skills.

 Remus quickened his step, but took care not to make too much noise. The trees bore greenish-brown leaves, and an occasional boulder protruded from the ground. The floor was a carpet of leaves. Remus pressed on, following the general direction of the discernable tracks. The only noise he heard was his own footsteps, and the chirps and low growls of forest creatures. He would most likely avoid the larger creatures at this time, who would either be sleeping or stalking their usual prey. Once in a while he came across a squirrel or other such creature, which would either stay at a distance, watching, or scurry away.

It was three hours into his journey that he began to lose track of the signs of Weylin’s passage. How far could this man have gone? Remus conceded the possibility that the man was running away for good, to avoid punishment for his deeds. Just as Remus was glancing around in frustration, he saw a flicker at the corner of his right eye. A tall figure approached him, barely discernable from the trees. His alarm faded when he realized it was a feminine figure, but its skin was weirdly the same colour and texture as leaves. As the figure glided in, its skin began to fade into a more human tone, until gradually the figure revealed itself to be Elaina. She smiled benevolently, ‘Sorry to startle you like this, Remus, but I had to find out what you intended to do’.

‘I am going to track down Weylin, that must be obvious to you’ Remus retorted. Elaina smirked at his trademark prickliness, unaffected. ‘Yes, but why are you embarking on this search by yourself, when the townspeople have started their own search?’ He chuckled humorlessly. ‘I do not have complete confidence in the … abilities, mental or otherwise, of the good Sheriff and his men. And, as you know, I have my own interests in those that are Touched’.

He added ‘I will be handing Weylin over to the townspeople once I am finished. I do not intend to hurt him, just to ask him some questions’. She contemplated that, shaking her head ruefully, ‘I have not managed to figure out your intentions, Remus, for as long as I have known you’. They had known each other since they were children. She continued, ‘I think you could use my help. I have an interest in making sure Weylin does not make the townspeople even more hostile towards me, towards us, and all those who are different’.  ‘I am not one of the Touched, Elaina’, he retorted, but he knew what she had meant. ‘But you are different, Remus… I have powers I can add to the task, and I know these woods, I have them inside me’.

Remus nodded consent, and Elaina walked alongside him, without the camouflage enchantment. She leaned forward to notice an apparent disturbance in the leaves, one that Remus could not pick out. She motioned to him and they changed direction. ‘Good, good’, Remus muttered, walking briskly to catch up. One thing I can say for him, thought Elaina, is that he had no problems following someone else’s advice, if they could lead him to his goal. 

CHAPTER 2

Nearing a bend, Remus and Elaina came upon a small, babbling brook. It flowed through the rocky ground of a clearing, traveling towards the west. Its amethyst blue waters lined the yellow-white rock. Crouched down with his back to them was a man in a dark commoner’s tunic, who appeared to be cupping his hands in the brook. Remus realized with a start, that it must be Weylin. Remus looked at Elaina, who nodded in understanding. They had to be careful. Elaina glanced at Remus and nodded sharply, indicating that she was going to head towards the oblivious man. Remus took one last look at Weylin. The man appeared to be washing his face and hands and muttering softly to himself.

Elaina’s skin shifted into camouflage once again, to the colour and texture of rock. She crouched and slowly advanced. Remus grabbed his hand axe and his net. It was a specially made net, compact and made of hemp. But when thrown, it would expand, enveloping anything in its path. Axe in his left hand, and net poised in his right, Remus slowly advanced. They inched forward. Remus had no idea what powers Elaina was going to use, but he had to get a bit closer if he was to use his net. Weylin was still unaware. Remus and Elaina both became painfully aware of any slight noise they might make. Elaina swooped in from behind Weylin and to the right, Remus on the left.

I’m close enough, thought Remus…. He grabbed his net and prepared to take one more step forward to throw it on Weylin. As he thrust his arm back, their target suddenly swung around, eyes intense. Weylin raised his hand, and a brief fan of fire arced in the sky, burning the net in half. Elaina jumped on the unaware Weylin, almost forcing him to his knees. Remus joined in the struggle, and together Weylin was pushed onto his back, helpless. Remus grabbed his rope and began tying Weylin up. Grabbing his left wrist, he commenced tying the first knot.

He glanced at Elaina, whose skin still had the appearance of sheet rock. As he tied the knot, his skin all of a sudden felt like it was getting warmer. Only the areas that were in contact with Weylin. His skin began to get uncomfortably hot. Remus looked at Weylin. A smile was splayed across his boyish face. Steam seemed to rise from his skin and even his dark mop of black hair. Remus yelled in pain and jumped off him, as did Elaina. This man was dangerous, and could seriously hurt them if they weren’t cautious.

Remus backed off and side-stepped warily. Weylin squirmed and made it to his feet. He quickly surveyed his foes, his face wrinkling in recognition at Elaina. Elaina gestured forward and yelled inaudibly, and the whistling of a sharp gust of wind was heard. Weylin was pushed off his feet, and fell back into the brook; falling hard on the rocks, partly submerged. Elaina concentrated, warping the water to hold Weylin down. His body struggled, half submerged, and unable to rise. Remus took the opportunity to grab the rope. He grabbed Weylin and held his body down while lifting his head to the surface. ‘You can’t hold me like this’, Weylin rasped, threateningly. Remus tied the man’s arms together, grunting at Weylin’s violent struggling. He lifted the man out of the stream by his neck and shoulders, like a fish.

Water dropped off his sodden tunic as Remus threw him to the ground. Elaina approached, in her normal form. Weylin gave her a quick glance then refocused his glare at Remus. ‘What do you and that freak-girl want?’ he spat. His voice was a rough hiss. ‘You are a danger to us all, townspeople and Touched’, intoned Elaina somberly. Weylin sneered at her. She matched it with a contemptuous stare of her own. He spoke, ‘You would slay me to gain rapport with the townspeople, witch?!  How about you, hermit?’ His boyish looks matched his petulant attitude, but there was an unsettling wildness in his eyes.

‘When did you discover you had these abilities? Is there anyone in your family line who also was likewise afflicted?’ Remus asked, drawing a curious stare from Elaina. Weylin struggled against his ropes as if to double-check that escape was not an option. ‘I did not ask for these powers, they…’ he spoke as if musing to himself. ‘They came slowly. Where am I supposed to go now?’ Remus wondered if he saw remorse in Weylin’s eyes… no it wasn’t remorse, it was… neediness, just a small streak of it. The bound man shot a feral glance at Remus. ‘Unbind me now, hermit, or I swear I shall burn your flesh to dust when I get free’.

 Remus was grim but unimpressed, he looked at Elaina. ‘Let us bring him back to my cabin’. She shot back harshly, ‘You wish to examine him for your curiosity?! So you can find information to record in your tomes!’ Remus started to speak but she continued, ‘We came here because a young woman from the village has been seriously injured by this man, forget that not!’ Remus stared at her simply, ‘You have faced hatred for your bloodline, me for my choices…. Now, a Touched has mutilated a townsperson. I have to learn what I can. Then we can give this whelp in to the authorities and hope for sanity and restraint from the townspeople’.

Elaina stared at him cynically. They both refocused on the issue at hand, but Elaina made a mental note to bring the issue up with Remus at a later junction. They led Weylin back to Remus’ cabin, avoiding any townsfolk on the way. All the while Weylin made threats and sputtered in vain.

* * *

GorNu’Set basked in the glow of the communal fire, as the other dwarves danced and sung his praises.  ‘GorNu’Set has shown the humans!’ ‘They will never forget again!’ rang the shouts in the dwarvish language. The campfire lit up the ceiling, dancing shadows flickering. GorNu’Set was proud as he saw the intense looks in his Clan members’ eyes, as he knew he had inspired them this day. He had reclaimed their pride. He sat eating berries and wild meat, soaking in his moment of glory. A cup skittered across the floor, kicked by an unwary dancer. GorNu’Set awaited the arrival of Dorbuuk, who was in his slumber. He was a wise leader, and a powerful ancient. For the few hours he could be active each day, his very step had gravity for the dwarves. Would Dorbuuk be proud? He must be… GorNu’Set had upheld ancient rites. The cessation of the symbolic Gifts of respect, combined with the unbridled expansion, could not be tolerated.

 But King Dorbuuk had a foresight other dwarves could not predict, GorNu’Set wondered if he would scold him and the others in the clan for celebrating without permission. GorNu’Set sank his head back, and half-slept. It was not hard to drift off, as the curse he had created today had drained some energy from him. When he came to, he observed that many dwarves were sleeping, others quietly playing bone-throw and drinking in small groups. Their leader was nowhere to be seen.

GorNu’Set got up and looked around, getting his bearings. Stepping over slumbering bodies, he made his way out of the common hall and down the tunnels. His destination was Dorbuuk’s chamber, at the back end of the tunnels, deep in the mountain.

After some walking, he was approaching the entrance to Dorbuuk’s lair, running his stained hand along the rock walls as he walked. The tunnels in the Clanhome were pitch black unless a campfire was started. The dwarves had the ability to see in complete darkness as if it were day, so this was immaterial to them. As he reached the branching path near Dorbuuk’s lair, he heard a growling sound. At first he was startled, but then he remembered Boruggh.

The creature in question was a crazed dwarf who had been sequestered away from the other dwarves, and kept chained. He had gone mad many years ago, but most people forgot about him, except the dwarves whose job it was to keep him fed and take him on his excursions. This freak had butchered and tortured humans at will, cannibalizing them and showing no balance or discipline. He had taken the lives of several dwarves in blind anger, as well. Taking him on regular excursions in the wilderness was necessary to keep his violent madness under control (barely), and was done with chains and heavily armed guards.

 GorNu’Set shuddered a little as he took to the left tunnel, keeping a wide berth from the path that led to the crazed dwarf. Boruggh’s shadow could be seen, reflected from deep in the tunnel. GorNu’Set arrived at the ornate stone door that led to Dorbuuk’s room, and found it firmly shut. He leaned against the wall of the tunnel. He did not want to actually awaken Dorbuuk, as it was taboo to even get this close to his door. Some dwarves did it for laughs, but never got caught. He sighed and decided to wait.

After some time there was a rumbling groan that signaled Dorbuuk’s Awakening. GorNu’Set ruefully realized that the King would be displeased at being disrupted outside his chamber, considering the short length of his allotted Awake time. It was a moot point, as he was not about to abandon his inquiry at this point in time. The rustling scrape of the door opening brought the visiting dwarf to his feet.

The King walked out, his heavily wrinkled yet hardened face offset by arching brows and deep red eyes. His brindle beard was wild. Dorbuuk glanced at the apprehensive dwarf intensely. GorNu’Set stammered ‘My King, I hope your sleep has left you wise and as fortitudinous as stone. I have come to ask if you had heard of my vengeance while you were sleeping, My King’. Dorbuuk looked wrathful, eyes boring into the younger dwarf. He grunted and walked on, GorNu’Set tagging along, an awestruck child.

The King spoke in a voice that reverberated through the rocky tunnels. ‘I was aware of your actions during my Dreaming. The humans are getting bolder and their fear is receding like the ebb of a tide’. The younger dwarf walked reticently, glad at having evaded a chiding; but nursing a quiet disappointment at the lack of praise. The old dwarf continued on, ‘Clanhomes in other parts of this land have Messaged me, the other Kings tell me that the humans have expanded, encroaching on dwarven territory and the unclaimed wild. Their respect for the old agreements is waning.’ Dorbuuk strode through the rough-hewn tunnels speaking off-handedly, but with gravity.

The younger dwarf walked gingerly behind the King, scurrying to catch up whenever he fell too far behind. Dorbuuk continued, ‘The rules of Eldemon are being broken, clans are losing their purpose, many dwarves are running wild and separating from their brothers’. Eldemon was the God of Secrets, he had passed down many edicts and traditions that were religiously followed by the dwarven people. These edicts included rules for interactions between humans and Fey, and painstaking detail about the duty each dwarf would bear.

GorNu’Set felt slightly guilty, admitting the reason for his punishment of the humans was more his bruised ego than avenging his clan.  The edicts of Eldemon were not on his mind when placing his curse. For dwarves, following the edicts and sticking to their word was an irremovable part of their soul. Unlucky and doomed was the dwarf who broke his word. Soon they arrived at the Hall, with the celebrating dwarves rushing to attention.

Dorbuuk inhaled, like air gushing through cliffs. He surveyed the gathered dwarves. ‘We have to reassert our dominion over this territory. We will get rid of any human travelers we find in our area’. Gleaming eyes relished the idea, as Dorbuuk surveyed the crowd and went on, ‘Humans wandering outside our territory can be watched but ignored, it is up to the Fates whether they reach their homes  before Lefeyhdie claims them’. The mention of the Elven Goddess brought groans of reluctant respect. The above ground forces of Feykind were a necessary and ancient ally to the Dwarves of the deep, but were disliked. ‘Perhaps the humans will recover their senses… and their fear… if we make our position clear.  We will do what it takes to preserve our existence, our ownership. We will not let these devils use their unnatural alchemy to drive us away. We do what we must, for the glory of Eldemon!’ Rousing applause and feral growls drowned the cave, as King Dorbuuk absorbed the will of his people.

* * *

The trio, one gagged and bound, managed to sneak past any townspeople in their path and reach Remus’ cabin, where they quickly shut the door. Closing the shutters, Remus propped Weylin into a chair and sat on the table in front of him. Elaina reclined against a wall, arms crossed and scowling at both of the men. ‘If you scream and shout for help, think of what the town will do to you once they find you’, Remus sneered to Weylin. ‘Cooperate with us, and perhaps we will stop them from tearing you apart’. Remus took off the gag, revealing unstable hatred and emotion in Weylin’s features. Gods, this guy really is a lunatic, Remus mused. Remus sat down next to Weylin, pulling out a scroll of parchment, ink container and quill. He looked in Elaina’s general direction gingerly while doing this, aware that she did not believe he was interrogating Weylin purely to help the local people.

Remus struggled internally for a moment. Did he care for the victim and justice, or was he merely satisfying his own curiosity? He reassured himself by remembering that he had just captured a dangerous criminal, with Elaina’s assistance. He began the interrogation, speaking passively. ‘When did you notice you had… abilities?... That you were… ‘Touched?’’ Remus had only basic lore on the nature of the Touched, knowing that they could manifest powers related to an element; or in rare cases, two elements. They were the only humans who could wield magick in any capacity, and they were usually reviled and spurned. There was no pattern that could determine who would be born Touched, no way it could be spread or propagated. Some were just… born with the condition.

Weylin made no response, other than to stare hard at the floor. Tense moments passed. Remus had dangled a carrot by promising to help mitigate the townsfolk’s wrath, and was pondering how to prod him without destroying his chance of getting an answer. Finally Weylin spoke, and his feral demeanor softened into one of resolve. ‘I am not a freak like the both of you. I have this power… I know not how. I… don’t  want it!’ Regaining composure, he went on grimly ‘I will not be punished for something that was not my choice, they… will… respect me!’ Remus bristled at that. Weylin was more than happy to bring trouble upon others who were different, for no fault of their own. But when it was himself on the hook…

Elaina responded to Weylin with clarity, arms crossed and still reclining against the wall; ‘You seriously harmed an innocent girl of this town; and why? Because she did not return your ‘advances’?’ Elaina’s green-blue eyes stared daggers at him, framed by the play of the dimming light on her blue-streaked hair. Weylin didn’t respond. Elaina sighed and left the room. Remus produced a strip of marinated dried pork he had brought along for the search, and held it close to Weylin’s face.

‘You must be hungry after all that running, do you need some food? I also have a flask of rum’, Remus offered disingenuously. Weylin licked his lips, clearly tempted. How childish this man was, considering what he was capable of, mused the captor. Remus stated ‘I need you to tell me how you use the powers… when you conjured the fan of fire, when you created the burning effect on your skin. Tell me all the details, you have nothing to lose’. Weylin hesitated, balking at the idea that he should divulge the information for food and water. But, he realized there was a far greater threat, that of him being thrown to the townspeople like a fat chicken into a den of wolves.

He replied, ‘Sometimes I feel a surge of power. I can control when I use it, but it is difficult to control the effects… I hear chanting in my head, or maybe I subconsciously chant mentally as a result of the powers. Some spells require a gesture, some don’t. Now give me the food, hermit’. Remus stared at the wall behind Weylin, unblinking. Then he faced Weylin.

‘How do you know which gestures to use?’

 ‘The knowledge just comes, instinctually’.

 Elaina re-entered the room with two copper goblets of water. Remus tried to hide the amazement he was feeling at Weylin’s admission, as Elaina placed one goblet on a table next to Remus and hovered back to her corner; other goblet in hand. Remus had just discovered more details about the Touched than perhaps anyone in Corsen. Words and gestures were a part of the magic, so there must be a pattern…

Sure that Elaina must be staring at him, observing his actions; Remus got up and stated matter-of-factly ‘We must bring him to justice now, Elaina’. She arched an eyebrow, ‘So you have satiated your curiosity?’ she said with more than a hint of sarcasm. But Remus was already carefully placing his parchment on the side table, and walked over behind Weylin, bracing to heft the man. ‘You promised me food and drink for that information, hermit’, Weylin rasped fierily. ‘Shut up’, Remus responded, and the robust man handily lifted Weylin up and held him with his right arm.

‘Your friend interrogated me some more when you were gone, and it was not to berate me for harming the girl’, Weylin spoke darkly.  Remus realized he was speaking to Elaina, and he had her attention. ‘He asked me for details about how I use my powers; it did seem to interest him’. Remus did not bother to look at Elaina, just grabbed Weylin all the harder and headed for the door.

* * *

It was only a matter of time before a townsperson saw the trio heading towards the High Peaks barracks. Ignoring the gawking crowds at their periphery, Remus and Elaina kept on walking. But these stray townspeople alerted others, and a dull roar could be heard as the industrious folks stopped what they were doing and came rushing over. A sizable amount of the Sheriff’s guard also appeared,