Eye of the Entity: The Planet Prophecies, #2

By Anthony Hudgins

Three weary travelers have reached the halfway point to their destined rendezvous with a mighty kingdom.

All that stands in their way is an endless mountain pass where more questions than answers are raised as they travel, battling hunger, nature, and yes, even Shalaak the necromancer who is always one step ahead. Despite his power far surpassing theirs, he faces his own challenges while being pursued by hunting parties and stalked by voracious beasts.

Dirk is no closer to understanding his purpose, though he thinks it involves being the self-appointed guardian of Mezz the prophetess whose apprehension to deliver the Entity's message at Micus grows by the day. Drake eagerly awaits returning to the homeland he was banished from over fifty years ago so that he can settle the score with the king who betrayed him..

Questions stay with them as the kingdom draws them nigh. What happens after the message is delivered? What is left for them when every pure word has been spoken? Perhaps only Shalaak knows, or maybe even the Order of the White Rabbit whose conspiracies have necessitated the deliverance of the message in the first place.

All may find their answers, but none may be prepared for them. By Entity's will, the Planet Prophecies must be spoken, and many will learn that painful truths are more dangerous than comfortable lies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paper Gold Publishing OLD
• Release date: May 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224662593

Book preview

A black background with gold text Description automatically generated

The Planet Prophesies Part 2 of the Tribal Era

by

Anthony Hudgins

Copyright © Anthony Hudgins

2013

Copyright Notice:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is completely coincidental.

License Notes:

We license this book for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your retailer and purchase a copy for yourself. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

Chapter 1: The Cost of Silver

Chapter 2: Beckoning

Chapter 3: When the Flesh Fails

Chapter 4: Assurances

Chapter 5: Monster

Chapter 6: Thoughts and Thoughts Alone

Chapter 7: The First Rule of Pain

Chapter 8: Three Threats

Chapter 9: Last Legs

Chapter 10: Micus Calling

Chapter 11: Legend of the Shipbuilder

Chapter 12: The Higher Road

Chapter 13: The Plan

Chapter 14: Too Many Yesterdays

Chapter 15: Through and Through

Chapter 16: Dirk

Chapter 17: Mezz

Chapter 18: Drake

Chapter 19: Shalaak

Chapter 20: Reunion

Chapter 21: The Planet Prophecies

Chapter 22: Confrontations

Chapter 23: Hysteria

Chapter 24: The Key

Chapter 25: Lies and Truths

Chapter 26: Things Made Manifest

Chapter 27: Fury, Gladness, and Sorrow

Chapter 28: Picking Battles

Chapter 29: Ascension

Chapter 30: Hope’s Cleansing

Chapter 31: A Song

Chapter 32: Home and Away

About the Author

Other Books by the Author:

Chapter 1: The Cost of Silver

Today’s precious minerals and stones were so readily abundant in the Blessed Lands that they had little value as currency. It was only when the divisions came that certain

resources available to the tribes became more valuable than others.

—History of the First Fathers, Volume IV

Are you nervous? a young Drake asked with a wide smile.

He stared at Myra’s dimpled cheeks as she contained her squeals of excitement. They sat on the couch together in their living quarters as he played with her golden locks of hair.

She could barely speak, but her playful demeanor made the words she could say come off in a vibrant, flirtatious way.

Of course, I am, she answered from her rosy red lips. I must start planning right away. You’ll help with the invitations, right?

Drake chuckled as he nodded in the affirmative. Myra was quite the industrious woman, either planning something or planning to plan something. Rarely did she sit idly by, especially during times her betrothed was away on his errands. She made it a point to always have comfort and pleasure waiting for him whenever he came home, keeping her mind occupied that she was preparing for a wedding and not a funeral every time he was gone.

If she was going to marry the most influential man in the land, she would put all she could into it. That’s why she picked the nicest flowers from her family garden for the reception. That’s why she got her cousin Buqu to make the finest clothing for the ceremony. That’s why she wanted Ezerai himself—Drake’s best friend and member of the clergy—to be the man to officiate the event.

News of the wedding spread from one side of the kingdom to the other. No one except the king had ever gotten this much attention and, at that time, Eselbadd and all the Silver Shadow were genuinely happy for him, even one man who had been the most unlikely to be so.

I wouldn’t let her have any man but you, Luksu said during Drake’s outfitting. I had to reassure my daughter that she was marrying the finest stock in all of Micus.

I appreciate your blessing, Drake said as measuring yarn went around his neck. Myra will be well taken care of. That, I promise you.

I have no doubt, Luksu responded. As long as she pops out a grandson before my time’s up, I’ll die a happy man.

I’ll see what I can do. The young warrior laughed.

Stop moving! Buqu said in a mock irritated voice. Her face became as red as her hair and the freckles on her face. I have to get the measurements just right.

He was already very old even at the time Drake was first recruited to be among the king’s elite, but no one could wield a spear or throw a javelin quite like Luksu, regardless of if his tall, lanky body had some kind of nonstop shaking malady, or if he forgot conversations he had five minutes ago, or worse yet, changed topics mid-sentence. Quite surprising was that he wasn’t that friendly of a person, even to those closest to him. Despite having many sons from multiple wives, he only ever had one daughter, that being Myra, and Drake imagined knowing that she was in good hands would give the old coot peace of mind.

Two days later, the marriage was underway. The entire event was carried out in the castle courtyard with hundreds of the wealthiest and most prominent notables in all the Dragon tribe territories attending. Drake and Myra—dressed in embroidered satin and other fine fabric—stood before the altar as they exchanged vows before Ezerai, who couldn’t be happier for his best friend. In the front row were Eselbadd and the remaining members of the Silver Shadow—Luksu, Feenosh, Malkar, and Thagnon—as well as their closest acquaintances and family.

Later that afternoon, Drake and Myra became husband and wife. Their first month together was spent offsite west of Micus at a place called the Evergreen Fields, where a private vacation spot had been arranged for them ahead of time. Everything was fully furnished, and they’d lack nothing their entire stay. Micus itself would anxiously await their return, taking a much-needed hiatus from war in the meantime.

They consummated their marriage that same night and rarely left each other’s presence afterwards. Their love for each other was stronger than the strongest of any of the Entity’s creations, and smiles never left their faces. No one dared interrupt them at the safest, most pleasant retreat in Grath. It would become the king’s hunting grounds in later years.

During a windy evening rain, they sat under the canopy and ate their meal prepared courtesy of a professional chef, talking about the hopes and expectations for their future. Afterwards, they walked in the misty coolness of the night where the sky was dark and the moon was new. From the lake house on the hill, the mating calls of dragons were heard beyond the waters, giving Myra certain thoughts.

Let’s have a baby! she exclaimed. I want a boy. We’ll name him after you, and he’ll be just as strong and stubborn.

And if it’s a girl? Drake asked with a lustful stare.

Then she’ll demand that you give her a brother!

No promises. He laughed as they rolled around on wet grass.

Kissing and the removal of outer garments commenced.

Can I ask you something? she asked with a serious expression as Drake lay on top of her, their eyes locked in sultry gazes.

Yes, my love. What is it?

Will you take me across the Dreamers’ Sea someday? I’ve heard about how the waters sparkle in the sunlight, and I’d love to see it for myself.

The man had not been expecting this, but it was a pleasant question.

I’ll make it happen, Drake answered with a conditional smile, knowing how difficult it would be to get Eselbadd to agree to something like that. But why there, of all places? There are other beauties on dry land easier to access.

I know, but there’s something about it that makes me want to see it above anything else. Maybe we can take our children with us, and they can catch a glimpse of Serpentos while we’re out there.

Well, let’s plan for it then.

Really? she squealed excitedly.

Of course. We have plenty of years to plan it out. But first, time to get back to tonight’s business, he growled as the disposal of undergarments became inevitable.

They spent the entire month in pure marital bliss, not caring that real life was waiting for them back at Micus.

I have a gift for you, Ezerai said with poise. I waited until you got back because the others were sure to get jealous.

Oh? asked a surprised Drake. That good, huh?

More than good. Look at this. He handed over a cloth-wrapped object begging to be uncovered.

A very curious man held in his hands for the first time something he would carry with him for the remainder of his life, sheathed in a shiny ebony casing and soon to be withdrawn. It was a long, slightly curved sword, extremely light in weight for its size and sharp enough to cut through the hardest stone without difficulty. The blade itself was colored a shiny, milky white, and the hilt and cross guard were decorated with all manner of jewels and gems.

This is beyond good, young Drake marveled. Though, for the life of me, I can’t put my finger on this material. Where did you get it? It’s beautiful.

I used some of my explosives to blow up King Khalm’s treasure vault, Ezerai answered. While everyone was distracted gathering the spoils of war, I was exploring his secret chamber and came across an odd chunk of rock that I’ve never seen before. I put it in a sack and played it off casual. Then, once out of sight, I took it out and brought it home to investigate.

Though King Khalm had been dead for hundreds of years, his treasures were heavily guarded long after his passing. It was against Eselbadd’s forces that most forfeited their lives and lost all their worthwhile possessions.

What did you find out? Drake flipped the weapon to study even the smallest details of his gift.

Not too much, really, Ezerai answered. The Roughrocks and Nicegems didn’t come to any conclusions except that it looked like a small bit of it had been carefully hollowed out. It was no surprise, though, since they said that just touching the stone gives a divine feeling that can’t be put into words.

Drake ran his hand up and down the dull side of the blade. I feel something alright. It’s like a subtle holy aura.

I had every bit of remaining stone tempered into that fine blade.

Why a sword, or a weapon at all, for that matter? Any reason?

A good question, Ezerai responded. I suppose I just wanted a little holiness to balance out the bloodshed I’ve come to expect these recent years.

You could’ve held on to it and studied it further, maybe found out something.

You know, a small ‘thank you’ would’ve been nice.

Drake smiled. You’re right. Thank you so much for the gift. I’ll cherish this.

And one more thing, Ezerai added. Please don’t tell anyone where you got it. You know how much the others like to pry, especially Thagnon.

Drake nodded. I saw nothing.

From the moment Drake first possessed the Mongrel, his influence grew by leaps and bounds. Out for deployment several times since he became a local legend. Few people, if any, did not know who he was whenever his name was mentioned.

Even in his youth during his prime, he was known for fighting many battles, five of which cemented his name into the Hall of Records until his glory days were stripped from him. No man in Micus—perhaps the entire world—could match him in strength, speed, or charisma—no, not one.

He led the battle of Bassa, where they destroyed ten Phoenix tribe settlements throughout the course of a single day.

He led the battle of Wrestwrath, where the Silver Shadow slaughtered over three hundred Malhanen between the six of them and reclaimed their land.

He led the battle of Dazlar, freeing two thousand Micussian captives from Snasero, the ruthless dictator’s internment camps.

He led the battle of Hemor, engaging in a famous duel with the traitorous Captain Vlarnet on a bridge between the city’s rooftops.

Finally, he led his most famous battle of all.

In the dead of night, when the moon was only half and the air hot and humid, six warriors stood outside the gates of the recently liberated Szalmarok, the kingdom of King Ugron himself. A crumbling castle burned with sorrow in the near distance and lit the sky like an oversized candle. With no soldier left alive, and women and children taken away to be assimilated, not to mention that all dragons had been vanquished in the region. The victory that evening only further proved that Micus would stand supreme above all other kingdoms on the continent of Grath and, at that time in history, all Entisha.

Is he dead? the portly Feenosh asked.

He was a short, balding man with a longbow almost as tall as he was, yet his renown for being a womanizer nearly outmatched Drake’s fame. There was no greater hunter and marksman than him, and being as hyperactive as he was, he grew impatient, hoping to be brought back into action again.

Not sure, Drake responded. Under His Majesty’s orders, we are to wait here for him. We are not to go in after him under any costs.

But what if he’s—?

Have faith, runt, the towering Malkar grunted. This is Eselbadd we’re waiting for. The Entity is on his side.

Agreed, a nearby Thagnon added. The king deserves all the glory. We can’t claim too much for ourselves and leave others wanting. Can we, Drake?

He was taken aback by that question, wondering why him, of all people. Before he could answer, another person chimed in.

Jealous, Thagnon? Ezerai asked as he sorted and packed his tools and trinkets.

Hardly, he answered as he flung his fencing sword into the air, waiting for the tip to pierce the soft soil on its descent with success. It amazes me how quickly we’ve been succeeding when in just the recent past, we’ve had much difficulty, almost as if we’re being guided by something... otherworldly.

If by ‘otherworldly’ you mean the Entity, then yes. Other than that, I have no idea what you’re talking about, Drake fibbed. We’re the best in our respective fields. We have talent that few others possess.

Indeed, Thagnon added. But there’s something different about you lately. I can’t put my finger on it.

Now’s not the time for such pettiness, Luksu grunted, leaning onto his spear to ease his back. We can discuss this later if we survive. For now, we wait for the king.

Drake was happy to hear this because he didn’t want to explain himself, not that he was obligated to. The interruptions and small talk by his teammates helped keep the focus off him and back to what really mattered—the safety of the man whose concubines helped raise some of them—Eselbadd.

Out from the mist, just in sight, Eselbadd walked alone to the gated entryway to greet the Silver Shadow. His once elegant regal wear was now drenched in sweat and damp blood, his rapier dragging along the dirt making chaotic lines as he walked. He was breathing heavily, but kept a weak yet victorious smile.

Your Majesty! they exclaimed in unison.

It’s done, Eselbadd said before he fainted. Ezerai was quick to tend to him, seeing as he was also a field medic. Carefully examining his wounds, he concluded to the others that the king would be fine.

As for Drake, he wasn’t nearly as concerned for Eselbadd as he was for his new bride, the wife he dearly and wonderfully loved.

Just a little longer and I’ll be home to see you, Myra.

There were many other battles and epic deeds the Silver Shadow had been a part of, but those stories will not be told about in this book. However, all these victories—or atrocities, however one may perceive them—were done with the Mongrel in hand, used in the name of His Majesty, King Eselbadd of Micus.

Verily, there was no man in all the world at that time like Drake.

I feel I should apologize, Thagnon said as they rode home on their horses with the injured king.

It was a deep sunset, and there was a dark reddish-orange just over the horizon setting to rest below the mountains for the night.

About what? Drake asked. You’ve done nothing wrong.

On the contrary. I let my mouth run faster than my thoughts, and I may have hinted at some things I didn’t mean. Accusatory things.

It wasn’t in the manner of Thagnon to apologize, mainly because he was the most prideful member of the team and, yes, annoyingly so at times. The youth felt sincerity in his words, however.

Don’t worry about it. You are just as essential as the other five of us. We would collapse should you falter.

It’s not me that you should worry about, he answered matter-of-factly.

What do you mean? Drake asked, the sounds of trotting horses the only other noise that could be heard.

I didn’t want to have to say this, Thagnon began, but others are talking.

There were a few moments of pause. About what?

About you. They think of you so highly, many believe you to be the Entity.

Drake laughed with both shock and, to a degree, disgust.

Nonsense, he answered. I am but a man. I dare not compare myself to Him.

But the way you fight, the way you take us to victory time and time again, the way you make Micus grow. People won’t believe your denial.

I bleed like you, Drake answered, proving this by pricking his finger with the tip of his knife. See?

"I didn’t say I believed it, Thagnon clarified. I’m only saying others do. Besides, there is something peculiar about you ever since that day we—oh, never mind, Drake. I don’t want to bother you with anything else. I’ll just end it by saying that all glory goes to His Majesty. Hail to Eselbadd!"

The other five horse riders cheered. To Eselbadd!

And then the old man—the Drake of now—returned his thoughts to the present as he woke up to start the day in his tent, protected from a rather powerful windstorm. He remembered every detail and felt as if he had relived every moment he had just dreamt about, no matter how insignificant. In an epiphany, he reasoned to himself amidst the heavy snoring of the others.

Thagnon learned the truth about the Mongrel somehow. He must’ve found out Ezerai gave it to me. Did he know something we didn’t?

With this question on his mind, he disturbed the youths awake and insisted they hurry to Micus. His heart was beating faster than the wings of a hummingbird.

Chapter 2: Beckoning

"When will they predict the weather accurately for a change?

I’m tired of shoveling ‘partly cloudy’ off my front porch!"

—Eiliam Grayfox

Dirk Throwaway, still yawning from being woken up early, politely tapped the shoulder of the old man whose mind was preoccupied with many things.

We’re ready to go, the young man said.

Dirk and Mezz thought ahead and bundled themselves up cozily with furs and coverings and finally convinced Drake to cover himself despite his prior stubbornness. It was just above freezing temperature and light snowflakes that chaotically fell to the ground were quickly absorbed. Though it was daylight, it was hard to tell due to the clouds that blanketed the expanse, and seeing the greenery that became visible for the first time in a while, it would be brief. They let their horse, New, graze for a bit, then pressed on.

Dirk was designated primary rider with Mezz as relief while Drake sat much of the time in the cart riding along, claiming the weather was flaring up the arthritis in his knees, making it difficult to walk. It had been three full days since they left Ophidite territory and were once again windingly going north. There was no other way to go since to the west was the largest mountain range on Grath called Kaliam Zalot, known as the Dragon’s Noose in Snowtiger speech. It spanned hundreds of miles in length and was tall and nigh impossible to climb. Furthermore, to the west side beyond would be the Unclaimed territories which they’d never see.

They rode silently most of the trip since new topics were hard to come by at that point, and eventually they came to a fork in the road that split northeast and northwest. Mezz questioned Drake for directions.

Which way? she asked. For some reason, I’m without intuition today.

My memory’s a bit fuzzy around these parts, he responded. It’s been a while since I’ve been through here. I want to say we go right.

Are you sure? Dirk asked without confidence.

The old man paused. I... I think so. No, no. I’m sure it’s the right way.

Dirk was still not satisfied. "Are you sure sure?"

Drake struggled to answer. No.

Great, the young man said. This is gonna be fun.

It’s okay, Mezz reassured calmly. "We’ll wait until he is sure."

No! Drake’s voice elevated. I’m certain we go right. We continue.

The youths were not confident in his answer, but they took his word for it and went northeast toward Skorakach Valley, which was habitat to grazing creatures such as deer and bison. They debated whether to hunt these creatures, seeing as time was short and they had enough food for another two weeks, so they ultimately decided against it.

Mezz pondered. How far ahead do you think Shalaak is?

Not sure, Dirk answered. Maybe the wildlife ate him. It’d be nice, yeah?

There are many predators around these parts, Drake began, but I wouldn’t imagine that being much of a hindrance for him. He might be days ahead of us by now. In either case, it’s imperative we keep moving.

They continued through a very uncomfortable week when the first serious snowfall took place, the sky dropping thick and sloppy chunks to the ground. The wind was light, fortunately, and the coldness, though below freezing, was generally tolerable. However, the buildup of it caused slippage and difficulty traveling in higher elevations, especially in a place called the Lumpy Hills. Though they made it through without incident, it was especially rough on the cart, which was wobbly enough already. Dirk did have the strength and knowledge for minor repairs, but should serious damage occur, little could be done in the rough days ahead.

Shalaak raced swiftly to the destination he ached desperately to reach. The only thing on his mind was making sure he arrived at the designated time, no matter the cost. His reasons were purely his own, and being over a week ahead of his adversaries in distance traveled, he confidently ignored the weather and never once looked back or pondered if there would be any conflict between them.

He did not stop even once to eat, for he did not need to.

He did not stop to rest or sleep, for he did not need to.

He did not stop for any reason whatsoever.

His horse had long been dead, still being ridden on by the dark power, keeping it reanimated by its master. Having kept his steed overworked, malnourished, and frightened for extended lengths of time, the animal’s demise had soon come upon it, giving in to a heart attack and leaving Shalaak no choice but to use his own life force to keep it alive for time’s sake. Its flesh rotted with decay and many arrows had pierced its hide from the attacks of Malhanen, who discovered his whereabouts and pursued him relentlessly. Bone was revealed whenever lumps of its living carcass fell.

Many times, they tried to ambush him, and many times they lay traps hoping to capture him and deliver retribution for their fallen comrades back in the southern lands from whence they first encountered him, yet every time he escaped their grasp believing that stopping to entertain them was wasting valuable time. He believed he would outdistance them, but little did he know that they had planned this out well in advance.

This time, they caught up to him in the evening hour when only the moon gave its light, flanking him from both sides along a rocky pass home to mountain lions and burrowing rodents. With swords, bows, and spears at the ready, they halted him in his tracks, ready to exact revenge. There were at least a hundred of them.

There you are! screamed one in a Malhanen hunting party.

Shalaak stopped, being cut off in every direction.

You’re not going any farther! another man said. We’ve traveled far to make sure you don’t see the light of day.

Fools! Shalaak roared as his horse whinnied in agony. Did I not say that pursuing me would lead you to the same fate as the one whose sword I now carry? Do you really expect a different result this time?

We wouldn’t have come after you if we didn’t, the same man responded. This time we came prepared.

The one being hunted was certain the hunters were overconfident. How is this time any different?

Why would we tell you? That ruins the fun. Monster hunting is one of our favorite pastimes.

Shalaak was unintimidated. Then you need a new hobby. My power makes your weapons look like children’s toys, but go ahead. Make your move.

What makes you think we’re going to try the same tactic twice?

The Malhanen man gave the signal and unexpectedly, every one of his other men—all on horseback—turned and rode away, stopping a considerable distance barely within view and presumably out of reach of Shalaak’s power. The leader stood there as if he were not afraid of the necromantic rider.

I have no time for this, Shalaak said. Unless you want to make this place a mass burial site, I suggest you move out of the way.

Not gonna happen! The Malhanen man laughed.

Just then, he cupped his hands over his mouth and made short, repeated shrills as a raven would. On cue, from the ground behind Shalaak’s horse came up a man that had hidden himself under a grass-covered hole.

Faster than Shalaak could turn around, the man with a match in hand, struck it across his pant leg and lit a fuel-soaked rag tethered to an alcohol-filled bottle, which was quickly hurled away and smashed at the horse’s feet. The startled animal reared up on its hind legs, knocking Shalaak off it instantly and causing him to fall to the ground with a thud.

As a quick defensive tactic, Shalaak surrounded his own body with green energy the Malhanen leader and the surprise attacker knew better than to creep close to lest they share the same fate as their former leader. Instead, they backed away and let their subordinates take over in the attack. Men who witnessed the blaze trotted forward, readying fuel-tipped arrows to fire repeatedly at him, gradually moving closer until contact was inevitable.

Shalaak hastily rose to his feet only to see that his horse had been set ablaze, whinnying in terror and pain, himself unharmed save for the singed edges of his robe. He kept his green aura aglow, knowing that removing it could spell disaster if even one arrow connected. Soon, the Malhanen were close enough that volley after volley of incendiary missiles were launched at him with increased accuracy. Whatever arrows missed lit the ground surrounding him, and whatever arrows that would’ve hit disintegrated into nothingness, much to their growing frustration.

He couldn’t keep this protective field up forever since he knew he had to conserve the power within himself as much as possible. Malhanen continued firing their arrows, but kept enough distance that they were just out of range of counterattack.

Or so it seemed.

In one wave of the hand, Shalaak gathered the nearby flames unto himself and converted them into a green mist that enveloped his body, much to the shock of the Malhanen, who futilely continued in their assault.

Extending his arms outward to his left and to his right, he released the mist in two oceanic waves, sending the blasts of energy at breakneck speed toward his attackers on either side of him. Every living creature—Malhanen and horse alike—became anything but, now reduced to steaming ash. Even the leader and the surprise attacker were not spared.

His horse was still on its feet, though charred beyond recognition. Taking the same ash created from those Malhanen fools, Shalaak gathered all of it unto himself and using it in a way that could only be described as re-assembling, blasted it onto the burnt pieces of decaying flesh that had been consumed in the fire, replacing them in the process.

He was sure he’d killed all of them, not feeling the heartbeat of anything at any observable distance, yet was curious as to how the man hidden under the dirt beneath him had gone undetected. Grunting with frustration, he mounted his horse once again against its own wishes and continued as if nothing happened. It was the passion in his soul that burned brighter than any midnight fire, and it fueled him constantly. He was not bound by moral conflict or religious obligation. He did not care about his horse, though much energy was being used to keep it from completely succumbing to its doom. It begged continuously for mercy and release.

Traveling at such an intense pace caused him to be much like the blur of unfocused eyes, able to be seen but not clearly. The power within him kept many things at bay and on occasion used it to conceal himself, but it was so precious to him that he dared not use it unless necessary. It was partly the reason he did not kill unless he had to and why he spared those he otherwise would not have. To him, death was a trivial matter, but he avoided causing it because it was not in his nature to kill unprovoked.

As the air grew dense and foreboding, so did he in pursuing the objective awaiting him in Micus, where King Thagnon ruled. Ordering his hesitant horse to gallop at a speed beyond reasonable means, he rode through the falling snow, his mind cycling through the unlimited possibilities that awaited him there. He pressed on, disappearing into the whiteness.

You’re getting much better, young lady, said an impressed Drake, listening to Mezz strike true with her bow at various targets. "Gut instinct is one thing, but the means to fill that gut? That’s another lesson I must teach you."

Mezz was pleased to hear this. Their victory back at the tar pits was in large part thanks to her quick thinking, but even then, she insisted on never letting herself get too comfortable.

Their stops were few and far between, but when they decided to rest, rarely was it spent really doing so. The young woman was determined to become an expert archer, and Dirk’s own gut instinct kicked in to stay vigilant, for such weather brought out unique dangers, as his upbringing reminded him. Winters in his homeland were especially complicated, making traveling between encampments difficult, but the annual snowfall there was much less than what he would be facing soon. Mezz was no stranger to it, and those back in Nunokot took pride in maintaining its beauty by keeping the land clean and cleared.

Drake’s health seemed to worsen as bloody coughing fits became more frequent. One such instance was so bad that a deeply worried Mezz concocted emergency medicine from their supply chest consisting of water, herbs, and berries that proved limited in effectiveness. Thankfully, it acted as a strong sedative and relaxed him into a peaceful state. She hoped, no, prayed that there would be enough of it to last their entire trip, for it was his companionship and familiarity of these lands that would be essential to see her quest through to completion. Dirk would be their eyes and ears in the old man’s stead.

The time came when the winds picked up greatly and sharp, crisp snow fell fast. Knocking over their tent in the middle of the night, the sheer power and velocity of the forceful air demanded they protect their possessions and seek safety from nature’s assault. The wind howled, the branches on the trees snapped, and shiny white crystals flew indiscriminately like sand on a beach, stinging their faces.

They gathered their belongings and walked beside New to behind a large pyramid-shaped stone that, at minimum,