Greetings!
Fair tidings to all who enter. You are most welcome. I apologize for the pause in the most recent postings; having a main day job search and job change has taken a lot out of me, but I’ll be resuming some more updates in the coming weeks.
In the meantime, I know it’s been a while since I’ve shared some material from Ni’ala’s perspective, sooo…ya. Here we are! It’s a mid-section chapter, so a fair bit has still happened since the beginning, but here’s the context for the story:
Ni’ala is still on a journey through the Quirael Wood to find her future apprentice, when she has an unexpected encounter with the locals…her own people. No, not the Druids, but her original race and people, the Wood Elves—the friends and family she once new before she was adopted into the Order. The tensions of the Elven Civil War are still high, and even your own kin can’t be trusted for fear of working for the enemy. Navigating through the ostracizing of no longer feeling like she belongs with her own people is a subject truly worth delving into…
This is only the first half of the chapter, and while I know haven’t really taken a full second edit over the chapter, I’m still not terribly satisfied with the flow of the scenes at the moment. I’m working on really figuring out how to tighten up some of the tension and the uncertainty in the scene, but hey! What’s a first draft for? I’ll have a future post continuing where this chapter left off, but for now…here you are. Until next time, cheers!
-J.K. Denny
Featured image found under DeviantArt by Galder
XXIV: Uninvited Guests
Ni’ala
As the Druid rises from her slumber, the Sun’s golden rays barely shine through the heavy shading from the Quirael Wood. The palpable woodland scents comfort Ni’ala in her natural environment. Nerosh sits upon a log, scratching his ear with one of his hind legs as he stares in wonder at the Elven capital in the distance. The air about Ni’ala grows stale, the feeling of a storm approaching from the North becoming more apparent.
“I feel it too.” Nerosh suddenly announces. “The storm…though there is something unnatural about it.”
The unnaturality behind this coming storm is difficult to explain for those not attuned to nature. But for beasts and rangers and druids, a storm such as this sets off all sorts of alarms. To the northeast lies the Bâd, or “the Barren Lands,” as it’s more commonly referred to. It was a site for many ancient battles and once the place of the now long-dead Black Dragon Antigonos. Past that would be the Garnet Inferno, a desolate wasteland that no peaceful creature lives thanks to the wrath of the Red Dragon Handrial. His whereabouts are still unknown, but he has yet to show himself since his assault on the Dwarven capital of Arador. Even further behind that region is Ankara, Land of the Deep Gnomes. Its peoples lay waste to the area about them and seek only to pollute the very ground they stand on with their tinkering and machinery.
Yet, even further than all of that lies the Peninsula of Decay: A place where all Demons were first summoned and all necromancy was founded to reanimate the first Undead. Most maps don’t even consider this chunk of rock as an actual region. To most normal denizens, it might as well not exist. All Druids, though, know very well the impact of this land during the War of the Beings. The Cult of the Damned use the lack of knowledge by most to their advantage. The sign of a storm originating from there can only confirm her recent conversation with the apparition of Death. Something sinister is already being prepared unbeknownst to the rest of the Lands.
“Yes, friend. For what reason I am not certain. But from where…the signs are much more troublesome than ever before. Only once before had I seen something similar…”
Ni’ala drifts off in thought, as the harsh burning and decaying corpses of her people bleeding into the ground somewhere in the Garnet Inferno hits her mind. Not one night has passed in her two centuries she’s lived that she will ever forget their faces. Nerosh suddenly rises, his massive form shrugging off tension as he speaks.
“I wish I was there to help in some way. I know with what happened to the Druid Order, there is no way I can remotely compare to what you have suffered. I can tell that it still haunts your very hide to this day, and if I could take that away from you I would.”
“Well,” Ni’ala hesitates while holding back a few tears, “I’ll completely honest; I never relate my body to having a hide.”
“Your body has skin as a fur lining, no?”
The two of them chuckle as she wipes her moss-covered sleeve under her eyes.
“Thank you, friend.” Ni’ala says soberly.
The bear trudges over the dampened campfire with no effort and nuzzles his snout into her open hand. The Druid graciously accepts the affectionate touch and kneels down to hug him. Her face is now completely buried in the bear’s mane.
“What I did to deserve a creature such as yourself to be a friend, I do not know.”
“I do know that I would not be here without you, so it is the least I can do to pay my respects.”
Nerosh’s grin has the Druid chuckle away the last of her tears. Ni’ala then bent down to pick up her belongings and unpack the embers from the campfire to avoid any unnecessary fire that may break out. After about ten minutes, the two of them begin to set out once more.
Before long, though, Ni’ala’s ear pricks to a very faint sound. Yes, it was very faint, but no less real. The small exhale of a breath being released. Someone is here, and someone is watching them now.
Taking her staff, the Druid aims it far left in the direction she heard the sound. She screams, “Show yourself! I know you’re out there!”
An entire agonizing minute of silence passes with no retort. Then, the slit of an arrow juts out from the underbrush as a slender form rises from the cover of the heavy woods. Soon after, the Druid’s ear pricks as more slight breaks in wood and leaf surround her, and now a dozen bows are pointed in all directions towards her. The slender forms now all edge out of their cover.
“It would seem,” Nerosh mutters to Ni’ala, “that your kin don’t take kindly to our presence.”
The first to show finally moves into the lighting that breaks the dense treeline. His chiseled face is covered in verdant paintings and markings, and his hair shines more silvered than an elegantly smithed Elven sword. His bow matches a similar coloration, but its curvature is pristine and elegant in the hands of its wielder. Slim-fitting leather armor binds most of his torso and legs, and high-bound boots with light tailoring to walk upon the forest floors and canopies with ease. The others in company of the silver-haired Elf showed themselves, with similarly constructed wooden bows and hair that matches the very color of the trunks of the Wood, auburn with a slight tinge of amber. The silver-haired Elf lowers his bow, if only slightly, while his companions remain unmoved—the rest of their weapons are split in their aimings between Ni’ala’s and Nerosh’s head.
The silver-haired Elf calls out to Ni’ala, seeming to focus on addressing her directly instead of her companion.
“What is your business here?”
Ni’ala lowers her implement to mirror the speaker in hopes of showing that she won’t attack immediately.
“I do not seek any harm to the Wood or the creatures that inhabit it. Myself and my companion only seek passage through the Wood to reach the Halfling Lands of Breiner. We wish no ill upon your people; we only had to make camp for the night before continuing our journey.”
“Do not trust her, Kepper!” One of the Elves calls out to him. “She’s likely a spy of Eleanor, by the looks of it! Trying to guise herself in our kin’s hunter clothing carrying…a staff of some sort? Clearly a poor choice of weaponry against the denizens and dangers of the Wood. Let us kill her and be done with it.”
Up until this point, Nerosh was keeping his peace. Upon hearing the threat, he bellows a low grumble to warn of the retaliation that will ensue if the lone Elf seeks to follow through on his intent. Bowstrings tighten in response, and the bear’s body evidently restrains itself from responding to the attack.
Ni’ala raises her eyebrow. “I haven’t visited the cities of my people in centuries…maybe ever, in fact. This is the first I’ve ever talked with one of my kin that wasn’t—”
Ni’ala stopped herself, for in an instant she knew she would most certainly not be trusted if she gave away her true identity as a Druid. As long as she can help it, no one else will know.
“…wasn’t what?” The lone Elf continued. “A High Elf!? See, I told you this was an imposter! Let me get this over with so we can send a proper message—one last Chi’talmachi witch back to the High Matron for her bidding and scheming.”
The vocal one barely has enough time to get that sentence out before Nerosh stands on his hind legs to tower even over the foolish aggressor’s height. Ni’ala had only seconds to calm Nerosh.
“Vulu phram!” She spoke in a hushed tone, lower than even the Elves could hear. “He is merely testing your resolve. Hold yourself.” She then turns back to the silver-haired leader of the group while raising her voice. “Sir, with all due respect, we seek no harm. We only have an urgent matter with the Halflings that needs to be handled quickly.”
For being mostly silent in this endeavor, the leader finally lowers his bow most of the way. “This is a matter to be handled by the Glade Lord himself. Come now, you have my word that we will not harm you, yet. You must speak with our Glade Lord before we can allow you safe passage through Elianis and the rest of the Wood. Since your mission you claim is so time-sensitive, you would do well to follow quickly.”
After stowing his bow, but not signaling for the rest of his group to do the same, he turns and gestures for Ni’ala to follow.
“And,” he continues, only slightly turning his head, “since we didn’t get a chance to properly introduce ourselves, I am Eroval. Glade Keeper of the Woodland realms in the Quirael Wood.”
“Ni’ala…and Nerosh. Guardians of the Circle of Serenity.”
“Lady Ni’ala, I have traveled every foot and bush across the Quirael Wood and never heard of this ‘Circle of Serenity’.”
“Good.” Ni’ala grins.
‘That means,’ she adds silently, ‘that it is still successfully guarded and hidden even to those that say they know the Wood’s boundaries.’
Ni’ala glances over to her companion, who only very hesitantly shrugs off the recent verbal blows the vocal Elf made. Nerosh even took the quick second to flash a toothy smile to her before returning to his guise of a normal bear. He acknowledges to her that their identities were safe, for now at least. The rest of the Elves still had their bows unmoved in aim. A few scurried to the treetops, while the remaining strafe the woodland floor at a surprisingly quick pace. Eroval then guides the group, with Ni’ala and Nerosh a few steps behind, toward the direction of the tree system of Sylvania.
J.K. Denny 