NOVEL WEB Chapter 6: Sharwood
The remainder of the journey to Sharwood was, thankfully, uneventful in terms of further encounters with hostile creatures. The immediate threat of the wolves had passed, leaving behind a lingering unease, a heightened awareness of the dangers that lurked within the Tallenwood Forest. This unease, however, was tempered by the growing anticipation of reaching safety, of finding respite from the constant vigilance required for survival in the wild. William, leaning heavily on the makeshift crutch Edward had provided, focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The rhythmic throb in his leg, a constant, fiery reminder of the wolf's attack and his own vulnerability, became a strange sort of metronome, marking the passage of time and distance.
As they walked, William seized the opportunity to learn more about this strange, new world. His mind, still reeling from the encounter with the wolves and the blatant display of magic, was a whirlwind of questions, a chaotic jumble of curiosity and apprehension. He was a man of data, of logic, of quantifiable facts, and he was now adrift in a reality that seemed to defy all the rules he'd held dear. He needed to understand, to categorize, to impose some semblance of order on this beautiful, terrifying chaos. Julia and Edward, though weary themselves, patiently answered his inquiries, their words painting a picture of a kingdom under siege, a land teetering on the brink of collapse.
"This kingdom... it's called Aver?" William asked, testing the unfamiliar name on his tongue, trying to anchor himself to this new reality with the tangible weight of words.
"Yes," Julia confirmed, her voice soft but firm, carrying a hint of pride, a subtle resonance of belonging. "The Kingdom of Aver. For centuries, we have lived in peace, under the wise and just rule of King Bartam Aver the Third. Our land was prosperous, our people content. Our fields yielded bountiful harvests, our artisans crafted works of beauty, and our scholars pursued knowledge and wisdom. But..." Her voice trailed off, a shadow of sadness crossing her face, a fleeting glimpse of the pain that lay beneath her calm exterior. "Peace can breed complacency. It can lull you into a false sense of security, blind you to the dangers that gather on the horizon."
Edward snorted, a sound of bitter agreement, a harsh counterpoint to Julia's melancholic tone. "We were soft. Fat and happy, like prize hogs ripe for the slaughter. We neglected our defences, allowed the weeds of darkness to take root in the neglected corners of our realm, to fester and grow strong in the shadows."
"The Dark Lord Neverus," William said, the name sounding ominous even to his own ears, a foreign word that carried the weight of untold suffering, of unimaginable power. "He's been building his power for a long time?" He needed to understand the enemy, to grasp the scale of the threat, to quantify the danger, as if reducing it to data points could somehow make it less terrifying.
"In secret, yes," Julia explained, her gaze distant, as if looking back through the mists of time, recalling the gradual, insidious encroachment of darkness. "For years, there were rumours, whispers of growing unrest in the north, of monsters becoming bolder, of villages disappearing without a trace. But most dismissed them as isolated incidents, the usual skirmishes that happen on the fringes of civilization, the inevitable friction between order and chaos. No one wanted to believe that a true threat was rising, that a storm was brewing that could engulf us all. Complacency is a dangerous luxury, one we could ill afford."
"Until two years ago," Edward interjected, his voice hardening with a barely suppressed rage, a cold fury that burned beneath his stoic exterior. The memory of the event, still fresh and raw, fuelled his anger, sharpened his resolve. "When Neverus attacked Shendek. A city on the far north-western edge of the Tallenwood Forest, the very forest where you found yourself." He spat on the ground, a gesture of disgust, of contempt for the enemy, a physical manifestation of his hatred. "He overwhelmed them with an army of undead and monsters, a tide of horrors that crashed against their walls like a relentless wave. Slaughtered those who resisted, enslaved the rest to serve his twisted will. That's when everyone finally woke up, when the comfortable illusion of peace shattered, revealing the brutal reality of the threat we faced. But by then, it was almost too late."
William absorbed this information, his mind racing to process the implications, to construct a framework of understanding, to fit this new reality into a coherent narrative. A kingdom caught unprepared, a powerful enemy on the rise, a desperate struggle for survival. It was a scenario ripped straight from the pages of the fantasy novels he'd devoured in his youth, tales of epic battles between good and evil, of heroic deeds and tragic sacrifices. But now, it was his reality, a terrifyingly tangible world where magic was real, where monsters roamed the forests, and where the fate of a kingdom hung in the balance.
"And Aver... has been fighting back?" he asked, needing to hear some reassurance, some glimmer of hope in the encroaching darkness.
"We've been trying," Julia said, a hint of weariness in her voice, the weight of the conflict pressing down on her, a burden she carried with quiet dignity. "King Bartam has rallied the troops, conscripted soldiers from every corner of the kingdom, poured resources into rebuilding our military, a desperate attempt to make up for lost time, for years of neglect. We've also heavily invested in the Adventurers Guild, fostering talent, seeking out individuals with unique skills, with the courage and the will to fight back, to aid in the war effort, to become the heroes we so desperately need."
"We've held them back," Edward added, his voice laced with a grim satisfaction, a warrior's pride in a hard-fought battle, even in the face of overwhelming odds. "The north and west have fallen, vast swathes of our kingdom swallowed by the darkness, but the Dark Legion hasn't yet broken through to the heart of Aver. It's a stalemate, for now, a precarious balance of power, a desperate holding action. But they're constantly growing stronger, raising more undead from the fallen, breeding more monsters in their foul lairs, replenishing their ranks with the very victims of their aggression. We're holding on by a thread, fighting a war of attrition we can't possibly win in the long run." He clenched his fist, the knuckles white, his body tense with barely contained fury.
"You're both... adventurers?" William asked, realizing the significance of their affiliation, understanding the role they played in this desperate struggle, the courage and dedication it required.
"We are," Julia confirmed, a hint of pride in her voice, a quiet affirmation of her commitment to the cause. "We were tasked with scouting the Tallenwood, investigating reports of increased goblin activity, to gauge the extent of the Dark Legion's influence, to see how far their tendrils had reached into the heart of our kingdom. It's dangerous work, but necessary. We are the eyes and ears of the resistance, gathering intelligence, disrupting enemy movements, striking where we can."
Edward grimaced, a flicker of dark humour in his eyes. "We found a small band of them before we found you. Dispatched most of them, sent them screaming back to whatever hellhole spawned them, but one got away. Probably the one that attacked you, the miserable cur. They're getting bolder, venturing further from their usual haunts, a sign that the Dark Legion's power is growing, that their control is spreading."
William felt a surge of gratitude, realizing the danger they'd faced, the risk they'd taken to help him, a stranger in a strange land. "I... I'm glad you found me," he said, his voice thick with emotion, the words inadequate to express the depth of his relief, his appreciation for their selfless act. "I wouldn't have lasted much longer on my own. I owe you my life."
"We do what we can," Julia said, offering him a small, reassuring smile, a flicker of warmth in the encroaching darkness, a symbol of the enduring human spirit. "These are dark times. We must help each other if we are to survive, if we are to have any hope of defeating the darkness that threatens to consume us all. We are all in this together."
They continued their conversation, the shared words a fragile bridge between their vastly different worlds. William, driven by his insatiable curiosity, by his need to understand, probed for more details about their lives, their backgrounds, seeking to fill in the gaps in his knowledge, to build a more complete picture of these two individuals who had so unexpectedly become his saviours, his companions in this perilous journey.
He learned that Julia hailed from the capital city, the heart of Aver, and though she never explicitly stated it, her refined speech, her elegant mannerisms, her extensive knowledge of magic, and her general demeanour hinted at a noble upbringing, at a life of privilege and education that was now a distant memory, a world shattered by the encroaching war. She'd joined the Adventurers Guild out of a sense of duty, a burning desire to use her unique abilities to protect her kingdom, to defend her people, to fight for the values she held dear. She was a mage, specializing in ranged attacks, her magic a force of destruction, a weapon against the darkness.
Edward, in contrast, was a man of the earth, a farmer from a small village in the western reaches of Aver, a village that no longer existed, swallowed by the tide of the Dark Legion's advance, a victim of Neverus' brutal conquest. He'd lost everything – his home, his family, his friends, his livelihood – to the encroaching darkness, his world reduced to ashes and memories. His hatred for the Dark Legion burned with a cold, fierce intensity, a fuel that drove him, that had transformed him from a peaceful farmer into a hardened warrior, a man who had witnessed unimaginable horrors and had emerged from the crucible of war scarred but unbroken. He'd become a swordsman out of necessity, learning to wield a blade not for glory or conquest, but for survival, for revenge, for the faint hope of reclaiming what he had lost. He'd met Julia at the Adventurers Guild a year ago, their contrasting skills and personalities forming an unlikely but effective partnership, a bond forged in the fires of shared hardship and a common purpose. He handled the close-quarters combat, his sword and shield against the enemy, a bulwark against the tide of darkness, while Julia provided ranged support, her magic a weapon of devastating power, a force that could shatter enemy lines and turn the tide of battle. They were a team, a well-oiled machine, their strengths complementing each other, their weaknesses mitigated by their mutual trust and unwavering loyalty.
As they talked, William also tentatively broached the subject of language, curious about the mechanics of Julia's spell, about the seemingly effortless way she had bridged the gap between their vastly different worlds. "This... translation magic," he said, choosing his words carefully, trying to grasp the concepts that still felt alien, that challenged his understanding of reality, "it's not really translating, is it? It's more like... understanding intent? Like reading minds, but just for language?"
Julia nodded, impressed by his insight, by his ability to grasp the essence of the spell despite his lack of magical knowledge. "Exactly. It's a subtle art, a delicate weaving of energies. It creates a temporary link, a bridge between minds, allowing for the comprehension of meaning, regardless of the specific words used, bypassing the barriers of vocabulary and grammar. You're still speaking your native tongue, the language you know, but we understand your intent, the underlying meaning behind your words. And you understand ours, not just the sounds, but the emotions, the nuances, the unspoken messages that lie beneath the surface." She smiled, a fleeting expression that illuminated her tired features, a spark of intellectual curiosity in her eyes. "It's a fascinating field of study, the magic of communication, of connection. It has the potential to bridge divides, to foster understanding, to unite disparate peoples. But like all magic, it has its limitations. It's temporary, for one, and it requires a certain level of skill and concentration to maintain. It also relies on a degree of shared experience, a common ground of understanding. It wouldn't work on, say, a creature with a completely alien mind, a being whose thoughts and emotions were utterly incomprehensible to us."
William found this fascinating, another example of the subtle yet profound ways magic permeated this world, another piece of the puzzle that was slowly beginning to take shape in his mind. He was about to ask about magic itself, about its principles, its limitations, its source, the fundamental questions that burned within him, when Edward suddenly held up a hand, silencing them with a gesture of urgent warning.
"We're here," he said, his voice low, his eyes fixed on something in the distance, his body tense, alert, ready for action.
They had reached the outskirts of Sharwood. It wasn't the small, struggling settlement William had initially pictured. Instead, Sharwood was a moderately sized town, a testament to the resilience and resourcefulness of its people, even in the face of adversity. Buildings crafted from a combination of sturdy stone and well-worked timber lined the streets, a blend of practicality and aesthetic appeal. While not as grand as a major city, Sharwood possessed a certain solidity, a sense of established community that spoke of a history predating the current conflict. The presence of several larger structures – a well-maintained church with a tall steeple, a bustling inn and pub with smoke curling invitingly from its chimneys, and what appeared to be a small, fortified keep overlooking the town square – hinted at a level of prosperity and organization that belied its frontier location.
However, the most striking feature of Sharwood was the newly constructed palisade wall that encircled the town. Built from thick, freshly-cut logs reinforced with earthworks and strategically placed stones, the wall was a clear indication of the present danger. It was a functional, rather than decorative, structure, clearly built in haste, yet it possessed a formidable presence, a clear message of defiance against the encroaching darkness. Armed guards patrolled the ramparts, their movements purposeful, their gazes constantly sweeping the surrounding forest, their presence a constant reminder of the precariousness of peace.
An unease settled over William as he took in the scene. The people of Sharwood, though going about their daily routines, carried an air of quiet anxiety, a sense of impending doom that hung heavy in the air. He saw it in the hurried steps of merchants, the worried glances of mothers clutching their children, the grim determination etched on the faces of the blacksmiths hammering out weapons and armour. Yet, beneath the fear, he also detected a resilient spirit, a refusal to be cowed by the threat. There was a sense of community, of shared purpose, a determination to protect their homes and families, to stand firm against the encroaching darkness.
As they approached the gate, the guards recognized Julia and Edward, their expressions relaxing slightly, their postures losing some of their rigidity as they waved the trio through, a brief exchange of greetings and nods acknowledging their shared burden, their common plight. Relief washed over William, a sense of having reached a temporary haven, a respite from the dangers of the forest, a brief sanctuary from the constant threat of attack. But it was a fragile relief, tempered by the knowledge that this was merely a temporary reprieve, that the war raged on, that the darkness was still out there, waiting, growing stronger.
"Edward, you should report to the Guild and to the Lord's representative," Julia said, turning to her companion, her voice calm and practical, her mind already focused on the next steps, on the tasks that needed to be done. "Tell them about the goblins, about the increased activity in the Tallenwood. It's vital information, intelligence that could help them prepare, that could save lives. They need to know the extent of the threat, the proximity of the enemy."
Edward nodded, his jaw set, his expression grim, his eyes reflecting the weight of his responsibility. "I will. I'll make them understand the urgency of the situation. You take William to the healer. Get that leg looked at properly. We can't afford to have you hobbled, not now."
"We should," Julia agreed, her gaze shifting to William's leg, her expression softening with concern. As she did, William, prompted by her concern and Edward's earlier comment, became acutely aware of his leg. The throbbing pain that had been his constant companion had subsided, replaced by a dull ache. He flexed his leg experimentally, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "It's... better," he admitted, almost to himself. "Much better than it should be. A wound like that... it should have taken days, weeks even, to heal this much."
Julia's eyes widened slightly. "The citrusroot," she murmured. "It's more potent than I thought. Or perhaps... something else is at play."
Edward interrupted, his voice tinged with urgency. "We can discuss this later. Let's get you to the healer, William. And then... we need to prepare. The darkness is coming, and Sharwood is in its path. We are running out of time." He gestured towards the town, his meaning clear. They needed to act, and quickly.