Dawnbringer: An Epic Medieval High Fantasy Saga

"Can we rest for a bit before continuing further?" Eldarien asks, sitting down at the side of the road.

"Most definitely," Rorlain replies, crouching down beside him. "It is after lunch time already, and we have both eaten very little over the previous few days and more." After a moment, he adds, "How are you feeling now? It seems the fever has subsided."

"It has, more or less, but I still feel quite weak, and there is a throbbing pain in my head. But over all, I am quite grateful that this sickness was not longer-lasting or more debilitating."

"I suppose it was due to the weather and the diet, neither of which have been conducive to health?"

"I don't know what else it would be," says Eldarien, resting his head in his hands and closing his eyes. The area along his temples is pulsing with a sharp pain that makes it difficult to keep his eyes open, particularly in the brightness of the midday sun.

"Is there naught that I can do to ease your pain and discomfort?" Rorlain asks, compassion in his voice.

"I think I am already beginning to recover," Eldarien assures him, "but I think some food would help both of us."

"We have the rowan berries," proffers Rorlain, "though they are not much. I could take an hour or two to hunt, if you wish it."

"No, I don't want to delay any longer." Eldarien presses his head between his fingers, gently massaging the sides of his forehead and along the edges of his eyes. "But I could do with a bit more rest. Could you cook those berries? They will have to be sufficient to hold us over until this evening."

"That I will do." With this, Rorlain rises to his feet and goes about gathering fallen branches to build a small fire, while Eldarien lays back against the grass and tries to sleep.

After a small repast of berries they depart again and follow the road to the south. The land has become more level now, though still scattered here and there with stones and trees, and tall grass waves freely in the wind on either side of the road, with speckled red and yellow flowers in full bloom dancing among the grasses. The afternoon is much harder going for Eldarien than the morning was, and it becomes necessary for them to regularly stop at intervals so that he may rest. At evening twilight, he collapses on the road from weakness, and Rorlain insists on making camp for the night. He catches a fox just as darkness begins to enshroud the land and cooks it for their evening meal.

In the morning, Eldarien's state has greatly improved, and both of them are grateful that the illness was indeed, to all appearances, was short lived. And things promise soon to improve even further, as around nine o'clock they come upon a farm a short ways off the road to the east. They follow a narrow and winding dirt path to the main building, with wheat fields on either side of them. There is also a stable not far away from the house with three horses and, in an enclosed pasture further back, a small herd of cows. Rorlain knocks on the door, and they wait for a minute or two, but there is no answer.

"Perhaps they are around the back," he muses, "or working in the fields, and we just missed them."

"You can go ahead and look," says Eldarien. "I am going to sit here for a moment."

"Good. You get what rest you can," Rorlain says, turning to go. "With any fortune, I will be right back."

Eldarien sits upon the ground, even though there are crates and boxes near the entrance to the house which he could use. He pulls his pack off and sets it before him and readjusts the baldric of his greatsword over his shoulder. Then he hears a voice from behind him, "So you are just going to set up camp right on my doorstep, are you?" He turns and sees a man step out from the doorway into the sunlight.

"My apologies," Eldarien says, rising to his feet with effort. "We meant no intrusion. My companion is only out back looking for the owner of this property—which I suppose you are. If we found no one, we were soon to be on our way."

"Well, you have found someone," the man says, his voice unfriendly, "though I still suggest you continue on your way."

"Please, could you hear me out for a moment?" Eldarien asks. "We only seek aid in an important endeavor."

"Why would I wish to aid you?"

"Because our cause is just. We make haste to Ristfand with pressing news of great importance to the well-being and safety of all in the city."

"That is a new one," the man says, incredulously.

"I speak naught but the truth," affirms Eldarien.

"Then prove it. What is this 'pressing news' of which you speak?"

"War soon comes over the mountains, and within only a short matter of time, we fear that armies shall march upon Ristfand."

"And what care is that of mine?"

"Surely you—"

"Surely I what?"

"They are your own people," Eldarien says, trying to restrain his frustration. "Would you not wish to aid them in whatever way you may?"

"I would perhaps aid them if I knew there were a problem," says the man, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms across his chest. "But I have no reason to trust a wandering vagabond."

"I am not a vagabond. I was once a soldier in the Imperial army, but now I see that great violence is planned toward the people of Telmerion, and it is my duty to prevent it if I may."

"If you may? Then why do you wander through the fields on foot, armed like brigands, and with no tokens to prove your trustworthiness?"

"It is only a recent development, and..." Eldarien falls silent. It is clear that the man has no interest, not only in helping him, but even in listening to him. At this moment Rorlain returns and, seeing the man, walks to Eldarien's side.

He then says, "Good day, sir, we wish blessings unto this household."

"Keep your blessings for yourself," the man replies without hesitation. "The only thing that I desire from you is that you vacate my property immediately."

Glancing at Eldarien, Rorlain opens his mouth to speak and then promptly closes it again.

"We are only in need of a couple horses to speed our travels to Ristfand," Eldarien says. "That is all."

"You wish to make a deal? What do you have that I would want?"

"Very little, I am afraid. We have only what you see."

"We had coin, but it was—" Rorlain begins.

"You had coin," the man emphasizes. "But you no longer do. No matter. I need no coin. I live from the fruit of my own labor. Now depart from me."

"Why are you so hesitant to help us? We seek to prevent the loss of many lives," Eldarien says.

"My reasons are my own. Now be off with you."

"But may I at least ask if there is another settlement nearby where we may seek aid?"

"There are plenty of houses around here," the man answers, "but don't you go interfering and trampling all over people's property."

"What about an inn or even a hamlet?" Rorlain asks.

"I do not travel much, but most inns in the area are along the Mardas road, and that is a good one-hundred or more miles to the east, across the Kvir Canyon."

"Thank you for your time," Eldarien says, and he and Rorlain turn to go.

The man says nothing more but stands and watches them depart until they are back on the road heading south.

"Why did he...?" Rorlain asks, but his voice fades out before he has even voiced the question.

"I do not know," replies Eldarien. "He was both cautious and angry. It could be for a specific cause or simply because he had no desire to help us. Regardless, we have no choice but to continue on and try somewhere else."

"We could also take the horses and leave sign that we intend to return them," Rorlain says. "The need is desperate, and I am sure once he hears the truth about Ristfand, he will understand our motives. When we bring them back, we can bring payment and extra for the inconvenience."

"No, we cannot do that," answers Eldarien. "I am still weak, but we can walk. And above all, a path toward the light can only be pursued by means of light. Darkness, even darkness under the guise of good, has no place within it. If anything, this is a lesson that I have learned deeply."

"As you say," Rorlain concludes. "I am sorry to have suggested it. We will simply need to trust that help will be found elsewhere."

The road begins to turn to the east now, and they follow along it hopeful that the Mardas road indeed lies in this direction. Within the next five or six hours, they pass by a handful of other houses, but none of them have horses that they could even request. So they continue on until it is nearly dark, and, just as the streaks of sunset light in the sky are fading to formless black, they come to an intersection where two roads meet and, to their delight, at the intersection, an inn. A sign hangs over the door, weather beaten but legible:

Springsummer Inn

"Interesting name," Rorlain remarks with a smile.

"I suppose it is fitting, considering the time of year," Eldarien says, "though we are a couple months too early."

"Or maybe it refers to both seasons," Rorlain laughs, "and then we are right on time."

"Regardless, I am glad we are...finally..."

"Yes." Rorlain looks at Eldarien for a moment. "But here we can get some hearty food and a good bed. I just wish we could stay for a longer time until you are fully recovered."

"The only thing that will fully help me recover, I think, is when we have brought word successfully to Ristfand," Eldarien says. "The worry that more lives shall be lost on my account is burdening me greatly."

"And that burden is not on your shoulders alone, Eldarien," Rorlain responds in a quiet voice.

"I understand. Nonetheless, it feels like it is."

"Come, let us go inside."

The door swings with a loud creak when Rorlain pulls it open, and they both expect eyes to be turned to them as they enter, but they find that the front room of the inn—a small tavern with but a few tables—is nearly empty. Two men of rugged appearance sit together talking quietly, drinks on the table between them, and a woman sits on a stool alone at a counter speaking to an aged and heavily-bearded man, who appears to be the innkeeper also functioning in the capacity of barkeeper. A stained apron stretches across his broad, barrel-like chest, and he holds a ring of keys in his hand. Rorlain and Eldarien watch as he removes one of the keys from the ring and hands it to the woman, who then turns away and ascends a flight of stairs at the other end of the room.

They approach the counter themselves and the man greets them with a toothy grin, "Good evening, sirs. My name is Sadric, and I am the man you need to be talking to around here if you need anything in terms of lodgings or refreshment. Be you travelers looking for a place to rest for the night?"

"Yes, we are," Rorlain says. "We have traveled quite a long ways, from the base of the Teldrens, and seek both shelter and nourishment."

"I have just the thing to remedy that," the innkeeper says. "A room and a hearty meal, what say you?"

"A hearty meal would be just the thing," Eldarien says. "However, we came upon some unfortunate circumstances on the road, and our money was stolen. I do not wish to mislead you, so I say outright that we have no means to pay, unless there is something else that we could give in exchange for your hospitality."

"You seem like friendly enough folk," Sadric says, though suspicion creeps subtly into his face, "but I am not accustomed to giving out services for free. This establishment is my livelihood, after all, and my wife and young ones at home depend on what I make here."

"We entirely understand," Eldarien replies, "and we would pay you at this moment if we could. Perhaps we could make some sort of arrangement?"

"First, tell me your business."

Rorlain sighs almost imperceptibly and then answers, "We travel to Ristfand on pressing business, with news of the civil war in the west. We are aligned with neither faction, but have a warning to bring to the people of the city whose arrival it would be well for you to hasten in whatever way you may."

Sadric looks at Rorlain in silence as he ruminates on these words, one of his eyebrows raised as if this expression helps him to think. "So you say you are in haste for the city? That is a long ways yet."

"We know," Eldarien says. "The circumstances of our journey are unfortunate, and we travel by the quickest means at our disposal."

"You have some horses out front, I imagine, which will need stabling?" Sadric asks.

"Unfortunately, no," Eldarien replies. "That, too, we wished to ask you about."

"And with nothing to pay for them?"

"Indeed."

"Well, you both are asking a lot for very little—or rather for nothing."

"The horses we will return to you," Rorlain says, "and we shall also return, at earliest convenience, with twice the amount we owe you or shall send it to you by another means."

"I think," Sadric says, eyeing both of them for a long time, but his expression softening again to the warmth that it showed at the beginning, "I think that you are telling the truth. This is a small inn in an out-of-the-way place, but I see enough people come through here to learn a bit about travelers and about the ways of men, both good and bad. And you do not have the smell of bad men."

Rorlain laughs at this and comments, "But we probably do smell like something else. We have been now without shelter for weeks."

"Well, I hope that the warmth of my inn may serve you both, whose faces are both warm and kind, and that you may continue your journey in peace and with all speed," Sadric says. "But first, let me get you something to fill your bellies. Please, have a seat. And while you eat, I will see about horses. I cannot promise anything, as I myself do not have any, but I shall see what I can do."

"You have our gratitude," Eldarien replies. "We cannot express that deeply enough."

They seat themselves at a table in the corner of the room, and, within five minutes, an aged woman appears from a door at the back of the room, behind the counter, and brings out two bowls of hearty soup which she sets before them. She returns a moment later with a loaf of rye bread. It is already quite late in the evening, and soon the two men who were seated nearby rise from their seats and depart through the door outside, leaving Rorlain and Eldarien alone.

"You sounded quite discouraged in your remarks as we stood outside," Rorlain says, as he eats.

"Concerning bringing word to Ristfand?" asks Eldarien.

"Yes."

"It is not the present that discourages me so much as the past. For the affairs of the moment, all we can do is walk in trust and hope. The past, however, lingers and continues to afflict me and weigh me down."

"What precisely continues to remain with you," Rorlain asks, "if you do not mind me asking? Is it what you already shared with me concerning your years in Tel-Velfana?"

"I think that is it, yes..." Eldarien answers, though uncertainly. "I still keenly feel the weight of my own inadequacy, my own failures. I refer to the miscalculations or the poor directives, the blind-spots, which often caused suffering or even death for my men. But I also feel the weight of my responsibility for the deaths of many warriors of Tel-Velfana, who would still be alive today were it not for my obedience to the harsh military commands of my superiors. I knew that war was not about eradicating one's enemy, but that is precisely the way that, for all practical purposes, the Empire had begun to wage war in Tel-Velfana. And I am complicit in that."

"It seems to me that, on the field of battle," Rorlain says in response, after receiving these words in silence, "the threat of death on both sides can dull one's inner sense, the inner voice of the heart, and make it easy to act out of the instinct for survival."

"That may be true," Eldarien retorts, "but as I said concerning the druadach, I say also here: a man always remains a man, even on the field of battle. And I knew well what I was doing. It wasn't a decision made in the flurry of the moment, but a command with which I grappled, wrestled, and disagreed before deliberately carrying it out."

"I am sorry," Rorlain says, correcting himself. "I did not intend to excuse or explain away your actions. That is one of the worst things that I could do for you, since if you were to accept such a suggestion—as if absolution for your wrongdoings came from me—then you would never find true freedom. I myself cannot offer you that, and I apologize that I unconsciously tried to offer it." He sighs and adds, "But I do offer you a listening ear."

"And I appreciate it, Rorlain," says Eldarien, and then, after a long and thought-laden pause, he continues, "There is also this sense that has been recurring to me ever since our time in Falstead, or even before. In my mind's eye, it is as if the destruction of my hometown—and the destruction of many similar settlements throughout our history and the history of other nations—is being accounted unto me. It is as if I myself have committed it, as if it has happened at my own hand and at the tip of my own blade."

"But it has not happened at your hands. Why do you feel that way?"

"Perhaps it is simply my heart's way of acknowledging that I am capable of such actions. It is my way of taking responsibility for my capacity for such evil."

"And thus a way of distancing yourself from it?"

"No..." Eldarien breathes. "I do not distance myself from it. I think the opposite is really called for: to recognize, to accept, that such a capacity is part of me, such a woundedness and blindness of heart."

"I think I understand," Rorlain says, "but it also remains true that you have not committed such atrocities. Correct?"

"That is true," replies Eldarien. "Such was precisely the command I received at the end of my time in Tel-Velfana, and which I rejected. The commander of my regiment insisted on 'scouring the countryside' and eliminating all possibility of uprising or resistance. And this involved the murder of countless innocents. So you are right: I have not become personally responsible for such actions. And I do—and must—distance myself from them in every thought, disposition, and action of my life." He pauses and runs his hands through his hair, deep in thought, as if trying to tap into a deep inner wellspring that will allow him to enunciate in words something that has eluded even his conscious awareness. At last he says, "But I still recognize that I am not unlike other men—in no way better than any man who has walked this earth. We all share the same humanity, with both its wounds and its aspirations, its beauty and its ugliness. And it seems to me...and this is the point I am trying to express...it seems to me that precisely acknowledging this bond with other men, this likeness to other men, allows my own fidelity to the light, to beauty and truth and goodness, to in some way be healing also for them. Yes, even for those who have committed atrocities, who have yielded freely unto such evil, my own actions for goodness can...how do I say?...lift them up..."

Rorlain receives all of this and does not immediately respond. There is a long moment in which both men simply sit together, reflecting on Eldarien's words and trying to understand their import and their meaning. When he does speak, Rorlain says, "So you are saying that you want to succeed where others have failed? Or, let me phrase it more appropriately: you desire to remain faithful where others have betrayed, to choose good where others have chosen evil?"

"The words do not quite match the intention, but yes," Eldarien replies. "But I would say more: I want to remain faithful, and to choose good, not only where they have failed, but on their behalf and for their sake. If such a thing is possible."

Rorlain turns back to his food, as if he does not know how to answer this, and Eldarien does not expect an answer. How could he expect his companion, as good a man as he is, to understand and to explain these deep matters of his own heart? Thus, both men lapse back into silence and finish their meal without another word. Sadric returns and approaches their table soon after.

"Let me give you first the good news," he says. "I was able to find a couple horses for you. You said you travel with news about the war which needs to reach Ristfand with haste?"

"Yes," Eldarien replies.

"Is it favorable to the Empire or to the rebels for your message to reach its destination?" asks Sadric. "I need to know at least this much."

"It is favorable to the people of Ristfand and their survival. And in that respect, I suppose it shall be indirectly favorable to the rebels and even to the Empire insofar as it is actually a custodian of peace and order—though that, precisely, is the matter that our message bears upon."

"You have heard that there was conflict in Ristfand some weeks back?" Sadric asks.

"Yes, we have heard indirectly," Rorlain says. "And the message we carry is a warning of more grievous conflict to come."

"If what you say is true, then I wish to aid you in whatever way I may, that such a word may get to Ristfand in haste. The horses, however, do not belong to me, and my neighbor is not interested in letting them go without a price. He wishes to speak with you in the morning. That, I suppose, is the bad news."

"Very well," Eldarien says. "But there is something else, perhaps even more prudent, which you could do for us."

"What may that be?"

"Regardless of how quickly my companion and I can travel to Ristfand, as long as word itself reaches the city, perhaps most of the damage of our delay can be averted."

Rorlain looks at Eldarien and says, "Do you think they would believe the message we have without hearing from us in person?"

"I know not," replies Eldarien, "but I would rather send word that is not believed than not send word at all. We shall continue to travel with haste either way, that we may speak in the flesh with those concerned." Then he turns back to Sadric and says, "Do you think you could have a message sent by courier, or whatever the fastest means at your disposal may be, to the authorities in Ristfand?"

"This is just a small intersection of but a few houses," Sadric says. "Couriers rarely pass through here. And I would be hesitant to trust your message to just any travelers who say they are going to Ristfand. After all, simply trusting the two of you is more than enough."

"I understand," Eldarien whispers, bowing his head and thinking for a moment. After a while, he looks up and says resolutely, "I think that getting the horses is currently the best and only option at our disposal. It is true that, with exception of carrier pigeon, which the people of Telmerion simply do not use, no one will ride faster or harder to deliver the message than we ourselves."

"I agree with that judgment," Rorlain says.

"Then let us hope this neighbor of yours is favorable to our cause," says Eldarien. "What is his name?"

"His name is Sojen. I shall introduce you to him at first light on the morrow," Sadric says. "Though for now, allow me to show you to your room."

† † †

In the morning, Eldarien wakes feeling worse than he did the day before and is overcome by weakness as he tries to rise from bed. He attempts to shrug it off, pulling on his boots, and then getting to his feet anyway, leaning against the wall for support. He pulls on his mail hauberk over his linen gambeson and then, over that, his cloth tunic and overshirt, fastening the front with trembling fingers. It is still dark outside, he sees through the paned window at his side, but Rorlain is not in the room. As he makes his way down the stairs to the tavern and entrance, he sees Rorlain sitting at one of the tables in conversation with Sadric. Upon his approach, both men turn to look at him.

"Good morning, Eldarien," says Rorlain. "Sadric has offered to give us some provisions for our journey."

"It is not much," Sadric adds, "as the harvests have been less this year than they have in many years, but I do have some to spare. And your friend here let on that you have no food for the journey. Considering your errand, I thought a bit would be better than nothing."

"Thank you, Sadric," Eldarien says. "That is actually a great help. I wish that we could pay you for your assistance."

"Mine is a small inn, with few visitors. So I am glad to help whom I may," responds Sadric, and he turns and glances out the window. "Daylight should be coming soon. Shall we go?"

"Yes," says Rorlain. "Let us hope this meeting proves favorable."

"I suspect it will," Sadric comments. "Sojen strongly supports the rebel movement, so I recommend you speak to him in that light. Surely that will sway him to your cause."

"We will speak the truth," Eldarien says, "but it seems that the truth itself is spurring on our journey, and precisely the truth concerning the welfare of the rebels in Ristfand."

"And more than the rebels," adds Rorlain. "This concerns all the citizens of this land, not only those who take up arms and fight. For any man or woman may die by the sword, whether they wield one or not."

"But surely the violence of the war shall not reach to the common folk such as myself," Sadric says. "What quarrel would they have with ordinary farmers, laborers, and innkeepers?"

"I wish your assumption were true," Rorlain says, "but the violence has already done so west of the mountains. You have cause to expect it to do so here as well."

"That is actually something about which I wished to speak to you, Sadric," says Eldarien. "But let us wait until we are together with Sojen, so that the topic need be addressed only once."

"As you say."

Sojen is already in the stables feeding the horses when they arrive. He is a weathered man at the meeting-point between middle age and old age, with thick hair graying towards white, and a bushy beard. He wears the attire of an ordinary laborer, though in his eyes glint intelligence and a tendency toward deep reflection.

"Hail, friends," he says as they approach, "for that is what I hope you are."

"That is our intent," says Eldarien, reaching out his hand and clasping Sojen's in greeting. All then introduce themselves to one another. After this, Eldarien continues, "Sadric has spoken with you of our cause, though I imagine you wish to know more."

"He told me that you intend to bring news to Ristfand that is favorable to the rebels?"

"That is true," replies Rorlain. "We bring word of warning concerning a planned attack on the city."

"And how did you come by such knowledge?" Sojen asks. "I see that you are both natives of Telmerion, but many men of these lands nowadays seem to belong more to the Vælirian Empire than they do to their own nation. Where does your alignment lie?"

"We are aligned with the people of Telmerion," Eldarien answers. "And we wish to prevent the great loss of human life which we fear will be inflicted at the hands of the Empire."

"And how did you come to the knowledge of this threat? Did you overhear Imperial plans, or did you intercept a courier, or in some other manner?"

"We witnessed the plans being made," Rorlain says, "and have hence made haste across the plains toward Ristfand. For in the counsels we overhead, that city was the intended target of their attack. But we are without mounts, and that has greatly slowed our progress."

"In what circumstances did you overhear these plans, and from whence did you hail?" Sojen asks.

"You ask many questions," Eldarien replies, "and rightly so. It is just of you to be cautious, for oft it seems that trustworthiness has all but deserted these lands. But I assure you we mean no ill. Rather, we intend to prevent ill, to spare the lives of many."

"I understand. But you do not answer my question."

"Yes, of course," Eldarien continues. "This indeed leads to something about which I wished to speak with you—and with you too, Sadric. For my companion and I were at the base of the three great peaks of the Teldren range, in the Galas basin, when we encountered what stirred us on this quest."

"That land is all but deserted, is it not?" Sadric asks.

"Aye, it is," says Eldarien. "My hometown was there once, long ago, and it was upon my return there that we encountered soldiers of the Empire—a lawgiver and his company, to speak more precisely. However, it appears that he was acting in more than one capacity. In what I am about to say, I ask for your patient hearing. For if it seems that Rorlain and I are reticent to speak freely, it is because of what we witnessed while at the base of the mountains."

"Continue, for we are listening," Sojen says.

"We witnessed these men making their way into an ancient tomb under the Gorojin mountain. Perhaps you have heard of it: the barrow of Sera Galaptes? There we saw in the flesh the terrible creatures that people have taken to calling druadach. Has word also come this far east regarding such beings?"

"Yes," Sojen says, "though all is but distant echoes and rumors."

"Well, the creatures are real," Rorlain says, "whatever manner of beasts they may be. But the unexpected result of what we witnessed, the conclusion that has spurred us to such haste, is that a deal was struck between the lawgiver—or rather between the emperor whom he represented and in whose name he spoke—and a leader of these creatures. They agreed to march on Ristfand together, thus to conquer the people of Telmerion and to return them to Imperial rule."

"So these beasts," Sojen asks, "are a tool used by the Empire to crush the rebellion?"

"It seems so," Eldarien replies, "though I do not know how willing a tool they shall be."

"You were correct in your estimation," Sadric says. "What you share with us is almost beyond belief. Is it true that these creatures are the living dead?"

"They are like in appearance but different in feel," answers Eldarien. "We know not precisely what they are, only that they are dangerous. Even with only their flesh, they can destroy a man. If they were to be armed, their ability to crush human life would be greatly multiplied."

"For me, the fact that such a story beggars belief only lends toward its credibility," Sojen concludes. "What would you gain from inventing such an outlandish story? But if what you say is indeed true, as I believe it is, then your journey requires as much haste as you seem willing and eager to give it. I assure you that my horses shall be at your disposal for as long as you need them. If you find yourselves unable for whatever reason to return them, I shall consider it but an investment in the good of our people. But if circumstances allow you to bring them back to me, then for that I shall be grateful."

"Thank you, Sojen," says Eldarien. "We shall do our best on both accounts: to ride quickly to Ristfand and to bring or send your horses back to you unharmed."

"May you be blessed for the aid you render us this day," Rorlain says, "both of you. We must now gather our packs and be on our way."

"Of course," Sojen agrees.

"In fact, there is one other thing that I wish to mention before we prepare to depart," interjects Eldarien. "When the armies of the Empire and the forces of these creatures march upon the city of Ristfand, whatever the manner of their approach may be, it is likely that they will pass through these and neighboring lands. I fear what they may do with any whom they encounter—even those who wish only peace and who do nothing to hinder their progress."

"So what would you have us do?" Sadric asks.

"I leave that to your prudent judgment," says Eldarien. "I do not wish to sow panic or fear among the people. Nonetheless, when there is cause for fear, whenever the threat is truly real, then having fear is better than having none. For only fear confronted and overcome can give birth to both courage and prudence."

"We shall do what we can to spread the word of what we have learned today in the wisdom that time and reflection provides," Sojen says.

"And as for ourselves," Rorlain adds, "we shall bring word to whatever settlements we pass through on our way, as time permits."

"Very well. As for what lies immediately before you upon your journey, you will need to pass through the canyon to the east to find the main road," Sojen replies. "It is but a handful of miles beyond the opposite ridge. The road that I assume you followed to us shall lead you directly there. When you have come to the main road, follow it to the south. That shall be the fastest path unto the city. But be wary, for Imperial patrols have been gradually increasing in the region, and the last time I visited Ristfand, a few months past, a checkpoint was set up but a few leagues north of the city."

"That is the path that we shall take, and we shall do so with caution," says Eldarien. "Thank you again for your assistance. It has proved invaluable."