Forbidden Bond: A Velthorn Tale

Mikhail and Anora stood side by side, watching as Thaddeus's form melted into the darkness of the plains. The blue flame that had hovered above his head flickered and faded, leaving them in the soft glow of starlight. For a moment, they remained still, as if expecting the enigmatic old man to reappear with more cryptic wisdom.

Finally, Mikhail turned to Anora, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Come on," he said softly. "We should get some rest."

They made their way back to where Bakule lay, his massive form a comforting presence in the night. Carefully, mindful of the elk's wounds, they settled against his warm flank. Mikhail draped the cloak Thaddeus had given them over Anora's shoulders, tucking it around her small frame.

"You should try to get some more sleep," Mikhail told her, his voice low and soothing. "I'll keep watch for a while."

Anora looked up at him, her orange eyes gleaming in the starlight. She seemed about to protest, but exhaustion was evident in the droop of her shoulders. After a moment's hesitation, she nodded, curling up against Bakule's side.

As Anora's breathing slowed and deepened, Mikhail found his gaze drawn to the leather-bound book in his hands. "Velthorn Unveiled: Myths, Magics, and Millennia," he read again, tracing the embossed letters with his finger.

His mind wandered back to Thaddeus, the self-proclaimed Lore Master of Whisperwood. Who was he really? A simple traveler with a few magical tricks, or something more? The old man's words echoed in Mikhail's thoughts, hints of hidden dangers and intertwined destinies.

Mikhail glanced down at Anora's sleeping form, then back to the book. He opened the book trying to read the words by the faint light of the moon and stars but struggled to do so. Closing the book he held it in his lap, tilting his head back and staring at the stars in the night sky. Soon the subtle movements of Bakule’s belly rising and lowering lulled him to sleep.

As the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, Mikhail's eyes fluttered open. He blinked in confusion, disoriented for a moment as he realized he must have dozed off during his watch. The leather-bound book still lay on his lap, a testament to his unintended slumber.

Sitting up, he noticed Anora kneeling beside Bakule, her small green hands gently applying fresh poultice to the elk's wounds. Her movements were careful and practiced, a look of concentration on her face as she tended to the elk.

Sensing movement, Anora glanced up, catching Mikhail's gaze. A soft smile spread across her face, her orange eyes crinkling at the corners. As she stood, she absently brushed a stray curl behind one of her pointed ears, a gesture so simple yet somehow mesmerizing that Mikhail found himself speechless, his breath caught in his throat. The early morning sunlight bathed Anora in a warm glow, highlighting the delicate features of her face and the vibrant red of her curls. For a moment, she seemed to radiate an otherworldly beauty, as if the first light of dawn had imbued her with an ethereal essence.

Time seemed to stand still as Mikhail stared, captivated by the sight before him. It wasn't until Bakule snorted softly, shaking his antlered head, that the spell was broken. Mikhail blinked, suddenly aware that he had been gaping like a fish out of water.

"I, uh... good morning," he managed to stammer, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. Anora's smile widened, a knowing look in her eyes as she nodded in response. Mikhail looked toward the east, the sun just now starting to peak over the Aran’Shay mountains. He knew that it was still early by that and the fact that the air was still chilly, the ground still wet with the morning dew. “Was I asleep for a long time?” he asked Anora.

She nodded as she grabbed the waterskin and handed it to Mikhail. Mikhail took it from her. “Thank you.” he said. She seemed a bit more bold and out of her shell this morning. She then handed him some bread and cheese to eat. Mikhail took it graciously and ate as Anora grabbed the flat stones that she had grounded the yarrow and plantain with. She sat down on his left side and removed the red cloth from his thigh. Mikhail winced a bit but sat still as she worked. The wound to her surprise looked good and seemed to be healing like it should. She took the cloth and using some of the water from the wineskin she rinsed the blood from it then hung it over the saddle to dry in the sun.

“Shouldn’t you put that back on me?” Mikhail asked.

Anora shook her head. Bakule rose to his feet and started to graze on the wet grass. Anora sat down beside Mikhail, leaning against him as he ate. Mikhail looked down at her as he chewed. “Have you eaten?” he asked her. She looked up at him and nodded. Mikhail sat quietly for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. The events of the past few days weighed heavily on his mind, images of the slavers and their cruel intentions flashing before his eyes. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and serious.

"Anora," he began, meeting her curious gaze. "I've been thinking about those slavers and how they tried to take you. And... about the others who have tried to hurt you recently."

Anora's expression sobered, her orange eyes clouding with the memory of past dangers. Mikhail continued, his voice gaining strength as he spoke.

"It made me angry. And afraid," he admitted, his hands clenching into fists. "I don't want to see you in danger like that again."

He took a deep breath, his blue eyes locked with hers. "When we get to Sablewood, I'm going to buy you a weapon. And I promise you, I'll teach you how to defend yourself against anyone who wants to harm you."

Anora's eyes widened in surprise, a mix of emotions playing across her face – gratitude, determination, and a flicker of something deeper that Mikhail couldn't quite name.

"There's something else," Mikhail added, his tone softening. "Remember how Thaddeus mentioned a woman named Lorna? He said she might be able to heal your voice." He paused, watching Anora's reaction carefully. "Would you like to seek her out when we reach Sablewood? To see if she can help you?"

The change in Anora's demeanor was instant and dramatic. Her eyes brightened, sparkling with hope and excitement. She nodded vigorously, a broad smile spreading across her face. In her enthusiasm, she grabbed Mikhail's hand, squeezing it tightly as if to convey the depth of her gratitude.

Mikhail couldn't help but smile in return, her joy infectious. "Alright then," he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze back. "We'll find Lorna and see what she can do.”

The news seemed to liven Anora’s steps as they packed their things up and placed them in the pack on bakules back. The Elk watched with a large brown eye as they did, seemingly ready to get on the road as he stamped his hooves, snorting every so often. Before they left, Anora retied the red cloth sash to Mikhail's thigh. Then they left the small campsite that they had made to hide from any passersby and got back onto the road. Mikhail opted to walk beside Bakule and to have Anora ride. He figured that since she was shorter and didn’t weigh as much as he did she wouldn’t be as much of a strain on the elk as both of them would be. Also he just felt that it was better for her to ride after the things they had been through together and then how she had made sure to keep them healthy. They traveled for what seemed like a few hours before the walls of Sablewood came into view. From a distance Mikhail could tell that there were a good number of people gathered outside of the city. Some of which huddled near the gates, while others stood or sat underneath the various trees.

Mikhail brought Bakule to a stop, Thaddeus's warning echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of the potential dangers that awaited them within the city walls.

With a deep breath, Mikhail reached into the pack on Bakule's back and pulled out the green hooded cloak Thaddeus had given them. Then looking up at the Goblin he said.

"Anora," he said softly, "it's time to get down. We need to prepare before entering the city."

He reached up to help her get down. As her feet touched the ground, Mikhail held out the green cloak to her. "You need to put this on," he explained, his voice tinged with concern. "It'll help hide your identity and keep you safe inside the city."

Anora's brow furrowed as she looked at the offered garment, then back at Mikhail. Her hand reached up to touch the grey piece of cloak she wore, the one Mikhail had given her after rescuing her from the bandits. Her orange eyes conveyed a reluctance that Mikhail hadn't anticipated.

Realizing the significance of the grey cloak to her, Mikhail's expression softened. "I understand," he said gently. "That cloak means a lot to you, doesn't it?" Anora nodded, her fingers still clutching the fabric.

"You only have to wear this green one while we're in the city," Mikhail assured her. "It's to help keep you safe. Remember what Thaddeus told us about how some people here might react to... well, to someone like you." He paused, then added softly, "Trust me."

Anora held his gaze for a long moment, conflict clear in her eyes. Finally, she sighed and nodded, understanding the necessity of the precaution. With careful movements, she removed the grey cloak, folding it with reverence before handing it to Mikhail.

As Mikhail tucked the grey cloak safely away in Bakule's pack, Anora slipped on the green hooded cloak. The fabric settled around her small frame, effectively concealing her distinctive features.

Mikhail turned back to her, a smile touching his lips as he reached out to adjust the hood, making sure it shadowed her face just right. "There," he said, his voice warm with approval. "Now we should be ready to go into the city.”

They returned back to walking towards the city walls and gate. They both were amazed at the height of the city’s stone walls. Mikhail wondered at how they had transported the stone here and how long it had taken to build them. The stones had been cobbled together most likely being held in place with mortar and framed sections of timber. It was a marvel compared to the wooden walls of his village. At the top every twenty feet or so there stood a covered section by a small roof but otherwise remained open. Mikhail figured that it was to aid the guards that patrolled the top against the elements of the seasons.

At the bottom of one of the sections stood an open gate with numerous guards that stood watch. As they got closer he could make out beggars and merchants that called out from their small stalls and wagons to come and look at their wares. Others stood under the trees like before, watching with hooded eyes. Mikhail looked down as they neared the guards to check to see if Anora was still beside him and wearing the cloak. To his relief she was. She looked up at him, their eyes meeting for a moment as they returned to taking in the sights.

The guards watched as they walked closer. Mikhail’s heart beating nervously in his chest. “Look there Filch.” one of the guards spoke up, pointing at them. Mikhail tensed a bit not sure what to expect. “It's another one of those Elk riders.”

“By the creator it is.” Filch replied. “I tell ya Ansen, I almost had one of those beasts before I took an arrow to the knee.”

“Yea, sure you did Filch.” Ansen said, laughing to himself as Mikhail, Anora, and Bakule passed by through the gates. Mikhail breathed a bit easier as they made it past them and into the entrance of the city.

As they walked into the city proper they were greeted by the sight of people scurrying about, two story buildings that were made of cobbled stone for the first floor and then white plaster framed by wood for the second story. Some of the buildings and houses had wood shingle roofs while others looked like stone or thatch roofs. As they passed by the stables near the gate they saw four goblins chained to each other as they worked to clean the straw from the stable floor. A man stood over them with a whip in his hand shouting orders at them. Mikhail looked down at Anora as she reached out and grabbed his hand.

Mikhail couldn't help but grin as he felt Anora's small hand in his, her grip tight and trusting. Despite the circumstances, a warmth spread through his chest at the contact. "I got you," he repeated softly. "Just keep the hood on."

They continued deeper into Sablewood, the bustling city unfolding before them like a tapestry of sights, sounds, and smells. Colorful market stalls lined the streets, merchants hawking their wares with enthusiastic shouts. Children darted between the legs of adults, their laughter rising above the general din of city life.

But amidst the vibrant scene, Mikhail couldn't help but notice the darker undercurrent. Goblins, chained and subdued, toiled under the watchful eyes of human overseers. Some swept the streets, others carried heavy loads, their small frames straining under the weight. Each time they passed such a scene, Mikhail felt Anora's hand tighten in his, and he gave a reassuring squeeze in return.

The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted from a nearby bakery, mingling with the sweet scent of pastries and the savory smell of roasting meat. Mikhail's stomach growled, reminding him that it had been some time since their last proper meal.

Every so often, Mikhail would stop a passerby, inquiring about the location of Lorna's shop. Most ignored him or hurried past with a shake of their head. Those who did acknowledge him seemed reluctant to speak of Lorna, their eyes darting nervously before mumbling vague directions and scurrying away.

As they wandered through the winding streets, Mikhail found his thoughts turning to Anora. He glanced down at her hooded figure, wondering what was going through her mind. The sight of her fellow goblins in chains must be affecting her, but her face remained hidden in the shadow of the hood.

"What must she think of all this?" Mikhail pondered silently. "Does she fear ending up like them? Or does she feel guilty for walking free while they suffer?" He wished he could ask her, to offer some words of comfort or understanding. But in the crowded streets of Sablewood, with danger potentially lurking around every corner, he knew now was not the time.

Instead, he tightened his grip on her hand, a silent reminder of the protection that he had promised to give her. His thoughts turned to the need to fulfill one of those promises that he had made that morning. He began to look for a weapon shop or vendor, maybe he would even get lucky and find her a bit of armor to protect her.

Mikhail's eyes lit up as he spotted a weapons vendor's stall across from a pastry shop. "Look, Anora," he said excitedly, "we can get you a weapon here." He led her towards the stall, his mind already racing with possibilities.

As they reached the vendor, Mikhail became engrossed in the array of weapons on display. He let go of Anora's hand, eagerly examining blades and speaking animatedly with the vendor about different options.

Anora stood nearby, trying to keep her face hidden beneath the hood. The sight of other goblins in chains had left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. She shifted nervously from foot to foot, wanting to stay close to Mikhail but afraid to draw attention to herself.

Suddenly, a tantalizing aroma wafted over from the bakery across the street. Anora's stomach growled loudly, reminding her how long it had been since they'd eaten. The smell of fresh pastries proved too tempting to resist.

Glancing at Mikhail, who was still deep in conversation with the weapons vendor, Anora made a split-second decision. Hunger overriding caution, she slipped away from the safety of Mikhail and Bakule, drawn towards the cooling pastries on the bakery's windowsill.

With quick movements, she snatched a pastry and bit into it. The sweet taste exploded on her tongue, momentarily pushing all other thoughts from her mind. Lost in the simple pleasure of the food, she grabbed several more, devouring them with single-minded focus.

"Hey! You there!" a gruff voice shouted, shattering her moment of bliss. The baker stormed out of his shop, face red with anger. "What do you think you're doing, you little thief?"

He reached for Anora, thinking her a child. His hand caught the edge of her hood, yanking it back. As her green skin and pointed ears were revealed, the baker's expression morphed from anger to disgust.

"A goblin?" he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "Filthy creature! How dare you steal from me!"

With a violent shove, he pushed Anora to the ground. She fell hard, pastries scattering around her. Tears welled in her orange eyes as she looked up at the enraged baker, who now held a rolling pin high above his head.

"I'll teach you to steal from me, you worthless green-skin!" he bellowed, bringing the rolling pin down in a vicious arc.

Anora closed her eyes, bracing for the impact. But it never came. Instead, she heard a grunt and the sound of a scuffle. Opening her eyes, she saw a hand attached to a strong arm gripping the baker's wrist, stopping the rolling pin mid-swing.

"That's enough," a deep voice rang out, cold and dangerous. "You will not harm her."

Mikhail was examining a finely crafted dagger when he felt Bakule's teeth gently nip his shoulder. Startled, he turned, suddenly realizing Anora was no longer beside him. "Anora?" he called out, panic rising in his chest. "Blast it!" he cursed, angry at himself for becoming so distracted.

His eyes darted around frantically until he noticed a commotion across the street. Without hesitation, he dropped the dagger and rushed to Bakules side, grabbing his spear from its holder on the saddle. He sprinted towards the growing crowd, his heart pounding.

Pushing his way through the throng of onlookers, Mikhail froze for a moment as he took in the scene before him. Anora was on the ground, her hood thrown back, revealing her goblin features to all. But what truly surprised him was the familiar face of the guard who had stopped the baker's attack.

"Gunter?" Mikhail whispered, a mix of shock and relief washing over him. Their eyes met briefly, a silent nod of recognition passing between them before Mikhail rushed past to Anora's side.

Kneeling beside her, Mikhail's hands hovered over Anora, unsure where to touch. "Are you hurt?" he asked urgently, his voice thick with concern and barely contained anger - at himself for his negligence, and at the baker for his cruelty. Anora shook her head.

Gunter's authoritative voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd. "Alright, show's over. Back to your business, all of you." He turned to the baker, his tone brooking no argument. "You, back inside your shop."

The baker's face reddened with indignation. "But that goblin wench stole from me!" he protested, pointing an accusing finger at Anora. "I demand payment for my losses!"

With a weary sigh, Gunter reached into his pocket and produced a silver coin. "Here," he said, tossing it to the baker. "This should more than cover your pastries. Now, go."

Grumbling, the baker snatched the coin from the air, biting the coin as an act of defiance. As he retreated into his shop, he muttered a string of slurs against goblins, just loud enough to be heard.

As the crowd began to disperse, Mikhail helped Anora to her feet, keeping a protective arm around her shoulders. He looked up at Gunter, gratitude and confusion warring in his expression. "Thank you," he said softly, "but what are you doing here?"

Gunter's eyes flickered between Mikhail and Anora, a thousand questions evident in his gaze. "I could ask you the same thing, old friend," he replied, his voice low. "And I think we have quite a bit to discuss."

Mikhail smiled. “That we do.” He replied. Gunter stood a good four finches taller than Mikhail and was built like a boulder. His broad shoulders and strong arms were the product of years of hard farm work, being that his family was one of the farmers in Aldernhor. Gunter had spent all of his young life being fed very well and working the ground which now cut an imposing figure as he stood in front of Mikhail and Anora. Very few people in Aldernhor had bothered Gunter due to his size. Because of it he had oftentimes became the one to intervene and stop fights or arguments between Mikhail and the other boys, eventually leading to him stopping fights between grown men. Mikhail was glad to see him in this city and in a guards outfit no less.

“How did you end up here?” Mikhail asked him. Gunter didn’t answer the question, instead he gestured to Anora.

“Not here Mikhail, cover her head and follow me.”

Mikhail looked concerned then turned and knelt down. He grabbed the hood and looked into Anora’s orange eyes. “Why did you leave my side?” he asked her. Anora looked at him dejectedly, crossing her arms. “Anora, you have to stay beside me blast it.”

She stared back at him, anger in her eyes now. They seemed to yell “I’m not a child!” Mikhail returned the gaze for a moment longer before standing up and telling Gunter to lead the way. As they walked Mikhail held his hand out for Anora to grab. Anora ignored the hand but kept pace beside him. Her clawed feet clacking on the cobblestone. Quickly they made their way to a secluded spot underneath an oak tree.

Anora sat down on some stone edging that surrounded the tree's base, keeping her arms crossed. Mikhail started to speak to her but decided instead to speak to Gunter.

Mikhail turned to Gunter, curiosity evident in his voice. "So, the guard uniform... how did that come about?"

Gunter leaned against the oak tree, a wry smile on his face. "Well, you know how it is. Needed to make some coin when I got here. One morning, the guard master approached me, offered me a position. Seemed like a good opportunity, so I took it."

"And your elk?" Mikhail asked, glancing around.

"She's at a farm just outside the south gate," Gunter replied. "Safer for her there, given how things are in the city."

Gunter's gaze shifted to Anora, his brow furrowing. "Now, my turn for questions. Why in Aran's name are you traveling with a female goblin? Is she your slave? Or... a personal servant, perhaps?"

Mikhail chuckled nervously, shaking his head. "Nothing like that. I met her in Anora's Pass. Some bandits were attacking her, had her nearly stripped bare. I couldn't just leave her."

He went on to recount their journey, from the encounter with the slavers to their arrival in Sablewood. Gunter listened intently, his expression growing more serious with each detail.

"Those slavers," Gunter said, his voice low. "They passed through here not long ago. Had a bad feeling about them, but my commander forbade us from interfering unless it was something serious."

He sighed heavily. "You need to understand, Mikhail. Here in the Northern Kingdom, goblins, elves, beast men – they're all seen as inferior. Goblins especially. They're used as slaves, treated worse than animals in some cases."

Anora's shoulders tensed at this information, but she remained silent, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest.

Mikhail absorbed this, his face grim. "Thank you for telling me, Gunter. There's something else – do you know a woman named Lorna?"

At Gunter's questioning look, Mikhail explained about their encounter with Thaddeus and the hope of healing Anora's voice.

Gunter's expression darkened. "Lorna? Mikhail, she's not someone you want to get mixed up with. There are other ways to communicate, safer ways-"

"No," Mikhail interrupted, determination in his voice. "I made a promise. We need to find her."

Gunter sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You always were stubborn," he muttered. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "Alright. I know where to find her. I can take you there. But Mikhail," he added, his tone serious, "be careful. This city... it's not like home. And Lorna... well, just watch yourselves, alright?"

Mikhail nodded, relief and anticipation mingling in his chest. He glanced at Anora, still silent and brooding on the stone edging. Whatever came next, he knew it would be a turning point in their journey.