The Blackstar Legacy - Chapter 4

They traveled south down the road for thirty minutes, until after the sun was well down over the horizon and the sounds of the night started their song. Smaller animals and insects came out to look for food under the cover of darkness, and larger animals looked for the smaller animals.

Finally, Rowan led them off the road a bit to make camp, to give their group a little bit of cover from any further bandits that might be traveling the road.

In a few minutes, a campfire was crackling softly, its warm glow pushing back the growing chill of the autumn night. Temperatures were already starting to drop as they neared winter, and it would not be long, maybe another month and a half or so, before snow would begin to cover the trees and ground.

The travelers sat, pressed together more in search of security than for warmth, looking at their saviors, who must have seemed a strange group indeed. They were eating the small amount of extra food the group had been able to share. As they did, they kept a close eye on Cinder, probably wondering why anyone would let a wild animal sit so closely to them, especially after having watched it rip a man’s throat out less than an hour before.

“Thank you again for your aid,” the old man said. “We left Wolfridge a week and a half ago and made good progress at first, but... the road has become dangerous. These were not the first men to try and stop us. We’ve already been forced to lose much of what we managed to get out of the capital, but we managed to get away. This time, we were not so lucky.

“Why did you leave Wolfridge?” Osric asked.

The old man exchanged glances with his companions before continuing. “The Baron’s new policies, well... his advisors. From what I hear, no one has seen the baron in five or six weeks, ever since he returned from some big expedition. He marched out with fifty knights, loud and big as the world. When he came back, there was no fanfare, just word that he had returned and his advisors were issuing new rules. They claimed the rules were for security, but... the guard presence in the city has doubled. They monitor everyone’s movements and people have been... disappearing.”

“Including my husband,” added the woman, who squeezed the children tighter as she spoke. “Our family’s inn, three generations we ran it. Then one morning, guards arrived with papers. Said it now belonged to some trading company I have never heard of. That we hadn’t paid some tax we’d never heard of. When my husband stood up to them, they arrested him. We’ve never heard from him since.”

“That doesn’t sound like the place my mentor told me about,” Osric said.

“What really concerns me is those bandits,” Rowan said. “This stretch of the Great Road used to be one of the safest in the realm patrolled by the greenwood levy all the way to Farvale. If the guard has increased as you described, why were there so many thieves loose, plaguing the road?”

“We thought the same,” the old man said. “It’s why we felt it would be safe for us to choose this route. But we haven’t seen a single patrol since leaving Wolfridge.”

“Maybe that’s where all the new guys came from,” Grace said. “Pulled in from the patrols instead of hiring new guards.”

“But no patrols at all?” Rowan asked. “What about the Rangers? We don’t patrol the road often, but we do check the forest along the road often, at least enough to notice it was unpatrolled or that there were a fair number of bandits.”

“There aren’t any Rangers. Not anymore,” the woman said.

“What?”

“It’s true,” the old man said. “About a month ago, shortly after the Baron locked himself into the keep, there was some kind of confrontation between Ranulf Stanfield, the cleric and the chief of all of the Baron’s advisors, and the chief ranger.”

“Grange?” Rowan asked.

“Yes. No one knows what happened, but word was that he was arrested for treason. Whatever happened, the rest of the rangers scattered after that. The guard says they are the bandits who’ve been plaguing the countryside.”

“I can’t believe that,” Roway said. “And Caros would never commit treason.”

“Most of us don’t believe it either, but the guard has labeled many of them as outlaws and put bounties on their heads. It’s why I decided to leave and take my daughter-in-law and grandchildren with us. We thought it might be safe enough for us to get to Farvale, hoping things would be better there.”

“It should be,” Osric said. “We were there a month or so ago. Farvale, seek out Captain Sable Lockwood, tell her you met us and we asked you to talk to her. Tell her about what’s happening in Wolfridge.”

“Will she help?” the woman asked.

“She’s honorable and just,” Osric said. “If anyone can offer protection and get word to Celestia, it’s her.”

The old man nodded, but he seemed exhausted, barely able to keep himself awake. Their journey must have been exhausting, having their lives ripped out from under them and then chased the entire time they tried to run south.

The kids had passed out almost as soon as they finished eating. Not even the promise of hearing from adventurers could keep them awake.

“You should get some rest. We have to head north, and it’s still a good distance to Farvale. It’s best if you move as fast as possible. The Farvale Guard patrols a day outside of the city, so you only have to make it, at most, two or three more days. They were active a month ago and I cannot think of any reason why Lockwood would have changed that stance.”

“I hope you’re right,” the old man said, giving a weak smile.

Osric patted the man on the shoulder and walked to the other side of the fire where his bedroll was, next to Rowan. Jasper and Ralia were taking first watch. She’d learned some kind of magic that would use threads of the veil as early warning systems, sending a feedback of magic she could feel if it was impacted.

Rowan was just staring at the fire with a faraway look as Osric sat down, Cinder stretching out between their bedrolls.

“I’m sorry about the Rangers,” Osric said softly.

“Grange is a good man,” he said without looking at Osric. “Every Ranger looked up to him. Admired him. I just … how he could have possibly been arrested for treason or the Rangers disbanded. I could never have imagined something like this possible. I know this is important but … I need to help my people.”

“I know. I mean, I don’t know about the Rangers like you do, but living in the forest my entire life, I’d admired the Rangers. Even met a few of you. We could go to Wolfridge, help you clear their name.”

“No.” Rowan said, looking to Osric intently. “What we’re doing here, protecting the veil and stopping the Brethren, it’s bigger than the Rangers. It’s bigger than me. The Rangers guard the Great Forest, but we’re trying to save all of reality. I can’t put my personal concerns first.”

Rowan stood up, picking up his bow and putting it around his back.

“Rowan…” Osric started.

“I’m going to check the perimeter,” Rowan said, cutting him off and walking into the darkness, between the trees.

Osric watched him go, worry gnawing at his chest. Movement caught his attention, and he turned to see Grace kneeling next to the daughter.

Their voices were too low to make out, but he saw Grace press something into the woman’s hands, a blood-stained coin purse. The woman’s eyes widened, and she tried to refuse, but Grace simply walked away, leaving the woman clutching the money.

A small smile tugged at Osric’s lips, but he kept quiet. Grace would only deny it if he mentioned her kindness. Talia had kept asking him why he kept the thief around, with her brazen and combative attitude and apparent unfeeling about what they were trying to do.

He wanted her with them because he knew that was her real armor, protecting her from the judgment of everyone around her. Armor built from a life of hardships on the streets. But he could see past that armor. She was a good person, even if she couldn’t admit it herself.

As it did most nights after a fight, Osric was slow to fall asleep, the excitement and fear taking time to diminish. When he did fall asleep, it was restless.

Usually, he would fall asleep and wake with memories of a dream, or sometimes nothing at all. This night was different. He could feel the beginnings of a dream. He was asleep, he knew that, but at the same time, he was aware that he was asleep and dreaming.

The vision began in silence, the scene painting itself with muted hues. A man and a woman walked down a narrow woodland path, looking worried. A small child, a little girl no more than six years old with thick, curly red hair walked between them, though she lagged behind, her small legs struggling to keep pace.

The scene changed, and the couple with their daughter was at the door of a small cottage. It was in a village, Osric could tell that much, but everything outside of the doorway of the cottage was blurry, lost in a mist. The door opened and a woman wearing a shawl was there, although he could only see her back, the hood obscuring her face.

Although he didn’t know how, he knew the person in the shawl was a woman. They spoke for a moment and then the man put his hand on the woman’s arm. A signal of some kind. She nodded and knelt, whispering to the child, silently enough that Osric could not make out the woman’s words. She kissed the girl’s forehead, who was trembling, tears rolling down her cheeks.

The little girl gripped her tightly but with the help of the woman in the shawl, they managed to extract her. The man, her father most likely, reached down and stroked the little girl’s red curls and the couple left, the woman looking back at the little girl, tears on her own cheeks.

With the couple gone, the woman in the cottage turned to lead the little girl inside. As she did, her shawl slipped back, revealing an elderly woman’s face.

One that Osric recognized.

Younger than he’d ever remembered her, although still very old, Elder Miriam held the red-headed little girl’s hand as she shut the door on the outside world.

The little girl had to be Talia. That much Osric was certain about.

The dream twisted and the cottage fell away, replaced by a cavernous chamber with a monstrous platform dominated by one of the stone circles they’d seen sitting in the middle, waves of magic pulsing off of it. In front of it stood the man and the woman that Osric took as Talia’s parents, a little older than when they left her with Elder Miriam.

Osric still didn’t understand magic well, even with all his interactions with it over the last several months. Still, somehow, he knew this magic felt wrong. It was angry, violent, and unnatural. The couple raised their hands toward the device, waving them in intricate patterns, and everything exploded into blinding light.

Osric jerked awake, his shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked skin. The camp lay quiet around him, his companions’ steady breathing punctuated by the soft crackle of their dying fire. Cinder lifted his head from where he lay next to Osric, looking to him with concern.

“I’m fine, boy,” Osric whispered, running a shaking hand across the wolf’s head, between its ears.

But he wasn’t fine. The dream had left him unsettled. He’d experienced visions from the gods before, which had always come with a sense of purpose, an intent behind it. This had been different. The images felt more hostile, like a memory seen through rage.

Osric’s eyes adjusted to the darkness as he sat up. The camp lay still around him, most of his companions and the travelers still asleep, including Rowan, who’d returned from his patrol and was on his bedroll, facing away from everyone else. Just outside the circle, Jasper sat cross-legged, eyes closed in meditation.

Like Talia, Jasper relied more on his abilities than patrolling for watch, although instead of a weave of magic dropped around the camp to alert them, the gods granted Jasper some type of awareness of their surroundings.

Or so he explained it.

If Jasper was still up, then it was still first watch, which meant Talia was still up, but for a moment Osric could not find her. When he did, he saw she was perched against a tree trunk at the camp’s edge. Osric rose and picked his way through the sleeping forms to join her.

“Everything alright?” he asked, settling beside her.

She shrugged one shoulder but remained silent, her expression distant. He didn’t push her. He knew Talia. She’d speak when she had her thoughts worked through, and the best thing he could do was stay silent and give her the room to do just that. The silence stretched between them until she finally spoke.

“What if we’re wrong about all of this?”

“About what?”

“The Blackstar. The tower. Everything.” She pulled her knees to her chest. “Everyone acts like once we find this artifact, we’ll just... use it. But they mean I’ll use it. And I don’t know if I can.”

“Of course you can. You’ve learned so much already…”

“For a novice, sure,” she said, cutting him off with a bitter laugh. “But the people who made the Blackstar were masters. They understood magic, understood the veil enough to make it and the stone rings that let them cross the entire continent in a moment and throw rings through time. Even with all that knowledge, they still lost control. They destroyed everything, the artifact, their tower, almost all of our reality, from what the Sage told us about their history. They turned their plains into a dead swamp. How can someone like me hope to succeed where they failed? I’ve never even seen the Conclave, let alone studied in it.”

“Jasper will help…”

“Jasper understands theory, but he’s not a mage. He’s never felt what I feel when I touch magic. He doesn’t know what it’s like to reach into the veil and pull that power through. The gods push magic into him. It’s different.”

“But his knowledge can help you. Besides, it doesn’t matter. Elder Miriam chose to train. She wouldn’t have done that if she didn’t see something special in you. Hells, you’ve shown that she was right across this entire journey. The things you’ve been able to do. It’s miraculous.”

“Maybe she was wrong.”

“It’s not just her. The druids recognized your talent too. The Sage recognized it. You’re the smartest person I know, Talia. We’ll figure this out.”

She placed her hand on his knee, the touch sending warmth through him despite the cool night air.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Osric remained quiet, letting Talia sit in silence again. He knew she was struggling, and he didn’t know how to help her with that, other than remind her he believed in her and stay by her side.

Her hand lingered on his knee for a few moments longer before she drew it back, wrapping her arms around her legs again. She seemed to retreat inward. Osric wanted more than anything to put his arm around her and hold her close. Comfort her, but he’d come over to her for a reason and couldn’t keep it to himself.

“So, I actually came over to tell you something. I had a dream. A difficult one.”

“Difficult as in unsettling? Or difficult as in... visions?”

“The second one,” he admitted. “At least, I think it was. It felt similar to the other times the gods communicated with me. I don’t know how to explain it exactly. There’s a sense to it. Like it’s not from me. It’s almost... it has a taste to it.”

“Actually, I think I know what you mean. Magic can feel like that. Like you’re touching something that isn’t yours, something from somewhere else.”

“Yes, like that. But... this dream was also different from the other ones I’ve had. It felt different. Talia, I saw your parents.”

She stiffened. “What?”

“I saw a man and a woman with a little girl. Red hair, thick curls. They brought her to a cottage, although not one I recognized. They handed her over to an old woman wearing a shawl, clearly upset they were leaving her behind. At first, I didn’t recognize her, but when the hood fell back...” He met Talia’s gaze. “It was Elder Miriam.”

“I... I remember bits of that day. The path through the trees. My mother crying. But you could know that from me telling you before.”

“Maybe, but there was more.” Osric hesitated. “After the cottage, it changed. I saw the same couple in a huge chamber. It was like one of those Calaphium stone circles we saw in the ruins. There was magic everywhere, wild and out of control. They were weaving something, intricate patterns with their hands, and then there was this... explosion of light. The power coming off of them was incredible, but wrong somehow. Violent.”

Talia shook her head. “That can’t be. My parents were farmers. They went to Eldamar to help a friend of theirs, and they never came back. They weren’t mages. They didn’t know magic.”

“I’m just telling you what I saw. It was them. The same people I saw leaving you with Elder Miriam. And it felt real. More real than any dream I’ve ever had.”

“It doesn’t make sense. None of it. Farmers don’t...” She stopped herself, shaking her head again. “It can’t be true. My father grew wheat and raised sheep. My mother made cheese and wove blankets. They weren’t from the conclave, and they didn’t know magic. You’re wrong.”

Osric rested a hand on her arm, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not saying it is. Maybe there’s another explanation. Maybe the gods were showing me something symbolic, not literal. Either way, I thought you should know.”

She looked off again into the darkness, and Osric didn’t press her. She’d never talked about her parents, although he’d known she’d always held a little anger toward them for not coming back for her.

Still, it seemed very possible they knew magic. They knew Elder Miriam, and she had taught Talia magic. Would she have done that if Talia’s parents didn’t also practice the arts? It seemed likely that was even how they knew Miriam.

More concerning, at the moment, was why the gods decided to show him that vision, and why it felt the way that it did. Was this going to be important to their mission to find the blackstar? Was it a warning?

Osric just wished things were simple, like they were with forging. Gods and magic and ancient civilizations were just too far outside of his understanding to be able to comprehend fully.

It’s why he needed Talia. He just hoped she’d be able to come to terms with what he’d seen so she could help him analyze it and figure out what it meant.