Champion, Chapter 87: Far From Home

AidanThe Realms?Sixthday, 5th week of the 11th month, Age of the Chosen 1Late Evening?Mist Stalker Territory, Mistvale Highlands?

Aidan woke to a feeling of peace and restfulness. He stretched and sat up, ready to face the assault on Karsarrym's Lair. Then he realized Eldrid was missing, as were his bedroll, his tent, and the rest of the camp. The surge of adrenaline Aidan expected to feel at these revelations, however, failed to materialize.

"Be at peace, O leader of many races," a man's voice spoke from the mists.

Congratulations! Thanks to your Tongue of the Sun and Moon Trait, you have learned to speak and understand Northern Highlander Tradetongue.

"Pray, forgive this one for disturbing your dreams. We decided this method of contact was less likely to end in tragedy." The fog in front of Aidan faded and parted to reveal the speaker.

He was tall, around Aidan's height, although the pair of hare's ears atop his head added at least another six inches. Those weren't the only hare-like features he bore, either. His fingers ended in short claws, as did the toes protruding from the sandals wrapped around his digitigrade legs. An ornate shawl in shades of white, gray, light blue, and green served him for clothing. The pale colors contrasted with skin the color of rich loam.

"Well, at least no one's going to die this way," Aidan said. "Who am I speaking to?"

"You may call this one Kalle if it pleases you." Kalle inclined his head toward Aidan. "As for safety, be not complacent. This one means you no harm, but there are yet dangers when bringing dreamers into the Dreamlands like so."

"I see," Aidan said. "Then I suppose we should get to business—once you release whatever magic is suppressing my emotions."

"Of course. Again, pray, forgive this trespass." As the harefolk man spoke, Aidan felt the enforced tranquility leave him. A rough-hewn table rose from the mists between them, complete with two crude chairs. Taking the invitation, Aidan took a seat. "The Fog-Shrouded Folk are far from what used to be their home and much depleted in strength and spirit. Those who remain decided on extreme caution for this meeting."

"The Fog-Shrouded Folk? I'm not familiar with the name."

Kalle nodded. "This one would be surprised if you had. We traveled many months to arrive here and now."

"To what purpose?"

Kalle's eyes closed for a moment. When they opened again, he stared past Aidan. "The tale is long, and soon comes the dawn. For now, know that this one believes we have a common foe."

"Karsarrym." It was the only plausible answer.

"Indeed. The wyrm did to our homeland what it prepares to do to yours. Now we seek to visit upon its black heart the vengeance of those who never again the sun will see."

"I see. I'm afraid these are indelicate questions," Aidan said with a frown, "but how and why? How did you travel so far through the Highlands without being seen and..." he hesitated, "dealt with? Strangers are rarely welcome here. Further, if you've traveled for months to come here following your home's destruction, the timing doesn't work out unless the dragon was far more leisurely in its travels than I expected. And, finally," Aidan leaned forward, "why make this contact? We can't be the only ones who fought Karsarrym."

Kalle nodded along to Aidan's questions. "Astute queries all, and two have the same answer." He rested his hands on the table. "You are not the only ones to fight the dragon. This is true. Nor did the wyrm much delay its journey here from where it emerged among the kanitti's homelands."

Kalle stood then and turned away from Aidan. "Visions of ruin to this one came, and of salvation. A full six months it was before the dragon's awakening. A few—so few—listened and heeded. Them this one led to here, to now, to a chance to find a future." He turned back around, revealing cheeks damp with tears. "Others might slay the wyrm, it is true, but none other a new home would offer."

Taking his seat again, Kalle sighed and slumped forward onto his elbows. Exhaustion seemed to creep over him. "As for how we survived, this one managed a few allies of strength to gather. A soldier, strong of arm and of heart." An image formed in the mist of a woman wearing heavy armor and wielding a wicked spear. "A mage skilled in construction and camouflage." Another man like Kalle, though broader and more muscular. "A scout with the ability to cloak us all in mist." A woman, smaller in stature, with shorter ears. She bore no weapons and wore no armor, but there was still an air of danger around her.

"To we four it fell to guard the rest. Less than fifty all told, and no elders nor children among us. The journey they could not survive." Kalle sucked in a shuddering breath, then squared his shoulders and continued. "To you, we beseech, O Champion of the Cleansing Flame. Let not our sacrifices be in vain. Grant us vengeance, and grant us life." He bowed his head and fell silent.

Aidan suppressed a sigh. It seemed like there were no happy stories to tell in this world. And, with Chief Searlas's manipulations fresh on his mind, he found it hard to extend his full trust. Worse, he was about to borrow a page from Machiavelli's book. "If it's vengeance you want, you'll have to seize it with your own hands. I'll take any help I can get against this enemy, but it's safety and peace I seek, not revenge. As for your people, all are welcome in Ceallach Macht who enter without hatred and violence in their hearts. When morning comes, bring them to me. I have enough guards to spare an escort to their new home."

Kalle's shoulders tensed. He didn't miss the implications of separating his people and their champions—each hostage to the other's behavior. He raised his head and looked at Aidan with weary brown eyes. "For your mercy, this one thanks you. Ritva and Aija," the images of the two women stepped forward, "are well-suited for the coming fight. This one and Sulo are not." The muscular man faded back. "Please allow us to accompany the rest to your city. Familiar faces will keep them calm."

Aidan considered the counter-proposal. There was merit in it, although it took away some of his leverage. Still, he felt scummy enough about even this small scheme to let it pass. "So be it," he said, then added, "We plan to assault the lair in two days. If your champions are to help, we'll need as much time to integrate their skills as possible."

"As you say. We will approach your camp half an hour past dawn's first light. Thank you, Blessed of Aki Arja." As soon as Kalle finished speaking, fog rolled into the dreamscape, obscuring Aidan's sight.

Moments later, he found himself waking up again. This time, Eldrid lay curled up against his side, her nude body warm against his. The tent was still dark, and Aidan couldn't hear any signs of soldiers preparing for a new day. Good. He had a little time to prepare for visitors, then.

The RealmsSeventhday, 5th week of the 11th month, Age of the Chosen 1DawnMist Stalker Territory, Mistvale Highlands

Harpy scouts reported a group of people approaching the camp shortly after dawn. True to Kalle's word, he led a ragtag group of refugees through the mists as the sun finished rising above the eastern horizon. Beside him walked the other three figures from Aidan's dream.

Ritva was a tall, imposing woman clad in gray plated mail from neck to toe. She held a winged helmet in the crook of one arm and bore a heavy spear, perhaps even a lance, in the other. Her hair was white as snow and bound in a braid. Like Kalle and all the other rabbitfolk Aidan could see, her skin was a rich, dark brown.

Beside Ritva, Aija seemed tiny, although her shorter ears still extended past the top of Aidan's head. Loose-fitting black clothes hid her form, but she moved with the wary grace of a veteran. Wisps of fog clung to her, obscuring the edges of her body but not her piercing purple eyes.

Although he leaned on a gnarled wooden staff for support, Kalle was otherwise as Aidan remembered from his dream. The other man, Sulo, rested a hand on his shoulder as the pair walked together. Sulo wore a shawl like Kalle, although his drooped open in front to reveal a muscled chest devoid of hair.

Aidan greeted them with Eldrid by his side, both wearing their full combat regalia. "Be welcome, those who approach in peace," he said in the Fog-Shrouded Folk's language. "I am Aidan, known as the Phoenix King, Champion of the Brighaid, and Lord of Ceallach Macht. Beside me is Captain Eldrid of the Snow-Water Riders. Her men will escort your non-combatants to my city."

"Peace we have for you, but none for the dragon," Ritva responded, her chin held high. Her voice was deep and rich of timbre, and she spoke with a lilting cadence. "For that foulspawn, naught but hatred burns in my heart."

"The time for vengeance almost upon us is," Kalle spoke, "but duties we have before the wyrm lies dead."

"Aye," Sulo chimed in. His voice was a bright, clear tenor. The weary, ragged rabbitfolk behind him perked up when he spoke, energy seeming to flow into their battered bodies. "Long and far we traveled, trials we faced, and too many lives we lost. Yet still, another day dawns, and we live to see it. This is the end of a chapter in our story, but not the end of the tale itself. Instead, we have a new chapter, a new beginning."

"I can't tell what they're saying," Eldrid murmured to Aidan, "but so far, there hasn't been any deception from them." He nodded to her, then raised his hands for attention.

"Do any among you have a gift for languages?"

The rabbitfolk refugees murmured among themselves for a while before a young man stepped forward. Sulo and Kalle shared a few quiet words with him, then waved him on. "I do, Lord Aidan." His voice was soft and had the same lilting quality Ritva's did. "A minor Trait only. I learn faster than others, but it still takes time."

Aidan nodded. It was about what he expected. Only about two to five percent of people had a Trait to help with languages, and universal translation Traits like Aidan's own were even rarer. However, there were around fifty rabbitfolk gathered, so the odds were good for one or two to have one.

"Congratulations," Aidan said, "you are now the liaison between my people and yours. I want you to focus all your time on learning the local trade language. Eldrid will assign someone to help you. You'll attend any and all meetings between our people. I'd also like you to teach the rest of the Fog-Shrouded Folk as you can." He held up a hand in a placating gesture. "I encourage you to continue using your own language among yourselves, but there's less potential for trouble if everyone can understand each other."

"Yes sir, Lord Aidan sir." The young man looked shaken to his core, but Sulo wrapped an arm around his shoulders and guided him away.

"This one can help as well," Kalle added. "Spells there are to link two minds together, thought to thought. No control is granted to either," he hastened to add, "but easier it is to understand like so."

Aidan glanced at Eldrid, who inclined her head in a tiny nod. "That will help, Kalle. Thank you," he said once she confirmed the truth of Kalle's claim. "With that settled, I'll leave you two," he indicated Kalle and Sulo, "to shepherding your people. There's no rush, so if you need time to rest, take it. You're safe now." He turned his attention to the two women. "Ritva, Aija, please come with me. I'll introduce you to the rest of our dragon slayers."

Aidan gave Eldrid a quick kiss, then turned and led the rabbitfolk champions deeper into the camp. Eldrid would join them once she had the refugees squared away with her troops. "While we walk," he said, "why don't you tell me about how you fight? Ritva, you look like a front-line fighter. Are you?"

"Though I wear heavy armor, it is best I do not take the enemy's attention. I operate best as a mobile attacker. My spear," she hefted the implement in question, "can pierce any defense, given enough momentum."

"Oh?" Aidan asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. "And how do you gather such force? I do not see any mounts among your people."

The tall warrior snorted. "Nor will you. We ate them long ago. But I have no need for such. My legs launch me high. From there, my armor and Talents do the rest."

Launch...? Aidan looked over his shoulder at Ritva, taking in her heavy armor, powerful hare's legs, lance, and winged helmet. "Oh," he said, then, "Oh. I see." She was a dragoon of all things, though he'd refrain from calling her one given the current situation. "Aija?" he prompted.

The smaller rabbit-like woman remained silent. "She does not speak much," Ritva said in her stead. "Aija fights with fist and foot, and her strikes need not penetrate her target to deal lasting damage. She is also a stealth specialist. Few can see or hear her if she wants to remain hidden." Aija gave a short, sharp nod of agreement.

"Hmm. I'd prefer if you were ranged fighters, but I work with what I have. You both understand the risks?" They were melee warriors volunteering to battle a monster who slew dozens of centaurs by the simple and humiliating expedient of stepping on them, after all. Both women nodded. "Alright then. I won't turn you away. We're still a bit more than a day's march from the dragon's lair, so I'll introduce you to Ysbail, and we'll work you into the plan."

Ysbail wouldn't be happy about needing to change things up and work in two new party members so late, but she'd manage.