as written by Script and Krysis
"I'm not quite that delusional," Kieran grunted in response. He couldn't bring himself to be angry at the man who'd saved his life, per say, because in some respects he was right. Still, it was grating to be lectured so. "I was well aware that the situation out here would be grim. But naturally, the specifics of it were beyond my experience. I'm picking it up as I go along, with no pretence that I've not got a lot of learning to do."
He wrinkled his nose at the clothes, but held them as instructed. "Nothing says I have to be particularly fond of hardship, but I'm perfectly willing to deal with it." Kieran raised an eyebrow as he watched the small man work.
"Nice trick," he noted after taking a hesitant sniff. "My mother would probably kill someone to be able to get the smell out of my father's work clothes so easily."
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"Ya ever seen a Sylvae bent over a washtub? Most of my kinfolk wouldn't know how to start, because they use tricks like that. Me? I like soap and water. Which is why I am bloody terrible at that particular spell. That magic knows I don't trust it as well as lye and a scrub board and doesn't come easy for the householdy stuff like that." Conlaoch seemed almost proud of not being good at something. Of course, he seemed to have a generally high opinion of himself anyway.
"Now ya look disreputable and not at all like yerself, lad. Let's hit the north road and see if we can't pick up the trail of the lady. Someone told me which way she went, but all I remember is north. Might have been north-west. Mayhap I have a trick for that too, if the tracks be scarce." He'd double check his pack and tie up the scraps bag, but then he was ready to go. If Kieran seemed content to carry the lantern, Conal wouldn't ask for it back, though he would be just as happy to carry the light.
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Kieran nodded without thinking, before he blinked. "You're coming along?" he asked with an amused quirk of his eyebrow, "And there I thought you were kidding when you said you planned to be my keeper."
He didn't seem displeased that the sylvae had decided to join him, and set off towards the north of town. They passed scarce few people on their way. Taldasin was a sparsely populated settlement at the best of times, and only a small portion of the old ruined town actually showed any sign of occupancy. Those faces that they did pass were shrouded, and they hunkered down to make their way undisturbed.
Minding one's own business was a prevalent prerogative out in the frontier, Kieran had discovered. Which likely explained the amount of trouble he got into, asking questions around the place.
When they reached the overgrown northern road, it only took a few moments to spy a trail. Flattened plants and large one-booted footprints in the dirt, deep as though left by a great weight.
"Ah," Kieran noted, "That would be our quarry's passage."
The occasional splash of blood decorated a plant or darkened the dirt around the prints. They led away to the north-east. "If nothing else," Kieran noted, "It's normally easy to follow. I lost the trail on the stone of the town's old roads."
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"So it is easy to follow, it doesn't hide, and is nasty enough that people recognize it as a monster on sight." Conlaoch frowned as he followed his taller companion, having to fly every now and then when Kieran was particularly fast. "Yet, this Leech thing is still running around, long enough that word of it reached whatever city you were from? Slow down, going barreling in is just going to get us both killed."
The small man wasn't quiet at all, his pack rattling loudly as he jogged after Kieran, occasionally grumbling about undead boogy beasts and impetuous young men. When he pauses to relight his pipe, Conlaoch isn't out of breath, but he is less than amused.
"Do you know the strengths of this thing? More importantly, its weaknesses? It might help to share such tidbits with yer partner in this venture. Don't mistake me, lad. I don't want money, but I am not going to watch you throw away yer life either." It takes some packing and puffing, but soon the bowl of the pipe has a cherry red coal in it once more.
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"Actually, I was out here before I heard of it," Kieran noted, "I told you. I've been here a few weeks. This isn't my first bounty... just the first one that wasn't human."
He hesitated, "I'd guess that the reason it's still around is that it's smart enough to retreat out to places that are thoroughly corrupted by the void still. There aren't many people around here who'll risk chasing after it to those places, there's a lot of superstition around about them. People think just going there's enough to taint you, but the process doesn't work like that at all."
In the distance, the black mass that was the Forest of the Fall loomed. The Aldwardine Plains were a walk in the park compared to the dangers that lurked amongst those trees, and Kieran could only hope the creature's desire to remain near a source of victims would keep it from there.
"If I had to guess, I'd say it used blood magic of some primitive variety. That means it's going to have a lot of power behind it, but probably not much precision. Blood magic is hard to control at the best of times." He glanced down at the trail again, "And by the depth of its prints, I'd say that its bloating has gotten to the point where it's cumbersome in movement. It'll be slow. Easy to evade, if you're expecting it."
As they walked, the evening stretched on. The light was low, and darkness drawing closer. Kieran didn't exactly want to travel at night, but if they waited till morning, they'd have lost a lot of ground. But they could set up camp when it got too dark to travel at all safely, and he could disguise their position with a few simple wards. It would be fine, probably. After all, it had always worked so far.
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"I keep forgetting that you've been 'round the block, you still seem so shiny and new. Humans live so briefly, it is hard to get a handle on how quickly ya change." Conlaoch explains, rubbing his chin and a little embarrassed that he couldn't remember something so simple. He wouldn't go so far to apologize, not yet, but he didn't really want to annoy his new friend.
"Blood magic, eh? Do ya know what kind of creature it was before it became what it is now? Looks like two feet and one would assume two hands, but that don't always mean human. Boots seem to suggest something reasonably intelligent, but undead wear whatever they had on before they got back up again anyways." the sylvae man points out, before he flags Kieran down again.
"Hold up a second. Let me fly up and see if I can see anything useful before we go stumbling over it or the lady or whatever might be out here. Don't want to just fly off and leave you by accident in the worse place." His pack would clatter to the ground again before Conal would take to the air. His torn wing pained him and he wore a grimace so he would groan, but the wound wasn't oozing anymore and it functioned well enough. He just wouldn't be making any hard turns for a while, until it finished healing up, but straight up and straight down wasn't so bad.
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"I'm not certain," Kieran admitted, "You're right that it was probably once humanoid. I'd guess either human or elven, given the general populace, but if it's from further afield it might have been something else." He shook his head, "Whatever it was, I doubt much of that's left, from the stories I've heard."
He halted as Conal took flight to wait, watching him ascend with a slightly bemused expression. It had always baffled him how the fragile-looking wings of the sylvae allowed them such easy and agile flight. Fey magic of some sort, he assumed.
From his vantage point on high, Conal would get a good view of the surrounding plains. In the near distance, Taldasin's lights were clearly visible - despite its low populace, the torches and lamps which lit the occupied streets made the ruined town stand out in the gloom. Other, more distant lights, marked the position of other settlements - be it towns, smaller villages, or fortified farmsteads.
Though there wasn't enough light to make out individual figures, Conal would be able to make out - not more than a few miles ahead, over a hill - a light not unlike the lantern Kieran held below. Off to the near east, not far from the Forest of the Fall's border, a multitude of such lights were visible as though carried by a small caravan. They seemed very inviting.
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"Company to the east, near the forest." Conlaoch informed his friend upon landing. The small man stumbled a bit, favoring one side as he caught his balance and picked up his gear again.
"I doubt this Leech thing needs lanterns, so I think it is the lady ahead of us on this track. But how likely do ya think it that our mutual quarry has decided to get another meal on his way to the woods? The lights to the east have a bit of a draw to them that even I feel, and I am not generally the sociable type." This from the man that forced his company on Kieran without invitation. Apparently, Conal has no sense of irony.
"Might be that they are enchanted. Might be a trap for the Leech. I can't tell if it is illusion or not from this distance. Hell, it might be paranoia on my part. This is my first time hunting something like this." The pipe smoke rises in furious little puffs as the short man considered all that he did not know, and grudgingly admited in his heart of hearts that the Lady of Memories was right to tell him to go experience more of the world.
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"I've not heard anything about lights to do with the leech," Kieran noted, "But a bunch of lights together sounds like a caravan. If we can meet up with them to spend the night, it'll be a lot safer, and we'll still have made good progress..."
He mused for a few moments longer before nodding, "The trail veers north-eastwards anyway, so we won't lose too much ground, and can pick it up in the morning. There's no way that woman will be able to travel far in the night alone."
With that said, the boy started in the direction of the eastern lights. "So I don't think I've asked yet," he began, "How come you're out here on the Frontier? I've not seen many sylvae before, and those that I have were in the city."
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"Not only that, but being with the caravan will keep them safer too. Assuming they need keeping safe." Conlaoch pointed out thoughtfully, rubbing his chin as he tended to do when he was thinking. His pack rattled as he resettled it over his shoulders to follow the human, after pointing out the smoothest route he had seen from the air.
"Eh, I'm learning about human crafts. And other peoples. I had a crazy plan to-- Well, when I asked someone that knew about such things, she sent me on this, er, quest." Conal grinned up at Kieran suddenly, "Maybe she was just trying to cure me of my ambitions, because she knew if I stayed in the Glade, I'd pursue my dream doggedly. Nothing like finding out how small you are to make a man realize how big he is dreaming."
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"My mother always said that in the eyes of the world, a person might seem insignificant. But in the eyes of another, that same person can be more significant than all the world," Kieran smiled, "I don't think that travelling makes me feel small. It just opens the way to touching a lot more lives. Saving some ... though I guess, ending others ... But..."
He gestured back over his shoulder, "Anyway, I could've died back there if you hadn't come along. So I'd rate that as pretty major. I suppose I'm biased, though." He laughed, "I guess what I'm trying to say is not to give up, but in a roundabout and overblown way?"
Kieran sighed. "This is what happens when I try to be deep and philosophical."
As they walked, the lights came into sight from the ground. They didn't seem to have moved far - the caravan was likely setting up for the night. They really were inviting. Kieran could almost feel the warmth...
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"Oh, I'm not giving up. It's just that I have further to go than I thought. And that caravan is closer than I thought." The sylvae man gave a concerned frown, messing with his pipe as he stared at the lights that they were fast approaching. "There goes that feeling again. Welcoming. It's not natural. Humans and sylvae are not an easy mix in the best of times and this is not a common sort of meeting."
Conlaoch would pause to pull a telescoping staff from the side of his pack, giving it a flick that had it expanding from 12 inches to 60 inches, and then engaging the locks so it would stay expanded. It was a pretty thing, etched with vine patterns and glinting silver in the moonlight. There was threading on both ends too, as if things could be screwed into place and make it a more formidable weapon. Or a useful reaching tool for the short man. Without any such additions, it looked like a fancy walking stick, and that was how the small man left it, rather than risk being blatantly hostile. After all, he could just be paranoid.
"Better ready your toasting knife, lad. Or at least loosen it in the scabbard." Conal advised, even though he was pretty sure Kieran wouldn't listen to him. After all, if he was feeling so comfortable himself with the natural resistance of his kind, what would the human be going through?
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"What?" Kieran raised an eyebrow, "You certainly seemed to mix easy enough with me," he pointed out with a smile. "We can't take it for granted that they'll be friendly, I suppose, but I wouldn't go expecting it."
Never mind the fact that even as the lights drew closer, it became increasingly apparent that they didn't move as one might expect a fellow carrying a lantern to. The shapes of wagons or mounts were nowhere to be seen, and not a single silhouette crossed before the lights even when they overlapped. All of this seemed to fly entirely over Kieran's head as he kept walking onwards.
And then, as the lights came so close that one might have expected to make out the features of those that carried them, his foot sank through the ground. Kieran yelped, stumbling forwards to one knee, which promptly joined his foot in pressing through what had swiftly become very soft earth. "What the- Light!"
Only now he'd fallen this close to it did Kieran notice there was something wrong with the plains beneath their feet. The grass was greyed and dark, woven with threads of pulsating blackness, and the soil seemed more like tar. Shadows played unnaturally across the surface, and it throbbed, sucking his leg in another inch in the manner of aggressive quicksand.
Ahead, the lights began to drift closer, and their true nature became more apparent. Seemingly will'o'wisps of a kind, they hovered on the edge of the lantern's natural glow like vultures, circling. Waiting.
"Ah, fuck," Kieran groaned.
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"Will ya look at that. Those are almost cute." Conlaoch admits, grinning and rubbing his chin. Then he would wave the staff at the floating lights to try to disperse them gently.
"But the Forest of the Fall is their home, isn't it. That means they are deadly too." Conlaoch would then try the obvious solution of grabbing the back of Kieran's shirt and jacket and pull the larger man back towards solid land. If he has to use his damaged wings to get more thrust, Kieran would get to see a fine spray of something dark and viscous from the left-hand side, and the staff would be given to the human to use to help himself as well.
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As Conloach pulled on Kieran, a number of strange tendrils of shadow reached out to pull back. They were almost fog-like in consistency, but their grip was strong, and a number stretched out for Conloach's legs as well. "Gah!" Kieran swore, drawing his sword free of its sheath with a flare of fire and slashing at the snaking shadows. "This place is void-touched! I'm an idiot!"
The light that the sword cast was more intense than that of the now discarded lantern, and it made it apparent that Kieran was right. The ground here was warped and unearthly black, grasping shadow rising from it unnaturally in defiance of the light. Occasionally he caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye of something resembling a vestigial face or eye, only for it to be gone when he turned to look.
His efforts at slashing through the shadows seemed to be helping, but now his foot was starting to go numb. With a curse, he spread his free hand and let a blast of flame blossom from his palm, casting the entire area in brief light and forcing the shadows back. He gained ground briefly, but as soon as the fire faded the disembodied limbs of darkness surged in once again with renewed vigour.
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Conlaoch soon realized his efforts weren't helping, and the fire was doing more. Constantly muttering, he leaped for his pack and dragged out two clay bottles. One was oil, but the other was a potent alcoholic beverage. He hesitated about which one was which, unable to see the markings in the dark. Then, with a curse at his own stupidity, the sylvae busted both bottles open on the ground, on top of the lantern some feet away.
The oil broke first and almost drowned the lantern flame, but then the alcohol caught and set the area on fire. Starting at the unexpected bonfire, it took Conal a moment to remember to go back to the human boy and resume trying to pull him out of the quagmire.
"Keiran, you sure know how to get into a heap of trouble! This is the most excitement I've had in weeks!" The grouchy old fae creature growled in the boy's ear as his short arms went around the taller male's chest from behind for a better grip.
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For a moment it seemed like the fire was working, and the shadows beat a hasty retreat away from the expanding blaze.
But then a large section of the ground rippled, as though a bubble had broken the surface and burst.
In the moment that followed, a mass of shadows surged forth from the ground like a great wurm protruding from the darkness below. The wisps rose with it, giving it the visage of something approaching a serpentine multi-headed angler fish.
Kieran whimpered.
Before the creature could descend on them, however, a loud rumble of rock on rock sounded and a shard of earth speared out of the shadows beneath Kieran. He blinked in surprise, before the shard rose and tilted back to shove him free of the shadows' grip and back onto solid ground - right onto Conloach.
"By the light," an exasperated woman's voice emerged from the darkness, "Can't anyone in this forsaken place take care of themselves? I feel like a maidservant, going around clearing up peoples' messes."
A glint of red flashed in the darkness, before a vast tide of flame surged forth over Kieran and Conal's heads, striking the towering void-wurm dead on. The creature wailed in agony, reeling away from the strike, but the flames kept coming. Illuminated by the fire, it was easy to make out the shapes of skulls and half-disintegrated body parts within the partially translucent creature's mass.
"Well don't just sit there," the woman called again, "I can't very well incinerate this thing while you're sitting on it."
She too was lit up by the flames, which were emanating from her palm. Of a slender but muscled build, she carried a bladed staff and was lightly armoured with plated leather, one arm left uncovered. Her hair was short and dark, and by her expression, she came across as mildly irritated with the situation. It was perhaps a somewhat understated reaction to the towering creature of darkness before her, but then again, this was Aelora.
It wasn't altogether that out of the ordinary.
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Conlaoch hadn't expected Kieran to come loose quite so abruptly, and was still trying with all his might when the slab of earth shoved them backwards. So with a buzz of dragonfly winds, they went zooming backwards, careening off at a crazy angle before a natural rise in the shape of the land stopped the flight of the little brown man and his human cargo. Smashed between the ground and Kieran, Conlaoch had a moment to think that this was how a beetle felt under a boot.
With the breath knocked out of him and certain tender portions of his anatomy pretty thoroughly battered, Conal could barely gasp out, "Wasn't our fault."
He really wasn't built to carry something as heavy as Kieran, so the syvlae would be terribly sore in the morning, but that wasn't his next topic of concern. Nope. Somewhere in the midst of all the excitement, he had lost his pipe. Or rather, misplaced it. And that worried him more than firestorms, giant wurms made of shadows, or the various injuries he had acquired since meeting the boy.
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The woman stepped forwards as the two men retreated backwards with all the dignity and poise of a one-legged man running hurdles, funnelling more power into her flames now that they were clear of the area. The soft earth around the wurm's pit began to bake, and its wails intensified under the barrage.
Still screeching, it lurched forwards, tendrils of shadow shooting out to assail its attacker from her flanks. Rather than falling back, however, she ducked down under the first swipe and charged. The aggression took the wurm by surprised, and its other strikes fell behind her as she moved, letting her flames die.
Shards of rock shot forwards to provide footfalls as she moved out onto the corrupted soil, forming a makeshift staircase. "Come on, you phallic piece of crap," she called out, "Aren't you hungry?"
Whether responding to her taunt, or merely tempted by her proximity, the creature responded. It lunged forwards with gaping jaws to bite down on her, but before it could it was met by another torrent of fire. The flames poured into its mouth and surged down its throat with guided precision, before exploding outwards. The beast's shriek was cut short as its insides were fried, and it slumped down to the ground.
The woman nodded with satisfaction, turning to descend back to the ground. The unpleasant odour of charred flesh began to rise from its corpse.
Kieran could only gape from where he'd extracted himself from atop Conal. "Er, thanks. That was. Wow."
She smiled as she drew closer, "I get that a lot. Sometimes 'wow' is swapped out with 'oh Light, save me', though. Can't please everyone, I suppose."
____
Conal wheezed where he had fallen, leaning back on the earth after briefly sitting up so that he could fold his wings properly. He was still checking his clothes fitfully, holding a little, rattling box in one hand and the smokeweed pouch in the other as he searched for his pipe with his free fingers.
"Next time someone tells ya that a thing could be a trap, ye'll listen instead of barreling in like a hog on the scent of truffles." Conlaoch said wearily, then groaned and pushed himself upright again. The spark in his eyes has dimmed and he seemed tired and diminished. His accent was stronger too, as if he didn't have the energy to correct his speech and stifle the rolling 'r's and fluid vowels.
"Be a good lad and fetch me pack, would ye? I dunnae think I broke anything, but I feel like I've been beaten like a marriage mattress. Leaves of the first forest, but what would I give to find me pipe intact!"
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"Sorry," Kieran sighed, "I wasn't thinking clearly. In hindsight, maybe it was messing with my head... there were plenty of signs it wasn't a caravan."
"Wouldn't be surprised," the woman shrugged, "Those lights weren't natural. It's possible it came across some real will-o-wisps in the past, and managed to imitate them. Void corruption is adaptable if nothing else."
Kieran pulled himself to his feet and cast his eyes around, but the darkness made it difficult to make anything out, even with the light of his sword to go by. He waved the blade this way and that, searching out the pack along the path of their flight. "I'm assuming you're the rival bounty hunter I heard about," he said after a moment.
"Bounty hunter?" The woman raised an eyebrow, "I suppose you could call me that. I prefer 'vigilante' though. It's more derring-do."
Plucking Conal's pack from the ground, Kieran gave the woman a confused glance, "You're... not after the bounty, then?"
"Not everything in life's about money. If it was, why in the Light would I have bothered saving a couple of nitwits wandering around alone in the dark. I don't think it would have been a stretch for me to assume the pair of you were just committing a particularly inefficient form of suicide. Am I to take it, then, that you are a pair of bounty hunters yourself?"
"I am. Of a sort," Kieran answered with a shrug. "My name is Kieran."
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Conal gave a tired smile at the woman, though he sat up and went hunting through his pack eagerly enough when Kieran found it. "This nitwit is particularly stupid. Not only did I already rescue the lad once from an unsavory crowd, but then I was foolish enough to follow him when I knew it was a bad idea. Somehow I got the thought in my head that I could save him a second time and then he'd listen."
He found his pipe at about that time, apparently having stowed it without thinking when he had hunted for the bottles of flammables. The sylvae male filled the bowl of the intricately craved pipe with smoke weed and would be trying to light it before he remembered to introduce himself, "I am Conlaoch, of the Uncourt. Conal is the easy form, for human mouths. I'm not interested in bounties. I am a wandering tinker at this time. I mend and make pretty much any sort of goods I can get my hands on. Enchant some too, when I have the chance and there are folks as can pay."
He gave a sigh of satisfaction when the cheery red glow settled down and the pleasant smell drifted around him once more. "What about you, Ms Vigilante? To whom do we owe our gratitude?"
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"Kieran and Conlaoch," the woman repeated with a nod of acknowledgement, the sylvae name slipping off her tongue with practised ease. "What a soundly odd pair. I'm sure the two of you would make a wonderful double act if you ever took to the stage." She swung a backpack down from her back and began to untie a bedroll from it.
"Here's as good a place to camp as any. There'll be no other predators around here with that thing," she jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the fallen wurm, "having been lurking here for light knows how many years. My name is Emma. Emma Armelle. Otherwise known as 'Oh No', or sometimes 'Meddling Bitch'."
"Wait..." Kieran blinked, "I've heard your name before somewhere."
"Oh goodie." Emma sighed, "And here I thought I'd be spared recognition in the middle of the wilderness during the dead of night. There truly is no escape."
"You're the blood mage that helped the Vanguard! No wonder you're so powerful! And that explains why you're tracking the leech, you hunt other blood mages!"
"Two for two, genius," Emma kicked her bedroll out and stuck her staff into the ground. "Now are you two going to go and fetch some firewood or do I have to do everything myself?"
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Conlaoch wasn't about to go into the the Forest of the Fall at night, nor to let Kieran risk his life a third time, especially for something as mundane as firewood. Thankfully, the small brown man had a solution to the problem. He pulled out a few sheets of metal from his pack and unfolded the contraption into an ingenious portable stove, into which he loaded a brick of peat. He did something to it that smacked of fae magic, involving his pipe and a spoken invocation, and the block of peat, which was really nothing more than dried vegetable matter and such, would burn until dawn without seeming to be consumed. The stove would soon be glowing cherry red, putting off enough heat to keep them all warm. A tiny clay pot full of dark fluid got put on top, and filled the hollow with the smell of flowers and spices, so they wouldn't have to try to sleep with the smell of burnt flesh in their noses.
He didn't talk much as he worked, just explaining if asked what the results would be. Mostly he figured the two humans were ready for sleep, and he didn't need as much rest as the mortal folk did, so he didn't mind making things comfortable while they bedded down. Eventually even the sylvae slept, on a bare bit of earth with his pipe still smouldering in one hand and nothing between him and the dirt. He listened to the thrum of life deep in the land and was restored by the magic inherent in all things.
In the morning, they'd probably be woken by Conlaoch singing towards the north, during the sunrise. His singing voice was low and earthy, pleasant and soothing, but not what one would call 'on key'. If Emma knew enough about the sylvae language and culture, she'd recognize it as something from the Court of Songs. The point was to attract birds and get the news of the day. Depending on the type of bird, he might learn where the ripe seeds were, or if the hunting was good, or if there was something wandering where it ought not to be.
If the birds had no useful news, next he'd sing for the rodents, and so on, until he found some sort of critter that knows where the Leech has gone to ground.
____
Kieran watched Conal work for a while with interest, observing his craft after having determined that no, they were not going to wander off into the dark to look for sticks.
Emma seemed largely disinterested, and after taking some time to mark wards around their campsite, she settled down on her bedroll and was quickly asleep. It was only after she had been lightly snoring for some time that Kieran elected to lay his head down as well, gazing up at the starless sky. Eventually he drifted off into a restless sleep.
When morning came, Emma was the first to stir in response to Conal's singing. She sat up, blinking a couple of times and apparently very quickly shaking off the haze of sleep. "Curious little morning ritual," she remarked dryly.
Across from her, Kieran groaned and rolled over.
"Oh, do stop whining." Emma plucked her staff from where it lay and jabbed at Kieran's side with the none-bladed end.
The young bounty hunter pushed himself laboriously to a sitting position, his hair hanging messily in front of his face. "That was unnecessary," he mumbled, "I was working up to it."
"Well, now that we've all had a nice night's rest," Emma rummaged in her pack for a few moments before pulling out a piece of bread, taking a bite of it. "I'd like to dishcush how big a pair of idiotsh you are," she continued through the mouthful for a few moments before swallowing. "Or were you travelling with more people that got eaten before I arrived?"
She shook her head. "Not even idiot bandits travel in smaller groups than a half dozen out here. Are you actually trying to die?"
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"I do just fine on my own, chicka. Then again, I can fly off if things bother me." Conlaoch answered dryly as he gave a weary stretch and rubbed at the small of his back, which had made an audible crunch. "It's the boy that needs a keeper. He was so worried about you taking his bounty that he didn't want to stay in town over night."
"By the way, the mice say that the void tainted one has taken refuge in the forest. As expected, but now confirmed. Birds claim there are ripe berries in the next hollow, but I suspect we might be too late to get any. Cheeky little buggers probably flew there directly after telling me about them." He groaned as he got up, and pulled a dented kettle and a small bag full of hand-sized paper packets from his pack as he relayed the news.
He paused to sniff the morning air, grimaced, and muttered, "Mint, to settle the stomach. You two are welcome to join me for tea, of course, but you'll need your own cups."
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"I've survived fine so far," Kieran muttered. "Last night was an exception."
"And it only takes one exception to kill you," Emma snapped sharply, "If I hadn't been nearby, you would be dead now. That's not a slip up you can correct."
Kieran's expression tightened, but it was clear he knew the older woman was right. He sighed and lowered his eyes.
"Well, at least you can admit it," Emma noted, "That's better than a lot of people. Even I prefer not to travel alone if I can avoid it. Anyone can be surprised and dead before they have a chance to do anything about it." She turned her attention back to Conlaoch, "Nice trick, with the critters."
She turned towards the forest with a sigh. "Two things to know about the Forest of the Fall. First thing, if you see a suspiciously dense patch of vines then speak up and don't go near it. It's probably Strangleweed and it'll probably kill you. If you do get caught in it, don't use fire unless you can keep that fire going long enough to get completely clear. Heat livens it up. If you can, use frost magic. If you can't, then ... well, start praying. Second thing, you spot any cat-men - Mira - in there, be polite. It's their turf. And they'll shoot you if they think you're a threat. Might shoot you anyway, if you say the wrong thing."
She reached into her pack and pulled out some more bread and dried jerky, "Eat up, if you're set on coming along, you'll need your strength."
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"Frost magic, eh? If I had a day or two, I could enchant something that way. Are ya in that much of a hurry?" The sylvae asked, flopping down to relax on a tuft of grass while the tea brewed. His wings whirled once, then twice before settling down again. Only a little dried black fluid on the tip showed where he had been injured before.
His pipe smoke coiled above the camp as he lounged, thinking about how he would do it. "Seems like you two both love fire, so a weapon you can use against strangleweed would be helpful. I can set up a forge somewhere close, in town if ya can manage not to piss off everyone off this time."
"Maybe... maybe these Mira would be like to have my services instead? Hmmm. Yet another race to learn about. I'll tag along with you two at least until I find out what these cat folk are about." Conal announced, like it was a forgone conclusion that they would want to have the little brown man with them.