The Chronicles of Ematria

Chapter 2

“Even if you're on the right path, you'll get nowhere if you stand still.”

Road to Dawnburgh, Province of Cicuria, 1275 AD

“So, princess. What brought you this far south?” Farion asked, a smirk on his lips as he walked along the lush path.

Isibeal stole a glance his way, “My life is not some storybook that you can open whenever you please, Farion…”

The young elf could sense that she didn't want to talk about it, so he backed off. “I simply wish to get to know you, I would imagine we are going to spend quite a bit of time together.” Isibeal rolled her eyes at his comment. “If I wanted to get to know you, I would not ask dull and idiotic questions.” The pair continued down the path that stretched out before them. Farions' eyes were scanning the treeline around them. Looking for anyone that might ambush them. “What are you doing, Farion?” Farion looked over at her, “I am not going to get ambushed, There is something in the forest, Some dark creature and I would rather not be caught off guard by it.” Isibeal stopped, “A creature? What sort of creature?” Farion stopped a few steps in front of her, “I don't know. But it has caused the forest to become still. Listen.” The forest did not make any sound. Not even the wind. “I don't hear anything, Farion.” Isibeal tapped her foot impatiently, Farion looked at her, “Exactly, the forest is too still, something's not right.” Farion looked around, drawing his daggers. “What are you doing?” Isibeal looked around, not seeing anything. “Shh!” Farion shushed her. “We are being watched. Quiet.” Farion ducked into a bush and hid, “Come on. Hide!” Isibeal ducked into some brush and looked out toward the path, Suddenly a creature with black, armored skin and massive claws sauntered out from one of the clearings. The two of them could smell the stench of rotting flesh on it. It growled with hunger, Sniffing the air it looked around and saw nothing, then disappeared into the woods. Farion let out an audible sigh of relief, stepping out onto the path, Isibeal following behind him and brushing her dress off. “Well, that was interesting…” Isibeal said dismissively. “Perhaps this cult is more dangerous than we think…” Farion sighed again, “We need to find this creature before it reaches a populated area.” Isibeal nodded “I agree, But how do we find this thing?” Farion smirked, it was a chance for him to show off his skills as a hunter, “Finding it is easy enough, but killing it, that...that is the hard part.”

Farion began trudging through the dense forest where the creature had carved a path through, Isibeal followed behind him, “This is pointless, we need to reach Dawnburgh and begin gathering allies, not go on impromptu hunting trips.” Farion closed his fist as he drew his bow, “This is not some hunting trip, Madam. What we are hunting is a creature of immense power, this is not some simple game. This is a magical creature, something that will require both of our skills. I assume that you have experience with these creatures. Being from the north, you have more experience with magic than I.” Isibeal raised a curious eyebrow, “Is that humility, Master Oakstrider? I do believe this is the first step to me tolerating your company.” She laughed. “You southern elves are so curious. Have you no experience with magic?” Farion shook his head, “I've encountered a few mages, but it was never anything like I have heard in the north.” As the pair walked through the forest, they came to a clearing. Farion knelt and placed his hand in the damp grass, “We are on the right track. The creature went in this direction.” He pointed toward a large mountain cavern. “There. If you have a weapon. I suggest you have it ready.” Isibeal nodded and pulled a small dagger from her pack. The pair quietly snuck up to the mouth of the cavern and heard the grisly sounds of a predator enjoying its prey. Farion whispered, “I will go first, stay behind me.” Entering the cave, bow drawn, Farion approached the back of the cave where the creature was devouring a small human child. Drawing his bow, Farion prepared to take a shot when suddenly, the cave filled with a thick black mist, and a woman stepped out of the fog. “My dear creature, How many times have I told you not to play with your food?” She laughed and sat down on one of the rocks, “Ugh. This southern air has not been kind to my complexion.” She pushed her silver hair back behind her ears, and Isibeal froze. “We need to leave, now!” She took Farions’ cloak and yanked him out, walking back toward the path, “What is the rush, Isibeal? Are you that scared of your elder sister?” She stopped dead in her tracks, “My elder sister is the Veiled Empress. She is the most powerful woman in the entirety of Bannheim.” Farion stopped her mid-sentence, “And that creature has already claimed one life, if it takes anymore, the humans will begin to ask questions.” Isibeal rolled her eyes, “Is the fear and distrust of elves so deeply ingrained that the humans would riot at the slightest provocation?” Farion stopped again, “Yes. But it's not the elves I’m worried about, but anyone that can do magic. If there is one thing humans hate more than elves, it’s mages.” Isibeal paused, “I had heard the reports from our agents about the so-called “witch hunters” She paused, “The devastation...It was horrible.” Farion stopped and sat down on a stump, “Witch hunts were never about witches. Humans fear what they don't understand and can’t control. I joined the Red Feathers out of a desire to change the world. I simply wanted everyone to be equal.” Isibeal finished his thought. “It seems you may never get your wish. Even the gods themselves cannot change a humans’ mind once it is set.” Farion looked up at her, “Perhaps you are right. Now the man that waged war on our people now sits on the throne of Cicuria.” Isibeal stopped, looking at him with a surprised expression. “How is that possible? Aurum DeWinter isn't even closely related to the royal family.” Farion rolled his eyes, “That doesn't matter. He was a close friend of the late king, Emile van Emeris. He was given the throne because of his relationship with the royal family and the royal council.” Isibeal gracefully walked back to the path. “Well, there is no use for us standing here. Let's move toward Dawnburgh.” Farion nodded and followed her back to the path.

Built along the banks of a gentle river, the city of Dawnburgh is an extraordinary curiosity. Its grace is matched by the backdrop of green, fertile fields which have helped shape the city to what it is today. Besides the riches these fields brought, they were also influential when it came to architectural designs, as the vast majority of buildings incorporate grass as part of their architecture to continue the luscious aesthetic of the fields around them.

“If memory serves, Dawnburgh is one of the few places where the elven population here in the south is seen as equal to the humans.” Isibeal states in a bored tone, seemingly unimpressed with the surroundings. “Tis uncannily bright, no?”

Farion stopped in his tracks, “In my experience, there is no such thing as equality between the races. Not since the war, anyway.” The young warrior states bitterly, seeming to catch Isibeal’s attention.

“Then perhaps you have only experienced the wrong parts of this world.” Isibeal states in a careful tone, for once not seeming to be snarky. Walking through the foggy streets the pair looked around at the slummy neighborhood they found themselves in. “I hope this contact of yours is credible, Farion.” Farion rolled his eyes, “The contact is reliable. I have used this man’s connections since my earliest thieving days.” They turned a corner and ducked into a back alley. Farion walked up to a suspicious section of the wall. After speaking something in elvish, the secret door slid open and Farion stepped inside. “Ahhh...Farion, my boy. It's been too long since we spoke. How are things in Earthwall?” The very heavyset man sat in one of the chairs at the bar, it was struggling to hold his weight and buckled slightly. “Well, I've not been back there since the attack by the Imperial soldiers.” The man looked Farion up and down, “no foolin’? Well, something must have you spooked.” Farion shook his head ‘no’ “the clan. I’m the only one left...need to find out where Caiden is.” The man stroked his beard. “Last I heard, Caiden was up north. Said he had a map that would lead him to an imperial treasure cache hidden in the mountains.” Isibeal spoke up, “I have not heard of the empire stashing anything in the mountains.” Farion sighed heavily. “Delvin, it’s important I find him as quickly as possible, think I might be able to find him at the guildhall?” The heavyset man stood up, and Farion rose with him, “maybe. If he isn’t out looking for a mark, that’s where he would be. Speaking of which, the duke is out of town on some important business, and his estate is ripe for the pilferin’. Whaddya say, want to get in a score? Just for old times sake?” Farion thought for a moment, “As tempting as that sounds I’m going to have to pass. Have to meet up with Caiden first. Perhaps in a few days, I’ll be there.” Farion and isibeal left the small bar still looking for the guildhall. “Once a thief, always a thief.” Isibeal mused, rolling her eyes at his apparent lack of apathy toward the law.

Ignoring the comment, Farion looked around at all the people that now eyed them as the pair exited the secret hall. Both he and Isibeal glanced around for the building where the Feathers would be. “Alright. Which building is it, ever fearless leader?” Isibeal croons, lavender eyes expectant and mocking.

“This one. The tavern here.”

Isibeal stopped in her tracks and looked up at the rather rugged building. From the outside, it looks cheerful, folksy, and rustic. Softwood and stone beams make up the majority of the building's outer structure. It's hard to see through the large, curtained windows, but the animation from within can be felt outside.

“Bannheim would never procure such a flimsy building… though perhaps what they lack in ingenuity they make up for in ale.” Isibeal offers, wrinkling her nose at the sight of the tavern.

“The ale is quite good here. Not that I have been able to stop in a long time…” Farion took in the sights and scents of the building and cracked a small smirk. He had made his first thefts cutting purses in taverns just like this.

“Reminiscing, Thief?” She prods, brow raised.

“Obviously you have never been wanting. I had to steal so that I could eat regularly.”

For a moment, Lady Isibeal’s eyes cloud over with a thick shadow before clearing a moment later.

“You are far more naive than I initially thought if you believe hunger is the worst to happen to a Life Light, elf.” Her tone is not quite biting, though it is not quite kind either.

“It is not only hunger I have faced, but homelessness. orphanage and being hunted simply because of the shape of my ears. If I had not found the Feathers, I would have ended up dead or worse... enslaved.”

“Then you were one of the lucky ones.” She states coldly.

As they entered the tavern through the heavy wooden doors, they were welcomed by the smell of alcohol and laughing voices. The bartender was handling some customers but still managed to welcome them with a short wave. It was lovely inside as it was on the outside. Squared stone beams support the upper floor and the rows of small candles attached to them. The walls swarmed with photographs, some of what undoubtedly must be famous people and others of happy customers. The tavern itself was packed. Travelers seem to be the primary clientele here. A good sign. They would blend in.

Farion pointed to a door marked with a red paint mark. “There, that door.”

Isibeal nodded swiftly and followed him on silent feet into the meeting room.

A voice spoke up and welcomed the pair of them. “Ah, at last, you join your brothers-in-arms. And you did not come alone...what possessed you to bring a human into our midst?” His tone grows dark, Isibeal’s eyes flicked towards him with interest.

“So it is true you Southern Folk cease to recognize your own… how quaint…” she muses, the lyrical tongue of the elvish kinfolk spilling from her lips, a northern accent thick upon her words.

Caiden raises his eyebrow at her. “A northern lady. How interesting...I did not think you would venture down this far from home.” He speaks with a similar accent, then he says something in a northern tongue. A motto of their homeland. “Long Live the Shadow King.”

A stricken look crosses her face. The first apparent break of true emotion to be expressed before the gentleman. It was a pained expression. Though, it is quick to be concealed.

“My Lord Fath-... the Shadow King has not rested on the Obsidian Throne for five years now, my lord. My sis- The Veiled Empress, her Ladyship Abigael Ignes, now rests upon the throne.” Isibeal states in careful tones, seeming to keep her eyes everywhere but on his face. Seeming to hide them.

Ginger dreadlocks tied in a ponytail reveals a full, radiant face. Wide brown eyes watch warmly over the ancestors they've felt disconnected from for so long. Scars stretching from the right side of the forehead, running towards the other eye, and ending on his right cheekbone leaves a beautiful memory of famed glory. This is the face of Caiden Gedman. A true mercenary among dark elves.

He stood average among others, despite his tough frame. There's something inexplicable about him, perhaps it's his patience, or perhaps it's simply his humility. Nonetheless, he is a loyal member of the Red Feathers and one of Farions' closest friends.

“Farion what in the gods’ name have you stepped in this time? Involving her Ladyship Isibeal in your affairs.” He gestures to Isibeal, a nod of fealty to her ladyship. “I apologize, If I had known your identity I would have sent my men to find you. Tell me, what has transpired since I had been at the palace?”

She blinks for a moment, turning her head towards the man… he seemed vaguely familiar to her eyes…

“My sisters, Abigael and Elphina, have taken the power of the throne.” Isibeal states in an uneasy tone, keeping her hands folded gently before her. “They have disbanded the elder council and taken complete control of Bannheim.”

Caiden looked at the floor, “That is unsettling news, were it possible I would go there myself and aid you milady, but my presence is needed here. There is a situation that has been brought to my attention. Our spies have heard talk of a cult of mages and their plot to attempt something I thought impossible…”

“A Daughter of the Shadow King shall set rise to ancient chaos… there a reluctant hero shall carve the path to salvation.” Isibeal states quietly, stealing a glance at the elf at her side. “Though… our straits seem to be dire with the Chosen being THIS.”

Caiden looked at her, then to Farion. “You believe that the Chosen hero is...Farion?” Farion looks at her, then at his good friend.

“I cannot be the hero. I have no connection to the gods at all. You know this better than anyone, Caiden.” He looked around at the small room, “I am not your hero…”

Farion did not see himself as the ‘saving the world’ sort. He was a young man trying to make ends meet in a world that fears and despises his kind. “What kind of nonsense is this? Humans cannot summon our gods, it is not possible!” He was persistent in the idea that he was not the Chosen One for he hardly enjoyed partaking the idea.

“My sisters are not Human. Nowhere near.” Isibeal states in a bitter tone, her eyes seeming to light with some form of rage. “but I did not come with Farion to reminisce, we need your help, The children of Tzedakah are trying to summon a god with the aid of my sisters, Abigael and Elphina...” Isibeal’s voice trails off as she explains the situation. Farion looked to the open door and sees something out of the corner of his eye. A figure in white flowing robes.

His blue eyes follow it as it walks toward the forest behind them. Turning, he dashes after the mysterious figure, pouring out of the tavern and onto the street.

He follows the lady in white, her journey leading them to the edge of the woods, stopping as they arrive in a small clearing.

“Show yourself, mage! Who are you?”

“You have traveled long and far, Child. Many trials have you faced in your journey.” A soothing voice, like a gentle summer breeze “My name matters not, for you know me. You always have, and always will.”

“Speak sense! I have no time for tricks!” He spits, drawing his blade, “What manner of sorceress are you? And how do you know who I am?” He looks around for signs of movement, the air grows warm and comforting. Slowly, he lowers his weapon and turns, the figure appearing out of thin air.

“I am Aris. Goddess of this Earth.” Farion sheathed his blade, going down to one knee in respect.

“Please forgive my disrespect, goddess. I am but an insect before your likeness.”

A small chuckle bursts forth from her lips, her eyes seeming to shine in the stray rays of sunlight.

“Chosen Farion. Please raise your head. Tis rather difficult to converse with your lips kissing the earth, no?”

He rises to his feet, removing his hood and looking upon the goddesses’ flawless features, “I cannot be the Chosen, your eminence. It has been many years since I have placed my faith upon your noble shoulders.”

The smile remains upon her lips, her eyes were soft and gentle.

“Even if your children forsake you, you do not cease to love them, Son of Fendál. It is simply not done… you seem to have come across loyal allies. They will be beneficial to your endeavors.”

“I am unsure of my path, Great Goddess. I feel as if there is more my allies are not telling me. They seem to know more about me than they let on.” The goddess raised a hand, and he held his tongue.

“Hold no fear in your heart, Farion. All are entitled to their secrets of the past. Some are better kept silent than others. I beg of you, Chosen. Stop the Dark Daughters and their lackeys… they intend to summon my brother. Tamrasil.”

“So the prophecy is true... The Children of Tzedakah will summon him…” He paced back and forth, realizing that he was, in fact, the Chosen hero of the gods. “So what would you have me do to stop them?”

“Find the Everstone. It is the only thing that can counteract his power. Find it before the mages do. It is the only way…” With that, she faded from his sight just in time for Isibeal and Caiden to burst through the treeline and see him standing there alone.

Isibeal’s face states she is about to mock, yet… it shifts, head tilting to the side. His face was paler than normal. His stance was far more rigid.

“What manner of surprise has been about you, Farion?” She inquires after a moment, opting to remove her heavy cloak. The south was quite warm compared to the north…

“I know what I have to do…” his hands were trembling like he had seen a ghost. “We have to find the Everstone.” His face was pale, and he turns and walks past the two of them like they were not even there. He did not know how to process the things he had seen. It was all very overwhelming.

Isibeal’s brow furrows, glancing at the man at her side before after Farion.

“Is he normally like this?” She inquires, not exactly certain what came to occur for him to not have a cunning remark or quip.

Caiden noticed something in the grass in front of them, an odd grouping of flowers, he looked at them and his eyes began to widen, “He has seen what many of us will never see. The face of the Earth Mother…”

Isibeal crouches down before the small golden blooms, seeming to resist a small smile.

“She does not show herself in the North… yet she creates beauty so small…” she rises immediately, a facade once more taking hold of her features. “The Everstone… Elara mentioned such a thing often…”

Caiden looked at Isibeal, and then to Farion. “What is the Everstone? And why is it so important that we find it?”

Isibeal’s eyes shot to Caiden, “It is a magic stone required to communicate with the elven gods. The Children of Tzedakah are no doubt even as we speak looking for it.”

Farion finally spoke up, coming out of his daze. “Well, then I guess we better find it before they do. Caiden and I can attempt to look for it using the Red Feathers to scour the surrounding areas for it. It cannot be that hard to find.”

Caiden nodded towards Farion, “Right. I will get the Feathers looking for it.” Farion interrupted, “We need a plan. We can't just split up and look for it. We need a strategy.”

Caiden nodded, “You are right, Farion. What is the plan then?”

Farion leaned against a rock, “There is a legend among the elves of Earthwall and the surrounding areas. It tells of a temple hidden among the trees of the White Wall. It is said to hold power so great, the gods themselves hid it away for fear of it. I believe that the Everstone is there.”

Isibeal glanced over at Farion with an aura of suspicion. “How would you know that it still resides in this place?”

Farion shot her a glare, his eyebrows raising in question. “For all of our sakes, you had better hope that it is still there. We will not survive without it.” Farion turned on his heel and began the journey back to town. Stopping at the treeline. “Are you coming? We need to move quickly.”

The trio returned to Dawnburgh, traveling back to the tavern and many members of the Red Feather’s sat scattered about a spacious meeting hall.

“So, who is going to the temple?” Caiden spoke up, removing his hood.

“I suggest that Caiden accompany me to find the temple. I'm sure you have been itching to get out into the field.” Farion stated with a smirk.

“As much as I would like to join you, I’m afraid that won’t be possible. My presence is needed here.” Caiden said tiredly, leaning back against the oaken wall. “Perhaps her Ladyship might be of service upon your quest.”

“Surely there are other... more experienced warriors that could aid me? A princess who has spent her entire life in a palace is not suited to the dangers of the wilds.”

Isibeal rises to her feet in anger, seemingly about to offer the elf the true meaning of a royal. A deep chuckle cuts her off.

“Princess Isibeal? A hindrance? I would believe The Finder of the Royal family would be of great use to you upon your mission, Farion.”

“I do not need some royal chained to my leg. What is need is an experienced hunter and tracker. Someone who knows the forests as I do.” Farion closed his fists and stood up, glaring across the table from under his hood.

“I dare say you wouldn’t last an hour within the Norn Wood, Farion. The Fae are not exactly the forgiving sort.” Isibeal bites in a dry tone, her eyes a tad bit more scalding than usual.

“I'm sure I can handle a few faeries. Compared to orcs they are child’s play.” Farion sat back down, the other warriors watching this debate in sullen silence.

“And have you ever been in the presence of the Fae, ser?” She inquires, a familiar lyrical tongue spilling from her lips. “I can assure you that a few ‘faeries’ are quite the formidable challenge in the Forests of Norn. It must be a chore for you to be so thick-headed as to underestimate them. But I hope you would at least attempt to give them some credit.” Her eyes were cold as the words spilled from her lips, placing her weight upon her arms as she leans upon the table. “The Norn Wood is not for outsiders such as you to enter, Farion. If they believe you are a threat, they will not hesitate to-”

“Your Ladyship. That is enough.” Caiden’s voice sounds, his face stiff. Torn between his loyalty to the Feathers and his instinct to protect Isibeal.

Isibeal stares a moment longer before nodding, setting herself down.

“Forgive me. It seems my tongue escaped me for a moment.” She mutters. More than likely that would be the closest thing to an outright apology Farion would receive. It was not often Lady Isibeal admitted her wrongs.

Farion stood there stunned. He had never had a proper tongue-lashing as he had just received. He didn't know what to say to that. He simply sat and looked at her, a hint of newly gained respect for having stood up for herself in that way. It was something he admired about her.

“It's settled then, Farion, Isibeal, and a few of our warriors will locate the temple and the Everstone.” Farion stood and embraced Caiden, “May the gods grant you favor, Brother.” Caiden nodded, holding Farion in an embrace of brothers-in-arms.

“And you as well, my friend.” As the two heroes left the tavern, darkness had begun to set over the western ridge. They would need to find an inn to rest for the night.

Strolling into a rather small, riverside inn on the opposite side of town, they approached the counter and the heavyset bearded innkeeper heartily greeted them. “Good evening milord, and lady. Don't get much of your kind ‘round here. What can I do for you?”

Isibeal spoke up, this situation called for some tact, which Farion did not seem to possess.

“My good man, might we skip the pleasantries? We have had a long journey. All we require is a room for the night, then we shall be on our way.” Her personality seems to have undergone a complete reconstruction. From a silver-tongued viper to a charming young lass.

“Very well, Milady, 3 silvers.” Farion dropped the coins onto the counter and turned to walk up the stairs.

Isibeal offered an apologetic smile, playing the role of an embarrassed traveling companion. “I fear my companion is not much for conversation. I bid you goodnight, Serrah.”

The innkeeper nodded and went back to wiping the counter, sticking the coins in his purse.

Farion opened the door to their lodgings with an exhausted nature. The first thing he noticed was the fact that there was only one bed.

The lad began to unpack his cot from its resting place within the pack with an inward groan.

"Your aura is so-" Isibeal cuts herself short, face paling at a moment’s notice. It had just slipped out... "You seem angry." she finishes.

Farion cut her off. "Anger is a weakness....it causes you to become emotional, and then you make mistakes."

“Perhaps…” She continued her thought, “But your