“That’s awfully far,” Elara commented, her brow furrowing. “Wouldn’t the other Reaches be better positioned to respond?”
“The other Reaches are full of lazy, greedy cowards!” A shrill voice cut through the air behind them.
Breathing heavily as she worked to catch up, an elderly woman joined the group.
Fenn sighed, clearly used to this particular argument. “I’m sure they had their reasons.”
“Yeah! Their reason was that I didn’t have enough coin to pry them from the comfort of their grand houses!” the old woman barked, shrugging off her pack and settling next to them. “So, when do we leave? Or are we just going to sit here all day, staring at the map?The journey’s at least three weeks.” She paused, her fists clenching tightly. “And every day, more of my people die.”
The air around them seemed to freeze. All four of the Novices raised their eyebrows in unison.
Die? Rynna thought, her stomach tightening. She’d known this assignment would be a step up in difficulty, but death? That seemed like a leap from catching runaway cats, no matter how vicious those cats had been. She looked at the other three, wondering if they were ready.
Fenn’s earlier irritation faded as he met the old woman’s gaze. “And that’s why we’re stopping here first.” He pointed to a bright blue star painted on the map, marking a spot in the empty space between Ember Reach and Stone Reach.
“A waypoint?” Elara asked.
“What’s a waypoint?” Bran and the old woman both blurted out at the same time, glancing briefly at each other in mutual confusion.
“It’s an ancient method of Source travel set up by the first Hollow-born,” Taren supplied, then frowned at the Unit Leader. “I thought they were dangerous and only to be used in war or dire situations.”
“Yes, that’s true. It takes a great deal of Source power and control to use them safely.” Fenn nodded, rolling up the map and pressing himself to his feet. “Lucky for us, I can handle it; otherwise, we’d be looking at nearly a month’s journey each way. This should cut it down to a week or so, depending on how far the answering waypoint is from Fallowmere.”
He glanced at the old woman, who was still staring at the ground where the map had been. “Is that acceptable, Gran Hesta?”
When she finally looked up, there were tears glistening in her eyes. “Yes, Unit Leader,” she said softly, wiping away the wetness with her sleeve. She accepted Bran’s extended hand and stood, a little unsteady but resolute. “That is more than acceptable. You have my gratitude.”
“We’ll do everything we can to help your village.” Fenn gave her a respectful bow before turning to head down the road.
The others scrambled to catch up, their argument over who would carry Gran Hesta’s pack erupting almost immediately. And in the midst of the chatter, Fenn began explaining the mission’s details.
“Apparently, a group of bandits arrived months ago,” he said, his voice low but clear. “They killed all the village elders except for Gran Hesta, who was able to escape. The bandits, only a handful, have been forcing the remaining adults to work for them, threatening to kill the children if they don’t comply.”
The Novices fell silent, caught in Fenn’s words.
“They’re making some kind of opium product,” the old woman started. “One of the warehouses has already exploded...” She pressed her lips together, struggling to hold back the wave of emotion. “It killed everyone inside, including my son.”
Tears welled in Elara’s eyes as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Granny.”
“After that, I ran.” The old woman’s voice was quiet, heavy with exhaustion. “There was nothing I could do. We needed help. So, I went to each of the Reaches to petition for aid.”
“Guide Fenn.” Elara twisted her hands together nervously. “Do you really think we’re ready for this?”
“Elara!” Bran interrupted, snatching the old woman’s pack from her. “Of course, we’re ready! How can you even ask that? They need us. We can’t just walk away.”
“I know. It’s just that...”
Fenn cut in, his tone calm but firm. “From what Gran Hesta has shared, this should be a mid-level assignment. It’s a step up for you, yes. You’ll be facing actual human opponents, but none are Hollow-born. Plus, their numbers are limited. Our priority will be rescuing the children. Once we do that, the rest of the villagers will be able to handle the bandits.”
Gran Hesta growled in agreement. “They won’t leave Fallowmere alive.”
The group quieted as they moved along the narrow path, their footsteps accompanied by the steady sound of the stream beside them. The water, clear and fast-moving, wound its way through the landscape, glittering in the sunlight as it flowed from Ember Reach’s central oasis.
The further they walked, the more the scenery shifted. The desert’s dry, cracked ground gradually gave way to patches of stubborn grass, and the oppressive heat began to lift. The foothills ahead were dotted with low shrubs and scattered trees, and the cool breeze that drifted down from the coming mountains was a welcome relief after the long, hot trek.
By the time they set up camp that evening, the land around them was a mixture of rolling hills and pockets of greenery. Having grown wide, the river’s murmur was a constant background to their conversations as they built their fire for the evening in a small clearing near the water’s edge.
Rynna sat close to the flames, the warmth pleasant on her face, though her attention kept drifting toward Fenn. He bent over the map again, firelight flickering across the hard lines of his face, deepening the shadows that clung to his features. She caught herself watching his expression shift with each thought, the red ends of his hair, pulled up in a messy bun, gleaming whenever the flames leapt higher.
