Chapter 6
Shadow of Unease
The wagon broke the threshold of the forest and Eldric inhaled a bit at the wide-open expanse that marked the territory of Oberton.
To the left and right were long stretches of fields. Not the golden fields of wheat he had associated with Cinderholt, but other plants. In the distance, beyond the scattered houses, a massive mountain loomed under a thick fog that lay heavily upon it. The gentle push of the wind made it appear alive, the mist moving like a quiet veil across the surface of the looming peak.
“You’re acting like a kid who’s never left his house E,” Nia said with a small laugh as she leaned forward from the back of the wagon. “Is this your first time in Oberton?”
“It’s my first time anywhere. I never traveled too far from Cinderholt.” he explained as he leaned over the wagon a bit to get a look at the flowering plants in the field to his right. “What are these?”
“Potato plants…” Nia replied, her voice edging toward confusion before she gasped. “Wait, have you never had a potato?”
“Of course I’ve had a potato.” Eldric shot back with a scoff. “I just didn’t know what the plant looked like.”
“He was a monk, Nia, not a farmer,” Vestara quietly reminded from the back of the wagon, not bothering to look up from the book she had gotten earlier that day as she sat comfortably in the back of the covered bed.
“Well yeah, but I’m not a farmer either and I know what a potato plant looks like.” Her laugh was subdued as she inhaled deeply and fell quiet. “Maybe we can go for a walk and look at the flowers or something while we’re here.”
“Eldric needs to come with me to meet the mayor before you go dragging him off on another whim,” Harlan interjected. “It’s been a few years, but if I remember right the mayor’s place is the big one near the opposite end of town.” He lowered his head and pointed high and toward the left of the village.
“A whim-” Nia repeated with a growl. “Maybe you taking him to the mayor is a whim.” Her face was right next to Harlan’s as she leaned over the seat and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Why is it only a whim if I want to do it?”
Harlan sighed, “Because you going flower gazing has nothing to do with our mission from the Firmhaven guild,” He pushed Nia’s head back from his face.
She groaned and plopped back on the wagon bed with a heavy thud. “Ves, Old Man Har is being a tyrant again.”
“Is he wrong?” Vestara asked as she turned the page in her book.
“No…” Nia relented after a moment.
“Then at least he is a logical tyrant. If only we were all so lucky,” Vestara finished coolly.
Harlan chuckled and Nia clicked her tongue in annoyance.
“What are those plants over there?” Eldric asked, pointing toward a distant field of spindly green plants to the left. He figured if they stayed on this topic they would just go around in circles and he had questions.
Harlan followed his pointed finger and with squinted eyes said, “Onion, the sweet yellow ones.”
“Huh,” Eldric said with a nod. “I’ve had those too, but we didn’t grow them in Cinderholt. Outside of people’s own gardens there was only wheat. I had bread for almost every meal.”
“Yeah,” Harlan agreed. “Most places have a local constant, everything else just gets imported.” As they drew closer to town, a lone man approached on the road, his head bowed low. “Hail,” Harlan called out.
The man doffed his hat, revealing a mop of unkempt brown hair and squinting green eyes. He waved the hat absently. “Hello,” he muttered, then replaced it and shuffled past, his head down again as he mumbled to himself.
Harlan glanced back at the retreating figure. “Well, not everyone chatters like Nia.” He ignored the white tail that whipped across the side of his head. “Maybe he’s just headed home.” With a flick of the reins, the horses picked up pace.
Soon, Harlan pulled the wagon to a halt at the edge of the village’s denser cluster of buildings. A weathered shack stood nearby, and an older man emerged, brushing down his grimy yellow tunic in a futile attempt to smooth its permanent wrinkles. He waved as he waddled over.
“What brings ya to Oberton?” he asked, his voice rough but casual. He looked to be midway in age between Eldric and Harlan.
Harlan nodded. “We came from Cinderholt on a request from the Firmhaven guild. Here to report our findings to the mayor.” He fished a parchment from his belt pouch and handed it over.
The guard skimmed it briefly before returning it. “Mayor’s in the big house yonder,” he said, pointing to the structure Harlan had indicated earlier. “Head on over. Feel free to bed down at the tavern tonight—just don’t stir up trouble.” His gaze flicked pointedly toward Vestara in the wagon bed.
Harlan exchanged a few more curt words with him before urging the horses forward again.
As the wagon rolled on, Nia shifted restlessly in the back. Her tail hung limp, ears flattened against her hair, and she drew a long shuddering breath through her nose. “Harlan…” The word came out small, cracked.
Vestara looked up sharply from her book, red eyes alert.
Nia stared back the way they’d come, pupils blown so wide only the thinnest ring of lavender remained. Her clawed fingers flexed against the wagon bed, leaving faint scratches in the wood.
“What is it?” Harlan asked, voice low and almost gentle. Nia didn’t respond at first, her eyes glazing further.
“Nia?” Vestara called, snapping her back. The foxkin blinked hard, as if waking from a nightmare.
Her voice trembled as she turned to Harlan, “Would it be alright… if I missed the meeting with the mayor? I don’t—” Her throat worked. “I don’t feel well.”
Vestara’s book snapped shut. “What’s wrong?”
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Nia shook her head, the motion sharp, as if she were trying to shake it off. A single tear slipped down her cheek; she swiped it away like it burned. “Sorry. I just… really don’t feel well.”
Harlan’s jaw tightened. “Alright. Do what you need. Ves, go with her to get the rooms.” He glanced at Eldric. “You and I will handle the mayor.”
Passing the first houses, Eldric watched the silent stares follow them. No one approached or waved but seemed more intent on going about their business. Harlan pulled up to the tavern. “Here we are,” Harlan said, watching Nia closely.
Nia nodded, the motion subdued. She grabbed her pack, slid out, then paused. “E…” Her voice cracked again. “Make sure you listen to Old Man Har. And don’t… don’t let the mayor pin any blame on you for Cinderholt, alright? Promise me.”
Eldric opened his mouth, but his response died in his throat at the concern on her face. It was so unlike her usual teasing self. Vestara and Harlan exchanged a quick glance, expressions tight. “Yeah,” Eldric managed. “I’ll be careful.”
Vestara climbed down, voice softer than usual, “He’ll be fine, Nia. Come on, let’s get you inside.” They disappeared through the door.
Eldric stared after them for a long moment. “Is that normal for her?” he asked quietly.
Harlan exhaled through his nose. “Foxkin feel scents deeper than most. But no, that’s not normal for Nia.” He flicked the reins. “Vestara will watch her. Let’s go see this mayor.”
"Won't she be too harsh on her though?" Eldric asked, looking back to the tavern.
Harlan gave a short barking laugh. "No," he managed and chuckled. "Ves will coddle her if Nia lets her. Vestara is a big softy when it comes to Little Fox. It makes it real hard to get anything done when they gang up on me."
"But aren't you the one who makes the final call?" Eldric asked, shifting a bit and scratching at the healing skin of his burns.
"Am I?" Harlan looked back at him with a smirk. "Out of everything you've seen about the three of us, Eldric, who is actually in charge?" The wagon came to a stop in front of the mayor's house, and Harlan didn't wait for Eldric to respond.
Eldric was about to say that Harlan obviously was, but then he hesitated and thought about what he had seen since he had met the trio in Cinderholt. The more he thought, the more ambiguous the answer became.
"Good," Harlan said as Eldric got out of the wagon. "You're thinking about it. The first answer isn't always the correct one. Let's head in and see this mayor. We can talk more tonight; it's time us men had a moment alone without pretty flowers to distract us."
Harlan knocked sharply on the manor’s door. After a moment, a well-dressed man opened it. “Greetings. Do you have an appointment with Mayor Dominic Oberton?"
"An appointment’s not quite the word I would use," Harlan answered with a weathered smile. "My name is Harlan. This is Eldric. We have just arrived from Cinderholt."
There was a slight pause in the man's demeanor as his practiced smile faltered. "I see… I understand completely the reason for your visit. Please come in. My name is Nolan. I oversee the well-being of the mayor's home." He pushed back his dark blonde hair, its slicked-back style not even needing tending.
He led the pair into a room with several pieces of nice furniture, including couches and a table between them, and directed them to a chair. "Please wait here in the receiving room while I retrieve the madam. The mayor has fallen ill, so she will be present for your visit instead."
Nolan left the room once Eldric and Harlan had settled down. The clean and well-kept room was in stark contrast to their dirty travel clothes and Eldric’s lingering bandages.
“The mayor is ill,” Harlan hummed and stroked his pepper-black beard. “I hope he is alright, but I should still inform the Firmhaven guild of it. Mayor Oberton is one of the guild’s largest clients.”
“Why would he need adventurers so much?” Eldric whispered, unsure if the topic was some sort of secret.
Harlan shrugged. “Oberton doesn’t have a real fighting force beyond the farmers and a couple of career law enforcers. Something like the ogres we fought earlier would cripple this place. Maybe worse.”
Eldric furrowed his brow. Cinderholt had never felt vulnerable like that. Not until the Sorrowscribe.
Harlan straightened a bit as an out-of-sight door opened and footsteps could be heard coming closer. Nolan appeared a moment later, his head bowed in greeting. "Harlan, Eldric," he stepped aside, and a woman perhaps a few years older than Eldric came in. She had chocolate brown hair held up in a high bun. The dress she wore was green, but not overly extravagant. It spoke of quiet wealth and somehow suited the wife of this village's leader. "This is Lady Maiya Oberton. She has agreed to hear your report in the mayor's stead."
Harlan rose, and Eldric did a moment later. Harlan bowed his head and spoke. "Thank you for taking the time to see us in spite of your husband's illness."
"It is my pleasure. The Firmhaven guild has always been reliable to the people of this village." Maiya looked over at Nolan. "That will be all, dear brother. You may return to your tasks while I see to our guests."
She moved to the couch with a gentle poise that Eldric was not quite familiar with, having spent most of his life with priests. She gave them a sad smile as she sat down. "I know my husband would have been better suited to hear the news from Cinderholt. I assure you, I will inform him when he wakes."
Eldric gave a grateful smile, unable to think of anything better to do in the moment. Harlan leaned forward. "I wish it were good news to pass on, madam." He turned and locked eyes with Eldric before quietly saying, "Cinderholt is gone—fallen to the Sorrowcurse and destroyed. Eldric here—" he lifted an arm and put it on Eldric's shoulder a moment—"is the only survivor my team found."
Her blue eyes fluttered, and then she cocked her head to the side as her face turned ashen pale in the waning light of the room. "Gone…" she repeated with barely a whisper. She looked out the window of the room, and Eldric noted it was in the direction that Cinderholt had once stood. Finally, she looked away and down at the floor. "How could this be? With the Order there…" Her mouth opened and closed. "Cinderholt was the primary source of wheat for Oberton—we must act quickly."
“I agree,” Harlan agreed somberly. Eldric noted the quiet tension in the man’s gaze. With harvest season only weeks away, Oberton Village would be in dire straits very soon.
Eldric inhaled to steady his own nerves, taking in the sweet minty scent once again and frowning. Silence reigned, and Maiya’s eyes darted back and forth as she sat with her hands clenched in her lap.
“Nolan?” she called finally, turning to look toward the room’s entrance.
He didn’t immediately appear, but Eldric could hear him coming. “Apologies to you both—one moment.” She rose and walked to the threshold just as Nolan came in. The siblings shared a quick whispered conversation, Nolan’s face becoming grimmer by the moment until he hurried off and left the house.
“I’m sorry to bring you such terrible news, Maiya,” Harlan said softly as the woman seemed even more distressed by the moment.
She waved a hand and touched her cheek before returning to the couch. “No, this village cannot thank you enough for coming. We will send wagons to the village and harvest what wheat we can,” she said quickly. “If no one is truly left in Cinderholt, we will use what we can to save Oberton at least…” She met Harlan’s gaze directly. “Will you be going to Firmhaven when you leave here, sir?”
“Yes, my group and I will return to the guild and report what has happened here,” he confirmed with a nod.
“Would you deliver a message to Duke Matthias Firmhaven on my behalf? I am willing to pay—”
“You don’t need to pay,” Eldric cut in. Both turned and Harlan’s brows rose. He floundered a moment, not sure how to explain himself. Payment was completely up to Harlan. Eldric didn’t even know what his own plan was. Would he stay in Oberton? Go to Firmhaven with them? He had no home now.
“Sorry…” he said to Harlan. “That was— I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t apologize for saying the right thing, kid.” Harlan said, knocking Eldric’s shoulder gently. “He’s right—you don’t need to pay me a thing. Eldric will deliver your message on behalf of Cinderholt and Oberton.”
“I… am?” Eldric looked at Harlan and then back to Maiya. “Uh—yes, I will deliver the message,” he nodded and shifted a bit in his chair. He had just been volunteered to make a trip to Firmhaven. That meant he would be sticking with Nia and the others a bit longer, at the very least.
Maiya smiled and excused herself to go pen the letter.
While she was gone, Eldric turned to Harlan. “I suppose we will be together a bit longer? Will Vestara be all right with that?”
Harlan waved the concern away and then frowned a bit. “Just give her some time, Eldric. I’ve been around Ves since my very first quest. She’s slow to accept anyone.” He shrugged and smirked. “It’s one of her more charming qualities, beyond her soul-crushing red eyes…” He chuckled at his own joke.
Eldric wondered for the briefest of moments if Vestara knew Harlan defined her looks as soul-crushing.
“You seem to be doing better?” Harlan asked, giving his bandaged arm a once-over.
Eldric raised the limb and frowned as he looked at the bandages. “Yeah, I’ve never healed this fast before, from what I can remember…” He pushed his fingers through his dark hair and sighed. “Though most things from before are… hazy now.”
"Hazy?" Harlan asked as his eyes squinted with a curious spark. He shifted more fully toward Eldric.
Eldric nodded slowly. "I remember everything, but it feels like it happened to someone else now?" His tone conveyed less explanation and more questions. "I don't entirely know how to explain it."
Harlan seemed to consider him for a moment before slowly nodding and giving him a shrug. "No worries—better than the alternative of getting Sorrowcursed."
"Pretty sure I could have been a walking burnt husk and it would be better than being cursed," Eldric agreed as Maiya returned, clutching a wax-sealed letter. They both stood up, the meeting coming to a natural close
"Thank you again for doing this. This town is in your debt," she said as she approached and passed the letter to Harlan. Then she turned to Eldric. "As for Cinderholt…" Her face lost its diplomatic conformity. "I am truly sorry for your loss. The people of Cinderholt and the Order were always our allies."
Eldric's immediate response died, his mouth opened a moment before closing again. Then he finally said, "I… am still wondering if any of this is real."
The admission surprised even him, and even Harlan lowered his head and closed his eyes.
Maiya responded after a moment. "Yes, I had no kin in Cinderholt, but I imagine this is all hard to bear."
Suffering forges power.
The opening line of the Ashen Testament's tenets eclipsed Eldric's mind unbidden, and he shuddered. Was that voice his own?
"Eldric?" Harlan asked.
"It's okay, I just need to res—"
Rebirth is the path to divinity.
Eldric squeezed his eyes shut as the words boomed in his mind. "I will head back early, Harlan," Eldric whispered, and to Maiya he said, "Please excuse me."
She replied, but it was washed away as a pounding in his head hit like the beat of a drum. He stumbled outside and inhaled sharply, covering his eyes with both hands as a burning sensation overtook them.
He needed to read the book.
The Testament—something was wrong.
You Are the Burning Pyre. A Vessel of the Hollowed Throne. Your Flame Will Scour the False. Your Ash Will Bury the Frail.
This time, it was altogether a voice unlike his own. Eldric stood frozen in place as he distantly heard Harlan exit the mayor's house.
Harlan called to him and moved quickly to his side, his hand on his shoulder. "Let's get you back to the inn. You healed so fast, I think we all let our guard down…"
Eldric inhaled deeply of the minty sweetness still lingering in the air, and for a moment, the coiling heat gathering in his chest seemed to subside. "I'm okay… but yeah, let's head back."
The pair quietly returned through town, not missing the almost blank stares as they worked their way toward the inn.
Chapter 6 End
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