1. The Boy in the Water

The body drifted face-down in the shallows, caught in the river’s lazy current.

Picking her way closer over rounded pebbles, Caela crouched to examine the motionless figure, her heart already heavy with resigned grief. Whoever this poor soul was, it seemed they were long past saving.

Keeping her grey eyes on the still form, she retrieved a battered scrap of parchment from her pack. Steadying it against her knee, she began to scratch out a description.

Male. Young adult. Human (probably).

You never could be sure.

Soldier?

He wore armour, after all. There was a shortsword on his belt. But… something didn’t fit. Caela scanned the soft clay of the riverbank, taking in a pensive lungful of air. No footprints, no errant arrow-shafts, no spilled blood. Frowning, she crossed out that last word. The man hadn’t been a member of some band of soldiers - or bandits, for that matter. He’d been all alone.

Caela returned to the facts at hand, silently bending until her ear touched the earth, trying to see under the man's chest.

No wounds. No blood.

Motionless, face down in the river. Drowned.

Had to be.

But a chill ran down her spine as an unbidden thought arose.

What if he’s still alive?

She swallowed a tiny gasp – just about the only sound she’d made so far – before springing into action. Splashing two steps into the river, she grabbed his shoulders, ignoring the icy water seeping into her boots. For a moment, she wondered about the logistics of hauling a half-drowned, fully-armoured man onto the riverbank. Perhaps it would be best to use the currents of the river to pull him ashore-

Her thoughts shattered as the man burst out of the water, wrenching free of her grip with a roar of surprise. He surged to his feet, his flailing arms bringing up great wings of spray. A halo of droplets spun from his sodden hair as he whipped his head back and forth. Stumbling to the bank, he unsteadily unsheathed the shortsword at his belt. With his back to the river in something approaching a defensive stance, the man roared:

“Show yerself, fiend!”

Caela decided not to show herself.

The instant he’d moved, she had launched herself back onto the shore and scrambled up the nearest tree like a startled cat. Now, perched among the branches, she watched as the knight swung his sword at nothing, blindly searching for her.

He cut a figure both pathetic and comical, apparently unheeding of the water pouring out of his armour or the brown hair plastered across his eyes. Eventually, he calmed down enough to notice, and smeared the offending locks up to the top of his head. He peered at his surroundings, blinking river water out of his vision.

“If you think,” the man gasped, in a slightly breathless drawl, “you can rob a knight at rest… well, now.”

He set his jaw.

“That dog won’t hunt.”

This was all too much. Caela, who had been trying to control her quick, panicked breathing, clapped both hands over her mouth, but a snort of amusement still managed to slip between her gloved fingers.

The river man started at the sound. He turned and, with a little more uncertainty, addressed Caela’s tree.

“Howdy. Uh. You up there?”

“I - sorry!” Caela squeaked. “I thought you were drowning.”

The knight blinked, then exhaled, his shoulders slumping. Looking a little embarrassed, he clumsily re-sheathed his sword.

“I see,” he said thoughtfully. “You was just tryin’ to help, right?” Almost absently, he touched the brim of a non-existent hat.

“I apologise for causing you distress,” he said with stilted politeness, “but I weren’t doing nothing but takin’ a rest.” He swept a vague hand towards the traveller’s pack that had been propped against a large round shield.

“I’ve been travelling, see. I thought I’d take a nap by the riverside.”

The man gave another little start as Caela dipped her face out of the branches. Her expression was sceptical.

“In the river, you mean.”

“I like the water,” he said, as if that explained anything. “It’s calming.”

Caela considered this. Then, sighing, she loosened her grip on her branch and slid out of the tree, landing nimbly in a shower of leaves. Still wary of this soaking-wet madman, she remained in a half-crouch, used to willing herself into near-invisibility with pure introversion.

The man eyed her uncertainly, hand still resting on the hilt of his sword. He hesitated for a moment, then performed a stiff bow.

“I go by Lux.”

“Caela.”

“...Nice to meet you, Caela.”

——

Lux basked on the riverbank while Caela, trying to be helpful, picked twigs and leaves out of his armour. Looking at him – eyes closed, hair drying into a puff of boyish curls – Caela realised just how young he really was. Age showed differently on humans than on the elvish faces she was used to, but he couldn’t be much older than twenty.

A slight breeze drifted over them, carrying the rich, familiar smell of the forest. A few minutes passed as Lux, and the mood, warmed in the afternoon sun. When Caela spoke, she did so in low, twilit tones.

“Why are you all by yourself? What happened to your... squad?”

Lux furrowed his brow, but kept his eyes closed. “I ain't got no squad. Ain't no soldier neither. Guess I'm out here looking for something.”

“What are you-”

He cut her off. “What about you? Never met a wood elf who left her forest. Matter of fact, never met a wood elf at all, before today.”

Caela paused her grooming, fingers resting on the dented edge of one armour plate. Some part of her wondered if she should share her quest so easily. But Lux’s humble honesty fed trust.

“I'm hunting monsters,” she breathed.

Lux sat up abruptly, sharp blue eyes gleaming into her own.

“Monsters!” He exclaimed. “If that ain't a quest worth a damn. What are you hunting? A dragon? An owlbear? A-”

“Duck!”

While Lux had been letting his imagination run wild, Caela had noticed something he hadn’t - the sudden shadow of something blocking out the sun. Her stomach clenched.

She looked up.

A massive shape descended from above.

Momentarily forgetting to be introverted, she grabbed Lux's curls and shoved his head to the ground, following a heartbeat later. A flash of terror jolted through her as a set of gigantic claws barely skimmed over her back, scoring deep gouges her leather armour.

She sprang up and dived for her bow, nocking an arrow and rolling to aim at the aerial intruder. Her eyes followed her target as it swooped and banked around for another strike.

This was it. The thing that had haunted her nightmares, prowling the dead trees of a rotting forest. This was the creature she’d been tracking. A mockery of an ancient beast - a griffon.

The chimeric creature tucked its wings and dropped into its second dive. Caela had heard the stories - how griffons could easily snatch a horse and rider at full gallop - but such descriptions hadn’t prepared her for such a dreadful combination of size and speed. It moved like a thunderbolt, faster than anything that big had any right to be.

She loosed two raven-feathered arrows in quick succession, feeling the tremor of terror in her hands as she shot. One found its mark, but seemed to have no effect at all. The beast’s wind-rippled mane swallowed up the arrow – if Caela hadn’t known her own skill, she’d have thought the shot had missed entirely.

Rushing ever closer, the griffon leaned back and clapped open its great wings - two pale sheets rippling like a ship’s sails in a storm. Its rear talons grasped wide, and Caela barely registered that the beast’s once-graceful claws were ridged and gnarled like the antlers of a deer. They were, however, still as long and sharp as the arrows in Caela’s quiver.

She froze mid-draw, abandoning her shot to throw herself into the mud. The next few moments, she decided, would be in the hands of fate. Though she tensed in anticipation of the pain, she didn’t feel the twisted talons sink into her back. Instead, she heard a terrible wooden crack and a familiar cry.

Caela twisted onto her back. Lux stood protectively over her prone torso, like a hound defending its master. He was clutching his shield arm, his sword fallen point-first into the dirt. As he hissed in pain, Caela saw that the griffon had ripped straight through his shield, shredding it to firewood. She was amazed the arm hadn’t gone with it.

High above, their attacker dropped the remnant of the splintered shield into the river with an ominous splash. The aberration wheeled around for a third run. This time, it would not miss.

Lux shook the remains of his shield from his arm, and clutched his blade in both hands.

“Back!” he cried, and Caela couldn’t tell whether it was beast or elf the knight was addressing. He drew back his sword, edged by streaming sunlight, and shifted his stance nervously.

Caela, seeing his sword-point tremble, reached out to drag him down, but stopped herself. He wasn’t afraid. That unconscious shifting of his stance wasn’t fear, but restlessness. She saw his trembling for what it was – an elastic tension, ready to be unleashed. He was ready to strike.

As time slowed to a crawl, Caela thought she was imagining things. She saw the gleam of light shift, condensing into a droplet that ran down Lux’s blade like radiant honey. As the beast plummeted towards them, she closed her eyes. In the distance, she heard rolling thunder…

The griffon dived.

Caela heard a sudden, meaty THWACK, then an ear-rending screech that made her cringe in surprise. She opened her eyes to see the griffon tumbling to the ground, mismatched limbs flailing and trailing a shower of black blood. Caela’s eyes tracked its descent until it carved a furrow into the earth, picking out the projectile that had lanced the monster from its trajectory. She realised with a shock that the hunk of metal jutting from its torso was not an arrow, but a two-handed greatsword.

The rumbling grew to a crescendo, until a burly mass atop a great white stallion thundered across her view. Caela squinted through the cloud of dust kicked up in its wake, trying vainly to make sense of the rider’s porcupine silhouette. As she watched, they reached back and drew one of their spines - no, a sword, one of dozens strapped to their torso.

“MY NAME,” the rider bellowed, with the unstoppable ferocity of an avalanche, “IS KING VALERIOS! THIS IS MY NATION, AND THIS IS MY LAW!”

He steered his snorting charger with one hand as the other began to swing the longsword in a heavy circle above his head. The head in question had chestnut hair cropped to a military shortness, determined eyebrows, and a moustache that bristled with as much vigour as his array of weapons.

He’s still forty feet away, Caela thought, wondering at this unorthodox mounted combat. Uncaring of the laws of gravity, the sword flew smoothly from the grasp of its wielder, impaling the fallen beast with another sandbag thunk. The rider drew up his stallion and leapt from its back, his bouquet of armaments jangling as he landed heavily on booted feet. The rider - Valerios? - drew a sidearm from his belt: perhaps a shortsword, but then again, this man would make a halberd look like a toothpick.

For the first time he seemed to notice his cowering rescuees, and barked in slightly more informal tones: “Up, you lot! This fight isn’t over yet!”

Lux had been frozen in place since the first sword made its impact. Whatever strange light Caela had imagined had vanished, but now his eyes were shining with new determination. Valerios’ words snapped him back to the present, and he scrambled to the larger man’s side. The giant barely acknowledged Lux’s presence, still squinting through his bushy eyebrows at the griffon.

The fallen monster was crawling out of the furrow its descent had dug, aquiline beak parting to emit a bone-chilling hiss. Through the white feathers covering its head, Caela could now see its eyes, pus-yellow and flickering with insane rage. A lot more of them, she noted grimly, than there should be.

A rumble made its way through their rescuer’s bushy moustache. “The front’s mine. You come round the flank and try to get at that underbelly,” he directed Lux, then raised his voice to an authoritative bark, addressing Caela without turning around.

“Archer! Slow ‘em down. Aim for the joints, the head if you can make it. On my mark, now…”

Caela tightened her grip on her bow.

“Loose!”

The spell of tension caused by their brief reprieve finally broke. The griffon galloped up the bank towards the two armoured men, who stood shoulder-to-shoulder (or shoulder-to-waist) for only a moment before Lux broke off in a sprint, circling round to flank the beast.

Caela leapt to her feet, drew another raven arrow, and began loosing shot after shot at her charging target, careful to avoid Lux’s serpentine approach. Two more shots found its rippling flank, absorbed up to their fletchings. Now that it had been grounded, the archer was able to get a closer look at the beast, and felt her heart plummet.

The movement on the creature’s off-white torso was not the rippling of fur, nor even the flapping of tiny body-feathers. Instead, the aberrant animal was covered in a lawn of fleshy cilia that beat in waves like the undulation of grass in the wind. As if to underline just how far this once-mighty animal had been corrupted, it raised a cactus-barbed tail and snapped it like a whip, sending a thunderclap across the valley.

I’m so sorry this happened to you, was all Caela could think. She couldn’t bring herself to hate something that had clearly suffered more than any sane person could imagine. Her terror drained from her, and she saw the monstrosity for what it really was: a discarded, distorted experiment.

“Whoever made you… they didn’t even care enough to keep you,” she muttered under her breath, and once more steeled her resolve.

Her third arrow punched through the thin flesh of her target’s ankle, causing its nearest foreleg to buckle and turning its gallop into another crash into the dirt.

Its momentum carried the beast the last few dozen feet towards Valerios, who had unstrapped a man-sized spear from his back and was now bracing it against the ground. The monster’s tumble drove its feathered neck onto the gleaming steel, driving it up to the cross-guard until both the spear’s tip and a shower of black blood burst from the creature’s nape. The giant man let out a sharp, deep grunt of effort, leaning his considerable weight into the spear as both it and he were driven back on impact.

Lux’s arc brought him round to the creature’s rear leg, branched talon scrabbling for purchase in the riverbank mud. The young swordsman drew back his blade as he ran, preparing for an overhead swing. Just as he neared the beast’s undulating belly, its spined tail rose up like a cobra and snapped down towards him. His sword went spinning from his hand as he stumbled, momentum driving him cheek-first into the writhing surface of the monster.

Even with its impalement, the beast’s madness had not been quelled. It opened its great yellow beak and lashed a dark blue tongue at Valerios, who shrank back but kept straining against the spear. Through gritted teeth, he snapped “Now, boy!”

Lux looked around wildly, but Caela knew that he had lost track of his sword. Suddenly she spotted something solid within the rippling tendrils. It was a long hilt: the end of the greatsword that Valerios had thrown.

Caela was not accustomed to raising her voice - in fact, she hated few things more - but desperate times call for extroverted measures.

“The greatsword!”

It was all she could think to yell, but fortunately Lux got her message. The boy’s panicked gaze found the hilt, which he grabbed with both hands. Caela saw the ethereal radiance form once again, condensing on the visible part of the sword’s blade. With a cry that was part-fear, part-determination, Lux heaved with all his strength. At first it didn’t budge, fleshy polyps reaching out to snag the blade. But no sooner did they touch the light than they burned away, as if scorched by a brand.

Lux pushed, bracing himself like Valerios had, and slid the radiant sword up to its hilt, his hands shoved well within the layer of writhing tendrils. The griffon’s head snapped back, pulling itself from Valerios’ spear and spraying out another arc of viscera. From the twisted beak came an ear-splitting deathrattle, a sound that seemed to stretch on forever.

Caela waited, her heart in her throat, until the sound cut off. All tension left the monster’s body as it finally fell, silent and motionless at long last.

The dying scream bounced off the valley walls, echoing back on itself for longer than seemed possible, until, finally, the warm air grew still. The two men, breathing heavily, eventually unwound their bodies from their tensed positions.

Valerios thrust his spear into the air, sunlight glinting off the parts of the blade not covered in congealing blood. “I claim this victory in the name of Valerios, future king!” he proclaimed, to no-one in particular.

He lowered the weapon, using its point to turn over the head of the giant beast. Its clutch of bile-yellow eyes were now glassy, its abominable tongue lolling out of its beak.

“A fine victory indeed,” Valerios rumbled with satisfaction, “and a trophy fit for a king.”

“We need to burn it.”

The big man jumped - he hadn't heard Caela's silent approach. Composing himself, he closed one eye and squinted down at her with the other.

“And who are you, who would defy a king?” he bristled. Lux, who had been looking for his lost sword, paused to listen, looking from slight elf to towering knight.

Caela held Valerios’ gaze. He craned down to inspect her more closely, his solid brown eyes showing no intention to give in.

“It was sick,” she continued, with the quiet firmness of someone wrangling an unruly dog. “These things... you can cut them apart and the pieces will still get up. We need to make sure that it's dead.”

The image of a mounted head coming to life in his living room apparently gave the big man pause. He straightened up, turning to busy himself with the saddlebags of his great mount.

“You've much experience with these horrors, little one,” he said flatly, not looking back.

“It’s Caela. Yes, they came to my forest, they...” She searched in vain for the right words. “Everything's going wrong.” She couldn’t help the waver in her voice, and found herself blinking back tears. A terrible note of grief hung in the air.

Valerios turned. His powerful hands were holding a tinderbox, and the lines in his face had eroded ever so slightly.

“You're defending your homeland. A most noble cause. Yes, I see now. Come, we have work to do.”

——

“So, you reckon these things are coming from the city?”

It was a few hours later. Valerios had lit a smaller campfire away from the griffon’s funeral pyre, announcing a “victor's feast” was due. For a second it seemed an inappropriate comment, until the others' stomachs voiced disagreement. Now they had been drawn like hungry forest critters to the big knight's fireside, eyeing the contents of his bubbling crockpot.

Valerios doled out bowls of stew as Caela answered Lux's question.

“Yes. I've been following their paths back to where they came from. San Aria is the convergence point.”

Valerios harrumphed with mild surprise. “Impressive. But that city is small, and full of merchants. Crafty folk, but weak of arm. They could never tame such a beast, let alone dozens like you claim.”

Caela shook her head darkly. “I don't think they can. That's the problem. They're just experimenting on these poor creatures, then letting them loose across the countryside, and no-one can stop them except…”

She looked at Lux again, then down at the shortsword he was polishing. Its edge reflected the flames, but there was no sign of the molten glow.

“How did you do that thing with your sword? It burned the griffon.”

Lux stopped polishing, looking almost shy. “It's just somethin' I got,” he mumbled, “ever since... a while back. Ain't nothin' special.”

“Nothing special?” Valerios exclaimed. He grabbed Lux's wrist in a grip like a gauntleted vice, lifting it (and Lux) into the air in demonstration. He addressed Caela with the indulgent narration of a tour guide.

“This,” he began, shaking Lux's wrist (and Lux), “is the power of an oath-taker. One who gains strength through their conviction. A paladin.”

He released the limp Lux and gave him a genial clap on the back that caused the dazed boy's armour to rattle like a cutlery drawer.

“For instance! I have taken an oath to be a true and just king. While I hold this creed in my heart, my body will not fail me. I will not be defeated.”

To punctuate this statement, Valerios drew the longsword resting by his side and rapped his gauntlet against the tip. The metal rang like the sound of church bells, unnaturally loud and melodic, and Caela saw white sparks flash from where Valerios had struck it. When the tolling faded, Valerios carefully sheathed the sword and returned it to his collection.

“It's not often that I meet a fellow oath-taker,” Valerios grinned. Even his smile was huge. “You and I have forged our word into a weapon with which to smite our enemies!”

Caela shot a baffled glance at Lux, who seemed to be shaking off the after-effects of this forceful new brotherhood. He seemed to wrestle with his thoughts, before picking one of the many questions jostling in his head.

“I hope you don't take no offence, mind, but I... I ain't never heard of a King Valerios.” He ducked a sharp glance from the large man. “Now I’m from some backwater fishing village and I ain't seen much of the world, you see, I just wondered where you're the king of.”

Valerios huffed, somewhat defensively. “I am the king of here. This campfire. Tomorrow I will pack my kingdom and take it with me to San Aria. Tomorrow my kingdom will fit within a city, but some day, many cities will fit within my kingdom.”

Caela and Lux gaped as they unravelled the implications of this statement. Their companion, who they had taken for the figurehead of some fierce empire, was in fact the sole citizen of a nation you could easily trip over. And yet, he planned one day to rule hundreds – thousands, even. To Caela, whose only experience of leadership was her humble village elder, this was inconceivable audacity.

Lux whistled in wonder. “Pulling yourself up by the bootstraps. Ain’t never met a man who set himself goals like that. You’ve got the self-belief of a god at Sunday prayers.”

Valerios puffed out his chest, steel breastplate straining at the movement. “Of course! For a normal person this is an impossibility. But with my conviction, my oath, I cannot fail.”

He turned to the other paladin. “But you, 'Lux the fisherman'. What is your oath? What quest led you so far from the sea?”

Lux shifted even more uncomfortably this time. “I guess I'm out here lookin' for something. I don't know what, right now. Goodness, greatness, peace, war, love, death, I can't tell. Maybe... just to feel like I'm doing something worth something,” he finished, lamely.

He seemed pained by this exploration of his feelings, so Caela gingerly patted his hand. Despite her cold touch, he didn't pull his hand away, but clenched it slowly.

Valerios nodded sagely. “Many people wish to learn about the world, but never think to learn their own heart. I think you have a good heart, boy and it will teach you well.”

He turned his line of questioning to Caela. “And you, ranger? Your quest drives you to that den of merchants, San Aria?”

Caela nodded.

Lux awoke from his reverie and spoke with new certainty. “Take me with you. I mean - if you want. I want to help you, and we could... we could be a team. I surely wouldn’t mind if you didn't.”

His racing mind seemed to stumble over his words, but Caela got the message. She nodded, giving him a small smile.

“Sure. That sounds nice.”

Valerios slapped his knees decisively, rising to his considerable height.

“Then it's decided! The ranger has a quest, and no king could turn down such an opportunity for glory. We shall accompany one another, yes? Then, afterwards, my nation will have gained two citizens. Companions, tonight we feast! Then, tomorrow, we shall make San Aria by first light!”

With renewed purpose, the trio struck camp and set out on the east road, following the winding river downstream to the city. Valerios trotted along on his steed, while Lux and Caela trailed on foot. The boy leaned over to the ranger and whispered under his breath.

“Between you and me, I think he’s madder than a cat with his tail in the stew.”

For the second time that day, Lux made Caela laugh.

This time, she didn't hide it.

2. Fracas at the Feisty Fish >>