Hollow Atraxia

Dawn the next day brought their departure. The sight of a long train of wagons was impressive, and the fact that they all held soldiers; intimidating. The air was dry and warm, there were few clouds above and the sun hung in the sky with a heavy shine. Each wagon held it’s number of men and those men were sheltered by the wagon. Octair sat at the very back of a wagon the Royal Guard had appropriated, and if it weren’t for the wooden board that served as a guard he would have been kicked off the wagon more than once. And as the other wagon was not far behind, that most likely would have ended most painfully. But he had no worries, and he sat with his back resting against his pack like all the other men did.

He couldn’t help but feel sorry for those who drove the wagons and also for the wagons at the very back. Being in the wagon itself protected them from all the dust that was being kicked up, but the drivers were exposed to it all. The driver on the wagon behind didn’t seem to mind very much, he only kept his hat pulled down over his eyes and stared at the ground in front of his wagon. None of the drivers were soldiers, for whatever odd reason that wa+s. Instead they were common-folk, or so he was told, who were the experts of the experts on wagons. When one broke down, they knew how to fix it.

Octair turned to his fellow passengers, none of them were awake. Well, it wasn’t so much as they weren’t awake as they weren’t alert. He knew only some of them actually slept, he could tell by their steady breathing and the way they relaxed against the wagon, no matter how hard the wagon was jarred by the uneven dirt road. Everyone who weren’t those truly asleep were trying to be, their eyes were closed and their positions comfortable as can be. Not very many were in the wagon with him, he counted only seven others. One of them was Neth, who sat to his immediate left sitting upright with his eyes closed and his head down.

It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since they had departed, the sun was directly above showing it was midday. But already he was feeling restless, never had he endured such torture. He pulled himself up higher as a particularly nasty bump shifted him partially onto his back. His chain-mail shirt jingled ever so slightly every time the wagon shook, and his was the only one. There was no need to adorn heavier armor when they would only be traveling all day. Those riding horseback at the front and very back of the wagon train did, so they would be ready for anything. All the foot-soldiers on the other hand… probably should, but by the attitudes of everyone he guessed they had made this trip many times without trouble and saw no need to wear anything more than leathers. Even then, only Neth in his wagon wore leathers and Octair still wore his usual protection.

Another harsh bump shook the wagon, he had been in his thoughts and wasn’t prepared. The back of his head met with the hard side of the wagon and drew a muffled curse from him. Neth opened his eyes and gave him a look of mild amusement. So far, Octair was the only one suffering the journey.

All day they were suppose to travel like this, and every day until they reached Areth. He was used to his feet, he was used to walking or even running for days. But never this, never a hard wagon or so many men. Since there were so many men, and so many necessary supplies, their pace was incredibly slow. He had never had beasts to ride upon for travel, and yet he was sure he could travel more quickly than they were currently.

The sun was halfway below the horizon when the horses lagged and they finally stopped for the night. Even those who were so used to this kind of travel fled the wagons to take rest by campfires. Many of the men went to the nearby forest carrying small axes in a hurry to collect firewood while some daylight still remained. Others began clearing places to sleep and for campfires. The plant growth they cleared away was never too large, evidence of their yearly visit he suspected.

The Royal Guard wasn’t given chance to rest like the others, and that of course meant neither was Octair. As soon as they had stopped and shuffled out of the wagons, Larro came striding up and pointed to Neth and Octair, motioning for them to follow. Without a word, Neth immediately followed close behind Larro as he strode away again. Octair was at least grateful for being out of the wagon, and he had done far too much sitting today. Placing a hand on the hilt of his sword for assurance, he quickly caught up with the other two before they had gotten far.

Of all the wagons in the wagon train there was only one that a rich brown wood completely enclosed with a door and wooden steps for easy access. The make of it was quite impressive, the door seemed to fit so well and the cracks showed so little light it was hard for even Octair’s good sight to see. There could only be one person in the camp that used such a grand wagon.

Larro drew up short of the wagon and turned to Neth and Octair as they stopped behind him. “This is her Ladyship’s carriage,” he told them, as if they didn’t know it already, “I’ve got the shifts already laid out with the rest of the men, and since you two seem to be getting along so well you’ll be doing shifts together. You’ll be the first, just come here as soon as we stop for the night.” For a moment he held silent, straining to continue. When finally did, he didn’t look very pleased. “Octair, her Ladyship requested to see you.” Larro turned and nodded to the two men currently guarding and put one foot up on the steps. He lightly rapped on the door and after a moment the door opened showing a young woman who bowed her head and held the door open. As soon as the door had opened Larro stepped down and motioned for Octair to enter while avoiding eye contact.

As he made his way up the steps Neth took his place beside the door. When he was inside the carriage the servant girl closed the door behind her as she left, leaving him alone with the princess. All that had been in her tent was now in the carriage. A soft violet fabric separated a room beyond from this one which held the rugs, cushions, the same lavish desk but with nothing on it and the chair that went with the desk rested behind it. The princess appeared as she swept aside the violet fabric and he caught a glimpse of a very comfortable looking bed, or at least a bed he thought it was. Nothing with so many pillows and thick blankets could be anything but a bed.

Princess Vivien wore another dress, this one had no frills and decorations and was a purple only a little darker than the violet fabric behind her. For a moment he forgot to bow, or to speak. Quickly realizing his error, he bent to one knee. Between the few seconds of him bowing he hadn’t noticed her close the distance between them. A small, soft hand came to rest on his shoulder, absent of any jewelry. “Please, you needn’t kneel in my company.” He raised his eyes to look upon her face, and there he saw a small smile, her expression half asking and half demanding. So he stood, all too aware that he was still wearing clothes he hadn’t taken off since they had first met. And she, with this new purple dress, must switch between her armors and whatever else she wore when she wasn’t a warrior princess leading her men. With just this dress and her armors she already owned more clothes than he had his entire life.

He kept his eyes staring off at nothing in as respectful a manner as he could muster as he stood facing her only a couple feet away. “M’lady called for me?” His eyes were drawn to her as he waited for her reply, he saw her staring at the crescent emblem on his armor, thinking as she did.

“Yes, I just wanted to talk. Please, sit.” She directed him to the cushions neatly arranged for sitting. As he ungracefully plopped down onto one of them, he watched as she slowly bent her knees and lowered herself onto her own cushion, finding a position with her legs underneath her. He had wondered how she would sit like this while wearing a dress. For some odd reason he felt himself a tiny bit disappointed. “I had hoped to talk about many things,” she spoke softly, as if speaking too loud would frighten him off, “but I understand that it’s been a long day of travel, so I won’t keep you long.”

She was right, it actually had been a long day for him. Not a tiring one, just a frustrating and dull one. He made a small sound through his noise as if to laugh, “not at all, speak what you wish, M’lady.” The M’lady came a little later, he had almost forgotten to address her properly. But she didn’t seem to noticed and instead smiled.

“First, tell me of these dark creatures. Like the one you… saved me from.” If her smile couldn’t get any brighter, it did.

Octair had expected this much sooner, so it wasn’t hard for him to explain. “It shouldn’t need much explaining; they kill, they hunt, they destroy. They’re… one could say…”

Her Ladyship provided, “evil?”

“Mindless. They have no evil intent, you could say this is all they know. It’s bad for us, yes. It’s even bad for the world. But evil? We- my people, believed that it’s simply their purpose to do what they do.” A small smile touched his lips, but never reached his eyes. “And we believed it was our purpose to stop them.” The princess gave him a moment as he remained silent for a short time, stuck in the memories of the bleak past. “Well, is there anything specific you wish to know about them?”

“I fear I may need to know everything. What exactly is their purpose?”

“Beyond killing and destruction? I don’t know. They have always sought something, since the beginning. They move in a manner that speaks of intelligence, they have a chain of command from strongest to weakest, and there was always the feeling of a… leader above all of the fiends of the dark. But all I’ve seen from their actions is destruction.” It was surely a grim topic, and as such there were moments of grim silence.

“Is that what they are called? Dark ones?”

He shook his head. “Khedara olse’kheday.” She gave him a questioning look. “One spoke to us once, to me. That is what it called itself. Though I do not speak their strange tongue, I was told it means ‘Devourers of the Nothing’. Khedara, we called them. But we took to calling them dark ones instead, out of fear and respect.”

She was stunned to silence, a strange look he couldn’t decipher appearing on her face. “One of these wolf-like creatures of darkness spoke?”

Again, he solemnly shook his head. “No, those are mere beasts. Weak, compared to all the kinds of Khedara there are. The one that spoke was a person, but not a person. At first glance, they are in the shape of humans, standing on two legs with two arms and a head above the shoulders. But they are covered in an armor harder than any metal, not metal but solid darkness darker than a moonless night, and their head is like a helmet with nothing but two dark pits where eyes should be. Their eyes, you see, are the darkest part of them, although they seem to have no eyes at all. And when one looks at you, you can feel it, an icy feeling runs along your skin and your heart fills with more fear than you have ever felt before.” He was silent again, he didn’t let it show, but deep in his heart he still feared that gaze. “Ever since the Khedara came to be there have been reports of men who wore armor darker than dark, who appeared without being seen and disappeared without a trace. Very few are the cases where one of them has been killed.”

“…You said it spoke to you, what else did it say?”

His brow drew down, part trying to summon the exact words and part displeased at ever having to remember. “It’s words were carved into my mind, it spoke these words even though it had no mouth to speak them from. It’s voice was a painful rasp, like a thousand pebbles sliding over each other. When we encountered it we tried to kill it, we didn’t even notice it get so close to us. Nothing worked. Magic never touched it, knives and bolts bounced off it, spears couldn’t pierce it, even our swords and our axes couldn’t so much as scratch it. When we finally relented, it was then it spoke to us, not having moved from the place it stood. It spoke as if it didn’t care, as if we were just ants beneath it. Said few of us remained, said it took no delight in hunting us like it’s comrades did. Spoke things we didn’t understand, spoke of it’s empire of darkness, and was gone as quickly as it came. After that, we named them Deviants.”

The princess was taking it well, if she even believed in what he was saying. She shifted in her position and rested her hands in her lap. “I remember, before, you were surprised. You said you had thought you had destroyed them all. If these Deviants were so invulnerable, then how could you have thought you killed them?”

He shrugged, not really sure how to answer her and destroy her hope of an easy weapon against the Khedara. “Magic. Ancient magic, we used it to wipe them out. It…cost a lot of lives to use it.” Now he was stricken by grief, again puzzled by why so many had died yet he lived to be in this strange world. “It could only be used once. And it didn’t work, they are still here.”

A knock came at the door, light but urgent. It caught Princess Vivien’s attention, but she seemed perplexed as to how to respond. He stood and gave her a quick bow as she sat and watched. It was as good a time as any to end their conversation, and there really wasn’t much else to say on his part. So he turned and went to the door before she could muster any words of protest. When he had opened it he stared at a humble man dressed in odd clothing. “Urgent letter for Mistress Vivien.” Octair stood aside and waved him in, as soon as the messenger was inside he left the carriage, closing the door behind him. It was somewhat rude, he realized, but hopefully with the urgent message she would forget about him entirely. At least, for a while he hoped.

Neth had already finished his shift it seemed, as neither of the guards who gave him a quick look-over were he. The cool night air was refreshing, and the stars above were soothing. Octair stepped away from the carriage, wondering where he should go. His pack was still in the wagon, and with it everything he needed for food and sleep. So he decided that was a good a place as any to start.

The men weren’t as cheery as they had been the first night, instead of warm conversations that could be heard all across the camp, there was hardly anyone chatting at all. More than a few were already drowsing by their fires, while others were at their shift.

He passed by what could only be Elk’s wagon along his way. The wagon was larger than the others, had what looked to be a small chimney to the front of it, and was completely enclosed, much like that of the Princess’s carriage only far less fancy. Elk sat on a large step to the wagon with his usual steaming cauldron nearby and a few barrels placed neatly to the side. The cook looked as tired as any, like he had been the sole maker of the entire cauldrons contents. Maybe he had been. Neth had told him, answering one of his many questions on the road, that he did indeed have servants to help. But they always seemed to be out of sight.

It was either too dark or the cook was too tired to recognized Octair as he walked by. He would be back soon to wake the cook up from his dozing when he had his bowl though.

When he did reach his wagon, he recognized it by memory and the words scrawled on the side, he found Neth silently wiping his sword inside. The man looked ready for sleep, only he wasn’t. When Octair leaned inside to pull his pack where he could search through it easily, Neth turned his head to him and nodded slightly in greeting. Pulling his bowl out of his pack, he nodded back to Neth then turned and began his walk back to where Elk stood guard over his cauldron.

Elk was precariously asleep when he did get to him. His cauldron sat on the ashes of whatever fire he had used to heat the contents of the cauldron. They were still brightly hot though, and so was whatever was inside the cauldron. Deciding against waking Elk just so he could fetch him his meal, Octair approached casually silent and took a peek inside the cauldron. More soup. The smell told him it was the same soup too. He couldn’t complain though, it was good soup. So he grabbed the ladle hanging from the side and scooped some into his bowl. And as he turned to leave Elk was none the wiser.

By the time Octair got to his last stop for the night he had made up for the ride in the wagon. Neth was still inside the wagon, the only one who was, and was laying down with his eyes closed. But when Octair pulled himself onto the wagon with a little protest from it Neth put a hand to his sword and opened his eyes. He simply watched as Octair set his bowl aside and began unrolling his cot and unfolding his blanket. It was only when he began quietly slurping his soup did Neth close his eyes again. So as long as Neth didn’t snore, Octair deemed the wagon a suitable place as any to sleep.

When all the soup had been finished he thought for a moment and turned to Neth to ask a question. But the man was already asleep as far as he could tell, and he didn’t want to wake him. Riling the man up was fun, making him needlessly angry was something else. So Octair simply took out his waterskin, wineskin he would never have it be, and filled the bowl with water, It served as a good method for drinking and washing and also to clean the bowl as there were no sources of water nearby that he knew of. Or was willing to find in the dark. After that he made himself comfortable under his blanket and propped his sword for quick and easy access. Then he lay and watched as the clouds drifted slowly by, the stars showing brightly in spots. To this, he finally found peace and with it-sleep.

Everything went the same the next day. Except early midday they stopped along he road where a small river ran alongside. The road itself actually curved alongside the river until it straightened out at the same place it would have been without the river. As if the river had come after the road. The oxen took deep drinks over time while the drivers watched them, and the men refilled their own supply of water and cleaned various things. It wasn’t long though, before they were back on their way.

Throughout the entire trip in the wagon the forest had been on both sides of the road, with clearing enough for camp on either side. The temple was deep in the same forest, at the heart of it all. Some of the men in the same wagon as Octair opted to tell the story of how that very temple had been there long before the forest. And the forest long before any men. “How do you know, if it was here before any men were?” he asked them, and they’d only laugh and wave away his questions. Always, even when Erdusk was but tiny villages so long ago, there was a woman to visit the temple to pay respects and ask for favor from the eight gods. “The prettiest woman of all to go, and if none to choose only the wisest can she be.” When Erdusk finally united against the barbarians of the East, it was decided that no other woman but the princess could fulfill this role in tradition.

But the forest had always held it’s share of dangerous creatures, and on the year that the princess to the seventh king Fen had been killed by a very creature of this forest, the king wept for three days for the loss of his beloved daughter. And after, with sorrow and anger in his heart, he built a paved road to this very forest and through it as he fell every tree within a furlong of the road. Paving a road as he went, for every day he had mourned he spent a year cutting through the forest. Until finally he dropped dead, of bad health it was told, while cutting down a tree himself. And there marks the end of the paved road. The people knew well now the danger of the forest and the next king finished the work, cutting down the trees until finally a safe passage was made to the temple. “Where the paved road ends,” a young man of the Royal Guard across from Octair told him, the spinning of the tale still lit in his eyes, “they cleared a half a league away to one side and at the very center built a stone monument in remembrance. It’s still there to this day, only a village surrounds it and the forest has reclaimed most of what was cleared.”

“Aye,” another man of older years spoke, “good old Fen Village at the end of Fen Road. Got the best tavern all way until Areth itself. I’ll give ya a mark if you can guess the name of it.” All the men spoke up at once, their good cheer returned, “Fen Inn!” Laughter continued as they talked amongst themselves, their conversations mostly centered around ale and the village. It was still two days yet until they did finally reach the village.