The Guardians of Celesk

Chapter 7: The World Beyond

The Northern road was a passage to death. Normally they would use it, but as Lucern assured her, it was now being closely watched by agents of Valezk. What was very quickly dawning on her was the machinations of Valezk. This was not a hasty set of skirmishes, but a campaign of darkness and bloodshed organised by a master of war. Of course, it did not help that Lucern constantly reminded her of the arrogance and near-sightedness of her fellow Guardians at every turn. She was desperately trying to listen for sounds of pursuit when she was next interrupted by another one of Lucern's tirades.

"Now take our merry band of entertainers for example... granted you've only met two of us. But there are now only two others where once we were eight. Our number...cut completely in half. And do you know how?" he ranted.

"I can guess," she replied.

"I'll tell you how, the Northern wars and because those sanctimonious Guardians were asleep at the post. They turned their backs on their Northern cousins and look how that all worked out," He said.

"But surely Valezk is to blame there, it sounds like he wiped out your fellow entertainers" she said.

Halthar replied in agreement "Yes well obviously..., but now don't you go defending them either. Evil is followed by a lack of willingness to act."

Lucern was about to go on another rant when she put her hand on his shoulder and put a finger to her lips. Just above a whisper, she said "Quiet, something approaches." She gestured them to them all to move off the crude path and immerse themselves in the bushes.

"It's probably our remaining band."

"Shh."

Hooves struck against the ground but she could hear them starting to become muted. In spite of this, the party tracking them couldn't help but snap the odd twig. She could smell an ominous vapour that seemed to pour off their hides and the soft vibrations in the grass sent shivers through her being. Her hand was now tightly clutching at the staff, a small bright ember leapt off her finger tips. Noticing this, the hulking mass of Halthar brandished his sword and kept it at the ready, crouching behind a thicket to dwarf his size. They were ready for the world to throw them into the hurt.

Led by Yordu's nose, the party was led under a thick canopy of tree tops, as the group were quickly surrounded. The trees seem to come alive as a congregation of people enveloped them, most with swords out and a lady who appeared to be the leader, gestured upwards, pointing up to the archers in the tree tops. Yordu looked beyond the auburn hair of the lady, past the delicate wrinkles and straight into her eyes. The rest of the party were too exhausted to react, they had been marching for days and through the night for safety, desperately trying to put distance between them and the smouldering sanctuary. The leader turned to Yordu, "You've come a long way for nothing, you old fool. Turn your heels quickly or be prepared to taste our fury."

Some of their group shuffled nervously, but Bohina and Atreide watched Yordu with a sense of calm. Yordu continued to gaze into her eyes, before mouthing the words 'taste our fury'.

At this point she burst into laughter, as well as most of her party.

"I just couldn't keep a straight face. It is great to finally see you again Yordu."

He laughed back. "What a pleasure. Thank you for your welcome."

"Besides the taste our fury line, what else gave us away?"

"it was the cooking, I know you don't prepare this food for just anyone."

After further introductions to the rest of the group, they were led by the forest people down a valley through the woodlands before they faced a rich copse of hedges in a canyon of sheer cliff faces. What was more astonishing was there was a door in the middle, closely guarded by two sentries in the trees above. They opened up the doorway and were gestured into a great hall between the cliffs. It truly was a marvel of architecture with great wooden beams and yet the rock walls seemed to pulse out a warm heat from its edges. The round wooden table at the centre was already laden with an assortment of fruit and some steaming bowls of a meaty broth. At the back of the tree was an old oak bar by which a tall stick of a woman started filling up half-jugs of a honeyed mead.