Heir of Dust and Wind

Chapter 19 - The Quest

They were greeted by dust and wind.

Ava fought not to cough as soon as she and her Dracaeni exited the portal and were met with the stale and dusty air Wasteland.

What she saw in front of her was an empty landscape devoid of all life, the occasional crater marking the terrain. It eerily reminded her of the pictures she had seen in a special edition of photographs taken during the First World War. 

The empty battlefields had turned lush and lively landscapes into devastated strips of deserts. Albeit in a different dimension, they had been the product of the same ruthless ambition and the disregard for life.

It hadn't taken the High King and his Council long to determine that it was to be her quest. Ava was to reconquer the territory that had been lost because of Dunstan's foul experiments with dark magic. 

Should she succeed, the empty seat at the crescent table would be hers to claim. Should she fail, her death was nearly certain anyway and she'd be no bother to Farvald and the Aldermen anymore. In the very unlikely case of her survival, however, Ava would have to subject herself to the Council's mercy. 

Needless to say that the latter was by far the worst option. Luckily, however, Orla had anticipated just this outcome, being confident that Ava would survive and win whatever duel the Council would throw at her.

In addition, the Goblin had also been right about the altered perception Ava would receive from the Council. Her unexpected display of magic had severely altered the way that the councilmembers had regarded her. Where there had been arrogance, dismissive disdain and carelessness in the beginning, curiosity and caution had now taken their place. Of course, only a fool would've mistaken that as a sign of their respect. 

Still, Ava couldn't quite shake off the sensation that she'd spooked them somehow and even though this hadn't been her intention, it was an achievement nonetheless. 

While the king's face had been a carefully expressionless mask, Njall had stopped ogling her, now watching her with both suspicion and caution - thank the stars for some small mercies!

Dathal, on the other hand, who had regarded her with disdainful boredom before, seemed to be more interested now that he saw some fighting potential. While he still didn't consider her to be his equal, he had acknowledged her victory in a fair fight - as a matter of principle, as the General had put it. 

It had also been Dathal who had provided Gainor with some fresh clothes when Frode had refused to do so. In exchange for his kindness, Ava had offered to heal one of his injured warriors after a fight. To her surprise, the Alderman had nodded, accepting her offer, in spite of his earlier mockery of Trygve's and Gainor's healings.

Despite her victory over Frode, it had been clear, however, that neither of them truly believed in her capabilities of handling the quest. After all, all of them had tried to reclaim the land more than once themselves. However, neither of them had been able to. The corruption of the magic tied to the lands had run too deep. 

The only reason for the Council giving Ava this particular quest was to rid themselves of her without breaking the sacred law. So, for them, it was a way of easily rid themselves of her or - in case of her returning alive - subjecting her to their rule.

She wouldn't let that happen. Better to have one of the beasts that prowled the Wasteland devour her alive.

And taking a few steps inside of the territory, it felt as if it truly could do just that. Ava felt as if wading through a waist-high swamp. The air felt too thick to walk through, let alone breathe. Every lungful of it seemed tinted with the grey dust that covered the uneven ground before them. Despite the hot wind, that made her skin feel sticky and uncomfortable, there was an ominous mist everywhere swallowing what little sunlight there was.