Nivenmage

Outposts

The plains of Pyriam stretched out far to the east, but at their end a darker, much less hospitable land started, where only weeds seemed to be able to grow and any river was a mere stream that snaked its way down from the Ath-Tira. But from the Ath-Daomold there sprung no water, no life at all except for the malevolent creatures that had spawned there over thousands of years.

As the sun set on Tyril's eighth day of riding, and the sky ahead of her became pale and lifeless a shadow came from behind those dark mountains of Herilum, darker than the night that she was used to, for the stars themselves seemed to cower behind those peaks. That night there would be no moon, but Tyril rode steadily onwards with the stalwart figure of Myca in front of her.

Then, like sails on the horizon, the outposts appeared, slowly emerging out of the twilight. Tyril had never seen them before, but all Neveans knew of them; they marked the border that she would have to cross. These towers and the sceptre she carried were the last powers of Renegen, and they still resonated with a terrifying spell as if daring her to approach. Something begged her to turn back, and her mount started weaving anxiously but she urged it to go on.

They rode on, and at the same time it was as if the outposts were approaching them and they were standing still. Tyril became strangely aware of the dull thuds of hooves on rocks and barren soil and the laboured breathing of her comrades. The outposts loomed over them, leering down at them in an almost conscious way.

"I don't think I can make this horse go any further." Tyril said, feeling its heart beating, nearly bursting with fear. She stroked its neck gingerly and dismounted.

"Can we walk across Herilum?" Nedann asked. "It must be more than a week's journey by horse."

"We have to." Tyril said. She walked closer to the tower but didn't dare to touch it. She could feel an invisible power around it, a field that stretched north and south, probably finding the next outpost on the border in both directions. Her mouth opened slightly in surprise. "It's a wall!"

"Mmm, an evil barrier." Velu hummed. "Was Renegen protecting his land?"

"Did he think anyone would ever want to come here?" Nedann said.

"We're here, aren't we?" Velu said. "He must have known we were coming."

"Then he knew he was going to die." Nedann said. "We wouldn't be here otherwise."

"I think we can assume that he knew a lot." Velu said. "More than we do, anyway. This land holds secrets, perhaps we don't want to know."

"I can't go through." Said Myca who had bravely tried to pass beside the outpost. "It's holding me back, I can't."

"Me neither." Said Tyril. Then she felt something else, the sceptre felt no such repulsion, in fact, it was drawn even more into Herilum than ever before. "I think this thing can help us!"

"Can you cut through?" Myca asked.

It was an idea, Tyril had been thinking the same thing. The struggled to lift the thing above her head and held it there trembling under its weight. She hesitated and looked to Myca, he nodded. Then she brought it down through the air where we could feel the barrier, and something unexpected happened.

Instead of cleaving a way through the invisible barrier, the sceptre cut through the air itself! It opened a chasm like a knife through the Fabric, and through it something completely unnatural was seen. It was still air, but it was wrong, it was unfamiliar. No breath of that air felt satisfying, it was a dead, or perhaps a spectral place.