Chapter Three
Dark Age Year 871
Sixth day of the Eighth month
The beginning of this job was actually quite pleasant for Tharos for a change. The sun was shining brightly in the sky, and summer was in full bloom. However, it wasn’t the stinging rays he had become accustomed to while trapped in the city of Zarbar. The dry heat felt like living in an oven, and even though he didn’t need to drink, it didn’t make the heat any less unbearable for him. The feeling of a dry mouth bothered him to no end. Every breath felt like inhaling flakes of dust and sand, making his mouth feel like gravel. Swallowing felt like thick sludge or dry air. It was an unnatural sensation, even in a body like his. Not requiring food and drink, yet feeling hunger and thirst, but never expiring or tiring from it was a strange experience and was hard to describe even though he had experienced this sensation many times.
Now that he was free to travel through the lands of Aria again, just as he had done centuries ago, the sights and sounds that had once bored him and painted his vision with nothing but endless grey were now a vibrant array of fading colours and sensations that impressed upon him as quickly as they disappeared. He would enjoy these moments as they came to him. The sun felt warm to the touch, soft and gentle like a maiden’s kiss on his skin. A light, chilly breeze from the rocky hills and small mountain roads brushed over him, adding to his delight as the heat was tinged with a hint of cold.
From the high vantage point of the hills and mountains, he could see for miles across Aria, the various shades of green from trees and grasslands, crystal-clear rivers, and lakes. Even the arid wastelands on the outskirts looked beautiful in their own way, providing a stark contrast to the lush greens and blues of life. From this height, he couldn’t discern that this picturesque canvas of nature before him was a rose with many hidden thorns that concealed numerous dangers. The forests and waterways were teeming with monsters and individuals with malicious intent who would gladly lead him and his companions to an early grave. The landscape was also dotted with what looked like ancient ruins and dungeons from bygone eras. However, from this elevated perspective, all the world’s troubles and challenges seemed insignificant, akin to mere ants scurrying about, their lives seen only in a microcosm in the scale of the universe they lived in.
Although he took up this life as a mercenary mostly for pragmatic and practical reasons, and while most of the jobs he took were beneath him for someone of his skill set and former standing, in many ways, he found enjoyment in them. Whether it was looking for missing people in creepy forests or damp caves, taking down bandit and mercenary groups, even when the difference wasn’t all that clear, or hunting down rats in run-down sewers, some of these sewers were built upon foundations laid by his people or people who were even older than them, names that had been lost by the passing of millennia, names that he himself didn’t know.
Tharos found these jobs enjoyable and derived a sense of satisfaction from them. However, what truly made these jobs enjoyable were moments like the ones in front of him. These small monuments in time, when the universe was still and calm, and the tapestry of life was on full display before him, unaltered by the tempest of war, brought him a sense of peace. Although the shimmer of silver and gold coins, and nights with beautiful women were some of the few things that still moved him, Tharos still had room in his never-beating heart for the small pleasures in life. He could still feel, and this breath-taking sight was just one of them. However, like all things of such beauty and magnificence, it wasn’t destined to last, and maybe that made it truly beautiful.
To make things even sweeter, and while they could never fully replace the people he lost back in Zarbar, they were the closest thing to it. He had found an equal, not a rival in martial skill like Rayner, but an equal in intellect. It was quite rare for him to meet someone who was as well-informed and learned as Jabari. Most people he came across in the frontiers could only read simple texts and didn’t care much for intellectual pursuits. Rayner was the biggest example, often rolling his eyes or giving a dismissive snort at such things, as he was, for all intents and purposes, a savage barbaric warrior who made no attempts to be anything else. He was too stuck in his ways to ever fully change. He even had a young apprentice with him, whom he could train in the ways of the sword and other subjects he felt were important. However, even when he tried to educate Cenric on these finer details of life, he found that while Cenric would listen eagerly, ask questions, and on some rare occasions they would talk and share thoughts, it was through these conversations that Tharos realised that Cenric didn’t fully understand and most likely never would. But some small interest in intellectual things was better than nothing, and while Cenric was more “civilised” than most of his barbaric kin, a barbaric savage was still a barbaric savage at the end of the day, regardless of temperament or relative youth. As Cenric was like all people, a product of their blood and soil they came from, and old habits die hard.
However, this enjoyment was not destined to last as the day slowly turned to dusk. As they travelled through the rocky hill landscape and bumpy mountain roads, they passed signs of numerous battles fought between various groups of highwaymen, goblins, and orcs who called these hills and mountains their home. The battlefields were strewn with bloated, rotting, and often half-eaten corpses of the fallen, now being picked clean by various birds and insects. As they passed through. he saw a bird fly away with someone’s eyestalk. Their weapons and armour were scattered around like debris, most of them rusted beyond repair or any practical use.
Passing through another field of the littered corpses and shattered armour and weapons, he could sense a wide assortment of emotions, such as anger, fear, and joy. The exultation of battle, the passions quickly inflamed by war, and then quickly stilled with the coming of death. This battle must have happened quite recently, at least within the last day or two. Tharos thought to himself. As they traversed the narrow pass that led to a few forks in the road, one of which showed recent signs of conflict, they reached the fork and made their turn. From the direction they came, a group of fifty to sixty highwaymen on horseback emerged from the shadows, clad in rugged hide or leather armour and armed with spears, axes, swords, and bows. Upon spotting them, the highwaymen unleashed a storm of arrows towards them. Fortunately, Jabari spurred the horses into high gear, narrowly evading the barrage of arrows by turning sharply into the fork in the road, with some items falling from his wagon and hitting the ground with a clatter. The wagon was quite wide and slow, even though it was being pulled by several strong horses. Despite their attempt to flee, the highwaymen gave chase, and the mountain pass, which was once quiet with maybe the sounds of bleating mountain goats or the songs of birds, was now filled with the sounds of many hooves and echoes throughout the mountain scape, sounding like crashing thunder as arrows were notched, and blades scraped across the rocks.
As the highwaymen approached, Tharos noticed that there were about half the number of the original group he had spotted. Gripping his sword tightly, he observed several of them attempting to surround and board the wagon. Some of the highwaymen tried to jump on but many failed, either slipping or missing their mark and falling onto the road or into the chasm below. Despite this, a few managed to successfully board the wagon. Tharos turned his head and saw Rayner and Cenric engaged in a fierce battle with another group of highwaymen who were also trying to board. The two warriors fought with their axes and swords, their movements stiff and awkward as the wagon jumped up and down on the bumpy road. Tharos then turned his attention back to his own adversaries.
As Tharos moved, he felt a stinging sensation in his neck as a spear struck him directly in the throat. Reacting swiftly, Tharos grabbed the spear with his free hand, still lodged in his neck, and pulled its holder towards him, dragging him along. With great speed, Tharos kicked the spear-wielding highwayman in the chest, sending him tumbling off the wagon. His two companions stood in shocked silence, unable to comprehend what was happening. Seizing the moment, Tharos pulled out the spear and hurled it at one of them, piercing him through the chest. Blood gushed from his mouth as he collapsed to the ground and rolled off the wagon. In a split second, Tharos lunged at the remaining highwayman, slashing into his stomach with his sword, causing his guts to spill out as he crumpled to the ground with a thud. The sound of his head and neck being crushed under the wagon’s wheels echoed in the air.
Turning his head to the side, with the hole in his neck slowly closing over, he saw Jabari, who thankfully wasn’t paying attention behind him. Instead, he was looking at another figure in the road, one of which was going downhill. Jabari then quickly turned his head to him and said with a very matter-of-fact voice, “You should all duck.” Tharos then saw Jabari throw several metallic rose-coloured orbs into the massive group of highwaymen who were about to release another barrage of arrows. As they started to descend the hill at a rapid speed, all of them had to grip onto the sides of the wagon to maintain their footing. Tharos first heard a loud popping sound as thick black smoke billowed out. The highwaymen were stopped in their tracks, some of them thrown off their horses mid-gallop, falling to the ground or into the chasm below, their shouts and screams seeming to echo.
As they continued travelling downhill, the band of highwaymen looked smaller and smaller in the distance. Tharos looked around him, patting himself down to make sure he didn’t have any holes where there shouldn’t be any. As much as he was getting along with Jabari. He still didn’t want Jabari to suspect anything. To his relief Aside from more bloodstains of his nice robes, everything was fine. Turning to Cenric and Rayner, he saw them both trying to dust themselves off. Both of them had a few small new cuts on them, and like himself, streaks of blood coloured their armour and weapons. Before Tharos could speak up, Jabari spoke first.
“Is everyone okay?” he said, his voice calm and measured, as if the recent events had not happened or did not bother him.
“Yes, everyone is fine, aside from a few scrapes and cuts.”
“That is good news. You three handled yourselves well. You are well worth the coin,” Jabari said, turning his head slightly to Tharos. “Is the cargo safe?” Tharos checked the medical supplies and found them untouched.
“The cargo is safe.”
“That’s good. Once we’re off this road, we’ll be making camp soon. I know of a location nearby that will be perfect,” Jabari said. Tharos looked up ahead and noticed the dark storm clouds forming overhead as the day turned into evening. “As long as it’s safer than these roads have been, I see nothing wrong with making camp, especially with that weather on the horizon,” Tharos remarked. Jabari nodded in agreement as the incline started to lessen, and they were starting to go downwards out of the mountain passes and rocky hills into roads that lead into the woods.
However, this attack by random highwaymen was only a prelude and a small taste of what truly awaited them in the woodlands below. While the land of Aria was known for many things, often contradictory, one certainty remained throughout the ages: Aria was a land that held many hidden secrets waiting for those brave or foolhardy enough to uncover them. However, like many hidden secrets, some things are better left buried in the cold, deep earth, never to see the light of day. If unearthed, untold horrors from the ancient past may unveil themselves and unleash their full might on a world not ready or prepared for what their forefathers had once faced. Forefather that came from a far more enlighten and civilised age.
