“Say, you patrolled the coast during the old wars, didn’t you?” asked a mortal. Experienced, well-equipped, yet relaxing at this moment. The night had begun in those southern plains.
The question was posed to the First One across from him. Not any First One. The Grandmaster of the Order of the Silver Stag. There was a fire between them, burning carelessly and brightly. Shadows casted behind the men huddled there, but wouldn’t for long. That fire would not burn for another hour.
“I did.”
Such was a solemn answer from Ludovic.
“And what did you see?”
Much.
The Kvernes Coast was a place of rain for most of the year. Perhaps the forests requested it, or mayhaps they wished to be what they once were.
Young. Brash. Arrogant. Foolish. Those words defined many a knight, but fit this black-haired one well back then.
A patrol. One knight and a couple men-at-arms. Were they near Bewerny or Thryin? It was hard to tell. The roads were poorly made.
“Set up camp,” barked the knight with a wave of his hand. Off the horses, armor doffed, and fires made. No amount of light made those woods more known.
There was something there.
Ludovic stood at the edge of the road and the edge of that impromptu camp. Brown eyes drilled into that forest, attempting to find what made a sound again and again. Nothing. He saw nothing. A squirrel, perhaps. A rabbit, even. Those weren’t what he was looking for.
“Sir, you ought to sleep.”
Unwelcome words. A glare was sent to the mortal beside him and Ludovic waved him off.
“There’s something there. Keep an eye on the road. I shall check myself.”
The knight adjusted the baldric across his chest and placed his hand firmly on the hilt of his blade. Slow steps at first, gently disturbing the underbrush. Cracking. It was only twigs. His head spun, eyes wide.
That sound was clear now. A whistle. Not a whistle for a horse, or a dog, or any other animal. It wasn’t the same. Not a whistle that steam makes, nor one that a man could. High-pitched. Almost for a dog, but it wasn’t. Still too low. It started, then ended. Started and ended. There was no rhythm.
Ludovic’s steps gained speed, boots gliding until an obstacle arrived. One step away from tripping and his boot was snagged on an old root of an older tree. A sudden halt, gloved hand ready to pull the sword, and he turned.
Was it a man? No.
Frayed fabric evaded the bushes’ grasping limbs and the ground. Green. A cloak. Flowing clothes. The face was covered.
“Reveal yourself.” said the knight as the sword unsheathed.
“There is no need to demand. I am already revealed,” droned out the figure. A woman, clearly. Mischievous curls of brown escaped her hood.
With that, she made a step forward.
Bafflement took Ludovic’s features and he stepped back, yet his sword was still ready.
“You distrust me, journeyer. I was told you had courage,” said the woman softly as she made another step forward.
“Reveal yourself and trust may be given. Do you take me for a fool?”
Another step back from Ludovic. Another step forward from her. It repeated until they reached a clearing in the forest. The stars and moon illuminated them.
“I was not told you were a fool, journeyer. Rash, yes. Not a fool,” spoke the woman. Eyes like ice watched from under the hood, face revealed through the moonlight. It was a youthful one.
“I shan’t let some peasant girl intimidate me so,” huffed Ludovic. Not another backstep and instead one forward. He was at the center of the clearing now. His sword lowered as he continued to speak. “Now leave.”
There was a high-pitched hum from the woman. She budged not an inch either way.
“I pose you no harm, journeyer.” A pause in her words as a hand lifted and tapped on the edge of his sword. “A path awaits you on the other side. It shall bring pain.”
The sword dropped from Ludovic’s hand. That night grew darker as he stared at the woman’s eyes.
“The world shall shift once, twice, thrice.” Once more a pause. “It shall become upside down.”
“What does that mean?” said Ludovic, barely eking it out.
For a while, she did not speak. Her lips did not move. The night only grew colder.
“A fire shall spark and it shall burn away everything. New trees shall grow. The old ones shall be forgotten.”
Ludovic’s periphery blurred before being invaded by an orange light, blazing brightly.
“Yet what is forgotten shall live on. You require sight, journeyer. Gain it, or fall with the autumn leaves.”
Dark. He awoke alone. The forest spoke not of the woman who walked it. There were no tracks.