Dashyl's Quest

Shortly after breaking camp and resuming their journey to Anchorwatch, the vegetation suddenly thinned around them. They were exposed to the road without any cover. Up ahead, they could see the road crossed the river at a bridge to the side they were on.

“This is a clear cut area,” Fretly said. “We must be really close to Anchorwatch. I think we can just take the road now. We haven’t seen anyone follow us yet.”

“We haven’t seen anyone at all,” Dashyl reminded him. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not being followed. You’re the one who insisted we be careful, I’m doing what you say.”

“Right. They don’t even know that we came this way, though. It’s probably all right. We should be there very soon.”

The two set off through the clear cut down towards the river. As they approached, they could see there was an old weathered hut sitting up the road from the bridge. They were walking right to it.

“Fretly, what should we do?”

“It looks abandoned, doesn’t it,” Fretly asked. “Even so, let’s stay away and make our way to the road past it.”

The two crouched down and crept slowly through the grasses and ferns that were growing up around the many thick tree stumps in the field. After a short while of this, Fretly changed their course to intersect with the road. A few yards from the edge of the road, he flopped down on his belly and motioned for Dashyl to do the same. They shimmied their way to the edge of the road and poked their heads out of the grass surveying each direction.

“I don’t see anyone,” Fretly whispered. “I think that hut is empty. Let’s stand up and go.”

As soon as they did stand up, a voice bellowed from the hut.

“You there? Where did you come from?”

It was a deep voice. It wasn’t the voice of anyone of the sidrani or sarion races.

“Who asks,” called Fretly.

Out of the hut, a tall, well-armored being emerged. With long strides, the being quickly walked toward them, wielding a huge hammer. He wore a metal helmet with long, white locks flowing from it. The face inside the helmet did not appear menacing, just annoyed. He walked up and stood over them. The young men craned their necks to look up at him.

He’s twice as tall as the tallest sarion I’ve ever met, Dashyl thought, before the voice bellowed again.

“I, Soern Kwath, protector of the road to Anchorwatch, ask you. And I will ask you again, who are you and where did you come from?” Soern Kwath spun the massive hammer in his gigantic hand like a toy as he spoke. When he was finished speaking, he put the hammer’s head under Fretly’s chin and bent down to look him in the eyes.

“I…I’m Fretly from Fairewood. We, uh, we came from, uh…”

“Shush,” Soern insisted and turned to Dashyl. He put his hammer under Dashyl’s chin and leaned in to get a closer look.

“I’m…”

“Dashyl! You’re alive!” Soern dropped his hammer and caught the boy in his two hands and lifted him high in the air.

“Whoa!” Dashyl lost his breath. He had no idea how Soern could know who he was.

Soern set the boy down and stood up tall again. He pointed at Fretly and asked, “are you Dashyl’s friend?”

“Yeah, oh yeah, most definitely, I am Dashyl’s friend.” Fretly answered, speaking quickly and nodding his head.

“Good,” Soern bellowed, clapping Fretly on the back so hard he fell forward. “Come back to my hut and have something to eat and to drink. I want to hear all about how you survived, Dashyl. I’m so curious.”