Heppa is just finishing wrapping up Tric’s leg when Ash bursts into the clearing, an arrow at the ready. He scans the area for threats.
“Well, so much for necromancy,” Tric says soberly.
“Was there another necromancer?” Ash asks.
“No, we just destroyed the staff,” Tric tells him.
“It looks like you’re lucky it did not destroy you.”
“Yup.”
“I don’t think we’ll do it that way again,” Heppa says. “And we definitely need to check for artifacts before we burn any bodies in the future.” She gathers up her maps, making some notations about today’s findings on them. “Don’t throw the skulls in the fire,” she mutters aloud as she writes.
Tric climbs to his feet and limps around the campsite, stamping out the glowing embers scattered about by the explosion. “I mean, it is effective. Just also dangerous. We need to be more cautious next time.”
“… get cover…” Heppa continues jotting down ideas.
Tric is in a much better mood than he was earlier. The numbing ointment has helped with the pain in his leg, but also things do not seem as hopeless as they did earlier. When Mal-Vektor proved himself unsavable, Tric took that hard. But he has since been able to heal the necromantic stain on his hand, remove a corrupting rune, and destroy a creepy skull. “It could be a weapon itself, hurling artifacts into fire,” Tric muses.
“I wonder if the necromancers know that,” Heppa says. “It was the skull,” she adds with certainty. “Putting that in the fire.”
“Yeah,” Tric agrees. “Turns out it wasn’t just a skull.”
“Hmm… I wonder if it does the same thing if you try to smash it. Or if it can be dispelled…” The effect might have been due to the nature of the animal that the skull came from, rather than spells laid upon it.
“Maybe, but that’s not a solution available to everyone,” Tric points out. “What about you, Ash? Have you ever had to destroy a creepy necromantic artifact before?”
Ash shakes his head no. “I was for throwing it all onto the fire,” he reminds Tric.
“It works, but get a good distance first,” Tric says lightly.
Ash nods. This is important tactical information to take back to Wesmere.
Heppa glances around the clearing and points to the farthest tree with bone shards stuck in it. “At least that far away.”
“Or set a fire going that will reach it after you get away,” Tric adds.
At this point, Aglana joins them. She had sent Ash ahead on his own when they heard the explosion, assuring him she would follow. Traveling downhill is much easier than uphill for her. The patches of snow here are particularly helpful, since she pulls herself along by her arms on land. Unfortunately, her report on what she and Ash found above is not very encouraging. “That whole area is steeped in corruption. It’s nothing I can do anything about. From what I could sense, it has been growing there for a long time.”
“I wonder if it can dissipate…” Heppa muses.
“Ash and I triggered a rockfall across the entrance to the cave system,” Aglana shares, and the cousins agree that was wise. At least now no one unsuspecting will wander in.
With all the necromancy matters handled for now, Heppa returns her attention to the spider that originally drew them to this area. She spends the rest of the afternoon working on two gifts for Ash. As promised, she produces an antivenom. Additionally, she prepares a thick gel he can smear across his arrows to deliver the spider’s venom to targets of his own choosing. On some of the fine paper that Alric’s father gave her, she writes out all the ingredients and the steps she followed.
While Heppa works on her alchemy and Ash and Aglana confer over by the river, Tric shares some peanuts with Mate, resting his leg and reflecting on his recent experiences. Ash has done something totally different from what their father did. Anador did a lot of things for himself, from what Tric has heard. Ash may be doing things for himself, but it is in a productive way that benefits his forest, even though he has set himself off from society. Tric knows himself well enough to know that that sort approach is not for him; he needs an audience. Necromancers have death all wrong; you live forever by getting people to tell stories about you, by the mark you leave on the world. They’re not always good stories, and sometimes they’re even sad, but that’s all right.
When Heppa has everything ready, she gives what she has made to Ash, including the recipes. She theorizes about whether the base spider venom is really required for the antivenom, or if there might be substitutions that could fill that role. Those are details that do not matter to Ash. He simply thanks her and says he will give the recipes to his mother.
While that exchange is going on, Aglana takes a moment to thank Tric for helping Ash with this whole situation. She appreciates the opportunity she has had here to see Ash in a new context, with other elves around with whom he gets along. Tric is headed east, and Aglana herself never goes so far up the Great River, but her people can be found all over. She has a high opinion of Tric and tells him not to hesitate to ask if he ever needs the aid of merfolk. It seems that her words have weight of some kind among her people.
This whole diversion with the spider and the necromancer has added a few days to the journey eastward. Now that it is resolved, Tric and Heppa discuss with Ash how they can get back on schedule. They are due to meet Kachen in South Tower in just two weeks. Ash advises that the fastest route is to descend to the narrow stretch of plains between the Heart Mountains and the Great River. That will mean no visit to Dwarven Doors or Knalga, but the young elves are confident they will have other opportunities to come up this way in the decades ahead. This route will take them through the lowlands that some nobles from Wesnoth are seeking to gain control of. Knots and the Beard are out there somewhere, looking for work.
Tric has no interest in trying his luck at the Ford of Abez at this point, particularly since crossing the Great River there would mean retreading old ground. He would rather see new sights, but to the east there is the Swamp of Dread, and that does not sound great, either. Ash assures him, though, that there are other ways across the Great River, as various small hamlets operate ferries. They could deposit Tric and Heppa on the southern bank of the Great River in the Horse Plains. That sounds perfect to Tric, as it presents an opportunity to gain firsthand experience of horse lords and maybe even see his sister Terwaen.
After they leave Aglana, their next several days of travel take them down into lower territory. The air grows warmer as they leave the snowy mountains behind. Ash points out landmarks they can use as they head southeast, though they will get better information from the humans living down there. When they reach the first such settlement, Ash accompanies them into the village. Back in Wesmere, Tric promised him some human-made arrows, so they visit a fletcher together.
Tric makes the purchase and hands over the arrows to Ash. He bids his brother farewell, clasping his forearm in a firm shake. Ash tells him to be careful, and Tric thanks him for keeping the forest and the hills safe. Heppa offers a polite goodbye, not the exuberant hug she would give her father. Ash is not a very expressive person, so he has no speech to deliver in turn, but he pauses before leaving. Looking down at one of the arrows, he observes that it is not as fine-tipped as an elvish one, but it looks well-crafted.
“It’s made for someone with broader shoulders and probably stronger arms. Some of the bows that humans make are large. They can pack a punch. But give it a try,” Tric encourages him. “See what you like.”
Ash gives a small smile. “Then we end as we began.”
“Oh! An archery competition!” Tric happily agrees. Heppa points out that Tric’s bow is human-made, so he makes a good control group for experimenting with human arrows. The elves head outside the town to the edge of the forest. Tric and Ash take turns firing off some shots, landing all of them squarely on target. When Ash strides over to it to collect the arrows, Tric turns around and finds they have an audience larger than just Heppa. Quite a bit of the townsfolk are watching. The fletcher must have overheard what they intended to do.
Indeed, the man is talking up the elvish shooting competition. “Now, you’ll notice he’s using the Dunefolk style of bow,” he says, pointing out Tric. “That’s the draw style my grandmother taught me. But they’re both shooting my arrows. They came to this town specifically. They heard how good my arrows were.” Ever the fan of attention, Tric steps over to show off his bow.
Having recovered all the arrows from the edge of the tree line, Ash pulls up his cowl and slips away into the forest. The townsfolk are focused on Tric, all talking about his impressive shot and distinct bow. Then they realize the other competitor has vanished. “Well, he’s gone, but he’ll still be there in the hills,” Tric says. “Protecting the forest, protecting the hills, protecting you. Sometimes, on a very quiet night, if you’re still and you listen, just when your fire is about to go out, you might see… the Ash.”
Fin