Born Under a Black Sun

Sunlight assaulted Teren as he stepped out of the All Roads Inn. He had stayed up too late drinking with Spellhaunt and was now paying the price. Not to mention the cot he had slept on had given him one hell of a crick in his neck. "I wouldn't have minded sleeping one last night in my own bed", he grumbled.

"What, and wake up at the witching hour to walk across town?" said Rotwood. "With how late you stay up, you wouldn't even have had a chance to fall asleep."

"I see nothing wrong with people in our profession being night owls."

"Then your sight has diminished. No, Teren. A Gravecaller should live under the sun. Those who dabble in darkness need it more than anyone."

Teren grunted.

"And there's a difference between staying up late working and staying up late drinking."

Teren grumbled.

The All Roads Inn was a short walk to the Ley Crossroads of Decidual. The rainy season was coming to an end, and despite a steady drizzle the city was already waking up. Vendors and hawkers had already begun setting up shop, forming a jungle of hastily constructed tents and awnings all along the muddy streets. Farstrider's twin Lifeguider sashes drew attention from many merchants, who called out to her. She scowled as she brushed past the encroaching crowd of desperate salesmen.

When it had been discovered that Decidual was built on an intersection of ley lines, had quickly gone from a minor village in the jungle to the most economically and strategically important city in all of Fendal. The New Center bustled with traffic brought through the Night Ley, the ley that connected to the crossroads in Istal. In turn, Istal connected Fendal to the rest of the Sainted Lands and beyond. The other Ley at the Decidual Crossroads was all but useless, leading into the middle of the ocean. Even so, the Night Ley alone brought in far more business and attention than this part of the world was used to.

As the group approached the Crossroads Plaza, the traffic grew heavier. Swampreachers, Fendali, and Cicada Islanders all crowded together to wait for passage outbound. A squad of Junglesworn warriors stood vigilant at the plaza gate, checking for proper documentation and organizing travelers into various lines. Rotwood took point, weaving his way through the thick crowd. He muttered under his breath, conjuring up a rancid odor that got him a plethora of scowls, shouts, and curses. He smiled apologetically and nodded to the crowd parting before him.

Teren groaned, keeping his head down. "I've asked you to not use scent of decay when you're with me."

"Seconded," said Quickstrider. "It's pretty obnoxious, Rot."

Rotwood sighed. "I never get to use the fun ones. Fine, we're almost at the front anyways." He waved his hand and the smell of corpses dissipated.

They stopped in front of the plaza gate that was guarded by two Junglesworn, armed with spears and dressed in their traditional uniform– a green and brown poncho that concealed padded armor and daggers underneath. They recognized Quickstrider, letting the five pass without question.

Past the stone walls and metal gate, the Decidual Crossroads was occupied by a dozen more Junglesworn surrounding a faintly shimmering circle on the ground, roughly ten cubits in diameter. They were a tough looking bunch, standing proud alongside a variety of hybrids and familiars. One in particular stood out, some sort of insect skinswitcher sporting mandibles, chitin, and multiple arms. Teren didn't spare them a second glance. The real danger was the man standing in the middle of the crossroads.

He was a pudgy little fellow, with blue face paint mimicking tears running down his face. Next to him was an intimidating mixmaker hybrid- a panther with an elongated snakelike neck and tail. It was sprawled out at the feet of the Current Guildsman, lazily flicking its tail back and forth. The hybrid stared at them with reptilian eyes, and Teren positioned himself behind Ronic and Baltry.

Ronic squatted down to admire the beast. He rummaged around, finding a bit of bread in his pocket and offering it to the snake-panther. "Hey there, big guy! You hungry?" He laughed as the snake-panther ate out of his hand. "Oh yes you are!"

"She isn't friendly," grumbled the Current Guildsman as the hybrid flicked out a forked tongue, licking Ronic's laughing face.

"What's in her?" asked Ronic. "Just snake added to panther?"

"Panther added to snake. Few more bits thrown in for stability and obedience, but you'd have to ask my wife for the details."

"It's a gorgeous mix. I wonder if-"

Rotwood cleared his throat. "A masterful hybrid indeed." He held out his papers. "Our reservation should be under Halfbones, I believe?"

"Ah, then you two must be Skullchalice and Quickstrider, and these three your apprentices!" He smiled warmly at them. I am Mudflood of the Guild of Currents, Waykeeper of Decidual's Ley Crossroads."

Baltry looked confused. "Skullchalice? Ow!" he cursed from the pinch Teren had given him.

Mudflood cleared his throat as he pulled out a scroll from underneath his blue poncho. "Yes, your travel has been cleared to Merdz. Today you'll have two stops before your final destination. The Water Ley is backed up, so you might experience a delay in Sun's Shadow."

"Three stops," said Quickstrider.

"Sorry?"

"Night Ley to Crow's Crevice, Wood Ley To Softon and then Papanuy, and the Water Ley to Merdz. That's three stops before Merdz, not two."

"Right you are, my good woman! That usually would be the case. Unfortunately my partner Waykeeper got in a fight with something nasty last night. The Dark Sky Church has been contacted and we're trying to get another Moonlight Apostle out here, but it could be all day and we really can't afford to back up the traffic. You'll be taking the Water Ley straight through the Bay of Storms and Pananuy to get to Merdz."

Rotwood and Quickstrider looked at each other and then looked back at Mudflood.

"The Bay of Storms Crossroad." Said Rotwood. "Is in the ocean."

"Yes."

"The middle of the ocean."

"Well... I wouldn't call it the exact middle-"

"There's no land there!" snapped Quickstrider.

"Oh, it's perfectly safe! The Guild of Currents has a great team out there, it's really grown into a viable method of leygate travel."

"Let's go for it," said Teren. He'd always liked the ocean.

Rotwood sighed. "If it's safe, it's safe. Where do you want us to stand?"

Quickstrider looked like she was about to bust a vein. "No. We aren't doing this."

Rotwood threw up his hands. "Aw, come on Quick!" He looked at Mudflood. "You've been sending people through all morning, haven't you?"

"Couple in, a couple out. You got a nice spot in the queue."

"And if something bad had happened to those travelers you'd know, right?"

"Erm. Probably."

"Probably, he says," muttered Quickstrider. She ran a hand through her hair. "Ugh. Fine."

Baltry raised his hand. "I think I still have concerns about this?" Ronic smacked him on the back of the head. Baltry put his hand back down.

"Glad it's settled!" said Mudflood. He waved his fingers and a glyph appeared in the middle of the shimmering circle, a stylized icon of crashing waves below a crescent moon and twinkling stars. "Ley travel is easy, friends. You simply place your foot directly on the glyph. And don't set down any of your belongings."

The group took position. Teren tried to relax. He didn't understand how a man who used waveforming could access transportation magic such as this. Something was deeply wrong about it.

Mudflood stood back, keeping his own feet outside of the circle. He whistled for his snake-panther. The hybrid licked Ronic's cheek once more before removing itself from the circle. The Guildsman smiled at the four of them. "When you get to the Storm Bay, you'll appear on a platform. There can be a bit of dizziness after ley travel, so be ready for it and try not to fall into the water."

"Wait a minute," said Rotwood. "Surely you've installed some sort of guard rail?"

Mudflood rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and spat on the glyph.

The world spun into a blur, and suddenly Teren was standing on a wooden platform surrounded by waves. It was one of several dozen wooden rafts in the middle of the ocean, chained together and riding the swells. Half of a glowing rune was on the wood, moving away and beginning to appear on the next platform over. 

Ronic looked around. "Where's Baltry?" Quickstrider cursed. She threw her pack to Ronic, kicked her boots off, and jumped into the water.

Teren looked around. Two men in grey uniforms were stationed on a raft further out. They were shouting and waving, too far away to hear.

"Man overboard!" Teren screamed, waving to them and pointing at the water. But he doubted they could hear him.

Their waving and motioning became more and more frantic. One of them turned away from Teren, took a stance, and began to punch the air.

Teren shook his head. "What the..?"

"Tempest Rangers," Said Rotwood. "Both of them. And I don't see a Current Guildsman with them." He looked at Ronic. "Did Quickstrider teach you lifesight?"

He shook his head. "No, but I do know Soulcheck." Dipping a hand in the ocean, he closed his eyes and began chanting under his breath. "I have a lock on both of them, they're rising-" his eyes opened and he jerked his hand out of the water. "Saints!" he cursed. "There's something else down there!"

Quickstrider burst out of the water with an arm wrapped around Baltry. Unnatural breathguiding strength chucked Baltry back onto a raft near their own. Quickstrider heaved himself onto the same one and traced a pattern with her finger over Baltry's stomach. He began to cough up water.

"The damn platform wasn't centered properly," cursed Rotwood. "The Current Guildsman should have no problem keeping these rafts staged. Something's wrong."

"Damn right something's wrong!" shouted Ronic. "There was a creature in the water, right below Quick and Baltry!"

The two Tempest Rangers were getting closer. The one punching the air was probably galecasting, Teren thought. He could almost make out what they were shouting but didn't think he needed to. "New plan. We get to the Rangers and take the Sky Ley out of here."

"Agreed," said Rotwood. He fished his wand out of his jacket. "Quickstrider, I need your lifesight. Tell me what exactly we're dealing with."

Quickstrider licked her thumb, rubbed it over one eye, and peered into the water. Her eyes widened. "What in hell..."

"Quick," snapped Rotwood, "You need to be my eyes!"

Quickstrider shook her head. "It's right below that raft to your left, six spans down! Looks like a cross between a mantis and a lobster, but the size of it..."

"Keep an eye on it, let me know where it moves." He pointed his wand to where Quickstrider had motioned.

It was a powerful conduit, left over from the duel with a Petal Knight that had given Rotwood his title and reputation. If he had the peace of mind to sidestep into Aren Fultas, Teren would see a funnel of spirit residue pouring out of it and penetrating the waves.

"Heading east, halfway between the previous raft and the eastbound one, just changed to south, still about six spans..." Quickstrider continued calling out positions as Rotwood kept his wand pointed at the concealed creature below them.

"You alright?" shouted Ronic across the water to a coughing Baltry.

Balty kept spitting saltwater out but nodded back at them. His eyes were red from salt and tears.

Teren looked at Ronic. "Any ideas?"

"Yeah, stay out of their way."

"Sounds good," said Teren, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. "I'm not much use out here, I think. Not enough spirits at the top of the ocean. You?"

"Hmm. Got anything I could throw at it?"

"Below you and rising!" Shouted Quickstrider.

"Hit the deck!" hollered Rotwood, and something jammed their raft, sending half of it into the air. It crashed back down, nearly throwing all three of them off in the process.

"Saints!" Rotwood cursed. He pointed his wand back at something in swells.

A clawed sea bug the length of two grown men was swimming right at them. It was covered in white and black stripes, with the back half of a centipede and the front half of a praying mantis. Wicked claws retracted back to its chest, ready to strike again. Large unnatural eyes stared at them from below the waves. Without wavering, Rotwood focused his aim on the creature.

The second the wand was back on it the insect let out a screech and began thrashing around. Large pincers lashed out, barely missing Teren's fingers. He desperately reached out to the fading world, trying to find a spirit to help. He could smell a presence nearby, probably Spellhaunt.

"Stop!" hollered one of the distant tempest rangers.

"That shrimp's a skinswitcher!" Screamed the other. "It's our Current Guildswoman!"

Rotwood kept his eyes on the creature. "What?!" he hollered back.

"Why is it attacking us?" screamed Quickstrider.

"Probably because you're sticking that damn wand in her face!" shouted the first Tempest Ranger.

The creature screeched louder as if in agreement, and moved back to give the raft some space. Rotwood slowly lowered his wand. "Well, can she change back so we can have a proper conversation?"

The creature began to twitch. It expanded and contorted, and chitin began flaking off its head. Traces of a scowling human face began to emerge. Scimitar claws morphed into hands, and she hoisted half her body onto the wood. Sne snarled, trying to form human sounds. Rotwood glanced at Quickstrider and shrugged as the skinswitcher slowly changed.

...

"You know," said the woman, "We could have talked a whole lot sooner if you hadn't immediately resorted to tearing my insides apart." She shivered on the same raft as them, draped only in one of the coats of the tempest rangers– both of whom were sitting next to her, pointedly not looking at her exposed legs. She was a lean woman, with an athletic body tailored for swimming. Her piercing gaze bore through Rotwood with a quiet rage that simmered behind her dark eyes.

"Your raft wasn't centered!" snapped Quickstrider. My apprentice sank like a damn stone!"

"That's why I was heading for him, you toad. And the raft wasn't centered because I was dealing with a Tantrovian Sellsword."

"What?" said Ronic. "Where's he now?"

Her lips curled into a nasty smile. "The bottom of the ocean. Or the abyssal city, depending on your beliefs."

"Saints," muttered Baltry.

"Well... Why couldn't the Rangers hold the raft in place?" argued Quickstrider. "A galecaster could be capable of that."

One of the Tempest Rangers pursed his lips. The other looked at the sky.

The woman skinswitcher turned her unforgiving gaze to the men standing next to her. "There was another Tantrovian who showed up before this one. He convinced these two to let him pass on through the Sky Ley. Told them he was lost Istali royalty."

Teren laughed. "Did he look Istali?"

"He did!" insisted the Ranger who had given up his cloak. "He was wearing a toga!"

"Anyways," the woman glared at the Ranger, "As soon as this one showed up I made them get far away from the crossroads."

"Hold on," said Baltry. "What's so bad about a Tantrovian?" He had recovered from his drop in the water but had lost his pack. Quickstrider had temporarily increased his apprentice's body heat to help dry him off.

"Sellswords have been trying to pass through ever since we put rafts down here," said the woman. "They're looking for a path to Goldreach, trying to make a profit off the war."

"Their end of days is already spreading across the shallow sea," said Teren. "No need to let would-be vultures jam up our leys and give Istal and Iar more trouble."

"Precisely." The woman's eyes found Teren's. "I tried explaining this to the man, but his knowledge of the sainted tongue was limited. Didn't seem like I was getting anywhere, and sending back from whence he came would just result in him coming right back through the leygate." She leaned back, cracking her neck. "I motioned for him to hop off my raft and swim for shore and he went crazy on me. Lunged right for my throat, we fell in the water, I skinswitched and ripped his grass-chewing face off, and that's right about when you all showed up."

"I was under the impression this was a safe operation," said Rotwood.

The cloaked Tempest Ranger spoke up. "It relatively is. But risk is a part of ley travel. Travel in general, really. You never know what sort of trouble you'll find when you walk out your front door."

"Totally." the other Ranger nodded.

"...Right." Rotwood looked at Quickstrider. "Anyways, we need to take the Water Ley to Sun's Shadow."

"Of course," said the woman. "Mudflood arranged your travel with me this morning. I as well have already passed on your information to the Papanuy Crossroads." The woman stood up and began to slowly dance.

The two Rangers scooted away to give her more space. Her movements were slow and meaningful, keeping perfect balance on an imperfect stage. She motioned to the waters around her and the swells responded, calming themselves. The Ranger coat she had been given didn't leave much to the imagination, and Teren tried not to stare too hard at her legs. He had never seen the technique before, but not a muscle seemed out of place to him as her motions sped up. A current formed, gently pushing the raft south. The soft shimmer of the leygate glyph began to appear on the raft. This one had the same crashing waves as the Decidual glyph, but the night sky was replaced with a howling tempest.

"Damn," whispered Teren. The Guildswoman looked at him and his mouth grew dry. "Er, it's just that most magic I've seen doesn't involve such... complex footwork."

For the first time, her expression lost that edge. She genuinely smiled at him, not that cold leer from before. "I am a sinker of ships. A denizen of the Abyssal Plains. A knife in the dark and the deep. Keeping my art delicate is a small attempt to remain ladylike."

"You seem to have no problem appearing ladylike to me."

That got him a snort. "Your name, deathcrafter?"

"Teren of Decidual. I haven't earned a given name yet."

"Ah," she sighed. "You are a bit young, aren't you?"

Rotwood slapped Teren on the back, causing him to nearly fall off the raft. "Bah! This man will have himself a title by the time we come back through these parts."

"We are definitely not coming back this way!" Quickstrider interjected.

"I'll look forward to hearing it, Teren. I am called Helltide." Helltide nodded to the Tempest Rangers. "And this is Highglide and Cloudbringer." Everyone nodded at each other, exchanging meaningless pleasantries. It never hurt to acquaint oneself with the other disciplines. Rotwood of course gave his fake name, and Teren pinched Baltry again when he looked at Rot funny.

"What business do you have in Merdz?" asked Highglide, the one who had given up his cloak to Helltide.

"A celebration," said Ronic. "Some sort of festival they need a Gravecaller and Lifeguider for."

Highglide whistled. "Sounds like a good time. I didn't know Southrangers followed the Twelve Paths."

Cloudbringer looked thoughtful. "They don't."

"Anyways," interrupted Quickstrider, "We need to get a move on. That confusion earlier was unfortunate. We apologize for our part in it." The glyph was now centered on the platform, leaving room for the Guildswoman and Rangers to step clear of it.

"As do we," spoke Helltide. She looked again at Rotwood. "That curse you used on me. It won't have any lasting effect?".

Rotwood shook his head. "Even with the wand my deathcrafting isn't on the level to kill people with words and thoughts alone. I just... dislocated your soul from your body a teeny bit."

"That sounds bad."

"No, no. Not at all. It sounds worse than it actually is."

Her cruel smile had returned. "Fine. I'd hate to have to file a complaint with the Order, Gravecaller." She cast her gaze on the rest of the group, lingering on Teren. "You know the rules, stand on the glyph, don't set any belongings down."

Helltide stood tall, adjusting the Tempest Ranger coat keeping her modest. She gently traced a foot across the edge of the circle, winked at Teren, and dragged her toe across the line.

The world spun once again, and when it stopped Teren found himself in a humid garden, surrounded by towering hedges. Two women stood in front of them– a Current Guildswoman and a Petal Knight.

"Names?" said the Petal Knight, eyeing the group warily. She wore wooden armor painted violet and yellow. Her face was hidden by a hood and a wooden mask that obscured everything except the eyes.

Rotwood passed her the documents and pulled up his sleeve to reveal the Order of Remains crest tattooed on his wrist, a skull-faced monk holding up a torch with a date written underneath. "Quickstrider and Skullchalice, of the Halfbones party."

Quickstrider twisted her neck, drawing attention to the partially visible creed of Guiding Breath that would cover most of her back. "Helltide should have already cleared us."

The Petal Knight looked through the papers. "Yes," she mused. "One Lifeguider, one Gravecaller, three apprentices. You're on the list, Quickstrider and... Skullchanter?" She clicked her tongue. "Ugh, she really needs to work on her script."

"Skullchalice," Teren lied.

Baltry frowned, clearly confused. He wasn't taking the hint.

"Guess we'll be off now!" spoke Quickstrider to the Current Guildswoman. She placed a hand on Baltry's shoulder and squeezed gently.

"Sorry," the Knight responded. "There's actually a bit of a wait. If you'd like to wait in the garden, we'll have someone come and grab you when it's time."

...

The five of them sat at a table in a clearing surrounded by chirping birds and orange and yellow marigolds. A servant had come, offering them sugar wine and toasted honey bread. A small stream ran through the garden, and people were picking the flowers, whispering prayers into them, and dropping them in the water. Papanuy had been nothing but wilderness two years ago before the leys had formed, and the blank slate had allowed Sun's Shadow to craft a beautiful shrine around the crossroads. The stream that had been redirected and the hedge maze that surrounded the Papanuy Crossroads would give the Petal Knight and Current Guildswoman stationed here an excellent home field advantage.

"Exciting morning," Teren remarked. "He sipped on his sugar wine. Sweet and tangy, it didn't seem to be made with actual grapes.

"Feeling better, Baltry?" asked Quickstrider.

"I guess." He ran a hand through his long hair. "I didn't really have time to figure out what was going on. I thought maybe there was a problem with the ley. And then it got so cold, and my bag was dragging me down..." He shuddered. "And there was something down there with me. I sensed it."

"Yeah," said Teren. "That was Helltide."

Baltry shook his head. "I felt her and Master above me, but... There was something below. Something big."

The group was silent.

"When I looked into the water with soulcheck," Ronic said slowly, "I saw you, Master, and the skinswitcher. Nothing else."

Quickstrider grunted. "Baltry, you were disorientated from the water. If there was something else down there, I'd have seen it."

Baltry shook his head. "I've been diving out in the ocean ever since I was a kid. I wasn't disoriented, and I didn't imagine it. There was something below me." He shivered. "Felt like it was watching us."

Chills ran up Teren's spine, and he decided he didn't like the ocean as much as he thought he did. It was time for a subject change. "Hey. You all ever met a Twelve Paths Practitioner who could use a beastly art?"

Everyone looked at Teren.

Teren stared blankly back at them. "...What?"

"Nothing," grinned Ronic. "I've just never seen anyone flirt with you before."

"Flirt?" He frowned. "She was just being polite."

"Yeah," said Rotwood. "That woman who was staring daggers at everyone else and bragging about how she brutally murdered a Tantrovian was being polite to you."

Quickstrider shook her head and sighed. "You should know better than to stare at dangerous women like that, Teren. Even if she was bouncing around half-naked. Best case scenario a woman like that will see you staring and gut you like a fish."

"And the worst case?" asked Baltry.

"She'll marry you!" howled Rotwood, slapping his knee and laughing.

Teren closed his eyes and sent a prayer to the Saints. "How. Did. She. Skinswitch?"

Ronic frowned. "Did anyone see any jewelry on her? She could own something soulforged."

Teren's mind went back to the raft. He had gotten a good look at Helltide, and there wasn't anything on her when she crawled out of the water. Nothing on her at all. Completely exposed... Smiling at him. Teren discreetly crossed his legs, storing that memory away for later. "No, I, uh, don't believe she had anything like that."

Quickstrider scoffed. "You're thinking she had access to something like that? A sealed blade is rare enough, but sealed jewelry? No, I'm thinking that woman got her skinswitching the old-fashioned way."

Baltry paused mid-bite into his honey bread. "Wait. You don't think..."

"Hey," Rotwood growled. "We're not gonna sit here and accuse Path Practitioners of cannibalism."

"Right," agreed Ronic. "Especially if Teren's in love with her."

"Not in love with her!"

"Listen, Rot." Quickstrider leaned in close. "I'll tell you what I think happened before we arrived on that raft. A Tantrovian wouldn't be stupid enough to take a ley to the middle of the ocean without thinking he had a way out."

"True enough," said Teren. "Tantrov is an island of sailors and storms. They take the sea seriously."

Quickstrider drummed her fingers on the table, deep in thought. "He could have taken the Day Ley to the Southrange, and from there worked his way east. But he took the dangerous path. Why?"

"He believed he would have an easier time getting through the Ocean Ley," suggested Baltry.

"Precisely!" hissed Quickstrider. "That sellsword expected to pass without issue. Those Tempest Rangers were supposed to let him through!"

"So why didn't they?" asked Baltry.

"Because Helltide wasn't in on the plan." Quickstrider took a sip of her sugar wine. "Or maybe she was, but wanted a bit more coin from him. But whatever happened, he ended up dead in the ocean."

Rotwood frowned. "What purpose is there in entertaining this theory?"

"Hopefully none." Quickstrider's eyes narrowed. "All the same, we should stop by Crow's Crevice on the way home, dig up what we can. If Waykeepers are being bribed, we need to know."

"Works for me," said Teren, "I hear Istal is lovely this time of year."

Ronic flicked a bit of bread at him. "Apprentices don't get a say."

"Don't get cocky, grass-chewer. You're not named yet." He chucked the bread back at Ronic's head, nailing a glob of honey and toast right into his eye. The two of them began hurling food at each other, right up until one soared dangerously close to Quickstrider's scowling face.

Several laughing children ran past their table with wads of smashed marigolds clutched in their hands. "You'd think there'd be rules against that," said Baltry.

"What, the flowers?" said Rotwood. "It's a form of prayer in the western Sainted Lands. "And I bet that Petal Knight grows them back every day."

"Speaking of the Petal Knight. Why'd you tell her your name was Skullchasm?"

Rotwood shook his head. "Chalice, not chasm! Is Skullchalice no good?" He looked at Teren. "I was gonna give you that name for your title."

"...What? Why?"

Rotwood looked defeated. "I thought you'd like it!"

"You were gonna pre-pick my title like that?

It doesn't even have anything to do with me!"

"We could get you a skull to drink out of."

"I don't want to drink out of some random guy's skull!"

"Hmm. Could be a girl's skull."

Ronic coughed. "Master Rotwood? The Petal Knight?" 

"Right, right." Rotwood looked thoughtful. "Well, when I was about your age, my master brought me to the hills deep within Swampreach to deal with the Talenon clans. He was given charge of forty Gravemasks, all well-trained in the beastly arts." He took a bite of his honey bread. "It didn't go as planned. A Petal Knight had allied himself with the Talenon, using woodwhispering to turn the jungle against us. The trees seemed to move around us, and before we knew it we were lost deep within their territory..."

Teren finished off his wine and got up to take a piss. He didn't need to hear this tale again.

He passed people from all over the sainted lands as he walked through the garden. Shadowmen were naturally the most prevalent, wearing turbans and dark robes with wide necklines that left much of their shoulders and chest exposed, a style that Teren wished the women here had picked up as well. They instead tended more towards skirts, shawls, and intricate metal headdresses full of dangling bits. The men had thick beards and hairy chests, while the women had straight dark hair worn down to the waist. Most of their familiars and hybrids were monkeys, but there was one miniature elephant trailing a merchant that grabbed Teren's attention. Either it was a youth or had been mixmade down into a smaller size to get into the garden.

The newly founded town of Papanuy was close to the Barym border, and Teren spotted a large group waiting in the garden. Lower caste women with veiled face coverings waited on laughing ladies dressed in brightly dyed silks. The only men he could spot were the few bodyguards that trailed behind. The Barymi had squatter bodies and were of darker skin than their Sun's Shadow neighbors, but shared the same thick eyebrows, straight hair, and full beards. The men and women alike tended to leave most of the stomach exposed, so one could see their castemarks.

There was a sprinkling of travelers from Istal as well. The Istali were as pompous as ever, dressed in their togas and their commoner's crowns, artifacts passed down through ancient family lines. They were small in stature, but that only served to make their muscles look proportionally larger. Paired with their regal cheekbones, narrow eyes, and golden tan skin, Istali seemed like children of the Saints themselves. A few gave him odd looks as he pissed in a corner of a hedge wall.

He thought about Spellhaunt as he walked back to the group. Her scent was in the air, she had definitely found a way to follow them through the crossroads. Was it as simple as her standing on the glyph, or had she formed some sort of connection to him? He would ask her later tonight.

Rotwood was just about wrapped up with his story. "So when Thornblade found out what I had done to his former apprentice, he put a price on my head. First Petal Knight to duel me and take my wand would get his seat on the Wooden Council.

Ronic whistled. "Now that's a reward."

"Yeah," Rotwood sighed. "I can't even get catfish in Mudmouth without some upstart trying to cross blades with me." The capital of Fendal, Mudmouth, was the base of operations of the Wooden Council. "And it's getting worse, now that everyone passes through Decidual." He sighed again, slouching down in his seat.

A serving woman walked up to them and bowed. "Excuse me, holy ones. Your turn approaches for the leygate."

"Remember, you two." Rotwood got up and stretched, cracking his neck. "Skullchalice."