The Tears of Kas̆dael

Torin and Jasper were just outside of the door. Jasper could immediately tell that something was troubling Ihra, but when he tried to ask her, she just brushed him off. “We’ll talk about it later,” she whispered.

Torin, no doubt guessing the gist of Aphora’s words, simply gave her a sympathetic nod, before waving his hand at the two. “Come with me,” he said.

They wandered back down the corridor and descended a long flight of stairs. Jasper had to stop once or two to catch his breath, but necklace Aphora had given him had done a great deal to counter the resurrection sickness. When they finally reached the landing, the elf walked over to the wall. The walls opened at his touch, sliding apart to reveal a beautiful pastoral vista. A gentle breeze blew across their faces, imbued with the subtle scent of springtime rain and flowers. Jasper stepped out into a sprawling grassy meadow that led down to a tranquil lake. He shook his head. This place still makes no sense.

Grazing along the lake shore was Dapplegrim and, beside her, a giant hart. The beautiful deer sported a shaggy white coat and delicate silver antlers sprouted from its head. Torin grinned as he led them over to the animals. “I believe you do not intend to stay in Sapiya much longer, but if the two of you are going to be traveling, you need better mounts.”

“Lady Ihra, it is only fitting for you to have a mount worthy of your heritage.” He gave her a long, knowing stare, and patted the large deer on its hindquarters. “Lady Aphora has chosen to give you a deer sired by her own mount. Keresh is still growing a bit, but he’s already a fine beast. We also will provide you with a full set of equipment for him.”

Jasper examined the gorgeous animal with a touch of envy. The giant hart was almost as large as a bull moose. And it’s still growing? Next to him, his little Dapplegrim seemed downright lackluster. He immediately felt bad for the thought and rubbed the little pony apologetically on the nose. “Sorry, girl.”

Torin turned to him. “Fear not, you have not been forgotten. We intended to give you a horse more worthy of the name, but when I examined your pony, I saw that the creature had been blessed by our Lady. A gift from her should not be turned away.” Dapplegrim neighed, stomping her hoove against the ground, and the elf smiled, speaking a few words in a language Jasper did not understand. Did he just talk to my horse? Reaching into his bag, Torin pulled something out and offered it to Jasper.

Jasper stared dumbly at the object in the elf's hand. It was a pomegranate.

“Uhh, thanks?”

Torin’s grin faded as he took in Jasper’s look of disappointment. “You don't know what this is?”

Jasper tried to hide his disappointment. “No, I’ve seen pomegranates before. They’re tasty enough, I guess.” He tossed the fruit up in the air, but before it fell back in his hand, Torin snatched it away, cradling the fruit almost reverently.

“No, you do not understand.” Torin held the fruit up. Its ruby skin glistened in the gentle sunlight of the meadow. “This is no ordinary pomegranate. It was grown from a tree blessed by the goddess Hetseba, from the sacred groves in the realms of St. Martin, deep beneath the earth. It will never decay and cannot be harmed - but, please, do not simply eat it,” he sternly warned.

“Because of the blessing from our Lady, we believe that Dapplegrim will evolve with you when you receive your first class change at level 100. Shortly before your horse begins its evolution, feed it this pomegranate, and whatever evolution the pony would have received will be upgraded. It may not look like much, but I assure you, this fruit is a precious gift.”

Thanking the elf, Jasper carefully stowed the pomegranate in his bag. When he looked up, he realized Torin was holding something else in his face. “Since we have no way of knowing what your mount will evolve into, we could not provide you with appropriate gear for your mount, as we did with Ihra. Take this money and use it as you need when the time comes.”

He peered inside the small pouch, and almost gasped in wonder. It was filled to the brim with gold coins. I could retire on this. Just how expensive is Ihra’s gear? He tilted his head to the left in the elven gesture of respect. “Thank you, Torin. This is far more than I expected.”

Torin shook his head. “I know your view of Aphora may be less than ideal, but the entire life of our community depends on her. We are all extremely grateful for your help. We have one more thing to give the two of you.” He pulled a letter out of his bag. “You plan to head south to the Harei Miqlat, the home of your people, do you not?”

Jasper nodded slowly, his eyes flickering over to Ihra. “Yeah, assuming we survive the next few days.”

Torin handed him the letter. “Obviously you already know this, but few are allowed to pass into the sacred mountains unless they are of the blood. Unless you are some hidden scion of a great house, Ihra would not be allowed to enter with you. But Aphora work with the Djinn for centuries and has many connections. This letter should smooth the path before you, and allow Ihra to pass through the gates. With it, no doors shall be barred against you.” He waved Jasper’s thanks off. “Now, I apologize for leaving you here, but there is much I need to prepare before our expedition departs. I’ll send someone to get you when we’re ready to leave.”

Torin had no sooner left the meadow when Ihra leapt on her mount. The hart dashed back and forth across the sandy shores with a speed that bordered on the supernatural. At last, she drew her mount to a stop beside him. A wide grin split her face from ear to ear. “This is the best gift ever!” She wrapped her arms around the stag’s neck, hugging it tightly. The deer looked offended for a moment, then, with a slight snort, it leaned into her embrace.

She hopped off the deer, landing gracefully on the rippled sand. She looked a little ashamed as she saw Jasper standing by his little pony. “It’s too bad you can’t use your gift immediately, but I’m sure it will be amazing,” she tried to console him.

Jasper laughed. “You know what? I’m not going to lie, I was kind of jealous at first. But I named her Dapplegrim because I expect big things out of her.” He patted the bag at his side. “Now, with the pomegranate, I guess my faith’s been rewarded. I may have to wait a little longer, but I’m sure it’ll be worth it in the end.” The little pony nuzzled him, neighing as if it understood.

It was hard to judge the passage of time, as the sun shining over the meadow never moved, but their wait did not feel long, before a servant came to fetch them, and take them to join the rest of the expedition. A contingent of elves lined up in the streets of Gis̆-Izum outside Aphora’s conclave. Jasper cast a critical eye over the group. The elves looked like they had stepped straight out of the pages of a fantasy novel. Each one was arrayed in a shiny suit of armor, their helmets vaguely resembling something you’d see from ancient Greece. They were all outfitted with the same weapons: a light buckler, a crescent sword, and a bow on their back, and all were mounted on stags like Ihra and Aphora's mounts, albeit less grand.

But their numbers were far smaller than he expected. “There’s what, a hundred here?” he asked Ihra.

She sat beside him on her new mount, a wave of nervousness rushing over her when the elves saw her. Ihra had always felt a bit uncertain about her heritage. It was just one of the many question marks in her past, one of her many shortcomings. Until her antlers had begun to grow, a change sparked by whatever happened in the city, she would never have dreamed of possessing such a mount. But her doubts still lingered. Am I really worthy of such a formidable creature?

As if reading her thoughts, Keresh turned its head, gently poking the tip of its antler into her shoulder as it fixed its eyes on her. She patted its head, and the hart turned away. She pushed her doubts aside and straightened up in the saddle. I’m as worthy as I choose to be.

“Ihra?”

Jasper’s words broke through her scattered thoughts. “What?”

He leaned closer, talking quietly. “What do you think? Doesn’t this seem like way too small of a group to challenge the queen?”

She scanned the group. They were impressive, yes, but Jasper was right. Their numbers seemed too few. But she had seen Aphora face the queen on the wall. She suppressed a shudder at the memory. If not for Aphora, she might have succumbed to the queen’s commands. Jasper might not trust her - understandably so - but Ihra felt confident that Aphora really did want to defeat her mother. She shrugged. “Surely a hundred powerful warriors are worth more than a thousand scrubs like us.”

Jasper frowned but reluctantly agreed with her. “Maybe you’re right.”

They rode through the streets of Gis̆-Izum, the clatter of their hooves filling the largely empty streets. She wondered how long it would take before the citizens felt safe to leave their homes. Their progress was unimpeded until they reached the city gates. A man stood before the gate, dressed in a full suit of armor. He held an unsheathed sword in his hand and advanced to meet them.

“Hold! Do not leave this city!”

He spoke in an authoritative tone, with the easy confidence of a man used to having his orders obeyed. But when he stopped in front of Aphora, Ihra could hear the notes of desperation bleeding through his voice. “Lady Aphora, the city needs you here. Do not abandon the city that has so long given you succor.”

Aphora peered down at the man. “I’m sorry, Lord Khur, but my mother cannot be allowed to rampage through the lands. I will pass through these gates, either as a friend or as an enemy.”

The man puffed up for a second, his hand twitching on his sword. But then he shrunk back, his body slumped in defeat. “I know I have no authority over you, to command you, but, please, Aphora, as a friend, stay. I cannot stop you but to meet that army in the open field, with a hundred men, is sheer folly.”

Aphora shook her head. “Even if it were folly, I must do it nonetheless. But fear not, Lord Khur, these are not all the forces at my disposal. More await me along the road.”

The noble sighed. "I feared I would not be able to convince you, but I had to try. Very well." He slowly walked to the side, leaving the road through the gate unobstructed. “Let them pass,” he ordered his men. “Farewell, my Lady. May Selene watch over you.”

They rode out of the gates and across the slow-moving river that wrapped its way around the west flank of the city. A rank odor filled the air, and Jasper was surprised to see the river was jammed with hundreds of small logs. Nudging Dapplegrim closer to the edge of the bridge, he almost gasped when the truth hit him. They were corpses. A motley array of monsters and Corsyths floated in the water, their bodies bloated almost beyond recognition, and great clouds of flies swarmed over the waters. Overwhelmed by the deadly combo of sight and stench, he heaved his guts out.

It was not until the city had finally shrunk into the distance that the odious stench abated. They reached Khiryat within a few hours, where another ghastly sight awaited. In a short time, the village had been devastated twice, first by the guild and then by the queen. Little reminded of the charming place they had briefly stopped in. The queen had burned the village to the ground, with only a few structures still standing unsteadily, but the true horror was the guild's work. As they rode into the smoldering ruins, the main road of the village was lined with the cultists' corpses, hung on stakes in the ground. Signs hung around their neck.

“Cultist.”

“Cannibal.”

“Soul-Stealer.”

A part of him recoiled in revulsion, but the feeling passed almost as soon as it came. They deserved their fate.

But despite the devastation, the village was far from abandoned. Tents were dotted throughout the ruins, wherever space was available, and, everywhere he looked, hundreds of elves were milling about. Their group drew to a halt beside the village well as the reinforcements swarmed them.

“Lady Aphora!” A large elven man rushed over to them, bowing deeply before her. His arms were covered in thick hair, his legs hooved, and as he stood up, Jasper could see that even his face, obscured beneath a stately pair of antlers, was a bit longer than normal. “I gathered everyone I could.”

Her gaze swept over the crowd in an instant, a slight furrow creasing her brow as she spoke. “There are fewer here than I expected, Mullu-Lim. Did the others refuse my call?”

The man-deer huffed. “No, my Lady, but your summons were unexpected. A large group of our finest warriors set off on a hunting trip deep into the mountains more than a month ago, and many of our people were already on their way to Ikkarim to trade at their harvest festival. I sent messengers after them, but I don’t know if they can reach them in time. Shall we wait for them here?”

Aphora shook her head slowly, the regret clear in his voice. “Unfortunately we cannot afford to tarry. If we have any hope to save Hargish, we must press on. Gather those that are here and we will depart.”

Mullu-Lim bowed. "As you wish. I will gather them immediately." The massive elf vanished into the crowd, which soon burst into a hum of activity. The sea of tents disappeared rapidly, as the elves began to fall in line behind Aphora. Unlike those from her enclave, they were not dressed in identical gear, but rather a haphazard and mismatched collections of arms and armor. But despite their lack of uniformity, the reinforcements moved with the measured gait of warriors and quickly assembled into units that moved as one. Clearly, this isn't their first time working together, Jasper realized.

Within thirty minutes, the group was ready to depart. Aphora's army had swelled from perhaps a hundred to nearly two thousand, and Jasper felt a bit more confident in their quest. The queen’s forces still heavily outnumbered them - although he wasn’t sure how large her forces truly were - but he hoped that they might at least have a fighting chance.

The army rode through the night and the next day without break, only stopping to rest as the sun set on the second day. This pattern continued through the next week as they chased after the queen, trying to make up for lost time. While the lack of sleep did not seem to bother the elves, the days begin to blur together as the lack of sleep caught up with Jasper. Eventually, he ended up tying himself to his horse, nodding off from time to time as they rode, trusting Dapplegrim to stay with the group.

Their forces slowly grew as small bands joined them. Most were elves that had responded to Mullu-Lim's messengers, but Jasper was surprised to see a few that weren’t. He was particularly excited when thirty or so dwarves, accompanied by a few satyrs, joined them on the eighth day - the first of either race that he had seen since arriving in Corsythia. But the true surprise was waiting for them when they finally emerged from the alpine forests, descending back into the hot, jungle-filed valley of central Sapiya.