The Realmsic Conquest: The Hero of Legend by Demethius Jackson
“Get down!” Councilwoman Elva ordered. The other Council members barely had time to leap into the underbrush before several Legionaries sped past them on horseback. Their pounding hooves produced a cloud of dirt that almost made Elva sneeze. No doubt Damian was searching for them. If his Legion hunted with the same tenacity as they fought, they’d scour the land for any traces of the King and Council.
We’re in trouble, Elva worried. Smelling the damp earth under her, she lied still on the ground, concealed by a barberry bush.
At her age, Elva had become accustomed to a life of continual war. She’d come to accept its hardships. But experiencing life within the midst of battle was far different from life inside the castle, at the seat of power and safety. Now the personal realities of war assaulted her sensibilities. She was cold. Her clothing and hair were soiled. It terrified her to be actively tracked and targeted. Throughout their journey, she’d fought back the voices in her head—the ones that insisted she was too old to be useful to anyone; that hiding in the woods, evading capture, desperately seeking safety would ultimately get her killed.
She tried to bury her fears in the practicalities of just surviving. What were they to do out here in the wilderness? Her instructions from Maebus were vague at best. They simply said to Lead the Council on their journey, and accept the help of others along the way.
Other than heading southward, which she accepted from Khroy, she knew no other course of action. However, she knew that the rest of the Council was equally scared. Somehow, she’d muster her courage to guide the group forward while holding on to her trust in King Maebus. She’d watched him grow from a young boy into the leader of the Realm. She’d also been one of the first Council members to investigate the threat of Damian when he presented it to them. Therefore, she truly believed that if their kingdom had any chance of surviving, it’d be through Maebus.
Elva inhaled, realizing that her heart was racing. Be brave, she intoned under her breath. She repeated it like a mantra. Her arms trembled as she slightly lifted herself to peek over the leaves of the underbrush, checking for Legionaries. The sounds of galloping horses had faded before she signaled to the others. Her sharp eyes watched as the Legionaries disappeared in the distance.
“On your feet!” she commanded the group.
Council members rose with grunts and groans. The group had quickly become accustomed to following her, as she figured no others wanted to assume the responsibility. Throughout the night, they’d so far made good progress despite waiting for a few stragglers who occasionally fell behind due to fatigue. Now, hunger set in as the morning began. But she wanted to get just a little farther away from Centre Pointe before stopping the group to eat.
The Council itself was an interesting bunch. Its members were vastly experienced in military stratagem and magic, though none of them were fighters. Some, Elva reasoned, would be able to hold their own in a skirmish. But against a skilled enemy, the group’s chances of survival were slim. She pushed the thought from her mind with a shrug of her slender shoulders.
“Hurry all, we must keep pushing southward.” Her instruction was met with more groans as they resumed walking.
An hour of travel quickly passed with no other encounters with Legionaries. Aside from the box given to them by Commander Khroy, the group traveled with very few items. This allowed them to move swiftly. Hardly anyone spoke while en route. Mostly, Elva listened to the silence, cherishing the breeze as it whistled through the leaves of the high canopy trees. The morning sun’s rays sparkled beams of light through the branches. As she led the way through the South Woods, the husky voice of Councilman Ferst startled her. He stood at her elbow as they beat a path through the brush.
“Elva,” he said.
“What is it, Ferst?”
“Well, I can tell that the uncertainty of our situation is wearing on the group. Answers would be welcomed at this point. Do you know exactly where we’re going?”
Elva drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “As of right now, we’re going as far away from the castle as possible.”
Ferst thought for a moment. His strained face softened and she could see the wheels in his mind spinning in contemplation of something. He cleared his throat before speaking again.
“I truly don’t mean to add doubt to an already precarious situation, but something doesn’t make sense to me.”
Elva smiled wanly. “You are one of the most rational members of the Council, Ferst. Any insight you have is always welcomed by me.”
“Well then,” he started, smiling briefly as if to acknowledge the compliment. “Maebus’ plan seems intricate and well thought out. I have my instructions, as I’m sure you do also. But what I don’t understand is why he would direct us to go southward, particularly without any other instruction.”
For the first time in the conversation, Elva made eye contact with him. His brown eyes seemed as old and tired as she felt.
“Perhaps his intention was simply to remove us from harm’s way, in hopes that we’d rely on our own devices to find safety.”
“Hmmm,” Ferst cocked his head. “No. That doesn’t sound likely. What I know of Maebus, he doesn’t like to leave anything to chance.”
“Wait,” Elva’s posture suddenly straightened with excitement. “Didn’t Khroy mention something about being led by brothers?”
Ferst thought a moment and then nodded. “Indeed he did. But I have no clue what that means.”
“Neither do I,” Elva’s gaze resigned towards the ground.
“Excuse me,” said Councilman Windym. While walking behind them, he’d been listening to their conversation. Their eyes curiously followed him as he stepped forward to join them. Elva had always thought his appearance to be rather ... interesting. Windym’s long, lanky body was topped by a somewhat overgrown head. Everything about his appearance, from his nasally voice to his long pointed feet seemed awkward. Being the newest member of the Council—an administer of military—he’d not quite adjusted to the awe of working with its members, all who were well-known throughout the Realm.
“I, uh,” he nervously began, “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation, and I think I may ... Ooofff!”
At that moment, he was shoved out of the way by Councilman Jawn. “Can you believe this?” he huffed.
Oh, great! Elva pursed her lips. She sincerely didn’t like Jawn.
Ferst rubbed his temples.
“What is it, now?” Elva asked.
The Councilman scowled at her tone. “The now is that I want to know if I’m the only one who feels that this,” he paused briefly to find the right word, “this peregrination through the woods is completely irresponsible?”
Jawn loved sounding intelligent. His pointy nose lifted slightly, and his thin mouth grinned smugly at them.
“Irresponsible, how?” Elva asked, trying hard to maintain a cool tongue. “Do you not realize that we were all in danger? That we absolutely needed to flee the castle?”
“Yes, I did realize that,” Jawn quickly replied. “But southward? Towards the Hellish South Plains, of all places? Who in their right mind would actually want to go there, let alone seek refuge?”
Elva said nothing. She wanted to defend Maebus, but sincerely didn’t have an answer to the Councilman’s question.
“As far as I’m concerned, we’re still in danger,” Jawn whined.
“Actually, it makes perfect sense,” Ferst said, perhaps realizing the answer to his own previous question. “Think of it as the equivalent of hiding in the open. You’re right, Jawn. Who’d actually want to travel to the Hellish South Plains? Not many people, I would imagine. So who’d ever think to look for us there?”
“This is stupid,” Jawn said.
“You’re stupid,” Elva accidentally let slip. Her hawk gaze exuded annoyance.
Jawn looked directly into her brown eyes. “And speaking of being in the open,” he continued, ignoring her jab, “why are we traveling as a group? We’re only attracting attention to ou
rselves.”
“Oh! Are you volunteering to split from us?” Elva sarcastically asked.
Ferst suddenly extended his arms, stopping the Council members dead in their tracks.
Elva followed the direction of Ferst’s frightened gaze. Several feet ahead of them stood a hooded man, who obstructed their path. He glared at them, sword in hand. The man looked rugged and dirty. Elva noticed dried blood splattered about the man’s tattered clothing.
No one dared to speak or to move. Elva’s heart pounded. Her mind flashed with numerous possible deaths. Were they to be robbed? But they carried no possessions of value. Were they to be killed?
The man took a slow step toward them.
“Do something!” Jawn whispered to Elva and Ferst. “There are nine of us. Surely we can take down a lone swordsman.”
“Indeed, but who among us will suffer the first blow of that sword?” Ferst hissed. Councilman Windym suddenly pushed through them.
“I will,” he proclaimed, tapping into a courage Elva didn’t realize he possessed.
“No,” She grabbed at his sleeve, but he brushed her off.
“I’m tired of being scared.” Windym replied. His voice shook slightly. “I will rush him. When he lifts his sword to strike me, attack him, and then flee.”
Without another word, he took a step toward the swordsman—toward the certainty of death.
One foot after another, his pace quickened into a sprint towards the swordsman, who stood several yards away. His Council cape flailed behind him, revealing the Realmsic symbol on his olive uniform.
The man assumed a combat stance and began his charge. But no sooner had he lurched forward than he unexpectedly stopped.
“Halt,” the swordsman shouted, one arm outstretched.
Windym jolted to a stop. The Council collectively gasped when they came face to face, only inches from one another. Elva chewed on a fingernail.
The swordsman seemed to scrutinize the Councilman’s clothing before lowering his weapon.
His voice drifted to Elva. “Are you a Realmsic Councilman?” he asked.
Windym stuttered a reply. “Y-Yes, I am.”
The swordsman instantly lowered to one knee.
“My name is Roan,” he replied. “I’m a foot soldier in the Realmsic Army.”
Windym assisted the man to his feet. Cautiously, the Council members joined them. Elva was the first to reach them. Could it truly be? A Realmsic ally? Roan’s clothing were bloodier than Elva had first realized. His bruised, cut fingers fumbled with his sheath as he replaced his sword. Dirt packed his thick, full beard and eyebrows. She wondered how long he’d been in the wilderness.
“Soldier,” she formally addressed the man. “Why are you so far south? Why are you not in battle?”
“I was in battle,” Roan explained, “but now the battle is over. The castle has fallen, and the King has disbanded our forces.”
“The King what?” Elva exclaimed.
Roan said nothing.
The entire Council was stunned into silence. Elva knew that the citizenry and most of the Council had put their faith in King Maebus. They trusted his judgment. A strategic retreat was certainly understandable in response to an enemy such as Damian. But to completely relinquish power; dissolve the army; surrender the kingdom to a mad man ... such actions were reprehensible!
“No! I cannot believe it,” Ferst stomped his foot hard into the ground.
“What happened?” Elva asked the soldier.
“Councilwoman, all I know are my own orders, which were to fight, to temporarily hold off the Legion, and then flee.”
“Flee to where?” Jawn asked.
“Nowhere particularly,” Roan replied. “We were just told to scatter, to find refuge until signaled to reunite. But I have no idea when or if that will ever occur.”
“Where are you off to now?” Ferst asked the man.
“I’m heading to Trendolyn, a town towards the edge of the Western Nations. My family is there, and I need to be with them during these dark times.”
The word ‘dark’ resonated with Elva. Realmsic wars, though tragic, had always been typical. Over time, the Realmsic inhabitants had grown accustomed to the chaos. But Damian didn’t play by the typical rules. This plunged the Realm into unknown territory. A ‘dark time,’ Elva agreed, was a good assessment of their situation.
“Thank you, soldier,” she said. “We’ll delay you no further from your destination and your family.”
Roan bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Be cautious in your travels,” the soldier replied. “It’s not likely a large number of Legionaries have made it this far south, so you should be relatively safe as a group.”
“You don’t think traveling as a group is too conspicuous?” Jawn asked Roan.
“Not at all. Had I not heard you, Councilman, I never would have found you. Your complaints echo for miles.”
Jawn rolled his eyes.
Windym clasped hands with Roan. “I’m just glad I didn’t have to attack you,” he chuckled.
“As am I. You all would have been killed.”
With that, Roan bowed his farewell to the group and began walking away.
“What now?” Ferst asked.
Elva began to speak, but was interrupted by Jawn.
“I don’t think we should take another step until we decide as a group where we’re going,” he stated.
“We’re going to the Hellish South Plains!” Elva responded angrily.
“Why? Because the King said so? The same King who apparently surrendered the kingdom?” Jawn taunted.
Elva said nothing. She wanted to believe in Maebus; she wanted to trust in his guidance. But with the evidence stacking against him, perhaps his vagueness was simply caused by his own ambivalence? What would they do? The Hellish South Plains were treacherous. Without some kind of refuge, they’d undoubtedly perish. How could Maebus set them on such a journey knowing this?
Windym pulled back his Council cape to reveal a brown, medium-sized leather pouch. He reached into it and withdrew a pointed, metallic device. He held it out to the group.
“What’s that?” Elva asked.
“It’s what I tried to show you earlier,” he replied, glaring squarely at Jawn. “It accompanied my message from Maebus, which stated to follow the light. Though, I’m not sure how to.”
“May I?” Elva asked.
Windym handed her the device. She analyzed it, noting the smoothness of its metal surface.
“I’ve never seen this before.”
“It’s called a reflector,” gruffed a heavyset man stepping forward. Councilman Mert was another administer of military. He took the device from Elva.
“Not many people have seen this device yet, but the Grand Wizard very recently invented it as a way for our Laymen infantry to uncover hidden messages in the field. It was actually my suggestion to him,” he added proudly. “What you do is point the device forward, and…”
A bright bluish light shot from the tip of the unit and illuminated the forest before them. The group stood in awe.
“As I move in different directions, look for something, anything, that reflects or catches your eye,” Mert explained.
He began slowly panning his body in a circle, making sure the reflector light touched everything in view. “Does anyone see anything?”
The group focused in each direction in turn, straining to detect some reflection. Nobody called out in recognition.
“I’m afraid not,” Ferst responded.
“Well,” Mert handed the device back to Windym, “that’s technically how it works. If Maebus instructed us to go southward with this device, then there’s definitely something along the way he wants us to see. We’ll just have to keep looking.”
“Any objections?” Elva asked the group, though the question was directed at Jawn.
None came.
“Fine, then let’s keep moving,” she said, before leading the way once more.
Windym walked beside her this time. “Elva,” he began. “Why would Maebus give me a device he knew I’d never seen before and probably couldn’t use?”
She smiled. “Apparently because he knew the reflector would be well protected by your bravery.”
Windym chuckled, nodding. He turned the reflector on once again. In silence, the group of nine continued walking deeper into the woods, following the reflector light in hopes of uncovering hidden clues.
Chapter Fourteen
We’re in trouble, Elva worried. Smelling the damp earth under her, she lied still on the ground, concealed by a barberry bush.
At her age, Elva had become accustomed to a life of continual war. She’d come to accept its hardships. But experiencing life within the midst of battle was far different from life inside the castle, at the seat of power and safety. Now the personal realities of war assaulted her sensibilities. She was cold. Her clothing and hair were soiled. It terrified her to be actively tracked and targeted. Throughout their journey, she’d fought back the voices in her head—the ones that insisted she was too old to be useful to anyone; that hiding in the woods, evading capture, desperately seeking safety would ultimately get her killed.
She tried to bury her fears in the practicalities of just surviving. What were they to do out here in the wilderness? Her instructions from Maebus were vague at best. They simply said to Lead the Council on their journey, and accept the help of others along the way.
Other than heading southward, which she accepted from Khroy, she knew no other course of action. However, she knew that the rest of the Council was equally scared. Somehow, she’d muster her courage to guide the group forward while holding on to her trust in King Maebus. She’d watched him grow from a young boy into the leader of the Realm. She’d also been one of the first Council members to investigate the threat of Damian when he presented it to them. Therefore, she truly believed that if their kingdom had any chance of surviving, it’d be through Maebus.
Elva inhaled, realizing that her heart was racing. Be brave, she intoned under her breath. She repeated it like a mantra. Her arms trembled as she slightly lifted herself to peek over the leaves of the underbrush, checking for Legionaries. The sounds of galloping horses had faded before she signaled to the others. Her sharp eyes watched as the Legionaries disappeared in the distance.
“On your feet!” she commanded the group.
Council members rose with grunts and groans. The group had quickly become accustomed to following her, as she figured no others wanted to assume the responsibility. Throughout the night, they’d so far made good progress despite waiting for a few stragglers who occasionally fell behind due to fatigue. Now, hunger set in as the morning began. But she wanted to get just a little farther away from Centre Pointe before stopping the group to eat.
The Council itself was an interesting bunch. Its members were vastly experienced in military stratagem and magic, though none of them were fighters. Some, Elva reasoned, would be able to hold their own in a skirmish. But against a skilled enemy, the group’s chances of survival were slim. She pushed the thought from her mind with a shrug of her slender shoulders.
“Hurry all, we must keep pushing southward.” Her instruction was met with more groans as they resumed walking.
An hour of travel quickly passed with no other encounters with Legionaries. Aside from the box given to them by Commander Khroy, the group traveled with very few items. This allowed them to move swiftly. Hardly anyone spoke while en route. Mostly, Elva listened to the silence, cherishing the breeze as it whistled through the leaves of the high canopy trees. The morning sun’s rays sparkled beams of light through the branches. As she led the way through the South Woods, the husky voice of Councilman Ferst startled her. He stood at her elbow as they beat a path through the brush.
“Elva,” he said.
“What is it, Ferst?”
“Well, I can tell that the uncertainty of our situation is wearing on the group. Answers would be welcomed at this point. Do you know exactly where we’re going?”
Elva drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “As of right now, we’re going as far away from the castle as possible.”
Ferst thought for a moment. His strained face softened and she could see the wheels in his mind spinning in contemplation of something. He cleared his throat before speaking again.
“I truly don’t mean to add doubt to an already precarious situation, but something doesn’t make sense to me.”
Elva smiled wanly. “You are one of the most rational members of the Council, Ferst. Any insight you have is always welcomed by me.”
“Well then,” he started, smiling briefly as if to acknowledge the compliment. “Maebus’ plan seems intricate and well thought out. I have my instructions, as I’m sure you do also. But what I don’t understand is why he would direct us to go southward, particularly without any other instruction.”
For the first time in the conversation, Elva made eye contact with him. His brown eyes seemed as old and tired as she felt.
“Perhaps his intention was simply to remove us from harm’s way, in hopes that we’d rely on our own devices to find safety.”
“Hmmm,” Ferst cocked his head. “No. That doesn’t sound likely. What I know of Maebus, he doesn’t like to leave anything to chance.”
“Wait,” Elva’s posture suddenly straightened with excitement. “Didn’t Khroy mention something about being led by brothers?”
Ferst thought a moment and then nodded. “Indeed he did. But I have no clue what that means.”
“Neither do I,” Elva’s gaze resigned towards the ground.
“Excuse me,” said Councilman Windym. While walking behind them, he’d been listening to their conversation. Their eyes curiously followed him as he stepped forward to join them. Elva had always thought his appearance to be rather ... interesting. Windym’s long, lanky body was topped by a somewhat overgrown head. Everything about his appearance, from his nasally voice to his long pointed feet seemed awkward. Being the newest member of the Council—an administer of military—he’d not quite adjusted to the awe of working with its members, all who were well-known throughout the Realm.
“I, uh,” he nervously began, “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation, and I think I may ... Ooofff!”
At that moment, he was shoved out of the way by Councilman Jawn. “Can you believe this?” he huffed.
Oh, great! Elva pursed her lips. She sincerely didn’t like Jawn.
Ferst rubbed his temples.
“What is it, now?” Elva asked.
The Councilman scowled at her tone. “The now is that I want to know if I’m the only one who feels that this,” he paused briefly to find the right word, “this peregrination through the woods is completely irresponsible?”
Jawn loved sounding intelligent. His pointy nose lifted slightly, and his thin mouth grinned smugly at them.
“Irresponsible, how?” Elva asked, trying hard to maintain a cool tongue. “Do you not realize that we were all in danger? That we absolutely needed to flee the castle?”
“Yes, I did realize that,” Jawn quickly replied. “But southward? Towards the Hellish South Plains, of all places? Who in their right mind would actually want to go there, let alone seek refuge?”
Elva said nothing. She wanted to defend Maebus, but sincerely didn’t have an answer to the Councilman’s question.
“As far as I’m concerned, we’re still in danger,” Jawn whined.
“Actually, it makes perfect sense,” Ferst said, perhaps realizing the answer to his own previous question. “Think of it as the equivalent of hiding in the open. You’re right, Jawn. Who’d actually want to travel to the Hellish South Plains? Not many people, I would imagine. So who’d ever think to look for us there?”
“This is stupid,” Jawn said.
“You’re stupid,” Elva accidentally let slip. Her hawk gaze exuded annoyance.
Jawn looked directly into her brown eyes. “And speaking of being in the open,” he continued, ignoring her jab, “why are we traveling as a group? We’re only attracting attention to ou
“Oh! Are you volunteering to split from us?” Elva sarcastically asked.
Ferst suddenly extended his arms, stopping the Council members dead in their tracks.
Elva followed the direction of Ferst’s frightened gaze. Several feet ahead of them stood a hooded man, who obstructed their path. He glared at them, sword in hand. The man looked rugged and dirty. Elva noticed dried blood splattered about the man’s tattered clothing.
No one dared to speak or to move. Elva’s heart pounded. Her mind flashed with numerous possible deaths. Were they to be robbed? But they carried no possessions of value. Were they to be killed?
The man took a slow step toward them.
“Do something!” Jawn whispered to Elva and Ferst. “There are nine of us. Surely we can take down a lone swordsman.”
“Indeed, but who among us will suffer the first blow of that sword?” Ferst hissed. Councilman Windym suddenly pushed through them.
“I will,” he proclaimed, tapping into a courage Elva didn’t realize he possessed.
“No,” She grabbed at his sleeve, but he brushed her off.
“I’m tired of being scared.” Windym replied. His voice shook slightly. “I will rush him. When he lifts his sword to strike me, attack him, and then flee.”
Without another word, he took a step toward the swordsman—toward the certainty of death.
One foot after another, his pace quickened into a sprint towards the swordsman, who stood several yards away. His Council cape flailed behind him, revealing the Realmsic symbol on his olive uniform.
The man assumed a combat stance and began his charge. But no sooner had he lurched forward than he unexpectedly stopped.
“Halt,” the swordsman shouted, one arm outstretched.
Windym jolted to a stop. The Council collectively gasped when they came face to face, only inches from one another. Elva chewed on a fingernail.
The swordsman seemed to scrutinize the Councilman’s clothing before lowering his weapon.
His voice drifted to Elva. “Are you a Realmsic Councilman?” he asked.
Windym stuttered a reply. “Y-Yes, I am.”
The swordsman instantly lowered to one knee.
“My name is Roan,” he replied. “I’m a foot soldier in the Realmsic Army.”
Windym assisted the man to his feet. Cautiously, the Council members joined them. Elva was the first to reach them. Could it truly be? A Realmsic ally? Roan’s clothing were bloodier than Elva had first realized. His bruised, cut fingers fumbled with his sheath as he replaced his sword. Dirt packed his thick, full beard and eyebrows. She wondered how long he’d been in the wilderness.
“Soldier,” she formally addressed the man. “Why are you so far south? Why are you not in battle?”
“I was in battle,” Roan explained, “but now the battle is over. The castle has fallen, and the King has disbanded our forces.”
“The King what?” Elva exclaimed.
Roan said nothing.
The entire Council was stunned into silence. Elva knew that the citizenry and most of the Council had put their faith in King Maebus. They trusted his judgment. A strategic retreat was certainly understandable in response to an enemy such as Damian. But to completely relinquish power; dissolve the army; surrender the kingdom to a mad man ... such actions were reprehensible!
“No! I cannot believe it,” Ferst stomped his foot hard into the ground.
“What happened?” Elva asked the soldier.
“Councilwoman, all I know are my own orders, which were to fight, to temporarily hold off the Legion, and then flee.”
“Flee to where?” Jawn asked.
“Nowhere particularly,” Roan replied. “We were just told to scatter, to find refuge until signaled to reunite. But I have no idea when or if that will ever occur.”
“Where are you off to now?” Ferst asked the man.
“I’m heading to Trendolyn, a town towards the edge of the Western Nations. My family is there, and I need to be with them during these dark times.”
The word ‘dark’ resonated with Elva. Realmsic wars, though tragic, had always been typical. Over time, the Realmsic inhabitants had grown accustomed to the chaos. But Damian didn’t play by the typical rules. This plunged the Realm into unknown territory. A ‘dark time,’ Elva agreed, was a good assessment of their situation.
“Thank you, soldier,” she said. “We’ll delay you no further from your destination and your family.”
Roan bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Be cautious in your travels,” the soldier replied. “It’s not likely a large number of Legionaries have made it this far south, so you should be relatively safe as a group.”
“You don’t think traveling as a group is too conspicuous?” Jawn asked Roan.
“Not at all. Had I not heard you, Councilman, I never would have found you. Your complaints echo for miles.”
Jawn rolled his eyes.
Windym clasped hands with Roan. “I’m just glad I didn’t have to attack you,” he chuckled.
“As am I. You all would have been killed.”
With that, Roan bowed his farewell to the group and began walking away.
“What now?” Ferst asked.
Elva began to speak, but was interrupted by Jawn.
“I don’t think we should take another step until we decide as a group where we’re going,” he stated.
“We’re going to the Hellish South Plains!” Elva responded angrily.
“Why? Because the King said so? The same King who apparently surrendered the kingdom?” Jawn taunted.
Elva said nothing. She wanted to believe in Maebus; she wanted to trust in his guidance. But with the evidence stacking against him, perhaps his vagueness was simply caused by his own ambivalence? What would they do? The Hellish South Plains were treacherous. Without some kind of refuge, they’d undoubtedly perish. How could Maebus set them on such a journey knowing this?
Windym pulled back his Council cape to reveal a brown, medium-sized leather pouch. He reached into it and withdrew a pointed, metallic device. He held it out to the group.
“What’s that?” Elva asked.
“It’s what I tried to show you earlier,” he replied, glaring squarely at Jawn. “It accompanied my message from Maebus, which stated to follow the light. Though, I’m not sure how to.”
“May I?” Elva asked.
Windym handed her the device. She analyzed it, noting the smoothness of its metal surface.
“I’ve never seen this before.”
“It’s called a reflector,” gruffed a heavyset man stepping forward. Councilman Mert was another administer of military. He took the device from Elva.
“Not many people have seen this device yet, but the Grand Wizard very recently invented it as a way for our Laymen infantry to uncover hidden messages in the field. It was actually my suggestion to him,” he added proudly. “What you do is point the device forward, and…”
A bright bluish light shot from the tip of the unit and illuminated the forest before them. The group stood in awe.
“As I move in different directions, look for something, anything, that reflects or catches your eye,” Mert explained.
He began slowly panning his body in a circle, making sure the reflector light touched everything in view. “Does anyone see anything?”
The group focused in each direction in turn, straining to detect some reflection. Nobody called out in recognition.
“I’m afraid not,” Ferst responded.
“Well,” Mert handed the device back to Windym, “that’s technically how it works. If Maebus instructed us to go southward with this device, then there’s definitely something along the way he wants us to see. We’ll just have to keep looking.”
“Any objections?” Elva asked the group, though the question was directed at Jawn.
None came.
“Fine, then let’s keep moving,” she said, before leading the way once more.
She smiled. “Apparently because he knew the reflector would be well protected by your bravery.”
Windym chuckled, nodding. He turned the reflector on once again. In silence, the group of nine continued walking deeper into the woods, following the reflector light in hopes of uncovering hidden clues.
Chapter Fourteen