Journeys-5 (Patreon)

We were just finishing up our meal at the Snug Harbour – Klinar had chosen to treat me, and it was at least decent – and dealing with Taelia and Finnall's combined desire for more stories when Cyrus returned. He wasn't alone, however; not only did he have Lord Waycrest with him, but half a dozen marines escorting Lady Katherine.

Their reception was utterly unlike our own when we came in. The pub was fairly cosmopolitan, with a smattering of accents from all over – including Gilnean – and even a table of dwarves with a gnome, so they didn't give our group much more than a second glance. The arrival of the lord and lady, however, had the clamour of the pub suddenly still entirely, a number of sailors standing quietly and giving their nobles a hasty and somewhat sloppy salute.

I glanced at her escorts, trying to put myself at ease despite how the question of whether she was going to throw me out like Vivi was running through my mind. Sending Cyrus after me, especially Taelia in tow, didn't make sense if she wanted to do that.

But it was hard to ignore the possibility. Nor the fact I'd just have to take it, for the sake of the negotiations, if she chose to.

"At ease." Lady Katherine said nodding to the saluting sailors. She clasped her hands behind her back as she strode inside, the severe frown she wore pulling at her face, making her look older than she was – or maybe telling the truth of her age, her hair was starting to grey in places after all. "I won't be here long, but I am afraid I must ask for privacy. May we have a room?"

"Of course!" The barkeep yelped. "Private booths, dining ones. Got, ah, a family reserving one in an hour – I'm sure they'll understand, your Ladyship." He scrambled out from behind the bar, rubbing at his apron as he did so. "This way, this way."

She looked to our table and nodded. "Follow." She ordered.

With more than a few nerves, I stood and followed her. I shouldn't have left Vivi behind; she should be here, offering support like she always did. Flying out was a stupid decision, even if it made for a dramatic exit.

Finnall walked up to Lady Katherine. "You're not angry with her, are you?" She demanded. "You shouldn't be!"

Lady Katherine didn't slow her steps as she ruffled her granddaughter's hair fondly. "I am not, dear one." She glanced over her shoulder at me. "As you may have surmised, my husband has not ordered your removal from Kul Tiras nor Boralus. Only the hospitality of the keep has been denied to you."

"I took his wording as such." I said drily, then shook myself. She wasn't the one responsible for that. "Still, thank you for the clarification, Lady Katherine."

"Here we are, m'lady." The barkeep said, pushing open a door. "Best room we have. Will you be wanting anything? Food? Drink?"

"A round of drinks for all." Lord Waycrest replied, gesturing to Cyrus who handed over a small pile of coins. "To apologise for the disruption. Some light food for the men, but no ale while they are on the job – we have standards to maintain, after all."

"Of course! Of course!" The barkeep nodded his head easily. "I'll leave you to it. Of course."

We all filtered into the room, with Lord Waycrest and Lady Katherine on one side while Klinar and I took the other. After a moment Finnall joined her mother, and Taelia plopped herself down beside her – Cyrus closed the door behind him, standing stoically in front of it, while the remaining marines stood guard outside.

Lady Katherine folded her hands in front of her, meeting my eyes for a moment, before sighing. "I do not approve of what my daughter is likely doing across the ocean, however I recognise that it is her choice and do not place any blame upon you. Nor does Kul Tiras as a whole. Your warning has been heard and will be listened to – I would rather..." She held her breath for a moment. "I would rather be angry with my daughter's actions than grieving lost family once more."

"Aunt Jaina might die?" Finnall asked with wide eyes, a creeping mote of fear in her voice.

"No." I shook my head immediately. "She's better prepared, has more forces, knows what's coming. She's safer than she could have been otherwise; no. It was Daelin that might've died, if he did something..." I trailed off, thinking better of insulting the Lord Admiral before his wife and friend.

"Reckless." Lady Katherine finished for me, a lurking fire in her eyes – albeit not directed at me. "With reasons aplenty for the decisions he might've taken, but reckless nonetheless. Failing to consider our daughter's foolish attachment to these orcs."

"On my part, I say I understand well her sentiment." Lord Waycrest spoke without any of the strain Lady Katherine had. "My family has a history of finding allies amongst the direst of foes, and their aid becoming instrumental in our survival."

It was an... interesting statement. One which, by Lady Katherine's annoyed expression as she looked at him, no one had much more clue than me as to what exactly he meant. "Thank you?" I offered, my voice lilting with confusion. "Maybe the preparations would've been enough without the orcs. But with the fate of the world at stake, it was not worth any risk at all."

"A mere hundred years ago the kingdoms of man fought against one another as hated foes." Klinar said bluntly, a single eyebrow quirking at Lady Katherine. "Not even twenty years ago they put aside old hatreds and banded together against an enemy as one. The grudges of one generation do not last forever."

Lady Katherine frowned. "I have said my piece and will say no more on the topic." She declared firmly and held a hand out towards Cyrus. "There are other matters to speak of." Cyrus passed her a small sheaf of papers, barely three pages in all, which she placed on the table. "There have been many Gunthers who have gone sailing with our merchant marine over the years, but few who travelled to Gilneas. Several have been confirmed dead, one is a man known to prefer..." she scrunched up her nose in displeasure, "others like himself. I know not how useful this will be to your search, but it is yours with my thanks."

It was significantly more to go by than what I'd had before. Picking them up I skimmed over the words quickly, nothing catching my eye too much; a scrimshander living in Falconhurst, a shipright in Brennadam, a fisher from Bridgeport...

"When Jaina returns from across the ocean there will be a grand celebration planned, both for the return of the fleet and our victory." Lady Katherine said, standing and brushing down her coat. "Regardless of my husband's wishes, you will be invited. With that, I bid you farewell – Tidemother favour your search and see you return home."

"Thank you, Lady Katherine." I bowed my head to the woman, clutching the papers to my chest. "Keepers watch over you, and may the Stormlord grant your fair winds."

"Goodbye Grandma!" Finnall waved at Lady Katherine as she left.

Returning the wave, she nodded to me once more and passed Cyrus; the clanking footsteps of the marines told me that though he remained, the rest of her guard detail was following her departure.

"And now I suppose it is my turn." Lord Waycrest mused. "When Sir Crestfall came to me asking to aid you in seeking out the 'Wicker Men'," his lips quirked lightly, making me furrow my brow, wondering what exactly he was amused by, "I initially intended to do little more than write a letter of introduction. My dear Meredith could handle further questions, and the many records of my people's beliefs of witchcraft would keep you occupied with your search for some time."

My eyes narrowed. The way he was talking was as if he had intended to give me the runaround, sending me on a wild goose chase.

"It was in speaking of your father's connection to them, and indeed of hearing about your Order of Amber from Darius, that I changed my mind." He flicked a letter onto the table, one bearing the falcon seal of his house. "I know little of their traditions, save that they have them, but their reclusive nature is plain for all to see. This letter grants you the authority to seek them out in my lands, but no more than that."

I tilted my head at him. "Even if you say you don't know much, you sound like you've met them." And cared about their secrecy.

He barked out a short laugh and stood. "I can say with complete honesty that I have never knowingly met a 'Wicker Man', under that title or any other. Nor have I met with any who wield magics as you do." He smirked. "However... should you travel past Fallhaven, look to the forest to the southwest in the shadow of the mountains. There, you might find the very Heart of the Forest itself – something I believe to be of great interest to ones such as yourself."

"That is infuriatingly vague, Lord Waycrest." Klinar told him bluntly. "Did you intend to help or hinder with your words?"

Nodding my agreement I stared at him. "And here I thought I was the prophet here. Vagaries and confusing messages is supposed to be my thing!"

"I thought being confusingly precise was your thing?" Finnall asked, giving me an odd look. "Mother said that's why people didn't think they were real, because you told them too... um, much stuff."

Lord Waycrest chuckled. "Think of it as a test. If you are as you seem to be, you will find what you seek; if you are not, a secret is kept securely once more." His grin fell away and he stood straighter, looking every part the dutiful and stoic noble lord he was meant to be. "Long has it been since the Order of Embers was needed, but though millennia may pass we still remember Arom's oaths. All of them."

Order of Embers? I quirked an eyebrow, but he just shook his head as he relaxed.

"I will bid you farewell and good luck, Witch Arevin. Tidemother grant you fair winds as you fly." He dipped his head slightly before marching out the door.

"Oh!" Taelia blurted out, looking up at me with bright and curious eyes. "Everyone says you flew away, but even Finn's mom can't do that! She just sort of hovers a bit, not flying! I want to fly, like Finn said your friend Queen Lorna does on a gryphon! How do you do it?!"

"Mother can too fly!" Finnall protested briefly, but gave me the same look as Taelia. "But, um, yeah, how?!"

Klinar leaned back and sighed.

I wanted to try and puzzle out what the hell Lord Waycrest meant, but I'd have plenty of time in flight to do that and far too little to do otherwise. "Well, you see..." I tapped my chin. "Magic has its uses."

"No fair!"

"That's not an explanation!"

Giggling at their response I patted Taelia's head, and partway through the motion shifted. Between one moment and the next I was a fox, one paw resting on the young girl's head as her eyes went even wider with surprise, a little shock, and a whole lot of excitement.

My ears flattened against my head in pain as the screeching squeals began.

-oOoOo-

I settled into a sheltered alley and turned back, grimacing as I ran a hand through my now frizzy ponytail. "Bloody sea air." I grumbled, setting about fixing it as best I could as I walked out into the town. Flying for days, through rain, fog, and a short gale hadn't been fun, but I didn't have the time to be waiting around.

Just before I left Boralus, a messenger from Darius arrived telling me I had just two weeks before I needed to return to catch the Indefatigable. He was confident the negotiations would be done by then, but even if they weren't, they would continue on our way to Ironforge as Lady Ashvane was intent on being present and most of his business was, as it turned out, with her rather than Daelin Proudmoore himself.

It was only Gilneas' return to the Alliance that would involve the Lord Admiral. Lady Ashvane was handling the return of trade between our countries and the transport of refugees and supplies between Gilneas and Kul Tiras.

Two weeks just didn't feel long enough, especially not after wasting a day in Bridgeport chasing a dead end. There was a fisherman named Gunther there, and his son, Gunther, and his baby grandson, also Gunther – and of all of them, it was the son, barely two years my senior, who'd sailed to Gilneas as a cabin boy some ten years ago. If I wasn't in such a rush, or they'd actually understood me when I was asking questions, I'd have found the whole thing funny.

But no. To them my accent was incomprehensible and it took all day to get through to them and realise what the story was. That, and the two days of flying, left with just under nine days to work with before I had to head back. Less if I needed to go further west.

"This better be Fallhaven." I grumbled, trying to spot anything that'd tell me where I was. I'd gotten lost once already, flying into the wrong town. "Now where's the pub... no chance they don't have one."

Hopefully they'd have a bath I could use too, and some food to eat. I'd see if the local rumours about the woods gave more of a clue as to what Lord Waycrest meant about the 'Heart of the Forest' too; the man was infuriatingly vague, but he was right. It was the kind of thing others like me would congregate around if it was real.

-oOoOo-

I ran my fingers along the mossy bark of a fallen tree, the deadfall still resonating with the pulse of Life in the forest. According to the locals there was no special name for the forest I was walking through, referring to it only as the West-Haven Woods if pressed, but from the feel of the place... it was more than a simple wood. The warm and radiant trees here, each one brimming with Life, meant it deserved one.

It was no Blackwald, to be sure. Not only did it lack the dark and twisted suspicion, the imminent threat of danger with every creaking branch, it was... lesser. Still living, still thriving, but in the way my own garden was. Or Celestine's grove – a font of life forged by magic, but not fed by a grand current and shepherded by a Great Tree.

Yet, though it was similar in intensity to what Celestine and I might make for ourselves, the scope was immense. Across all the miles I had walked through the forest so far, following the only trail of magic I could find, the essence of the forest had remained the same.

"Hunter and hunted." I said, trying to put the feeling into words. "No, that's not quite it..."

The woodsmen were right when they said this forest was a place of plenty; just as the trees resonated with Life, so too did all the animals within. Faster, quicker, larger, livelier, just more in every regard – including numbers. Packs of wolves chasing down deer, bobcats lurking in the treetops to snag squirrels and birds, boars squabbling amongst the undergrowth before a bear picks off the stragglers.

And, much the same, their stories of those who sought to exploit the forest being brought down rang true as well. It was hardly the implicit threat of the Blackwald, the unending danger that forest espoused, but it was still there.

Everything here was... balanced, in a way. Rising as another fell, falling to allow another to rise, but nothing ceasing. Just like the fallen tree, it all just fed back into the forest itself. Every part complemented another in a grand and intricate ecosystem that the magic itself supported. It was quite beautiful, both physically and magically, in its own way.

"Still, for Lord Waycrest's Heart of the Forest I'm rather disappointed." I said as I came to a stop before a waterfall, the trail I was following petering out into the torrent of water before me. It might continue on, growing stronger, but if it did...

It did so beneath the mountain or beyond. Not here.

Looking up through the clearing around the waterfall at the tall mountain peaks to the west, I found that I wasn't eager to challenge them. Even flying, finding a lower pass, crossing those snow-capped peaks would be an unpleasant experience – and late in the day as it was, I was going to get stuck halfway up and have to make camp in the cold. No, better to rest here for the night; there was fresh water and plentiful wood for a small campfire. I didn't need to sleep in the cold tonight.

"Best get to it." I sighed and got to work gathering up some stones from the river for my fire pit. Wasn't often I needed to do this, but I was going to do it right.

-oOoOo-

I woke from a dream of twinkling stars and watchful moons, of prancing stags and towering bears, of secrets and forests and thorns, so many thorns, slowly. My eyes were slower still, protesting against opening into the clammy and still air as I glared up at the stars that shone in the sky, twinkling away as they cast their light down onto the world. Down onto me.

"What." I grumbled up at them, all but demanding an answer even as I wondered if the dream was just that, a dream, or something more.

“Wake.” They twinkled, a trickle of curiosity, encouragement, and of patience infusing the word.

"This had better be worth it." I sighed grumpily, pushing myself upright and pulling my cloak tight about me. It was cold and damp, clammy and still... and quiet. More quiet than it should be.

Just hours ago the whole forest had been alive with sound, noise that didn't cease, and even in the dead of night, there should be something. Nocturnal animals prowling through the trees, the flow of the waterfall cascading into the river, or the faintest rustle of leaves in a breeze. But there was nothing.

The entire forest, everything, seemed to be waiting with baited breath. A rising tension that would be released in one grand and awe-inspiring moment.

Frankly, it worried me.

"Alright, getting up." I hissed, now hearing the softness and muffling of my words that was so strange. I gathered my possessions as quickly as I could, shoving them into my bag, slinging it around my shoulder and conjuring a starlight to see by – and it flickered. For a moment I held my ball of light, a tiny fraction of Astral magic drawn to my hand and made to mimic the light of the stars, and it flickered. Distorting and twisting towards the river.

A moment later it did it again, concerning me even more than the still-flowing yet silent waterfall it illuminated.

I looked up at the sky again, the twinkling stars continuing to shine their encouragement down upon me, and frowned. "I guess I have a direction..." I mumbled, starting towards the river.

As I approached the sound of the waterfall returned faintly, rising in volume more and more as I approached – but even as I hopped across several rocks to cross the river, it never rose above a muffled roar. Like someone had thrown a blanket of wool metres thick over the sound, all but deafening it, and once I was past it was gone again.

And once more, my starlight flickered, pointing me on my way.

It made me wonder if there was a way of doing this intentionally, making a... guidance spell that would illuminate a path to follow towards a divined target. There would be limitations, like all Astral divinations had, but there was something to be said for being literally led to your destination.

Albeit, not so kindly when you had no idea who, or what, was doing the guiding. And quite unkindly when they seemed to be doing so much to put you on edge the entire time.

The path continued through the trees, the canopy thickening and letting only the barest glimmer of starlight through, but still they shone down brightly, without fear or concern. I would rather the wind was here, a gentle breeze reassuring me, but the air stayed resolutely still and eerie – the only sound my muffled footsteps, my breathing, and the beating of my heart.

Here and there I thought I saw a shadow move in the trees, but every time I turned to look, to catch the titanic figure that seemed to be stalking me, it was gone.

I could feel myself getting closer, the tension in the trees rising, and the starlight in my hand quivered, fading as it flickered and distorted. Something was fighting me over my light, and despite my efforts, I was losing.

Finally, I stepped through a bush into a clearing, just as the starlight winked out, and my breath caught in my lungs.

Before me stood a stag, no, a Stag, his antlers so wide and tall they held up stars themselves, trailing beneath and behind them in twinkling constellations that made his coat pure snow-white coat shimmer under their light. His dark eyes shone with intelligence and regal bearing, a presence I could only attribute to the likes of Rokkri and Lord Renard themselves.

"Welcome," the Stag spoke, his voice sombre and all but ageless, "disciple of the Silver Tongue, to my forest.

But it wasn't just him. Beside him stood a Doe, her fur black as midnight and drinking in the light of her companion's stars. Her sleek form was small beside his, hard to even look upon without my eyes blurring, but her eyes glowed with power – shining purple orbs that radiated out beyond her head. And above, atop her brow, hung a glimmering crescent moon.

"Greetings, child of the moon." She whispered, her voice a trembling vibration that seemed to rise and fall between one ear and the other.

"You..." They were both magnificent, powerful, and awe-inspiring. Yet... they weren't Lord Renard. They had presence, a weight that spread far beyond their bodies, but it was far less than Renard's was. Maybe even less than Rokkri's. "Aren't Malorne." I said lamely.

Shaking his head, the Stag snorted. "I am Athair, the Heart of the Forest."

"And I am Athainne, the Secret Keeper of the Forest." Athainne whispered, and with her trembling voice suddenly all the sounds that had been missing rushed back. A cacophony of crashing water that drowned out her next words, though I heard them still; echoed in the shining of the Athair's stars, the shimmering light of her crescent moon, and the twinkling of the stars above. "You are known to us, Child of Two Stars. And now we are known to you."

They weren't Lord Renard, they weren't his equal, yet even if I could somehow deny them the title of Wild God, I couldn't call them anything but gods of this land. Athair's title was all but literal – now that he was in front of me, now that I had a chance to feel, it was clear that he was the forest.

The magic, the Life, the cycle of change within the forest here was him. All of it. This was his land and he made himself of his land, and with him, the moon to his stars, was Athainne.

I took in a deep breath, suppressing the nervousness I felt. "I am Gwyneth Elwyn Arevin." I said, offering a curtsy to the Stag and Doe before me. "Witch of the Order of Amber, disciple of Lord Renard and Rokkri, and representative of Gilneas. I come seeking those who practice the ways of the forest in this land."

Athainne's ears flicked backward, her head tilting slightly towards some unseen sound. "And your erstwhile sire amongst them." She whispered.

"Yes." I nodded, I got the feeling there wasn't a single secret in these woods that she couldn't ferret out. Maybe even Drustvar, or Kul Tiras as a whole, if Athair pooled his power with hers. "Recompense for what he put my mother through, if nothing else."

"A ceremony of becoming will begin in three days." Athair pawed at the ground, a map forming in the dirt around his hoof. "There you will find what you seek. You will be expected."

He turned and walked away, Athainne trailing in his shadow as he walked into the trees and vanished. All the weight of his presence fading out into the background, the pulsing vibrancy that had been present all along – his vibrancy, his life.

It was only as they left that I looked over where I was, getting my bearings by the shape of the waterfall. "They led me in a bloody circle!" I swore.