Chapter 534: A Sylvan Welcome (Patreon)

Six vampires dressed in thick red cloaks walked in a loose circle around a centaur and her rider. Each vampire had their hoods up, their enchanted cloaks designed to block out the sun’s light. Even though the day was somewhat cloudy, a vampire’s skin would sunburn quicker than others. A few minutes was all it would take. Yet, such a danger hadn’t crossed any of their minds. The vampires of House Gale were all focused on the danger all around the neighborhood or lack thereof. 

“There’s no one here,” noted Willow.

Stellan nodded at his sister’s comment. “We’re almost at the Commoner District. Whoever lived here was either killed during the siege or ran away when the golems and valley savages attacked.”

“Or maybe it was the goblins…” whispered Willow. She couldn’t help but glance up at their lord, sitting astride the most graceful centaur she had ever seen. When her cousin and leader of their House, Gale had told them of Stryg’s origins she could hardly believe it after seeing him. This man clad in a cloak of pristine white flowers, hair as silver as the moon, eyes that seemed to almost glow, skin as blue as the Ebon Sea, and sharp ears that drooped like teardrops, this— was a goblin?

Sure, she had seen his mother. She was a goblin, through and through, save for the same pale hair as her son. But even as she slept in the infirmary back at the manor there was something different about her. Willow couldn’t quite place what it was, but she knew Aurelia Veres was different.

As for her son, Stryg seemed more like a drow than any vampire or goblin, though the slits in his eyes and his sharp, albeit small, fangs said there was something more. Lord Veres was more beautiful than he was handsome. A prince like in the stories her father used to read to her as a child. Willow thought such stories were just that, stories nothing more. Yet here he was, the Ebon Prince. There was no doubt in her mind that this was the heir of the Blue Rose.

Which made it even harder for her to imagine that their prince was somehow related to the ruthless Sylvan that had taken over the Commoner District. 

“What was that?!” Stellan drew his sword and turned towards an alleyway to their right. 

The other five vampires drew their blades in unison and hurried to form a wall in front of Rhian. She glanced up at Stryg who shook his head subtly. A rustling noise echoed from the alleyway and a moment later a small dog stepped out from the shadows. His fur was rugged and he favored his right paw. He whined at the vampires’ appearance, his large dark eyes looking at them uncertainly.

Gale sighed and sheathed her blade. “Someone give him some water.”

“On it.” Willow grabbed her waterskin and knelt next to the frightened dog. “It’s okay, lil’ guy,” she cooed softly.

Stellan withdrew his sword as did the others. “My mistake,” he said. “I thought it was a goblin warrior.”

“Hunter,” Stryg corrected.

“Pardon, my lord?” asked Stellan.

“Traditional Sylvan warriors fight as the vanguard of our people,” said Stryg without shifting his gaze from the roofs of the ruined houses. “They usually act in a unit of a shield wall at the front and spearmen at the back. Whereas hunters climb trees to gain a vantage point. They hide in the shadows waiting to strike down their prey with a single poison-tipped arrow.”

Stellan bowed his head, “You’re well versed, my lord.”

“Well, I did train to become one,” said Stryg distractedly.

Gale furrowed her brow. Even from underneath the hood of petals, she could see the odd expression on his face. Head cocked slightly to the side, lips in a thin line, eyes staring seemingly into nowhere. She knew that look. It was the same look he always made when trying to assess a threat. She glanced at the surroundings. There was nothing there, only empty half-burned-down buildings and a thirsty dog. But Clypeus had always implicitly trusted Stryg’s senses, even if they seemed wrong.

Gale drew her sword once more and edged closer to the centaur. “Rhiannon, when I say run, run as fast you can. Don’t look back. Keep our lord safe.”

“Huh? What?” Rhian glanced at Gale and back at Stryg in confusion.

“That won’t be necessary. Gale, I think it’s time you and the others head back to the manor,” said Stryg quietly.

Gale frowned, “My lord, I swore an oath to protect you. I am your Shield, you are my ward. I will not abandon you—”

“I don’t think they see it that way,” he said.

A blur moved at the edge of her vision. Gale spun around and saw as a dozen goblins in mottled red and grey cloaks emerged from the shadows of the houses and their rooftops. Each held a bow taut, arrows pointed at the outsiders.

The vampires stepped backwards towards Stryg, their eyes never leaving the enemy. Willow hefted the dog up with one hand and held her sword in front of her.

“Stellan, cover Rhiannon’s retreat,” said Gale under her breath.

“My lady,” he nodded faintly.

“That won’t work,” said Stryg.

A green light flickered from one of the houses behind them and a colossal sabertooth emerged, breaking the last remnants of the roof. The beast dwarfed even Rhian. He bared his fangs and growled in a deep rumble as he cut off their escape.

Gale spun around and stiffened at the sight of the creature. She clenched her jaw and gripped her sword in an offensive stance. “I’ll make an opening, the rest of you make sure our lord gets through.”

“No need.” Stryg sighed and pulled down his hood, “Meet he Guardian of the Sylvan, and chieftain of the Frost Whisper Tribe, Arden”

The giant sabertooth growled.

“You know this— creature…?” Gale whispered.

“He is the greatest warrior of my people and the protector of the Lunar Elects. I imagine he is here to escort me to them,” said Stryg.

“How did he know we were here?” asked Willow.

“They’ve known we were here for a while now. Their scouts spotted us coming over an hour ago,” replied Stryg. “Arden, these people are under my protection. Do not harm them.”

The sabertooth crouched forward as if preparing to pounce. Rhian took a nervous step back.

Arden breathed in deeply, sniffing the air, then scowled. “Vampires,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Are these the tribemates you spoke of, War Master?”

Stryg glanced at each of the vampires, their expressions grim but determined. They would fight to the last Shield before seeing a drop of blood escape his flesh. “Yes. They are mine, sons and daughters of the Ebon Tribe.”

Arden shook his head and stepped back. “You sleep with an orc and share your food with a drow. Now you call these vampires your tribe? And what of this horse-woman? All I see is a man who surrounds himself with everyone but his own people. What even happened to the Frost Wolf that followed you like a brother?”

“Blueberry is resting from the wounds he suffered in battle,” said Stryg evenly.

Arden narrowed his yellow-golden eyes. “Is that so—?”

“—I am not a horse-woman.” Rhian walked up to the giant sabertooth, her gaze unshaken. “I am Rhiannon, Daughter of the Ebon Tribe, Right Hand of the Ebon Prince, Defender of Hollow Shade, and the greatest damn centaur you have ever seen.”

Arden bared his teeth, each fang the size of Rhian’s arm. “Careful with your next words, horse.”

She leaned forward and bared her teeth as well. “I am the Spear of my tribe. Face me and die.”

Arden stared into her eyes, their glares matching one another, until finally, Arden nodded, satisfied. “You will do, Rhiannon, daughter of Ebon.” His fur became alight with Green mana and the sabertooth burned away, leaving behind a goblin that was barely half Rhian’s height. Yet his eyes were the same; sharp and unwavering. Arden shifted his grey cloak over his shoulders and walked past her, “Come, I will bring you to the Lunar Elects.”

Rhian inclined her head and followed. Stryg swore he saw a small smile on her lips, if only for a moment.

He hopped off her saddle and landed with a heavy thud. “Chieftain Arden, there is a place I must stop by first.”

The gruff goblin glanced back at him with a frown. “Where?”

~~~

Captain Talia of Hollow Shade stirred her wooden spoon through her bowl of stew. Scents of unfamiliar spices and venison wafted upwards. A classic Sylvan recipe or so Jack had claimed. 

Talia sighed, picked up her bowl, and left the temple’s kitchen. One of the goblin teenagers looked up as she left, but he didn’t bother to say anything. Walking through the halls, it was impossible to ignore the strewn about clothes and furniture. Whoever had been here had left in a hurry. They were trying to escape. 

Glancing out the window, Talia saw the ruined yard; shattered stone pathway, ripped up chunks of dirt and grass. The gate had been ripped off its hinges and a broken stone golem lay in the middle of the pathway, leaving no doubt what had happened here. 

Golems had attacked this place. The priests had managed to take down one, but more had come. There was no blood inside the temple, which had given hope to Melfyn and the others, but after two days of searching, there was still no sign of a single child. 

The Sylvan armies had claimed the entire area and no one was allowed to leave. If the children had made it, they would have been here. Talia walked to the backyard and spotted a lone goblin sitting on the remains of a stone bench.

She walked over and offered him her bowl of stew. “You need to eat something.”

Melfyn’s pointy ear twitched, but he didn’t bother to look up. The fiery spirit that had filled his eyes during the siege and inspired courage in all those around was gone.

Talia hovered the food in front of his face, “It’s been 2 days. Eat. Your wounds won’t heal otherwise.”

Melfyn’s gaze didn’t shift. Taking a closer look, Talia noticed dark bags under his eyes. He still hadn’t slept. 

She sighed heavily and sat next to him. “The stew’s pretty good. Supposedly the Ebon Aspirant taught Jack the recipe. But I have a hard time believing that. Jack’s a human, so it’s probably just some human soup the commoners eat, right?”

“...”

“I mean, why would someone as powerful and talented as the Ebon Aspirant waste his time teaching orphans how to cook? The Aspirant no doubt has a line of cooks preparing his every meal. He probably hasn’t seen a kitchen in years.”

Jack clasped his hands together in a white-knuckle grip at her words, but still, he refused to raise his head. 

Talia set down her bowl and placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. The Cinder Brood were a strange group, the whole lot of them. She had never seen goblins, humans, and even a drow so close to one another before. They treated each other as family and were willing to bleed and die for one another. It was definitely strange, but Talia couldn’t help but admire them. 

If it hadn’t been for the Cinder Brood she would have died on the Shade Wall. Not just her, the tribe of teenagers had saved dozens of soldiers on the wall. The tribe had saved thousands of civilians from being slaughtered by keeping the valley savages at bay.

This small ragtag group of orphans had saved the south-west side of the city and no one even knew. They should have been hailed as heroes, but it would have fallen on deaf ears. They had fought until the bitter end for the sake of their family, a family that hadn’t made it. Not a single one of them. Even now Talia could hear the faint cries of some of the teenagers from inside the temple.

Their children, they don’t deserve this, she thought bitterly.

 Melfyn hadn’t shed a single tear, not once. When the hours had turned to days and none of the young orphans had been found his demeanor had darkened and he had secluded himself out here without sleep or food. Melfyn was only 16, but here he was, holding the weight and guilt of leadership over his small shoulders.

“It’s not your fault,” Talia whispered.

He trembled at her words and looked away.

“You and the others fought with everything you had. This— Nothing could have stopped this. I’m so sorry for what you’re going through, Melfyn, but you need to know it’s not your fault. There’s nothing you could have done, nothing anyone could have done.”

“...Stryg could have.”

“What?”

“Stryg could have stopped this. He could do anything. He would have saved them. All of them.”

“Melfyn, you don’t know that.”

He bit his trembling lip. “I promised… The day Stryg left he told me to ‘keep our people and the temple safe.’ I promised him. He trusted me and I…” Melfyn buried his face in his hands and heaved quietly.

Talia wrapped her arms around him and whispered gently, “It’s okay. You don’t have to hold it in.”

“Goblins don’t cry,” he sniffed.

“The others cry.”

“I’m not like them. I’m the chieftain of the Cinder Brood. I need to be strong, for them. For all of them.”

She pulled him close and hugged him tight. “Crying is not a sign of weakness. It’s a way to show we cared, that we loved, and that we will never forget those we’ve lost.”

“Why do you even care? You’re not one of us,” he mumbled.

“...You’re right, I’m not one of you, but when I was up on that wall thinking I was going to die— when I looked all around and saw my comrades running for their lives, it was you and your tribe that stayed by my side, even though I wasn’t one of you. You did not abandon me and I will not abandon you, Melfyn, son of Cinder Brood.”

“...I lost them, Talia. I lost all of them,” he whimpered.

She stroked his back and held him close, “That doesn’t mean we forget them.”

Melfyn buried his face into her shoulder and broke down quietly.