Chapter Fourteen: One Spell, Two Witnesses

  Selriph found himself in a sprint along the riverbank, his muscles pumping with unexpected vigour despite his injuries. The splatter of mud came with his hasty stride as the mushy ground seeped through the soles into his feet. He struggled to keep his balance as he chased the boat downstream, the sloppy texture making him one wrong step from slipping.

  Ahead, he could see the woman’s boat headed towards a cluster of jagged rocks, downstream from the log he was making a beeline towards. Selriph could see the frantic paddling as the woman desperately tried to steer towards shore, but it was for nought against the strength of the rapids.

  Then, amidst her struggle, she spotted Selriph as he finally caught up to the boat, the now solid ground providing the footing he needed to close the distance. The woman placed her cupped hands around the sides of her lips and attempted to shout something, but the burble of the rapids and the distance drowned out anything intelligible.

  Selriph did not shout back for a response; instead, his mind prioritised one thing: getting ahead of the boat. The crinkle of loose stone came from under his feet, as he darted as fast as he could towards the fallen log ahead. By the time he arrived, he was downstream from the boat, giving him approximately twenty seconds before it passed him again, beyond reach.

  He moved to climb atop the log—the only means available to bring himself closer to the oncoming boat, enough for him to cast his magic. He carefully vaulted himself onto the log, testing his stability before he made his way down the trunk. His mind was split between keeping himself in balance and the ever-present gnawing of second-guessing this potentially foolish endeavour.

  By the time he got to the edge, his attention pivoted to the sight before him; he could see the woman’s features clearly, a mere stone’s throw away, desperation lined in her face as she gesticulated wildly at him.

  Selriph raised his arms, met by a sting on his left shoulder. Ignoring the lattice of aches in his body, he steadied his breath and focused, for he only had a precious few seconds. Magical energy welled up from within him. His mind flickered with passing thoughts amidst the image that slowly took shape in his mind.

  He knew he had not attempted to lift a boat and a person before. But he was reasonably confident that if he remained calm despite the cold spray, pain, and aches in his body, he would succeed.

  Or rather, that is what he hoped.

  Imagine the energy.... Form a cushion under the boat… just like the stones and boulders… no different.

  As he opened his eyes, a buoyant disk of blue energy came into existence, hugging the boat’s hull. Selriph lifted his arms slightly as the boat lifted gently. Water rippled and coalesced into elongated ellipsoids between the arcane veil and the underside of the boat.

  It took a second for the occupant to process what was happening, as she felt the rumble under her feet pause. She looked over the stern and let out an audible gasp. The boat, with her aboard, hovered mere inches above the churning water below. Her hands gripped viciously at the sides of the boat; her knuckles whitening as the fear of somehow falling into the rapids overtook her.

  Selriph clenched his jaw. The boat swayed as the boy guided it to the shore, concentrating hard; he had to maintain just the right density of magical energy on the sides of the boat, lest he inadvertently tip its contents into the rapids.

  However, the pressure of the situation, as well as his barely recovered state, hampered his focus. His arms quivered, as if he were holding up the boat through muscle alone. The boat swayed dangerously as it neared the shore, the arcane veil flickering on its periphery.

  With one last burst of focus, he directed the boat gently down, bidding it towards the shallow waters. The port side of the boat met the stone with a thud as the rest of the boat splashed down in the ankle-deep water.

  The moment the boat made contact, the woman scrambled out of the boat onto the bank. She stumbled as she nearly fell face-first into the coarse ground.

  She eventually found a semblance of stability as she staggered away from the boat. Then, her legs gave way; knees and hands met the solid land; her black hair, draped messily over her face. She was soaked and breathless from panic, but otherwise relieved and unharmed.

  Selriph collapsed to one knee on the log, drained from the effort. A feeling of coldness crept up his body from the magical exertion, combined with the sensation of now-moist garments clinging to his skin.

  After he had had the chance to catch his breath, he crossed the thick log back onto the shore. The woman was there, eyes still wide from surprise mixed with hints of gratitude.

  “I hope you are… okay,” he muttered, a sneeze escaping him from the cold before he composed himself. “Never lifted something like that before…whole person included.”

  She approached slowly, her moist clothes plastered to her brown-tanned skin, her eyes written with caution.

  “You… you are a mage, aren’t you?” she asked, suspicion threaded in her voice. “They said people like you are dangerous. Magic without a crest… heresy. Yet…” She paused, appraising the young lad.

  Her reaction wasn’t unexpected so far. It was what came after that worried him.

  He sat down on the rocky surface, feeling the small stones press through the fabric of his pants. He scanned her face, reading the signs of tension on her shoulders, clasped hands and a slight frown on her brows.

  Does she fear me…? Or merely my magic…?

  Her apprehension lingered, tempered by uncertainty. She tilted her head, as if waiting for an answer from the figure sitting on the shore.

  “They say people like you need a crest to keep your powers in check. Those without it are dangerous, uncontrolled. Evil, selfish,” her voice came, firmer this time.

  A silence hung over them; Selriph was unsure how to answer, his mind still reeling from the exertion.

  After a few tense seconds, she said, “Yet you seem perfectly in control. And you don’t seem like a bad person… not like what I’ve been told…”

  A word still did not pass Selriph’s lips.

  “Why are you here in the forest alone?” she asked, the slight fear in her voice making way for curiosity. “You seem young enough to be my brother’s age, and we would never let him out of the village.”

  Selriph hesitated before replying. “I just happened to be taking a stroll—.” The poor choice of words gave him pause and a subtle raise in his brow. “I just happened to be in the right place, saw you in trouble. Whatever it is, I am glad you are safe, but it is best you forget you ever met me.” Selriph slowly got back up, brushing the loose stones from his pants.

  Her eyes widened, confusion and a trace of hurt darkening her features. “Forget I met you? But... you just saved my life.”

  “Exactly.” his voice was plain.

  “I don’t understand. Why would you want me to forget?”

  You just said it yourself…

  A brief flash of irritation crossed Selriph’s face. “As you said, I don’t have a divine crest. I am not an imperial-sanctioned mage. They don’t tolerate people like me. If I am found out, I will be in trouble.”

  Selriph adjusted his pack, a crack escaping his muscles. “So all I ask is that if you aren’t going to forget, at least refrain from mentioning me. If someone asks, say that you got lucky and that you steered your boat ashore. Alone.” his voice came stern, almost a reprimand.

  Her voice trembled. “I... I didn’t mean to—”

  A sudden crackle came from the underbrush to the south. Both snapped their attention toward the sound. Leaves rustled and branches moved as something came through the dense foliage.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Selriph’s hand shot to the hilt of his estoc. He stepped in front of the woman, eyes scanning the undergrowth.

  The sound grew louder. Then, from the treeline, a large figure burst forth—a burly man in woodsman’s garb. He stopped short, his eyes still as he took in the scene.

  Selriph narrowed his gaze. Is he hostile? As he withdrew his estoc halfway out of its scabbard.

  The man’s face was weathered, his hands calloused — a sign of someone used to hard labour. Unkempt hair hung to the base of his earlobes—his fingers hovered near the sickle at his belt, but he hadn’t drawn it. His posture suggested wariness, but not outright aggression.

  Shera Woodsman. Selriph thought. Territorial, wary of outsiders. But as long as I don’t give him a reason to be hostile…

  “You... are a woodsman of the forest, aren’t you?” he asked, slowly sheathing his blade.

  The man’s eyes flicked to the weapon, then back to Selriph. “Aye,” he said, voice gravelly. “Name’s Hagan.”

  The woodsman’s stance loosened, but only slightly.

  “And who might you two be, showing up uninvited in these woods? What’s a girl like her doing out here alone?” He jerked a thumb at the woman, who instinctively shifted behind Selriph.

  “And you...” He pointed at Selriph. “I gave my name; what’s yours, lad?”

  “I am Selriph,” he said steadily. “And this is someone I just pulled from the river. I’m not here to cause trouble, Hagan.”

  The woodsman’s eyes narrowed. “Selriph, huh? And what brings a boy like you to the Shera Woods? Don’t tell me you’re out for a pleasant stroll.”

  The woman’s fingers dug into the folds of her wet tunic. Her wide eyes never left Hagan, her breath held in her uncertainty as she backed away from the pair.

  “I was out here scavenging for supplies, berries, hunting,” Selriph replied as he attempted to keep his voice steady. A half-truth.

  Hagan stepped in closer, voice low and gruff. “Don’t try to sell me that. I’ve lived here long enough to know when someone’s hiding something.” He paused, then said, “Besides, I witnessed your little trick you did to pull the girl out of the rapids.”

  “You saw what I did?” Selriph frowned. “Why didn’t you help?”

  “You think I didn’t see?” Hagan snapped. “I was watching from the treeline, waiting to see if you were friend or foe. You’re lucky I didn’t put an arrow through you.”

  “If you had put an arrow through me, the girl would be halfway to the bottom of the river by now!” Selriph replied, his voice raised.

  He paused. Steadying himself before he continued. “Look, all you need to know is that I was heading towards the river to get my bearings. That’s when I saw the girl in the boat—the treacherous rapids would have claimed her.”

  “That’s not enough, boy. Why come out here? You could easily stick to the main paths instead of wandering in the woods. No reason to stray.” Hagan’s voice came tinged with scepticism. “And how’d you pull off that little rescue trick? I haven’t seen anything like that in years.”

  No use hiding it now..

  “I just used a levitation spell. It floats objects, simple stuff. Used it on the boat,” hoping the answer would satisfy the man's curiosity.

  “Levitation, huh?” Hagan muttered as his eyes flickered with sudden remembrance. “An old friend of mine showed me something like that once. Never lifted a boat, though, only rocks. He was…” he paused, as if pondering if he should convey the rest of his thoughts to the two strangers before him

  “But that was before… now, doing something like that ain’t allowed. You are playing with something dangerous here, boy,” his voice came low, warning mixed with nostalgia.

  Before…?

  Before Selriph could finish his thought. The woman softly murmured, “My grandmother used to tell stories about mages like you. Not the kind they preach about now. The old kind, wandering, kind, serving the people.” She glanced at Selriph, her voice steadier now. “She said that changed after they betrayed the empire. That the old mages were spoiled by rotten people within them.”

  Selriph blinked at her, surprised.

  Betrayed the Empire? Was there a time when mages…?

  Hagan grunted, not quite in agreement, but not dismissively either.

  “The girl’s story has some truth,” the woodsman said finally, rubbing his beard with his thumb and forefinger. “Whatever it is, though, magic like that draws attention. Which I assume is part of the reason you are out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  Selriph hesitated, glancing between the two. The woman was watching him now without fear—only quiet concern. Hagan’s posture remained guarded, but his hand was far from his weapon, which hung at his side.

  Selriph finally spoke, his voice low. “Alright, Hagan.” He took a breath. “I’ll be straight with you.”

  The forest seemed to still at the words that were about to come.

  “I’m a… I am someone trying to evade the Templars. A runaway. They are after me for deserting them. That’s how I ended up here.” Selriph paused, his breath caught in his throat as he awaited the coming reaction.

  The woman inhaled sharply.

  Hagan’s expression hardened. He stepped forward, voice colder now. “Deserting, you say? That’s a very dangerous game, boy. The Templars aren’t merciful, and you dared abandon them? What makes you think you’ll find refuge here? The woods are but a day out from the capital.”

  Selriph didn’t look away. “I wasn’t trying to find refuge. I was in the midst of placing distance between myself and the city,” he said, as he gestured northwards, toward Caer Eldralis, beyond the woods and river.

  Hagan folded his arms, eyeing him. “You’ve got a plan for that? Or just mindless wandering?”

  “I was planning on heading south,” Selriph replied. “It’s the closest border. All other options are simply too far, or border on satellites. The South has flat land. V?enthar is hostile to the Empire and would be the least likely to turn me back over—”

  “And how exactly were you planning to do that, boy? Just waltz across the border?” Hagan said, his voice tinged with sarcasm.

  He stared back at the woodsman. “Either sneak across or disguise myself along the way. Steal a guard uniform or find an unguarded area of the border, go through the mountains if I have to.”

  “South’s a bad idea, boy,” Hagan grunted. “Heavily patrolled. You know about Venthar; they watch the border like vultures—skyships and pegasus patrols in the sky.” His eyes traced the boy as if assessing his value. “But… you’ve got guts. And some brains, I might have some ideas—if you’re interested. Help you come up with a better plan than walking face-first into the most militarised border this side of the continent. “

  He looked at the woman again. His eyes scanned her condition.

  His voice came low, yet assuring, despite his outward appearance. “Lass here seems like she needs a place to rest up, too. There’s an old lodge deep in the woods. Off the beaten path, away from Templar patrols that comb the woods. Hardly the first place they will come looking. You could lie low while you come up with a better plan.”

  Selriph tilted his head at the unexpected proposition. “I would not expect it out of the goodness of your heart. To what would I owe this kind offer?

  “Information. Labour. I want to know what you know about the Templars. There are some people I know who would benefit from knowing about anything they may be up to. I also need an extra pair of hands; I’m stocking up for the winter.”

  Selriph’s jaw tensed. “And if I refuse?”

  Hagan shrugged. “Then you wander, but you seem to be in no condition to do so, I reckon,” his gaze fixed on the medley of makeshift and crafted bandages on Selriph’s hands and shoulder. “Forest is dangerous. There are things afoot here that you would want to avoid in your current state. Templars are the least of your worries.”

  Selriph glanced at the woman. “And her? She would need help getting back to wherever she came from, no?”

  “I’ll see to it,” Hagan replied gruffly. “Where are you from, lass?”

  “Village on the north bank, half a day from Alderfell. But… I am in no hurry to return…” her voice laced with hesitation.

  “Huh, it would be quite a trek to return. Come with us. Just help around and you can stay as long as you need to,” the gruff man replied, a hint of kindness in his voice.

  Selriph nodded as he turned back towards the woman. “Thanks,” he said to her. “And… if and when you go to your village… please don’t tell anyone what you saw. Just mention the woodsman here, but not me.”

  He turned to Hagan. “While I appreciate the offer, I don’t want to stick around. You are right that the south route is likely folly, but I will figure something out. Better than lingering around here.”

  “Damn fool,” Hagan muttered. He jabbed a finger toward the woods. “You think I’m letting you wander off now? Not after that show.”

  He shook his head, voice like bark on stone. “You’re coming to the lodge, boy. You have no idea what is out there in the woods. Even Templar patrols have met their maker. You will join them if you have no idea where you are going.” His hand reached out and gripped the boy’s shoulder tightly.

  Selriph stared at him—he could sense the truth and genuine concern in the man’s voice. In his current condition, it was likely better for him to rest; He could gather as much information from this man to navigate whatever ‘perils’ he was cautioning against.

  No need to be hasty. The Templars are not on my trail. For the moment.

  He nodded once.

  “Fine. But only for tonight.”

  Hagan turned, scanning the trees with keen eyes.

  “The lodge is about a mile south. We’ll need to move quickly. And quietly. Don’t make a sound and follow my lead.”

  He paused, nostrils flaring. Then, more to himself than anyone else, he muttered,

  “Those things will be on you if you don’t know what you are doing. ”

  Selriph stiffened. He didn’t know what was referring to, but whatever it was, it brought noticeable unease.

  The man turned and beckoned Selriph and the woman to follow as the ground crunched beneath their feet.

  Selriph did not know this, but this chance encounter in the woods would pull him into another series of unfortunate events.