Blood Ties

Nervous anticipation buzzed at the back of Morwyn's mind as they made their way up the serpentine path of an impressively large canyon and ventured deep into the eastern mountains. A powerful river which put the rapids of Whitewater Crossing to shame roared along the base as it carved the canyon ever deeper. It cut through the pale dirt and the vibrant red sandstone beneath it without regard, a testament to the combined powers of water and time. Soaring monoliths of stone were dotted with tufts of brown and green where vegetation found purchase in cracks and crags, though the majority of the greenery bordered the river itself. The caravan trundled tiredly along the shoreline and skirted boulders and dense brush as best they could. The going was rough, but hope and the promise of the journey's end lent strength to their tired limbs.

Argoth had informed the caravan guards that there within the boundary lands of the Vale and were no longer in danger of man nor beast, so Morwyn lightened her load considerably by storing her armor and most of her equipment in the back of one of their few remaining wagons. There was plenty of space where barrels of food had once laid, having long ago been burned for firewood to further reduce the load on their stalwart oxen. Only the iron bands remained. Gildur had insisted at great length that wasting good metal was one of the gravest sins of all. None amongst the caravan had the energy nor the desire to argue with the stubborn dwarf.

Lighter on her feet and carrying only her canteen, knife, and sword- more out of habit than necessity- Morwyn trudged doggedly alongside Hazel's wagon and took in the incredible views in awed silence. She knew that these peaks absolutely dwarfed any that she'd seen on the mainland so far and perhaps even rivaled the Wolfspire Range that ran down the center of Skeldrûn, yet the scale of of it all still took her breath way with each curve and bend in the river valley. All around them the sky was half obscured by the soaring heights as they trundled slowly between titans of stone.

With each step she was ever more grateful that they didn't have to ascend them.

Though she'd traveled rough and explored many wild places in her time, both on her home island and on the mainland, it was a new experience to witness something that so few others had laid eyes upon. Morwyn reckoned that no one outside of those privy to the Vale's secrets would have ever set foot where the caravan now tread. The distance from civilization was so vast and treacherous that it was no longer a mystery why they had gone undetected for... how long, exactly? She realized that neither Rennock nor her fellow guards had never said.

After some hours of marching their way through the pristine wilderness of the hidden valley uncontested by anything more significant than a particularly troublesome thicket, Eronir called a halt and the caravan came to rest. The children, better fed than all the rest, immediately ran off to play at the slow-moving edge of the mighty river under the watchful eyes of the adults nearby. Morwyn sighed as she watched them frolic in the cool, clear water, longing for the energy and vitality of youth.

*This is Rennock. Please join us, along with Lady Trux and Miss Willowbend.*

Though Rennock's voice was calm and steady in her mind, had been long enough since the old wizard had done so that Morwyn flinched at the sudden intrusion. She shook her head and blinked several times, took one more longing look at the river, and motioned up toward the wagon's bench.

On our way.

“Hazel, Rennock needs us and Trux at the front. I expect we'll be arriving soon.”

Hazel, who had decided to take a nap with a handkerchief draped over her face to keep off the sun, groaned as she collected herself. A twinge of heartache bloomed in Morwyn's chest as she noted the conspicuous and painful absence of the young man who'd driven Hazel's wagon for so many miles. She clenched her jaw and tried to push thoughts of William from her mind, resolving to honor the dead in solitude as soon as the opportunity presented itself. With the help of some whiskey, if the Vale truly was the paradise that was promised. Her flask had long run dry.

“Gods, I hope so. The feather bed that surely awaits us can't come quickly enough,” Hazel murmured, double checking that the reins were secure before stepping to the edge of the footboard.

“Just one bed? Now that might be a bit presumptuous,” Morwyn teased as she took Hazel by the waist and helped her down, forcing a lighter inflection to her tone to stave off her thoughts of death and loss. The halfling dusted off her hands on her dress and put a finger to her lips in an exaggerated expression of thoughtfulness.

“You're right, dear. We'll need two beds. One for the night we arrive, and another to replace it once it's broken.”

Morwyn raised a brow and couldn't help a small smile, but her reaction was muted by melancholy. Despite her efforts to the contrary, it must have been written plainly on her face as Hazel's demeanor grew immediately serious.

“Is something wrong?” She took Morwyn's hand in her own as they began to move toward the front of the caravan, though without urgency. Morwyn mulled over her response as they walked past the others in search of Trux, casting another glance toward their resting comrades as she did so. Lily, drenched from the knees down, chased a giggling Samuel through the shallows to the mirth of their little audience.

“Yes,” Morwyn eventually managed. “Now that we're on the threshold, I can't help but think of those that didn't make it.”

Hazel squeezed her hand gently and made as if to speak, then paused for several long seconds in silence before responding in a small voice.

“I'd be lying if I said I wasn't doing the same...”

“Why so glum, you two?” came the gruff voice of Trux as the dwarf shimmied out from underneath the middle wagon where she'd been making repairs. “We're almost home! I'd have thought you'd be champin' at the bit to see what's waitin' for us.”

“We are,” Morwyn said quickly, schooling her emotions as best she could. “Ren wants us at the front, do you need a moment?”

“Bollocks, I should've known we were that close,” Trux said with a huff as she stood and wiped sweat from her forehead, smearing axle grease across it in the process before shading her brow and squinting at the surrounding terrain. “Damn, those repairs were a waste of time. I could've sworn we had an hour or two of travel left! Go on ahead, I'll catch up.”

Trux's vehement shooing cut off the question on the tip of Morwyn's tongue. She and Hazel shared a puzzled look but the pair continued onward as Trux began tidying up the various tools with which she'd been working. Looking ahead, Morwyn spotted Rennock, Argoth, Eronir, and Yvonne in the midst of a discussion some distance ahead of the lead wagon. The three men laughed while Yvonne crossed her arms with a flummoxed look, though a sly grin slowly broke out across her face as well. It did Morwyn good to see her companions in high spirits. Her own began to rise as well when Hazel slipped her hand free and scurried over to a patch of blooming vegetation, plucked a cluster of delicate pink flowers, and rushed back to her with a winning smile.

“For you, dear,” she said, motioning her down. Morwyn knelt with only a slight grimace as her sore legs protested, but the pain was quickly forgotten as Hazel tucked the flowers behind her left ear and planted a kiss on her cheek. The halfling beamed at her. “Pink suits you, you know.”

“I didn't, actually,” Morwyn chuckled, adjusting the stem to sit more securely in her hair as she stood with a soft groan. She gestured to her clothing, dusty and stained and stitched in a dozen or more places. “I thought black and blue looked good on me.”

“Your clothes, or all the bruises with which you're constantly covered?” Hazel retorted with a prod to Morwyn's ribs.

“Either? Both?”

“I'd prefer neither, thank you very much.”

“Miss Willowbend, what's gotten into you today?” Morwyn murmured, nudging Hazel's shoulder with her hip.

“It seems last night lit a fire in me. I intend to fuel it,” she said with a sultry wink.

They joined the others before Morwyn could respond but not before her blush had faded, and her cheeks were as pink as the desert rose that now decorated her.

“Nice of you to join us,” Argoth said as he conspicuously scratched at the tip of his left ear, accompanied by a snort from Eronir and Yvonne's raised eyebrow. “Ah, there's Trux as well. Gods, look at that dwarf sprint. Must come natural to 'em.”

“Sorry boss,” Trux panted as she skidded to a halt, grinning from ear to ear. “Just finished lettin' everyone know to wait for your signal before they join us. I missed the signs, didn't realize we were here already.”

“And where is here, exactly?” Morwyn asked as she gestured outward, grateful for any excuse to avoid more pointed teasing from her comrades. “Is this... is this the Vale?”

Rennock chuckled and shook his head with a rueful smile. The old man rubbed his weathered hands together in anticipation.

“Not quite. Worry not, Miss Shrike, all will be revealed in time. I simply wished to enjoy a moment with you all to thank you for your service to the caravan before we arrive. Argoth and Eronir, well done. Our community is, as always, indebted to you both for your consummate expertise and many years of service.”

The senior caravan guards bowed their heads graciously. Argoth gave Eronir a friendly nudge with his elbow that nearly sent him stumbling.

“Don't go lettin' it get to your head,” the orc grumbled with a grin. The elf merely rolled his eyes.

“Lady Trux,” Rennock continued, holding out a hand toward the dwarf. “Your strength, your skill, and your unending loyalty were also instrumental to our success. You have more than earned your place of honor among the guard.”

For the first time that Morwyn could remember Trux was absent words. The dwarf positively glowed with pride, her shoulders squared and hands clasped before her.

“Yvonne Estarael, though you volunteered for the guard late into our journey, you were a valuable member beforehand and an indispensable asset afterward. Your bravery and resilience in the face of great peril saved many lives and for that we are forever grateful. We welcome you into our family with open arms.”

For a moment Yvonne looked to be on the verge of tears, but she collected herself and gave a shaky nod of gratitude. Eronir's hand found hers and gave it a squeeze, and she stood a bit straighter with her jaw set.

“Hazel Willowbend, you were the first to join us on our expedition. Through it all you have tended our wounds, raised our spirits, and ensured that we took our medicine, no matter how foul. Quite the trick, sneaking those herbs into my pipe, young lady. Regardless, you have been a driving force that enabled us to persevere through even the most difficult of circumstances. We welcome you into our family with open arms.”

Hazel curtsied with a flourish before turning to Morwyn with a mischievous grin.

“I took your suggestion,” she whispered loudly behind her hand, hiding it from no one, and everyone chuckled besides Rennock, who made a sour face. The wizard shook his head and turned to Morwyn last. In his eyes she noticed a subtle change. Where before there lay satisfaction and camaraderie, she now sensed something different. Curiosity? Expectation? Pride? She wasn't entirely certain but in a way it reminded her of the first time she'd med his gaze back in Millcrest, which seemed a lifetime ago. His uncanny, timeless gaze now bore into the very fabric of her soul once again.

“Morwyn Shrike,” the old wizard said warmly, “you were the final member to join our caravan before we set out into the wilderness. Though you had precious little time to get to know your companions before being called upon to protect them, you have come to their defense time and again at great personal cost and without hesitation. Your hands, often bloodied on our behalf, were also extended both with kindness and with healing. You have earned your place amongst us tenfold, and we welcome you into our family with open arms.”

Morwyn swallowed past the lump in her throat and bowed her head to the old man, overwhelmed by the praise. It was surreal to hear some of the most difficult months of her entire life condensed into so few words. She felt almost disconnected from the memories that flashed through her mind- visions of blood and pain, of confusion and fear and loss, but also of laughter and wonder and pride. And, as she was reminded by the reassuring sensation of Hazel's shoulder bumping into her elbow as she took Morwyn's hand in both of her own... of love.

“Argoth,” Rennock concluded, “have the others join us. I believe it is almost time.”

“How close are we, exactly?” Yvonne asked, wincing as Argoth bellowed for the rest of the caravan to gather around, her face unburdened by strain and loss for the first time in weeks as she bounced on her heels with excitement. Rennock turned to the elf and tugged at his beard thoughtfully for a moment.

“I can hear their voices, smell the cook fires... we are but a moment away from the culmination of our efforts. When I receive the signal, I will take us home.”

Hazel cocked her head to one side for a moment and her nose twitched.

“I don't hear anything, and the only thing I smell is Argoth's feet. Have you been using the ointment I gave you, old man?”

The ensuing banter, as well as Rennock's grandiose speech to the remainder of the weary but eager caravan, faded into the background as nervous energy surged through Morwyn at the prospect of their arrival. She glanced around the valley, along the immense canyon walls, and up the sheer slopes of the snow-capped mountains beyond for any sign of where their destination might be hidden. It all seemed so wild, so viscerally remote and devoid of civilization. Did Rennock have the power to teleport the entire caravan at once? Perhaps the Vale lay just out of sight around the next bend in the river... but if that was the case, why couldn't she smell the smoke too?

She passed the soft fabric of her cloak between her fingers for comfort, a touchstone that had almost entirely replaced draping her hand on the hilt of her sword in recent days. As the silvery fabric glided over the callouses on her rough hands, Morwyn absently noted that she'd forgotten to wear her archer's gloves before turning her attention back to the end of Rennock's address.

“And through it all, we have persevered! I am proud of each and every one of you, and it is with the greatest of pleasure that I bid you welcome,” the old man called out with rising volume, pushing up his sleeves to expose his scholarly arms, “to your new home. The Vermilion Vale!”

Rennock spread his arms wide and brought them together over his head in a clap as loud as thunder. Golden light exploded forth and shot upwards into the sky, which seemed to split down the middle and slowly fall into two halves as if the old man were prying open the heavens themselves with golden tethers. Morwyn's jaw dropped and, after a moment of uncomprehending shock, her eyes grew even wider as she recognized what was happening. They were surrounded by a ward of some kind, one of such massive scale that she couldn't quite believe the evidence before her very eyes. She'd only seen one cast and dismissed once before, the small golden dome that the wizard had conjured the night he'd told her of her true nature. The ward that was now crumbling in twain so far above was a testament to a power the likes of which she'd not even witnessed her goddess conjure.

“By the gods,” Hazel whispered in awe, clutching Morwyn's hand to her chest. The rest of the caravan, with the exception of Argoth, Eronir, and Trux, were all in a similar state of disbelief as they stared upward in wonder. As one, the newcomers all watched the fiery golden sparks drifting downward in two great lines, revealing beyond them a landscape entirely different than what they'd grown accustomed to within the confines of the great canyon through which they'd traveled.

The mountain peaks in the distance were the first to fall prey to the dispelling of the dome. They were replaced by jagged spires that craned inward on all sides like the broken rim of old pottery, far closer and far more imposing for their startling proximity, while inside the enclosed valley massive formations of vivid red stone breached a sea of emerald green trees in a series of columns and arches that seemed to scrape against the heavens themselves. Near the rim of the bowl at the far end of the valley Morwyn could just make out a monumental serpentine figurehead breaching out of the rock. Though it was too distant to make out details, she could see water cascading from its mouth that crashed into a lake hundreds if not thousands of feet below. From the lake came the river itself which wound down the slope of the valley toward them.

Morwyn's braid flipped back and forth as she tried and failed to take in everything at once from all directions. Rennock, grinning like a child receiving presents on their name-day, drew in his arms together and the ward tightened inward, shrinking in diameter until it encompassed the caravan with only a few feet to spare on the sides and still several yards above their heads. He slowly dropped his hands to his waist and the ward dipped ever lower, revealing several tiers of free standing buildings of wood and stone winding their way up the valley as well as large caverns carved into cliff faces to either side. Inch by inch Rennock revealed more and more of the town, a sprawling but organized construction of beautiful masonry and carpentry that was unlike any Morwyn had seen before, yet there were no signs of live aside from the occasional bird that fluttered past.

“Morwyn, lift me up! I want to see it too!”

She tore her gaze away from the wondrous revelation with great difficulty and looked down to Hazel, who had both of her arms raised expectantly. A laugh as light as a feather escaped her and Morwyn spun Hazel around, scooped the halfling up under the arms, and made to place her on top of her shoulders. Hazel yelped and adjusted her dress to both preserve her modesty and to keep it from getting wrapped around Morwyn's face. Any incoming protest fizzled out as she got an even better view beyond the ward than Morwyn had and she fell into stunned silence once more. The children of the caravan, inspired by the action, begged the adults to do the same and scrambled upward in a tangle of limbs and yelps of excitement.

“Come on, Rennock!” Argoth belted out, laughing as a determined Lily helped Samuel to scramble up the big orc's back for the best view. “You've had your fun. Let 'em see their new family!”

Rennock, his face a picture of insulted dignity, sighed and clapped his hands together with another thunderous boom. The remainder of the golden ward splintered and dissolved in a brilliant show of sparks, revealing their immediate surroundings. The caravan, just shy of three dozen haggard individuals, was at the center of a large earthen circle surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of people poised around them at rows of large wooden tables placed in concentric circles. Intermittent fires in iron braziers dotted the arena and each table was heaped with an enormous bounty of food and drink. The entire world seemed to freeze in place for a heartbeat before the crowd surrounding them erupted in cheers.

Morwyn nearly staggered under the onslaught of noise and the riot of colors in what felt akin to battle-shock. There was too much sound, too much movement for her to focus on anything in particular. She regained her composure just in time to keep Hazel from toppling off her shoulders and looked up to see how the halfling was faring. Hazel cheered and pumped her fist into the air, then grinned at Morwyn upside down and grabbed her by the cheeks, turned her head to the side, and leaned down into a wonderfully awkward kiss.

“I can't believe it,” Hazel whispered through tears of joy. “Is it real? Am I dreaming? It has to be real, it has to be!”

Struggling against the press of bodies around them as the members of the caravan embraced each other, cheered themselves, or stood in shocked silence as she had, Morwyn let Hazel down from her shoulders. With nowhere to let her stand, she simply held the halfling in her arms as she wrapped hers around Morwyn's neck. Every time she started to speak, she lost the words as she stared into those big, beautiful, emerald eyes. Tears of relief fell freely down her own cheeks as she contemplated the magnitude of their accomplishment, of all they had overcome together, until finally she managed to croak out the most heartfelt words she had ever spoken.

“Welcome home.”

Hazel buried her face in Morwyn's neck and clung on to her tightly, sobbing and laughing intermittently, her ponytail tickling Morwyn's nose and cheek. Morwyn clutched the halfling to her chest and did the same, dizzy and tingling from the rush of elation that pulsed through her entire being from head to toe.

“I do apologize for the shock this must have given you, but I do have one more surprise in store before we feast,” Rennock shouted, his voice amplified to an impressive magnitude in order to be heard over the cacophony of cheers, an impressive feat in its own right. In short order the crowd had quieted down and all eyes were on the old wizard. He turned to the newcomers and, after making brief eye contact with Morwyn and giving her a wink, continued in a lower but still auspicious tone. “My friends, I have delivered you to the Vermilion Vale as promised yet I have one more to keep. Throughout this journey you have become family to one another and to me. In time you will forge the same bond with your fellows that dwell here already. Yet, upon invitation to join me on this quest, I made it clear that my kin and I would welcome you. I do believe I hear them coming now.”

A hush fell over the newcomers while the citizens of the Vale watched on with knowing smiles, whispering excitedly amongst themselves. Morwyn flexed her jaw to pop her ears and looked all around, but could hear nothing and see nothing different. Everything on the surround was already so foreign and wonderful and new, she hadn't a clue what Rennock's final surprise could be... until she heard the distant thump, thump, thump of flapping wings.

A score or more large shapes shot out into the open air from high caves dispersed all around the rim of the valley's rugged stone walls. At first she thought they were large birds of some kind but quickly discounted the idea as the midday sun glinted off of the creatures. They approached the town in a wedge formation with ever increasing speed. Her mouth dropped open as the sight triggered a memory from the past so brief and distant that it had been lost to the inevitability of time, that of a gleaming shape on the horizon soaring over mountains lit by the setting sun. Just a brief glimpse that had set her childhood imagination ablaze but one she'd kept to herself, uncertain that she'd truly seen what she thought she had and not invented some childish fantasy. Now she knew the truth of what she'd seen in the mountains of Skeldrûn in the carefree days of her youth.

“Dragons,” she whispered in solemn reverence as she shifted Hazel in her arms and lifted one hand to point skyward.