Chapter 17 - Seer of the Frozen Forest

  Robert cast a basic heal on himself, pushing the frost from his bones as the airship pressed forward through the clouds. Brukk had taken them back into the mist before setting off toward their intended direction. Although they could not be certain the enemy frigate had spotted them, no one questioned the orc’s logic as he plunged them back into the icy cold.

  “We’re almost there,” Jane whispered to him, shivering next to Robert at the bow of the ship. Behind them, Brukk was shouting orders at Zurni as the goblin responded with animated shrieks, but he was not quite able to make out the exchange over the wind from the airship’s high speed as it cut through the sky.

  They had all donned brown furs over their original clothing to stave off the cold, taken from the large pile of garments tossed onto the ships deck in haste while they looted the marauder base. Robert had grabbed a bear fur vest and leggings and wore both over his base layer breastplate and linen trousers. His white Cloak of Invulnerability was draped over the vest as he used the thin hood to try to shield his ears from the worst of the wind. Jane wore similar clothing now, no longer limited to the drenched brown dress she had worn when they found her.

  "How will your village folk react when we approach them in a massive orc frigate?" Robert asked, curious.

  “If anyone’s still alive, who knows. But if we can at least get this white flag visible in time, hopefully some might not scatter or worse, attack us.” She patted the giant folded flag against her chest that Zurni had provided her. He had explained that it was used for parleys in their world, a system not foreign to theirs, Robert thought.

  "By the way, thank you for taking us back to our village," she added as Robert felt the ship begin to lurch downward, followed by Zurni barking further orders down to the crew managing the ship’s engines below deck.

  "I'm sorry we couldn’t help more," Robert replied, "but it appears the sight has other plans for us now, given we weren’t partied when the Trials of Ascension began."

  He paused, looking back to find Oswin, Varg, Alice, and Tim emerging from the warmth of the captain’s cabin.

  "Are you sure you don’t wish to share your next Trial with us? I know we can’t participate, but perhaps we may still be of some assistance."

  “No, my dear healer,” she whispered, her voice old and hardened, carrying quietly across the wind. “We are not your burden to bear. You’ve saved my dear Timothy and my own life. That’s all we can ask.”

  “Well, I hope our quests cross paths again,” he replied with a heavy heart. Despite the thought of taking on a tailor and a jeweler into their group, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of guilt when he compared it to his own past, given all that Varg, Alice, and Oswin had done for him when he was nothing more than a level five liability.

  "Ready the flag," Zurni screeched behind them, startling Robert as the short goblin waddled up between them. "We’ll be exiting the clouds shortly. Drape the flag over the right side of the ship and the cap’n will bring you down just outside the encampment."

  "Thank you, Master Zurni," Jane replied respectfully, and the goblin bowed slightly before making his way back toward the helm.

  "Here, Robert, take this end," Jane said, handing a corner of the massive white flag to him. He grabbed it and approached the ship’s railing next to her.

  Robert peered over the edge as the thick mist surrounding them suddenly faded and the ground far below came into view. Off to the right, far to the south, Robert could make out the mountainsides of the Frostmere range they had just escaped from. Directly below them, he could see a snow blanketed pine forest covering the land as far as he could see.

  The Frozen Forest, Robert thought. He had never dreamed of, or wanted to, travel so far north of the fertile farmlands where he had been raised, but he had to admit the frozen landscape still held an allure of beauty despite its deadly environment.

  "There’s our village, Robert. Look," Jane said next to him, pointing with one outstretched finger.

  Robert looked northward, finding a circular clearing surrounded by the heavy forest. He could make out a wooden wall enclosing a small encampment with about twenty to thirty wooden structures of varying sizes.

  "How in the world did you survive out here?" Robert asked in amazement.

  "Where you’re raised, you don’t ask such questions, Robert. It’s just where you live. Probably no different than desert folk living their lives off the barren land."

  "Come now, throw the flag over. I see a burning fire," she said hopefully.

  Robert threw his side of the white flag over the side of the ship, noting the single fire burning hot in front of one of the smaller wooden buildings near the center of the small fortified village.

  "Priest," Varg called to him, walking up the deck. "The orc says he’s going to land us at the front gate. There should be enough clearing between the forest and the outer wall there."

  "Understood, Varg. Best tell Brukk to wait on the ship with the goblins. These folk most likely have never encountered an orc yet. We’ll disembark with Jane and Tim and make sure they’re safe here before we depart."

  Varg nodded with a grunt, then turned and headed back toward the helm.

  Brukk and his crew landed the great airship with expert precision just in front of the main gate of the perimeter wall, made of long cut pine trunks. Robert felt himself pushed toward the ground as the airship came to a sudden stop on their descent, surprised that the ship stood perfectly upright after Zurni called out for the landing gear to be deployed. Whatever contraption that was, Robert thought.

  They recoiled the white flag back over the deck and made their way toward the rest of their party, which was gathered by one of the extendable wooden ladders being lowered over the ship’s side.

  Where is everyone, Robert thought as he looked at the empty archer towers scattered every thirty yards or so along the village wall.

  "What, no welcoming party?" Varg grumbled.

  “Let’s just keep our eyes sharp. Someone started the fire inside. Let’s just hope it’s not more marauders waiting to greet us with steel inside the gates,” Robert replied.

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  They all exited the airship, gathering at the village’s main gates. To his surprise Zurni and the remaining crew of Goblins followed down the ladder after them with large empty steel baskets on their back, heading towards the direction of the first. Where in bloody hell do you all think your going Varg rumbled.

  “Worry about your own job, you oaf. If we don’t refuel here, we won’t make it another kilometer before we plummet from the sky,” he spat as he followed the rest of the goblins southward toward the forest treeline.

  As the goblins disappeared into the forest, Robert returned his attention to the main gates of the village, which to his concern were slightly ajar and open for anyone to enter.

  "On me, everyone," Varg called as he slid his massive frame through the gate opening. Robert followed from the rear of the group as the village entrance revealed a small town made of wooden huts with thatched roofs. Snow covered the ground, but a straight clearing, which Robert assumed was the central road, led toward a small town square in the distance. A pile of wood burned hot beside a stone well.

  "Um, Mistress Jane, is your town always so empty?" Oswin asked tentatively as their group pushed forward along the snowy road.

  Robert could see that several of the huts along the path had their doors kicked in, likely from the marauder raid, he assumed.

  "No," she said quietly as their boots crunched loudly against the snow in the eerie silence of the dead village.

  They approached the frozen well that sat in the simple town square with basic workbenches and merchant tables scattered and overturned all about. Tools and crates stuck out from untouched snow, save for a single line of tracks leading to and from the campfire beside the well.

  “Jane, do you know who lived in that hut?” Robert asked quietly.

  “Just an old blind hermit, a bit of a nut but harmless,” she replied in a hushed tone.

  Varg turned towards them putting a finger to his mouth, making eye contact with the group while drawing his massive steel maul with his other hand. Robert watched as the warrior began to pace gingerly toward a small hut at the edge of the square where the tracks led. Its door was ajar, and nothing but pitch black could be seen within.

  They approached the small wooden structure, no larger than Robert’s cottage, from the side, careful not to reveal themselves to whoever might lie in wait inside. Robert grimaced as one of Varg’s boots creaked on the wooden stairs that rose from the snow to the hut’s open entrance. The entire town must be on raised foundations as a guard against the heavy snowfall, Robert thought as he inspected the wooden posts braced against the structure’s corners.

  Varg pushed the thick wooden door open slowly as the dim light of the cloud covered day seeped inside, revealing an elderly man in old, simple robes sitting cross legged on a deerskin atop the wooden floor. A linen sash was tied across his eyes. From Robert’s vantage point just behind Varg, he inspected the man.

  [Hobb (Seer, Level 25)]

  What’s a Seer, Robert thought as he tried to call on the HUD for an explanation. HUD, what is a Seer, he thought, but no response came.

  Cursed HUD.

  As Varg entered the hut, Hobb the hermit sat slumped, drooling on himself as he snored. On his lap sat a fat looking cat, also sleeping. Robert walked in behind Varg as the wooden flooring creaked beneath them, and a curious brown stain caught his eye as Varg reholstered his maul in front of him, finding no threat within the small living space.

  “Wake up, old man,” Varg blurted as the blindfolded man startled awake mid-snore. The large cat on his lap shrieked awake as well, hissing at them, before bolting through the hut under Robert’s legs and darting outside.

  "Wah, who’s there?" the old man choked out as his blindfold suddenly flashed with a blinding flare.

  "I am Rober..." Robert started when Varg whipped around toward him in a blur, grasping Robert by his fur vest and smashing him into the front wall beside the door.

  Robert gasped for air as he felt part of his backside crash through the wooden wall with ferocious force. Varg stared at him, expressionless, his eyes glowing white.

  “Varg, what are you doing?” Oswin screamed in a panic as he entered the hut, reaching for Varg’s arm that was pinning Robert to the wall. With a rapid strike, the mesmerized warrior backhanded the enchanter, sending him flying past the doorway and narrowly missing Alice as she entered. Through Robert’s sparkling, concussed vision, he could just make out Oswin flying through the opposite wall and into the snow beyond.

  “Release them!” Alice roared. Robert could make out the archer drawing an electrified arrow, aiming it directly at the hermit’s head just as Varg’s eyes dimmed before him. The glow vanished as they snapped back to their original color in an instant.

  “Priest?” Varg asked, dumbfounded, just as an electric arrow pierced through the warrior’s breastplate, sending a sudden shock through his arm and into Robert’s chest where he still gripped him. A sharp, reverberating pain tore through Robert for what felt like an eternity as the smell of burnt flesh filled his nose, until the sensation suddenly stopped and they both collapsed to the floor.

  “Hobb, no!” Jane called out from somewhere near the entrance as Robert lay paralyzed, face down on the hut’s floor. “They’re helping us!”

  "Wah, Jane, is that you?" Robert heard the old man say with a raspy drawl.

  "Gods, Robert... Varg, what have I done?" Alice cried out in despair.

  "She shot me. The woman shot me!" Varg rumbled in pain.

  "Someone… get me my staff," Robert called out in a whisper. He tried moving his limbs but was still too paralyzed from being thrown through a wall and then electrocuted.

  "I'm on it, Robert," he heard Alice call out as she turned him onto his back. He let out a wisp of a scream as he felt the grinding of bone in what he assumed were broken ribs.

  "Sorry, Robert. Here, take this," she said, placing his oak staff across his chest. He gripped it and cast a heal on himself as the spell allowed him to breathe fresh air into his battered lungs. Now he knew the power of a level thirty four warrior, he thought, casting a second heal as Alice helped him into a sitting position.

  [Skill Leveled Up: Basic Heal (Level 12)]

  “Arg,” Varg roared as he pulled the bloodied arrow forward from his chestplate as it exited the wound. A small fountain of blood followed, dripping down the red painted slash across his weathered breastplate. “You ruined my chestplate, Alice!”

  “Well, you also broke Robert’s back. It’s not my fault,” Alice bit back.

  Robert cast a heal on Varg as the two continued to quarrel. Just behind Varg, Jane and Tim were helping the blindfolded man, Hobb, up from his seated position on the deerskin.

  "Where’s that furball? Get back here, coward!" the old man exclaimed as he stumbled awkwardly to his feet. "I’m fine, I’m fine. Let me just sit on my chair for a bit," he added, swatting Jane’s and Tim’s help away.

  He walked awkwardly forward, crashing into a large storage chest beside a bed near the hole in the wall Oswin had flown through.

  Oswin! Robert thought as he rushed toward the opening while Jane helped the bumbling man back toward the bed.

  "Oswin! Are you all right?" he shouted through the hole toward the enchanter sprawled awkwardly in the snow.

  "Robert, am I dead again?" Oswin responded with a wisp.

  With the help of Varg, they carried the battered enchanter back into the hut after a few heals from Robert’s staff. His wounds were grievous, but thankfully nothing Robert’s spells could not mend. While they worked on Oswin, Jane and Tim tried to calm the old hermit and catch him up on their recent travels. He remained irate about his feline companion abandoning him again at the first sign of danger, but they managed to get out of him that during the marauder raid he had simply stayed in his hut, undisturbed. Curious, Robert thought about the obvious fib, but he chose not to press the old man about the brown stains near the doorstep, which he assumed were dried blood.

  "What do you mean King Henry’s dead?" the old man snapped, turning his blindfolded gaze toward Robert.

  "He perished in the first boss chamber of the Raid of Stormskeep. I’m sorry," Robert replied.

  The old man looked downward and shook his head in disbelief, his rotted teeth showing as he mouthed something silently through his long white beard. Looking back up at Robert, he responded with two raspy words.

  "Show me..."