Chapter 3 - Part 1

THAN DREAMED OF IN YOUR PHILOSOPHY

Two hours before sunset on the 19th of Aryth, 993 YK, on the banks of the Wynarn River.

Pienna was in the form of a hawk. Aside from liking the plumage, she found the animal’s sharp eyesight perfect for keeping an eye on potential enemy forces at a distance. At the moment those potential enemies were a pair of Aundairian light cavalry scouts. The horsemen stayed well to the east of the river, and seemed to be concerned with defense, not offense. Pienna watched them from her perch atop a tree who roots were half in the river that had been a bustling route of trade before war had come here.

They finally galloped off, and she flew to the ground, changing to her normal, human form as she landed. That made he wince somewhat. She was no longer young, or even nearly young, and such stunts were better left to younger druids.

But even younger druids knew better than to appear to have chosen sides in this war. Aruunis’ accusations of partisanship still stung her. Especially since they were true.

Had you seen Merylsward, Pienna thought to herself, if imagining directing the comment to the stern elf, had you seen the bodies of the children, you may have felt differently. She had not raised that argument with Aruunis, hadn’t really debated with him, instead preferring to let the man vent and then give half-truths and assurances that she would never give Aundair cause to target the Gatekeeper sect.

And it hurt her to have to give such assurances, because she knew that Aruunis had been right. Aundair was willing to do whatever it took to win, even if it meant fireballing children or targeting those who kept the world safe.

Or leading carrion crawlers to us, she thought. No sane person trafficked with the daelkyr creations, but desperation made many consider the insane. And Aundair was desperate now. Chubat’s Battle, as they were now calling it, had blunted a drive meant to split the Reacher forces in twain. The loss of so many powerful wizards had made the former masters of the Eldeen back away from their rebellious western province (as they saw it), and focus their attention elsewhere.

She closed her eyes, trying not to remember the screams of men torn apart by the hulking thing. Unlike other carrion crawlers, it had been big, ferocious, and bloodthirsty. It had struck the other side of the camp from her, killing three men in less than a minute. More would have died if not for her new traveling companion’s quick actions at the time.

“Miss Pienna?” came a soft, dutiful voice.

Pienna turned to see the goblin leaning on his shortbow. “Don’t worry, Brezzy,” she said. “We’re moving on.”

The goblin nodded and smiled. She smiled back. Brezzy was such a simple creature, and his simple happiness was infectious.

Pienna walked past him, gesturing for him to follow. She did not see the sudden shift in his eyes, the calculation that replaced the guileless act.