Book 13: Chapter 62: Pilgrimage

Path of Dragons

The wind howled across the landscape, whistling as it passed between the curiously shaped stand of tall pillars. Each one was made of black, glass-like rock and reached hundreds of feet above the surface. Between them, the ground was jagged and ridged, requiring each person to watch their step, lest the sharp edges cut through the soles of their boots.

Benedict leaped nimbly from one to the next, his eyes on Jasai’i as she progressed in front of him. She still a mortal, and a non-combatant to boot, so she was forced to take even greater care than most.

Of course, she was not the only low-leveled person in the convoy.

There were thousands of them, most of whom stretched far behind Benedict. Only a few people were ahead of him, and most of those were ascendents. Zek was the only demi-god among them, and he led the way as they picked their way across the terrain.

Benedict winced as he felt his black knights perish. Each time one fell, it was like someone shaving a bit of his soul away. The imps he’d summoned to create an ambush were much less powerful, so when they died – as they’d always been meant to do – it was more like someone battering him with a needles.

He bore it all without complaint, though he did let out a few grunts of pain that were lost in the howling wind.

Jasai’i stumbled, and he leaped forward to catch her. She fell into his arms, her body trembling under the strain of months’ worth of travel. Benedict had difficulty determining exactly how long it had been since they finally made the difficult decision to flee Dravkein, but the journey had been incredibly difficult for everyone involved.

Not only had they been forced to ration their supplies, but each day saw them looking back the way they’d come, expecting the Emerald Guard to finally catch up to them. Now, Benedict had confirmation that they were a long way behind.

After all, that was the only explanation for the mass destruction of the black knights he’d left behind to ambush them. Judging by the tiny trickle of experience he’d just received, the strategy had not been very successful. Less than a hundred kills, and most of those were weak enough that the reward was barely noticeable.

But that had never been the point.

Benedict had left them there not to farm experience, but to slow the attacking army enough to give him and the rest of the citizens of Dravkein a chance to escape and rebuild a life somewhere else. Somewhere they wouldn’t follow.

For that, they’d chosen the other continent – called Mokari – far to the north. That was where Elijah had gone, but more importantly, it was where they would discover the origin of the ongoing pulses of vitality that had swept across the land, inviting all the monsters to come running.

That was the only reason he and the rest of Dravkein had made it as far as they had with minimal casualties. Normally, such a journey would have seen them endure daily attacks. Even with the precautions they’d taken, they should have already lost hundreds of people.

Yet, only a few had fallen, and those were mostly due to environmental dangers.

No one understood what the mass migration of monsters meant, but for his part, Benedict was happy for the relatively peaceful journey. Especially considering he’d been carrying the burden of having hundreds of demons summoned and waiting back in Dravkein to ambush the pursuing army.

Those thoughts passed through his mind as he helped Jasai’i regain her balance. Then, they were once again on their way.

Before the end of the day, the procession left the howling pillars behind, exchanging it for rolling hills that had, according to Zek, once been the home of roving bands of monsters they referred to as snatchers. The creatures lived and traveled beneath the ground, emerging only to drag their prey below the surface.

Zek had only seen them a few times, and even then, from a distance. But he’d described them as leaf-shaped monsters attached to stem-like tentacles. They were covered in sucking mouths that, in Benedict’s mind, resembled those of a lamprey. Once they latched onto a person – or any prey – they wouldn’t let go. Not even after they were dead.

The only solution was to cut that limb free, and that was only possible if it was done almost immediately. Because the snatchers injected a series of tentacles that wove their way through a person’s vascular system. Most people died before they even went underground, but the stronger among them survived long enough to feel themselves slowly drained of all bodily fluids and ethera.

Fortunately, the native Explorers could keep the group hidden via overlapping auras. However, if one person strayed too far out of line, they would be laid bare to the monsters.

So, when they stepped away from the pillars, they did so as a tight group. Even then, there were nearly a hundred thousand people present, which meant that they couldn’t completely contain their spread. And they barely had enough Explorers to cover them.

Finally, after two or three days – time was difficult to gauge without the rhythms of the city – they made camp. Doing so required the deployment of a temporary nine-ring system that needed to be recharged between uses. It wasn’t a perfect deterrent, but so far, it had been effective enough to protect them from monstrous raids.

Benedict could only pray that their luck would continue.

After getting Jasai’i settled in their personal tent – alongside more than a dozen other non-combatants – Benedict headed to the temporary command structure. There, he found that the council was already well into their discussions as to the smooth operation of the camp.

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Without their expertise, the entire exodus would have been impossible. They’d planned everything, managing food, shelter, and the route with practiced efficiency.

Benedict’s place was not among them. He was good at only a few things – like Runecrafting – and bureaucracy wasn’t one of them. Soon, he found the person he sought in the corner of the large tent.

Zek stood apart from the others, far enough away that the sound of their urgent discussions had faded to an inarticulate din. Sitting cross-legged in the corner, he occupied himself by gradually whittling a bone into what Benedict presumed would soon become an arrowhead.

He took a seat next to the old hunter.

“What news from the scouts?” he asked.

“The path remains viable,” the old hunter said without looking up from the carving. “I don’t understand it.”

“You mapped out the journey yourself.”

“And I did so expecting less than half of us to reach the rendezvous point,” he stated. “We should be enduring a half dozen attacks each day, if only from opportunistic scavengers. Even with our precautions, I saw the Explorers’ auras waver three times since we reached this area. We should be mourning dozens of dead by now, and yet, the grabbers have remained silent.”

“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Benedict asked.

“No.”

After that, the two went silent, and when it became clear that Zek had nothing else to say, Benedict finally headed further into the tent, where he listened to the council making their plans. According to those discussions, they were only a couple of days from the Edge of the World overlooking the Restless Sea.

The former described the massive cliffs that marked the border between the ocean and the continent, while the latter represented their most dangerous obstacle.

More than once, they’d sought another way. They had even considered going the other direction and using the land bridge Benedict and Elijah had crossed on their journey to Dravkein. However, it was the wrong time of year, and according to their charts, it would be months before the strait froze over. Without that, it was impassible.

So, they had all reluctantly agreed to crossing the Restless Sea, and only after Zek had spent months seeking Furik M’huel – the famed Sailor who represented the only means by which they could hope to cross the Restless Sea.

Two days later, the convoy arrived at the Edge of the World.

Benedict stood there, aghast at what he saw. The waves looked like mountains, and whatever had drawn the land animals to the north had not affected the creatures of the sea. Nor had it pulled the monsters from the sky, as Benedict saw the constant battle between the two play out when the waves reached their zenith.

It was apocalyptic in scope, and for the first time, Benedict questioned the prudence of the plan for which he’d fought so hard. Now, doubts had taken hold of his mind. Not for himself. He was ready to die if it came to that. But rather, he couldn’t stomach the notion of Jasai’i’s fall.

She stood next to him, clinging to his arm. She trembled in the cold. Or perhaps, in fear.

“It’s too much,” he said. “We should turn back.”

“We can’t. They will pursue us across the entire continent.”

In the end, that had been the reason they’d chosen to cross the Restless Sea. It would act as a barrier against pursuit, and for the same reasons Benedict had begun to question the wisdom of crossing it themselves.

The logic still stood, even if the sea was far more intimidating than Benedict could have imagined. Not long after, they found themselves following the coast to the east until the cliffs descended into a protected cove where they found a fleet of ships and a temporary city.

Benedict was among the group sent to meet Furik and his subordinates.

And when he finally caught sight of the Sailor, he was surprised to find that the man barely looked like a man at all. In fact, to Benedict, he looked like a bipedal monster wearing clothes, with multiple tentacles attached to his head and skin reminiscent of a shark’s.

“The benefits of living a life of adventure, I’m afraid,” he said when he noticed Benedict’s stare. “I assure you, I am more than just a pretty face, though.”

His crew, which were just as deformed as him, all laughed. How he’d managed to find more than a hundred men and women willing to brave the seas was a mystery, but according to Zek, they’d been exploring the oceans for decades. More joined them each year, too.

It was a testament to humanity’s wanderlust, perhaps. Or maybe evidence that every society had its thrill-seekers. Whatever the case, Furik claimed that he could get them across the Restless Sea, though he had warned Zek that doing so would only get them all killed.

After all, the other continent was awash in corruption and played host to some truly deadly creatures. The scale of power was altogether different over there.

But no one believed they had a choice in the matter. Either they braved the sea and the continent beyond, or they turned to face the Emerald Guard’s might. There was no other option.

Of course, that didn’t mean the one choice forced upon them was a good one. Benedict knew it. So did Zek. And likely, everyone else did as well.

That night, they took advantage of Furik’s defenses and camped in relative peace that lasted for a couple of days while the final preparations for the journey were completed. During that time, Benedict found himself investigating the ships, which were a marvel of engineering and runecrafting he’d never expected to find.

In some ways, they looked like ships from Earth. The basic shapes were similar enough, though they were equipped with massive outriggers that Furik claimed were necessary to navigate the often-deadly waters. Each of the five vessels stretched as long as a football field, and featured a spatial enchantment that allowed them to accommodate thousands of passengers each.

Normally, the Sailors lived on their ships, but their quarters had been cleared out to make room. Even then, it would be a tight fit.

“You’re an off-worlder, aren’t you?” asked Furik as Benedict stood on the beach, staring at the deceptively placid waters of the cove. Giant cliffs formed a protective circle around the beach, keeping the rough seas at bay. Even then, monsters would have been a problem if the ships’ enchantments hadn’t repelled them.

“I am,” Benedict admitted. Then, he recounted the tale of how he’d come to Dravkein. It was a practiced speech that he’d repeated hundreds of times over the years.

“This Elijah, do you truly believe he’s still alive?”

“I…I don’t know,” Benedict answered. “I hope so. If anyone could survive out there, it’s him.”

“I hope you’re right. The world needs a little hope.”

After that, they stood there together, just watching the gentle lapping of the waves against the ships’ metal hulls.

A few hours later, Benedict found himself boarding the flagship. Natives of Gorveth didn’t name their ships like Earth’s sailors, and size was the only distinction between Furik’s vessel and the other four.

They set out without fanfare once everyone had boarded, and as they sailed through the tiny gap and into the open ocean, Benedict found himself wondering if they’d made a terrible decision. Then, he joined Jasai’i and the others down below, where they wouldn’t be subjected to the dangers of the ocean.

From now until they reached the other side, their fates would rest squarely on Furik’s shoulders.