Martin Hengst - The Darkest Hour

She shook her head. Tia suddenly felt like her thoughts were swimming in a hundred different directions at once.

“Why? Wynn, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re-”

“Too rational? Too logical? A stick in the mud that always follows the rules?”

Tia blushed and dropped her eyes. “Well. Yes.”

“At first, I was tempted to turn you in,” he admitted candidly. “But the more I got to know you, the more I got to like you, and, well, I figured it couldn’t hurt to break the rules just this once.”

“I appreciate your keeping my secret.” She laughed. “We didn’t get off to the best start. I’m a little surprised you didn’t turn me in to the inquisitors right then.”

Wynn shrugged. “Your heart was in the right place. It’s one of the things I love about you.” Tiadaria’s head jerked up and Wynn ground his teeth. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! In the candor of the moment he had let his guard slip a little too far. “As a person,” he amended lamely, his cheeks blazing red. “We should probably catch up with Faxon.”

He turned his mount around and flicked the reigns, urging it on up ahead where Faxon was waiting.

“Wynn-”

“It's alright, Tia. Just forget it and let’s catch up.”

Tiadaria lagged behind a bit, trying to put her troubled thoughts in order. Wynn’s revelation, if it was one, was troubling on a couple different levels. Maybe he did actually love her as a friend, which was perfectly understandable and to be expected. They’d been working together very closely and she enjoyed his company. Still, it didn’t sound like he meant as friends and the fact that he couldn’t even look at her after he stumbled over his words…

Faxon and Wynn were waiting for her and when she caught up, their journey had gone silent. They rode in absolute quiet for quite some time until they reached a rocky pass, apparently the only way past the nearly vertical rock face that they had come upon. Large boulders littered the road here.

“Looks like we’ve reached the end of civilization,” Wynn said.

“Hush.” Faxon held up a hand, his head cocked to one side. Tia heard it too, a scratching, like claws on rock. Her scimitars rang as she drew them from their scabbards.

The horses reared almost simultaneously, scenting something they feared. The trio had to hold tightly to the beasts to keep them from bolting back the way they had come. Sensing something not quite right, Tiadaria slipped into sphere sight. She saw the black writhing mass crouched behind a nearby boulder.

“Xarundi!” she cried, slipping back into the physical realm and brandishing a sword at the rock the creature was hiding behind. She dropped the point of her blade, ready to run down the Xarundi when it appeared. It stepped out from behind the rock, its arms spread wide. Tia thought the creature looked odd and realized that its strange look was because its tail was missing.

“Please hold your blade, Swordmage,” the Xarundi’s grasp of the common tongue was nearly human, but carried the burr of an underlying growl in the pronunciation. “I mean neither you nor your beasts any harm.”

It took several moments of tense conversation and maneuvering to settle the horses and to remove themselves and their gear from the terrified animals. Faxon slapped them on the rump and sent them on their way back to the livery. Throughout the process, Tiadaria kept her scimitar pointed at the Xarundi. The longer she looked at it, the more she realized there was something familiar about it.

“I’ve seen you before,” Tiadaria said, motioning to the Xarundi with the tip of the blade. “You were in the tavern in Overwatch. You were drinking with humans.”

“Yes. I am called Exile, for my name was taken from me when my people took my tail.”

“Your own people cut your tail off?” Tiadaria winced. “That’s barbaric.”

Exile shrugged. “It is the way of the Chosen. My shame is inconsequential, Swordmage. I must speak to you and we must speak quickly, time is short.”

“We’re speaking now,” Tia pointed out. “Say what you will.” She glanced at Faxon and he nodded slightly. She slipped her scimitars back into their scabbards.

“The evening before the three of you came to Overwatch, a Xarundi war party arrived through the gate.”

“And the mercenaries did nothing?” Tiadaria was incredulous.

“The rules-” Exile began.

“Are different in Overwatch,” Tia snapped. “Yes, I know. What of this war party and why are you telling us?”

“I tell you because there is no love lost between myself and the remainder of the Chosen. The leader of the war party was speaking to the others in our tongue, certain that the inferiors wouldn’t understand them.

“They seek a powerful relic to the north, a relic that you also seek, and they mean to kill you before you can take it.”

“What else is new? Where are they now?”

Exile motioned to the pass. “They’re a half day ahead of you, to the north. You must hurry to stop them.”

Tia cast a critical eye on the Xarundi. “Why are you so interested in stopping them? And if it’s that important, why didn’t you do something.”

“I am no longer a warrior,” Exile said, waving a dismissive hand at his sagging middle and graying fur. “I am old and fat and no match for young warriors or the High Priest. As for stopping them, you must. Any item of power makes them a danger to all the cities of man. Including Overwatch, which is now my home.” The Xarundi dropped to all fours. “Heed my warning, Swordmage. Please.”

Exile bounded off down the road the way they had come without another word, leaving the trio to exchange dubious glances with each other.

“So what was that about?” Tia asked.

“He sounded honest enough to me,” Wynn remarked. “If he’s been living in Overwatch, I can understand his wanting to protect the city.”

Faxon sighed, scrubbing his face with his palms. “I think we have to take his warning at face value. I fail to see what he gains by lying about the others being a half-day ahead.”

“Let’s say that he’s telling the truth,” Tiadaria said, trusting her own instincts in the matter. “Where does that put us?”

“In a bad position,” Faxon replied. “Not only are we behind, but we’re on the defensive. We don’t know where they are, or what their plans are.”

“Fantastic.”

“We can’t do anything about it tonight,” Wynn said, ever the voice of reason. “It’s getting dark and if it’s getting dark out here, it’s going to be really dark in there.” He pointed to the opening of the pass. “Let’s find someplace to spend the night and try to make up some time, quickly, carefully, in the morning.”

Faxon rubbed his chin. “Wynn makes a good point. The Xarundi are largely nocturnal. They can travel in the day, but it’s unlikely they will. We might be able to make up more ground while the sun is up. Might even be able to catch them with their guard down.”

“Alright,” Tia rubbed her palms on her thighs. “So where do we bed down for the night?”

Wynn’s eyes took on the half-glazed look of someone half inside the Quintessential Sphere. He pointed southeast, back the way they had come.

“Looks like an abandoned hunter’s hut. It’s not very far.”

“Good thinking, Wynn.” Faxon clapped his apprentice on the back.

Having a destination and plan helped shake them of the uncertainty that had spawned from their encounter with Exile. The hunter’s hut was in good condition, with cots and cooking implements. It was obviously used often, as there was a recent layer of ash in the fire pit. They sat around the fire telling stories until late in the evening. They enjoyed themselves, but the talk was hushed and the looming specter of impending battle weighed heavily on them all.