first, they were treated as outsiders, having joined the group in mid-travel, but it was quickly recognized that Helm was a warrior, and in such a journey he was exactly the kind of person they wanted and needed to have around.
For a good portion of the journey, Helm was still practically dragging Evina forward, trying to keep her on her feet, but quite often having to carry her. She was completely exhausted, and there was little time for them to rest as long as the column continued to move forward. They didn’t want to risk losing the group, and Helm suspected that the group probably needed them as much as he and Evina needed the group.
One evening, the front of the procession stopped, and then from cries through the night, the call to halt forward movement was resonated through the trees. At some point, someone who was leading this group decided that the entire entourage needed rest, and for the first time in several days, the group stopped so it could do just that.
Helm pulled a canvas tarp out of his carry load and stretched out a make-shift tent that he tied down and then quickly bundled Evina up so she could finally get some seriously needed rest. He figured he would scout the area a bit before he turned in himself and tried to sleep a few hours as well.
As he took a few steps into one of the clearings, he spotted that he was being observed by several men from the group. They had the look of discomfort on their faces as they stared at him. Not one to avoid a confrontation, Helm walked over to them.
“Is there a problem, friend?” he said.
The larger of three men glared back at Helm. “Your woman is slowing you down,” he said. “You might consider abandoning her and moving on. This isn’t a trek for the weak.”
Helm just stared at him. “Would you abandon your wife or your daughter, if you had one?”
The man didn’t seem affected by Helm’s words. “Is she your wife?”
Helm shook his head no. “We are pledged to each other. Beyond that, I would not care to say.”
“She is slowing you down,” said one of the other men. “We can all see that. She probably should have died during the battle, and you’re just too foolish to realize it.”
The hint of a smile came to Helm’s face. Obviously, they were had not observed the parts of battle that took place involving Evina. If they had, they most certainly never would have made some an outrageous recommendation. “She is my burden,” said Helm. “And as she is wont to say, I am hers. As long as I still breathe, we’ll continue to be problems for each other.”
“Your sacrifice,” said the third man, as he turned away from Helm and walked back towards another set of stragglers who were milling about. The two other men glared at Helm for a few moments themselves before they, too, walked over to their friend and left Helm’s company.
Helm was fine with that. Something told him he wasn’t probably going to find much comfort in the company of men who would abandon a loved one because of the burden she might cause them in having to actually care.
Before Helm decided to take a quick walk through the campsite area to check the safety of the area, he checked in on Evina to see if she was sleeping. She surprised him by sitting up in her blankets when he appeared within the flap.
“You should sleep,” said Helm.
“I will,” she said. “You should as well.”
He nodded. “I’m going to walk the perimeter once. You know how I am about open places.”
She nodded back at him. “Be gentle with these people. They’re scared, and they’ve never gone through something like this before.”
He shook his head and managed a laugh. “They wanted me to abandon you. Said you’re just slowing me down.”
She didn’t share his laugh. “Like I said, they’re scared. They’re lashing out as scared people normally do. We don’t have the luxury to act the same way. We might be all that stands between those people and their chances of survival.”
He nodded. “I’m going to do that perimeter walk.”
She smiled, not saying it but knowing how much Helm hated when she had to explain something as simple as how to communicate with people who weren’t warriors and fighters. She watched him disappear into the tree line.
After the disaster of Fireme, Evina did not sleep as well as she would have desired. Instead, as she drifted off to sleep, she found herself revisiting the battlefield where she and Helm held the line against the Dark One’s forces. As he mind tried to work through the events that occurred, and her dream tried to relive the incident, an inner voice kept nagging at her, stating, “This is not what you think it is. The battle is over, yet this is just the beginning.”
The thought kept resonating through her as she walked across the place where she defended the many people who were trying to escape the slaughter happening all around them. No longer was she reliving the moment, but she found herself walking the battlefield, stepping over dead bodies, both friend and foe. The squishing sound under her boots were only accentuated by the ocassional crack of a bone as she walked slowly forward.
“A blood bath,” said a voice from all around her. “I, too, often revisit the locations of where I have taken many lives.”
The voice then seemed to echo from a spot before her, which she quickly focused upon, finally seeing the dark figure as it started to move into sight.
The image was pitch black, but seemed to implode with practically every color of the spectrum, a black hole of images as it sucked in everything around it and released nothing in return. The figure moved forward, slowly, and then a spiny arm stretched out from it, growing until a hand appeared at its end and then a solitary, bony index finger that stuck itself out and pointed directly at Evina.
“You have squandered your talents aimlessly, protecting these fools from their own destruction,” the voice said. “You had such great power at your command, and you use it for—“
He glanced around at the uncountable dead bodies on the ground.
“—For this? A sorcerer is so much more than this, yet you waste your talents on the insignificance of those all around you. Do you bow to them as well?”
Evina knew this was the Dark One, or at least one of his many manifestations. She had encountered him before, sometimes in dreams, other times in various plant life that he inhabited right before taking its life. He always spoke her to as if there was something important he had to say, but each conversation always ended with the promise that he was going to destroy her.
For her own good.
Evina glared at the sucking vortex of black energy that remained in front of her. “Why must you continue to do this? These people have done nothing to you.”
A laugh escaped the vortex before it quickly lost its volume and fell back into the abyss. “They exist. As long as they exist, they must be extinguished. You know this better than anyone.”
And then the vortex completely imploded upon itself and disappeared into a tiiny fleck of light, which then vanished.
Evina remained immobile, sleeping, yet one thought kept flowing through her mind. She didn’t know this better than anyone.
She had no idea what the Dark One was talking about.
The man at the gate was dressed in dark blue, the ceremonial colors of a Guardian of Begmire. Standing between the entrance and the small convoy of travelers, his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. "I am afraid that the Baron of Begmire will see no more visitors today. You will have to move on."
An older man, the self-appointed leader of the convoy, stepped forward. "But, sir, our people have been traveling for many days. We have been moving since the loss of Fireme. We cannot continue without rest."
"Then rest in the woods," said the guard. "We do not serve charity here."
"But we are not charity," said the man. He wiped his hand across his cheek, removing inches of dust and dirt from his face. "We are loyal subjects of the Baron of Begmire, former subjects of the Baron of Fireme."
"You are peasants," said the guard. "Begone."
<
br /> The man refused to move. "We have women and children who have not slept in real beds since the loss. Have mercy on us for their sakes."
The Guardian of Begmire slid his sword out half way. "I can be forceful if you wish me to be so. Do not make me have to back up my words with force."
The leader of the convoy found himself pushed out of the way, another man taking his place. This man was much younger, but there were scars on his body that revealed much battle he had seen in the two decades he had been alive. At his side a young woman appeared; unlike the other women of the convoy, she stood beside him, not behind him.
"And who are you?" said the guard, "a child to defend his people? Don't make me laugh."
The man's expression was one of sincerity. "I am Helm of Ravinna. These people will be allowed into Begmire, or you will answer to me."
The Guardian laughed. "And you are going to make me answer? A man who has his woman stand beside him? Begone or I will bring you the baron's justice."
"This is not the baron's justice," said the woman. "This is your own personal injustice."
The Guardian's smile grew deeper. "And who might you be, Lass?"
"I am Evina of Westland."
The travelers around the woman stepped back to give her even more room. There were several surprised gasps from the crowd that was gathered to enter Begmire.
The Guardian's smile disappeared as he stared out at the woman who called herself Evina. She appeared to be in her