Chapter 10 - The Company of Null

For a week, Prince Lucian and Aven traveled through the Amnian countryside, south towards the country of Tethyr. Over the span, they passed by the Small Teeth Mountain and drew their horses to the side to avoid a pair of wyverns in the midst of tearing a carcass to pieces. At night, they’d settle into taverns, hopping from one to the next. On their eighth day of travel, the pair entered into the Wealdath Woods.

The forest was rocky, uneven and dominated by large, old trees. Their branches were weighed down by ice, forming something akin to a tunnel of icy fragments overtop those traveling the worn roads. Evergreens, cedar, duskwood, maple and oak flanked the path, a pair of deer bounding for the shadows of the forest.

From there, they moved on foot. Their boots splashed into icy cold water as they led their horses over a small stream, a fine layer of snow covering the ground as it began to tumble down from the sky. Dusk lingered on the edge of the horizon and Lucian frowned, drawing his horse to a stop. “We should have reached the next tavern by now,” he murmured.

Aven shook the ghostly white flakes from his hair. “You think? Still have that map with you?” He drew his horse to a relieved stop beside Lucian’s. There had been resistance in the horse’s every step as the day’s droning walk left it tired on its feet. “The horses need rest.”

“Not just the horses.” Lucian rubbed the tired from his eyes. “Here, you look.”

He pushed the map against Aven’s chest and Aven wrinkled his nose. “You’ve forgotten I can’t read this damn thing, I’ll end up getting us more lost. Not like you haven’t, already.”

Lucian snatched it back. “If you can’t even read it, don’t question my navigational skills,” Lucian snapped. He turned his head about. “…my instincts tell me… we’re still in Faerun.” He spurred his horse forward down the road.

Aven sighed. “Obviously. Faerun is the entire continent. Just check and see if there’s anything marked down. An inn, a tavern or a town.” He noted the flush that poured over Lucian’s features. “What is it?”

“I…” Lucian growled. He crumbled the map and tossed it into the snow. “It’s useless to me. I cannot read it.”

“What?”

Lucian pursed his lips. “This isn’t the typical common tongue. I’m fluent in several variants of Faerun’s language. But this is in Amnian. It’s an entirely different dialect and script.”

Aven paused a moment. “…you couldn’t read it, either?” He scowled. “You let us ride into this blind for a week because you couldn’t admit it was a different text?!”

“Not blind. I’m simply not as knowledgeable of our surroundings as I may have hoped.”

Aven groaned out. “Yes, that’s much better,” he chided. He looked up towards the stars that were beginning to conjure in the hazy sky overhead. “If this were Aeliorn, we could at least tell what direction we’re going in. But this…” he sighed. “These constellations are all so different.”

“No matter. Once we find a tavern, we can ask for directions.” Without another word, Lucian swung back onto his horse.

——————————–

They didn’t find an inn.

Two hours later, the sun had set and they could hear the sound of wolves howling through the Wealdath trees. Aven was utterly exhausted. A day of riding had his rear aching and his back screaming for the relief of a bedroll. Lucian was insistent on finding a tavern… but the further they traveled into the woods, the more Aven began to doubt they’d find any such shelter.

From the corner of his eye, a building caught Aven’s attention. He drew back on the reins of his horse as he peered through the trees to an old tower a hundred feet off the road. It was broken, in shambles, the second and third floor caved in… but the rubble created a shelter.

Enough to sleep, at least for the night.

“We can stay here.”

“What?” Lucian looked about. “Where? Is there a barn somewhere?” Lucian’s eyes followed Aven’s pointing finger. He barked a laugh, face screwing up into a sneer. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“No. We’re staying here and riding out for the night.”

“…no?” Lucian kicked his horses’ side, urging it forward until he was beside Aven. He glowered up at the man. “Who are you to tell me no?”

Aven had half a mind to be fearful. Indignant rage flared in Lucian’s eyes as he defied him. He grit his teeth and shoved aside his uncertainties. “The person keeping you alive,” he snapped. “I may not be royalty, but without me, you’d be dead. For that, I get to tell you where we sleep.”

“Don’t you dare play that game. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be in chains wallowing in your own shit and bending over for nobles.”

Aven’s jaw slid forward. “And I appreciate it. It means we’re even.” he managed. His knuckles were white as they gripped the reins of his horse. “But how can I keep you safe if you insist on fighting me every step of the way.”

Lucian’s brows were bumped together, frustration crinkling his eyes as he glowered up at the barbarian. With a breath of exasperation, he pulled his sharp gaze away. “Fine,” he said, voice terse. “It’s getting quite cold either way. By the way-” He glanced over his shoulder to Aven. “We are not even. As that insinuates I owed you in the first place.”

Aven resisted the urge to strangle His Highness as he followed him to the ruin. The tower’s second and third floor had completely crumbled into a ruined heap. The walls were broken down, and the ceiling opened up into the dark sky. The only spot that seemed to be at all dry was a small space between two massive blocks of rubble that leaned against one another to form a tent. “Go get yourself settled,” Aven said as he slid down from his horse. “I’ll put the horses away. You can start a fire.”

Even the smallest order had the Prince wrenching with defiance. But for once - he said nothing. Merely pouted and gave a nod as he focused his mana on creating a fire.

Well, it was progress.

Aven eased the horses to the side, fastening their reins around a tree. “Don’t worry,” he soothed, drawing his calloused hand down the mare’s flank. “We get some time to rest, now.” He fed the horses a couple apples and made his way back towards Lucian, who sat with his knees drawn to his chest and hands out to the flames.

Aven let his body collapse to the stone and head against a rocky slab. “Gods… it feels good to sit down,” he murmured.

“Will you come with me when I return to Aeliorn?”

Aven glanced up. Lucian watched the flames, a frown touching his lips as he warmed his fingers. The flame licked at several pieces of wood that the Prince had dragged over. “…yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I have nowhere else to go. You know that.” Aven paused. “May I ask a question?”

“If you must.”

“Why would you even want to go back?”

Lucian stirred. He turned his gaze to Aven. “What do you mean?”

“Your uncle betrayed you. He could be telling lies…he could be King already, for all we know. You’ll be his prime target if you return. Don’t you want to just… go somewhere to restart?”

Lucian considered it for a long while. He kicked a bit of timber and sparks lit up their makeshift shelter. “I’m a bit like you,” Lucian finally admitted. “I have nowhere else to go.” He laid down and rolled over, back to Aven. “Wake me in three hours. I’ll take watch.”

“…all right.”

Despite his earlier moans and groans in regards to sleeping out in the open, the Prince’s even breaths could be heard only minutes later. Aven tilted his head back, and listened. Listened to the sounds of Lucian’s breaths. Listened to the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. A peaceful night.

The sound of crunching snow had the man glancing over. Kion lumbered over, resting his head down on Aven’s lap with a stretch. A feeble smile tugged its way onto Aven’s features and he pushed his fingers through Kion’s mane. “You sleep, too, bud,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry for all of this.”

He let his eyes drift over to Lucian. Curled up into a ball, he looked… small. Certainly not like royalty. His fingers twisted into Kion’s fur. “…you have as much right to be a king as Lucian does,” he whispered. “And yet here you both are.”

Aven shook his head and grunted. “Ah… listen to me. Moping about because I can’t get you a pretty pride of ladies just yet.”

It was as though the lion could sense Aven’s brooding. His tail flicked upwards, smacking against Aven’s face and the man chuckled. “All right, all right,” he purred, leaning forward to push his face against the lion’s mane. “I get it.”

The lion’s great, mighty snores soon reverberated through the ruins. Silver shivelight from the stars pierced through the trees, and a mist rose from the ground.

Aven had begun to nod off - when he heard a twig snap in the forest.

His head shot up. He peered into the dark forest, for any life… any movement..but there was nothing. Nothing but utter silence, save for Lucian’s groan as he rolled over. Aven pushed to his feet, retrieving his axes as he stepped away from the fire. Not even the animals made sound. It was as though the entire forest was holding its breath. And yet… something was wrong. An instinct that clawed at his stomach, screaming inside of him, warning of danger.

He turned to alert Lucian that they should move on - when he felt the familiar chill of cold steel against his throat.

“Well, well,” purred a voice in his ear. The voice was distinctly Aelorian. “Seems the little lord has a bodyguard.”

Figures materialized from the night. They perched mounted on the ruins, shortbows in hand and cloaks drawn over their features. Aven grit his teeth, swallowing against the steel held to his throat. “…how stupid of you to think of me as a lowly bodyguard.”

“Oh, forgive me, slave,” the voice said. “Or perhaps a king. Maybe a captain. It doesn’t matter. Corpses are all the same, in the end.”

“Aven!”

Lucian approached, stirred awake by the noise. Aven’s heart slammed against his chest. “Get out of here!” He snapped.

Lucian froze. His eyes shot from Aven to the cloaked figures. To the symbol woven into their armour, of a mage’s glove wrapped in suffocating, barbed chains. The blood drained from his face and he swallowed. “Let him go.”

“Ah, the man of the hour!” Aven felt a kick in his back, and he stumbled forward into Lucian’s arms. He turned - and was finally able to get a good look at his assailant. An elf - a moon elf - with dusky grey skin, teal eyes, handsome sharp features and raven black hair. He, like the other elves surrounding them, were adorned in strange symbols stretching over their bodies. The elf dipped into a low bow. “Vesper, at your service, your highness.”

“The Company of Null will never be in my service,” Lucian snarled.

“I suppose you’re right. Our service has already been bought by another. I’m sure you can guess who. You see - you were supposed to die, yet here you are.” The edge of his lip lifts. Six arrows are nocked. “And that’s where the Company comes in.”

Aven could feel blood rushing through his head. “That’s not happening.”

“I don’t believe I asked your permission.” He snapped his fingers.

Instinct drove Aven. He shoved Lucian down and his shoulder ignited in pain as an arrow pushed through his muscles. Five others grazed over his head as he covered the Prince. In the background, he could hear the roar of Kion joining the fray as he slammed into an assassin.

While Lucian covered him from behind, Vesper surged forward, knife in hand. A twist of steel struck air as Vesper slid beneath the sweep of his blade, striking Aven across his side. Aven grunted, staggering, hot blood seeping through his shirt. Another nick to his leg, his arm. Blood poured and Aven staggered.

“Fucking cowardly little man,” he snarled. “Come face me and let’s see how long you last!”

“If I were to fight you on your terms, Beast Tamer,” Vesper purred, dancing backwards. “I would be carved into ribbons.”

Aven grit his teeth. He could feel his body drumming with pain. “That’s the whole point. I’d love nothing more than to slice your head off!” He charged forward. A powerful swing cut towards Vesper, striking into a tree as Vesper dodged out of the way, materializing behind him. The blade was aimed towards his neck. Aven’s eyes widened. He ducked down, the knife passing over him and ripped his axe from the tree.

Behind him, Lucian was protecting himself against the assassins. He uttered an incantation and three glowing green arrows materialized at his sides, surging forward as he threw his hand out. But he couldn’t focus on Lucian right now.

Vesper drew every ounce of his attention, his focus. Never had he faced an enemy so fast. Aven fought like a child wielding a stick compared to Vesper’s control and precision. Every strike of his axe missed the man by inches, and the elf disappeared and reappeared behind him, blade cutting, slashing, biting into skin. With every hit - Aven felt himself growing weaker.

Sweat dripped down his brow. He struck at Vesper and the elf knocked his blade away, moving into Aven’s space. He stood inches from Aven’s face, wrist colliding with the barbarian’s to fend off the crash of a fist. His other hand came up, splaying across Aven’s forehead, thumb jamming into his temple. Vesper leers over the man, lips twisted in a malicious grin, tattoos lighting up in a bright teal - then both glow and smile faded. Faded into confusion.

Aven took the chance. His fist smashed into Vesper’s face, upsetting his balance and the elf staggered back several steps with a gasp, wiping his lip. “What the hell?” He hissed. “What are you?”

“The one who’s going to beat your face into a pulp,” Aven seethed.

Vesper’s eyes narrowed. He tossed his dagger into his other hand, and drew a wickedly sharp adamantite sword. “No matter,” the elf panted, giving the blades a twirl. “You’ll be dead all the same.”

He disappeared in a flurry of shadow. A cut to Aven’s arm and his axe dropped. He danced around to Aven’s other side, another cut across Aven’s calf dropping him to his knee. He fell to the right. A boot smashed into his jaw and he could taste blood in his mouth.

“Aven!”

Lucian’s eyes were wide with panic. He drew back his hand and threw it forwards. A spear of elemental energy rushed towards Vesper - the same spell that Aven has seen blast apart furniture and kill a man. The colours of fire, acid, frost and lightning reflected in the elf’s pupiless eyes. A wolfish smile cut over his features and put out his hand, sucked into his palm with a blinding burst of light - and it was gone.

Vesper’s tattoos flared with blue light as Lucian’s mana rushed through his body. The elf exhaled, eyes closed. “Delicious.”

“Lucian, go!” Aven surged forward. His arms roped around Vesper’s legs, knocking to the ground.

“I-”

“I said go, damn it!” Anger and grief burned in Aven’s eyes as he struggled to hold Vesper down while the Company assassins converged.

He may as well have smacked Lucian. His face contorted into hurt. Aven didn’t notice. He didn’t care. He was wrestling Vesper to the ground, stomach rupturing with white hot pain as Vesper drove a dagger into his side.

His vision swam. He practically knelt in a pool of his own blood. Vesper stumbled to his feet, drawing the blade of his dagger across Aven’s shoulder to wipe off the blood. “I’ve had enough,” he hissed out. He gripped Aven’s hair and yanked his head up, and the cold brush of steel touched his throat.

Aven dragged his eyes upwards. Lucian’s eyes were stained red, teeth bared. Lucian cursed under his breath and backed up towards the woods. Aven’s heart surged. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Good. At least… Lucian will…

“Survive,” Lucian snarled. “That’s an order, Aven Kheistan!”

He threw out his hand, magic licking at his fingertips. Vesper and the other elves braced for impact - but they were not the target of Lucian’s spell.

There was a blinding burst of light. Aven suddenly stood at the edge of the woods with a stagger - and Lucian was held beneath Vesper’s grasp, whose eyes widened. “Oh!” He laughed. “Well, isn’t that convenient.” He touched his thumb to Lucian’s temple, middle and second finger to his forehead - and Lucian froze up.

The mage’s eyes clouded with white. Bright blue light was drawn from Lucian’s very veins, surging into Vesper’s body. The elf’s tattoos pulsated with light. Lucian’s features paled, withered.

Like the very life was being sucked out of him.

“Lucian!” Aven’s advance was halted by two assassin’s who wrangled him back. Then another. Even three men strained to hold Aven back, who struggled and fought with everything he had to reach the mage.

Vesper drew his hand back and Lucian crumbled to the ground, still. Blood dripped from the elf’s lips. Vesper chuckled, pushing his hand across his lip. His fingers twisted into Lucian’s hair and dragged the unconscious Prince as he approached Aven, sword in hand. “You’re right, Aven,” he said, the barbarian being shoved to his knees. “You are certainly more than a bodyguard. A shame, but a job is a job. Kill the slave, and take the mage.”

Aven didn’t hear a word. His gaze was locked on Lucian, breath caught in his throat. Wake up. Lucian didn’t stir. The Company of Null resumed position, encircling Aven. Please.

Vesper raised his blade - but it never came down.

A javelin the size of a tree trunk sailed through the air, piercing an assassin through his stomach and pinned him into one of the tower’s stone walls like a dart. The forest exploded with the deafening sounds of howling animals and hooves pounding into the forest floor.

Warriors in the night converged on the assassins. Men and women hidden under the guise of animalistic visages slashed and cut their way through the Company’s ranks. Vesper spun about with a snarl. “Damn it!” He snarled. “The Mindulgulph! To me!”

Vesper slammed his palms together. His body shifted into smoke and a raven burst forth from the black mist, taking off into the night and followed by the remaining assassins.

Aven crawled towards Lucian. He was numbed to the pain, his body soaked with red, vision spinning, blackening. His fingers curled around Lucian’s and he collapsed on top of him, protecting him from the next wave of strangers.

The world tilted. The last Aven could see was a massive figure approaching and her deep, thundering voice echoing out to her companions. “Take these two back to the fort. Inform Lady Bloodsword.”

Aven’s eyes slid shut, and all went black.