Era of the Dragoon

Chapter 3: Calenor's Game

[Currently Under Construction]

Tastilien gazed at his company across the fire, trying to determine their motives. One of them also watched him carefully from a wary face, grimacing against his calculating stare. None of them moved, each sizing up the other as warriors prepared against an unknown foe. Tension filled the silent night air to a palpable volume, smothering the three Eylv in its wake.

The first wore a bland leather hauberk over a short sleeved tunic of deep green. Buckles and straps covered it and his thick gray leggings to hold the myriad of bone-handled knives in place as short cropped blue tinted hair and beard framed a square set face beset by hundreds of tiny scars. His bare arms were crossed over his thick chest, but Tastilien noticed the slight tension of the forearms indicating his hands clutching knives behind his back. Orange eyes stared back at him, unwavering in the camplight.

As for the other, well, things were not as simple. Wearing his hair to his shoulders absently, he lounged in front of the fire with an air of aloofness and a slight smirk. His face was delicate, yet showed definitive strength as it faced the stars. His demeanor was completely relaxed as his waited. He was covered from head to foot in a simple black tunic, dark green stained vest, comfortable looking charcoal traveling slacks with plain dark leather riding boots. Tastilien found this choice of footwear odd, as none of them had horses to ride, but this was no more odd than his completing accessories: an iron and leather strap archer's bracer and a red blindfold. By every indication, this man was an archer, and one of good standing in Erana by the bracer's make and styling along with the heavy quiver crammed with feathered arrows laying at the man's side. He could only imagine the accompanying bow was nearby.

But then, why did he wear a blindfold? Quite a contradiction to a profession so reliant on seeing where your work is.

The fire sputtered and coughed loudly as it burned a green branch, and the knife wielding Eylv twitched an eye on the edge of perceptibility. Tastilien broke into a triumphant smile while the blindfolded one pointed and chuckled heartedly.

"Ha!" Tastilien proclaimed, pointing at the knife-clad Eylv condescendingly. "You blinked, I saw you!" He jumped up and began to do an embarassing dance while laughing mockingly, lauding himself for winning the staring contest. The third continued to chuckle as he lay completely down in full relaxation.

It had been the duty of the Rangewardens to continuously patrol the borders of Erana, and to make continuous effort to reclaim Netana. Many of the patrols had found the many nights alone to drag on one's alertness, and so created many games, contests, and training exercises for use in the field that many wonder if they were borne in madness or desperation. Tastilien always liked to think is was grating boredom. Either way, he'd earned a drink upon returning to civilization.

The second looked over to the third, pleading. "Come now, Calenor, he's lying to cover his own failure! It was a trick of the light. You know what those are, right?" Calenor, still sprawled in front of the fire, simply grinned in reply. "Oh, you blind bastard! You just don't care because you never lose at staring! I bet you're not even blind."

At this, Calenor became sudenly somber. Tastilien stopped his dancing, feeling the sudden tension. "Daruun, please. Everyone knows what happened to him," Tastilien hurried his speech as he saw Calenor sit up and face Daruun. "Look, Daruun, just... just apologize and take your damn watch, okay? Please!"

Calenor was now sitting directly in front of Daruun's face, and he raised a hand to quiet Tastilien. "Stop, Tas. Let him see. Let him respect his elders." He dropped his hand as Tastilien turned away and began humming to himself to block out what was to come. He didn't want to remember that again.

Raising his hand to his blindfold, Calenor grew quiet. "Daruun, listen very closely to me. Very closely. I will only do this once, and when I do, make sure you focus your eyes no higher than the tip of my nose. Do you understand?"

Daruun nodded, eyes suddenly very wide with uncertainty. Calenor raised the blindfold, uncover the area where normally eyes would call home. Daruun, staring hard at Calenor's nose, could only make out pure, unyeilding blackness where his features should be. No, not just blackness. A sucking darkness where the eyes should be. And sound, some sort of low chanting. Daruun couldn't make it out, and it sounded faint.

The chanting slowly crept into Daruun's mind, pulling at him, and he felt himself begin to look up. As his eyes crept up to meet Calenor's empty gaze, the chanting grew louder and ever more frantic, excited even. He felt less in control as his eyes grew closer to where Calenor's should be.

"Eh..." was all Daruun managed. As he felt himself being completely pulled away, Calenor replaced the blindfold and slapped Daruun square across the face.

"Tas! Get over here, make sure he's okay for watch. I'm getting some sleep." Tastilien hurried over to the dazed Daruun and leaned down to inspect his face, pushing his cloak out of the way to minimized his burden.

"It's... true... so horrible..." Daruun stared at Tastilien in amazement. "How... how does he..?"

"See? He doesn't. But he does. He has natural affinity for the ethereal, and as such was able to survive with only that wound those decades ago. And now that affinity allows him to construct mental images of his surroundings based on vibrations emanating from various objects. Even his own heartbeat." Tastilien handed Daruun a waterskin before continuing. "In truth, he sees more than anyone. The recourse, however, is why he wears the blindfold. Any who listen to the Death Chant are dragged into Urde's Realm, and a damaged soul takes the body. His permanent wound turns those affected into Dur'Necrundii. Or worse."

Daruun looked warily over at the easily sleeping form a few feet away. "What worse?"

Tastilien stood over Daruun, his face shadowed by his cloak against the campfire light, glanced from Calenor to the deep of Netana Forest. "We don't know. Not yet."

As they both gazed into the quiet darkness of Netana, a bloodcurdling scream rose less than fifty yards away. Calenor was beside them with an arrow nocked in his greatwood bow in the time it took the other two to fully comprehend what they were hearing.

"His heart is still beating, but there's a lot coming to him. Come on, we to play my favorite game tonight!" And he was gone into the darkness.

Tastilien focused a nearby sapling into a firm wooden staff as Daruun drew two knives. "What game is that, Tas?"

Satisfied with the staff, Tastilien gave a grim smirk to Daruun before melding into the forest, "Try not to die."

Why did I have to get stationed with them for my first patrol? Daruun checked his knives as he moved. Why?