The four individuals in front of her had markedly different reactions when Morwyn left the tent. Eronir allowed a small smile and gave her a curt nod, Trux heaved a sigh of relief, Argoth grinned with pride, and Rennock looked her over curiously as a soft blue glow faded from his eyes. She stood before them awkwardly with her left hand resting on the pommel of her sword for comfort, not wanting to be the first to speak and nervous at what they might say to her. Trux was the first to make a move. The dwarf strode forward and slugged her lightly in the stomach. Though it was obviously not intended to cause harm, Morwyn let out a grunt and grimaced with the effort of remaining upright.
“That's for makin' me worry,” Trux growled before wrapping Morwyn in a brief but tight hug. She released her grip and gave Morwyn a playful shove. “And that's for fightin' a fuckin' giant and not dyin' for your trouble, you madwoman.”
Morwyn briefly wished her conversation with Hazel had been so straightforward then rescinded the inclination. There were different ways to tell harsh truths. Hazel's harsh rebuke had cut her to her core as in a way that nothing else could have done.
“I'm glad to see you made it through your ordeal... and recovered from your injuries as well, of course,” Eronir chimed in with a wry smile. “If you heard the things Hazel said while you were unconscious you'd want to wash your own mouth out with soap. Do take better care of yourself. I'd rather not go through that again.”
“I've been admonished in three different ways now. I know I deserve every bit of it, but I must say I do prefer your approach to that of Lady Trux.” Morwyn rubbed the back of her neck as it heated with embarrassment. “I suppose I'm due for more before the lesson is truly learned. Argoth? Rennock?”
Argoth crossed his arms across his thick chest and his toothy grin widened.
“Plenty of folks might say I've lost my marbles- and they're probably right- but I say well done. I would've preferred an invitation to the fight but I suppose I have to let the youth have some fun every once in a while. What you did impressed the giants so thoroughly that they agreed to escort us until you recovered. I've enjoyed gettin' to know them in the meantime. They're good company.”
“Especially their shaman,” Trux said with a wink. Morwyn swore she saw the orc's gray complexion darken slightly in the uncertain light of a nearby lantern. He waved a dismissive hand and began to walk away from the group.
“Alright, enough nonsense. Eronir, Trux, you're with me. Ren's been itchin' to see her. Let's get back to our duties.”
As the other guards ambled away with playful banter and the occasional shove, Morwyn's attention returned to Rennock. The old wizard gave her a kindly smile but she could see that he was deeply troubled.
“Let us take a walk,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him. “I would prefer not to be overheard, even by friendly ears.”
The camp was quiet as they walked past the dying embers of the fire. Morwyn's stomach growled as she caught the faint scent of a dinner long gone but she followed Rennock without complaint. They encountered the ring of giants that surrounded the caravan some distance away from the wagons and the two nearest to them inclined their heads respectfully as Morwyn passed. She gave them each a nod in return, though she was in disbelief at how differently her actions had been received by different parties.
She followed Rennock up a nearby hill through the thick brush, choosing her footing more carefully than usual in the darkness. The old man sat on an outcropping of stone and indicated another nearby. Morwyn sat down gratefully, a bit ashamed at how winded the short hike had made her. The weakness in her limbs was understandable after what she'd been through but still she hated the feeling of vulnerability. Rennock let her catch her breath for a moment before addressing her.
“What I am about reveal may cause you distress, Miss Shrike, but I do not wish for it dishearten you,” he said in a low tone. Morwyn frowned with concern but held her tongue. She gave a brief nod and gestured for him to continue. Rennock stroked his beard thoughtfully as his eyes bored into her in his uncanny way.
“I should not have agreed to your plan for the giants. Not because I do not have faith in you, but because I was not cautious enough myself given our unusual circumstances. I know what you saw in your opponent for I saw it as well upon my approach. You know of what I speak.”
Morwyn, who had looked away from Rennock with shame, turned back with alarm as she remembered an odd detail she hadn't understood at the time of her ill-fated duel.
“The red haze around Hanor's head?”
Rennock nodded gravely and produced his pipe, lighting it with a snap of his fingers. He puffed on the stem until the coal glowed brightly before he spoke again.
“Had I put forth the effort to extend the range of my senses I would have seen it from afar and forbid you from challenging him. His mind was ensnared by the very same mage that attempted to sabotage us at the Narrows. They are clever in how they disguise their signature, but I am well schooled in unraveling such trickery. I am certain the enchantment was cast by the same person as before.”
Morwyn clenched her fists with anger and worry at the thought of the illusive mage that hunted them.
“What could motivate someone to target the caravan like this? These are good people, kind people, who are looking for nothing more than a chance at a better life.”
Rennock shook his head gravely and gestured toward her with the stem of his pipe.
“Not the caravan. You.”
Morwyn's heart skipped a beat. She opened her mouth to speak but it merely hung open as words failed her. Rennock blew a ring of smoke that circled twice around his head before floating off to follow the light breeze. Morwyn snapped her mouth shut and swallowed hard. A multitude of questions swarmed in her mind until she finally settled on one. All others seemed superfluous in comparison.
“This... this is because of my ancestry, isn't it?”
Rennock nodded, his eyes reflecting the flare of his pipe's ember as he watched her.
“I believe so. I sincerely doubt that you have done anything in your time on the continent to draw the ire of such a dangerous foe.”
Not unless a certain red-haired nobleman from Millcrest hired the mage...
“Most of those who have wanted me dead have ended up on the wrong end of my sword,” Morwyn replied honestly. “And they were the kind of folk that no one really misses anyway. But how can you be certain that this mage is after me?”
Rennock leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, looking all the more like a contemplative sculpture as he rested his chin on one fist.
“The enchantment was layered, not just a single spell. The first must have made him take the stone to cause the uproar, setting the giants in our path. The second was infused with what is called a conditional trigger. In this case it was activated by proximity to you. Even if you had not challenged the giant he would have come for you. It is just as well that you did so, for if you had not you may have been caught off guard by the attack.” Rennock scratched his cheek absently with a faraway look in his eyes. “The third spell was the most insidious, one with another conditional trigger. Had I used my magic on either one of you after you were linked by the second spell, it would have turned back on me tenfold.”
The blood drained from Morwyn's face. It shook her deeply that someone with such a command of magic would go through such trouble to target her and, by extension, Rennock. She swept her hair back from her face with both hands and let out a long, slow breath to calm herself.
“Look, I understand what you said before about keeping what you suspect concerning my bloodline to yourself, but I think I have a right to know why someone believes I should die for simply existing. Whomever or whatever my true parents are, I am my own woman.” Anger slowly began to replace the fear within Morwyn and it only intensified as Rennock shook his head.
“I am truly sorry, but I cannot answer that. My own suspicions would not logically lead someone to want you dead. There is something else here at play and I simply cannot see it,” the old man murmured, half to himself it seemed. Morwyn sighed and rubbed her temples as the tension in her body brought on a throbbing headache.
“Well I don't particularly want to sit around and wait for them to try again. Is there anything we can do?”
Rennock sat up and stretched, his ancient spine popping an absurd number of times as he did so. He reached under the collar of his robe and withdrew a small pendant of some kind on a fine silver chain. He unclasped the necklace and held it out for her. Morwyn tentatively accepted the jewelry and peered closely at it in the dim light of the new moon. It was a simple oval design wrought of silver with a pale gemstone set within it. The pendant reminded her of the milky white eyes of the blind.
“What is this?” she asked, wrapping the chain around her fingers with the pendant resting on her palm.
“A gift, and one I should have thought to give you sooner. It will hide you from prying eyes that would use magic to spy upon you. Though we are not likely to lose them in the wilds, perhaps this will make any future attempts less precise. Additionally, I shall be keeping a much closer eye on our surroundings for signs of this mage.”
Morwyn frowned as she traced one finger over the white stone. She looked up suddenly as a horrid thought occurred to her.
“Won't that put the caravan at greater risk, and yourself as well?”
Rennock chuckled and closed her hand around the small amulet with his own.
“I have other means by which to obscure myself. As for the caravan, I have decided to discard the rules of my directive in the face of this greater threat. Having written most of them myself, I am sure the others will forgive me. These are not normal times. If I had done so earlier I could have saved you a great deal of pain, and for that I am sorry.”
Morwyn clutched the necklace in her fist for a moment as she considered pressing for him to take it back, but her trust in the old wizard's wisdom won out in the end. She clasped the chain around her neck and tucked the pendant down the front of her shirt, placing a hand over it for a long moment as she considered Rennock's words carefully.
“You could have used the scroll to heal me. Or some other magic.”
Rennock gave her a grave nod.
“Indeed. I sincerely regret that I did not, but it is quite difficult to cast aside many years of tradition. Know that even now I do not do so lightly. I should have recognized the severity of our circumstances and acted accordingly.” The wizard gave her a halfhearted smile. “I will also apologize profusely to Miss Willowbend once she has rested. I understand that you are quite important to her. If I do not make it through that conversation alive, remember me fondly.”
Morwyn chuckled in surprise at Rennock's stalwart courage and resolved to be on the opposite side of the camp when he did so. She adjusted her position on her awkward stone seat, eager for any excuse to alter the direction of their conversation.
“Something happened when I tried to use the scroll. I was too far gone to use it properly, it should have failed. But before it did I... I captured the magic before it fled. I took it by force, brought it into myself. Even though I used it immediately, some part of it lingers on. What do you make of that?”
Rennock immediately perked up and rubbed his gnarled hands together eagerly.
“Ah, yes! The second, much happier reason that I wished to speak with you tonight. I sensed what happened within the tent and I can see that little golden spark within you even now. I expect that once you are recovered, you will be able to channel the magic of life. That was quite the feat, especially for one not trained in the arcane arts.”
Morwyn leaned forward anxiously with her elbows resting on her knees.
“Do you know what happened? How I was able to do such a thing?”
An enthusiastic grin spread over Rennock's face and his eyes twinkled.
“I have absolutely no idea! I did not know that such a thing was possible.”
Morwyn sagged in disappointment and rubbed her sore eyes. She'd been hoping for some deep, analytical insight from the wizard, not childlike wonder. Rennock put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“You do not know the source of the frost within you, yet you are able to bend it to your will. We do not know how you were able to capture the essence of life, yet it is there all the same. To a large degree the why of a thing matters far less than what you do with it. However, I must admit I am keen to study it in depth once we reach the Vale.”
Squirming at the idea of being a test subject but knowing that Rennock was her best chance at understanding this aspect of herself, Morwyn acquiesced with a smile and a roll of her eyes. The smile faded as the weight of their earlier conversation settled back over her like a wet blanket.
“Would it be alright if I had some time to myself before I go back to get some rest? If you think it's safe, that is. I have a lot on my mind that I need to sort out.”
Rennock raised his hands in a placating gesture. He stood quickly, tapped his pipe on the stone, and slipped it back into a pocket within his robe. The old man seemed suddenly eager to leave beyond a desire to honor her request for solitude, though she couldn't fathom why.
“Of course, of course. I have taken to placing a number of wards around our camp in recent days. Any magician who might try to breach them is in for a nasty surprise, and I am confident that mundane threats will give our giant sentries a wide berth. Take all the time you need.” The old wizard turned on his heel and left before she could thank him for his insights.
Morwyn stood with a yawn and stretched her back, gritting her teeth as the ache of her freshly healed wounds reminded her of her fragile condition. She sat down cross-legged on the grass beside the boulder and leaned against it with her head resting on top. A deep sigh escaped her as she closed her eyes and settled in to meditate and organize her erratic, sprawling thoughts.
“Moonmother, guide me.” Morwyn whispered the mantra as she had uncountable times before. Not that it did any good beyond helping her to calm down and focus her mind. “I could really use your help. Now more than ever.”
How far she had come from her life as a sell-sword, traveling the land in search of work and scrounging for enough coin to keep the cycle going. In some ways she missed the simplicity of it- worrying about no one but herself, beholden to no cause or master, thriving by her merit or struggling from her mistakes. No one to disappoint, no one to miss her when she was gone... no one to hunt her down for the crime of being born.
Would the mage have come for her if she hadn't joined the caravan? It was pointless speculation. She was here now, a part of this brave little band of outcasts. These people cared about her well-being, depended on her skills. She couldn't go back to the way things were, and she knew it was worth the strain it caused her to care for them. Her companions didn't fill the hole she'd carved into herself by abandoning her family to search for answers, but they were the framework by which she could span the chasm and move on. She just had to take that first, terrifying step forward instead of wallowing in her pain on the precipice.
Morwyn's eyes fluttered open and she stared up at the multitude of stars that twinkled brightly in the black sky. She lifted a finger and traced the shapes of familiar constellations far away. They were in different parts of the sky than they were back home on Skeldrûn and her favorite one, Bryndara the Warrior, was partially obscured by the glowing mass of the full moon.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose and she sat up slowly, her eyes fixed on the pale orb hanging in the sky. It was the night of the new moon, of that she'd been certain. She'd stumbled several times as she'd followed Rennock to the top of the small hill. She'd had to squint against the darkness to make out the necklace he'd given her. Yet there she sat, bathed in the calm white light of a full moon that illuminated the landscape all around her. Something was wrong but she didn't feel threatened, simply unnerved.
“What in the hells...” she whispered, her eyes wide. The soft circle of light that surrounded the moon shifted and swayed then peeled itself free and began to drift lazily across the night sky. It was reminiscent of the dancing lights she'd seen from her cabin's porch on many a winter night yet devoid of their vibrant colors. Morwyn blinked rapidly then rubbed her eyes with her palms, certain that she was hallucinating. When she opened them again she nearly jumped out of her skin with fright.
The spectral form of a woman, translucent and shimmering with eyes of bright white light, hovered in the air mere feet in front of her. Morwyn scrambled backwards across the rough ground on her hands and feet as she recoiled, her pulse pounding with confusion and fear. She instinctively held a hand in front of her face to shade her eyes from the blazing light emanating from the spiritual being. Long seconds dragged by as she gritted her teeth and braced for her doom.
Instead she heard a soft chuckle, breathy and ethereal as it floated on the wind, and the light began to dim. Morwyn slowly lowered her arm and looked up at the translucent form with her lips parted in awe. The figure graced her with an eerie yet maternal smile.
“You have called for me since you were but a child,” the figure said playfully, her words reverberating through Morwyn's entire body with the hum of restrained power. She cocked her head to one side and placed a hand on one hip, the pale fingers blurring and shifting against the loose robe she wore. “Yet now that you see me, you recoil.”
Morwyn's mouth opened and closed several times as she stared at the transparent figure. There was something familiar about her presence, something that brushed the edge of Morwyn's awareness, a calmness like the center of a storm. She pushed herself up onto her knees and bowed her head in wonder as she finally recognized the sense of peace and stillness within the woman's presence. She had felt it before during prayers and meditation, though not remotely as strong as it was now. It emanated from the being in an aura more powerful than anything she had ever witnessed.
“Moonmother,” she whispered in disbelief.
“Rise,” the goddess commanded gently as she laced her spectral fingers together. “Unlike the others, I prefer that my devotees stand tall.”
Stricken dumb, Morwyn slowly pushed herself to her feet and struggled to meet the woman's incorporeal gaze. She was hardly able to comprehend herself, her surroundings, her experience as she stood before this being of unimaginable power. Her mind was overwhelmed to the point where all thoughts fled and she stood as still as a statue with a racing pulse. The goddess drifted closer, her bare feet settling onto the ground as she approached Morwyn and reached out a hand to lift her chin.
“Be not afraid,” the goddess said softly. Her touch was smooth and cold but a sense of peace flowed through her into Morwyn's body. Her disjointed breathing began to even out and her heartbeat slowed, but her eyes remained wide and incredulous as she stared into the face of a deity.
“I... I...” Morwyn stammered, unable to collect herself. The Moonmother released her and stepped back. Her footsteps left no impression on the grassy hilltop.
“It will be difficult for us to communicate if you cannot speak,” the goddess teased with an airy laugh. “You did ask for this. Many times in fact. My guidance has been more subtle in the past, but I have decided that now is the time to address you directly.”
Morwyn blinked rapidly several times. She gazed in wonder at the goddess for a moment longer before suddenly realizing the rudeness of her stare. Averting her gaze, Morwyn clasped her hands and wrung them nervously.
“I'm sorry, I just... I never expected... I didn't think the gods...”
“Are real?” the Moonmother said wryly. “I understand, dear one. You pray to us, fight over us, beg for our help, blame us when the evils of the world close in around you... Yet a part of you always doubts, an aspect of mortality that I find quite endearing rather than insulting. The relationship between mortals and the divine will always be a tenuous one.”
Morwyn shuffled her feet awkwardly, unsure what to do with herself. She asked the only question that came to mind.
“Why come to me now, after all my unanswered prayers?”
She hoped against hope that the question wasn't disrespectful. It would be a shame for her to discover the reality of the divine only to have a goddess smite her for impertinence, but the Moonmother only smiled warmly at the inquiry.
“I have always been with you, Morwyn. You may not have felt my presence but I have watched over you since you were born. I have nudged things in your favor several times when you have requested my guidance.”
It was difficult to process gratitude for assistance that she hadn't known existed, but Morwyn bowed her head humbly.
“Thank you, Moonmother... but why take interest in me at all?”
The goddess scrutinized her with her unnerving white eyes and lifted one graceful, arching eyebrow.
“I know what you are capable of becoming, what you are intended to become. I would rather not have you suffer such a fate. Understand that I do not wish to choose your path for you, merely to give you another option. It is still up to you to pursue it.”
Cold dread rushed through Morwyn's veins at the words, overpowering the calming presence of the goddess.
“I... I don't understand,” Morwyn said as she threw up her hands in sudden frustration. “To what fate was I born? Why is all of this happening to me?”
The Moonmaiden gave her an empathetic look layered with a touch of sadness.
“The choices of others affect us all, both mortal and divine, no matter how much we might desire otherwise. The power that flows through your veins is intended for destruction. You have felt its desire to be unleashed, have you not?”
Morwyn gave an uneasy nod, unhappy with the vague and disconcerting response.
“I have, but I've been able to control it... for the most part.”
“Good,” the goddess replied with a satisfied nod. “See to it that you continue to do so. It will get more difficult with time as your power grows with you. What I offer is balance. Your power cannot be truly contained, but it can be tempered before it consumes you entirely.”
Morwyn gave the goddess a skeptical look, something she never would have imagined that she would find herself doing.
“You said you didn't want to choose my fate for me, now you tell me I must accept your offer or my own magic will consume me. Not much of a choice from where I'm standing.”
The goddess graced her with a patient smile that reminded Morwyn of her own mother for the briefest of moments. The deity's title was certainly no coincidence.
“You have a kind soul, dear one. The same choice if given to another might not be so simple. There are those who seek power for its own sake and would reject my offer as weakness, believing it would hold them back from their full potential.”
Morwyn's gaze drifted down to her rough, scarred hands. They ached for softness yet had been called to violence time and time again.
“I don't even want the power I've already got,” she muttered angrily. “So far it's caused me more harm than good.”
The Moonmother glided forward gracefully and took her weary hands in hers. Her ethereal touch was gentle as it had been before yet was more insistent, layered with the humming energy of the divine.
“That is precisely why I offer to become your patron, to help you find balance. To moderate your power and mold it to your own designs rather than those intended for you. You have the potential to bring much good to this world, or to leave it in ruin. I believe it is clear by now which result we both prefer.”
“No pressure,” Morwyn muttered as she nearly buckled under the weight of it. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing for a time as she basked in the soothing presence of the Moonmother. The stakes were higher than she could even comprehend, yet here she stood before a deity that was offering her aid. There really was no going back to a simple life even if she made it to the Vale, that ship had long sailed. There was only one option left. She had to keep moving forward, to focus on what she could do about it, not about what was happening.
“If I accept your offer, what is required of me in return?”
The goddess released her hand and traced a finger along Morwyn's cheek. A tingle of energy swept through her, soothing the aches in her muscles and bones and causing her to shiver involuntarily.
“Only that you use my gifts to help others, to bring light and life and joy into the world to balance the destruction. Violence will still be required of you, it is part of who you are and you should not shy away from using it righteously. Yet as you bring death, so too must you bring life. Find the balance. Maintain it.” The Moonmother's gentle smile turned into a smirk and she gave Morwyn a sly wink. “And the occasional prayer is appreciated as well. I tire of hearing mostly from old sailors begging for a fortunate tide.”
As Morwyn's analytical side finally began to surpass her emotions she exhaled slowly and smoothed her hair out of her face, wishing she'd taken the time to braid it. She cleared her throat and met the Moonmother's formidable gaze more steadily than before.
“I have struggled for my entire life to find balance,” Morwyn said past a lump in her throat. “If that is something you can help me do, I am more than willing to accept your offer. What must I do? Swear an oath to you?”
The goddess chuckled and shook her head, her silvery hair moving through the air like waves in the ocean.
“No, dear one. All you had to do was decide for yourself and truly commit. Search within yourself. You will find the first of my gifts.”
Morwyn did as she was bidden and focused her attention inward. She was startled when she sensed a growing warmth where she expected the deep, familiar chill. The little golden spark nestled within the center of the frost swelled in size, straining the limits of her containment as it drove the frost outward. In a panic, the only thing she could think to do was to give the magic more space before it filled to bursting. She relaxed her control carefully to avoid a rupture, struggling to expand her hold without losing it entirely. After a tense moment the pressure eased. She felt the warm light of life swirling softly at the center of her power. It was still dwarfed by the frost that surrounded it, but it radiated a steady warmth that soothed the hungry need that lurked within the ice.
“Well done. Your instincts will take you far,” the Moonmother said with pride in her breathy voice. “Use your power wisely. Remember, if you stray out of balance in either direction and the frost will overtake you. It is a jealous magic.”
Panting for breath from the physical toll of her internal struggle, Morwyn looked up to the goddess with curiosity.
“You seem to know more about it than anyone,” she said with a grimace. “Can you tell me its source? Who are my parents, that they had this magic to pass on to me?”
For the first time the Moonmother's expression turned stern. Fortunately, Morwyn hadn't bothered to get her hopes up. She knew better than that by now.
“That knowledge will only make your struggle more difficult,” the goddess said with divine authority that brooked no argument. “It will also draw undue attention. One already hunts you. If others discover the truth, even just you, more will come.”
“Naturally,” Morwyn said sarcastically before she could stop herself. She cleared her throat and stood a bit straighter. “I mean, that makes sense, I suppose. But I've grown tired of being told that. My parents must've really pissed people off, didn't they?”
“One of them,” the goddess reluctantly admitted. “The other is inevitable.”
Riddles on riddles and not an answer to be found, Morwyn thought, keeping it to herself this time. She opened her mouth to ask another question but the goddess raised a hand to halt her.
“I regret that our time together has come to an end,” the Moonmother said, warmth returning to her tone. “It is difficult for me to manifest in such a way, especially when the moon is dark. Remember my guidance, dear one. Balance is the key. As you have had faith in me, so to do I have faith in you.”
The goddess leaned down and pressed her translucent lips to Morwyn's forehead, sending another ripple of divine energy through her body and calming the nervous tension that had built up in her again. Before she could thank the goddess for her aid, the spectral form dissolved into the air and plunged her once more into the darkness of the new moon.
Morwyn stood there for a time and pondered the utter insanity her life had descended into since she'd woken from her brush with death. Miracles, reprimands, mage assassins, rare magic, a moon goddess... It was all too much. She had to find a way to ground herself before she lost her marbles like Argoth.
“I need a fucking drink,” Morwyn muttered to no one as she lit up some lungwort and began the hike back down to Hazel's tent.