Chapter 9

Cedric was left confused and a bit dazed after the Witch's story by the fire. The next hour or so was a blur as people came up to him wanting to speak, shake his hand, and some even just to touch his armor.

He tried to seek out the Witch but couldn't find her anywhere in the camp, and the Hunter, it seemed, had disappeared too. The sun began to peak through the trees in small streams that speckled the dirt around him. Noticing all manner of people yawning and going into their tents, Cedric realized that he was tired and should see if there was a spare tent he could lie in until he could find the Witch. Picking up his armor in a bundle, he wandered the camp.

"Pardon me," he asked a woman ducking into her sleeping space. She paused and turned to look at him.

She was a slight woman, with black hair like the Witch's, but her stark-white skin brought out her violet eyes. "What can I ‘elp you with?" she inquired.

"Miss, I was hoping there would be a spare tent where I may be able to lie my head for the... erm... day?"

The woman chuckled at Cedric's awkwardness but motioned for him to follow as she walked away down a path.

"Takes a little getting used to, but it's better this way," the woman said over her shoulder, "The beasties come out in the day."

"Beasties?"

"Weren't you listenin' to the Gypsy Witch? Twisted, awful creatures... I'd feel bad for um, but being they would kill us the second they had a chance, they can all feel the bite of a good blade. Took my brother, you know. And my closest friend."

A quiet, garbled cackle echoed through the forest then, far off but horrifying nonetheless. The woman stopped in her tracks so suddenly that Cedric had to swerve off the path to avoid bumping into her.

"See? Beasties." Picking up their pace once more, the woman rambled on, "I've never seen one up close. Don't plan on it neither. The ‘unter keeps um at bay, bless him."

Cedric mulled over this as they walked seemingly out of the camp for a short time before coming to a wall of vine-like branches.

"This is where Guardians rest their ‘eads. We all call it Guardian Grove. You'll find your place here."

She pulled aside the curtain and motioned Cedric inside.

"Thank you... Sorry, I am afraid I failed to ask your name."

"Naria."

"Thank you again, Naria. You can call me Cedric." She gave him an awkward, half smile before turning on her heel. Cedric watched, bemused, as Naria made the journey back to the main camp. He could honestly say he had never met someone quite like her, and he hoped they would have another chance to talk once he could ask the Witch some questions.

Cedric stood there watching her black hair flow behind her until she became hidden in the shadows of the dark wood. He let the curtain drop and looked around at the Guardian Grove.

Six hollow trees had grown together in a crescent shape to make six modest houses, all leaning in and supporting one another. Snow Bringer and the Mighty Stag grazed on the soft, dark grass at the center as light bugs buzzed and twinkled around their forms. The huge owl Wind Runner perched in the intertwining branches. He looked sleepily at Cedric before closing his hazel eyes and settling back down into slumber. Sunlight was just beginning to break, and ribbons of weak light made their way down from the canopy but dispersed before they ever reached the ground.

After staring for far too long at the surreal scene in front of him, Cedric could see the light of a fire burning through the open door of the middle house. He decided to look there for the Witch.

She was just finishing a root stew when the Dark Knight walked in. The Witch pointed just past Cedric without taking her eye off the boiling pot.

"Before we begin, grab that container over there on the top shelf. I saw you wanting to oil your armor. That should do the trick. It's purified pig fat with a dash of Velerio fruit for preservation."

He turned and saw a wall of shelves with a variety of vessels, jars, and containers filled with all kinds of dried herbs or liquid concoctions. Each one was individually tagged and labeled with care, some in the ancient language, others simply with hand-drawn pictures. In the middle of the topmost shelf was a clay jar, and he assumed that was the one she had meant. He placed his armor on the floor with a muted thud and carefully lifted the jar from its place, setting it onto the low table beside the fireplace.

"There should be some rags in that basket there," the Witch pointed, again without looking up, to just underneath the table. "Use as many as you need," she expressed, before walking away to grab some bowls from a low shelf across the room.

"I'm a bit confused, Witch..." Cedric said after sitting down on a thick, fur rug and pulling his chest plate onto his lap.

"I know you are, Cedric. It's a confusing time we are living in. Especially you. You believed you were a farmer's son, did you not?" There was a small pause as she ladled stew into the wooden bowls.

"How do you know so much about me?"

"Sir Knight, I was there at your birth! It is not every other day when a child is born of two Guardians... A special day indeed."

"But how do you know that child is me? I know my father, he was a harsh man and by no means a king."

"You know the family I placed you with. Kempam and Durah, and their small daughter Tea'ala. Sweet people, loyal to the true Winter King even after he was slain." She handed him the full bowl and a hand-carved spoon, and he put aside the chest plate. "It was part of our agreement that it was not their place to mention any of this to you."

There was a dull scraping as Cedric pulled the last remnants of the stew into his mouth and before he could even ask the Witch, she had her hand out and stew in the ladle. She refilled his bowl and tore a large chunk from a slab of herb-covered flatbread roasting on a stone beside the roaring fire. He felt deeply disappointed in himself that he hadn't figured all this out on his own and had trouble meeting her eyes. If he was the son of two Guardians like the Witch claimed, wouldn't he have been able to feel it? Wouldn't he have been able to feel he was more than a farmer's son? Betrayal joined the mix of emotions in his head. How could they not tell him? How could his parents go years of beating his spirit into submission and seeing him sold off into the army without ever once telling him he had blood meant for greater things?

"So... they knew all along?" He tried his best to not make the words sound bitter.

"Oh, yes. But you have to understand, when a guardian such as myself arrives at your door with a babe in their arms, you do as they ask without many questions." She handed him the food and watched him devour the second helping of stew almost as fast as the first, using the bread to clean his bowl before consuming that too.

He hadn't eaten a good meal in over a week now, and the roasted pork in the camp had only teased his appetite. The stew was savory and warm, full of tender chunks of meat-like roots and juicy vegetables, and the growl of his stomach won over the thoughts swimming in his mind. After the third bowl with bread, he could finally slow down to polish and oil his armor again while taking bites of stew-soaked bread.

"You knew my birth parents then?" Cedric didn't want to leave the air hanging with his own self-reproach, so he tried to move the questions along. "What were they like?"

The Witch nodded. "Your mother was the Queen of Summer, gentle as the prairie grass but ruthless as the sun. She ruled with an iron fist and was bonded to Sun Riser, so she had a taste for anything that glittered." She paused again to refill their bowls and set a black kettle to hang over the fire.

"Your father was a warrior, born and bred, and rose to his position through bloodshed. He had enough courage for a hundred men, and all in the Winterlands respected his rule. Snow Bringer would carry him here from time to time, as Sun Riser would carry his queen. I watched as the spark of love grew between them until it couldn't be ignored.

I will never forget the night they took the journey to the Mother Tree...." She trailed off for a moment as the kettle whistled loudly, and she grabbed two mugs from hooks above the fireplace. "It was a tradition in those days for Guardians, if you were to make a monumental decision that could change the course of the fates, you would travel to the Mother Tree for her advice." She placed the mugs on the table and walked behind Cedric to the shelves, grabbing a glass jar full of herbs with a simple label with a picture of a leaf drawn on it.

"They returned a week or so later. She still wore the crown of blossoms, with the added touch of delight written on their faces. The Mother allowed their marriage, and it was a most joyous day!" She wrapped a measured spoonful of herbs into a cloth, placing it into one of the mugs, then again for the other, before taking the hot kettle from the fire and pouring steaming water over the bundles. "Soon after that, everything changed."

"The betrayal of the Guardian, as was in your story by the fire?"

"Yes, that was the beginning of it. The great battle took place a few months after the wedding, and though the queen was a valiant fighter, she sustained several wounds that never healed. Your birth was just too much for her body to take-"

A loud grunt outside interrupted her thoughts, and the Hunter barged into the room, panic written on his face.

"Naria! Have you seen Naria? She is missing from camp."

"She led me here this morning," Cedric replied. "The last I saw she was on her way back to camp, but that was less than an hour ago."

"You let her go by herself?"

"Y...yes?"

The Witch's bowl dully clattered to the dirt floor as she turned and ran to the far corner, grabbing a twisted branch staff and a thick, metal longsword, tossing the latter to the Knight before running out the doorway. Cedric and the Hunter followed close behind.

It was about halfway down the trail when they stopped, the Hunter and the Witch taking a knee, noticing something was off in the dirt. She traced a paw print, almost as big as her hand, and pointed into the forest without a word. The Hunter rose and took a few steps forward before noticing the blood splatter around him and pointing to the smeared drag of red through the dead leaves.

Finally catching up to them, and seeing the tracks and the blood, realization swept over Cedric. With how much blood was painting the grass even if they did find Naria, she wouldn't survive long. He lurched forward, ready to follow the trail and kill whatever had invaded the camp, but the hard end of the Witch's staff against his chest stopped him in his tracks.

"Killing them will only bring more." Her voice was heavy and downcast.

The thick hand of the Hunter grabbed the front of Cedric's shirt as he rushed at him in less than a breath, pulling him close to his emerald eyes.

"You never, never let someone walk alone in the day. You cannot even begin to comprehend what your ignorance has cost us." Anger was evident in his deep voice. "You are not in the army now, boy. This is what your precious king has cursed us with. Countless creatures that will kill without a second thought when given the opportunity. I refuse to guide this bumbling idiot through the forest until he's had some kind of training. He'll get us all killed."

"He didn't know, Hunter. You can't place the whole blame on him."

"I don't." He sighed, letting go of Cedric's shirt. "I blame myself for giving the people here a false sense of security. I have done my job of protecting them too well, and I will deal with the camp, so this never happens again. I blame that damn woman. How careless she was being with her own life. I blame myself for thinking he would be smart enough to know of the dangers here. He knows nothing of what should be feared or fought... Mark my words, Witch, he will know before we go a single step deeper into the forest."