The soil of Xanavene was hard as stone, with only the hardiest of weeds and moss growing on the sundered terrain. The sight of pale greens and yellow was a welcome change from the blinding white of Thiudoricus, but with the change in scenery, the group found no relief from howling winds and sheering cold.

“Stupid…” Cormag tightened his muffler and hunkered down as a howling gust nearly toppled him.

Chauncey frowned and quickened his pace, burying his hands under his arms for warmth. Wasn’t this guy supposed to leave already? I mean, I’m kinda glad he’s with us, but…

Chauncey glanced over his shoulder at Cormag, and their gaze briefly met.

“I know what you’re thinkin’ kid, and you can shut it!” Cormag barked. “The last thing on my mind is competing with some brat over that weird, spooky bitch!”

 Contrary to her companions, Morana seemed comfortable and unfazed by the wind, bundled in her oversized fur. “Pay him no heed, his mind is occupied by ghosts.”

Chauncey simply nodded. “I can relate…this is the last place I wanted to come back to, but…”

 “Your sister, correct?”

Chauncey was genuinely shocked she had even remembered, let alone shown interest in the feelings of another.  “Yeah…do you think she’s still alright?”

Morana shook her head. “Given this nations reputation, I doubt it.”

Chauncey tenses up, dropping his head before continuing on at a slower pace. As quickly as the moment had come, it had passed, and he wondered why he even got his hopes up anymore.

“I guess I should expect as much…but really, it’s my own fault…. for leaving.”

“If she lives, we will find her however and make her alright.” Morana turned back to Chauncy, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “If you are her blood relative, it should be simple enough to extract a quart of blood or two and create a spell of tracking.”

Chauncey forces a smile. “Thanks, I know you—wait, how much blood?”

“So, where to exactly?” Cormag said as he adjusted his ruck.

 “Balalaika.”

“I know that boy, I meant which route? We can cut across the tundra and die of exposure, or head north towards the river and die of exposure, just more slowly.”

“Which is quicker?” Morana asked.

“The tundra.”

“It’s a town on the edge of the buffer zone.” Chauncey tightened his cloak against a particularly strong gust. “Surprisingly enough, it’s one of the few places that hasn’t been hit too badly by the war, being under Aes Sidhean and Duvachellian Jurisdiction.”

“Pfft, Aes Sidhe?” Cormag sneered, “They haven’t had a presence in Xanavene since the War of the Dawn. What the hell would they want with some little backwater town in the middle of nowhere? And Duvachellé? You’re crazy.”

The war of the Dawn was a conflict that spanned nearly all of Silex; when the forces of the Realm of Dusk raged war with the Eloi, the child gods who reside upon the Elysium fields, in the Realm of the Dawn. The war was started by a man from Xanavene, who opened up The Black Gate, a portal to the Realm of Dusk, freeing demons and all manner of foul creatures sealed therein since time immemorial. The victors of this conflict, Aes Sidhe, Duvachelle, and Rhodarcium, carved up the nation between themselves. In the 650 years that conflict, Xanavene had fell to ruin, becoming a haven for outlaws and bandits.

“Both the Royal family of Duvachellé and Aes Sidhe had ties to a warrior who was borne there.”

Cormag turned a curious gaze to Morana. “Oh? And how do you know this?”

 “One of my ancestors, a powerful witch by the name of Keres, once lived there. While I could not find any personal documents that survived from that era, she was a prolific author of many treatises on the dark arts and child rearing.”

“Child rearing?” Chaucey and Cormag said in unison.

Morana simply shrugged and leaned into the wind as she pushed on.

 “Those seem like strange bedfellows, black magic and parenting books.” Chauncey shared an incredulous look with Cormag.

 “My ancestor was a strange woman, she had seventeen children in her lifetime.”

 “Seventeen?!” The two men exclaimed.

Large families were exceedingly rare, most families had no more than two or three children. Even 650 years ago families did not grow so large. It was simply impractical. Laws of inheritance passed down through the ages dictated that the first born should receive the family’s titles and estate, with the second born receiving the family business and lion’s share of the capitol. The third borne would be left to rely on the compassion of the other two siblings. The only other options were to join The Order, become a mage or become an enlisted soldier.

 “While it is unclear why she had so many, Master Drogo said it was to fulfill an oath her mother had made to him before her death.”

 “What kind of an oath?” asked Chauncey.

 “That she would birth a powerful mage for him to train as his successor.”

 “That sounds horrible, to bring children in the world solely for that purpose?” Chauncey looked to Cormag who offered a silent nod in agreement. “I mean you no offense, but your ancestor sounds like a terrible human being.”

Morana suddenly drops down to her knees.

 “Apologies! I really didn’t mean anything against you, it just…wait, what are you doing?”

Morana franticly dug in the dirt, piercing the packed permafrost with a dagger. She grabs a handful of dark soil and sniffs it, before sifting it through her open fingers.

 “There are thousands of souls stranded here.” She casts the remaining dirt into the wind and stands. “There was a recent battle here. Close to a hundred of the recently departed are trying to get home.”

Morana turns to Cormag, raising her hand to catch her hair whipping wildly in the stiff gale. “Rogues and brigands mostly, with no sign of who attacked them.”

Cormag slowly nodded, his nerves steeled, hand upon the pommel of his sword. “And you are certain?”

Morana shot him a frigid glare.

Cormag waved her off and turned his gaze to the horizon. “Right, the necromancer thing.”

He sniffed the air, trying to place a familiar yet repugnant odor. “What is that smell?”

“They’re burning the bodies.”

Chauncey took several steps back, looking in vain for a hiding spot.  “We should find cover and wait them out.”

 “On an open field?” Cormag snapped.

 “What? Would you rather fight?”

“Of course not.” Cormag pointed off towards the distant mountains. “I say we leave the main road, avoid them, then circle back up in a couple of miles.”

The use of mercenaries in Xanavene was both old and very profitable. That said, most of those mercenaries came out of Catharone or Rhodarcium, both staunchly of The Order. In any respect, it was unlikely they would be allies of Thiudoricus, and with The Order’s staunch anti-magic stance, they would be even less inclined to allow a necromancer just waltz past.

 “I need to get materials.”

Before Cormag and Chauncey could fully grasp what she had said, Morana was already begun walking towards the smoke at a brisk pace.

 “What?” Cormag hiked up his ruck and raced after her. “Now?”

 “Human organs, blood, and bones are needed for the most powerful spells and summoning’s; they are also the most difficult to obtain.” Morana shouted over her shoulder as she giddily darted across the field. “This was one of the primary reasons for coming here, to gather necessary ingredients without fear of imprisonment or the stake.”