Chapter 57: What Is Carried Forward

  Morning came softly.

  No Darish shaking me awake, no Margo barging in with a plate of food, but with light filtering through the carriage windows in pale gold bands. Lance stirred as the warded glass adjusted automatically, dimming the worst of the glare while still letting warmth seep in. The hum of the carriage had shifted pitch overnight, lower and steadier as the sun rises.

  For a moment, he lay still.

  The scent of last night’s fire lingered faintly, mixed with fresh air and oiled leather. Outside, birdsong drifted through the clearing in layered calls that felt almost conversational. Nothing sharp. Nothing urgent. Everything felt so slow.. So warm.

  Aoife moved first.

  She rolled over on the upper bunk and leaned over the edge, hair spilling loose around her face. Her eyes were already open and alert.

  “You’re awake,” she said quietly.

  “Barely,” Lance replied.

  Across from them, Slade snorted, then groaned, rolling onto his back. “Whoever decided bunks should be narrow deserves a dungeon trap named after them.”

  “You didn’t complain when you fell asleep in ten seconds,” Aoife said.

  “That was tactical unconsciousness. Your father taught me.”

  Lance smiled faintly and sat up, swinging his legs over the side. His boots rested neatly where he had left them, still faintly warm from the rune plates embedded in the floor. Someone had been thoughtful enough to refresh the warming enchantments overnight. Surely Ellowens doing.

  Ellowen’s voice drifted in from outside the carriage. Already speaking with the guards.

  Perrin’s laughter followed shortly after, a gravelly sound punctuated by a cough and the clink of his pipe being tapped clean.

  Slade stretched, arms overhead, joints popping. “So. Still alive. No forest spirits stole our teeth.”

  “Dont give them ideas,” Aoife replied.

  They dressed quickly and stepped out into the clearing.

  Morning light washed over the convoy, revealing dew clinging to grass and bark, alike. The guards were already in motion, some tending to horses, others breaking down the light perimeter wards they had set overnight. Armor plates caught the sun in muted flashes, mana lines pulsing faintly as systems synced back into travel configuration. Honestly though most were just still trying to wake up.

  The scarred guard from the night before nodded to them as he passed. “Morning.”

  “Morning,” Lance replied, automatically straightening.

  Ellowen stood near the fire pit with a cup of steaming tea, his staff resting against a stone. He looked entirely unbothered by the early hour.

  “Sleep well young one?” he asked.

  Slade shrugged. “I’ve slept worse. Mostly when my skin was more bruised than not..”

  Perrin snorted. “That explains a great deal.”

  Breakfast was simple but filling. Porridge thick with nuts and dried fruit, hard cheese, and flatbread still warm from the previous town's ovens and kept warm by the preservation runes.

  Lance had recently learned about preservation runes and came to rank them quickly at the top of all runes ever if it meant he could eat fresh hot/cold food at any given time while traveling.

  Lance ate quietly, watching the guards move with practiced ease.

  They were relaxed, but not careless.

  Two remained mounted at all times, circling the clearing in opposite directions. Another pair checked the road ahead and behind, scanning tree lines and ridges with methodical attention. It struck Lance that this was simply how they lived. Constant awareness woven into routine.

  As they packed up, Aoife drifted closer to Ellowen.

  “You mentioned artifacts yesterday,” she said. “When we were talking about the academy.”

  Ellowen glanced at her, bowl of porridge still in hand. interest sharpening his gaze. “I did.”

  “We’re stopping in a city soon, right?” Slade added, joining them. “Like an actual city, not a stone shack with a drunk innkeeper.”

  Perrin grinned. “Depends on your definition of drunk.”

  Ellowen smiled. “Yes. By late afternoon tomorrow, we should reach Darkhollow. Trade hub. One of the larger ones we will pass though on our way to Asterhold.

  Aoife tilted her head. “So it will have enchanters.”

  “And brokers,” Perrin added. “And Merchants. And scammers.”

  Slade perked up. “Oh, this is where we get cool stuff.”

  “This is where you get necessities,” Ellowen corrected gently. “Cool comes later, the fact none of you have a concealment artifact honest makes me disappointed in the so-called wolf of the north. Because of that, we have different priorities when we enter the city.”

  Lances perked up, herding his fathers nickname, “Are you talking about my father?”

  They reentered the carriage as the guards remounted. The doors sealed with a soft click, runes flaring briefly before settling.

  As the wheels rolled forward once more, Lance leaned back against the cushioned wall, listening.

  “So,” Slade said, rubbing his hands together. “Artifacts. What do we actually need?”

  Ellowen considered. “That depends on your paths. And on what you can afford.”

  Perrin exhaled smoke thoughtfully. “And on what you can carry without killing yourself.”

  Aoife’s eyes gleamed. “Start with Lance.”

  All eyes turned to him.

  He blinked. “Me?”

  “You’re the weird one,” Slade said cheerfully. “Figure you need weird things.”

  Ellowen nodded slowly. “Not untrue.”

  Lance frowned, thinking. “I don’t know. I can feel mana better now. I can see how my skills interact with the ambient mana. When I get too into my training though I will start to ignore the damage I am doing to myself, doing whatever I can to achieve my goal. Mother already gave me an artifact.. Or something to help with that though.

  Lance held up the ring he had tied onto a string and placed around his neck.

  Arcane – Ring of Elemental Concord

  Type: Ring

  Material: Arcane silver infused with refined frost essence

  Origin: True enchantment, affinity-aligned

  Description:

  The runes now subtly shift when different mana types are channeled, adapting rather than resisting. The ring feels cool even in warmth, steady even under stress.

  Effects:

  Actively harmonizes conflicting elemental mana within the core.

  Converts minor elemental interference into neutral mana instead of backlash.

  Grants resistance to elemental feedback and internal mana shock.

  Affinity Aware: The ring adjusts its stabilizing pattern based on Lance’s dominant element at the moment. Limited to Lightning and Frost.

  Ellowen just gave it a quick glance, “That is a nice gift, but it doesn't help out immediate problem. Last thing we need is to bring two kids barely out of their mothers womb into a city boasting around a Legendary and two epic classes.”

  “It is,” Perrin said mildly. He tamped his pipe, then glanced toward the window where the trees were already beginning to thin as the road sloped downward. “Cities are hungry places. They smell power like blood in water.”

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  Aoife’s earlier excitement dimmed, replaced by something sharper. “So we hide.”

  “We are concealing,” Ellowen corrected. “Hiding implies fear. This is prudence.”

  Lance looked down at the ring resting against his chest. “You really think it would be a problem.”

  Ellowen met his eyes. “If your classes are seen. Yes. If your skill trees are sensed. Almost certainly. Darkwood is lawful, but it is not gentle. Brokers would whisper. Guilds would inquire. Some would offer contracts. Others would offer cages.”

  Slade shifted, expression darkening. “I do not like cages.”

  “Nor should you,” Perrin said. “Which is why we are not strolling through the front gates as we are.”

  The carriage lurched slightly as it picked up speed, the rhythm of travel returning. Outside, the forest gave way to lower scrub and distant hills. Civilization was coming closer. Lance could feel it in the mana, the wild currents smoothing into channels shaped by roads, wards, and long habitation.

  “So what is the plan,” Slade asked. “Other than don’t cause too much attention.”

  Ellowen folded his hands over his staff. “We leave the convoy before the outer trade wards. There is an old staging ground a mile west of the city. Abandoned watch post. Still defensible. Still wardable. The guards will remain there with you.”

  Aoife frowned. “All of them.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you,” she said, eyes narrowing slightly. “You are not staying.”

  “No,” Ellowen said. “Perrin and I will enter the city alone.”

  Silence followed that. Not startled silence, but the kind that came when everyone understood the implication at the same moment.

  Lance felt it twist low in his chest. “You are leaving us outside.”

  “We are,” Ellowen said calmly.

  Slade snorted. “You say that like it is normal.”

  “It is,” Perrin replied. “We do the shopping you get to laze around, hard to see how that is such a bad thing.”

  Aoife crossed her arms. “We are not helpless.”

  “No,” Ellowen agreed. “But you are visible. Eventually, the academy will teach you how to cloak yourself with your own mana, deciding what people can see and what not. For now, we will have to use some external assistance in the form of an artifact while we are travelling.”

  Lance opened his mouth, then closed it again. He knew the argument forming, felt it slipping away before it could take shape. Ellowen was not dismissing them. He was protecting them.

  “What exactly are you looking for,” Lance asked instead.

  Ellowen inclined his head slightly, approving the shift. “Concealment artifacts. Preferably layered. One for class obfuscation. One for skill masking. Possibly a third to blur mana signature entirely. They will not be cheap.”

  “They never are,” Perrin said. “But they are cheaper than dodging assassins or crazed info brokers..”

  Slade leaned back, hands laced behind his head. “So we wait in a ruin with a bunch of guards while you two go shopping.”

  “Yes.”

  Slade thought about it for a moment. Then he nodded. “Alright.”

  Aoife blinked at him. “That was easy.”

  He shrugged. “I trust them. Also if something attacks the ruin, I get to hit it.”

  “That is not a reason.”

  “It is a very good reason.”

  Ellowen’s mouth twitched, the closest he came to a smile.

  The convoy did not slow until midafternoon. The mana ahead thickened, layered with old enchantments and newer ones woven carelessly atop them. Lance felt pressure against his senses, like walking into a crowded room after days alone.

  The guards took the turn without comment, guiding the carriages off the main road and along a narrower track that wound through low stone outcroppings. Moss-covered ruins emerged gradually, broken walls and a half-collapsed tower rising from the earth like old bones.

  “This was a relay point,” Perrin said as they dismounted. “Before Darkwood grew some teeth.”

  The staging ground sat in a shallow bowl of land, protected on three sides by rock and sparse trees. Old ward stones still jutted from the ground, cracked but intact.

  The guards moved with practiced efficiency. Tents unfolded. Perimeter wards flared and settled. Someone coaxed a hearth rune back to life with a sharp pulse of mana, and fire bloomed obediently.

  Ellowen walked the perimeter slowly, staff tapping stone and soil. Runes brightened briefly beneath his feet, then dimmed.

  Careful attention was needed to see that the few sprites that shared his beard have now since flown out, staging ground within the surrounding trees.

  “It will hold,” he said. “For a few days at least.”

  “How long will you be gone,” Aoife asked.

  Ellowen considered. “One day if fortune favors us. Two if we must negotiate.”

  Slade grimaced. “I hate negotiating.”

  “You will hate being recognized more,” Perrin said. He adjusted his coat, fingers brushing the concealed tools sewn into the lining. “We will return before nightfall tomorrow if all goes well.”

  Perrin went up to a guard and handed him a ball that looked like an old rock, the guard took the item and placed it within the carriage.

  “And if it does not,” Lance asked quietly.

  Ellowen looked at him then, really looked, gaze steady and unflinching. “Then you will stay here until we do.”

  The words were not dramatic. They were simple. Certain.

  Lance nodded.

  Ellowen placed a hand briefly on his shoulder. “You carry much already. You need not carry this worry too. We will be okay lad, not much around here is a threat to a group like ours.”

  Then he turned away, and that was that.

  The two of them left on foot, cloaks drawn, mana signatures deliberately muted. Within minutes they were gone, swallowed by the bend in the road and the press of distant wards.

  The camp felt quieter without them.

  Not empty. Just waiting.

  The guards played rock paper scissors for who took first watch without. Pacing the perimeter with a shield slung across their back. Lance almost laughed out loud upon seeing the familiar game being used in this world too.

  He sat near the fire, ring warm against his chest, watching the light shift across the ruins.

  He realized, distantly, that this was the first time since leaving Knighthelm that he had been truly still.

  Lost in thought and day dreaming of the future, lance suddenly noticed the change in behavior from the guards,

  One of the mounted guards slowed mid-circle.

  Another straightened from where he had been adjusting a strap, hand hovering near his weapon instead of finishing the task.

  The scarred guard lifted his head, eyes narrowing toward the treeline to the north. “Hold,” he said quietly.

  Not an order barked for urgency. A word chosen to still motion.

  The camp froze around it.

  Aoife’s posture shifted instantly, weight settling, senses turning outward. Slade took two steps without seeming to move closer, placing himself between Lance and the deeper woods, shield unhooked but not raised.

  Then the ball Perrin had left behind reacted.

  It sat just inside the carriage, where the guard had placed it as instructed. At a glance it still looked like nothing more than a dense, misshapen stone, dull and unremarkable.

  Until the grooves along its surface began to glow.

  Not bright. Not dramatic. A low, ember-red light seeped through the etched channels, threaded faintly with violet that pulsed in slow, deliberate beats. The air around it thickened, pressure radiating outward in a controlled wave that made the ward lines hum in response.

  The hearth flame dipped, then steadied.

  Lance swallowed. He could feel the object now, not as mana being cast, but as intent made solid. Whatever the ball was, it was not meant to attack.

  It was meant to be noticed.

  A young guard whispered, “Sir… that thing wasn’t active before.”

  “No,” the scarred guard replied, voice low and even. “It wasn’t.”

  The glow deepened slightly, the pulse slowing, becoming patient. Lance had the unsettling sense that the ball was not reacting to movement, but to presence. Something beyond the wards, just close enough to matter.

  The trees at the edge of the clearing shifted.

  Not bending. Not parting. Their shadows layered oddly, overlapping in ways that made depth hard to judge. The feeling of being watched sharpened, focused, like a gaze settling fully onto the camp at last.

  Aoife closed her eyes briefly, her newfound affinity with the darkness has opened up her sensing abilities to new heights during the hours the sun slept.

  She opened them, breath controlled. “There’s something there,” she said. “It’s not crossing. It’s… assessing.”

  Slade huffed under his breath. “Good. Let it assess.”

  The guards moved as one, sliding into practiced positions without breaking the ward circle. Bows were raised but not drawn. Shields angled to cover lines of approach. Mana systems along armor seams brightened just enough to be ready.

  No one spoke again.

  Seconds stretched.

  Then minutes.

  The pressure held, unwavering. Lance felt sweat gather at the back of his neck despite the cool air. His ring warmed slightly against his chest, stabilizing the small surges of response that threatened to rise unbidden.

  At last, the ball dimmed.

  “Could anyone sense what tier that beast.. Or whatever it was at?” Aoife asked the question, assuming someone would know.

  The guards heard her question, then slowly looked at each other.. “No.. I couldn't sense anything other than its presence."

  Lance looked in the darkness. Well.. if a trained convoy of Tier 3 guards couldn't sense it, we might be screwed.

  Slade gave his classic one-liner, voice low but edged with that familiar grin he used to keep fear from settling too deep. “Well I suppose that means it was either very polite… or very far out of our pay grade.”

  A few of the guards let out quiet breaths at that. Not laughter, not quite, but the sound people made when tension loosened just enough to keep moving.

  The scarred guard did not relax.

  He kept his eyes on the treeline, posture rigid, hand still resting on the grip of his weapon. “Polite things don’t usually stop because you ask nicely,” he said. “They stop because something told them to.”

  His gaze flicked briefly toward the carriage.

  Toward the now-dull ball.

  “That,” he continued, “was not a threat. It was a boundary.”

  Aoife hugged herself lightly, more thoughtful than afraid. “It felt old,” she said. “Not hungry. Not curious either. Just… aware.”

  “That’s worse,” Slade muttered.

  Lance stayed quiet, watching the woods where the shadows had already begun to settle back into something ordinary. His heart was still beating faster than it should, but the ring against his chest remained warm and steady, smoothing the spikes of adrenaline before they could tip into panic.

  Whatever had been there had not tested the wards.

  It had tested them.

  And decided they were not worth the effort.

  The scarred guard lowered his fist slowly. “Resume movement,” he said. “Double the watch. No fires after dusk. Keep mana usage tight.”

  “Yes sir,” came the murmured replies.

  The camp shifted back into motion, but the rhythm had changed. Conversations stayed clipped. Armor checks happened twice. Eyes lingered longer on the treeline than before.

  The guard ordered for the kids to enter the carriage and remain there, while the immediate threat seemed gone, there was lots of night left.