Chapter 13: The Journey to Drak’lor
The dawn was a pale glow on the horizon as the gates of Veridrion Keep creaked open. Eirlys, Sir Cedric, and Elric led their horses through the threshold, their breaths misting in the cold air. Stormfell snorted and stamped his hooves, eager to set out. Behind them, a small company of scouts followed, their faces grim.
There was a strange stillness in the morning air, as if the world itself was holding its breath in anticipation of the coming trials. Yet, for now, the journey seemed peaceful, the horrors of Morven’s influence still distant.
Eirlys took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the Frostblade at her side. The sword seemed to pulse with a quiet power. She tightened her grip on Stormfell’s reins and glanced at her companions. Sir Cedric, ever vigilant, rode tall in his saddle, his greatsword strapped to his back. Elric, riding his nimble chestnut mare, had his eyes scanning the horizon, always alert for any sign of danger.
For the first few hours, the journey was uneventful. The road wound through the green hills and forests that surrounded Veridrion, the trees swaying gently in the morning breeze. Birds chirped in the branches above, and the distant murmur of a stream provided a soothing backdrop to their progress. They spoke little, each rider lost in their thoughts.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, they reached a clearing where a stream flowed across the path, its waters crystal clear and cold. Sir Cedric raised his hand, signaling for a brief rest. The horses gratefully drank from the stream, their sides heaving after the steady climb through the hills.
"We’ll rest here for a moment," Cedric said. "We still have a long way to go."
Elricwas already crouched by the stream, filling a small waterskin. He glanced up at Eirlys with a grin. "I saw a few rabbits darting around the underbrush as we came up the trail. If we’re going to be on the road for days, a little fresh meat wouldn’t hurt."
Eirlys smiled at his enthusiasm. "Go ahead. Just don’t wander too far."
With a wink, Elric disappeared into the trees, moving silently through the underbrush. Cedric watched him go with a shake of his head. "That one never changes, does he?"
Eirlys chuckled. "No, and I hope he never does. We’ll need his sharp eyes and quick reflexes before this journey is over."
They waited by the stream, letting the horses rest and drinking from the cool waters. The minutes stretched on, and soon Elric returned with two fat rabbits slung over his shoulder.
"I told you I wouldn’t be long," he said, tossing the rabbits onto the ground. "I’ll get a fire going."
Elric set about gathering kindling and preparing the rabbits for roasting, Cedric and Eirlys sat nearby, watching the flames flicker to life. The smell of roasting meat soon filled the air.
"I’ve been thinking about Drak’lor," Cedric said quietly, his gaze fixed on the fire. "The stories we’ve heard about that place… they say it’s not just cursed—it’s alive with dark magic. Do you think we’re truly ready for what we’ll face there?"
Eirlys considered his words carefully. "I don’t think anyone can ever be fully ready for a place like Drak’lor. But we’ve prepared as much as we can. We have the Frostblade, Lady Morgana’s talismans, and each other. We’ll face whatever comes together."
Cedric nodded, his face set in a determined expression. "Together, then."
They ate the roasted rabbits in relative silence, the simple meal giving them the strength they needed to continue. The warmth of the fire and the comfort of a full stomach made. Once the meal was finished, they buried the remains of the fire and mounted their horses once more.
The road grew rougher as the day wore on, the hills steeper and the trees thicker. By midday, they had entered a dense forest, the canopy overhead blotting out much of the sunlight. The air here was cooler, and the sounds of the outside world seemed distant, muffled by the thick trunks and hanging moss. The road was narrower now, more of a trail than a proper path, but still discernible.
They rode in single file, with Eñric scouting ahead, his keen eyes always on the lookout for signs of trouble. The deeper they went into the forest, the quieter it became, as if even the animals dared not make a sound. It wasn’t long before the oppressive silence began to weigh on them, and Eirlys could sense the tension in her companions.
"We’ll push through the forest and make camp on the other side," Eirlys said, her voice low but steady. "We don’t want to linger here any longer than we have to."
Cedric nodded in agreement. "The air feels strange. It’s too quiet."
They pressed on, the horses moving cautiously through the underbrush. Occasionally, they would hear the rustle of leaves or the snap of a twig, but there was no sign of any immediate danger. Still, the atmosphere was heavy with an unseen presence, as if the forest itself was watching them.
By late afternoon, the trees began to thin, and the forest opened up to a wide valley. The sight of the open sky was a welcome relief, and Eirlys felt some of the tension lift from her shoulders.
"We’ll camp here," she announced, guiding Stormfell to a grassy patch near the edge of the forest. "It’s a good spot—close to water, but open enough that we can see anything coming."
The group dismounted and set to work preparing the camp. Cedric and Eñric gathered firewood while Eirlys tended to the horses, brushing them down and checking their hooves for any signs of strain. The valley was quiet, the only sound the distant trickle of a small stream that wound its way through the grass.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, they sat around the campfire once more, the warmth of the flames driving away the evening chill. Eñric produced a small bag of dried fruit from his saddlebag, and they shared the simple meal in companionable silence.
Eirlys stared into the fire, her thoughts drifting back to the vision that had set them on this path—the cursed crown, Queen Ysolde’s broken form, and the dark figure of Morven looming over everything. The closer they got to Drak’lor, the more real that vision felt, as if they were drawing closer to the heart of the storm.
Cedric broke the silence. "Do you think Morven knows we’re coming?"
Eirlys looked up from the fire, her eyes meeting his. "If he doesn’t know now, he soon will. But that doesn’t change anything. We must stop him, no matter the cost."
Eñric poked at the fire with a stick, sending sparks dancing into the night sky. "I’ve heard that Drak’lor is more than just cursed—it’s a labyrinth of traps and illusions. Even getting inside will be a challenge."
Eirlys nodded. "That’s why we’ve prepared. The Frostblade will guide us, and Lady Morgana’s talismans will protect us from the worst of the magic. But we’ll need to be cautious. One wrong step could mean the end."
They sat in silence for a while longer, the fire crackling softly as the night deepened around them. Above, the stars twinkled in the clear sky, their light a distant comfort in the growing darkness.
"We should take turns keeping watch," Eirlys said finally, rising to her feet. "I’ll take the first watch."
Cedric and Eñric nodded, each settling down near the fire with their cloaks pulled tight against the cold. Eirlys stood at the edge of the camp, her hand resting on the hilt of the Frostblade as she gazed out into the darkness. The night was still and quiet, but she knew better than to let her guard down.
Tomorrow, they would continue their journey toward Drak’lor, and the true test would begin. But for now, all she could do was watch and wait, the weight of the coming battle heavy in her heart.