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Authors: Robert Kroese
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trees. There was no way to know whether the wraiths were ahead of him or behind him, or what direction they were going — or whether they had split up to cover more ground. His best bet was to continue southward and keep an eye out for them.
He trudged glumly through the forest all night and the next day. In most places the forest provided enough cover that the sunlight wasn’t overly bothersome, but occasionally he had to hack through the underbrush to avoid patches of full daylight. Eventually the sun set again, and Boric kept moving roughly south. In the midafternoon of the third day since he entered the forest, he came to the southern edge, where the trees gave way to the sandy hills to the northeast of the Kingdom of Skaal. This land was largely unpopulated, being too uneven and infertile to be used as cropland and too distant from trading routes to sustain a settlement. The only people Boric would run into here would be bandits and other unsavory folk — not that Boric the wraith had any reason to fear such people. His primary fear remained the merciless sunlight that assaulted the scrubby hillsides.
Boric found a fallen tree some distance from the trail, a hundred yards or so from where the trees began to thin. Being incapable of sleep, he would have to wait here until dark. Up till now Boric had given little thought to his next move; he was concerned mainly with putting as much distance as possible between him and the other wraiths. The trail had forked several times and each time Boric had stayed to the left, working his way farther from the Kingdom of Ytrisk. He supposed that the wraiths, if they were trying to anticipate his moves, would assume that he would stay close to more familiar and hospitable lands. But as much as Boric wished to retain his humanity, he had accepted that the comfort of the familiar was a dangerous temptation and that what was once hospitable was now hostile. To survive, he had to think like a wraith. His allies now were darkness, cold, and solitude.
But allies to what end? How would he ever address Brand’s claim on him if he remained hiding out in the wilderness, slowly becoming an ever-paler copy of the once renowned King Boric? Isolation from human society would only accelerate the process of him devolving into a baleful creature of darkness. Was that really what the witch was suggesting? That he should intentionally become a monster? Or could he somehow come to terms with his wraithness without becoming an abomination? It seemed impossible. The very existence of the undead was a violation of the natural order of things.
When the sun had once again set, he continued southward, eventually coming to the great east-west road that connected Avaress with the western kingdoms. He now had a choice to make: he could turn west and head toward Skaal — this had the advantage of being the least expected course of action, but the disadvantage of being suicidal: the only thing hated more in Skaal than a Ytriskian king was an undead Ytriskian king. To the east lay Avaressa, the capital of Avaress and once-center of the Old Realm. He’d be less likely to be recognized in Avaressa, and the Avaressian merchants might know something about the machinations of the mysterious Brand. It would be difficult to inquire of anyone directly, but perhaps he could hide in the corner of a tavern and overhear some talk. If Brand really were planning a new empire, then surely there would be some rumors flying around in the taverns of Avaressa. Boric turned east.
It had been many years since Boric had traveled this way, and he had only a vague recollection of the geography of the area. In particular, he couldn’t recall whether there were any dense woods or caves nearby. The last time he had been down this road he hadn’t been particularly concerned with identifying places where a wraith could safely wait out the daylight. He grew more anxious as the night wore on and the landscape remained hilly but
He trudged glumly through the forest all night and the next day. In most places the forest provided enough cover that the sunlight wasn’t overly bothersome, but occasionally he had to hack through the underbrush to avoid patches of full daylight. Eventually the sun set again, and Boric kept moving roughly south. In the midafternoon of the third day since he entered the forest, he came to the southern edge, where the trees gave way to the sandy hills to the northeast of the Kingdom of Skaal. This land was largely unpopulated, being too uneven and infertile to be used as cropland and too distant from trading routes to sustain a settlement. The only people Boric would run into here would be bandits and other unsavory folk — not that Boric the wraith had any reason to fear such people. His primary fear remained the merciless sunlight that assaulted the scrubby hillsides.
Boric found a fallen tree some distance from the trail, a hundred yards or so from where the trees began to thin. Being incapable of sleep, he would have to wait here until dark. Up till now Boric had given little thought to his next move; he was concerned mainly with putting as much distance as possible between him and the other wraiths. The trail had forked several times and each time Boric had stayed to the left, working his way farther from the Kingdom of Ytrisk. He supposed that the wraiths, if they were trying to anticipate his moves, would assume that he would stay close to more familiar and hospitable lands. But as much as Boric wished to retain his humanity, he had accepted that the comfort of the familiar was a dangerous temptation and that what was once hospitable was now hostile. To survive, he had to think like a wraith. His allies now were darkness, cold, and solitude.
But allies to what end? How would he ever address Brand’s claim on him if he remained hiding out in the wilderness, slowly becoming an ever-paler copy of the once renowned King Boric? Isolation from human society would only accelerate the process of him devolving into a baleful creature of darkness. Was that really what the witch was suggesting? That he should intentionally become a monster? Or could he somehow come to terms with his wraithness without becoming an abomination? It seemed impossible. The very existence of the undead was a violation of the natural order of things.
When the sun had once again set, he continued southward, eventually coming to the great east-west road that connected Avaress with the western kingdoms. He now had a choice to make: he could turn west and head toward Skaal — this had the advantage of being the least expected course of action, but the disadvantage of being suicidal: the only thing hated more in Skaal than a Ytriskian king was an undead Ytriskian king. To the east lay Avaressa, the capital of Avaress and once-center of the Old Realm. He’d be less likely to be recognized in Avaressa, and the Avaressian merchants might know something about the machinations of the mysterious Brand. It would be difficult to inquire of anyone directly, but perhaps he could hide in the corner of a tavern and overhear some talk. If Brand really were planning a new empire, then surely there would be some rumors flying around in the taverns of Avaressa. Boric turned east.
It had been many years since Boric had traveled this way, and he had only a vague recollection of the geography of the area. In particular, he couldn’t recall whether there were any dense woods or caves nearby. The last time he had been down this road he hadn’t been particularly concerned with identifying places where a wraith could safely wait out the daylight. He grew more anxious as the night wore on and the landscape remained hilly but
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