Omen: 1, 19

Adam bathed quickly that morning, too excited to leave. When he checked his coin pouch, he panicked, feeling how few coins remained, before recalling that he had spent it all.

‘Damn it! Now I only have two hundred gold!’ He wept internally, feeling his heart ache. Truly, he had five hundred gold, but he required the diamond worth three hundred gold pieces for his Revivify spell.

“Adam,” Jurot called, approaching with a young boy beside him. He was thin, with dark hair shaved at the sides, up towards the top which was cut fairly short. His eyes were dark grey, just like Kitool’s, and he wore fairly simple clothing, marked with the pattern of the Ool family. He carried a staff on his back.

Adam looked to Kitool, half in surprise, before his eyes fluttered as his brain tried to process what he was seeing. “Kitool, is that your kid?”

“No,” Kitool replied. She assumed Adam was joking.

“He is smart,” Jurot said. “Good with letters and numbers. He can help you in your business.” Jurot wasn’t lying, though it was unlikely the boy would be working for Adam. However, he needed to do this, even if it meant he wasn’t completely honest with his brother.

“Your cousin?” Adam asked, catching Kitool’s eyes. Something was certainly off about the situation.

“Yes,” Kitool said, before continuing in their own tongue, “soon.”

Adam glanced between Jurot and Kitool. “Sure,” he said, slowly nodding his head. He understood it was an Iyrman thing, and it was best not to ask too many questions. If this was something Jurot was keeping from him, it must have been important.

The boy remained beside Kitool, understanding he needed to play the part. He still didn’t trust the Iyrmen, especially after what they had done to him in preparing him for his role, but they were his best chance at revenge.

Lady Shamia also arrived a short while later, confused to see the boy wearing the Ool family symbols, but she smiled. “What a handsome young man.”

The boy remained silence as he stared at the woman. She was dark skinned, so he assumed she was Aswadian.

“Alright!” Adam said. “My little sister is waiting for us, so let’s not waste any more time.”

Shamia stifled her laughter as the group made their way northwestwardly towards the Iyr.

Jurot understood it was going to be difficult for them to hide that the boy was not what he seemed, but he left the boy in Kitool’s care. She was the wisest of them all.

When they approached the first village, the villagers swarmed them, seeing how large the party was.

“Oh!” a villager gasped. “It’s the Iyrmen!”

“You’re back already?” another asked.

“Leave the Iyrmen be,” Herida said. She was an older woman, and was the Chief of the village.

“We dealt with an Outbreak,” Jurot replied.

“Now that is something. Since you’ve worked hard, you don’t have to worry about the gate fee.” She waved her hand, dismissing the gate fee Adam was preparing.

Jurot introduced the Lady to the Chief, so that the Chief could deal with appropriate accommodation. When he approached the centre fire pit, he stopped, and when Kitool and Jaygak saw the figure, they stopped too. The boy also stopped, gasping.

The figure was a young woman with dark skin, but not the dark skin of Aswadia or Hakor, but more golden. She wore long, thick robes, dark green and brown. Laying beside her was a long staff, made of dark wood which curled around a gem at the top.

Her ears were leaf shaped.

“Yo!” Adam called out, waving hand.

The young Half Elf smiled, waving a hand towards Adam, and seeing his ears, she grinned wider with her sparkling white teeth.

Jurot remained silent, his heart in shock. ‘How is she here?’ She was certainly one of them, and judging by the faint tattoos on her hand, she wasn’t just any typical member of that Tribesfolk tribe.

Kitool exchanged a look with Jurot, trying to understand what should be done. It was unheard of that one of them would be out here, especially in South Aldland, especially alone, and especially among Humans.

The young woman reached down for a book, and then began to write within it, before revealing what she had written.

Hello!

It was written beautifully, though rather small, as to conserve space.

“Hi,” Adam said, settling his gear beside her. “How are you?”

She wrote once more.

Good! You?

“I’m well,” Adam replied, wondering why she wasn’t talking.

Seeing the question in his eyes, the woman wrote again.

I am mute.

“Oh,” Adam said, nodding his head. “Adam Fateson.”

She gasped, before writing down furiously, but still beautifully.

Fateson?

“It’s a long story.”

I am Tariel.

“What a beautiful name,” Adam said, smiling. “Surprised to see you out here. They don’t really like our kind around these parts, though these villagers have been rather nice to me.”

What happened?

“You don’t know?”

No.

“Oh,” Adam said, before looking to Jurot, who was still standing, thinking. “Jurot?”

Jurot sighed. “Yes.” Jurot approached the young woman, before sitting beside her.

You are an Iyrman!

“Yes.”

I was hoping to meet you. It must be Fate that we met!

Jurot looked to Adam, before looking back to the Half Elf Druid. “Yes,” he said. “It must be.”

Kitool and Jaygak both shared a look.

‘Is it because of that?’ Jaygak’s eyes asked.

‘Perhaps,’ Kitool’s eyes responded.

When they left the village, they had picked up the Half Elf, who remained near Adam and Jurot. Jurot wasn’t sure what to do, so he just left it be.

‘Is it because of that?’ Jurot thought. Regardless, it was his duty as an Iyrman to escort the young woman to the Iyr. Had it been another who had asked, he would have been able to refuse, but there were some people he could not refuse.

It was in the second village that Jurot stopped again, along with Kitool and Jaygak. They stared at the figure, who was slightly taller than the average person, adorned head to toe in platemail made of flamedarksteel, which betrayed his rank among the Fire Giants.

Jurot assumed he had used magic to appear smaller.

At his side was a giant blade, one which would been impossible for any man to wield. It was too big, more like a slab of iron, than a blade.

Jurot wondered why he hadn’t used magic to shorten the sword, but the thought was quickly pushed away as the itch to fight filled him. He fought away the itch as best as he could.

“Children of the Iyr,” the figure called, standing to greet them. “I have come to answer the call.”

Jurot approached the figure. “I am Jurot, son of Surot, and I hear you.”

“I am Morkarai,” the figure said, and instantly Jurot and Kitool stood taller, and Jaygak followed suit.

“Greetings, Lord Morkarai,” Jurot said, with as much respect as he could muster. The name was familiar to he and Kitool, though Jaygak was still trying to figure out who it was. Morkarai. The name was so familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. Lord Morkarai?

Morkarai took off his helm to reveal his dark skin, and his fiery red hair, from his beard, to his brows, to his spiky hair that sat atop his head. His eyes were glued to Jurot’s crotch.

“Hey, big guy, eyes up here,” Adam said, snapping his fingers, narrowing his eyes at Morkarai.

Jurot sighed. It made perfect sense that Adam would aggravate someone like Morkarai, for that was what Adam did.

“May I touch it?” Morkarai asked, ignoring Adam entirely.

“Yes,” Jurot replied.

Morkarai picked up Phantom in hand, staring deeply at the weapon. It was well made, definitely the Iyr’s craftsmanship, though there was also a great magic within the axe. “What a beautiful axe,” the Fire Giant said. It was made quite a long time ago, he gathered.

“May we see your great blade?” Jurot asked.

“Please,” Morkarai replied.

Adam glanced between Jurot and the tall man, wondering what was going on. Jurot had been weird about the Half Elf, and he was showing a lot of respect to his guy. ‘Lord? Is he some kind of Noble? Jurot seems to like him, though, so he must be cool.’

Jurot and the Iyrmen quickly gathered around the weapon, which Jurot was holding. Adam peeked at the blade too, admiring it. It was made of some kind of dark steel, and the blade was long and red, almost like rubicule, but he wasn’t sure if it was.

“Is this Giantsfire?” Jurot asked.

“Yes,” Morkarai replied, still admiring Phantom. He wondered why someone so young possessed such a great weapon, for usually Iyrmen do not hand such great weapons to their youth.

“Oh!” Jaygak gasped, realising who Morkarai was. He was the-

“Is that Stormdrake?” Morkarai gasped, equally as shocked as the Devilkin.