That night, no one wanted to remain in the cabin.
They set out through the forest and walked for hours without exchanging a word. Arsik was one bad moment away from committing his second murder of the day, and almost everyone in the company had grown afraid of him.
Darma, meanwhile, had fallen into a deep melancholy. The woman's sudden presence had sunk its hooks into him, and before long he could feel his skin beginning to tighten.
"We'll stop here for the night," Kalden said, dropping his pack to the ground.
"Who says?" Arsik snapped, eager for another confrontation.
"Reason, my friend," the knight replied.
Arsik softened slightly. He paced a few more circles before sitting heavily on the ground, abandoning any hope of finding peace. His legs bounced restlessly as he bit his nails and scratched at his skin.
"I've seen others in my homeland behave like you," Pale said. "Some become much worse after tasting human flesh."
For a moment, Arsik's vision clouded.
"What is he saying? What does that even mean? Does he ever make sense?"
"Pale!" Maynar cut in. "You'd better leave him alone. This has nothing to do with any meat he ate. He simply isn't well."
"How did you understand what he meant?" Arsik asked irritably.
"There are cannibals among his people," Maynar explained. "I imagine some of them, regardless of what they believe, cannot endure what they eat, and their bodies react badly."
"You understood all that from what he said?"
"I've read—"
Arsik felt Pale's eyes fixed upon him.
"Do you have anything else to say? Because I'm in no mood for much."
"You need faith, my friend," Pale told him calmly.
Kalden frowned.
"It will give you what you're missing."
Pale moved away and sat apart from him, with no intention of troubling him again.
At that moment, Arsik's thoughts drifted into the past.
Someone else had once spoken to him of faith.
Captain Sentrik had often called upon the gods, and at first Arsik had politely nodded without agreeing. But when he witnessed Sentrik bring down the amber barrier with an invocation to the Ten, there could have been no explanation other than divine intervention.
Yet Sentrik had died moments later.
So had everyone else who had traveled with Arsik.
Where had the gods been then?
"Where are we going?" Kalden asked.
"To the manor," Darma replied.
"Where...?"
"The manor the guard told us about."
"Tendis," Maynar corrected timidly.
"Him."
"And what exactly are we going to do there?"
Darma turned toward the knight.
"Are you feeling all right? Do we really need to explain the obvious? We're going there because that's where we need to go."
Kalden restrained himself.
"He's right," Maynar said. "Unfortunately, there isn't anything else we can do. We have all the clues we need. We know about the mage, the manor, and the ritual."
"The words of a madman," Kalden added.
Arsik snorted.
"Every madman has seen something," he said hoarsely. "That's how they became mad. In your place, I'd be careful."
Only Darma understood the weight behind his words.
No one had the energy left for another argument.
That night, they lit a fire and gathered around it. Arsik stared deep into the flames and thought of Maestra.
They resumed their journey the following morning.
Dense fog wrapped itself around the forest like a cloak. The ground had grown softer, almost marshlike, and Pale crushed an insect that landed upon his neck.
He stared down at it, the creature's blood forming a tiny pool in his palm.
Arsik watched him with disgust.
"You haven't said a word since yesterday," Maynar said to Darma.
The Gargoyle gave no answer.
"What kind of place is this?" Darma muttered irritably.
Every step now sank into the mud.
"Unfortunately, we're crossing Lake Bliss," Kalden explained. "We strayed completely off course yesterday."
"It doesn't look like a lake."
"It covers an enormous region. It stretches all the way to the Witch Mountains in the west. With luck, however, our route should lead us back to the Swamp Road."
"Do you know the way or not?"
"If you have a better route, you're welcome to continue alone."
Darma wished he could fly again.
Then he wouldn't have been forced to endure any of this—the journey, the irritation, or the hardship.
"Tell me about the Witch Mountains," Maynar said.
"Centuries ago, the prohibition of magic reached Lothen," Kalden began. "It was a foreign law brought down from the north. One kingdom after another adopted it."
He pushed onward through the mire.
"Then matters quickly spiraled out of control. Mages began seeking refuge in Rose and in other lands where someone could guarantee their safety. King Luther Whitechild eventually enforced the law just as harshly. He ordered that every mage captured within the kingdom be imprisoned in the dungeons."
Kalden pointed toward the mountains rising northwest beyond the marsh.
"Many of those dungeons are said to have been built there. They imprisoned the mages and tortured them. The law remained unchanged throughout Luther's entire reign."
"No one knows how many mages died during those years."
"The whole affair is remembered as one of the darkest chapters in Lothen's history."
"What became of the dungeons?" Maynar asked.
Kalden shrugged.
"I don't know. They say whispers can still be heard in the mountains at night—the spirits of those who died there unjustly."
"My city, Forcry, lies nearby to the southwest, but none of us have ever crossed those mountains. The patrols follow the Lion Road in the west and continue as far as Lyria, which is where we're headed."
"All the land around the mountains is marshland, except for a few homes belonging to people who grow rice and trade through a vast network of rivers and tributaries."
"Unfortunately for us, we left the road."
"Now we have to cross the swamp and pass close to the mountain before we can find the Swamp Road again."
Maynar listened carefully, but nothing he heard pleased him.
He made a sign to ward off evil and remained close to Darma.
The Gargoyle sensed his fear but, this time, said nothing.
As daylight began to fade, faint lantern lights appeared through the fog in the distance.
"What are we looking at?" Maynar asked.
"Some kind of settlement," Kalden replied.
He narrowed his eyes.
"If I'm not mistaken, that will be Margaville."
A trace of relief entered his voice.
"A small village is exactly what we need right now."