The six figures, led by the old scholar Theron, trekked through the wilderness, their cloaks and armor marking them as seasoned travelers. Among them were two women: a blonde archer in green attire and a petite, tanned woman with a pair of knives strapped to her waist.
The men included a tall, handsome figure clad in black, his chest crisscrossed with belts holding throwing knives; a medium-tall blond archer bearing a resemblance to the woman; and a hulking, olive-skinned warrior with a massive greatsword strapped to his back.
Observing them from a distance, Cael remarked, "They look tough."
"They are," Ronan confirmed. "I've been tailing them all week. They travel in pairs, always alert, but I managed to stay hidden. They haven't shown their skills, even when provoked. That big one worries me the most. I doubt I could beat him in a fair fight."
Cael's eyes widened, turning green with disbelief. "Fear? From you? I've seen you face bears without flinching! And now you're scared of a man?"
"It's not fear, it's caution," Ronan insisted. "These people have killed before, especially the leader. I can sense it."
"What do you mean, 'sense it'?"
"They have a...presence. A darkness. This will be a tough hunt, but we have the advantage of knowing the terrain."
Cael's eyes turned orange with determination. "I trust you with my life. Let's do it."
As the group ventured deeper into the woods, the two hunters followed cautiously, maintaining a safe distance. With nightfall approaching and the Grey Mountains still far off, the group decided to camp near a creek. Cael and Ronan climbed trees, observing from their hidden perches.
"They're settling in for the night," Cael whispered, noticing a bead of sweat rolling down Ronan's forehead. "What's wrong?"
"I don't see the archers anywhere."
"Maybe gathering firewood?" Cael suggested, a knot of anxiety forming in his stomach. "Or… do you think they know we're here?"
"No, they haven't shown any signs. But something feels off."
Suddenly, arrows rained down upon them. Ronan yelled, "RUN!" as they leaped from the trees. Cael scrambled for cover, but found himself face-to-face with the blond archer, his arrow aimed directly at him.
Ronan, struck in the shoulder by another arrow, felt his mind reeling. How did they find us? We were so careful! He knew they had to flee, but the woman archer appeared, blocking his escape with two arrows pointed at his head.
"Don't move," she said calmly.
Desperation clawed at him. Damn it! Outsmarted by a woman? He forced a cocky smile. "At least let me see your pretty face before you kill me."
"I will kill you if you move," she replied coldly. "Brother, what about the other one?"
"He's behaving...for now," the man responded. "Keep an eye on him; he looks ready to do something stupid."
Ronan's mind raced. There are only two of them. We still have a chance...
"Don't even think about it," the woman warned, as if reading his thoughts. The rest of the group emerged from the trees, surrounding the trapped hunters.
"You were right, Astrid," the hulking leader, Magnar, said. "We had a tail."
"I won the bet, Magnar," Astrid replied with a smug smile.
Ronan knew their escape was impossible, but he attempted one last bluff. "We're scouts! Kill us, and our comrades will avenge us!"
"Nonsense," Astrid scoffed. "There are no others. I saw your tracks."
"There are!" Cael cried, his eyes wide with fear. "They're right behind us!"
"Stay calm, and you won't be harmed," Magnar said, his voice cold and emotionless.
Ronan, fueled by humiliation and a desperate urge to fight, was about to lunge at the woman archer when he saw the terror in Cael's brown eyes. He had dragged his friend into this, and he would not abandon him. He relented.
Theron approached, his gaze scrutinizing the injured Ronan. "Who sent you?"
Ronan, grasping at straws, spun a tale of mercenaries hired by Meridium nobles, offering information on a planned ambush in exchange for their lives.
Theron smirked. "And who might these nobles be?"
"Tell you when you release us," Ronan bargained, hoping against hope.
"I see." Theron turned his attention to Cael, who was still pinned down by the archer. "Isn't this the shepherd boy from Oakhaven? A snoop, are we?"
"Yes," Cael replied, his eyes turning indigo as he improvised, taking inspiration from Ronan's earlier lie. "I was hired to gather information and follow you."
"Lies!" Astrid exclaimed. "They're alone, Master."
"Perhaps," Theron conceded, "but we can't risk it. We'll take them with us."
Magnar barked orders, and the archers bound the two hunters. Tamsin started tending to Ronan's wound with rough efficiency.
"We don't have time for proper treatment," she said, breaking off the arrow shaft and leaving the head embedded in his shoulder. "Consider yourself lucky you're not dead."
"This is just a scratch," Ronan boasted, ignoring the pain. "It takes more than this to kill me. Besides, I wouldn't want to die before I've had a taste of a fine woman like you."
"Shut your mouth!" Rednar snarled, his hand twitching towards his sword.
"Easy, brother," Tamsin said calmly. "I'll gladly cut out his tongue myself if he speaks like that again."
"Whoa, scary words from such a beauty," Ronan quipped, unfazed.
"You can kill them later," Theron interjected. "For now, we move."
They marched through the night, reaching the barren landscape of the Grey Mountains by dawn. Ronan, despite his injury, showed remarkable resilience. Cael, his initial terror subsiding, observed his friend with concern, his eyes still brown with apprehension.
"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.
"More or less," Ronan rasped, his voice strained.
"No talking!" Rednar snapped.
"He needs treatment!" Cael protested.
"Silence," Tamsin ordered.
"Master, please," Cael pleaded, turning to Theron. "My friend needs help."
"Don't push your luck, boy. Just because you're alive doesn't mean you're safe. And you are alive because I need information." Theron gestured towards the silent figure of Grave-Walker. "And he can be quite persuasive."
Cael's eyes turned indigo with desperation. "If he dies, I tell you nothing."
"Oh, you'll talk," Theron chuckled. "But Ronan knows more, which makes him more valuable. I was merely hired to assist him."
"Stop it, Cael!" Ronan interjected. "I'm fine. Don't give them any more information."
Cael fell silent, his eyes filled with worry.
They continued their journey, finally reaching the Sovereign's Rest. Its peak, adorned with the solitary stone chair known as the Lone Throne, offered no clues to the hidden library Theron sought.
"I told you there was nothing here," Ronan said, his voice laced with fatigue.
"You just don't know where to look," Theron countered. "Your mind is clouded by superstition."
"Now you're just talking nonsense," Ronan grumbled.
"Remember the solar eclipse two years ago?" Theron asked.
"Solar what?" Ronan and Cael asked in unison.
"It got dark in the middle of the day," Theron explained. "The three moons aligned between us and the sun. It happens once every thirty years. The ancients were far more advanced than we are. They built devices that responded to celestial events. I acquired one such device containing details about the Ashen King. It revealed the existence of a library built here, a library that holds the key to his tomb."
"So that's how you know," Ronan muttered, impressed despite himself.
"Magnar, break the throne and dig beneath it," Theron commanded.
Magnar cleaved the stone chair in two with a single swing of his greatsword. The others began digging, but found nothing. Frustration mounted as they searched for hours, finding no trace of an entrance or hidden passage.
As Cael surveyed the area, a strange sensation washed over him. A dull ache pulsed behind his eyes, and he pushed his glasses up, his vision blurring. His black eyes, without reason or emotion, turned blue. The pain subsided, replaced by a peculiar clarity, as if he could see through the stone. Through the mountaintop, he saw a descending staircase, an entrance hidden on the far side.
"There's something underneath...stairs...an entrance on the other side!" he exclaimed, his eyes turning green, and then brown as his vision returned to normal.
Theron's eyes lit up. "Could it be?" he cried. "Magnar, dig where the boy pointed!"
They rushed to the indicated spot, their shovels striking stone. Brushing away the dirt, they revealed a large stone slab covered in ancient writing and circular symbols. Theron, his voice trembling with excitement, began to decipher the inscription.
"It's here! The tomb is here! We were looking for a library, a map...but it was right under our noses, hidden beneath the throne. The perfect hiding place, the perfect tombstone for a king!"
"What does it say?" Astrid asked, her voice hushed with awe.
Theron's eyes shone with triumph. "It says, 'Here slumbers the Immortal King.'"