A Land of Contrasts

The jungles of Aeirun were unchanged compared to how they were over fifteen years prior. Humidity hung thick in the air, while leaves flickered with a slight bioluminescence. Many plants were poisonous, but a well-worn path cut through the thick brush.

“Follow me, Skott of Omaha,” said the preppy half-orc. “I’m sure a brave hero such as yourself is well-versed in jungle traversal. But the paths have been known to change over the years, yes?”

Skott walked just behind Lucy-Kignora. That name, and those eyes… he frowned, deep in concentration. Her hair was so much like the old party’s orc shaman.

“Hey, Lucy,” Skott began. “Does Lamora… mention your father?”

“Not particularly,” Lucy-Kignora said. “For a priestess to be unwed is—well, was—a scandal. But she refused to wed or acknowledge an orc-mate. Of course, my siblings and I are clearly only half-orcs, which only causes more problems.”

There was little in the way of bug life in Aeirun. Instead, plants spread by great plumes of pollen. It hadn’t bothered him in the old days. Now, though, his sinuses itched. He sneezed, making sure to point away from his guide.

“Siblings?” Skott cocked his head. “Uh, how many?”

“Why, my littermates, of course! A full litter of five.” Lucy beamed happily.

“I see…”

“Everyone knows about orc litters,” Lucy added.

Lamora had definitely mentioned the particulars of orc mating rituals on the eve of their greatest and final battle. Actually, maybe she’d been trying to tell Skott something…

“Is Lamora… here?” Skott asked.

Lucy cut a branch out of their path.

“Nay! She’s back in the provincial capital!” said the adventurer. “Worry not, I’m just going to take you to Crossroads Ford! There, you may see what has happened to our world in the time since you returned.”

Skott heaved. The humidity, the terrain. He’d traipsed through this land like it was nothing at age nineteen. A sharp ache struck the base of his spine. This was far easier in his youth!

“I see,” said the human.

He did some quick math in his head, based on what he remembered of Aeirun geography from years ago. The provincial capital was at least two days’ travel.

Onward, they marched through dense jungle. Crossroads Ford would only be a half hour away by foot. It was the last town he’d stayed in before returning to Earth. Aptly named, it had taken the rebellion a full month after the fall of the elvan high king to locate a likely portal location. They’d had to leave in a rush, he and Lamora had still stayed at the crossroads’ inn before he had to depart… Skott grinned at the memory.

“I bet you’re wondering how I found you,” Lamora hummed merrily. “You see, since the elvan regime was overthrown, mage colleges have made great advancements in both blood magic and portalcraft. Mother insisted I’d be able to find the great hero by utilizing my own blood as a tracking spell. Not sure how she’d know or how that work… but she insisted I do so!”

Skott chuckled. Okay, she doesn’t seem to know… well, he was awfully spacey around age sixteen as well. There was much about the adult world teens didn’t quite get.

“… fortunate, though, that it allowed pinpoint tracking to the back bailey of your Earth-keep!”

Skott nodded. Yes, it was fortunate that Lucy-Kignora hadn’t tried to just open the last portal he’d jumped through. A half-orc wandering lost through old Omaha could cause problems.

The way Lucy waltzed through the jungle, fearless, well, it reminded Skott of himself when he was just a little older. New in this world.

Really going to need to have that conversation with Lamora, he reminded himself.

+++

Acrid smoke filled the air well before the pair reached town.

“It’s been days,” Lucy said, sniffing the air. “Still, the city smolders.”

“What do you mean smolders?” Skott asked.

“Ai, there is much that has happened since you left, Skott of Omaha. What knew ye of Crossroads Ford?”

Skott let out a nervous chuckle. “You, ah, can drop the faux wise-woman act. But I recall the town in its prime. Stayed the night there before my return to Earth.” As did your mother. “Nice dwarven and orcish trading town. Pretty swanky.”

“Swain-key?” Lucy turned, face scrunched up.

“It means fancy up-and-coming.”

Lucy nodded. “That it was, Skott of Omaha. That it was.”

The pair approached a cliff face with a scenic view over the town. True to its name, Crossroads Ford sat at the intersection of two mighty trade routes and a slow, winding river shallow enough to Ford. The river sat between this perch and the town. In years past, there’d been a bridge across the river as well for ease of access. Now, though, the bridge was burnt, as were most of the buildings in town.

Skott scowled. “We… spent months securing this place. Chasing off elvan raiding parties come to get revenge.”

“Aye, perhaps if we go into the town, you will understand,” Lucy-Kignora said.

With great trepidation, Skott nodded.

+++

They forded the river, with water barely reaching Skott’s shins.

The old inn, where Skott had stayed last time, was located right at the crossroads. It was a central location, part of this township’s status as a major trading point. Only, they couldn’t find the town market plaza from all the ash that littered the ground. So many buildings had been burnt, it all looked like a common ash field rather than the province’s major trading junction.

Not a soul stirred in the destroyed town. Burnt-through torches lay amidst the soot. Spent oil covered the ground, evidence of accelerants.

“Aye, this is the third town in the province this year,” Lucy said. “Do you see?”

“We won. Your mother and I and the whole rebellion.” Skott scratched his chin. “You’re telling me that fifteen years after we won a decisive victory, we’re back where we started?”

Lucy shook her head. “No, Skott of Omaha. The Coalition Senate you suggested still stands. As does the government of the unified allied species. Most of the realm remains peaceable. But obviously, the provisional army can’t be everywhere at once.”

Skott’s head spun. He had a lot of catching up to do on the history of Aeirun.

“But…” Lucy paused so Skott could catch up. “Many constituent species are threatening to quit the coalition. Elvan guerrilla warfare causes tension.”

Before giving his final word or anything, Skott checked the outskirts of town. It was there that he found a plaque hastily erected on the main road north, where arrivals from the provincial capital would inevitably view it.

There, carved into wood, was a plaque:

This restive town has been put to the sword by the brave knights of the Redeeming Ghosts of Auron!'

+++

Never again shall the rebellious populations of orcish and other lesser species organize in this region. The provisional army could not save them from the righteous blade of the Redeemers.

Elvan Power now.

Elvan Power forever!

+++

Skott let out a sound like an animal’s snarl.

“This is… the entire town.” He nervously bit his finger.

Adrenaline flared, and that ache in his back didn’t seem to hurt so much anymore. He was ready to go.

“Do you see the stakes, brave hero?” Lucy asked. “Will you return, and save this world once more?”