There was a place along the Raena River where a cliff afforded a rare opportunity to observe a Primal village. It was Enora Roek who brought it to their attention; supposedly scholars journeyed from far and wide to study the species from a presumably safe distance. Even Lord Sha was intrigued and brought one of his guards. Miss Roek brought her guard and servant, a quiet man named Riyad, while Farek brought Matek. They disembarked from the Sea’s Sword and went in search of unusual sights.
Along the narrow, overgrown path, Farek and Matek began to chat. The sun was blocked from view by the wide leaves of the forest canopy. Aside from the bugs it was a comfortable enough walk, diminished only by the steep incline they often ascended. “I better not get bit by some fever-bearing bug again…”
Farek chuckled, though it was more sad than anything. “I’d spoon-feed you back to health.”
“Those were the days, eh?” Matek asked. “You know, I can barely remember the woman that healed me…”
“Then how do you know it was a woman?” Farek questioned.
Matek turned his face to glance at Farek past the leather eyepatch on his left—and nearer—eye. “I remember some things,” he said. “I remember the others talking about the strange Academy where you hired her.”
Lord Sha glanced back over his shoulder. The spymaster was observant as ever, despite being sorely out of place on the jungle floor. He plodded along in his silk robes and made it clear he could hear them. Matek slowed his pace, so he and Farek could speak privately as they followed from a distance.
“I wanted to ask about…” he trailed off. “Well, it’s truly not my place, sir. And it was a long time ago.”
“Ask away, my friend.”
Matek smiled. But his smile faded fast as he got back to his question. “We went to the House of Kiaraka,” he said quietly. “We survived that madness and we burnt the place down. It can’t be a coincidence that a magician starts a war right after we burn a magician’s estate. It’s him, right?”
Farek grunted. He sometimes forgot that he didn’t carry that secret alone. “My gut says yes, but I have yet to see him with my own two eyes—so, for now, I’m being optimistic that it’s another insane power-hungry magician with a penchant for revenge on their lost property.”
“But what if it is him? Shouldn’t we warn people of what he’s capable of doing?” Matek questioned. “Even if it’s not him, we might be the only ones who know that he can bring a cloud of death like that… onto any battlefield.”
“In High Raena, we agreed on a pre-emptive attack, to learn what our enemy could or would do in response,” Farek explained. “I pushed for it for the very reason you’ve said. We need to know.”
“Ah,” Matek responded. “Not just to learn the goals of our enemies, but to see what forces our true enemy may possess…” he trailed off. “Thank you, sir. And pardon my questions—even more unprofessional than usual.”
Farek was still thinking it through. “I’m hoping something will be revealed of it. I find it odd that if Tarro is behind the war and he can use that cloud of death again—why have we not heard about it yet?”
“It’s true. Perhaps even he cannot be in two places at once,” Matek pondered, “so he has to rely on armies like everyone else. His madness spell hardly seemed selective… but I don’t know enough about sorceries.”
“I tried to have Devender look into it, but he hadn’t heard of such a thing either,” Farek explained. “It may have been linked to his house… which is why we haven’t seen it—and could explain why he’s so furious.”
“Ah, interesting,” Matek muttered. Then, under his breath, he added, “So much speculation.”
Enora, up ahead, called back, “Here we are!” There was light cutting through the trees as they came to the edge of the forest. The cliff must have dropped off just ahead.
Farek paused, holding Matek back before they rejoined the others. “You don’t have to apologize to me for using your head, Matek. It’s why you’re here with me.”
Matek scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I just don’t want to see that happen again. Men killing their friends in a blind rage.”
“Neither do I.” Farek didn’t voice his other fear: that the miasma of madness was being saved for a special occasion—for a particularly important battle or for Farek himself, as the worst sort of vengeance. “Let’s join the others.”
They were soon looking down a fifteen-foot cliff, at a rudimentary arrangement of leaf-covered lean-tos. The area of the Primal settlement looked similar to the den of a pack of hyenas; remnants of carcasses were strewn about, blood pooled in some places, while torn-away foliage collected in others. Three big bonfires were burning, and meat rested near them, warming, if not roasting. Farek saw a little over 20 Primals down there; they were shorter than humans by a foot or two, covered in white fur and greyish skin, and they tore at their meat with slightly protruding jaws full of incisors. There were males, females, and two offspring, all unclothed and working rudimentary tools of little more than bone and stone.
For a while, the visitors looked down the cliff in silence, unobserved. Eventually, one or two of the Primals noticed them and pointed up. None tried climbing. They only stared at the humans from afar. They seemed as cautious and curious of Farek and his comrades as the humans felt toward them.
“I wonder if they know of war,” Farek said, grimly. The state of the world weighed on him heavily.
Lord Sha chuckled. “I’ve heard it said that war is our kind’s specialty. Even aggressive Slither tribes do not care about conquest. They’re all nomads after all.” The man crossed his arms in his soft robes and looked back down at the spectacle.
“I’m sure Primals fight over territory,” Enora said, shaking her head. “Just as we do.” She seemed to recognize the bitterness of such a fact, unlike the Lord of Insight.
“It’s a shame, really,” Farek muttered.
Enora nodded. A moment passed, and they watched one of the Primals who sat back on his haunches and regarded them unceasingly. “I wonder what they are wondering about us?” she asked, thoughtfully.
“Maybe they’re discovering a sense of fashion.”
Enora and Sha both looked at Farek in humoured disbelief. They glanced at each other, chuckled, and then Enora said, “I look forward to seeing a Primal with your… distinguished moustache.”
Lord Sha and Farek laughed at the remark. It had been a long time since Farek had laughed, it felt like—or a long time since he had felt a laugh come so easily.
On the walk back to the Raena River and their ship, Farek and Matek talked again. This time, Matek apprised his master of the wellbeing of his peers. Ralla, the only woman in their midst, seemed to fit right in. Matek claimed she sometimes gave Diaren a run for his money on who was the crudest. Farek laughed and his admiration for his one woman-guard grew. He respected people who held their own outside their element. It seemed Farek did that more and more these days.
And so, they continued on toward Ith.