For days they hiked, outward from the great city and off into the endless wilderness. And the wilds truly were endless in those days, with the roots of girthy trees concealed the ruins of civilizations long gone, the pines far outnumbering the people for hundreds of miles at a stretch. The animals ruled here, great untamed beasts of the deep woods. Their group was rather formidable at this point, so they didn’t walk in fear- but they certainly kept their wits about them.
There was auburn haired Nequmus Iniqus, leading the way. Keplin, the stout hunter; Teauria, just starting to look trail-seasoned; The Alchemist, often drifting away from the others to pick some rare flower that disappeared into one of his millions of vials; and their two non-verbal companions- Teauria’s faithful pet and a strange winged warrior that clearly understood them, but couldn’t speak himself. In their minds, they each reluctantly took to calling him The Birdman, each of them thinking this must be a trivial title for the noble creature but having nothing better in mind. No one spoke of this, and they each thought the other must have thought something better.
As days became weeks, they began to bond as trail mates will. Nequmus, amazingly, began to shed his juvenile awkwardness around Teauria, and found her pleasant company. She wasn’t educated, but she was very smart; he found her inquisitive, and he was kind-hearted and generous with his vast knowledge- but not to the point of over-explaining. It was like having several libraries at once, available but not overwhelming. The Alchemist and the hunter, it turned out, each had a slew of unbelievable tales to exchange, and it seemed each night they never stopped finding a new adventure to relate that went even further in straining credibility. The two non speaking members of the group found a kinship as well, and began to walk together more and more often. They did communicate, but the others, even Nequmus, were too accustomed to hearing language as they spoke it, to be open to a language of piqued ears, side eyes, and complex gestures.
One afternoon, after endless days of walking without event, just as the hunter was talking about how he could see through the eyes of a passing hawk if he focused hard enough, the forest exploded into a thousand pairs of hateful eyes, hundreds of glittering blades, a deafening symphony of screeching demon calls.
Nequmus quickly cast a shielding spell, while the hunter and the birdman took up positions and started firing arrows and thrusting spears to keep the attackers at bay. Teauria wanted to panic, but a strange urge made her grasp one end of Nequmus’ staff. She was was shocked to see herself do it, barely felt as though she had control- but suddenly a golden light began to spark between their hands, and the shield became larger and stronger- it easily held the horde at bay.
The Alchemist, though, had been just outside the shield for a moment too long, and took a goblin spear to the chest. Straight through, a gory mess, uncommon luck for a goblin strike- and the old man fell torn and bleeding to the ground, lifeless in a flash.
Teauria screamed, nearly lost her grip. Nequmus turned to her calmly. “He’ll be fine.” She couldn’t possibly figure how that could be, but found she needed to maintain her concentration to keep the force-field going. “If you can keep doing that, I can try some chain lightning.” She had no idea what chain lightning was, but tried her best to focus.
The forest was lit blinding blue as raw electricity streamed from the Wizard’s fingers, roasting the nearest goblins to cinders but bouncing on and on through the crowd, forking and leaping in showers of searing sparks. Then he turned in the other direction and with a flick of a wrist sent a torrent of flame ripping through the horde, goblin and troll alike set aflame, setting them running into each other spreading the blaze to devastating effect.
Teauria realized that in her shock at the violent magic, she had let go of the staff, and the shield was gone. Then she noticed something almost more shocking- that crazy Alchemist was sitting up, rubbing his eyes, apparently oblivious to the carnage around him- as well as the fact that he had clearly been dead moments ago. Only now that the horde was fleeing frantically into the wilderness did he look up, seemingly startled at the scene as though waking from a dream.
“What are you supposed to be? Are you a zombie or vampire or something?”
“What? No, of course not. Just a chemist. A rather good chemist. I’ve been working on this one for years; centuries now maybe. Its almost perfected…”
They took stock of each other now that the battle was over. No wounds for anyone else, just a renewed sense of how dangerous the world was, and how dangerous they themselves were.