"We could just go around the village," Arran said, looking at the smoke floating up into the sky. "Whatever happened to the village is long over, but those who did it might still be there."
Even if he was curious to see what had happened to the village, perhaps the wiser choice would be to just avoid it altogether. It wasn't his first instinct, but then, his instincts rarely led him away from danger.
"We can't," Snowcloud replied with a small shake of her head. "If the village was attacked, we can get a sense of who's responsible." In a softer voice, she added, "And there might be people still alive."
"All right," Arran said, not needing much convincing. "We can take a look, but give me a few moments to prepare first."
Wary of going into danger unprepared, he changed into the black armored coat he got from Lord Sevaril and belted on his starmetal sword. With his Duskcloak within reach as well, he figured he would have a good chance of escaping even if there were a dozen strong mages in the village.
When he finished his preparations, Snowcloud gave him an inquisitive look. "New equipment?"
"I picked up the coat in Goldhaven," Arran replied. "The sword I've had for a while."
"You really are full of surprises, aren't you?"
From Snowcloud's expression, Arran could tell she recognized both the coat and the sword as being anything but ordinary, but it couldn't be helped. There was no point in having treasures if he could not use them when facing danger.
"Let's go," he said. "I suggest we leave the road, and approach from the woods. If anyone's there, they won't see us coming as easily."
Snowcloud replied with a nod, and soon, they were moving through the thick woods surrounding the village, slowly making their way through the dense underbrush as they headed in the direction of the smoke.
When they reached the village a quarter hour later, Arran immediately saw that his suspicion had been correct — whatever happened was long over. Most of the buildings in the village had already burned to the ground, and what few of them still stood were little more than smoldering husks.
Yet although the village had been destroyed, he was surprised to see that there were no bodies anywhere. Nor, for that matter, could he smell the familiar scent of charred flesh — the only thing he could make out was the smell of burned wood.
"I think the villagers fled before this happened," he said in a low voice. "Either that or they've been taken away."
"Let's have a look," Snowcloud whispered back. "But be careful."
Arran had no intention of being careless regardless of her warning, and as they stealthily prowled into the ruined village, he continuously swept the area with his Shadowsight, heedful of any possible threats.
He almost concluded the village was abandoned entirely, but then, behind one of the half-collapsed buildings, he detected three shapes — adult figures, holding weapons.
"There!" he yelled, pointing toward the trio's location. Drawing his sword, he rushed forward, bounding toward the building behind which the three were hiding, Snowcloud following some steps behind him.
He reached the three hidden men only a moment later, before they had a chance to flee or react, and their terrified looks made it clear he had taken them by surprise.
Yet when he saw them, he immediately knew that they weren't responsible for what had happened to the village — their faces were gaunt to the point of being emaciated, and although it looked like they had seen battle not too long ago, it was clear that they had been on the losing end of it.
"What happened here?" he asked, sheathing his sword as he realized they were no threat. "Who burned down the village?"
Seeing Arran put away his sword, the three men relaxed visibly, though they still looked at him and Snowcloud with wary eyes.
For a moment, none of them spoke, but then one of them took a hesitant step forward. It was a young man, barely out of boyhood, with a slender build that almost looked feminine. Yet despite his unimpressive physique, he seemed less fearful than his comrades.
"A raiding party attacked the village," the young man said — or rather, the young woman, because on hearing the voice, Arran understood that this was no man, despite the short hair and lack of curves.
"Whose raiding party was it?" Snowcloud cut in. "And where are the villagers?"
"Our master led the villagers to safety before the attack," the young woman answered. "As for the raiding party, it belongs to a local warlord — a powerful mage, according to our master. We've faced his men a number of times already."
Arran did not need to ask how those confrontations had ended. From the look of the young woman and her companions, it was clear that their side had been the losing one.
"This master of yours, who is he?" he asked.
"He's a member of the Shadowflame Society," the young woman said, pride in her voice despite her pitiable state. "We're his recruits."
"The Shadowflame Society?" Snowcloud said, her voice sharp. "Lead us to him immediately."
The young woman's eyes went wide. "I can't—"
"I'm a Shadowflame novice," Snowcloud interrupted her. "And if we meant you harm, you would be dead already."
"You're a Shadowflame mage?!" The young woman was clearly startled at the revelation, yet a moment later, a glimmer of hope appeared in her face. "Then you can help us!"
"We'll see," Snowcloud replied flatly. "First, take us to this master of yours."
Leaving the ruined village behind, the young woman and her companions led them into the woods, and soon, Arran found himself impressed at the ease with which they navigated the dense forest.
Perhaps they weren't imposing warriors, but at least it seemed they were good scouts. And in this region, he thought, that counted for a lot.
They journeyed through the thick woods for close to two hours, but finally, they reached what looked like a small valley, barely visible among the trees.
The valley stretched for nearly half a mile, and as they passed through it, Arran was wary of an ambush, constantly sweeping the area with his Shadowsight. Yet no ambush came, and eventually, the valley widened into a large clearing.
The clearing held a sizable if disorderly camp, with what appeared to be nearly a hundred people, sitting huddled around some small campfires.
Around half of the people in the camp looked healthy and well-fed, but among them, Arran saw small children and even several infants. These, he thought, must be the villagers.
The other half looked considerably worse, their bodies gaunt and their clothes torn and dirty. Yet unkempt though their appearance might be, they seemed well-armed and alert, their eyes immediately turning toward Arran and the others when they entered the clearing.
"Lord Stoneheart!" the young woman called out. "I brought visitors!"
A moment later, a tall figure rose from the camp and turned toward them.
"Stoneheart?"
There was some doubt in Snowcloud's voice as she looked at the man, and Arran shared her disbelief. Although the man had Stoneheart's ridiculous height, he looked completely different from the confident, domineering warrior Arran had met near Hillfort.
The man's eyes were sunken, with dark circles around them, and his beard and hair looked ragged. There were several fresh scars on his face, and although he was muscular, he lacked Stoneheart's bulk, instead looking as if he had barely eaten in weeks, or even months.
Yet even in the man's current state, as he began to walk toward the newcomers, Arran could see that it was indeed Stoneheart — gaunt and weary though his face might be, and despite the fresh scars he bore.
Stoneheart stopped before Snowcloud, giving her a small bow. "Lady Snowcloud," he said, in a respectful but tired voice.
Then, he turned to Arran, and there was a hint of surprise in his eyes. "So that's where you disappeared to," he said. He gave Arran another look, then added, "You've grown stronger."
"You've grown thinner," Arran replied.
Stoneheart let out a weary chuckle. "I suppose I have, at that."
Snowcloud was silent for a moment, casting an examining look at Stoneheart. "What happened to you?" she finally asked, concern in her voice.
"A lot," Stoneheart replied. "Misfortune, stupidity — probably both. But come, join us. We don't have much in the way of food or drink, but we do have some logs to sit on."