“Are you talking to me?” Ing asked.
“My name is Alma Lifetree,” the girl said. “I’d have a word with you if I may.”
Alma got off the stool she was sitting in and walked over to Ing and they headed toward the door. “Follow me outside,” she said to him. As they did so, Ing thought he could feel the tavern keeper’s eyes locked on him.
“What are you doing here?” Alma asked once they were outside of the establishment.
The girl made Ing nervous, but he supposed he should just answer her question. “My name is Ing. I am searching for a man named Erste,” he responded. He figured he could trust her. Now that Roan was gone it was best to place his trust somewhere.
“Erste?” Alma sounded surprised. “He hasn’t lived here for many years.”
“Is...is that so?” Ing asked. He was feeling regret at leaving Ganwin—even if he didn’t have much of a choice. “Do you know where he is now?”
“How should I know?” replied Alma. “My only concern is with fighting against Slithzalien and his army he is building. He has found they key to Bolsee’s power. Action must be taken quickly. We must speak to the Lady of the Lake if we are to stop Slithzalien. I fear time is running short.” Alma looked at Ing. “I sense you are not ready for this journey. I can only hope I am wrong. This is not a journey for one person alone.”
“Who is this Slithzalien? I’ve never heard of him,” Ing said.
“You wouldn’t have,” Alma said. “You have the look of a boy from a quiet town. Slithzalien is the ultimate evil plaguing our land. He threatens to shatter the peace in Eclestia and claim dominance over all its inhabitants.”
“I am from Ganwin,” Ing said. “Have you heard of such a place?” Ing thought he knew the answer already.
Alma nodded. “You are far from home.”
“Very far,” Ing said sadly. “Where is the Lake of Promises?”
“To the northeast. It will take two weeks to reach, maybe more, depending on what difficulties we encounter.”
Ing looked behind him, as the town of Garlie got smaller and smaller. He couldn’t help but wonder what happened to Roan. And wonder where Uncle Erste was. He supposed he had no choice but to follow this girl.
Somehow, Ing had found he was no longer on a search for his uncle, but on some crazy quest to find a witch: the very witch that Roan had told him about. His head was filled with questions, but he decided not to burden his new companion with such things.
Eventually, they came to a fork in the path they were following. Alma suggested they take a break.
“Good thinking,” Ing said. He realized that he still hadn’t eaten since he left Ganwin. It had caused an ache to form in his stomach. “Do you have anything to eat?” Ing asked Alma. She reached into a pocket and pulled out some strange looking fruit.
She handed them to Ing.
“What are these?” he asked, looking them over.
“They’re a special kind of berry,” Alma responded. “They grow only in Lableck.”
“So how do you know my uncle?” Ing asked, between bites. The fruit was not the most satisfying of foods, but it helped his hunger subside somewhat. And they had a juicy quality that he liked.
“Your uncle?” Alma looked confused.
Ing realized he hadn’t explained to Alma that Erste was his uncle.
“Erste, that is,” Ing replied.
“Erste is your uncle?” Alma asked. She seemed perplexed by the revelation. “Erste took me in as a child. My parents were killed by Illusionists under Slithzalien’s control.” Evidently, this topic created some discomfort, as Ing and Alma did not speak for a long time afterward.
Ing was starting to regret asking about his uncle. He should have just kept his mouth shut.
“It is time to go,” Alma said, rousing Ing from his dreams. “Get up.”
“Which way shall we go?” Ing asked groggily, slowly getting off the ground.
Alma looked around. “We go left.”
“If you say so…”
As Ing and Alma walked along the pathway, they started to feel strangely. Ing looked over at her and noticed she was looking around in dismay.
“Something isn’t right,” Alma said. “Stop walking.” Alma dropped her robe to the ground. Underneath the robe, she wore an emerald-green tunic, which rested above a pair of tan pants. At her feet were thick brown boots, similar to Ing’s.
She reached her hands behind her back and pulled out a longbow made of yew. Pulling an arrow out of the quiver strapped to her back, she readied it to fire. Leaves rustled very slightly nearby, and she took notice. She aimed in that direction, and let her arrow fly. Her mark had been hit, as a body toppled to the ground in front of them.
“What is that?” Ing asked, looking at the cloaked figure lying before him and his companion.
“An Illusionist,” Alma responded as she returned her weapon to its proper place. The memory of her parents being killed came back to her and she burned with rage. She tried to not let it show to Ing. “They are powerful beings. There may be more nearby. We must be careful.”
Ing looked down at the Illusionist’s robe and thought that it looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. He racked his brain trying to think where he had seen it before. Maybe it wasn’t quite
