For eight days, Tom and Skaravosk traveled northwest through increasingly remote terrain, keeping to high ridgelines and deep valleys where human presence was minimal. The Shattered Peaks gradually gave way to the more substantial Northern Range—older mountains with denser forests and hidden valleys that had rarely known human footsteps. Game was plentiful if one knew how to hunt it, streams provided clean water, and the solitude offered perfect conditions for continuing Skaravosk's recovery while avoiding potential pursuit.
"No signs of tracking since we crossed the Whitestone Valley," Tom observed on the morning of the ninth day, studying their back trail from a high perch overlooking the expanse they had traversed the previous day. "If they followed us from Emberhold at all, we've lost them."
"A reasonable assessment," Skaravosk agreed, his mental voice now fully restored to its former strength. "Though I suspect pursuit was abandoned rather than misled. Your former companions would have recognized the impracticality of tracking someone with enhanced capabilities through wilderness they know poorly."
Tom nodded, turning away from the vista to continue their day's journey. "Varn was always practical above all else. He wouldn't waste resources on a pursuit with minimal chances of success." He adjusted his makeshift pack, now containing various useful items gathered during their wilderness travel. "Besides, they might have other priorities by now."
"Such as intercepting your message at Oakhollow," Skaravosk suggested.
"Exactly. After what they saw, that message would suddenly seem a lot more significant."
Their path today would take them across a narrow valley, then up a steep ridge that offered views eastward—toward the distant settlement of Oakhollow where their message to the Heroes should soon arrive. Not that they intended to approach the settlement; that would be foolhardy given recent events. But proximity would allow them to better monitor movements of both military units and the Heroes should the latter respond to their communication.
"Your energy patterns have strengthened considerably," Tom noted as they descended into the valley, observing rather than experiencing the draconic presence that shared his consciousness. "Almost back to pre-manifestation levels."
"Indeed," Skaravosk confirmed. "The extended recovery period coupled with minimal energy expenditure has accelerated regeneration beyond my initial projections. I could now maintain enhanced transformations for significant durations if necessary."
"Let's hope it won't be," Tom replied, though both knew better than to expect their luck to hold indefinitely.
They made camp that evening on the high ridge, sheltered by a natural rock formation that provided both protection from the wind and concealment from casual observation. As darkness fell across the wild landscape, Tom found himself contemplating the textile merchant and their message, now likely approaching its destination.
"Do you think she'll successfully deliver it?" he asked, poking at their small, carefully shielded fire. "If Jenks and the others try to intercept her..."
"Based on her demonstrated resourcefulness, I suspect additional compensation motivated more than basic commercial loyalty," Skaravosk replied. "Remember her immediate intervention when your former companions confronted you in the market."
Tom smiled slightly at the memory. "She didn't hesitate, did she? Jumped right in when she could have just walked away."
"Precisely. Such a person likely recognizes both opportunity and risk with equal clarity. The significant additional payment you provided would suggest to someone of her experience that discretion and successful delivery were paramount."
"Meaning she might have taken precautions," Tom concluded, appreciation coloring his voice.
"Indeed. A merchant traveling established routes for decades would certainly maintain connections throughout her territory—other traders, innkeepers, local officials whose cooperation oils the wheels of commerce. Among such networks, messages can travel ahead of physical goods when circumstances warrant."
Tom considered this perspective, realizing its probable accuracy. The textile merchant had struck him as extraordinarily capable, the type who survived and thrived in difficult circumstances through intelligence and careful planning rather than mere luck. The kind of person who would recognize pursuit as a possibility and take appropriate measures to ensure contractual obligations were met regardless.
"If that's the case," he mused, "then Varn and Jenks might find themselves chasing a message that's already moved ahead of them."
"A reasonable hypothesis," Skaravosk agreed. "Though until we observe the Heroes' response—if any—we cannot confirm successful delivery."
Tom nodded, settling back against the stone wall behind him. "We'll know soon enough. The Heroes might not act immediately, but they wouldn't ignore information about the Stone Crown, not when it connects to the Demon King's plans."
Their conversation drifted to other topics as the night deepened—Tom's continuing experiments with self-generated draconic energy, Skaravosk's observations of regional wildlife from memories of his previous existence, tactical assessments of their current position. The easy exchange reflected their evolving partnership, shifting gradually from necessity toward something approaching genuine camaraderie despite their vastly different origins and perspectives.
Dawn brought clear skies and brisk mountain air, perfect conditions for continuing their journey. Tom woke feeling more refreshed than he had in days, his younger body fully recovered from the exertions of their escape from Emberhold.
"Notice anything different?" Skaravosk inquired as Tom went through his morning routine of stretching and checking their surroundings.
Tom paused, conducting a quick internal inventory. "My energy feels... cleaner somehow? More integrated?" He flexed his fingers, noticing a subtle shimmer beneath the skin—not visible transformation, but potential ready to be channeled. "The self-generated draconic energy has increased."
"Precisely," Skaravosk confirmed. "Your cellular adaptation continues to progress, allowing for more efficient energy production and utilization. While still minimal compared to true draconic capacity, the increase is significant."
"Useful," Tom noted practically. "More resources available if we encounter difficulties."
They broke camp efficiently and continued northward, following the ridgeline that provided both good visibility and natural concealment among the scattered pines that grew along its spine. By midday, they had covered significant distance, the terrain gradually becoming more familiar to Tom—not from personal experience but from extensive study of military maps during his service years.
"We're approaching the outer scouting perimeter where the Heroes were last active," he observed, recognizing distinctive geographical features. "Another day's travel should put us within range of their normal operational area, assuming they haven't relocated significantly."
"A reasonable assessment," Skaravosk agreed. "Though their movements remain difficult to predict given their unique capabilities and prophetic mission parameters."
Before Tom could respond, a flicker of movement in the valley below caught his attention—distinctive patterns that registered immediately in his soldier's awareness. Not animal movement, but human. And not random travelers, but the coordinated advance of trained military personnel.
"Patrol," he identified, dropping into a concealed position among the ridge rocks. "Looks like a standard six-person scouting unit, kingdom regulars based on their movement patterns."
Skaravosk's awareness sharpened, focusing through Tom's enhanced vision. "Not pursuit from Emberhold," the dragon noted. "Their approach vector suggests routine patrol rather than tracking."
"Agreed. Probably outer security for the Heroes' operational area. Which means we're closer than anticipated to their current position."
Tom observed the patrol's progress with professional assessment—steady, thorough, but not particularly alert to threats from above. Standard protocol in these mountains focused primarily on ground-level approach routes rather than the more challenging ridgelines that required specialized climbing skills. A tactical oversight that currently worked in their favor.
"They'll pass below us within the hour," Tom calculated. "We should remain in position until they're well clear, then continue with additional caution."
"A prudent approach," Skaravosk approved. "Though their presence suggests increased military activity in the region."
Tom settled in to wait, using the time to study the patrol's equipment and bearing for useful intelligence. Kingdom regulars indeed, but with subtle differences from standard infantry—lighter armor optimized for mobility, weapons selected for versatility rather than formation fighting, distinctive pack configurations suggesting extended field operations without supply lines.
"Special operations," he concluded quietly. "Heroes' support unit, most likely. Elite troops assigned to perimeter security and reconnaissance."
"Your military acumen remains impressive," Skaravosk observed. "You identify subtle distinctions that would escape most observers."
"Twenty-three years in varied campaigns," Tom replied with a slight shrug. "You learn to read equipment and movement patterns like others read books. Tells you who you're dealing with, what they're prepared for, how they'll likely respond to different situations."
The patrol continued its methodical progress through the valley, unaware of being observed from above. Tom watched with professional interest, noting their thoroughness despite the lack of upward vigilance. These were competent soldiers doing their job well within standard parameters—which, fortunately, didn't include anticipating observers with enhanced draconic senses on remote ridgelines.
As the patrol finally disappeared around a bend in the valley, Tom prepared to continue their journey, adjusting their route slightly to avoid potential secondary patrols in adjacent areas.
"We should—" he began, then froze as Skaravosk's awareness suddenly sharpened to alertness.
"Above and behind," the dragon warned. "Aerial approach, moving rapidly."
Tom dropped flat against the rocky ground, seeking maximum concealment as he scanned the sky in the indicated direction. His enhanced vision quickly identified the threat—a lone figure riding air currents with casual mastery, descending in a spiral pattern that suggested search rather than direct approach.
"The Storm Caller," Tom identified, recognizing Hiroshi Nakamura's distinctive form from their brief previous encounter at Howling Crag. "One of the Heroes, conducting aerial reconnaissance."
"His detection range significantly exceeds conventional means," Skaravosk cautioned. "Even at this distance, energy signatures might register if he's specifically scanning for anomalies."
Tom remained perfectly still, assessing options with rapid clarity. Running would only increase visibility. Transformation would magnify their energy signature. Holding position offered concealment from visual detection but not necessarily from the Hero's supernatural senses.
"Can you suppress your energy completely?" Tom asked, watching as the Storm Caller drifted closer, the air around him occasionally crackling with controlled lightning that seemed to serve some sensory function. "Make us register as background only?"
"Temporarily," Skaravosk confirmed. "Though it would restrict access to enhanced capabilities if needed suddenly."
"Do it," Tom decided, calculating that detection was the greater immediate risk than potential combat disadvantage. "Full suppression until he passes."
A strange sensation washed through Tom as Skaravosk withdrew his energy into some internal reservoir beyond normal perception—like a tide retreating from shore, leaving behind only damp sand where waves had crashed moments before. The familiar draconic presence remained accessible to consciousness but energetically dormant, virtually undetectable to external senses.
Tom focused on regulating his breathing, on becoming part of the landscape itself—a skill he had perfected through years of battlefield stealth operations. His body temperature gradually aligned with surrounding rocks, his heartbeat slowed to minimal levels, his thoughts narrowed to absolute presence without projecting intention. Nothing to see, nothing to sense, just another feature of the mountain's ancient face.
Above, the Storm Caller continued his sweeping pattern, occasionally pausing to extend a hand through which lightning arced in complex patterns before dissipating. Some kind of energy detection, Tom surmised, possibly scanning for disruptions in natural patterns. The Hero completed three full rotations over the broader valley, including the ridge where Tom lay concealed, before apparently satisfying himself that the area was clear.
With a casual gesture that generated a wind current beneath him, Hiroshi Nakamura rose higher into the sky, then accelerated westward with remarkable speed, soon disappearing over distant peaks.
"That was uncomfortably close," Tom murmured when he judged sufficient time had passed. "Do you think he detected anything?"
"Unlikely," Skaravosk replied, his energy gradually re-emerging from its suppressed state. "His search pattern remained consistent rather than focusing on our position, suggesting routine survey rather than targeted investigation."
"Still," Tom said thoughtfully, "his presence confirms increased activity in the region. Heroes don't conduct personal reconnaissance unless something significant demands their attention."
"Perhaps a response to your message," Skaravosk suggested. "If delivery was successful, they might be expanding their awareness of surrounding territories in preparation for potential action."
Tom considered this possibility as they resumed their journey, now moving with heightened caution and greater attention to aerial approaches. The Storm Caller's appearance certainly suggested unusual circumstances—the Heroes typically remained focused on major threats rather than routine security operations.
"We need better information," Tom decided as they navigated a particularly challenging section of ridgeline. "Establish a secure observation position within monitoring range of their operational area, but far enough to maintain detection avoidance."
"A reasonable approach," Skaravosk agreed. "Though continued military and Hero presence will make such positioning challenging."
They traveled through the remainder of the day with increased vigilance, altering their route several times to avoid signs of patrol activity. By dusk, they had reached a promising location—a sheltered hollow high on a north-facing slope, naturally concealed by dense vegetation and rock formations, yet offering limited sightlines to a broad valley that showed subtle signs of significant activity below.
"Perfect," Tom decided, examining the defensive characteristics of the hollow. Multiple escape routes, good cover from both ground and aerial observation, natural water source from a small spring emerging from the rocks, and sufficient game trails nearby to suggest sustainable hunting.
"Agreed," Skaravosk said. "This position combines security with observation potential. And the north slope location minimizes our energy signature's projection toward likely detection sources."
Tom established a minimal camp—just enough for practical needs without creating obvious signs of human presence that might be spotted by patrols. As darkness fell completely, he observed lights appearing in the valley below, suggesting a substantial encampment too methodically arranged to be ordinary travelers.
"Military precision in those light patterns," he noted, his enhanced vision allowing detailed observation despite the distance. "Looks like a forward operational base, probably Hero support units establishing secure perimeter around whatever their primary objective might be."
"The response patterns suggest significance beyond routine activities," Skaravosk observed. "Perhaps your message has indeed prompted action."
Tom continued his observation well into the night, noting patrol patterns, security rotations, and communication signals visible in the distant encampment. The presence of Heroes remained unconfirmed but strongly suggested by certain distinctive elements—a section of the camp where ambient light behaved unusually, occasional energy discharges that resembled the Storm Caller's lightning but in more controlled, localized form, and the general configuration of security that suggested protection of high-value assets.
"I think we've found them," Tom concluded as he finally settled back from his observation point. "Heroes' operational headquarters, or at least a forward position. Now we wait and see what they're planning."
"And hope that your message reached them before your former companions intercepted the textile merchant," Skaravosk added.
Tom nodded, though his expression suggested confidence rather than concern. "Even if Varn and Jenks reached her, I'm betting our merchant friend had contingencies in place. The kind of person who stands up to military personnel in a public market isn't the kind who fails to deliver what she's been paid for."
Two hundred miles southeast, the textile merchant Elara Thorn sat calmly at a tavern table in the settlement of Stonekeep, sipping mediocre ale while watching the common room's entrance with practiced nonchalance. After twenty years traversing mountain trading routes, she had developed instincts about trouble that rarely failed her—and those instincts had been practically screaming since leaving Emberhold three days earlier.
The dramatic exit of her strange customer had confirmed her suspicions that his business involved complications she was better off not understanding directly. The subsequent arrival of military personnel asking pointed questions about travelers and messages had only reinforced this assessment. She recognized seasoned soldiers when she saw them—the quiet one with archer's calluses and the younger one with too-observant eyes who asked seemingly casual questions with deadly serious intent.
Fortunately, Elara had survived two decades in a profession where cunning supplemented fair dealing as a business necessity. The moment those soldiers had appeared in Emberhold's market questioning other merchants, she had implemented contingency measures developed through years of operating in regions where political alignments shifted as unpredictably as mountain weather.
The extra gold her unusual customer had pressed into her palm had purchased not just delivery service but the full measure of her considerable strategic planning. Before departing Emberhold, she had entrusted the sealed message to Korrin, a fellow trader whose route took him directly to Tanner's Ford. He would pass it to his niece who served as courier between that settlement and Oakhollow—bypassing Elara's normal circuit entirely and ensuring the message would reach its destination regardless of who might intercept her along the way.
True to her expectations, the military men had appeared in Stonekeep barely hours after her own arrival, making inquiries with local officials before approaching her directly at her market stall. Their questions were professional but pointed, their interest in her Emberhold customer unmistakable.
"Just a traveler arranging delivery of scholarly materials," she had told them with perfect truthfulness, omitting only that she no longer carried the item in question. "Paid standard rates, nothing unusual. Expected delivery in Oakhollow in twelve days, as I explained to him."
"And you still have this... scholarly message?" the archer had asked, eyes never leaving her face.
"I carry dozens of items for delivery along my route," she had replied, gesturing to her loaded wagon. "Some commercial, some personal. All private business between myself and my customers."
Not a lie—she did indeed carry numerous items for delivery. The message simply wasn't among them anymore.
The soldiers had departed unsatisfied but without cause to detain her or search her goods—trading rights being protected by royal charter throughout the kingdom, with interference requiring official documentation they clearly lacked. She had watched them confer briefly before mounting their horses and departing eastward—not continuing to Oakhollow as expected, but cutting across country as if seeking a faster route.
Now, finishing her ale in Stonekeep's busiest tavern, Elara permitted herself a small smile of professional satisfaction. The message was already well on its way through Korrin's faster route, while she maintained her standard circuit as if nothing unusual had occurred. By the time anyone reached Oakhollow expecting to intercept the delivery, the message would have arrived days earlier through her alternate arrangement.
Whatever game her unusual customer was playing, she had fulfilled her contractual obligation with the efficiency that had built her reputation across five settlements. Whether the message contained scholarly inquiries as claimed or something far more significant as circumstances suggested, its delivery was assured—and her involvement would end there, exactly as she preferred.
Elara signaled for another ale, calculating the timing for the remainder of her circuit. Stonekeep today, Red Hill three days hence, then Tanner's Ford where Korrin would confirm successful forward delivery. Finally Oakhollow, where she would arrive precisely on schedule, carrying nothing but ordinary trade goods and legitimate deliveries.
Let soldiers and scholars play their mysterious games. She had a business to run and a reputation to maintain. Though she had to admit, as she sipped her fresh ale, that the occasional intrigue added welcome variety to the routine of mountain trade routes.
And if the young man with old eyes and impossible strength ever required her services again... well, his coin was good, and she appreciated customers who recognized quality work with appropriate compensation. In difficult times, professional relationships built on mutual respect and generous payment were increasingly rare commodities—worth cultivating when discovered, regardless of whatever complications might accompany them.
Far to the north, in a valley illuminated by carefully placed military campfires, four figures gathered in a tent larger than the others surrounding it. Maps and diagrams covered a central table, weighted down with various objects that seemed to glow faintly in the lantern light. The Heroes from the East stood in silent contemplation of a particular document—a message written on bark and wrapped in leaves, now carefully spread open before them.
"The information corresponds with our observations at the Stone Crown," Takashi Yamamoto, the Sword Saint, noted quietly. "Details only someone present during the Working would know."
"Yet the source remains unidentified," Mei Lin, the Shield Maiden, countered. "Anonymous intelligence must be treated with appropriate caution."
Hiroshi Nakamura, the Storm Caller, traced a finger along the message's reference to dimensional barriers. "The energy patterns described match what we experienced. And the reference to the 'King's ascension' aligns with prophecy fragments we've encountered elsewhere."
"The request seems straightforward enough," Akiko Tanaka, the Healer, observed. "Information about similar locations along ley line intersections. Knowledge we already possess and have been monitoring."
"The question remains—who sent this, and why?" Takashi's hand rested on his sword hilt, a habitual gesture when confronting uncertainties. "The energy signature on this document is... unusual. Not entirely human, yet not demonic either."
"Could it be connected to the draconic manifestation we detected?" Mei suggested. "The timing would align with both the Stone Crown disruption and this message's appearance."
"Possibly," Hiroshi agreed. "Though motivation remains unclear. If a dragon has returned to this world, its agenda would typically center on territorial reclamation rather than opposing the Demon King's dimensional workings."
"Unless their interests happen to align with ours in this specific instance," Akiko suggested. "The prophecy mentions 'ancient powers reawakened when barriers grow thin.' We've always assumed this referred to demonic entities, but perhaps..."
"Dragons," Takashi completed her thought, his expression thoughtful. "Ancient powers indeed, with their own reasons to maintain dimensional stability."
"So we respond?" Mei asked, bringing the discussion back to practical matters.
Silence fell as the four considered the implications of their decision. Responding would acknowledge receipt of information from an unknown source potentially connected to a draconic manifestation that had triggered warning indicators throughout their prophetic framework. Not responding might lose valuable alliance potential against the Demon King's increasingly sophisticated dimensional manipulations.
"We respond," Takashi decided finally. "Limited information exchange regarding ley line convergence points that we're already monitoring. Nothing that would compromise our primary operations, but enough to potentially open communication with a force that has demonstrated active opposition to the Demon King's workings."
"And the military units that arrived seeking this same message?" Hiroshi asked, referencing the soldiers who had reached Oakhollow two days earlier, only to discover the message had already been delivered through unexpected channels.
"Maintain separation," Takashi instructed. "Their pursuit of a supposedly dead comrade represents a different matter entirely. Our focus must remain on the prophecy's fulfillment and the Demon King's defeat."
The others nodded agreement, each understanding the priority of their mission above all other considerations. Whatever complications swirled around this mysterious correspondent—dragon or human or something between—their response would remain measured, strategic, and focused on their ultimate objective.
The prophecy that had brought them from another world to this one spoke of many forces converging as the final confrontation approached. Perhaps this unexpected communication represented just another thread in that complex tapestry. Only time would reveal its true significance in the pattern gradually taking shape around them.
"Prepare the response," Takashi instructed. "We'll dispatch it through secure channels tomorrow."
In their mountain hollow a day's journey distant, Tom Reed and Skaravosk continued their patient observation, unaware that their message had not only reached its intended recipients but had initiated discussions at the highest level of the Heroes' operational planning. The chess pieces were moving, alliances forming and shifting, as the larger conflict between the Demon King and those who opposed him entered a new phase of complexity and uncertainty.
The unremarkable soldier and the ancient dragon king waited, watched, and prepared for whatever might come next—separate beings united by circumstance and choice, their partnership becoming the unexpected variable in calculations that spanned dimensions, prophecies, and the very fabric of reality itself.