Val knelt on the stone bridge, lungs burning as he gulped in air. The aftermath of battle surrounded him, rangers and militia members moving purposefully among the fallen undead, gathering corpses for burning while tending to the wounded. His muscles trembled from exertion, the drain of channeling aether leaving him momentarily vulnerable.

  Rhalla sat beside him, his scholarly demeanor returning now that immediate danger had passed. "Remarkable," the mage said quietly, leaning against the bridge's stone railing. Despite his calm tone, Val noted the slight tremor in the mage's hands, evidence that the battle had taxed him as well.

  A shadow fell across them, and Val looked up to find one of the Meryan standing before them. This one was slightly taller than the others, with a stockier build. Unlike the others who bore relatively simple bone weapons, this Meryan carried an intricately crafted trident. Dark gray scales covered most of its form, transitioning to a deep indigo along its back and limbs. Several old scars marked its arms and torso, pale against the darker scales.

  Most striking were its eyes; large, dark and unnervingly perceptive as they studied Val with an intensity. Shell decorations adorned the Meryan's shoulders and chest, their elaborate patterns indicating some form of rank or status.

  Captain Alfen approached from behind, his sword still drawn but held at rest. The ranger captain's expression betrayed nothing as he assessed the unexpected ally.

  "I am Alfen," he said, addressing the Meryan directly. "Captain of Oakspire Rangers. This is Master Rhalla of the Academy of Aether Arts," he gestured to the mage, "and Squad Leader Valtha Hearne."

  Val attempted to rise, finding his legs still unsteady. "I'm Val—"

  "I know who you are," the Meryan interrupted, its voice surprisingly clear despite an accent that gave the common tongue a clicking, almost musical quality. "Owlta."

  The word hung in the air, incomprehensible yet somehow weighted with significance.

  "Owlta," the Meryan repeated, pointing directly at Val's chest. "One who lights the aether."

  Before Val could respond, the Meryan turned and made a series of rapid gestures to its companions. The effect was immediate and unsettling. As one, the remaining Meryan warriors, perhaps twenty who had survived the battle, dropped to one knee, their weapons laid flat before them. A harmonic series of clicks, whistles, and low tones emanated from them, almost like a chant.

  "Owlta," they intoned in unison, the word somehow both reverent and expectant.

  Val shifted uncomfortably, looking to Rhalla and Alfen for guidance. The mage's expression had shifted from exhaustion to fascination, while Alfen returned his look with a shrug.

  "I am Amortta," the lead Meryan continued, apparently satisfied with the display. "War-Leader of Lake Clarity, you call Clearwater, Meryan."

  Rhalla stepped forward smoothly, covering for Val's stunned silence. "War-Leader Amortta, we are grateful for your assistance against the undead. If I may ask, what brings the Meryan so far from the depths of Lake Clarity?"

  Amortta's gaze remained fixed on Val even as she answered Rhalla. "We honor debt. Old debt. Many cycles past."

  "A debt?" Alfen questioned.

  "To Clearwater," Amortta confirmed, finally looking away from Val to address the captain directly. "Hundred winters past. Kobolds raid Meryan breeding grounds. Take denmothers." Her hand made a grasping motion that required no translation. "Meryan cannot follow. Mountains dry. No water. No aether."

  She paused, composing her thoughts carefully. "Men of Clearwater hear. They come. Many days march into mountains. Bring denmothers home." The pride in her voice was evident despite her broken speech. "Blood-debt. Cannot be forgotten."

  "How many are you?" Alfen asked?

  "Three hundred warriors gather," Amortta replied. "Come from all Meryan clans of valley. Assemble under Clearwater Lake."

  Rhalla's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Three hundred?"

  "Meryan do not forget," Amortta stated simply, then turned her attention back to Val. "We pledge to Owlta."

  Val felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. "I appreciate the gesture, but I'm not—"

  "Owlta," Amortta repeated with unexpected firmness, cutting him off. "We see. In battle. You make aether bright. Like in stories."

  Val shot a quick glance at Rhalla, who returned a barely perceptible nod confirming the significance of the reference. The Meryan not only recognized Val's ability but apparently had legends that paralleled what Grandmaster Linden had told him about Mother Arden and her disciples.

  "I think our new allies would be most welcome in Clearwater," Alfen interjected diplomatically. "We should return to the city and introduce you to Reeve Gwydion and the city's leadership."

  Amortta nodded. "We go through river. Meet at lake shore when sun touches water." She gestured toward the west, indicating sunset. "Bring all warriors then."

  Alfen agreed to the arrangement, then turned to address his rangers. "Toren," he called. "Take your squad and continue the patrol. Scout five miles further along this road, then circle back. The rest of us will escort our Meryan allies to Clearwater."

  As the Meryan prepared to depart, many of them sliding gracefully into the river with barely a ripple, Amortta approached Val once more. She reached into a small pouch at her waist and withdrew a polished disk of some pale material, bone or shell, Val couldn't be certain.

  "For Owlta," she said, pressing it into his palm. "When in great need, place in water. We come."

  The disk was surprisingly heavy for its size, intricate patterns etched into its surface depicting what appeared to be stylized waves and geometric symbols Val didn't recognize. Before he could thank her, Amortta turned and dove into the river with remarkable grace, vanishing beneath the surface with barely a splash.

  The remaining Meryan followed their leader, disappearing into the water until only the rangers, Rhalla, and the militia patrol remained on the bridge. An awkward silence fell, broken finally by Kaelen letting out a low whistle.

  "Well, that was unexpected," the veteran ranger remarked.

  Alfen turned to Val, his expression unreadable. "Owlta?" he asked simply, the question encompassing far more than just the strange name.

  Val tucked the disk carefully into his belt pouch. "It's a long story, sir. One I think should wait until we're back in Clearwater, with the whole company present."

  Alfen held his gaze for a moment longer, then nodded. "Tonight, then. After the evening meal." He turned to address the assembled rangers and militia. "Let's move out. I want us back in the city before nightfall."

  As they formed up to begin the march back to Clearwater, Val found himself walking beside Rhalla and Elara.

  "I've never seen Meryan react that way to anyone," the mage said quietly, his tone thoughtful. "Their legends must be remarkably well-preserved to recognize what you did during the battle."

  "What exactly did I do?" Val asked. "Beyond what we've been practicing?"

  Rhalla glanced around and searched for his words. "You created an aether nexus," he explained. "A temporary convergence point that enhanced all aether workings in your vicinity. It's a technique described in ancient texts but considered theoretical by most modern scholars. The fact that you did it instinctively..." He shook his head in wonder. "The Meryan are highly attuned to aether currents. They would have felt it more acutely than most."

  Val digested this information as they walked. "So this... nexus. Is it dangerous?"

  "Not inherently," Rhalla assured him. "But it's extraordinarily taxing. Even The First Seeds were said to use the technique sparingly." He studied Val's face. "How do you feel?"

  Val took stock of his condition. The bone-deep fatigue he'd experienced immediately after the battle had faded to a manageable weariness. "Better than I expected, honestly. Tired, but not debilitated."

  Rhalla nodded, his expression both satisfied and concerned. "Your recovery rate continues to exceed all precedent. How about you Elara?"

  "Fresh as if I just woke up. My core is still full as if I didn't drain it at all…" She replied with obvious confusion.

  "As do I to a lesser degree, my aether channels are taxed but my core remains full. This is truly remarkable, Val."

  They continued the journey back to Clearwater in relative silence, Val's mind occupied with the events of the battle.

  The eastern gates of Clearwater stood open as they approached, guards alert on the walls and at the entry points. Word of their approach had evidently preceded them, as several senior militia officers waited just inside the gates.

  Captain Alfen made his report succinctly, recounting their encounter with the undead force and the unexpected intervention of the Meryan. The militia officers listened with expressions ranging from skepticism to hope as Alfen described the three hundred Meryan warriors supposedly gathering beneath the lake.

  "Reeve Gwydion will want to hear of this immediately," said an older officer with a lieutenant's insignia. "If what you say is true, these Meryan could significantly bolster our defenses."

  "They proved themselves capable warriors today," Alfen confirmed. "We've arranged to meet their full force at the lakeshore at sunset."

  The lieutenant nodded, already turning to dispatch a messenger to the Reeve. "I'll ensure preparations are made for their reception."

  Val and the rest of the rangers followed Alfen through Clearwater's streets toward their assigned quarters in the militia barracks. The city was transforming, defensive preparations evident in every district. Barricades of sharpened logs reinforced street corners, and many buildings now sported boarded windows with narrow firing slits. Civilians worked alongside soldiers, stockpiling water barrels and moving supplies to designated storage areas.

  The western sky had begun to redden by the time they reached the barracks. Alfen dismissed the rangers to rest and prepare for the evening meal, with instructions to gather in the main hall afterward. Val retreated to the small room he shared with three other squad leaders, grateful for a moment of solitude when he found it empty.

  He sat heavily on his bunk, removing the Meryan disk from his pouch to examine it more closely. In the better light, he could see that the material was indeed bone, but like none he'd encountered before, pearly white with faint iridescent highlights that shifted as he turned it. The etched patterns seemed to form a map of sorts, with Lake Clearwater at its center and various symbols radiating outward along what might be underwater routes.

  A knock at the door interrupted his examination. "Enter," he called, quickly tucking the disk back into his pouch.

  Elara stepped into the room, her expression of playful curiosity. "I just finished treating the wounded from the patrol," she said. "Everyone's talking about the Meryan."

  Her shoulder brushed against his, a casual touch that nonetheless sent warmth through him. "Aric is convinced you've been secretly communicating with lake spirits for years."

  Despite his weariness, Val found himself laughing. "Of course he is."

  Torren suggested we should start calling you 'Fish Lord' to see if the Meryan follow suit."

  "Please don't encourage him," Val groaned, though the humor helped ease some of the tension he'd been carrying.

  Elara's smile faded, her expression growing serious. "In all honesty, Val, what happened out there? I've never seen aether like what you and Rhalla were doing during that fight."

  Val hesitated, torn between his promise to explain everything to the company tonight and his desire to be honest with Elara now. "I'm still figuring it out myself," he admitted finally. "But Master Rhalla called it creating an 'aether nexus'—a way of enhancing all aether work nearby."

  Elara was silent for a moment, absorbing this information. "And the Meryan recognized it immediately. Called you... what was it?"

  "Owlta. 'One who lights the aether,' according to Amortta."

  "That's... significant."

  Val nodded. "Rhalla seemed to think so. He mentioned something about their legends of the First Seeds being well-preserved."

  "The First Seeds? You mean Mother Arden's original disciples?" Elara's brow furrowed. "Val, what exactly is happening to you?"

  Before Val could answer, another knock came at the door, more insistent this time. "Squad Leader Hearne," called a voice Val recognized as belonging to one of the militia messengers. "Captain Alfen requests your presence at the lakeshore immediately. The Meryan have begun to arrive."

  Val rose, giving Elara an apologetic look. "I promise we'll continue this conversation later."

  She nodded, standing as well. "I'm holding you to that."

  They left the barracks together, making their way through Clearwater's streets toward the lake. The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the western sky in brilliant hues of orange and crimson. As they approached the shore, Val could see a considerable gathering had already formed; militia officers, rangers, and city officials, including a distinguished older man Val guessed must be Reeve Gwydion.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Captain Alfen stood near the water's edge, Master Rhalla at his side. They were engaged in conversation with the Reeve, who noticed Val's approach and gestured toward him. Val quickened his pace, Elara following close behind.

  "Squad Leader Hearne," the Reeve greeted him. "I understand you've made quite an impression on our unexpected allies."

  Before Val could respond, a disturbance in the lake caught everyone's attention. The normally placid surface began to churn, concentric ripples spreading outward from multiple points about thirty yards offshore. A hush fell over the assembled crowd as they watched with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.

  The first Meryan emerged from the water with deliberate slowness, rising to stand waist deep in the lake. Others followed, dozens at first, then scores, until hundreds of the amphibious beings stood in formation across the surface of Lake Clarity, their dark forms silhouetted against the sunset painted water.

  Amortta was at their center, her distinctive shell decorations catching the fading light. She raised her trident high, and as one, the assembled Meryan warriors struck the water with their weapons, creating a synchronized splash that sent waves rippling toward the shore.

  The Meryan advanced in perfect formation, moving through the shallows until they stood at the water's edge, facing the gathered humans. Their numbers were impressive with more still emerging from deeper water. Each warrior carried bone or stone weapons, and many wore decorative shells or carved pieces that might serve as rudimentary armor.

  Amortta stepped forward onto dry land, her gaze sweeping across the assembled humans before settling on Val. She approached with purposeful strides, stopping a respectful distance from the Reeve and the ranger captain.

  "Humans of Clearwater" she greeted, her voice carrying clearly across the now-silent gathering. "Meryan come to honor old debt."

  The Reeve stepped forward, his expression carefully neutral. "War-Leader Amortta, Clearwater welcomes you and your warriors. The debt you speak of is from generations past, you owe us nothing, but we appreciate old and new friendships in these dark days."

  "Meryan do not forget," Amortta repeated her earlier sentiment. "Nor do we ignore when darkness threatens shared waters." She gestured toward the lake. "Dead things poison our hunting grounds. Attack our scouts. We fight common enemy."

  "Then we welcome your aid gratefully," the Reeve acknowledged with a slight bow. "Clearwater faces a grave threat from the undead forces gathering to our north."

  Amortta nodded once, then turned toward Val. "We follow Owlta," she declared, loud enough for all to hear. "His light guides through dark waters."

  A murmur ran through the crowd at this pronouncement. Val felt a flush of embarrassment and discomfort as all eyes turned to him. Captain Alfen stepped forward smoothly, directing attention back to practical matters.

  "War-Leader Amortta, we would value your tactical insight," he said. "Perhaps you could join us in the command center to discuss how best to integrate your forces with our defenses?"

  Amortta considered this, then nodded her agreement. "Yes. Show battle plans. Meryan know water paths. Can guard approaches others cannot see. Make field wet, hard to walk, supply water."

  As the official delegation began moving toward the city's central administrative building, Val found himself walking beside Amortta. The Meryan leader maintained a respectful distance but studied him with undisguised interest.

  "You uncomfortable," she observed bluntly. "With Owlta name."

  Val hesitated, then decided honesty was the best approach. "This is all new to me."

  Amortta clicked softly, a sound Val interpreted as thoughtful consideration. "Old stories tell of light-bringers. Those who make aether shine even in dark places. Not seen since Great Mother walked valley." She gestured toward his chest. "You carry their spark. Meryan see true nature. Water does not lie."

  "What do you know of the First Seeds?" Val asked, hoping for insight beyond what Grandmaster Linden had shared.

  "First Seeds? I do not know this name. I speak of Great Mother and her kin. They fought alongside Meryan. Against death-makers from empire." Amortta's expression darkened at the mention of the ancient Atilean Empire. "When great tree was young, its roots reached even to deep waters. Gave life. Protected. Then roots weakened, withdrew. Darkness came. But stories say roots will grow strong again when Owlta returns."

  Val struggled to process this information. The Meryan clearly possessed knowledge of Mother Arden and the Oakspire that aligned with yet differed from the records kept in Oakspire itself. Before he could ask further questions, they reached the command center, and Amortta was drawn into discussion with the Reeve and militia commanders.

  The large central room housed a detailed map of Clearwater and its surroundings, with markers indicating known undead concentrations and defensive positions. Val took a position near the back of the room, content to observe as Amortta and three other Meryan who had accompanied her studied the map with evident understanding.

  "Dead-walkers come from north pass," Amortta stated, pointing to a mountain gap several miles north of the city. "Many. Hundreds. Led by death-speakers."

  "Death-speakers?" questioned the militia's commander, a grizzled veteran named Bryce.

  "Those who command dead," Amortta clarified. "Necromancers," Rhalla translated from nearby. "Though the Meryan term suggests a more specific meaning."

  Amortta nodded at the mage. "They speak, dead listen. Different from shadow-wielders."

  This distinction caught everyone's attention. "You're saying there are multiple types of undead controllers?" Alfen asked, his expression grave.

  "Yes. Death-speakers use voice, command. Shadow-wielders use... threads." Amortta made a complex gesture with her fingers, suggesting puppet strings. "Different power. Different control."

  The implications were disturbing. If the undead forces were being directed by multiple types of controllers with different methods and possibly different aims, the strategic situation became even more complex.

  "Can your people distinguish between these?" Rhalla asked. "Identify which type is commanding a particular undead force?"

  "Yes," Amortta confirmed. "Different... taste in water. Different mark on dead."

  The planning session continued for nearly an hour, with Amortta providing invaluable intelligence about underwater approaches to the city that had been overlooked in previous defensive preparations. The Meryan knew of caves and tunnels connecting to the lake that could potentially serve as infiltration routes for undead forces, as well as secret paths that might be used for evacuation if the city became untenable.

  Throughout the discussion, Val noticed Amortta occasionally glancing in his direction, as though expecting him to contribute. He remained silent, however, still processing the implications of what she had revealed about the Meryan's knowledge of the First Seeds and their recognition of his abilities.

  Kaelen broke him out of his thoughts. "Alfen's called a company meeting," the veteran ranger informed him. "Quarter hour, in the barracks' main hall."

  Val nodded, feeling a mix of apprehension and relief. "I'll be there."

  By the time Val reached the barracks, most of the company had already gathered in the main hall. Conversations quieted as he entered, all eyes turning toward him with varying degrees of curiosity and speculation. Captain Alfen stood at the far end of the room, his expression carefully neutral as he waited for Val to approach.

  "The company is assembled, Squad Leader Hearne," Alfen said formally.

  Val took a deep breath, scanning the faces of his fellow rangers. These were men and women he had fought alongside, people who trusted him with their lives as he trusted them with his. They deserved the truth, however complicated it might be.

  And with that, Val began his explanation. He described the surge of power he'd experienced during the final battle at Willow Creek, the changes he'd noticed in his abilities afterward, and his meeting with Grandmaster Linden. He explained what little he understood about his unique aether core and how it differed from normal practitioners, as well as Rhalla's theories about its potential applications.

  Throughout his account, the rangers listened in attentive silence, their expressions ranging from skepticism to wonder. When Val described the events at the bridge earlier that day, including the Meryan's recognition of his abilities, many exchanged glances of dawning comprehension.

  "One final point," Alfen said as Val's story came to a close, his gaze sweeping across the assembled rangers. "While Squad Leader Hearne's abilities may be unusual, he remains first and foremost a ranger of Oakspire, one of our own. I expect him to be treated as such, without undue reverence or suspicion."

  This last directive drew smiles from many of the rangers, including Kaelen, who called out, "So no calling him 'Fish Lord' then, sir?"

  A wave of laughter broke the tension that had built during the serious discussion. Val felt a surge of gratitude for his fellow rangers and their ability to find humor even in the most extraordinary circumstances.

  "Definitely no 'Fish Lord,'" Alfen agreed, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Dismissed for the evening, rangers. Regular patrol rotations resume at first light."

  As the company dispersed, many approached Val individually, offering words of support or simply clasping his arm in silent solidarity. The response was overwhelmingly comforting to Val.

  Elara was among the last to approach. "Well, that went better than you expected," she observed.

  Val nodded, relief evident in his expression. "Rangers are practical people. They care more about results than mystical implications."

  "True enough," she agreed. "Though you might want to prepare yourself for Aric's inevitable questions. He's already cornered Master Rhalla and is showing no signs of running out of curiosity."

  Val groaned, glancing across the room where Aric was indeed gesturing animatedly while Rhalla attempted to respond to what appeared to be a rapid fire series of inquiries.

  "I should rescue him," Val sighed.

  "Probably," Elara agreed with a laugh.

  A messenger's sudden entrance shattered the moment, his gasping breaths cutting through the barracks' relaxed atmosphere. Val's core thrummed in warning even before the man spoke, an instinctive response to the panic radiating from him.

  Torren caught the messenger's arm, steadying him. "Speak."

  "The army—" the man wheezed, chest heaving. "Under attack. Dead everywhere. Captain Jeduh calls for aid, all hands, they're surrounded."

  Val's muscles tensed, already moving before Alfen barked orders. The comfortable camaraderie of moments ago evaporated, replaced by the familiar urgency of rangers preparing for battle. He caught Elara's eye across the room, saw his own determination mirrored there.

  The climb to the watchtower's observation platform seemed endless, though it took mere minutes. Val's heart pounded not from exertion but from the growing sounds of distant combat carried on the evening wind. When they emerged onto the platform, the scene below stole his breath.

  Half a mile from Clearwater's walls, the Fourth Company's formation blazed with torch light, a circle of steel and flame besieged by a writhing mass of undead. Three massive hordes pressed in from different directions.

  Alfen nodded grimly. "Squad leaders, gather your people. We move now." He turned to Val. "Your squad takes point. We must relieve the army. A strong punch from this direction will shift the tide of battle.

  "Rhalla," he called to the mage as they reached the ground. "Will it work again?"

  The scholar's usual academic demeanor had vanished, replaced by focused intensity. "It responds to your will. But be careful, if you push too much aether through our channels too quickly, it could burn us both out."

  Rangers assembled in the courtyard below, checking weapons and adjusting armor with practiced efficiency. Val found Elara and Aric already waiting, Lian joining them moments later.

  "Stay close to me," he instructed them, voice pitched low. "When I establish the nexus, Elara, focus on keeping our people standing. Aric, Lian, protect her and Rhalla."

  Beyond the gates, he could hear the Clearwater militia mustering, Captain Jeduh's voice carrying over the organized chaos as he rallied his people. The sun had nearly set, painting the western sky blood red, appropriate, Val thought grimly, for what was to come.

  Alfen raised his sword, the signal to move out. Val took point, his squad falling in behind him as they joined the growing force heading toward the battle. His core hummed with gathering power, like a storm about to break.

  The sounds of combat grew louder with each step, punctuated by the clash of steel, the screams of the wounded, and the inhuman shrieks of the undead. Val could feel the death aether's influence strengthening as they drew closer, but rather than repelling him, it seemed to heighten his awareness of the life force flowing through his allies.