Early the next morning we left town, the Warden leading Dermond and myself southwards towards the marshland. Dermond had told me that they are a dank and crooked place, riddled with traps to those who walk through them unawares. We are still several days journey from the southern marshes. The air is still clear but the Warden has cautioned us that our traveling conditions will worsen. When I asked what he meant by this he smiled. If his intention was to put my heart at ease he did quite the opposite.
He has been near silent since the battle with the raiders. I wonder, having seen his brutality and curious efficiency in combat, if I did right to seek his aid. My early admiration has grown to a fearful awe. Is he of this world? Or from somewhere beyond it? When I tried to speak to Dermond of it he hushed me and hurried further along the trail set by the Warden. He knows more than he has let on, or at least I think he does and he feels the same way about the Warden as I do. I recognized in his eyes the same mixture of reverence and fear. I need to know more.
We have taken a break from our traveling to find some respite from the heat of mid afternoon. Tonight, after we make camp, I must try to draw Dermond away from the Warden and find out what he knows of this matter.