A slight breeze rustled some of the taller reeds of grass that had remained uncleared. With it, came a distinct chill leaked into her tent reminding her of just how closely winter had approached if still hidden by the strength of the mid-day sun. It was only mid-autumn and still well removed from the dangerous levels of cold, but the nights could still reach uncomfortable levels of chill. Not enough to freeze yet, but certainly enough to increase sickness and disease. With another slight breeze, she grabbed at the top of her throw blanket and tightened it around the areas of her exposed neck. It was on nights like these that her thoughts drifted inevitably to Torrick.
How she hoped he was not experiencing the chill she was now. Even from the very first time he met with the cold of his first winter, he seemed naturally opposed to the idea that the air was allowed to be cold enough to force him into wearing clothes and swaddling blankets. She still remembered it. Even though it was so long ago, she could hear his little whimpers and protestations for being so thoroughly limited by what he felt was an excess of clothing, crescendo into a complete symphony of discomfort when she carried him out of the door colliding with the discomfort that was winter. If her little son did not possess the tonal quality of her voice, at least he possessed the power of it, for there was no one within the residential district Matteos had lived, that did not hear his waling. It was such a horrible experience for her little baby that he ended up relieving himself in his diaper on the spot. She even remembered the smell of it as if its foul odors were still penetrating her nostrils.
Another slight breeze blew and her mind switched its current focus to the list of tasks that needed to be completed once they arrived at their destination in the valley. While all of her other mental remembrances regarding her son dissolved with the changing of her attention, the memory of his smell did not. As if it possessed a conscious entity all its own, it chose to linger the way a memory of mistakenly eating rotten food lingers on the tongue well after the cause of the affronting taste had been thoroughly removed. In fact, the smell of her son’s excrement seemed to intensify with each breeze the winds released. It was minutes before she realized that her nausea was not caused by the strength of her memory, but by one of her refugees who was apparently relieving himself upwind.
She made a mental note to identify a common location for relieving oneself once they arrived in the valley, a place that was certainly going to be down wind. She pulled her blanket up enough to cover her nose and was thankful for both its length to cover her feet as well as the muting effect of the stench, which seemed to still be increasing. Had her toes been rendered exposed to the chill of the night, she was not convinced she would not have sacrificed their warmth for the muting of the stench. However, as it was, she was still able to enjoy warm feet and reduced nausea. But just as the odor was becoming somewhat limited, whether by the effect of her becoming used to it or that whoever was defecating had completed his task, she began hearing short and intermittent grunts coming from the same direction as the smell. So loud had they become that she was finding it difficult to hold back her laughter enough to remain silent. Daily bodily functions were a necessity of life, but that did not mean their public acknowledgement would limit the subsequent embarrassment resulting from such knowledge becoming less private. She was about to clear her throat in order to covertly announce her presence while still maintaining the perceived privacy of the individual grunting, but just a moment before she made the final decision to do so, she was interrupted by the individual saying her name.
“Soliana,” it said clearly taxed.
She decided to ignore it hoping it would not repeat itself, but along with the increased stench, the voice increased its persistence. “Soliana,” it strained again. This time, it was followed by a couple tender coughs.
“Identify yourself,” she stated, but the only returning acknowledgment by the voice was a very loud bout of pained coughing followed by a muffled thud.
“Identify yourself,” she said with greater emphasis as she grabbed her thigh knife, sitting upright. But when what followed was silence, she stood up and repeated her instructions, as she walked to the door of her tent, “Identify yourself or you will not enjoy my next action!”
“Shut up, Soliana,” she heard the male voice say “Can you not just shut up and listen?” it asked.
“Jaro?” she asked hesitantly.
“The same,” Jaro replied.
She exited her tent to see his fallen body laying his back, “What in all that is holy happened?” she said as she rushed to his side. But before she kneeled down to tend to his obvious wounds, she was momentarily stunned by his stench.
“I can assure you, it was most unholy,” he said as he coughed and winced again.
“You are shivering!” she said.
“Yes. That is a common response to being chilled to the bone,” he said, the difficulty in his speech increasing.
Overcoming her nausea, she was able to kneel down and found that he was cold and wet, “Come, we must get you inside and warm. My tent is not large enough, but Dregor’s is. Can you walk?” she asked.
“As long as you can tolerate the smell,” he said weekly.
As she helped him up, she could see that he was favoring and protecting his ribs. He was also favoring his ankle and required considerable assistance to limit the amount of weight he placed upon it. The act of helping him did offer her a much-needed reprieve from the effects of his smell most probably because of her urgency provoked, adrenalin laced response. But by the time they reached Dregor’s tent, it was beginning to release its muting effect and the awful smell was beginning its insidious journey into her awareness again.
She thought better than to just barge into his tent, “Dregor!” she said with whispered urgency. “Dregor!” she repeated herself. “Dregor!” she said a third time elevating her voice.
“What is it Soliana?” asked Dregor as he stepped out of his tent fastening the latch on his breaches. “And what is that awful smell?”
“It is me, Dregor. Now, may we come in? There is much to tell you, and would I like to sit down before I fall over,” responded Jaro.
“Of course, just let me wake Linsia and Nithana first. I do not want your,” hesitated Dregor, “appearance to startle them.”
“Certainly,” responded Soliana. “Take as much time as you need, but hurry.”
Dregor reentered his tent and roused his wife and daughter. After a few minutes of rustling sounds, apparently to make a sufficient place for Jaro to rest, he opened the tent flap and bid them enter. “Drahin, what is that smell?” asked Nithana innocently.
“Hush my Eklirin,” said her mother as she pulled her closer.
Jaro smiled upon hearing the young girl’s question, “You should probably strip me of my clothes unless you want the whole of your tent to smell like the sewers of Tatherton,” he said.
“Only if you let us burn them,” said Soliana as she helped Jaro to sit. “Dregor, Linsia and Nithana can use my tent for the evening.”
“Thank you,” said Linsia,
“None needed for it is we who are intruding in your space. So, it is we who thank you,” replied Jaro as he coughed and winced again. She watched Dregor’s wife and daughter exit the tent before she and Dregor began assisting Jaro with the removal of his clothes.
“You finally got your wish, m’lady,” said Jaro as he unbuttoned his tunic while Soliana and Dregor unlaced his boots.
“And what might that be?” she asked in return.
“To see me naked,” he said as he laughed causing a rather deep wince ending with a very labored cough.
“Where exactly have you been?” she asked him, ignoring his last statement.
“I decided to spend some time in the city. Something about our exchange with Montage did not seem right to me. At any rate, I followed a beggar to what I was hoping was the local representation of the Thieves’ Guild, but as it turns out, it lead me, unfortunately, into a rather unimpressive cell,” he said as he
groaned from shifting his position to a supported sitting with his legs extended in front of him. “While I was in prison, I shared the cell with the very beggar I had been following. But as it turned out, he was much more than a simple beggar. He turned out to be Lord Montage.”
“What?” asked Dregor. “The Lord Montage is really a beggar?”
“No, not exactly,” he answered.
“What do you mean?” asked Soliana as she examined Jaro’s ribs.
“What I mean is that I believe him to be the leader of Tatherton’s Thieves’ Guild,” he said flatly.
“How is that possible?” asked Soliana.
“I do not know. But it makes sense. Whenever I visited Tatherton,” he said as he winced from the pressure of her fingers, “which I did not do frequently, the presence of their guild was very small for a city of its size. Now I understand why.”
“So, let him maintain both illusions. I see no connection to our decision,” stated Dregor.
“I might have been inclined to agree with you except that because he is a thief, he is concerned with what profits him first, and everything else second,” explained Jaro.
“Go on,” said Soliana.
“Well, to be honest, while we were in the cell together, he told me that he had already dispatched riders to the Stone Keep with the intent to inform their new Lord of our location. From what I gathered, a contingency from the Stone Keep could be here as early as two days hence,” he said.
“Two days?” asked Soliana for clarification.
“Yes, two days. More likely three to four, but if there is any truth to the rumors of this dark force, I would prepare for them to have unnatural speed,” answered Jaro.
“Are your sure of this?” asked Dregor. “How trustworthy is your information?”
“Well, I did not take the time to verify it as I was jumping out of a three storied high window while being pursued by the guards for killing who they would have certainly identified as Lord Gridder De Lu Montage,” he responded with his classic stoic sarcasm.
“You killed Lord Montage?” asked Soliana out of surprise.
“Yes. How else did you think I was able to escape their jail?” responded Jaro more rhetorically than from an actual desire to have his question answered.
Dregor’s concern was instantly elevated, “Do you realize what you have done?” he said as he stared hard into the thief’s eyes.
“Dregor,” said Soliana, but before she could continue, Jaro interrupted her.
“Yes, Dregor, I know exactly what I have done. And it is nothing more than any of us would have done had you been in my position,” answered Jaro returning the full measure of the other man’s stare.
“I would not have been in that position in the first place!” he said as he almost shouted.
“I did what I had to do,” Jaro replied.
“You did what you wanted to do!” accused Dregor.
“Yes!” said Jaro. “I did exactly what I wanted. It must be so easy for you, Dregor. You with your wife and daughter. You, who has known nothing of the pain that I have been through. Yet you stand there, with your perfect life, and judge the circumstances surrounding the choices I make as if you were the better man and would have done so much better with the same choices. Would it trouble you to know I too had a wife and a daughter? Would it be too much to ask someone who proclaims to follow a path of goodness to extend your compassion to someone else except those who mimic the very path you walk?”
At the conclusion of Jaro’s rather accusational speech, both men stared at each other, Dregor standing, and Jaro lying, each of them silently challenged the other. It was Dregor who answered next, “No doubt your wife and child left you because they found the truth of the man who was supposed to take care of them!”
“That is enough, Dregor!” interrupted Soliana. “Excuse yourself from this tent!” she commanded.
“If you have jeopardized the lives of any of us, you will answer for it!” Dregor warned before he turned to leave.
“That one is a keeper,” said Jaro as he clutched his side.
“Dregor is a good man, Jaro. Like you,” she said as she readjusted the pillow under his head.
“You mean hardly like me. There is nothing of similarities that I share with him.”
“Would you not have also been upset if someone risked the lives of your wife and daughter?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“Then do not apply your judgement of him when you ask him not to apply his to you.”
“You see that? Right there? That is why you are in charge and not Dregor or myself,” he said.
“You should rest tonight. I have a feeling we will have a very busy morning,” she said as she stood up to leave.
“Do I not even get a bath for my struggles?” he asked with a wink and grin.
“That all depends on whether or not you can make your own way to the river,” she said in response. “But I would highly encourage it because you stink.”
As she passed the threshold of the tent leading to the chill of the evening, she heard Jaro laugh openly and then wince loudly. She did hope the night’s rest would allow him to contribute to the task set before her and her refugees in light of his new information. Surely, the force deployed by this Lord Kahl would not have generous intentions, nor would they be very pliable to their plight. With what Jaro found out about Lord Montage, she was beginning to see that their option of staying to wait out the winter had all but dissolved. But where to go now was the key? To travel eastward into the new province of the Silver Empire would be a very harsh, month long journey. A journey on which many of her refugee’s lives would become forfeit against the harsh conditions of winter. Yes, some of them would survive, but how many could not be known. There were just too many variables to consider. Too many unknowns.
But what did she know? She knew she could not remain in the province of Stone Keep. It would not be long before word of their treachery would invade the other villages and towns and cities. Their whole pilgrimage would be identified as treasonous. They would be hunted, and if not killed on the spot, then they would be tried and found guilty of offences punishable by death. They had to leave, but to leave meant placing all of their lives against the mercy of what is normally a merciless winter. But would the winter of the north offer more mercy than the pursuing forces of the Stone Keep? As she approached her tent, she decided to push those thoughts away for the moment and see to the needs of Dregor and his family.
“How is Nithana?” she asked peaking in.
“She is well. She was tired from be woken, but she is sleeping soundly now,” he said.
“Dregor” she said softly, “you should not be so harsh with Jaro,” she said.
“He has placed us all in peril,” replied Linsia.
“No, he has not. He gave of himself to uncover the peril we were all unknowingly already in. If it had not been for his information, we would all be waiting in that valley until the force from the Stone Keep came to collect us. If nothing else, he has given us a chance,” she said to both of them.
“I do not trust him, Soliana,” said Dregor. “He has nothing but selfish motives. He may not have compromised us this time, but heed my words, one day he will.”
“Then we will deal with that day when it comes, Dregor. But as it stands now, he has done nothing of the kind,” she replied as she sat down on the dirt floor. “But we have a more pressing decision to make. Obviously, we cannot stay in the valley. And I do not think we will be able to last what is sure to be a very tough journey to the closest neighboring province.”
Both Dregor and Linsia considered her question for several minutes before Linsia spoke, “So where then do we go?”
“With the information Jaro gave us regarding Lord Montage, perhaps we should verify for ourselves the condition of the pass. He may have told us it collapsed to keep us here, waiting until the Stone Keep’s force arrived,” she said.
“But if it is closed off, we wo
uld have wasted time,” said Dregor as his voice grew grave with resignation. “I can see no choice but to try for the boundaries of Pretago Cor.”
“We may find ourselves headed in that direction. But I still think we should head north and extinguish our last hope before we make for Pretago Cor. As long as I can, I will avoid putting everyone’s lives in more danger than they already are,” she said placing a reassuring hand on both Dregor’s and Linsia’s shoulders. “Thank you Dregor,” she said as she stood up. “Sleep now, for we will have much to do in the morning and not much time with which to see it all accomplished. I will meet you here before first light.”
She felt better when she exited the tent having Dregor’s support. Though she did command the respect of the refugees, Dregor held their trust. Without it, the refugees would certainly follow her lead, but having Dregor back her decision openly and privately meant their compliance would be unquestioned and engaged wholeheartedly. After walking for about thirty seconds, she realized that she did not know where she was walking too. Dregor and his family were in her tent while Jaro was in their tent. Her only option to avoid sleeping under the open night sky was to sleep in Jaro’s tent. And while she swore to herself she would never be caught inside of it in the late hours of night, she found no other alternative. “Well,” she said chuckling to herself, “It appears Jaro is getting his wish as well.”
However, she did not immediately make her way to his tent, instead, she took time to walk through the camp while it was quite and the air was still. So much had changed in such a short amount of time comparatively to the years she spent in the south where things changed very little. Since leaving Psumayn, her life had been swept into a whirlwind of uncertainties. Had she even dreamed she would be leading a pilgrimage of refugees, nearly all of whom had no military training, she would never have believed it. However, her training had served her well. At least, it had thus far. But the questions she and her people were going to face in the next week only continued the trend of uncertainties she and they had already faced. But those were concerns for tomorrow. And to meet them, she needed rest. Cutting her walk and inspection off early, she made her way to Jaro’s tent.
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