by Kris Kramer
* * * * *
The second day of traveling was similarly uneventful. They spent most of it moving from the northern base of Gahardarac to the southern base of Lharsil, walking along rocky paths and pulling pebbles out of their boots every few hours, muttering loudly about how the pebbles made it into the boots in the first place. They made a quick stop at midday to rest and eat lightly, but were on their feet again before swallowing their last bites.
The only excitement of the day came around mid-afternoon, when they spotted a lone traveler heading south. From a distance he seemed to be Anzarin, and he carried a small pack, with a dog and a leashed goat following behind. His path took him some ways west of the group but Jonir wondered aloud if they should give him an even wider berth.
“I don’t think he’s a tracker, or any such sort. I think he’s running from them,” said Iago.
“Why’s that?” asked Galen.
“I would guess the goat, the dog and whatever’s in his pack are everything he owns, or everything he could walk away with. He’s probably in trouble with guards, or he owes too much money so he’s running to avoid slavery. He probably thinks he’s safer on the south side of the Lore hiding from those Horsemen, than the north.”
“That’s foolish,” Galen said.
Iago shrugged. “I’ve lived in those cities. I would rather chance the unknown than stay and be a slave myself.”
“Aye,” Saalis said. “I’ll take my chances with those White Horsemen than go back to slavery any day.”
“Either way, he’s probably more worried about us being trackers.” Iago watched the man as he got closer and took his path wide west of the group. Hal waved his arm in greeting as the stranger passed by, but he did not return it. The dog stopped to watch them warily a few times, and threw in several barks for good measure, but stayed close to his master.
After the man receded into the distance behind them, a realization struck Iago and he stopped.
“Your cloak,” he said, looking at Galen
“My cloak?” Galen seemed puzzled.
“Your cloak is what all the Pilots wear. You can’t wear that anymore. Anyone looking for Wind Riders out here might recognize it.”
Galen froze for a moment, then shook his head guiltily. He pulled off his cloak. “I’ll need to wear something, though. The nights are cold out here.”
Iago let his mind work, cursing himself for not thinking of this earlier. What good was he as their guide if he let something as obvious as this trip them up? “You can wear it at nights, that won’t be a problem. Once we get through the foothills though, you need to put it in your pack and keep it there until we get back to camp.”
Galen nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry for not realizing that before we left.”
“No, it’s my fault. But be glad we thought of it now, before we got any closer. Remember, no one should be wearing anything that would give away what we are, just to be safe.”
The rest of the day passed quietly, with no sign of travelers. The sun’s heat bore down on them in the afternoon but Iago told them they were ahead of the pace he expected, so they stopped to rest as needed. Iago loved this part of the journey. He enjoyed wandering the paths and trails of the Lore Mountains. He hated the cities, especially Tyr. Too many people packed together, each with their stories of desperation. The misery on the faces of the poor, or the refugees, most of them just trying to survive. Children with no food to eat. Beggars sleeping on the roads at night. The Clerics hoarding their money and power, believing kindness to be a sign of weakness. It was more than he could take sometimes.
But the mountains were different. Here, there were no guards to imprison the innocent. No Clerics flaying the skin of their servants. Just silence. Silence and space. He always enjoyed the Lore Mountains. He considered them much more beautiful than the Rhokan, which were closer to Elbasa. He wanted to scale one of these mountains someday, so he could look down on the world from a vantage point where no one could look back. He enjoyed solitude and he could think of nothing better than to be so far out of reach of the trials of life and men that he could just watch the clouds pass by at arm’s length. He wondered what that would be like, if it would be as joyous as he imagined it. He looked up at the top of Gahardarac as they moved farther and farther away from it's majestic peak.
One day he would find out.