by Jo Fontana
Reyden grinned almost self-righteously after Emory mentioned Deverick’s eating habits.
"You can tease him less about his eating though," Illithor reprimanded Reyden and then turned on Emory. "Emory, what has gotten into you? Stop egging Reyden on."
Emory had the decency to look ashamed after Illithor’s criticism. When the elfling had finished singing, Reyden waved him over and requested a song, which the young elf performed perfectly. Reyden began talking to the elfling to gauge the youth’s willingness to join them.
"You play well, elfling. My companions and I were thinking that it would be a good thing to have music on our journey. Have you ever been paid to travel with a group?”
“Maybe. It depends on where you’re going,” the elfling replied hesitantly.
“We’re on a journey to find my egg,” Reyden explained. He was surprised that the elfling was so skeptical.
“An egg?” he asked with disbelief. “You’re telling stories, aren’t you?”
"No," Reyden replied firmly. "It was stolen from me and they’re going with me to get it back.
The young elf looked unconvinced.
“It’s true,” Emory told the elfling. “You haven’t seen a wiry man with dirty blond hair and a scar on the back of his hand come through here? He goes by the name of Rafe.”
The elfling relaxed slightly after Emory backed up Reyden’s story. “Not that I’ve noticed, and it’s a small town. Strangers don’t usually stick around or announce their business,” he told the Postulate before addressing Reyden again. “Why is this egg so important?”
“Because it’s petrified and happens to be my focus. I want it back,” Reyden whispered impatiently.
“That’s a real problem. I’m glad I don’t have magic,” the kid said casually.
Reyden grabbed the kid and shook him. “Don’t ever admit that out loud again!”
The kid stammered.
“You’ll be sent to the markets if you’re found out,” Reyden quietly hissed.
The elfling looked terrified enough to cry. Emory put a hand on his shoulder and said, “We won’t let that happen. Will you come with us?”
The elfling sighed. “I’ll think about it. Where will you be staying?"
Reyden huffed with impatience. He wished he could just force the kid to go with them, but Deverick spoke up.
"We were going to camp outside of town."
"You can come with me. But I warn you, I can protect myself if I need to."
"You have my word as a Postulate that you’ll be safe," Emory promised. “I’m Emory Everhart.”
Then Reyden, Illithor, and Deverick introduced themselves in turn.
The elfling extended a hand first to Reyden. “Omaric Lightfoot. Come on, I’ll show you where I live.”
The men followed Omaric out of the tavern as he was done for the day. Reyden was extremely angry. He didn’t want to stay that long in such a dump. Emory silenced Reyden with a look. On their way to the kid’s place, he noticed the town mainly consisted of a small general store, a smithy, and a stable. Reyden thought the kid was leading them out of town until he realized they were at the far eastern edge. The houses disappeared at this point and there didn’t seem to be much else in sight but dirt and sky. Suddenly, a hut so tiny and rickety, that it almost went unnoticed, appeared in the distance. Reyden frowned when he saw it.
Omaric stopped at the door and glanced at Emory. “You’ll have to duck to get into my house, Postulate, or you’ll hit your head.”
When they entered the place, Emory ducked, looked for a suitable spot, and then sat down on the floor. The walls looked very flimsy and the only heat source seemed to be the hearth. There was no indoor plumbing or lights in the hut and the furniture was sparse and well worn. The squalor made Reyden immediately feel sorrier for Omaric because it reminded him of the poverty he endured when he was very small—until he went to live with Master Levik.
“We’ll head out tomorrow after restocking our supplies,” Reyden ordered.
The group decided that no watches needed to be set, despite Reyden’s adamant protests. Reyden took it upon himself to set up an alarm, which was just a trip wire across the threshold, in case they had any surprise visitors during the night.
It was evident that Omaric was a sound sleeper because the next morning the group had trouble waking him. Reyden wondered how the kid had survived so long without any apparent defenses. He thought that the smell of food might help and he casually mentioned this to Deverick who agreed and began to gather breakfast ingredients. Reyden smiled with satisfaction, pleased that he was able to trick Deverick into cooking. As Deverick began cooking, Omaric awoke.
“Well, well. Never one to be last to eat, right Deverick?” Reyden asked derisively when he noticed Deverick had a full plate set aside already.
Deverick glanced at Reyden and then looked markedly at Omaric. "I wanted to be sure he got a good meal before the rest of us dug in.”
Deverick handed Reyden the plate, who in turn handed it to Omaric.
“Thanks,” Omaric said in between bites.
When Omaric was finished, Reyden insisted he have another helping because he caught on to the fact that Omaric wasn’t used to eating this well.
When they had finished breakfast, Reyden took an egg out of his basket, waved his hand, and the dishes began to float in the air. He took another egg and waved it at a water pitcher that was in a corner of the room. The pitcher doused the plates, rinsing any remnants of the food from the plates. A strong breeze began to blow and the dishes were dried within a few minutes.
“That’s one way to get chores done,” Omaric stated with amazement.
“It’s the only way to do it,” Reyden bragged.
“Some of us wouldn’t know,” Emory replied.
“Too bad that you only have one spell,” Reyden snapped.
Emory frowned. Reyden realized that Emory was unhappy about not having a lot of magic. Reyden didn’t really understand why that would bother Emory. Everyone knew that Postulates had an anti-magic spell. Some were stronger than others were, but that spell balanced the power of the Magic Workers.
“At least I was quick about it. We need to leave,” Reyden said, changing the subject.
"Good idea. It's too early in the morning to listen to bickering," Illithor snapped as he picked up his things and stormed out of the hut.
"What bit his butt? He should know I'm ornery," Reyden muttered defensively.
“He must have been up too late reading or something last night—or maybe he's not a morning person," mused Deverick.
Reyden headed towards the open door and grumbled. "I suspect this is what it’s like to travel with a parent.” He stopped and waited for the others.
Deverick grinned at Reyden. "Yes, especially when the kids have been fighting too much. Come on Omaric, we have some traveling to do."
“Is he always like this?” Omaric asked Deverick while eyeing Reyden warily.
Reyden’s eyebrows rose at Omaric’s question. He stood watching them, waiting for the insults to start.
"Yeah, but he doesn't mean anything by it. You get used to it.”
“I don’t remember signing up to be verbally abused.”
"Well, you’re a kid; I doubt he’ll pick on you too much. The rest of us will take the brunt of it.”
Emory, who was nearby listening, looked amused. Reyden glared at him.
“I can always make up a song about him, so he should be careful,” Omaric replied with a grin as he looked directly at Reyden again.
"That is something I would love to hear," Emory voiced with glee.
“You should immortalize his inability to stay on a horse,” Deverick gasped in between guffaws.
Reyden shot them all dirty looks and Deverick, Emory, and Omaric were all laughing as they exited the hut. That little exchange strengthened Reyden’s resolve to disappear as soon as he had his egg. Reyden was very surprised to discover that Illithor wasn’t the only one who made fu
n of someone they claimed was a friend.
As he hopped onto Bubbles, Reyden rushed the others. “Sometime before dusk would be nice.”
Deverick motioned for Reyden to move back so he could mount Bubbles. "Uh, we're almost ready boss. Unless you want to lead us?”
Reyden sneered, “That’s the Postulate’s job.”
“We have to make a quick stop at the general store before we head out,” Emory reminded the group.
"Yes, we'll need to get Reyden more eggs and we could use some provisions," Illithor said.
Illithor looked at Omaric. “You’ll ride with me. Emory alone is enough weight for one horse.”
Reyden smirked at Illithor’s comment.
Emory glared. “Which is why my horse is so big. He can handle me as well as someone else.”
“You should reserve that spot for when you apprehend Rafe,” Illithor calmly noted.
“Seating arrangements can wait until after we get our supplies,” Reyden barked testily as he prompted Deverick to get going, though he heartily agreed with Illithor’s sentiments.
"It's already settled, so let's go get them,” Deverick said and urged the horse into a canter.
Reyden bit back a sarcastic comment. When they arrived at the store, the sign above the door read, Last Chance Supplies.
“I’ll get everything,” Illithor offered. “Does anyone else need anything other than provisions?
As Illithor collected everyone’s share, Reyden handed him a few extra dumars. “We should get a rope and a few more blankets.”
“Another canvas too, in case it rains,” Emory added.
When Illithor returned, Reyden noticed that he had conveniently forgotten the eggs. He sneered at Illithor, jumped off the horse, and stomped into the store. He recognized the old man standing behind the counter from the inn the day before.
“Do you have any eggs?”
“Just a dozen, sorry,” the old man apologized
“I’ll take them.”
The old man handed the eggs over in a basket. “Pleasant journey traveler.”
Reyden snarled and placed his payment on the counter. “With those clowns? You must be joking.”
Reyden rushed from the store and hopped onto Bubbles, grabbing Deverick’s shoulder for support. “Let’s go.”
Deverick indicated the need to finish securing the additional supplies first. They ignored Reyden’s attempts at hurrying them and seemed to take pleasure in frustrating him. Reyden grumbled to himself until at last, everyone was ready to go.
“Say goodbye to the trees everyone,” Deverick quipped as they began cantering out of town.
Omaric played along. “So long trees!”
Long after the town had receded from sight, Reyden noted the desolation of the north plains. “I can see how one could easily get lost out here.”
"Not much out here to use as landmarks is there? You have to get creative and have a decent sense of direction,” Deverick answered. "Do you hear the faint sound of rushing water to the north of us? That leads to the Emerald River. If you keep that to your left, you know you’re heading east. Also, on occasion, you’ll find small groupings of large stones. As long as you remember their shaping, you have a way of knowing where you are when you travel this way again.”
Reyden was very glad that Deverick knew this area. “We’ll let you lead the way.”
“Sure thing.”
Reyden enjoyed the silence as he surveyed the monotony of the terrain. The gently blowing wind and the trill of the river to the north was all that he heard. An occasional hawk would fly overhead casting its shadow over the travelers. A few hours later, Deverick motioned for the others to stop.
“Something doesn’t feel right.”
The entire group tensed and became more alert. No one was able to pinpoint the cause of his unease. After a few moments, they continued traveling, this time being even more cautious than they were before. Reyden couldn’t shake the feeling of impending danger. They rode steadily for a quarter of an hour when in the distance they heard the thundering of hooves advancing on them.
“Stampede?” asked Illithor.
“Attack!” Deverick and Emory shouted in unison.
Deverick reached for his bow and Emory already had his sword drawn. Omaric, whose bearing changed completely, was ready with an arrow as well. Reyden was impressed because Omaric seemed to have his bow and arrow notched and aimed before Deverick. He made a note to press Omaric about it later.
"There’s a group of boulders, we should move behind them, follow me,” ordered Emory as he pointed towards them.
The men dashed behind the boulders, Reyden dismounted from Bubbles, and Illithor jumped off his horse, leaving Omaric in the saddle. Reyden took an egg out of the basket. “Good! Another rotten one.”
Illithor held out the hand that was grasping his crystal, and then touched the earth with it. A loud rumbling emitted from the earth as it began to separate and open up in front of the approaching horde. Illithor gasped as the size of the crevice increased. Omaric and Deverick settled the horses before climbing up in between the rocks. They held their fire until the surviving plainsmen were within range. Reyden also waited, as he needed the enemy much closer than the others did, while Emory was at the ready for whoever slipped through.
“Walking wall!” Reyden hissed. “Let me hit them first, then go in swinging. I don’t think you want to smell this!”
Emory backed up a bit. “Thanks for the warning, Reyden.”
Reyden threw a few rotten eggs at the approaching riders that had managed to avoid the crevice. Their horses reared and threw off two of the riders. The others backed away from the green cloud and its stench. Reyden cackled as they struggled to stay seated on their horses. Deverick and Omaric both managed to take down a rider, yet still more approached, malice clearly gleaming in their eyes. Emory quickly dispensed with an opponent, only to turn and face another.
“Hey! They have someone,” Omaric exclaimed.
Illithor peeked out from around a boulder and moaned. “Oh wonderful—and more are coming!”
Reyden pulled Illithor back before he got himself killed, which was when he noticed the other riders. He saw Deverick adjust his aim before speaking. “Avoid the ones with the colorful paint—they’re not foes!”
Omaric took Deverick’s lead and aimed for the less colorful riders as Emory hacked his way through the warriors that came at them from around the boulders. Reyden magically propelled rocks at the warriors coming at Emory from behind while Illithor concentrated on setting a few of the riders on fire. As the other clan closed in, the aggressive black and white painted-warriors began to retreat.
The new warriors gathered and approached them, weapons still drawn but not aimed at them. Deverick stepped forward. An imposing older man looked down at the group. Reyden’s bravado returned and he stared at the older man. The older man looked at Reyden and his mouth seemed to twitch in the corner. After a minute, Reyden bowed.
“You have fought well. Good to see you again, Forester,” the man said by way of greeting.
“Thank you for your help Chief Stone Warrior.”
“Is the other man all right?” Omaric asked with genuine concern.
“He will be once we take him back to Medicine Woman. You are welcome to come and rest if you wish, share some food, and have any injuries tended to.”
“We would appreciate your hospitality,” Deverick replied gratefully.
“Come then,” the Chief ordered.
“What about the bodies?” Reyden asked Deverick.
“Their tribe will claim the dead. If we do anything to the bodies, it would be seen as sacrilege, and the clan would be out for revenge.”
“We have our hands full with Rafe. I don’t need any more problems,” Reyden said as they followed the Chief back in the direction they came from.
CHAPTER FOUR
Reyden was impressed as he surveyed the village. The tall grass thinned out and dome-shaped structures do
tted the clearing. On closer inspection, the structures were made of hardened earth and rocks. Smoke gently billowed from the tops of the domes and their entrances were covered with animal skins. The new arrivals were greeted with some open stares, a few friendly smiles aimed in Deverick’s direction, and a handful of distrusting looks.
The Chief lead them to the middle of the village where a few of the women were waiting. Reyden was not pleased in regards to how little clothing the women wore. The younger women wore two-piece outfits that was reminiscent of women’s under-garments. The older women mostly wore longer dresses that Reyden approved of. He thought the younger women were very inappropriate. He smacked Omaric, who was standing next to him but openly gaping at the women. Omaric muttered an apology and averted his eyes.
"It took you long enough,” the oldest of the women chastised the Chief. She then ordered the warrior with the injured man directly to her lodge. She glanced at the newcomers, then turned abruptly and entered one of the larger lodges.
Chief Stone Warrior stared after the woman a moment. “My mother-in-law,” he said, almost as a way of apology to his new guests.
“She’s an intense woman," Deverick agreed.
“She is, especially when someone is hurt. Even more so when that person is a friend.”
“So you know the captive?” Illithor asked.
"Yes, he is a friend of the tribe. He is a healer as well and Medicine Woman was teaching him some of her ways.” The Chief paused, then announced to the few tribe members who were gathered around, “Tonight we will have a feast to welcome Deverick and his friends, tell everyone to prepare.”
The clearing began to bustle with activity. The Chief pointed to one of the younger women. "Floating Thistle—show our guests to the open lodge. Make sure there are enough skins and blankets or whatever else they may need."
A pretty woman approached the group. She looked a little wary as she bid them to follow her and led them to a lodge adjacent to the one Medicine Woman entered.
“I will be back with more bedding for you. Make yourself comfortable.”
Deverick thanked her. She smiled at him and walked out of the lodge.