by T. G. Neal
Aurelia sighed and walked next to her horse, which was still drinking. Poor thing didn’t ask for this. She thought, then looked over the saddle to Vaelen. “So, what will we do?”
“I was thinking about that while we rode. We don’t have any supplies at all. If we cross the marsh here and head south west, we can catch up to the road south of Rootsborne, and it leads through the mountain pass out of the Drachenara Valley and all the way into Jav’Parjon. It’s not likely that they’ve gotten word out to all the small villages in the area. We can borrow what we need to survive, and then make the trip out of Drachenara for good.” Vaelen rubbed the neck of his horse and leaned against her, then stopped and paused completely.
Aurelia saw him stop and looked at him. “What? What, Vaelen? What is it?”
Vaelen turned to her and shook his head, “I can’t believe I didn’t think about it in the first place.”
“What?” She asked again.
“My father has a friend in Jav’Parjon – or used to be in Jav’Parjon – that ran a Mercenary Unit down there. Father worked with them during the war, before he helped your father.” He smiled. “Surely they’re still down there. I know I heard of them doing some work for smaller Brendoms, fighting off Bandits and Highwaymen sects that rose up, and some of the ancient cults.”
Aurelia smiled too. “Good. That gives us something to work towards.”
Without so much as a further word, and giving the horses another moment to rest, the two climbed up on the horses and tread water through the marsh. The whole area smelled of diluted sulfur, dirt, and mildew. The various sounds consisted of things splashing into the water, sudden scurries through the long grass, and a plethora of insects and frogs.
The melody of life in the swamp was almost soothing as they rode, and they responded in kind with silence. With any luck, they would make it to the next town before sunrise the next day. They could rest later. For now, they had to reach safety and supplies and that was still a long journey ahead.
By the time they arrived in the small town of Valley Veil, the moon was at its peak height in the night sky. A few souls still moved around outside the buildings, mostly the drunks from the nearby tavern. Vaelen rode up behind the tavern and walked his horse up next to Aurelia. “Do you want to come with me, or stay with the horses?”
Aurelia looked down at the horses. “I think I’ll walk them to the troughs and see if I can find them food.”
Vaelen was fine with that. In just a few short days, he had seen Aurelia go from her life of luxury – a life that Vaelen had a taste of as an honored guardsman – to a life on the run, living like a traveler or even a warrior. He knew, inside, that taking a human life likely bothered her, though she didn’t verbalize it. It still bothered him, though much less than when he first had to do it. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll be back after a short while with some food things. Keep your bow at ready just in case they sent word to the surrounding towns. If I had to guess, though, we should be fine here.”
Aurelia nodded and turned away, leading both the horses into town, toward the small stables.
As Aurelia walked away, Vaelen still held onto the claymore, having no way to sheathe the blade on his back. That was something he would have to remedy it he planned to keep it – and he did quite like the blade. For the meantime, he laid the blade down in the taller grass against the backside of the tavern and hoped it would be there when he returned.
Vaelen walked around the outside of the tavern. In his pocket he had only a few coppers and maybe a silver left, enough to get a couple of ales and that was about it. He remembered talking to a thief they imprisoned years ago, who imparted on Vaelen specific knowledge of how to make a man trust you, especially if he was drunk.
As Vaelen stepped into the tavern, a very drunk patron stumbled toward the door. A more perfect opportunity could not have presented itself. Vaelen wrapped his arm around the shoulder of the man. “Hey friend! It’s been so long, hasn’t it? How’s work been?”
The man looked confused at first then responded in kind, imagining that his drunken stupor had caused him amnesia. “It’sh you! How have you been, too?! Sho glad to shee you! Divorshed from the wife and my partnershipsh at the merchantshesh are great! Yeah, friend, ol’ Mikup here is doing well for myshelf.”
Oh, this is going to be easy. Vaelen thought as he led his new “friend” to the bar and sat down. “Keep, two ales please!” Vaelen hoped this would be enough to cover. He reached into his pocket and put all the silver and coppers he had on the countertop. The barkeep responded by sliding two more ales onto the counter and nodding to him.
“Mikup, friend, are you still running things around here?” Vaelen kept slipping the word friend in to help usher the idea across. In the meantime, he barely sipped his ale while Mikup took large gulps.
“Oh, yesh. I jusht shtarted shipping goodsh out of here. Good moneysh.” Mikup was halfway through his ale and had to widen his gaze to focus properly on the golden hued liquid in his stein. “How have you been, uh…? Shorry my mind is hazy.”
“Rykk.” Vaelen said, slyly. Then Vaelen pressed his back against the edge of the bar and leaned on his elbows. In the transition of his leaning comfort, he looked Mikup over for where he kept his coin, at least some of it. As Mikup, turned to match his position, he saw it on his belt. “You haven’t forgotten me, have you?”
Mikup looked frantic to remember, then made something up, which just made Vaelen’s act that much easier. “Of courshe I remember you, helping out back when I started up, right?”
“Right!” Vaelen said and patted his new friend on the back. “So, you want to show me what you’ve got going for you?” Vaelen asked, taking a few more sips of his beer.
“Shure.” Mikup said, chugging down the last bits of his ale. “I’m owf ale anyway.” He said, staggering while he stood still.
Vaelen didn’t finish his ale, he put down the half full stein and follow Mikup out the door, as he led him over to a building on the far side of town. As Vaelen followed, he saw Aurelia feeding the horses a few apples. He nodded to her discreetly and went on his way.
Once they reached the building, Mikup fumbled with the lock a bit and the keys on his ring, then opened the front of door of what appeared to be a re-purposed barn. Inside were a variety of trade goods from food, to clothes, to weapons and armor. Vaelen had hit the gold mine. As Mikup walked in, Vaelen followed behind him and shut the door, closing the latch.
Mikup didn’t think anything otherwise. He drunkenly stumbled and slumped against a support pole in the building.
Vaelen made his way to stand next to Mikup. “You don’t look so well, friend.” Vaelen ushered him back. “Could I help you get back to your room?”
Mikup started to sway heavily now. “I fink sho. Itsh outshide to the behind ush over in yonder. The housh with the lattish windowsh.”
Vaelen would have to make do. He led Mikup out of the building and pretended to lock it up, the walked with Mikup on his arm to keep him from falling over. He took him to the house he figured he was talking about, where a dim lantern burned in the window, covered with metal latticework. Once at the door, Vaelen convinced Mikup to give him his keys, and used them to open the door and lead him in.
Even drunk, Mikup knew the layout to his own home, and led Vaelen back to the bedroom, so Vaelen could lay him down. As soon as they reached the doorway, Vaelen released his support of Mikup, put his hand on the side of his head, and used the door facing to knock poor Mikup unconscious. “I’m sorry.” Vaelen said aloud. Mikup was out cold, and hopefully would think he was just drunk and stumbled. “Maker, forgive me.”
Vaelen picked up his keys and took the coin from his purse, and left the house, locking it behind him. He then made his way back over to the supply house that Mikup had shown him. He opened the front door and went inside. The first thing he grabbed was two bags, very similar to the satchels that he and Aurelia had before, and he began loading them. He picked up a sheaf of arrows that he he
ld in one hand, while loading things into the bags. First, he grabbed traveler foods – like dried meats and berries and bread – and four waterskins. Then he found a roll of leather and a small kit of working supplies that he packed away, so that he could make a place to put the claymore on his back. Then, as he rushed around, he quickly lashed a bedroll and quilt to the bottom of each pack, and then was on his way.
He locked the door behind him and walked over and dropped the stolen keys next to the door, to make it seem like Mikup had dropped them in his drunken state. Then Vaelen made his way to Aurelia, who was sitting on the ground between the horses, who were casually drinking water now. “Everything alright?” He asked.
Aurelia looked up at the packs full of goods. “Everything has been peaceful here. How did you…?”
“You probably don’t want to know. But we’ll be okay to get to Jav’Parjon. We need to ride a little further south and camp off the road there.” Vaelen said, with an almost embarrassed tone to his voice.
Aurelia stood up and embraced him. She never did say anything, but he returned the embrace. After Vaelen retrieved his sword from behind the tavern, the two rode off into the night and found a nice spot in the woods to camp. Even with the events of the day before, both were exhausted and had no trouble falling asleep. In the grove they’d found, the soft grass beneath their backs, and the stars in the sky, they were in a dream world free of troubles.
Vaelen awoke sometime after the sun had already risen. From where they had camped, the nice grove concealed the sun from their eyes for several hours after morning had come. By the time the sun was over them, it would have been time for breakfast.
As he groggily came to, he looked over to Aurelia, whose body was much closer to his than when they’d first fallen asleep. He took comfort in knowing that she sought him for comfort, even if it was subconscious. He rolled away from her and reached to ensure his sword was directly beside him, in the grass, obscured by his bed roll; it was.
He rose from his sleep and stood, stretching out his muscles. His body smelled like a fighting man’s would smell, sweaty and dirty, and his shirt was splattered in blood. At some point, he would need to bathe, but there was no water near, save for what was already in their skins, and that wasn’t a waste he could muster.
Vaelen set about loading up the horses for the day ahead, making sure to leave out a set of dried beef and bread and the waterskin for Aurelia. Their trip south would take time, Jav’Parjon was another brendom away, and it settled against the deserts of Westclave. The journey would take a great deal of time, even if they had been able to run the horses. Instead, Vaelen would invest their future rest time further training Aurelia. If they were going to find a Mercenary group, to blend, he and Aurelia would likely join them, though he had yet to suggest the idea to her.
Even as Vaelen silently packed up and prepared for the day ahead, Aurelia roused up and saw him moving about. “Oh, Maker be. It’s late in the morning.” She said, squinting at the sun barely peeking over the treetops into their little grove outside of Valley Veil.
Vaelen looked over to her as she spoke. “Indeed, it is. I expected that it couldn’t hurt to enjoy a few later minutes than we are used to. We aren’t in the same rush as we were in leaving Drachenara. It will take time to find these Mercenaries, I don’t exactly know where they’re located. A few days in the country and we should have a good idea. Word of mouth is a powerful thing.”
Aurelia nodded sleepily and rose from her bedroll. “I didn’t bother asking last night, what all did you manage to get? I’m not even going to ask how.”
Vaelen felt a pang of guilt but answered anyway. He was guilty that he took advantage of the man, but he would do whatever was necessary to protect himself and Aurelia. “Food for several days, waterskins, bedrolls, leather and a few sovereigns.”
She nodded, standing up and stretching her arms out. “I need something more appropriate.” She grabbed onto her dress which was dirty and shook it fervently. “It’s dirty, and if we’re on the run, this just won’t do.”
Vaelen couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“What?” She asked, innocently.
“Your highborn is showing,” he joked.
“Oh.” She blushed. “I’m just stating a fact. If we’re on the run, in combat and ki—“ She abruptly stopped what she was saying and paused. “Having to kill people.”
“I understand.” Vaelen said, he walked toward her and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not an easy thing, Aurelia. It took me a long time to come to terms with the things I’ve done. And I still remember the first life I took. And I remember the last. But all the ones in the middle become obscured by one thing: Will. The will to live is much more powerful than guilt. The will to live is one of the most powerful states of mind in the world.”
Aurelia’s conflict seemed to dissipate when he said that. “You’re right. We did what we had to do.”
“For what it’s worth, you’re good. I’m proud to say I helped you learn.” Vaelen gestured to the food he’d laid out for her. “When we make our next stop to rest, somewhere down the road, we’ll find a market and get you some appropriate running and fighting clothes. Something fit for a warrior.”
“I am no warrior,” she said, smirking.
“You are. Whether you’ve accepted it or not, you’ve taken lives to protect yourself and another. You’re a fighter. You’re a proficient bow wielder. You are a warrior.” Vaelen said with emotion behind it. There was a power in his words today, and there was something different about the way he spoke to her. There was no less respect, but he now spoke to her like he would speak to a fellow soldier, not someone he had to protect.
Aurelia said no more. She smiled. This was a life she had wanted for a long time. Traveling and fighting against the forces of evil. It was just like the fantasy books she’d read as a child. She had never wanted it to happen like this; she never wanted to lose her entire family in one swift motion. It wasn’t the fairytale ending she’d always wanted where she fought for her nation. But now, she fought for their memory.
Her thoughts carried her through her breakfast and as she packed her small things back up. Each mental image flashed through her brain as she put her hair back up in a simple bun. While she went about her now-becoming morning rituals, she watched Vaelen as he constructed a crude scabbard for his back so that he could more comfortably store his blade.
As she climbed up on her horse and followed Vaelen out of the grove and toward the road south, she looked at his back and thought. I don’t just fight for their memory, or for myself. I fight for him. I refuse to lose him, too.
Many hours later, Vaelen and Aurelia passed through the border city of Iskirana. One side of the settlement was in Drachenara, and the other was in the Brendom of Midland. It started as two separate towns with two separate forms of trade and architecture. The goldstone buildings on Drachenara’s side were reminiscent of the architecture back in the capital of Drachenara. The architecture on Midland’s side was made of simple gray stone with hints of Dwarven finishing, such as large single-piece stone carved columns and slabs with intricate angular carvings in the face of the stone.
At some point after the Nine Brendoms Civil War, the two villages came together when they repelled an invasion force of Barbarians from the mountains to the north. It was in this same time that the Dwarven people fractured into two specific Dwarves even amongst their many clans: Surface Dwarves and True Dwarves.
Surface Dwarves mingled with humans and city elves on a regular basis, and even held homes like them, whereas a True Dwarf would come out to trade their masterfully made wares and then return beneath the surface where they would stay close to lava flows and giant gems that formed beneath the crust of their mountain homes.
So, when Aurelia saw a Dwarf for the first time she was shocked. Drachenara had been a primarily human Brendom for so long, and she so rarely left the capital that they might as well have been Dragons to her. Vaelen had seen them,
so the surprise wasn’t existent for him, but it was as if Aurelia had opened a new gift. “Vaelen! Dwarves!”
Vaelen smiled. “Indeed.”
“I’ve never seen one before! I’ve only read about them. Brave warriors and impressive craftsmen. Among the greatest scholars in the world. Miners and builders! Vaelen!” She practically bounced in her saddle as she rode into town.
Vaelen couldn’t help but laugh. “Aurelia, they’re just people.”
“No, they’re not! I mean they are, but, they’re not. They’re like the elves we saw in Giltshore and Rootsborne. But short. I mean—You know what I mean!” She was giddy and smiled when she looked back at Vaelen.
“Okay, okay. You think they’re neat. You wait until you meet a Wood Elf. They’re separated into clans and go by different names, but collectively they’re known as the Elven of the Wood. They’re mysterious, magical, and very interesting. I once shared a Honeyed Berry Wine with a Treetop Scout at a Wilder Rangers Station.” Vaelen reminisced and then grew silent.
As they rode further into town, Aurelia didn’t slow down and didn’t see the Dwarf walking in front of her. The horse jumped, startled, and looked down. “Oh, my, I’m sorry!” She said, smiling. “Oh, you’re— “
“What in the blazing fires of the great forge are ye’ doin’ lady? Be watchin’ where yer goin’, aye? I ‘unt wantin’ to be jellied Dwarf. Now, on with ye!” The Dwarf said, gruffly harrumphing as he walked on.
Vaelen stifled a laugh, and then once the dwarf was out of earshot, guffawed. “You nearly ran the poor man over. How was your first Dwarven meeting?” He laughed.
“Oh, shut it, you.” She said, blushing.
They had ridden a half score of miles, at least, and the sun would be setting in a few hours, but here they would have a chance to pick up a few of the things they would need, specifically a new combat worthy outfit. Vaelen had taken a couple of hundred sovereigns from the man in Valley Veil, and they needed clothes that were more forgiving for the terrain. The clothes given to them by Robert had run their course. They were filthy and covered in dried blood, which was now brown with age.