by Kim Wedlock
"I did say 'easy matter', my Lord, but I did not say 'quick'." Despite the weight of Baymont's gaze, Drassa began to calm and a childishly excited smile began to creep across his face. "However, it is a curious stroke of chance that you should arrive when you have."
Salus suppressed the hope that pattered through his chest. "Oh?"
"I believe I am about ready to start reaching out to contacts - collectors, proprietors and the like." The historian ushered him over to another study-cluttered surface and showed him a number of papers and findings, explaining them as he went, but none of the words had much meaning to Salus. He nodded all the same, however, and tried to keep his mind from racing ahead in anticipation.
"You have done all of this from within your home?" He asked, looking around at the other pockets of research scattered throughout the room.
"Of course not," he scoffed. "I've spoken with colleagues from the Fellowship in the city and cross-referenced findings in the library."
He decided not to clarify that that hadn't been what he'd meant.
"Of course," the historian continued a touch more carefully, "regarding the collectors...I can't guarantee what price they will ask, if they're even willing to part with it. Elven collectors can be...anyway, are you certain that no price--"
"I am willing to pay whatever they ask, should they hold what my grandmother sought, as you were told upon our first meeting. That has not changed. How long do you believe this will take?"
"I would guess at a few weeks."
Salus restrained any reaction. "How many?"
"Three? Four?"
"So a month, then?"
"Yes, my L--"
"Three weeks."
"I--"
"And your payment will double."
Distress edged in on the old man, but he didn't argue. "Yes, my Lord, I will do my very best."
"Good. As before, continue relaying progress to Mister Vakh, no matter its insignificance. This matter is quite important."
"I remember, of course."
Lord Baymont turned and left with his entourage without so much as a farewell, Salus's mind already turning onto other matters as they abandoned Drassa to return to his work in resignation. But despite the gravity of the painfully long day's events and the desperate glimmer of excitement that concluded it, he yearned only for bed. He'd drifted into wonderful dreams every night lately, but their peaceful effect no longer spilled over into his day. Instead he awoke tense and that tension only grew with every passing hour. He spent his days wishing above all else to sleep, to slip back into the world where his heart lightened, where he could escape the Arana's growing trials and forget his duties and expectations. Where things were easy and peaceful. Where he was able to feel, to breathe.
He sighed to himself as the carriage set off. Teagan cast him a sidelong glance, but he didn't speak, and Salus lost himself in the moon-bathed scenery as it rolled by and let his thoughts wander to wherever and whomever they wished.
Chapter 20
The sky was shrouded by thick, black cloud and a curtain of rain was already falling to the north. But the wind was weak, little more than a breath, and while the threatening downpour was certainly moving in their direction, they would be gone long before it hit. But Rathen had conjured cloaks to ward them against the miserable sight anyway, and they followed the narrow, twisting and hilly road with a little more assurance, meandering alongside thin trees and an even thinner stream.
They'd not passed sign of people for hours, and though the events at Mokhan were a week behind them, they remained ever on their guard. It would still be too easy to be recognised, and seven days were far too short for word of such events and identities to quieten down. Fortunately the nearest settlement was two days' past, a small and poorly stocked village they'd sent Anthis into for supplies, and nothing else stood for miles. They each breathed a little easier; the increasingly unkempt road seemed set to grow only quieter.
Though not silent just yet. Hesitance slowed their strides as cheerful voices rose up ahead, and two men dressed in marvellous shades of red, one of whom carried a large, wooden box upon his back, shortly appeared on the path where it curved out from behind the trees.
Rathen pulled up the hood of his grey cloak long before they were near. Petra followed, though only enough to cover her red hair, and moved to his other side to be furthest away when they passed by. The rest simply kept their heads down.
Unfortunately, one of the pair cried an enthusiastic hail and waved his hand at them merrily, and Rathen cursed beneath his breath at the foolish hope that they might have slipped by without interruption. But the route was so quiet, these two probably welcomed the idea of sociality.
"Afternoon," Anthis returned, successfully concealing his similar disappointment as Garon nudged him to the front.
"Lovely day, isn't it?"
They came to a mutual stop as Anthis frowned and looked to the sky.
"Well it's not raining yet, is it?" The merchant grinned. His cheer certainly belied his true age. His thick, grey eyebrows rose hopefully. "I don't suppose I could interest you in my wares...?"
Garon grunted quietly, though the subtle encouragement was needless. They were all aware that what the village had been able to offer was meagre.
The historian nodded and smiled amiably, but rather than lower his box of goods, the old man turned around to display what was actually a cabinet upon his back, while the younger, his son perhaps, spread wide its doors and pulled out a drawer which he then similarly unfolded. All five of them peered in curiously to find a vast array of herbs, spices, fruits and seeds, many of which none of them could confidently identify. But despite the variety, there seemed to be little of any real use, which was strange for a trader working the roads.
"Strawberries!" Aria suddenly gasped, her eyes brightening as they locked onto the small, red fruits.
"Yes, some of the best!" The old man declared proudly from behind the cabinet. "My nephew here grows them himself! You won't find sweeter nor more nutritious strawberries in all of the world, I'll tell you that for truth! And a bargain for 'six!"
Aria's eyebrows rose further in longing, but Anthis was already fishing around in his satchel for coins while the others hid their doubt at the substantial claims.
"Terrible business, aren't they, those mage attacks?" The younger man said as he bagged up the small, plump fruits, but he was quickly silenced by a hiss from his uncle.
"Hush, lad!" He gasped. "Let's not weigh these travellers down with such dark talk!"
"No," Anthis frowned cautiously, "no, it's fine... Mage attacks, you say?"
"Certainly. First one tried to bring down the tower in Mokhan, then a few days ago another blew up the tavern in Roeden! Such a lovely place, too, a real shame. Their snugs were the comfiest."
Anthis blanched, and even the others turned to look at the younger merchant in shock. "Blew it up?!"
"Yeah! Strode in, bold as brass, fire and lightning bursting all around him with a wind twirling to keep everyone away from him, then he cackled, declared the Order was going to rid Turunda of non-mages and blew himself up, taking damn near everyone inside with him, and a good number outside, too!" He seemed less concerned by the matter than he did fascinated. "They're taking a page from the book of foreign mages, I think, rising up and trying to take the country for themselves while everyone's looking to the war."
"Nonsense," Petra declared. "The Order is here to protect us, just as the army is."
"Recent events suggest otherwise, miss," he replied apologetically, then looked across them as a whole and exchanged the strawberries for one silver and a particularly battered copper coin. "Where are you headed?"
"Uh, Tamley."
"Mm. Not heard of anything happening around there, nor Bowden or Toakh. But keep your eyes open, aye?"
"We will."
"Vastal watch over you all."
"Thank you, and you."
Anthis dropped the small bag of fruit into Aria's hands
as the two closed up their little store front, and the group started away tightly. All eyes shortly fell upon Rathen, and they needn't have voiced what they were thinking.
"That doesn't sound like an attack, to me," he replied quietly after glancing back towards the finely-dressed merchants, noting the distance as a troubled frown marred his hood-shaded brow.
"The facts have certainly been muddied by now," Garon reminded him.
"Even so..."
"But it sounds like the attacks elsewhere..." Anthis frowned, but Rathen only shook his head, his doubt unwavering.
Garon looked at the mage levelly. "What are you thinking?"
"Most of it sounds like loss of control."
"Loss of control?"
"I don't know how or why, but it's what I've always thought about the other attacks..." His frown deepened. "Owan said a few were acting strangely," he mumbled to himself, then Kienza's words of mages driven mad returned to haunt him.
"You think he meant this?" Anthis pressed. "That they were losing control of themselves? But how is that possible?"
He shook off the thoughts. "I don't know, but I think it's what it could boil down to. At the very least, Turunda's Order isn't so desperate, nor treated poorly enough to revolt. In that, I'm confident."
"Perhaps not as a whole, but there are bound to be a few idealistic individuals among them."
"And yet," Rathen managed not to snap, "that's just not how this seems."
"There's nothing we can do about it," Garon declared, stepping back into the conversation from the sidelines, where he seemed to spend a lot of time lately. "We have our own matters to take care of."
"Which has me concerned." Anthis's face creased warily as he cast a careful, sidelong glance towards the inquisitor. "Are we to keep heading along this road?"
"Yes."
"We're nearing the Wildlands..."
"We're already in them," Rathen replied with a lightness that belied his words. "I'm not so sure those two traders were what they seemed."
Alarm twisted their necks as the two continued along the road quite merrily, pausing as one pointed up at a tree and the other peered along the gesture at something apparently marvellous.
Garon was the first to dismiss them. "We're two weeks from Bowden. Straying from the road will mean at least two more before we reach it."
"And what of what dwells between there and here?"
"No choice."
Rathen caught Aria's cautious stare, but he also noticed her fascination, though she seemed uncertain that she should indulge it. He offered her a warm smile. "We'll be fine."
"Well, at least we know we won't encounter anyone," Anthis sighed in resignation, but Petra wasn't so reserved.
"Yes, and for good reason! There's a fork ahead of us; we should turn right, head away."
Garon shot her a brief, sharp look. "You're free to take that route if you wish. The rest of us might do better without your noise."
She leered at him, but brushed the insult aside easily enough.
Rathen's lips pursed thoughtfully as he looked away from the two. In the past week it seemed that Garon had become even more rigid and distant than usual, and grew colder still any time the young woman in particular spoke. And yet Petra barely reacted to his moods or sharp tones beyond such a brief, irritated look, and had thinned her interrogation by only a fraction. Something had happened, of that he was sure, and whatever it was, Garon was uncomfortable with it. He wouldn't have bothered to muster more distance to wedge between himself and the rest of them otherwise.
Of course, just what it could have been, Rathen had no idea. Since the harpy attack, he'd been keeping his own wary distance from the others whenever interaction wasn't necessary, and only now was he beginning to feel the tension loosen between his shoulders blades and the accursed shadow recede back into the depths of his heart. Only Aria had kept close to him throughout, but he trusted her instincts - she'd come to no harm from him in their six years together, at least.
"Daddy," she began quietly, a note of curiosity colouring her little voice, "why is everyone afraid of the wild land?"
"Simply because it is wild," he replied. "No one lives nearby so creatures have been given the chance to thrive, and because of that no one wants to live nearby, which gives them even more opportunity."
"But that's good, isn't it? This world isn't ours alone, everything should have the room to live."
"Yes," he smiled, "you're right, of course, but it makes venturing into the Wildlands very dangerous for those who have no choice. Even I assumed we'd be taking the longer way around..." He glanced uncertainly towards the back of Garon's head, and noticed the others do the same.
Aria, however, didn't share in the unease as wholly as the rest. She had never been afraid of monsters. Instead, excitement brightened her eyes as an unheard thought occurred to her. "Creatures like what? Spriggans?"
Rathen sighed. "You've read too many stories, little one," he smiled wearily. "Keep close to me and don't stray."
For the past two days the land around them had been growing less familiar; there was little sign of cultivation and the forests in the distance were becoming taller and denser. The road they followed was in increasing disarray, and the land it trailed across more rugged. Rocks jutted up in the middle of the route to trip anyone under the slightest of distractions; parts of the trail veered close to the water and had collapsed into the seasonally swollen stream, while others were covered by collapsed overhangs that had toppled from the other side.
But there was beauty to it, a wonderfully natural one. Despite the blackening sky, the light that managed to peek through the briefest breaks in the clouds was golden and turned the parallel stream turquoise, intensifying the verdant grass. Wild animals were plentiful and serene; large herds of deer grazed just beyond the reach of the trees, and countless species of birds were seen and heard all around them. Insects, many wonderful butterflies, danced on the air, and Aria particularly delighted in them.
But Rathen was not eased. The deer's position near the trees was unsettling. They were clustered and none appeared willing to stray more than ten feet from the edge of the forest. They may not have feared people, continuing to feed even as he and the others passed, but they did fear whatever may be in the sky.
He didn't point this out to the others, though he kept a vigilant eye above them.
Over the dragging hours, the path led them deeper into hostile terrain. Trees towered and plunged them into an early dusk, the rippling stream had meandered away and left them instead with the rustling of shrouded beasts, and the path itself vanished beneath the long and tangled grass. Soon all they followed was a trail beaten in by hooves - among other things.
Tensions only continued to rise as true night descended. Sheer blackness surrounded them, and despite all of their unease in the foreboding forest, they had little choice but to light their way by setting alight a fallen branch as a torch. Rathen had been reluctant to conjure any such thing, and the others were quick to agree when they thought on what could easily lurk in the shadows.
Fatigue hounded them, made worse by their skittishness, but stopping for camp was no easy matter. Nowhere felt safe. In time they passed by a small, old house, long abandoned and reclaimed by the forest, and it would have been perfect had they been anywhere else. But instead of sanctuary, the eerie sight of a dead home only encouraged them to stumble onwards. They settled amongst the trees after another tormenting half hour when they were certain it was closer to dawn than to midnight, and here Rathen had no choice but to turn to his magic to sign vigil spells, all the while hoping the magic itself didn't attract the very individuals it would warn them against.
But despite the atmosphere and constant glancing over their shoulders, Aria seemed strangely comfortable that night. Rathen decided that the dense forest simply reminded her of home. She spent her time, as she had the past three nights, hunched over a notebook he'd conjured after she'd gotten through more pages of his own than he had,
scribbling, scrawling, rotating and scribbling again. And she jealously guarded her work - even those leaves she tore out with dissatisfaction she threw into the fire.
No one else lost themselves so easily; their knotted muscles tightened all the more with every strange, high-pitched and fortunately distant shriek that emanated through the night.
All but Aria raised their heads at the sound of the first, for she was already asleep, and Anthis's eyes grew wide in particular alarm as he spun around where he sat, only to be quickly stilled, wincing at the motion. "What was that?" He dared to whisper as the forest again fell deathly silent.
"Certainly not a harpy," Petra replied, her hand instinctively coiling around the hilt of her blade, and the eyes of the two shortly fell upon Rathen. But he only stared deep into the surrounding blackness, unblinking, and offered not even a grunt of agreement.
There was little sleep to be had that night.
Resorting to guessing when the sun had risen, they were quick to set off the next morning, choosing to share what little food they had while on the move. There was over a week of aberrant landscape ahead of them, and the sooner they were through it, the better. Though that wasn't easy when it was their own weariness slowing them down.
A stone concealed within the grass caught Petra's foot as she stared sideways off into the darkness, ripping her focus quite abruptly back to the path. She glared down at it and hissed a curse, then sighed in mounting irritation and kicked it aside. She was tense - they all were - but she couldn't stand her attention lingering for much longer on the shadows of things that weren't there.
She looked towards Garon and thought for a moment. "Inquisitor," she began politely, walking closer to him in the hope of some kind of distraction, "does your work take you through these kinds of places often?"
He didn't even turn his head, but she didn't let it his disinterest discourage her.
"No," she answered for him, "I suppose you'd skirt around them if you could - but would a lead in a case ever force you through?"