Chapter One- “Shadows of the Past”
Day Four- Road South of Thanesport
I feel the warmth of the sun on my face and roll onto my back selfishly taking in as much of it as I can. As I slowly come to consciousness, I feel the harsh steel of my kukri slightly digging into my side and know that I was again foolish enough to sleep in the open. I can only hope father…. “We have to get moving quickly. We can eat in the saddle.” Intrudes a female voice. I roll to my feet in a smooth move slowly stretching each muscle on the way up. I can hear Arfin arguing with Justice across the ash remains of our fire. One thing I am learning fast is that dwarves do not like bowing to woman and a non-dwarf woman leading seems preposterous to the little man. Arfin finally agrees with Justice’s order to move out, but only when no one posses a better idea.
After mounting up, we quickly settle into our normal silence and watchfulness. A line of horses blindly following the leader and a line of riders dressed for battle, yet passing no one and nothing in the trek south. The road bends and weaves; it narrows and widens. It is sheltered by a canopy of branches and leaves in spots and others we are laid bare to the sky. For a main road out of a main city it is surprisingly deserted, but I am rather glad of that. I had my fill of crowded streets and loud sounds that barley let you think over them. I am content with less people since it means I can see the world better. I can smell the fresh dirt as the horses hooves breaks it to crumbles. I can hear the soft foot falls of a deer on out left. I can see the red of the turning leaves flash like fire as the wind caresses it into the sunlight.
My knees press into my horse’s sides slowly moving him along side Selura. The only other alder I have ever known. I hear the soft discordant sound of one cord played over and over again slowly gain in volume as I reach her side. I see she has her harp out and I see that her high alder features seem almost ethereal with the light glinting off her hair and skin. Lost to her own world she seems entranced plucking that one cord in time with the step of her horse. I lean over and touch her arm, “Selura,” I venture. She closes her eyes as some would from dreams and breathes a deep breath. Slowly her eyes look over at me, “Yes.” I look away from the sadness in her eyes, and I quietly ask her of her travels through the world as a bard and as an alder. For the moment she is open, and seems in truth about all she says. I could tell that at points her eyes would go dark, but with a quick smile and laugh she returns to herself. At those moments I would be left wondering if I was simply seeing a shadow from above or if there was more hidden and closed off. I was simply glad of what information she offered so freely.
As Anon rose high above us slowly heating all that it touched, Selura stops in our conversation and interjects, “Maybe it is time for a song. This may tell you more of what you seek then my words alone. A song can be a great gift.” My brow furrows as I scoff, “A gift? A song?” Apparently she has never heard the likes of me nor Michael sing, nor heard few… rowdy songs he knew. Her white teeth flash as her mouth turns into a bright smile, “If done right a song can be very powerful. You are very young as yet, so today I give you this gift of knowledge, a glimpse of your people.” With that her slender fingers subtly shift on the strings and her eyes close as dark lashes fall gently on her pale skin. “Listen,” she whispers her voice even in speech melding with the strange soft melody.
The others visibly relax in their seats as the tune slowly works it’s way into the air, and I shed my cloak in the new heat of midday. The melody speaks of a time long ago when her people- my people- the high alder lived free. I let my lids slowly close knowing my horse will follow the others slowly walking along. At first I see only darkness in my mind, but as I let the alder language sweep me away images come unbidden. A shifting of pictures and sounds so real I can feel them move through my mind. I see no clear faces, no harsh lines as with her song individual images can be seen like the notes played but they meld to make the whole. Shadowy colorful figures regally sit and dance around a table. They wear crowns and effortlessly spin the world round their fingers. This is a song created long ago by the high alders, and it can not help but reflect their grace, their beauty, their agelessness, and their pride.
“I see wagons ahead,” a deep yet harsh timber voice yells out ripping me from the vision. My eyes flash open to see Brad spur his horse into the clearing ahead. “Foolish,” comes the dark words from a cloaked Edriss in back.
The rest of us act with more caution and slowly enter a small clearing filled with broken and smashed carts and wagons. There are no horses nor people about, but the closest wagon has one large shard that remained intact and shows some familiar markings. I am the last to dismount stunned by the wont destruction surrounding me. Justice quickly settles into the role of commander and investigator, but within moments stalks back to us a slight frown creasing her young brow, “These have the markings of Phipps store. This is the caravan.” Her voice reflects her normal calm, but her white knuckled fist betrayed her confusion and indecision and maybe even… anger? As the others start to spread out looking for clues, I go to each horse collecting them, making sure they don’t decide a fuzzy rabbit is cause to bolt away.
Arfin stands by one wagon side bushy eyebrows pushed as one waving around a metal disc through his short fingers. It’s sharp points reflecting Anon’s glare better then even his steely plate of armor. The others notice as well and we all move foreword cautiously. Upon closer inspection they seem to be perfect throwing discs formed flat and smooth. Arfin voice holds fascination and wonder as he stares intently at the discs. We think he has forgot all but the new toy, until he utters, “I ‘ave ne’er seen the like.”
Brad stalks over demanding “Where would they have gone?” with a flourish of his cloak as he lifts his arms and turns in a wide circle. A commanding and practical voice cuts him off, “The woods. There is blood here and here,” Justice points out the largest of the blackened puddles and splash marks. “I will check for tracks in the woods,” I suggest needing to be of more help then the horse handler. Justice nods briefly her golden hair snapping over her shoulder as she sharply faces the others, and so having been dismissed I turn to leave.
Before I finish my turn away from the group, a shot is fired from the trees to our left. I hear Brad yelp in pain as a red sun brightens across his shirt sleeve. Edriss silently moves into the shadows and we can follow the brief glimpses of his dark brown cloak as he skirts around the outside of the encampment slowly moving toward the tree that shelters the gunner. We try to cover his movement by a full assault on what seems to be a lone attacker. Arfin gives a battle cry leaping forward, I pull my bow quickly knocking arrows and letting them fly. Brad runs for brush to tree slowly getting closer and closer. Justice long legs quickly over running Arfin draws the long sword from her back. As another shot is fired, I duck as Justice and Arfin weave apart. It seems the attacker missed us all. It is then that I see Kareth’s large green form silent in the chaos moving swifter then Brad or Justice getting within feet of the attacker. I rise from my crouched position and start to walk closer still releasing arrows as the shadows change around the attackers position.
In a flurry of brown and green, Edriss leaps from behind a tree while the shooter is attempting to reload. We abandon the shelters we had hid behind and run for the two figures. When I finally reach the group I peer around Kareth’s hulking form to see Edriss holding a knife to the attackers throat. The figure reminds me of a willow tree though shrouded in a tattered cloak. The hood is pulled forward and only shifting shadows can be seen beneath. As the figure moves a single red drop starts it’s slow journey down the long light bronze throat. Brad moves in front of the shooter slowly taking a small blade from his hip. Brad raises his hands moving them round and round. Selura quickly moves her smaller form between Brad and the shooter, and puts a hand on Edriss’ shoulder hopefully staying further pressure.
Selura’s voice rings in the silence around us, “What is your business and why where you shooting us?” At the same time Selura pushes the shooters hood back, and we gaze into the face of a woman. Not just any woman, but a woman of unusual beauty. I lean further around Kareth’s hulking frame in surprise, in amazement, in…Even with ragged clothing, dirt and blood covering her hands and face, her beauty can not be hidden. But it is more then that… Edriss seeming unfazed by her looks continues to press the blade closer, forcing her to speak. In the hushed silence of the woods she tells us her name is Jaine. The very Jaine we were sent to collect it seems. She feared we were whatever attacked the caravan days before and so attacked us.
There are no others about, and from my hidden spot behind Kareth my eyes dart to the trees and brush wondering if there are the others. If there are others surely she would not have risked this alone, clearly outnumbered. Justice moves forward and lean muscles tightening pulls Edriss’ hand away from Jaine neck. At the same time she tells Jaine that we were sent to collect the caravan and give them safe passage back to Mr. Fipps in Thainesport. At Mr. Fipps name her eyes widen in surprise, and soon she confides that she is not the last. There are others about, other survivors from the caravan.
Her features are hard to read until the placid mask seems to fade away with the remnants of the adrenaline, and the lines of stress can be seen faintly. It seems those she works with she will protect no matter the personal costs, since rather then running to the others for protection she fought us, standing her ground against great odds. Since the moment the hood was pushed back I felt drawn to her, her strength in purpose and in character can be seen from her clear honest gaze to her proud stance demanding one to feel honored to be in her presence.
She has shown a rare gift for loyalty. Michael told me loyalty is not a common trait through the kingdom or the lands. But… She looks at us in turn weighing the costs of letting us in and trusting us. Most people I would think would have been happy to see a group of warriors take this burden from her. Yet she stands firm knowing she herself maybe lost to us for ill, but she seems cautious enough to protect the others. And from the sound of her voice and the destruction we saw they need protecting. She seems to be thinking of their safety and of their lives. She definitely warrants more attention for she is someone I think I could count as friend, but my path until she is in Thainesport is already set. I will trust in the light, I took the first step and it led me to here. The light will show me my path.
Finally she nods briefly and points westward. As she moves off ahead, Brad races for the privilege of following closely at her back. The signs of passage can be seen on the trail, though all recent and maybe traveled three or four times. I grab the reigns of my horse as the others hold theirs and start to head off. I quickly tether Brad’s forgotten horse’s reigns to my saddle. Wondering if this was the lust the Amastatian Abbess told me could blind a person of thought, sight and reason.
When Jaine’s mask was lifted, it was easy to tell that she is younger in years then I, but her wariness, her eyes, her furrowed frown tell me that she has lived so much more of life then I. My gut tells me I should be thankful I have not lived her life, but I can not help wonder if this is my path to follow her. As father said more then once the only way to learn is to ask, so I shall have to once we are all safely back in Thanesport, once I have been released from the King’s service. My thoughts drift to the wind as Jaine brushes back a branch to reveal a large encampment.
As we step into the clearing, a wave of quiet silences conversations mid-word and all eyes turn slowly to inspect the intruders. Seeing Jaine in the lead most relax again, slumping if they were even able to stand. An elderly man rushes over scanning Jaine with his gaze. He puts an arm familiarly around her, and then protectively moves himself between us and her. Jaine calms him quickly and then looks to us finally introducing us to Joshua Preston. He carries steel drakes and swords, and moves comfortable with the weight of each. A seasoned warrior it seems. I spy Justice though she seems wary of this new man instead of the easy comradery I would have thought. Looking to Justice he tells us he is a cleric, challenging her to defy his words. Her stance changes, relaxes. His white hair tells of his long life, and his hard calloused hands tells of his hard long life. Then the moment is past, Justice has shown the ability to tell evil in a person some strange gift from the light to help in the call of the Apectin warriors. I reach my hand up patting my horses nose, thankful they are easier to deal with, easier to anticipate.
Brad asks about those Jaine said where praying on them in the night, and Jane answers, “They are like ghosts, but in the morning we find more supplies missing, and usually at least one more casualty. We are hurting enough. All we know is they attack at night and then slink into shadow.” Joshua asks if we plan on staying and helping. Brad’s face having fallen with each new problem added. Edriss in a strange humor mutters, “Our lives depend on it.” “Then you need to protect yourselves,” puffs out Joshua. With that he takes one of the steel drakes from his belt and thrusts it at Justice. Arfin’s face quickly lights with a grin, for here a man of the Apectin Order has given us permission to us the banned weapons. He pedals his legs towards the closest open crate with Edriss, Selura and Brad not far behind. The monk follows his pace slower but his stride keeping him equal with the others. As he reaches the crate he looks around uncertainly then down at his hands simply stating, “hand smash better.” Arfin’s normally squinty eyes widen in surprise, I turn knowing this will lead to another argument. I found out later the monk won and left his trust to his hands.
I watch as Justice pushes the weapon away as Joshua shoves it more forcefully at her. He then forcefully grabs Justice’s arm and pushes the gun into her belt. “You will carry this,” he declares with quiet steel. I am now the only who has not moved to take the metal weapons. He turns toward me drawing another form his belt, and not wanting to cause a scene. I wrap my fingers around the hilt and test the heavy weight, then looking up quickly tell the others I will scout the area. Justice’s commanding voice reminds me to return before nightfall. I have begun to tell that for most people it would have been an order said as such but for Justice it was simply a reminder. I heft the weighty object in my hand again, but I know I trust my bow’s accuracy and speed above any gun. Once out of sight I put the steel-drake in one of the wagons under some broken pots. I would not even know to use the silly thing.
As I break the line of trees, I kneel hanging my head and relaxing my body. I remain motionless simply listening to the trees, air, movements around me. I block out the curses and laughter behind me. I push away the banging of wood on wood and metal on metal from the camp. I focus outward on this new prey. I figure the best way to track this game is by ever larger circles around camp. It would have to have eventually left some sort of mark or track. I move left slowly working my way around.
Within a very short time I see a set of strange tracks. As I run my senses over the indentions, I can tell it must be some kind of footwear for a bipedal creature. Not any common footwear that I know of not slipper, nor boot, nor shoe. That is not what worries me though, it is instead the fact that the tracks are not hidden at all. The remains of the caravan group must not have even looked. I follow the prints, the strands of thin threads on thorns, the snapped branches, and the bruised leaves west towards the sea. Why would someone come from the sea coast? As I move further west I see that other tracks meet up with this pair, and they all carry the signature marks of the strange footwear. I slowly retrace my steps, and enter the encampment as the lowering sun descends past the tips of the trees.
There is a small fire already going. The wagons have been moved into a more defensible position, with the weakest survivors in the center. Justice and Joshua and Jaine walk around the camp bestowing words and commands as commanders would before battle.
Selura tells me she and Arfin set up traps around the edges of camp, and then with lowered voice asks me to check them without Arfin seeing. Brad has also set up his own trap using the steel drake powder. Remembering the times I tried to trick Michael into a harmless trap, I walk the perimeter checking Arfin and Selura’s covered ditches. I quickly see that I need to cover them more securely without letting Arfin see me. I know how quickly he would boil at an female not thinking his work satisfactory. I also look to Brad’s traps, but can only wonder at the design and use. He has placed piles of the power around the encampment with a smaller trail leading in the middle where he sits by the fire.
Away from everyone else the bald green head of the monk reflects the firelight, casting an almost menacing look to the normally peaceful and innocent tusks and muscled form.
The tension grows in the camp as night creeps in. Soon all is encompassed in darkness but our little ring of fire. With a small hiss of air followed quickly by a soft thwack a series of metal disks sink into the sides of wagons around us. I try to fire my arrows into the forest where I see movement, as the other spring to action. Drawing steel drakes and firing into the darkness. At the edge of the clearing a lone figure stands covered in complete darkness, his shadowy movements like a lion on the prowl. I take aim as Justice turns and lifts her arm as well. Lead bullet and arrow fly toward the man. He barely shifts his weight and remains motionless. I can only think both missed their target. As I reach for another arrow, he disappears leaving only the slight movement of leaves to mark his passing. A strange call pierces the air above us and soon all that is heard is the ringing in our ears as silence descends the area again.
Through the acrid fog a groan is heard in one of the bushes. One of the caravan members rushes over a wagon wheel trying to stay below the fog line. Jaine moves quickly to fill his place quietly calling his name. A voice is heard calling back to her. It’s him, the caravan worker. As we move to follow his voice Justice places a hand on Jaine’s shoulder motioning her to stay there. Silently we creep out working our way toward the sound of his voice. Occasionally we pass by some of my arrows that found a mark. I try to keep track and see that most of my shots landed a hole uselessly in the trees and shrubs. As the wind slowly separates the smoky air into nothingness, we approach three figures. Two wearing all black separated by mere feet. The caravan man is leaning over one pressing a shaky hand over his wound. The wounded ones are wearing simple black cloth that blends with the starless night and the only weapons we find are more of the deadly discs. I help to lift one, noting the warm blood that quickly covers my hands making his clothing slippery.
Once back at camp Edriss drops his load next to the fire and just states “He’s dead.” Justice standing next to him re-sheathing a bloody knife, until now I had never seen her pull out any of them. She seems to prefer her big sword instead, but then this is our first battle together and only the fourth day of knowing each other. There is still much undiscovered. The knife must have been from the battle earlier.
The other prisoner seems to have taken less damage or is simply more resilient. I drop to one knee to look at his wounds, but he stares with a murdering gaze and I back off. He mutters in a strange harsh dialect unknown to me, so I glance at everyone to see if anyone can speak to him. Kareth chuckles, and says one word back. The captive looks at Kareth surprised and they start a short dance of simple conversation. Kareth finally says in common, “They try kill leader.” Kareth points to Jaine and Joshua, then “They hungry. He takes us to camp morning.” We tell Jaine and Joshua that we must go and make sure these attackers so not follow the caravan on the trip back to town. Jaine and Joshua exchange a glance, telling us only that they do not care as long as they get to Thanesport quickly.
