Blue turned out to be an interesting travelling companion. Talkative, cheerful, and quick-witted, he also seemed to have a good number of maps for the area, leading them through two villages that Balthor had known nothing about. During visits to these, he proved to be especially useful on the matter of supplies, coming back with several loaves, half a pound of cheese, meat, fish and a bag of strawberries. No one wanted to ask just how he was getting them, but Feral would have sworn that he had spotted a sciurel-like shape hopping from rooftop to rooftop as he and his less agile friends made their way along the streets of the villages.
Feeling slightly guilty, Feral waited until they had made camp for the night, when he was sure Balthor and Cassanya had fallen asleep before mentioning anything to Blue.
“Steal?” the sciurel blinked, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” Feral looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to…”
“No, it’s ok mate,” Blue raise a hand. “You’ve a right to ask.” The sciurel was silent for a while, stirring the fire with a stick for about a minute before he continued.
“I don’t… like to think of it as straight stealing,” he said eventually. “I’m always careful, an’ I never take anything from people who’ll really miss it, just those who’ve got a bit to spare. Believe me, guv, it’s not something I’m proud of, but… there’s times in life when you ‘ave to do things you’re ashamed of. You probably wouldn’t know what I’m on about,” he gave Feral a wry smile. “You’ve got decent clothes, you look like you’ve had enough money comin’ in while you was growin’ up. I guess your family are pretty well off.”
Feral looked away, his chest feeling suddenly tight.
“But that ain’t how it is for everyone,” Blue continued, apparently not noticing Feral’s expression. “Some people, they grow up with nothin’. I mean really, nothin’. My mother… she tried, I’ll give ‘er that, but it weren’t much more than a hole in someone else’s wall. My dad… well, I think all ‘e left me was his sense of duty. I don’t remember him, tell the truth. All I ever knew was that he was a Lawbringer Knight. Guess it kept me going when times got tough… thinking that maybe one day, I’d be like him. A knight.”
Shaking his head sadly, he sighed. “Not that it seemed likely to ‘appen. By the time I was eight, I ‘ad four younger sisters to look after by myself, and nobody gave a damn about any of us. I hated the city… I mean, we all did, but we were trapped. You can live out in the wilds for a time, mate, as you’ll know, but over winter, with no shelter, when you’re that age… no.”
The sciurel sighed again, looking sad. “So yeah, there we were. ‘Ungry, cold, and nobody cared. To spare you the details, I learned to live off the streets. Stole food where I needed it, money wherever I could. But you can’t live like that forever, mate. It wears away at you, inside like. Even after… after I’d impressed the thieves’ guild. They gave my sisters some shelter, kept the thugs away from ‘em, but it were at a price.”
Blue took a deep breath, looking at the ground between his feet. “You can imagine that the price went up as they came of age. I feel sick to my stomach every time I think about it, but there’s… there’s nothing I can do,” he looked up at Feral, his expression imploring. “I couldn’t do a damn thing for ‘em, Red! I couldn’t bring in money enough to keep the guild’s hands off ‘em, and they’d have been even worse off outside. I… I just didn’t know what to do. About a month ago… my youngest, Gerriena… she came of age.” He swore, punching the ground on which he sat, his expression contorting with anger.
“There was nothing I could do to stop it. Nothin’…” he covered his eyes with shaking hands. “All I could do was look away as they disgraced her, cos in the end, it was better than the life she’d ‘ave outside the guild’s ‘protection’.”
Blue was silent for some time, staring into the fire, as Feral watched him, not sure what to say.
“So, there you go,” Blue looked up suddenly. “Now they’re members of the guild on their own merits. Nothing more I can do there. I figured it was time I set out to be what I’d always wanted to be; a Lawbringer, like my dad. Sounds a little crazy, I know,” he rubbed an ear ruefully. “But maybe it ain’t so. They only take people in the bloodline, so to speak, but I can deal with that. There was one thing my dad left, other than me,” the sciurel held up a hand, a silver ring glinting in the firelight. “This ring bears the mark of the Lawbringers. Nobody gets them except the sons and daughters of the knights. My dad left this with my mother before he went. Guess I should be glad she never took my advice to sell it…”
Feral watched as the sciurel sank into silence for several seconds.
“That’s what I want, Red,” Blue said, his voice low. “I want a life where I don’t ‘ave to steal to make ends meet. A life where I can do the right thing, instead of the thing that keeps me alive. A life where I can maybe give summit back for all the things I’ve had to take in the past, and maybe… maybe do something to help my sisters. The life I should’ve had, if my dad had stuck around.”
The muscles at the sides of the sciurel’s jaw worked several times, cast into relief by the firelight.
“I dunno why he left when he did. If it was cos… he didn’t think I’d measure up, then I want to prove him wrong. I want him to know that… even after the start he gave me, I can still be worth somethin’. I can still do the right thing, if I can just get a chance.”
“Look…” Feral said slowly. “Maybe… maybe uncle Felli can…”
Blue gave a small laugh. “No, don’t worry about it, Red. My problem, mate, you got your own, I’m sure. You just get yourself home, don’t worry about me. I’m a survivor, I’ll be fine.”
Feral looked uncomfortable. “That doesn’t mean I can’t help where I can… seriously, if there’s anything…”
Blue smiled. “Cheers, Red. I’ll let you know.”
The companions reached Stonewell after three more days. It was easily visible from a distance from the presence of the tall masted ships moored in the harbour. With the sails furled, they seemed as a uniform forest, rising above the low thatched roofs of the town, their rigging as black cobwebs against the clear blue sky.
Nestled at the back of a sheltered bay, held safe in the protective arms of the cliffs that rose forty feet on either site, Stonewell made an ideal harbour. With room for seagoing ships to moor in the bay, it catered to inland traffic by way of three wooden piers that jutted from the bank of the Westflow river. Reinforced with slabs of granite, the riverbank provided a solid loading and unloading area for heavy cargoes, as well as protection against the surge of the tides.
Behind this stone barricade, a cobbled street ran parallel to the riverbank, ending dangerously close to the edge of the narrow beach. A set of steps by each pier led down to water level, to allow the use of the numerous small rowboats tied to the wooden supports. Currently it seemed to be low tide, as the steps fell nearly twenty feet to the surface of the water.
The riverfront street was bustling with people of all races and occupation. Two muscai were trying to unload a bulky crate from a small, square rigged freight ship, whose deck was considerably below the level of the pier. In the next berth a lupari and lutrani were loading heavy rolls of cloth onto their ancient looking vessel. Swearing fluently in a deep voice, a large leonin oversaw the loading of an entire cartload of mixed vegetables by his rapidly tiring crew. A vulpani clad entirely in bright red was winding his way through the crowds, selling jewellery and trinkets.
Across the street from the ships, a row of casinos, taverns, and other more seedy establishments, each one proudly advertising that it catered for all races, tastes and requirements. One building, separated from its neighbours by narrow alleyways, had a large and elaborately painted sign hanging above the door. It showed a portrait of a sleek furred lady vulpani, eyelids half lowered and wearing a distinctly coquettish expression. Gold writing above the painting announced to all passers that this was “The Vixen”. A smaller sign in the window announced that all were welcome, and recommended the house ale as the best in town.
Blue paused, looking into the window as they passed. Feral glanced back at him.
“You’ve no idea ‘ow you’re paying for travel, ‘ave you?” the sciurel asked him quietly.
Feral glanced at Cassanya and Balthor as they looked over their shoulders at him from further down the street.
“No,” Feral shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Thought not,” Blue sighed. “All right, mate. You guys go ‘ave a bit of a wander round the shops, docks, and wot not, I’ll see what I can do.”
“What are you…” Feral started, but the sciurel shushed him.
“Don’t ask,” he said darkly. “No need for you to be involved, just trust me and wait a while, all right?”
Feral nodded as Blue shifted his bow on his shoulder, and headed off towards the marketplace looking thoughtful. He relayed the instructions to his remaining companions.
“Damn,” Cassanya growled. “I knew we couldn’t trust…”
“How else do you want to pay for passage?” Feral asked her softly, and she stopped in mid sentence.
“It’s a point, Cassy,” Balthor said. “And he’s not dragging us into it.”
“I know,” she sighed, slumping slightly. “But its still…”
“Try not to think about it,” Balthor patted her on the back. “Come on, let’s go ask around, see who’s got cabins free.”
A few enquiries at the various merchant ships around the docks finally led the companions to a neat, sturdy looking vessel named the Sandbar. They were soon directed across the deck to someone who’s only visible feature was two rounded ears, the rest of the body being hidden by a large crate on the deck. They approached curiously. Their target turned out to be dressed in a tunic of deep green and blue, was about five feet four inches in height, and was as typically cheery as all lutrani.
“Cabins? Yeah, I got a few spare, mates,” she said, pulling hard on a rope and pulley, slowly hauling a heavy looking barrel out of the hatchway leading down to the hold. “Where to?”
“As far upriver as you go,” Cassanya said.
“Ah, that’d be Ravenbridge that would. Take about ten, mebbe twelve days, dependin’ how the wind blows.”
“Long time,” Feral raised his eyebrows.
“Darn site quicker than walking, squirt,” the lutrani pointed out.
“Alright, how much?” Cassanya asked, realising they had little choice, and that in all truth, the lutrani was right to say it was quicker than walking.
The barrel finally reached the level of the deck. “Grab that a mo, will you?” Cassanya took hold of the rope as requested, easily holding the barrel’s weight with one arm as the lutrani swung it onto the deck planks.
“And let ‘er go. Cheers. For three cabins?”
“Well... four I suppose,” Cassanya said, looking as though she had been debating leaving Blue behind, but relenting as Feral looked at her.
“Oh right, one still to come then?”
“One just did, missus,” the sciurel announced, appearing suddenly behind Balthor, making the lupari jump.
“Ah, right, fair enough. Talking twen’y silver per cabin, including meals, which you’ll get three of a day.”
Blue whistled, and eyed his bag of collected coins.
“Any chance we can drop that a little?” Feral asked hesitantly, peering into Blue’s bag of money. “I’m not sure we can quite make eighty…”
The lutrani paused for a moment, then sighed. “What can you do?”
Blue tipped the money into Feral’s hands and he counted it carefully.
“Seventy two,” the half-race looked apologetic.
“Eighteen per…” the lutrani looked thoughtful for a while, then sighed. “Well, I’m a fool for sayin’ it, but go on we’ll call it enough, but only cos you’re so cute,” she tapped Feral’s nose with her finger, and he blushed. Blue made a note to take Feral along next time he needed to buy anything from a female storekeeper. “And you can ditch the hood, it doesn’t cover much.” Still blushing, Feral complied, feeling half embarrassed, half grateful not to be expected to hide his heritage.
“That’s better,” the lutrani smiled at him. “Like to see who I’m dealing with.” She led them below decks, into a small cabin containing numerous cupboards, maps and charts, and one table. She motioned for Feral to place the money into a bowl on the table.
“Right then then. My name’s Tarsha, and I’m the skipper of the Sandbar. We leave at low tide, day after tomorrow. You can spend your time until then on board or not. The cabins aren’t any use for anything else while in dock, so it’s all the same to me, but if you do come on board, keep out of the way, eh? We’ve got cargo to load and I don’t wanna be trippin’ over you lot. Your tickets,” she produced four slivers of engraved metal, “are here. Just in case the crew don’t recognise you for paying passengers. Look after ‘em, ‘cos I’ll want ‘em back for the lot after you.
“Once under way, I don’t mind a few games and a bit of fun on board, lets face it I’ve got twen’y passengers and they have to do somethin’. If you wanna get drunk, fine, but stay out of the way or you’ll swim the rest of the trip, right? Good. Any questions?” She looked expectantly at the quartet who seemed stunned by this barrage of information.
Feral shook his head, and the lutrani continued, “Right, that’s settled then. Remember, low tide, day after tomorrow. Should be about midmorning unless the weather goes really crook. Mind you, that wouldn’t surprise me much, It’s been a funny ol’ summer so far,” she let this comment hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “Righty ho people, I’ll see you in two days time if not before.” She led the companions back onto the deck, and saw them back onto the dock with a cheery wave.
“Well,” said Feral as he watched the lutrani thread her way back to her ship. “That worked…”
He was interrupted by a loud rumble from the vicinity of Balthor’s stomach. Feral laughed at the lupari’s embarrassed expression. “Good point, good point. Do we have enough spare to get something to eat?” he looked at Blue, who grinned, and handed him a second bag of coins.
Blue’s talent for gathering funds, even if somewhat reluctantly executed, turned out to be considerable, and the companions discovered they had a respectable reserve of silver coins. Cassanya declared that the first place they needed to visit was an armourer, which they found down a side street from the riverfront.
The street itself was narrow, and littered with garbage. Several discarded crates lay outside the shop, lined up in front of the grimy windows. A sign hanging outside might once have had lettering on it, but now all that could be made out was the outline of the logo – a crossed sword and mace – barely visible in the peeling paint. As Cassanya pushed the door open, a bell rang to attract the attention of the owner, and Feral, ducking in under her outstretched arm, was just in time to see him poke his head out from a door at the back of the shop.
He was a broad shouldered man, dark haired, and square of jaw, and had dark grease smeared across his fingers and arms. He wiped them on a rag as he walked around the counter. Around him, the contents of his store hung on walls, rested in racks, or lay in drawers and cupboards, glinting dangerously in the light that came in through the dirty windows.
The man nodded at Cassanya, apparently deciding that she was in charge of the group. “Good morning, huntress. What can I do for you and your friends?” he asked, looking curiously down his nose at Feral for a moment.
Cassanya’s motivation to find an armourer was, Feral suddenly discovered, apparently himself. “Weapon? Me?” he asked, blinking in surprise as Blue and Balthor looked around the shop behind him.
The leonin nodded. “We need to get you something, squirt. Can’t have you wandering ‘round with just that little rabbit sticker,” she gestured to the small knife on his belt.
“What’re you good with?” the shopkeeper asked.
“Uh, nothing, really...” Feral gave Cassanya an apologetic shrug, while the man rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful.
“Someone must have trained you with something,” she frowned.
Feral shook his head.
“Hmm,” Cassanya’s eyebrows drew even closer together.
“He blood shy?” the shopkeeper asked, looking at the leonin over Feral’s head.
She looked down at the half-race for a moment. “Probably, but I don’t know as he’ll be able to swing anything heavy very fast...”
“Hmm,” the man looked thoughtful. “Any good with a bow?”
Feral shook his head again, feeling about a foot shorter than he actually was.
“You sure don’t want to just give him a shield?” the man looked at Cassanya again.
She shook her head. “On its own, it won’t do much good, and I don’t think he’s up to using that and a weapon at the same time. What do you think, Thor?” she looked over her shoulder.
The lupari shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’d say anything he can get between him and someone else. If he can do some damage too, so much the better.”
“I don’t really want…” Feral started, but was cut off by the store owner.
“Just a light sword, then? Something he can swing quickly, but enough to block another blade?”
“Have to be, I guess,” Cassanya nodded.
“All right, young... man,” the shopkeeper said, with just a hint of hesitation, his eyes flicking to Feral’s ears for a moment before politeness pulled them away. “Why don’t you try this?” he took a slim steel sword down from a rack on the wall.
About two and a half feet in length, it was balanced well, and Feral found he could swing it quite easily – though he felt pretty sure he’d rather not have to. If Cassanya felt it necessary however... he looked up at her and nodded.
“Well, I guess Thor can give you some tips,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “With luck, you won’t need this, but I want the insurance, ok?”
“Ok,” Feral agreed, sounding a little dubious.
The shopkeeper chuckled as he took the sword back, and carried it over to the counter. “I wouldn’t worry much, huntress. You and your friend,” he nodded at Balthor as the lupari measured up a number of crossbow bolts. “Should be enough to put the wind up anyone thinking of a quick mugging.”
Cassanya nodded. “Thanks, but I’m not taking chances. I let this kid get hurt, I lose my job.”
The man smiled, and pulled a swordbelt and sheath from behind the counter. “Six silver for the sword, one more for the belt suit you?”
“Might as well,” Cassanya agreed as he looked at her. “Can’t have him carrying it in his hand all the time.”
By the time they exited the armourer’s shop, Cassanya looked somewhat happier, though Feral wasn’t quite sure he felt any safer, and now he had five pounds of steel beating against his leg with every step. He caught Cassanya looking down at him. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his eyes on the ground. “I don’t mean to be difficult.”
Cassanya smiled and put her hand on top his head, ruffling his russet hair and soft ears. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry to make you carry a weapon, and I wish you didn’t have to, but I won’t feel safe otherwise. Just think of it as something to make people think twice about starting trouble, and stick with me, ok?”
“Ok,” Feral nodded.
About half an hour later, after some cajoling, pleading, and finally good-natured threats, Cassanya finally persuaded Balthor to step into a tailor’s shop. Feral and Blue waited outside, deciding that this was clearly something they should stay out of.
Emerging about ten minutes later, Feral noticed that the lupari had undergone a distinct colour change. Having thought it about time Balthor should go for a new look, Cassanya had picked out matching green shirt and boots. He had retained his black breeches however, absolutely refusing to wear the red pair she had suggested. Feral tried encouraging, as Balthor was clearly unsure as to his new clothing, however Blue felt no such compulsion proceeding to giggle uncontrollably whenever he looked at the lupari for the next hour or so.
Stepping in before Cassanya settled the matter terminally, Feral led the sciurel off around the back of a nearby market stall and kept him there until he could control himself to the point of smirking, but not openly laughing.
Over the rest of the afternoon, they acquired four sturdy backpacks, warm clothing for their forthcoming mountain crossing, and tougher boots for the same purpose. Non-perishable supplies bought, they returned to the Sandbar and stowed them away in their cabins, which turned out to be neat, clean, and each with its own porthole. Small, enclosed oil lamps had been provided for use in the darker hours.
They spent the evening sampling the various taverns the town had to offer. One such place seemed particularly popular, and on entering, Feral found out why. After one look at the on stage entertainment, consisting of a particularly supple lady lutrani, he had just time enough to feel his ears heat up before Cassanya covered his eyes with her hand and led him outside again.
“Hey! What in the deeps do you think you’re up to?” Tarsha vaulted from the stern and strode along the deck, her boots thudding on the planks.
Feral paused, the dawn light glinting on the naked sword in his hand, looking up at Balthor as the lupari loomed over him threateningly.
“You better have a good reason why I shouldn’t throw you both overboard!” the lutrani squared up to them both, jabbing a finger up at Balthor, ignoring the lupari’s drawn sword.
“Um…” Feral hesitated.
“Put that thing away before you hurt someone,” the lutrani snapped. “If you two have something to work out, you go do it on shore, not on my ship!” she pointed to the slowly passing riverbank.
Feral noticed that several crew members were making their way towards their captain, all of them bearing some variety of blunt implement.
“No, wait, look,” he lowered his hands, and incidentally, the sword held in them. “It’s nothing like that, really. It’s just… well… Cassanya says I need training, and…”
“Training?” Tarsha looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You’re training him?” she turned to Balthor.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Figured there was enough space up here, there’s nobody else awake yet, so…” he trailed off under the captain’s penetrating gaze.
“That’s all? No funny business? No fight?” she looked at Feral, shaking her head and laughing. “Well, all right. You got an honest face, I’ll believe you, but tell me next time, right? Pull a trick like this without warning again and I’ll have you both scrubbing the decks all the way to Ravenbridge, got it?”
“Got it,” Feral nodded meekly.
“Got it?” Tarsha eyed Balthor. “Right. If you’re planning on this all trip, I’ll give you till seven every morning. After that, too many people about. You take an ear off one of my passengers, I’ll see you pay in kind before you start your swim. And keep your elbow up a bit more,” she added, turning and gesturing to her crew to back down. “Stay back, if I were you, lads,” she told them. “I’d give these two some space. I think they’ll need it…”
“She’s right you know,” Balthor said, scratching his ear as he watched the captain return to the wheel.
“Yeah, I know, we should have asked first.”
“I meant about keeping your elbow up.”
Feral laughed.
Tallow ran down the corridor, the jingling of the alarm bell having finally intruded upon her consciousness. She wasn’t quite sure how long it had been ringing, having been indulging in a little time spent in her favourite corner of the library, something that always left her somewhat oblivious to the outside world. Reaching the room with the shivering silver bell above the doorway, she turned into it at pace, forgetting that she had oiled the hinges earlier that day, and hitting the door hard with her shoulder, accustomed to it being stubborn. Unfortunately the oil had changed its disposition considerably, and the door politely admitted her entrance without resistance, dumping her full length onto the floor just behind with a surprised exclamation.
“Ow,” Tallow shook her head as she levered herself upright again. Realising that she was wasting yet more time, she reached one hand down to the surface of a pool of water that sat right in the middle of the room, and which she had almost skidded into.
An outsider may initially have been forgiven for thinking that the chamber was some type of elaborate bathroom. The circular pool of water was echoed on the wooden ceiling by a ring of quartz crystals, each identical in size and shape to its neighbour. From this crystalline ring, an intricate web of silver lines radiated outwards, tracing their glittering paths down the curved walls and across the floor until they met a second ring of quartz, this one just below the surface of the still pool.
“Tee?”
As soon as Tallow’s fingers had touched the surface of the water, it hadn’t been water. Or rather it was, the shifting ripples could be made out still, but the silvery bottom of the pool was no longer evident. Instead, it was as if she was looking up, out of the water into another room.
“Valiant?” Tallow’s eyebrows rose as she saw the young man leaning over – or was it under? – the water.
“Hey, Tee,” he smiled a neat, white grin, brown eyes shining happily in a handsome face. “Good to see you again. How’re you doing?”
“I’m, uh… good,” she said, slightly thrown off guard, having expected there to be some emergency which she should be aware of. “Is something wrong, did someone need to talk to me?”
“Only me,” Valiant laughed, brushing a strand of brown hair out of his eyes. “I just heard you were on your own for a bit, and thought I should check you’re doing all right. So, are you?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” Tallow smiled, relaxing as she realised there wasn’t an emergency after all.
“You sure? You look a bit roughed up…” Valiant looked at her more closely. “Is that a bruise?”
“Hmm? Oh!” Tallow raised a hand to her face, rubbing away a smudge of dirt she had picked up upon her meeting with the floorboards, smoothing her hair down again. “Just tripped. You know me,” she gave a wry smile.
“You’re sure?” the young man looked concerned. “I mean, Tee, if there’s anyone thereabouts giving you trouble I can…”
Tallow smiled, settling herself cross-legged by the edge of the water. “No, really, I tripped. As in fell over, landed on the floor.”
“But you’d tell me if…”
“Yes,” she nodded. “Of course I would. Trust me, if I was worried about someone being around here, the whole Order would know by now.”
Valiant chuckled, pushing the sleeves of his beige coloured robe up to his elbows, leaning upon the rim of the pool as he looked into it. “Good. You’re doing fine otherwise, though?”
“Fine,” Tallow nodded. “Went into Riverwood yesterday, picked up some food for the week. Need to get some washing done, but otherwise…”
“Otherwise…?” Valiant prodded gently.
“Well, I am a little lonely, I guess,” Tallow admitted.
“Yeah, I can imagine,” the young man smiled ruefully. “But look, you don’t have to be. You know you can call for me, if you want…”
“Well, yes, but…”
“But…?”
“I kinda get the spell wrong most times,” she felt herself blush and looked away.
“Hey, don’t worry, Tee,” Valiant said reassuringly. “It’s not an easy one to remember – I’ve seen some of the seniors fumble it too. You’ll do better if you practise, though. There’s not a thing you won’t get the hang of if you take a bit of time over it.”
“You think?” Tallow smiled hopefully.
“I know you can,” Valiant nodded. “Forester was right to take you, you’re a damn fine student, better than I am!”
Tallow flushed again, this time for a different reason. “Thank you,” she mumbled. “How are things there?”
“Confused,” the young man shrugged broad shoulders. “Nobody’s quite got an answer to what set the Detectors off yet, but there’s a lot of rumours flying around, none of which I pay attention too.”
“I see,” Tallow nodded, biting her lip. “Any news on the Fortitude conference?”
“No, not yet,” Valiant said with a shake of his head. “But they only kicked off a week ago. I’m sure Forester will get back to us with a full report by the end, I’ll let you know. If they let me see it, of course. I swear old Stonehead’s been telling everyone to give me the mushroom treatment...”
Tallow giggled. “Stonewand,” she corrected.
“I know what I meant,” Valiant frowned. “I swear he’s the most uncompromising man I have ever met. I do kinda envy you, Tee, getting to study with someone like Forester,” he sighed.
“If he’s that bad you could ask...”
“Nah,” Valiant waved a hand. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s damn good. The punch he can pack into those spells of his is something you have to see to believe, I wouldn’t miss out on it for the world,” he paused for a moment. “Though I admit its occasionally annoying. Tends to keep the good stuff hidden, you know?”
Tallow nodded. “It happens. They do it for our protection, you know. Trying to run before you can walk...”
“Would cut out a lot of wasted time. Its not like running and walking, Tee, its more like flying and walking. You don’t need the ground, just the air under your wings. Not the same thing.”
Tallow frowned slightly. It was an old argument she had with him, and not one she really wanted to get involved in again.
“Ah well,” Valiant shrugged. “I guess I’ll get there one way or the other. I learn a lot more than he thinks,” he winked, then looked at something out of Tallow’s line of sight. “Damn, sorry, Tee, I better go. I’ll get back to you soon, all right?”
“Ok,” Tallow nodded.
“Good. Take care of yourself, Tee, and don’t worry about giving me a shout if you need anything.” With those words, the young mage reached down to slice his fingers through the surface of the water. His image broke into a myriad of ripples for a moment, then vanished, replaced once more by the silvery lining of the pool.
Tallow smiled, suddenly feeling much less isolated.
The oak tree that appeared around a bend in the river was both large, and ancient. Its sweeping boughs leaned over the shimmering water, casting dancing shade upon the surface, and upon the object hanging from one of the branches. Standing near the ship’s wheel, talking with the captain, Feral watched it curiously as the Sandbar approached, recoiling suddenly in recognition.
A body. The rope around its neck keeping the head obscenely upright, vacant eyes staring out at the approaching ship.
“You’re in the wilds now, mate,” Tarsha said quietly. “Ain’t no police this far from the cities. Law takes on a new meaning when the only people to keep it are the victims of the crime. They’re not barbarians, mind, this bloke likely did far worse to someone else than’s been done to him.”
Feral nodded, feeling slightly sick as the Sandbar slid past the tree, Tarsha steering well clear of the overhanging branches. The wind turned the hanged man slightly, and for a moment Feral had the impression those dead eyes were following the ship. He shivered and looked away.
“You’re going further than Ravenbridge?” the captain asked.
“Yeah, over the Skystones.”
“Then you take care out there. That,” she nodded at the body. “Is the last of the peace you’ll see. There’s some queer folks live in the foothills. And all the people who aren’t welcome in the townships end up out here too, rather than where they deserve. I reckon you’ll be grateful for those big friends of yours, before you’re done.”
“Already am,” Feral smiled, looking down onto the deck where Cassanya and Balthor seemed to engaged in an arm wrestle across a barrel. Balthor appeared to be winning, but it was obviously costing him a lot of effort. Above them, Blue was hanging upside down from the rigging, looking bored. Besides the crew, they were the only people left on deck, the rest of the passengers having disembarked at other towns along the river.
The lutrani gave a short bark of a laugh. “Yeah, they do seem like they’ll keep you safe. I wouldn’t worry yourself, just don’t get separated until you’re over the other side. Ravenbridge,” she added, pointing beyond the prow of the ship.
The town was smaller and shabbier than Stonewell, having a general air of dilapidation that hung over the buildings like an invisible fog. The Sandbar pulled into the single mooring bay, the crew swiftly tying up to the stumps of several trees that seemed to serve as anchor points.
A mile or so upstream, the river split into three tributaries, none of them sufficiently big to allow passage for a ship of the Sandbar’s size. From here onwards, the terrain was going to get steadily rougher, until they reached the Skystone mountain range, whose white peaks already rose high above the horizon.
“If you’re wondering,” Tarsha said as Feral looked at the town, feeling somewhat nonplussed by its appearance. “It’s because the Ravenwood brewery is about a mile up the east fork there,” she gestured upstream to where the tributaries merged. “’Bout the only thing that makes this route worth running, that is. Great bunch of lads, always do me a good deal. You should get yourself a few drinks there before you go on. Keep you warm for a bit, at least,” she grinned, then looked thoughtful. “Though don’t go telling your friends I said that, I don’t encourage drinking at your age, right?” she winked at him, and Feral smiled.
The quartet disembarked shortly after, bidding a grateful farewell to the skipper and crew. Their stay in Ravenbridge wasn’t a long one, just enough to pick up fresh supplies.
According to Blue’s map, thirty miles of foothills lay ahead of them before they would reach the Skystone range itself. On the advice of the trader, they planned to keep alongside the central tributary of the river. This, he said, should both keep them on the easiest path through the mountains, and mean that they would pass Sapphire Lake, where they could replenish food and water. He seemed slightly annoyed to discover that Feral already had fishing equipment, and leaned a net back against the wall with a frown.
That first day’s walk was a relaxed one, reasoning that with plenty of supplies, it was better to save their energy for the mountains proper. Before them, the snow capped peaks of the Skystones shone in the afternoon sun. One corner of the Heavens’ Circle, the mighty band of mountains that ran intermittently through all the lands of Tarralon, the Skystones formed the highest, and the widest part of the range. Only Sapphire Lake made the mountains passable, a regular stopping point of those who chanced Devils’ Pass.
They made camp in the shelter of four large pine trees as the sun was setting. A chill wind was blowing from the west and they huddled close to their small fire before falling asleep under a clear, star studded sky. Above them the familiar constellations shone coldly beautiful, while the moon in its third quarter, spread its white light across the land below.
Only two villages clung to the hills this near to the mountains, and the companions hurried through both, not caring for the apparently universal distrust of strangers that hung over them.
After three days, the green clad foothills had given way to increasing expanses of bare stone, with the occasional prominent outcrop of rock. Over uncounted aeons the river had cut a deep gorge in the rock over which it flowed. During the spring thaw, the entire canyon would be filled with rushing meltwater, but now towards early autumn, most of the floor was dry, leaving a rocky roadway that would lead travellers halfway through the range.
The night brought a cool rain, and the companions sat huddled around their spitting fire listening to the increasingly turbulent flow of water as it hurried on its way. The rock strewn floor of the gorge was not inviting to plant growth so the wood had to be carefully rationed if the supply was to see them reach Sapphire Lake.
Feral went to sleep that night in a relaxed mood, feeling that, while their road may be difficult, everything would work out in the end.
He awoke less than an hour later to the feeling of cold steel being pressed against his throat.
