Muirgen thumbed the page of the book, staring down at the tree she had seen in her dreams. On the page it looked so small, but in her dream it had stretched far, far above her, supported by a trunk wider than she had ever seen. Finally she shut the book. She had hoped that re-reading it would have given her some clue of why she kept seeing it each time she closed her eyes, but there was nothing. Just a tree her ancestor had decided to sketch.
She rubbed her temples in irritation. Artair was driving and there was nothing to occupy the long hours as they made their way along the road. They were lost and heading who knew which way. She closed her eyes, leaning back against the cushions of the carriage. Would it be so bad to be lost? Maybe forever? Take up work on a farm, or something? She snorted. She didn’t know the first thing about farming. They’d starve within a month.
“Good afternoon, your majesty.”
Her eyes flew open and she gaped at the man sitting across from her. It was the Bard. She promptly shut her mouth as he grinned at her. Determined to not give him the satisfaction of knowing he had scared her half out of her wits, she nodded, “Good afternoon. Have you come to give me more cryptic messages in rhyme?”
He shrugged, “I can only do so much, your Majesty. There are….” He ground his teeth together, “measures in place that prevent me from telling you certain things. But I do what I can.”
“What can you tell me without going into rhyme?” she asked, her hand going into the hidden pocket of her dress and gripping the blade within its folds. Just in case.
“You’re going into danger, but you know this,” he said, twisting a button on his jacket that was nearly falling off, held by a single thread. “You’ll find answers there, but maybe not the ones you want. Don't go to the Northmen. Go to the north, but not to them."
“You spoke of a pact. A deal of sorts, long ago?” she pressed, leaning forward.
He shook his head, his hair falling in his eyes, “I can’t tell you anything more.”
“Who placed the restrictions on you?” He shook his head. “What are the restrictions?” Again, a shake of the head. “How do you disappear?”
His eyes twinkled, “Well, see I’m not really here.”
She frowned. “No? Then, where?”
He tugged on his jacket again, “In my home.”
“And where is that?”
He laughed, “Somewhere in the wilderness. You’ll not find it.”
She frowned, “Fine. Then how can I see you here?”
He cleared his throat, “Magic of course.” He cast a disapproving glance at her, "Come now. You knew that."
She sighed, “If you are here to help me, what should I do?”
He paused for a moment, then repeated, “Don't go to the Northmen.”
"I have to," Muirgen said. "If I don't the Council will use it as an excuse to question my authority."
The Bard sighed, then tipped his head and vanished. She made an irritated noise somewhere between a growl and a sigh before allowing her head to drop backwards onto the cushions.
Around nightfall they stopped to make camp, but Evan had not yet returned. Muirgen’s stomach churned as she went over each of the possibilities that could have prevented him from returning. She set up the camp and got a fire going as Artiar disappeared into the woods to catch something to eat. He returned a few minutes later with a pheasant and a very soiled looking handkerchief.
“I could only catch one, but I did find these blackberries,” he said, opening the cloth to reveal the dark fruit.
“Do you know how to cook?” he asked, setting aside the food and beginning to sharpen a stick that he could use to spit the bird.
She shrugged, “I know how to watch something so it doesn’t burn.”
He nodded, “I’ll be right back then.” He shoved the stick through the bird and settled it on two vertical sticks that held it above the fire. He disappeared into the forest, whistling slightly. Muirgen watched the bird as it cooked, turning it every so often so it wouldn’t burn.
Soon Artair returned, his face and hands now cleaned of the filth of travel. He nodded and took over turning. When the pheasant was done, he removed it from the spit and divided it into three portions onto plates. He added a few blackberries to each plate and handed her her share. Hungrily they dug into the food, watching the road at all times for any sign of Evan.
When they finished their meal and he still hadn’t arrived, Artair laid out his roll, and handed Muirgen her own. After a few moments, he said, “Since Evan isn’t here can we talk a bit more about…” He touched his stomach, “This?” She nodded warily. “I felt something happen when we were attacked by those brigands,” he said, leaning forward. “I think one of them flew backwards when I hit them with the dagger.”
She nodded, “It was the piece.”
He grinned. “And I’m beginning to be able to understand more of your feelings.” He frowned, “But sometimes they are still a bit confusing. Especially when there are several of them at once.”
Muirgen frowned, “What do you mean?”
He shook his head, “It’s hard to explain. But when I helped you onto the roof yesterday…” She nodded, not able to meet his eyes. She thought she had been better at siphoning her emotions so she didn’t blast him as he did her. But he was getting better in that as well, learning how to conceal and block. “There were so many emotions that I couldn’t understand them. How can you sort through them?”
Muirgen shrugged, “It just will take time to learn how to read them. Learning to decipher contrasting emotions is difficult.”
He nodded, nudging the ground with the toe of his boot, “Did you ever…practice using the powers?”
She shrugged, “Not often. Uthyr didn’t think doing it inside the castle was safe, so we would only do it on days when he would take me out to the forest, and even then we had to be careful.”
“Would you mind practicing with me?” he asked throwing a few more branches into the fire.
She nodded slowly, “Alright, but we do need to watch the road. Just in case.” He stood up, brushing his pants off before offering his hand to her. She led him away from the fire, into the darkness surrounding their makeshift camp.
“When I first started learning how my body would react with the piece, Uthyr would have to frighten me to jump start the piece,” she explained. “We spent two days in the woods, him chasing me until I figured out how to use the piece and chase him instead.” She pulled a dagger from one of her hidden pockets, then rushed at him, slicing open his arm and shirt.
He cursed, stumbling backwards, “What are you doing?”
She ran at him again, this time her blade digging into his leg, “You’ll heal by the end of the night.” He stumbled again, whirling around to try to catch her, but she was gone. “If you want this to stop you’re going to have to try harder,” she said, rushing at him again. This time he heard her coming and jumped back just in time to avoid her dagger.
She froze as a light on the road caught her interest, and she peered through the night to try to see who it was. The air rushed out of her as Artair rushed at her. He fell on top of her in a tangle of grass, rocks, and limbs. She groaned and he sat up quickly, “Are you hurt?”
She waved him off, “Fine. There’s someone on the road.”
Staying low, the two peered at the rider as he neared their camp. When the rider dismounted they crept closer to get a better look. Artair held out a hand, holding her back so he could investigate first. She stayed in the shadows, but when they could see Evan’s face, both moved into the light cast by the fire.
“What happened?” Evan asked, looking at the cuts on Artair’s arms and legs that were already starting to heal.
“Artair was helpng me with close combat,” Muirgen brought up before Artair could explain, “In case we cross into those brigands again.”
He raised an eyebrow, but nodded slowly. “We saved you some dinner,” Artair offered, showing the saved food to Evan. Evan nodded gratefully, tying the reins of the horse to the carriage before sinking down and digging into the food. Together Artair and Muirgen sank down onto their own rolls. “Well?” Artair asked, “What did you find?” Evan pulled a map from the waist of his pants, handing it over without a word as he took his next bite.
Artair unrolled the map, peering at the lines drawn on it in ink to mark where they were and the best way to get to where they were going. “We’ve diverted a bit,” he said, pointing to where they should have turned off a day ago.
Evan nodded, still too engrossed with his food to join the conversation. “We’ll need to make up that time,” Muirgen pointed out. “I’m sure the captain has been told that I am his passenger, but I doubt they would hold the ship longer than a half a day. He too has time tables to keep.”
After a moment she asked, “How much harder on the horses do you think leaving the carriage behind would be?”
Evan shrugged, wiping his hands on his pants, “If we had three horses and got rid of a few packs it wouldn’t be hard on them, but with two people on one horse we would have to get rid of a lot of our supplies.”
She nodded, “At first light we’ll go through what we have left. Anything we do not need we’ll leave.”
“We’ll need to ride hard,” Artair said, “But carefully so we don’t exhaust the horses.”
Evan nodded, setting his plate aside. “There’s no use cleaning these tonight. We won’t be taking them with us tomorrow.”
Artair frowned at the ground, lost in thought. Muirgen touched his arm, “What is wrong?”
He shook his head, “Nothing. Just thinking.”
“About what?” Evan asked, scratching the beard that had begun growing again after all Dain’s hard work.
Artair shrugged, “It’s a little odd that we encountered bandits so close to the castle. Even without a full-guard, they shouldn’t have been so brave.” He looked hard at Muirgen, “And why were you only allowed to bring a maid and the Dragon?” He shrugged, “Never once has a Lord left home with so little, and you are more precious still…it’s just…suspicious.”
Muirgen stared into the dark, considering, “You think they meant for me to…not come home?”
He shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s all just a coincidence. Maybe the Northmen really did require such terms. But it does make me nervous, so I think abandoning the carriage is the best choice. We’ll be less easily noticed on horseback.” He stood, “I’ll take the first watch.”
No comments:
Post a Comment