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land-of-vanmara · 5 years

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To Take The Road

This is one of the first stories I wrote in this world and the first one I completed. It’s been hanging around for about a year, but there’s nothing I can really do with it, so here it is! it is around 9300 words, but well worth the read!

If you don’t like tumblr formatting for long reads, check back for a link (which will be tagged as #totaketheroad for archiving’s sake). The link will lead to the wordpress site I’m setting up! It’ll be bare bones for a bit, but I’ll put longer posts and some other special things on there when I finally get going, it’ll be fun!

Anywho, hope you like the story! The rest is under the cut, but have a preview!

Faith is a fickle thing, which we keep fine when things are going well, up until the point that they aren’t.

Now, as she walked the wastes of the Tandyn, fleeing from the ruins of her home of many years, Gelsoth understood what her patron had meant by this. The last thing her patron told her was that she should trust in her star, and that it would see her safely to Bersa with the letter he had entrusted to her. Over the past three days traveling, she’d had time to contemplate this.

All dyo are told of their guardian stars when they’re little.

At the birth of a new dyo, a new star is added to the sky, went the old fairy tales and nursery rhymes.

Each star is connected to a person, and the two share a likeness that can be physical as well as spiritual. In Gelsoth’s case, this was especially true. While most Namani had luminescent, yellow faces, Gelsoth’s light was especially bright, as was her star.

The sky was still bright with the first Sun, Zrasen, which was beginning to set, and the second Sun, Gavorim, which was now rising. Under two suns, there was no way she’d see her star, and under two suns, she wished she could travel at night.

After the stars comes the Moon, Endanya. It does not wish to protect, but tries to draw us from the suns and our stars. The Endari, or moon sickness, was feared by all dyo. To look at the moon was to spell your doom, and it was a reality Gelsoth loathed. There was, in the cities, devices that could ward off the sickness and allow you to walk in the night, but she was far from the city, and she didn’t have time to find her set of goggles on her way out.

This situation lead Gelsoth to many questions, the foremost in her mind had her wondering if the gods had abandoned her. Perhaps she shouldn’t be so upset as to question this; she had survived. Still, the fact remained that she was the only survivor, as far as she knew.

This was what she thought about as she traveled. It was the same thoughts, the same process of thinking, and the same conclusions. What was three days had seemed like three weeks, and the four hours that had passed today since Zrasen rose had felt much longer as well.

In four hours, Gavorim would set, and Verim, the third and final Sun, would rise. By the time Verim peaked three hours later, Gelsoth hoped to be in greener pastures, namely the Hills of Tandyn, with her camp set up. At that time, there would be a decision to make, and she hoped her star would be there to help, once Verim set. The Zero Period, two hours of dark between the suns and the moon, was the only time she could see her star and “confer” with it.

The hours between now and then would feel like an eternity. The air was hot, and the metal of her breastplate was an oven that baked her body like a loaf of bread. She’d long ago taken her helmet off, releasing the forest of long, white fronds, which the dyo referred to as their mahirn. It was too hot to keep them contained, and the weight of the helmet in her hand was somehow comforting. The weight felt nice, oddly enough.

The rest of the day, she focused on the weight of the helmet. When Gavorim set, she put it back on and tried to forget it. It was then she realized that the helmet weighed almost as much as her sword, Sal’Nali. She was nervous, and feeling the sword in her hands always made her feel safer. Even so, she couldn’t draw it, it wasn’t proper for a knight such as herself to openly brandish a weapon when peace was about. She tried to remember this, to keep this thought in mind, that all was peaceful, but it really was not. Not in her mind.

At last she came to a place where she could rest, beneath the eaves of a tree. This tree bore fruit, that of the sour tree-melon. They were round, rough skinned, and a bright shade of green. Gelsoth was thankful for this, and set her few belongings down at the tree’s roots.

She kept her sword at her side, as she was still wary of the wastes and the hills, which she found herself nestled between now. While the wastes had their dangers; heat stroke, mirages, exhaustion, lack of provisions, the hills were another beast, and she was yet to figure out if she would travel them by road or not.

She knew the hills well, well enough to know to fear them. Bandits made camp between them, and though they couldn’t fight well, they had numbers on Gelsoth. It was also easy to get lost if you weren’t careful, and the up and down marching they require wears one out. Not the least of these concerns were the returned, terrible creatures who were once civilized dyo. They were made mad by a sickness that overwhelmed them, causing their essence, their life force, to burn at a rate most painful. Most of them only live a year or so after the sickness consumed them, but some could live four or five times that, each second being an eternity of agony. They were melancholy-inspiring, but also a deadly force to be reckoned with. To be safe, most people traveled the hills with companions, as the returned were easier to fight with two-to-one odds.

The problem was that if she were to follow the road home, she would be adding three or four more days, if not more, to her journey. That, she figured, was unacceptable. Even worse, the people that destroyed the estate might be following her.

Her patron had said something about risks: Only take risks when you can accept the worst possible consequences, as they have a way of happening when you can least afford them.

For Gelsoth, this meant that she couldn’t risk being captured, nor could she risk meeting the attackers at the city gates. She would stray from the road, following her map in as straight a path as possible to the capital. For now though, she would gorge herself on tree-melons to keep her strength up, and then sleep for the night, until the moon passed. She shed her breastplate and sat under the tree, facing away from the Nalis range, her back to the moon, and began to prepare for tomorrow’s journey.

The smell of smoke woke her. When she opened her eyes, she was in the barracks, lying in her bed. Looking around, she saw that all the other beds were empty. No one had woken her, which worried her. Then she heard the sound: Steel meeting steel, shouting and screaming, and an awful, steady roar. Fire and battle could mean that House Nali was under attack. She retrieved her sword from its resting place inside the bed frame, where most of the other knights kept their weapons and affixed it to her waist.

The door was open only a crack, and through that, a long tendril of thick, dark smoke slithered through. Still in her bedclothes, she made it over to the door to take a look down the hallway, and with horror she realized the smoke was coming from her patron’s quarters down the hall. From the opposite direction, she could hear the fighting. Clashing metal could be heard down to her left. She heard the screams of her fellow knights echoing throughout the hallway and she knew the battle wasn’t fairing well for them.

Her thoughts returned to the fire at the end of the hall. She crouched down low, avoiding the smoke, and swiftly made her way to her patron’s quarters. When she got there, she saw the door was off its hinges, and the fire’s flaming tongues leaped about in the mouth of the doorway. Going through there would burn her to a crisp. She didn’t know any magic to better her odds, either. The door might make for a sturdy shield. Without thinking about it, she picked the door up by the handle. This was difficult, considering that the door was a good foot or so taller than her, but she made do. Thankfully, the handle was still cool.

She made a best guess as to where the stronger of the flames were so she could know how to better angle her run. The door was still intact, so making it through would be difficult, but the proper angle should make it easier. Without another thought, she set up and bolted through, feeling the heat of the fire move around her. Nothing burned, which was a good sign. Then, out of nowhere, she felt something under her foot and fell to the floor. She rose to her feet again and realized she had tripped on a piece of fallen debris.

Now that she was in the room, almost all she could see was fire. Fortunately, she’d ended up in a corner with little that was flammable, save for the desk behind her, but smoke filled the air all around her, stinging her eyes and burning her lungs. If her patron was in here, he was engulfed in flames, a prospect which made Gelsoth’s stomach churn.

She left the room using the same door as a shield again, only this time she didn’t trip. She set the door down and drew Sal’Nali. The weight in her hands was comforting and safe. Now she was hoping against hope that her patron had made it out of his room. He’d taught her everything she knew, about fighting, politics, history, and how to live and move on. Down the hall, where the fighting was taking place, she’d surely find him.

She arrived to a grisly scene: Her brother and sister knights lay strewn about the courtyard like bloodied and burned dolls. Some were bleeding, some had been warped by foul magics beyond recognition, and some were only piles of ash. Only a few still remained standing, but it seemed they, too, were to meet a swift and garish doom.

At the end of the courtyard, close to the doors that lead into it, she saw the perpetrators: A cluster of mages in varied grey attire. None of them held swords or weapons of any sort. They were not clad in any sort of armor. In fact, they would look like paupers were it not for the clouds that their suits surrounded them with. It was clear they were mages, and powerful ones at that. They were not covered in the bloody fragments of battle, and no ash or soot lingered on them. They had caused this carnage without having a finger laid on them. The sight of two bodies fallen over each other made her realize that for some reason, the clashing steel she’d heard had been the knights fighting each other. Gelsoth shuddered at the thought.

She watched as the remaining four knights, Darvas, Nolan, Eln, and Malara attempted to face the two dozen or so mages. She knew already that they would fail, but she watched in hope that she might learn a weakness. She didn’t.

Before the warriors could close their distance, a barrage of light and fire flashed before them, and the four remaining knights had fallen at the hands of two mages. Gelsoth moved back behind the wall, trying to breathe, but panic had started to take hold of her. She couldn’t move.

To her left, she heard a whisper, which started to pull her away from her stupor, “Gelsoth, hey!” She looked, and it was her patron.

Gelsoth couldn’t stop herself and blurted out, “By Zrasen, you’re alive!” His face was normally rough and purple, as are the faces of all Isropp, but now it seemed even more cracked and charred than normal.

From across the archway that looked out onto the battle field, her patron put his finger to his lips, “Quiet, we don’t want them to hear us.”

Gelsoth nodded and whispered back, “Do you have a plan then?”

“Yes,” He said, pulling out a slip of paper and sliding it across the floor to her, “You’re going to Bersa.”

“Bersa?” Gelsoth almost shouted, “At a time like this?”

“I know the situation is bad, but you and I aren’t going to take down these mages by ourselves. Someone needs to be told.” He explained. He gestured toward the note and continued, “Deliver this to the saints, and try to get it to Verim’s saint first if at all possible. I know her; she can help you.”

“What about you?” Gelsoth asked, worried at what his answer might be.

“You need to cross the archway, and they will see you when you do so. I’ll hold them off. I know some magic that can ward the area for now, but not for long.” He began explaining.

“So I’m just supposed to leave you behind? I--” She was cut off.

“Yes, and that’s an order.” He snapped. When Gelsoth’s expression had sobered up, he continued, “Now, I wager the barrier will last less than a minute. Use that time to grab traveling armor and a provisions pouch. Get as much as you can carry.”

Gelsoth nodded, and moved to get up, only to be intterupted again, “Gelsoth . . . Be careful.”

“I will. I’ll do you proud, sir.”

“Thank you,” He said, seeming more at ease, “now move, I have your back.”

Gelsoth did so, running hard and fast. Something was wrong though, as she could hear a rushing sound at her back. She turned to see a wall of fire closing in on her. Before she could even scream, the heat was on her, burning her bedclothes and melting her flesh.

The smell of smoke lingered in the air as Gelsoth awoke but quickly faded. She felt incredibly tired, despite her rest. Still, she opened her eyes and got to her feet. It was a new day; Zrasen was hardly yet in the sky.

Taking note of all the tree-melon husks around her, she opted for the rations. The rations were dry and too salty, leaving Gelsoth with a sour taste in her mouth all day. They were a better source of nutrition, as the fruit was simply sugar. Gelsoth still liked the fruits better, of so she picked four or five fruits and put them in her pack.

She looked ahead over the hills. There were no trails, towns, nor was there even a single hovel within sight. All she would have was her compass, her map, and whatever wit had brought her here. With that, she had to march through the hills and make it to Bersa. While she ate her breakfast, she doubted herself a hundred times. At every doubt she had to remember that her patron, a person who was like a father to her, was depending on her.

It was into the hills, then. Gelsoth donned her armor once more and set off. Zrasen was climbing her way up through the sky, and her light was dazzling. Fortunately, Gelsoth had turned southeast, putting the suns more or less behind her. It was still hot, but the occasional dips into the pockets between hills provided some shade. As she crested each hill, she took a look onto the horizon for signs of returned walking about, but had seen nothing yet.

The hills were lovely, so green and flowing. She could get lost in them, if she wanted. For a moment, she fantasized about not traveling to Bersa. Out here, she could truly disappear, and the mages would even stop looking for her eventually. Before she went much further into the thought, she pulled herself away. It was awful to think that she was growing this frightened, so she tried not to think about it.

As she traveled south east, she had to keep a wide berth between her and the smoke from campfires that appeared on the horizon as she walked. In the span of maybe 15 miles, she’d passed three camps. Luckily, they were all nestled between hills, making impossible to see Gelsoth. Perhaps sentries might spot her, but from a mile away, it wasn’t something she was too worried about.

After passing the small cluster of camps, it had been seven hours or so. Gavorim was at his peak, and Zrasen had set. It was middle-noon, which gave Gelsoth about four or five more hours of travel. She was tired now, of course, but she couldn’t stop yet. Keeping at this pace should mean that she would see Bersa on the horizon the day after tomorrow, and she didn’t want to make that time line any longer.

A few hours past the camps, Gelsoth heard a strange and unsettling noise. It was a grinding, guttural, low-sounding groan that she couldn’t quite recognize. She scanned the area around her, looking for a source, but ultimately saw nothing.

Now she was on alert, tense and ready for an attack, though she didn’t know from what. From atop this hill, the creature could be anywhere that the slopes hid from her. She moved forward to one edge of the hill with caution, eyes peeled for movement. Then, she heard it again, though this time it was louder; it was definitely behind her.

Swinging her head around, she saw it: A returned. It had come up from the slope behind her, and was now slowly making its way over. The thing was hideous, with most of its skin being black from the constant burning of energy. In some places, the skin flaked away, showing bright yellow patches of burning life essence. It’s long, lanky limbs hung from the shoulder, as if useless. For a second, she remembered that this was once a person, but she knew it was no longer.

Before she could draw Sal’Nali and ready herself, the thing charged her with incredible speed. Fear gripped her and instinct took over. In a split second decision, Gelsoth jumped to the left away from the suns and out of the creature’s path. The thing kept running, but skidded to a stop before it reached the slope. After only a second, the creature recovered, changed direction and charged again

Finding Sal'Nali in her grip, she drew the blade from its scabbard and tried to to trace the beast’s movement. She stood like a mountain, sword in front of her, as the creature barreled towards her again. Once again, Gelsoth jumped to the side, swinging for its gut at the same time. To her astonishment, she’d missed, as the creature jumped with her. Before she knew it, Gelsoth was pinned to the ground by two searing hot hands.

Sal’Nali had fallen behind her, within reach if only her hands were free. She caught an opportunity as the creature moved its right hand back to strike. Now she had to move like lightning. She reached back for Sal’Nali, and in the same movement swung the blade so that it met the creature’s right arm. As she felt a solid thud, the returned let out a horrifying howl and released her other arm.

With this opportunity, she rose back up to her feet, ready to attack again. She met the creature’s gaze, expecting ferocity and coldness, but what she saw was fear. Instead of attacking again, it ran away from Gelsoth, down the hill the same way it came.

This was a surprise, as all the tales told of relentless, bloodthirsty animals, but what Gelsoth had just witnessed told her otherwise. Knight Malara had once spun a tale about a terrible creature who kept pressing the attack while missing its legs and an arm. She had respected him and admired him for many of the tales he told, but after this, she wasn’t so sure.

She faced away from the suns and retrieved a piece of cloth from her bag. She wiped off the black blood that was now smeared across Sal’Nali, and was surprised to find it was still hot. She finished cleaning the blade and returned it to its scabbard. After that fight, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stop for the day. She sighed and rubbed her arms, which still burned where it had grabbed her. Her sleeves were all but gone, and there was swelling in the shape of hands there now. Maybe some rest would help. She found a tree nearby and started to remove her breastplate.

Her shoulders slumped and her head dropped. This was just too much for her to deal with. The journey was something she could handle, but potentially being the last of her family was a horrible weight which brought on a special kind of dread. She would have to do her best to represent everything her order stood for. Beyond that, those mages from the estate were probably chasing her. If she was truly the last, they would seek her out to finish off what they started, that was certain. Thinking is just making me sick, she thought to herself.

She laid on her side to try alleviating the nausea, but eventually fell onto her back, staring up at a section of the sky. Over time, the winking light of her star began to calm her. Her gaze fell on her guardian star. It shone as bright as any other star, even under Verim’s dim light, but was set apart from any constellation known to her. She didn't dare contemplate this, but that her star still shone when she couldn't was a soothing thought. Peace came to her mind, and she mouthed the words "Thank you" to the star, knowing it would not hear her. Sleep overcame her after this, as swiftly as the charge of the returned.

Two figures in the distance watched as the returned ran away from Gelsoth.

”Did you see that?" said a hooded figure. His arm pointed out into the distance, toward the suns.

"Of course, how could I not have?" said another figure, her yellow, angular face glowing under a wide brimmed felt hat.

"She just scarred off one of those returned! Alone, nonetheless!" The hooded figure said, clearly astonished.

"No, that part was me. Still, her fighting skills are admirable, to take a returned one-on-one like that." Said the Namani.

"Oh, by the Suns, Matyra, we need a warrior like that!" He exclaimed, barely keeping himself from shouting.

"I'm working on that." Matyra said. Her gaze was fixed on the distant Namani, her arm extended. Long, soft, and unintelligible syllables ebbed from her lips as she tried to ease the Dyo into sleep from afar. Begrel watched in anticipation for several minutes as the Dyo sat down, slumped her shoulders, and finally laid down. Her far off glow dimmed, indicating that she was unconscious. Matyra exhaled forcefully and took a look into the distance to confirm her charm had worked.

"There, she should be out for a few hours. Bring the wagon over there and load her up. Make sure the binds are tight; we don't want her escaping if we can help it." She ordered, speaking quickly. Turning to the south, she looked to where she came from, from Bersa. It was many miles off, far enough for the guard to have stopped chasing them, for sure. From here on, it's just bounty hunters and the wild creatures of the Tandyn, she thought to herself.

No matter. She was an excellent enchantress, and Begrel made for a decent archer when the need came. To the north was their destination, and they would make it if it cost them everything.

Gelsoth heard the sound of wooden wheels and axles turning as she woke up. She thought that maybe a caravan was coming by at first, but the noise was too close. She was on a cart. With a start, she tried to sit up, but she was bound to the side of the cart. The binding was neat and tidy and too well done for her to break out of.

“Of all the things . . .” Gelsoth let out in frustration.

“Ah, morning there sleepy head!” came the buzzing, nasally voice of whom she assumed was her captor. She turned to see who was talking and saw a slender looking Namani in a large grey felt hat sitting next to a hooded Isropp.

Gelsoth was too overwhelmed by emotions to reply at first. She was worried about her message. If she couldn’t get out of here, then she’d never get to Bersa. Of course, she was also angry and scared, but the dread of failure seemed to wash that out.

“Would you . . . Care to explain this to me at all?” Was all she finally managed to say.

“Nope.” Replied the Namani, and she turned to face forward once more.

Gelsoth sighed at this and looked out the back of the cart. She could just barely see the mountain range out west, and by her vantage point, it seemed they were heading northeast, far off her own course. She turned back to her drivers and saw her sword lying in its scabbard just behind them in the wagon. There was no way for her to get to it, much less unnoticed, so she sat there, taking in her surroundings.

The tidy manner of the cargo made her think that escape would be difficult, as her captors were meticulous. Crates were stacked neatly and tied down to the floor and wall of the wagon, preventing it from sliding around. Gelsoth was also bound as such, preventing her from moving very much. It was likely that there would be more people where they were going, and Gelsoth would have trouble with more than two people, if they were as competent as they seemed.

Just when she thought she was out of options, her eyes fell onto the crate near her face. There, a nail poked it’s head out of the crates wood ever so slightly. While her captors were busy watching the trail, Gelsoth leaned over as far as she could and latched on to the nail with her teeth. Her neck strained and her teeth began to hurt as she pulled, but after a solid fifteen seconds, the nail came loose.

The nail free and in her teeth, she moved her head to position the nail behind her shoulder and dropped it into her hand. From her, she began the long process of scratching through the rope with the nail, which would make her hand sore.

While working on her bindings, she began ask her captors more questions, “Where are we, and where are we heading?”

“Oh, a few days out from Bersa. As for where we’re heading . . . Don’t worry, you’ll see when we get there. The Namani answered, her eyes still glued to the road.

That was about as far as she had been before she passed out. Perhaps they were farther now, since the beasts and cart would move quickly with a lightly loaded cart like this one. This was not a prospect Gelsoth much enjoyed.

“Why travel through the hills?” Gelsoth asked.

“No roads. Besides, I could ask you the same question. Not too smart to travel out here alone, is it?” She chided.

“I’m in a hurry.” Gelsoth replied plainly.

“Well, I don’t think you are anymore, deary!” She began chuckling to herself. Her words hit Gelsoth hard with their truth.

“I gues not . . .“ Gelsoth said, looking out the back of the cart. As Bersa grew farther and farther by the second, she realized that if her escape didn’t happen in transit, she might not make it to Bersa at all.

She continued to work steadily on her bindings, hoping she wouldn’t drop the nail. It was agonizing not being able to tell what her progress was. Her desperation and perseverance became sweat, surprisingly enough.

The Isropp picked up on the sweat and told the Namani, who turned around to ask “What are you doing, exactly?”

“Well, uh . . .” She began to panic. She wasn’t good at lying, so she kept talking in hopes of stumbling upon one along the way. “I’m, uh . . . trying to scratch my back. It gets awfully hot in here, and sitting on the plate just makes me plain itchy.” She said, almost proud of her lie.

Something like confusion crossed her face, “Oh?” She turned back around, disinterested now, “I thought you lot were trained to ignore that.”

Gelsoth started at her bindings again. “No, no; you see, it’s considered inconsiderate to leave a warrior in their armor when you kidnap them. I’m chaffing quite a bit back here, and it’s worse than any malady you’d see on a battlefield.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“It is.”

The two upfront huddled in close for a moment, their whispers to quiet to understand. The Namani turned around again, and Gelsoth stopped.

“I could help you with that if it would get you to stop moving?” She offered.

“No, it’s fine,” Gelsoth replied, “I’ve almost got it.”

That was closer to the truth than anything else she’d just said. Over the past hour or so, she had gotten through most of the rope, but it was difficult getting through the last of it given how small her target was now. Given time though, she would make it.

And she did.

Gelsoth felt the rope begin to slack, but she stayed where she was. She couldn’t move until she had a plan, as her legs were still bound too. If she could get to her sword, she could free herself, but not before the two of them would be on her. Somehow, she had to distract them and get them to stop the cart.

She looked at the crates beside her. Knocking them over would serve as a decent distraction if she could actually knock them down. The problem was that they were well secured, like she was. She’d need time to undo one of the ropes.

Perhaps she could use gravity to her advantage. Each time they’d started up a slope, she saw the crates strain the rope. If she pushed with the momentum of the change of slope, she might knock them over. That, or she would just bruise her shoulder and be found out. Either way, it was her best chance.

Gelsoth waited patiently for them to make it down the slope. When she felt the cart level itself again, she leaned up against the crates, waiting for the next hill. Soon enough, the slope pitched upward and Gelsoth heaved with all her might. The crates tilted till they hung over the back end of the cart, breaking one of the ropes in the process.

The sound was enough to alert the two up front, “Suns, what was that?” Exclaimed the Namani.

Taking a glance back, the other answered, “I thought you secured those crates?”

“I thought so, too.” Said the Namani. “You did this, didn’t you?” She accused, scowling at Gelsoth.

“Honestly, I’m just as surprised as you.” She replied.

“Of course.” Was all the Namani replied with. “Begrel, go and secure the cargo again.”

Begrel nodded and went to do so, jumping from the cart. Gelsoth heard a scream, a thud, and a grunt as he did so, indicating he had fallen. She stifled a laugh and the Namani scoffed. She got down carefully to go help him up.

Gelsoth seized the opportunity and reached for her sword, cutting the rest of the bindings in a swift movement. One of them must have seen the movement in the cart, as she heard one of them shout something at her.

The Namani jumped back onto the cart and saw her. She shouted to Begrel, “Shoot her!”

“Uh-oh” was all Gelsoth could think to say.

Free now, she was a deadly force to be reckoned with. She hopped over the front of the cart, past the large, six-legged tamiu beasts, and jumped at Begrel just as he began to ready his bow. He fell to the ground, Gelsoth right on top of him. She kept from impaling him on her sword; there was no need for death. She instead settled for cutting his bowstring.

“Matyra, help, she’ll kill me!” Begrel shouted.

Gelsoth turned around just in time to see Matyra gesturing, as if readying a spell. She was mere feet away, so Gelsoth sprung toward her next, interrupting whatever it was she was doing. She grabbed both of her hands and forced her to the ground.

“Magic? That’s not fair.” Gelsoth said once she had her pinned. She stood up, minding the slope and bringing Matyra with her, saying, “Leave me be, or next time I won’t be so nice.” Then she threw the dyo down the slope, watching her land with a thud three or so yards down.

She turned back to Begrel, who was still lying on the ground, his hand on his dagger, ready to draw.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” She said, shaking her sword at him for emphasis.

It seemed he understood, as he put his hands up in surrender.

“Go see to her.” She said, gesturing toward Matyra with her free hand. He did so, and the Suns above him cast a dark shadow over Matyra’s face.

“I’ll take my leave.” Gelsoth declared, figuring her early warning should suffice. Begrel looked at her over his shoulder with spite, but said nothing.

Using the mountains as a directional reference, Gelsoth started east. Seeing the hills sprawled out before her was a surprisingly welcome sight after being tied up for so long. Verim was overhead, which meant she would have to stop soon, but the way she was traveling, her back was to where the moon would be. If she was careful not to look back, maybe it wouldn’t entrance her. She could continue to put as much distance between herself and her kidnappers as possible. She didn’t think those two would follow, but she didn’t want to take chances either.

After two hours, Verim was near ready to set. Two hours ago, she’d been happy to see the hills in front of her again, but now they taunted her with their endless monotony. She was tired, and the ease she’d felt for the first hour was completely gone now. The bindings had rubbed her burned arms in a horribly painful way, and all her movement had caused them to start bleeding from the abrasion. She’d do anything for a temple healer right now, or even some bandages.

As it was, she’d told herself she would rest only minimally, when the moon came out. She didn’t want to run the risk of falling to the Endari; traveling in the zero period was bad enough. Rest couldn’t come quickly enough, but she gaged about two and a half hours till the moon would rise.

She tread on. As she walked, she worried she was traveling in circles, as the flowers were too familiar and she recalled seeing the same rocks over and over. It could have been the lack of light, but to be sure, she started picking flowers and putting rocks into her bag to ease her fears. Soon enough, she had an entire bouquet of flowers tucked into her belt and at least ten pounds of rocks in her bag.

An hour after Verim had set, she heard a noise she could barely make out. It had come from behind her, and it sounded like another of the returned. If that was so, it was distant, but Gelsoth turned back to check. Fortunately, she saw no returned on the horizon.

Unfortunately, a sliver of the moon had peaked out from behind the mountains, and as soon as it was in her sight, she knew she was doomed. She tried with all her might to look away, but she couldn’t. It was so alluring, even if it was just a sliver of silvery light. She had to get closer.

Gelsoth followed the moon over head in a straight march. As of now, it had her full attention, pulling her gaze away from the horizon. Over a half hour, it revealed itself entirely. It was nearly full tonight, and so its alabaster light dazzled her.

Part of her mind lingered while the rest was taken. She tried and she tried to avert her gaze, to think about all she still had to do, but she held her unblinking gaze. She thought of those she was to avenge, and her promise to her patron. If she was still affixed to the moon by dawn, she would follow the moon’s position too the ends of the world and that she would whither away to nothing before finally collapsing.

She wondered which would be worse, to be mauled by a stray returned or to become a slave to the cycles of the moon. Either one was bound to happen, and she figured she had no preference. She only wished she could close her eyes just once, but the moon had become so . . . Pleasing and transfixing, like a shining pearl in the sky.

The shimmering, blue grass swayed around Gelsoth, and her feet moved with it. In the back of her mind, she thought she could hear soft melodies, like lullabies. Her fear began to quell itself as she continued westward where the moon hung in full. Some small part of her was uneasy still, and this small voice was screaming for all it was worth, begging that she stop. With moonlight so enchanting, why should she hear such a small plea? If lunacy felt so tranquil, why should she return to the tumult of her autonomy?

She kept her pace heading east for most of an hour. Grassy knolls that had enraptured her earlier were now obscured. The trees that were anchored about weren’t so calming anymore, as she didn’t see them. Up in the sky, her guardian star would look upon her with pity, but with little else to do in the face of the moon. What was left of her grieved quietly, knowing that she was doomed. The other part of her thought nothing of it, as her mind was clear for once.

As she walked, she didn’t see quite where she was going. At the start of a hill slope, a rock came underfoot, and she began to tumble. There was perhaps thirty feet of slope to the bottom, but she didn’t see this either. No final thought crossed her mind; all simply went dark. As her unconscious body tumbled down, rocks and the remnants of her rations spilled from her bag, and the flowers were smashed and torn from her belt.

She finally stopped at the foot of the slope and remained there, unconscious, with rocks and broken flowers all around her.

Chattering voices slipped into her dreams where they didn’t belong. The face of her patron, who was speaking strange, unintelligible words, shifted from warm, comfortable gibberish into words she could process, “Yeah, looks like she’s still alive. Should we take her?” The dissonance between the new, unfamiliar voice speaking intelligibly versus the comfort of her patron’s vague mutterings unsettled her, and she stirred.

It was bright out, as it seemed Zrasen had risen some time ago. The rocks and flowers surrounding her were confusing at first, but between that, her sore body, her dinged up breastplate, and her helmet being strewn several feet away, she pieced together what happened.

Then she remembered: The moon. Instinctively, she began to look behind her, but stopped herself. It was day now, and even if the moon was there, she didn’t want to know. For once, she was thankful to have taken a tumble.

At the top of one of the hills surrounding her, opposite the one she had fallen down, she saw three dyo illuminated by sunlight overhead. Behind them was a wagon, not unlike the one she’d been held in only a short time ago. There were barrels and clay jugs, which lead Gelsoth to believe they might be vinters or brewers.

The group by the cart consisted of two Isropp and one Namani between the two, short enough to be a child. The left Isropp was tall and slightly muscular yet gaunt in the face. He wore a long, dark blue tunic over a set of off-white breeches. To the right was a shorter Isropp with slanted eyes and a wide jaw. She wore a green and white cowl under a mud-colored cloak, which enveloped the rest of her body. The child was much shorter than either of them, with the same gaunt appearance as the Isropp to the left. A ragged, white robe covered her and let traces of yellow light peak out from the skin underneath. Al three looked at Gelsoth with confused and curious expressions.

She realized that she was still lying on the ground and rose to her feet slowly and painfully. Her muscles ached from both the fall and her little “moon hike,” causing her to groan as she hoisted herself up. The three on the hill were startled to see her move, and the tall one put his arm across the other two.

“Who are you?” He called nervously.

Gelsoth finished clambering to her feet and called back, almost coughing, “A traveler on her way to Bersa.”

“What are you doing down there?” Called the other Isropp, sounding more impatient than anything.

“It’s a long story, and I don’t much care to recall it. Let’s just say I’ve exhausted myself on my little trek.” She replied. It wasn’t quite a lie either; standing was almost intolerable at this point.

“What are the flowers for? Can I have one?” The child called, her voice shaking with both anxiety and excitement.

“Well,” She started, looking down at the mess of flora, “I was trying to keep myself from getting lost, I think. Sure, you can have one.” She replied. Stepping forward, she retrieved one of the flowers that hadn’t been tossed from her belt, but she was made to pause mid-step.

“Wait!” Called out the shorter one, “How do we know we can trust you?” Her voice was sour and almost afraid now.

Gelsoth paused. After a moment of silent deliberation, she looked up and said, “I’m a knight of House Nali.”

They shot her a few odd glances and looked her up and down while they spoke amongst themselves. The short Isropp looked visibly agitated, while the taller on seemed to be pretty concerned about something. Finally, the short one relented and turned away to face Gelsoth.

“You can come up,” she shouted, “but hand the flower to me.”

Gelsoth started a wretched and painful ascent up the hill. Though she understood the suspicion, it still caught her off guard. She was one of the younger members of House Nali, but she was used to a little more respect than this. It occurred to her that maybe she wasn’t as presentable as she normally was. When she reached the top of the hill, she gave the flower to the Isropp, who inspected it intensely before handing it off to the child.

“I apologize if my appearance doesn’t seem to befit a knight, but it’s been a rather long week.” She explained.

“It sure looks like it,” Said the taller one, “but what exactly are you doing out here?”

“I can tell you, but we haven’t even properly introduced ourselves.” She said, trying not to make it obvious that she was avoiding the question. “I am Gelsoth’Noreloth, Knight of House Nali.” She bowed, but only as slightly as her body would allow.

“Danani’Maldanas,” Said the taller of the two, “and this is Simelna’Atan.” He said, his hand on the child’s shoulder. She waved while smelling her flower.

“A pleasure,” She said, “and what about you, cautious one?”

She huffed a bit and looked over the knight’s shoulder to Danani. He smiled back at her. “I’m Vo.” She said. Danani flinched at the abbreviation, as it was rude not to introduce yourself by your full name, but he did nothing else.

“It’s good to meet you all.” Gelsoth said, placing one hand on her hip, “I’m sorry you have to see me in this state. I’ve been out here for about a week, and the neither Tandyn nor the hills have been kind to me.”

“It’s fine.” Danani said. Up close, it was easy to see that he was malnourished, as was Simelna. “I’m more curious as to why you’re out here in the knolls.”

“Like I said, it’s a bit of a story. Are you heading to Bersa?” She asked.

Vo gave Danani a stern look, making him hesitate, but he eventually answered, “Yes, we have some goods and Vo here to deliver to the city.”

“Well, perhaps I can tell you on the way, if you would have me along. Traveling alone has lost it’s charm, I think.” She said.

“I think that’d be—” Danani started, but he was cut off.

“No! Absolutely not!” Vo shouted. Her voice boomed and made echos off the hills.

“Oh, come on, Vo! We have plenty of room, and the protection would be great!” He argued. “Plus, I’ve always wanted to talk with a knight. It seems like such a great lifestyle, and the Knights of Nali are renowned for their great deeds!”

“Please, Vovo? She’s really nice . . .” Simelna begged.

The two stared at Vo as if trying to change her mind with their thoughts. Gelsoth looked back and forth between the three of them, unsure of what to do.

Vo growled and stomped the ground hard enough for Gelsoth too feel it in her chest. Her face was contorted into a hideous scowl, trying to resist the charm of the two beggars. After a few moments she groaned loudly and half-shouted, “Fine! But if she ends up being an impostor or some sort of criminal, don’t blame me!” She stomped off toward the front of the carriage and clambered up. “And she’s sitting in the back!” She shouted back around the cart.

Danani began to apologize profusely for his companion’s behavior, but Gelsoth assured him it was fine

“I’d be wary to trust a stranger I’d found unconscious at the bottom of a hill who claimed to be a knight too.” She explained. Then she thought of something. She could show them the signet ring she’d been given at her induction into the House. “Hold on just a second.” She said to Danani, taking her bag from her shoulders.

Digging into each pocket, she found nothing. She searched the ground around where she landed, but to no avail.

“Damn it!” She exclaimed. She thought that one of the bandits from earlier might have taken it off of her. It occurred to her to check for the letter as well, and she was relieved to find it still in her belt pouch.

As she came back up the hill, Danani asked her, “What’s wrong?”

“Well, it seems I was robbed of my signet ring a ways back before I escaped those bandits. I was hoping to provide some proof of my claims because I understand Vo’s concern.” Gelsoth explained. Her letter still had a seal on it, but that was far less reliable than the actual signet.

Danani sighed and nodded, understanding. In truth, Gelsoth suspected there was more to it than that by his expression, but she didn’t pry.

They all climbed into the cart and headed south, as they were only a half mile from the road. On their way back, while he tended to Gelsoth’s wounds, Danani explained that they were taking the road to Bersa and had stopped to camp while the moon was out. When they all woke up, they saw a light in the distance. Curiosity got the best of Danani, so they left camp and brought the cart over to the source of the light, which happened to be Gelsoth.

“. . . And that’s how we ended up out in the Tandyn.” He finished telling the story, seemingly to Vo’s relief as she let out a long sigh.

“I’m sorry I threw you off track, but, admittedly, I’m glad you came along.” She said. Her legs hung off the back of the cart, where Vo insisted she sit for the rest of the journey. Either way it was good to have a break from walking.

“Oh, it’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m just glad I could help.” He said, smiling.

Vo growled quietly to herself.

“Before I forget, though, I still have to know: Why are you out here and so beat up to boot?” He asked.

Gelsoth grew tense, but pressed through it to try telling her story, “It’s not a happy story. In fact, it’s pretty dark.”

“Oh?” Danani exclaimed. He sounded more concerned than curious now.

Gelsoth turned around and scooted in as far as she could manage. Her back ended up on one of the barrels facing the left side of the cart. She gave a heavy sigh and closed her eyes, trying to prepare herself for what she had to say before continuing, “I am the last of the knights of House Nali that I’m aware of.”

The air tensed around the four of them, and even Vo’s mood seemed to shift a little as she began to process what had been said.

“My patron, my comrade knights, and even the grandmaster of the order . . . They’re all gone.” Her voice began to fall soft as she uttered those last three words.

Simelna turned around in her seat to look at the knight. She looked mortified to hear this. In a soft, tiny voice, she asked, “What happened?”

Gelsoth took a deep breath and replied, “I— I’m not quite sure I know myself. I woke up in my bed and the estate was burning. I grabbed my weapon and headed to the courtyard to see it all in flames. Everyone I’d known since I was a child, they were either dead or dying. I couldn’t even recognize some of them. The corpses were too charred. . .”

“I was frozen. I didn’t know what to do. I looked over this disaster, and at the center of it was a group dressed in clothes like a stormy sky. They were chanting something, and the air around me felt as if it had been poisoned. Gods, I sat there and watched them for what seemed like hours, until my Patron found me.” She paused here and wondered if she should share what was said in those last moments. Eventually, she decided against it and moved on, “He gave me a message to deliver to the Saints, and I ran. I just ran. He stayed to hold them off as they approached and . . .” She had to take another pause to breathe. “He died saving me, and I let him. I was too afraid, and I did just what my legs told me to do.”

The air was dead with silence for several minutes, and Gelsoth returned to her position at the back of the cart. Simelna was crying on Danani’s shoulder, making Gelsoth shiver.

The cart turned onto the road and Danani turned around to look at her, “I don’t know if it means much, but you have mine and Simelna’s condolences. This is just . . . Unthinkable.”

“Thank you, friend.” She said simply.

“That’s unbelievable,” Vo started, but with a subdued tone. “I don’t believe a word of it. How could so few people manage to wipe out an entire order of knights, especially an order as prodigious as the Knights of Nali?”

“Vo, how dare you?” Danani exclaimed, shocked at her disbelief.

“No, it’s fair. I still don’t quite believe it myself.” Gelsoth said somberly.

“It’s just, what you describe would take a great deal of power, and there were a dozen of them? Who would stand a chance against them?” Vo continued.

“I’m not sure . . .” Her thoughts trailed off. No known organizations fit what she’d seen. “I feel like maybe the Saints would have more information, maybe Verim’s Saint. My Patron said he knew her.”

“The Saint of the god of secrets certainly sounds like a good starting point.” Danani replied. “What are you going to do now, though?”

She paused for a moment and thought that through. First off, the message had to be delivered, but after that, she had no clue. “As best as I can figure, I need to find out who these mages are. They’re a threat to Tal’Bersi, possibly all of Ladarsil. The power they wielded was horrific.” She swallowed hard at the memory and continued, “I’ll have to go back to the estate and see what clues I can find.”

“You sure about that?” Danani asked, worry tensing his words, “Seems like a sure way to get yourself killed, and as far as you know you’re the only one alive who’s seen them.”

“Yes, but there’s no better way to start trying to track them down. My line of work has always put me at risk for death, and I’ve accepted that. The risk with this is just higher is all.” She said, trying her best to fake confidence, but Danani was right. It was risky, and she would probably die, but what else was there to do? She couldn’t let the death of her family go unavenged, but if she died, they would go unavenged anyway. “Do you have any better suggestions?”

He shook his head and looked toward the ground, “I really do not.”

She sighed and laid down. So many questions needed answering, but she couldn’t find reason. For the slightest second, she wished it had been her that died instead of her Patron, but knowing how badly this had effected her it was better for her to dismiss the thought as soon as it arose.

One thing was very clear to her: Help was needed. Perhaps that’s what her Patron sent her to seek, but she wasn’t sure because she hadn’t read the letter . . .

Reaching into her belt pouch, she produced the folded, wrinkled parchment. She wasn’t told she shouldn’t read it. Still, she was given this message in good faith. Surely he could have delivered it himself if he needed to, but the fact that he was dead and she, a lowly knight, was the courier lead her to believe there was more to this.

Laying there with the parchment in her hand, she examined the wooden roof of the cart. It was flat and cut from the wood of some tree she couldn’t identify. It was a simple board, not lacquered, rough, but certainly it was firm enough to withstand decent weight on it’s top. Draped over it and secured with twine and some sort of cheap adhesive was a length of dark grey cloth. Here and there were stitches where the cloth had been mended in the past, but it seemed like, despite it’s damages, it was still useful. There were plenty of stains, but they were mostly mud.

Still tracing the wood grain with her eyes, she slowly started putting the message back into her pouch. The gods may not mind, but I must, she thought to herself.

Surely this cart couldn’t make it to Bersa to offload goods if Danani were to get drunk off the wine himself. No, everything must remained sealed in transit, lest the goods spoil and go to waste.

#writing #fantasy #writers of tumblr #speculative fiction #short story #dyo #vanmara #ladarsil #tal'bersi

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