A Record of Ash & Ruin: The Grieving Lands

Book 2: Chapter 14: The Albatross

Book 2: Chapter 14: The Albatross

“A true master of the sword need never use his sword at all.”

- The Living Sword by Fen Vaigorus circa 520 AC.

The company of the Ravens was an orderly picture of controlled chaos. Haranguing and cajoling his people, Laes was able to get his caravan on the move. There was an air of tension, and not a little fear, at the sudden change of plans that seemed to be spurring the workers to greater haste, if not efficiency. I saw some people struggling with loading some barrels onto a cart. I could have helped, but I decided it was not my place. I was slightly amused when my inaction caused a pair of workers to scowl at me.

Rumors of our departure had spread through the caravanserai, and the mysterious nature of it all had prompted other caravan masters to also make preparations to depart. Snatching up pieces of quickly exchanged conversation here and there, I heard the rumor grow into an almost living thing, whose growth was further fuelled by Laes refusing to give a reason for the early departure. Laes had heard of a lucrative opportunity to the east, the master had heard of a new bandit threat to the trade routes, or the Tides would soon be raising a new levy on exiting caravans. All these and more only served to flame the ever-growing speculation to new heights.

Laes’ train consisted of large wagons pulled by the great Ankylosaur-like beasts that I later identified as ‘Xaruar’, which were affectionately called ‘Ruar’ by their minders. Despite their somewhat fearsome appearance, they were actually rather docile and even-tempered beasts, and used to their duties. The wagons they pulled were of wooden construction, with lacquered black tiles for roofs. The purple that was painted on their slatted sides, rather than making the caravan look gaudy, actually gave the wagons an easily recognizable sense of uniformity.

So entranced was I by all of this happening before me, that all I could do was watch the people doing the hundred and one things that were necessary for the long journey ahead. I had even forgotten to grill Larynda for more answers, or to consult Kidu on his opinion.

“Please, this way,” said a harried voice, cutting across the general clamor.

I shook my head, shedding my stupor, before taking in the owner of the voice - still a little wary of the whole setup. The caravan’s master seemed extremely stressed, the lines of his face pinched and taut beneath the veneer of calm that he tried to exude. He gestured for us to follow, and so my companions and I followed.

We worked our way through the controlled chaos, and it was only thanks to my Dexterity that I narrowly avoided dropping my new helm when I bumped into a large, thick set man. Collecting his heavy burlap sacks he had dropped, he gave me a scowl, an expression I returned in kind. After half a moment, he realized that we were in the company of the caravan master and went about his way, muttering under his breath.

Eventually, we reached our destination, one of the caravan’s wagons in the middle of the train. Laes searched for a moment in his fine clothes for a key, chuckling a bit at some private joke, before he climbed up the small wooden steps of the gate. There, he struggled with a simple lock that refused to turn at first.

Finally, opening the door, he turned to us and politely announced, “Your accommodations for the Green Road, I hope that they will be to your liking.”

I sensed that there was a subtle difference in the way that he addressed me, a change in the tone of his voice. Was it due to the recent increase in Charisma, I wondered? Was the knotted silken red string that I had borne really of such importance? I had assumed it to be nothing more than a sort of bargaining chip or ticket in this world, and not some sort of tool to make sure a courier was suitably motivated to reach their destination. Also, by accident, or by design, Laes had yet to charge us his fee. Of course, I had no intention of reminding him.

Behind us, a plain, olive-skinned woman going to fat and clad in a dull brown cotton dress offered a greeting and bowed to us. A purple scarf was a slash of vivid color around her pudgy neck, and looking at her face as she rose from her bow, I noticed there was a large ugly black mole with hair growing out of it on the tip of her chin. Was the scarf merely another sign of bondage, or was it more in line with a company uniform? She smiled at Larynda and blushed a little under Kidu’s intense glare before offering to take Patches’ reins.

I held up a hand commanding her to pause, and Kidu and I began to hurriedly remove the beast’s saddlebags. Laes and the woman waited patiently in the quiet manner of servants everywhere. Politely, she coughed once we were finished to get our attention. This time round, I handed her the donkey’s reins and offered her my best smile. I was only slightly annoyed when I did not receive another notification for my efforts to improve my Charisma.

“We will take care of your donkey, good sir. If I may ask - what is her name? That our master of beasts may be able to call upon her,” the slave, drudge, or indentured servant asked of me.

“Patches. Be sure that she is well seen to, and thank you for your service,” I answered, adding the thanks as an afterthought.

She simply bowed once more to this and took Patches gently away. I saw her whisper a few words to the Donkey, feeding my animal companion a small orange-colored fruit, which caused her to bray in bestial delight. It would seem that the equine was in good hands.

Eager to see my new accommodations, I looked into the interior of the wagon. From what I could see, the insides were plainly adorned, save for the thick rugs on the hardwood floor. It was surprisingly well-lit, with heavy open wooden shutters on both sides that let in autumn’s afternoon light. In one of the corners were two large pails for our use. They were both filled with water and labeled in the local script. One for our daily toilet and one for drinking. It would do me well that I not confuse the two.

The clean water reminded me that I had not bathed in many days, my forgetfulness stemming from the fact that my nose had probably grown inured to my own stench. Larynda, I assumed, did not mind in the slightest, thanks to her previous environment.

It was not the finest of accommodations, but it was clean and it would have to do. I nodded to Laes and gave him my thanks, which he curtly accepted before he hurriedly headed off to the head of the caravan. I sat down at the bottom of the wooden steps, took off my boots and shook them free of dirt and mud as best as I could before entering the wagon. My party followed suit, with Kidu having to squeeze his bulk through the small door.

The half-elf made her way to one of the corners, placed her heavy backpack down in the corner, and breathed a sigh of relief as she flopped down onto the carpeted floor. The last to have entered was Kidu, who followed her in and placed our things on the carpeted floor before he sat down in the opposite corner. He placed the butt of the spear on the floor with the shaft resting against one of his wide shoulders, before shifting and adjusting his body to find a more comfortable sitting position. In turn, I found my own corner to sit in. There I sat, luxuriating for a moment in the yielding softness of the carpet that I could sense even through my armor. A few moments later I heard a loud command being relayed down the line of wagons, and sure enough, after a lurch of motion, we were finally on our way.

Larynda began to hum a little as she took off her headscarf and I gritted my teeth in irritation as I caught sight of her ears. They would ever be a bitter reminder of my own weakness, my lack of power when I had faced her people. Noticing my glare, the girl stopped humming almost immediately and just fiddled with her fingers while she looked awkwardly through the open window… This only served to add to my already tense mood.

My hand moved to one of the straps of my armor, to shuck myself from my iron shell. However, moments later I decided that it was far too early to let our guard down, so I tightened the strap instead. We would probably be facing trouble before the end of the day, so I decided to voice my concerns to Kidu.

“Things may take a turn for the worse before this day is over, so we had best stay on guard until we leave this city of slaves and slavers,” I said to my large companion in the corner.

He shook his blonde hair like a lion preparing for an attack before replying, “It may well be as you say, Gilgamesh. You will not find my spear sleeping in my hand.”

This was more than enough assurance for me, but there was still one unknown factor in the wagon.

“This day may end in blood, little one. Can you defend yourself? This I must know,” opened Kidu, almost as if reading my thoughts. I fancied I could see that the anger that was always in his eyes was subsumed for a while by a different, more gentle, emotion.

The waif merely mutely shook her head which just served to add more fuel to my steadily growing irritation with her reticence.

“Even now, you would spout your lies,” I said, one step shy of growling, “If we are to protect you, we will need to know the truth about you. Mage,” I finished the last with a sneer.

“Can’t… can’t do it,” a look of shock ran across her face before she held up her hands to her head and shook in trepidation, “The wild magic, Hamsa said never to use it… too dangerous,” she pleaded, looking at me with eyes of misty cut jade.

“We all must do what we have to,” I said firmly, like a parent addressing a child, “Take this,” I finished, and threw her a simple single-edged knife that I had appropriated from one of our would-be kidnappers.

She drew the blade from its simple leather scabbard with a familiarity I found surprising as she nodded to herself and to me.

“Thank you, not bad! I got my own though,” she beamed weakly, a ghost of a smile playing about on her face.

Kidu chortled at this before his face grew serious, “If the worse comes to it, best that you take Freedom’s Cut. Better than to be a slave, should Gilgamesh and I fall. Child…”

It took me for a moment to realize what he was talking about, that Larynda should take her own life should the most dire of circumstances come to pass. The girl, too, came to a similar understanding as she clenched her fists and faced the big man with a determined fire in her eyes.

“Child, child, child! Don’t call me child. Sure, I got no fancy name like you lot, but I got a name all the same, Larynda!” she retorted sharply. Kidu’s expression changed not one whit, forcing her to answer his question, “I can take care of myself! Stab ‘em with the sharp bits right? Also, bein’ that one my parents was an elf, I got a whole lot of life yet to live, so I’d rather use one of my stickers for me rather than on me, thank you very much!”

With no quick rejoinder of his own, he could only snort in annoyance. I simply found the whole exchange grating. Was the little brat going to be cooperative? Or had I, or Kidu, failed some sort of hidden Charisma check?

“Magic,” I said simply, “can you do it?”

“Old ham…” she began in answer before I cut her off, seeking to get to the meat of the matter.

“I care not one whit for what that doddering old fool says, or thinks. Can you, or can you not do any sort of magic that could be of help to us if trouble finds us,” I said as matter-of-factly as I could, wanting to cut through any further childish protests that she may have left to offer.

By her expression, I could see that she was concocting another pathetic excuse, so I decided a change of tack was in order. No matter how gifted the child in front of me was, I had to remember that she was still just a child. I would give her one of the drugs that all children craved.

“Hamsa is not here. Do you not wish to know the limits of your own potential? Here, and now, you are free to explore your own powers. Indeed, I am asking you, for our sake as much as yours, to do so!” I entreated, hoping that this line of attack would be successful.

I could see indecision warring on her face and I was about to reinforce my argument before Kidu delivered the final blow to her caution.

“Gilgamesh speaks truth. He too is walking down the path of wise. You would do well to follow his example. Fear of unknown things is not a treasure to be held close to your heart,” he said gruffly. A part of me despaired at his rough command of the local tongue.

For all of his rough delivery, however, it worked. The young girl stilled for a moment in thought before coming to the decision that Kidu and I had guided her to. She reached into her large pack and took out a few pieces of rectangular paper about twenty centimeters long and about a quarter of that wide, a brush and black ink, and a writing board. Curiously, I watched her, afraid to break the spell as she furiously wrote down some mysterious arcane symbols on the parchment.

“These are seals. I once overheard the old man talking with one of the customers about using ‘em to help guide novices safely down the path of magic. Hamsa told me, and made me promise, that I would never use my Mana directly or something like that. So, I like, maybe borrowed a book, and like practiced a bit here and there. These will act as some sort of, sort of, way to shape my Control or something like that,” she half-mumbled, her face a mask of concentration as she began to write new intricate symbols onto yet another piece.

“So, I presume you know what you are doing and not just scribbling down some random nonsense?”

“Guess so, only done it once before though. Comes to me easy enough. ‘Haps I’m just talented like that,” she said offhandedly, as she continued with her work.

I moved nearer and observed her more closely. She drew, or wrote, the symbols with consummate skill that made believe her earlier claim. Intriguing, I thought to myself. The symbols did not move about in shifting patterns as they did with the Identify scroll I had found when I first came to this world, but they were every bit as esoteric and mysterious. It was a pleasure to watch her brush glide delicately across the paper, a true craftsman at work.

There was a passing mention in the book that Elwin had gifted me about seals, the things that the girl was making now. They were a way to help new practitioners of the arcane arts manifest their chosen element. It was a form of writing their intent for a spell, a sort of magical memo instead of a transference of knowledge, like a magical scroll. They had been alluded to as some form of shortcut for the fast execution of simple and basic spells, to allow a magician a feel for the element that they commanded.

Unfortunately, the rest of the description of what they were exactly had been illegible. Still, it was truly fascinating to witness someone making a Seal before my very eyes.

As she was finishing inscribing the last Seal with her magical signature, I could see that her features had grown wan and a little sallow, the activity seeming to have drained her. I decided to spend another Mana point to check on her condition.

Larynda - Chaos Mage (Human/Elf lvl.5) Health 32/32 Stamina 3/21

Mana 0/19

It seemed that the activity had worn the girl out, something I could sympathize with. With shaky hands, she tidily put her things to one side and, with a small triumphant smile, presented to us her completed Seals.

“If you can truly use these, then perhaps you may well be of some use, instead of an albatross about my neck, like Elwin,” I praised her. Mention of Elwin’s name drew a warning growl from Kidu who was busy being menacing in the corner. Knowing full well that the carrot was often as important as the stick, I offered the girl some encouragement with a smile, “Good job, now rest for a while and gather your energies. We may have need of them later.”

The wagon continued moving, and I looked out into the city of tents. My eyes were drawn to the great Ark at its center that rose above all of the dwellings and small buildings. Good riddance to this cursed city, and if I should catch any of you unawares, I will happily sacrifice you all onto the altar of my advancement, I said under my breath, bitterly.

Her labors finished, I saw her fall into an exhausted slumber, a small ball of childish innocence, next to Kidu. The child’s delicate hands were stained with black ink, and I could tell by her even breathing that the rigors of the day had finally taken their due. Kidu, too, in the manner of a veteran soldier, had also chosen to rest, and had soon dozed off. With only the sounds and sights of the city for company, I was alone with my thoughts.