A Record of Ash & Ruin: The Grieving Lands

Book 2: Chapter 36: The Long Road

Book 2: Chapter 36: The Long Road

Some would have you believe that the gods and their games do not exist. Some believe that they are dead, or that they are both alive and dead. Others would posit that the divines have been dying for thousands of years, their blood seeping into the ground, into the water, into the air. The very air we breathe, the water we drink, and the ground we tread may all contain traces of this divine essence. And so, the gods continue to exert their influence upon us, whether we believe in them or not. That is the origin of the gift-spark, the curse of Mana.

- On the Prophecy of the Gods, by Gideon de Salavia 376 AC.

For the rest of the journey up to the Rump, not wanting to upset the balance and status quo, I heeded Khalam’s counsel and, for the most part, steered clear of the Crows whenever feasible. Nonetheless, there were instances where I could not completely avoid them, such as when participating in a joint patrol around the encampment at night, or scouting on horseback. Despite this, I tried to maintain a low profile, neither impolite nor forthcoming with my details.

However, there was one event that raised a few eyebrows among the people of the caravans. One evening, tired and unable to deal with the rasping saw that was Kidu’s breathing, I went outside for a bit of fresh air and to enjoy the sight of unfamiliar stars painted across an unfamiliar sky. I walked a little way from the ring of the wagons, to meditate and reflect.

Away from the caravan, for practice, I released my Entropic Aura as I looked up at the celestials on high, wondering if Earth’s sun was among their number. Thus, I remained until sleep found me.

Dawn’s touch, her rosy fingers staining the morning sky, was what awoke me the next day. I quickly rose to my feet, for all around me was a circle of wilted grass and dusty dead earth. Understanding hit me, and I stopped my Entropic Aura and retreated back into my wagon. A quick check of status revealed that my spell had increased in level during the night while I slept. It had been careless of me to leave the spell activated.

That same morning, there was a rumor floating, a rumor that we had passed by a barrow grave or some other nonsense about a ‘Witch spot.’ I received a few odd looks from Kidu and Elwin, but thankfully none of them asked me any pointed questions.

As the days passed, the Rump could be seen, growing larger in the distance. A few more uneventful days and we found ourselves at the top of those hills. Once they had found a suitable place to stop, Laes and Gelgor began to organize their people for the coming rains. Stakes were hammered down, wagons secured, and a great tent of oiled and waxed tarp was erected for the animals. Repairs were made, and I had to treat a few injuries. Dumuzi was among those who had suffered, for a Ruar had stepped on his foot. However, by the Grace of the Goddess, as the Crows had come to call, my Heal spell fixed his broken bones and bruised flesh, saving him from a future of being lame. A tearful Catalina tried to give me some of what little money she had, but I refused it with a smile, touched her shoulder, and told her that instead I would be delighted if she could cook for me a meal someday. I was sure that, if I played my cards right, I could get something more.

I welcomed all of the requests for healing, as they allowed me to practice my magic and earn a few coins. Not to mention, that the generous use of my spells elevated my standing with the people of both caravans.

The Crows and Ravens were ready now, ready to wait out the coming rains. Steadily, the days grew darker as more clouds, carried by a northerly wind, floated in. In the far distance was a black sky of darker clouds, pregnant with rain. At the edge of that dark horizon was a stark line of bone white, the beginning of the Whispering Wastes.

That same day, under Laes' direction, a sturdy man in his thirties approached me. Because of his long dirty blonde hair, which was really more of a light brown on closer inspection, I recognized him from our evening meals, but this was the first time I had made his acquaintance.

His name was Garven, and he explained that he was the armorer and smith for the Ravens, and that he would be making the adjustments for my looted suit of plate harness. Taking out a measure, he quickly and efficiently took down my sizes on a wax tablet, while humming to himself. I thanked him for his time, and he made off to do whatever it was he had to do. As he strode away, I noticed that the man walked with a slight limp.

Sometimes in the evening, when the fancy took me, I would tell stories from my old world. From the classics like the Odyssey and the Aeneid, to recent pieces of fiction that were popular with the masses. A further adapted version of the story of the “Boy Who lived” was particularly popular with the children. I had changed it into a story of revenge, of a boy’s drive to find vengeance for his family at all costs, which went down well with my listeners.

At first, my audience was just my companions. Next, intrigued, Dumuzi would come to listen. Then later, Catalina would join, and in turn, so too would her friends. They would bring small gifts or food, offerings and payments of a sort for the tales of my old world.

Once the preparations were complete, there was a sort of semi-festive atmosphere to the train that accompanied this period of waiting, giving the people time to relax and unwind. Meals were a touch more extravagant, faces a little less tight from stress, and the laughter of the workers freer and less guarded.

Free from the rigors of the road, music echoed delightfully, as simple wind and string instruments filled the air with jubilant melodies. With these infectious tunes came dancing. Even the stoic Kidu, at Larynda’s insistence, took to the floor and proved surprisingly graceful and light on his feet. Many of the women, blushing with amusement, eagerly danced with him.

However, most surprising of all was Elwin, who after a few drinks, invited Cordelia to dance. His movements were stiff, and his language formal, but the lady knight received and accepted his request like a queen at court. I was glad, for slowly it seemed that the Rogue was regaining some of his dauntless nerve and joie de vivre. I had thought that he was intimidated by the woman. What was he planning exactly?

It was only through confronting our fears that we could overcome them, I realized. In a world full of miracles and magic, I wondered why I found this simple truth surprising. Cordelia represented something he feared, and the Rogue was trying to overcome his fear with familiarity. He was a braver man than I, for even as an object of Cordelia’s faith and veneration, her single-mindedness and zeal scared me at times.

None of the songs or music was familiar to me, but I still found myself lost in looking on at their happiness, distant and apart. It was Catalina who saved me from my solitude, offering her hand and forcing me to rise to my feet.

She taught me how to dance their dance, and my heart was filled with a new joy. As the music faded into silence, she took my arm and whispered in my ear, beckoning me to follow her to her wagon.

For a fleeting moment, upon entering, I thought I felt the earth quiver momentarily, but I quickly brushed it aside as just a symptom of my burgeoning excitement. Locking the door, she told me that her son was being cared for by close friends. That night she thanked me in more ways than one, as we both sought solace and release in each other’s arms.

*

The next afternoon, the boy Dumuzi found me to give me my adjusted suit of armor. It took him about three trips to complete the delivery of my plate harness. As it was my first time equipping a full set of plate mail, I had no idea how to put the thing on. Smiling beatifically, Cordelia volunteered to show me how to put on various pieces.

I could see why a squire would have been useful for the medieval knight. It was awkward to put on a full set of armor by myself, but with a little fiddling around with the leather straps, quite possible. The trick was remembering the correct order, and leaving some parts semi-attached, and some knots at half-done to facilitate the whole process. She had Larynda watch, explaining to the girl as if the child was her squire, the differences between her armor and mine. I found being dressed by two girls a tad embarrassing.

Walking around in my steel plate gave me a certain feeling of invulnerability. Yes, it was a little cumbersome to move about in, but not quite as much as I had imagined it would be. My range of movement was more limited, but this was a fair price to pay for the extra protection that the armor provided. Also, truth be told, I felt rather dashing in the thing.

Feeling rather motivated by my new equipment, I practiced running in my suit of steel after the evening meal. My companions thought I was insane. God-touched, they said. And God-touched I am, but not quite in the way that you mean, I thought to myself.

They expected me to soon tire, but they would be proven wrong. After my tenth lap around the big camp, weapon and shield in hand, I was barely out of breath. Admittedly, I was not wearing my helm, which allowed me to shed a bit more heat and draw in a bit more air, but I believed it was impressive nonetheless. This was the benefit of putting the majority of my bonus points into my Constitution attribute. My Health and Stamina had basically grown through the roof. I kept running, occasionally taking a swig from the water flask at my side. Still, I ran on, and this continued until people stopped their business for the evening to watch the loon who was running laps around the camp in full armor.

You have learned Endure (lvl.4)

Drenched in sweat, I smiled as I took in the notice, savoring my success. I guess I finally had an answer for what the Endure skill did. It helped me endure. So I kept on running, picking up my pace as some of the children joined me, thinking it was some sort of event. Ten minutes later, as I jumped over a waist-high barrel for sport, much to the delight of the children in my wake, I was given yet another notice.

You have gained 1 Constitution.

You have learned Heavy Armor (lvl.5)

Oh well. There went the nice round number of forty for my Constitution - not that I was really complaining. It was perhaps a good time to stop, anyways. My Stamina was around twenty percent and I could do with a quick break. As fate would have it, a few minutes later I was pulled aside by Khalam.

"Best save a little for later, lad. You're on the middle watch," Khalam half-ordered in a gruff voice, with a little more respect in his eyes. "I've heard stories of the legions of the Old Empire running for miles all day in full gear, and your little performance gives some truth to those tales. But it's best if you don't draw more attention to yourself."

Without any words to refute him, I had no choice but to comply and save my energy for later. I took a place next to the fire where my companions and friends sat. Larynda looked at me in rapt awe, Kidu looked proud, Cordelia murmured a prayer, and even Elwin gave me a respectful nod free of his usual cynicism.

As the evening continued, stories and tales were exchanged. Kidu’s tales of the icy North were, as always, as grim as the land they came from, and very short. For the most part they were usually about this somebody killing this somebody over some sort of perceived slight. There was little drama and excitement that could fit into a ‘story’ only a few sentences long, and no amount of prompting could get him to expand upon them or give more detail.

Cordelia’s stories were a little more in line with a bible recitation of the old testament. She went on about how Avaria judged so and so, and how so and so got his or her just desserts. Despite her questionable material, her delivery was near-perfect as she could truly draw you in. It was more than simple recitation. Her belief and faith in her words were hypnotic and infectious, the mark of a great proselytizer.

Elwin’s tales consisted mainly of well-known ribald stories, sometimes mixed in with accounts of his own life. “And could not wait to taste the sweetness of her creamy plate,” was one of his more-memorable moments from his recitation of the ‘Milkmaid and the Lord’. This caused Cordelia to stiffen and blush, and cover Larynda’s ears with her hands. Dumuzi asked his mother what exactly the line meant, causing her to stutter, but Elwin promised to tell him when he was a bit older.

For the first time in a long while, I felt content.