Highwater and Glass

The Mourning Mist, Chapter 3 - Oran

The road to Green Marsh from Highwater followed along the southeastern shore of Lake Fafalla. It was an easy journey in the Archmage's private carriage. Crafted of painted blue oak and ornate whirling black iron, it was an attractive vehicle, if not spooky. Well, not spooky on its own, but due to the fact that it was drawn by a pair of summoned spirit horses. They were translucent creatures with a visible skeleton beneath crystalline skin. Farmers and traveling merchants were uneasy around the approaching carriage until they realized it belonged to the Archmage. Then, to both Oran and Horus, it felt like traveling with a celebrity.

Though he hadn't verbally expressed it, Horus appeared to be annoyed that Oran was invited to accompany the Archmage on this excursion. He displayed this annoyance in his body language and responded to Oran in dismissive, one-word responses. In the carriage, he positioned himself beside the Archmage, leaving Oran to sit opposite them, intentionally creating a visible representation of Oran's lesser status. The behavior wasn't surprising to Oran. Horus Morningshire was so often petty and passive aggressive as a means of silent protest. Oran hadn't told him that the only reason he was on the mission at all was because he had vouched for him. Even if he did, Oran doubted that Horus would believe him. Horus had his pride, after all. And an attempt to cripple his pride would make Oran the petty one.

They had left Highwater early before the sun rose in order to reach Green Marsh by late afternoon. Oran and Horus caught up on sleep during the ride. And as he stirred midday, Oran couldn't help but notice Horus's sleeping position; his head on the Archmage's shoulder, his hand on the Archmage's thigh. Oran caught the Archmage's eye in this moment, briefly, before looking away.

Shortly after, the carriage stopped so they could stretch their legs and eat lunch. The Archmage also saw it as an opportunity to collect ingredients for spellcraft along Fafalla's rocky shore. Tangleweed was plentiful, growing in low water between rocks. As an agent, it assisted in spells limiting movement, stabilization, fortification, and capturing. But the real treasure were the blood pearls, found sporadically within the shells of red mussels. Blood pearls bolstered the potency of restoration spells, healing magic, and energy. Horus, ever eager to please the Archmage, had soaked his robes to the knee wading in water in search of the rare pearls.

"Be careful!" Oran called to him from the shore with a hand full of tangleweed. "Fafalla's not without its poisonous water snakes!"

"The snakes should fear me," said Horus, prying apart a mussel shell, "Any that approach me will find their sweet meat roasting over a fire and their flesh my latest accessory."

Oran smiled at him and took his tangleweed on the land to bundle it for drying. He bundled it the way the Archmage had instructed him, with thin yellow chord and the tangleweed coiled into small rings. Oran felt the Archmage's shadow over him as he did this, which only served to make him self-conscious about his handiwork.

"Thank you for gathering the tangleweed," the Archmage said. "Sometimes the shinier prize is more tantalizing. I'm glad I can count on you to balance Horus's impulses. Otherwise, I might have two soaking apprentices wrestling in the lake in competition for the largest blood pearl."

Oran wasn't sure how to respond. So he nodded, shrugged, and said simply, "of course."

The Archmage continued to stand behind him, relatively motionless and silent. It was a few moments before he spoke again, all the while Oran second-guessing the sacred knots he tied in yellow chord.

"He's not as strong as you," the Archmage finally said.

It took Oran a moment to realize he was speaking about Horus. Oran looked up at him and followed his gaze out onto the water where Horus pried apart another mussel to no avail.