Silver Blood

Chapter 5

An overnight storm made the final day of their traveling a nightmare. As if frayed nerves weren't enough, mud soaked the bottom of her dress and the sky continued to threaten more rain. A light drizzle early in the morning left them damp for hours. Stuck and broken carriages glutted the roads with traffic, proving Roan right ten times over on his decision to go by horseback.

The latest broken carriage stood to the side of the road, one back wheel broken. A lady in a fine dress complained as the coachman helped her onto the back of a horse. The man had to shove her up and onto the animal.

"I forgive you for not letting us take a carriage instead," she whispered in Roan's ear.

He chuckled. "The gold temple has been funding the expansion of the stone roads as their latest charity project, but it will take some time to connect the towns. Pell Vas has stone roads that were built before the empire fell and they are still as good as back then."

Ahead, the front wheels of a farm wagon sat lodged in a large mud pit where part of the road had washed away. A down tree blocked the other half of the road, forcing traffic through the adjoining field. A woman held their babe while her husband tried to push the wagon free, his face red from exertion. Other travelers ignored the young farmers as they avoided their wagon.

"Roan, stop and help them," Lorana said as she tugged on his sleeve. "She reminds me a bit of your mother." When Roan's father got hurt, it'd been up to his mother to look after the family and she'd often worn the same exhausted look of defeat as this woman. She'd been too proud to ask for help, but Lorana's family gave it anyway. When he hesitated to answer, she added, "Gerald would stop. He always stopped to offer help." She'd always admired him for it and believed it the duty of the temples to look after the downtrodden. The struggle of Roan's family was proof enough for her.

Roan sighed. "We'll stop, but I want you to keep an eye out. If someone looks suspicious, call for me. Understand?" The tone of his voice brooked no argument.

"Yes."

"Good." He stopped the horse behind the wagon and helped her down before approaching the farmer. Roan tapped him on the shoulder. "Could you use a hand?"

Relief covered the man's face. "Yes, thank you." The man wiped the sweat from his forehead. He gave the trapped wheel a pat. "It is deep in there. I considered taking the flour out of the wagon to lighten the load."

"Let's see if two of us can get the wagon out of this hole. If not, we'll pull everything out."

The man nodded.

"Lo Lo, can you pull the horses forward for us while we push?"

"Yes! Tell me when."

Roan moved into place, his back pressed against the back of the wagon. "On the count of three." He counted down. He and the farmer pushed the wagon, their feet sliding in the mud. The horses strained as the struggled to step forward. The wagon creaked ominously as it budged forward a few inches. Then the farmer's foot slid out from under him and he went down with a wet smack. Roan offered him a hand up and the farmer popped up covered in mud. Lorana didn't want to think about how cold the damp mud must feel. Or how long it was going to take his wife to scrub those clothes clean later.

Her magic could turn the wheel to shadow, letting the horse pull the wagon free of the hole. Or she could use regular magic to push the wheel up, but she couldn't out her magic to Roan. Not yet. Most bearers shared basic magic while affinities toward specific magic varied. Using any magic toed too close to the line of her shadow magic and his feelings about that magic were more than clear.

"Roan, can you use your magic?" she called to him.

Roan stepped back to get a wider view of the wagon. "I will have to be careful or I could crack the wheel. Emptying the cart first and trying without magic might be safer, but more time consuming." He looked to the farmer. "Sir, what would you prefer trying next?" As they debated the two options, the horse sniffed at Lorana. She took a step back to fend the horse off as it attempted to lick her hand.

A tap on her shoulder made her heart skip a beat. She whipped around, coming face to face with a man who looked like some kind of watchman. He wore plain dark pants with a breezy white shirt. Black gloves covered his hands and his dark hair hung to the bottoms of his ears. The scruff on his chin and the saddlebags piled onto his horse gave the impression he'd been on the road a few days. She glanced at Roan to make sure he hadn't seen her spacing out. If this man had been the shadow bearer, she would already be dead without seeing his blade coming. The way Gerald died kneeling at his altar, he must not have seen the blade coming either.

The man's gaze moved from the stuck wagon to her. "Do you need help?" The words sounded weighty and too grim for the situation and she didn't like the way his eyes bored into her. Definitely a watchman associated with the gold temple based on the gold hemming of his cloak she decided, just the type willing to stop and check on them unlike the people sitting warm and dry in the passing carriages and carts.

"Can you lend a hand with the wagon? We're trying to free it."

She felt a burst of Roan's magic and a moment later the wagon finally popped free. The horses jerked forward in surprise, nearly dragging her with them.

The man reached for the spooked horse, resting a hand on its neck. "Woah. Not so fast." The horse stopped, snorting its displeasure. His black horse knickered and stepped closer to nudge at his shoulder. "Don't get jealous," he murmured as he reached out to stroke her between the eyes. The sight made Lorana smile and made her think of an old saying that you could see how good a man's heart was based on the way he treated his horse. "Are you traveling to Pell Vas too?" he asked.

The question pulled Lorana from her reverie. "Yes."

He nodded. "Safe travels then. The temple is a popular spot, but be wary of pickpockets and other dangers."

"I'll keep that in mind. Are you a Pell Vas watchman?"

"Something like that."

Roan sloshed his way toward them. Near the front of the wagon his right foot sank too deeply into the mud. He had to hold onto the side of the wagon to pull his foot free, the boot coming out with a wet sucking noise. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes. He stopped to help." She gestured to the newcomer.

"Unfortunately it looks like I'm too late." The stranger bowed his head to them. "I'll get back on my way if you don't need anything else."

The farmer's wife pulled Roan into a hug as he let out a sputter of surprise. "Thank you so much for the help. I was afraid we'd be stuck all day." She ruffled his hair like an affectionate mother.

"Thank her," Roan said, waving to Lorana. "She is the one who noticed and suggested stopping." Roan pulled out of the woman's grasp, reaching up to comb his fingers through his hair.

"Well thank you, darling." The woman gave her a misty-eyed smile. Her husband came over to clap Roan on the back. Lorana cringed when a splatter of mud land on Roan's sleeve.

"Safe travels," the newcomer whispered. She turned to thank him again and found him already on his horse, his gaze boring into her again. And then she felt his magic. The fingers of shadow magic crept up her arms like cold searching fingers that were becoming far too familiar. A lump settled in her throat. She opened her mouth to call for Roan, but terror seized her voice.

Then a snap of the reins and the man and his horse were gone in the crowd of travelers.