"Aye. I thank you for the hospitality. I wish you well, Irimik Dragon-Kin." Unsure how to proceed, he patted her clawed hand and gave her an awkward smile.
"And you, Brorzjav Steppes dweller." She caught his patting hand and squeezed it tight. "Get her to use the power. The more she suppresses it, the worse it will be for her. Too much and one of those explosions will burn her out. You must get her to use it, whatever it takes."
"I will." He moved to descend the stairs, Irimik holding his hand until their arms outstretched.
Once her grip loosened, she turned and reentered the vine castle without looking back, a trail of pipe smoke following her. Brorzjav did look back. Only once. Despite how he acted around the Dragon-Kin, and the unknowing, tragic history they shared, he did like her and he would miss her, but he was never one for inter-species relationships. At his age, any relationships were out of the question. But he would miss her.
"She really liked you, you know?" Tiera flung her pack over her arms, tightening the straps.
"I know." Brorzjav glanced up into the hazy sky, plotted the position of the sun and worked out the direction they needed to go.
As near as he could tell, the coast of the Akaean Sea lay towards the west, another two days through the Marshes. Quick, reluctant conversations with Toad-Kin over the past couple of days had revealed the closer they got to the coast, the less fearsome creatures would be. The worst being Spore Bearers. The creatures that Irimik said his friend had become all those years ago.
It wasn't for him to care, however. His job involved protecting the girl and if she wanted to walk through a dozen Spore Bearers, then that's what she would do and he would protect her from them, or die trying. There was no other part to his job. Not anymore. He had made the mistake of acting like someone who had answers for the girl. Acting as if he cared and all that had brought was upset and feelings of guilt.
No more.
This was a job. Nothing more. If the girl wanted advice, or training, she could get it from Tiera. He had said he would get the girl to use her magic, but that was a lie. He would not. If the girl wanted to deny her magic, become ill again and explode with ever increasing invisible fury, that was her choice. Not his. He would ride the storm and pick up the pieces. He would stick a sword in things that needed killing. That was his job.
"I was thinking. When we reach the next town, or village, or city, I'm going to buy a real sword." The girl walked beside him, clutching the straps of her backpack, staring at her feet as she walked.
"You do that." The boundary to the clearing stood only a few feet away, the mists of the Hissing Marshes appearing to reach out, welcoming them back into their cold embrace.
"I've been practicing those patterns you've shown me, every day. I think I'm getting better at them. Do you think I'm ready for more complicated patterns?" She looked up at him, wrinkling her freckled nose.
"Ask Tiera. She'll be training you from now on." He caught the annoyed look from the Pony Rider and ignored it.
"But I don't want Tiera to teach me. I want you to teach me." They all stopped before the beginning of the Hissing Marshes. They all felt a little reluctant after their first foray.
"Aye? Well, if I wrote down all the things I want and all the things I don't want, you'd have two lists as tall as a mountain. I chose to train you and now I'm choosing not to. Choice has consequences and I'm not right happy with the consequences of the choices I've made." He didn't snap the words, didn't add an air of accusation. Nor did he give added, grave weight to them. He only spoke them. As a truth.
The girl didn't seem to understand. She looked at Tiera, but the Pony Rider could only shrug, gathering the girl up and placing an arm around her shoulders.
Brorzjav couldn't tell the girl. That his choice to teach her had led to her rejecting her magic and expecting to become a swordswoman instead. That was a consequence of his choices. That his choice could lead to her burning out if she didn't accept her power. That was a consequence of his choices, too. He didn't want that burden anymore.
Sometimes, he wished he could spend his remaining days at war, where his only choices were which enemy to kill, whether to sleep next to the fire or not and whether to eat the disgusting rations or not. War was simple. Children were not
-+-
As they travelled further to the west, they found solid ground more often, a slight rise in the land before reaching the coastal areas. An unusual high tide from the Akaean Sea would crash down into the Hissing Marshes, flooding the area, Brorzjav thought. The Hissing Marshes cradled in a dip in the landscape below the level of the sea, protected only by this slight rise.
They encountered nothing worse than a few snakes and one curious alligator that followed them, at a distance, for a while and then seemed to lose interest. They didn't see any more Toad-Kin, but Brorzjav felt certain those people could hide almost in plain sight, within the swampland, if they so wished.
A night spent resting upon a high mound, where they found a number of twigs and branches from dead, twisted trees, made safe by makeshift torches surrounding their camp, gave them little rest. The night sounds of the Marshes encroached upon them throughout the night making sleep difficult. A few days in the comfort of the vine castle had given them too much safety and Brorzjav almost wished that something attacked them to heighten their fears, prepare them for the unexpected.
But that first day and night had seen little danger, giving the girl time to practice the sword patterns that Brorzjav wished he had never shown her. She noticed the shift in his attitude, she wasn't stupid, but she didn't understand it. Brorzjav heard her whispers to Tiera around the campfire, saw the questioning looks flashed towards him by them both. He ignored it all.
Even now, the girl flitted between walking beside him, trying to engage him in conversation, and walking on the other side of the Pony Rider, putting space between them. Tiera would tell him to sit the girl down and talk to her about his fears, but he knew, every time he and the girl tried to talk, they would end up shouting at each other and that wouldn't help anybody.
On this second day, they found their way blocked by a large pool of stagnant water, the ever-present mists hovering above the filthy surface, hiding the danger of the place. Brorzjav tested the depth, inching forward, taking tentative steps. If Tiera had not caught him, he would have disappeared beneath the waters when the ground, beneath the surface, took a sharp fall. Using Tiera's spear to test the depth, they knew they could not pass through it unless they swam.
Swimming within these waters was not an option. Each of their packs would weigh them down, Brorzjav's, with all his weapons, more so than the others. Further across the pool, he felt certain he could see the movement of alligators. Ripples upon the water, gaps wrought into the mists, the sound of things moving through the water. They had to find a way around.
YOU ARE READING
These Old Bones
Fantasy[Book Three of the "Patrons' World" series.] What was he without war? No longer a husband. Never a father. No family or friends to speak of. For decades, war had carried him from one side of the world to the other and back again, but never home. Now...
