The Eye of The Storm

Chapter 21

Heading North, Syramus River

She moved her hand back and forth like a metronome, the tall grasses waving astern at her in response. Her dark hair was released from its braid, and was matted to her head. Similarly, her brow was stern and covered in sticky sweat. Aella had stayed up essentially all of the night, sitting on the hill at the edge of the encampment and staring at the grey mass around her. Her appearance had taken a turn for the worse, and she rarely bothered with cleaning herself up much anymore.

She had found a strange scroll by accident among her mother's belongings the previous evening. Her parents were finishing up dinner and she had gone into the tent to look for an extra shawl. It was getting rather colder as of late. She was about to leave the tent when she tripped over a large object, not paying attention to her surroundings, and landing face first on the ground. She was usually this clumsy and she cursed herself for ripping the hem of yet another dress. As she righted herself, with grass stains on her palms, she looked to see what she had fallen over.

It was a medium sized bag with a draw-string, which wasn't completely tied closed. It was inconspicuous and plain, a sun bleached sepia, which explained why she had never noticed it before. She knew she shouldn't be snooping among her parents personal property, but the curiosity got the better of her. Whatever had been in the bag was certainly cumbersome enough to whip her off her feet in such a manner. She had seen the tea-stained curls of an aged piece of parchment, and drawing the opening in the tent shut, lifted it carefully from its hiding place. Her clinging melodious breath stuck in her throat as she parted the edges, untwisting the scroll. She felt her pulse in her throat.

The contents of the script were near indecipherable. The short passage seemed to be written skillfully in another language. Unlike the letters that Thoren had shown her, despite the age of the parchment, the calligraphy seemed fresh and the markings themselves were easily legible. It was only a paragraph of writing, which she found odd. Usually scrolls contained thousands of words of information.  And why did her mother have this mysterious ancient scroll in the first place? These questions served to reinforce the importance of the scroll in her mind.

She had almost broke into a run, eager to show Thoren her find. Yet she paused before she even knew why, her feet remembering seconds before her brain. Then she had heard the hulking footsteps of her father against the cushioning ground, and shoved the scroll under her tunic.

Thoren and her had not been on friendly terms as of late. She had insulted him when they were sitting at the riverbed of the Syramus, and ever since he had been avoiding her. She would ride her horse up beside his while they were traveling across the countryside, but Thoren would quickly find a new position higher up in the lines. She had manged to catch him one day, just before he was mounting his horse. She was already atop Oak, holding the reigns lightly between her silky palms.

He saw her coming, but did not acknowledge her presence.

"I do not wish to speak with you, my lady." He said before she could utter a word. He was talking formally again and Aella knew this was a bad sign. She missed his voice though-- it was eloquent and raucous. She didn't care if they were talking about the storm or squabbling, she just wanted to pay attention to the pitch and tonality of everything that left his mouth.

"How come? Thoren, I have good news!" She tried to act excited to bring his mood up, even though she knew that this wouldn't work.

When he didn't respond, she said in a tone that was barely audible. "I'm sorry." The syllables came out like honey, but Thoren had fallen into enough of her traps to recognize this one, and would not drown in it.

"Sorry? You used me." Thoren said, shaking his head. He prepared the saddle for his horse in an abrasive manner.

"You knew all along what I was doing." She countered. Her argument held no ground for him and he didn't bother to look at her.