The Shattered Path

Chapter 36 - The Guest

The sword at his side was the same he had taken from the corpse of the wagon driver. It was a sturdy blade, if not of great craftsmanship. Beuthis had carried a fantastic sword; it had been the finest blade he had ever seen. That fine sword was unfortunately part of Erinyrian plunder, most likely. Minogradia and Erinyr had skirmished for decades. Aryl's father had once tried to explain that Erinyr was a decadent empire that sought to absorb Minogradia to revitalize its economy, pointing out that the Erinyrian merchants were only one step above thieves. Aryl wasn't concerned with politics, or even trade. It did make him chuckle to think about his own father calling another merchant little more than a thief.

Aryl tried to avoid thinking of Maeshana, but the woman kept entering his thoughts. He knew Jaegor was inside of the meeting den and Aerham was sleeping in a nearby building, but he didn't know where she was. She seemed to disappear sometimes. He understood that she used magic like a wizard or something, but that didn't mean she was a forest spirit. She said she watched from the Veil when he couldn't see her. He had heard of that place before and knew it had something to do with magic, but he had no idea where or what it was. He didn't like knowing that she could see him but he couldn't see her. She had also explained that she couldn't allow the villagers to see her, so she had spent the duration of their stay within the Veil and out of sight. That had been a fine arrangement as far as he was concerned. He just hated knowing that she was watching but not knowing from where exactly.

The woman's pale skin with its bluish tint seemed sickly, though he knew she was healthy. She reminded him of a corpse and he had seen a few funerals growing up, not to mention the murdered caravan he had seen in the frontier. He had to admit her face and figure would have been beautiful on any other woman. Maybe it was her magic which made him uncomfortable. Actually, everything about the woman made him uncomfortable, and he absolutely hated having her around. He was determined to convince Aerham not to follow her to the Taneache, even though he didn't know what it was. He was confident that he didn't want to go anywhere that she wanted to go. And her constant rambling on the wisdom of Keingeas and seeing a wizard in the desert was too much to bear. He wanted to be away from her and her crazy talk. He could worry about Aerham's crazy talk once they were away from her crazy talk.

They were going to rest another day and head south to Minogradia; even though Aerham continued to protest that he was banned from those lands. Travel in the mountains would be hard and the only way out was through snowy passes. It would be more comfortable this time with gear provided by the Merthians. He had thought he would freeze to death on the trip through that first mountain pass out of the frontier. His ribs and back had throbbed with every step from his battle with the giants, and the icy wind had blown through his thin clothing as he had trudged his way through the knee-deep snows. It was a miserable experience that he never wanted to repeat.

The noise from the meeting den was an annoyance. He had once found immense pleasure in such environments and he may yet again. Tonight, however, he just wanted quiet, just as the frontier was quiet. He had a desire to be outside, beneath the stars, and surrounded by the subtle sounds of the wilderness. He was unsure if it was because he missed the frontier in some way or if he was troubled by the changes in his world and just wanted to be alone. It could have been both, but he would never admit aloud that he missed the frontier. In fact, once he was in a better mood, he intended to drink himself into a stupor and completely forget that there ever had been a frontier or a Brotherhood. Thinking of the frontier drew an image of the shadowy creature he had seen during the storm. It could not have been real. It had to have been a trick of the lightning and shadows that night. What else could it have been? Jaegor had seen it, too. Yet, they could both be wrong.

Aryl slowly climbed to his feet, careful not to strain his lower back or ribs. His legs were stiff and sore, though none of the cuts and scrapes from the brutal wagon ride had required bandages. He ran a hand through his hair, which he had trimmed above his shoulders earlier that morning. He wished everything hadn't changed as it had. Once they reached Minogradia and familiar lands, maybe things wouldn't seem as bad. He decided that a walk might relieve his uneasiness. He could at least work out some stiffness.