The Festival of the Azure Moon

Chapter 9 - The Good Pallumian

Don spurred awake. He seemed to have dozed off again while riding his horse. The traveling wizard was not used to riding on such smooth paths and roads. Where he came from, the concept of a paved road was nonexistent.

The empire was famous for its well-maintained highways and bridges that spread from the center of the continent to the farthest reaches of its territories. The famous golden roads were named for their yellowish tint that shined with the rising sun. The condition of the paved roads stood as a kind of map of the empire's influence. The more control the empire asserted over a particular province, the better the roads were maintained. Being as close to the heart of the empire as they were meant traveling on the safest, smoothest roads known to man.

Don reached into his saddlebags in search of food. He scraped the bottom of the bag, only to find a handful of stale bread remaining.

"I hate to say it, but it seems our food stores have officially run out." Don turned the saddlebag inside out. He broke the stale bread in two and tried to hand half to Shalnark.

The rogue waved it away. "You take it. I'm not hungry."

"Are you sure? You've eaten far less than I have, and I am dead starving," Don said, cracking his teeth into the rock-hard bread.

"What we are feeling right now is hunger. It's starvation that you should worry about. You should save that other half for when that sets in."

Don released the grip of his jaw on the bread and reluctantly set it back in the saddlebag. "We are going to need to stop to resupply at some point. We've been riding for five days now. Surely we've created enough space between Riverhill and us to merit a stop?"

Dusk ruffled his feathers. "There have been no signs of pursuit from your predators. They have likely given up."

"I seriously doubt that," Shalnark said, tousling some golden necklace around his neck. "Regardless, we still need to stop for supplies, or we won't make it to the gulf."

"If I had a bow, I could hunt some game for us," Don said, pretending to loose an arrow into the brush.

"How far is the nearest town or village?" Shalnark asked Dusk.

"Riverhill is still closer than any other settlement, but I did see a tower of smoke rising to the northwest. Smoke towers sometimes mean leftover fish bones."

"Sounds like a camp or perhaps a small hamlet. May be worth a short detour. I could try to swipe some food for us."

Don shook his head. "We can at least try to acquire food honestly before resorting to banditry. I may be fleeing the law, but I am no highwayman."

Shalnark rolled his eyes. "Very well. Then I will allow you to take the lead, but I am not above robbing them if they refuse to feed us."

"Dusk, fly ahead and scout the area. I would hate to be riding into danger."

Dusk tilted his head and took off from Don's shoulder into the air. As he flew forward, Don and Shalnark steered their horses off the road and into the woods toward the direction Dusk flew. A few minutes passed before Dusk returned.

"I did not see a village, but I did see a wooden nest with wheels. I could smell bread within."

Don turned to Shalnark and sported a childlike openmouthed smile. He turned back to Dusk. "What kind of bread?" His mouth began to drool.

"What does that matter?" Shalnark asked. "Were there any people nearby?"

"Only one human, but I think he is dead."

"Was he attacked?" Shalnark asked.

"Yes. By a tree," Dusk said, tilting his head left and right.