Runespeaker

Chapter Seven

Elevar and Brekulf left Tirne without a word and without incident. The former of these was the easier to achieve. They hardly knew each other, had nothing in common but their foe (whoever that was), and had already made all the necessary plans. The latter was not much more difficult. In order to escape the notice of the guards who, about a day previously, had attempted to arrest him, the runespeaker wore his hood up, with a rag tied over his face in Dalaarii fashion. His face thus obscured, no one gave him a second thought.

Regga carried Elevar, of course, and Brekulf rode atop a strong brown horse, which looked quite expensive. The runespeaker didn't ask how his travelling companion had acquired such a mount, as he figured he was better off not knowing.

They went north along a well-trodden path, popular among traders because it lead from the Imperial border all the way to the northern coast, passing not only Tirne but also Ril before ending at the gates of Heraal. An endless expanse of grass, dotted by the occasional tree and tossed about by countless hills, stretched to the horizon on either side of the road.

As soon as they were out of sight of the city, Elevar took the rag off of his face.

"You're a wanted man, I take it?" Brekulf asked.

"I suppose so."

"What for?"

"A magic trick." Elevar wasn't quite lying.

"A magic trick so bad you couldn't let the city guard see your face?" Brekulf asked.

"Yes, actually," Elevar said.

After that, they went back to their previous pattern of not talking to one another.

***

They'd been travelling for two days, and the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in purple and orange and everything else in the dark beauty of twilight. Crisp leaves blew about in an easy breeze, and Elevar drank in the cool air. Only now did it occur to him that he hadn't breathed quite this deeply since he'd found the note in the Sanguinaria.

"You carry a weapon, spellmaker?" Brekulf asked. He was riding just a few feet to Elevar's left.

"Of course I do," said Elevar. He was a wanderer, and anyone who spent much time at all on the roads was liable to run into trouble at some point. Of course, he'd never actually used his sword. Ordinarily, he either paid thieves off or wriggled away through the use of magic. Still, going unarmed simply seemed unwise.

"Can you reach it quickly?"

"I can. Why?"

Brekulf pointed ahead. Elevar hadn't noticed the four silhouettes on the horizon, but now he couldn't see anything else. Metal glinted briefly over the head one of the distant men—a weapon, no doubt.

While Brekulf's fingers wrapped lightly around the hilt of his sword, Elevar picked an etriir stone out of one of his pouches. Soon, the silhouettes materialized into men riding on horseback, and the five of them split up, two riding to the right of the road, two to the left, and one down the middle. The metallic glint Elevar had seen previously belonged to a spear, which one of the men had resting on his shoulder.

"Hello, friends," said the man in the middle of the road, who was carrying a large battle ax in his right hand. "Care to stop for a chat?"

"Not particularly," Brekulf said.

"We'll be quick then," said the axman.

As soon as the man had spoken, Brekulf drew his sword and, in the same movement swung it, cutting through one of the thieves to his left. The man went down, his throat torn open.