Katerin arrived at the keep gate at what she thought was bright and early—though the already awake and alert people around her proved otherwise. The gate was open, and carts of stone and other materials were being hauled from it to somewhere else in the town. The guards halted her only for a second, and after recognizing her, they let her pass without any questions.
She had made sure to buy any provisions she might need the day before, and had even kept the storybook Mary had given her. If anything, it could be useful to keep a fire alive, she supposed.
As she walked into Graiden's strange office, he waved her over and nodded to Lugaria, gesturing with his chin down the hall.
Lugaria detached himself from the wall with his arms crossed, and disappeared down the hall. His stride was full of confidence and lethality, and she realized she had never before felt threatened simply by how a person walked.
"Morning," she said. She gestured to where Lugaria had disappeared. "I take it he's why you don't have any other guards?" She was trying to will the hairs on the back of her neck to relax. Something about that man was intimidating to a degree she had never experienced before.
Graiden smiled. "He makes sure there is never any trouble in here." He gestured to the desk, his smile fading as his too–serious countenance returned. "These are yours." His face became something akin to caring for a moment. "They might help you stay alive long enough to get there and back."
The way he said the words dropped her heart into her stomach, so she poured her focus to the items on his desk. There was a teal and black cloak that matched the ones the members of Sahn-Raidar wore, a simple wooden wand, and two small vials filled with a rose-colored bubbly liquid.
As she looked at the items, she felt the magic that was weaved into them. She turned an incredulous stare to Graiden, "These are enchanted."
He shrugged, as if it was obvious. "It's standard outfit for our mages."
She gawked for a moment, not sure what to say to the stern, stone-faced man. She had thought Sahn-Raidar was just a small independent militia force, certainty nothing large enough to have access to enchanted standard arms. "Thank...thank you," she stuttered. "How much?"
"Just take them. Consider them part of our deal." His smile showed a bit of humor in his dark but insightful eyes. "But, should you feel the need, there is a donation box near the door. Open all hours, day or night."
She caught his meaning immediately and failed to hold back her snort of laughter at his shameless display. She strode over to the small collections box and dropped several gold coins inside, doing her best to estimate the cost of the items.
As she turned, she heard the sound of footsteps down the hall. It was Lugaria, leading a lazily sauntering man with lavender shoulder-length hair and deep, sparkling violet eyes to match. Her first thought was that his hair was colored. She knew many mages who had made enchantments for just that purpose, but it did not look fake, and if it was, his eyes would not have matched. The cloak he wore was even more confusing than his hair, as it looked better suited as a blanket. Maybe it had been once, she thought.
She looked at Graiden with wide eyes. This can't be my escort, she thought, does he want me to die on the roadside?
Lugaria took up his usual position of leaning against the wall, but Katerin was too distracted to care if he stabbed her, for the moment. Fykes regarded her with amusement written all across his face, and she knew she was looking at him like he was a buffoon but she had no idea what else to do.
"Fykes," Graiden said, as he looked to Katerin and smiled. "This is Katerin."
Fykes turned and bowed to her, watching her expression as he did.
Her jaw dropped and she made a strange sound, like a tropical bird's distress call. "Hello," she said, as he straightened, trying to keep her tone polite. She moved for Graiden's desk and leaned over towards him, her eyes narrowed. "This is the only person available?"
"If you want to leave today," Graiden said, his words barely louder than a whisper, and a look in his eyes that told her how proud of himself he was.
She sighed and ignored the snort she heard from Lugaria, not daring to turn a glare on him. She looked at Fykes and slowly offered her hand. "Nice to meet you, then." She could already tell she would not like this man. If she lived to see Anklestrap, she would be amazed.
"You, too," he replied, humor still sparkling in his eyes.
Graiden rapped his knuckles on his desk. "You're all set, Katerin. As you know, I have plenty of work to do... so, good luck!"
She snapped her mouth shut, to cut off any of the sarcastic retorts that came to mind.
They left the office together, her in a huff, muttering curses under her breath, and Fykes behind her with a wide grin. She stormed towards the gates, eyeing everyone in her path, but turned around when she noticed Fykes had stopped abruptly in the middle of the courtyard. "What are you doing?" she snapped.
"You'll be wanting a horse, won't you? Were you planning on walking the whole way?"
She looked at him quizzically. There were no horses to be seen in the courtyard, save the few pack animals pulling carts. She threw up her hands and looked at him expectantly. "Well I certainly don't see any—" she cut off, as he reached inside his odd-looking, patched-together cloak and pulled two patches of fabric free of it.
He waved an arm and dropped the patches to the ground, and where he dropped them, two riding horses appeared. They were already saddled with fine silver adorning their tack, he gave her a disarming bow as she gaped at the two animals who had just come into creation with nothing more than a gesture.
"...horses here," she finished, as he led the mare over to her. It stood stock still while she once again worked to close her mouth. She reached for the horse and it felt as solid and real as the stones beneath her feet. "How did you do that?"
He only winked and offered her a hand into the saddle.
"No, I really want to know what spell that was," she said, as she tried to find a comfortable position in the saddle.
"No spell," he said.
She narrowed her eyes at him, searching his face for any sign of a lie, but she was unable to find anything to get a read on. If he was lying, he had no tell that she could find. With a huff, she pulled the hood of her cloak up, despite the warm and humid air, and waited for him to mount his own horse.
Katerin learned quickly that she was no good at riding a horse. It had been hours now, and she had zero improvement to show. She wobbled endlessly and her legs ached to her bones from trying to stay in her saddle. Though it probably did not help that she kept glaring at the man in front of her. Some escort he was. Graiden had lectured her about all the dangers of this road, and there he was, riding in front of her with his nose in a sketchbook.
She was on edge, and his attitude and personality were not helping matters any.
He glanced back occasionally, checking to make sure she had not just disappeared. She wondered if she could, glancing at the roadside and the path stretching back behind her. She would have a good few minutes before he checked on her again, absorbed as he was. He acted like he could have been royalty—not in appearance or speech, but the way he held himself. He seemed refined and proud, despite the odd hair and attire. No, he was nowhere near haughty enough to be nobility, but nor was he a soldier, from all she could tell. He was far too eccentric to compare to any soldier she had ever seen.
What he was and why he was a part of Sahn-Raidar, she could not figure out. He moved gracefully and carefully, but not an hour ago he had completely stopped his horse to study a flower, on the explanation that it was beautiful and one he had never seen one like it before. He had smiled with childlike innocence and excitement the whole while, as if he was in some well-guarded city park instead of a dangerous forest.
He annoyed her immensely, and it had only been a couple of hours.
Out of boredom—and begrudging her own curiosity—she rode up closer to him, wondering if she could annoy him as much as he was her. She whispered quietly under her breath, as vines and flowers suddenly stretched out along his horses mane and wound their way all along its neck. Sprouting, growing, and blooming before they disappeared.
Fykes' midnight stallion only snorted and kept its easy pace, but he turned easily in his saddle, closing his book and regarding her with one eyebrow raised. "Trying to get my attention?"
She glared, but it only made his smile widen. "You're supposed to be watching for anything dangerous," she said.
"Hasn't been anything so far," he said. "Has there?"
"No. But that doesn't mean there won't be," she snapped. Instantly, guilt swept over her, and a quiet "Sorry," escaped her after another moment.
He watched her on her mare, and slowed his pace to match hers. "You don't know how to ride, do you?"
"Of course I do... I read about it plenty," she said, straightening her shoulders but keeping her deathly tight grip on the reins.
He laughed and reached forward, taking the reins from her hands. "You don't hold on with these." He held up the reins for emphasis. "You hold on with your knees. And you'll be far more comfortable if you move your feet back in the stirrups," he showed her as he stood with ease, balancing on the balls of his feet. "And you should lean forward when going uphill. It's easier on the horse, and you."
She bit her tongue and tried to copy his movements, feeling very unstable on her feet.
"The reins won't keep you in the saddle," he said, dropping them back into her hands. "Your balance will."
She gave him a skeptical look and he laughed.
"Graiden mentioned something about the locals here," she said, in an attempt to change the subject, reluctant to let this strange man try and teach her anything. "Why doesn't anyone try talking with them?"
He gave her a half shrug. "Every attempt has turned into a bloodbath. I don't know why, I just know we buried eight of the ten men who went last time."
Her eyes widened. "Why are they attacking, though? I thought this place would've been bare of people, originally."
Fykes' frown deepened. "I don't think they like that we're cutting down the forest, but I've never spoken with them..." There was an edge to his voice, and a sadness to his eyes.
"Oh," she said, unsure how to say what she felt about the matter—which was something that she rarely experienced.
"Don't worry about the horses, though. You'll get used to this in no time," he said, giving her a reassuring smile and riding up ahead of her again. Within a minute, his book was back open and he was fully absorbed in his sketching once again.
They rode on into the afternoon at a steady trot, neither saying much. The lack of noise had Katerin jumpy. In the city, on the caravan, and on the ship, the noise had been near to constant, and riding quietly through the silence of this forest was unnerving to her. The chirping of nearby birds had frightened her more than once. "So you're an artist?" She stared at the book in his hands, and though she could not see what he was drawing, he seemed enraptured by it.
"Eh, I guess you could say that." He tore the piece of parchment he had been working on free of the book and tossed it to the ground.
She reached for it, nearly falling from her horse. But as the parchment touched the dirt, magic shimmered around it, and it transformed into a butterfly. Its wings caught it and it drifted up, flying around the heads of their horses and circling her twice before disappearing into the trees.
He gave her a mischievous smile.
"You used magic," she said.
"No magic," he said. "I told you before, I can't use any magic."
"It had to be a spell!" she insisted, looking into the trees hoping to catch another glimpse of it. She studied his face, and found no obvious hint of a lie. "How, if not a spell?"
He answered with a shrug. "Not sure."
She reached out and touched the small leather-bound book, thinking it to be enchanted, but it was nothing more than a mundane piece of scarred leather, with thin sheets of parchment inside. As she searched for another question to ask, he tensed and his face dropped any trace of humor.
She heard a quiet whistle, and watched as a javelin came flying from the forest, just missing Fykes' ribs and thumping into the dirt not far behind his horse's flank. Katerin sat shock still, but Fykes was off his horse in an instant, pulling his blades free of their sheaths, as his book and charcoal scattered across the ground.
"Stay here," he said, darting for the tree line.
Katerin heard the snap of a branch and jerked her head to see two men approaching from the opposite side of the road. She turned to call out, but Fykes had already disappeared into the trees.
Her heart pounded as she jumped from her saddle. She landed awkwardly and slapped the horse on its rump, just as another javelin thumped in the dirt near her feet. The men that appeared were tanned and short but muscular. They wore padded cloth armor in colors of brown, green and gray. They looked like a much wilder version of the forward scout of an army. Their expressions were lifeless, and they focused solely on her.
She raised her hand, palm out, to the men as they stalked toward her. "Wait!" she called, but they did not seem to care, or even notice. They came toward her with weapons poised to strike as she backpedaled away. "I would really rather talk!" From her fingertips, small crystal missiles formed and flew at the man in the front, striking the dirt just in front of him. "See? I don't want to fight! I just—"
The man snarled like an animal and lunged forward, closing the distance quicker than Katerin had planned for. The sharp tip of his spear caught her arm, and she gritted her teeth, hefting her staff to parry the other end of his weapon as he twirled it around for her ribs.
She wiped her hand across her face as fast as she could, turning the sweat there into arcane energy. A small, swirling ball of acid formed floating above her palm, and she sent it careening for the man as she stepped away and pressed her back into a thick tree trunk.
The acid missed him for the most part, only splashing onto his legs and hissing in the dirt. Her heart thundered in her chest as she realized that these men wanted nothing to do with talking. Her arm burned from the shallow cut, and she could not rationalize past one terrifying thought: They just want me dead.
*
Fykes was quick to find the man who had started the ambush—he had been crouched in the brush not far from the road. He heard the thundering gallop of a horse and cursed himself for leaving Katerin alone, and in his worry, his first two strikes were parried aside.
The man snarled and sent three quick thrusts of his spear out at strange angles.
Fykes danced away without a scratch, then moved again, in and out of the spear's reach with ease, leaving a nasty gash along his opponents ribs. The man charged him while his back was to a tree, slashing across with the butt end of the spear, catching Fykes in the side of the knee. He moved with the blow, lessening its impact, and angled his own strike, cutting another gash into the man's side.
The man did not even react to the blow before he drove the spear forward again.
Fykes waited, timing it as best he could. As he sidestepped the spear and parried it to the dirt, as he drove his other blade through the man, just below his collarbone. There was a sickening gurgle as his opponent slid from the blade, and Fykes suppressed his urge to be sick. Necessary or not, he did not enjoy killing these people.
He turned in time to intercept the other attacker, who was now charging him, one short blade coming in for his stomach.
*
Katerin was breathing heavily, but still not getting enough air. She released her next spell, this one aimed for the man throwing javelins at her. The acidic energy struck true this time. It burnt the man's chest and hands and he recoiled, dropping his weapon without ever making a sound. Katerin did not notice as she had taken the moment to focus on the threat right in front of her.
A short, triangular knife flew forward and nicked her cheek, unsettling her glasses, before stabbing into the tree just behind her.
The man only held a spear, but he was quick with it. He brought it down towards her head, and she met it with her staff, the impact of the weapons jarring her arms in their sockets. She kept in her defensive stance and kept her back against the tree, panting and forcing her vision to not to narrow.
Her opponent thrust his weapon forward again and she jumped away from the tree, watching as the weapon stuck the bark where she had just been. She swung her staff down as hard as she could into the top of the man's head as he yanked his weapon free of the tree, and he collapsed soundlessly.
Katerin dropped to her knees and grabbed for the stick of charcoal Fykes had dropped. She clutched it in her hands and incanted her spell as the other man charged towards her, having recovered from the acid. He held the spear head like a knife, but before he ever reached her, lightning materialized in her outstretched hands and hit him in the chest. Without a second's pause, the man dropped to the dirt, his hair standing up at odd angles, drool and blood pooling from his mouth. The piece of charcoal she used was now reduced to a crumbled mess that stained her hands.
Fykes' blades danced back and forth, parrying and stabbing. His blades were a blur, but his opponent still stood, hardier and quicker than the other had been.
The man scored a cut across his wrist and dodged a blow that would have left him dead.
He backed up a step, considering his options. As he did the man lunged, and Fykes found the opening he was looking for. He slashed high and expected the parry, but his other blade dropped low and angled up, striking the man in the collarbone and leaving his neck gushing blood. His opponent wavered, sword falling from his grasp as he clutched at his neck.
The next strike left him dead, as quickly and painlessly as possible.
Fykes burst through the trees and looked around, a sick feeling threatening to overwhelm him. He spotted the horses and then Katerin. She was panting and shaking like a leaf, doubled over herself on the ground, not far from a lifeless form with blood pooling around its head. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" He had thought a trained battle mage would be at least accustomed to a fight, but it seemed that this one was different.
She was staring at the man—or rather the blood—with no color in her face, as sweat poured off her. "I'm fine," she said. "Just needed my glasses."
He offered her a hand and guided her over to a tree off the roadside, whistling for the horses as he did.
*
Katerin slumped down without even looking at the ground, trying to calm her shaking hands and unsteady breathing as she wiped her glasses clean and pushed them up her nose. She studied the blood that stained her staff and her sleeves, and the black smudges of charcoal on her hands.
"They're really dead?" she asked, in a quiet whisper.
Fykes nodded, watching her carefully.
"I killed them..." She trailed off, feeling her world spin.
"They had every intention of killing us," Fykes said, kneeling in front of her and looking at the cut on her cheek.
She finally blinked her vision clear, and realized that he had been staring at her. "You're hurt," she said, looking at the way he crouched, leaning heavily to one side and favoring one leg.
"I'll be fine." He nodded as he realized her wounds were not serious, and looked her in the eyes. "I should've stayed near the road... I'm sorry."
"It's okay," she said, clenching her teeth. As the shock began to fade, the pain in her arm increased. "They didn't even seem to hear me. I didn't want to fight." She had fought people before. In sparring matches at the Tower, and bandits on the road to Errwood bay. Some of the bandits had even died, but it had not been at her hands.
The sensation of death was sickening.
Fykes pulled a small flask from his cloak, took a sip, and handed it to her. "They never do. Their ambushes are more common than they should be. No one knows why they're so aggressive."
They sat for a few minutes in silence, each pondering what had just happened, each processing in their own way.
When Katerin finally stopped shaking, she looked at Fykes, biting her lip. "Thank you... I wouldn't have been able to do that on my own."
"You took rather good care of yourself." He stretched his shoulders, and looked to the road where the horses still lingered, grazing on the sparse patches of grass near the edge of the trail.
She smiled, raising her chin. "Well, I did study a school of magic meant to be used in combat."
"You don't look like you've fought very much, though." His tone was hesitant, as if he thought she might explode in anger.
She shook her head. "A few bandits, but my training was mostly sparring... and one tournament that was only to first contact, with blunted weapons."
"I'll try to do better at my job, then." He stood up and offered her his hand.
"It seems more difficult than I thought it would be," she admitted, taking his hand and grimacing at how quickly her muscles had tensed and knotted. "I'm sorry I was so... rude," she said as she straightened her glasses on her nose again.
He chuckled as they mounted their horses. "You wanted to say honest, didn't you?"
"Yes."