Send Me On My Way (3/15)

Oh wow a direct follow up to a previous post! This one had a specific goal in mind, I wanted to write a particular scene, but I spent too much time in the build up so I never got there. Whoops! Also this one is not edited either, so if there is another moment where I write some nonsense like "She scanned the horizon, green eyes focused on the horizon" please forgive me!

            On the third day of travel, they stumbled upon a well worn shepherd's path. Chipped and eroded boundary stones buttressed the flattened and brown grass of the path from the brambles around. They’d descended haltingly into this gully, and the ascent up the other side looked even more treacherous. The path didn’t lead due North, and most likely had multiple switchbacks through the foothills of the Dragoncage Mountains. It would be a more level and easy journey, without the perennial risk of slipping and dashing ones head against the stones.

Daska, of course, was opposed to taking it.

“It will add another half a day to the journey. The Cathedral is across those hills,” she gestured with her sword, true as a compass, to the north, “There is no reason to take a longer route when a more opportune one lies before us,”. Her jaw set, and those piercing pale eyes flicked to each member of the group, daring for someone foolish enough to challenge a dhanvira.

Avek was more exhausted than he was foolish when he spoke up, “Oh give it up butcher,” he rolled his shoulders, grateful for the momentary reprieve of the weight of his pack, “My feet are more blister than flesh at this point. We’ve made good time,” Daska flashed him a look sharper than her sword’s edge, “We’ve made great time. We can surely take a brief reprieve on more amicable territory?”

Daska nearly spat in the dirt. “I care little for your woes, thief. My goal lies due North and due North we will go,” The point of her sword had not dipped, had not wavered. If she wanted to, that point could be buried in Avek’s heart in the space between beats.

“We’ll still be going North,” he bristled, his focus hopping between Daska’s eyes and the sword. He knew better than to even think about reaching for a weapon. He’d be dead either way, and reaching for his dagger would do nothing but make him die a fool. “But we’ll be going along easier territory. We’ll make up the lost time,”

The two of them stared at eachother for a long moment, both of them wondering when it would be Avek’s turn to die. Fire-Of-Transcendence interceded after a few tense breaths, laying a hand on her wife’s shoulder.

“My love,” she cooed, the iron hard tension in Daska’s body diminishing ever so slightly at the touch, “Perhaps Avek is right. These hills are not the easiest to traverse, particularly not at the admirable pace you’ve set for us,” Fire-Of-Transcendence allowed a warm smile to spread across her face. Daska was not immune to flattery, and was especially weak to flattery that came from the mouth she adored so. The sword dipped slightly, though it still pointed north.

“Besides,” Fire continued, tracing her hand from the shoulder to the elbow, drawing the sword ever closer to the earth, “In the rugged wilds, our charge has any number of options to choose from if he were to,” she paused, taking in the lanky teenager who stood shackled at the edge of their group. His feigned disinterest was betrayed by the hungry glances he made towards the hilltops, “attempt to slip away. Whereas on these paths his options are greatly limited, and with your skill you’d surely catch him much more easily here,”

Daska looked between her wife and her prisoner. She grumbled “You appeals to my pride won’t work on me,” though they clearly had as she sheathed her sword. The kid shifted in his shackles, his performed resignation resolving into light panic as he attempted to find a way out of his predicament. Avek clapped him hard on the back.

“Oh don’t worry, this will be much easier on you,” he grinned as he playfully swatted the chains between the kid’s wrists, “We don’t want you showing up to the Cathedral too worse for wear, right?” Avek laughed, though the kid failed to find the humor in it. The party turned eastward, Daska taking point, Avek behind her, with Fire-Of-Transcendence keeping an eye on the kid at the rear.

The kid would rather be in Avek’s place, a scant few feet from the flesh and blood personification of death. At least then he wouldn’t be downwind of the thief's stench. He had an odor to him even before they’d departed Titan’s Rest and the three days on the road had done nothing to improve the situation. The kid wrinkled his nose, scanning the high walls of the gulch around him. He shared a glance with the elven warrior behind him, and the two shared a brief conspiratorial smile when he realized she was wrinkling her nose too. The smile faded once he felt the chain at his legs snag on a rock. She offered no hand to keep him from stumbling.

The pace was quicker, even if it was perpendicular to the straightest course. Fewer stones jutted from the earth to clamber over, and the gully allowed a sweet, cool breeze to flow over them. Were it not for his present circumstances, the kid may have even found the journey pleasant.

He was unable to forget his present circumstances. Every step, regardless of how pleasant it was compared to the previous leg of the journey, was another step closer to the Cathedral. Another step nearer to those that wanted him… not dead. No he kept company with killers of men, those whose hands had already been stained by grim work. They wanted him alive, and despite the hell he had raised those who transported him hadn’t wavered in that. He allowed himself to feel a momentary pang of guilt when he beheld Avek’s swollen nose, still healing after their first encounter only four days before. Each clink of the chains, each new jolt of pain from the raw skin, ebbed away at the guilt like water on a stone.

The stone walls of the hills rose ever steeper around them, and by late in the afternoon they were almost totally vertical. Even if he hadn’t been chained he doubted he could scramble up them faster than Avek, a thief well accustomed to second story work.

Daska threw her hand up, and the party stopped before her. The kid strained his ears but detected no sound. After a few heart beats, the shuffle of feet and murmur of voices became audible. He glanced at Fire-Of-Transcendence. Even she had not noticed at first. What sort of woman was this butcher if her senses were more keenly honed than an elf’s?

A ragged troupe of peasants appeared from around the bend, murmuring and casting distrustful gazes around them. They stopped dead upon seeing the party opposite them.

“Hail,” Daska stepped forward, making sure to swing her hips in such a way that sent the bells on her scabbard ringing, “What causes such consternation on your faces? From what are you departing?”

A woman at the front stepped forward timidly, her wide eyes unsure whether to focus on the bells, the sword, or the neat straight scar that traced its way from Daska’s cheekbone to her missing earlobe. She flexed her hands, a panicked gesture of a cornered animal. Her gaze eventually settled on the tips of Daska’s boots.

“There was… there was a terrible battle, near our village. Many dead. Some… Shamblers have been spotted and so we thought it best to-”

Daska raised her hand, and the woman silenced immediately. “Shamblers? Shamblers are at the end of this path? How far?”

“Why, only a few more hours walking ma’am,” the woman’s hands gripped the edges of her dress as though it was the only thing tying her to this life. Daska turned to the group, her eyes grim.

“I see. Had we gone over the hills we may have avoided such an encounter?”
“Yes, ma’am… I-I believe so. Please, we have nothing to offer please let us-”

Daska flattened her hand again, and the woman ceased talking. The group behind her muttered silent prayers as they awaited the deathblow. Daska smiled mirthlessly at Avek. “It is below the station of a dhanvira to harp on the foolish decisions of others, particularly when they lead to ill consequences for all involved. I will never stoop to such a level,”

She turned on her heel and marched with purpose, the peasants cowering from her presence as the party passed. The cool breeze suddenly seemed ice-cold