Book 2: Chapter 10: Decisions

Book 2: Chapter 10: Decisions

To earn the right to wear a Mantis Mark blade is a great honor given unto a very select few who have dedicated their lives to the path of carnage that is the way of the sword. Beware a man, or woman, who bears such a blade, for all of them possess a strength of skill that nears the realms of divinity.

- The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC.

“So what are we going to do now, lads?” the Rogue repeated himself, looking each of us in the eyes.

The silence was only broken by the flitting sound of a bird alighting on a branch above us. Elwin sensed that we had no answers and decided to put forth his own answer.

“Now, the way I see it is that we need to book it out of here as soon as possible. No good can come of it if one of those inquisitor types gets a sniff of your trail, gods in heavens, I would know,” he said, hissing through his teeth and taking a moment to pause. “We can lie low, do a bit of camping out here with the beasts and birdies, and hope this all blows over, but even that porker was able to find us. I don’t know what you’ve done to rile up the goddess, and I am not sure I even want to know,” he continued in a matter-of-fact tone.

I began to mount a defense of my actions, sensing an accusation, but he simply held up a hand cutting me off, and plowed on, “It don’t matter now though. That’s not the option I’d be going for anyways, living in the woods like a common bandit is not the life for me. There’s no way across the sea of grass unless you’re with a caravan with one of their Water Mages, so that is the best and only realistic option we’ve got. Going through the deep wilds is just another form of suicide, and besides, no one knows even what’s on the other side. Legions ‘ave been lost going through the wilds to chart out a shorter path for the Beacons. So like I said, joining up with the next caravan in Ansan that’s heading down west or south or wherever they’re going is still our best course. As guards if we can, or just pay whatever fee they ask,” he finally finished, an edge of panic in his voice that he was doing well to hide.

“We’ll need money then,” I added simply, feeling I had been manipulated.

“Yes, and a fair bit too. I’ll head into the city with the old donkey, sell all of the gear and stuff, and negotiate a decent fee with a caravaneer. Then I’ll meet you outside the gates and we can join up with the caravan from there. Saves us a bit of time and the quicker we get these chores done and dusted, the faster we are getting out of here, whatcha think?” he said, a forced smile on his face.

Maybe it was the effect of modern media on my psyche, or just plain paranoia or stubbornness which led me to begin to voice a denial, but Kidu beat me to the punch.

“No, little man. We go together. I have seen too much of warm-lander treachery. No, we go together. For your safety if nothing else,” the large man rumbled.

Not wanting to create a scene, I simply held up my hands in surrender as I looked around warily to see if anyone was looking at us.

“Keep on walking. Not now,” I hissed back, frustration and fear lacing my voice.

The Rogue promptly fell silent and muttered a small curse under his breath as we veered off the main street. I followed my instincts, but they led me astray, and I soon found myself completely lost in the labyrinthine city of tents. Determined not to appear foolish, I tried to salvage something from the situation.

“With luck, we should be free of any tails by now,” I stated with false confidence.

“Tail?” asked Kidu of me, his eyes furrowed almost comically.

“Yes, people who would have been following us after you lot’s little performance at the gate,” muttered Elwin.

A spike of frustration flared up within me, but I quickly pushed it down. This was not the time to let our group fracture over a small slight at such a delicate juncture.

"Elwin, could you take us to the Alchemist's shop?" I asked the Rogue in my most neutral voice.

"Sure, just follow me. We sure wasted one of our potions on that lump of lard, didn't we?" he said with a grin, his jibe lacking the sharpness of his earlier words. I smiled in a reconciliatory manner, accepting the olive branch for what it was.

The Rogue led our small group, no doubt using the great ark in the distance as a landmark of sorts, through the busy city. We wove our way through the massive throngs that made up the daytime traffic, and even as worried as I was, I had to stop myself from gawking at some of the fantastical and exotic scenes that I saw.

The most fascinating of which was a man who walked along the streets, clad in robes of almost pure white, without a speck of dirt, despite the mud and general effluvia in abundance all around us. Around his neck, and draping down his back, a slender winged serpent, painted in the colors of the rainbow, was curled around him like a living piece of art. The man, noticing our gazes, nodded to us pleasantly before feeding his pet a small fruit from his pouch.

Eventually, the smell of the city was pushed aside by something much stronger and more acrid. A familiar purple-colored yurt was before us, a plume of greenish smoke billowing up from the smoke hole at its top. We had returned to Hamsa's Wondrous Apothecary.