Elizabeth Haydon - Prophecy - Child of Earth

“What is that?” she asked. A sudden gust of wind swirled around her, raising a cloud of dust and whipping her hair into her eyes. She pulled her cloak tighter about shoulders.

“Looks like a convocation of some sort, humans, undoubtedly,” he said after a moment.

Rhapsody nodded. “Ambassadors,” she said softly. “They’re coming to pay court to Achmed.”

Ashe shuddered; the tremor was visible, even beneath his cloak of mist. “I don’t envy them,” he said humorously. “That ought to shake up their notions of protocol. Shall we?” He looked off to the west, over the thawing valley and the wide plain past the foothills below them

Rhapsody looked back for a moment longer, then turned her eyes toward the west as well. A slice of the sun had risen behind them, casting a shaft of golden light into the gray mist of the world that stretched out below them. By contrast, the distant line of black figures moved through a jagged shadow.

“Yes,” she said, shifting her pack. “I’m ready.” Without looking back she followed him down the western side of the last crag, beginning the long journey to the dragon’s lair.

In the distance, a figure of a man touched by a darker, unseen shadow stopped for a moment, gazed up into the hills, then continued on its way to the realm of the Firbolg.

found them at the crest of the foothills, laying their course for the lands north of the Avonderre-Navarne border. Ashe said the lair of Elynsynos lay within the ancient forest, northwest of Llauron’s domain and the vast Lirin forest of Tyrian, so they would be following the sun, then the Tara’fel River northward.

When they reached the conjunction of the foothills and the rocky steppes that those hills became at the mountain’s threshold, Ashe suddenly directed her into a thicket of evergreen trees. Rhapsody followed quickly, hiding herself from sight, all but unable to see him.

“What’s the matter?” she whispered at the dark branches, thick with fragrant needles beginning to soften with the new growth of early spring.

“There’s an armed caravan within sight,” he answered in a low voice. “They’re heading toward Ylorc.”

Rhapsody nodded. “Yes; it’s the fourth-week mail caravan.”

“Mail caravan?”

“Yes, Achmed established an four-week cycle of caravans that travel between Ylorc, Sorbold, Tyrian, and Roland. Now that there is a working trade agreement between the Bolg and Roland, he thought it made sense to make sure that messages and deliveries were escorted by soldiers from Roland to assure that they don’t fall prey to the unexplained violence that has been around for so long.

“A contingent arrives on the same day of each week, and if for any reason that were not to happen, whichever post was expecting the caravan would go out in search to make certain they were safe. It takes two cycles, or eight weeks, for each individual caravan to complete the whole circuitous route between Roland, Tyrian, Sorbold, and Ylorc. It has been working very well so far.” And Llauron has been making excellent use of it to badger me about sending him information , she thought to herself. So far she had shared very little. She also didn’t mention that the most sensitive information was entrusted not the soldiers of the caravan, but to birds. Achmed had developed a whole squadron of avian messengers who carried the most important missives through the skies to their destinations. Llauron made use of avian messengers as well.

Ashe said nothing. Rhapsody waited for a few moments, then, hearing no further comments, turned to leave the thicket.

“Wait.”

“What’s the matter now, Ashe?”

He was still hard to see within the darkness of the branches. “We’ll need to wait here. I thought you understood that if we were going to travel overland together, we would need to remain out of sight.”

Rhapsody drew her cloak a little closer. “Well, of course, when we’re vulnerable in the wide fields, or in unfamiliar territory. But that’s just the mail caravan.”

“ Always . No exceptions. Understood?”

His tone annoyed her; there was a gritty edge to his voice she had not heard before. It served to remind her how little she actually knew him, and underscored why Achmed and Grunthor had objected to her going with him in the first place. Rhapsody sighed, some of her confidence evaporating into the chilly air.

“All right,” she said. “We’ll wait for them to pass. Let me know when they’re out of sight.”

They crossed the steppes and the wastelands to the Krevensfield Plain, heading northwest to avoid all but the outskirts of the province of Bethe Corbair and the city itself entirely. The traveling was difficult, the terrain rough and hard to cross in the muck left by the rains of early spring that were falling consistently. Rhapsody found herself stuck in the mud more than once. Ashe had offered his assistance but had been politely refused while she freed herself, muttering under her breath.

The comfortable familiarity that had begun to grow between them in Ylorc seemed to have disappeared now that they were alone together. Rhapsody had no idea why, though much of it seemed to be due to Ashe’s unpredictability.

At times he was pleasant enough, joking with her or passing the time when they were encamped in reasonable, if insignificant, conversation. Other times she got the sense he was brooding, angry even; he would snap at her unexpectedly when she spoke to him, as though she was disturbing his concentration. It was as if he were two different people, and there was no way to tell which one was present since his face remained hidden at all times. As a result, most of their time was passed in silence.

It was a little better once they had traversed the wide fields of Bethe Corbair and the southwestern corner of the province of Yarim. They were chasing winter’s tail; spring had come to the Bolglands a few weeks before, but the ground was still frozen here, the thaw only just beginning. The terrain was easier to walk and the rains less frequent, which helped their moods somewhat. Still, they were both aware of the lack of cover, and spent a great deal of time hiding when soldiers or travelers came within Ashe’s senses. Usually Rhapsody could not see these wayfarers, but had grown accustomed to being grabbed suddenly from behind and pushed into thickets or clumps of weeds. She understood the necessity of these actions, but it did not do much to improve the relationship.

Finally, after several weeks of travel, they reached the province of Canderre, a land with more forests and wooded valleys than either Bethe Corbair or Yarim. The tension eased up a little; Ashe seemed calmer in woods. Rhapsody assumed this was because they were no longer such obvious targets as they had been on the great wide plains.

They began to talk a little more, though still not often. Ashe was frequently pleasant, even funny, but he was holding her at arm’s length. He did not share his thoughts, or any of his history, and, above all, he never took down his hood. Rhapsody was beginning to wonder what had happened to his face that made him feel the need to hide it from sight. She wished he trusted her more. His isolation made it impossible to keep from growing suspicious of him as well.

The one thing that he did not object to, to Rhapsody’s surprise, were her daily devotions. Each morning and evening she greeted the sun and the stars with song. When she did she kept her voice low, particularly when they were on the plain, but she knew it made them more vulnerable nonetheless. She was generally sitting watch when dawn came, and so her morning aubade was his call to wakefulness. In the evening, as the twilight took the sky, she excused herself and found an open spot some ways off, to avoid disturbing him. When she returned he never commented, and was still busy with whatever task he had been performing when she left.