Avarice Blacksteel

Journeys

The trio rode southward. Conditions on some days were fair and on others bitter. Jhary seemed to understand where he was and what comforts could be had. On the better days they rode, on the inclement ones they traded a round of stories and music for the meager shelter, a warming fire, and whatever food could be had with the inhabitants they passed along the way.

Isabou carried her two passengers well, hardly missing a stride as Jhary rode his bay mare usually in the rear. Beauty ran in circles about the horses or ahead as her canine nature dictated. There was not so much urgency in the mission, at least not yet; and the three travelers from vastly different experiences gradually began to get acquainted.

It had been another long day in the saddle and tonight the trio settled down to a cheery if small blaze, along with some precooked food and diluted wine of the very homemade kind. Aurianne had lingered over by her mare, loving on the animal a while as was the woman’s nature to do after a long days ride.

Her and the mighty Isabou had been through and seen much, and she appreciated all her fine horse had given her. She took one last lingering caress of her mares broad chestnut neck, and meandered off to the inviting fireside.

Jhary handed Aurianne the carafe of thin wine. “Drink up and enjoy the warm, for tonight will be the last such comfort until we breach the badlands.” Aurianne raised the carafe in a mock toast and drank, a smile on her lips.

“How far?” Kario inquired, looking up across the firelight, his black eyes sparkled.

“Some four days if we make good time.” Jhary answered. “We dare not light a fire lest we become victims of slaver's or the bands of subhuman ones that roam there. Caution will be our savior.”

Kario nodded in agreement. Thoughts turning inward at the prospect of discomfort ahead. He hoped the weather would at least be somewhat kind.

Aurianne was very unsure of her actions. It was with great trepidation she had agreed to assist Jhary Brannon, it was unlike her to make foolhardy decisions and she was somewhat disturbed she had done so. This was madness to even consider rescuing her tormentor surely? However she had agreed, and her word was her bond. Still she cursed her weakness in the face of this charming man, as she chewed on the tough ration of rabbit and listened to the men talk.

Jhary may have been making small talk with Kario, readying himself for the difficulties of tomorrow, and stroking beauty who lay close by intermittently. However he was dwelling heavily on Aurianne, or rather his feelings for her. Yes, she was arrestingly beautiful, and her laughter eased his spirits, though she was somewhat intimidating in a way most women were not.

The statuesque redhead was capable, and could well defend herself, but things were more complex than that. Jhary cringed inwardly, easily visualizing his running blood if Aran grew even remotely aware of the slightest of his burgeoning feelings.

The bard had not intended this to happen, and he must fight to curb the seemingly uncontrollable draw he had to this woman. Looking on her though as the firelight danced across her perfect skin, her charms were impossible for any man to resist. The man of ballads included.

He took another drink of the wine, wishing it was more effective at dulling his senses this night. Looking back to his swarthy companion, and wondering if she had this effect on him also? Though usually very perceptive the bard simply could not tell. In fact Kario was for the most part quite unreadable.

He was exotic. He differed greatly from those in the general population of these parts, and Jhary wondered if he was perhaps South American in his origin. Though he spoke English well, he spoke it in a way that almost sounded as though it was not his native language. A vague inflection of an unusual accent, and a slight lisp that was almost serpentine.

The bard took a deep breath, and spoke with unusual difficulty after another gulp of his wine. Dabbing at his mustache with his shirt sleeve, and handing the carafe to Kario as he spoke. "I have to know, and maybe I can not understand; but how did you transform into that lion? I mean I really don't understand, and I have seen some crazy happenings in my life, but how?"

Kario looked up from his quiet reverie, and the slightest sardonic smile formed on his full lips. "The short answer to that good Sir is desperation. The longer one, I am not sure I can completely explain in simple terms.”

He was again silent for a moment before trying to continue. “I had wondered when this conversation would come...." He purred.

Aurianne was silent but listening intently, she too waiting for this line of questioning to occur, but she had not the motivation not tacit to broach it.

"I need to get the measure of you if we are all to work together and trust one another going forward. I think it's vitally important. So how, how did you do it? I mean you are more than a magician doing simple party tricks. I saw a full body transformation. I know that’s what I saw, but how can that even be possible?

Kario paused for a long moment seeking the appropriate form of response. His companions eyeing his discomfiture eagerly awaiting his explanation. How could he explain this in a way they could understand? He was not sure he could. How much had they seen, how much could he even recall accurately? He was at the time, being pushed far beyond his limits. He had thought he would die.

Reluctantly he attempted to form some idea of what to say, though even he was finding the explanation difficult to commit to words.

“Have you ever thought that just maybe there could be a parallel world or time to this one. A place that is attuned to human thought…” He took a long drink from the carafe and resumed. “A place where imagine if you will, every single mythical creature you could think of, would and could manifest, and maybe humans as a whole really don’t make anything up, those fables and legends are simply something they saw at some point. Things that by imagining them they actually created."

"You mean like dragons, werewolves, bunyips or your Lion?" Jhary jibed, this did not seem like a serious explanation to him.

"Yes, all those things and more my friends."

"You are trying to tell me that all that mythology is real, and that if we think or dream of something it becomes tangible?"

"I'd show you but I am wary to, and I am still not at my full strength. I don't even know if I could. You will just have to take my word for it."

Jhary half laughed a cynical laugh, he had not meant to, but the sound escaped his lips. This was not an explanation at all then, just subterfuge. This dark man was hiding something. It made the bard feel uneasy, a half truth or a non truth it was all the same to him.

Kario just stared into the fire once more unreadable.

Dissatisfied Jhary tried a different tact. "The blade, I mean it's like nothing of this earth, the metal, the design, how does it fit into all of this? Does it have powers, do you derive your abilities from it. Is it like a wizards wand?" The words just tumbled forth.

Aurianne had been sitting quietly, a spectator to the awkward round of questions being asked. Though the conversation between the two men was having more of an effect on Aurianne than her companions realized.

Her mind casting back to the dreams she had had in the cave. The elegant but frightening man, pale of skin, black of hair, his resonant voice compelling, and belittling her efforts. The weapon he brought forth forged of the same steel and finely wrought craftsmanship. Did they present their wielders with these peculiar powers too? Aran had wielded one of those otherworldly blades but he was now a slave, if he had been blessed with some intangible power would he not be free? She was as unsure as she had ever been on the matter.

Kario put his dark skinned hands over his face and pulled his fingers through his thick and lustrous mane. He said almost with a hint of frustration. "My powers are a gift, sometimes I can control them well, and at other times not.' He embellished this a little, because he didn't wish to make it seem he could be relied on to perform miraculous feats when perhaps he simply couldn't.

"The blade as you say is like a wand, it helps me channel the energies. I simply cannot create something from nothing however, it takes will and the process can be exhausting often driving me to sickness. It's like... let me say... Alchemy. Where one thing must come from something else, an equivalent exchange if you can understand."

Jhary shook his head, honestly he didn't understand the tangent of the conversation at all, and he wished he could blame the strange feelings he harbored on the wine. However he had not drunk nearly enough.

His companions digging at his abilities was making Kario very uncomfortable, it was a very new feeling for him. He had always passed through the lives of the surface dwellers with little attachment or accountability. He did not think it prudent to explain it all. He just couldn't and desired to terminate the now awkward discussion.

But Jhary just kept digging. "Who was the pale woman then, can you tell me about that? Death, the Dark Lady; a spirit, a ghost?"

Kario had had enough of the interrogation realizing that anything he countered with would not be enough to quell the outpouring of even more questions. He could hardly tell him the Dark Lady was his mother come to save him from his fate. So he didn't, the truth was far too complicated. Instead he feigned ignorance.

"I saw no apparition. I don't know what you speak of." In the fervent hope this line of questioning would desist.

Jhary was far from satisfied, but he was a clever man and knew when he had been beaten. He had drawn little understanding from what he had been told, but he had learned enough to know this troubled him. He would not sleep so well this night.

*****

The three men had ridden north with the relentless sand blowing at their backs, and the wind that drove it unmerciful and cold. There was little forage to be had for the animals and Gareth pushed them hard. It was obvious he was very interested in making this mission of discovery swiftly, and the pace was tough on Warren who clung to his horse and shivered with the relentless cold. He wondered truly how he might survive this hell?

Dwayne often scouted far ahead, leaving the dour Gareth as Warren’s only company. It was little use to strike up any kind of conversation with the heavily inked man to pass the time. Besides, Warren needed all his energy just to stay atop his horse, and it was almost impossible to articulate anything of worth through steadily chattering teeth, or hear any spoken conversation above the prevailing wind. For Warren especially this was a sojourn into hell.

Nights were little better, and the frail man wondered if indeed he would live. All he could think on was his great desire to see Lucy again. Love of his heart, his only reason for being. He had promised to return to her after all, not that he truly believed he would. That was Warren’s only focus as he shivered beneath the torn quilt he had been provided, as he tried to survive this trial by cold.