T'Lan'toria

Chapter 5

This is INCOMPLETE, but I thought I'd post what I could.
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“So who exactly are you?” Trenkin asked. The tall man only shrugged and stoked the fire. Letra, despite her gratitude and friendly, if blind, companionship, went stonily silent when Mars had tried to ask her anything about Asraim that first night in front of the fire. This was their third day as group and Asraim still remained a mystery to the boys.

They had relocated to this camp, hidden in a throng of willows and silver birch, the morning after the event in the tavern. Trenkin and Marsnick had carried Lartorn in a makeshift litter while Asraim quietly led Letra at the head of the small party.

“A friend,” Asraim said as he dismissed the question, eyes glancing up as Marsnick left the tent where Lartorn rested. “Is he ready to walk?”

Mars hesitated before answering, “Yes. I think by tomorrow he’ll be up to moving around.”

“Tomorrow, he’ll need to be ready for a long hike.”

“Where are we going, Asraim?” Mars questioned.

“To my home. There Letra will be able to regain her sight,” he said. Then Asraim finished quietly to himself, “and the Sisters will shed light on Fate.” Asraim slumped into silent thought.

Trenkin sighed. Trying to get any straight answer out of the man was difficult at best. He’d been watching Asraim these last few days, trying to gather pieces so he could fit the puzzle together. Asraim was a hard man to glean anything from. Master Marsnick was worried and Trenkin wanted to help set him at ease. It didn’t matter that the young lord had removed his crest from Trenkin’s ear. He was still a part of the Regent’s house. Chosen to serve the young master, hand picked for the task. Trenkin would obey his master’s wishes and treat him outwardly as a friend but he knew he was no equal. His whole life was devoted to serve Lord Marsnick. As if sensing his thoughts, Master Marsnick threw a puzzled look at Trenkin, who flashed him a wide grin and held his breath. Lord Marsnick nodded his head and smiled back before returning to Lartorn’s tent. Trenkin sighed. If anyone at home knew what was going on, he’d be strapped until he was eighty then sent to the kitchens to clean pots the rest of his life. The shame would be unbearable, his brand a constant reminder of a badge of failure to serve.

“You are his slave?” Asraim was staring into the fire. Asraim nodded to himself, “I thought as much. That crescent on your forehead, you don’t need to have it forever you know. Marsnick is genuinely offering you freedom. Before you go back, at my home, you can lose the mark. There is no shame when there is no mark.”

Trenkin started. How could this man know what he had been thinking? Perhaps this Asraim was a runaway. He immediately thought of punishment for run aways: first offense- ears cut off, second- double brand on forehead and imprisonment, third- eyes gauged out and sent to work on the Klicch’s farms. Trenkin shuddered.

Asraim shook his head. This boy had double loyalties. The first to the Marsnick boy and the second to the Klicch. Asraim wondered if this would create problems in the future. He was already taking a gamble by bringing the group to Falderun, but he was taking a bigger risk by not bringing them.
**
The next morning the boys were up well before sun rise to pack up camp. The morning air was bitter cold and the fire from the night before had been completely extinguished. To Lartorn, the pit looked several days old. Asraim must’ve done something, he thought.

“Bet your wishing for your big featherbed and hearth right now, eh Mars?” Lartorn called to his friend as he fumbled with his laces.

“Wha--? Oh, yeah. That’d be nice.” Marsnick shrugged into his over coat. “Nerea leather will have to do.” At this remark, Letra who had been talking to Trenkin stopped mid sentence; her blind eyes opened wide.

“I would not wear that today were I you.” Asraim said coming out of the nearby brush. “It would not do.” He pulled four cloaks from his bag and handed one to each of the boys and one to Letra.

It might just be that Letra was being careful because she was now blind, but Lartorn had the distinct feeling that Letra was handling the cloak like she might handle an adder. Lartorn glanced down at the cloak. It looked like an ordinary cloak. Brown, homespun cloth. Nothing fancy, but still…Lartorn knew something wasn’t quite right with Asraim. Who would stick up for a bunch of boys at a tavern brawl against a giant? And why was Asraim so tight lipped about who he was? Letra would answer any question Lartorn asked but those about Asraim. Whenever that subject came up, she somehow sidestepped the issue.

Trenkin guided Letra to where Lartorn and Mars were rolling their bedding. Trenkin looked nervously at Asraim who was at least fifteen paces away before giving Letra Mars’ hand and saying loudly, “There you are. Now, if I may be excused, Mars?” Trenkin left before either could exchange a puzzled nod.

“Can I feel it?” Letra asked Mars quietly.

“What?”

“She’s talking about the Nerea, Mars.” Lartorn said.

“I suppose so. Why?”

“Just let me see it.” Marsnick opened his pack and pulled out his jerkin. The thick, scaly leather had always surprised Lartorn by how light it was. Lartorn watched as Marsnick handed it to Letra.

“It was my father’s greatest victory,” Marsnick spoke softly, fiercely. “He killed this beast to avenge his brother and took his place at the right hand of the Klicch.”

“It is either a great honor to wear the skin of a Nerea or a great evil. Your father was a great fool. Still, this,” she gripped the leather in her hand, “could save your life. I travel with Asraim only to escape the village and to regain my sight. He knows this. I do not trust Asraim. If I were you, I’d wear the Nerea under my clothes today. It grants all sorts of protection out here in the Wilds.” Letra slowly handed the jerkin back to Marsnick. “Lartorn? Is Trenkin still talking with Asraim?”

Lartorn looked around puzzled. What did that have to do with anything? He hoped the pieces would fall into place soon. Ah, there they were. Trenkin was looking pretty nervous but Asraim was talking. “Yep. Though how Trenkin was able to get Asraim to say anything is beyond me.”

“Servants have a flair for things like that,” Mars whispered to himself. “They are trained to do it. My father told me,” he explained shamefaced to Letra.

“He can’t distract Asraim for much longer. I’d hurry up and put on the jerkin if I were you.” Letra grinned, “Don’t worry, I won’t look.”

Mars had just finished buttoning up his shirt and pulling on his cloak when Trenkin and Asraim started towards them.

“You three ready to go? We have a long hike today. May the weather and the trees be on our side today.”

“The trees? What about the trees?” Mars asked.

“Let’s go.” Asraim said. ‘Trenkin you help Lartorn. Marsnick, guide Letra. Everyone, stay close behind me.” With Asraim in the head, Marsnick and Letra next, and Trenkin and Lartorn bringing up the rear, the group began their days journey.

“In the Wilds, when you are off a main road or path, the trees are everything. They are the trail markers, the signs. They tell you where to turn and when,” Letra explained as they walked. “At the tavern, an old soothsayer used to come, I’d always give her a free bowl of stew, she’d tell me the strangest stories about Trees.”

“What kind of stories?” Mars asked eagerly. Lartorn sighed, this type of story usually got Mars in a lot of trouble.

“Nonsense really. You know, trees talking. Old stories about how the Wilds used to be full all these wonderful and mysterious creatures and powerful sorcerers,” she sighed. “Real magic. Those kind of stories, you know?”

Trenkin began automatically, “The spreading of those lies is punishable by exile or de—”

“It’s okay Trenkin,” Lartorn said, gently laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter here.”

“Lartorn’s right. Take it easy. I mean, look around you. Do you see the Klicch or my father anywhere in these woods?” Mars gestured to all the trees around him. “Just to be sure,” he paused then hollered, “FATHER? THE GLORIFICUS REGENT TARINGAEL? ANY—”

Asraim spun around and Marsnick walked right into him. Lartorn would’ve laughed but for Asraim’s face. “Fool. If we wanted everyone to know where we were, we would’ve taken the road. Do you really want to give us away? Ike is probably on his feet by now. Not to mention all the bandits out here exiled by your—,” Asraim stopped, listening, though to what was beyond Lartorn, “We must hurry. Keep quiet this time.”
Yep, Asraim was definitely a puzzle, Lartorn thought as he walked in silence that morning. One that I have to find the answer to. If anything happened to Mars on this adventure, it would fall on his head. It was his duty to protect Mars from all harm; he’d been sworn to it from the cradle.

By noon that day, only Asraim didn’t seem sore or exhausted from the morning hike. Trenkin dug some bread and cheese out of one of the packs and began to pass it around. Lartorn watched as it made its way around the group. He was surprised when Asraim didn’t take any, Letra just nodded her head as if she expected as much and no one else really paid any attention. As he munched on his lunch, Lartorn realized that the only way he’d ever find out more about Asraim was to get an answer out of Letra.

Asraim didn’t let them rest long. As soon as Lartorn had licked the last of the bread and cheese from his fingers, Asraim motioned for them all to get ready and move out. Quietly, Lartorn motioned Mars aside.

“Hey, Mars, I was wondering if maybe I would be able to walk with Letra for a bit.”

“Of course,” Mars gave him a wide smile and a wink.

“Hey Trenkin, would you mind walking with me for a bit?” he called. Trenkin barely glanced up from adjusting his pack before nodding in assent. “That’s all there is to it then. Good luck, you just might need it.”

Lartorn shook his head as he watched Trenkin and Marsnick fall in behind Asraim. Mars just thinks I want to walk with her, so much the better. “Do you mind if I walk with you for a bit, Letra?” Lartorn asked, helping the blind girl to her feet. Let’s just hope he never knows how closely his fate and mine are tied, Lartorn thought grimly as he guided Letra after the others.

“Lartorn,” Letra studiously kept her face forward, “what is it you wished to speak to me about?” He sighed.