The Fires of Cerran

Chapter Thirty

The day's ride was long and hard, the steady climb of the roads soon became harsher, and the density of the forests gradually faded into an odd patchwork of dying and twisted elms and firs. It was now sundown, and atop a hillock, marked out by a crumbling ruin of an Elder Tower, known by many as Erad's Mark, served as a perfect place to camp.

Ramon felled two withering firs, bereft of branch and foliage, and set them down at the eastern edge of the tower, allowing for a small fire to be constructed and the pillars of light grey smoke to dance into the evening skies and be carried off into the winds of night. Lenren tied the horses at the foot of the hillock, in shade and with plentiful grass and grain to feed upon. He looked to his maps, the sunlight dying about him, and he reckoned them to be closer to the borderlands of Tu Ton than he had anticipated. He looked East, scanning the horizon, but in the dimming light he could scarcely find a path that led to those lands. It would have to wait until morning dawn.

About the campfire, now burning brightly with writhing bands of gold and red, a small clay pot sat bubbling beside the feet of Astriel.

'You're the cook then?' Melran asked as she sat beside the woman.

'We all cook, but I prefer to stay busy on nights such as these. I'm no maid to them, don't mistake me for such.'

Melran turned her eyes to the pot, Astriel stirred in cabbage leaves and a small amount of dried herbs.

'It smells good, you feed them well.' Melran said, with a half-smile. Astriel snorted and smiled, pulling herself back to the log and sitting the wooden spoon on the edge of the pot as it bubbled and fizzed.

'How are you finding it?' She asked, shifting herself as her leg drew a sharp, sudden pain.

'As good as it can be, I suppose, though I'd prefer to be far away.' The girl returned softly, and she huddled in her robes for warmth.

'Back in the ruins, do you remember what happened?' Astriel said suddenly, as Ramon sat beyond the flames opposite them. The girl's eyes flicked down, as if she were a pup being told off for messing where she should not, and she nodded solemnly.

'The voice.... the voice that came from you, it was not your own.' Astriel continued, lowering her head to meet with the girl's eyes.

'It has happened before; I know it has, but I remember so little of it all.' Melran returned glumly. She shifted her hands within her robes, clutching at her dagger.

'How long has it happened?' Ramon asked suddenly.

'Since I can remember, and I cannot remember much.'

The man's gaze flicked to meet Astriel, and he frowned curiously.

'You mean to say you don't know where you come from?' He asked.

'Not for certain, I am an orphan of some kind.'

'What makes you say that?' Astriel interjected.

'My earliest memories are with the Sisters in Arisen, in the convents.' Melran returned, her grip loosening as she fell away into the memories. Her eyes darted towards Ramon, and she looked to him with a curious expression.

'Ser Ramon of Garth, is that a Southern port town?' She asked, unsure of her own knowledge.

'Aye, indeed it is. Though I've not been down there for many years now. Not a lover of seagull shit and the smell of the seas.' He returned gruffly, setting his sword at his side, and resting his head upon his thick arms.

'Garth, it sounds like a nice place. I remember being taught about the port towns; the Sisters love the port towns.' Melran replied.

'Of course, they do, only damned places that listen to their waffle.' Lenren announced as he came from the darkness and sat beside Ramon. He poked at the fire with a stick before tossing it into the climbing flames.