Katarina the Dragonslayer and the Foebreaker's Curse

Chapter 3 - Disciple

3

DISCIPLE

The cart made its way southward. Behind it, secured to an iron ring in the footboard by about five yards of rope, a skinny little girl simmered with loathing as she trudged along and plotted revenge. 

"When the sun goes down the gorrok will come out and kill you!" This was the fourth time she'd said this since the elf had unceremoniously bound her.

A heavy bundle came flying at the girl. It was a black cloak of wolfskin. "No sense being cold." 

Katarina wriggled into it, somewhat grateful but still angry. "They'll still kill you!"

"Maybe so. They certainly seem to have taken a liking to you, from what you say." He pulled his hood back over his head. "However, instead of making threats, perhaps you ought to be asking questions." He leaned back in the seat and looked up into the sky."For example," he continued, "why do the gorrok like you? Or who am I, and why am I so interested in you? Or did you think I happened upon you by chance?" 

Katarina narrowed her eyes. “One of the gorrok kept pointing at my hiding place and saying ‘machpala.’ What does that mean?” 

So they recognize the gift in her, as well. Very good. “The desire for knowledge, while certainly commendable, does not always indicate a readiness for its disclosure.” The elf looked upward again. A dark shape came down from the sky and lit upon the seat next to him.

It's the fat crow. It was following me before. "That's your crow? You had him spying on me!"

The elf laughed heartily. "Don't flatter yourself." The cart stopped. "I have been studying land dragons for some years now, and when Kalanhu here told me he'd found one in the Border Kingdoms, I made haste to come. However, it would seem you stumbled upon the creature just before I arrived. I used my last fire-seed to help you escape, and I'd like to think I made a good decision.

"And this is no more my crow than I am his elf. Kalanhu comes and goes as he pleases, and he has been my friend for many years." He turned to face her. "Since you still have not asked, I will tell you my name. I am Oren Kellmire."

Katarina stared at him. So he made that fireball. She'd never heard this name before, but there was something in his tone that seemed to suggest more than a sense of self-importance. "So you’re a magician."

Oren flicked the reins, and the mule resumed its halting gait. "Hardly. I know a few tricks, to be sure, but not enough to call myself a magician. Now, what do you know of magic, little miss?"

Kat glared at the elf, but he was facing the road again. "I know that my weapons are magical, and some kind of magic protected me from the dragon's fire. And I know people say that magic used to be much more powerful."

Katarina could not see his face, but Oren's eyes grew wide. So that is how she did it. Machpala, indeed! "Yes, magic was once very powerful, but that was long ago. Now it is rare indeed for anyone to be gifted beyond a capacity for minor cantrips, and spells of any significant power can take quite some time to prepare. I suspect that you may just be one of those few gifted, although such gifts are almost unknown among the half-elven."

The elf sat up quickly. "What do you make of that cloud on the ridge?” Several miles to the south, the road climbed and disappeared beyond a steep moraine, where a faint grey cloud seemed to have settled upon it.

"Maybe a storm is coming." I can’t tell.

"Use your eyes, child! It is moving against the wind. It is likely to be dust, from a rider, or riders, on horseback. In a moment, he'll be visible, and soon enough we will cross paths with him or them, for good or ill." Oren reached back into the wagon bed, and took out a large satchel. Kat had not noticed before. He set it down next to him, and the crow hopped onto the backrest.