Return of the Stormcriers

CHAPTER 28 - DANCING BLADES

The last vestiges of the sun had just begun to fall over the horizon, tucking away behind the surrounding peaks; illuminating the sky with the glorious pinks and oranges of sunset when at last they summited the smallest of the mountains that ringed the hidden valley. Matt climbed down from Taryon's saddle, his joints stiff and aching from hours spent leading the horses up narrow, winding trails; handing his reigns over to the outstretched grasp of Derek. The day had dragged by slower than a drop of sap inching its way down the trunk of its tree in the dead of winter. For the majority of their travel they had remained on horseback, which contributed mightily to Matt's soreness. Having been over a month since he had been in a saddle, his body was no longer used to the toll it took on his posterior. For the steepest portions of the trail they had been forced to travel on foot, leading their steeds tediously behind them over the snorted protests of the horses. The recent rainfall had thankfully left the dirt more compact, not enough to create irritating patches of mud, but adequate to cut down on the dust that their horses hooves would have kicked up throughout the day. Now with night approaching, none among the group felt it would be wise to begin the descent into the lowlands of south-central Verden below.

  Clambering to the top of a large, mostly round rock that sat beside where they had come to rest, Matt gazed out in awe over league after league of short grass, dotted with the occasional tree and brush. In the far distance a dark cluster on the horizon marked the Trensin Woods beneath whose branches their quarry lie. Never before had Matt found such a vantage to look out over Verden; the expanse of his home continent had never been so apparent to him. He was so far from his home on the Azure Coast, and if the map he had glimpsed in the war room was any indication, he was not even halfway to the eastern shore. Matt turned his gaze to his right, to a landscape dominated by majestic rolling hills, beyond which he knew lie the Great Plains of central Verden where they had been first taken captive by the resistance soldiers.

Behind him the others had begun to wordlessly set up a simple camp. They carefully tucked their belongings and bedrolls beneath a small clump of evergreen trees to block as much of the cold autumn elements away from their camp as they could manage. Feeling slightly guilty at not providing more help, Matt climbed down from his perch, jogging as best he could with his sore limbs towards where Derek had tied the horses. Untying his blanket and bedroll he unfurled them next to Anthony's already placed belongings. One of the soldiers, Matt heard the others refer to him as Clay but he could not for the life of him remember the man's first name, built and lit a small fire before beginning to cook a simple stew in a decent-sized cast-iron pot he had strapped upon his horse. Soon the mountaintop was permeated with mouthwatering aromas of meat and vegetables while bedrolls were unfurled across the rocky ground by the rest of the party. While the nobles had set up their sleeping area on the eastern side of the fire, Matt noticed that the five soldiers had staked out their own area on the opposing side of the camp. Whether it was by personal choice to be separated from the nobles or some expectation of duty and station Matt did not know, but he suspected the truth was some semblance of both.

Producing ten wooden bowls, Clay began to dole out servings before handing the bowls to Bax who passed them out. The bowls were comically small in the large man's hands, he managed to easily carry two in each enormous appendage. The soldier bowed his head respectfully without speaking as he handed Matt his bowl, but, when Matt thanked the man, his face split into the large smile that he had displayed when they had first been introduced. Matt could not help but notice, uncomfortably, that Clay made a point to serve the stormcriers before serving himself and his fellow soldiers. Ravenous after the long day of riding, Matt devoured every bite as if it would be his final meal; the stew was simple, yet delicious and in Matt's tired mind, possibly the best meal he had ever eaten.

Anthony set his bowl aside as he finished, standing and stretching, twisting his back from side to side with a sigh. Walking several steps further under the canopy of trees he bent at the waist, seeming to study the ground below his feet. Matt watched in confusion as Anthony reached down, plucking a long, thick branch from the bed of dirt and leaves it lay upon; he turned, tossing the branch to Matt without warning. Ducking reflexively at the sudden presence of an object flying towards him, Matt raised his right hand before his face, catching it before turning it questioningly in his hand.