Daughter of the Wind

1. Within the Mist

Twelve years later
Twenty-first of Sorstis, 1182

There wasn't a day that Belkai Androva didn't miss the innocence of her long-lost youth. Life had been much simpler back then. She had just been a little girl who knew nothing except that she didn't want to craft leather for the rest of her life. Magic had called to her and she had followed. Twelve years ago, she thought. Had it really been so long? It felt like a lifetime ago when Brimur had sat her down at the end of her Silent Year, the day that she'd had her celebratory festival. And how she'd celebrated that night, along with her fellow students, as they enjoyed the richest of food and drink that the orcs could provide. She often dreamt of that night, especially when times were tough.

Those memories were especially close at hand this day as she knelt among the rocky earth. The fog was an ever present curtain that seemed to fill her every breath as she sat against a boulder and stared at the freshly dug hole in front of her. She hadn't managed to make it six feet deep, resorting to using a sword as a shovel. She'd managed to roll Saxon's body into it, though, and now paused to catch her breath before she filled it in. She fought back the tears that threatened to flood down her face as she looked into his lifeless eyes. He was supposed to protect her, to guide her on her journey. She didn't even know where she was now. Oh, she was in the Artax Mountains, the treacherous range that ran for hundreds of miles and sealed off the Ikari orcs from the rest of the continent. That was about as exact a position as any non-native could give. The damned fog was everywhere, making it nigh impossible to navigate without an exact map, which Belkai didn't have. Somewhere above her thunder roared, and she cursed the impending rain. Forcing herself to her knees, she began to push the piled dirt back into the hole, refusing to look at the body within.

"The Mist always claims a soul," Belkai whispered, a mantra that she'd learned years ago. She couldn't remember who had first spoken it to her, but it had been echoed many times over. She glanced up at the cliff that her comrade had fallen from, cursing the rock that had fallen away beneath him and plunged him to his death. Turning back to the now-filled grave, she rested her hands on the freshly turned dirt and whispered,

"May the Creator guide your steps in the Beyond. Find your home amongst the souls now at rest. Leave this mortal struggle behind and delight in the paradise of Elkur."

Hopefully the words still mattered when a priest wasn't around to speak them. Either way, his journey here was ended. It some ways he was the lucky one. She closed her eyes and let her tears soak the earth beneath her as the thunder drew nearer.

The first drops of rain began to fall like ice-cold spikes on her exposed skin as she scrambled to retrieve the cloak from her pack and threw it over her shoulders, pulling it tight over her head. She hadn't seen any shelter in hours, though in this fog there could have been a bull elephant ten yards away and she'd never see it. She took a deep breath as she huddled against the freezing boulder and tried to keep herself under the cloak. She'd wait until the storm passed then head southwest. Her compass hung from her belt – at least that still worked. Saxon would have known what to do, she thought. He was a smart one, sometimes too smart for his own good. Now she had to make it out of the mountains and across two different kingdoms to reach her goal – if she lived that long. Girl, how'd you manage to screw it up this badly?

The thunder was her only answer.

* * *

The storm did nothing to ease the unnatural fog that rested over the mountains. When the rain had passed an hour later, Belkai rose and took off her cape, wringing it out before tying it to her pack and letting it hang to drip dry as she kept moving. You were never truly alone in the mountains, and she could hear little creatures darting about the rocks as she walked past. She only caught a glimpse of one, a long and thick lizard with black and orange bands across its scales. It gave a hiss as she came past its rock, then disappeared from view when she didn't heed its warning. It always amazed her that life continued around here even when no one was around to enjoy it. Did the orcs ever travel down this way just to enjoy the natural beauty? She doubted it. She'd been raised amongst the Ikari, and neither aesthetic nor natural beauty held much importance to most of them, and certainly not the more territorial clans that lived at the foothills of the Artax. No, Belkai was alone with the lizards and their prey. It would be at least two days before she reached the nearest town. If she remembered the maps well enough – she'd been told not to bring one – there was a small settlement named Joleva just inside Lustria where she'd be able to find some food and shelter. The dry rations in her pack held little appeal to her. Three days' journey west from there was a small town called Almonte, a trading outpost in the mining region. She'd been told that she would find smugglers aplenty there should they need the assistance. And Saxon would have known who to go to. She'd have to work it out for herself. She hadn't known the native Svaletan well before embarking on the journey, but she was already missing his company, not just his knowledge. It would be a long journey, made worse by the solitude. Why did I ever agree to this? She knew the answer, of course, but it brought no peace. There would be no peace until she reached her goal, others had made sure of that.