Legends of Ancient Astillia: The Sephian

Chapter 12

We had been walking for hours. My legs ached, and I was close to giving up and walking on my hands. I had tried earlier, but Kelther told me it was a terrible idea. Don't know why, I know I'm athletic enough. As we continued, it became slightly brighter, bit by bit, and eventually it was light enough for me to put my orb away. Granted, it might've been too early, but we could see where we were putting our feet as well as each other, and I didn't want to drain too much mana. After another hour or so, I suggested we take a break.

"Are your legs getting tired? I can carry you," Kelther taunted.

"Actually, we don't do too much constant walking where I'm from. It's a lot of swinging on vines, jumping from limb to limb, and climbing," I retorted.

He laughed and leaned against a wall, "Yes, we can take a break."

I sat on the hard floor, and started rummaging through my bag. I would be lying if I said I wasn't a tad bit hungry. A simple drop of mead would suffice. Lucky me, I found some slightly stale boules and jam made with honey and lingonberry. I broke the bread and poked a hole in its centre. The jar was sealed tight, and I couldn't open it.

"Having trouble? Did you find something in that bag of yours?" Kelther vied, kneeling down to my level.

"Yes, I'm having problems opening this jar," I grunted as I took the hem of my blouse in my hand and twisted the lid to no avail.

Kelther took the jar from my hands and pried it open in one easy turn of the wrist. He wrinkled his nose in disgust as he passed it back to me, "What is that? Some sort of salve?"

I sniffed, but found nothing wrong with it, "It's lingonberry and honey jam. Milyu and Rhaphel's favourite. Not so much mine, it's a little sour, but a delicacy nonetheless."

"It smells vile," He responded, watching as I scooped some out with my finger and shoved it in the boule, "Don't ruin that perfectly fine bread!"

I rolled my eyes and started eating, "The bread is stale, actually, and bitter."

"How can bread be bitter?" He looked amused.

"I'm unsure, but that's probably why the cook packed something to put on it, to hide that bitterness."

"The cook?"

"Yes, me. If you want some, help yourself."

He picked up a boule and inspected it before taking a bite. The face he made afterwards said it all. It was bitter, stale bread.

"The jam really helps. But suit yourself."

He pulled a small blade out of his pocket and scooped some of the jam onto it, then spread it on the bread. He didn't like it too much, I could tell, but he said, "Yeah, the jam helps."

After we'd finished our small meal, we continued down the hall. As we went farther into the lightning darkness, the small hum of a crowd cheering faintly came into our range, and at the end of the hall, we could see where the light was coming from. We quickened our pace, eager to get out of the dark hall we had been trapped in.