The Jewel of Orlegon

Chapter 16: Encounter in the mountains

Several days had passed since the bandit attack, and the rest of the journey had been carried out in a much heavier atmosphere. Ieza had kept his promise, and when Alteria woke up the day after the ambush, her memories lacked details, as if they were events from years ago. Her tormented emotions, however, remained perfectly intact, and the young woman would sometimes spend long minutes staring at her hands, feeling as though she could still smell the scent of the blood that had stained them. She now traveled wearing the white tunic of the Enartians, having had to discard her previous outfit, irreparably stained with red. This had been another trial for her, as she felt like she was incinerating a part of herself, a part connected to Nimeo and that hadn't survived more than a few days on the continent. Afterwards, she felt uncomfortable in the immaculate clothes she had put on, which didn't seem to fit her properly.

During a stop for the night, Nanthamo found her one evening with a needle in hand, adjusting her pants, partially hidden under her travel blanket. The two young people remained silent for a few minutes, one lighting the campfire while the other continued her task.

"Where did you find the thread?" he finally asked, with a vaguely surprised expression.

"I unraveled the embroidery from the collar and sleeves of the tunic."

"It's a shame, it looked nice on you."

"It wasn't me. I don't feel comfortable in this outfit."

The Enartian didn't reply immediately. Once the first flames were crackling, he sat down not far from his fellow traveler.

"No one feels comfortable in it the first time. It takes time to get used to it."

"I'm afraid of what would happen if I got used to it too quickly."

"Are we still talking about clothes?" Nanthamo asked astutely.

"No."

The fire began to crackle joyfully, sending a few sparks into the fading evening light. Ieza's solitary silhouette was visible high up on a rocky ledge, scanning the surroundings. They had reached the foothills a few days earlier, and the terrain had started to become more rugged. The small group had followed a main road that wound its way between the mountains, passing through some low-altitude passes and delving deeper among these towering stone giants. Their arrival in Agathil seemed imminent, and in these final moments of the journey, Alteria worried whether she was truly suited for this life.

"You know that many Enartians have never fought except in training," Nanthamo eventually resumed, attempting to reassure her, "and the majority hold positions that never require resorting to violence again."

"Have many killed someone on the way to Agathil?" the young woman grumbled, setting aside her work.

"You mean besides those who had no other choice to save their lives?" the other retorted with a slightly annoyed tone, "It was you or him, Alteria. No one will ever force you to do more."

"Have you ever done it?"

"That's not the point!"

"Have you done it?" Alteria insisted.

"Yes," her companion reluctantly admitted.

"At the Order's request?"

"It wasn't the same."

"Why?"

"Because I had done it before the Calling!"

The young man's voice had resonated in the silence of the valley, and a few birds took flight, startled by the volume the mountains had lent it. A discreet cough from the heights prompted the two speakers to look up at the selven, who seemed to be scrutinizing them with his icy gaze, visible even in the twilight's dimness. Alteria briefly diverted her attention to the joyful dance of flames playing on the branches of the campfire. The vision suddenly rekindled the memory of the burning tree she had been trapped in and what had followed... A grip of anxiety tightened around her chest, causing her breathing to become erratic and her thoughts to unravel into a brutal interrogation she couldn't control.