Fancy boots? These weren't fancy in the slightest, they were the standard attire in Volthona. Of course Aldaians would think of them as luxurious since they did not have even half of Volthona's resources. A rotting potato on Volthonian soil would be considered an item of interest to those halfwits. And I was to deal with an Aldaian all the way to Feirdam! An Aldaian connected to The Veil might I add. I still could not believe how this was truly happening to me.
I guess it was better than being stuck as a slave to Noch. There were no orders, no rules to follow out here.
Lars and his horse, Reydelf, were leading me and the girl through the dense forest, soft sunlight trickling onto the branches and spattering the untamed grasses. We had left the ruins and tavern not too long ago and were finally on our way towards the lake Lars had spoken of. Trick was obeying my commands for the time being, carrying me behind the stallion made of shadow.
The forest was alive with birdsong and breezes that rustled the leaves of the trees, causing me to reach for my hammer. It was maddening that every small sound turned out to be nothing. If there was an umbra nearby I'd rather have it show itself than be concealed by the undergrowth, stalking us until we were in a more vulnerable position. That got me wondering what would happen when the sun would set. Either the umbras would find us or Noch's search party would.
However, so far, there had been no sign of the dark creatures or the humans. It was just the three of us. An adventurer from Feirdam, an Aldaian, and a Volthonian. It sounded like the beginning of a joke.
What was Feirdam even like? I could only assume this traveler named Lars was telling the truth when he said he was raised there. Jonse had supposedly lived there as well and it was true that they had known each other at some point. The girl had recognized that ring on Lars's finger, the same, specific kind of ring Jonse apparently had. They both seemed to know him well, although the girl I was still skeptical about.
As I looked ahead, I watched her atop Boldon's horse, her fingers loose on the reins. Her hair was quite long. Unkempt. I could just barely see the gray slash on her leg where the black tendrils had poured from. Her gown was tattered, mud crusting at the bottom and on her sleeves. How dare those men in the tavern call her a Volthonian. Her appearance clearly reeked of Aldaian.
"So, Astrid," Lars began from up ahead, "have you been living in Aldaia all your life? Jonse never spoke much about where he settled you."
Her voice was quiet, tired. "Yes. It has always been my home. Jonse found me a lovely family who graciously took me in."
"You mentioned they are currently being held in Volthona?"
It took her a moment to choke out her answer. "Yes, my mother and my sister at least."
"And your father?" he questioned more carefully.
The clomping of hooves on the forest floor replied before the girl did. Her sigh pushed a whisper from her mouth. "Gone." I saw her lean forward and stroke the black horse's mane. "He was killed in the Volthonian attack on our village."
"Hm. That explains the destruction I found you two in. I had not known whether that was Volthona's doing or an umbra's. I had wanted to believe it was some animal," Lars spoke. "And I take it that is when they captured your mother and sister?"
I gripped my reins tighter, clenching my jaw. Was she not going to mention that an Aldaian assassin had murdered King Vierdaag?
"Yes," Astrid only replied, her voice wavering with emotion, "they took all of our women and children. I was lucky enough to escape the cage they'd thrown me in and I fled into the forest with Obsidian. They've been after me ever since then."
