Flowers on the Path

Chapter III-2

Completely drenched, Dalia rode alongside Czyzy, who had finally gone silent after hours of relentless chatter. The rain continued its unyielding assault, streaming down her face, slipping under her collar, and soaking through her clothes. Her habit was heavy with moisture, and the metal ornaments on her belt jangled with each movement, colder than ever against her damp skin.

It took her a moment to notice Czyzy's sudden quiet. Considering his usual loquaciousness, it was unusual. Had he asked her something and was now waiting for a reply? No—he seemed lost in thought. Rain dripped from his thick, brown eyebrows, and his gaze was fixed somewhere far ahead.

"Did you say something?" she asked hesitantly. She felt a bit guilty for not listening, especially since the journey was dragging on and Czyzy clearly needed to voice his thoughts.

He glanced at her, surprised, as if she'd interrupted a deep reverie.

"There are so many disturbances... I feel it in my chest," he said, pressing his hand to his heart to illustrate. "It can't be a good sign, and I'm a superstitious man."

Dalia squinted into the rain to see if she could spot what he was sensing. Through the downpour, the air seemed to shimmer in places, like fairy wings flitting in the distance. The air felt thick and labored as she breathed it in, weighing in her lungs, though that could just be the suffocating humidity.

When she looked back at him, their eyes met. Unlike the others, Czyzy treated her with an unwarranted respect as an acolyte of a powerful goddess. Dalia knew what he wanted to hear, but she couldn't bring herself to say it.

"You know," she began, choosing her words carefully, "I think... No, I know this is only temporary. We're all tired, and when we reach our destination, everything will calm down."

"Are you not afraid for your Lady?" he asked, tilting his head incredulously.

She lowered her gaze, avoiding his eyes even though he couldn't see her expression. She sniffled lightly.

"That's why I'm here," she said. Glancing down, she noticed the tracks of other horses in the mud. She wasn't much of a tracker, but if she could spot them despite the rain, their riders couldn't be far. She pointed them out to Czyzy, uncertain if he'd be able to see through the downpour. "We should pick up the pace."

They urged their horses ahead to the edge of their column, and soon enough, another group of armed riders came into view. Czyzy let out a low grunt of surprise. The cursed forest and the relentless rain made them move like blind mice.

These soldiers were clearly from Traturia, though their crests had seen better days. There were perhaps a dozen of them. As they drew closer, the last soldier in the line noticed them and turned his horse. At first, Dalia thought the heavy rain had dulled his senses, but as they neared, she realized it was exhaustion. The man looked like he hadn't slept in days, with dark circles under his eyes and trembling hands. He raised his sword in greeting, the blade glinting dully in the stormy light.

"Who goes there?!" he shouted, his voice hoarse. His hands shook, and his horse shifted uneasily beneath him.

Czyzy lifted his hands in a calming gesture.

"Just passing through to the capital," he said, pointing ahead with one hand while keeping the other raised. "From Zarian."

"From Zarian?!" the soldier repeated, his eyes wide with disbelief, face contorting with suspicion. Dalia's grip tightened around her small blade, ready to defend herself if necessary.

"Easy now," came a deep voice. Another soldier broke away from the column and approached at a leisurely pace. He wore a more ornate suit of armor, though it was marred by grime and signs of battle. A scar ran across his face, closing one eye, fresh and poorly stitched, with blood seeping through the bandage. He, too, was soaked and dirty like the rest of his group.