Nivaleth's Cathedral

SIX: WHAT COMES OF FATE

The days passed by slowly. The second day they camped just before the city of Sydeni, and the third they traveled through and past and settled down on the outskirts. None were very eager for the travels, for why the weather was fair and nice, the reasons behind their haste meant all the stops were not welcomed. Amelia and Rorro taught Mirianette much of magic during the day, answering her questions to the best of their abilities. Those questions came in plenty, a whine controlling her until she was told more. Her magic improved at a rate far faster than her wounds.

Luistia, on the other hand, didn't have much to do with that. Both she and Bostrim had issues speaking of magic, and Aritemes wasn't much help. During the day she'd train by running alongside the cart with Aritemes or by sword fighting during stops. Bostrim too was eager to learn by sword, and he often joined them. Their feet would pound fast and their arms swing faster, each with a burning desire that fastened itself onto their faces.

By the middle of the sixth day of traveling they'd reached the beginning of the mountain range. There, the solid trek to Rufella ended and became a series of interconnected trails all leading to the same area. Their carriage pulled to a stop beside it as all inside came to the out.

"Do we go up, or try to venture around the mountain?" the driver asked. He was a short, stout man with half of a beard and dressed in all black. Because his coloring was some mix of race, Amelia figured his mother must've been from Gardelle and his father from elsewhere. Interesting choice Mother made with him.

Amelia looked to the other members, then back to him. I'm in charge; what a peculiar thought. "If no one objects, the mountains would be the safer path to take. Down, we have a better change of being spotted by raiders, or to fall into trap by Arabelle."

"The mountains are known for dragons," Aritemes said. "In Partrall, it's said the worst thing encountered upon mountains are dragon-kind, for serpents have their ways among air and rock."

"That be but myth," Luistia said, chuckling. Placing her hand upon his shoulder, she pointed up at the mountains and the worn trail leading through them. "Up there only threat be other travelers, lesser known. They pose no threat ta us now, not so close ta harvest. We pass through easy."

Still, he seemed uneasy with the idea. Partrall seems to fill minds too often with these myths, Amelia thought. As with Rorro and his tale of Gol, and he with dragons. "If it be so," he began, "thy must know well. Lest we fall trap, as Amelia dutifully noted. If not the dragon and Cyliaria are both alive, which be main worry, we best take careful heed along our paths and never stray. Dragons are known to attack lone passengers before their groups in warning."

Amelia nodded, then spoke to the driver in low tones. The sun shone down on them with lasting heat, the temperature rising as they waited.

I must speak as Mother with my arm moving so. It amused Amelia as she talked, knowing that she and her mother indeed had things in common. She waved her hands about in circles and squares, designing a map while talking. We'll have to be careful. If I even tell the others of our path She may hear of it and stop us. Shame. The gems worn on her fingers glinted in the light, sparkles of sapphire infused with the lightest touch of magic. After a moment she turned back to the group and gave them a curt nod, brushing leaves off her gown.

"We travel up the mountain. Our carriage will go with us to the Leaf-end Pass, where he will turn around and we shall continue on foot with one of the horses," she explained. Sort of. Clouds passed overhead and for a moment her brown dress turned black like a shadow. Behind her, the brush moved. "Any disagreements, or shall we continue as were?"

There were none.

Packing back into the carriage, Amelia reached into the satchel she kept under her seat and brought out bread and hard cheese, giving everyone in the carriage a piece. "Must be getting hungry. Lunch, and tonight when stopping briefly we shall cook a meal." She opened up a slit from behind her head and gave pieces to the guards and driver as well. Her curls fell behind her in waves, a grand, stringy mess. Without her servants to oil and fix the tangles she was left with only a brush and canister of Rose oil. While able to do simple braids, it just wasn't the same. Internally, she sighed at the thought of it. I look nothing like a princess. What shall my husband think when we meet? No! Fiancé. Fiancé. Not husband...not yet. Unless he decides not to marry, in which I shall just be...a princess.