The Arkanist

The Hidden Fortress

It was hard for Aera to believe that she had slept through the entire ride to Eolas. She remembered nothing of the long trip as she woke with heavy eyes to be helped off the bench of the wagon. Ollor grinned at her, keeping her upright, for she was still half asleep, swaying like the aimless currents of the sea. Her legs were numb under her and quivered as she stood. Hearing the carriage hobble away on its battered iron feet pained her head, and screeched like metal grinding against metal. Ollor propped her down against a solemn willow, pale and gaunt, leaves freckled with ash against their milky skin.

         Her eyes flickered, and burned with a dull ache. Ash contorted her vision as she forced them wide, so that her pale green eyes were all Ollor could see. She felt better after a fair half hour, and her eyes were nimble, and her head was lighter. The ranger was messing up her short true-red hair when she felt a dash of sudden pain lance through her chest and raced up her throat, until she belched. The pain vanished from her body and she watched as Ollor began to gather his things.

         Aera studied him as he slung his travelpack over his fur-clad shoulder. He leaned close to her face when he wad finished and helped her up on her feet, the numbness gone. She shook them, feeling he muscles churn. Ollor handed her the bow she’d bought back in Dalh, or rather stole, if truth be said. “Don’t want to forget this now,” he said, eyes sparkling. To be honest, Aera did now find him rather attractive, after figuring the man out. Young she was, but it still felt nice when he would mess up her hair or hold her tight so she wouldn’t freeze. Of course though, Ollor did not see it this way. To him, Aera was a boy, Aeron. And it had to remain that way.

         Aera took the bow in hand and strapped it to her back. She would need arrows, and a quiver to hold them soon, but for now, the bow was all she wanted, even if it couldn’t shoot anything. Feeling its curved arm of wood across her back warmed her heart in ways indescribable. She thanked the ranger, looked ahead, seeing the small village of Eolas, cradled in two massive arms of stone, lifting it up a good thirty feet from the ground. Two cases of stairs climbed up the steep grey rock, bearded in thick moss and splotched with lichen. Atop the knoll of rock, Aera could see a faint glimmer of light from the shops and inns and taverns nestled tightly together.

         She made to ascend the stairs, but Ollor pulled her back. “We are not be going into Eolas tonight, Aeron,” he said. “Our destination still lies a way further west. If you see that ridge there,” he pointed out with his right arm. Aera saw a slight craggy lift in the earth. “Beyond that lies our road into the mountains. Night is soon upon us, and there has been a tale or two about strange creatures in the murk of late, I hear.”

         Aera frowned, slightly disappointed they weren’t going into Eolas. She wanted to hear more music in the taverns, listen to the songs her parents used to sing to her. As they walked into a thick copse of firs with prickly fingers and mangled limbs, Aera sung to herself one of the songs she had heard back at the Pale Maiden. She didn’t know how much time had passed since then, but as she scratched her head, she found her hair was longer, wild still, but longer and frayed to her chin. She wondered if she’d have to cut it soon again.

         The wan ruddy glow of Eolas sunk away into the consuming darkness when Aera stopped singing, her enervation swept away with the harsh winter winds as they creaked the trees. A tall lanky fir gave a humble bow when Aera passed under its arms, listening to Ollor speak. She didn’t pay much attention to his words, but focused on his voice. There was something odd about it, something trapped inside it.

         “Why was I asleep the entire ride west?” asked Aera, sudden her question. She thought it a wee suspicious in the least.

         “You were tired,” said Ollor. “You hadn’t slept in a long while leading up to Dalh…” There was still a certain oddness about his voice that Aera was snagged on.