The Tellanon

12. The world is changing

 Some heroes were princesses or other highborn ladies. Some were farmer girls who had always stood out, who had always, well, been on adventures. Some were girls like Serin, who had seen terrible things and become rough. Emyra felt guilty for being her own stupid self. She was a coward, she was too dreamy, she was hopeless with a weapon, soft and... yes, well, she was herself. Serin could train her all she wanted, but she knew she would never succeed. As they rode their horses, she felt more and more uneasy. She should be home.

Her arms bled a lot, especially while it was cold or dark. They seemed to feel the presence of the Nightmares. Every time something was evil or uncomfortable, the wounds opened up and started bleeding. The blood had gotten warm again, a sign that her arms were probably healing, but they still hurt.

Emyra had only seen the Nightmares vaguely, far off. They didn’t ever come close anymore. Serin said it had to do with Emyra surviving their first attack, but Emyra didn’t think so. They were simply brooding. They wanted that sword, and were biding their time until they could get to it.  Emyra was still training herself in how to use it. Berren had trained her with the dagger, and she was quite good with that now, but the sword was completely different, and much more difficult. Too heavy, she supposed.

They had been riding for another ten days, and it was getting boring. They barely ever passed villages, let alone cities, and if they did, Serin ignored them completely. That was weird. It wasn’t her quest, and it didn’t need haste. The men would stay in Valharis for quite a while. If they ever reached it. Emyra was still worried that Allen and her father might die of the Mud Plague. It spread through armies as quick as a rumour, and killed so many so terribly. Emyra would prefer to die of the Nightmares, it was that terrible.  She had to keep hoping, though. The woman in the small college had  told them hope was best against the Nightmares, and Emyra supposed the Nightmares were very present in the Mud Plague.  She thought that was logical. The Nightmares were hard to understand, mainly because no one agreed on what they were.

On the nineteenth day of their adventure, Emyra found her diary almost full. There were only ten pages left, enough for maybe two days, but no more. Her adventure was taking up a lot of room. It needed a lot of description, and Emyra had drawn a lot of maps as well. Nineteen days had taken up a lot more room than expected, as had the three months before that.  She asked Serin if she could go to get a new book and a few bottles of ink. There was a city little more than twenty minutes riding away. Serin looked up at the sun and nodded.

“Yes. Return before it gets dark, I don’t want to have to carry you to a healer again. Buy some food as well, if you will. We’ll be crossing the mountains soon enough, I’d like not to starve.” She said, throwing a bag of gold in Emyra’s direction. Emyra ducked instinctively, and fell on the muddy ground of the hill. The landscape refused to change. It was hills and grasslands, a forest here and there. The only change they had seen were rivers and small lakes. They were looking at a slightly bigger lake now, blue under the equally blue sky. It was warm, as it ought to be at the end of July. There were a few fluffy clouds that drifted across the sky lazily, some cows were grazing downhill, the city lay just over the horizon. It was so beautifully calm that Emyra couldn't help but feel happy. Her father and brother could be dying, her mother and sisters could be worried sick, but she was at peace in this land. Merrón seemed so far away and long ago. She recalled the Ethunan, its dark grey menace that lay amidst elegant white buildings, she recalled the hills and the harbour, the Rannuren and the rich districts, Gilas and the tower she loved to climb. None seemed to match the beauty of this land. This was Thén, not Merrón. Merrón was a world of its own. Thén was a haven of peace. How long would it be until that peace was disturbed? The Valharians could attack easily, or one of their allies. It could all fail. But for now, Emyra walked down the hill contently, with a warm sun and a light heart. She sang softly, as she saddled Alea. She then rode away from Serin, to get food, ink and a diary. Maybe she would buy a book to read. It had been so long since she had read anything but her own diary.