The Sorceress's Murderous Companion

Chapter 1: Thorn

Thorn easily kept pace with the rams pulling the caravan along. Fresh mud splashed over his heavy boots. His dark clothes obscured the filth that accumulated from each trip. He ran a hand through his short, black hair and reminded himself that his plans would come together soon.

The heavily pollinated air was a change from the salty sea air they had come from. They passed rice paddies, patches of neatly planted cabbage, and orchards bearing flowers and ripening fruit. Rows of wheat and rye and barley rippled beside the caravan, and all Thorn could think about was how all of these foods upset his stomach immensely.

Sahara stayed several paces ahead of the caravan, attentive as ever. Straight-backed and calm, blond hair tied back in a no-nonsense tail, hat shading her face. Patchy red spots of sun covered her pale arms. She strolled purposefully and eyed the tall grass that could easily hide enemies. Bandits, wild animals, neither were likely this close to the farms, but Sahara was vigilant.

Moloch drove the rams at an even pace. His thick, shoulder-length dreads were pulled back and wrapped behind his head. A cloth sunshade protected him from the beating sun.

Thorn picked at the sunburn on his left shoulder, the one sporting the Guard and Guide spoked wheel tattoo. The burn was bright red on his dark skin. Painful, and healing slower than he'd expected. His fingers brushed against old scar tissue. He pulled away, refocusing his attention on the wagon and the farmlands surrounding them. What he wouldn't give for a drink of Linlea's saltwater whiskey at the moment. Alcohol was the one thing other than meat that actually didn't make him puke his guts out.

Thorn could see just inside the caravan, Merrin and Zel curled up in a pile of cushions, Zel's feathered wings wrapped around Merrin in a loose hold. Her feathers were green and turquoise blue, matched by Merrin's dyed hair. They were Linlea homebodies on an adventure to Alden Town. An adventure to a place of tyranny.

A few paces in front of them, a couple of men stepped out from the tall grass, chopping haphazardly at the edge of the field as though harvesting, though it was too early in the season for that. From a distance, they appeared to be regular farmhands focused on work. But Thorn thought he could see a symbol emblazoned on their clothes that he knew wasn't common in Zenshou. He'd seen that half-closed eye of dark blue and crimson red not too long ago. A couple of months ago, actually. He remembered the symbol clearly.

Thorn, Sahara, and Moloch had been on a mission from Alden Town to Sylvan Hollow. The clients had been two men of opposite builds from across the sea. Obnoxious brothers from the sky city of Adhar, one who spent the entire first couple hours of the trip complaining about how hot the caravan was, but how he really didn't want to get out and walk beside the caravan when it got too unbearable. Because in his country, there were people whose job it was to cool them off. And anyway, living in the sky had its perks as it never got too hot when the windows were open.

The other was just as bad. Rude and petty, talking down to all of them as though they weren't aware of their jobs. 'Make sure you're careful putting our bags up front, we don't want anything to go missing,' he'd said and eyed each of them carefully as though they'd go out of their way to steal their clothes or drop them onto the dirt road. Thorn was tempted to 'accidentally' drop them in the mud, but Sahara took the bag before he could commit to it. Those first few hours into the trip, he'd double-wrapped up the food he'd brought for the road, planning to save it for another time. That was the last time he'd truly gone for a hunt.

The two men on the road now looked up as their caravan neared. They fixated on Thorn as the group passed, and Thorn did his best to ignore them. If he didn't pay any attention to them maybe they would go away, but he felt them staring at his back as they kept going. "Sahara," he called up to her.