The Shattered Path

Chapter 37 - The Visitor

Alara opened her eyes. She was warm and the air smelled of some kind of strange spice that tickled her nose. The memory of landing among the tall pines quickly came back to her. She remembered the chaos in Grandink, the flight through the Veil, and the freezing snow. She had been separated from her father and poor Syrs had likely died.

Alara was not in a forest of pines; she was in a building. Painted hides and beaded necklaces covered the walls, a small fire crackled in a stone hearth, and the strange smell was unfamiliar herbs. Someone had brought her to this place. That realization sent a rush of fear through her tired body.

A plump woman in a brown dress bent next to the hearth, stirring a black stew pot. Her gray hair was tied in a thick bun on the back of her head. She turned from the fire and her eyes went wide in her wrinkled face.

"Lineas be planted!" she exclaimed. "I did not expect you to come awake so soon!" The sturdy woman crossed the room on short legs to stand next to Alara. The fat on her face drooped, magnifying her sorrowful expression. She placed a warm hand on Alara's shoulder. "Are you in pain, girl?"

Alara had feared that the Raujornians, or something worse, might have found her. She didn't know where she was, but she felt reasonably safe; which was good, because she was too weak to do anything about it if she wasn't. She needed rest. The vast magical energies she had summoned were well beyond what she had been accustomed to calling. Syrs had warned her how dangerous it was to draw more than a wizard could handle. One day, though, she might be able to use the same amount of magic and not feel such fatigue. That day was far off, she was sure.

"Are you in pain, girl?" the woman repeated gently.

Alara shook her head weakly. She didn't feel pain, but she was terribly thirsty. The thought of sitting up to drink water seemed like too much exertion, however, so she didn't ask for any. Her weary brain struggled to formulate a plan to return to her father in Grandink. Racing through the Veil like she had done didn't seem like a safe method of travel. She could overshoot her destination and end up in the ocean. She still didn't know how far she had traveled. Maybe she wasn't as far away as she feared.

"I am fixing some broth for you," the woman promised. "Rest now and it will be ready shortly."

Heavy knocks sounded at the door. The woman frowned at the noise, or perhaps who she suspected to be on the other side, before wobbling across the room to pull the door open.

Beyond the woman's wide frame, Alara could see that it was night, and someone outside held a torch. She could hear faint voices. The visitor apparently spoke in low tones. She doubted that it could be Raujornians; not in this place, and certainly not knocking at the door. Raujies did not knock.

The elderly woman spun from the open doorway and wobbled back to Alara's side. Her drooping cheeks slid back in a wide grin. "I have good news, girl. Good news, indeed." She placed a gentle hand on Alara's shoulder once more. "Your father is here. He has come to take you home."

The news almost gave Alara strength enough to sit up. She didn't understand how her father had found her so quickly; perhaps she had been unconscious for several days. She still wore the same blue dress and it seemed that it was still damp from melted snow, so it had to be the same night she had dropped from the cliff, unless she had been sweating. She didn't feel feverish, though. Perhaps she was not as far away from Grandink as she had first thought. Maybe her father had traveled to the mountains with the priest. She didn't know, but it was such a relief that he was there with her.

A bearded man clad in leather shirt and pants stepped through the doorway. He was tall and wide, with a muscular frame. His black hair was pulled into a long braid and his stony gaze fell upon her with what could only be contempt.