Chapter Twenty-three

From a completed epic fantasy novel told across two time periods.

Veabella

They finally came to a full stop hours later. Meffas motioned for them to reign in their mounts and follow him down into a gulch which cut across the plains. The descent had been easy although the natural trench was two man heights high at certain places. Once dismounted, they were out of sight from surface level. Veabella had been unable to put together fully formed thoughts during the ride, the combination of shock and utter confusion too much for her to handle, and she had decided simply to focus on riding. It was easier and likely necessary.

Meffas rubbed the back of his neck, then looked over his crew. Even Ictorian seemed uncertain of what action to take, if any. Veabella had never seen the strong, dour man so visibly shaken. Evidently, fighting deadly beasts required a much different disposition than fighting humans. Especially when accusations had been thrown, making supposed murderers out of the hunting company.

“I know you are all hoping I have at least a small insight as to what in the Depthless Sea just happened, but I do not. I was as blindsided as the rest of you. Yes, I know that is not helping. I’m just putting it out there so we’re all on the same page.”

Veabella and the others stood motionless. A light breeze passed overhead. The horses stammered in place against the reigns which their riders held tightly.

“I see two possibilities,” Meffas continued. “The first is that there has been a mistake and we have been confused with another hunting company. I see this as unlikely for a number of reasons. First off, all of the other guild companies attended the tournament, either as participants, or spectators. Secondly, we were the only company from Ebanigan, making us unique enough to stand out and therefore difficult to mistake for another group.”

“The other possibility is this,” Meffas said, looking away for a moment. He turned his eyes back to the men and women in front of him. “We have been set up. Someone has decided to blame us for murder. Murders, in fact. Of perhaps nearly one thousand people.”

“Why?” Twig said. Veabella looked over at him. The innocence in his tone made him appear half his age.

Meffas shook his head. Two dozen heartbeats passed before he said “I do not know, Twig. I do not know why we were singled out. Right now, I hope it was simply because we were the easiest target. As awful as that would be, I can think of worse scenarios.”

“You believe we were a good choice to be blamed because we were the only company from Ebanigan,” Xopher said. “And…”

“Because we dropped out of the tournament. Aye, that is what I believe,” Meffas said.

Veabella could hear the pain in his words. He blames himself for this. The injustice of that stung her and made her eyes water. He took an unpopular action under the belief that it would save us from harm. And in return, he has made us fugitives. It is not fair.

Ictorian moved to stand next to Meffas. “At the moment, this is all speculation,” he said. “Though, I will admit I am inclined to agree with Meffas’s deductions. A foreign company could be blamed without retaliation within Vinredor. If we follow that path of thinking, we have other pertinent questions to answer as well. Who, in reality, committed the poisonings, and why would they want so many people dead?”

“Were all of the attendants the intended targets, or just a few individuals?” Meffas asked. “Did the killer or killers want everyone dead, or did they only seek to leave no witnesses?”

Ictorian nodded. “Yes. And when did the poisonings occur? When did the victims die? There are many factors here that require thought.”

“We are unfortunately in no position to find answers to those questions at the moment,” Meffas said.

“Then what will we do?” Veabella asked, surprised she had spoken the question aloud.

“We are not safe in Vinredor, that is for certain,” Meffas replied. “Our first priority is to get back home. Once we are out of the reach of the Vinredorian law enforcement, we need to meet with the guild in Goldcrest. They will have heard of the poisonings by the time we reach them. They may have more information about what happened. And from there… we will have to decide that based on what we learn. For now, we need to eat quickly and get some rest. I believe we are far enough out of the way as to avoid detection. Still, we will have to travel by night until we pass the border.”

The crew broke their stances and turned their attention to their mounts, eager to find work which they could focus on, filling their minds with what was physically in front of them, to take the place of repetitive thoughts. Veabella noticed that Donnes remained standing in place, only shifting her grip on the two-handed axe which she was leaning against.

“Are you alright?” Veabella asked her friend.

“He did save us, you know,” the burly woman said.

“Hm?”

“He blames himself for this, but he saved our lives. If we had remained in the tournament, we would be dead, too.”

“I did not think of that. You’re right. We should tell him.”

“Not yet. He is not ready to hear that yet. He still needs time to beat himself up.”

Veabella furrowed her brow. “What?”

“He’s stubborn that way. We can tell him later.” Without a further word, Donnes went to her horse, leaving Veabella to stare at her back, dumbfounded.

Over the course of the next two weeks, the landscape gradually shifted from rolling hills of patchy bushes to large groupings of beech and oak trees, the soil darker and more solid. Along with the change in terrain, the weather became more temperate. The company made as few stops to resupply as possible, and even then, only one rider ever entered a village. Veabella had always thought of Meffas as cautious, and he seemed to be growing even more so. She thought it unlikely that word had reached the nondescript villagers before they did, but Meffas would take no chances.

They mostly rode out of eyeshot from the roads, and always at night. They headed north by northwest, riding from sundown to sunup, until they finally crossed over from Vinredor into Ebanigan. Once they had left Vinredorian territory, the sense of relief that emanated from each of them was palpable. After a final night of riding after dark, Ictorian had taken Meffas aside. They spoke in private, and the next morning, Meffas announced that they would slow their pace and complete the last few days of riding on a more typical schedule.

The friends began to joke again, and conversations flowed in a manner that was reminiscent of the old days. As much as Veabella wanted to reach the hunter’s guild, she also savored this time of normalcy. She did not know what news would be revealed when they were back in the capital. The future was in flux, and she was having a difficult time convincing herself that everything would go back to the way it once was.

They rode now on the Jeweled Road, the main thoroughfare that connected Oslidor, the capital of Vinredor to Goldcrest, the capital of Ebanigan. The road’s condition did not live up to its lofty name. Neither nation wished to pay for upkeep on infrastructure that they claimed the other one benefitted from more. Of jewels, there were none to be seen. Instead, the gravel was scarred with holes that could easily break a wagon wheel.

Even with the road in poor condition, thousands of people relied on it every day. Safely within the borders of Ebanigan, Veabella still found herself looking away as they passed riders on horseback, merchant wagons packed with goods, and even people on foot. Twig and Donnes did not share her concern. They spoke loudly, often attempting to settle old bets, never once so much as shifting in their saddles when a stranger passed. Veabella found great comfort in hearing them resume their old bickering.

Two days ride from Goldcrest, they stopped in a village called Mininlor. Veabella had passed through there a handful of times in the past, and the company had even spent a night there on their way to Oslidor. Located at the edge of a forest of oak and chestnut trees, the village was large enough to support two inns. There were towns closer to the city, but at that proximity, crime became a concern. This far out, the village inhabitants would not consider crossing with armed men and women. Thus, it was a safe place to enjoy a good meal.

Veabella took point and led the company down dirt streets to the inn they had stayed at just over a month ago. It was early evening, less than an hour before sundown, but villagers were still out and about, walking home from jobs as loggers, fur trappers, and hunters. Not, of course, the same breed of hunters as Veabella and her company. The more mundane type who killed animals for meat, working a simple job that did not incur any serious risks. She doubted any of them had even been face to face with a beast the size of a horse, with fangs as long as an adult human’s fingers.

She wondered at the simple, but seemingly pleasant lives these people led. They did not go on adventures and did not have epic tales they could share. On the other hand, they would almost certainly never by mauled to death, and being framed for murder would have never crossed their minds even under the influence of alcohol.

Past a lumber mill, located between granaries, was their destination, The Foxhole. The inn was three stories tall, made out of the hard oak that was found in the nearby forest. The company had unanimously agreed to stay the night there for one reason- the food. The ale was strong, and the meal of venison and wild mushrooms they had devoured on their last trip had been worth much more than the price they paid. Veabella could not wait to sit down and see what was being served this night.

Ictorian volunteered to hobble the horses and Meffas went to work on acquiring and paying for sleeping quarters. Meanwhile, the four younger members of the company gleefully sat down in the cool first level of the tavern.

Even Xopher appears to be in a good mood. He is not usually a heavy drinker, but something tells me that he will imbibe quite a lot tonight.

Twig bought the first round, supposedly with coin that he had won from Donnes on a bet regarding the Divine Queen Sayel Ebanigan’s number of lovers. Donnes called foul on Twig’s claim that he had won. How the two intended on ever settling the bet was a mystery to Veabella.

A serving girl, looking to have just reached adolescence, brought them their tankards and told them that a meal of rabbit stew with pumpernickel bread and goat cheese would be served that night. Veabella ordered a double helping for all six compatriots, under the assumption that she would be able to eat anything the others did not finish.

“Finally a decent drink!” Twig said, wiping his mouth. “Having nothing but water for weeks was torture, and we haven’t even been caught yet.”

“Shut up, Twig,” Xopher snarled. “We may be in Ebanigan, but that doesn’t mean you need to talk so cavalierly.”

“You need to learn to relax,” Twig said with a dismissive waive of his free hand. After another long drink, he leaned back in his chair. “Meffas will sort it all out. That’s what he’s good at. See, everyone in this company has their role. Meffas makes arrangements, I’m the brains, Ictorian is tall, Veabella asks questions, Xopher broods, and Donnes looks funny. We fit together like a jigsaw puzzle.”

Donnes smacked the little man on the back of his head, producing a pathetic yelp.

“There’s a brain in there?”

“That was really hard,” Twig said, rubbing his head.

Meffas arrived and pulled a chair up next to Twig. “Three rooms for the night. Ictorian and I will share. Twig, you’re with Xopher. Vea with Donnes.”

“Did I do something to deserve this punishment?” Xopher asked.

“If he snores, just hit him,” Meffas said, giving Donnes a wink.

“The lack of respect that I receive is scandalous,” Twig remarked. “I saved us from those guards, I’ll have you know.”

“Let’s keep talk of that down until we’re in a less public place,” Meffas whispered after the others had finished sharing their thoughts on Twig’s proclamation.

As Ictorian strode over to join them, the serving girl, carrying a tray packed with so much food that it looked as though it weighed more than she did, bumped into the tall man. In a crash of clay bowls and plates, stew sprayed out onto the dirt floor.

“Let me help you,” Ictorian said, lifting the girl up in his muscular arms.

Veabella and Meffas went over to assist, as well. The liquid was forming brown rivers on the ground in all directions.

A man in a stained apron rushed over to the serving girl. “Jilana, are you hurt?” he asked.

“No,” the girl said. “I’m sorry, Cadeo. I should not have tried to carry it all at once.”

The cook brushed dirt from her elbow. “Consider it a lesson learned. No one serves for long without making a similar error. Even I have dropped more meals on the floor than I care to admit.”

He then looked at the hunters. “I apologize. I’ll have your food just as soon as this mess is cleared away. And a round of ale on the house for the wait.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Meffas said.

“But I will. Thank you as well for helping Jilana.”

A patron shambled across the room and looked down at the soggy food-covered floor. “Looks worse than what I just vomited,” he said with a laugh before taking a drink from his tankard and stumbling to the table directly behind Veabella.

Twig leaned out from his seat to look at the floor. “I’ve seen worse,” he drawled.

When the food was removed and sand had been poured over the remaining liquid, Cadeo and Jilana brought the crew’s replacement meals and they energetically attacked their stew. As they ate, the drunken man behind Veabella began speaking to himself. She was unfortunately able to make out the entire one-sided conversation.

“Soon, it will be soon,” the man blathered. “Across the sky, so that all can see it. A brightness to illuminate our dark nature. Won’t the Divine Rulers be thrilled. Deny it, distract from it, claim it as their own, they will. But it will be too late. The world will have seen. The second fulfillment!”

“What is that man carrying on about?” Xopher asked.

“I believe he is speaking of a prophecy of The Path,” Veabella answered.

Xopher scoffed. “Out loud? Even drunk I would think he would have more sense.”

At that, the man rose from his seat. Weaving slightly, he attempted to steady himself and then walked over so that he could put his hands down on the hunters’ table.

“Nothing I said is not truth,” the man said.

“Do you not know where you are?” Xopher asked. “It is illegal to support The Path in a royal country.”

“Do I know? I know better than you do,” the man said. “I lived through the purge.”

“We’re sorry for interrupting you,” Meffas said. “May I buy you a drink as an apology?”

The man nodded. “You may. But there is no need to apologize. I survived the purge, and I will survive whatever they do next. There are more treaders of The Path than they know. They will find that out, soon enough.”

“Let me get that drink for you,” Meffas said, searching the room for the serving girl.

“And one for the rest of you, to forget your troubles.”

Meffas slowly turned his body to face the man. “Pardon?”

“With Vinredor. They want you still.”

Veabella saw that Xopher had moved his right hand under the table. She hoped it would remain there.

“What are you speaking of?” Meffas asked.

“You have a secret of mine, and I have one of yours, so we are equal. Worry not, I am no fan of the Divine Rulers, so you have nothing to fear.”

The man glanced at Xopher, who sat straight as an arrow, one hand on the table and the other beneath it, staring at the drunkard.

“Forget the drink,” the man said. “I have had enough already and it is getting dark. Good night to all of you. And do not fret, The Hero watches over you as he does all of us.”

He placed his tankard down next to Veabella and stumbled out of the tavern.

“Should I pursue him?” Xopher asked.

“No,” Meffas said. “He spoke too openly to be lying. He is a follower of The Path, and the last thing he wants is attention from the authorities. Let us view that as a lesson in why we need to be discreet--- there are always people listening. Now, let’s finish our meals and go to sleep.”

Veabella went back to her now lukewarm bowl of stew. As she swirled her spoon through the remnants of her meal, she thought on how her life and the life of her companions had changed so drastically. It did not appear to be a change for the better.