On the road to Lhavit 61st Day of Fall, 512 AV
They were on their own now. It was never spoken about, but deep down inside both of the young men felt uneasy. A few days back they had parted ways with their companions out of Alvadas, a pair of Symenestra, each with a human companion. Six was already a daring number to brave the mountains with, but the Symenestra Devishar had been a devastating archer who'd also kept their bellies full. While it was a queer thought to feel less safe without a Symenestra, any Symenestra, around it was true in their case.
Not that they were altogether helpless now. Both lads were strapping in their own way, both tall and hale. And they were a well-coordinated team the both of them. They had been training and studying together for a decade now. They knew their roles and that of the other: Dariel, the only slightly shorter but much heavier of the two, was the point man. His Shielding Magics kept them both alive and his mace was a slow but devastating weapon. Szender, the leaner one with the deathly pallor, was the duo's eyes and ears... and also their brain. He'd tell Dariel what needed to be done and when and used his glaive to exploit the enemy's weak spot from the second rank.
At least that was the theory. It worked well enough when fighting human opponents, too. But their first lone run-in with the wilderness had proved otherwise. Luckily, Szender's cloak had been the cat-beast's only real victim but they both knew that had had more to do with luck than skill on their part. They'd had less luck when they tried to salvage the beast's flesh to have more to eat than the hard tack and cheese they both carried. Instead they learned what a gall bladder was the hard way. Once Szender's knife had cut into it, the ichor had rendered the meat inedible.
Still, they had reason enough to be hopeful. Fall had been gentle so far. Even though it rained every day now, and always during the same few afternoon bells, the temperatures were still warm enough for them not to mind their clothes soaking through. Their tinder was stowed in a sheep's bladder anyway and there were enough leaves about to start a rudimentary if chokingly smoky fire even with moist branches.
It also helped that Dariel, who hailed from these parts -whereas Szender only knew that their master had found him in an orphanage in Syliras and little else of the world beyond the ports along the Suvan Sea- claimed that the final ascent to Lhavit would be around the next corner, bend, turn. Of course it never was. He'd been ten years absent after all, but even though he knew it was folly, his hope always rubbed off on Szender.
Every time the only thing they found after a turn was more rust bespeckling leaves and more packed dirt and gravel leading further up the mountain however, the roles reversed. Dariel's shoulders would droop even as he swore,"I bet it's beyond the next one!"
Szender always indulged him even as he made light of the whole issue. "And if not Lhavit then maybe a cozy little whorehouse, or at least a cottage full of wanton farmer's daughters." he'd joke, even if there was no laughter ringing along with his voice.
Not that Dariel needed to hear the laughter. Their bond was a strong one. They took care of each other. Each in his own way. Faithful unyielding Dariel won their fights... vicious cold-blooded Szender won their wars.
If they'd been compatible, Dariel thought, maybe they'd been lovers. But one look at Szender was all it took to reveal that thought for folly. He had always looked out for Dariel, yes, and he still continued to do so. But he couldn't tell why. Szender usually had a plan, an ulterior motive, he'd learned. He might feel something under that icy mask he called a face, yes, but if he did it didn't influence his actions. Much as Dariel wanted him to, Szender didn't love him, in no sense of the word.
Maybe the boy who had called them the Dog and its Master had it right all along. Even if that boy came to a very sticky end, and very soon after -- or maybe just because of that. |
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