Ben's NaNoWriMo Log

Chapter 12 added Sep 23, 2005
Fortunately, the far side of Elizar's Gap presented no great dangers to the weary travelers. With the loss of two of their horses, they were reduced to walking speed, though at least it was primarily downhill. They could see clouds breaking like waves on the north face of the mountains. The sun lasted longer on this side of the mountains, but, as dusk neared, the pile of clouds above their heads broke into a chill drizzle. As they descended through the pass they had begun to see small evergreen trees, and as they hurried forward through the rain they were relieved to find themselves soon beneath the sheltering limbs of a forest. There was no snow left at this altitude for Syphar to use to craft a shelter -- a moot point, as he was still tired from the battle with the ice creatures -- so they sought out a relatively dry place to camp beneath the thick green canopy. Molly collected enough dead wood to build a small fire, and they dried and warmed themselves as best they could. One by one they each succumbed to sleep. Sarah hadn't been asleep long when she was awoken by a scraping, shuffling noise. She reached for the sword beside her, but as she fully regained her senses she realized it was only Syphar turning over in his sleep. Sarah rose and went to the still crackling fire. She banked the coals, reducing the flickering light to a dim red glow. As she went to go back to sleep, she saw that Syphar was still shifting restlessly on the needle strewn ground. She thought he must surely be cold with nothing but a couple of thin blankets to cover his lanky frame. She lowered herself to the ground behind him, draping her cloak over them both. As she laid her arm across his shoulders, she could feel him begin to relax in the magical warmth. She smiled and soon joined him again in sleep. When she woke the next morning, Sarah found Syphar and Molly already awake and ready to go. She winced as she stretched, stiff muscles and recent wounds protesting the unnecessary movement. The rain had stopped during the night, and pine scented mist hung between the trees. They continued their journey after a brief breakfast, following the wide trail under a living arch of twining branches. The weather continued warming as they descended from the mountain heights, enough so that Sarah's enchanted cloak was becoming uncomfortable to wear. It was almost anticlimactic when they emerged from beneath the forest canopy into the rolling hills of Ahandria. "So here we are," said Molly, surveying the land from atop a small rise. Sarah followed Syphar up the hill to join her. She grabbed the wizard's hand a squeezed it. "It's beautiful." She looked back and forth between her two companions. "Thank you both. I never would have made it without you." Syphar smiled. "So now that we're here, what do you intend to do next?" "I..." Until now Sarah hadn't really given it any thought. Part of her had never believed that she would make it across the border alive. "I'm not sure. I know a little about brewing, but not enough to make a living at it." Molly nodded toward the rapier at Sarah's hip. "You're not hopeless with a blade. Perhaps I could make a decent fencer out of you." Sarah looked down at the weapon. She had never really considered swordsmanship as a career path. "Really? I never really thought of myself as a warrior." "Neither did I when I first came to Silverwell. I think you might surprise yourself." Sarah thought about it as she looked out over the hills. The sun shone through a break in the clouds, and in the patches of light she thought she could see a town in the distance. She recalled the stories of her youth and frowned. "I thought that Ahandrians didn't let women wear weapons." Molly chuckled. "Perhaps they can keep their own women barefoot and pregnant, but Kufriti women have a certain... reputation on this side of the border. If you can act the part, you'll have no problem." She swaggered about the top of the hill and spat. Sarah giggled. "I think that'll take more practice than the swordplay." They followed the road over and around the brush covered hills, slowly approaching the town Sarah had spied in the distance. Molly opined that she could sack the place with two cows and a broom. Sarah kept looking for something that might pass for a castle, but the largest buildings she could see looked like nothing more than barns. A wall encircled much of the town, but the shoulder high pickets seemed to be intended more for keeping out wolves than men. Few structures were more than one story high. "Midlanders are funny people," commented Molly. "I suppose we'll get used to them, though." It was afternoon by the time they reached the outskirts of the town. The folk they passed in the streets gave them a few strange looks, but Sarah guessed it was because of their dirty and bloody appearance more than anything else. She was suddenly keenly aware of how long it had been since she had had a bath, let alone clean clothes. Her skin began to itch. They stopped at the first inn they saw. There was no one on their trail right now,but the fewer people that saw them come into town in their current state, the better. They spent much of their remaining money on rooms and --perhaps more importantly -- baths. Molly got out of her bath first. She was the only one of them who had had the opportunity to pack a change of clothes, and she went out into the town to secure new garments for the others. Sarah's dress was hardly fit to wear anymore, and Syphar's wizard's robes were somewhat less than inconspicuous. Molly held true to her plan to transform Sarah into a vicious Kufriti sword maiden, bringing her a set of linen doublet and breeches in deep ruddy brown. As she was instructing Sarah in the finer points of wearing such mannish garb, she noticed that the area around her wounds was an angry red. Sarah could see that the gashes on Molly's cheek looked similarly unhealthy. "We should get checked out by a healer," said Molly. Sarah frowned. "We haven't got much money left. I don't know that we can afford it." Molly nodded. "I know. I saw an Isoldan temple while I was out shopping. We should be able to get looked at there." The Order of St. Isolde was dedicated to helping the poor and downtrodden. It was a place of last resort for mostly even the humblest peasant would do his best to scrape together a tithe for another temple before going to the Isoldans. The fact that the temple here in Travatti was as large as it was spoke volumes about the fortunes of the town in times past. The three companions entered the humbly appointed temple, reflexively tracing the circle of the sun over their hearts with their thumbs. The chapel was nearly empty, with only a few people sitting in pews with heads bowed. The approached the priest standing behind the altar, who greeted them with a circular motion of his outward facing palm. "Greetings, my children," said the red robed priest in a soothing baritone. He was square jawed and stocky; no doubt he was descended from the same farmers that comprised the bulk of Travatti's population. "How may I be of service?" Molly touched a finger to her cheek, indicating Sarah with her other hand. "We ran afoul of some... wild beasts coming through the Gap. We would be grateful for anything you might be able to do for our hurts." The priest nodded. "The Bright Lord shines his light on all who would receive it." He gestured to a nearby acolyte to take his place at the altar, leading the way into a room in the back of the temple.
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