On the Road to Ti’Vaeth

  The imbalance of male to female births, a phenomenon which affects our entire world today, was first recorded somewhere between the years 560 and 590. This was shortly after the height of Mani’s old order of magi (520–580), and so one could make the logical assumption that the waning of the Old Order of magi had something to do with the decline of male births. But, as with any such data, correlation should never be taken as conclusive evidence. If only we had such evidence. . . .

  — From Secrets of Mani, by Sor the Lark

  (Firvaen 22, 997—Night Season)

  Three days into our journey, we came into the province of Fircas and soon stopped at our first village. We had passed two others already, opting to keep going straight on the Imperial Highway to make as good time as possible (ignoring complaints from Mydia).

  The village was called Andeir, and it was really more of a town, set right on the highway but with houses sprawling farther to the sides, small paths connecting them to the highway. Many houses were of earthen brick and shingled with slate, although there was no magic-assisted architecture as in Nytaea. Lit by the auroras of the Sunless Cycle, the landscape was beautiful, with rolling hills and pastures full of grey prairie grass and sheep, terraced gardens, and Gumba trees spreading their white leaves here and there. Farmland lay to either side on the fringes of the village, and beyond that stretched dense forest.

  We needed a few supplies. Since we were traveling as light as possible, we were keeping few rations and other supplies on hand, buying them where we could, when we needed them—which was now.

  Kaen pulled up his mount, pulling the reins smoothly with one hand. He was getting a hold on this riding thing. “That’s the town, Rhidea?” he asked, looking over at the red-haired mage.

  She nodded. “Andeir. We’ll stop here.”

  “Finally a real town, eh?” said Inno. “Maybe we’ll get a good night’s sleep.” He winked at his companion, Ruel.

  “Surely we can rest at the inn one night, Lady Rhidea?” Mydia asked, flopping forward to lean on her horse’s neck, panting as though exhausted from a month-long journey.

  “That was my plan,” Rhidea muttered. “If the residents aren’t scared to death of the Archlord’s threats and actually let us in.”

  “One way to find out,” I said, spurring my mount on. He was a gelding named Redring. Don’t ask me why, because he was grey.

  We descended the hill toward Andeir. A few of the local children looked up at us as we approached. Some of them scattered, some shouted. A woman looked our way and scowled, taking her children and going inside the house with them. Not a good sign for the public relations here.

  Two burly men stood in leathern armor, one on either side of the road by the arched village gate which read . . . I actually couldn’t tell what it said—it was in High Legaleian. They lounged against the posts nonchalantly, as though not eying us warily, probably getting paid to keep out troublemakers from Nytaea. The broadswords slung at their side were awfully big and quite prominent.

  Rude of them to post guards, of course, when the Imperial Highway led straight through the town.

  “Hoy, there,” called the one.

  The other soldier nodded curtly. “Travelers.”

  Rhidea pulled up her reins, and the rest of us followed suit. “Are we allowed into the town?” she asked calmly.

  The man on the right shifted his cross-armed stance. “Any peaceful travelers are allowed through . . . depending on whence you come and what your purpose is. And you’ve got a right retinue of armed guards with ya.”

  “We have protection, yes.”

  “A mage soldier, eh?” said the guard on the left. “Magi and soldiers. Ya come from Nytaea or thereabouts?” His brows were narrowed with suspicion. Both soldiers looked more tense than they meant to let on, clearly ready to call for backup at a moment’s notice (even though that wouldn’t be much good against multiple trained magi).

  “We are headed for Ti’Vaeth from Nemental,” Rhidea explained. “I am a wandering mage, and these here, accompanied by soldiers we picked up along the way, are my companion magi.” A true story. Not the whole thing, but not a lie either. Well played, Rhidea. . . .

  The guards looked from Rhidea to the rest of us. “A wandering mage, or . . . the Wandering Mage?” asked the man on the left.

  “That is of no consequence. We mean no ill to the town of Andeir. And if you do not let us in, we will continue a different way—”

  “No, no, go on. We won’t stop ya.” The guards seemed to have made up their mind. They waved us in.

  We passed through the archway into Andeir, while the soldiers muttered something under their breath about ‘those pesky magi, throwing their weight around.’

  Still, wise of them not to anger Rhidea. Very wise.

  We stopped by the marketplace in town and traded some gold for foodstuffs for the journey: jerky, wineskins, dried fruits. Inno and Ruel took Kaen and browsed through the local bronzesmith’s assortment of weapons, probably with no intention of buying anything. (Nytaea did already have some of the best smiths around.)

  The locals seemed to warm up to us after a bit, and Mydia began to attract small children like a Polestone. They could tell there was something lovable and loving in her, or maybe just that she was a softie and would let them get away with playing around, tugging at her skirts and teasing her. Their mothers began to gather them away and scold them as soon as they noticed, however. Mydia looked a bit disappointed.

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  We spent the night at the inn, enjoying some music and all the local specialties (though Fircasian cuisine was not exceedingly special), meeting some of the town’s residents, before hitting the hay. We rented two rooms for the night, one for the men and one for the women. For all her coin, Rhidea seemed to frown on excess spending.

  (Firvaen 23, 997—Night Season)

  I slept well that night, waking in the morning without any dreams. Everyone seemed to feel well rested after a proper sleep. We ate an early breakfast there at the inn, and then departed for the rest of our trip shortly after the auroras came out for the day. It would be about two more weeks until Ti’Vaeth. We were not pushing our horses all that hard, traveling about five leagues per day. Each day carried the same routine: break camp, break fast, ride, stop for lunch, ride, stop to make camp for the night, practice Coaction with Rhidea (or swordplay, for the swordsmen), and sleep. We stopped at villages and towns along the way every few days, always avoiding the biggest towns and cities because, well . . . we didn’t need extra trouble, and that would be where to find it in these times. Many side roads provided alternate routes.

  We encountered few monsters along the road. We didn’t really expect to, since the stationed armies and magi of Kystrea did a pretty good job of keeping the country clear. There was so much civilization, and so many soldiers per capita, that we had eradicated most of the monsters which used to prowl the areas. We did run across a large, dark shadow in the forest one night, however, causing more than one in our party to panic. Rhidea simply lit a warding lamp and had Inno stake out a couple of extra torches. We always kept someone on guard, regardless of the immediate threat, due to the potential for bandits, hostile soldiers and monsters. Each night we staked out four torches at the perimeter of our camp. We never strayed too far into the forest or off the beaten path.

  That said, I never found out what that black shape was that I saw that one night . . . but I could swear it was there, and it was large.

  We encountered many travelers along the Imperial Highway. Most would pass us by with no more than a nod or a murmur of greeting. Some were probably afraid of our well-armed group. Others probably thought we would bring trouble upon them if they interacted with us. And of course, some were just unfriendly.

  But a few of the travelers we met would stop and talk to us. We would ask them how things fared in Fircas, or whatever province we were currently in, or what word there was from Ti’Vaeth.

  One night, Kaen came up with an idea. He came over to me by the campfire after most of the others were asleep in their bedrolls. “Hey, Lyn, I’ve got a proposition.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay.”

  “It’s a good one, really.” I gave him a patient look, and he went on, “So, what if we started up a little act to make some extra coin in the towns? Starring you?”

  “You mean causing a spectacle. Kaen, this sounds like a bad idea . . .”

  “No, no, that’s the whole point. Say we set up a little game—three copper pieces to the man who can best our champion in an arm-wrestling match, with one piece paid to try. Then we spring it on them! We tell them that we’re having this random girl wrestle them. I mean, you may be big-boned, but you’re still a girl, so it will be surprising.”

  I bit back a retort at his description of me—which was true anyway—and actually considered his idea. “Now, that would be fun. But Rhidea would never let us make a show like that . . . plus, the new soldiers don’t know anything about me yet.”

  “Oh. . . .” Kaen scratched his head, clearly struggling to justify his idea. “They’ve traveled with us long enough, and . . . well, we can probably trust them. They’ll find out soon enough anyway.”

  I nodded slowly. “I’ll talk to Rhidea tomorrow. I know Mydia would get a kick out of it . . . but for now, I’m just so tired. I have to sleep.”

  “Right, of course.” He left me to find my own place, picking his way carefully to where the men were camped.

  (Firvaen 26, 997—Night Season)

  The next day, we came upon another town.

  Here, we would try out Kaen’s idea.

  We entered the town just like normal. It was on the larger side of the towns we had visited, a place called Snowbell. Our plan was to start up our little game in the market square. If things went badly, we would bolt westward out of town before too many soldiers arrived. If things went well, we could make a good bit of coin. . . . I was pretty sure we had only convinced Rhidea because she was curious to gauge my powers’ limits better.

  In the market, we found a mage named Alfred who agreed to oversee a competition to make sure no magic was involved (this kind of thing was not an uncommon use of a Perception mage’s talents; they were known to be far better than others at telling when magic was being used). We paid him three pieces of copper, which seemed a satisfactory amount to the man.

  A few burly men came over to us after we announced the arm-wrestling challenge. We set up two chairs around a heavy wooden table and one of the big-armed, burly men plunked himself down on the other side after paying one copper piece to Kaen. “So, where’s my opponent?” he asked, scanning the men among us. Most likely trying to gauge whether it was one of the smaller or larger men who would be our champion—sometimes size isn’t everything, after all.

  Our two soldiers and Kath looked at each other uncertainly. We hadn’t exactly told them much about what was going on.

  I took my seat across from the large man. “Hello.”

  He scowled, then laughed a hearty laugh. “You jest! All right, lass, you’ve stepped up, so I won’t go easy.”

  We locked arms, my hand fitting snugly in his meaty palm, and looked each other in the eye. The mage, Alfred, looked on intently, probably seeing now why we’d asked for his assistance, and Kaen called, “Ready, set, go!”

  I wrenched immediately, quick as I could think, slamming my opponent’s hand into the table’s surface with a heavy thud! He cursed, yanking his hand back and shaking it out. “What sorcery is this!?”

  “None,” said Alfred plainly. “It was a fair game.” I could see interest on his face. Surely he was wondering, along with many others, what sort of trick I had used. I couldn’t help but smirk, just a little bit. This was going to be fun. I hadn’t used any of my hidden reservoir of strength, nor even my full natural strength.

  “Anyone else?” Kaen asked, looking around. “Just one copper piece to try your luck.”

  At this point, there was much murmuring among the men around. Their pride spiked, and we got many more contestants.

  The next one sat down across from me, and we locked hands, waiting on Kaen’s call. My opponent fought me immediately, and he had good form, but I wrenched his arm down as well without tapping my reservoir of strength. The last time I had used speed, this time brute force, but failing that, a bit of my stored energy was plenty to beat any of these men. Unless there happened to be a ranking arm-wrestling champion here in town.

  There was not. Kaen continued to collect copper coins without ever paying out a single one, and I continued to win match after match, growing slowly more tired. Finally, as soldiers began to gather and tempers flared increasingly, I decided to shift the notoriety over to another, losing on purpose to a giant mountain of a man. Honestly, he may have beaten me anyway, given how tired I was at that point.

  The townsfolk cheered as we paid out the three copper pieces to him, and suddenly all the attention was on him. Now all the other contestants wanted to try their hand against him. I felt bad, as he would probably lose to one of them.

  We slipped out quietly, heading to a smaller inn on the west side of town (close to the exit—just, you know, in case). Here we stayed until the morning of the next day.

  Kaen was now fifty-one copper pieces richer . . . and I wanted my share.