Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.
The Priestess’ Sojourn
Fulgor was fitter and more energetic than Norbert’s horses, his stamina had always been superior to most other steeds. He would easily outlast the nags Norbert and his crew were outfitted with. She rode as hard as she dared and hoped the Customs Officers were being very thorough in their questioning. She rode for Hightower, the first caravan stop in Taladaria. Getting there riding a single spirited stallion wasn’t hard even if he was tired. She was a lot lighter than the knights he was bred to transport into battle. After some hours riding through the low brush that was to either side of the road, the sun started to rise ahead of her. It painted a pretty picture in the sky with reds and yellows. There had been rain recently, making the area smell of spring. She didn’t come across another living soul until she was almost at Hightower, when she saw some people out who were probably off to tend to fields or similar chores.
The caravan stop was near where the rough road from the Westmarch joined the King’s Road that led north along the Iceflow river towards Pearson. The King’s Road also led southeast in the direction of Peyrepertuse, passing by Turnow and Kilbrook. There was another small settlement, primarily for caravans, along the road before Turnow, she knew. It was named Larkhill, but she had never been there. It was at about a day’s travel by ox drawn wagon from Hightower. Bernard had once explained to her that that it was common along well travelled roads to find facilities that catered to the needs of caravans roughly one day’s oxcart ride apart.
There was a large farmstead at Hightower. It too mainly existed to see to the needs of passing caravans and travellers. It was another chartered inn, with all the customary obligations such establishments had, but it also had all sorts of facilities. There was an ancient, more or less standing, fortified tower, which was what the hamlet was named for. The tower was much older than the rest of the buildings and even at a distance it looked like it was in dire need of maintenance. As she rode closer she could see the tower was actually the last part of a larger structure and the only part that was still standing.
By the time she got to Hightower the sun had risen fullyt and most travellers were already on their way. The fresh tracks leading away from the paddock were clearly visible and most of the yard was empty. She considered for a moment. She was tired but she needed to keep moving to stay ahead of her pursuers. She decided on continuing on up the road. She rode at a slow trot, sparing Fulgor and looking for one of the caravans that had departed Hightower that morning. They couldn’t be far ahead of her. She was beginning to have trouble concentrating so she was relieved when she saw the last wagons of a caravan appearing around a slight bend in the road.
She caught up to the convoy trundling along ahead of her. She counted eight wagons, though six were more properly described as enormous barrels with wheels, each pulled by four oxen. The last two wagons were more conventional pulled by only two oxen each, filled with a smattering of smaller barrels as well as feed for the oxen and other baggage. Neither of those wagons were full, there was plenty of room in each cart for odds and ends as well as passengers. Such caravans, specialised in beer and wine weren’t of a kind that ever frequented Thetwick. There was no market in the Westmarch for spirits in such quantities and the Thetwickers had to make do with smaller barrels.
She rode past the last wagon which was indeed occupied by a passenger, a young woman in blue, embroidered priestess robes who seemed absorbed with staring intently down the road, evidently lost in thought. She sat with her back against her satchel, facing backwards. Strangely, the young priestess didn’t even seem to notice her as she approached. She had a look of concentration, as if she was pondering some great matter. Fulgor trotted on, taking her past all the wagons until she paralleled the first one. A man, obviously the caravan master was sitting on the bench next to the driver. He was slightly overweight and expensively dressed in green velvet with puffy sleeves, with a neat beard and a somewhat red nose to complement his matching green hat. He was dozing, not quite snoring yet, but that seemed likely to start very soon. He prominently displayed his master’s medallion, a silver and gold disc on a heavy gold chain around his neck which identified him as a Master of the caravanners guild.
“Excuse me, Master?”
The man shifted slightly taking a few seconds to open his eyes and focus on her. By the colour of his nose it seemed like he might indulge in his own wares on a regular basis.
“Hmm… huh… what is it?” His eyes slowly focused on her, “oh… who are you? What do you want?”
He looked around, frowning as he tried to clear the sleep and wine from his mind. He clearly hadn’t expected to be woken by someone that wasn’t travelling with his caravan, “what do you want?” he repeated.
“Sorry to wake you, Master. I’m Alagariel… I’d like to travel under your charter.”
“Under my charter?” he asked, still not fully awake… “where to?”
“I’m headed to Peyrepertuse.”
He glanced at her again, frowning as he became fully awake.
“I have enough guards. Don’t need more… you don’t look like much of a guard anyway… not enough meat to ya. You should be on your way, lass.”
She had seen three men, two were overweight, one was old. It didn’t look like much to her even if they did all have crossbows. She was annoyed that he might think she wasn’t up to the task.
“I was a militia patrol leader. I will be valuable if there is trouble along the journey. Your guards are not young men and they’re not in the best shape. You won’t need to pay me, Master.”
He rubbed the last sleep from his eyes and looked her over a little better. He didn’t look inclined to agree.
“I said, be on…”
“Look, I just need to be able to travel to Peyrepertuse bearing arms. I am willing to pay you for your trouble, if you will feed and board me with the rest of the caravan.”
“A paying passenger? Now that’s different. We can talk.”
“A paying passenger listed on your charter and who will defend your caravan if need be. How much?”
“Thirty silver coins. Good ones.”
It was highway robbery, not that she couldn’t afford it. She just wanted to make her money last.
“That’s a little steep Master. Surely you can do better than that? How about ten silver?”
They eventually settled on twenty-two. It was still a lot of money for the service he was offering. She had been up all night though and was not in a mood to drag things out. She had no way of knowing if there was another caravan ahead of this one or how far it might be, so she decided to take the opportunity while it was available.
She slowed down, letting the caravan pass her by until she came to the last wagon. There, she loosened Fulgor’s saddle and tied him to the last wagon, sitting herself down in the back, next to one of the smaller barrels. She wasn’t the only one there, the young woman in the priestess robes sat there too, still looking back down the road with a look of quiet concentration. She was apparently just as wrapped up in her thoughts as she had been when Ala had passed her by on her way to negotiate with the caravan master. She didn’t seem very communicative, though she had a bright look to her. Ala decided she’d say hello, contrary to her habits. The young woman just looked welcoming for some reason.
“Hello priestess.”
The woman, looked over at Ala, like her daydream had been interrupted. She was more a girl than a woman, Ala decided. The priest’s robes made her look older. She was a little plain with a round face, but she hard warm, inquisitive brown eyes and dirty blonde hair in a long braid. What she lacked in fine beauty, she easily made up for with the warmth and welcome she radiated.
“Oh… sorry. I was just daydreaming. My name is Myrthe, I’m a servant of Guanshiyin.”
“I’m Alagariel. It is nice to meet you.”
For some reason, Ala really meant it. There was something about the girl. The priestess looked her over, studying Alagariel’s face inside her hood, “you look tired. Oh…. and you have… pointy… ears…” she said it, having moved her head to see inside her hood. “You’re an elf and your name really is Alagariel. How intriguing.”
She seemed a little puzzled for no reason that Ala could determine. It was a bit rude really, she thought, trying to see under her hood and commenting on her ears, but the priestess was so open and innocent about it that she didn’t feel defensive.
“I’m a half-elf and I didn’t rest very much last night.”
“Well. I’ve never properly met a half-elf before. Or well, I have, I’ve just never really conversed with one. Not for any length of time anyway. There was a short conversation with an elf once. That was interesting. Anyway. Sorry… I’m rambling. I’m a little nervous. I’ve just started my Sojourn, you see.”
“What’s a Sojourn?”
“You don’t know? I thought it was common knowledge?”
“Apparently not in the Westmarch.”
“Well I’ll explain. When you’re ordained as a Priestess of Guanshiyin, you are to go out and listen to the ‘cries of the world’. You with me so far?”
Ala nodded that she understood, though she felt that ‘listening to the cries of the world’ could mean just about anything.
“Now this is where it gets a little hazy for me as well. Near as I can imagine, I think you’re supposed to come back when you’ve figured out what is meant by that… the more I think about it, the more I do wish there had been more of an explanation.”
She looked as if that revelation had only just come to her, with a concentrated frown on her face.
“So it’s a sort of a right of passage then? How long have you been travelling?”
“I was educated in the temple in Doncastle. I left with this caravan last week. I’m going to Peyrepertuse first.”
“Guanshiyin is the Lady of Compassion, I think?”
“Yes, yes she is. Puzzling, isn’t it?”
That struck Ala as an odd thing for a priestess to say.
“Could I ask you something?”
Myrthe shook her head, like she was freeing herself from a thought to pay more thorough attention to her.
“Please do.”
“I’m really tired, and there may be some unfriendly men after me. Their horses were tired, so I don’t think they have much chance of catching up today, but I’d feel much better if you would wake me up whenever someone or something unknown rides up the road behind us. I’d love to talk more after I’ve had a little rest.”
“Oh you poor thing. Go ahead, sleep. Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
The young woman seemed genuine and endlessly sincere.
“Thank you, Priestess.”
Ala found a comfortable position and pulled her hood over her eyes to hide the fact that she wouldn’t really be asleep.
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