The Beggar's Past

by J B Drake

  “You won’t.” Anieszirel sighed. “They went past again just before dawn.”

  “You’re sure it was them?”

  Anieszirel nodded. “It was them alright. And from the state of their horses, they must’ve ridden hard all night.”

  “Thank the gods for that,” Anise sighed then began rolling up her pallet.

  “Is this to do with who you killed?” Anieszirel asked. “Or didn’t kill?”

  “The town sheriff thinks we killed his brother,” Marshalla replied as she too began rolling up her pallet.

  “Oh,” was all Anieszirel could manage.

  “Yes,” Marshalla sighed as she straightened.

  “No matter,” Anise said as she hurried over to her horse, pallet under her arm. “We’d best get ready, that caravan won’t wait long.”

  The three worked in silence, clearing the camp and making ready for the day ahead, and once fed and ready, they sat and waited for the caravan to arrive.

  As the sun passed its zenith, the sounds of wheels and horses drew near.

  “About time,” Anise growled as she mounted her horse.

  “Wonder what took them so long,” Marshalla added as she too mounted.

  “Best you return till we’re in Kirsk,” Anise said as she turned to Anieszirel.

  “Why?” the chronodragon asked as she began to undo the spell of concealment.

  “You truly think them seeing us wandering around with a ghost is a good idea?”

  Anieszirel smiled. “What makes you think I’ll let anyone but you two see me?”

  “Wait, you mean you can…?” Anise began.

  “Hrm?”Anieszirel replied as she smiled sweetly at Anise.

  “Nevermind.” Anise sighed, and steered her horse toward the road.

  Before long, both she and Marshalla had their mares in the road, their eyes scanning for the caravan. They didn’t have long to wait.

  “Hail, travellers!” Anise called out as the caravan came into view.

  In response, the caravan rolled to a stop.

  “Who you be, then?” came a voice from the caravan. “You better not be bandits! Got me sellswords here who been looking for something to kill all week!”

  “Tetchy…” Anieszirel said as she floated beside Marshalla.

  “We’re not bandits, sir,” Anise called back. “We seek passage to Kirsk. I believe Tenya spoke to you about us?”

  Silence fell upon them all, and after a spell the lead wagon rode forward, stopping just beside the pair. At its helm was an elderly man with a surly disposition.

  “Tenya’s dead, girl,” was his gruff reply.

  “What?” Marshalla exclaimed in spite of herself.

  “Mhm,” he nodded.

  “How?”

  The man shrugged. “Nobody knows. Law found her last night, her face beaten right in.”

  “They say they found her like that,” came a deep growl from inside the wagon. “But you know same as me, Jeb, that bastard beat her to death.”

  With her mind awhirl, Marshalla turned to Anise, but her eyes were once more as two soulless spheres.

  “Who found her?” Anise asked.

  “Cheetus found her,” said the voice, just as a woman clambered into view from within the caravan, one as old as the man before them but with a countenance twice as fierce. “Said she was still alive when he did. Told everyone she said you two done her in for sport. Said Tenya heard you planning to ride through the night. Got the the whole town riled up and went out hunting for you last night.”

  “The riders.” Anieszirel mused.

  “But we know different. That Cheetus be a right bastard, that he is, but never figured him for killing a little girl. Not him. But I know better now.”

  “I’m sorry for the pain we’ve caused,” Anise muttered, then began to turn her horse away. “We’ll be out of your way now.”

  “Here!” exclaimed the woman as she scrambled to the wagon seat beside the man called Jeb. “Where’d you think you’re going?”

  “Leave it, Kai,” said Jeb.

  “Leave it nothing!” Kai exclaimed as she rounded on him. “Tesrine made you swear you’d do right by Tenya! You took that girl’s gold for gods’ sake! If you not got the stones to do what’s right, then I will.”

  Then, she turned to Anise once more. “Elias got space in his wagon, third one down. Tell him Kai sent you. And if he gives you lip, you come tell me, hear?”

  Marshalla stared from Jeb to Kai to Anise. Then, as Anise smiled, so did she.

  “We’re in your debt,” Anise said as she began riding toward the caravan.

  “No debt, girl,” Kai said. “You killed Phaedus, we owe you. Just a bloody shame you didn’t kill Cheetus too.”

  “Kai!” Jeb exclaimed.

  “Don’t Kai me, Jeb, don’t you dare!”

  Leaving the two to argue, Marshalla turned her horse and hurried after Anise, but as she reached the Archmage, the words upon her tongue faded as she saw the fire in Anise’s eyes.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said. “You hear me?”

  “Well, she did lead you both to Barrow,” Anieszirel said as she appeared between the horses.

  “You’re not helping!” Marshalla hissed.

  Anise shook her head. “She’s right. I should’ve gone to Waterdeep as we’d planned. If I had, Tenya would still be alive. Her blood is on my hands.”

  “You…” Marshalla began, but fell silent.

  In the silence that followed, Anise and Marshalla secured their horses to the wagon before clambering aboard. And after a brief word with Elias, both made themselves comfortable, and the caravan rumbled forth on its journey to Kirsk.

  Spectres Of The Past

  “Marsha! Marsha! Look, we’re almost there!”

  “Hunh?” Marshalla replied as she closed her bag, turning to stare at the grinning, freckled face of the young boy whose parents had taken her and Anise into their wagon.

  “Come!” the young boy cried, beckoning her to join him beside his father upon the front seat of the caravan, his eyes bright and wide. “You’ll miss it!”

  Sighing, Marshalla shook her head and clambered past the others within the caravan.

  “Come on!”

  “Don’t rush her, Jakob,” the boy’s mother called out from behind Marshalla. “You want her falling through the side?”

  Young Jakob chuckled. “Be funny if she did.”

  “Hey!” Marshalla exclaimed.

  “Well, it would,” Anise added, her lips parting into a mischievous grin the moment Marshalla turned to glare at her.

  “Ugh!” Marshalla growled before at last clambering beside young Jakob.

  “So, where is it, then?” she demanded as she stared about them.

  “You’ll see,” the young boy grinned, then pointed. “Just keep looking there.”

  “Hrm,” Marshalla muttered as she turned to where he’d pointed.

  She saw nothing.

  “Nothing there,” she said.

  “Watch.”

  Sighing, Marshalla did as the young boy said. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jakob and his father exchange a knowing glance, but she fought the urge to turn to them, and instead kept her gaze upon where young Jakob had pointed.

  And yet, still nothing.

  Then, just as she was about to turn to the young boy once more, she saw it.

  “What the bloody hells?” she muttered, words that elicited a chuckle from young Jakob.

  But Marshalla didn’t pay him any mind, for her sole focus was upon the sight before her. It was a sight Jakob had described in detail, many a time, on their voyage, but as Marshalla finally set eyes upon it she realised how little young Jakob’s words had done it justice.

  “Bloody hells,” she whispered at last.

  “Aye, girl,” Jakob’s father grinned, “Fa’aldurn Marsh does that to everyone first time they seen it.”

  “Can see why.” Marshalla nodded.

  It was the haze about the Mars
h that had stolen Marshalla’s breath, appearing to her like a green veil shimmering in the morning sun, one that seemed alive, dancing and snaking every which way, and as she watched it dance and weave she felt herself becoming mesmerised by it. At first, she’d thought it was the wind playing havoc with the air rising from the Marsh waters, but then she realised, there was no breeze.

  Then, there was the Marsh itself, and it was vast. By now the caravan had turned to ramble on alongside it, but it was already clear to Marshalla that Fa’aldurn Marsh stretched for miles in either direction.

  “Used to be a town in there,” Jakob’s mother spoke up. “Had farmland on every side. Aldurn, they used to call it.”

  “Aye,” Jakob’s father said, “big farming town. Rich folk with land far as you could see.”

  “Aye.” Jakob’s mother nodded. “Bunch of greedy bastards they were, though.”

  “Fern!” Jakob’s father exclaimed.

  “Oh, don’t you Fern me, Elias, they was greedy bastards, the lot of them. What they be needing all that land for if they wasn’t?”

  “What happened?” Marshalla found herself asking, though she still couldn’t tear her eyes away from the Marsh’s haze.

  Fern shrugged. “Hells if I know. Some folk say it was Hazuel who gone punish the lot of them, turned them all into them undead things, rotted their land and all.”

  “Ah, but,” replied Elias, “some say it’s because they was doing horrible things with them magic things, them…what’s they call them…?”

  “Experiments?” Jakob offered.

  “Aye, lad,” Elias nodded, “experiments. Got mages running around everywhere, running this test and that test, telling everyone they was trying to make crops grow faster and bigger, but gods only know what kind of crops they be looking to grow with them stuff.”

  “So an experiment went sour, then?” Anise asked, leaning forward with brows furrowed.

  “Nobody knows!” Jakob replied. “Could be one of them experiments gone sour like you said, or could be Gaea got mad at the lot of them and came down and right smited them all, rotted their land to boot. Serves them right for ruining her bounty like that.”

  “Gaea’s not that mean, Pa!” Jakob exclaimed, elbowing his father.

  “Not mean nothing, boy! Gaea might be a goddess and all that, but she’s a woman! And nothing in life scarier than an angry woman, you take me word for it, son!”

  “Here, what you say?” Fern demanded.

  Ignoring the banter between the three, and fighting to keep a smile from her lips, Marshalla stood as tall as she dared. The caravan was slowing and her curiosity was beginning to get the better of her.

  “Wonder how big it is,” she muttered.

  “It’s big,” Anieszirel said as she floated above the caravan. “Took a good look from above. That place is easily twice the size of Tower grounds and Merethia combined, if not more.”

  “Woah,” Marshalla whispered, then turned to Elias.

  “Can we get closer?”

  “Closer?” Elias exclaimed. “You gone mad, girl? That’s Fa’aldurn! There’s things in there that’ll make your worst nightmares seem like a bloody daydream!”

  Marshalla frowned at this, then looked at the Marsh once more.

  “There’s nothing there, though,” she said at last.

  “That’s because they stay in the Marsh,” Fern replied, “and thank the gods for that. Can you imagine what’d happen if they was wandering around all over the place?”

  “Some of them do, though,” Elias added.

  “Well, yeah, of course,” Fern replied. “Can’t be helped, can it. But they don’t go far though, do they.”

  “The creatures don’t stray?” Anise asked.

  Fern shook her head. “Not very far, no. We keep our distance, they keep theirs, everybody’s happy.”

  “And even if they do,” Elias added, “Kirk’s got enough sellswords to make sure they don’t go too far.”

  Turning to the Marsh once more, Marshalla sighed, then stared at the haze once again.

  “Come, Marsha,” Anise said, drawing Marshalla from her trance. “We’ll be in Kirsk soon, and we did promise to help get the wares ready.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Marshalla said, then made her way back inside.

  It wasn’t long before silence fell upon the wagon once more, for there were a lot of wares within and a lot of sorting to do. Granted, it wasn’t anything Fern couldn’t handle on her own, but having Anise and Marshalla around meant she needn’t spend the rest of the day organising and sorting, and thus could sell her wares a day early.

  But even with the extra hands, there was simply too much to do, and when the caravan finally came to a halt near the town’s stables, there was still a pile left to sort.

  “Well, here we are, then,” Elias chirped, then leapt off the wagon.

  “You manage okay?” Marshalla asked as she stared from the unsorted pile of wares to Fern.

  “Oh, it’s fine, pet.” Fern grinned. “You two done more than enough already. Shouldn’t take me long to sort the rest. Now, you know where you’re going, yeah?”

  “Uh,” Marshalla began, turning to Anise.

  “Hmm.” Anise nodded in response, her eyes upon Fern.

  “Good.” The woman grinned, but it was brief. “You sure you not want to bed down with us? Me sister won’t mind, honest. Her house is big enough to take you two, no trouble.”

  Now, it was Anise’s turn to smile.

  “You’re a very caring woman, Fern, truly, but we couldn’t possibly intrude. And besides, we’ve already made arrangements.”

  “You’d be saving coin with us, though,” Elias added.

  Anise’s smile grew. “It’s not our coin being spent.”

  “Ah!” Elias smiled and nodded.

  “Well, in any case,” Fern said, “we’ll be here nine more days, then we’re heading back.”

  Anise frowned at this. “That long?”

  Fern nodded. “Jeb’s got some things to sort out.”

  “I see,” Anise mused. “If we’re done by then, we’ll surely join you.”

  “And you’d be more than welcome! Just tell the stable boy you joining us, and he’ll make sure we don’t leave without you!”

  Anise grinned once more. “We will. But we must be off now.”

  “Yeah, us too, I reckon,” Elias replied as he began piling the wares on top of each other.

  “Here, what you doing?” Fern exclaimed. “Just sorted them two piles!”

  “Oh! Sorry, pet!”

  Snickering, Anise made her way off the wagon, Marshalla right behind her, and before long the pair were walking their horses deeper into the stables, their bags slung over their saddles. It wasn’t till after they’d secured spaces for their horses, however, and were outside in the street that either spoke.

  “I’m going to miss those three,” Anieszirel said as the pair began walking away from the stables.

  “Yeah,” Marshalla sighed, “me too.”

  “Nine days is a long time,”Anise replied. “With luck, we’ll be finished before then.”

  “With a lot of luck,” Anieszirel added.

  Anise shrugged. “You never know.”

  “So,” Anieszirel replied, “which way to your sister’s?”

  “Yes, well…” Anise sighed before shifting the bag that was slung over her shoulder. “How about we go put and our belongings away first? We can make our way over later.”

  As Anise began walking forth, Marshalla and the chronodragon exchanged glances. They’d both heard it, and it had unnerved them both.

  “Anise,” Marshalla called out as she hurried after her companion.

  Anise’s pace didn’t slow.

  “Anise, wait!” she cried, grasping the Archmage by the hand as she reached her.

  “What?” Anise frowned.

  “We are going to see Arenya, aren’t we?”

  “Of course we are! Why would you say that?”

  “Because you
sounded like you’d rather have watermelons shoved up your arse than go see her,” Anieszirel said.

  “Hey!” Anise snarled at the chronodragon.

  “A little descriptive…” Marshalla added, turning to glare briefly at Anieszirel.

  “What?” the chronodragon exclaimed.

  “…but she’s right,” Marshalla continued, turning back to the Archmage. “You sounded less than enamoured by the idea.”

  Anise turned to the red-haired girl. “And how would you feel, going to see someone who’d tried to kill you?”

  Marshalla frowned. “So, all those things you said to Daniton—”

  “I was talking out of my arse, Marsha.” Anise sighed. “Going to see her is the last thing I want.”

  “Well, last or first, you need to go see her,” Marshalla replied. “Or do you intend to order every single Tower mage in this town to keep our presence a secret?”

  Anise moved to speak, but she had no words.

  “And, I don’t know about you two,” Anieszirel added, “but I certainly don’t have the patience to trundle through this town asking every old person here whether or not they remember Aldurn.”

  “That too,” Marshalla nodded.

  “Very well!” Anise barked. “We’ll go and see her! I just need a bath first.”

  “Anise, that makes no—“ Anieszirel began.

  “A bloody bath first!” Anise snapped, then began marching down the road.

  “What’s the bloody point?” Anieszirel asked as she watched the Archmage storm away.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Marshalla grinned as she turned to the chronodragon. “I wouldn’t mind a bath right now myself.”

  “A bath,” the chronodragon said, turning to fix the young girl with a most incredulous stare. “With all that we have before us, you’re thinking of a bath.”

  Grinning, Marshalla shrugged.

  “Gods give me strength,” Anieszirel sighed. “Well, you’d better hurry, she’s not waiting for us.”

  Snickering, Marshalla turned and began hurrying after the Archmage.

  “Besides,” Marshalla continued as she hurried along, “a bath would probably cool her head some, and—”

  “Marsha?”

  “Hrm?”

  “Stop talking.”

  “What?” Marshalla frowned as she turned to the chronodragon behind her.