Mel jumped a bit in excitement as he spoke, unashamed or unaware that Trestan and Cat could see more than was intended. Mel’s bottom was as bare as his top, a sure sign they had interrupted a romantic encounter. Trestan pretended not to notice the nakedness as he returned a meek wave back towards the gnome.
Apparently, more than one of his old friends forged relationships since he had last seen them.
* * * * *
The next day, Cat rode down the road to Barkan’s Crossing alongside Trestan and Belgard, but her mood had turned as sour as the weather. The misty rain didn’t dampen Trestan’s spirits. Even Belgard strode strong and confident despite the currents of water runoff that left ruts in the road. While Trestan rode resplendent in red-and-gold colors of his faith, shining in his armor despite the sunless day, his companion Cat sulked over her horse in her usual black traveling leathers. Her hooded cloak shrouded most of her form. It seemed at odds from what Trestan knew of his love. Normally, Cat wasn’t bothered much by any type of rain. Today she covered up, sheltered in her own private thoughts, shielding herself from the outside world.
Trestan attempted to talk positively as they followed the muddy road. “I’m really going to miss Mel, but I understand his choice was the same as Petrow’s. Mel was ever unpredictable about many things. I thought he’d love another shot at an adventure, but I understand he has someone to share a new adventure. Maybe I’m just rambling. Anyway, I’m glad for Mel but I’ll miss having him around…even though he’d be the one doing all the talking.”
Trestan’s attempt at humor fell flat on Katressa. The young man hoped it would bring a chuckle, but Cat’s face stayed shrouded in the hood of her cloak.
Cat appreciated the rain helping to woman hide her emotions, giving her some sense of isolation as she considered an unpleasant thought in her mind.
Trestan continued to speak. “Maybe it’s all for the better. I’ll miss the company of our other friends, but I’m fortunate to have you by my side again. I look forward to our time together.”
In Cat’s mind, Trestan just didn’t understand. In another time and place she would have acknowledged her views of enjoying their companionship. With a worrying thought on her mind, the last words she wanted to hear paired at once were ‘time together’. Her eyes glanced at the road ahead. She noted familiar farms marking the northern fringes of Barkan’s Crossing residents. She weighed her inner turmoil, knowing she should make her decision soon, already aware of what it would be.
“Trestan,” Cat asked, “What are your plans once we enter Barkan’s Crossing?”
Trestan stroked his mustache as he considered the question. He concentrated on her query, wondering if he could find something to brighten her mood. “Well, we’ll have to arrange a ship to Orlaun. Just you and me, along with our horses. That would be safer, quicker and easier than traversing the mountain passes of the giant races. It might do good to stay at the Eagle’s Nest for a night, enjoying the view of the falls together. It’s possible we might dig up a clue as to Salgor’s whereabouts, unlikely as that seems.” A smile came to Trestan’s lips, “Although I recall you saying there are some finer inns at which to spend gold. Perhaps we can afford a suite somewhere else.”
Cat interrupted any further thoughts Trestan had along those lines. “I don’t know how my horse might handle a sea passage. She has been…sick, for a couple days now.”
“We could rest her up in Barkan’s Crossing for a day or two. I could try my healing miracles to help her.”
Beneath her hood, Trestan could see the shake of her head. “Nay, its more than that I’m afraid. She can’t make this journey.”
Silence followed, an uneasy moment for Trestan as he tried to guess what Cat hinted. “Faunlessa, what is wrong?”
He glanced sideways to judge her mood, but the young man could still see nothing of the half-elf’s face. She answered, “It is nay sickness or injury. I’m afraid it is more complicated than that,” Cat sighed. “I’ve noticed for some time now, though I wished to deny it, but she is unable to run as tirelessly or swiftly as she used to do.”
Trestan stroked his dark mustache again as he spoke, “That doesn’t mean she is too sick. You’re just worried for her, that’s all.”
“My horse is old, Trestan,” Cat turned to give him a serious look, “I’ve had her for many years and she has grown old on me.”
Cat looked back to the road ahead, while Trestan found himself looking over her horse. He watched the way it splashed through the mud, noting its muscle tone and breathing. He understood why Cat wasn’t warming up to him today. Aging was ever a touchy issue.
“Is that why you never name them?” Trestan dared ask. “You’re afraid to get too attached?”
“Aye,” Cat choked on the word. “It doesn’t seem to help. This is probably my third horse that I have ridden for many years and yet all too soon they get old and die on me. They pass like the season, a season which comes too fast.”
He replied, “That horse still has a few roads to run. You’re letting go of her too early.”
Cat’s voice nearly broke, but she spat out a reply with more venom than intended. “I’m not counting the weeks as I watch another longtime friend whither and fail. Curse the long years of my elf heritage if I have to watch everything I care about grow old and die.”
Trestan watched her fists clench and unclench on the reins. He figured there was little he could say to bring any comfort to her. They rode onward in uneasy silence for several hoof beats.
“I’ve made up my mind,” she spoke. “I’m not going to burden her with a sea voyage. She has already had a few of those, and never liked them. The farms around here have such nice open pastures. It’s a good time to give her a quiet home where she can sleep and eat the rest of her days. Maybe she’ll find a mate to keep her company until…well, so she won’t be lonely.”
As soon as Cat declared her intent, she wanted to act on it before changing her mind. Riding past the outlying farms of Barkan’s Crossing, Cat looked over all the fields and pastures. Occasionally she made comments out loud…about the condition of a barn, or the looks of the grass, or any of a number of small things that seemed to indicate the quality of life at those farms. Trestan mostly stayed quiet. He wanted to help her in some way, but he risked treading on deeper feelings.
Cat found a pasture she liked. The half-elf commented about the large field, nearby stream, and presence of a few other horses to keep her horse company. Once they started riding up the branching trail to the farmhouse, Trestan knew there would be no turning back on Cat’s decision. This was the final trail she would ride on this horse. Cat and Trestan dismounted at the door. Cat held her horse’s reins and kept it close as she knocked. Trestan stood back beside Belgard, absently patting and stroking his neck as they waited.
The man that answered looked surprised to be getting visitors in such weather. He acted nervous around Trestan, glancing at the armor and the sword Trestan carried. When Cat started talking, the man waved her off, like he wasn’t interested in buying a horse. After more explaining, Cat made it clear she wasn’t selling the horse. The half-elf rogue even offered him enough coins to help feed and take care of the horse for some time. The man’s mood changed considerably. He went about inspecting her horse, checking its health.
Trestan observed through a dreamlike quality. He felt he witnessed something he dearly wanted to change, yet knew he couldn’t. This was Cat’s decision. By her tone and actions Trestan knew he would not be able to change her mind, only incite her wrath if he tried to steer her away. It would have been so simple if no one had answered the door or if the old man had refused and ignored them. Instead, the ranch owner appeared amiable to Cat’s offer.
Cat handed a bag of coins to the old man, both clasping hands over a done deal. Trestan listened as Cat hesitantly made one last request, hoping she might have a private moment to say goodbye to her horse. The ranch owner consented, telling her she could have some time with the horse next
to the pasture fence while he readied a stall for it. In moments the old man and one of his sons headed to their barn to put some straw in a stall, leaving Cat and Trestan alone with the horses.
Trestan watched as Cat undid the buckles of her light saddle. The belongings that Cat didn’t carry under her cloak were all part of her saddle and saddlebags. As she worked to loosen the saddle from her unnamed horse, Trestan tried to work in his mind anything that he might say. He didn’t think any words would turn her emotions around, but he wanted to be able to support her in some way. The former smith moved forwards as the half-elf grunted with the weight of the saddle. The ground was muddy, so she turned and sat the saddle on a hitching post. When Cat started to turn towards her bareback horse, Trestan came up behind her and hefted her saddle up.
Her emerald eyes whipped around as he took the burden. “That’s my saddle! I will carry it!”
He denied her protest, “This is heavy, Belgard can carry it for us. Take some time with your horse.”
Trestan turned away from her with saddle in hand, leaving no opportunity for her to act or say anything except to his back. Cat watched as Trestan carried her saddle over to Belgard and proceeded to balance it on top of his own. Trestan knew she wouldn’t stay angry. It would have been silly for her to try carrying the saddle all the way to Barkan’s Crossing.
Cat led her old mount to the pasture on the other side of the ranch building. She opened a gate which allowed her horse to walk into the edge of the field. The latch locked as the gate closed. Cat still held the reins of her horse, from the opposite side. The half-elf leaned on the wooden fence, staring into the face of a trusting friend. The horse stared back at the rider it had borne for so long, sensing the sadness of its longtime partner without understanding the cause. The horse stepped as close as the fence would allow. The half-elf tried not to cry but she could already feel the emotions welling up. The animal couldn’t realize it was time for their long partnership to end.
Her mind at odds with itself, she scratched around the horse’s ears while a part of her urged her to just turn around and walk away. She wanted to leave and just put this behind her. It was too hard to face the grief of losing a companion after all their adventures together. Its head nuzzled closer, moving the long nose right up against her tunic. Cat tried to make sense of the inquisitive sniffing, until she recalled a pouch of dried fruit treats in her pocket.
“Oh, so that’s the real reason for all this attention is it?” The raven-haired woman reached into her pocket, “You’re begging for a treat?”
After a slight hesitation, Cat poured the entire contents of the pouch into her hands. “Nay sense in holding back is there? You might as well have the rest of it.”
The horse greedily devoured the dried fruit pieces in her hands. Cat felt her eyes watering as she watched the horse through blurry vision. She had the urge to give the horse one more thorough brushing as well, but chided herself for wanting to extend her own pain.
As tears started down her cheeks she made a futile plea. “Don’t make me cry.”
It was intended as a harsh whisper. Instead, it was muffled as the horse nudged her hands looking for more treats. She leaned against the fence, petting the horse’s neck as it looked at her with big, dark eyes. Cat buried her face against its neck and mane, heedless of the wet fur from the rain.
“I’m sorry I never named you.” Cat sobbed in a broken voice. “It hurts to give a name when the years go by so fast. One day I’m teaching you how to get used to a saddle, and before I realize it you’ve grown too old to carry me everywhere. We covered a lot of ground, didn’t we? You carried me around Orlaun and the Counties of Diara. We set foot on the edge of the Tribal Expanse, where you wanted to run free with the wild stallions. You were even stolen from me once…and I found you…got you back…”
Her words choked up as they began to disappear into anguish. The half-elf held on to her horse, though she no longer spoke directly to it. Her next words were for any wandering spirits or servants of the gods that might hear her woeful plea. “It is nay blessing to be gifted with a long life, if everything else ages and withers before my eyes. How did my father deal with it? How did he plan to live after my mother’s death?”
Even as she asked her question, she remembered well her father’s decision. When Katressa was still young, her aging human mother died in a demon attack on her elvish homeland. It was the most nightmarish thing of her many years. Shortly afterwards, her elven father made the suicidal decision to follow the demons back to their own world in pursuit. He never came back. In Cat’s questioning mind, she had to wonder if he willingly went on such a grave mission hoping he might join his beloved in death.
“I hate living like this and seeing these loved ones pass on. My faithful horse companions failing in their service to me only because of their short lifespan. My dear mother, whose hair and skin showed her advanced years by the time I grew old enough to remember her. My love, Trestan…he is so strong and handsome now, but a couple of decades will pass quickly for me. By that time…”
Cat didn’t finish the thought out loud, burying the remainder of her lament in the fur of her horse. The animal nestled her between its nose and body, keeping her close as it felt her distress.
Cat’s voice lost her strength by the time she choked out, “It’s not fair!”
A long, silent moment followed as she worked to stem the flow of tears. Her nimble hands shook as she attempted to dry her eyes with the edges of her wet cloak. There was no point in prolonging her personal agony any more. Her sorrow and anger expressed, Cat told herself it would do no good to dwell here longer. The road called her away.
Cat drew away from her horse, staying close enough to work loose the halter on its head. She stood uncertainly for a moment with the tangle of leather and metal resting in her arms. It was a good thing Trestan put her saddle on his horse; she would not have wanted to carry it all the way to town. Even the halter would be an awkward thing to bear as she walked. She convinced herself it belonged to the horse anyway and left it draped over the fence.
Cat took the horse’s head between her hands one last time. She leaned forward, planting one tender kiss on the top of its nose. Her eyes closed, she whispered, “Goodbye.”
The black cloak whirled around as she broke contact and walked away from the fence. She spared no more glances over her shoulder at her old companion. Though she didn’t look, the recesses of Cat’s mind conjured up images of her horse standing there by the fence, awaiting its next treat. The hood covered Cat’s grief as she walked around the house, passing Trestan and Belgard without looking up. Her eyes focused on the muddy ground as she forced one foot ahead of the other. She worked hard to control her breathing, swallowing back the emotions welling up inside her throat. Barkan’s Crossing called to her from just up the road, and beyond that a ship that would take them to Orlaun and Korrelothar’s wizard guild. There was nothing to look back on.
Trestan walked Belgard a respectable distance behind his lover. As much as he wanted to provide some comfort to her at that time, he knew some of her feelings derived from her fears about what her future with Trestan might bring.
It was hard to offer a happy solution, when one was part of the reason for the sorrow.
CHAPTER 9 “The Chase”
Montanya refused to spend the night in one of the many “copper pens” of the city. Such places offered a roof for the night and a share of soup and bread, asking for only a copper piece if one could pay. Rarely did people offer to pay. Disciples of Ganden, (the God of Honor, Duty and Service), ran those sanctuaries. The selfless clerics of that sect would not leave hungry mouths to sleep on the street. Though Montanya’s pride had suffered much over the years, she had enough of it left to refuse taking handouts from anyone. The nineteen-year-old woman refused to stoop to the charity of others when her goal was to help others in her own way. She always saw herself as a victim of many crimes, even of some crimes conjured up in distorted memories. I
f she begged among strangers for food and a place to rest she would feel as if she prolonged her status as a helpless victim.
On top of everything else, she regarded the churches to be thieving organizations as well.
A full week after being cast out from the monastery, (ten days in the realm of Dhea Loral), Montanya curled up beside a boarded window inside an abandoned shop. The moons climbed into the night sky, throwing soft light between the boards nailed haphazardly over the opening. The red-haired woman hadn’t even unrolled her blanket, lingering instead to stare at the nighttime sky. She sighed quietly, hiding in her own private corner of the world.
The young woman wore a loose set of linen clothes, covered in places by hardened leather padding. This had been her training gear in her previous home. A leather breastplate, shaped to fit her womanly curves, had shown its worth in the past at deflecting punches and kicks. Leather armguards and greaves covered her forearms and shins respectively. Soft leather slippers covered her feet, crafted of such thin skin that they allowed her to easily get a feel of the ground. Much of her outfit bore a rather drab tan or brown coloring. She had a dark cloak for warmth, bundled in the rolled up blanket folded over her left shoulder, the ends tied together beside her right hip. She braided her hair short, using the ribbon of pink cloth torn from her mother’s dress. It had been too long since the youth enjoyed a decent bath or washed her clothes. Dirty and disgusted with the way her clothes stank, she sat in her small hiding spot tormented by her own inner demons.
A pair of figures on the street diverted her attention. The first figure walked the street without any knowledge of the other two sets of eyes on him. Appearing as a human in arcane robes, he had little to fear from the dangers of the streets at night. The robed figure was illusionist Wendall of the Brotherhood of the Circles mage guild. Although he mastered the arcane arts, he often found that in a human-dominated city it was good to modify one’s appearance. Wendall, a gnome, wore a mask that altered his appearance so that others viewed him as human. The short illusionist always found it a handy item to have, for the larger races rarely offered much respect for gnomes. Knowing that any ruffians would be more intimidated to stay away from a human mage, rather than a mage standing at less than three feet tall, Wendall decided it was prudent to wear the mask during the late hour of this errand. Unbeknownst to the unfortunate gnome, the mask he wore only served to attract trouble this night. Oblivious to the betrayal set in motion by another mage from his own guild, Wendall went about his errand with no advanced warning of the assailant stalking his footsteps.
The Earthrin Stones 2 of 3: Trials of Faith Page 15
