by Justin Wayne
Chapter Nineteen: Departure
The following morning, Outsider set out at dawn. He had shown Thom how to bandage a wound and apply the remaining salve without opening the scab and assured him he could handle it.
“If he does wake up, get some food in him if you can. If not, make sure he drinks plenty of water.” he had told the hobbit before leaving, a freshly shot deer field dressed and hanging from a tree. “There’s more than enough there for the two of you to last while I’m gone and the fire's been hidden in a pit. So whatever you do, don’t leave the clearing.”
Thom nodded and put up a brave front which Outsider easily saw through. He appreciated the façade however and didn’t let on he had realized what Thom was doing. Instead, they shook hands and he had left without a word.
Now he and Jiff were flying through the pass. Trees and boulders flashed by so quickly he only paid attention to the changing of colors as the mountain terrain became less wild. He had left the forest behind and was quickly moving into the valley that marked the halfway point of the Pilgrimage Pass. The flora seemed to shrink until nothing but shrubbery and cacti dotted the grassy landscape.
The flowers swayed in the rolling breeze that passed through the mountain peaks to sweep low into the gorge. He watched the mesmerizing waves flutter up and down in an endless tide. Up here between the summit and the base with the lack of mountain walls, the wind never ceased and howled between the rocks; hence, its name the Wailing Dale.
Outsider breathed deeply of the crisp air and pressed his heels into Jiff’s side to go even faster. He had trained extensively in horseback riding and had found it to be one of his favorite experiences. They galloped through the dale on the curving trail, kicking up soft soil full of seed that muffled the fall of his hooves and eased the jarring that accompanied a full gallop.
As such, they made excellent time, traversing over a dozen leagues that morning alone.
His thoughts turned to what he knew of the area, reminding himself of the terrain and the climate changes through the mountains. The Pilgrimage Pass was renowned for its superb topography and numerous ecosystems located within one area.
By the time the sun had climbed into the sky they were making their descent along the Sidewinder Ridge named for its zigzagging down the mountain face itself. The dwarves had long ago carved the lane into the rock as a ramp that ran back and forth for miles until it reached the ground. While it took a few hours to make way down it, for a straight ramp would have been impossibly steep, it saved them a day’s ride having to parallel the mountain’s edge until they came to the climb that steadily sloped down to the flat land of the northwest; a region called Ridge Country.
Here the weather remained near constant all year long. It was far enough from the north to avoid the blizzards but still remained chilly enough to call for a similar lifestyle of spending the year preparing for winter. The cold season brought the only change in which sleet would fall in sheets for days on end. However the terrain here afforded them a luxury the north lacked.
The frozen lands back across the mountain range were known for their forests and hill covered plains, meanwhile this area was known for its flat stretches of grassland reaching further than the eye could see. Yet they weren’t truly flat at all. The land broke and fell several feet every couple of leagues, creating the ridges that lined the region in a stair-like pattern.
Always resourceful, the first settlers here had been dwarves from the range nearby, who had carved houses into the ridges, giving them extra security against the weather and temperature drops. Their entire social structure had even built upon it; giving those with the most money and power the homes within the tallest folds of the earth and therefore the most resistant.
Already his keen elven eyes could see the many levels of the land and noticed several larger creases where great doors of heavy oak were visible. With a laugh he had even seen livestock penned around the little habitats within the shallow gullies between the ridges.
What a curious way of living, he thought for not the first time though he had only been here once before for any longer than a day. Living within a hole in the ground like an animal. Then he thought back to the viciousness he had seen in man and elf alike through his life and found it suiting. I guess we’re all animals.
He liked that.
He had always thought of himself as someone who had once been prey, but had fought his way out and escaped; now leaving him a hunter not by destiny but of his own volition.
He smiled to himself beneath his hood, which was now pulled close and low, and slowed Jiff to a trot as they passed through the little town of earth homes named Multitier, for the multiple tiers of the land and their people. He found the name uncreative but undoubtedly fitting.
Many faces peeked out at him as he trotted past. Several doors slammed shut and deadbolts were slid home after he had come near. Stoically, he ignored it, knowing they couldn’t tell his race and it was just the typical uneasiness of having a stranger in town. Yet he couldn’t help but remain on guard.
Growing up as he did he was always prepared for action and kept the knives sheathed on his wrists slightly loosened to throw.
A large man stepped in front of Jiff and held up his hands to stop the newcomer short. His arms were thick with muscle from a lifetime of blacksmithing and his face weathered from years at the forge. His bright green eyes were clear and showed a light of wisdom uncommon in such parts.
“What brings ya’ here stranguh?” he asked with an accent that turned his words up with thick consonants.
“Just passing through,” Outsider replied, well versed in the art of seclusion.
The man nodded and crossed his arms but made no move. “Aye, I’ve heard that before. Where to is it yer going?”
Without missing a beat, the bounty hunter replied smoothly. “Got a job guarding a caravan in Cain Sander that starts in a few days. Trying to get settled there before the snows come.”
The man nodded again. “Seems reasonable enough that. Just be on your way, stranguh, we don’t want no trouble heyuh.” His face remained serious as he stepped aside to watch him go. Outsider nodded and did just that.
The strange little town behind him, he hit the open range with the sun ahead, due west. He kept a steady gait for Jiff, getting off to walk then getting back on to ride in hour long intervals. They pushed on through the rest of the day and much of the night until he found an inlet where he and Jiff could camp.
The next morning found them hoofing it across the ridged plains with their destination in sight. A long rope bridge spanned the length of a canyon, swaying in the strong gusts of wind that assailed the crevice. Already Outsider was formulating his plan for getting Jiff across it again.
Before, on his way to Rusk to capture Thom, he had gone the long way around to where the canyon had closed. But now he didn’t have the time. He could picture Merlon’s pale face, his mortal peril as his chest heaved, gasping for breath.
He steeled his resolve when he came to the bridge.
“Alright boy,” He stroked the gelding’s neck, sensing his uneasiness. He gave it an apple and scratched it behind the ear where he liked it. He soothed Jiff for a few minutes, whispering praise and confidence to him.
Then he stepped out onto the bridge and ran across the entire thing, feeling for any weak boards beneath his soft soled boots. They creaked and flexed slightly beneath him but not a single one gave in too much to alarm him. Satisfied, he slowly led Jiff out and onto it.
Instantly the gelding reared back and pulled away. His dark eyes were wide and he whinnied in distress. Outsider gripped the sides of his snout and put his forehead to Jiff’s, staring into his eyes and whispering.
Hesitantly, Jiff followed him along the bridge, being sure to keep the heavy horse’s hooves on separate boards so the weight would be distributed. Together they began to cross just as the wind picked up. The rope bridge swayed back and forth in a rocking motion and the ropes strained audibly. Outsider lea
ned over the side to look at the drop, gauging whether or not they could survive it.
What he found did not bode well for it. A small river wound its way down the rocky ground, surrounded by sheer cliff faces. However in this time of the year the river was partially frozen and rainfall had been scarce. In the spring, he knew, the river would swell with all the melted snow and ice that would trickle into it. For now, he would just have to ensure they didn’t fall.
Tugging on the reins and moving forward one step at a time, he led the reluctant gelding across who took off running as soon as they touched ground. Sharing the sentiment, Outsider sat beneath a tree and waited for him to come back of his own accord.
The next two days passed in a monotonous drone of hoofbeats. The landscape remained the same dreary mass of low grass and flat landscape. All distinction and details of the trip were lost to him as he focused solely on reaching Briggand Sails.
So detached was he that when Cain Sander appeared to his right he hardly noticed it. When he did he gave an exasperated sigh and instead steered to the path on the left of the great city to go around it. As much as he wanted to indulge in the little luxuries he could get such as a soft bed and warm food, he knew he didn’t have the most important luxury of time.
So he passed its great wall, made of a bright white stone that reflected what little sun was showing, and soon left it behind. He couldn’t help but feel a grimace within, as he typically kept emotions from his face, and acknowledged it was of no validity. He was avoiding such things for Merlon. For his friend.
His friend.
A peculiar emotion washed over him, one he didn’t quite understand. Instantly his mind took him back to the incident that had brought him to the flat of his back. The incident in which he had realized his current life was nothing more than a repeat of his early non-life; unintentionally enacting the revenge he desired for his “family” on those society had deemed unworthy. The incident in which he had decided he would not be nothing more than a tool or a weapon for hire; a blade for someone else’s will to be lived.
The incident in which some part of him had died.
He decided he would mull that over later and pushed those contemplative thoughts away. He had a present matter to attend to. He racked his brain for information to remember his friend’s last known whereabouts and how he would convince him to come along for such an extensive travel.
Last I heard he was working on a new spell within the chapel of Briggand Sails, saying he had learned a new way of gaining favor in the eyes of his god, Reiin. Then he had gone off to do just that, leaving me to finish our quest of ridding the town of vampires with the eccentric Reginald Quadrillionus, the mage and tinkerer who has a tower there.
Incidentally they had used his focus ray invention to multiply the enhanced sunlight he made to destroy them and the houses they were hiding in. But now, nearly two years later, he knew the town had been rebuilt and found success as a place for the arcane and knowledge under the watchful eye of Reginald.
Hence the large chapel/library he now lived and studied in.
That’s just like him. To hide away in his books and learn all he can in the hopes of achieving the power he craves. Thank the gods he’s perhaps the most congenial spellcaster I’ve yet met; always one to avoid a struggle and having a severe aversion to conflict.
‘Course he was always one to learn the oddest things and spend plenty of time telling of them. Such as the time he had learned a spell that could that would either allow him to heal someone or, if he miscalculated, finish them off if already wounded. Not to mention the fact he loved to cook yet rarely made anything worth eating.
Remembering the cleric’s strange ways and unusual lifestyle, he was in more of a rush to find him than he would have preferred. But he couldn’t deny he was the closest friend and ally he had ever had, having adventured with him for quite some time.
Suddenly he found himself feeling lighter, faster, as he bade Jiff into a gallop.
What better way to aid a friend than with a friend?
