Steve mulled that over for a moment or two. Slowly he nodded his head.
“I can agree with that. Okay, if you move something from point A to point B, where are you moving it to?”
Sarah thought a moment then jumped up into his arms, hugging him tightly. “That’s it! I swear that’s it!”
“Alright, you keep saying that. What’s it? What are you talking about?”
“This feeling of doing this wrong. I think I know what I where I messed up.”
“Really? What, then?”
“When I made that stone disappear, I ordered it to disappear, like I gave it a mental command to vanish. Going under the assumption that I am moving stuff around, then I would need to tell it where to go, right?”
“You mean like a destination?”
“Exactly! I think that’s why I’m feeling unsettled.”
“Ok, try it. Try to move something and then specify where you want it moved to.”
Sarah looked down at the smooth stone in her hand. She then started looking around for a suitable place to move the rock to. Her eyes lit on her husband.
“Hon, hold out your hand.”
Steve stretched out his right arm, hand open, palm facing up. Sarah glanced down at the rock and gave it a command: I want you to move from here, and she glanced up to Steve’s hand, to there.
The rock obligingly vanished from Sarah’s hand only to reappear moments later in Steve’s. He was so surprised that he dropped the rock on the ground.
“Holy shit!”
Sarah was shocked as well. She hadn’t expected it to work that easily and that quickly. The stone had literally vanished from her hand only to appear moments later in Steve’s! That was a serious thrill! What else could she experiment on? She cast her gaze around their makeshift campsite, looking for suitable objects. There, a small stick on the ground. Sarah’s brow furrowed as she ordered the stick to move over next to the hearth. However, it remained in place. Confused, she again ordered the stick to move. Again, the stick refused to cooperate. What’s wrong? Why isn’t it working? Wait, did she really have an exact location in mind when she ordered the stick to move? She looked over to the hearth and chose a spot next to Steve’s collection of firewood. There will do.
Just like that, the stick vanished and reappeared right next to the pile of firewood.
“Just learned something important,” Sarah said.
“What? Did something happen?”
“You could say that. I just tried to move a small stick over to the hearth.”
Steve glanced at the hearth. “Okay, so what happened? It didn’t work?”
“Not at first. It didn’t work until I chose a destination point. No, wait,” Sarah said. “That’s not right. It didn’t work until I knew exactly where it would end up. I had to be able to visualize exactly where it was going to go.”
“So unless you could visualize in your head where you wanted it to go, it won’t work? Wait, that can’t be right. You made those other things disappear.”
“Good point. Maybe since I’m specifically trying to move it from one place to another I have to have a destination in mind so that I know exactly where it’s going, what it looks like, etc.”
Steve pulled Sarah back over to the fire and they both sat down.
“So you’re saying if your intent is to teleport it then you need to know exactly where you’re sending it to. No guessing, is that it?”
Sarah nodded. “I think so. If I’m just trying to make it vanish, then I can do that, but if my intent is otherwise, then it won’t work.”
Steve smiled and pulled Sarah close. “Think you can get a handle on it? Work out the nuances?”
“I sure am going to try. I’d like to get to the point where if I see an arrow speeding towards us, that I can make it vanish, or maybe put it right in the path of the archer firing at us.”
“Hey, there’s a thought! That’d be cool!”
“Me being responsible for someone dying is cool?”
“That’s not what I meant, babe. Sorry. I mean that if it comes to that, you’d be able to protect yourself and me as well.”
“Protect…” Sarah mumbled. “I wonder.”
“What? You wonder what?”
“I think my trigger is protection as well.”
“I thought it was fear.”
“Yeah, so did I, only the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Think about it.” She took Steve’s hands in hers. “When we were threatened by the mugger, I wanted to prevent our stuff, namely the jorii, from falling into his hands. That wasn’t fear. It was self preservation. I didn’t want anything to happen to us, and that included all of our possessions.”
“Can your trigger and mine be the same?”
“Clearly it can. There are probably a significant amount of people here, and you know as well as I do that there aren’t that many individual emotions.”
“True.” Steve sighed deeply, stretching out on the soft grass. Moments later Sarah joined him. “Damn, it’s pretty out.” He looked up at the stars, trying to guess what constellations existed in this sky. “We need to get some sleep. I have a feeling that we are both gonna be feeling this tomorrow.”
“Feeling what?”
“Sore. I don’t know how people managed to get around before cars were invented.”
Sarah giggled. “People have been managing to get around long before they domesticated animals or invented cars, so I’m sure we’ll manage. Think anything will try to bother us tonight?”
Steve snuggled up next to Sarah. He threw a few of the large plant stems over the two of them, more to camouflage themselves than for warmth.
“I’m sure we’ll be fine. At any rate, if something tries anything, we’re a lot more prepared to defend ourselves now. Besides,” Steve murmured, becoming groggier by the second, “I’ll personally fricassee anyone’s sorry ass if they get too close.”
One of the burning logs split open. The sap inside started hissing and crackling, sending up erratic bursts of light that lit up their campsite for brief moments.
For once in her life, Sarah knew she wasn’t going to be cold tonight. Not snuggled up next to this six foot three furnace. Wow, was he putting off the heat! Better than any electric blanket, that’s for sure!
The pair fell asleep instantly. Whether it was Steve’s final threat of the night, or just some much-needed good luck, they were undisturbed for the entire night.
Chapter 6 – Journal
Sarah awoke to the sounds of a crackling fire and the aroma of cooking food. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious! Wait a minute. Cooking? Here? Steve?? Both eyes shot open. There, spitted on a makeshift rotisserie over the fire, was a roasting fish. A rypo, Sarah corrected. Where the in the world did he get that? Better yet, where the hell was Steve?
She wandered over to the fire and rotated the fish so that it was cooking evenly. Baffled, she inspected the rypo. It was just now starting to blister, so her husband couldn’t have been gone for more than a minute or two. Where did he get this? Back at the lake? That would be at least an hour’s walk!
Steve arrived just then with a few more pieces of wood for the fire.
“Mornin’, babe! How’d you sleep?”
“Amazingly well. I was really tired.” Sarah turned the fish again. “Where did you get this? You must have caught it. Where? How??”
“It was an incredible bit of luck. I went back a bit to that small stream we passed last night. I wanted to get some more water. Thought it’d be a good idea before we started out again. This thing apparently made a wrong turn somewhere and was caught in a shallow part and was struggling to get back. Personally, I’m tired of fruitcake, so I thought some fresh fish would be good for breakfast.”
Sarah just stared at her husband, senior computer tech, video game junkie, movie fanatic. He really didn’t care for fish, didn’t like to fish, and didn’t even know how to clean a fish.
“So you caught this with your bare hands?”
/> Steve grinned. “Yep. Hard as hell.”
“And you cleaned it yourself.”
“Disgusting as hell.”
“And you built this rotisserie thing to cook it.”
“Ingenious as hell.”
“But you hate fish. I can’t even imagine you cleaning this thing.”
“Stubborn as hell.”
They breakfasted on roast rypo and fresh, cool water. It was quite excellent. Steve didn’t even bother to trim the excess fat from his portion of fish, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Sarah.
Together, they stowed their gear back into their pack, throwing the used palm fronds into a clump of bushes. She looked at the fire, still blazing away.
“Can you put that out? Or should we just put some dirt on it to make sure all the coals go out, too?”
“Hang on, let me see what I can do.” Steve concentrated, invoking his jhorun and directing it towards the fire. Focusing his attention on the flickering flames and the hot coals, he mentally pulled the fire’s energy inward, letting it consume him. The flames decreased in size until finally tapering out. The coals, glowing red from the constant heat, gradually darkened until no signs of warmth remained. Steve gingerly held his hand over the hearth, testing for signs of heat. Nothing. Smiling, Steve looked at his wife. Sarah, however, had her trademark skeptical look plastered on her face: one eyebrow raised in a true, Vulcan fashion.
“What?”
“How are you going to tell if that’s warm when you can actually hold fire in your hand and not get burned?”
Steve’s smug smile melted into a sheepish one. “Okay, you try. See if there’s any heat. I don’t feel anything.”
Sarah held an open palm out to the fire. Nothing.
“I think we’re ready to go. Nicely done, by the way.”
Steve’s smug grin was back. “Thanks!”
Travelling north, they again followed the small, winding path through the thick growth of the forest. Their moods were high as each contemplated the special power that had been quite literally dropped in their laps. Steve, more confident than he had been since arriving in Lentari, was on constant alert for any signs of pursuit. His eyes were continuously scanning the distant trees, checking for any signs of pursuit.
After two hours of solid walking they finally emerged from the forest to a very welcoming sight: the impressive Zylan river stretching from east to west as far as the eye could see. And there, running parallel to the mighty river was the enchanted road they had been so desperately searching for.
“Oh, score!!!” Steve let out a loud whoop of victory. “Is THAT a sight for sore eyes!”
Sarah sighed, relief flooding through her system, soothing her more than a glass of iced tea could ever do, and boy was she craving a glass of tea. Shading her eyes from the sun, she scanned up and down the road, looking for any forks that might have led them astray. Nothing.
This was indeed a good sign. Now that the road was again in sight, she wanted nothing more than to be standing square in the middle of it. She grabbed her husband’s hand and pulled him behind her, practically breaking out in a run in order to get to the safety-enhanced road as soon as possible. Once on it, she finally released his hand and turned to face him.
“Are you okay?” Steve could only imagine how relieved his wife must be to be back on the path. He hadn’t registered one word of complaint as he was drug along behind his wife during her urgent dash to the enchanted road.
“Just very glad to be right here. Very, very glad.” She sighed again.
“Tell you what, the way I see it, that village Kornal spoke of should be close. Let’s see if we can find a place to stay for the night.”
“And how do we pay for it?”
“We have the grif.”
“What if it’s not enough?”
“Then we’ll figure something out. Come on.” It was his turn to take her hand and pull her down the road.
In high spirits, the two visitors journeyed east, adopting a hurried pace. Steve glanced up, noting the position of the sun. It was directly overhead, placing the time somewhere around noon. If they kept due east at a respectable pace, then he figured they should be able to reach the village of Donlari just before sunset. He had every intention of procuring a room for the night with a bed and decent provisions. And, he was fairly confident that his single gold grif would be more than adequate to cover the cost of the room plus the supplies.
Walking silently hand-in-hand, both observed the immense slow-moving river. They could just make out a boat of some sort with what looked like cargo and supplies on it, gently drifting downriver.
The Zylan river, running parallel to the road they were on, was the main method of transportation for the Lentarian people when it came to moving supplies from the western region of the kingdom to the east. Citizens used the wide, calm river to transport crops, manufactured goods, livestock, etc, to the main capital city, R’Tal.
Steve looked at the smooth, glass-like texture of the river and wondered if they might be able to make a raft of some sort so they wouldn’t have to walk. He rapidly nixed that idea. The river simply wasn’t flowing that fast. Besides, he wouldn’t trust any raft he was capable of making to be seaworthy.
True to his earlier estimate, just as the sun was about to dip below the horizon, two weary Americans beheld the village of Donlari as it was preparing to settle down for the night. Not wasting any time, Steve walked straight over to the first person he saw, a local who was busy packing his wares into his cart.
Steve cleared his throat. “Pardon me, can you tell me where we can find the nearest inn?”
The merchant glanced up, noticing a potential sale. “Good evening, travelers! What might I be able to do for ye? Have ye an interest in fine crockery?” He hastily pulled a few choice pots from his cart and proffered them to Sarah. “Ye will not find a finer made pot in these parts, let me assure ye.”
Steve gave his best amiable smile. “Not today, thanks. Can you point us to the closest inn? Is there one in this village?”
The merchant noted the strange affliction to the way they spoke, but he had heard far stranger. Nodding, he pointed towards a street still packed with people. “Ye will find several here in this village. The closest is just down that alley. Follow the alley until it dead-ends, then turn right. Ye cannot miss it. Thacken Lodge. Ye will do no better in Donlari.”
“Thank you.”
The merchant nodded, dragging his cart away, disappearing into the crowds of people. Steve shifted the pack to his other shoulder to give his aching right shoulder a break.
“Come on,” Steve took her hand. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be caught out here when it gets dark.”
Thacken Lodge was a large, three story stone and mortar structure with several chimneys poking out of the top of the thickly thatched roof. Dark smoke was billowing out of one of the chimneys as cheerful lights and music beckoned to the two of them from the open double doors. Giving Sarah a brave smile, he ducked into the inn, his wife following closely on his heels. Navigating around the bustling patrons, Steve glanced around, noticing the huge vaulted ceiling with the exposed rafters, the roaring fire in the huge hearth, and running along the entire length of the far wall, a large wooden counter. The medieval equivalent of a bar? Several patrons were seated at various spots along the counter. Figuring the large man behind the bar to be the owner, he headed in that direction.
Sarah blinked her eyes, waiting for them to adjust. The atmosphere felt warm and welcoming to her, albeit a tad on the dirty side. There was a crackling fire in the hearth against the far wall. Sounds of banging pots and general laughter came from a room to the right of the roaring fire. The kitchen maybe? Scents of burnt meat wafted lazily about. Numerous scarred tables and benches were scattered across the room. Many were empty, so she reasoned the lodge had to have at least a few vacancies.
Steve finally made it to the counter and caught the proprietor’s attention. The burly overweight man ambled in
his direction, wiping his hands on a worn, greasy apron. “What can I do for ye?”
“We need provisions, and a room for the night. Do you have any available?”
The owner of the lodge scratched his beard with a huge hand. “I s’pose ye are one of Rhenyon’s men? Still irks me why I must give away m’ best rooms fer free.”
“Umm, I’m not with Rhenyon, whoever that is. I just need food and lodging for the night. I can-”
The owner leaned precariously over the bar, studying Steve intently. He then noticed Sarah behind him, watching closely.
“Good news, indeed. But can ye pay?”
“Well,” Steve stammered, “I have a-”
The owner cut him off. “Can ye perform some type of service in exchange?”
The rusty wheels upstairs ground into motion. “I can probably help out with cooking. I seem to have the ability to heat things up.” He looked at the large man in front of them and smiled. “Rapidly.”
The man’s jaw hit the counter. One would have thought that the stranger had just announced that he had slept with his daughter. “Speak ye the truth? Can ye affect large cauldrons or are ye limited to small objects?”
Now he was in for it. He hadn’t expected the innkeeper to actually entertain his notion of helping in the kitchen. Did they have a shortage of cooks in this tavern? Steve shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “I haven’t noticed any size limitations, if that’s what you’re wondering. Umm, do you actually need some help in the kitchen?”
Their new friend ran his hands through his thick, black hair.
“Ye might have heard me before. Rhenyon is the captain of the royal guards. He and most of his men will be staying here tonight and are due to arrive at any moment. The king’s soldiers get free lodging wherever they go, and I have to have enough food ready when they arrive, which I do. But I was given no notice this time, and the food has not yet been prepared. My wife can cook for that many, but it takes time to prepare that much food. So,” he tapped his meaty finger on Steve’s chest, “help my wife get that food ready in time, and the two of ye may stay the night with a meal. We have an accord, yes?”
Bakkian Chronicles, Book I - The Prophecy Page 12
