Razja shot him a horrified look. “Truly?”
Camdyn chuckled. “No, lass. They’re harmless. Just like every other damned thing we’ve seen in these woods.”
She looked slightly abashed, but then furrowed her brow and stubbornly continued with her questioning. “What does it eat, then? Plants? Meat?”
“Nuts and berries, I think,” Camdyn answered with a shrug. “I’m not really certain. I haven’t made it a point to study the eating habits of squirrels.” After a moment, he added wryly, “But it does make for riveting small talk on the road.”
Razja gave him a flat look. “Thaylish may not be my first language, Camdyn Taurus, but I can still understand sarcasm.”
Again, Camdyn shrugged before shoving the last of the bread into his mouth. “Why do you care so much about the plants and animals here, anyway? Aren’t you going to go back to Kaarna once we deliver the Tear?”
“The flora and fauna are very different than what I am used to. In Kaarna, plants only grow where water can be found, and nearly every creature in the desert can kill with a bite or a sting.” Her gaze suddenly grew very distant, and a mournful tone entered her voice. “Besides, this is where I belong, now. I fear I will never be allowed to return to my homeland.”
Silence followed her words, and Camdyn shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. Well, that took a depressing turn.
Not wanting to dwell on her apparent exile, he changed the subject back to animals. “Do you have chipmunks in your country?”
She frowned and silently mouthed the word. Then, she shook her head.
“They’re sort of like squirrels,” he explained, shifting slightly in his saddle, “only they live in the ground instead of in trees. I think chipmunks taste better, honestly, but squirrels usually have more meat on them.”
“You eat them?” she asked, aghast.
Camdyn suppressed a grin. “When the need arises, yes. Damned hard to catch, but they’ll fill your belly same as any rabbit or deer.”
Razja mad a gagging noise and then shuddered. “Ghastly.”
Both of them shared a laugh.
“Will you two quit chattering?” Jasper snapped, his voice thick with derision. “I can hardly hear myself think!”
Camdyn glanced back at the assassin and arched an eyebrow at him. The man had dark eyes and a smooth, clean-shaven face, though Camdyn could not recall ever seeing him shave. He was handsome in a genteel sort of way, with short brown hair and the slender build of a man unaccustomed to hard labor. Still, the sellsword had seen him fight, so there was no denying his skill in battle.
Jasper held his gaze for a long moment before finally grunting and looking away, scanning the undulating landscape with a scornful look.
Camdyn harrumphed and turned his attention back to the road ahead. Ever since we rescued him in that alley, he has been in a foul mood. I’ll not be sorry when we finally part ways.
Ignoring the man’s curt rebuke, they continued talking with one another, albeit a bit more quietly than before. Razja would ask him questions about the lands this side of the mountains and Camdyn would answer to the best of his abilities. It was a good-natured exchange, but even so, the mercenary’s thoughts were on what lay ahead. If the Wanderer paid what he owed them, then Camdyn would had enough gold to take him almost anywhere in the world. He could travel east to the mysterious kingdoms of the elves. He could continue north to the duchies of Luthon or Macia, or go further still to the wild, untamed lands of Vjolstek.
The only place he did not wish to go was Thay and the verdant lands he had left behind.
Razja seemed to sense that he was growing distracted, and so asked the question, “Where will you go after all of this is over?”
Camdyn shrugged his shoulders, causing his leather armor to creak. “I haven’t decided yet. Like you, going home is not an option.”
“Then it is the road you seek?”
He blew out a breath and gazed out at the wilderness. “Not sure what it is I seek. I’ve thought about seeing the world, but I’ve also thought of settling down and having some children. I could get a job keeping the peace for a local lord and use my earnings to buy a bit of land.” For a moment, his tone grew wistful. Then, frowning, he grunted shook his shaggy head. “It’s all foolishness, anyway. We need to get the Tear back to that old man first. Then I can focus on where I’ll go next.”
Razja rested a hand on the leather satchel resting against her saddle as if making sure it was still there.
Jasper’s voice cut through their conversation like one of his blades. “Look! Smoke head.”
Camdyn and Razja both looked to the northeast, toward the direction of Old Barrow. Sure enough, there was a great column of black smoke billowing up from beyond the hills – an ominous sign to be sure.
For a moment, none of them commented on the presence of the smoke. Then, as one, they spurred their horses forward, eager to discover the fate of the northern settlement; and their own fate, as well.
WHEN THEY FINALLY ARRIVED at Old Barrow, they found nothing more than a blackened ruin.
The trio approached slowly at first, lest they happen upon those who sacked the town. However, it soon became apparent that those responsible had long since fled, leaving nothing but crows to pick at the bodies of the slain.
Immediately, Camdyn's mind turned to war. What army could have done this? he asked himself silently has his horse moved toward the charred walls. Kaarna is hundreds of miles away, and Thaynia is at war with no other countries.
The answer, if there was one, would likely be found within the town itself.
Despite years of seeing sights like this, Camdyn had never grown accustomed to such wanton destruction. The thought of innocents being slaughtered made his stomach turn.
The gates, such as they were, looked to have been beaten down with a battering ram, their wooden frames cracked and torn from the hinges. Those sections of wall that had not caught fire stood like lonely sentinels, silently looking over the desolation amidst the billowing clouds of smoke.
Camdyn led the others into Old Barrow, carefully guiding their horses past the dead gate guards who lay strewn about like broken toys.
“This is more than a simple bandit raid,” he remarked solemnly as he examined the corpses. “These people were butchered.”
Ahead, most of the buildings had been burnt down to their foundations, with only brick chimneys and piles of ash remaining. Those that remained had broken windows and smashed doors, their interiors looted and laid completely bare. More bodies littered the muddy ground here, their blood pooling in footprints and wagon ruts. Men, women, and even children were ruthlessly murdered by whoever had attacked and left to rot out in the sun.
Razja’s eyes brimmed with tears as she surveyed the scene. “Who would do such a thing?”
“Marauders, most like,” Jasper answered callously, his gaze sweeping over the corpses without betraying a hint of emotion. “The mountains are thick with them. They probably cobbled together a few clans and came down here for some plunder.”
“Monsters,” she muttered, reaching up a hand to wipe at her eyes.
“The world is full of monsters, sorceress,” Jasper replied derisively, his lip curling into a sneer. “The only way to survive is to become an even greater monster. Those who don’t are just sheep waiting to be slaughtered.” He gestured vaguely at the bodies.
Razja pulled her horse to an abrupt halt and glared at him, her dark eyes glittering with rage. “How dare you speak ill of the dead. These people were innocent!”
“And now they’re innocent corpses,” he replied glibly. “Harden your heart, Razja. This is the way the world works. Weeping about it won’t do a damn thing.”
The sorceress was about to offer an angry retort when Camdyn cut her off with a shout.
“Quiet, both of you!” His voice startled a group of crows and sent them flying away from their feast, squawking in dismay. Jasper and Razja both looked at him as if they had forgotten he eve
n existed. He trotted his horse over to them and lowered his voice. “And I thought I was the dumb one in this group. Do you remember why we are here? The Wanderer might be dead, and all you want to do is fight.”
Razja had the decency to look abashed, but Jasper merely scoffed. “If he’s dead, all the better. He’ll not bother me again, and we can sell the sapphire for a nice sum.”
“We’re not selling the Tear,” Camdyn growled as Razja clutched protectively at the satchel. “If it falls into the wrong hands, it could mean the end of the world.”
Jasper snorted but otherwise fell silent, turning his attention to the wreckage around them.
“The Wanderer’s house is this way,” Camdyn said after a moment, nodding deeper into Old Barrow. “Let’s hope that the old man managed to get out in time.”
They passed more carnage on the way, but nothing that would give them any idea as to who was behind the attack. Townsfolk lay sprawled in the muck, sword slashes marring their flesh and arrows sticking out of them like pincushions. Some fires still smoldered on blackened wood, guttering lazily in the wind as they consumed the last of the homes.
The Wanderer’s home was still standing, but it had been ransacked all the same. The sign of the eye and the three tears had been knocked from its place over the broken door, its wooden frame pounded into the mud by many boots.
Pulling up to the house, Camdyn dismounted and drew his bastard sword, eyes searching the gloom for signs of life. Jasper did the same, and Razja crossed her forearms, causing her copper bracers to glow.
The inside of the house was a disaster. The clutter and the refuse that the old man had accumulated had all been scattered, the piles of rubbish thrown and trodden down under foot. Foul words and curses were scrawled upon the walls, and every bit of glass and crockery had been completely smashed. If anything valuable had existed in this mess, it had been stolen and carried away by the raiders.
Camdyn examined the scene by the wan light that drifted in through the shattered windows. It smells like death in here, he thought, carefully stepping over the detritus as he navigated the main room.
“This place is a midden heap,” Jasper remarked with disgust. “They should have burned it down with the rest of the town.”
Camdyn and Razja ignored him as they searched, vainly looking for the old man and the Tears amid the wreckage. Even after the first minute, the mercenary realized that it was hopeless.
He was about to leave and look for survivors in the town when a sound like muffled coughing reached his ears.
“Over there!” he shouted, pointing with his sword to the far corner of the room. Buried under a tangle of blankets and blood-soaked rags rested the Wanderer, his gnarled form withered and frail-looking.
The three crowded around the old man as he struggled to a sitting position. Dried blood caked the side of his head, and a grisly wound festered on his belly. By the foul stench, Camdyn knew that he was dying. The wound had festered and grown corrupt. Even so, the blind old man smiled at them as they approached, his normally-yellow teeth stained a deep red.
“Welcome back... adventurers,” he wheezed. “I am... so glad that you have come.”
“A powerful sorcerer laid low by a simple knife wound,” Jasper said dryly. “If I would have known it would be so easy, I would have done you in long ago. I’m disappointed.”
Razja shot him a withering look, but the old man merely chuckled.
“Indeed, Jasper Aurelio... I am but mortal. I am capable of dying just like any man.” He paused as if pained by his wound, and then continued slowly, his breathing labored. “I will admit, however... that it was no mere knife that cut me.... This is the work of the Dragon Cult. I told you that they were not to be... trifled with.”
“They took the Tears, then?” Camdyn asked the question, feeling dread settle in his stomach.
The Wanderer nodded. “They have.”
Jasper blew out a breath. “Then it was all for nothing. This has all been a colossal waste of time.”
“Not necessarily.” Razja knelt down beside the old man and opened up her satchel. Even in the low light, the sapphire glittered brightly.
The Wanderer inhaled sharply, then promptly fell into a fit of coughing. When he recovered, he rasped, “All is not lost... they cannot... complete the spell without... the final Tear.”
“What would you have us do?” asked Razja earnestly.
The old man did not hesitate. “You must recover the other stones.... Only then can the world... be protected... from Draxxes.” Frothy blood bubbled up from his throat and oozed out the corner of his mouth. He smiled. “I can see that I have chosen my champions well... if anyone can stop the wicked dragon from returning... you can...”
The three of them looked at one another uncertainly. Doubt, unease, and dread played out in their expressions. Finally, Camdyn spoke up for all of them. “It will be as you say. We will see it done.”
Not even Jasper protested.
More weak coughing followed, and the Wanderer sagged back against his filthy pile of rags. “This is not... the end... for me. I have lived... my whole life... for this moment. I will help... from the other side...”
With that, his final breath wheezed out of him and his entire body went limp. Camdyn could not see the old man’s eyes beneath the blindfold, but he was sure that they were closed for good.
Chapter Ten
The flames hungrily consumed the dead townsfolk, turning their flesh to char and filling the sky with even more smoke.
The three companions had spent the better part of the day gathering the victims together on the green, a small field of grass next to the inn. Once they had found kindling and wood that had not already been burned by the raiders, they had built a pyre large enough to devour the bodies, an ugly heap to serve as a mass grave. When they were finally done, Razja’s magical flames made quck work of the makeshift burial mound, setting it ablaze.
Together, they watched as the great fire burned.
It was said that cremation was the cleanest form of burial – that it carried the souls of men up into the heavens. Camdyn was not so sure about that. He had seen many bodies burned in his time as a soldier, and wicked men burned just the same as righteous ones. At the end of it all, there is nothing but smoke and stink and ash.
He glanced over at his companions, his thoughts swirling like the crackling flames. Razja stood with her hands clasped in front of her, her face a sorrowful mask. Jasper, on the other hand, looked bored, his dark eyes lined and tired.
The assassin had refused to help them when they first began gathering the dead. He complained that they were wasting their strength and that they should make for the nearest city. Eventually, he gave in and helped them in their efforts, though not without a fair bit of grumbling.
He’s a selfish bastard, that one, Camdyn thought as he turned his attention back to the pyre. He can fight well enough, but I wouldn’t doubt he’d put a knife in my back if the price was right.
The sorceress was another story. Over the last few weeks, he had witnesses her capacity to care for others, an empathy that he had seldom seen in her countrymen. There was a goodness in her, but her motivations still remained a mystery to him. How can one so young be so powerful? What is she truly after, and why did the old man choose her?
Camdyn did not trust his companions, and yet, he was stuck with them. The Wanderer’s last wish was that they recover the Tears of Eternity and prevent the dragon Draxxes of old from returning to the world.
A lofty goal with no promise of pay. Not the sort of job I would normally take.
Sparks flew as the pyre caved in on itself, crumbling beneath its own weight while the flames finished their work. As the fire eventually began to die, the trio went back to their horses and quietly mounted up, riding off into the woods and leaving the ruined town of Old Barrow behind.
IT WAS ALMOST DARK when they stopped to set up camp. The sun had set in the west and the wooded hills of the north took on a menac
ing look, the landscape choked with shadows.
They tethered their horses in a meadow by a stream and silently went about their business, setting up bedrolls and preparing a campfire to keep them warm.
Gods, the last thing I want to smell again is smoke, Camdyn thought as he knelt on the ground and pulled out a whetstone. I can still smell those poor folk burning in my clothes. He scratched out a few sparks on his sword and it wasn’t long before he had a few smoldering embers.
By the time full dark fell, they had a merry fire snapping in a shallow pit. It felt like it was the only merry thing in the whole world.
Somberly, they ate a cold meal of biscuits and deer jerky, their eyes watching the dancing flames as the sounds of the forest enveloped them.
Razja shivered and pulled her wool cloak more tightly around her frame. “I’m not certain I’ll ever get used to how cold it is here,” she said quietly, breaking the silence. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be warm again.”
Neither of them answered her. The conversation seemed to die before it even began.
The sorceress eyed the two of them, consternation making her normally-stoic expression crack. “Have you nothing to say? Did you lose your voices back in that town?”
“Don’t feel much like talking,” Camdyn replied as he brushed some crumbs off of his trousers. “It’s been a long day.”
“I don’t care that it’s been a long day,” she answered hotly. “We need to talk about our next move. Two of the Tears are missing, and the people who murdered those townsfolk are still out there!”
“There is no next move, sorceress,” Jasper snapped. He lounged beside the fire as if he were in a palace. “I don’t care what that old man said – the mission is over. We recovered the sapphire and made it back here in one piece. I say we bury that damn thing and move on with our lives.”
Blunt words, Camdyn mused, but I actually find myself agreeing with him.
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