A small Path

Heljah looked back at the walls of Sternguard slowly getting smaller behind them. Their journey had been uneventful so far, except for the funny mix-up with cows on the first day that had the caravan master shouting and swearing. Acting, in Heljah’s opinion, no better than the beasts he was trying to move. They had finally arrived at the infamous Sternguard the following day. Solidly constructed of heavy granite and iron, the city declared: I am meant to last.

They hadn’t spent any time in the fortress city at all- instead, Quinten had led them in one side and out the other.

Heljah was a little upset at Quentin for this. It wasn’t because she was tired and could use some rest. That was ridiculous. It was because that, even if Sternguard was built by humans, it still had impressive stonework that she would have liked to see. And if anyone said differently they would get a face full of dwarven fist. Well, maybe just a well placed kick in the shin.

Honestly, Heljah thought as she quickened her pace to keep up, the builders of this road needed to be taught a lesson- severely. They had paid no heed to how many times it was going up- or down- or that the slope was unusually steep. She thought about telling this to one of the twins, but of course they would completely misinterpret it for something else and totally lose the point of the matter. The point was of course that the engineer needed to be fired and the post given to a respectable dwarf.

Heljah looked up at the mountains. Famous, the Rathbain Mountains, good solid granite those, with peaks that tried to scrape the sky and cut clouds in half. She looked over at the twins, they were of course joking around- either telling jokes or being the joke themselves. As she looked at them she told herself that in no way was she envious of their much lighter leather armor. Her much bulkier metal half plate gave her pride. She had helped to forge it herself. She was quit proud of the etching she had done on the front that told of her clans' proud history. She looked down, the beads and metal in her braids pinging against her armor, and ran her hand over the only bare spot, around the belly and up one side. That spot she had left open to write her own future deeds.

They had to stop one more time for the night before reaching a little town at the foot of the mountains. The town was small, but a high stone wall surrounded it, a remnants from the Last War. The feeling here was different also, than farther south. Where Sternguard felt immovable with its thick stone walls and battlements, the small town of lomelle was like something from a fable. The little white-washed buildings of oak and maple-wood, with bark-shingle roofs, they were so different from the larger stone dwellings she was used to, or even the dirty little streets and towering buildings of Sharn. The only foreboding aspect was the haphazard stone wall that surrounded it, ugly and brooding and scarred, shored up and reconstructed in so many places it made Heljah's eyes twitch. No sense of craftsmanship whatsoever.

When they entered the village, Quentin started to ask around for directions. Despite his legendary charm, the villagers would clam up, no matter how friendly they seemed at first. Eventually wary mutterings and thinly veiled threats began to follow them. Finally, they found an old man that told them of a small path at the east end of the village that would take them to where they wanted to go. They had to go outside the village walls before they found it. The old man was right, it was small and rutted, and looked like no one had used it in ages. A wooden structure, marking the start of the path, looked so old and rotten that it could fall at any moment. The path was a series of steps that lead up the mountain cutting a path through the thick foliage and undergrowth of a dense leather leaf forest.the old man bade them a gruff farewell, quarreling for a moment with Quentin about not bringing trouble back to Iomelle on their return, and then huffily made his way back to the village.

Quentin whistled for Soren, and soon the halfling and Valasar (who had not accompanied them into the town) rejoined the rest of the travelers. They began the arduous journey up the steep mountain path, which if dwarves had constructed it would be much more pleasant, and into the wilds of Thrane.

Bloodmane (Concept)

Sundry Measures

"It was you, wasn't it, that was talking to the caravan boss?" Soren fixed him with a hard stare.

Quinten felt profoundly uncomfortable under that gaze, but he kept his cool. The rest of the Company didn't have to know about his troubles with the Aurum. "Yes it was. We were stopped in the city by some former- acquaintances of mine. I wanted to make sure the caravan master didn't know anything about them." The caravan master was actually an Aurum agent himself, but like all such low-level agents, promise of a little extra payment allowed Quinten to moderate exactly what he told his superiors. It wasn't much but it was better than nothing.

"Guild politics." Soren turned that piercing gaze away, and Quinten felt a little more easy.

Soren had been with the Company almost longer than Han and Kol, had known Cassandra Silverhand back during the war even, and was her good friend. Quinten couldn't afford the halfling to doubt his loyalty to the Company. He was still to new, and the little band of mercenaries was tight-knit. The twins had accepted him as a fellow trouble-maker, and the rest of the company were close behind, but any problems this early on, and they would turn away. He needed them, more than they knew, more than he could admit to himself.

It was good to have friends, after growing up in a place where everyone was a rival and everything a ploy for power.

"Just so you don't get the Company involved, Quinten. I know don't you associate with your family anymore, but we can't afford to offend anyone who might give us a job right now." Soren seemed almost to catch Quinten in his thoughts. Then with a quick laugh Soren punched him. Since Quinten was a good couple of feet taller than the halfling, the punch landed on his hip, but it was still more powerful than he expected. Halflings might be the size of children, but they were adults, with adult strength. "Don't worry too much Captain, I'm just joking with you. If your Guildhouse family posed a threat to the Company, Cassandra would never have let you join. She's the sharpest woman I've met in my life."

The little man gave a piercing whistle and leapt nimbly to the top of a covered wagon. He leaped of the side a second after his riding beast soared down and under him, landing with a light bounce in the saddle and guiding the creature back into the sky.

"Our people used such creatures as scouts as well, though they were too small for us to ride." Valasar had approached him as the halfling left, his great cloak billowing slightly in the cool breeze coming down from the Rathbain mountains. His hood was pulled over his scaly head, so only his snout and some of his pointy teeth her visible.

"How does that work?" Quinten asked. "If you have no riders, how can the birds give any information?"

"Our shamans perform a ritual that allows them to Borrow the eyes of the creatures, so that whatever the flyers see, the shaman sees also. And now a question for you, Captain." The lizard-man cocked his head to one side, not unlike a bird.

"Shoot."

"Shoot what?" Valasar crouched suddenly, pulling a short javelin from his pack and looking around. Quinten stifled a chuckle.

"No, I mean, ask your question."

"Oh." Valasar returned the javelin to its place and resumed walking at the Captain's side. He gestured to the countryside. "Look here, your dwarf-friend tried to explain this to me." The lizard man gestured to the caravan. "How we move so quickly past the countryside, when the caravan moves so slowly."

Quinten took stock of the road himself. The caravan was moving slowly, slow enough that many were walking alongside the carts at an easy pace, but just off the road the countryside blurred past. He was used to the phenomenon, but it was slightly disconcerting if you thought about it.

"Well", he said slowly, "I'm not a wizard myself, but I'll see if I can explain it a little more clearly for you. Your people believe that the land has spirits correct?"

"Yes, the gods are in all the world." Valasar nodded his head, a quick little jerk, a kept listening.

"So the way someone explained it to me is that the Roadways Guild convinces the ground on the roads that it should act like a river, carrying people faster in whichever direction, like the current of a river carries a boat."

"But the road does not move."

"Yes, but we do, and all the river-ness stored in the ground comes out when we travel on the road. I'm a little fuzzy on the details, but basically it works out so that we can cover thirty miles or so in an hour at this pace. That means that even though Sternguard is a good four hundred miles from Sharn, we should get their in no more than two days of travel or so, maybe a little more if the roads are bad. It's once we get off the Wayroads that travel slows down."

"That is very powerful magic." Valasar rumbled in appreciation.

"Yes it is, and it costs a fortune to keep up. The spells used on the roads need constant upkeep, and their are roads like these all throughout the Five Kingdoms. The other guildhouses and the Kingdoms pay it because it's so useful."

Heljah came up, huffing and puffing, next to the other two. While most could keep up fairly easily, the short-legged dwarf was having a bit harder time of it. Dwarves are stubborn, and she wasn't about to complain about the speed of the caravan. She was going to complain though.

"My explanation was much more precise and including quite a bit of interesting history. I don't know what's so hard to understand about it." she hugged.

Valasar looked alarmed. "My apologies, I did not mean to cause offense." He tried to make himself shorter, lowering his head until it was almost down to the dwarve's level. Quinten laughed.

"Don't worry about it Valasar. Heljah, I'm sure your explanation was wonderful, but you do tend to forget not everyone has been around as long as you. Even the Captain is only my age."

"Among the dwarves, eighty is no great number. I'm practically a youngster, yet." But the dwarf glowed with pleasure. Among the dwarves, age gained you veneration and respect.

"But among us you are venerable and a sage." Quinten also bowed low, and the dwarf maiden stopped for a second, blushing furiously. After a moment she ran to catch up with the lizard-man and the half-elf.

"Don't you try to butter me up, Quinten, or I'll tan your hide, I will!"

The Caravan

As the halfling left the group the fading voice of Han followed him. "The Caravan Master didn't like Valasar at all- I wonder what he would have done if he saw Bloodmane?"

Soren wove himself through the caravan, using his extreme agility and reflexes to move between the big animals and their human attendants. Most people didn’t realize how much of these skills you actually needed to ride one of the Soarial. Those who didn’t know thought that you just had to be small, not realizing you had to ride the currents just as much as your mount. Soren looked up at his animal companion still circling the caravan, feeling pride in her movements. Tera's brilliant colors caught the light, showing off the brilliant white and yellow patterns streaking her dark green body. Her brilliant orange crest, near transparent as her wings, seemed to glow with inner fire. Intelligent and fierce, the dinosaur circled, waiting for the chance to snatch Soren back into the skies.

As Soren neared the front of the column he saw the wagon master talking to a figure covered in a cloak. Soren stayed in the shadow of a wagon, not wanting to intrude on what looked like a heated conversation. The man in the dark cloak suddenly stiffened and started to look around. He quickly turned back to the wagon master and with some more hurried conversation passed him a small leather bag, which the wagon master promptly pocketed. The man in the cloak looked around one last time, and then disappeared among the humans that were traveling in the caravan. Soren trotted out of the shadows and tugged on the wagon master's sleeve. The wagon master gave a start and looked around. And then looked around again, this time a little lower and saw Soren and almost gave a bigger start than when Soren first tugged on his sleeve. Soren wasn’t very happy about that. Just because halflings were short didn’t mean that others had to look down on them.

“What do you want?” The caravan master said, having regained some of his composure. Coren could still see his face was to red, little beads of perspiration dotting his forehead. “I don’t have time for you to waste. What is it?”

Soren told him what he had told Quentin. The caravan master looked up the road, stringing along a very long list of swear words as he did so. He yelled at some of his men and told them to go on ahead and clear off the cattle. Soren left the red-faced caravan master their, and made his way back to Quentin and the company. As he came close he could hear Heljah explaining to Valasar about the roads and how they worked.

“…that’s when the Roadways Guildhouse was started.” Heljah finished to what was most likely a confused audience. “Look at the ruins up on the path ahead of us see how we approach them. In an hour we will likely be past them. That is likely twenty miles ahead of us so we are traveling as fast as a running horse.”

Soren went past them he had to tell Quentin what he had seen. He wasn’t there.