Princeps

They were hightailing on the road when the first rays of Baor and Sur glazed the sky. Atef’s urgent strides and the gloom of darkness caused their escape to be a mute ordeal. Wolf was ahead of them, scouting as usual and sniffing the trail of Bortos and Raya who were way ahead of them on horseback. Still not aware of what transpired, Erleia followed Atef, at an uneven, reluctant pace. He had to turn around constantly and wait for her dead-faced, but not once did he tell her to catch up. Had he done it, Erleia would most likely have left him. Fear of him grew inside her. Just as he was able to use unnerving display of fury to convey some odd sense of affection, so was he inclined to go into fits of rage towards her, his companion. She didn’t understand entirely the exchange between him and the two renegades, but the look on his face as he tyrannically held her on his way through the village, and later, the grim mask of transgressor as they walked out, made her think that he has done something he would regret. And that she should be wary of him, of that sudden transformation. Now wasn’t the right time to separate from him, she would most likely be captured by someone else and turned into a slave. But no matter that fact, should she still risk it?

He was a murderer, a fiend that has taken a life based only on the words of people he had one exchange with. He felt like justice was served but simultaneously he was crushed by the fact that he was the instrument of said justice. He was a rat, a deep-dweller, released to find destiny whose beacon seared itself in his eyelids. And it took him only a handful of days to tarnish that and put himself outside of law. After all, just like in pit, this place must have had laws, and soon there will be a posse on his trail, seeking blood for blood. He could feel a tightening in his throat, like a chokehold of invisible hands. It made him wheeze and pant as he was walking, depriving his mind of oxygen, blurring and narrowing his eyesight. He slowly descended into a panic attack, all-encompassing and shattering. No mercy, no quarter would be given to him. They are on his tail, they are close, back to the pit would be mercy, they are going to gut him!

- Momma, Naya! – he let out a shriek and fell to his knees.

Erleia came to a sudden halt and cautiously started observing what might transpire next with Atef. The boy burst into tears coping with the overwhelming fear of himself. He killed, and not just killed, but killed in a gruesome fashion using a skill he didn’t yet fully understand nor knew how to control. He was a mystery to himself, and now a murderous fugitive. The spiral continued to plunge him deeper into despair, slowly and gently, like a swinging crib that lulls his young mind into its own pit of hopelessness.

A warmth engulfed him, embracing him, bringing his heart back from the choking clutch. Erleia was by his side, making a hushing sound, patting his brow. He wallowed in the warmth, regaining his senses, finding subliminal justification to his deed. Erleia was helping him cleanse his soul. She has done it more than once in the past, but never for a human, and never for someone so young.

Magic roll: 66 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +2 to polilinguistics ; current level 5/50

- Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! – uttered Atef repeatedly through Erleia’s hushing sound.

- You umpo kerl senses! Close eyes! Baur gaek itvan larimor! Breathe – gently flowed from her lips, reminding him of the mas in the pit who brought him up.

Magic roll: 64 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +2 to speaking with animals ; current level 6/50

Madness roll: 71 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +2 to madness ; current level 6/100

Secret roll: 47 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +1 to a mystery ; current level 4/100

- Grauaua, get up! Auohohoh, embarrass yourself! – came from the wolf who circled back to see what was the holdup.

He embraced her back ignoring the wolf, getting to grips with the river of his tears. Baor was already greeting the world with all of his might when Atef finally let go. Slowly, he picked himself up, saw the anxiousness of the wolf to press on and the scorn in its eyes. He looked back at Erleia, noticed the mellowness that was there before, the forgiveness.

- Thank you! I… - he lowered his gaze. – We gotta go! Dangerous ‘tis here. Come!

He turned and gestured that it was the time to move and fix up the shattered mosaic of last night while travelling. In that moment, all her short history with Atef coalesced into a conclusion that he needed her. He could be her toy, her project. She joined him, keeping up with his brisk pace, trusting he knows where the road leads.

*

Summer was still growing in strength and days were already becoming unbearably hot, sapping any willpower to move about. The three companions weren’t feeling the heat though; the weave of their bond thicker by the strand of the Ice and Puke Wedding which bothered their souls more than the heat would bother their bodies. So they pressed on, at speed, the summer breeze in their backs howling like the horn of brutal vengeance in Atef’s mind. He still poignantly brooded, overthinking what happened last night but whenever Erleia would look at him, he’d send back a smile, wanting to persuade her that he was better. There wasn’t much to say, much to do than move forward. Wolf was away on the side, hugging the tree line, suggesting in short growls they do the same so that no new unwanted crossing of paths takes place. Though wherever Atef would look, there was no one. The meadows and pastures were gently undulating shortening the horizon and putting the emphasis on the flower patches that covered the tops in their joyous adoration of the suns. To their right the forest seemed limited by the dirt road they were walking on, as if it was forbidden from expanding even a step further. The thickness of it grew quickly as Atef gazed in its direction, turning dark and mysterious. Shifting his view back at the meadows, a weird conclusion crowded his train of thought. Clarity vs obscurity. Left vs right, the liberating space for frolicking on the empty and carefree plains of his mind or the deep and distressing self-doubt and analysis on the right. It was right there, in plain sight, the answer for his anguish. And like many times before in the pit, he vaulted and chained what was to the detriment of his psyche and kept his eyes solely on the meadows, his smile intensifying at every Erleia’s look, every glance at the top of the next gentle hillock.

Soon the dirt road left the forest behind and swooped into the main road, a rugged mixture of gravel and blue bricks that felt majestic to walk on, especially since the milestones were human-like carved statues. They represented minstrels, traders, soldiers, farmers, ladies of high stature and other reproductions of the artists’ fancy. The wolf got startled at the sight of the very first one and went far away from the road, following the pair from a distance. The statues were red, with few of them having an expression carved onto their faces. It was a sight to behold and at about first dozen or so they would stop for a breather and to enjoy the craftsmanship.

- Well met, you two! – came from behind as they were particularly hypnotized by a baker with chubby cheeks and amorphous blob for a body. Little did they know that the statue was a representation of an actual person who was known far and wide for both his appearance and his lemon-fig cupcakes.

- Who you be?! – cried out Atef, startled out of his wits by the unfamiliar voice. He quickly turned around, fear radiating from his eyes.

- Ervel, the barber; at your service m’lord! Though I see I can do very little for your smooth chin and well cropped hair. Was it Fulham who’s taking care of you? Or perhaps Cedric, he always looks to outdo me! My oh my, where are my manners! Who is your fair companion m’lord? May I be introduced to the lady?

- I’m no lord, I’m Atef. This is Erleia – he responded while assessing this new annoyance that snuck upon them.

Ervel was driving a wagon that seemed to be his house, his place of work and his artistic expression. It had two windows on each side made of colored glass, notches cut into the plank that went along the border of the wagon symbolizing who knows what kind of accomplishment he was repeatedly proud of. He had several representations of moustaches, hairlines and beards painted across the wagon, some of them mid-trim with scissors or razors flying around in invisible hands as they were doing the work. On the front to the left and right of him he had a lamp attached, one of wood and glass, other of some waxed, hardened paper, crimson red. At the back corners there were two cages, one with small, lustrously colored parrots and the other with a raven as black as the deep core of the pit Atef came from. The top had a flag on a spiral red and white short pole and the whole wagon was painted green, the aged-coppery kind.

He on the other hand was differently unusual, more befitting to the “epitome of light” descriptor; bright blue eyes, perfectly tended blond hairstyle and short moustache that almost anyone would associate with kempt virility. His garment consisted of a light-blue, linen, travelling shirt which had an unusual pattern weaved onto the shoulders and dark-red pants, dusty from the distance that two young brown horses trudged under their hooves. He exuded an air of instant likability, sense of humor and could be summed up as a merry rapscallion.

- Oh preposterous, such a fine gent like you must be of significance. I see it in your eyes. And might I add, in the eyes of lady Erleia.

Erleia at the mention of her name smiled, assuming she was being somehow praised. Though Ervel’s rapid, melodic high speak made it impossible for her to establish in which way. Atef similarly struggled, his vocabulary gaps clearly visible as he leaned his head to the side, as if trying to hear better the gibberish coming out of Ervel’s mouth. Gibberish that should make just a little bit more sense moving forward.

Language skill: 44 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +1 to speaking ; current level 13/50 - subpar

- Uhm, wha’ you see in my eyes?

- That you are a good and fine sir. So, please scratch the itch of my unquenchable curiosity, what final destination do your hearts desire?

- Where we go?

- Exactly m’lord.

- That way! – Atef pointed in the direction of the beacon which was still shining brightly when he’d close his eyes.

- Jarat, oh what a wonderful coincidence m’lord. Such magnificent opportunity for me to host your Superbness on the way over. Would you care to join me on this trek? We could pass the time together, talk the distance away and I know an excellent tavern up the road where we can spend the night.

Every word from that mouth was laden with genuine glee and trustworthiness and Atef’s wariness was evaporating quickly from his bones, making him feel light and enthusiastic. As he turned his head to Erleia to establish what she thinks, he realized she was already accepting his hand to climb onto the wagon. She decided for him.

- How bad canna it be? – he concluded as he jumped on board and caught the scent of Ervel’s sweet musk. Erleia was thoroughly enjoying it already, wondering whether it was a perfume or cologne imported straight from one of the many elven cities.

- Welcome aboard the Spiffy Parlor, that’s how I like to call it! However, for the esteemed customers who possess subtle proclivity towards vanity, it is the Gentry’s Quarters. And I assume that you two lovely people, ehrm, person and lady elf, will use the latter name if we come across anyone inquisitive?

- I’ll just let ya do the talky-talky! – concluded Atef already tired of the high-speak.

- Marvelous! Rugen, Carlyle thunder like you’ve never thundered before!

Hearing their names, the horses pulled forward, almost stylishly prancing as they clanged on the blue bricks.

- So, what do a sir and a lady such as yourselves seek in Jarat?

- Just going there.

- I understand. Maybe some fine cloth for the lady? – Ervel asked gently looking at Erleia with a large smile. Instead of an answer, she only had the widest and warmest look for him and a smile that a man could dream of. Atef noticed this, although Ervel was sitting in between them and was a sort of a weird barrier, precluding any word, sign or gesture between the two.

- Maybe – Atef responded looking at Erleia with flaming eyes as he did back at the Velelik wedding.

- And where does your Magnificence hail from?

- Wha’?

- Where has your path started, dear sir?

- Far!

- I understand. Discretion is paramount! Well, I respect that, it is actually a common trait in my line of work. For various reasons I might add.

As Ervel was saying this, they came across another milestone, colored expertly and done with such precision and detail that from as much as ten paces a layman might think that they are about to meet someone who is very much alive and stranded on the road. It was a statue of an old squire, so old and yet never elevated to the noble rank of knight. His beard was grey, eyes clear and distant gazing and mood engrossed in deep thought. He had a chainmail hood, a mark of some insignificant house across the tabard covering his chest and a shield that was firmly clenched in his left arm. He had another in his right, gold in color compared to the silver that they were just passing by. Symbolism that was lost to time, but Erleia wanted to inspect it nonetheless so she pointed at the statue and chirped as the wagon was passing. Ervel obliged and she hopped off to admire it. Atef followed while Ervel stayed on the wagon, too familiar with it to care. He gazed at the two of them from the comfortable spot on the coachman’s bench.

When he turned his head back to the road, Atef pinched Erleia.

- Ouch! Why? Herkat asim par aulat?

- I canna not understand wha’ you say! I see how you look him! He’s strange and tricky! Liar, liar! Watch out! – he murmured under voice as Ervel investigated Erleia’s sudden yelp.

They continued to look on at the statue for a little while longer. Erleia was pouting in anger while Atef tried to play it as cool as possible, acting as nothing had happened, even tapping and patting the statue to try establishing whether the rock it was made of was prevalent in the pit.

- I advise my esteemed guests that we start moving, otherwise it might be too late by the time we arrive to the tavern. You see Baor, he has started to slip away.

Atef looked at the younger sun, but also looked around to establish whether he can see wolf and count on him if this high speaking, nauseating, sweet talker turns out to be a proper rogue. The beast was nowhere to be seen. Maybe it got fed up of Atef and Erleia hanging around humans so much and carried on to its own destiny?

- We might also miss dinner! And dinners at the Golden Oar are magnificent!

At the sound of that Atef pushed his finger into Erleia’s shoulder signaling it was time to go. The most important problem of the day is soon to be solved.