Wander West, in Shadow

Martimeos stood, a bitterly cold wind blowing his wild brown hair around his face, his black-furred cloak flapping at his back. Blue smoke raced away wildly in the breeze as he puffed at his pipe, his other hand on the hilt of his sword by his belt. Flit perched on his shoulder, the little cardinal seeking shelter against the cold in the folds of his red scarf. His dark leather tunic creaked as he shifted, the hide growing stiff against the cold.

He scanned the horizon with wary eyes the color of a forest's shadow. Stretching out before him were rolling, snow-covered hills, the cobblestone path beneath his feet snaking its way between the slopes as it faded into the distance. And beyond the hills, the towering, grim peaks of the Witch-Queen's range clawed at a flat gray sky. Behind him lay the northern gates to Twin Lamps, and he would be glad when he was out of the shadows of the town's stone walls and watchtowers.

Despite the danger that lay ahead, it felt good to be on the road again. Twin Lamps was a fine town, but he had probably spent more time there than he had in any other. And with the Bogge-man gone, he had felt the urge to be on his way growing stronger every day. The simple, irresistible desire to move on. The Art calling him to the road, some would say.

Even the goodbyes had taken too long for Martim's liking. Madame Ro had been sorry indeed to see them go - and no wonder, the innkeep had made a small fortune off of them during their stay, paying the rates they did for nearly two months. She had insisted on serving them one last breakfast feast before they left, piling their plates high with sausages and eggs, far more than they could actually eat. Martim's pack was still weighed down with the leftovers from that.

The maids of the White Queen inn had said their goodbyes, as well. Kells had spent most of the morning kissing Anne goodbye, that tall, freckled maid that he liked to squeeze. Funny enough, one of the maids had been especially distraught to see Elyse go, a young, blonde girl who kept her hair in twintails, who had flung her arms around Elyse in a tight embrace and sobbed openly while the witch glanced about in confusion and alarm. Even Harald, Madame Ro's gruff and reticent doorguard, had said his goodbyes - though they were limited to a rough handshake, and a grunted "Thanks, come again."

Taavetti Bartuk had made an appearance as well, the clever old mayor popping in during their breakfast to wish them well. Bartuk had given Martim and Elyse more coin than they could feasibly carry with them, as reward for helping with the Bogge-man. Martimeos had just taken whatever coin he stow away, and thanked the mayor for the generosity. Bartuk had promised that the rest would be invested, and that he would make the sum grow - even going so far as to write up a contract to sign - but Martimeos had just nodded politely as he inked down his name. He was quite certain that he'd never see the rest of the coin, either way.

There had been plenty of tears from the maids as they had finally left the inn - many of the girls thought that going to the mountains meant certain death for them. Anne, Kells' kissing friend, had wept bitterly hard in particular. Madame Ro, however, had been more sanguine. "They are a wizard and a witch," she had told the maids, waving goodbye as Martimeos, Kells and Elyse stepped out the door for the last time. "They'll be fine."

Bartuk had offered them horses for their journey, and Martimeos had considered it at first, but eventually decided against it. He had, tucked into his pocket, directions and advice from Maddie, on how to reach Grizel, the old Crosscraw witch amongst the peaks. Once in the mountains, their path would take them places it would be difficult to take a horse down. And besides, he planned to rely on glamour - Elyse's, and his own - to hide from the dangers of the mountain, when necessary. Bringing horses along would make it that much more difficult to remain concealed.

And so, after a final walk through town - where folk and guard alike waved at them, and called goodbye, and wished them luck - here they stood, just beyond the northern gates, in the shadow of the town's stone walls. A dirty haze hung over Twin Lamps, the collective smoke from countless chimneys drifting upwards into the sky. The town's flag, twin black suns on an orange field, flapped in the breeze over the gatehouse. Not such a bad place, in the end, Martim thought. Though it would probably take years for the rift between the town and its farmfolk to fully heal. And he wondered just how the town would fare, once Bartuk was gone. He had the impression that Twin Lamps would not soon find another as clever and wise as Taavetti to lead them.

"Well! It certainly feels fine to be out of there." Martimeos glanced to his side, where Elyse stood, Cecil curling about her feet. She wore her tattered black robes and pointed hat, as well as long, black gloves that reached up her arms. She had even invested in a heavy wolfskin cloak, that she wrapped around her shoulders against the cold. Martim had managed to convince her to buy some new boots, as well, sharp black leather lined with cotton to keep her feet warm. He didn't care how hot-blooded she was; it would get cold upon the mountains. As ever, she refused to wear a pack. Her long dark hair whipped in the wind, as she looked out across the hills before her, blue eyes curious and dark. "I do not think I like towns very much," she continued. Too much stone pressing in around you. Too many people. Though I will miss the baths."

"Just the baths?" Kells laughed in response. The soldier stood on Martim's other side. He wore a shining steel cuirass, and his black coat beneath it, his flaring pants and sharp knee-high boots similarly dark. He clutched a spear with hands clad in leather gloves, and on his belt he wore both a short sword and a mace. On his back he wore a large pack - finally, someone to share the load with, Martim thought - and tied to the pack was a small, steel-framed wooden shield. His storm-gray eyes peered out at them from beneath the brim of a kettle-helm strapped about his chin. "Not the roofs over your heads, the fireplaces, the drink?"

"Well, those things are nice, from time to time," Martimeos mused, putting his pipe away. "I'll also miss having a steady supply of tobacco. But really, can it compare to the road beneath your boots, and the open sky above?"

"Hmm," Kells said thoughtfully. "Yes. I would say it compares pretty damn well." He grinned, shaking his head. "Perhaps Bartuk was right about you two."

Martimeos and Elyse glanced at each other. "Right about what?" Elyse asked suspiciously.

"Nothing important." Kells hefted his spear, leaning it against his shoulder. "Well, shall we move? Grizel awaits."

And so beneath the slate-gray sky, Martimeos, Kells and Elyse set out towards the Witch-Queen's mountains, the town of Twin Lamps slowy disappearing behind them.

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Despite the dark reasons behind the journey, spirits among the three were high as it began. Flit and Cecil, too, seemed joyous. Finally free from the chimneysmoke of Twin Lamps, Flit could enjoy taking wing in the clear sky once more, and Cecil, his leg recovered, leapt and bounded through the snow, chasing after the occasional hare. There was something bracing about being out in the wilds once more; even Kells had missed his patrols, after an odd fashion.

They were not totally alone, of course. This close to Twin Lamps, there was still the occasional guard patrol, trotting by on their horses along the cobblestone road, tipping their helms as they passed. Not so many as there would be in the farmlands, though. The rolling hills they passed by were dotted with the occasional mine, but many were abandoned, old carts and rusted tools laying before dark, beam-supported entrances into the earth.

Iron had been mined here, Kells told them, and the occasional vein of silver too. But the silver had dried up, and after the war had ended, there had been not nearly so much call for iron. "It might be that the mines will reopen someday," he said, "But folk are reluctant to take up the pick again. You'd hear strange tales, sometimes, of things people found down in the dark."

"Like what?" Martimeos asked. "Little men who watch from the shadows, and steal their tools?"

"Well, sure. But you hear rumors of that from most any mine." Kells frowned at another looming mine entrance as they passed it by, shaking his head at the yawning dark. "I'm talking of other things. Miners who'd dig to a new cavern, only to find it had a door along one of the walls. Locked doors that you could hear strange noises behind. Odd lights you could see in the tunnels sometimes. Sometimes, when the miners would go near those doors, or those lights, they'd get real, real sick, and nothing anyone did seemed able to cure them."

"Perhaps the same people who buried the town's 'lamps' into the earth are the ones who made those doors," Elyse suggested.

Kells nodded. "You're not the first to have that thought, sister. But nobody really knows who that might be. No records go back far enough to tell us who might have been here before."

Martimeos shrugged. The world was full of places like that; old ruins whose origins were lost to time. And each one had a thousand contradicting tales and stories about who had put them there. Enough to know that the truth was simply that nobody knew. The land was just old, and had seen the comings and goings of many before them. He was not surprised that the miners might be reluctant to return to such a place; ruins such as these were often considered dangerous. A wizard, though, might delve into them, looking for secrets. If he didn't have a task ahead of him, Martimeos thought, he might even be interested in having a look himself. Well, there was nothing saying he could not come back here, some day.

By the time they first stopped, they were still some distance off from the mountains, but far out enough now that Twin Lamps and its watchtowers had disappeared completely behind them, and they had not seen a patrol for some time. They rested by an old mine that had a small wooden overhang still standing by its entrance, a place for miners to rest and stow their tools before they delved into the dark, back when this mine was still in use.

Kells and Martimeos practiced at swordplay a bit while they were stopped. Kells was suitaby impressed; Martim was competent enough with a blade, and spry on his feet too. He had thought the wizard wore the sword mostly for show, but Martimeos knew the basics, even if he was not as practiced as someone who made a living out of using his sword-arm. Though a sword was not Kells' preferred weapon, he was trained enough in it to use it. Normally, though, he preferred to fight with spears, halberds, or other polearms. Better to stick the foe from a distance, than have to get up close and personal. If Twin Lamps had ever gone to war, he knew, that was how its infantry would fight - phalanxes of spearmen. The guard was trained a bit in such things, though it acted mostly to keep the peace in town when war was not expected.

Elyse watched the two of them as they practiced. She had considered buying a blade herself, while in Twin Lamps, and had settled on a simple, unadorned shortsword, not quite so broad as the one Kells wielded. She had tried out longer blades, like the one Martim used. She had been surprised that they did not seem as heavy as she thought they might be, but it had still seemed unwieldy to her and her short stature. She had also bought her own crossbow, a bit smaller than Martim's and easier to reload, so that she did not have to always borrow the wizard's for use. The truth was, the crossbow would probably be the more useful to her. She did not have any training in the use of a blade, and not much strength to put behind a blow.

It was neither of these that she had her attention on now, though. Rather, she held in her hands the reaping-hook that Vincent had given her, frowning at it as the grunts and laughter of Martimeos and Kells sparring rang through the air.

She was quite certain that there had been something more to Vincent than just a mere farmer. How could he have known about her father? But the man had disappeared completely, after the celebrations over the death of the Bogge-man were done; she had even asked some of the farmfolk where he lived, and none could truly say. Perhaps Vincent had been a wizard himself, in disguise? Perhaps a tricksome fae, helping Twin Lamps out of his own strange whims, having a jest at her expense? But she could think of no reason why, even if this were the case, he should know of her father.

Regardless, she could sense nothing strange about the sickle Vincent had given her. No strange markings, nothing. It seemed wholly unremarkable, except that it was even more useless than she thought it would be. Its blade was so dull that no matter how hard she pressed her finger against it, it would not drawl blood. And it seemed no amount of sharpening helped it. She had even asked Martimeos to try sharpening it as well, after she failed - she didn't know, perhaps there was some trick to sharpening farm tools - but the wizard had not been able to get the damn thing to cut either. He had asked her why she insisted on carrying around such a useless old sickle, and Elyse had told him it had been a gift from Vincent. She dared not explain why she suspected it was unusual.

Though it was useless, and by all appearances plain, she felt an odd attachment to the thing. She could have just stowed it in Martim's pack, but that did not feel right. She did not keep it by her belt, but instead tucked inside her robes. They might have the appearance of ragged tatters, but the design of her dress was deliberate, and it contained many pouches and voluminous pockets hidden among the tatters to store things in. A pocket by her leg was large enough to contain the blade, and though the handle stuck out awkwardly, at least she could trust the useless thing was too dull to cut through her clothes. She had worried that it might bother her as she walked, but its weight felt oddly comfortable.

Suddenly, she heard a startled shout. "Cheating!" Kells cried, laughing, and Elyse looked up. The soldier was on the ground, fallen over, while Martimeos stood above him, his sword poised in victory. "This is swordplay practice, not Art practice. You aren't supposed to use glamour."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Martimeos said innocently. "That crow flew straight for your face out of nowhere. How odd." The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he were barely suppressing laughter. "Tell you what. I'll be generous. Say it's bad fortune, and we'll call it a draw."

Their swordplay finished, and Kells still cursing Martimeos for cheating, they moved on.

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Though Twin Lamps was built close by the mountains - close enough, in fact, that the shadows of the peaks fell over parts of the town at certain points during the day - it was a long walk from the town to a path up into the peaks. The Witch-Queen's range was made up of harsh mountains, with few slopes suitable for climbing, and all of the mountains nearest to town were sheer cliffs and steep slopes of loose rock that was too treacherous underfoot to be climbed reliably. The cobblestone road led to a less direct, but gentler path up into the mountains, one that had been used by merchants in years past.

As they traveled along this path, the mountains seemed to close in on them, surrounding them, looming, shadowed peaks straining upwards towards the setting sun. Martimeos found himself thinking about the past. His brother, and his brother's friends, must have walked this very path years ago. Up into the mountains, into the lands of the Crosscraw.

Had that been where they met their end? Martimeos couldn't be sure, but he didn't think so. He had asked Maddie, as the celebrations over the Bogge-man's death were winding down, whether she, Inna or Petra had ever heard of foreign folk entering the Crosscraw's mountains during that time. None of them could say they recalled anyone who stood out in particular. There could have been, of course, a thousand things his brother might have done. He could have disguised himself as a merchant in the Queen's service to pass through, or found some secret path, or perhaps even disguised himself as one of the Crosscraw themselves to remain undetected.

He did not think his brother's goal had been anything to do with the Crosscraw themselves. Martimeos had thought about it for some time, and it seemed likely to him - from what he knew - that what his brother had been doing was seeking a way around the front lines of the war, into the Queen's lands themselves. It would make sense. Just as the Queen had sent her cavalry around the front lines to ravage Pike's Green and the farmlands supplying the armies opposing her, Martimeos had heard tales of the same tactics being used against her. Mines in her territory being sabotaged, supply lines struck at by rangers and huntsmen and others who knew to use stealth and guile. It seemed likely to him, now, that this was what his brother and his brother's band had been up to. Whether any of them had survived this, well, that was a different story. He still expected that he would find his brother's bones at the end of his journey. Of course, all just a theory. He would still have to look for evidence of his brother's passage amongst the peaks.

Martimeos glanced over to Kells, as they walked along in silence. The solder was whistling, carrying his spear across both shoulders, gray eyes carefree and step light. Though they had put their fight behind them, and did not speak of it...Martimeos still could not say that he blamed his brother for killing Kells' father. Before he had met Elyse, Martim had traveled through some of the lands where the heaviest fighting of the Queen's war had taken place. Seen the sites of some of the battles his brother must have fought in.

The sheer amount of death and ruin had been almost unimaginable. There were towns where it seemed an entire generation of young men had simply vanished. Fields where, by the end of the fighitng, the bodies had littered the ground so thick that the corpses had just been left where they lay. To say nothing of the starvation, the disease, that had been bought on by the White Queen bringing blizzards down against the townships that resisted her. There were towns where, they said, three out of every four folk had died over the course of the war, whether from fighting, disease or hunger.

So while what his brother had done seemed brutal, and he could not fault Kells for anger over it....Martimeos truly did not think that what his brother had done had been wrong, in a way. The death and ruin he must have seen, all because of the White Queen and her armies...the anguish of one child must have seemed very small, compared to that. Not, Martim thought, that he was about to tell Kells that.

Somewhat ruefully, Martimeos realized that his thoughts likely lingered on his brother to avoid dwelling on the danger that lay ahead of them. Maddie, true to her word, had sent a messenger with a letter explaining all she could about the dangers of the mountain. While it seemed the Bogge-man they had faced in Twin Lamps had been a particularly...twisted one, up in the mountains, they hunted in packs, viciously, mercilessly, relentlessly. Martimeos still wondered what, exactly, the creatures were, and what was the Bogge-King that Maddie had spoken of. The Crosscraw seemed willing to think it was a curse placed on them by the White Queen for failing her, which seemed possible - some daemon, or other Outsider, summoned up by her.

But in her letter, Maddie had spoken of two types of ruins that lay upon the mountains, too. Some were ruins of ancient Crosscraw gone by, stone cairns and tombs and such - some of which Grizel, through means of the Art, had managed to turn into a place of safety. But another type of ruin she spoke of, sounded much more like the ruins Kells had mentioned among the mines of Twin Lamps - unknown, strange doors, deep within the earth. Mysterious lights and noises, and caves that no one dared enter. Martimeos thought it very possible that whatever the Bogge-King was, it might have come from one of these places. Though why now, who knew. What worried him the most was the possibility that the Crosscraw might just be the first unfortunate victims of whatever the Bogge-King was. That once the Bogge-King was done with them, it would search for new folk to hunt, and corrupt into Bogge-men.

These dark thoughts plagued him as they stopped to set up camp.

They had arrived at the foot of the mountains, where the cobblestone path began to slope sharply upwards into rocky outcroppings, disappearing swiftly into pines and craggy peaks. While there was still light left in the day, none of them wanted to start their ascent into the mountains at night. Daylight was no protection against the Bogge-men, Maddie had said, but they were more active in the dark. One more night of relative safety, before they dove into danger.

They camped in the shade of a copse of pine trees that grew at the base of the mountains, tall trunks and evergreen branches shielding their fire from the sight of the road. Elyse spoke to the trees, closing her eyes and listening to the rustle of the wind through their branches, as she placed her hand on their rough bark. While most trees slumbered through the winter, pines remained more talkative. Thankfully, they did not speak of Bogge-men making their way down this far. They spoke mostly of how unusual it was to see travelers come this way, these days, and about which birds they thought might return to nest in their branches when spring came.

Still, Martimeos and Elyse made sure to thickly ring their campsite with sigils that would sound an alarm should anything approach them. The witch had learned enough of sigil-work from her study with Martimeos to be able to draw these, now. Martimeos himself thought he had almost unlocked another secret from the book of sigils they carried - one that would sink enemies into the earth, if trod upon. It was study of this sigil, after all, that had allowed him to figure out how to move earth with the Art. Something like that could be very useful, if mastered.

But he found his mind too distracted for the study of sigils tonight. So while Kells set up a tent, pulling hide cloth and wooden pole from his pack, Martimeos huddled by the campfire, taking a charcoal stick from the flame, and set a piece of parchment against the book of sigils, and attempted to draw the Bogge-man. He still wanted to document it, much like he had the Mirrit, so that one day others might learn from what knowledge he had gained. But he found it frustrating. The Bogge-man was much more difficult to draw than the Mirrit had been.

Elyse joined him, after a moment, sitting by his side, Cecil curling up next to her and purring. She watched quietly for a while as Martimeos struggled to draw down the Bogge-man's form. "Hmm," she said, after a while. "You're doing a terrible job."

"Encouraging as ever, aren't you," he muttered, squinting at the paper as he attempted to concentrate. "I'd like to see you do better."

"I think I could," Elyse said lightly. "Drawing does not seem so difficult. 'Tis just shapes and lines."

Martimeos snorted incredulously. "Fine," he said, shoving the parchment towards her. "Go ahead. Draw the Bogge-man. It should be interesting."

Martimeos folded his arms as Elyse spread the parchment out on the book before her, crouching down over it with a charcoal stick in her hand. It would be satisfying to watch her fail, he thought. But then his eyes widened as her hands flew across the paper, fluidly and confidently sketching out precise lines, quick scribbles filling in dark spots, until, quicker than he had thought possible, the terrifying visage of the Bogge-man graced the paper, almost vivid enough to send a chill down his spine. "What...how?" he snapped. "You did not tell me you had drawn before."

"I haven't," Elyse shrugged, a smug smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "But it seems simple enough. As I said, just shapes and lines." She flipped over the parchment, and began swiftly drawing once more. "Look, I can draw you as well."

"I notice you draw me wearing decidedly less clothes than I usually wear," he remarked wryly, as her sketch took shape.

"That's the fun part," she laughed in response. "Clothes come later. If I want them to." She looked up at him, eyes gleaming in the firelight. "I mean, I think you draw some things well enough, Martim. But if you want to properly document these things, I'd be glad to lend my more skilled hand."

"Drawing, eh?" Kells called, taking a seat across the fire from them, having finished setting up his tent. "Never had a hand for it, myself."

"I think I've got a knack for it. Want to see?" Elyse said, waving the paper in the air.

"No he doesn't," Martim snapped firmly, snatching the parchment from her.

The three of them ate their rations and talked around the fire, as the night settled in on them, dark and moonless. Martimeos could not help but notice that all of them avoided talking about the danger that lay ahead of them. Kells asked them about the Art, and what precisely they knew of it. He was shocked to learn that neither of them had packed tents, Martimeos relying instead on the Art to keep him warm, and Elyse upon her 'hot blood'. "But what if it snows?" he asked them. "Or rains?"

Martimeos pointed to one of the pines, where Flit had decided to nest for the night. "Flit can usually find me a place to shelter, in that case. You would be surprised how well some branches can keep you dry. Or an overhang, or small cave. The land usually provides."

"And if it doesn't?" Kells pressed him, frowning. "What then?"

"I am sure that if we end up in a situation like that, you would be generous enough to share your tent," Elyse replied.

Kells glanced back at his tent, which was a small affair, little more than hides stretched across some carved sticks pounded into the ground. Then he barked a laugh. "Oh, you were serious," he said, when Elyse frowned, his shoulders shaking with mirth. "Oh goodness, no."

He did appreciate, though, that their sigils meant that they would not have to set a guard for the night. Sleep was very important, or so Kells insisted, especially when one was traveling through the wilds. And so as the night drew in, they retired to sleep, Martimeos and Elyse both finding dry spots in beds of pine needles beneath the trees to sleep. They might not need tents, but Martimeos had packed large fur blankets for them both to wrap themselves in, and whispered his Art to them to warm them for the night. It was, Martim thought, as he wrapped himself into a coccoon within the blanket, quite warm.

That night, as he slept, he dreamt of the Bogge-man holding his brother's head, and speaking to him in a regal-sounding voice, telling him this was the price of failing to serve the White Queen.