CHAPTER 34

Seeker was nervous.

Well, perhaps nervous wasn’t quite the right word for it. But she was worried. Worried about Lanri; worried about how to keep the mortal fed. She was glad Ithella and Mara had joined their journey north, truly. But her concerns about not having enough supplies had been well founded.

The wagon hit a root in the road, and made an unpleasant thunk noise. Seeker looked at Lanri on the bench next to her for a moment, and the two shared a grimacing look as they shared a moment of worry about the carriage’s wellbeing.

Over the last three weeks of travel, they’d only found one place that had supplies to sell, and what they could only spare had only enough to feed her party for a week, even with Seeker simply not eating despite Lanri’s objections, and Ithella conveniently forgetting to eat her own portion when she thought Seeker didn’t notice.

At first, Seeker had made a point of ordering the elven priestess to eat when Mara and Lanri did, but as the sundries in the wagon grew less and less plentiful, and knowing that elves are generally more tolerant of fasting than humans, she’d reluctantly started to forget as well.

She didn’t like it. She really didn’t. She would feed her Lanri no matter what, but that did not mean she was happy to let Ithella and – at this rate – Mara go without. None of them had expected this. The chickens that were thick on the ground a few hundred miles to the south were growing sparse here, and despite Ithella skillfully putting an arrow in anything they came across that had fur or feathers, there just wasn’t very much for her to shoot at.

Something stalked these woods, Seeker knew. Something big, and hungry, that had a taste for the same game as mortals. She wasn’t sure, though, whether she hoped they would encounter it so she and Ithella could serve it to their beloved humans, or if she hoped they would never lay eyes on the creature.

The horses were getting thinner already, too. Ithella’s Maréchale had had to take the place of the smaller of the two horses pulling her wagon a week ago, and that scrawny thing was only barely able to keep pace with the wagon by now, the other two getting the lion’s share of the fodder.

She turned back to look at it for a moment. It was spindly and weakened. According to Ithella’s maps, they should reach the next settlement tonight, though. If they can’t sell us enough supplies to cover the distance for the next two settlements past that, Seeker decided, I’m afraid you’ll be our rations for the next few days, my friend.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Lanri said, giving her a suspicious look.

“Oh?” Asked Seeker, amused. “Since when are you the angel, and am I the mortal?”

“I don’t need to be able to read your thoughts to know what they are,” Lanri said. “You’re thinking about killing and eating Peanut.”

Seeker snorted a laugh. “Since when is she called Peanut?!”

“Since I gave her a name so you’d feel bad about making me eat her,” Lanri shamelessly admitted.

Seeker squinted at the mortal. “Well, Maréchale isn’t mine to feed to you, and we need the other one to pull the wagon. I hope we don’t have to, of course, but you will eat Peanut before you go without food for more than two days, Dear. Besides, if you wanted to make me feel bad about cooking her, you shouldn’t have named her after food.”

“Crap,” whispered Lanri. Seeker saw and felt she was genuinely uncomfortable with the idea of eating one of their horses, though, so she leaned over and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

“I know it’s unsettling, love. But it’s the way of things. Horses are wonderful creatures; loyal, caring, and brave. But they’re not as important as people are. Not even Lord Hayer would think twice about putting one down if the alternative was letting it and yourself starve.”

Lanri considered that for a moment, and Seeker saw her look back at the horse she’d named Peanut, struggling to follow the wagon. She could sense her thoughts about the horse shift a little, the sympathy still there, but quickly making way for a hardened sense of resignation.

About two miles up ahead, at the peak of a hill the road for some godless reason went over instead of around, Seeker could see smoke, and a few rooftops poking out of the trees. “Well, Dear,” Seeker began, drawing Lanri’s attention to her, and then to the buildings ahead. “We seem to be ahead of schedule. We’ll know what to do about Peanut in about an hour.”

________________

Lanri was grateful to get to the little hamlet at the top of the hill, and eagerly hopped down from the driver’s bench once Seeker brought the wagon to a stop. She held her cane by her side, more like a sheathed sword than a walking aid. It felt unwise to leave it behind in case she needed it, but, for now, she could get by without it.

Ithella and Mara both got out of the wagon’s cabin, squinting against the brightness of the spring sun above. She noticed the priestess didn’t carry her staff as she got out, evidently satisfied to rely on the dagger Lanri had refused for defense, should the helpless villagers cause trouble.

“Your Grace, I implore you to allow me to drive the wagon on the next leg of our journey,” she said, shooting Seeker a pleading look.

“Oh, very well,” said Seeker. Her voice held the aspect of someone pretending to make a grand concession, but Lanri suspected she’d been planning on spending the afternoon in the wagon together, anyway.

Around them, five buildings encircled a small common area. The largest of them was obviously an inn with a small stable attached, but the other four were smaller. Probably houses for a family each. Lanri could see the face of a child nervously poke out from the window of one of the small houses. She smiled at him and waved slightly, which made the boy’s eyes go wide as he ducked out of view.

“Come along, Dear,” urged Seeker, gesturing towards the inn. “Let’s see if we can buy some supplies here.”

“We will keep an eye on our animals, Your Grace,” Ithella said as they walked towards the building. Seeker turned back just as they got to the threshold, nodding at the priestess before she opened the door.

Inside, half a dozen tables were scattered about the hall, all but one of them empty. In the center, a small hearth burned, and to their left, a countertop separated the innkeeper’s workspace from the rest of the room. Above, a gallery walkway wrapped around the hole in the roof above the firepit, and a few doors looked to lead to what Lanri assumed were very modest rooms for rent.

“Hi!” Called a soft but masculine voice, laced with eagerness. Lanri looked around for a moment, trying to find the innkeeper, until the person – a feline beastkin, Lanri quickly realized – sitting at one of the tables stood up. He had pale skin and dark hair, and wore tight pants that left very little to the imagination. They had elegantly been tailored to allow his swishing tail to fit through, and went under tall boots and a simple shirt that was entirely unbuttoned, and hung open like a jacket. He grinned, and his eyes darted from her, to Seeker, and back. “Welcome to the Hilltop!”

“Thank you,” Seeker said. “We–”

“Want a big square meal and three rooms for the night?! Please say yes.”

Seeker considered that for a moment. “Uhm… I suppose our horses could use the rest. We… could stay the night, if we can buy supplies for the road, and put them in the stables outside.”

The beastkin rubbed his chin as he considered that. “Well… the winter was pretty unforgiving, and the hunting’s been pretty bad, but… Well, how much do you need?”

“Enough to feed three to the Adampora border, and fodder for three horses to take us there,” Seeker said.

“Four!” Lanri corrected. Seeker might not strictly need food like she, Mara, and Ithella did, but she hated it when the Heartwarden excluded herself from meals.

The beastkin’s ears dropped slightly, and his tail started to flick lower to the ground. “I don’t know if we can spare that much, that’s… a lot. And I have an inn to run,” he mumbled.

“Three will be plenty,” Seeker assured him, shooting her a glare in the process. “And I’d be more than happy to compensate you for any business you may lose out on by selling us the supplies.”

“I… wish I could help you,” he quietly said. “I can sell you enough to reach Eldara, which is the next town on the road to Adampor, but no more than that. We just can’t spare it with those–”

Suddenly, Seeker flinched, and rubbed the side of her head like she had a splitting migraine. She grimaced as she reached into nowhere, and produced the purse she’d used to pay for everything until this point. “Pay the man for his supplies, and rooms for the night,” she ordered as she stuffed the leather satchel into Lanri’s hands.

“Seeker?” Lanri asked. It wasn’t normal for her to suddenly wince in pain, and it worried her. But Seeker didn’t answer, instead very quickly walking out of the inn’s front door, and disappearing from sight.

Lanri stared at the open door for a moment, dumbfounded. “So…” Asked the beastkin innkeeper. “She wants rooms for the night? Plural?”

“Yeah,” said Lanri, trying very hard, but failing to not worry about what might be bothering Seeker. She dug through the dwindling supply of coins for a moment, and fished out two golden Dragons. “Two rooms, lunch and dinner for… three of us, I guess, and food and horse feed to get us to the next town.”

The beastkin’s eyes went wide at the sight of the sparkling golden coins. Lanri knew this was more than that was worth, but Seeker was generally pretty generous with her money, and the young man had made it very clear the little hamlet was tight on supplies. He held his hands out, cupping them to catch the money as he eagerly nodded. “Deal!”

Lanri dropped the coins in his hands, then clutched the purse as she turned on her heels, and went after Seeker.

“Where did she go?” Lanri asked, squinting against the bright sun as she looked at Mara and Ithella. Both of them pointed at the space between the inn and one of the small houses, and she wasted no time in following.

“Your mortal pet will be fine, Seeker,” a familiar voice said in the divine language. Lanri knew she’d heard it before, but just couldn’t place it.

She heard Seeker let out a long sigh. “I know she will be. But… this just seems like busywork.”

“You know that’s for me and Ishara to decide. Just take care of it, and you can go back to feeding her treats or whatever it is you two do together.”

Lanri got the distinct sense she wasn’t supposed to be hearing this. Seeker and… whoever the other voice was were clearly talking about her. She started to back away, deciding she would talk to Mara and Ithella until Seeker was done. Looking at them she saw Ithella was working on one of Maréchale’s hooves with a tool Lanri didn’t recognize.

She watched that for a while, or tried to, at least. She saw Ithella working on the horse’s hoof, but she didn’t pay attention to it. Her mind kept trying to place who the other voice was to her. The way they’d pronounced the word Ishara in particular sounded so, so familiar.

“Dear?” Seeker asked in the common Remeran tongue, startling Lanri. She turned around, and looked at the Heartwarden.

“Seeker!” She happily said. “I heard you talking to… someone. And I didn’t think I was supposed to, so… I steered clear.”

Seeker smiled, and pulled her into a hug. “I can’t imagine anything you’d be forbidden from overhearing. But I’m glad to hear you erred on the side of caution.”

“Who was that?” Lanri asked.

“A Heartwarden,” Seeker said. “Mischief, to be precise. They had a job for me.”

Lanri’s heart sank a little, like a cannonball into waterlogged sand. “You have to go?”

“I’m afraid so,” Seeker whispered. “Did you get rooms like I told you?”

Lanri nodded, tightening the embrace Seeker had started. “I don’t want you to. Can’t you just… stay? I could hear you didn’t want to go, either.”

“Of course I don’t want to. But I have to do as I’m commanded. We’ve talked about this. When Ishara calls for me, I have to answer. Resisting her is like trying to hold your breath.”

“I understand,” Lanri said. The last time Seeker’s mandate had called her away, she’d been gone for the entire day, and it hadn’t even been that bad. Lanri had made friends in her Heartwarden’s absence, and in one conversation had made more progress in being at peace with what had happened to Faron than she had in the months leading up to it. But she still hated the thought of Seeker not being there. They belonged together, no matter what. “And I still can’t come with you?”

“I’m afraid not,” Seeker solemnly told her. The angel broke the hug, and pointed at Mara and Ithella. “Try to make the most of it. Listen to Ithella while I’m gone, and rest. Maybe read one of those books you borrowed from the library in Cerene. I’ll come find you in our room once I’m done.”

Lanri frowned. She couldn’t let an accusation like that stand. “Abbot Du Bois said I could take them!”

Seeker giggled. “Oh, I know, beloved.” She leaned forward, and pulled her up into a kiss that was deep, and eager. It lingered for a long while that still wasn’t anywhere close to long enough, and left Lanri wishing they could just kiss forever. “Now, step back, please. You’ll get sick if you stand too close while I cast this spell.”

Lanri did as she was told, taking two steps backwards while Seeker invoked the right words. The power of it was overwhelming, penetrating deep into her as always. “Be careful,” she told Seeker as reality slowly started to bend to the command the angel had given it. She smiled at Lanri as the light around her distorted and warped, and she nodded just before she faded from view completely.

Lanri sighed once she was gone. She really did understand Seeker had no choice in the matter. That mandate of hers that took her where she was needed was irresistible, Mirabelle had explained to her. And she knew it was important, too. Seeker’s mandate was how and why she’d been able to save her from being violated any further by Mick and Tallah. It was why she now got to live this amazing, exciting life instead of wallowing in her loneliness in Astoria.

That didn’t make it any more palatable. If she had her way, they would only ever be apart because they both wanted it, not because Ishara or another Heartwarden demanded she do something.

After another moment of staring at where Seeker had been standing, Lanri turned around and approached Mara and Ithella. They’d finished whatever work Maréchale required, and were both sitting on the step rail leading into the carriage, talking to each other. They quieted as Lanri approached.

“She’s got… Heartwarden stuff to do,” Lanri began. “We’re spending the night. Rooms and stables for the horses are already paid for, along with a few meals.”

Mara jumped up, making a series of cooing noises while she wrapped Lanri in a hug, and Ithella started to lead the horses into the stables “It’ll be okay…”

“What are you doing?” Lanri asked. She wasn’t quite sure why Mara thought she needed to be comforted.

“Well, the last time Seeker was gone all day you were really upset, weren’t you?”

“Because you called me Dread Widow and said I’d gotten my husband killed.”

Mara broke the hug, and frowned at Lanri. “I apologized for that!”

“So..?” Lanri asked, bewildered. “You apologized. And I accepted your apology. That doesn’t retroactively change what happened.”

“I suppose that’s true,” conceded Mara, and Lanri could have sworn the woman sounded like she genuinely had to think about whether what Lanri said was right. Around them, the various little houses started to leak people into the square, seemingly satisfied that Lanri and her friends weren’t bandits, here to rape and pillage. “We’re going to have a good time together today, either way.”

“Oh?” Asked Lanri.

Mara started to lead her in the direction of the stables, following Ithella as the priestess maneuvered the horses into them, and the blonde very conspicuously did not give any indication that she was planning on actually helping at all. “Sure! Captain Addler did settle my backpay before we left Cerene. We’re going to get nice and drunk.”

“You are not getting anyone drunk, Femme d’Arme,” Ithella gently but firmly said.

“Boring,” huffed Mara.

“I think you’ll find most priests are, as you put it, boring. It’s important to our image,” Ithella said. Lanri smiled. The guard and priestess had an odd way of flirting, for sure, but it was certainly charming.

________________

By the time the horses had been stabled and fed, the young beastkin running the inn had prepared several large sacks of supplies, and put them by the table he’d set for the trio’s lunch. “Old potatoes, oats, cheese… Ooh, some salted butter…” Mumbled Mara as she went through them. Lanri could have sworn Ithella had told her not to root through them until they’d finished their meal, but the pale human had seemingly chosen not to hear that.

“Any eggs?” Lanri asked. The innkeeper had served them a basic egg drop soup with bread and butter on the side, so it only made sense that there would be eggs in the supplies, too.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Mara said, after another moment of rooting through the supplies. “How much did you pay for this?”

Lanri mournfully thought about the two golden coins she’d given the man. “Entirely too much.”

Mara laughed without looking up. “Almost certainly,” she said as she kept rifling through the supplies. On the far side of the room, the feline beastkin was trying very hard to look like he wasn’t listening, and failing spectacularly. After a few moments of digging, she held up two large pucks of hardtack, which she knocked together twice. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen ship’s biscuits this dry be… fore…”

She trailed off, and stared at one of the biscuits in her hands with a wide-eyed mix of fear and disgust. Lanri cocked her head at the woman, certain she was missing something. “Sit very still, Femme d’Arme,” Ithella ordered her.

“What’s going–”

“Hush!” Ithella hissed, her eyes locked on the same biscuit as Mara. In the back of the inn, the cat-boy’s ears dropped low, until they were practically flush with his head. Lanri could tell something very, very bad was happening, but she just couldn’t–

A big, brown bug crawled into view along Mara’s wrist. It was a menacing thing, with a large stinger, and vicious mandibles that made it look like it was perpetually snarling at the world. Lanri didn’t know what it was, but Mara and Ithella clearly did, and it couldn’t possibly be good.

The young woman swallowed nervously. A moment later, with a sharp intake of breath, Ithella lurched forward. She grabbed the bug with one hand, and it let out a high pitched hiss as she made a tight fist around it and intoned “purgez au feu,” lacing the spell with terror and urgency.

Instantly the elven priestess’ closed fist was engulfed in an angry, blood-red flame. The high pitched hiss continued for another three seconds, during which Ithella winced and grimaced. Lanri and Mara both did the same, horrified by the sight of a hand on fire. “Ithella?!” Mara yelped, panicked. “Ithella, stop, you’ll–”

When the flames stopped, the blonde and Lanri both stared at Ithella, stunned to see her hand wasn’t even singed. The priestess’ eyes betrayed fear and pain, though, so what had happened?

Ithella answered the unasked question by opening her clenched fist. It was empty, not even holding ashes or a crushed bug. Blood trickled from a tiny wound on her palm, four punctures arranged in a square. The priestess stared at it for a moment, and dismay crept into her usually stoic expression.

“Ithella?” Mara quietly asked as she cautiously approached her beloved priestess.

“What was that?”

Ithella looked at her, and gave her a nervous smile. It was unsettling, somehow. Asymmetrical. “That… was a frightwasp.” Before either Lanri or Mara could say or do anything else, she staggered back two steps, then slammed into a rickety table which collapsed under the impact.

“Ithella!” Yelped Mara, who ran to her side. She tried to take the priestess’ hand, but she pulled it away, and shook her head as she nurtured the wound “Ithella, use your… You know, magic!”

“Magic?” Ithella asked, slurring the word. “M–migh… work… if… uhm… the nest.”

“What the hell was that?!” Lanri demanded. She made for the innkeeper as quickly as her prosthetic allowed, but gave the supplies a wide berth.

“I… I don’t know,” he lied. She knew he was lying. His ears had dropped as soon as Ithella and Mara saw the damn thing, so he’d known it was bad.

“Bullshit!” Hissed Lanri. “What the fuck is a frightwasp, and why was it in the bag?!”

“Look, I didn’t know! I thought we destroyed their nest last summer! They should all be dead!”

Lanri grabbed the meek young man by the collar of his shirt, and pointed at Ithella, who was mumbling something to Mara. “Does that look like something a dead bug did?”

“N–no…”

“Where was the nest?!” Demanded Mara.

“Will someone please tell me what a frightwasp actually is?” Asked Lanri. “And why would knowing where the nest is help us?”

Mara stepped closer, and glared at Lanri. “A frightwasp is a nasty Aldressan bug with a bite that will kill a human in hours, and an elf in days, and their hives have goo in them that they secrete when making their venom. The goo can be made into an antidote.”

Lanri was genuinely impressed that Mara knew all of that, and she nodded. “Then… let’s go get some.”

“I’m going to as soon as this beastkin idiot tells me where it is,” said Mara, turning to the cat-boy, and jamming a finger into his bare chest. After a moment of nervous hemming and hawing, she continued. “All the gods so help me, if you don’t tell me which way to go right fucking now I’ll go get my glaive from the wagon and start chopping until Daray himself comes down and tells me to take it easy.”

“Alright!” Said the innkeeper. “It’s by a little lake two miles east! But you can’t go!”

“Like hell we can’t,” said Lanri.

“No, really! Haven’t you noticed how scarce the hunting is, here? You can’t go. They’re vicious things, escaped from some farm, I think, as tall as you or me. They like that lake, and you’d just be dinner to them.”

Mara growled, and pointed at Ithella, whose mouth was already foaming up. “Do you think I’m going to let a pack of wolves or bobcats keep me from getting her an antidote that’s only two miles away?”

The young man shot Lanri a pleading look. “It’s dangerous! You can’t let her risk it. The hive’s probably picked clean by critters, anyways.”

Lanri considered that for a moment, watching as Mara quickly scarfed down her bowl of soup before she stuffed a big chunk of the bread into her pockets, and knelt by Ithella to whisper something to her. If the roles were reversed, she was sure Ithella would already be out there, searching for this… goo. And if it were somehow Seeker in danger, she knew she wouldn’t let the risk of a pack of predators stop her, either.

“I suppose it’s good news that the critters have all been eaten, then,” she told him, following Mara’s example of finishing their lunch before they set out.

“What are you doing?” Mara asked. “You heard him. It’s dangerous, and someone needs to keep an eye on Ithella.” Lanri smiled. She was genuinely impressed by Mara, by how brave and quick to action she was proving herself to be. “Someone needs to explain what happened to Seeker, if she gets back.”

“The innkeeper can do all of that,” Lanri said with a shrug. Mara walked outside to the carriage without answering. “I’m of no use to anyone sitting here and watching Ithella; I barely even understood what a frightwasp is, what good am I to Ithella here?”

Mara gave her a flat look as she started to dig through the carriage, until she produced her glaive and Cereni guardsman’s armor of banded leather and metal. She got most of the way through putting it on, then turned around to show two loose ropes. “Weave them through the loops, then tie them into a knot, please. As tight as you can.”

Lanri did as she was asked. “All I can do if I stay here is worry about you and Ithella, and pray Seeker comes back quickly.”

“Praying’s more likely to help than me running off alone and without a plan,” Mara huffed. There was rancor to her voice, but obviously inward, not aimed at Lanri. The younger woman just felt impotent.

When she finished tying the armor for Mara, she turned her around with a hand on either shoulder, and pressed her glaive into her hand. “You’re right. Which is why I’m coming with you.” Lanri tapped her holster, then fished her wand out from it, and held it up. The metal gleamed in the sunlight. “My husband made this for me to keep me, him, and our stuff safe. I don’t have him anymore, and the stuff’s in an abandoned apartment on the other side of Remere. So help me, I’m not going to sit here and polish it while my friends are in danger.”

“Lanri, if that guy’s not exaggerating–”

“Then you’re going to need me,” Lanri simply said. “Ithella is my friend. You are my friend. I won’t let you do this alone.”

Mara gave her a stoic nod, then walked past, and back into the inn with Lanri in tow. “Beastkin!” She hissed at the innkeeper.

“My name is Thomas,” the young man quietly said.

“Fine, Thomas, whatever. Put her in bed, give her water to drink, and try to keep her fever down once it starts. Keep an eye out for the dashing redhead, and tell her exactly what happened if she shows back up before we’re back. Got it?!”

Thomas swallowed, but nodded, already filling a big mug from a vat behind the counter, and rushing to Ithella’s side with it.

Lanri simply smiled as the blonde walked out. Seeker had described this girl as barely able to hold her spear when she and Ithella had first met, and when the priestess used her as target practice to demonstrate the arrows tipped with sleeping charms, Lanri had assumed she hadn’t gotten much better. Either Seeker’s assessment had been off, or Lanri had been blind to her improvements since then.

“Two miles east,” Mara said, repeating Thomas’ words. Lanri looked around for a moment. They’d been traveling north, and the sun was almost exactly in the direction they’d come from, so that made…

Lanri quickly made for the eastern edge of the hilltop town. The slope was steepest on that side, she realized, steep enough to be able to see through and over the canopies of the trees, after finding the right spot. “There!” She said, spotting a small pond where the bases of three hills came together and formed a depression in the land.

“Good eye,” whispered Mara, as she joined Lanri. “I think two miles is a conservative estimate, though, that looks closer to two and a half as the crow flies.”

Lanri shrugged. “It needs to be done. So, we’re doing it,” she said. “You said it takes days with elves, right? An extra hour isn’t a disaster.”

“It’s not, but…” Mara trailed off, and hesitantly pointed at Lanri’s right foot. At the prosthetic and cane. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

Lanri nodded, lying. She wasn’t sure she could handle a five mile hike at all. But if Thomas’ warnings about dangers were even remotely justified, she wouldn’t let Mara face them alone. “I’ll be fine,” she promised.

Mara gave her a skeptical look, but seemed to accept that. Lanri looked around for a moment, checking if there were any trails she could follow to get there faster. It only took a few moments to find one. It was a narrow, rickety trail, with logs buried into it every few feet to create the occasional step, and keep it from eroding in the rain.

Before they actually started, though, Lanri was surprised when Mara pulled her into a tight hug. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome,” Lanri said, returning the hug. “You and Ithella would both do the same for me.”