A Million Roads to Nowhere

A Sojourn at Maesity

After all of that, the road onward is not hardly as bothersome. For Aithne's sake, they decide to go around Bryony, but at least they get directly in the path of Maesity, an enormous castle city run by the Tabards. It veers right from the Tomyris, taking away a level of safety. Now, following a path will be harder now that they're delving into the center of the Pink.

The soil indicative of the mountains grows more colored as they reach the middle. The mountains on the outskirts are still pink, like a pig might be, but most parts of the ground are more reddish and chock full of clay. Now, Patrick sees why the mountains get their name. The soil gradually shifts from occasional spots of dusty rose color to that same color covering to the entire ground, a color that stains everything it touches. Patrick's hands look almost sunburnt and his clothes are unsalvageable.

To pass the time, he spars with Brynjar. If he does say so himself, Patrick thinks he's gotten pretty good at sword fighting.

"Don't bend down like that, lad. If you do that in a real fight, you'll get the back of your head whacked."

Patrick abruptly skirts back as Brynjar's sword comes whizzing toward him. He searches calmly (not frantically, he's learned that doesn't get things done) for a way to retrieve his sword since he made the mistake of allowing Brynjar to disarm him. Of course it's not the end of the world. Disarming your enemy doesn't mean you've got it in the bag, oh no.

"Block."

Patrick's hands come up, crossed, and he manages a tiny force field that deflects the sword with a screeching noise that nearly sends Brynjar flying backward. Brynjar's good at keeping his feet grounded and Patrick has yet to knock him out of place.

He ducks as the sword swings at his head, slides to the side and manages to reach for his sword while he's lower to the ground. His clammy fingers grab a hold of the handle and, sensing Brynjar's attack, flips himself over and attempts to move backward.

Brynjar takes the opportunity of Patrick's state and cracks the flat of his blade against his stomach. Patrick tumbles backward, feet unable to find grip on the dirt, and slides down to the ground.

"Remember what I said?"

Patrick brings his sword up, using the strength of both of his arms to keep Brynjar's blade from nicking his neck. He grits his teeth together, strained as he tries to answer.

"A down dragon is a dead dragon."

"Aye, and it's the same with people."

Patrick grunts as he tries to shove Brynjar off of him, but the man is heavy and that makes for a difficult task. Instead, Patrick abruptly takes away his force and makes his arms go lax, causing Brynjar to falter. Patrick lets go of his sword and reaches for the knife in his boot, sliding that out and bringing it up to Brynjar's thigh.

"Dead," Patrick gasps.

"If you could do it quick enough," Brynjar answers as he gets off of Patrick and helps the boy up.

Patrick's arms ache and are practically limp as he's pulled up. He swipes his sleeve across his forehead and makes to go for his sword.

"What did I tell you?"

"Don't bend over?"

Brynjar huffs in response and kicks at the handle of Patrick's sword, making it bounce up in the air so he can catch it in his hand.

"I'll cut all of my fingers off if I try that," Patrick says.

"You'll get the hang of it."