The Prince's Mark

The Road to Dezmer - Two

The closer they got to Dezmer, the better Tracou felt. Sure, he had to deal with Pendaer's nearly constant presence, but every day they inched closer to Dezmer. When he arrived in Ergakan, he would be Lord Vartanian again. No one could tear him down and take his magic from him then.

The first few days of their trip to Dezmer had been less than enjoyable. On top of Pendaer's existence, the exhaustion each of them felt hadn't been isolated to a single day. Getting Mirthal to wake up in the morning had become marginally easier, but still took too much of his time.

Many chores, like laundry, could be solved with magic, but Mirthal continually insisted on doing something to help so Tracou ended up teaching him how to wash clothes by hand, which Ina had taught him. Pendaer had raised a stink about having Mirthal deign to help, but he had asked to do it so Pendaer could only make disapproving noises in their vicinity.

Food proved to be a problem. With two elves, finding something edible for them consumed a significant chunk of each day. Mirthal ate quite a bit and, frankly, he should eat as much and as well as he could after his stint in that dungeon. Now that Tracou had his wand back, he could hunt for game himself. That required Mirthal's help, though. Being carried around frustrated Tracou and he avoided it whenever he could. Mirthal insisted that he didn't mind, but he got uncomfortable when Tracou wanted to find his own dinner. For that reason, Tracou mostly stuck to fish. They were easier to catch and the elves didn't react nearly as poorly to a dead fish as they did to a dead rabbit.

Winlea had a bit of coast that the river fed into. For the moment, they followed this river. Supposedly there was a point where the land had suddenly lowered itself like one big step. There would be a waterfall there and that was when they should head south, back into Aodehn. Once they were in Aodehn, Tracou would lead them into Dezmer and they could leave Winlea behind forever.

Most of Winlea sat farther away from sea level than Dezmer or even Aodehn. This difference in altitude could have been solved in a more convenient way, like an extended, gentle slope like much of Dezmer, but the land had lowered itself in stages long ago.

Tracou heard the roar of the waterfall long before he saw it.

A well worn path led down from the cliff's edge to the ground below. When they had made it to the bottom of the cliff, Mirthal hopped out of the wagon, grinning. He said something, but Tracou couldn't hear him. The waterfall overtook anything at a normal volume.

"Come here! I'll carry you so we can look at it up close," he tried again, shouting this time.

Tracou floundered for a moment, vacillating between his desire to see the waterfall and his desire to retain control over his own movements. In the meantime, Mirthal leaned back into the wagon and grabbed Tracou around the middle. He then dragged Tracou to the edge of the wagon. Tracou yelped in alarm.

"What are you doing?!"

"Let's go!"

Mirthal slipped an arm under Tracou's back and under his legs. In one motion, he lifted Tracou up and held him securely against him. They had tried other ways, like Mirthal carrying him on his back, but this was what Mirthal preferred and he was the one doing the actual work.

"Put your arms around my neck," Mirthal said, as he always did.

Reluctantly, Tracou did as he was told. It was so close, too close, which was why Tracou didn't do it automatically. He could even smell him at this distance (he didn't smell bad anymore, seeing as how they could wash nearly every day.) It wasn't fair. Tracou couldn't relax in Mirthal's arms. Whenever they were close like this, Tracou felt some kind of buzzing in the air. It made him restless and a bit touchy. So Tracou would stiffen and try to think about something else, anything to take his mind off of how close they were, but it never worked.