The Wordbearer Chronicles

Chapter 7

At eight in the morning I am sitting, once again, on the fence a mere hundred steps from the Adventurer's Corps. Had I not been bleary from the night before, I might have even been pleased when Vong appears right on time. Voella'Tien is the next to show, and Rakatha lumbers up about fifteen minutes late. All in all, not nearly the travesty of the day before. However, still no Gala.

"Should we leave without her?" Vong beseeches the group.

I stand, signaling my agreement with this plan.

Voella'Tien raises a hand imploringly, "Perhaps we leave a note with Orvan? Level. Corporal Level."

Vong smiles wide. "That's a great idea! Does anyone have some paper?"

I sigh inwardly, pull a sheet from my pack, and hand it over wordlessly. I anticipate the next deficiency and produce ink and quill. I know I won't be paid back for these materials, but it seems a fair price to pay not to waste any more of my time.

Vong scrawls a note for Gala. At least he doesn't need me to scribe it for him also. Then he just sort of holds it out. Is he handing it to someone? It doesn't appear to be aimed at anyone in the group.

Suddenly Rakatha animates and grabs the folded paper, "I'll do it."

What will he do? I'm not confident that he's caught on to what is happening around him. I sit.Despite my doubts, he saunters into the Adventurer's Corps and, after a few short minutes, returns. Marvelous.

On his return, Vong actually asks again, "So where to now?"

"West," I remind him, suddenly feeling very weary. I grab my staff and dig it into the grooved dirt road, use it to hoist myself up, and begin walking toward the western gate. If anyone is following me, I have ceased to care. I will scout the sector alone if I need to and demand all their wages for my trouble. I am rather content to be on my own anyway.

The others in the party do follow, however. By the time the western gate is in sight, Vong has situated himself in front of me, Rakatha behind me, and Voella'Tien right near Vong. The gate guards stop us briefly when they see our weapons but we are cleared by their sergeant after reviewing our Corps papers.

The western road is well traveled. It is the primary road to the neighboring nation of Plor. Even more than the abundance found in the Buknar Valley, the trade route to Plor is the reason that Nodkis has been expanding. Of all the enVolls, it is said to be the largest, and is the only one with an awakened Glen. While being designated an enVoll or Vull is not strictly a matter of size, Nodkis is flourishing and its population continues to rise.

Carts laden with late summer fruits and vegetables, as well as ripe hazelnuts and nutmeg and the first lemongrass of the year, bustle down the road. Strong teams of oxen pull heavy wagons stacked with lumber and baskets of raw ore through the early morning mist that has not yet lifted out here beyond the gates. Dew still rests on the tall grasses that sway in the breeze, rippling across the fields surrounding Nodkis. A little farther out there is a swath of mixed forest mottled with deep green conifers and vibrant deciduous trees threatening to turn yellow-gold. This tree line separates the city limits from the farmland that rolls across the country for as far as the eye can see. It made good cover when I escaped the siege a year and a half ago.

It is about a five day walk to the border of Elysium and Plor, and about two more days to the closest Plorian viscounty. A fully loaded caravan will probably take closer to two weeks to run a leg of the route. We easily out-pace the merchants as we head for our sector.

Once we are beyond the tree line, Vong inexplicably runs ahead to catch up to a caravan and strikes up a lively conversation with its caravan master. By the time the rest of the group has caught up, he is sharing a laugh with the man. He turns to us, "This is Mister Messer, my father's friend. He supplies most of our special herbs and spices. I was just telling him how we are out on patrol and he says he heard about a farm that is supposedly cursed."