The Jewel Thief

4: beyond Oryn

The morning chills had died down, and afternoon made its way into the deserted street of somewhere- near- Oryn. After a few hours of walking aimlessly away from the town, only stopping once in a while to look back for any purple figures he may have missed, Cahir finally exhausted his spirit.

He took refuge under the shade of a large apple tree, wiping the trickles of sweat crawling down his forehead. After a few moments of rest and futile fanning, he unfolded the map and spread it across the grass.

Darn it, I should've done this before he thought as he tried to comprehend the writing: his eyes glazed over unfamiliar scribes and vague symbols. The map was large, it reached just over a metre, and Cahir found himself trying to understand where it began and ended before identifying where exactly he was.

There was a compass on the bottom left, reciting Norte, Surte, Wiest, and Eist. Cahir looked up, searching for the sun. It had been around noon, and he found the blinding ball of light right of the mountains in front of him. That must be Eist- and since I came from, he looked back at his path, if that is Eist, then I must have come from Surte. Which means that I'm heading Norte! he realised.

With his newly found sense of direction, he located Oryn in the bottom half of the map. A small illustration just above the Athyn Mountains, and in an ancient calligraphic style the map read 'Oryn- home of the fool'.

Cahir furrowed his eyebrows and pulled the map closer to his eyes, squinting in an attempt to reassure himself that he'd read the words correctly. But without doubt he read once again 'Oryn- home of the fool'.

Home of the fool, how convenient that I fled Oryn minutes before a lockdown ordered by the Queen herself, with no idea what I'm going to do or where I'm going to go. I wouldn't be surprised if a troupe of purple guards made their way to me right now. Indeed, home of the fool it is.

He scoffed at himself and continued to look into the map, now searching for his immediate location. He had traced his movements towards Norte, and sure enough, he found a valley just above the sketch of Oryn. It was denoted as a flat land, much lower than the lowlands, he thought.

His eyes traced the strange lines following the valley, and he quickly found the next closest element: a town in the foothills of the next mountain. 'Teza- home of the magician' it said.

Cahir got up, dusting grass off his pants, and walked a few paces back in search for a higher elevation. The path leading from Oryn was covered with trees, he stepped in and rejoiced in a few moments of cool shade. How deceiving this path is, the comfort steps to hell.

He stepped out of the shade with his palms on his temple, and despite the blinding noon sun he squinted in search for the path shown on the map. He looked straight ahead, and found fields of green stretching out into the distance, and then a few vague figures cloudy mountains in the end. Is that the path? The infinitely vast masses of green leading to nowhere?

He had been lost in thought, trying to find a sliver of pathway among the empty land, when the crumpling of dry leaves caught his attention.

He spun around sharply, and cautiously he made his way back to where he had left his map. They must've seen me- they must've seen me from the Highlands. He folded his map carefully with eyes darting around like an eagle, and held his small velvet pouch tightly.

Silence followed. Where are they? he questioned, why haven't they come yet? Perhaps- perhaps it isn't them. A lightning rush of optimism came over him as he thought about his brother -could it? It could. It could be him.