Chapter 38:

Always Chamomile

In the Service of Gods


Wendarl was a small town, much smaller than Bhojin. There was no formal gate, just a sign with the town’s name. It was late; the river crossing had taken much longer than anticipated because the ferry had broken down and needed repairs. A fat, yellow moon hung low while its more distant counterpart was silvery. The night air was frigid and unmerciful, cutting right through my layers.

Mizuki secured us lodging at the only inn in Wendarl: The Crooked Cat. It was a lopsided building that appeared to be on the brink of collapsing, yet had allegedly been that way for over a decade. I didn’t like it, but I liked the idea of sleeping outside even less, so the wonky inn would have to do.

Our room was tiny, with three straw pallets that were reminiscent of what I slept on in the palace dungeon.

“Wow, things have really gone downhill quickly,” I muttered.

“We’re off the beaten path now,” Mizuki said, setting herself up on the pallet closest to the door. “After crossing the Amaranthine, the main road runs south. We’re heading north and we’ll soon have to double back west.”

I sat down on the pallet next to the window. “Double back? Why?”

“Mount Ezara’s position is deceptive,” she said. “It looks close to the palace, but getting there requires a massive curve. The space between the palace and the mountain is filled with a chasm so deep, no one has been able to get to the bottom. It’s wide and surrounded by foothills and valleys so steep, it’s actually faster and less dangerous to travel around.”

“So we’ll have to go on another ferry. Great,” I said and flopped down on the pallet. The elk hadn’t liked the water craft and Chamomile, perhaps owing to her recent near-death experience, almost refused to get on. I didn’t enjoy the idea of having to do that again anytime soon.

There wasn’t much discussion after that. The day had drained us and we quickly fell asleep. The next week of the journey was largely uneventful. We passed two villages before switching back to head west. A few times, we needed to sleep outdoors as there just wasn’t anyone nearby. The stars were gorgeous, swaths of red pinpricks across the sky. It almost made nearly freezing to death worth it.

During our breaks, Mizuki had begun to teach me the bow. I had the stance down, more or less, and was now working on accuracy. It was harder than I’d anticipated. The only bow I’d ever used was in gym class, a metal thing that I never really got the hang of. This was a long bow, a curve of dark wood that was taller than I was. It never clicked for me that in all those fantasy tales and games where they talked about long bows, that those beasts were the size of people. I would have preferred a shortbow, but this was the only one we had. We didn’t have a lot of room, and Mizuki preferred the long bow so that was what she’d brought.

“Keep your wrist locked” and “keep your elbow straight” were common phrases Mizuki would say during our training sessions. Just pulling the bow back far enough was at times a struggle. My arms and back would be sore, though a feeling of accomplishment kept me buoyed. I could hit a stationary target consistently, even if my aim wasn’t ideal.

It was midday and we were back at the ferry, much to my dismay. The elk were just as disappointed as I was that we needed to do this again.

“Come on, Chamomile,” I said to the reluctant elk, holding out half an apple to try and tempt her. “This is the only way.”

Vris was sitting on Chamomile, urging her to go forward. Mizuki was standing behind the elk and trying to push her onto the ferry.

Spark and Rowan were watching this unfold with blank eyes. Neither of them had liked getting on the ferry, and Rowan had nearly bailed. In the end, both males had gotten on the ferry and were tied to the special posts.

The ferry driver was eyeing us with open displeasure. “Look, if you can’t get the elk on in the next minute, you have to leave ‘em. I got a schedule to keep.”

Between the three of us, we got Chamomile exactly one meter closer to the ferry and not a step further. The ferry driver was on the brink of kicking us off when a voice asked, “Can I try getting the elk aboard?”

I turned and saw a young woman, maybe a year or two younger than me, dressed in a pink outer robe, white tunic, and white pants. Her round face was open and smiling, her brown eyes framed by thick lashes.

“At this point, we’ll try anything,” I said.

Mizuki looked the woman up and down. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“If you let me, I can show you how I get my elk to do whatever I ask,” she said. She held out her hand for the reins. “May I?”

Vris hopped down and let the stranger climb up. The woman settled herself, then she dug her heels into Chamomile’s ribs hard and pulled hard to the left.. The elk bellowed and rushed forward, shooting away from the ferry. A pause, where we all realized we’d just been robbed, then Mizuki and I leapt into action.

“Thief!” Vris shouted. The ferry driver looked shocked but made to move to help us. The other three passengers on the ferry weren’t inclined to step up either. We lost precious seconds getting Rowan and Spark off the ferry. The stranger was barely in sight as we rushed after her, me and Vris on Rowan and Mizuki on Spark.

“Why is it always Chamomile,” I grumbled. I wished I was good enough with a bow to be able to hit the woman and put a swift end to the chase. Between the fact that she was a moving target and her head start, it was more likely I’d hit Chamomile if I even managed to get close.

Mizuki fired off a shot from the long bow like a pro, her aim steady despite being on elk-back. It whizzed by the woman, barely missing her. The woman glanced back at us and urged Chamomile faster. She was leading us into a nearby forest, mostly composed of leafless maple trees. The gap was closing, yet Chamomile showed no signs of slowing.

Mizuki knocked another arrow and fired. It sang out and slammed into the woman’s right shoulder. The impact was enough to knock her off balance and she tipped too far to the right. As she fell, she clung to the reins and yanked Chamomile to the side. The elk nearly fell and stumbled to a halt. Both Mizuki and I put the brakes on and eased our elk to a halt.

The woman was on her side, the arrow protruding from her like a quill from a porcupine. Blood was soaking through her outer robe. Mizuki let out a breath and dismounted. Vris hopped down from Rowan and quickly went over to Chamomile, running a comforting hand across her neck.

“Do you have a name, elk thief?” Mizuki asked the woman as she towered over her.

The woman sat up and spat at Mizuki’s feet.

“You’re not in any position to demand names,” a voice from the forest said.

We froze as at least a dozen shapes materialized from the shadows. People, well armed and a bit haggard, had us surrounded. 

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