Road to Naveia

Sam returned to the rift.

The tear in the earth remained, but only a thin trace of purple now seeped from it. Sam stared down into the darkness, still unable to shake the same question.

Why had it spread so far?

“The miasma’s almost completely receded,” Gavin said. “How are you feeling?” He reached toward her head.

Sam brushed his hand away. “Fine.”

He gave her a look that said he didn’t believe her, but instead of arguing, he glanced toward the trees surrounding the rift.

“The old wards are damaged.” Gavin pointed out.

Sam followed his gaze. Weathered stone markers stood half-hidden among the roots and brush, each carved with faded lines meant to keep the rift’s influence contained. She had nearly forgotten they were even there. Though they would've been hard to see if the miasma was still present.

Several of the wards were cracked now. One had split nearly in half.

“That would explain part of it,” Gavin said, “but not all.”

He reached into his worn satchel and pulled out a smooth purple object.

Sam took it from him. The thing fit easily in her palm, polished and strangely cold.

“What is it?”

“Not sure. Some kind of ore, maybe.” Gavin nodded toward the surrounding forest. “I found three of them near the edges of where the miasma had spread.”

Sam looked up. “You think someone placed them there?”

“That’s what it looked like.”

He took the object back and slipped it into his bag.

“The wards should’ve kept the boundary closer to the rift, even damaged. But these were sitting almost exactly where the new edge stopped.”

Sam tilted her head, unconvinced, "So you think these pushed the miasma outward.”

“I think they had something to do with it. I don’t remember seeing anything like them around a rift before.”

She knew he was right, and that was enough to bother her.

Not enough to make it her problem.

“We should hand them over to the guild in Naveia,” Sam said. “Let someone else figure it out.”

Gavin glanced at her, his deep blue eyes lingering for a moment before Sam turned away from the rift. A few strands of her light-blue hair had slipped free from beneath her hood, the darker ends brushing against her cheek as she started down the path.

“The road should be clear now anyway," she said before a sharp pang twisted through her stomach, making her slow for half a step.

Gavin sighed and fell into step beside her, the streak of white through his dark brown hair catching the light as he shook his head. “You should’ve eaten Madam Fleur’s soup. It was good, y’know?”

“I didn’t need it.”

“She was thanking you.”

Sam kept her amber eyes fixed ahead. “I don’t care, and I don’t need their hospitality. It’s not like it’ll change anything,” she added more quietly.

Gavin let the silence linger for a moment before speaking again, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “You’re still going to regret skipping that meal.”

Sam finally glanced sideways at him. “Trust me. I won’t.”

~~~

They eventually left Hearth Forest and Boisclair behind and returned to the dirt road leading north toward Naveia. The town was still a few days away, but it was a route both of them knew well.

Beside him, Sam had begun dragging her feet.

Gavin watched her press a hand against her stomach before reaching into his bag. He unwrapped a piece of bread from a cloth and held it toward her.

“Here. You’re not going to make it another day if you don’t eat something.”

Sam didn’t even look at it.

“No need. I’ll make it to Naveia.” She paused. “Or I’ll find something along the way.”

Gavin stared at her.

The girl was impossibly stubborn.

Between the exhaustion from purifying the rift and what little she had eaten lately, even her usual stride had become sluggish. Gavin, at least, had possessed enough sense to accept Madam Fleur’s soup before they left.

Maybe hunger would finally teach Sam a lesson.

He looked over at her and snorted. He doubted it.

That evening, she managed to forage a handful of familiar berries growing beyond the reach of the miasma. They were enough to keep her from complaining, though apparently not enough to keep her stomach from growling through half the night.

By morning, it had begun affecting her training.

Sam stepped into another swing, caught her own foot, and barely managed to keep from falling. Her next attempt sent the blade at such an awkward angle that Gavin had to turn his head to hide the smile threatening to show.

She lowered the sword and glared at him anyway.

He cleared his throat.

“Something funny?”

“Not at all.”

Sam narrowed her eyes before resetting her stance.

They resumed traveling shortly afterward, and for a while neither spoke.

“Do you think the chief made it back?” Sam asked suddenly.

Gavin glanced at her. “Once you cleared the miasma, the road should’ve opened again. I’m sure he did.”

“What about the lord he went to for help?”

That was harder to answer.

Gavin knew the major noble houses well enough, but the lord governing this particular stretch of Arkanothos had never crossed his path often enough to leave much of an impression. He didn’t even know his name.

“If they intended to send aid, it might still be on its way.”

Sam’s mouth tightened, her brows drawing together. “Do they not keep track of the villages under them? The wards were damaged badly enough for the miasma to spread that far. You’d think that would be one of the things they made sure was maintained.”

“I know.”

“They’re responsible for this region. So why would they—”

A sharp metallic ring cut through the forest.

Both of them stopped.

Another followed moments later.

Steel against steel.

The sound had come from somewhere northwest of the road.

Bandits weren’t uncommon. Carriages traveling between the smaller villages and Naveia made easy targets, though most merchants hired mercenaries specifically for that reason.

Gavin looked toward Sam, waiting to see what she would do.

A thin line of drool had escaped the corner of her mouth.

He blinked.

Sam took one step toward the trees.

“If there’s a carriage…” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “There’s probably food.”

For a second, Gavin genuinely wondered if he had heard her correctly.

“What?”

She was already moving.

“What are you—Sam? H-Hey!”

By the time he started after her, she was halfway to the trees.

Gavin could only shake his head as he followed. Of all the reasons to charge toward the sound of fighting, hunger had apparently won.

She moved through the trees with far more energy than she had shown all morning, slipping between trunks and low branches as the clanging of steel grew louder. Voices soon joined it shouting, grunting, someone barking orders.

By the time Gavin reached the clearing, Sam had already drawn her sword.

Several men in battered leather surrounded a white carriage and the handful of armored fighters defending it. Sam dropped the first before anyone seemed to understand where she had come from, knocking his weapon aside and driving the hilt of her sword into the side of his neck.

The others turned toward her.

She moved through them quickly, keeping her strikes nonlethal. One man lost his sword to a sharp twist of her blade before a kick sent him sprawling. Another rushed her from the side, and although Sam ducked the swing, her footing slipped on the recovery.

Gavin saw the opening before the bandit did.

He knocked the man’s weapon aside, giving Sam just enough time to regain her stance and finish him with the flat of her blade.

She shot Gavin a brief look.

“Keep going,” he said.

She did, though her movements had lost some of their usual sharpness. 

Two more men came for Gavin. He disarmed the first and swept the second off his feet before either could land a hit.

By the time the clearing went quiet, several bodies were scattered across the dirt.

Sam was still standing. Barely, if the way she shifted her weight from one leg to the other was anything to go by.

Four exhausted guards remained standing near the carriage before gradually lowering their weapons.

“Thank Celestin,” one breathed.

The man removed his helmet, revealing black hair plastered against his forehead with sweat. Something at his neck briefly caught the light, though Gavin couldn’t make out what it was before the man shifted.

“I don’t know what would've happened if you two hadn’t shown up.”

“Probably lose the carriage,” Gavin said as he sheathed his sword. “This road has always had problems with bandits. You should’ve had more people watching the surrounding woods.”

“We thought this route would be safer because of the miasma,” the man admitted. “Bandits usually avoid areas where beasts have been sighted. Veyraths, at least, we were prepared for.”

Gavin looked toward the carriage.

Prepared might have been generous.

The carriage itself was far too elaborate for ordinary travelers. White lacquered wood trimmed with gold, the sort of thing that usually carried someone wealthy. Yet there were only four guards protecting it.

No crest marked their armor either.

Mercenaries, perhaps.

Meanwhile, Sam had already wandered toward the carriage door.

“Sam.”

She reached for the handle.

“Ah...Please don’t—” one of the guards began.

The door swung open before Sam could touch it.

A young woman leaned out from inside.

“Is everyone all right? It sounded like the fighting stopped.”

Silver-white hair framed her face, falling loosely over the shoulders of a simple traveling dress beneath a long plain cloak. Nothing about her clothing suggested nobility, but Gavin barely noticed.

Those red eyes were unmistakable.

The girl looked first at him, then at Sam.

Sam froze.

For several seconds, she didn’t move at all.

Gavin looked between them.

“Sam?” said the other female.

Then Sam’s knees buckled.

Gavin caught the back of her hood before she could fall face-first against the carriage steps.

He stared down at her limp body and exhaled.

So much for making it to Naveia without eating.