Rennock did little to conceal his dark mood as he strode quickly to meet them. Trux looked harried as well but Morwyn couldn't tell if it was from the indignity of having to jog to keep up with the old wizard or something else entirely. The pair of them bristled like cats expecting a fight but thankfully neither seemed to be any worse for wear. Argoth and Eronir, who were in the process of showing Morwyn a rough sketch of their planned route scratched into a patch of dirt, glanced toward their approaching comrades and immediately rose to their feet. Morwyn slipped down off the driver's bench where she'd been resting and stood beside them with a frown.
“Not good,” Eronir said with a hard expression. Argoth grunted his assent.
“That look says we're movin' tonight, not tomorrow.”
Trux split off from Rennock just before they reached the lead wagon and had a hushed conversation with a few of the nearby caravaneers who immediately set about packing up their tents. Though Morwyn knew by then just how well they all worked together it still surprised her just how easily Argoth read the situation. She supposed that came from his decades of experience at the craft and a deeper understanding of Rennock himself.
“Someone or something tampered with the wards as I suspected,” the wizard said in a low tone as he beckoned them to come closer to avoid being overheard. “Unfortunately no trace of their magic lingered, only the telling voids left behind by their sabotage. It is most troubling that a mage of such power and cunning wishes us ill. We must be extremely cautious going forward, and not only against mundane threats.”
The three guards stood in silence for a moment as they digested the information. Morwyn's curiosity eventually won out over her concern. Shifting her weight nervously from one leg to the other, she leaned the tip of her new bow on the toe of her left boot and spoke.
“Though I know you must have good reasons to keep the details of what awaits us in the east hidden from me, I've got an inkling of at least one of them. This level of secrecy wouldn't be necessary unless there is a significant threat to those involved on the far side.” Morwyn took a deep breath to steady her nerves before continuing with her theory. “You have enemies. I don't know why and I won't ask for more details yet... but could it be that this is related to whatever threatens your kin, Rennock?”
She half hoped that he would dismiss the concern or tell her she misunderstood their circumstances, but her heart sank as his unwavering gaze met hers and he gave a single, grim nod.
“I suspect as much, though they have never been so bold. Not for a long, long time.”
The silence among the group stretched for an uncomfortable length. Argoth and Rennock shared a meaningful look and Eronir's hand reflexively clenched tightly around the shaft of his spear. Morwyn's pulse elevated as she considered the complication of adding another threat on top of the expected hardships of the journey. Something significant enough to concern Rennock to such a degree worried her a great deal but she managed to keep her expression stoic.
Argoth rubbed his chin with one hand as he gauged the height of the sun in the sky.
“We've got a few hours left until dark, let's get a few miles behind us while the sun is shinin'. When we stop for the night the four of us will take two hour shifts on guard. I want more eyes and ears on watch anyway, now that we're enterin' the wilds. Get used to sleepin' with your armor on and your weapons at hand.”
Eronir nodded his understanding and broke off from the group to assist the others in packing up the camp. Morwyn lingered for a moment longer, nervously shifting her feet at the prospect of the supernatural threat. She leaned in toward Argoth and expressed her concern under her breath.
“If we are being hunted by a mage, will Rennock's power alone be enough to keep us safe?”
Argoth gave her a humorless smile. The resulting expression appeared to be halfway between a grimace and a snarl. Not for the first time, she was glad that he was on her side... or rather, that she was on his side. His one red eye analyzed her critically, as if boring into her very soul the way Rennock had done when they'd first met. Morwyn resisted the urge to wither beneath his gaze but the uncanny look made a chill run down her spine. Argoth cocked his head to one side with interest as if seeing her for the first time.
“Ren's not the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve,” the orc murmured conspiratorially, “and I'm not just talkin' about myself. I'd have found out one way or another, even if Rennock hadn't told me about your fight with the worgs. I felt you use your power in the Narrows and again today on the beach. Magic recognizes magic.”
Her thoughts returned to the alien feeling of the cold well within the center of her chest. In the hours that had passed since her experiment on the beach she'd felt the hollow emptiness left behind slowly begin to fill once again. Now that she was aware of it, the foreign sensation- though not altogether unpleasant- was impossible to forget or ignore. It lingered on the fringes of her awareness as if yearning for the moment of release and Argoth's piercing gaze made her all the more conscious of it, as if he could see straight through her to the well of power deep within. She shuddered involuntarily.
“I'm not sure what's going on with me,” she said hesitantly, unable to make eye contact. It wasn't as if she was keeping her nature a secret anymore but it was still uncomfortable to discuss. “But even with my limited understanding I'm not sure how useful it would be against someone who knows their magic and how to use it.”
Argoth's intent expression softened slightly and he laid a heavy hand on her shoulder.
“I understand, it takes some time to get used to the feelin' once the dam is breached. We should talk about it when we've made some distance from this place. From what I've felt, your magic is more like mine than Rennock's.”
Morwyn nodded, comforted by Argoth's offer of assistance but still wary of the consequences of exploring her unnatural talents.
“Thank you. I look forward to it, I'm not sure how much I could learn on my own.”
She turned to leave so she could help Hazel pack her wagon as she'd become accustomed, but Argoth's firm grip on her shoulder brought her attention back to the big orc.
“Until then, remember this,” he said quietly, a wicked smile growing on his tusked mouth. “You ain't gotta be a mage to kill a mage. Having your own magic certainly helps, but they're mortal same as us. Most of 'em, anyway.”
His words continued to echo through her mind as she loaded Hazel's belongings in the back of her wagon, careful to avoid crowding the passengers within. If Argoth could help her understand and control her power perhaps she could begin to make peace with herself. Whatever the source, its mere existence had cost her everything in her previous life. She figured it was about time to see if she could make her family's sacrifices worthwhile. None of her studies since coming to the mainland had produced any information on the subject and Argoth and Rennock were proving to be the break she'd been searching for... yet now that she had the scent, she was still nervous about pursuing the truth.
She was so caught up in her musing that she nearly knocked into William as he climbed into the back of the wagon to join his mother and brother. The boy didn't seem to mind and waved it off with a smile but Morwyn was embarrassed by her lack of attention. When the last of the cargo was loaded up she gave Hazel a distracted wave before taking up her usual position on the right flank of the column.
Morwyn poured a bit of water from her canteen into one hand and splashed it against her face to try and clear her head. Her personal intrigue could wait. There were others that depended on her to keep them safe and she couldn't do so if she were wrapped up within her own thoughts.
***
The landscape changed drastically over the next several hours before the sun fell and they made camp for the night. They made good time along the worn dirt track that wound its way through the hills to the east and, though the coastline dove sharply to the south and out of sight, Morwyn still caught the occasional scent of salt on the evening breeze. Spirits rose as the miles passed without hindrance; the caravan renewed its murmured conversations and occasional songs, though she noticed that the voices were somewhat muted for both. Morwyn settled into the rhythm of travel and was grateful to be on the march. Though the days of rest at Lonely Harbor and in the aftermath of the Narrows had soothed her aching muscles, she was glad to put them to task once more.
The scale of the new land that opened up on the eastern side of the Narrows astounded her. Morwyn had always appreciated the rugged beauty of the wilderness in which she'd lived or traveled but the frontier was of another caliber. The vastness of it all made her feel extraordinarily small. With few trees near the road to block her view she felt like she could see forever across the open plains. The rolling hills gave way to thickets of towering oaks and pines that traced the fringe of the mountain range behind them as it curved away to the north while to the south the prairie extended all the way to the hazy curve of the horizon. Most spectacular of all was the mountain range far to the east, which even at a great distance sprouted from the ground like the spine of the earth itself.
Morwyn made an effort to keep count of the paths that diverged from their route. A well-traveled main road branched off to follow the coastline and several others meandered between the hills and out of sight toward the rare column of smoke that indicated a camp or small settlement some distance away. By the time they stopped for the evening she'd counted eight total forks to the right hand side, some of which were well used and others were overgrown with tall grass and all manner of wildflowers, though they hadn't encountered any other travelers along the way.
While the camp settled in for their first real night in the wilds, Morwyn sat on a folding chair at the edge of the light cast by the communal fire and sketched some of the scenery of the day. No words accompanied her drawings as she couldn't think of any that would truly do them justice. As she finished the final stroke of her brush on the wing of a strange bird she'd never seen before, Hazel approached with her own chair under one arm and a bowl of stew in the other. Morwyn held the bowl for her while the halfling unfolded her chair and sat down with a groan.
“I'm too young to hurt this much,” Hazel sighed, stretching her back which popped half a dozen times. She accepted her bowl back from Morwyn with a grateful smile. “These wagons certainly weren't made with halflings in mind. I should ask Gildara to make me a pillow to sit on.”
Morwyn chuckled and stowed her journal in her haversack where it lay beside her sword and bow. She retrieved a mug of watered-down cider that she'd set on a rock nearby and took a long sip.
“I'll trade places if you like, though running to keep up might cause you more distress.”
Hazel's eyes narrowed and she gave Morwyn a pouty glare.
“Is that a short joke, Miss Shrike?”
Morwyn fought hard to keep a straight face.
“Certainly not, Miss Willowbend. It's a short truth.”
The women held each other's gaze for a moment before dissolving into laughter. Hazel jabbed her in the ribs with a balled fist, rattling her chain-mail with the gentle impact. She leaned back in her chair with a sigh and ravenously dug into her food while Morwyn sipped her drink and kept a watchful eye on the children playing near the fire. Pots and pans clanged as the cooks began to clean up from the evening meal. Hazel had tended to the caravan before eating and had been the last to fill her bowl as usual.
“I'm glad that Lily is recovering well,” Morwyn said as she lit up a smoke, careful to keep it upwind from the halfling who'd made it very clear that she did not sanction the habit. Hazel wrinkled her nose in disapproval but didn't berate her this time.
“Me too,” Hazel replied, her face brightening. “Shouldn't be more than a few days before she can walk again. Gods help the poor souls that have to mend bones without my care.”
“Would you like me to use one of my healing scrolls on her?” Morwyn asked, her brow furrowing with concern. “I'd have asked earlier, but you seemed to have things well in hand and I didn't want to intrude on your work.”
The halfling bit her lower lip as she pondered the question intently for a time. A hint of sadness graced her features as she watched the soft bustle of the camp settling down for the night. Several pairs of folk returned from gathering the scant firewood they could find near to the camp and stored it in their wagons before turning in for the night. The central fire crackled as it burned low and the bed of coals cast a soft orange glow over them as it dimmed.
“I appreciate the offer but that won't be necessary. I'm happy to say that the worst of the danger has passed for her. As much as I'd like to watch and learn how these scrolls of yours work, I fear you might need to save them for the coming days...” Hazel's emerald eyes took on a faraway look, as if she could already see the wounds her companions might suffer. She shook her head to clear it and gave Morwyn an apologetic smile before perking up. “But don't worry about intruding on my work! In fact, when you aren't busy slaying monsters, I would welcome the assistance. I know you've got a lot on your plate but the extra hands and eyes are welcome if you can find the time.”
The request piqued Morwyn's interest. She finished her drink and set the mug aside then sat up a little straighter with her hands folded pensively on her lap. Though she would never dare to complain about it she'd found the long lulls between brief episodes of mortal terror had started to wear at her nerves. She wasn't as restless for action as Argoth or Trux, but having an outlet to stave off the monotony of the trail would occupy her mind and hands without her having to fight for her life.
“In my line of work I'd normally say something like 'you have my sword', but in this case I don't think that's what you had in mind,” Morwyn chuckled. She pulled her braid over one shoulder and absently fussed with the leather thong she used to secure it. “I'll be glad to help you however I can. It would be nice to focus more on healing rather than doing harm.”
“Thank the gods,” Hazel said with a soft sigh as she settled deeper into her chair and closed her eyes. “I know the folks of the caravan trust me to keep them well, but it's a lot to keep up with on my own. Some of the younger ones like William try to help on occasion but half the time they end up getting under my feet like stray cats.”
Morwyn snorted at the absurd image that sprung to mind of Hazel tripping over the boy as he was sprawled out on the ground. She covered her mouth with one hand and cleared her throat.
“I'll do my best not to get in your way. Some years ago I managed to get a position as an assistant to the head librarian of the Azurine College. Magister Hornwyn was quite strict about maintaining the order of his domain. I avoided his cane more often than not, so I think I could do well as an apprentice healer.”
Hazel's eyes fluttered open and she sat up straight.
“You've been to the Azurine?” she asked with wide eyes and a raised brow. “I always wanted to study there. I hear they have the most complete anthology on herbology and medicine on the continent! Did you ever get to see that collection?”
Morwyn frowned slightly in disappointment as she replied.
“Not my area of responsibility, unfortunately. Most of my work consisted of housekeeping and re-shelving books and that kept me very occupied. The herbology wing was beautiful and quite extensive but I never had much time for personal study. That's one of the reasons I left. I was too busy working to find any of the answers that I sought. I've only recently discovered that I likely wouldn't have found those answers anyway.”
Hazel gave her forearm a sympathetic squeeze before smoothing out a crease in her skirt with distracted hands, apparently sensing it there was more to the answer but not willing to pry just yet. She brightened once more and turned in her seat to face Morwyn more directly.
“That must be were you learned to cast magic from scrolls though, right?”
Morwyn stared into the embers of the dying fire as she recalled the long hours spent pouring over books on constructed magic in the dead of night.
“Yes it was, though I had to learn myself. No one could be bothered to teach me since I was an employee and not a student.”
A long moment of silence stretched between them until Morwyn felt the soft touch of a small hand against hers. She tentatively opened the fist she hadn't realized she'd been clenching and, heart suddenly pounding, entwined her fingers with Hazels and rested both against her thigh. Her chain-mail clinked softly as she reached her right hand over and gingerly traced the her thumb along the back of Hazel's hand, lost in the sensation of the unexpectedly intimate contact for a moment.
“You've had to do things the hard way for a long time, haven't you?” The halfling's whispered. Unable to meet her gaze or speak past the lump in her throat, Morwyn simply nodded. Hazel gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and awkwardly shifted her chair closer with her free hand before looking up at her again with gentle curiosity in her eyes.
Morwyn's pulse pounded in her ears as she stared down at their entwined hands. Her mind screamed at her to avoid the growing attachment, that it was too dangerous to let herself be vulnerable, that she'd already let things go to far... but another part of her, quiet yet increasingly insistent, yearned for the budding connection to blossom. It was one thing to occasionally flirt and tease, but she was still terrified to feel truly seen by another only for the illusion to be shattered by circumstances out of her control.
“Hazel... what is this?” she stammered out before she could stop herself. Her palms were slick with sweat but she couldn't bring herself to break the contact to wipe them on her tunic. “Between us, I mean. Is this a good idea?”
Morwyn's words hung in the air as she waited for a response with bated breath. Her head swam from the conflicting emotions that had so suddenly seized her. Hazel's hand touched her chin and gently turned her head to meet her gaze. The halfling's expression was uncharacteristically guarded, though her eyes still glimmered with the spark of possibility.
“I don't know yet,” Hazel murmured, her voice so low that Morwyn could hardly hear the words, “but I'd rather find out than wonder what it could have been. I'm not trying to take advantage of a hurt and lonely woman if that's what you're worried about. You're a kind, competent, intriguing person. The kind I would like to be closer to, to see where things might go.”
Morwyn found it difficult to take a steady breath but eventually managed to get herself under control. She distracted herself by tracing her shaking fingers along the ridges of Hazel's knuckles but her hand froze as a question that had plagued her since Hazel's first flirtations sprang unbidden to her mind.
“How old are you?”
Hazel cocked her head to one side in confusion, stymied by the question.
“Thirty-seven,” she said, a smirk playing on the edge of her lips. “Is that what you're worried about? Am I'm too old for you? I'm still quite young for a halfling, I'll have you know.”
Morwyn couldn't help but let out a nervous chuckle as she stared at the flattened grass between her boots, searching for the words.
“No, no. That's not what I meant at all.”
“You're beating around the bush about something,” Hazel admonished, placing her other hand atop Morwyn's. “Out with it. The suspense is killing me.”
Morwyn glanced at the halfling out of the corner of her eye, mystified by how quickly Hazel could make her fears seem so trivial with an off-handed joke.
“I'm... I'm seventy-six,” she murmured. “I'm not human, and I don't know what I really am.”
Hazel was still for a moment then raised her free hand in an exaggerated shrug.
“Is that all? I've known that much since the first time I treated you.”
Morwyn met the other woman's eyes once more with a baffled look. Hazel's exasperation made it feel like her uncomfortable secret was common knowledge. A sudden heat rose to her cheeks and she was abruptly aware of how strange her concern must seem to the other woman, but the anxiety surrounding her origins couldn't be dispelled so easily.
“Hazel, I know that may not mean to you what it means to me, but... I've outlived nearly everyone I've come to care for,” she explained with an uneasy sigh. “I truly don't know how long I might live, and I'm scared-”
Morwyn flinched in surprise as Hazel flicked the tip of her nose quite hard. She sat up straight and blinked several times in confusion.
“We could all die tomorrow and you're worried you might outlive me? That's about the silliest thing I've ever heard,” Hazel said incredulously. Her voice softened with empathy as she continued. “I'm very sorry for what you've gone through in the past, dear, I truly am. But you can't let that keep you from looking to the future. I haven't done so and I won't let you either. Call it selfish, but I'll make you see that if it's the last thing I do.”
Morwyn froze in place, unsure of what to do with herself. She turned toward the halfling with her lips parted, though no words came out as moisture welled in her eyes. Hazel pulled a handkerchief from a pocket in her skirt and dabbed at the corners of Morwyn's eyes before the tears could fall to her cheeks.
“I don't know what to do,” Morwyn whispered past the lump in her throat. “I want to be close to you, but I... I don't know how.”
Hazel stood abruptly and slipped free from Morwyn's grasp. She tenderly cupped her hands to either side of her face and looked her dead in the eye from mere inches away.
“Then let me help you figure it out,” she said decisively. “In the meantime, shut up and kiss me, gods dammit.”
Morwyn's heart threatened to explode from her chest as Hazel's soft lips met hers and the world melted away around them.