chapter 8

For five days, Rory and the others followed the royal road as it coursed through the southern edge of the Dil'Farans. For the most part, every day had been the same, rising at dawn to ride through the seemingly endless sprawl of trees, each one taller than the next, and their stumps thickened with age. At night, the group continued to camp on the forest floor, the chill of the nearing winter cast out by the strange magic of Bianca's fire.

At the conclusion of the fourth day, the telltale thinning of the ancient forest was a welcome sight to the entire group. In the past, Rory had enjoyed the shrouded serenity of traveling alone through the trees, but now she found herself grateful for the newfound company. Despite herself, the incident with the Harkscalen had unnerved her, and to travel with the others gave her a small sense of comfort. Not to mention that the act of quiet rebellion against her Arcodyte teachings lit a small fire within her. A feeling that she hadn't yet decided how to handle.

During their time together, Rory had learned a great deal about her companions. In just a few days, she learned how Bianca and Albert had navigated their way out of a plague-ridden village and joined a band of traveling merchants. How they'd refined their hunting skills and met Nicolas on one of their many adventures throughout Calydon.

As for Nicolas, Rory now understood that solemnity that she occasionally caught darkening his stark features. As a boy, he had never known his father, and was raised by his mother in Genog. Rory had never heard of the village before but according to Nicolas it was small; hardly more than a shanty town on the western coast of Calydon. When Nicolas was nine years old, an Arcodyte raid had burnt his village to the ground and many perished, including his own mother. Form there, Rory had learned, Nicolas swore to one day face King Hedryk himself and avenge his mother.

"Look at this", Albert exclaimed as he rode ahead of the others. His voice carried a lilt of excitement and dragged Rory from her thoughts.

"A day's ride to Agres", Bianca had observed, joining her brother's excitement.

Rory didn't have to ride closer to see what the others were talking about. In fact, when she caught up with the others, she wasn't surprised at all to see the wooden sign that signified that Agres was nearby. In truth, Rory had used the cover of the Dil'Farans to navigate northern Calydon many times.

"Looks like we'll survive the great forest another time", Bianca said, winking at Nicolas. In their short time together, Rory had already noticed a pull between Nicolas and Bianca. However, it was still unclear whether the others had noticed it between themselves.

Nicolas only fingered the bottom of the necklace that he wore, a subconscious motion that seemed to accompany his seemingly constant pondering. The necklace was his mother's, Nicolas had quietly explained beside the blaze of Bianca's fire one night. From the golden chain, a single charm hung, the outline of a violet etched into a piece of flattened gold, with a small moonstone at the center. According to Nicolas, it was the final trace that he had left of her.

"I wager that if we ride hard, we'll reach Agres just past nightfall", Albert said.

"Race you there?" Bianca asked, the excitement at the challenge rising in her eyes.

With dawn still softening the edges of the sky and dew clinging to the trees around them, the day was young and Rory supposed that such a goal was possible. But after several days on the road with a stiff body and belly rumbling from a waning supply of food, she rarely chose to ride so hard.

"We've been pushing ourselves and the horses hard the past few days. Perhaps we should be more careful", Nicolas said, voicing Rory's silent concern.

"True", Albert said, "but we know the route. I'm assuming that she does too", he said, nodding at Rory. "Besides, we must travel with haste. For all we know, the job has been taken already."

The mysterious summons that had united the group on this odd adventure had been a frequent subject of conversation. Still, the answers eluded them and their only choice was to forge on, ever enticed by the exorbitant pay that was being advertised.

Eventually, Albert had won the debate and it was decided that the group would ride hard into Agres, only planning to stop once during the day.

But as Rory rode past the sign for Agres, she noticed a strange mark on the sign for Agres that she hadn't seen before. In one of the corners, an upside down crown had been etched into the weathered wood and she quickly recalled the Earl of Kennet's warning.

Young Skepmadyr, beware of a place that bears this symbol. I've received word that it can be found on the royal road, and danger lurks there.

At the time, she had thought nothing of it but now the sight unnerved her and she decided to voice her concern.

"The symbol etched into the sign", she called out to the others as they rode ahead. "I've been warned to avoid it."

Shadowed by his dark hair, Nicolas' brows knitted, mirroring Rory's own apprehension.

Albert circled around to examine the strange mark himself, but only shrugged his shoulders.

"You two are too cautious", he laughed as he dug his heels into his horse's sides. "Last one to Agres pays for the ale", he said as his horse leapt into a gallop.

Bianca needed no further encouragement and bounded off after her brother, her red hair bouncing at her back in a long, thick braid.

"His lack of caution will be his demise one day", Nicolas sighed, the words hardly audible. But he, too, galloped off after Albert and Bianca.

Beneath her Jewel struck the ground with a front foot, expressing her eagerness to catch up to the others but still Rory restrained her, unsure what to do. In the past, she would have heeded her instincts and approached the outpost town with caution. But, she supposed, freeing herself from the Arcodytes would come with risks no matter what. Not to mention that traversing Agres was the only southbound route she knew. Slowly, she softened her grip on the reins, unsurprised when Jewel responded by speeding off after the others.

***

As the afternoon sun fell lower in the sky, the group still rode at a brisk pace. They had only stopped once at a small brook that Nicolas spotted along the way, taking the time to allow themselves and the horses a few small sips of water, but nothing more. Still, after several hours, Bianca and Albert continued to race around each other as they coursed through the winding road, which was little more than a walking trail in some spots. For Rory's part, she had to admire the tenacity of the redheaded siblings as they shouted and giggled, even as she grew weary.

With the days getting ever shorter in the final days of autumn, Albert was correct in his assumption that it wouldn't be until after dusk that the group rode into Agres. But still, the group forged on, guided by the final shadows of daylight as it waned beyond the horizon.

When the illuminated torchlight of Agres came into view at last, Rory felt her shoulders sag in relief. Every part of her ached from keeping up with the ardor of Albert and Bianca; her knees, thighs and back all radiating dull pain and her eyes bleary with exhaustion. Dried sweat from earlier in the day flaked her skin, and she shivered, drawing up the patched hood of her cloak.

Beneath her, Jewel's hide steamed with exertion and as she finally slowed the mare to a walk, she could feel every breath that the mare took, and the rapid beating of her heart. Running a gloved finger along the mare's neck, she stroked her in gratitude. It was rare for her to push the horse so hard in one ride, but Jewel had proven herself plenty capable keeping up with the others.

"You'll have a warm, dry stall to sleep in tonight. This I swear", Rory whispered to Jewel as she set her eyes on the town ahead, designed to accommodate travelers as they passed through. Around her, thick snowflakes had begun to flurry through the air, falling sloppily on the ground. The event marked the first snowfall of the year, and Rory scowled at the sky, anxious to embrace the warmth and shelter that was promised by the torchlight ahead.

"Looks like we made it just in the nick of time", Albert said as he drew his own cloak tighter and patted his horse on the rump. He didn't appear tired at all, but his south Calydonian accent was thicker than usual, giving his fatigue away. It was a feature that both he and his sister shared.

"Shall we put the horses up or fetch a pint?" Bianca asked as they grew ever closer to the town. After spending the past few days surrounded only by trees, the sight of a town and the prospect of a warm meal had become a coveted subject, even to Rory who was used to sleeping on the ground and surviving on stale food. But still, she pushed her own desires aside and spoke up for what she knew was right, fatigue souring her assertion more than she meant.

"I'm tending to my horse first. She will not stand in the snow, hitched at a tavern post while we eat."

"Nor will mine", Nicolas agreed. It had been the first time he'd spoken since morning.

"Stables it is then", Bianca said as they rode into the town at last.