Outside the door stood a middle aged human with brown hair peppered with grey. He was holding the scrap of fabric that had torn off of her shirt.
"Good evening." He said, bowing to her. She nodded back and opened the door a bit wider. "I understand there were some problems downstairs."
"How is that your business?" she asked.
"Well that young man was my son. I'm John" He answered, "I just came to apologize for his behaviour. This should cover the cost of the shirt." He held out a few talens as well as the scrap of fabric. She accepted them hesitantly and told him that she would like to forget the entire incident. Just as she was about to close the door he asked her where she was travelling to.
"I'm looking for someone." She answered, "I'm not entirely sure where he is."
"Perhaps I can do another favour for you then," he said, "I am a merchant. I will be going to Brita in the morning, it is a good place to look for your friend. I can offer you passage with the caravan for a few talens." He noticed that she was hesitating, "Oh, I'll make sure that my son behaves himself. As it is, I promise that he'll regret his behaviour."
"Alright." Tara said.
A few days later Tara sat in the back of the wagon, nestled in among some crates, day dreaming. The scenery was passing her by, making her think of Glenvale. The forest here looked a little wilder. Part of her was tempted to just leave the caravan and go walking in the woods, just to see what they were like.
She felt a bit nauseous from the jolting of the wagon. Something about this land did not agree with her. The merchant, John, had told her that she was probably just adjusting to the change in the air. Those not used to travelling often became ill the first time they went far from home; it should pass quickly. For a time she almost began to fear that she might be pregnant. That would have just been the perfect touch to a bad situation. Right now the only thing she worried about was the possibility that Keegan would brag about his conquest and it would get back to her mother. Tara didn't want to think about the fireworks that would cause.
Suddenly the wagon came to a stop. She heard a flurry of activity and poked her head out; it was narrowly missed by an arrow.
"Raiders!" one of the guardsmen yelled.
Tara grabbed her sword and stood up, but remained in the wagon in case there were more arrows coming in. There was a brief moment of silence followed by a hail of arrows. Tara jumped back, losing her footing and falling backwards, a few arrows barely missing her feet and legs. Tara waited for the arrows to stop. Outside of the wagon she could hear the sounds of a struggle. Finally she jumped out of the wagon. There were about half a dozen raiders, dressed in dark green and brown to camouflage themselves in the woods. The merchant was desperately trying to fight off the man standing over him. Tara pointed at him, calling upon the energy within her and focussing it into her hand then willing it to pass through her fingertips. A ball of fire leapt from her hand and flew straight into the man who was about to overwhelm the merchant. The magical flame burst across his body, dancing across his clothes before flickering out. The man collapsed to the ground. The merchant glanced in her direction, his jaw had dropped open. Tara shrugged and rushed in to assist the others. Some of the other bandits had seen the flash of magic and they turned to run. Those that were left were quickly defeated.
"Well," John looked Tara over, "there's more to you than I thought."
Tara shrugged again and returned to her place in the back of the wagon. That evening she noticed a definite higher level of respect from the guards of the caravan. The merchant's son kept his distance. |
