This is Chapter 6-4 of a serial fantasy novel.

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Chapter 6: The Escort

Part 4

There was another little station with a fresh cart minutes from where they’d crossed. They continued north along a much less maintained pathway, listening to Mossa grumble about how it would be quicker to move by foot. But there was some sort of schedule with the carts and their supplies that had to be honoured, apparently. June would have been happy to ditch the cart, but had a feeling that breaking protocol for a second time would not go over well.

They reached the place called Point Starfire well before the sun had slid behind the world. It was a large clearing on the slopes of a hillock, nestled in the crook of a sharp bend in the river. A great heap of squarish boulders crowned the rise. From the top of those one could see the lay of the land for as far as the light would allow. June imagined the pyramidic Roythan pyre was easy to spot from up there—you might even be able to see a second one if the air was clear enough.

A score of tents had been put up against the boulders. Other Falsesparkers milled about, but Mossa and June stayed squirreled away in the treeline while Swinn delivered the cart.

“I’d rather we move on, and set camp on the trail tonight,” said Mossa. “Rumour of your witchy heritage might not have reached this far yet, but I don’t wish to invite the possibility of panic or disorder. Discipline is loose, this far from camp.”

“I appreciate the concern,” said June.

“Precaution, I’d call it.”

“Of course.”

After Swinn rejoined them, they slunk around the outpost and made for the second river crossing. It went without issue: here there were plenty of stones and shallow areas to pick their way across. They camped as soon as it became dark, and woke at first light. If June had been by herself, she’d’ve taken the river all the way to where the big bridge had been and moved along the road to town. With the Falsesparkers, they were at least able to navigate the indiscernible forest highways and position themselves on the other side of the village, so that she could enter from the west. It was a small detail, but it could help her cover story.

Right after high sun, they came to a modest clearing, guarded by an enormous steelbarch tree.

Some of the steelbarch’s roots had become exposed, and they rested and ate in the sheltered tangle. Soon, June would be alone and she’d finally be able to get on with making some Bayth-blasted progress. The main road was a quick hike north.

She finished a mouthful of berry and seed mixture, and cleared her throat. Swinn looked up, Mossa seemed unaffected, staring ahead and gnawing on some cured meat.

“So, what can you tell me about this town, in your experience?” June asked.

Swinn looked over at Mossa. She didn’t seem to notice. He turned back and said, “Small. Maybe a hundred and fifty permanent dwellers. More when the barges are there.”

“The transports?”

“Yeah. I don’t know much more else. This place, it’s pretty out of the way. Small, like I said. They don’t really make much of… uh, what we would usually… need.”

“It’s not raided often?”

“It’s not raided ever,” said Mossalea. She looked over. “These raids are the furthest north I’ve been in more than a season. Most opportunities are southwest.”

“Hm,” said June.

“Hitting that bridge was your idea, wasn’t it?” asked Mossa.

Junelight nodded.

“And the pyre too?”

“And the pyre too,” she confirmed.

“What’s your play? It’s no secret that Bettine’s gathering and organizing the strength of the triads,” said Mossa.

Again, June considered the risk in telling them. But if everything played out, these two could be caught between it all before anyone gave them a proper heads up. They’d done right by her, so she felt compelled to arm them with some knowledge.

“This particular town is the centre of my sector,” she said. “But the sector is still relatively large. I am running out of resources and authority to maintain the fence we’ve built. If I was Plasivé, I’d wait it out. Maybe under a log or something, who knows. Stay put until the grip tires.”

“A war of attrition,” said Mossa.

“More or less. But if I have that stone, everything changes. If Bettine has that stone, everything will change for you too, I suspect. We’ve come to an agreement to share it.”

Swinn coughed and Mossa inhaled through her nose.

“I’m aware that the Head of Spark isn’t exactly the sharing type,” said June. “But it’s my only option.”

“The rumours are that she seeks to destroy a cursed Greatsparker weapon,” said Mossa, “not… share an enchanted stone.”

“Yes, well, my little boy wasn't the only thing that was stolen. The one I hunt also took that weapon and perverted it. So you see how we’re all keenly aligned on stopping the fugitive. And it starts with winning that stone.”

She could see them both puzzling away, and switched topics before more questions came spilling out. “Did either of you get a good look at the girl that intercepted your friend? Frix?”

“No,” said Mossa. “But Frix said she had large eyes, a red dress—that much I can confirm. I mostly heard the voice.”

“And?”

She shrugged. “Girlish. High pitched. Whiny even. I don’t know...”

Swinn cast Mossa a sidelong glance. Junelight stood up, ready to move on.

“I’ll head out on my own now. I’ll see you at the rendezvous by starfall.” She began to unbuckle the Falsesparker clothing, keeping her sighs of relief to herself as the damn things uncinched. An outer layer peeled off and she un-knotted the infernal head rope. Her hair was a greasy clump, in desperate need of Furblend Artwork. As she tried to fluff it out, she glanced up to see Swinn fidgeting and trying to look anywhere else.

She tugged off the belt around her waist and caught Mossa’s eye. “This new to him, or…?”

“We typically don’t disrobe in front of one another. Unless we’re about dance seed,” she said, smirking over at Swinn.

“An odd culture indeed,” Junelight said, as she unsnapped something on her left legging. She yanked it off.

“Uh, okay, yeah,” said the boy, gathering his things. He stalked off, and Mossa followed. The shoot-lead paused for a moment, like she wanted to say something more, but continued on instead.

Once it was all off of her, June stood tall and craned her head back, letting the deep light of the afternoon bathe her. She cycled up a little mixture of Furblend and Pureskin, shivering a bit as a coolness rippled over her. The dirt and congealed sweat of the past few days vibrated, became dust, and slipped off of her in a translucent stream. The black tangle atop her head shed a similar cloud, became glossy and smart, lengthening out in soft waves down her back and shoulders.

The forest sucked up the fading stink of the Falsesparker leather as she tore open the satchel and put on her own clothing. A single piece of blue fabric wreathed around her body, stopping at the ankles. The top piece was a fitted vest with plush, weighty shoulder pads and a layering of large, fin-like lapels. From its back draped a short cape. On her feet, unassuming little blue flats, though they were imbued with some nice cushioning Artwork.

It felt glorious. ’Twas too long since she’d been caressed by the velour interior, heard the swish of fabric as her arms brushed against her side, enjoyed the balanced feel of the shoulder pads.

June made her way north, nudging branches aside with some light Distanska so they’d not scratch at her. When she reached the main road, she stood stretching in the middle for a while, delighting in the lack of tickling plants and snagging roots. She switched to little shoulder circles, relishing the ripples the movement sent through the flowing garments of the Chillcrafter Sect.

She licked her lips and gave the woods a nod.

“Time to go to town,” she said.

 

 

Continued in Chapter 7, Part 1: The Duel

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