16

Sialira still looked pale and, as she rose to unsteady feet, Miraveh could tell the girl had not fully recovered from using so much magic, but she had awoken and she smiled towards Miraveh. Miraveh didn't return the smile straight away. Instead, she moved to the girl, checking her temperature with the back of her hand upon Sialira's forehead. She had cooled enough for Miraveh's worries to lessen.

As an afterthought, she wrapped her arm around the young Witch and squeezed before turning back to Daras, ready to question him more about what had happened, but Sialira had run her own hands around Miraveh and did not seem ready to let her go. Miraveh allowed the hug to continue for longer than she cared for.

"Tell me what happened." With a gentle push, she released herself from Sialira's arms and aimed her ire towards Daras. "They were here, I felt it. How could you not have seen them?"

"I don't know. I heard a noise outside and went to investigate." Using the one of the elven knives still in his hand, Daras scratched at his temple with the tip, shrugging. "I thought I could lead them away from Sialira, or fight, or something, but there was no-one there. When I came back, there she was. Awake."

"I told you to guard her!" She still hadn't put away her sword, even though she felt no other magic near her other than Sialira and the ever-present fire of the dragon. "If it were Hunters, they had a Karline with them! They wouldn't chase a thief when a Witch was easy pickings!"

Daras appeared about to protest, but Miraveh pushed past him to gaze out of the entranceway. It looked as though the storm was passing by, now. The rain becoming nothing more than a drizzle, the winds dying down and the clouds drifting away in the skies above. With reluctance, she slid the sword back into its sheath and returned to the fire, ignoring Daras.

The entire incident bothered her. As she sat beside the fire, allowing the heat to begin to dry her clothes once again, she tried to understand what had happened. The Karline, or the Witch, had appeared, announced their presence with a surge of magic that she felt certain she had felt before, somewhere. Yet, instead of attacking, or making contact, if they were a Witch, they had skulked around before disappearing once again. That seemed odd.

"Have I been asleep long?" Sialira came to sit beside Miraveh, her attitude so different from before. "I've never ... I haven't used so much magic before. It was wonderful! Don't you think? I can't understand why you won't even try to use magic. If you tried, you'd see."

"Get some rest. You're still tired." Miraveh shifted a little further away, unused to the closeness. "I want to continue as soon as you feel well enough."

Ever since Miraveh had urged Sialira to push herself, before crossing the rope bridge, the girl had looked at Miraveh differently. As though giving her that encouragement, telling her that they needed her, had lit a flame. All it had taken for Sialira to stop her pomposity was an appeal to her magical vanity. If Miraveh had known that before, she would have praised the girl's minimal abilities earlier. It would have saved Miraveh from many a withering word.

"Thank you for trusting in me." Sialira stood, kissing the top of Miraveh's head before moving back to her bed roll. "No-one has ever done that for me before."

Miraveh glanced towards Daras, who had crouched beside the fire. The knives had disappeared, returned to the folds of his coat, and he rubbed his hands before holding them before the flames. His look seemed to bore into Miraveh and she didn't like it. It wasn't as though she had pushed Sialira to perform her magic only for Miraveh's benefit. They had all needed to cross that rope bridge.

With a look towards Sialira, Daras indicated Miraveh's bed roll, raising an eyebrow, asking in silence whether she wanted him to take the watch. A little shake of the head and Daras nodded, laying upon his own bed roll and closing his eyes. He appeared able to sleep anywhere, with only a little notice. Miraveh envied that. She had trouble falling asleep in the safety and comfort of a warm bed, filled with soft down and covered by thick wool blankets.

The events of the night bothered her, for many reasons. They lived in a different world, now. Perhaps a world even more dangerous than the one she, Kay, Alran and Yusuvur had toiled through to complete the banishment of Xirasir's shade. That world, the very same world, yet very different, had held dangers within the shadows. People that hid their true intentions.

They now lived in a world of magic, where people could appear and disappear at will. Where magical creatures like dragons could perch themselves within cities that had never seen a successful invasion and call it their own with little chance of people resisting or fighting back. They lived in a world where only having magic could lead to torture and death. Where others could sense those with magic, leaving no chance of hiding or running.

She closed off her own magic, tamping it down, and relished the sensation of feeling normal once more. To feel as she had felt before Kay had triumphed and brought magic back to the world. Those days were dark and terrible, filled with death and pain, but they were simpler. Less complicated. She longed for those days once more, not because those days were good, but because it had left her no time to feel doubt and guilt.

They were the days of learning to fight with a sword, laughing as Alran would swat away her attacks with ease. Penitent when berated by him for not taking her training seriously. Yet, she had taken the training as serious as she possibly could. She simply enjoyed it. The choice to learn the sword was her own, wishing to contribute to the never-ending battles they had faced. Alran always believed in her and her abilities, even when Miraveh would not. Could not.

She hadn't chosen to have magic. Had never chosen to become trained in it. That was Yusuvur's orders, not Miraveh's choice. Indeed, before magic returned, Miraveh had had no sense of magic. Yusuvur had never mentioned it, even though Miraveh suspected the Witch knew all along in that way of knowing everything that Yusuvur liked everyone to believe.

In those times where she suppressed her magic, it led her to wonder if she could rid herself of it completely. Slice it out like a wart and burn it upon a fire. Strangle it away. Choke it away. Then she could simply be Miraveh, the somewhat average swordswoman. That made her smile. A smile she had not allowed to cross her face as often as she once had. A swordswoman and a laundress.

With a shake of the head, she tossed aside memories of a time that was both better and worse than the one she now found herself. It helped no-one. The smile faded away faster than the dying embers of a fire. She had responsibilities now. Responsibilities that she had never wanted, but had little choice but to shoulder.

Her choice to take on this journey, to spite Yusuvur, had placed Sialira in danger. Had she only insisted the girl return to her master, then only Miraveh would have had to avoid the Hunters O' The Dark. Her choice to allow Daras to accompany them had placed him in danger, also, and she would never understand why she had agreed to allow the thief to join them. Though, it seemed, they had come to an understanding.

Of course, if the stubborn little Witch, Sialira, had agreed to start trying to suppress her magic, then their troubles would ease. At least a little. Anyone would think Miraveh suggested severing an arm, or taking one of the girl's lungs. Yet, even if Sialira could hide her magic for only scant moments, it could prove advantageous in the future. The girl would never countenance it.

Miraveh looked over her shoulder to see Sialira curled on her side, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Perhaps, if the girl wouldn't do it for herself, Miraveh could do something about it. She had wanted to test her thoughts on 'choking' the magic of others. If Miraveh could ever learn how to do that, if it was at all possible, she could suppress Sialira's magic for her. Hide the girl from Karline if needed.

All Miraveh needed to do was practice. To reach out with her own magic and try to squeeze the magic within Sialira away. Deep inside, Miraveh felt she knew how to do it. Sialira had always said that magic was only a matter of imagining what a Witch wanted to achieve and allowing the magic to flow. Though she had also said not all Witches can perform all the same magical acts.

Ready to let her own magic loose, Miraveh imagined. She thought about how such magic could work, where to tease, where to press, where to squeeze. Sialira stirred in her sleep and Miraveh almost jumped to her feet. She hadn't released her magic, but she had almost tried to cut off Sialira's magic, without the girl's consent. Without any thought of how it could affect her.

Though she did not need to, she put ever more effort into suppressing her own magic. She had almost done something awful and now she hated her magic even more.

-+-

Daras wanted to wait and allow Sialira to rest for one more day and, with reluctance, Miraveh agreed. Sialira would not hear of it, however. Still pale, with dark circles beneath her eyes, the young Witch had begun to ready herself to continue the journey through the tors and buttes of the Goblin Trails. After Miraveh's dark thoughts, in the early hours, she didn't have the heart to argue.

In truth, Miraveh felt glad of the girl's determination. She still felt that they were far too close to the encampment of the Hunters O' The Dark and feared that, at any moment, a party of Hunters, with their own wielder of magic, could march around the corner to capture or kill her and Sialira. With the mysterious visitor in the night, those fears were amplified. But the girl did look unwell.

"Would you stop for a rest?" Sialira struggled with the straps of her horse's saddle, fingers shaking, but she shooed away Daras' attempt to help her. "Don't lie, before you start. I know you, Miraveh. You'd push onwards until you dropped. I'm not doing that. If I feel the need to rest, I will say so."

"Perhaps another few hours, at least?" Like a fussing mother, watching their child walk for the first time, Daras fidgeted, reaching out for the straps and pulling his hands back. "After mid-day? It's dark enough in here. You could sleep a little more. Miraveh, talk sense into the girl."

She wanted to, but every time she looked at Sialira she remembered how she had considered choking off the girl's magic. A test of whether she could do it, that was all she had thought. Take away Sialira's connection to magic for a short time. Miraveh doubted the girl would have even noticed. But wasn't that the case in many kinds of abuse?

Heat rose in her cheeks and she turned away, pulling the straps of her own saddle tight. She tried to imagine what Yusuvur would have thought and knew that the elder Witch would have tested the idea without a second thought. That, if nothing else, told Miraveh all she needed to know. Yusuvur would have reasoned that a little discomfort for one to test the possibility of a new weapon was a small price to pay.

Miraveh was not Yusuvur. She had already acted like the woman too often for her liking. Once was too often. Miraveh was different. She cared, even though the days of showing it were long past. Sialira deserved better than having Miraveh use her like that. She glanced towards the girl and whipped her eyes away as soon as she saw Sialira look her way.

"It's Sialira's choice. I can't ..." The words caught in her throat. Satisfied that she had fastened the saddle tight, she tugged the reins from the rusted ring set in the wall. "I won't take away her freedom to choose. Did you find a likely route when you scouted last night?"

Daras scowled. As Sialira moved to take the reins of her horse from the ring, he checked the tightness of the saddle, taking a quick tug to make it tighter while Sialira's back was turned. He stepped back as Sialira began to lead the horse out of the cave and into the cold light of the day. Clouds still covered the skies, but it didn't look as though it were about to rain any time soon. The storm had passed.

"I think so. Weather has faded some of the signs and others are so close to the signs for the correct trail, one can easily mistake them. I suppose it's to hide the true trail, should anyone not informed try to use it." He fell in beside Miraveh as they all left the cave, running a hand over his bald scalp that had soon started to grow stubble. "I'll mark our passage as we go. If we make a wrong turn, we can find our way back, but ... well, you'll see."

Miraveh didn't like that, studying Daras' face for any sign of deceit. Even though he had, effectively, stated his loyalty to her, he was still an admitted thief. Out of the cave, he skipped his way to the front, glancing with a frown towards Sialira as he passed, but Sialira held her head high. She looked determined to travel as far and as fast as she could, if only to prove herself well enough for the journey. To herself or to Miraveh, Miraveh could not tell.

Daras led the way around a couple of towering buttes, passing through a great crack that had split one into two, the two halves appearing to pull away from each other. Around the foot of another and Daras held up a hand, waving it to tell the others to slow their pace and Miraveh soon saw why.

Another ravine opened up before them, hidden by the tight confines of the tors and buttes that loomed above them. This one, though not as wide as the first they had crossed, looked far more deep. As Miraveh set her feet to look over the edge, she could not see the bottom, nor could she hear any sounds of water. If they fell here, they would not become carried away by rapids, with a tiny chance to survive. They would fall and smash against rocks they could not see, lost in thick, black shadows.

The ravine, however, was not what had caused Daras to hedge around what awaited them. They could cross the ravine, probably not with ease, but they could find a way. The obstacle that stood in their way was not how to cross, but where. It seemed that whoever had created the Goblin Trails had wanted to make the passing into a puzzle as well as a struggle.

As far as they could see, in either direction along the ravine until the crack in the land disappeared around natural bends and dog-legs, were rope bridges. Dozens of them, if Miraveh were any judge. They stretched from one side of the ravine to the other, leading to different cracks and crevices along the surface of the rock face at the other side.

Some crossed the ravine in a relatively horizontal fashion. Others angled upwards, or down. Some crossed at angles, passing above or below other rope bridges. Many looked about ready to break apart and fall into the inky depths of the ravine. Some looked as though someone had made them only months, weeks before. It looked as though a giant spider had created a web of rope bridges to capture the unwary.

"How can we possibly know which path to take?" Sialira rested her shoulder against her horse, shaking her head at the sight before them. "Who could have taken the time to even do this? And without magic! It's ... it's beautiful."

"It's not so difficult, if you think about it. Well, no, it is. It's very difficult, but ..." With a raised hand and a pointing finger, Daras indicated several of the places where the rope bridges connected to the other side. "It's a smugglers route, yes? They would need horses or mules to carry contraband. If you eliminate every passage that horses can't pass through, it reduces the number of wrong choices."

"Of course!" The girl looked fascinated, but she still looked tired, even as she joined Daras in pointing to the other side of the ravine. "That one, I doubt even I could squeeze through there. And there! Stairs cut into the cliff wall! No horse could climb up and down those."

Admiring the ingenuity of smugglers was not something Miraveh had any interest in. That was a lie to herself. She did find it almost as fascinating as Sialira and Daras, but not nearly as worth her time as finding the correct route through this maze of ropes and wood and rock. Though Daras had a point, she could eliminate many of the bridges by virtue of the fact the horses could not pass across them.

She crouched beside one of the anchor posts set deep into the rock and ran fingers over the carvings in the wood. The symbols meant nothing to her. She didn't recognise them, even though some had similarities to writings she had studied back in the library of the Coven of Scales. Yusuvur had included many different subjects for Miraveh's reading assignments, only saying she may never need them, but, then again, she may.

"Not this one. See, the arrow? It's a fake. Three fletchings." Daras had crouched beside her, showing where she could see where the sign was wrong. He hooked a finger, stood, and moved to another bridge, further along. "This one. See the difference?"

Miraveh could very well see the difference. This bridge looked decrepit, with strings of support ropes dangling below the slats and some of those slats replaced by boards criss-crossing holes in between them. Vines twisted and crawled along the main ropes. Then, as she looked closer, she saw that it was all a very clever fake. This bridge could even possibly hold an entire army along its length.

Crossing the bridge proved far easier than crossing the first one. Slyly sturdy, it barely even swayed as they moved from one side to the other. Even the horses appeared to sense that they were in no danger on this crossing and Miraveh almost thanked the gods for something, finally going their way.

With a short stop to allow Sialira to take a rest, they moved on, passing through a crack in the surface of the cliff and into a crevasse that twisted and turned, almost zig-zagging at sharp angles through the rock. At times, Miraveh noticed the signs of stonework, others, it appeared a natural passage. Only as they neared the end of the crevasse, light breaking up the shadows, did Miraveh begin to think they may have come the wrong way.

It was the smell that caused her doubts and each of them covered their mouths and noses, gagging at the stench as they approached the end of the passage. The stench of death.