25

Despite the heat, these parts of the Southern Lands had more vegetation than Miraveh had expected, untouched by the Shade of Xirasir's corruption. The rocky landscape had given way to a vast plain, filled with tall grasses, small groves of trees that appeared to lean in towards each other, protecting themselves from the harsh Sun's glare. Lazy, wide rivers snaked their way north-west, trailing down from mountains that hugged the coastline to the east.

Miraveh had not mentioned the lost stronghold of the Velaurian Order. Not to Brothimir. Not to anyone. Her dreams had changed, though, incorporating a large stone edifice, the wall of a vast castle, populated by the skulls of those that had died in her past. Those she had not managed to save. Those that she had killed. Those that had tried to kill her. More than once, she had awoken to find Brothimir staring at her, as though he watched her dreams as she slept.

They had decided to travel, as much as they could, outside of the prickling heat of the days. Avoiding the middle part of each day, travelling until it became too dark to see and then setting off once more as dawn approached. Miraveh had sunk into a brooding silence that not even Daras' never-ending joy could break. Turotara had stopped trying to get her to spar with her.

Now, looking down upon a wide, flat valley, Miraveh could see several directions that they could travel, yet knew nothing of the land in which to make an informed choice. She knew the candidate for the Pillars lay to the west. How far away, she could not tell, but that mystical urge to head that way had started to become stronger. She cursed the fact that she was a 'Seeker' and considered the south and the east, though they too had their problems.

"Daitmar's Cauldron? It sounds ghastly!" Shading her eyes with a hand, Sialira lifted herself up in the saddle, gazing towards the low mountain range to the south. "And you say there's no way around it?"

"No, I said going around it would take time and effort. The Reaching Mountains to the east of it are treacherous. More rocks fall there than rain in the north. Unstable mountains are not easy to pass." Daras moved a pointing finger from the east, towards the western side of the Cauldron. "To the west is a body of water we call the Lake of the Dead, though it's more like a sea. So salty that nothing lives within those waters. The Cauldron itself? Well, you can try to pass through, but it's not called a 'cauldron' for fun."

Miraveh could imagine. Even from here, she could see the bright, shining white sprawl of those low mountains, that looked like hills compared to the larger mountain range to the east, whose thin spires appeared to stretch upwards like thin, clawed fingers grasping toward the sky. Those low, white mountains of the Cauldron would reflect all heat down into the vast valley within. Deathly hot during the day, frigid cold during the night.

That left two options. The land moved away to the east, where a thin corridor of land hugged the eastern coast and the Reaching Mountains loomed above on the other side. From outdated maps she had seen years ago, that corridor of land led all the way past the most harsh parts of the Southern Lands, to parts of the world the Northern Lands knew little about. Those areas where the Spice Road led. Lands of untold riches and strange cultures. Yet the Spice Road did not pass down that thin corridor of land

The western option seemed the easiest. The Spice Road veered off that way before hooking southwards once again hundreds of miles to the west. The same direction in which her Seeker's urge wanted her to go. The direction that Yusuvur would counsel. In that direction lay civilisation, of a sort. A string of villages, towns and cities, all clinging to the coastline. There were few settlements on the hot plains.

"How goes travelling further into the plains? Is there water? Shelter?" From here, Miraveh could see little of that, save for the sluggish rivers that she doubted had clean water, or the groves that could hide any number of dangers. "Are there crossings for the rivers?"

"Few of any of them. The people, my people, don't tend to go far into the plains because farming is difficult. The soil prefers the long grass and little else. Goats and sheep cannot sustain themselves on that grass, either." Daras scowled towards the plains, then brightened as he looked towards the east. "But, by the seas? Ah, my people have made paradises all along the coast and all are friendly. Perhaps not 'all', but most of them. Certainly a significant number of friendly people."

"I don't see what the problem is." Sialira guided her horse to look to the west and pointed, looking over her shoulder to Miraveh. "Follow the Spice Road if it's further south you want to go. Why make it difficult? Are you rushing to get there, or something?"

Eyes fell upon Miraveh. Everyone's eyes, including Brothimir's, and she began to feel anger well up inside her. It felt as though she had no choice in the matter and the thought of having no choice irked her. It felt as though the gods, or the universe, or some other entity would not allow her to live her own life. Sending her ever onwards towards the Candidate that her 'Seeker's urge' pointed towards.

"It would seem the most simple option." Now Turotara added her weight to the discussion. She pulled up to Miraveh's side, leaning in to talk in low whispers. "Remember, a warrior does not complicate things unnecessarily."

"You're not Alran! Stop trying to take his place!" As soon as the words left her mouth, Miraveh regretted it. She spoke of Alran to no-one, other than a couple of easy missed remarks to Sialira and Daras. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. Of course, you're right. You all are. It's just, I'd rather go a different way, if I could."

"Alran?" That one word caused Miraveh to snap her head around to Brothimir. He looked as though he recognised the name, then realised that Miraveh looked at him. "Why? Why would you rather go a different way? Of course, there is a different destination you can head towards, if you wanted to."

She knew what he meant. The stronghold of the Velaurian Order. Why he wanted her to go there, she couldn't imagine. If she did go, find her answers about the Order and a relic that she could use, Brothimir would gain something too. That was the only explanation. Without answering his question, Miraveh tried to think why Brothimir would want her to go there. If she found a relic, no Hunter could stand in her way.

"You want a relic, yourself." The tiny change in Brothimir's expression told her she had guessed correctly. "I destroyed your relic and you want another. You are weak without one. But ... yes! It's not easy, is it? You could never find a relic alone! That's why ... Three! There are always three of you! One Karline and two warriors. Always three. You need help to find your relic."

The others watched the exchange in their own ways. Sialira frowned at the very thought of using relics. She had made herself perfectly understood after Miraveh had used Brothimir's relic. They were abominations and insults to those who struggled with using magic naturally. If it were up to Sialira, she would find and destroy every relic.

Daras found it amusing. He laughed at Brothimir's attempt to hide the shock of Miraveh finding out his plan, though it wouldn't take a genius to get to the same conclusion eventually. He soon lost interest, turning and leaning upon the pommel of his saddle, gazing wistfully to the west and the settlements in that direction.

Turotara kept a piercing gaze upon Brothimir, hand resting upon her sword. She didn't trust the man and would as easy cut his throat right there than listen to another word that could come from his mouth. It didn't look as though Brothimir had any intention of fighting, or casting what little magic he could without a relic, but she made certain he couldn't if he tried. He would lie dead before his magic even began to form.

"Why is he still here, anyway?" With a nose wrinkled as though she could smell the worst filth, Sialira jerked her chin towards Brothimir. "I thought you were going to send him to the other Hunters? They'll never find the portal if they tried and we'll be long gone by the time he returned if he hoped to catch us."

Miraveh considered that and realised that Sialira was right. She could have released Brothimir days ago and he would never have caught up with them, should he have returned to his fellow Hunters with tales of two Witches to find and kill. One Witch. Sialira was the only true Witch among them. She had kept him because of the very thing she feared. She wanted him to tell her where to find a relic.

Taking the knife from the sheath at her back, Miraveh moved her horse beside Brothimir's, leaning in to cut the ropes that tied his hands to the saddle. He seemed surprised, rubbing at his wrists, though she hadn't tied them tight enough to cut off his blood. Perhaps he thought she had lied about letting him go?

"I said I'd release you. Go." She returned the knife to its sheath and leaned forward. "But know this, Witches in the north are powerful and organised. Your Hunters O' The Dark have never fought against people like them. Do your fellow Hunters a favour and turn them from this path of evil and death, before the Witches end you all."

"Alran!" Brothimir yelled out as Miraveh turned her horse away and she gripped the hilt of her sword. He had better show care in what he said next. "Alran Stared-At-The-Stars. I know of him. I could tell you more, if you wish."

Miraveh didn't know what game Brothimir played now, but he had given up the chance to ride away to his freedom to mention Alran and Miraveh wanted to know why.

-+-

It took every ounce of willpower for Miraveh to stay her hand. Not to drag Brothimir from his horse and force an explanation from him. To the side, she saw Turotara stiffen. She could see how close Miraveh had come to exploding in anger, but Miraveh contained it. Pushing the anger down. No-one here could understand what would drive that anger at only the mention of Alran's name from the Hunter's lips.

"Show great care in choosing the next words you speak, Hunter." She spoke in a whisper, eyes boring into Brothimir, and it had an effect. His own eyes looked towards the others. "For though I may wish to be a good person, I assure you, I am not."

"Miraveh, I'm sure he doesn't know that he offends you." Daras had dismounted and now stood beside Miraveh's horse, reaching up for her hand that gripped her reins, knuckles turning white. "I'm not certain, if I'm honest. I'm sure Alran was important to you, but I say if you intend letting the man go, then do so."

She considered it. Daras, despite his profession, was a good man. He saw the best in people, and had such a carefree view of the world. Only when he had thought his sister in peril did he show any kind of sadness, or anger. Miraveh didn't know if he had suffered loss, she had never asked, but she had. More loss than anyone should have to deal with in such a short life.

The loss of Alran affected her more than any other. To think that this man, this Karline, could utter such a great man's name caused bile to collect in her throat. A Hunter O' The Dark that had, no doubt, caused suffering and death without any compunction, had no right to utter Alran's name. He sullied Alran's memory by the simple act of breathing.

But Daras was right. Brothimir could not know how much Alran meant to Miraveh. The Hunter only saw an opportunity. For what, she could only imagine. Using Alran's name to manoeuvre Miraveh towards the stronghold of the Velaurian Order, no doubt. There, he could find himself another relic and reclaim the power lost by Miraveh breaking the one he was once bonded to. She was not about to allow him to manipulate her. Not allow anyone to manipulate her.

Except, the Seeker's Urge also manipulated her. That urge had brought her southwards before she had realised what it was. Manipulation by some higher power. Higher than the gods, perhaps. Manipulated by the universe. Regardless of who, or what, manipulated her, she hated it. But the urge to find the candidate for replacing a Pillar overrode her urge to find a relic of her own. She could not trust herself should she find one and become bound to that level of power. She did not want the power she had.

"Go, Hunter." With a tug upon the reins, she turned away from Brothimir. "Don't say another word. Simply go and thank the gods that you met people with mercy. Trust me when I say, were it another Witch that I know who found you, you would not have survived the harpies. Go back to your people and tell them of our mercy."

"I can't." For the first time, Miraveh didn't hear a sneer in Brothimir's voice. "Without my relic and my companions, they will think me a deserter. I will be treated the same as any other being of magic. I'd be dead before I even neared an outpost. I ... I have nothing left."

"It's a lie." Silent for long moments, Sialira had heard Miraveh talk of Alran before. She had not tried to dissuade her, as Daras had. "For what reason, I cannot fathom, but he lies. He will lead us into a trap, betray us at the first opportunity. I'll compel him to leave. I'm pretty certain I'm strong enough for that."

Compel. Miraveh had not realised that Witches could do that. It wasn't something Sialira had mentioned before and Miraveh had no doubt that Yusuvur would not have told her even if Miraveh asked her to her face. For some reason, hearing of that kind of spell sent a shiver down Miraveh's spine. She wracked her mind to remember any time that Sialira, or any other Witch, could have attempted to compel her to do something against her will.

Leaving that to fester in her mind, Miraveh returned to the question at hand. She didn't like forcing anyone to do something they did not wish to do, though she had certainly done so in the past. It didn't sit right with her, especially after suffering Yusuvur's many and varied machinations. Even though she was curious about this spell that could compel people, she did not want to take away a person's choice unless she absolutely had to. Not even Brothimir.

"Turotara? I know you don't talk much, but what do you think?" Miraveh hadn't asked Daras, yet, because she had a good idea what he would say, but the burly guard was someone Miraveh knew less well. "I fear I'm not in the right mind to make such a decision."

"I'm a hireling. A fat bag of gold means I do as I'm told." She jerked her head towards Brothimir. "You want him dead, I'll kill him. You want him gone, I'll kick his backside all the way back to his encampment. My opinion means nothing."

"It doesn't mean nothing. I respect you. I value your thoughts." Miraveh could see that Turotara did, indeed, have an opinion, but she looked nervous about offering it. "Besides, you were hired to protect Sialira, not do as I say. I'm not your employer, so you can say what you want to me."

"I know liars. This one lies as easy as breathing." Turotara hooked a thumb towards Daras, causing him to over-exaggerate his look of shock. "But he's a good man beneath his lies. That one? He's not lying, but he is certainly not a good man. I don't trust him and I'd suggest you don't, either."

Miraveh nodded, avoiding a look towards Daras as he smiled up towards her, expecting her to ask his opinion. She didn't trust Brothimir, but, she, too, did not think he had lied. It appeared the relics that Hunter Karline's used were more than merely conduits of magical power. They were a symbol of belonging for the Hunters O' The Dark. Or, at least, for the Karline. Should she send him back to the Hunters without his relic, she would be responsible for any ill that would befall him. She, after all, had destroyed his relic.

She had no option but to allow Brothimir to accompany them until such time as he could feel safe from his former comrades. If he decided to return to the stronghold of the Velaurian Order and find himself another relic, that would be his choice. It was what a good person would do and now, more than ever, she felt a desperate need to be good. Using Brothimir's relic had cast a shadow upon her soul. She could feel it and, worse, she quite liked it.

"Alright. Daras, what can we expect in that direction?" Without thinking, she raised her finger and pointed directly to where she could feel the presence of the Candidate. "The Hunter can come with us or not, I don't care, but he will not mention Alran again if he does, or he will suffer for it."

"Ah, that way lies the Spice Road and a string of villages and towns that are home to my people. Very fine, civilised, humorous people." He coughed as Miraveh rolled her hand and her eye at his commentary. "Yes, well. First we will meet a couple of fishing villages and a river that has an easy crossing. The first town, Comragon is a small port that trades all long the coast. After that ..."

"We head to Comragon, then. After that ..." After that, she would come ever closer to the Candidate. If she could get that urge out of her mind, she could do anything she wanted. Go anywhere. She glanced upwards. "We have about two hours before it becomes too hot. Let's make pace."

They rode down the face of the last rocky hill and on to the grasslands below. Miraveh had seen a trail, to the north, that she assumed was the Spice Road. Unless the going, out here among the dried fronds of tall grass, became too hard, she wanted to avoid travelling upon the road. She wasn't certain how many people used the road, whether the appearance of the dragon in Jukunashar had caused the caravans and traders to find a different route or not, but she wanted to avoid people as best she could.

Strangers caused tongues to wag and both she and Sialira were obviously not from these lands. Turotara could pass for a southerner, her short hair as black as night, with eyes of a similar darkness, but her complexion was that of a sunburnt northerner. Brothimir, despite his southern name, looked little like a southerner. All in all, such a group would catch attention and, should the wrong people hear of them, could cause trouble.

Miraveh hoped that they would not find trouble. She hoped that they had left the majority of the Hunters O' The Dark back near Jukunashar. She hoped that she could find this candidate for a replacement Pillar, use the ring that the Phrenica had given her, and arrange for some Witch to open a portal to them and take the Candidate away. She hoped for many things, but hope was only one step short of wishes and wishes were never granted as hoped for. Or, at least, that was what the books had to say about them.

For now, they had a destination in mind. She took the lead, with Sialira and Daras riding together behind her, whispering among themselves, as though no-one could hear their hissed words about Brothimir. Turotara rode at the back, her eyes glued to Brothimir and Brothimir's eyes never left Miraveh. Every time she turned her head, she found him watching her.

If he planned anything, he would find himself severely discouraged. By blade or magic, Miraveh cared not which.