4

Only when she reached the very final outskirts of the village, the last tended field of a farm beginning to dwindle in the distance, did Miraveh begin to question leaving. Not the decision to defy Yusuvur, but the one she had made in anger to leave the village at all. She realised, now, how foolish that thought was.

She had allowed the Witch to provoke her. To force her to leave her home and, as she still continued to walk onwards, she berated herself constantly. The further away she walked, the more she began to consider going back, to wait until Yusuvur left with her elven entourage and then continue with her life of peace and drudgery.

To others, the idea of that drudgery would bring shudders of distaste, but to Miraveh it felt like a relief after the years she had spent in almost constant danger. Now, she had fled that peace because she wanted to prove a point. That Yusuvur did not own her, did not control her and did not have the monopoly on her time and her life.

She paused, looking eastwards, and sighed. In her previous travels, they had only reached as far as the Mountains of Ire, far to the north, gripped by the freezing cold that never seemed to end. This far south, the eastern lands curled downwards beyond that imposing mountain range, circling and embracing the vast sea of Baerakis. She had seen the maps, read about the peoples and nations that were found beyond the isthmus. There was much to explore in this direction.

But, behind her, she had a home. A life. Devoid of her greatest and oldest friend, true, but it was safe and familiar. The excitement of seeing new lands had become old soon after she had left Donsa the first time. Kay had made his decision, become an agent of Yusuvur and her latest scheme to find the successors for the Pillars. That disappointed Miraveh and angered her almost as much as Yusuvur's presence in her life.

Kay, more than anyone, knew the cost of Yusuvur's crusades. Knew more than anyone that had survived, that is. He had seen the dead left in the wake of Yusuvur's single-minded plans. The things he had suffered were beyond imagining, yet he still danced to Yusuvur's tune, like a collared bear at a fair. Miraveh would never, could never, be like that.

As memories of the past few years flowed through her mind, it gave Miraveh a rush of confidence, fed by her anger. Every time she thought of Yusuvur, her mind clouded with visions of everything bad that had happened, all because of that Witch. She couldn't fall for her fervent words and twisted logic. Not anymore.

Even as she began to walk once more, she let her anger stew and boil, allowing it to push her onward. Even if she only walked to the next country, or the next city, or even the next village, she would not return home, only to hide in shadows until Yusuvur left. She wouldn't give the woman the satisfaction. Miraveh didn't doubt that somehow, by instinct or magic, Yusuvur would know she had returned.

In the turmoil of her contradictory thoughts, she didn't hear the sound of galloping until the rider had almost reached her. Even though the lands around Donsa were, for the most part, peaceful, years of violent encounters had trained her to react before thinking. Alran's sword appeared in her hand, almost as though she had summoned it, and she turned to face the rider, sword tip pointed their way.

"Well, you certainly walk fast. Of course, if you had studied your magic, you could have created a portal to wherever you wanted to go." Sialira sat upon a horse far too big for her. In her hand, she held the reins of another horse of equal size. "Leaving without saying a by-your-leave. You, my girl, are impolite."

The fact that Sialira called Miraveh a girl irritated her. As though her abilities in magic, limited though they were, conferred some kind of superiority over Miraveh. Miraveh slammed the sword back into its leather sheath and turned without saying a word. This was Yusuvur's doing. Even now the Witch tried to control her, to manipulate her, proving, more than ever, that Miraveh needed to get as far away from Yusuvur as possible.

"I'm not going back. You can turn around and go prostrate yourself to the glory of Yusuvur if you want. Not me." Miraveh began to walk, determined strides carrying her away from Sialira, but the young Witch rode to Miraveh's side. "Did you not hear? Or has magic filled your ears? I'm not going back. And you can take your horses with you. You look ridiculous. Couldn't you find a pony?"

"I'm not here on Yusuvur's orders. Well, not new ones." Lifting a leg, Sialira dismounted the horse with little skill or dignity, almost falling to her backside as she dropped to the ground. "I was charged with protecting you and teaching you how to tap into your magical potential. I vowed to do that and I take my vows seriously."

Miraveh didn't believe a word of it. Sialira attempted to hand one set of reins to her, but she didn't even lift a hand. The girl had changed into the riding leathers she had worn upon reaching Donsa, almost three months ago. She had also tied her gleaming blonde hair into a tight bun, similar to how Yusuvur tied her hair. Even that brought a tightness to Miraveh's jaw. As they walked in silence, Sialira stared around her.

Donsa resided in Alsurna, a region that had seen little of the conflicts that had erupted around the world as the Shade of Xirasir had expanded his influence. Save for the attack upon Donsa that had begun their flight and their long journey, the area had seen almost nothing of the ravages of war. Trees still stood, tall and untouched, green and vibrant. People walked the dirt roads with few cares.

Other places had not faired as well, or emerged from the darkness untouched. Even the city, where Sialira had lived her entire short life, had suffered the ravages of a long, drawn out siege by Xirasir's dark forces. Seeing all the life and lush surroundings of Alsurna always seemed to exhilarate the girl, bringing smiles to the face of a young woman given far too much responsibility.

"I don't believe you, or trust you, but if you don't get in my way, try to stop me, or tell me what to do, you can go where you please." With a snatch of her hand, she took the reins for the spare horse from Sialira's hand. "Where did you get the horses, anyway?"

"Alright, I'm not going to lie. Yusuvur made the elves give them to me, and she gave me enough coin to last a good while for us both." The sheepish glance away told Miraveh that Sialira had not told the whole truth there. "But, I swear on Pailai's breath, she didn't tell me to take you back, or to order you to do anything. I swear, on the lives of my parents, she didn't."

That was all good and well, but Miraveh knew all-too-well how such oaths had many ways around them. Yusuvur could twist words like a roper twisted cords of string and wool. She could state that ash was gold and describe, in intimate and incontrovertible detail, how it was so and no-one, not a single person, could prove otherwise. Words, to Yusuvur, were as vicious and deadly as any weapon.

That Sialira believed what she said, Miraveh did not doubt. The girl, though a Witch and under the control of Yusuvur, did not have the elder Witch's guile or insidious nature. Sialira bore every emotion upon her face at all times and simply did not have the capacity for deceit. If there was more to Sialira accompanying Miraveh, it hid within things unsaid. Secrets may not be lies if they are left unspoken.

"Very well. It's your choice." Tired of walking when she had a perfectly good horse to ride, Miraveh hoisted herself into the saddle with well-practised ease. Sialira struggled to do the same. "You don't even know where I'm going. It could be dangerous. Or boring. Are you certain you want to chance it?"

"Oh, yes!" After a few attempts, Sialira managed to clamber on to the horse, sitting as though she had never ridden before, though Miraveh knew she had. "You're heading eastwards. Logic dictates that you are heading towards one of the nations that way. Onsoo, Viratura, Enshelivadid. I've read about all of them."

"I'm heading that way." She waved a hand in a vague direction that took in the entirety of the eastern lands, from the Mountains of Ire, to the north, down to the the tiny kingdom of Jukunashar, that controlled the thin isthmus that led to the vast Southern Lands, and the trade that flowed through it. "I'll decide what I do when I get there."

Miraveh almost laughed at the worried scowl upon Sialira's face. Something so random and chaotic did not sit well with the young Witch. She prided herself in orderly things. Schedules, and keeping to them, made Sialira happy. For someone like that, the spirit of exploration and adventure must seem like madness.

She shrugged at that thought. Perhaps it was madness, but, with her head now cleared of the fog of anger, she wanted, more than anything, to follow where the roads led her. For the first time in many, long years, that felt a little like freedom.

-+-

They could have reached the next village with ease, but Miraveh, in a fit of spite, headed in a direction that would pass it. She could tell that Sialira wasn't the type that had spent much time away from the comforts and luxuries of cities or towns. In the short time she had spent in Donsa, Sialira had complained, often, about the lack of, what she called, 'normal facilities'.

Even as night fell, Miraveh saw the look of confusion upon the girl's face as Miraveh began to prepare for a night beneath the stars. Sialira had looked around, eyes searching for something, and had, hesitating, copied Miraveh's actions. Unrolling the sleeping mat, taken from the behind the saddle of her horse, and attempting to collect wood for the fire. The few thin, sap-filled twigs she found were mostly worthless.

Miraveh, however, had become an old hand at sleeping outdoors. Her time back home had not diminished her abilities to make camp. Soon, a fire blazed within a circle of stones and Miraveh sat against a tree stump, chewing upon the dried meat that she had brought with her. Sialira had searched through her horse's saddlebags and found only some form of biscuit that the elves used for food on long journeys. She turned the biscuit over between her fingers, failing to disguise her disgust.

"What was that?" The young Witch almost jumped to her feet as a howl, far in the distance, broke the relative silence. "Draw your sword! Draw it!"

"It's only a wolf." Miraveh hid the smile beneath her hand, pretending to chew upon her meat. "It's miles away and wouldn't come near us anyway. The fire will keep away just about any animal. Settle down."

Hesitating, Sialira lowered herself back to the sleeping mat, her hand rising to her mouth, chewing upon the biscuit with an absent mind. Eyes almost as wide as her face, the girl whipped her head one way and then the other as the sounds of the night began to rise. Her other hand slapped her neck and she examined her palm. Miraveh could almost see Sialira shaking in fear.

"I don't understand why we haven't found any civilisation. Why do you people have to live so far apart? What was that?" This time, Sialira did jump to her feet, magical energy encircling her hands as a bird of some kind broke from nearby trees, crying out as it flew. "What if there are bandits? What if there are monsters? With magic returned, there could be any number of evil creatures ready to drink our blood. Trolls. Pixies."

"Pixies are almost as tiny as faeries and they don't drink blood." At the time, Miraveh didn't know why Yusuvur had insisted she study magical creatures. After the return of magic, she understood. All too well. "Sit down, stop pretending you can use magic to defend yourself and eat. Nothing will disturb us."

Again Sialira lowered herself back to the mat, the glow of magical energy dissipating from around her hands and fingers. It was cruel, Miraveh knew, to put the girl through this, but she needed to understand that travelling outside of cities had its discomforts. Miraveh couldn't waste her time coddling the young Witch and had no intention to. Sialira, if she insisted on joining Miraveh, needed to get used to it. And fast.

The girl continued to swing her head this way and that, but she stopped jumping at every sound. She still looked terrified, still looked as though she were about to bolt and run, but she remained seated. Miraveh wondered if she had acted in a similar fashion when she and Kay had first left the village.

Unlike Sialira, however, Miraveh and Kay had grown up in an as out-of-the-way village as anyone could find. They had played in the woods, built forts and dens, pretended to fight ogres and goblins, once the province of myth and legend, now all too real. They had camped out beneath twinkling stars and the glowing, broken Moon. They had lived a simple, privileged life. A different kind of privilege from the one that Sialira had grown up with.

The sound of Sialira's hand slapping her neck once more, brought Miraveh back from her memories. The girl now scratched and itched at the back of her head, trying to reach far down her back, between her shoulder blades. Her movements became more frantic and urgent as she rose to her feet, attempting to scratch every part of her body she could reach. Then, she began to little screeches, squeals and yelps, jumping from one foot to the other, eyes glaring toward Miraveh, begging for help.

"I'm being eaten alive!" She howled as she dove her hand down the back of her leather breeches, teeth bared as she raked fingernails against her backside. "Do something!"

It hadn't occurred to Miraveh. She had checked the ground where she had laid her own sleeping mat, but, of course, it wasn't something that Sialira would have thought of. Edging across, Miraveh lifted a burning branch from the fire, holding it above Sialira's mat and saw hundreds, thousands of little black ants crawling over the surface. Those ants had steadily made their way into Sialira's clothing.

With a strength she didn't know she had, Miraveh, somehow, stopped herself from laughing out loud at Sialira's predicament. Instead, she dropped the branch back onto the fire, picked up Sialira's sleeping mat and grabbed the girl herself. They had set up camp only a short walk from a rushing stream and, without a word, Miraveh tossed Sialira and the sleeping mat into the crystal clear, tinkling waters.

"Take off your clothes, scrub them and then yourself." The look of utter shock upon Sialira's face almost broke Miraveh's attempt at keeping a straight face. "I know, you never had to suffer ants in the city. Scrub!"

Sat in the middle of the stream, the waters crashing into her and barreling past on either side, clutching the sleeping mat to her chest, it looked as though Sialira were about to protest. Protest against what, Miraveh didn't care to know. She turned away, leaving the young Witch to clean herself or not. Either way, the girl would need the warmth of the fire when she emerged from the stream.

In one of the saddlebags of Sialira's horse, she found a thin cloak. That would serve to cover the girl as she waited for her clothing to dry. A quick search around the area and Miraveh found several longer sticks that she tied together into a makeshift frame. Again, finding the string to do so in the saddlebags. The elves certainly prepared well for their journeys. Once done with that, she checked around the camp fire for somewhere that Sialira could sit without suffering another ant infestation.

A dull thud and Sialira's clothing and sleeping mat dropped to the side, all soaking wet. The girl, herself, stood naked as the day she were born, leaning forward and twisting her hair to squeeze out as much stream water as she could. Miraveh had expected the girl to have shown more than a little prudishness in company, but she didn't seem to care.

"I hate the wilderness!" With a jerk of her head and shoulders, Sialira whipped her hair backwards, the bright blonde strands slapping against her back and buttocks. "Why? That's all I ask. Why is it like this? Dirty and cold and filled with things. Creeping, crawling, howling, hooting things! A bed! I need a bed or I'll not sleep a wink. And food! Proper food! Just ... why?"

"If it's too much, you can head back tomorrow. I'll be fine without you." As Sialira warmed her hands near the fire, Miraveh hooked the Witch's clothing over the hasty made frame and moved it near to the fire. "You can tell Yusuvur you couldn't find me. She won't believe you, of course. It's Yusuvur, she believes herself and herself, in that order. But she can't prove otherwise."

"I have a duty!" With a snatch, Sialira grabbed the offered cloak from Miraveh's hand, wrapping it about her shoulders. "I have to protect you and teach ..."

"Teach me magic. Yes, you've said. Often." Rummaging in her backpack, Miraveh found another piece of dried meat and handed it to Sialira. "Look, I know, to you, magic is important. Probably the most important thing in the world. But, I don't care. I don't care about magic, or my 'potential'. I've lived through enough of all that, I don't want it anymore. I just want to be left alone."

"You'll never be left alone." Sat upon the edge of the cloak, Sialira nibbled at the meat, trying not to grimace. She looked at Miraveh and then looked away. "You are who you are. If it's not Yusuvur that finds you, it'll be someone else, or something else. Potential like yours is sought after. That's why I have to protect you. Because you'll never have peace, now that magic has returned, unless you learn how to use it to your advantage."

That, out of any number of conversations between them, was perhaps the most candid words Sialira had ever spoken to Miraveh. She had come across as aloof and arrogant, superior in upbringing and in magic, for now, but she had always hidden some part of herself behind those words. In telling Miraveh she would never be left alone, that she wouldn't find peace, Sialira had spoken the whole truth for the first time.

And that worried Miraveh.