8

Miraveh lied to herself that she stayed sat on the ground to make certain that the Hunters weren't following, but, in truth, she felt afraid. Afraid to head south, to the crossroads, and find that Sialira and Daras hadn't made it. Afraid that they had made it, they had survived, and that she had to face them both knowing what she had done. Afraid, also, that Sialira would feel compelled to return to Alsurna and Yusuvur. Miraveh could not face the former 'Barren Witch', slinking back like some cowering hound.

As the Moon travelled across the night sky, she knew the Hunters had not left the town. For now, she was safe. With aching muscles, she lifted herself to her feet and began the long walk to the southern reaches of the town, keeping away from any pathways, no matter how small or unused. She couldn't chance meeting anyone else. Her first fight had drained her far more than she expected, though Alran had always told her it would be so.

With the main road, the Spice Road, in her sights, she turned and moved southwards, parallel to the well-rutted track, keeping to the scrub and bushes, until she reached the crossroads. This was as far as she had ever travelled from Donsa, as a child, where her father had met with a man to take charge of a fresh herd of goats from the Southern Lands. She remembered it well, with the rocks and copses of trees that surrounded the place where four roads met.

At least, if Sialira and Daras had survived, they had the sense to not wait on the actual path. Then, as she considered where she would hide, were she them, she felt the now unmistakeable presence of a Witch. Faint, but there, and she followed that feeling until she began to hear whispers behind a stand of rocks, off to the side.

Before revealing herself, Miraveh watched Sialira and Daras from a short distance. They huddled around a small fire, Sialira clutching her knees to her chest, Daras making most of the conversation. She found it curious. From here, she could feel Sialira's magical presence, yet the girl had not even raised her head. As with the Hunter Witch. She had felt him before he had sensed her presence.

That was something she would have to test at a later time, for the moment, she stood upright and made her way to the camp, noticing the horses tied to brush, off to the side. After a few steps, Sialira's head raised and then turned. Around fifteen feet, if Miraveh were to judge. Almost a third of the distance in which she had felt Sialira's presence.

"You're alive!" Jumping to her feet, Sialira almost began to run towards Miraveh, relief washing over her features but, as Miraveh came into the light of the fire, a look of horror crossed her face. "Gods!"

The exclamation became muffled as Sialira covered her mouth with her hand. Her other hand reached up towards Miraveh's face and then fell away. To the side, on the ground still, Daras looked up and cringed, sucking in a sharp breath of air. Miraveh felt too tired to explain and they had things to do. If she could feel Sialira from the crossroads, a powerful Witch could, too.

"Put that fire out. We need to move the camp further away from the road." Even before Daras could move, Miraveh began kicking dirt onto the flames, cutting off the light. "They have Witches with them, these Hunters O' The Dark. Witches hunting Witches and if I could feel Sialira's magic, so could they."

Miraveh could tell she must look either horrific or determined, or both. Sialira didn't even attempt to argue, turning away with one last look at Miraveh's face before reaching down to gather the few belongings that sat beside the fire. They moved a good hundred yards, out into the brush-land, finding a smaller stand of rocks and setting up camp there. Once lit, Miraveh almost collapsed beside the fire, placing her sword and the Hunter's sword by her side.

Her eyes snapped open as she felt something cold against her cheek and found Sialira crouched beside her, a cloth in one hand and a water skin in the other. The young Witch flinched back and Miraveh realised she had grabbed Sialira's wrist, her other hand falling to the hilt of her sword. She tried to give the girl a comforting smile, but her features didn't move, instead, she released Sialira's hand and moved the other hand away from the sword. One fight and she had started to jump at everything. She wondered if Alran had shown the same signs, well-hidden from Miraveh and everyone else. Of course not, Alran had never had such weakness.

"What happened to you back there?" Sialira returned to dabbing and wiping at the blood on Miraveh's face, but Miraveh remained silent. "Very well, hold your tongue if you wish. I must say, I'm a little disappointed you sent him to take me from the town. He's a little ... shifty. And a braggart."

Miraveh's eyes moved to where Daras lay, curled into a ball, his hands beneath his head. He wasn't asleep, she could tell, but that wouldn't stop her saying exactly what she knew him to be. Yet, he had done as she asked. He had brought Sialira to safety and, for that, she would give the man a little respect. He was still a thief, however, and it would take more than running from a town with Sialira in tow before Miraveh could trust him.

"Here. You're going to need this." Every muscle in her body screamed in fatigue as she reached to the side, taking the hilt of the Hunter's sword and holding it out for Sialira. "Magic won't be enough if we meet those Hunters again. You'll need to learn to defend yourself."

"Defend myself? What do you think I am? Some common ruffian?" At first, she refused to take the sword, but Miraveh insisted. As soon as her hand wrapped around the hilt, it dropped with the weight. She let it go, grimacing. "I don't think so. I'll have arms like a blacksmith if I use that. Magic will be fine, thank you."

"Magic will be fine? Try telling that to your sisters and brothers in the Kubsa Coven!" She didn't regret snapping at Sialira, even as the girl's face fell at mention of those dead Witches back in the town. "You cannot fight against magic and swords. Not at the same time. And, if we're honest, I doubt you could fight magic against magic."

Those words, Miraveh did regret. That was the kind of straight talk that Yusuvur engaged in. The older Witch had no time to pander to the emotional frailties of those around her and Miraveh had hated that of her. Now, she had acted in the exact same way, cutting to the core of something and caring about how people feel about it be damned. This wasn't her. It wasn't how she wanted to be.

She reached out for Sialira's hand, ready to apologise, but the girl sat back and then raised herself to her feet. She nodded once and then turned, heading to her bed roll and lying down, her back turned to Miraveh. She caught a movement from the corner of her eye and saw Daras looking at her. He had turned around at her words and now shook his head.

Miraveh didn't need a common thief to tell her that he she had spoken harshly. Daras had no idea, not a single clue about her or Sialira. He knew nothing of the history between them and, for certain, knew nothing of the Miraveh's experiences. He hadn't seen friends lose their lives through not preparing well enough for what lay ahead of them.

Neither Sialira or Daras could possibly understand. They may have led comfortable lives, as Sialira had, or difficult lives, which she suspected Daras had led, but they hadn't lived through anything close to what Miraveh had experienced. Few in the world had. Miraveh had learned, by trial and error and through Yusuvur's constant haranguing, that the worst always happened if you didn't prepare for it.

Whether Sialira wanted to or not, she would learn to defend herself. If not with a sword, then with a dagger, if not with a dagger, then with a staff and if not with a staff, then she would damned well learn how to fight with her fists. The world had changed, in more ways than the return of magic. Something dark had flooded the lands. A different darkness than that wrought by the Shade of Xirasir. A darkness that appeared to want to eradicate hope from the world.

Not only did Sialira need to prepare herself for this change in the world, Miraveh did, also. As much as she didn't want to, as much as it turned her stomach to think of it, she may have to begin studying magic after all. With steel, she could fight against steel. If she had come face-to-face with the Hunter Witch, she may not have prevailed. To fight against magic, she needed magic. She preferred the idea of Sialira taking the lead with that, but the girl had still shown little magical strength. If she had to, Miraveh would learn magic. And finally see this 'potential' everyone talked about.

-+-

By morning, Miraveh felt both thankful and regretted not removing her armour. Thankful, because she couldn't see the bruising that she felt on her chest. She could feel it with every movement. Her breasts, even beneath the leather outer-armour, the chainmail and the padded under-armour, felt tender and painful, thanks to the shoulder barge from the hunter. Regretful, because she could gave used the relief of not wearing everything.

At first, when Yusuvur had secreted Miraveh and Kay from the village, before she had come to understand the difficulties they would face along the journey, Miraveh had clung to wearing her dresses and light travelling breeches. As Yusuvur had led them across great distances, taken them to strange lands and brought them into harm's way, the clothing she had worn in Donsa had held a sense of familiarity.

As the years had progressed, she learned. To her detriment. A hand moved to one particular spot on her abdomen, where a wicked scar now sat. That injury had taught her that she couldn't continue living a life of adventure without protection. Alran had accompanied her to buy her first set of armour and she had collected more along the way. Even with the armour, she had also collected more scars, like the one she would now wear on her cheek.

She didn't search for Sialira, even though the girl had slipped away, to practice her magic, Miraveh presumed. No, she didn't have to presume. She could feel it, like the touch of cold that crept beneath the gap between an outside door and the floor on Winter nights. She didn't need to look outside to know that it hadn't snowed, as she didn't need to see Sialira to know that her magic flowed.

With a groan, she sat up, her hand clutching at her chest. A bath would not go amiss after the night before. Hot and prickling, allowing the water to soothe away aches and pains from her exertions and her injuries. If nothing else, she wanted to undress to adjust the strapping on her breasts, used to assuage any painful rubbing and irritation from the armour, but she didn't want to sit here so vulnerable. The Hunters were still out there.

"Biscuit?" A hand appeared before her face, holding the twice-baked food and her stomach growled at the sight. She took it from Daras' hand and took a bite. "Well, that was certainly an exciting day. I take it you didn't get out without a fight?"

Daras crouched, elbows on his knees as he tilted his head to look at the cut upon her cheek. He made a little, sharp intake of breath, grimacing and that caused Miraveh to reach towards the injury. It stretched from an inch away from the corner of her mouth and ran for an inch-and-a-half towards her ear. A clean cut and not too deep, and not nearly as nasty as Daras made it sound.

"You had no trouble?" If he had, they wouldn't be having this conversation, but she felt the need to ask. "From the Hunters or her ladyship?"

"Oh, she was fine. I said you'd sent me and she opened the door straight away." Daras grinned but Miraveh groaned, rubbing her forehead. The girl was far too naive. "I never even got to mention 'moles'. And getting out wasn't a problem. There were only those three and I know the best streets to use to leave the town unawares. A thief needs to know these things."

He gave an exaggerated wink as though sharing a joke between them. Miraveh was amazed he felt so at ease discussing his choice of career, but, as she had noticed, Daras was a singular type of person. Whether it came from his personality, or from his upbringing in a different part of the world, she couldn't tell. For certain, she had never met someone quite as open as him.

Taking another bite from the biscuit, she glanced around the camp and noticed everything tidied away. The fire had become extinguished and covered over to a point where only a master tracker could tell a fire had sat in the spot. The bed rolls, saddlebags, sack of supplies and saddles were all atop the horses, ready for them to continue on their travels. She knew, for certain, that was not Sialira's doing.

"We'll set out in short while." Placing the remaining piece of biscuit between her lips, she used Daras' shoulder to lift herself to her feet. Muscles that she never knew she had ached as she stood. "I need a drink of water and to urinate."

"Ah, water is on the dun mare and I've dug a waste pit on the other side of these rocks." He handed her the knife she had taken from the Hunter, dirt encrusted, and she didn't even ask how he had taken it from her. "Cover it over when you're finished. There're a couple of rocks you can place on top of it when you're done."

"Thanks." She almost hobbled to the dun horse, digging into the saddlebags for the water skin, and took a long drink. She hadn't realised how thirsty she was. "What can we expect as we go south? Any dangers? Impassable routes? More Hunters?"

"We're going south? Still?" Miraveh hadn't noticed Sialira's return. The girl gave Miraveh a sharp look, ignoring the cheery wave from Daras. "No. We have to go back. The others must know about these Hunter people. If they're hunting Witches, they could head west next. Yusuvur needs to know!"

Miraveh had thought much the same thing as she had sat in the dark, watching for any pursuit from the remaining Hunters. It was her first instinct. The thought of rushing back home, to tell everyone to watch out for these people that sought anyone touched by magic. The Hunters O' The Dark had killed elves and Witches alike, she didn't doubt they would find it easy enough to kill apothecaries or herbalists in their desire to rid the world of magic.

Yet, as she tossed and turned through the night, her mind continued to urge a different way. She had no desire to go back to Alsurna region and her home in Donsa, other than to take the warning to them. The south called to her. The south was where she needed to go and the fact that her mind held such single focus worried Miraveh. The urge to go south had come from, seemingly, nowhere.

"Yusuvur can handle herself. I pity anyone, man, woman, Witch or Hunter that crosses her path with malicious intent." She turned from the gaping-mouthed expression of Sialira, stuffing the water skin back into the saddlebags. "We go south. I made a deal with Daras and I honour my deals. If you don't like it, you're free to go back. I never asked you along, anyway."

As she passed Sialira, she glared down at the young Witch, daring her to say anything else. She didn't enjoy being so curt with the girl, but Miraveh knew what she had said was true. Yusuvur had stood against armies, side-by-side with Miraveh, Kay and Alran, a group of mysterious Hunters wouldn't even make the Witch bat an eye.

As she crouched over the waste hole, dug by Daras, Miraveh could hear the two of them talking. Sialira, her voice almost reaching a screech as she argued with a man she had only met the day before. Daras talking in his low, amused rumbling, trying to calm the girl down. He fought a losing battle there and would learn soon enough, should Sialira remain with them, that ignoring her self-important rants worked far better than trying to explain things to her.

Miraveh had already relieved her bladder, but her other waste stubbornly refused to exit her. This had happened before. Once, she couldn't evacuate her bowels for almost two weeks. That time, like this, had occurred at a time when she had had to resort to fighting and killing someone. Back then, she had Alran to talk to about such things. Here, she had no-one that could understand.

Frustrated, she stood, pulling up her breeches and fastening them. The knife helped her to cover over the hole and she used the rocks Daras had left to hide the spot even more. Her hand wiped the dirt from the blade and, for the first time, she noticed the craftsmanship of the knife. Not intricate, but well made. She tested the balance, as she had seen Alran do so many times over the years, and nodded. A good knife.

A good knife with a distinct design on the pommel. Or, at least, that had once sat on the pommel. Now scratched through, by crude hands, Miraveh recognised it. A design she had seen once before, and only once before the owner of a similar knife with a similar design had hidden it away. A knife that Alran had carried.

"You! Thief!" She ignored the undisguised glare from Sialira and stormed towards Daras. "This design, have you seen it before? Where? Who carries knives like this?"

"Oh, yes! I can't believe I didn't even notice it. Very nice. Rare. Oh, a thief would delight in stealing one of these!" He yelped as Miraveh slapped the side of his head. She needed him to focus, not ramble. "Yes! I know of it, but I've never seen an original and look what they've done to the sigil. Such a pity, it's not worth anywhere near as much now."

"Daras!" She raised her hand once more, leaving the threat of an impending slap hanging in the air. He tried, and failed, not to flinch.

"No-one carries knives like this. At least, not anymore." With a tentative hand, watching the hovering hand of Miraveh, he pointed to the pommel. "This is the sigil of the Velaur Warrior Order and they were wiped out, every man and woman, some twenty years ago."

Miraveh ran a finger over the damaged sigil. After all these years, she had thought she knew everything about Alran. She knew he had come from the Southern Lands, how many brothers and sisters he had, his parents, his home. Alran had never held anything back if she asked him. He had never, in the entire time she knew him, mentioned any Order of Velaurian Warriors.

And that intrigued her.