DarkFyre Ch. 20

Silmaria nodded and bit her lip, worried. It was all guesswork and hearsay of course, but she had learned some time ago that Rael had a good sense about these kinds of things, and his logic was sound. She hoped that he was wrong. Maybe the Haruke's visit to the SkyRacers was about something entirely unrelated to the North.

She didn't want to think about the very real possibility that, when all this was done, they may not have a home to go back to.

***

The midday sun beat down on the red land of The Reach with ambitiously sedated heat, a false-start of summer days yet to come. Rael and Silmaria emerged from a shallow and jagged edged valley that took the better part of the morning to navigate. Rael had been on guard during the whole march through the valley, his greatsword propped on his shoulder at the ready while he and Silmaria scanned the rocks rising around them. Too many vantage points and hidden crevices rose around and above them on all sides. Too many places bandits or worse could lurk, waiting to ambush the unwary. Rael would have preferred to avoid the valley altogether, but the land spat out dense cliffs and rock formations and miniature mountains in an overbearing rush to stretch before them on their southbound trek like piles of coagulated blood. It was the risky exposure of the valley, or days of extra travel through the treacherously inhospitable rocky terrain.

When they emerged from the valley back onto flat land a clearly defined road took shape, the first real road they'd seen in The Reach thus far. It had the distinct rut of well-worn cart tracks grooving the dusty road. It extended off into the distant southward, gently winding and shimmying across the landscape as it scratched a slender slinky line toward the horizon.

Rael and Silmaria paused in the shade of a tall old tree beside the road, sheltering beneath the gnarled boughs and stubborn foliage defying the dry heat of the land while they drank from their waterskin's and watched the road spin its way out before them.

Silmaria stowed her waterskin back in her pack and peered out over The Reach. The road extending out before them and there was a range of red mountains in the distance. Around them was the undulating, ever-changing terrain of hills and valleys and twisting clusters of rock. Her sensitive ears twitched, bothered by the dust that frequently swirled through the air on the hot breeze.

"Why do I get the feeling you're not as pleased to see this road as I am?" She asked, arching a brow at him.

Rael smirked and scratched thoughtfully at the short length of coppery red beard dusting his jaw. "I wouldn't say I'm displeased. This is a good sign, really. If there's a road, it has to lead to somewhere. And it seems to get a fair bit of traffic by the look of it. But that means we have to be cautious. There's less cover from here on, and where there's a road and travelers, there are bandits looking for easy prey."

"I feel sorry for whoever decides we're 'easy prey'," Silmaria quipped, leaning into him.

Rael smiled, putting an arm around her and squeezing. "It definitely wouldn't be the encounter they anticipated. Still, I'd as soon not deal with the hassle."

"So do we avoid the road, then?" she asked.

Rael thought for a moment. "No," he decided at last. "By the looks of it the road will get us south and close to the Weeping Lands a lot faster than hiking through the countryside. We take the road. But we stay cautious, and alert. Keep your bow at the ready, and be prepared to make for the high ground at the first sign of trouble."

"You need to teach me how to fight," Silmaria asserted as they gathered their things and made their way down the road once more, both of them scanning their surroundings constantly for any sign of life, hostile or otherwise.

"Based on how many men you've managed to take down so far, I'd say you know how to fight quite well already," Rael pointed out.

"That's not the same," Silmaria protested. "I managed, in desperation, using surprise. I caught all of those men off guard. It's not the same as fighting someone directly."

"Isn't it?" Rael challenged. "I've got news for you, my lovely one. If you think it's a good plan for you to take on a man head on, blow for blow, then you're making a big mistake. Don't get me wrong. You're a strong woman, and tough and very capable. But you aren't as strong as a man, especially a trained warrior. Your strength will give before his, every time."

Silmaria frowned, hurt. "Well, thanks. That gives me a lot of hope."

"You aren't listening," Rael said, gently but firmly. He reached out and gripped her shoulder, bringing her eyes up to stare at him. "You're not as strong as a man, Sil. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you won't be crippled by it. What you are is fast, and agile, and cunning. You have a talent for taking people by surprise. You act quickly and decisively, and you have a good sense of when to strike to take advantage of someone's vulnerabilities. On top of all that, those claws of yours are an inborn weapon that no man is prepared for.

"All of these things can make you deadly, Sil," he explained. "Strength and power are not the only way to fight. You saw the Haruke we left alive. He was much smaller and weaker than me, but using his skill and cunning and speed, he was able to hold me off better than most men."

"But he still lost," Silmaria pointed out stubbornly.

"Not for lack of being a capable and talented fighter, or from being less of a threat for being weaker," Rael explained. "He lost because I was more experienced than him."

Silmaria shrugged, feeling petulant even as she tried to get past it. "I understand what you're saying. I guess."

"But you still feel like you need to be better prepared for trouble," Rael offered.

"Yes," Silmaria nodded.

"Then I guess we're going to have to start preparing you," the Nobleman replied.

Silmaria looked up at him, and a wide grin spread across her face. "Really?"

"You're strong enough and tough enough to handle learning to fight," Rael replied. "And the better trained you are, the less I'll have to worry about you."

"Oh, Master, thank you!" Silmaria laughed and turned to launch himself at him, curling her arms around him and hugging him tightly.

Rael returned her embrace, crushing her up in his strong arms before lowering her to her feet and looking down into her face. "It won't be easy. It's going to be miserable pretty often, actually."

"I know," Silmaria said soberly. She stared up into her Lord's face with serious emerald eyes. "But I want to learn. I want to help. I know I'll never be the warrior you are, but I need to be able to help you and do my part. That shouldn't stop just because a fight breaks out. I'd be doing a poor job of serving you if I did any less."

"You know you don't have to serve me in anything, Sil," Rael pointed out.

"No. I don't have to. I choose to," Silmaria replied. She stood up on her tiptoes, reaching for a kiss. "It's my way. I want to love you the best way I know how."

"Who am I to argue with that?" Rael chuckled, and bent to kiss her.

***

The sun dipped to kiss the horizon. The many shades and glossy bursts of crimson lacing through the clouds and smearing across the heavens like so much spilled paint matched the land of The Reach perfectly. Silmaria slowed her pace beside her Lord love and stared hard into the distance.

"There's a building, Master. There, along the roadside."

"Is there?" Rael replied, his brows raised curiously. "Can you make out any details?"

"Not much just yet," Silmaria replied. "It looks like some kind of small compound. There's more than one building. They're larger than a hut...tall. That's all I can tell from this distance."

Rael rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully.

"What do you think?" Silmaria asked. "Could it be safe?"

The Knight shrugged. "One way to find out."

The cluster of buildings were of modest quality but sturdily made. There were three buildings, all of them large and expansive and housing many rooms. Two of the buildings stood side by side settled back away from the road. A courtyard and garden divided the two buildings from the third, larger building which stood alone at the roadside. All three buildings featured roofs shingled from the red clay found all throughout the land. The wooden walls were freshly varnished and clean. Fanciful and intricately worked carvings etched the borders of the buildings by someone with a deft hand for woodcraft and an artistic flare. The west most building in back had a finely made oval stained glass window set to catch the light of the rising sun. A long enclosed corridor joined the two buildings in back, allowing traffic to move in comfort between the buildings even during the region's short but aggressive rainy season.

The building with the stained glass window and the building close to the road were both two storied, while the eastern building in back was short and wider than the others. A wrought iron gate enclosed all three buildings, with a tall double gate that was thrown wide open. The iron crest hanging over the gate matched the crest carved into the solid oak door set on strong iron hinges at the front of the building closest to the road; a tower with a flame dancing atop the uppermost battlements, with the doors at the foot of the tower open in welcome.

Silmaria stared at the crest, her smooth brow furrowing thoughtfully. "I know that sign."

"You do," Rael nodded as they stepped through the iron gates. "It's the crest of Sren of The Twelve, god of travelers, roads, and the unknown."

"Sren of The Tower," Silmaria nodded slowly. "His Sigil means sanctuary and security and succor for travelers and the lost and those away from home."

"Just so," Rael nodded. "This is probably a place of worship for Sren."

Silmaria chewed lightly at her full lower lip. "Do you think they'll help us?"

"Sren's biggest precept is aiding weary travelers," Rael stared at the big building before them. "I think they'd be open to doing what they can, at least. Let's go see how agreeable they are."

As it turned out, the Brothers of the Tower were very agreeable. Rael led the way into the building by the roadside and they found themselves in the open space of what was clearly an inn's common room, complete with a scattering of scar-topped tables and wobbly old chairs, lanterns hanging from the low beams in the ceiling, and a hearth with a small kettle hanging from a hook arm over the flames that bubbled out a richly aromatic scent that set both their bellies to growling. A man stood behind a bar to their left that led back into what could be reasonably assumed to be a kitchen. Beside the bar, nestled into the corner shadows, was a staircase that ascended to the floor above.

The man standing behind the bar top with a shining bald pate and a round face looked for all the world a typical bored innkeep, except he wore the robes of a monk-priest under his flour dusted apron instead of common clothes, and the copper choker clasped around his neck was engraved with Sren's Sigil.

The Brother-turned-innkeeper spotted them and gave a wane but kindly smile. There were a few other patrons seated around the common room, but it was largely abandoned.

"Be at peace, my young friends. You are welcome here. Please make yourselves at home." The monk wiped his hands with a cloth that hung from his apron and nodded them to a set of stools set at the bartop. Rael and Silmaria sat, Silmaria glancing about warily as Rael nodded to the Brother behind the bar.

"Good afternoon, Brother...?"

"Ricard," the brother-named-Ricard supplied, and held out a work-rough hand, which Rael shook firmly. "What brings you two to our fair home?"

"A long road, low supplies, and too long spent between beds and proper baths," Rael replied, to which Silmaria nodded vigorously.

"Well you two are in luck, then," Ricard smiled a bit wider. "We of the Brothers of the Tower have all those things to offer in plenty, for as long as you wish to stay."

"What is this place?" Silmaria asked the man. "It seems strange that Monks would run an inn. Or that an inn would be the chosen place of home and worship for monks. Whichever it is."

"It is both," Ricard explained. "We of the Brotherhood are an order devoted to offering shelter and succor to travelers. It is our mission and our sworn duty as followers of Sren, who is the father of all travelers and nomads.

"Our Brotherhood make our homes and worship halls in remote places that see many travelers coming and going. We host inns and lodgings and places of rest with our temples and worship halls, that we may worship our god and contemplate his mysteries, while carrying out his virtues of offering shelter and sanctuary."

"That's very kind of you," Silmaria offered.

"It is our duty, and our privilege" Ricard said.

"Thank you, Brother," Rael nodded. "How much is it for a night and whatever food is fresh?"

Ricard motioned the question away with one hand. "We do not charge wayfarers for that which we are blessed to provide. Shelter and food are free, the holy gifts of Sren. We do accept donations, however. Whatever you might wish to give. Donations help us purchase supplies to run the inn and our own lodgings, and go toward the eventual building of our Tower."

"Your tower?" Silmaria asked, arching a brow.

"Indeed," Ricard's smile was generous, and the subject was obviously dear to him. "All worship halls of the Brothers of the Tower strive to build a Tower. It is the highest honor a sect of Brother's can attain, and the truest monument to Sren there is."

"A noble cause," Rael nodded. "We do not have much. But I will gladly donate fair compensation for any assistance the Brothers can provide."

"Wonderful," Ricard nodded. "What will you be needing from us?"

Brother Ricard brought them two generous bowls of the thick corn chowder hanging over the fire. It had chunks of roast duck, fatty and rich and filling. Rael and Silmaria ate slowly and happily as he and Brother Ricard discussed their needs, including lodging, food, and a good deal of supplies they would need for the road ahead.

Silmaria sipped from a flagon of spiced mead. It was weak, but the flavor was very fine. Then again, after so long drinking nothing but water, Silmaria was sure anything short of fermented goat piss would taste fine.

"I can't believe in a few short hours, I'm going to be able to sleep in an actual bed. It's going to be heaven."

Rael reached up to lightly rub the tip of one of her ears between his thumb and forefinger affectionately. "Traveling can give you a real appreciation for the simple things. The oldest, most worn out straw mattress can feel finer than the finest goose down pillows and beddings when you've been sleeping on rocks for the past month."

"Damn the goose down," Silmaria smiled at him, her tears twitching not-unpleasantly from his attention. "I'll give goose down up for life for a bath."

Rael couldn't help but chuckle; she as much as he was utterly caked in a thick, clinging layer of red dust, grime, and dirt. Clay was clumped into the creases of her clothes and matted into her fur. It colored the fierce tangle of her curling hair, startling red on black. Her clothes were in desperate need of a more thorough washing than the occasional rare stream could provide. Honestly, Rael doubted their clothes would ever be completely free of the memory of red.

"You're lucky," Silmaria said as if reading his thoughts. "You can hardly tell the difference in your hair and your beard. It just makes the red redder."

"Yes, but it shows up just as well on my clothes as yours," Rael smirked.

Silmaria waved him off in feigned annoyance. "So you look like you've been on the road awhile. You're a man. You can pull off the weathered, road worn survivalist look. I just look... grungy."

Rael took her small hand and kissed the back of her red dusted knuckles, his bright eyes staring at her. "You, my little one, could walk straight out of a mud pit and still look ravaging."

Silmaria broke into a broad, radiant grin. She found herself thankful for the coloring of her pelt, for once, as it quite effectively hid her blush. "You Nobles and your sweet words and silver tongues."

Rael laughed and leaned in to press his lips to hers in a sweet, soulful kiss. It was unhurried and relaxed and drew her in, pulling the Gnari into the press of his lips that quietly took possession of her.

His tenderness, as much as anything, was her undoing.

When the Knight pulled slowly away, the Gnari girl nearly pitched forward on her stool as her lips instinctively followed.

"Why don't we get cleaned up and refreshed," Rael suggested into her ear in that tone of voice, all knowing and coyly devious. "And I'll show you the meaning of sweet words, and the true nature of a silver tongue."

A thrill ran rampant through Silmaria's being, trembling its way like quicksilver in her veins, pumping from her racing heart and settling like a heavy, sensuous weight in that special place in her belly. She licked her pouty lips and nodded, vigorously, while regarding Rael with great big cat-eyes full of want.

"Yes, please."

Rael gave her a lazy, casual smile filled with the sort of patience that made her frantically impatient. "Go on upstairs, my love. I'll tend to a few more bits of business, and be right behind you."

"Yes Sir," she agreed readily. She leaned in to kiss him, unable to hide the depth of her hunger when she tasted his lips. His mouth tasted of summer in the Dale, clear bright days with sunlight glinting off the ice capped mountains ringing their homeland. He tasted of kindness and crushing strength, fresh, cold springs and mountain pines. He smelled of oiled leather and gleaming metal, armor and swords and war and blotted ink staining his warrior's hands. He smelled of old vellum and fresh parchment and delicately rolled scrolls.

He smelled of knowledge, and action.

He smelled of his father. Maybe that should have been troubling, but in truth, it was comforting.

Silmaria's slender fingers were wound in the copper of his hair before she realized it. Rael kissed her back firmly, and then gently, purposefully disentangled himself from her. He chuckled softly, smiling down at her, and there was love, and amused affection, and the burnished darkness of lust in his gaze.

"Go," he told her gently, "Or we'll skip the baths entirely, and we're both sorely in need of one."

Silmaria nodded, grinning happily. "Yes, Master."

Clearing her throat, Silmaria looked up at the inn keep as he returned from the kitchen. "Excuse me, Brother Ricard. I think I would very much like a bath now, if it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all," Ricard smiled, wiping his hands on the cloth hanging from the front of his apron. "I'll have the tub brought to your room and hot water drawn for you right away."

"Thank you, Brother," Silmaria smiled at the man, and with one last peck on her Master's cheek, she slipped up the stairs.

Rael's eyes followed his love's steps, and he was quite certain the rolling, swaying sashay of her hips that set her firm, juicy ass to bouncing was no accident at all.

The Nobleman turned his attention back to Brother Ricard and nodded to the man. "If you wouldn't mind, before you draw the bath, do you have any messenger ravens here?"

"We do," Ricard replied. "Brother Victus maintains a roost of messenger ravens behind the Brother's dormitories."

"Can any of them make the flight over the Teeth?"

Ricard looked thoughtful for a moment. "To DarkFyre Dale? I believe so, yes."

Rael nodded. "If you have pen and parchment to spare, I'd like to write a missive to a cousin in Trelling's Rest.

"Certainly," Brother Ricard nodded. "Give me a moment and I'll retrieve them."