Upon a Star: Karyana's Journey: Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Ysalfa let out a weary sigh as her mule refused to move. "Come on, Timber! This isn't the time to test my patience!" she shouted at the stubborn beast, trying to rein it in. Despite all her efforts, the elven merchant girl, who had reached adulthood only days ago, couldn't make the pack animal budge. "Stubborn mule..."

It was only an hour's walk from Jadebrook, a small settlement in the Emerald Sea, and she couldn't move any further. Timber was her master's old beast of burden, and it seemed like it was too bull-headed for its own good.

Ysalfa looked around, only seeing the open road before her, the path behind her, and forest all around. It was the girl's first merchant trip alone, and she was starting to regret not bringing one of the workers with her.

The trip was to take her to Ravenhold, a few hours south, but her poor map-reading skills led her farther east than she knew. As the sun was starting to set, she knew that she wouldn't reach her destination before nightfall, and the forest was never a good place to rest for the night. Especially if you're alone.

"Fine! If you don't want to move, I'll do it myself!" the girl shouted, throwing the reins back at the stubborn beast, who simply bellowed a tired cry.

Ysalfa's father, who was also Jadebrook's merchant, had taught her everything he knew about about the roads, and how to avoid bandits, but had little use for weapon skills, as he always hired some locals or a few travelling adventurers to keep him company.

It was to wonder if the girl was not the worse of the two, with her reckless choice to go alone and Timber's laziness.

Before Ysalfa could let out another string of elvish swears that would make an orc's ears burn, the wrusling of leaves caught her attention... soon followed by an eerie silence. The girl slowly drew her short sword and looked around, her elvish senses on edge.

A full minute passed before Ysalfa let out a sigh. "Probably imagining things..." she said.

The reality of her situation came in the form of a volley of arrows that struck Timber's calf and neck, causing the beast to run in panic, pulling the merchant's cart wildly. Before Ysalfa could turn to look at her assailants, the mule's crazed rush knocked her aside as the cart slammed into her back.

Her consciousness faded and her eyes went shut, the sound of the carriage charging off ringing in her ears.

-
The elvish woman awoke to the sound of a campfire, the bustle of a handful of manly voices, and the irritated murmurs of a young woman.

"I don't see how she could have survived this." one the men, dressed in the robes of a battlemage, said to another interlocutor, a large man wearing ranger's clothes under a heavy set of spiked leather.

"Well, she was lucky to have her life, though I don't understand what she was doing here in the first place." the ranger answered.

"It looks like she's awake." a third man, who was kneeling next to her, his hands over her right side. Pain finally registered in her mind as she saw the priest yank the rest of an arrowhead from her wound.

Ysalfa grimaced at the pain before the priest continued his incantation, laying his hands on the wound. "Aaah! What are you-"

Before she could reach for her sword, she found it missing from its sheath, her clothes stained with her own blood.

"Take it easy." the battle priest replied. "We're not here to harm you."

As Ysalfa painfully sat up, she took a slow look at the campsite. Five travel tents, a campfire, a few bedrolls... nothing surprising.

Except for the dwarf who was working a forge. And not just any forge, but one that even the smithy at Jadebrook couldn't build. It looked brand new, made of finely-cut stone and and seemed to burn with a fire greater than the campfire. The dwarf, a stocky fellow with a sweaty brow, hammered away on what looked like battered steel plate, something that seemed strange, as she didn't see anyone, except perhaps the war-priest, who could wear it.

Tending to a spit was a young woman, dressed far too elegantly to be a traveler. From her finely-embellished clothes, it looked as if she was a member of the Order. The staff that rested by her side, along with the stern look on her face, was an easy lead.

"I could just use a cantrip to hurry it up..." she said in an irritated tone to another man. That one was wearing the colors of the Bellum Arcana. Ysalfa knew this because her mother was a member of this sub-faction of the Order, who specialized in the art of war, as well as the mystical arts.

"If you do, you'll only burn the meat, and the spices won't rest well." the battle-mage replied, pouring a seasoned broth over the meat, which looked like it came from a wild boar. "Besides, no one likes over-cooked roast, and especially the aftertaste of used components."

Laurinya let out a sigh. He had a point; before finding the group, she tried to cook her own food on the road, and the use of brimstone and ash to create a small ball of fire usually caused whatever she was cooking to taste burnt.

"Wh-what happened?" the young elven women wondered, as she realized that there were no people she knew - let alone of her race - in that group of travelers. "Wh-where's my cart?"

---

As the cart crashed into nearby trees, the mule having broken free of its latches only to be trampled by the freed vehicle, the brigands looked at their haul with anticipation.

"Looks like we're getting an easy one, boys!" the leader, a burly man dressed in ash-grey garments under a shoddily-cleaned brigantine, roared. The rest of the group, wearing similar clothes and armor of lesser quality - patched leather caps, studded greaves, creaky hard leather and crude chest-plates, cheered on before rushing towards the smashed caravan.

Before he joined his crew in scouring the remnants of the cart, the burly leader spotted something glistening in the setting light. Walking towards it, he raised his great-sword with both hands, expecting some sort of trap.

What he found was the unconscious Ysalfa, her sword having fallen out of her hand and into the leaves-covered grass. "Heh. Looks like we got booty of all sorts." he said to himself, laughing at his own jest.

Removing one hand from his large blade, he brought the weapon to a pause as its tip wedged itself into the ground, enough to keep it from tipping over. Before the muscled road bandit could pick the girl up, he heard one of his henchmen run towards him.

"Look what I found!" the smaller, almost waspish bandit said with almost childish glee, brandishing what looked like a crude, uncut diamond. "That cart is loaded!"

The leader took a quick look at the stone. An uncut diamond didn't give a whole lot on the black market, but he knew the right hands to turn this chunk of rock, shaped like a crooked fist and the size of a teacup, into a cart-full of coins.

"Excellent work, Remier." the leader said, holding out his hand. "Hand that over. You and the rest can grab the rest of the loot."

The younger thief looked back at the crude gem. "Okay... but I want my share when you sell it!" he replied, his eyes greedily looking at the object, his mind really with how much coin he could get.

Unbeknownst to the whelp, the leader had picked up Ysalfa's sword, which the grunt had not seen, and before an answer was given, the large ruffian drove the short blade into the boy's chest.

"Here's your pay." was all the boy could hear before he felt the short blade slide in and out of the cavity between his ribs. The leader let out a grunt before picking up the clear stone and pocketed it in his satchel, leaving the blade in the boy's chest one last time.

Unwedging his great-sword, the leader of the group looked back at his troops... or what was left of them. In the few seconds it took to raise his sword and slip into a fighting stance, the smell of burned leather and ionized air fill his nostrils.

His eyes soon took notice of the carnage: a lightning bolt spell, forked to strike down three of his men, left a trail of charred bark on the trees. The sound of blades clashing and bodies falling made it clear: the group of a dozen or so thieves were being picked down by adventurers, and from the look of the spell, a very powerful wizard was in the midst.

The only thing that was racing through his mind made his feet turn away from the battle and retreat, the few bandits who were still alive doing the same.

Until a pair of crossbow bolts punctured the armor, and spines, of two of his men, leaving him with little support and even less options.

In a matter of minutes, the group of thieves had been dropped from almost a score to less than a handful. His assailants quickly came into view, making him tighten the grip on his sword.

A ranger, a war-priest, a battle-mage, a dwarf and a woman. The dwarf was holstering his crossbow, as was the mage, while the war-priest was praying as he and the dwarf started moving the bodies, one by one, to the remnants of the merchant girl's cart.

"You killed all my men... What makes you think I will let you leave with your lives?" he asked, trying to muster all the bravado he could, taking a nervous battle stance.

It was the golden-haired woman who spoke. "You have something I want." she said, pointing at him. "Hand it over, and you might escape with your miserable hide."

The girl's emerald eyes seem to burn with energy. The message was clear: surrender or die.

"What are you babbling on about?" he replied, feeling a sense of impending dread as the ranger gripped his own great-sword. The brigand was shocked by the size of the weapon - either the ranger had the strength of ten oxen, or the blade was made of a metal lighter than anything he could imagine, but the ranger was holding a weapon larger than his own with ease.

"I can feel the power resting in that stone." the golden-haired woman said, holding her staff out as if it was a pike. "Hand it over. Now."

"Laurinya, don't waste your energy." the ranger spoke, as he examined her. "Your brow is already drenched with sweat. That spell was too powerful for you to cast."

"Don't tell me what I can or can't do, Alban!" she spoke back, jamming her staff in the ground. "I can handle this by myself!"

The brigand took the time to examine his opponents. 'If I hurry, I can take those two out before they finish quarreling...' he thought before taking a slow advance towards the discarded body of the hireling he gutted.

Slowly pulling the blade out of the boy's gaping wound, it only took a flick of the wrist and a heave of his strong arm to send the blade spinning.

"Look out!" Turalyon shouted as he quickly cast a spell. Inches before the projectile could connect with the ranger's back, the blade froze in mid-air, as if caught by the wind.

Alban quickly grabbed his blade and charged at the brigand, who was rushing over at equal speed, his wide-bladed weapon held out to strike.

The charge ended with both swords clashing against one another, like two bulls locking horns. The ranger pushed in with all of his might to drive his two-handed sword down, but his momentum was used against him as the brigand dropped his stance quickly enough to slam the large blade back, giving him previous seconds to rush around his opponent and rush at the woman, hoping to sever her head from the rest of her body before she could conjure another spell.

What met him was not a spell, nor the woman's staff; it was the lanky wizard's crossbow. One well-placed bolt stopped him in his tracks, as it forced his arm, now numb from the pain caused by the projectile being wedged in his right bicep.

The golden-maned woman walked the five steps it took to separate her from the bandit, then placed her hand placed her hand in the man's satchel. Before he could bring his arm up to strike the girl, he noticed something that caused his eyes to widen; he couldn't move. In fact, he could feel cold metal piercing him from back to front for a handful of seconds, before it slid out of him in a rough pull.

Laurinya made an eerie smile as she grabbed the diamond from the man's satchel and placed it in her own. "Much obliged." she replied, placing her left hand to the man's face. "You can die now."

---

"It was a good thing you didn't see that cut-purse's end." Alban stated. "Laurinya tends to... overdo it, when it comes to this sort of thing."

Onyx let out a sigh as he turned from his forge. "A Shocking Grasp against a dying man's face?" he stated, the question sounding more like a verified fact. "Looks like an execution to me."

"Just shut up!" Laurinya heaved. "Those were just petty thieves, not even worth the effort."

Ysalfa let out a sigh, both due to her nerves still shaking and to her mind calming down. "I guess I should thank you all." she commented. "If there is anything-"

"Oh, we already have our payment." the yellow-haired woman responded, cutting the elvish girl's words as she held out the crude-looking diamond.

Alban shook his head. "Once morning comes, take the road to Jadebrook." he worded, pointing at the road. "Oh, and this should suffice, for your cart and mule." Ysalfa looked curiously at a small chest the ranger handed to him. "We found this at Dyurth Pass. I think it should be more than enough."

The young elven woman nodded before thanking the group time and again. Laurinya paid little attention to it, as she examined the small casket where the other stones rested. Having taken one from Vokram's office, the one from Dyurth Pass and this one, she made a wine grin before placing the third piece in it, closing the box with a magical lock.

"I think... we should head to Beakhollow tomorrow." she said, pulling out a map from her travel bag.

Ysalfa's eyes widened. "W-what? Haven't you heard of the Iron Cur? You'll be burned alive before it shreds you to ribbons!"

Laurinya handed Alban the map, a look of self-contempt on her face. "We'll see."

Author's Note

As said before, every comment, critique, review, etc. will be welcome.