Volume 5: What Was Left Behind
Chapter 2 - Echos
"From the ground came trees and man. From the tree we took shelter and warmth and glue, a place to play and the means to make tools and weapons which we selfishly used against our fellow humanoids. The humble tree even remembers when we used its life to steal others' and it continues to give of itself.
Trees helped us free up the time we spent hunting and gathering, allowed us to dream and with proper engineering, sail upon the winds. But I ask you, what did we give it in return?"
-Captain J. A. Lace
Logbook of the Crystal Lotus (Reg. Freestates of Estan)
Sarah
Never one to get seasick, the trundling and bobbing of the noble's carriage they- she- had stolen from Sorash had Sarah hanging half out the window with eyes closed and deep gulps of air pushing their way through her throat by sheer force of their speed.
The road was treacherous and rocky, packed down by decades of caravans that never seemed to quell the subtle forces by which the dirt managed to push up rocks and other debris. Every clash of horse hoof or steel rimmed wheel saw the carriage victorious but Sarah's stomach rolling. She'd vomited once, but no one noticed. Not like there was time to slow down, anyway.
Caldion mushed the horses on harder, though he sounded regretful about it every time. There was no slowing down this night, though; the city's guards and soldiers would have gained their footing not long after the chaos of the previous morning died. Consu's men had slowed them down, they'd given her and her companions time to escape, but there was nothing that would come of it if they wasted that momentary advantage.
Her stomach was an acceptable casualty.
Vaguely Sarah heard Keiter and Tessarie arguing over something- probably their lack of food- but when Sarah drew herself in to the cabin, content she wasn't going to expel anything else, the air was thick with doubt moreso than hunger. The little kobold across from her was sitting cross legged with a length of rope tied around the doorframe, he clutched it like as safety harness but was no less jostled with every bounce the suspension couldn't compensate for.
Tess hugged a bundle of clothing she'd picked up in their last visit to her chest rocking feebly in the uncomfortable bench seat. She was much too young, even for an elf, to be dumped into this mess, but there was nothing that could be done about it now. Even if Sarah
had
the words to comfort her, they would've sounded rightfully hollow and meaningless coming from the lips of the person that had dragged her into the problem in the first place.
In lieu of having to articulate a lie neither of them would have believed, Sarah fished the bundle of papers from her coat pocket and slid them into the diminutive elf's hand. She laid her hand on the girl's shoulder and tried for her best smile- weak and pale as she must have looked, it seemed to have the desired effect; Tess relaxed visibly.
Then she started to read. Her eyes widened, disbelief and awe changed her expression from one of fear to one of resolute warmth and understanding. She was going home, Sarah was going to bring her there. As an ambassador of the diplomatic council on elven relations, Sarah looked all the world like the one half-blood who could help her.
But to Sarah, they were the best forgeries money could buy. They'd saved her life more than a few times and would likely do so in the future. But that didn't mean she couldn't bring the girl home en route to her next hiding place. It was only right, after all.
"This is not going to work forever," Keiter said in his typically dry tone. His muzzle was pointed directly at Sarah. It was something that they'd both recognized long ago. New circumstances hadn't changed that; horses got tired and caravan trails were frequently traversed lanes. The guards, possibly the knights, would catch up with them soon enough. If not on the road, when they rested.
"I know," Sarah mouthed in return. She didn't trust her voice.
The guards of Sorash weren't a particularly tenacious lot when it came to simple things like taxes and dues, but the way in which Sarah and company had left the city there was no doubt that they'd find the motivation- by whip or by coin- to go out of their way to bring her in. No doubt they'd try her for the murder of at least one noble before she was summarily executed, possibly with the others. That wouldn't do at all. It was all very uncouth. She was responsible for the death of one person. Exactly one. In all her life and she would deal with that in the fullness of time. . .
But under no circumstances would she hang for someone else's blood letting. She'd come too far to be someone's martyr or victim. Unless the dragon had engineered it that the Ace of Diamonds was going to make
her
look responsible for the death she'd left in her wake. It'd be suiting. Horribly ironic, but suiting. Now
she
was a tenacious one.
Elevating the concept of violence to an art form, the Ace of Diamonds was an assassin of world class repute from what Sarah had gathered. From what she'd seen with her own eyes, that was a terribly apt description. For all her flexibility and hard muscles she wasn't just a knife in the dark, she had the endurance to last and the power to destroy anything that stood in the way of her objective. She would be the real danger.
A very succulent, wonderful danger. But a danger all the same.
Sarah banged her head on the wall of the carriage when it bounced and let out a cruse in sphinx. She turned to voice her displeasure through the open window when she saw a farm down the hill. A snaking dirt trail lead to the low house and looked, for the most part, untouched by shear or sickle. The moonlight danced across its wood shingles like a halo, spraying patterns of blue across them through the trees. "Caldion!" She poked her head out of the cabin. "Caldion!"
When he didn't respond she pounded on the wall of the carriage. Nothing. She whistled sharply. He whipped his head around to look behind them, eventually he saw Sarah pointing. He gave her a quizzical, then dirty look.
It seemed the rumors about her proclivities for farm girls had spread wider than she'd first imagined. She threw her hand up and motioned to slow down. When he did- enough to be heard, anyway- she raised her voice. "Despite what you may have heard, I'm quite capable of restraint! More to the point, my dear boy, we'll need to let the horses rest again! Let's make sure they're comfortable and we're not on the road!"
He looked at the farm and, in typical paladin fashion, kept right on going. Sarah balked. She couldn't blame him, but she was tired of his antics. A paladin defining her actions? Especially one at least half her age? Surely not. If only for spite Sarah retreated inside and looked over her bench looking for the bolts on her bench.
"What're you doing?" Tess fidgeted when Sarah shooed her to the opposite side.
"What I do best, dear."
Keiter didn't even hesitate to pipe in, "Planning your next conquest?"
"I should be insulted." Sarah tore the fabric from the bench revealing the slats of wood that composed her seat. Once she found the nails keeping it she touched the head of one and opened herself to her god's blessing- the nail started to rust immediately and with a little tug the head snapped off the shaft. A couple more careful applications of her power and she had the strap of wood free, a hardy dense wood under thick layers of paint might not have been the best brake in the world but there was a lot to be said for its potential.
Without thinking about it she braced her foot on the end, closed her eyes and dug her fingers into it- instead of letting her naturally inclined power seep into it, this time she consciously manipulated the energy her deity had granted her. It took thought and focus. Neither of which were as developed as they should have been in order to do what she wanted to.
She managed, barely, to draw a picture in her mind of the wood sculpted with a slight bow to it and an inset of a fingernail's depth with a back end shaped like a wedge. The more Sarah pushed on that image, the more she 'saw' the wood taking shape the more it bent and melded in her hands. Soon it came to the specifics of the material, exact measurements and then rebonding the wood's tight, dense structure. It took what felt like years to get everything as it should have been in her mind's eye.
Then she opened her eyes and ran her hand down the slab of wood- consciously imposing her will upon the material as her finger traced down the center. It bowed like solid liquid in her fingers under the Great Engineer's influence and her guidance and by the time she reached the end of the plank it was a very slight crescent shape with a pocket the entire length for the wheel to fit in. By the end of the material Sarah was every bit as drained and hollowed out as the wood she'd refitted. She clutched the plank weakly and wiped sweat from her brow while Keiter and Tess watched her warily.
She tried her best smile but it didn't reach her eyes.
"In the interest of time, I suggest you grab on to something. This may go horribly wrong!" Sarah lied as she got up. Sometimes it was better that people felt they were doing something meaningful rather than wondering or believing they were placing their fate in the hands of the unknown. To Sarah things were a known quantity- generate enough friction on the wheel to slow the carriage- but to her companions they'd just watched a cleric casting a spell for some unknown reason.
Sarah grabbed the doorframe and popped the latch, booting the door open she wrapped her arm around the sill and hinge, hoping her jacket would keep her skin from being pinched between the door and carriage. She stole a glance up at the young paladin who was still focused on the road ahead.
As far as the politics of subtlety went, this was going to be anything but. Sarah grabbed the bench plank, braced it against steps and then situated it so it was cupping against the spinning wheel. Using the steps as a fulcrum she made sure the groove in her brake and the wheel were lined up. Then she pushed it over on to the wheel. Instantly the wheel cranked it down between the steps, the wedge shape of the back of the wood made sure it wasn't going anywhere and so the grinding began.
The horses strained to maintain speed but the friction was too much. The sharp hiss of the paint being worn in by the wheels gave way to a duller sound of wood being scraped by the metal banded wheel. The stairs, mercifully, held. They lost more speed and more after that until Caldion seemed to snap out of whatever fugue he was in and look around. He looked back.
When Sarah and he locked gazes, Sarah's grin was smug and much too confident for her own good. But gods dammit, she had places to be. Like anywhere but in a noose.
