Chương 49

Even the best knots unravel. Denar led him through the catalog of spices and herbs, packed away in the front of the main wagon. Harker couldn't believe he'd almost missed out on the cache of treasures—he ended up finding more than a dozen useful herbals, all of which had been potted in small clay jars to keep them healthy and growing during transport. The dried spices were far less usefu.

Without their oils and no hint of Water they were far less useful for his purposes, though almost all of them were excellent for cooking. No doubt they could have been sold elsewhere for a profit, but Harker wasn't a merchant, and he only had so much space in his pack. Already he'd had to get creative. The reagents, jars, rations, and supplies were slotted together like the smith puzzles his mother enjoyed—looped and locked together in tangles only he could unpack.

He fit it all, but the straps had begun to strain a little.

"I used to envy you folks." Harker fastened the last strap as the old man started talking. Denar was to the side, though he wasn't looking at Harker. He was staring back toward his wife, a small smile beneath his beard as the woman gleefully debated something with Adhira.

"The Talented, I mean," the old man clarified with a blink.

"Neither of us were born touching the Sea, though I always dreamed of it." Harker stood, pack still at his feet. He didn't say anything as the merchant stared off into some middle distance.

"You probably don't know it, gifted as you are, but it's a hard thing to be powerless in this world. Without Talent, people think they've a right to cheat and steal from you, all the while expectin' you to thank them for the opportunity."

"I'm familiar." Denar eyed him.

"I believe you. Don't get me wrong, I've used their underestimation to my advantage a number of times, but more often than not, we were simply pushed around. Once my son was old enough, his Talent helped keep us in the black. Guarded us, really, even if it was only a Minor Scope. But in this business, it's easy to cross the wrong people. If you're not strong enough…" The small smile melted at the edges, his stained beard doing nothing to hide the sorrow that etched his mouth.

"You lose what's precious."

"I'm sorry." Harker clenched his jaw.

"What happened?" The old merchant waved his hand.

"It was a long time ago, lad. Hurts my heart, but the scars are long since healed. Colin is with the Ancestors now, far beyond any pain." That doesn't make it right. He wanted to say them aloud, but the words were empty platitudes. What was right mattered very little if you didn't have the strength to back it up.

"Bear it no mind. I only mentioned it to say this: you are a good person, lad." Harker's thoughts strayed to the dead. At the joy he still felt at besting them, and the thrill he'd feel to strike down anyone who tried to harm him.

"I'm not that good, Denar." A wrinkled hand squeezed Harker's shoulder.

"Miss Adhira is one thing. A powerful noble with a mighty Talent and heirloom armaments—" He paused, giving a wink.

"She can try to hide it, but I know quality when I see it.

"Anyway, all that should make anyone willing to throw themselves into battle." Harker gave a thin smile.

"And I don't have anything."

"Ha!" Denar laughed.

"You have the most useful Talent I've ever seen, but it ain't meant for fightin'. I can tell that much."

"Accuracy is very useful in a fight."

"You're right, of course. Accuracy would be quite good to have. Not so helpful as a healing Talent, of course." Denar gave another wink. Harker shifted back, putting the pack between him and the merchant. The old man was more perceptive than most…and had missed the mark regardless. It was good that they were parting ways.

"Now, don't worry, lad. I don't intend on interferin' with your journey. Just…keep your wits about you. Talented aren't keen on bein' tricked, but somethin' tells me your intent on foolin' 'em anyway." Harker spread his arms, palms up.

"I am nothing more than what you see before you." Denar bobbed his head, a chuckle quaking his frame.

"Depths, but you're clever. I've met merchants with less of a way with the truth." Entirely too perceptive.

"Why would I lie?"

"Why indeed?" Denar sighed. His thin shoulders sagged beneath his thick jacket.

"I'm tired, Harker. Our journey was rough even before the bandits, and I had given up hope. Then you arrived." He pressed something into Harker's hand. It was wrapped up in an old scrap of cloth.

"What is this?"

"A gift for a promising Talent." Denar immediately walked away, and soon had climbed back onto the wagon next to his wife. Lydia waved at them as Harker fell back in line with Adhira. The small gift already squirreled away.

"It was ever so nice to meet such noble Aspirants," she said.

"Good luck on your Ordeals!" Denar nodded, his beard bent with his smile.

"Watch yourself at that Academy, young ones. It's no place for good folk." He cracked the reins, and Penelope gave a low bark. The wagons creaked as they pitched into motion, until the rumble of wood on stone drowned out all else.

"What was that last bit about," Adhira asked in a low voice as the wagons pulled away from them. Harker was wondering the same thing.

"He doesn't trust the Talented."

"Ah," Adhira leaned against her axe.

"He's a wise man." They watched the merchants slowly approach the bend. The western path wasn't steep, but it was a steady decline that Penelope had to plant each paw into to keep from losing control.

"Is their path so different from ours?" Harker already regretting leaving the pleasant couple. He also had a few more questions he wanted answered.

"I've seen the maps. Going under the mountains instead over—it's all the same, is it not?" The wagons approached the cliff and the pale haired woman stood up, waving her arms above her head. Harker waved back, amusement and pride unfurling in his chest like a flower. He'd saved lives before in the course of his work, but it had always been with his mother at his side. He kept waving until Lydia and her husband were gone from site. Adhira cleared her throat.

"It's a matter of the countdown. The Sunken City will take us too close to places I'd rather avoid if we're to stay ahead of the others." This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Places like what?"

"Shroud territory, for one." Hawker frowned.

"I've heard the name. What or who are they?"

"A myth, if you ask anyone wearing an official's badge." She leaned back, stretching her lower back with a groan.

"C'mon. We've got a lot more walking before we hit the middle of the pass. I don't plan to stop until nightfall." Hours passed with little else to do but enjoy the thinning scenery and the ever present wind. The sun, so warm in the morning, became weak competition to the frigid breeze. Harker was happy for his new coat as it blunted the worst of it, and wrapping his neck and ears with his scarf kept the majority of himself warm enough.

It did little from the blinding brightness, which only increased as the weak sun gleamed off of storm-wet stone. They had to pick their way up the trail carefully, the slick rock and patches of mud acting as devious traps against their advance. Even so, Adhira set a brutal pace—one that Harker was determined to match. Stillwater, however, did not appreciate their tenacity.

"Come now, human. Consider it a mercy." Harker shook his head slightly. He was entirely too close to Adhira's back to be talking to an invisible ally. Stillwater trudged behind him, mud coating him from boots to necktie.

"Think of it as training, you single-minded animal!" Stillwater snapped.

"Your pack surely has the space!" When Harker refused to answer, the Gilken merely groused louder.

"I cannot believe you woke me from the wagons for this. The Sunken City would have been far more interesting than this barren peak!" Harker ignored Stillwater's complaints. They hadn't changed for hours, and yet the Eidhrin remained close by, his little legs keeping up just fine. Harker wouldn't have been surprised to find that Stillwater was just bored. As far as he was concerned, the vigorous pace was yet another challenge to meet.

Already Harker's Ordeal of Tidal Climb had jumped by a percentage point, bringing it to a whopping 26%. Resilience was more than just an endurance test, but it seemed that pushing himself in every facet of their journey was the key to completing his Ordeals. If only he weren't so sinking tired. He popped another kaffa sprout into his mouth. Every bite sent a thrill of sensation down his spine, tingling across his limbs and fizzling at the base of his skull.

It did nothing to excise his exhaustion, but the herbal energy kept him moving enough to sweep away some of his worst aches and pains. So long as he stayed in motion, the hitch in his joints was kept at bay. The taste was bitter and he was starting to get a sore on his cheek, but it was a small price to pay. It wasn't good for him—he'd clocked that early on. It made his heart pound and his stomach sour. The jittery energy it provided was not a good replacement for sleep, but by the abyss it would do for now.

"So…" Harker said, between heavy breaths.

"You were telling me about the Shroud."

"Was I?" Adhira rolled her eyes.

"We've said nothing for hours. Have you been thinking on them all this time?" Harker gestured around them.

"Thinking is about all I can do."

"They're not worth your thoughts, Harker. They're murderers with delusions of grandeur. The less said about them, the better."

"Murderers?" Adhira sighed.

"Thieves, cutthroats, swindlers, and smugglers. The Shroud takes all kinds. Anywhere there's enough people to call itself a city, the Shroud shows up, eventually."

"They're criminals."

"Some of the worst." Poisoners too, I imagine. Had Miriam been one of their number? Where else would she have gotten the Essence of Shadow?

"You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"The Shroud is a problem for anyone who considers themselves decent and upstanding. We have enough problems in our cities that we don't need some cryptic faction putting their thumbs on the scale." Adhira's steps slowed as they approached a flattened section of the trail. It swept wide from the cliff, dotted by a few pines but otherwise empty, its edge overlooking a swath of forest across the hump of the lower Gnarl.

"Water break," she muttered.

"Five minutes only." Stillwater collapsed on the ground, blue lips almost white and little claws digging into the earth.

"Sweet cessation! Even this wretched mud is a balm." Harker stepped over the muddied lump, fishing out his canteen as he walked to the edge. His body wanted nothing more than to chug the water he held, but he only took a slow sip, just enough to wet his throat. Then, fighting his own base instincts, capped it and returned it to his pack. Law 1B—Want Nothing. I don't need the water. Sips are enough. He had two canteens, one stolen from the mercenaries, and both were almost full.

It would be enough to last him through the Gnarl, if he limited his use. His body didn't like the decision. The lack of movement sent splinters of pain up through his knees, hips, and shoulders while his gut rebelled. It clawed at his spine. Harker ignored it all. Instead, he stared out into the distance. Leaning forward, Harker could see back the way they had come for miles. If he squinted, he could almost pretend he could see Vale. He grunted, an unexpected pang of homesickness crawling through his guts.

There was little to miss about Vale, yet even a pariah had his comforts. His cottage. His routines. The deep grave he'd dug just south of the old willow. It wasn't much, but it was home. Now he stood a hundred miles away, a survivor of fights that should have killed him a dozen times over. And if the missive were to be believed, worse was yet to come. The hump of forested hills and farmland stared back at him. Was the Grim Company staring back at him from some unseen distance? Was the Stitcher?

"Adhira." He backed away from the edge.

"Do you think the Grim Company can take the Stitcher down? They fought off his Illwrought well enough, so I can't imagine—" From the corner of his eyes, he caught Adhira's expression. She had paled, but her brows were drawn. Harker cut himself off, nearly biting his tongue in the process.

"Break's over." She stomped off, her pace nearly doubled. Idiot. Harker could blame the slip of his tongue on being tired, or the aches that distracted him with every step. None of that mattered. If he was going to avoid getting skwered by the unstable noble in his midst, he needed to stop being so familiar with her. When he'd shown her the missive he'd taken from the mercenaries, she had not taken it well. And for good reason. Harker still recalled the contents, each line etched into his memory.

Zeph and Saam, Leave tonight. Do not announce your departure. Take the cloth here and get Bargie to track its owner. The veilguard has fallen and the Stitcher is no doubt hunting the girl as well. Find her before the abominations do and bring her back. She has answers we need. Captain Vell It had been signed and sealed with the sigil of a serpent choking a wolf. Official orders for the two mercs he'd killed. The veilguard has fallen… Those words plucked at Harker's memory more than the rest.

Clearly they referred to her friend Sejal, but the term was like a half-heard name from his childhood. Familiar and strange in equal measure. Ahead, Adhira walked as if each step could push straight through the earth. She stalked. Inwardly, Harker groaned. He didn't want to interfere, but the longer she was in this mood, the greater risk he took at her side.

"The missive could be wrong." Adhira grunted, slamming the haft of her axe into the rocky path. The impact echoed up the mountain.

"Could be. The Grim Company hadn't exactly impressed me with good sense or their tactical acumen. Two to take me down? Please. They hadn't even been able to withstand you." She paused.

"No offense."

"They weren't the brightest." Harker let it roll off of him. If she wanted to underestimate him, he wasn't going to correct her.

"Falling into obvious traps and getting shot by their own arrows is beyond stupidity. It's mortifying." She barked a laugh.

"No doubt their pride had been snuffed out well before their lives ever were. You're a lucky man."

"Lucky?" Harker looked around.

"Me?"

"They were incompetent, Harker. This Captain Vell as well as the two you handled. Why send a pair of Surface Talents?" Realization dawned on him. He'd never mentioned their Depth in the aftermath and it seemed Adhira had drawn her own conclusions. Harker suppressed a pleased smile.

"Even a lone First Depth would have me struggling, and that's with combat Talents. Accuracy Talent or no, your lack of refinement—" She cut herself off. Harker's smile froze and stomach dropped.

"Black Tides!" Adhira turned around, axe hefted in both hands.

"I'm not supposed to know that, am I?"