“Your money or your life.”
Era roused slowly, vaguely aware of something icy cold being pressed against his neck. A small sound escaped his throat as he shifted gently, trying to stir himself awake.
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that.” Suddenly he knew exactly what was pressed to his throat. “Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time: your money or your life.”
Adrenaline began to pump through his veins, and Era woke up quite quickly after that. “Ah…!”
“Oh good, you make up your mind yet?” Although it was still dark out, Era could make out a man in front of him with a mop of black hair and a black scarf obscuring the bottom half of his face.
“Th-There’s no reason we can’t be civil about this, good sir…”
“True, but I’d still prefer to do things my way. Now hand over your pack and I’ll just be on my merry way, eh?”
“There’s nothing in there, just—” He cried out suddenly as the dagger nicked his flesh. Unpleasant memories of the last time he got a cut on his neck drove him to hyperventilation.
“Perhaps you misunderstand your position here,” the bandit said, growing irritated. “You hand over your valuables. Do that, and I leave you relatively unharmed. You delay any longer, and I’ll have to clean your blood off my blade later. Have I made myself clear?”
Still breathing quick, Era found his words caught in his throat. Scared beyond belief, he instinctively reached out. My name is Eravisté, he cried, please help me…
A spark briefly illuminated the immediate area, and the bandit glanced around for its source. He didn’t long to look, however – the fire that had caught in his hair proved quite distracting.
Screaming, he dropped the dagger into Era’s lap, trying in vain to pat out the flame with his bare hands as he spun helplessly. “Mad-mage!!” he screamed. “Fucking mad-mage!!”
Oh dear, he could really get hurt doing that, Era realized, and he drew on his magic to dampen the fire. His head soaked and his hands burnt, the bandit stumbled over his feet and fell to the earth as Era walked (with extremely sore leg muscles) over to him.
“Are you alr—” he began, but the man cut him off by ripping off his own backpack and flinging it towards Era, screaming in terror as he scrambled away. Era watched him go with interest.
Wait… he thought, his pack… Opening it, he found just what he was looking for: rations of food and water. He gulped down a meal of jerky and canteen water, instantly making him feel refreshed. He sat and rested for a while yet, fading in and out of a light doze as he waited for the morning light to come.
I suppose he won’t be wanting this back, he thought with amusement, and he strapped on the pack and set off as dawn broke at last.
“Potions! Tonics! Elixirs of all kinds!” shouted Gabriel above the crowd, “Cures for all ailments and afflictions right here!”
He stood behind a stall in Sarmanna’s marketplace that had been loaded down with rows upon rows of glass vials and jars. Most contained powdered herbs of varying colors, but some contained odd-smelling and worse-tasting liquids. “It’s here, whatever you’re looking for! Gabriel Dalgard’s homebrewed herbs!”
A moment later, a girl with long brown hair pushed her way through the crowd, dragging a strapping young lad with disheveled blonde hair along with her. “Hey, did you say Dalgard?” she asked loudly.
“Yeah, I did. You’re Crisilla, right?” She nodded. “Did Era say anything to you before he left?”
Shocked, she shook her head. “No, I didn’t know he’d left! Where’d he go?”
“I’m assuming Elsequaire. He’s been gone three days now.”
“Crisilla,” Jarred whispered, “we need to get going.”
“Hold on, honey,” she chided, turning her focus back to Gabriel. “Why’d he go there?”
“It’s a long story,” he sighed.
Crisilla answered him before Jarred could open his mouth to object. “We’ve got time.”
The past week had not been an easy journey.
Even with his newfound food source, without knowing how long he would be on the road, he’d had to strictly restrict how much he was eating. Water was not a problem; ponds and rivers were plentiful. But, with autumn setting in, foraging was becoming less and less of an option. He ate only enough to stave off hunger and no more, eating less in a day than what he’d normally have for a single meal.
Fortunately, the bandit’s pack included a tent, which helped immensely. I really didn’t plan well for this at all, Era thought, disappointed in his own lack of foresight. If it weren’t for blind luck, I’d probably be… well, on speaking terms with Death again.
Not that he felt much better off; he was extremely weak from both hunger and overexertion. All the walking he was doing required fuel that his rations simply didn’t provide and his body was quickly running out of. The pack also had a purse full of gold coins – stolen, no doubt – but that did him little good on the road. Eventually the thought of a soft bed and a hot meal in a warm tavern was the only one that continued to drive him down the road.
That’s it, he thought with dread, that’s my last food ration.
The path had led Era to a steep hill covered in sparse foliage, one that proved much more difficult to climb knowing that his only food was gone. He struggled up a few feet before giving in to the cries of his emaciated body, sinking to his knees.
He sat in the middle of the road for some time.
I must have taken a wrong turn. I’ve been walking for… eight days? Nine? Surely I’d be there by now. Leaves in brilliant fall hues swirled around him, enveloping him in a curtain of foliage, but his spirits were too low for him to even notice. I’ll never make it back like this, and even if I did, Gabriel must be so upset with me.
He imagined himself soaring over the hill and seeing the city before him, the most beautiful sight he’d never seen. No magic backed his vision, however; it was merely a fantasy of his weary mind. He remained firmly on the ground feeling like the stump of a freshly-cut tree. I made it so far.
He hesitated a moment. I made it very far, he realized. That’s something to be proud of. He slowly pushed himself to his feet, staggering a moment before regaining his balance. And chances are that if I’ve made it this far, there must be something, anything, around here. His feet began to traipse the trail once more. Maybe not Elsequaire, but there must be something. It’s all I can hope for now.
He plodded slowly and awkwardly up the hill, resting every few minutes to catch his breath. And, at the very top of the hill, he was rewarded with a sight he’d hardly dared to imagine.
There, straight ahead, was the castle, surrounded by the gigantic city of Elsequaire.
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