Part 2 ROUGH ROUGH
“Listen to him, talking about a need to go to that damned place when most others with smarts do their best to avoid it.” Dean swung a hand out at Jasper as if in frustration before turning his gaze to Ashe. “Hilda and me, we’re the only village still anywhere near the Everwood. Even if we are on the borders of it, and you all came through the Thinning. None of the others have stayed. Moved into villages or further off to the sea cities. If we were any younger we’d make tracks, you mark me.”
“Oh, listen to him will you?” Hilda shuffled forward to plant a pipe into Dean’s hand, and then shifted to take a long splinter from the fire to light it. Dean puffed contentedly for a moment before leaning back to blow the smoke through his mustache. “Mens always talking about leaving a place when danger is always there. We knew the mouthless were there when we built this cabin, oh, going on fifty years ago. Didn’t stop us then. That’s life for you.”
She turned and gave Dean and light pat on the head. “If it isn’t the mouthless, it’d be the guard or some rabble along the roadways. Oldies are easy prey. That’s life.” Smiling she settled into the last chair, a rocking chair, and picked up a pair of knitting needles. Within moments she was clacking away, contentedly making something of a ball of rough yarn at her feet.
Ashe shook her head and set her empty cup down on the floor, curling stiff toes in the still warm water and testing how tender her feet were by pressing the soles to the bottom of the bucket. She winced. A bit longer in the soak and Hilda would be wrapping them. She hoped they’d heal fast. The last thing she needed were injured feet.
Jasper must have repeated her name more than once, because she was startled from her thoughts by his finger roughly jabbing her in the leg. She looked up to find him frowning at her.
“What?”
“I said, have you remembered anything? If these two don’t know who you are then it’s not likely anyone else will.”
She shrugged. “If I had any idea where I was I’d be sure and let you know right away. But I don’t.”
Dean leaned toward Jasper, shaggy eyebrows raised. “Did she eat the mushrooms?”
They’d spent the night with the old couple, Ashe’s feet wrapped with a concoction Hilda assured her would soothe and heal. Ashe had spent the evening amusing John with simple songs she remembered from her childhood, and he had amazed her with an ability to solve complex riddles that Jasper plied at her. It was true then, that the mentally handicapped tended to have deeper complexities beyond being simple minded.
In the morning they’d had porridge and Hilda had presented Ashe with a well used pair of old boots. They went up high on the calf and just fit her, being only slightly snug in a couple spots. Hilda had also found an old pair of broken in cloth pants and a shirt and coat. They were slightly threadbare but not so that they would rip in the near future. Jasper had remarked that they were much better looking than the underclothes from before. Hilda had murmured in assent, and had asked Ashe where she’d acquired such silly clothes. Ashe had bit her tongue and smiled right along with them both, inwardly happy that she had something comfortable, and warm, and clean, to wear.
The old couple and their son left shortly after, to do daily chores they said, leaving Jasper and Ashe alone at the cabin. Ashe sat herself just outside on a rough wood stump that’d been left for cutting wood in pieces. She gazed out at the small path just beyond the cabin, the path that Hilda had said led to the main road.
“A good dozen or so miles thataway you’d go, and then you’d hit the road. I have no use for it myself.” And Hilda had snapped up her chicken egg basket and nodded to Ashe. “Only trouble away from the forest, I say. Trouble in trouble out. That’s life.”
She’s only a little cynical, Ashe thought now, amused. But the woman was right. There was danger in every quarter. Whether you were hit by the bus as you were walking across the street or hit by the car while you were in the bus didn’t matter. Dead was dead, or hurt was hurt. Hilda just saw it more plainly being closer to the wild than most other folk Ashe knew. She glanced over at Jasper, who had found a perch up on the branch of an ancient tree. Most other folk. What had Dean meant about his ‘type’? Wild, long haired men who wore tight pants? Did they have a - what was the word?- guild of them in this world? She let out a little laugh and dragged a knee up to her chest. Out of everything else that had happened, that wouldn’t be the thing to surprise her.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when Jasper touched her arm. In fact, she did toddle almost backward off of the tree stump, his quick hands the only thing saving her from a hard fall to the ground. She stared up at him as he helped her sit back up. She hadn’t heard a thing, not the scrape of a boot or the crunch of a leaf as he came down nor over to her. He was starting to creep her out a bit. He either moved too fast or moved too silently, but not being able to track him when he came up to her was unnerving.
“You’re too jumpy,” was all he said, before leaning against the house to her right. “I was going to ask what you remember before you found yourself near Moss Pool.”
She stared at him a long moment before staring down at her hands, absently digging at invisible dirt under a nail. How could she explain that just a moment before she’d entered that forest she had been in her parent’s backyard? That she had rushed towards ol’ Knot Eye thinking it was a knot in a fence post? He’d likely announce she had most certainly eaten the damned shadow mushrooms and send her to the medieval equivalent of a loony bin.
So she shrugged again, and said, “ I don’t know. I just showed up there. I don’t remember before. And no, “ she glared at him,” I didn’t eat the mushrooms.”
He smiled at her, cat-like, and started to say something when he tilted his head to one side. Towards the path. She started to open her mouth and he shushed her, turning his head even further till the side of his head where his ear was pointed directly to the path. And he listened. She strained to hear what it was that had caught his attention but shook her head at the simple sound of silence and forest. She went back to digging at her fingernail, hoping that he’d be able to pull himself out of his reverie. Or perhaps she could ask if he had eaten the mushrooms, this time.
After a few moments she caught a sound on the edge of her hearing, so soft that she didn’t think she had heard anything for a moment. And then it came again. A clinking, a rumble like thunder. And then a pounding. It came heavier and louder until she could identify it. Horses running, towards them. She looked up at Jasper and he nodded at her, moving to stand straight and shift back into the shadow cast by the house’s eave. After a moment the horses appeared, at least six of them, ridden by heavily armored men. The faint sun of the morning cast glinting light off of the gleaming armor that seemed all matching. The men wore cloaks of gold and precisely placed swords at their sides. The man in the lead pulled his horse to a halt near the house, and the other men followed suit. The lead man drew off his helmet and settled it on his saddle pommel before pointing at them.
“You two there! Identify yourselves!”
She blinked and stuttering answered, “Ashe. I’m Ashe. And he’s-“ but she realized she couldn’t see Jasper, not anywhere, and spun almost in a circle before looking, confused, back at the lead man. He’d dismounted by now and had walked towards her, carefully stopping an arms length away. He glanced around and raised a blonde eyebrow at her.
“Doesn’t seem to be anyone else here. Not even the old couple and their son. Are they at chores?”
She nodded dumbly, silently cursing Jasper for ditching her in this situation. What an ass. She’d get him back for it.
The man cursed slightly and leaned forward to hand her a scroll, loosly wrapped and tied with a thong of leather. “Give them this would you? I’m to inform everyone even remotely near Trisnar of the tidings. Be sure to read it yourself.” With that he turned back to his horse, remounted and with a hand signal drew his party back out on the path and away from the cabin. Ashe watched them for awhile, intrigued at the precision in which they rode their horses and wore their armor, before glancing down at the parchment scroll in her hand. She loosned the thong holding it together and, curious, drew it off to unravel the document.
“Tidings he says, from Trisnar? Can’t be anything but bad news if its even news at all,” came Jasper’s voice directly over her shoulder.
Just barely restraining herself from jumping she gave him a withering look. “You could’ve stuck around you know. Leaving me to do all the talking wasn’t very nice.”
“Ha, as if you had to do much more than say your name. Count yourself lucky. What’s this what’s this?” He snatched the scroll from her hands before she’d even fully unrolled it and drew it to himself, leaning back against the house once again. “Says here that all able bodied men are to be commissioned to the capital as conscripts. Someone has stepped on Trisnar’s delicate toes again.” Snorting, he tucked the scroll into his belt and crossed his arms over his chest. “But you know how the Trisnar are. Always so eager to point the finger. I doubt it’ll be war. They’re much too pretty to get dirty.”
“If you say so.”
“Oh come now, you can stop with the dummy act. Everyone knows that Trisnar is all push no shove.”
She shrugged. “I already told you. I don’t know a damned thing about this place.”
He stared at her for a long moment before sighing, letting his hands fall to his sides and his shoulders sag in defeat. “I’m starting to think you might be telling the truth. The mushrooms would’ve wore off long before now. But not to worry, I have other resources to exhaust. I just hope you like walking.” He wagged his eyebrows comically at her before zipping back up the tree he’d perched on earlier. Ashe shook her head at how fast he was; he’d been like a blur of green leather, and utterly silent. Weirdo.
She walked over to his tree and peered up at him. “So where will we go then?”
He glanced down at her and swung his legs childlike from the branch he sat on, before peering off in the distance, towards the sun. “Oh, We might go to Trisnar first. I know an herb mother there who hears things. She might’ve heard of a missing girl, or perhaps of people who appear out of nowhere. Be prepared to be told you’re a drunkard or a crazy though.”
“You know, I have to ask. Why go through all this? You could’ve just left me at the pool.”
Jasper was silent for a long while, raising a knee to hug as he gazed off, before saying something so softly she didn’t catch it. And he wouldn’t repeat it when she asked him too.
They left the following morning, Ashe with a pack filled with traveling food from Hilda and a promise to mind her feet in the future. Dean had found her a long ‘walking stick,’ making her promise to use it.
“Comes in handy, they do, “ he’d said. “For more than just walking too. Now watch yourself, girl.”
She’d nodded as if she understood his subtle warning and scooted off to catch up with Jasper, who had exited the house and begun striding along the path to the main road as if she were right on his heels. She’d had to trot to catch up with him, shooting him a scowl for not waiting. He’d ignored it, and her, for the hours it took to follow the path to the road.
So she’d gazed about her, at the trees and the bushes and flowers, listening to the warble of birds, letting herself enjoy the outdoors in a way she would never have permitted herself too back home. She would have to visit a garden or a preserve to really experience nature this way. Everything was just too developed, too safe. The wildness of the forest filled her with a new kind of life that made every breath a joy, the air crisp, clean and filled with possibility. Part of her was rejoicing in all that she was experiencing, and the other was about to gag at the sappy, greeting card spirit of it all. So she decided to temper her inner enthusiasm with realistic views of where she was, and where she was going. And how she was going to get home. She’d already decided, through the course of the last few nights, that if she was still somehow passed out in the real world and this was all a dream, then it was a damn fine coma. If, however, she was truly experiencing this medieval fantasy episode, then she’d have to take measures to get home. And enjoy the scenery. But she wouldn’t write poetry.
That would be just a bit too corny for her taste.
Jasper finally took notice of her when they reached the main road. He hadn’t let her have a break yet and her feet were starting to smart, so when the road came into view he announced they would settle down to one side of the path and have a rest. Ashe gratefully settled onto the grass and pulled out a couple biscuits from the pack, and guzzled from her waterbag. Jasper accepted a biscuit and nibbled on it absently as he perched by her. He seemed to be more waiting on her to rest up than to be resting himself. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. She tried to tamp down on her envy by assuring herself that it came with the territory. It’s not like there were cars here, so he’d be used to walking where as she... well she was lazy. And proud of it.
“We’ll be on the road shortly. It’s not much of one, as you’ll see, but it’s wide enough for the travel wagons to pass and the eh... military to move. There will be other people on the road so for the love of leaves please mind yourself. Not everyone needs to know that you’re either not quite in your own mind or at least... not quite from here. Keep it to yourself. If need be, look at me and I’ll do the talking. Or act dumb and just say your name and shrug at everything else. Got it?” He gave her a poke with the rest of his biscuit, to emphasize his point and she nodded hurriedly. It only made sense, but did he really think she was stupid enough to announce herself to the world? Sheesh.
Finishing his biscuit he stood and wiped the crumbs from his hands, moving to rummage through his pack. He brought out the spare cloak he’d loaned her the day they met and swung it around his shoulders, drawing the deep hood up over his head and insisting that she do the same with the cloak Hilda had provided her. It was a bit worn, with a small hole to her right that let her peek peripherally from within. Stealthy, she decided, smiling to herself at her own whimsy, and gave her legs a test stretch.
“My toes are a bit stiff, but I’m ready to resume marching, mister leader sir,” she gave him a mock two finger salute and he rolled his eyes. But he smiled as he handed her the walking stick.
“C’mon then. It’ll take us a few days of rough sleeping to get to the capital. Best hope for a lack of rain,” and he glanced up at the sky through the breaks in the trees. “ Better yet, pray.”
She looked up as well and noticed the line of leaden clouds spotting the sky, reflexively dragging her cloak tighter around her as they began walking to the main road again. A few dozen yards and they were there, Jasper taking them left where the path intersected and easing them onward. They were alone on the road, excepting the stray squirrel or rabbit which darted past from time to time, and after awhile Ashe became bored with the things she did to amuse herself. At least while driving in a car you could listen to the radio or, if you were the passenger, you could sleep or read a book. This was torturous.
She increased her pace to match Jasper’s and nudged him lightly with a shoulder to catch his attention. “So are there things I’ll need to know to blend in this Trisnar place? Or is it pretty simple?”
Jasper sighed and shook his head. “Well, the way you’re dressed you shouldn’t be bothered with, and with that dark hair noone will take you for being particularly from Trisnar to begin with. But they might mistake you for a Naustan.”
She scrunched up her nose slightly at that. “Whats a Naustan?”
“Oh, violent bunch. They swear oaths on their weapons, whatever weapon they choose at their blooding, and some even swear celibacy, claiming it increases their prowess with a blade.”
“I don’t even have a weapon so I shouldn’t be mistaken for one of those.”
He glanced at her and gave her a sharp smile. “Naustan’s are also adept at hiding their weapons. Just because they can’t be seen doesn’t mean it isn’t there. So you’d best just act the part, and if anyone harasses you just start cursing at them and growling. No one this far south would really know what one is like so it’s your best bet.”
She nodded, and wondered if curses from the real world would be even remotely understood in this place. Well, it was all she had.
“Oh, and just hope we don’t meet a real Naustan if you have to impersonate one.”
“Why?”
“They can be quite... harsh with imposters. They take real pride in their people. Bah, don’t even worry about it. “ He reached over to give her a light push with his hand. Worry? Why would she worry? Just because Murphy’s Law seemed to run rampant in this place didn’t mean she had to worry.
“Look, I can tell you’re bored, so why don’t I tell you a little story as we walk? You might like it.” He grinned over at her, eyes lit up with challenge so that she shrugged. “Ok. Knock yourself out.”
Her last words seemed to confuse him but he shrugged and swept an arm out as if posing for a crowd.
“Once, a long time ago, the world was a glowing ember in the minds of the great gods. Hot, like molten lead, but solid as the ground below us, they shaped the world to their whim. Steam rose when the gods spat upon the mass, cooling areas to their will. Many times the shape that was taken displeased them, and so the gods would begin anew, again and again, until they came upon the basis for our world. It was rough edged and still glowing from the forges of the gods, but it did not burn them to touch. They took the time to pick off pieces of their own hair and press them into the world, making the grass and the trees. One god broke off his own teeth and stabbed at the earth, making the first people, the Everlived. He planted them as if seeds and they grew as if reaching towards the gods. Joyed by their creation, the gods wept, creating the rivers and the seas, nourishing the plants that would come, and of course the Everlived. They thrived for their gods, gave sacrifice and song and story to please their creators.
But some of the gods were not satisfied with the Everlived and chose to begin anew with a different kind of people, a different kind of world. On one world they took pieces of their skin and made the humans, flesh from their flesh. On another world they took muscle and twined it with trees to make the forest folk. And deep within the depths of the final world a god made from clay and stone the first dwarves.
And so each race grew strong and plentiful among themselves, giving song and rejoicing in creation, for the gods walked among their peoples, to let it be known that they had pride in their being. Slowly, the races moved to cover the entirety of their worlds, and began to war. War over mistreatment and justice was acceptable to the gods, but the war of torture and tyranny was not. It was this kind of war that took place at the end which caused the god’s wrath.
They caused the pain of fire and water on all of the worlds, diminishing the people’s lives back to the beginning point. A few survivors who were humble in understanding where their people had gone wrong and were willing to begin anew.”
Jasper went silent for a time and Ashe realized she had been so enthralled with the tale that they had made some distance without her realizing it. In fact, she now remembered that she had stumbled more than once, only Jasper’s quick actions saving her from face planting into the rough gravel and dirt of the road. The creation stories of any people were interesting to her, as history had always been. It was fascinating how people believed their worlds were created. Even if it was all so much mythology.
“It reminds me of a story I heard once, about a flood that wiped out the earth’s population and left it with only a few survivors. It talked about some big boat filled with animals too.”
Jasper nodded but kept silent.
“I thought it was a bunch of crap, “ Ashe blurted, and then bit down on her lower lip. Now why had she come out with that? Now was not the time to talk about religion. She didn’t even know if this place had religion, or a diverse number of options for religion.
“Stories change,” Jasper said suddenly, softly. “Any number of times through an age. A name might shift, the number of people, the location of the event. But it’s the base of the story that remains true. Punishment.” He stopped now and taking her shoulders gave her a swift shake. “Don’t close yourself off to truth just because a few have lied,” he said cryptically, and then resumed walking, leaving her with her mouth open in the middle of the road.
“H-hey! Stop running off without me, would you?” Huffing, she caught up, and glanced from him to the road and the surrounding forest, before quietly entreating him to continue his story. She had to ask twice and the second time he seemed to shake himself from deep thoughts.
“In a while. People come, and some stories are not pleasant for strange ears to hear.”
Now why, she thought, would people be offended by a man telling stories on the road? She almost opened her mouth to ask Jasper when she noticed the tightness around his mouth and eyes. Instead, she kept her peace and looked ahead to where they were going. Noticed the treeline slowly thinning into fields empty but for the waving grass. Miles and miles of it and nothing else in sight. Despite Jasper right next to her, Ashe suddenly felt very alone.
Travelers began to trickle onto the roadway more and more as they walked. Men walking alone, with walking sticks like hers. Women herding children along as they explained things in loud voices, almost like a walking school. Large wagons, some rickety fit to fall apart, rumbled by filled with farm goods such as hay, fowl, and what Ashe thought was cheese. It didn’t surprise her to see the goods of the earth filling the wagons, what with the fields thinning from forest to farmland. Men and women dotted the earth, toiling each day they traveled, and occasionally children from the farmstead would run towards the roadway, staring quizzically at the travelers. Jasper would draw his hood further on his head and quicken his pace, forcing Ashe to match it to keep up.
“Hey, what’s with the big rush? They’re just kids,” she’d muttered once, huffing a little to keep up. Her feet were growing tough from the constant walking. Certainly there would be a callus or two to show off soon enough.
Jasper tilted his head to the side just barely so that his gray eyes caught the sun, catching her glance. “Children repeat what they see, more often than adults.” Giving her a firm nod, he returned his gaze to the roadway. And increased his pace again.
Groaning, Ashe matched it, muttering, “Cryptic, cryptic. The CIA aint got nothing on you, mister.”
Miles and miles of farmland kept them company on their way, the sounds of animals and laughing children the only ones besides their own footfalls at times. The lack of mechanical noise was enough at times to make Ashe rub at her ears, as if she’d gone half deaf. She was too used to the sounds of sirens and screeching vehicles, of trains and airplanes ripping through the skies. Looking up didn’t show long trails left through broken clouds, but instead wheeling birds and, at night, the clearest vision of the night sky.
The sky at night caught her attention most of all, and she’d spend hours after Jasper had gone to rest simply staring up at it. The night she recognized the Big Dipper had her searching almost desperately for more identifiable constellations. And then it had her wondering: why would these constellations match up? It’s not like she was still on Earth anymore. The thought gave her a chill that shot from the balls of her feet to the back of her neck, making the small hairs stand on end. Best not to linger too much on that subject, at least not until she learned more about the place she was in. It was bad enough, the lack of explanation on her arrival, her own theories seemingly disproven by her still even being there, why, she might just lose her temper. She’d already come close more than once.
A tiny voice, one that she thought she’d tamped down deep inside of herself would whisper in temptation. If she should lose her temper anyplace, wouldn’t this be the one? It’s not like her boss would be there to take notice of it. And it was only human to have a temper. Her mother wasn’t there to remark that her screeching was fit to make someone’s ears ring for hours. And with the frustration she was under, the stress of walking when she was used to riding to places, of wearing odd clothing and keeping the company of an odd, odd man, well if she didn’t let out some steam she’d crack. Or she’d crack Jasper.
I wonder what the penalty is for murder here, she thought aimlessly, staring at the back of Jasper’s head on the sixth day of their travel from the old couple’s house. They’d just reached a fork in the road, one heading north and the other continuing west, and Jasper had, without remarking on the shift, simply taken the north road, leaving her to stare curiously at the road posts. One pointed to the west and it said Kayling on it in faded letters burned into a thick slab of wood. The one pointing north said Trisnar. And there was a third pointing back the way that they had came saying Kranjar. It was this third sign she had been staring at, wondering where that city could have been when all she had seen was the first forest and then the old couple’s cabin, when she realized Jasper had moved on without her.
“Wait up!” she shouted impulsively, not seeing the startled folk moving along the roadway dodge her as she dashed the length to catch up with him. Several of them stopped to stare at the two curiously before shrugging and returning to their travels. One man, however, that she had bumped into cried out in anger.
Catching Jasper by the arm she turned towards the shouter and watched, wide eyed, as he stomped over to her. He was a bigger man, hairy, missing most of his blonde hair and, when he began to yell at her, she could see most of his teeth missing as well.
“Watch where you’re going!” he stabbed a finger to her collar with each word, leaning in close to her face. “You could’ve knocked me over, jumping around like some crazed fool.”
“Sor-“ swallowing a yelp of pain, she reached back to clap a hand over her hip. Jasper had pinched her! Why? Instead of explaining he leaned forward to the man.
“Forgive my companion, sir. You know how people from the northland are.”
The man tipped his head, trying to peer into the darkness of Jasper’s cowl, when his eyebrows suddenly shot up. “Northland?”
Jasper nodded, his voice thick with concern. “Yes, you know how they can be.”
“I-I... well yes. As a matter of fact I do. I mean,” he gulped auidibly and backed away, his eyes suddenly going wide, gaze moving from her hands to her waist, then to her boots before they shot back to Jasper. “W-well no harm, n-no foul, I always say, “ he stuttered, and with that spun on his heel and fairly ran back to the fork in the road.
Jasper spun her around the moment the man’s back was turned to them and shoved her ahead of him, muttering, “ What did I tell you about how to act around the Trisnar? Fool girl, remember things I say to you from now on, or you’ll end up getting us in trouble. Now walk. We still have miles of daylight before we reach our camp for the night.”
Oh oh, I do so want to murder him. Treating me like a little girl! Ashe steamed, as she walked behind him now, arms crossed over her chest and fighting the urge to grind her teeth from frustration. How did he expect her to remember every little detail? She didn’t even have the means to take notes.
He seemed to soften after a few minutes of walking, and she liked to think it had been the daggers she’d been staring at his back that had done the job and not his own conscience. He dropped back to walk with her and glancing around to check how many travelers surrounded them, leaned close to her to talk. “I can tell you’re not pleased.”
“You’re so perceptive,” she grumbled.
“ It must be frustrating,” he continued, “being here without anyone you know to help you.”
“A regular captain obvious,” snorting humorlessly, she reached out and gave his cloak a tug. “You even have a cape! And your pants are tight enough to be spandex.”
“The closer to the body, the easier it is to move through the forest,” he said absently. “Really tho, you can trust me, Ashe.” He looked up into her eyes and reached out to give her arm a squeeze.
“For all I know you could be the bad guy in this place,” she hissed, shaking off his hand.
He shrugged and let his hands rest back at his sides as they walked. “True. We really need to teach you how things are here.”
“That would be helpful. And remind me of stuff, too. It’s not like I can study notes or something to make sure I don’t do something stupid.”
He shook his head and they walked the rest of the day in silence. When dusk hit he guided her to a spot off the road and swiftly went about the camp tasks, making fire and moving the larger rocks away from where they would sleep. Putting water to boil to cook the travel bits they had. The supply was growing smaller and soon enough they would have to rely only on his hunting, which he did sporadically on their travels so far, to feed them.
Once they were both settled after eating, Jasper told her more about the world she was in.
“You recall the story I told you the first day?”
She nodded. “About gods and making worlds.”
“Right. Well, after making their peoples start again, they once again let them multiply. And then the gods did an odd thing. They took bits of their worlds, as we would pinch at bread with our fingers, and shoved them all together in another ball. They molded the whole together as clay until upon the world lived not only humans but dwarves, the forest kind, and the Everlived. The original worlds they left as they were, for the holes made were so small as to not even be noticed much by the people.
“The new world prospered into what you see around us. The gods planted forest and sea the same as the other worlds. Made the earth grow and accept all of the people. And made the people accept each other, at first. Gradually, tho, the gods went silent.”
Jasper went silent as well at that, idly poking the fire, before shifting to clear a small patch of dirt off to the side, where the light hit well. He drew a shape in the dirt, squat and bearded, a crude but clear outline. “You will meet all these peoples while you’re here. This, for example, is a dwarf. They are small people who enjoy digging. They also like gems of all kinds, and are the main reason why this continent has such rich gem exports. They monopolize the only known gem shaft. Don’t stare if you meet them. They aren’t keen on people who stare.”
She nodded. Don’t stare at the dwarves. Check. They looked like they’d eat her kneecaps if she dared anyways.
Jasper cleared the spot he’d drawn on and drew another figure, tall and willowy with pointed ears. “ It’s a slim chance you’d meet an Elf on this land. Most of them are on the other continent. They enjoy forests and sands, usually, and are rather surly. Take care in bothering them, I wouldn’t want to have to save you from one of those. Humans are bad enough.”
He drew several other figures next, some with wings, and all right next to each other.
“These are forest folk. They can be found with Elfs at times, sometimes not. They like to play tricks, so don’t do anything they ask unless I say it is alright. And don’t eat their food. Ever.”
The last figure he drew was much like an Elf in form, so that she said he’d already told her about Elfs. “No, this isn’t an Elf,” he said. “It’s an Everlived. They look much the same, I suppose. Not to me but I live here after all. A human would be expected to not know the difference. I can’t think you’d meet an Everlived at all. But if you do, you do exactly as I say. Just keep your mouth shut around them and make yourself small.”
She nodded at that and hugged her knees. “And there are of course many kinds of humans, you said. Thats how it is in my world too.”
“I would imagine it would be, seeing as the gods took the humans that are here from your world.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Indeed. And just like with the other races, and in your own world, treat those humans you meet cautiously until I say you can trust them. More than any other race, the humans will backstab faster if they think they can gain anything from it. I once knew of a human who sold his own mother to the butchers in the west just so that he could have a night with his choice of women. That he was killed the next day didn’t matter to him. Puzzling.”
Not surprising to her. It had never ceased to amaze her just how incredibly cruel people could be, even to those that they should love the most. All they wanted to give was pain. And often for reasons that, at least to her, seemed superficial and immaterial. Or just plain greedy. It was a wonder they hadn’t all killed each other the moment the atom bomb had been invented.
Jasper brought her to her senses by tapping her hand lightly. She looked up and followed his gaze to one side of their camp, where another group of travelers was settling down for the night. They must have been traveling hard; it was already a bit after dark and moving in twilight was bad enough, even if the lack of treeline gave them a heady bit of moonlight.
Jasper motioned for her to go to sleep and set himself up at the fire so that she thought he might keep a watch this night. Which made her take a look at the travelers again. All men, in tattered clothes. And when the wind rose right she caught a stink that made her nose wrinkle in distaste. Definitely hard traveling. While she and Jasper hadn’t exactly been able to launder their clothes, they had at least taken the time to bathe when they’d found deep enough streams. The men hadn’t seemed to even bothered to wipe themselves down. Gross.
Ashe laid back after a moment and curled herself into her cloak to keep off the slight chill of the air. A promise of snow to come in the winter, she thought sleepily. In moments, with the warmth of the fire to her back and Jasper between her and the strange men, she was deep asleep, dreams of gods making new worlds dancing through her mind.
She awoke once, briefly, in the middle of the night, to the sound of raised voices and gasping. Jasper touched her shoulder and urged her calmly to go back to sleep, so she did, unquestioning. She was too tired to do otherwise.
They broke camp early that morning and walked at a steady pace along the road. More people were joining their walk as they approached the city, so Jasper kept his discussions about the land to a minimum, instead pointing out random animals along the roadway, or discreetly telling her about his friend in Trisnar.
“She’s an innkeep, so you can have a bath.”
“Oh thank god. My layers of dirt have layers. There hasn’t been a stream in awhile.”
“Oh I know,” and he smirked at her from behind his cowl.” The smell has been appalling. You just might use up all of Merris’ soap supply.”
The last comment caught the attention of a near by traveler, who laughed behind a hand, trying to turn it into a polite cough but failing miserably. Ashe elbowed Jasper lightly but his eyes danced, unabashed, and he gave her cowl a tug to draw it back more. The sight of her hair, glinting bluey-black in the sunlight, cleared any throats that might’ve been tingled with laughter.
Jasper had explained to her the significance behind dark hair and light eyes. And the culture that went with the northland folk. She hoped that all it would take is a show of hair to keep the Trisnar from poking too much at her. She’d never been a gifted actress, and had no wish to play the role of the chest puffed, honor bound warriors from the north. Nor the skill of the blade to back up any chest pounding statement she might blurt out.
The third day from the fork in the road, they caught sight of the outlying city of Trisnar. The capital city, Jasper had explained, had an outer row of shanty type houses, rickety and made out of any scraps that had come to hand. It slowly merged into the more ornate houses of the work folk, the merchants, the rich and the noble. But there were no walls to separate the classes, least not walls made of stone or wood. No peasant would move from their place in Trisnar society; culture and custom stronger than iron prevented it.
“An innkeeper’s daughter will marry an innkeeper, and an innkeeper’s son will marry an innkeeper’s daughter, and so on.” Jasper explained in a rushed whisper as they approached the first line of houses.
“What if they don’t love the person?” Ashe asked.
Jasper shrugged. “It happens. Those who run away are flogged for breaking tradition. Those who are brought back alive. It’s been whispered that those who don’t come back were killed by parents shamed that a child would even want to break the class lines.”
“Barbaric,” Ashe muttered, and Jasper immediately hushed her.
“Think it that all you like, but hush now and do as I do.”
Ashe followed Jasper through the knot of people moving into the city, carefully avoiding the encroaching hands of the poor begging for alms. They dotted the entire length of the peasant section of the city. Jasper had explained that begging was all that they lived for, that it was their job. That there were even guilds devoted to it. It made Ashe shudder. How could they grow, socially, economically, as a country without equality? When the people themselves rarely strove for it?
Barbaric was too nice a word.