Illusions

Five men huddled around a crackling fire, trying desperately to bring warmth to their numb hands. The wind howled outside the mouth of the small cave they found shelter in, its baneful whistling sounding almost like a voice.

“We’re running out food,” says one, turning to the others in the group, “game is scarce and the horses are exhausted from too many days of constant travel. At this rate we won’t survive,”

One of the men shifts, rummaging around in his pack. Only six strips of dried meat remained. Lucky for him he didn’t need to eat as often as his human counterparts did- he would survive without food for now.

“Take this,” he says, offering the food, “it’s not much but it will do,”

The others nod in thanks, taking the meat from their partner. He watches them eat, turning over his plan in his mind. It was dangerous. Foolish, even. If he was caught by one of the Kingdoms his life was forfeit and his attempts would be in vain. He didn’t even know if the Mage would choose to follow his path- that he would have to leave up to her.

I hope to Gaisgeach you do.

He needed this to play out exactly as he intended it to or everything would fall apart. The entire world depended on a game of cat and mouse. He hated being the mouse but he had no choice. He had to lead her to where he wanted carefully. If he was found out, if they were discovered, it was over.

Gods I wish this were easier.

He sighs heavily, closing his eyes and leaning back, listening to the sound of rain on the soil, the gentle shuffling of the horses, the breathing of the men around him.

“Ninthalor?”

His eyes open as his name is spoken, looking to Ryker. The old warrior’s eyes held concern, his brow furrowed slightly in worry.

“You don’t have to do this,”

“I do,”

“We could help,”

Ninthalor shakes his head.

“I will not put you in danger, you are already in enough of it simply knowing my name,”

“We would still help you,”

Again Ninthalor shakes his head, looking out towards where the trees bent to the wind.

“This is a job for me and me alone. The less people I have to worry about the smoother this will go,”

A harsh truth, but a needed one. Less people to account for meant less liabilities, less loose ends that could potentially get them all killed.

“I need you to stay safe with the others until I meet with the Mage. Only then will it be safe for us to meet again,”

Ryker huffs a sharp, tired sigh.

“I never understood you Elerians and your stubbourness,” he laments, giving Ninthalor a pointed look, “but I know arguing with one is like convincing a brick wall to move, so I won’t waste my breath,”

He shifts where he sits, stoking the fire with a long branch, coals reflecting the exhaustion in his gaze. Days of travel had left the four humans worn to the bone, Ninthalor could see it in their eyes, in the way they carried their aching bodies. His sharp blue gaze softens minutely- sometimes he forgot the others weren’t able to endure as much as he was.

“You should rest,” he says softly, “travel has left you weary,”

Callum snorts from beside Ryker.

“Weary and sore, I swear every joint hurts,”

“Quit your whinin’,” Ryker growls, smacking Calum on the shoulder, “you don’t get to complain until you’re as old as me,”

Calum huffs, getting up to unpack bedrolls from the saddlebags. Ninthalor traces his path with his eyes, feeling a slight pang in his chest. He would miss them when he was gone, he knew that for sure. No contact would be difficult but he had to protect them as much as he had to protect himself.

“I’ll take watch,”

“Of course you will,” Ryker says sarcastically, “somethin’ about not needin’ as much sleep,”

Ninthalor smirks slightly, shaking his head. Yes, he would most definitely miss this easy back-and-forth.

“Go sleep, Ryker, you have deserved it,”

The soldier finally gets up, following the others to where Calum had set their bedrolls out. Ninthalor stays awake, settled against the cave wall by the fire, keen eyes seeing past the inky darkness and sheets of rain, watching. His magic shifts beneath his skin, the runes etched into his very being seeming restless. It knew what was coming, what he intended to do, and it was ready. He curls his hands into fists, watching the runes glow with a faint shimmer of green. They spelt a language no longer known, one older than the land and the beasts that walked it. One known only to him and one other. It held the key to all of this, it would tell her where to go when no one else could. He just had to get her attention.

Ninthalor looks over at the now-sleeping group, his lips thinning into a line. He had to act now, before they tried to stop him. He couldn’t afford distractions or sentimentalities, not now. He rises with silent grace, his steps near silent on packed earth. He approaches his mare, Dawnfyre, who gazes at him with determined eyes. She knew it was time.

“It will be just you and me for as long as this takes,” he says softly, running his thumb tenderly along her nose, “I have no doubt that you will carry me where I need to go,”

The midnight mare snorts and presses into his hand, a quiet affirmation. She would not falter in her step.

“Good,” he praises, smiling gently as he attaches his saddlebags, leaving behind half his rations for rhe others, turning to check for his equipment. Ninthalor then secures his sword across his back and his daggers at his hip before swingng up into the saddle, tucking his cloak tight around his armoured form. He then takes Dawnfyre’s reins and turns her around, riding out into the windblown night.

May the gods be on my side.