Chapter 1
There was a figure of a Eurcynn that could be seen practicing sword forms out in a meadow near Saviour’s Hollow, a small village found at the end of a mountain pass, east of the Grand City of Taeldarra. Their lithe body gleaming with sweat in the sun. It was a dance, a dance with death. Their long hair, braided with a leather cord, flowed with them. All the townsfolk who tended home, and most of the village children were there, sitting on the edge of the field watching this dance. The others were working the valley meadows, with sheep or Cantiva, the economic staples of the region. The town was quiet, just a turn-about-stop to pick up Cantiva and wool in exchange for essentials that the villagers needed.
In a sudden flurry of motion, a bird burst from a nearby copse. To the crowd’s delight, the person fluidly drops into a roll, their sword clattering where it hits the ground. The thwap of a bowstring is heard before they return back up to their feet. Their expert skill evident in the burst of feathers in the air where the bird was only a moment before.
The people all cheer, and the person takes a flourished bow. “Looks like I caught myself dinner,” they shout, “which one of you lovely people would like to join me tonight?”
Amidst a flurry of blushes and excuses that homes don’t tend themselves, the townsfolk take their leave, dragging some of the more reluctant younger ones behind them. One person stays behind, a woman who is well known in the village, in a way, a prodigal daughter.
“I’ll join you!” she shouts, receiving disapproving glares from the other townsfolk. Ignoring the looks, she runs out into the field to join them.
“I wasn’t expecting company. The homemakers like to watch, to the disdain of the ones in the field. I know the townspeople don’t approve of my transient ways.”
With a shrug, she laughs throatily. “I am not generally approved of in town either, I’ve never fit in with their prudish ways. I am too much of a wild woman for them.”
“A wanderer in the making, I see.” Comes their reply, with a bark of a laugh. “Come, the sun is fading, and it’s past time to get this bird on a spit.”
Collecting their belongings, they pull on a shirt. “I am Dagus, they/them, seeker of all things true and beautiful, and you are truly beautiful.”
“I am Tarlynn, she/her,” she returns with a furious blush, “and you are a shameless charmer.” she adds with mock anger.
“I do not mean to offend, my lady. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Tarlynn.” Offering a small bow, they continue, “I made a small camp, for most nights I prefer to sleep under the stars, does this satisfy?”
“Growing up, my guardians had 7 mean children of their own, I ran away as a child, and lived on the streets of Tripping to the west, through the mountain pass. Sleeping under the stars is nothing new to me.”
With a small gesture, Dagus indicates she follow, and together they set off for a camp in the dense forest edging the field. Coming upon a small cave, Tarlynn sees ashes sitting in a ring of river rocks, where Dagus kept a fire.
Setting their burdens down, Dagus says, “The stream is just a little further. Can you fill this bucket while I clean dinner?”
With a flick of her wrist Tarlynn sends her raven black hair cascading down her back. She settles down and starts plucking feathers. With a smug look, she says, “Do you think I need to be spared from the gore of cleaning a bird? I spent most of my youth on the street. A downed pigeon or rat is not much different to cook.”
With bucket in hand, Dagus makes a face and shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to me, I’m happy not to have to deal with that.” Adding, with a sly smile, “Less work for me.”
After a while Dagus returns and hears the bird spitting quietly over a fire. Turning it slowly, Tarlynn looks over her shoulder, smiles and calls out, “By the gods, you sure like to dawdle.”
“I don’t think it’s wise to insult a Deia’Ferune.”
“You?” She replies incredulously, “A blademaster? What are you doing, wandering? Selling your services to the highest bidder?! You could have a posh life, working for King Davin.”
With a shrug, they don’t reply. The pair sit in silence, listening to the sound of the fire and the faint hissing from the bird. After a time Dagus says softly , “Working for someone who is not myself is not what I envision as freedom.”
“Aye, I understand,” Tarlynn replies quietly, her gaze turning inward.
They sit for a time in silence, neither feeling much for coming out of their thoughtful states. It felt comfortable though, for them. Like they have known each other their whole lives. The slow turn of the spit mesmerizes them both as they contemplate life. Standing suddenly, Dagus announces, “The fire will not tend to itself. I am going to collect firewood while the bird cooks.”
“Sure,” Tarlynn replies dreamily, “I’m enjoying the monotony of turning this spit.”
“Warm this up for me,” they say, digging a cast-iron oven out of their gear and handing it to her.
“Ooph,” She grunts, nearly dropping it, “Heavy, for a wanderer.”
“What can I say,” they add with a shrug, “I like good food too, besides my horse, Samuel, doesn’t mind the weight.”
Looking around furiously, “You have a horse?!” she says incredulously, “Where?!”
Letting out a quick, shrill whistle, Dagus smiles impishly at Tarlynn. Moments pass and a deep chested stallion bursts from the underbrush, clearly pleased to see Dagus. In search of a scratch, Samuel nuzzles against Dagus, softly neighing when they oblige.
“He’s beautiful!” Tarlynn says, excitedly clapping her hands. “You just let him wander freely?”
“Yes.” Dagus replies, continuing to scratch a pleased looking Samual, “He’s a well trained courser. I’ve had him for many years, we have a deep understanding of each other. He’s my faithful companion, no matter what happens, he’s always nearby.” Dagus pats Samuel on the nose, “I’d best be off to get that firewood.” With a wink Dagus leaps forward, flips over a log and rolls off into the forest, laughing mischievously.
“Showoff!” Tarlynn yells into the forest, hearing only their laughter fade in response.
Muttering to herself, Tarlynn busies herself with dinner. Time turns, and Tarlynn is sitting there, lost in thought with nought but the soft sounds of the roast to occupy her senses. Samuel comes over, hopefully nuzzling against Tarlynn’s arm. She rewards him with a scratch and he whickers softly. Hearing a soft snap she starts and turns, jumping at Dagus’ sudden approach. “The Fifths beard!” she curses, “You surprised me!”
“Such language for a lady.” Dagus says dryly. Setting down a bundle of firewood and a small burlap pouch. “You must be something special, for Samuel to warm up to you so quickly. He’s normally pretty shy, and sometimes downright murderous.” finishing, half in jest.
Tarlynn blushes and quickly looks away, occupying herself with opening the sack and pulling out tubers, already washed. “There’s something about you,” She mumbles, busying herself with the work of cutting them up and adding them to the oven, warm near the fire. Closing the lid and arranging hot coals on top, she adds, “I feel comfortable with you, like I can trust you. I don’t usually talk about my past.”
“I feel the same, Samual does too. He has a talent for sniffing out people’s true intentions. He’s saved my life a few times, and I trust his instinct more than I trust my own.”
“I don’t want to sound forward,” She says, turning towards Dagus, “but can I travel with you?”
Taken aback, Dagus starts, “I’m a lonely wanderer, I have nothing to offer you.” Angrily finishing, "I do not take charges.” The pain of a past wound evident in their eyes.
“You won’t have to take care of me,” with a smile and a flourish she produces knives in each hand, “I can take care of myself.”
“I have no doubt,” Dagus waves their hands complacently, returning an easy smile. “I feel I cannot say no to you.”
They sat there for a time, chatting idly about the local townsfolk. Tarlynn painted a picture of surly farmers, sitting around tables smoking Cantiva while their partners worked, cleaning house, cooking meals. In acid tones she describes the lives the villagers lead. She stops, glaring at a grinning Dagus. “What are you smiling about?!” she cuts in roughly.
“Oh, I am just enjoying your spirit. You have a wanderlust, a passion for the unknown. A boredom with the mundane. Uncommon traits, for the area.”
“It came from a hard life. When I was begging on the streets, an old Ranger took me under his wing. He taught me how to take care of myself, showed me love, he was like a father to me. But when he died, his family, who never approved of me, kicked me to the curb. I fended for myself for many years, but I recently heard of the passing of an aunt and came back here to slow down for a while.” Rolling her eyes, she adds, “And here I am, ready to run off with the next set of legs to catch my eye.”
Tending to the tubers, Dagus makes a strained sound and coughing, “Legs?” he sputters. After catching breath, Dagus continues, “We’re not really running off anywhere. Besides, I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”
With a sniff, she retorts, “But you said I could!”
“I said I feel I can’t say no. Haven’t said yes yet, have I?” they return with a wink.
Shooting a glare at Dagus --to which they assume a face of perfect innocence-- she takes the spit off the fire, “It’s time to dine, I think.” She says with a small laugh.
She splits the bird and puts each half on plates. Meanwhile Dagus digs out the oven and opens it, revealing steaming tubers. They were thin and oblong, with orange flesh. “These are delicious!” Tarlynn says delightedly after biting into the root. “You found these in the forest?”
“Yes, I like to keep an eye out for forage while I’m travelling. I found mounds of these up the hill in a small clearing. They’re fairly common in Taeldarra, and so I eat them often. They’re one of my favourite foods. They’re good for energy and stamina.”
“You’ll have to teach me how to forage. I spent most of my time on city streets, not in forests. I dined on rats, pigeons and half rotten scraps.” Making a face she shakes her head. Smiling, she adds “Since coming here, I’ve come to appreciate the trees.”
“You talk like we’re going to spend a lot of time together.”
“Well, we will! You’ll see.” she says mischievously.
With a small chuckle, Tarlynn resumes eating. Soon they were done, with the dishes clean and packed away. Samuel was off in the distance munching on some brush.
Settling in front of the fire Tarlynn holds her hands out; for the evenings carried a chill. She leans into Dagus when they sit next to her. Looking up at the stars, Dagus points to a constellation in the north. Asking softly, “Do you know what that is?”
“The sky?” she answers dryly.
“Er.. No… Well, yes.. But the constellation where I’m pointing”
Tarlynn chuckles and looks where Dagus is pointing, Tarlynn replies, “Yes, that’s Tidohr, the god of archers and of guidance. His arrow points to the south, and can be used as a guide.” Pushing Dagus down, each lying on their back, she points at another constellation and adds, “I’ve always felt an affinity for that one, Enir, the ancient Spirit of Earth.”
“Interesting, I would have thought you to be more connected to...” pointing to another area of the sky, “...Balios, the ancient Spirit of Fire. Which is one that has always brought me comfort.”
“As much spunk as I have, I am very grounded. I wonder what it is…” Tarlynn starts, stifling a yawn with a hand, “... about the constellations we feel drawn towards.” she finishes, snuggling deeper into Dagus’ chest.
“I don’t know.” Dagus replies, pulling away.
“No please,” she says, wrapping an arm around them, “it’s cold and you’re warm. I feel safe here.”
“I can’t offer you anything.” Dagus says sadly.
“No matter,” an impish grin in the making on her face, “It’s just for tonight anyways.” she finishes, jabbing Dagus in the ribs.
“Ow!” Dagus protests, pulling away from her jabs. Finally grabbing her arms and locking them in place, “No more poking!” In a softer tone, they add, “I’ll be your warmth tonight.”
“Good.” she says, relaxing her arms. When Dagus releases their grip she pulls them in tight. Listening to their breathing slow and become more rhythmic. Tarlynn smiles peacefully and drifts off to sleep.
