“She’s already passed out.”

“I see that. Don’t wake her; she really pushed herself driving that long right after how the forest affected her.” Poor Friia. She really must have been far more frightened than she let on between my exhaustion and the atmosphere. I had found out from Volk she’d been driving for a bit over a full day, refusing to let him take over or wake me up to do it myself. Brushing aside my surprise at having slept for a full day I practically demanded she go rest in the back and let me drive. She argued at first, but a few choice words about hypocrisy finally got through to her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen an apprentice be that direct with their master. Normally they’re all ‘yes sir, no sir, I’m sorry for disappointing you sir, please don’t throw me out into the streets sir.’ You know, brown nosers.”

“I think we may have had different experiences with apprentices. Or as apprentices. Speaking of, what did you do before mercenary work? I would imagine with your skills you must have some kind of formal training.”

Volk placed a hand to his chin, seemingly debating. He shrugged before stating “I spent some time working with a knight order. It wasn’t a bad few years but I left due to some… differences of opinion. Been wandering ever since.”

“Hm.” It seemed to be the most I would get from him at the time, so I let the topic drop. Instead, I decided to ask about the places he’d been doing work and which he would go back to; a topic he seemed much more open with.

“Hands down I would have to say Raylin. You wouldn’t think freezing your ass off would be enjoyable, but those people have a knack for warming you up. Mostly with booze. Dwarven fire-water will practically melt anything within five feet of it.”

“Really?” I asked with interest. “I haven’t had the pleasure of trying that, and I’ve tried a good many local brews in my time.”

Volk’s eyes lit up as he grew a crooked grin. “Oh, fancy yourself a connoisseur do you? Then again…” He turned to look back at my stock where more than a few small barrels were laid neatly stacked and secured. “I probably could have guessed that.”

Following his gaze I nodded with a chuckle. “Those ones aren’t for personal use. I have some clients along the way that pay well for Antivan spice wine. If you’re talking about my tastes, I have some small kegs of mead from Valwhein I acquired on my last pass through.”

“Valwhein?! I thought their alcohol was considered sacred to their god, not something for outsiders to smell let alone drink.”

Holding up a finger I smiled. “Now normally you would be correct. They’re quite devoted to Banhus, the patron of alcohol and his ways. The mead is brewed with a meticulous, intricate process and must come out perfectly in order to be offered in prayer. Every now and then, a batch doesn’t come out quite right and gets set to the side for disposal. Usually. The monks there are quite friendly and loath to forget a debt. I stepped in to deliver their ingredients when the usual driver fell ill, and as payment they offered me some of their ‘failed’ mead under the condition I never sell a drop. Nor do they just want me giving it away; I can share with close companions and that’s all. A privilege I’m not keen on losing.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Volk nodded in understanding. “Dirt to a god be as gold to a man. Are you the only one who’s tried it?”

“Oh, far from it. They hold a small festival once a year, but only allow around a hundred people in for a tasting. I am one of the few allowed to take some though, even if it’s just a failed product. It is, to a degree, still sacred and only offered as trade for the largest of favors. I haven’t really asked, but I did overhear one of the monks mentioning there were a couple others on their way to pick some up.” I saw him writing a small note in that old tome of his and laughed to myself. Of course he’d try to do something for them just for booze. I haven’t known him for long, yet I feel I understand him rather well.

We traveled in silence a while longer as the trees began fading off behind us. I kept my eyes on the nearby fields, comparing the various mills and towers with the map. All in all I’d say we were making good time; in another day or so I would reach the next village to pick up my cargo for the army. Friia stirred a bit in the back but didn’t wake. Volk was muttering to himself a bit while focusing on his reading before suddenly closing the book and turning back to me.

“Daniel, that spell you used back in the forest. Where you moved the brambles? Is that the same as what you used to trap those goblins in tree roots?”

I blinked in surprise and confusion. It seemed odd to bring that up now compared to when I used it, though we were in danger then. “Yes, it is.”

“Do you know where you learned it?” Volk’s voice was low, his expression serious. It unnerved me a bit, to be honest, to see the ever-jolly Volk in such a state.

“I… “ It wasn’t something I had ever thought about. I had learned the basics as a child and a bit more as an apprentice, but while I could pin down when I learned most of the spells I knew I couldn’t think of that one. In fact, the only earth magic I was ever taught involved the ground itself; anything involving plants was instinctual. “I don’t really know. None of my magic instructors really touched on plants… the only thing I can think of is a lecture my mother gave me. She told me the flow of mana runs through all living things, and if I focused enough I could feel it in even the smallest blades of grass. All she ever said beyond that was if I was ever truly in danger I should surrender myself to nature’s flow. I never figured out what she meant by that. Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity, that’s all. You seem rather talented with it.”

I scoffed at that. “Talent hardly means anything if I drop after a few minutes of using it. It’s by far the most exhausting magic I know.” Volk nodded in understanding before opening up his book to write more. “Do you frequently take notes in the books you borrow?”

“Only in the special ones,” he laughed. “Because unlike you, I don’t have a personified moral compass.”

Before I could rebut, a loud feminine voice screeched from somewhere above us. “VOOOLK!” I pulled my horse to a stop to try and see where the voice had come from before something crashed into the road in front of us.

Volk gulped a little and sighed as he hung his head. “Until today.” As the dust cleared in front of us, a lithe figure could be seen stepping up from the crater with...something twisting around their neck. “Remember when I said you might be saving me?”

A gust of wind cleared away the last of the debris revealing our assailant. It was a woman, fairly thin with rather pointed features. Dark brown hair framed her glare, pulling back into a tied braid trailing down to her mid-back. The armor she wore seemed to be a combination of leather and robe. As for what was coiling around her neck…

“Volk, is that a storm dragon?!”

“Well it’s just a baby.”

She drew a wand and the dragon began hissing as she stepped up from the crater. “You stole my book you troll-faced, draugr breathed sack of conniving-”

Volk held up his hands to halt the tirade of the mysterious woman. “Hey now, I only borrowed it! There’s a much more important matter to attend to first.” He gave her the most serious gaze I think I’ve ever seen him muster. “Did you sell my alchemy set?”