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 Stranger Companions

chapter three

Jax  

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“Keep moving!” The driver yelled from beside me, whipping the giant man hauling the carriage.

They were an odd duo. Covered in light brown, thinly stitched, hoods and wearing chocolate colored sandals, they really stuck out. The clothing wasn’t what was striking though; what struck me as odd was everything else.

For one: their cloaks were enchanted. Put up, the hoods created an illusion. All I saw was a pitch black sphere where the head should be. I wasn't too worried though. Enchanted items were rare but not unheard of.

Their physical condition was what made me anxious.

The oaf pulling the carriage was the biggest man I’d ever seen before, standing at what must have been seven foot and a few inches tall. His covering was slit down the sides, so he could use his tanned and muscle bound arms - they must've been the size of my torso, which was more than a little intimidating. But he walked with a pronounced limp and his arms were covered in bloody cuts and heavy bruising.

The man in charge was comparatively smaller, standing a few inches under my own height of six-one. He wasn’t small but, in comparison to the bigger man, he was a dwarf. He wore the same hood, but the fabric was more ornate and there were no slits which prevented me from seeing his body. He awkwardly whipped the big guy with his left arm. While his right arm hung to his side. Occasionally, a drop of blood would make its way down his sleeve and thump onto the hardwood seating. Since the time he picked me up, a puddle had formed below his gloved hand on the seat.

They were definitely an odd couple of guys, but they were the best I could do if I wanted to get home anytime soon.

As a hobby, I’d taken up map-making since no one else could - I mean in all four years I’d lived in the village I’d never even seen an actual map of the area. It’s dangerous for us to not know our surroundings. It was a small village, but still...not a single map? I'd never been the responsible one before, and now I knew why. Being responsible sucks.

To be safe, I’d started to map out all the different regions around the village but, this time, not only did I go out much further than usual - I was farther north than I’d ever been - but my wagon broke while I was in the middle of nowhere. 

I had walked for hours under the sun with only occasional respites under the forest foliage and, at the pace I was going at, it would have taken days more before I finally got back to the village.

And that’s how I ended up here with this mysterious duo.

While I was walking in the forest, we’d bumped into each other. Though the driver didn’t seem to want any company - in fact, he was a bit of a dick - he changed his mind when I told him I was a mapmaker. I guess he was lost too because he let me join.

I’d come to find out a little about the two during our travels together.

The skinny driver was respectfully called Raath, and he wasn’t in charge for the show.

He was a mage.

I only found out when we had come across an unfortunate boar. The big guy easily caught and crushed the pig’s head with one hand, and I thought that would’ve been the end of it. Kill it and go.

Nope.

The mage was hungry, so he had the big guy tear the pig’s meat from its bones, and then had him peel back the skin until all that was left was raw meat. Then the mage put the meat on a stick, focused his attention, and just like that, in one second, flames were crawling around his fingers like excited caterpillars. The ruby red ring on his finger glinted and, squinting my eyes, I got a good look at it. The ring was a drawstone: a source of heat that fire mages drew from when there was none around. The flames made their way over the stick, but the wood holding the meat didn’t catch fire.

Impressive. I knew you could focus on your magic and control the area of effect, but it takes an experienced mage to do it. And I may be a genius with the sword, but I’d never learned how to use magic so the concept was beyond me. I should've focused more in school, instead of all the skirt-chasing. Maybe then I'd be able to do cool stuff like that.

The flames quickly found the meat and, as it squirmed inside, I could hear the fat sizzle and pop. It smelled so good my mouth watered and my stomach growled. Gods, I want some. The villagers ate like vegetarians and I hadn't had meat in weeks.

Watching the two men eat like kings, my stomach barked at the injustice. Covering myself, I tried to diminish the noise. It was embarrassing.

The mage’s scowl let me know he too thought it was shameful.

Damnit.

The big guy’s name was Hugo. I rolled my eyes when I heard it. How fitting, really. Just being next to him I could feel the power of his aura. While he was pulling us along, he would wrap it around his feet, and we’d speed through the forest. Sometimes, when a tree hung a little too far down and got in the way of the carriage roof, he’d focus it into his arms and destroy thick limbs with a casual swing.

He had good technique. He could condense his aura, which gave him all that extra power, and he could pinpoint it’s location on his body well. But it looked like his injuries were preventing him from maintaining it for too long. But to be able to effortlessly use it like that, in the first place, meant he was a bonafide fighter.

I was shocked, because I hadn’t seen people this strong since I’d moved from the city and, even then, only the military and the nobility had power like these two.

I did wonder though: how did Raath get Hugo to work under him with the way he treats him?

Power, wealth...love? I looked at Raath, whipping a sweating Hugo, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the thought of the two in the throes of passion.

“What are you laughing at?” Raath growled. I straightened my face and turned to look at him. He was mid-whip, with Hugo hunched over in front of him, and I just broke. By the time he was looking at me in disgust, I was already rolling around in my seat, tearing up and choking on my laughter.

“Who. Are. You. Laughing. At.” He snarled again, upset at the disrespect.

“I dun laf at nuffin, sir!” Hugo yelled over his shoulder.

Hugo was a born and bred farmhand and his accent was thicker than his arms. Another thing I’d learned about Hugo: he’s a little...slow, I'll say.

His reply made Raath’s hand clench.“You idiot, I was talking to the boy.”

Confused, Hugo continued running but looked over his shoulder. “Wud ya sayin der, sir?”

“You idiot! I was speaking to the - ugh, nevermind!” Raath grunted in frustration. “Just keep pulling!” He yelled.

“Yus, sir! Sorry thur, sir!” Hugo apologized between heavy breaths and turned around.

I hid another laugh behind my lips. These two are a riot.

***

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We traveled for another few hours before Hugo collapsed the umpteenth time and Raath finally lost his patience.

“We’re stopping,” he hissed, frustrated at the loss of time.

He’s an impatient guy, but there’s no way we were getting any further. No matter how much Hugo kept trying, his injuries were too heavy. I could probably use aura to pull the carriage...but honestly, I wanted to keep that a secret for now.

Raath doesn’t seem trustworthy yet.

The way he ran Hugo left a bad taste in my mouth, whipping and barking at him like he was a pest, but it doesn’t seem like Hugo himself was bothered by the treatment. He brushes it off by saying it’s, ‘beaten the body tul it gits hauder thun a newly wed,’ and, if he doesn’t mind, then it’s really not any of my business.

Rolling to a stop, we decided to take a breather under the tall trees. Hugo and I took under opposite sides of a thick tree with lush shade, while the mage receded into the carriage.

Sucking in a long breath of rustic air, I melted into the dirt and set my head against the tree. If there was one thing I loved about being out of the city: it was the nature. Everything about the scenery was breathtaking. The vibrant colors and shades of the forest canopy. The crisp winds, blown and scattered by trees and bushes. And the soft hymns of tiny songbirds.

From the other side of the tree, Hugo began a low whistle. Harmonizing with the songbirds, it was like a scene I’d seen at the city theatre. Playful at the same time serene.

I closed my eyes and drifted into the melody. It was sweet and beautiful. It reminded me of my wife; her hypnotizingly green eyes, her long dark hair, her playful smile, and the surprising weight of her fist slamming into my arm.

“I do love her punches,” I chuckled to myself.

“Who dun punched yuh, Jaxy?” Hugo asked me, cutting off the mesmerizing whistle. He’d taken to adding a ‘y’ to my name and, honestly...was it weird that I liked it?

“My wife,” I laughed. He cocked his head, “Yuh wife beats yuh?” He asked with a face full of concern.

“All the time,” I smiled and stroked my ring. “But that’s one of the things I love about her.”

“Pig.” I heard Raath chirp from inside the carriage.

“Wha - no - no, it’s not a kink. She’s just playful.” She’s passionate in love and in arguments...and, well, maybe it’s a small kink.

“Oh, yuh wife hits yuh to show she luvs yuh.” Hugo nodded. “My darned brutha dun do same thing,” he groaned, and I roared with laughter when I heard it.

But instead of joining my merriment, he sighed and mumbled, “but he not gone love me, not afta da tings uh did,” he choked. His sobs shook the tree and the conversation petered out, leaving me to my own thoughts.

I wanted to ask what happened because his injuries looked recent, so where’s his brother? I sighed. It’s not my business is it? Some things, are better unspoken. Like...

“Let’s get going.” Raath’s voice rang from the carriage, interrupting my thoughts.

Tired of the rest, Hugo and I got back to position and we headed out in renewed silence. Raath was a strict and stoic type, so he was always pretty quiet when he wasn’t yelling. Hugo kept his focus on aura, and was probably still thinking about his brother. And I was just enjoying the scenery and marking the map.

For the most part, it was peaceful.

***

At this point, Raath was looking for a place to rest and he refused to sleep outside. Something about it being sacrilege for a noble servant to sleep on the floor. The guy’s a bit stuck up for my taste. The nobility should strive to set an example for the lower classes at all times.

He says he’s a branch member of a noble family and, if he’s just a servant with his strength, I can’t even imagine the strength the family must hold. With servants like him, they’re probably high nobility.

After about an hour of searching, we finally found an end to a part of the tree line. Where the trees stopped, there was a large patch of open land.

“Look ova der, sir. Der’s a house rit ther.” Hugo pointed at a farmers cottage a few hundred feet out.

Living in the village, I’d picked up a few things. For one, I could tell the wood used to build the house was likely cut and built about a decade ago; it was still a healthy dark brown. I also knew that the plants that formed lines across the property were called prins: an expensive crop used to weave fine fabrics for the upper classes. They were expensive because of how difficult they were to harvest. They were called prins because of the pin-like obtrusions all around the core, which kept birds and rodents away.

They got the name by combining the word pin and prick into prin...countrymen aren’t hung up on sophistry.

It’s hard for normal farmers to pick them, but someone with an aura wouldn’t get hurt from a few needles. Then again, they’d also never waste their time farming. I can’t even imagine someone from the city taking up agriculture.

“Let’s stay here,” Raath announced as if the owner had already agreed. Hugo acquiesced and pulled us through the field with renewed vigor. The poor guy was probably excited at the idea of rest.

As we got closer we started passing the crops further out - there were tens of rows of these prin plants.

“Wow. Da mans out is rite mine for puddin all dese here pain makas in da groun,” Hugo exclaimed, shocked at the idea of a normal man picking all these plants. Even if you had an aura, there are times when it would falter and a pin might make its way through.

Hmm. It looks like they were in the middle of harvest too. I could see plants that already had their silk dug out.

Ouch. There was dried blood on the thorns, almost all of them. Damn, someone must be going through torture.

As we got closer to the house, I noticed a boy, laying in a puddle of mud and blood. The kid looked dead. When I got closer, I saw that his hand was punctured in more places than he probably had strands of hair. There were scabs, peeled scabs, and fresh cuts, all over both of his hands.

His skin was mostly covered in mud, but the spots that weren’t were made up of burn scars and blisters.

His arm was bent back and broken, and blood was running out of deep cuts along his face. He had bruises all over. The scene made me double-take, and it was just as horrifying the second time I looked.

Without me realizing it, my feet began taking me to him. What happened to this kid?

Taking notice of the boy as well, Raath and Hugo had different reactions. Raath dismissed him and looked back toward the cottage. While Hugo was sympathetic. He took a step toward the boy, but the mage told him to hurry up to the house. Hugo looked guilty, but still followed directions.

While they continued to the house, I made my way between the prin rows and rushed to the boy.

He was the dirtiest kid I’d ever seen. Covered in what must’ve been months’ worth of grime and dry blood, the kid looked like he was actually part of the ground. I couldn’t even get a clean look at his face.

He was wearing the oddest clothing too.  It resembled a noble academy student’s uniform, but it was so foreign. If it hadn’t been caked in layers of dirt, nobles would’ve paid a fortune to get a hold of such a unique design.

“Hey.”

Trying to wake him up, I called out...and got no response, so I squatted down and tried a little harder.

“Wake up!” I shook him and yelled.

No response again. Damn. I tried shaking him some more when -

Boom!

The house door slammed open.