“Wait,” Anaya said, reaching for Harpyn once more as he turned to go.

“What do you want from me?” he asked, more irritable now.

“You mean to walk all the way to Yaal by yourself?” she asked, looking him over.

“Well,” he said, pausing for a moment. “No, that was not my intent. Actually, I had intended to go into Torg Uyen and find a caravan to ride with. Perhaps something with bodyguards.”

“Body guards? Who can afford that?”

He rummaged in his robe for a moment and pulled out a little cloth bag, tied with a bit of twine.

“I can.”

Anaya’s eyes went to the bag, interest piqued. Harpyn dropped them back into his pocket, alarmed by her interest.

“It’s not much,” he went on. “Geor gave me a bit of coin in the marketplace. I’d planned on saving it, but I wasn’t expecting to be traveling so soon. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to gather my things before I left, so…”

He trailed off, looking deep into the dark woods. Through there, somewhere, was the path to Yaal, and with it, his salvation. He had really better be on his way if he wanted to make a strong start before the sun came up. He really wasn’t made for traveling in the heat, otherwise he’d have chosen some other profession to study.

“Well, why don’t you come with us?”

“With you?” he started. “And where are you going with that… man?”

Harpyn had truly never seen anyone so large as the woman’s companion, and he’d certainly never seen anyone with tusks emerging from his lower jaw, like some kind of mad beast. He didn’t know what to make of it all, other than he wanted to be away from it.

Anaya chuckled, glancing at the man who now snored loudly amid the leaf litter strewn across the forest floor.

“That’s Brugo. He’s not so bad when you get used to him. Anyway, I’m Anaya Wildseer, and I’m looking for my family.”

“Your family?”

She nodded grimly. “Yes. My people were supposed to have returned to Torg Uyen by now. That was the whole reason I needed the… well, you know.” She looked around suspiciously, afraid someone might overhear them. “Anyway, they haven’t turned up and I’m starting to get a bad feeling. I mean to follow the path of the caravans and locate them.”

“And Brugo?”

Anaya shrugged. “Not sure. Won’t say much. Told me he’s meeting up with some friends is all.”

That answer seemed suspiciously vague to Harpyn, but he supposed there wasn’t much he could do about it without waking the sleeping giant, and he was determined not to do that.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” he began. “I must move quickly, and I don’t want to draw attention to myself.”

Anaya crossed her arms over her chest, a smirk on her lips. “Suit yourself then.”

Rolling his eyes, Harpyn started off into the woods once more. He struggled first to find a clear pathway through the brambles, his robe getting tangled amid the spiked branches until he was cursing under his breath and hiking it up to his knees just to walk.

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Behind him, Anaya laughed, the sound tinkling through the trees in the absence of birds. He growled to himself but was determined to continue on.

It was true that he had first gone to Torg Uyen in search of a traveling group. He did not much relish the idea of traveling alone. However, something about the girl made him nervous, and he knew she was hiding the divining rods among her things. After the way he’d seen the ancient weapons attack Geor back in the vault, he wanted very much to keep his distance lest he become their next victim. Once he’d alerted the mages in Yaal, he would be sure to tell them exactly who to look for to reclaim the rods, and then his job would be done.

Of course, there was also the big sleeping man. Brugo, she had called him. Brugo sounded an awful lot like brute to Harpyn, and he’d had his share of dealing with brutish sorts when he was younger. Ultimately, that was why he’d decided to become a mage. He was tired of being pushed around, and he knew that he just didn’t have the strength to be a soldier. But as a mage? Why, the common folk were afraid to even speak of the mages, much less call them names to their faces.

Against all advice, against the wishes of his parents, Harpyn had chosen this path at an early age, and up until now, he had very few regrets. Even when he was forced to clean up after Geor, sweeping the spiral steps of the tower day in and day out.

Now, however, he was beginning to question what ever could have led him to this particular moment of his life. The forest floor was damp, and that dampness had begun to seep into the hem of his long robe, making for a very uncomfortable sensation with every sodden step he took. In the dark, he stumbled more than he walked, tripping over every root and stone.

What he didn’t want to admit was that he had overtaxed himself with all of those teleportation spells earlier. He’d just managed to escape the guards in Torg Uyen by stepping through the portal and out of the city wall, but further attempts had left him winded and he’d barely managed to move a few feet at a time. This was a subject Geor had never schooled him in, and that bothered Harpyn a great deal.

If his magic was finite, he would have to learn its limits. And he would have to learn how to regenerate it.

All of these thoughts were eating away at him as he moved through the trees, approximately in the direction of the high road. With only the moon’s filtered light, it was hard to say, really. As long as he was moving away from Brugo’s awful snoring, he was content, he supposed.

He wasn’t sure how long he walked before he reached the edge of the woods. Stretched out ahead, the high road snaked away over a distant hill. Harpyn straightened, taking in, for the first time, the enormous scope of his endeavor.

“People travel to Yaal every day,” he told himself. “Just one foot after the other.”

Despite his pep talk, Harpyn remained fixed to the spot on the edge of the woods for several more anxious minutes, staring out at the road ahead. He knew he ought to be on his way, but there was just something about being out there all alone, like a tiny insect, just waiting to be picked off by the first carrion feeder that swept by, that wasn’t sitting right with him.

Humming quietly to himself, he turned around and retraced his steps through the woods, trying to remember exactly which way he’d come. As it turned out, all of the trees looked much alike, and even his bumbling steps hadn’t done much to disturb the leaves and branches. There was no visible trail back to Anaya and Brugo. All he had was the sound of snoring to guide him, and he found that he was awful glad he had that.

A howl somewhere in the woods made him jump, and he ran forward, thrashing his way through branches until he finally stumbled back into the clearing where Brugo lay sleeping. Over the sound of his own frantic breathing and Brugo’s snoring, Harpyn could just barely hear the soft giggle that escaped Anaya as she dusted herself off and rose from where she’d been propped up against the base of a tree.

“Back already?”

He sniffed, shaking out his robe and giving her an irritable look.

“I would have gone alone, but I was worried about the two of you,” he said snidely.

Anaya laughed again, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Get some rest. Brugo wants to be up and moving with the sun. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, and he walks fast.”

Harpyn searched the ground for a spot that looked, well, tolerable, but he soon came to realize that no such place existed. With a grimace, he sat down and considered how best to get some rest under these conditions. Finally, he decided that he could pull his hood up over his head to protect him from the ground, and if he laid very still, he might avoid anything sharp stabbing him in the back.

Anaya watched, clearly amused, but she made no remarks.

“Good night, Harpyn,” she said softly, before pacing a little ways away and settling back against a tree to keep watch.