Two farmer wagons led out first; the knight ensured the carriage followed. Charis didn’t notice any coin or argument pass between the knight and the Wagon Master so perhaps this arrangement is the natural order of things. Two wagons then followed behind.
The knight rode next to the carriage, ever vigilant. Charis and Otonia walked on the windward side towards the front, to avoid any dust, although the track held firm from the Death Season frost with the first signs of softening appearing, ready to turn to mush at the first sign of rain. The countryside consisted of low rolling hills with very few woods and no forests once the farming fields ended.
The wagon caravan continued throughout the day as all ate a cold lunch while walking or riding to save time. Before dusk, the wagons circled to form a camp, the carriage positioned within, protected. Charis noticed this was a well-used campsite, as there seemed to be a place for everything. There was already a fire pit and a very low stack of cut wood nearby in a covered pit the Wagon Master revealed. He tasked a couple of the Waggoneers to gather more wood to replenish the stock in the covered pit. The green wood would dry ready in time for future use.
Charis left Otonia with the camp and checked to see if the countryside would release any of its small furry animals to her traps. The night was about to close in by the time she returned, much to Otonia’s relief. Charis returned empty-handed yet safe. Otonia didn’t believe herself safe for some reason, forgot herself and hugged Charis in relief upon her return. Charis suspected the separation loss Otonia experienced due in part to the paired bronze loops and with strangers for travelling companions not much to do or distract. Charis, although alone was in her element hunting and trapping so didn’t suffer the same anxiety.
The mysterious occupants of the carriage did not leave their haven, for any reason, including ablutions. The knight would tend to their needs, including their camber pot. He placed his camp bedding near the carriage, confirming to all he was their guard, servant, and escort mused Charis.
The waggoneers spent a good portion of the night around the fire pit, the attraction, the huge pot squatting over it. They tossed in some salted meat with various vegetables and a few herbs until the aroma and thought of a hot meal tempted Charis and Otonia to ask for a portion. The knight wasn’t as reserved, although he did toss the Wagon Master a few coins. He took three wooden bowls to the carriage, eating one of them himself beside it.
With the animals hobbled and lookouts set, the camp prepared to rest for the night. The quiet was eventually broken by a high-pitched panicked yelling belonging to a humanoid shadow approaching the camp in a gangly sprint.
The source was a youth, dressed in a flapping robe carrying a cumbersome number of books with a backpack bouncing on his back. This became clear as he closed in on the fire pit and the light it gave. He halted near the Wagon Master, trying to catch his breath. He was fortunate not to be target practice; saved, as the lookouts weren’t equipped with bow or sling only harsh words. Charis immediately realised their vulnerability. Why would none have ranged weapons?
The Wagon Master accepted him into the camp and directed him to a clear position within the circle of wagons. Surprisingly he offered him some of the stew from the pot, which the tired new arrival gratefully accepted. The camp then settled in for the night.
Charis and Otonia agreed to sleep separately when amongst strangers in case their form of love led to misunderstandings and rejection by any present company. The world would see them as cousins, perhaps companions and no more.
“Could you sneak a look in the carriage if you wanted to?” Otonia asked.
“Most likely, although I wouldn’t be sure on the reaction of the occupants. I may startle them and then no matter, my attempt is revealed. They have their reasons for secrecy and as long as they don’t bother us, I see no point in bothering them.”
“I know you have hunted, I just wanted to know how skilled my companion was.”
“Go to sleep. Otherwise, if there is a rabbit out there to catch, you will not be getting a share,” she replied playfully.
+++
Charis woke at daybreak, checked the several traps she set the night before, and retrieve them no matter the result, again nothing. Otonia prepared to break camp, packing her gear as well as Charis’. The cousins shared some salted meat, cheese, and an apple each to break their fast.
“Follow these fine men to a small stream to refill any water skins and then we will be on our way,” the Wagon Master called.
Otonia ended up following the knight in the line to the stream, his armour of fine quality including his boots. The boots capped with metal over his toes and the top of his foot, Otonia was surprised by this and couldn’t wait to ask the only Blacksmith’s daughter she knew when she returned. A moment’s distraction and Otonia didn’t notice as two waggoneers paused on either side of the trail ahead. The knight passed and as Otonia passed they stepped onto the trail, one in front and one behind, to lock her in.
“My friend and I were wondering if you parted your legs for coin, a pretty young girl like yourself.”
They both winked and leered at each other.
“No sirs, I am bound for the City, so please let me pass,” Otonia replied.
“Let the woman pass, her answer was no.”
Otonia realised the knight was taking an interest and thanked her luck.
“Sorry sir, we were just asking, no harm done. If you don’t ask, well, you don’t know now do you.”
The one blocking her path stepped aside to join his partner. Otonia quickly passed, filled the water skins she carried and waited for the knight to finish so she could walk back with him. She hoped the knight would wait for her and she didn’t want to take a chance he wasn’t so made sure she finished first. No further trouble occurred so she decided not to tell Charis to keep the peace, no need to create a fuss.
The wagons got underway shortly after all returned from filling water skins, with the pre-dawn showing enough light to guide them along the shallow wheel ruts of the trail.
The land changed from scattered woods to larger and thicker stands of forests with thin connections of trees between them. The trail wound around these stands of woods instead of pushing through them. It extended the duration of the journey, although the trailblazers would have completed the trail in record time.
A troop of mounted men trotted around one of the stands of wood and the Wagon Master immediately called a halt. The knight never left the side of the carriage while Charis and Otonia kept to the back of the third wagon and drew their hats down to shade their faces.
When the Wagon Caravan got underway again the Wagon Master held his ground and as he was passed by either wagons or persons, he informed them the patrol was from the Local Noble, nothing to worry about, safer to see them out and about than not. After the last wagon passed him, he cantered to the front of the Wagon Caravan again. They again continued to travel through the midday meal.
The Wagons halted early afternoon. There were raised voices at the front of the Wagon Caravan that attracted more to the upheaval. By the time, Charis and Otonia joined the impromptu meeting tempers were flared between the Caravan Master and the Farmers who were paying for the expedition.
Charis nudged Otonia to check the stream they were attempting to cross. The ford was no longer there.
“We will string lines across the stream, no one will be in peril for their souls,” the Wagon Master shouted.
“The wagon wheels will be mostly underwater and the oxen barely above water. Given the choice between their soul and the wagon, the drivers will save themselves. This is only natural, a drowning death sends your soul directly to the Goddess Jury and no one wants to lose their soul, which we accept, still, if the worse were to happen, who will cover the loss?” one of the farmers asked.
“I was crossing this stream before the ford was constructed and never suffered a loss of man or load. I am experienced in protecting both, which is why I demand the fee I receive,” the Wagon Master replied.
“You were doing that further south on the old trail, which is where we should cross now.”
“That will add close to another day to the journey and my men, and I aren’t covered for that extra time unless you are offering to extend the contract?”
“We don’t carry extra coin nor are we granted the right to extend the contract. The contract was delivery of the wagons, no time stipulated, as you were certain it could be done within 2 days. We accepted no midday meal breaks as you demanded.”
“My men and I are crossing here, with or without your wagons. We are willing to cross to complete the terms of the contract. If you chose not to risk the wagons, then we will take our payment now if you please.”
At this, the waggoneers and Wagon Master gathered to intimidate the two farmers. All others backed away, including Charis and Otonia.
The farmers shortly realised they weren’t going to win this argument, let alone leave with their lives in tacked if they didn’t agree. They wished for all they were worth the patrol would return by some stroke of fate or chance of luck, neither happened to rescue them.
“Take your fee Wagon Master and be gone, never approach our village again for a commission.”
The farmers were further irritated by the smirk on his face and his good cheer. The Wagon Master and his team gathered their belongings and made for the wash-out. He tied off a rope to his saddle and then wadded across the stream. There was a misstep by his horse, skilfully the Wagon Master recovered.
“It would be justice if the Wagon Master fell and was taken by the water, his soul forever dammed,” one of the farmers whispered under his breath.
Some of the waggoneers heard him as they glowered his way none too pleased with the comment.
Once across he tied off the rope to a tree on the far side. With both ends tied off, the waggoneers used the rope to guide and assist them across as well. The final man untied the rope our side, tied it about himself and his companions hauled him safely across. The Wagon Master then mounted his horse and waved goodbye to all those on the other side of the stream while laughing loudly.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
The farmers turned to those remaining. They were in a difficult situation, as farmers it was nothing new to them, some days were green, and some days were black, and you simply needed to keep going.
“We can drive two of the wagons, so we need at least two others to drive the other two. Are any here skilled in wagon driving?”
“I am skilled at books and such, I know nothing of the farmer’s life and skills,” the young lad answered.
“I need to ensure the safety of the carriage and its occupants and as such I will not cross the stream here and volunteer my sword as protection if nothing else since most of our protection has now gone,” the knight offered.
Charis whispered to Otonia they would use the friend charms on the oxen, or at least try to and see if they could keep them under control if willing to try. Otonia nodded, what could possibly go wrong.
“We will drive one each, although we will need to be in the middle so we can follow the leader and if one of us falls behind, you will know to rescue us. Is that acceptable?”
The farmers smiled at the offer, as they knew no better would be available. They turned the wagon caravan around and lined them up in a row, as they needed to return to the old trail turn off.
Late afternoon and they were underway. Charis and Otonia spent some time “talking” to their oxen and making sure they were friends, not sure what level of understanding a beast would have. The bronze loops being on their toes weren’t handy for this "conversation" though.
There was no fast or slow speed with oxen, they moved at only one pace unless startled or panicked. Nevertheless, they made the turnoff, before dusk. The farmers continued down the old trail a short way until they were certain it would be difficult to see the wagon caravan from the new trail. This complicated making camp with daylight about done. The farmers managed to start a fire and continued to feed it with scattered wood until it cast enough light to enable the circling of the wagons like the previous night. The farmers allowed the fire to die, no hot meal tonight and no light to betray their location.
They hobbled the oxen near their respective wagon instead of in a line. The watch was organised between the farmers and the cousins, with the knight as a reserve so he could react if there was an alarm. They asked the robed youth to stay up as late as he could as another set of eyes and ears, but stay within his camp bedding.
Late into the night, Charis awoke to a gentle, firm shake.
“Awake, your cousin is missing.”
Charis peered at the messenger by the light of the lamp he was holding. The farmer didn’t look confident. Beside him was the knight.
She sat up and prepared herself and her weapons.
“How long has she been gone for?”
“No one knows for certain, at least one watch change if not longer,” the farmer replied.
“It is still night, look around. All nights are too dark to do anything as it always is. They could take her in any direction, you will need to wait until dusk,” the knight advised.
“I could use a lantern to find some tracks perhaps?” Charis queried, pleading hopefully.
“They didn’t use lamps so I suspect Goblins, yet they aren’t usually this bold, either way, why would they leave tracks to be found by the weak light of a lantern? We need rest and the sun behind us in more ways than one.”
Charis knew the truth of his statement and it infuriated her that she couldn’t act, trapped by the pitch black of the night, like every night while her friend was out there alone. The thought returned, could Otonia be lost to her, the third companion.
---
Otonia walked a circle on the inside of the wagons, pausing occasionally to rest, to listen and then turning back at random, of the opinion her patrolling was tricky and effective. What she didn’t realise was the watch duty was too much for one person to be done effectively. There was no real light to see anything, only the embers remaining from the fire and to call them feint would be generous. She only kept her patrol line by avoiding the darker shapes of the wagons and the occasional warning noise of the oxen.
Otonia lost her feet and crashed to the ground. As her back hit the ground, her breath escaped her lungs, and she couldn’t breathe let alone yell or scream. With a strong grip on her ankles, her assailant dragged her under the wagon she had previously passed. The smell of him was familiar although she couldn’t see any of his features in the dark. She was certain it was her ‘friend’ from the stream.
She knew what he wanted she thought. She pushed down her rising panic by consoling herself with the fact that at least it wasn’t one from her troupe. They would probably want what she couldn’t give.
“If you talk or scream, I will punch you until you can’t. If you try to escape, I will kill your cousin,” he whispered to her.
After speaking his words, the oxen nearby snorted and swished his tail, an awkward goodbye thought Otonia; maybe she and the oxen were friends. Although a true friend would raise the alarm and not issue a quick goodbye. She remained calm by thinking of anything except her predicament and hoping beyond hope Charis would find her before the end.
With one more effort, he dragged her clear of the wagon and threw her over his shoulder. He was walking confidently away from the wagon caravan, and she couldn’t understand how he was able to move so easily in the pitch black of night. Otonia’s head then whipped around as she once again landed heavily on the ground. Again, out of breath, she realised, as her hands and feet were tied, and body deliberately thrown, winded again, she wouldn’t be able to react. Once finished he threw her over his shoulder in the one fluid motion and continued to walk away from the wagons.
She felt the presence of another, probably his friend from the stream earlier when she filled the water skins. One to escape from would be a challenge, two would be impossible so she desperately needed to think and outsmart them. She was certain Charis could track them therefore she must do everything she could to survive until she arrived to save her. She clung on to this small hope pushing down her rising panic once again. She couldn't afford to panic the cost could be her life.
Her last time in peril the person who controlled her, made her believe in his friendship. She couldn’t do anything. This time, while captured, she could still think, and act and the realisation of this extra freedom kept the panic at bay. Once the panic calmed, she started to analyse her situation rationally. The initial idea was to survive until Charis found her and rescued her.
They were cautiously moving in the dark stepping around trees and rocks. Otonia continued to be amazed as to how they were doing it. Each step took her further away from rescue and further away from Charis. She could struggle of course although he would get used to doing violence upon her and she didn’t want to establish that sort of relationship with him.
She needed him to be her friend, this was a misunderstanding of course and he really didn’t mean her harm, he was trying to protect her from the wilderness and take her into his care. She whispered those very words to him, not all at once, gradually over time, keeping the sentences short to avoid him growling at her to tell her to shut up or strike her. It was like an entertainment act in the troupe a slow build-up to the final surprise of the whole performance. She knew she could do this for as long as she needed to, willing and believing in every whisper she shared with him.
After time unknown, they stopped and glanced about as if to gather their sense of direction. She continued to think of her captor as her friend, he wouldn’t hurt her, he would protect her. Otonia wasn’t sure how the bronze loop influenced or how close anyone needed to be. Every chance the strength in her legs allowed she bent them at the knee to position her toe as close to his face as possible. Then her legs would tire, and she would need to rest them and wait. She hoped it influenced him as she continued her whispering and willing.
Finding their direction again, they continued until eventually, she heard some neighing horses, so they’re serious about getting away, some hope faded from her. She tried to explain that she could ride although she couldn’t, the other man though, the one that wasn't her friend insisted on the plan and she found herself slung over the horse wrists tied to ankles under the horse’s belly. Her body was going to be in pain if they galloped.
Otonia wasn’t sure where they were going until she heard the gentle tinkle of water. They had carried her in a wide half-circle back to the stream. Her sense of direction returned with daybreak and knowing dawn was upon them, she went from captured and lost to captured and somehow the change comforted her.
They briefly stopped again, and her ankles freed to allow her to sit upright, her wrists remained bound. The other one held the reins of her horse now and they increased speed, so she clamped her ankles around the horse to hold on for dear life. She didn’t know, without stirrups set to her leg length she couldn’t raise her bottom out of the saddle and ride with the gait of the horse, she, therefore, didn’t expect or realise the buttocks pain or leg chaffing waiting for her.
She also noticed to her dismay that they were running on the edge of the stream in the soft soil or sand, and she could imagine the water erasing the hoof prints more and more each day. She felt hope fade from her. How could Charis track her now? The ups and downs of hope and despair began a torture all their own.
----
Charis couldn’t sleep, so she tried to wait for dawn instead. She couldn’t circle the wagon, as she didn’t want to trample any tracks. Eventually, without her consent, her body fell asleep.
Knowing her concern, the Knight woke her at dawn, exactly at dawn. He was prepared and so was she, as best as he could manage for her. Charis checked her gear and acknowledged the knight’s assistance.
It didn’t take long to find the trail with Charis’ skill. The trail started as crumpled grass under the wagon that was then dragged outwards, footsteps becoming deeper like someone now carried a body. The heavier footsteps then led to the horses. Hoof prints and horse dung showed their overnight picket line. That took them both to mid-morning. They then followed the horse trail until the stream, three horses; one always roughly the same distance behind another, obviously led, tied to the lead horse by a length of rope perhaps. It was late afternoon, the tracks of hours ago now washed away leaving none to be found.
“They rode along the stream or through the stream it seems as there are no hoof prints left to follow,” Charis sighed, her head down and eyes closing for a moment.
“I am sorry I must return to my duty. With no trail to track, we don’t know when there will be an end.”
Charis peered up hopeful, he held up his hand.
“No, I cannot be persuaded as my duty is clear. I will ride north along the stream. The wagon caravan will be camped there as I asked them to wait for at least one night in case we lost the trail. I will then discharge my duty and return here. If you leave me a sign, I will follow. I suggest you travel with me for the remainder of the day, they could leave the stream north of here as easily as south of here.”
“They would travel south. North is the main trail and villages. South is nothing unless you know different?” Charis replied.
“I don’t know the land this far south although I haven’t observed any wagon trails turning this way, so your assessment is probably correct.”
The knight gazed up at the sun and then back to Charis. Charis for her part cursed the knight was mounted and her bronze loops were on her toes, so she couldn’t try to influence him.
“We must part ways. Good luck to you, losing a friend is never easy.”
The Knight then nudged his horse north following the stream at a gallop to catch up to his duty.
Charis stood there, speechless, he was on his duty, and that was that. Well then, she thought, she must be on hers, alone. She let her anger fade, he was right, they both needed to follow their duty. With the remaining daylight, she followed the stream south, walking, jealous of his horse and riding skill from the moment she scurried about tracking, while he provided various comments from the height of his saddle at his leisure.
Charis walked south the rest of the day and then struck camp beside a particularly large tree by the stream she followed. One of the spells she did learn from the Elder, the Alert Spell, she set before last light. She thought she succeeded although no alerts woke her. Then again, she arose in one piece at dawn, perhaps proof enough.
----
Otonia couldn’t talk to her friend now. The other one was watching when the tether line drew them close as their horses and the bank of the stream conspired to bunch them together. Her horse now trailed her friends, with the other following them both. She needed to be content that her friend still looked back at her with concern instead of a guardsman checking a prisoner. Middle of the day they turned away from the stream.
They led her horse on foot once close to the riverbank and their reason soon became clear. A huge flat stone that started in the stream then extended past the riverbank and continued well beyond, like a huge tongue. The portion of the stone in the stream was covered by mud and sand, while the rest, by loose soil. She only realised the presence of the stone when the horse hooves did not leave any deep hoof prints behind, her attention drawn to them by the solid clopping of the horseshoes.
As the three horses cleared the stone, her friend was diligent in sweeping away the tracks left behind by those horses. Close to ideal camouflage now, it would be perfect in a day or two of natural weathering, so Otonia understood they were serious in their efforts, and therefore she needed to act as she fully appreciated to her horror no one would be able to track them now.
They travelled back down the way came for a short distance, well away from the stream and there amongst a tree groove stood a cabin. Made from large logs crossed at the corners, it looked impregnable, with a door as well made. Entering such a building meant no escape; a prison, secure and hidden. She needed to act now, Charis might find her, and she might not, once inside that cabin there would be no return, the end of her freedom if not her life.