“Even then, you left a hole in practically half her clothing. Should she even consider armor at that point?” An individual shrouded in robes carrying a large gnarled stave walking to Farra's right flank laughed.
“Farra has more tails than most other beasts, feirin seem to be somewhat of an abnormality in that regard. Still the hole is not as big as you're making it out.” Verrika sighed, glancing down to check Farra's expression, then turning to a fully-armored Gare with an over sized axe fastened to his back.
He glanced back, catching the glint in Verrika's eyes then looking forward again. “There's a level of practicality that needs to be considered with anything. Farra has no combat prowess we know of and a weak frame. Having her put on any kind of heavy armor should her tails allow it would do nothing but restrict her movement. And movement is probably her best defense given what you've told me about her. Then there's the fact of not knowing what we will run into. Still, a standard light mail and tunic shouldn't weigh her down any and will provide protection against the environment. If the mail happens to dampen the strike of a stray blade, claw, or tooth, then it's worth it.”
A silence fell after Gare's long-winded and satisfactory answer. Verrika smiling and indulging in the mage's quiet. The dark plain was filled only with treading greaves and boots, mixed with a quiet crack of hooves against the ground. The dhara let out periodic bellows to one another, trailing behind the Farra and her new acquaintances.
“It's quiet.” Farra commented, keeping her head forward.
“Is that uncomfortable to you? You struck me as preferring it that way.” Verrika chimed back.
Farra glanced about. Behind her the fleeting moonlight shining down on the land served only to illuminate the outlines of towering landmasses, mountains, and hills. But in front of her the land remained flat as far as she could discern within the darkness. A swallowing black abyss full of the unknown, forbidden for any individual with good sense to trek.
“I was told stories by my parents about the darkness. How the nothingness will start to eat away at you. They said there were evil spirits, unseen by the eye, lurking and waiting for people who strayed too far. But the evil spirits stayed away from groups, if you weren’t alone, they wouldn’t bother you.”
She paused for a moment, swallowing and casting a long look into the boundless dark.
“Feirin live for a long time. Another child would be too much to look after in these lands, so when my parents passed away I think that's why it felt like my kin looked at me like I was a burden. The adults in the tribe would go out and gather together, sometimes barely bringing back enough for themselves and their family.”
“And how did you endure?” An inquisitive but entreating voice, urging Farra to divulge more details came from an Erres that had been walking to the side of the trailing creatures.
“My home was on the edge of my tribe's camp. It never worried me when my parents were around. But I would stay close to the heart of the camp when they were out gathering food. The outside of the camp wasn't lit by magic because it would be too easy to see in the dark. After my parents died it felt like anyone who wasn't my age wanted to forget I was there. I stayed in my home, but the dark and quiet didn't feel safe. Other children would come and give me scraps from their meals, or the elder if there was little food.”
Verrika placed a gauntlet over Farra's head, shifting it side to side and ruffling her hair.
“Did you ever venture out alone?”
Farra shook her head, “Sometimes when my tribe would go to wash, I would follow at a distance. Our home was closer to a spring at least. I would wait until everyone else finished before taking a moment to wash. They would not wait for me, so it was in those moments I was probably the closest to being alone in the darkness. But there were at least small plants that provided some light around the spring. I would hurry back home as fast as possible after finishing if they left already.” Farra's ears twitched as she snapped up to Verrika. “How do all the soldiers wash?”
“Magic mostly. Raw untapped elemental energies is the one resource abundant in these lands, and as such it's necessary to make use of it.”
“Do the slaves wash?”
“Yes, although not as often. I suppose in this case, the limitation is not the resource itself so much as the individual to make proper use of it. There simply are not enough mages or any other sort of caster versed in that denomination of magic to be sending them everywhere giving slave baths.”
“I guess I wasn't around at the camp while it happened then.” Both Verrika and the mage surrounding Farra laughed.
“You were there for such short time it would've been an incredible coincidence. They only make the rounds for such a thing every so often. The priority lies with transportation of various resources and of course food. I personally would not be opposed seeing everyone cleaner. Though it still doesn't compare to a long bath back at the temple.”
“Perhaps then Verrika, you ought to try your hand at magic yourself. Every spell and incantation requires an attention to detail to put it to proper effect.” The mage tapped his stave against the ground as he spoke, waving his left hand in a grandiose manner, the long robe he wore slapped against Farra's face. “To be relegated to helping people wash. I do not envy such a duty.”
“Why don't you use magic to feed people too?”
A silence fell over the mage and Verrika, Erres speaking in place of the void.
“The same reason your tribe very well did not feed you food from magic. To respect your being feirin, and not something else. Using magic even as a temporary way to stave starvation renders the mind and body vulnerable. It fails to ward the feeling of hunger, and the consumption of elemental energies in such a fashion will damage the body. Unless you are willing to change yourself and become something else, that exposure will eventually poison you. It’s a question of what it means to be living. Should we all forsake what we are in exchange to survive? Perhaps that is what this world wants us to do, but I will not oblige. Instead I would rally us to accommodate one another’s strengths and weaknesses, and cut a path through this darkness”
Farra kept walking, her breath paused as she synthesized Erres' words. From them she felt a glow of confidence, of certainty in a land rife with despair.
“Verrika mentioned a temple, does that mean it's true that there is a civilization in the mountains? And a god is inside?”
“That is mostly wrong. I take it those are rumors that float about the land. It only makes sense as there is no reason to partake in trade. There is a temple west within our lands. It lies close to but not within mountains. It was created before any of our lives, by the very two warlords that still preside over these lands. Tell me, what do you know of the gods and goddesses of these lands?”
Farra paused, recounting in her mind the little bits she had come to hear from her tribe.
“My tribe believed in the goddess of beasts, that she would watch over all of us and protect us from the darkness, whether you are a feirin or any other beast. And that a goddess of shadows lies in the darkness, waiting to ensnare you if you wander too far.”
Dust rose from the ground, swishing about as the mage’s robes and Farra's tunic clung to their bodies. An eerie howl filled the air, wind blowing across the blackened plains. A shiver shot down Farra's spine, the dark feeling becoming that much colder even when in good company. Without a word the mage took notice, stepping back toward the pack creatures, patting the side of one as he ruffled through a container, pulling out a thick cloak. He approached the girl, smiling down and tossing it around Farra's shoulders.
“Thank you.”
“Fire magic may be problematic in such winds, on top of being a light in the darkness.”
The party's formation closed, the creatures became restless from the harsh wind, calming only once Erres and another silent cloaked man brought them closer to the rest of the traveling band.
“As far as I know, no goddess of beasts has ever made herself known. This is a land where if a divine entity exists, their presence is felt. Still, if it is something that unites and rallies people behind a common cause, it would be haphazard to discount the repercussions.”
Farra's ears sank, clutching the cloak given to her in an attempt to mask her disappointment.
“Does that sadden you Farra?”
She murmured, inaudibly for a brief moment, aware her whispers would be unable to reach Erres in the quietest of nights, let alone through harrowing gusts. Farra's eyes focused on each step in front of her, contemplating the existence of such a deity in her mind. Truly, she thought, for such a goddess to exist she must be extraordinarily weak or uncaring. To let her parents fall in the darkness, to let beasts scatter across the lands and become enslaved. To worship a goddess such as this she thought, would be no more than clinging to some falsehood for a sense of hope and security. It only served to keep the mind level when things are awry. Her mind rumbled through various thoughts as Erres finished his sentiment.
“If such a goddess exist, she may very well be our mortal enemy given our actions.”
Verrika cast her gaze Erres way, icy and disappointed. “Have some consideration Lord Erres. There is no need for that kind of talk now.”
“It’s okay.” Farra remarked, hushed. “He is right. The goddess of beasts has done nothing for me. I do not feel any particular devotion.”
Verrika bit her tongue, clutching her gauntlets in a fist before drawing her rapier in a flourish.
“Do not feel disheartened Farra. If such a goddess does exist, then it will give you the opportunity to tell and show her how you feel. For being silent for so long.” Farra's eyes momentarily looked to Verrika's noble stance and flourish, one of a knight prepared for a duel, before fixating on her rapier. The weapon was unlike all the others she had previously seen, delicate in design, glowing a gentle and almost eerie blue to accommodate a pearly blade. It felt appropriate that it would be none other than Verrika wielding a weapon such as this, one reflecting skill and finesse more than the hulking power that she had seen typical of so many other soldier's weapons.
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“Put it away before something sees the glow.” Gare grunted, the shrouded mage laughing after.
“Sorry, sorry, I seem to have gotten worked up a bit.” She bowed to no one in particular, smiling and obliging Gare. The rapier slid back inside its black sheathe, not producing a single sound til the guard hilted with an icy crack, echoing and being carried by the wind.
One of the pack creatures let out a bellow, signaling its growing discomfort with the weather, becoming less and less inclined to move forward. Erres slapped one hand over a groove in its harness, urging it forward, his other hand patting the rough skin across its head.
“The dahra are becoming discontent with this wind. Kaladin, how far have we come from the quarry?”
The man that had been silent the entirety of their journey spoke up in a voice so deep as to make Gare's own sound mild by comparison. Farra glanced back to observe the shrouded individual, seeing two nearly ivory horns with bluish tips protruding from his forehead, his skin dark enough to be difficult to discern the hue of without a ready source of light.
“Allow me a moment.”
He tapped his staff to the ground, the head of it ringing as if calling to the wind. The ground beneath it began shimmering with a magnificent white glow before it flowed through the metal rod. Various symbols, foreign to Farra's eyes traveled like shifting inscriptions upon the stave, the spellcaster shut his eyes as the group continued walking forward in a quiet filled with the humming of a spell.
“We lie far south of any of our outposts now, least three moons travel away, southeast of the temple. I would say we are now firmly in the heart of wilderness, in the southernmost part of Lord Mellor’s territory. No longer Valen’s territory certainly. The Oracle still has a clear gaze toward us, however our ley lines become more impossible to tap into with every step. This may be a prime opportunity to test the range of Valen's magics. Shall I chart our location by parchment?”
“It is unnecessary, be mindful of our distance in relation to the posts, but all this wilderness is a plain. The creatures and animals in the darkness have stayed clear of us, and there is little of interest in establishing a foothold here unless something lies beyond.”
“As is much of the land, my Lord. Should we travel two more moons, we may find ourselves out of the Oracle's eye, in the case we encounter danger.”
“We will stop to rest after half a moon. From thereon we will soon feel the ground change, from stone to sand. Seeing beyond that is our goal. I cannot see us traveling through the dunes for more than a moon. The Oracle's reach should not be an issue, danger is our concern.”
“As you say.”
Kaladin returned to silence. Despite his intimidating appearance under the cowl, Farra figured him to be the most reclusive of the group, likely only speaking when asked. His voice was polite and formal, something unlike any other individual in the war faction she heard speak so far. Perhaps it was because of his stature as a sort of mage. The individual whose name she did not know standing next to her was also kind and lighthearted.
They continued traveling in quiet, the harrowing winds had settled some, but still made communication troublesome. Verrika would turn to shift and tug on Farra's tunic, only to have the girl turn prior to being touched, looking up through the visor with weary eyes. She blinked before returning to looking forward, focusing her energy. Though she did not envy the prospect of further work at the quarry, it had been two moons since she last rest. Farra had come to understand through conversation that slaves were cycled rather efficiently, being allowed enough time to rest before returning to work ordinarily. The higher-ranking officers saw them as resources, and unneeded abuse failed to further any cause.
But that was not the case here. Farra was traveling with warriors who have an objective. There were no rocks to be lifted or line to stand in while walking. They traveled as practicality allowed. Given the circumstances it occurred to Farra, if she was not with them they may have been covering much more ground that much faster. The lingering thought of what they expected of her remained in her mind. She did not feel gifted, she was a hindrance more than anything else. Stopping to rest earlier than intended would be only another hindrance to those around her, even if her feet were aching and eyes became heavy, she could not permit herself to fall to fatigue now.
The air settled. Traveling on a rocky plain had its conveniences, the lack of dust being carried by the wind prevented annoyances for the eyes. Being able to hear her own thoughts again reinvigorated Farra, but just as her second wind came, Erres spoke.
“We'll stop and rest here til the moon is half full again, it won't be much longer before we reach the desert. Proper rest is needed.” Farra turned about, watching as the soldiers all shifted back, soothing the dharas as they rummaged through supplies. Erres tasked both mages to pitching tents for the night while Verrika and himself were to ration food and maintain the dhara. This left Gare to instruct Farra how to hold a smaller weapon before she slept.
And so Gare stood towering beside her, it had not struck Farra til now how mighty and proud Gare stood. Though he was not as tall as some less human soldiers or Kaladin, his frame more than compensated, making him the most intimidating. Despite the size of a man who surely could wield a massive war hammer, in his hands was a small short sword reaching slightly farther than Farra's arm length. The feeling of cold metal against Farra's skin sent a shiver through her body.
“Hold it. Become use to it. You'll live and die by a blade.” Farra swallowed, perhaps it was because she felt exhausted that her hand shook, that this metal dagger felt chilling to touch. She shook her thoughts away. It was not because of any coolness or lack of sleep, rather Farra was unfamiliar with a blade. A soldier had not brandished a weapon for any reason toward the slaves, least from what she had seen. She was plucked from her tribe with no use of force. Erres' mighty blade, the one she avoided instinctively, was the first her eyes laid upon. This dagger was the first weapon she held, let alone touched the blade of. The thought that it was a tool to take the life of another raced through her mind. But she was to heed Gare's instructions and learn to hold this weapon.
“Hold the handle firm, touch the blade with your other hand. It won't cut you so long as you don't slide the blade or your...”
His instructions were cut off by a small 'Tch' from Farra's lips. Her face wincing as a trickle of red oozed from one of her pale fingers, gradually painting it a deep crimson.
“It's good that happened.” Gare's voice carried an earnest scoff. “You'll learn from the pain. Hold the dagger outward like this, you want to keep a firm grasp at all times. Never lose control of your weapon unless you want to risk being disarmed.” Gare staggered his feet ever so slightly, holding the short sword with the back of his hand upward, bending his arm back to his chest. The feirin clenched her bleeding hand, steeling herself and clearing her mind of the stinging. She mimicked Gare's stance with the dagger, a suitable downsize when compared to the short sword the soldier held. Her palm sweat, fingers shifting around the dagger's handle, swallowing her spit continuously as she focused on stilling the blade.
“A dagger is better suited for self-defense, unless you're trying to catch someone by surprise. But with your frame, I wouldn't be shocked if you can't hold anything heavier. Follow my movement.”
He thrust the short sword forward with ease, repeating the same stabbing motion over and over before cutting upward from the last thrust, then returning to the starting stance. Farra watched, observing every movement before clutching the dagger tight and stabbing forward. Her body lurched forward with the blade, the handle wrestling itself from her fingers for a brief moment. A heat began to flow throughout her body in embarrassment, before beginning from the initial stance to repeat the thrusting motion twice more, taking care to not throw her weight behind the next jab. Mindful of the previous mistake, she cut upward from her last thrust in a slow swoop, maintaining a firm grip on the dagger's handle. The noise of any remaining wind, of other setting up camp, the feeling of pain, hunger, and tiredness, all had been drowned out by her focus. Gare would nod or shake his head at each movement, going through various sequences of motions for Farra to mimic each time. Silence fell between them, but still Farra understood his instructions and continued to follow, mindful of how her body would adapt to replicating Gare’s movements.
She began each exercise slow, taking care to feel each movement's interaction with the weight of the dagger. Gare would repeat a movement with his short sword if he desired for Farra to practice the sequence at a quicker pace. Only after Farra managed to emulate each motion at a sufficient speed would Gare change the way he swung or stabbed with the sword. Sweat began to trickle across Fara's forehead, her grip becoming clammy when Gare finally rested the sword to his side.
“You should always be mindful of your opponent's weapon, that determines how you have to attack, if at all. Now try to repeat some of the movements with this sword.” Gare rolled his shoulders, craning his neck in a stretch, holding out the hilt of the sword to Farra with one hand, signaling to return the dagger with his other hand. Farra set the dagger into his open gauntlet, reaching for the short sword with both hands and beginning to grasp the handle when Gare released the blade. She fell forward for an instant, catching the weapon before its tip struck the ground. With a heavy breath she held the short sword in the same stance she had wielded the dagger. The blade wobbled the further it was from her grip, her hand was quaking in an attempt to support the blade. Before attempting to stab, she opt to lower the sword with both hands in a stance she felt more comfortable, similar to how one might wield a long sword.
“I can't,” Farra spoke in a brief, hastened breath.
“You might have hurt yourself if you were stubborn enough to try. Know your limits and it'll prevent embarrassing mistakes or worse. I didn't expect you to be able to hold the sword like you did the dagger to begin with. And without enough training that we won't have time for anyways, you won't be able to use the short sword in any other way yet either.” He reached out, taking the short sword from her, her fingers uncurling from around the handle. “Everyone has some sort of weapon most suitable to them, even if they don't say so. But there are times when it can be best to abandon what you know for some other sort of advantage. That's all we have time for now, let's go back to the others and eat.” He craned his neck again, this time at the camp. Farra looked down to her cut finger, despite there still being a sing, the wound had begun to close and heal. She looked back up to a Gare that had already forward, scampering forward to catch up as the white black-tipped tails with dark streaks all along bounced up and down.
“Did she show promise?” Verrika chimed, handing the sleep-deprived Farra a ration, the feirin's eyes sported black bags underneath coupled with muck-covered cheeks. Each bit of dirt on her face was easy to discern against the white skin.
“Well enough with a dagger, nothing spectacular. She's limited by her strength and frame for anything bigger.” Gare bit into a hunk of cooked white flesh, tearing away from it with his teeth.
“A dagger is great. It took me sometime to find a weapon I felt was my own.” Verrika hung over Farra's shoulder as the latter bit into a tuber, nibbling with a reddening face, feeling the knight's proximity to her own. The praise Verrika so often provided her felt uncalled for, but it succeeded in flattering Farra every time nonetheless.
The meal was quiet. Kaladin and Gare were both men of few words unless prompted otherwise. And though the mage and Verrika had shown to both enjoy chatting up until this point, they took to savoring their food after Verrika concluded charming Farra. Erres quickly ate and retired to his tent, from which the sound of a blade being dragged across a whetstone could be heard. Verrika leaned over, whispering to Farra about Erres, fawning that although the lord was charismatic and often surrounded by his soldiers, he would often mull over strategies and battles in private.
The dhara calmed to a quiet hum, laying between all the tents after all meals concluded. One soldier after the next retired. It would be the first hint of rest for any in the group since departing the quarry. Farra laid to the back of a silent Verrika who rest with the majority of her armor on. The feirin then turned to her side to face the woman she came to regard as something of a friend. Her tails length and size would not allow her to comfortably face away given the space inside the tent. But this wasn't an inconvenience, In Farra's mind to be a soldier meant to endure conditions such as this when necessary. To refuse would be a nuisance, and entreat the alternative of being a slave.
Any thought of danger scarce linger on Farra's mind, it was the lessons of wielding the dagger, the talk of magic by Kaladin, and stories shared by Verrika and the mage that filled her mind before she drift off into sleep.