Torana double-checked the daggers hidden about her person, making sure each could be drawn smoothly, “I’ll be fine on my own, Os’. You’ll just get in my way at this point. Stay here and enjoy the sights while I’m gone.”
The room they had rented for the night was simple yet comfortable. Osran sat on one of two threadbare beds with his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. “It’s pretty enough, Tor’,” He sighed. “But what am I supposed to do for the hours you’re gone?”
“Take a leaf out of my book,” Torana threw a small purse to the bed. It jingled lightly as it landed next to Osran. “Drink.”
“Maybe I’ll just take in the town,” He lifted the purse and tucked it into his jacket nevertheless. “I’m just not sure I’ll fit in.”
Torana looked up from her ministrations “What do you mean? You know how to be around these people.”
“I know how to serve them, Tor’. Not mingle with them, chat with them. It’ll be pretty obvious I don’t belong.”
Torana seemed to soften slightly, “I’m sorry, Os’. I don’t want you to come with me and have things go badly. If you’re here and something happens to me, you can still take the money to Skerret and get away. You can even sell the stone if you need to.”
“Alright,” Osran sighed. “And you’re sure you can trust him?”
“Skerret? About as much as I can trust anyone. There’s a profit in it for him, so I reckon that’ll keep him straight. Plus, he knows what I’ll do to him if he doesn’t behave,” She shot Osran a devious smile. “He’s a professional. He’s been forging documents for years.”
Osran’s brow remained furrowed, but he let the matter drop. Torana finished the last of her checks, strapping a row of small vials to her hip, and turned to him. “I’ll likely be a few hours. I’ll meet you back here when I’m done. Try to enjoy yourself.” Osran nodded, and she headed out into the night.
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The cool night air rolled over Torana as she left the inn and headed North through the Canopy. The locals had begun to gather for their evening’s entertainment, and small crowds were beginning to form in front of several restaurants and bars.
The white plastered buildings shone a deep, golden yellow in the light of the gas lamps. Light-colored flowers splashed spots of colour on dark patches of vines that climbed the trellises attached to many of the buildings.
Soon, she crossed the river into the area of town known as The Hook. Here, heavily laden flat-bottomed boats were used to trade wine along the Berkobell itself.
Though it was quiet this late in the evening, the sunrise would reveal a swarm of activity as labourers loaded and unloaded the precious cargo. The North bank of the Berkobell was given over to the homes of those men and women who worked the vineyards.
Though the homes here were more simple than those on the South bank, the nightlife was more energetic and boisterous. Torana wended her way through the streets taking in the sounds of the workers. Their music and laughter brought a smile to her lips. Their freedom is hard-earned, but perhaps that makes it all the sweeter, She thought to herself as she made for the North gate.
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Osran left the inn soon after Torana. He noticed the milling crowds of richly-dressed people, chatting to themselves in quiet contentment, no doubt heading to indulge in a carefree evening of fine food and drink.
Looking around, he sighed. Might as well find a way to pass the time, He thought. Picking a direction at random, he began to walk along the decorated streets.
He sullenly considered his conversation with Torana. Since agreeing to travel with her, he’d come to appreciate just how capable she was and how little she truly needed him. A fact of which she often seemed eager to remind him.
They had been traveling together for nearly two months now. Always trying to outrun their pursuers since leaving the estate of Torana’s father. He knew she appreciated his company, but wished he could be of more direct use.
The town’s nightlife was in full swing. Many of the wealthy-looking people crowded the bars and restaurants along the street down which Osran walked.
He was used to their kind. As a former servant to Torana’s father, he had been taught how to interact with people like these in an obsequious manner. To be seen but not heard, to be ever-present and attend to their whims without being obtrusive.
He scowled to himself. If nothing else, life on the road with Torana had taught him a servile life was not one he wanted. He approached a group at random and began to gently negotiate his way to the bar, squeezing between the unmoving forms of the other clientele as he did so.
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Finding the ornate wooden counter, he attempted to make eye contact with the woman behind it. The tall, slender woman had her work cut out for her fielding calls from other customers who were more prepared to be louder and more aggressive than Osran.
He cursed inwardly, scorning Torana for leaving him here when something caught his eye. Further down the bar, he noticed the familiar figure of Skerret, leaning on his cane and conversing with another man who was obscured by the crowd. Perhaps he could find some company after all.
Osran struggled through the crowd, apologising profusely as he jostled and jolted the other customers. Emerging from behind two particularly indignant patrons, he saw that Skerret and his acquaintance had moved. Looking around, he spied them heading towards the exit of the bar. Gritting his teeth, Osran dived back into the crowd to follow.
Out on the street, Osran breathed deeply in the cool, fresh air. The stuffy closeness of the bar behind him. He saw Skerret a few metres ahead of him. In the improved light, he took in the sight of his companion. The man was of a slight build, but perhaps slightly larger than Osran himself. His light hair trailed down his back over a deep green cloak.
Osran increased his pace to catch up with them, opening his mouth to call a greeting. As he did so, the man placed an arm on Skerret’s shoulder and laughed as they shared a joke. Revealing a crest on the man’s shoulder as the cloak fell away. Osran stopped. The emblem was that of sunburst atop an open book. The emblem of Torana’s father.
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Torana had been traveling north for close to an hour now, guided by the light of her flaming torch. With each passing minute, she became more irritable. Skerret said I’d be able to find the blasted package, She grumbled. Surely its residue hasn’t faded this quickly.
For what seemed like the hundredth time since she had left Kirsterren, she closed her eyes and concentrated. Opening herself up to magical vibrations as she had been taught by her master, she sought out the slightest ripple in the air to pinpoint the aura.
There was something. Something faint. She concentrated harder, fighting to block out the sound of the wind in the trees and the feeling of it on her skin. Yes, there it is. The package was either possessed of a very faint magical aura, or it was further away than she wanted it to be, but she had a direction. She strode towards the package with renewed vigor.
Soon Torana was forced to leave the road. Attuning Entropy, she extinguished the flame of her torch, drawing out the last of its heat. A simple piece of magic, almost akin to merely opening a small hole to that particular Rhoki. Barely worth conscious effort at her level of mastery.
After stashing the torch at her belt, she concentrated, attuning herself to the Rhoki of Light. Her pupils widened to twice their normal size, greatly increasing her sensitivity to light.
The environment, lit only by the pale moon, immediately brightened to her, outlining everything in clear detail. Torana began to pick her way through the undergrowth towards the pulsating magical beacon.
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With the road fading from sight behind her, she crested the rise of a hill. The package was close by. The land before her dipped sharply into a natural depression cluttered by fallen trees and twisted branches. Amongst the fallen vegetation lay the package. Unseen, but unmistakable.
Torana looked around near the spot where she could feel the aura and found a small clear area that looked suitable. Releasing Light, her pupils returned to normal and the world dimmed along with it.
Now, she attuned two of the Rhoki. Firstly, Stone for fortitude. Speaking the words under her breath, she shaped the energy into her legs, fortifying them in preparation for her next attunement. Fire, for strength.
Though the channeling took only a few seconds, the effort brought small beads of sweat to her brow in the cool night air. Body modification magic was complex, and the larger the area of the body you affected, the more difficult the shaping of the planar energies became.
Once the modification was complete, Torana kicked out her legs to acclimatise to their new power. When satisfied, she jumped, launching herself across the depression to come crashing down in the small clearing.
A flock of birds leapt into the sky at the noise, calling their alarm into the night. Torana ignored them, striding instead to the package, lifting some fallen debris to find the small, brown paper package lying in the dirt. Smiling to herself, she lifted the package and turned it over in her hands. This better be something important, she thought.
Still holding Fire and Stone, she gathered herself once more. Torana leapt into the air back towards the ledge from which she had first come. From the darkness, a voice called “Now!” as the stochastic snap of bowstrings cut through the night.
Pain blossomed in Torana’s calf, causing her to lose her grasp on the strengthening energies. At the end of her arc, she hit the ground hard, rolling over the uneven earth before coming to rest in a tangle of vegetation.
A moment passed as she lay there, dazed before snapping herself back into focus. She was under attack. Listening for the sound of approaching feet, she pulled the arrowhead from her leg and attuned Life to stem the bleeding.
Fortunately, her attunement to Stone had prevented the worst of the damage. Gingerly, she stood. Testing that her leg could still support her weight, she ran her hand along the vials at her hip, Still intact, thank Nishtae. Closing her eyes, she steadied her breathing and listened, trying to pick out any sounds that would betray her attackers.
She attuned Fire once again. Easy spells, quick casts. She thought. The creaking of a bow being pulled to her right alerted her to the presence of her first assailant.
With a burst of speed, Torana ran towards the sound, conjuring small balls of flames around her as she did so, illuminating the figure in front of her. The bow held by her opponent swayed as they stepped back. Torana sent the flames streaking ahead of her, causing the man to dive to the floor. Torana leapt as she drew knives from within her cloak, landing close to the attacker, and stabbing down into his arm. Amateur.
Snatching her assailants’ bow, and arrows from their quiver, Torana attuned to another aspect of Life. Quickly and quietly, she shaped the energy into the surrounding foliage. The brambles and vines slithered to life, moving to tether her opponent, securing him to the ground. With that, she moved softly away, leaving the bleeding man moaning in the embrace of the earth.