"The Gathering" - Chapter 13

Paths Less Traveled

Jasper looked back. The line of caravans they had left continued on their journey unchanged. No riders broke apart from the train of pack wagons and carriages to pursue them. They had left the gently rolling valley where Prime Andra had resided and acquired the disguise or front of traveling families. With their colouring and stature, it was easy enough to pass Niki and Eden as siblings, while Jasper, Wanda and Vincent were their cousins.

“You’re not trying to petrify anyone with that stare, are you?” came Vincent’s voice from his left. He was riding behind the wagon, bringing up the rear while Eden and Niki were in the lead with the small wagon between them and Vincent. The clairvoyant’s compact build was displayed obviously by the form-fitting jerkin he wore and low slung trousers--so low that Jasper had griped out, “I can see your butt-crack, for crying out loud! Put on some undies, at least!”--and knee-high boots.

That looked so gay, Jasper remembered commenting to a confused trio of Niki, Eden and Vincent. Wanda on the other hand, had eyed the compact musculature the garments presented speculatively. Jasper was willing to bet that that wasn’t all that Wanda was eyeing.

Eden had been dressed in a simple cotton blouse with short sleeves, gloves and a riding skirt that ended at her knees. Her riding boots and half-cloak completed her ensemble. Jasper had carefully noted the short sword the witch had tucked into one of the saddle harnesses.

Niki was dressed similar to Vincent, but had layered a fitted thin doublet of sturdy linen under the jerkin, making it look like a rusticated version of shirt-and-waistcoat combo. Jasper couldn’t decide which one was worse though, Vincent’s butt-crack baring trousers or Niki’s snug riding breeches. He had managed to refrain from making remarks about snakes-under-blanket, feeling they would be uncalled for. He wasn’t sure if the older man would appreciate such tasteless remark about his anatomy.

Jasper had opted for a choice of a plain, olive-coloured tunic and trousers. A pair of boots ending at his calves and a loose doublet he had left unbuttoned suited him well enough, he felt.

Wanda had followed his example, but in lieu of a tunic, she had chosen a jerkin like the ones she usually wore during her physical trainings with Niki. The doublet in her case had been buttoned till mid-torso. “Never underestimate the power of a well-placed cleavage,” Wanda had joked as they were dressing.

Jasper turned back from his fixed stare at the retreating caravan. He spared a glance at Vincent, noting the easy grace with which the smaller man handled his horse. The small wagon he and Wanda were riding were serviceable enough, with just enough space for two people to sit out front while steering the draft horse pulling it. Jasper harkened back to the equestrian lessons he had gleaned while staying with his grandmother when he was younger. It seemed he hadn’t forgotten much.

They had left the green rolling hills that formed the serene, wooded valley where the Prime’s mansion had been situated for an hour. As the green valley receded Jasper took stock of the lay of the land and noted that they had now entered a flat expanse of grassland intersected by highways. Further afield, just before the horizon Jasper could see the telltale patchwork quilts of cultivated farmlands.

“Is that where we’re heading?” he shot out the question to Niki, who was riding a little to his left about ten feet in front.

The giant blonde nodded. “We’re stopping there for the night, then on to the port at Holmburg.”

“And then?” Wanda chimed in with a question of her own.

“We’ll reach the mainland at Saint Anne.”

“ ‘Saint Anne?’” Jasper echoed the name. He exchanged a look with his sister and turned quizzically at Niki. “You have saints here? Didn‘t you say that Christianity--and other religions from the Prime Plane--isn‘t practiced here?”

“True,” Nikolai confirmed. His horse had slowed down it’s trot, keeping pace with the wagon. Eden had looked back at his seeming retreat and returned to maintaining the lead in front of them. The older man continued with his explanation. “Sainthood isn’t the sole province of the Christian faith. I’m sure other religions from your home world have similar practices of acknowledging or even deifying mortals into something close to the divine.”

“That makes sense,” Jasper agreed. “So if religion as we--that is, Wanda and I--know it isn’t practiced here, what or who do these people worship?”

“Gods, of course,” Nikolai answered simply. He returned a quizzical look at Jasper and Wanda. “Wasn’t that obvious?”

“Paganism?” Jasper hazarded, his brow crinkling.

“Is that what they call it?” Nikolai asked rhetorically, his flint-grey eyes amused. “You shouldn’t impose your own system of beliefs on a place where those beliefs were never acknowledged in the first place.”

“But--” Jasper began, sputtering but was cut short by Wanda.

“Leave it be, Jasper,” she allayed him. “The man has a point.” She looked appreciatively at Nikolai. “You know, that was quite the profound statement,” she complimented him.

Nikolai inclined his head mockingly at her. “People tend to forget I graduated with distinction from the Academy,” he sighed.

“What is this ‘Academy’ that I sometimes hear you guys talking about?” Wanda asked, her face taking on an inquisitive cast.

“The Academy, you mean? It is the place where mentalists were trained in the use of their powers.”

“All mentalists?”

“Not all,” Nikolai replied. “Some mentalists, especially those from the more affluent families or clans opted for private tutelage.” He shrugged as he spoke. “Some still learned their powers on their own.” He glanced at Jasper. “Usually we discourage such practices.”

Jasper raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer, focusing on the bridle in his hands. Wanda glanced at him, but seeing him noncommittal she left it be.

She turned back to Nikolai. “Another thing: Eden said that there are differences between witches and sorcerers. I’ve also heard references about wizards, battlecaster and warmages. Is there really such a large difference between those?” She paused, then sheepishly looked at Nikolai. “I’m just full of questions, aren’t I?”

Nikolai guffawed out loud in mirth. Jasper looked at him in surprise. In a space of a month, Niki had laughed more times compared to the entire length of his acquaintance--almost six years!--with the telepath. He looked back and forth from his sister to the blonde, feeling he is somehow missing something important.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Niki’s voice came. His eyes still retained the amused glee from his laughter.

“Make that the entire bank,” Jasper mutttered. “Never mind,” he answered Niki. He handed the reins over to Wanda. “You take over,” he said. “I’m gonna see if Vince has a cigarette to spare.”

“They’re rollies,” he heard Niki called out as Jasper made his way to the back of the wagon.

He reached the back wall of the wagon where the door was and opened the top part of the two-sectioned door that served as the proper entryway when one alighted the steps leading to it. Much like a Romany’s vardo, he noted. He looked out and saw that Vincent had drifted closer, now only about three feet behind and two feet to the wagon.

“Hey,” he called out to the clairvoyant. “You have a cigarette to spare?”

“Plenty,” Vincent answered. He reached towards his back where one of the saddlebags was situated and rummaged about. “A-ha!” he exclaimed in triumph after a few seconds. “There you go,” he said, handing over a small canvas bag to Jasper’s outstretched hand. “You know how to roll them, don’t you?”

“College years spent rolling doobies,” Jasper answered, giving a cheeky wink at the other man.

“Haha. Whatever, Jasper.”

“How many days will it take to reach Voltur?” Jasper asked as he placed a small pinch of tobacco shreds on the paper he cradled between his forefinger and thumb.

“If the weather holds, it should be about five days after we docked at Saint Anne.”

Jasper had finished rolling his cigarette and reached for the small box of matches he saw sitting on the small cupboard in the wagon. “I wouldn’t know how to light this, if this place doesn’t have matches,” he commented as he flicked one of the small matchstick against the rough wood of the wagon’s exterior.

“You could ask Eden to light it for you,” Vincent grinned as Jasper choked on his suggestion.

Jasper spared a glare at Vincent once he managed to get his coughing bout under control. “Right,” he managed to get the word out after hacking out the smoke that had him coughing. He grimaced as he continued. “She’s an interesting piece of work,” he noted. “I could usually get a read on everyone I meet, but she’s a blank canvas.”

“You can try probing harder,” Vincent suggested.

Jasper waved aside his comment. “That’s not what I meant,” he said after taking a deep drag on the cigarette. “I know I could read her if I push through her mental barriers. What I meant is that her mind is naturally structured and disciplined that its natural makeup alone is a barrier against any psychic intrusions.”

“I did not know that,” Vincent admitted after a surprised pause. “Interesting. I wonder if Nikolai knows this.”

“I told him a couple of weeks ago.”

“And how did he take it?” Vincent asked, knowing that Nikolai had always wondered at how Eden had managed to shield her thoughts from his cursory scans.

“He was annoyed.”

“Annoyed?”

“Annoyed,” Jasper affirmed. His face twisted into another grimace. “With me, actually. He told me to stop peeking into people’s heads.” He paused, a slow cynical smile forming on his lips as he took another pull on the cigarette. “Then he asked me how I did it.”

Vincent laughed. “Did you tell him?” he asked.

“Showed him.” Jasper answered. “There’s a reason why Eden hates disruptions,” he explained. “Every day, she’ll catalogue the necessary tasks and steps she’ll have to do throughout the day, more or less. Any changes to those will have her coming up with new paths and routings in her mind to accommodate them.”

“Interesting,” Vincent repeated his earlier remark. “Wouldn’t that make her a bit rigid?”

“Uhh … We are talking about Eden, remember?”

Another bout of laughter from both of them.

The day passed by with small conversations between them, even Eden who will contribute an aside or two. As the coming twilight approached, they saw that they had come finally to the line of cultivated farms and Jasper had spied earlier during the day.

“This seems like an adequate place to spend the night,” Eden noted. “I’ll ride ahead and see to our accommodations.” She turned her horse about and galloped ahead to the small cluster of houses and buildings situated about a mile ahead.

“How Queen Bee of her,” Wanda remarked unkindly under her breath. Jasper caught her muttering and snorted in agreement.

“Well, I suppose we should continue a little bit,” Vincent commented, pulling his horse besides the trundling wagon.

“How sure are we that those people will be accommodating?” Jasper asked, his natural cynicism surfacing.

“For some remuneration, the least they could do is set up the barn for us,” Nikolai answered, shrugging his massive shoulders. He glanced laughingly at Wanda. “Unless your sister has problems with sleeping in the hay?”

Wanda stuck her tongue out at him, but later joined him in laughter. “Tumbling in the hay,with you? Why, Mr Pedersen, I’ve never heard of such a thing!” she teased him with a poor imitation of a Regency English debutante.

Vincent joined the two of them in laughter. Jasper caught the mental flash the dark-haired man tossed at him, Your sister and Niki, huh? How does that make you feel?

Bite me, Vince, Jasper thought back.

Sure, Vince replied. I’ll even kiss it, if you like.

Jasper shot him a wide-eyed look of disgust, amusement and shock. You sick freak.

We’re all freaks here, my friend, came his witty rejoinder.

Jasper gave up and steadfastly tuned out the three of them, keeping his line of sight on the cluster of buildings they are approaching.

It was a farmstead, he could now see. Several two-story buildings formed a rough U-shape where the bowl formed the front. The two wings enclosed an inner yard, where he could see the cheery bright fires coming from the smithy. The metal-on-metal clinking sound confirmed it.

A separate blocky structure was situated about a hundred feet away. The large doors were open and the interiors lighted. Eden was standing near the entrance with a stocky, middle-aged man. They were engaged in a conversation. As they neared, Jasper could see the witch passing a small pouch to the man.

“Thank you, miss,” the gravelly voice of the man reached him as they pulled up in front of the building, which Jasper now saw was a barn. “I’ll have my boys take care of the horses and bring dinner over in a short while.” He paused. “Will there be anything else you require?”

“A bath to be drawn in the morning,” Eden replied. “If you could spare the water, that is.”

“That we can,” the man nodded. “I’ll have them drawn fresh and hot for you and your friends in the morning.”

“Then, that will be all,” Eden said. “There are your boys now,” she noted, spying two teenagers approaching them. “I think we’ll manage now,” she said, as she waved the two boys towards her horses and signaled towards Jasper, Wanda, Nikolai and Vincent. “My friends should be able to set up nicely.” You turned to the man, and inclined her head towards the main house. “You may send dinner to us now, I should think.”

The man knew when he was dismissed. He nodded and made to leave them but not before to bark instructions to his two sons who were stabling the horses with Nikolai and Vincent. “I hope you are fine with country fare, miss,” he said as he walked away.

“Yes, I hope you are,” Wanda quipped humorously at Eden after the farmer had left their earshot. Eden shot her a frosty glare. Wanda ignored her, eyeing the two boys, who appeared to be late adolescents, helping Nikolai and Vincent currying the horses. “My, they grow them well these parts, don’t they?” she remarked saucily.

Jasper paused in the act of removing the bedding from the wagon and rolled his eyes at his sister’s off-colour humour.

The two boys left soon, murmuring their appreciation of the horses to each other. Jasper surmised that the farmer and his sons appreciated good horseflesh, and the six he had spied in the stables next to the barn had confirmed it.

Dinner was sent by the farmer’s two daughters and consumed. The repast of roast chicken and gravy with wild rice and steamed vegetables, though simple was filling and delicious. Vincent drew several shocked looks when he belched loudly after the meal, not bothering with any apologies. His crude conduct drew censorious looks from both Eden and Jasper. Nikolai had leaned back against the stacks of hay behind him, a look of content on his face as he rummaged around in the small tobacco packet belonging to Vincent.

“I didn’t know you smoke,” Jasper remarked with some surprise.

“Plenty of things people don’t know about me,” Nikolai agreed, echoing his similar statement from earlier during their ride. He grinned. “It’s not a habit, though. I thought it’d be nice to go along with that Whitehaven Red Eden had brought along.”

Vincent jumped up, loosing another belch as he reached his feet. “Pardon,” he offered cheekily at Jasper and Eden. “I’ll get the wine.”

He went towards the wagon and they could hear him rummaging about. A triumphant crow sounded from him and he re-emerged from the wagon carrying the medium-sized cask, a spigot and a resin-ware pitcher. He unscrewed the stem-like contraption near the top of the cask and detached it.

“You’re going to guzzle it straight from there?” Wanda wondered aloud.

“Not really,” Eden answered her, her ice-blue eyes amused. “Just watch,” she offered by way of explanation, motioning towards Vincent. “You’re not drinking?” she asked, by way of offering. Her hand had already reached for Wanda’s cup.

“Nope,” Wanda demurred, covering her cup containing the water drawn from a large pitcher accompanying the meal. “I’m a teetotaler.”

Eden’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You don’t consume any …?” she left it hanging.

“None whatsoever,” Wanda averred firmly. “But you guys go ahead,” she added quickly, turning to look at Vincent.

The smaller man had attached a spigot to the opening and was screwing it in place. Once satisfied that it was secured he upturned the cask and motioned to Jasper to clear away the dishes they had placed on the small low bench for their dinner. He placed the cask on the bench and placed the pitcher under the spigot. “There we go,” he said as the flow of the fragrant red wine filled the pitcher.

“I smell … rose?” Jasper queried, sniffing at the cup Vincent had filled up for him.

“The Havenites mixed some rose cordial during processing to sweeten the taste,” Vincent confirmed. “It’s not reinforced like brandy or port, but slightly more robust than sweet sherry.”

“Alcohol,” Wanda remarked, “The bridge between worlds.” She shook her head after taking a sip from her cup of water. “How many gallons is that?” she asked Nikolai, nudging his thigh with her feet.

Jasper and Vincent looked at each other. They then looked at Eden but the witch had her eyes closed. Then looked at Niki. The telepath had a small smile on his normally stern face. He pulled on his cigarette before he answered Wanda, “About eighteen gallons.”

“Damn,” Wanda drawled, eyeing the cask. “You’re not finishing it in one night, are you?”

“No,” Niki confirmed. “The cask will keep. Whitehaven Reds don’t turn, so it’ll keep.”

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Jasper said, after they had settled into a companionable lull of small talk. He upended his cup to his lips and stood up. “I’m calling it a night.”

He appropriated one of the small lanterns and made his way to his pile of bedding up on the loft of the barn. As he patted down his bedding to even out any lumps, he heard the clinking of dishware as the others are cleaning up. He heard the gentle murmur of Eden’s voice asking them to pile the dishes and utensils to one side while Vincent and Niki were clearing any possible they mess had made during dinner. The drowsy haze of the wine soon took over him, and he fell asleep to the sound of Eden’s voice reminding them of the bath she had bargained for them in the morning.

Outside, the silver disk of the full moon kept watch over the farmstead. Had Jasper looked out the window of the loft, he would have made out a winged shape passing over the pregnant lunar surface.

* * *

He couldn’t sense their life-force anymore. He had tracked them from the moment they had left the valley, keeping to the lower stratosphere and using his acute vision to keep track of them. He could sniff out the powerful spark of the spellweaver’s life-force, and the other female. He could sense the powers inherent in her, but couldn’t get a firm lock on what her abilities are. He could also sense that they have a telepath and an empath—a mentalist, and a human gifted with empathic abilities--but that wasn’t the reason for staying far from reach. He had detected the telepath—an Academy-trained Class 8--and the empath during the first wingover and had immediately pulled back to a safe distance.

But they were not the reason for him staying out of range.

It was the clairvoyant that must be avoided. Especially this particular one. He had heard about Vincent Somerfeld’s and his all-seeing talents. Illusions and disguises will not work on him; his powers will just peel away the layers of carefully crafted magical glamour or cosmetic artifice and reveal what is hidden. Thus, he had kept to this high altitude, keeping the sun to his back--the glare from the light alone will shield him.

What the clairvoyant cannot see, he could not see.

He remembered the elven wizard’s instruction that the spellweaver is to be left for her but the others are to be destroyed. He grinned, his dry craked lips pulling back from his sharply-filed teeth. Avana can have her playthings. It is the thrill of the hunt now possessed him, almost choking him with his frustration when he lost the trail of their life-force.

He made a small circle, starting from the point from where he last sensed them.

Nothing.

Frustrated, he let loose a shriek of anguish. Rarely has any of his prey eluded him this long. He gnashed his fanged mouth, caring little that he had bitten his cheek--black ichor flung away from his face by the winds at the speed he was flying. He swore, when he finally came upon them he would visit such pain upon their frail fresh and feast.

His wings flapped once, carrying him aloft on the updrafts of night air and he decided to return to his temporary hideout. 

His hunger grew as he flew, and he longed for the moment when he could consume their flesh and life-forces.