Spin Offs, Setta Vrith C
“For crimes of thievery, highway robbery and affiliation with a known criminal organization, this man is sentenced to be hung by his neck. If anyone present would speak in this man’s defence or know of any other reason he should not be executed, speak now.” The masked and hooded hangman looked around at those who had gathered to witness Lord Willik’s justice.
Most of the residents of Hadden’s Fort and a good number of folks from outlying homesteads had arrived to witness the event. It was the first execution in Willik’s Hold in over a dozen years. Not a single person raised their voice in the man’s defence. The hangman waited another few moments before reaching for the lever that would release the trapdoor the thief was standing on. He glanced towards Lord Willik, who did speak, “By my order.”
The lever was pulled, the man dropped down below the platform, far enough that his neck snapped with a loud crack when the rope went taunt. Everyone waited silently, until the hangman pulled the body up from under the level of the platform with the help of a couple guards. They secured him for all to see. A Priestess of Mercy verified that the man was, in fact, dead.
Quiet conversations could be heard as the crowd dispersed. Lord Willik and his entourage went back to the keep. Setta looked over to Mokha, “That was quickly done.”
Mokha nodded, but he was more intent on looking at the people around them. He had been sure that Raven and her companion would attempt a rescue. Setta had thought that was very unlikely, under the circumstances. If those two women were smart they would be far and away from Hadden’s Fort by this point.
When they had arrived yesterday, in a wobbly wagon with a poorly attached wheel and a naked man tied to the back end, it had not taken long before guards had arrived to question them. The matter immediately went to the marshal and then to Lord Willik himself. After hearing their account, Lord Willik had ordered the man’s execution.
The next day the deed was done. Before arriving in Hadden’s Fort, Setta had questioned the man, or tried to at any rate. He had said little, other than to try and convince them that his friends would pay a fine ransom for his release.
Mokha had traded the wagon, most of its contents and the draft horse for a new mount for her, as well a few supplies for the road. He had also been able to gather news about Adwin and the others. They had left, heading east, nearly two eight-days ago.
Most of the locals had gone back to their homes, shops or the tavern, Mokha had heaved a sigh, in an overly loud voice he said, “Seems like they aren’t here.”
“Are your ears still ringing?”
“Yeah, I still have a headache as well.”
“You should let me deal with that.”
“Well, we’ve a bit over an eight-day before the equinox, there really isn’t time to stop for a few days just now. I’m sure I’ll be fine and if not, then you can see to it after we get to Darner’s Hold.”
Setta had already explained to him the dangers associated with head trauma, she was not going to argue with him about their travel plans. If he collapsed on the way there, she would deal with the problem then and they would be late. “We should move on, then. There’s the better part of half a day’s travel we could put behind us if we go now.”
“Yeah, let’s get moving.”
In short order they were back on the trail again, the southeastern part of Willik’s Hold was sparsely populated. Over the next couple days they only passed a handful of small homesteads. There was no sign that Raven and the mage were ahead of them.
The following day, the trail winnowed to a narrow path with only a hint here and there that, at one point, it had been a road. They saw no homesteads that day and still no indication that Raven moved along ahead of them. Towards evening they could see distant hills to the south. Setta heard the ethereal voices of the wild-elves singing the passing of the day. She glanced at Mokha, he gave no indication that he was hearing what she was. She decided not to say anything, suspecting that he would be disappointed that he could not hear their beautiful voices.
The trail wound through the countryside, sometimes taking them further from the migratory path, sometimes closer. Mokha woke one morning and declared, “The ringing is gone.”
She smiled in response to his joyful declaration, “That’s a good sign.”
“For a while there I thought I might lose my ear for music.”
“As I said, I could have restored that for you.”
“Well, it seems like you won’t have to.”
“Did you want to take some time and play your sitar? I’ve missed your music over the last few days.”
“I might just do that.” He took out the instrument and tuned it. Setta prepared some food. Eventually Mokha began playing, melodic and melancholy, he played long past the point when the food was ready. She set his serving aside and let him play as she ate.
When he was finished he carefully put the sitar away, closed the case and ran his hand over the smooth finish, “I never expected to become so attached to a piece of luggage.”
“It was a good investment. Here, eat.” She passed him the bowl of food and packed their gear, preparing to resume their eastward trek.
“I was wondering if you wanted to learn fire magic?”
She looked over at him, “I don’t see why not. Though we would have to learn each other’s arcane language. Certainly I would like to teach you more about magic, your education along those lines has been fairly limited.”
He looked thoughtful, they saddled the horses, “It would be useful to know more about healing magic, especially if that’s the path to extending my life.”
“Then we should start today. We can create a lexicon of the ancient Tannican and the Ellodran languages.”
As they continued east that day they started working on the lexicon. It was very rudimentary initially and they had to repeat much of it many times. Setta was pleased with their progress, it would take a long time before it was finished, but it was good memory work and learning new things was one of her favourite vocations.
That night they both heard the elves singing, they made love under a starry sky. Afterwards, Mokha drew her attention to the stars, “Adwin has been quite obsessed with that one, with the elongation.”
“It’s not really a star, though it is called, among other things, the Dragon Star and the Fire Star. This is the second time I have seen it. It will become much bigger and for a few months brighten the night sky.”
“Maradda said something about it bringing fiery doom.”
“It does sometimes, but there has to be a pretty specific celestial alignment in order for that to happen. Some of the lore I’ve read claims that fire magic is easier to cast during the year it is closest to Prymvera.”
“Did you not know any mages who were so skilled during its last transition?”
“No, that was close to two hundred years ago. It’s only been within the last century that elemental magic has started to become commonplace again. When I was young, no one taught it, and if someone did know elemental magic, they typically didn’t talk about it.”
“I did not know that.”
“A lot changes from one century to the next, if you’re paying attention.”
“What’s it like to be so long lived?”
She chuckled, “That’s something you’ll have to ask me again in a few decades.”
They were on the road early the next morning, shortly after the elves sang the birth of the new day. Setta found it unusual to be hearing the elves so frequently. She wondered if they were travelling along a parallel course with a group of the wildfolk. Maybe there was some sort of gathering of the elves taking place.
It rained throughout the afternoon, that night the temperature dropped considerably. She was very thankful for Mokha’s company and his fire magic. Their course through the day had taken them further north and they were far enough from the migratory path that they could no longer hear the elves.
Late the next morning they came to a village of around thirty homes built of sod and stone, well spaced one from the other. There were not a lot of people around, some few were out gathering food, mostly youths. They rode into the centre of the village, a young man approached as they dismounted.
Mokha asked, “Would it be alright if we used your well?”
The local lad gave a nod, “Of course. Where are you two heading?”
“Darner’s Hold. I think we must be close. We might need to barter for food.”
“This is Darner’s Hold.”
Setta looked around, she had been expecting something more substantial. Mokha asked, “This is Darner’s Hold?”
“One of them. Are you here for the moot?”
Mokha nodded, “We came at Tipper’s behest.”
“Ah, you’ll likely want someone to guide you then. As it is you’ll be hard pressed to get there before the equinox.”
“That sounds like a good idea. You said this was one of Darner’s Holds? How many are there?”
“A fair number, mostly east and north of here. We generally don’t let a place get too big. Easier on the land, easy to have an assembly. I’ll see who’s available to take you to the moot.”
They replenished their water skins. Setta thought the place was rather pretty, it seemed like the entire village was a garden. Goats, dogs and chickens roamed around freely.
Mokha took a drink of water, then said, “I think I have a much better understanding of why Tipper is the way she is. This is certainly not what I was expecting from a population of people descendant from the Eldra.”
Setta smiled, “I’m sure they’re full of all kinds of surprises.”
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