Journey of the Messenger Cycle 2 Part 2a

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Berri

Berri had never been in mountains before, even though Swampdon was comparatively close to the worlds largest range of mountains, with many that were somehow much taller than what they had here in Maldorn. So, she thought, it was great that she had been able to travel through one of them, underneath it in fact. Or, maybe it had been many mountains. The passage along the dwarven canal had been dark and she was under the impression they had been travelling fairly quickly. Nordak had said they would have travelled close to seventy yat from the Corthy terminus to the Donst terminus, she was not too sure about that. They had only been under the mountain for part of a day.

Nordak was a nice old man. He had taught her a number of things about playing her lute, and for that she was very thankful to have met the master luthier. She hoped his business with the duke went more smoothly than that of she and her companions.

They had only been in Maldorn a few brief moments before Ijah killed a man. Now, she was in the custody of the dwarves and who knew how long all that would take. At least Darra had seemed confident that she would be able to help Ijah. She was friends with the local lord, Berri was not sure, but she suspected Darra and said lord might have had a romance in their youth. The morning following Ijah’s arrest, Darra had put Berri on a fast coach to West Port so that she could deliver the messengers satchel to the Kereshi enclave there.

Hopefully Darra would be able to help Ijah and then the two of them would join her before too long. Better yet, she hoped they would catch up with her before she made it to West Port. She was more than a bit nervous about going to the enclave by herself. She hardly spoke the Kereshi language, she spoke even less Maldornian. Maldorn? Maldorian? Whatever. She was a bit confused as to how Darra and Ijah were going to get to West Port ahead of her, yet Darra had said it was possible that they might.

Maybe Darra’s lordly friend was also a mage? Berri wondered what it would be like to be a sorceress, a user of magical energy. She had thought that Igma and her little mountain palace had been really interesting, much more so than the stuffy mages of the Swampdon Council. Walker was also a mage, but different than the others. He helped people, his friends, family and strangers he met on the road, his magic was about travelling.

Berri was not sure travelling magic was really that big of of deal, not when there were dwarven canals, fast coaches and the Maldorn sky-ships. Maldorn had so many sky-ships. Since arriving she had seen over a dozen of them, mostly from a distance, but still… Counting the three she had seen in GreensBridge, earlier that summer, and through all the rest of the years of her life she had seen half as many. Swampdon had airships visit, but that was only one or two a year, at most. Here, she had seen two or three each day so far.

And so much more besides.

The mountains were beautiful, the forests were rich with autumn colours, there were many odd looking towns and villages and impressive stone bridges connecting the various parts of the High Mountain Way. Or, maybe it was the Mountain Highway or the Mountain High Road, her minimal comprehension of the local language made communicating difficult.

They were presently descending out of the mountains and for a moment she was worried she had boarded the wrong coach somewhere along the way. Vast plains of yellow grass stretched out as far as she could see, looking very similar to the plains she had spent much of the summer travelling through. She knew they had been heading southwest, obviously it could not be the Pwhanna Plains.

Close to the base of the mountain they had their second stop of the day. At each station the passengers stepped out to stretch their legs or use the local facilities if they had the need, while the four horses were switched out for a fresh team. Sometimes a passenger left the coach, having reached their destination, or a new person joined them on their westward trek. So far the coach had never been at capacity, Berri hoped it would never get that crowded. With five people it was still pretty comfy, but aside from the six that could fit on the couches there were two small fold-out chairs, eight folks being jostled around in the small confines seemed like it would be very uncomfortable. There was also a bench on the back of the coach that could hold another three, but they would be outside without much shelter from the weather.

Berri munched on a piece of smoked bear meat, it was dry and nearly tasteless by this point. It was also the last of the food she had, which was okay since the coach service fed them twice a day and offered lodging in a bunkhouse each night. She also had money from Darra, marks, pieces of paper that represented different values, depending on the picture and numeral printed on them. She was a bit confused about the local money, though she still had a few pieces of copper, a handful of silver coins and a few gold pieces she had tucked away. She was nervous about buying something, even a small purchase, like some food, seemed like a risky endeavour. Too bad there were not more folks who spoke her language.

The people here were interesting, even if she could not understand what they were saying most of the time. They dressed differently, or most of them did. While the teamsters and stablehands wore practical pants, shirts, boots and gloves, there were notable differences even at that. Like how so many of them seemed to wear nearly the same style and cut everywhere they stopped, she was used to folks dressing similarly in a single village or town, but seeing the same clothes at every single station they stopped at was unusual as far as she was concerned. The coach service must have a big family of tailors working for them nearly all the time.

Everyone else wore a wide variety of clothing of different styles and the tendency seemed to be more towards festival garb, at least while travelling. Nearly everyone had boots or shoes with laces and the styles were vastly different from what she was used to, Maldorn obviously had a lot of very skilled cobblers. She had been so intent on watching people and their clothing that she was startled when a woman came up to her and asked a question. She thought it was a question.

She turned, the woman who had spoken was older, long threads of grey ran through her tightly braided hair, she wore a high collared, full length dress and was smiling at Berri expectantly. Berri swallowed the meat she had been chewing on, it scraped her throat a bit as it went down, she choked then replied, “Sorry, I’m not from around here.”

“Well, that was pretty clear, my dear. I asked if you minded if I sat beside you during the trip.”

Berri was so happy to hear someone speaking her own language she almost hugged the woman, “That would be great, I haven’t had a chance to speak to someone for a few days now… Ah, where are you heading to?”

“The Lake Lands. I’m a teacher.”

“Oh. What goddess do you serve?”

“Goddess? Oh. No dear, it’s not like that. I’m a teacher, I teach. Mathematics and languages mostly, but also history, philosophy and geography.”

“Wow, you must know a lot.”

The woman laughed and extended a hand, “A fair bit, to be sure. My name of Meratha Mollywagon.”

Berri blinked in confusion, she looked to the woman’s hand then took it tentatively, “Most folks call me Berri. Peace be with you.”

“Nice to meet you, Berri. Where are you going?” The middle aged woman shook her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Berri liked the depth of curiosity she saw in Meratha’s eyes. “West Port.”

“Oh goodness. By yourself?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

“Well that sounds like an interesting story. I look forward to hearing all about it.”

It did not take much longer before the team was harnessed and the baggage loaded onto the top of the coach. Meratha was not the only new passenger. Another woman, around Berri’s age, ran up to the coach at the last moment. Thankfully one of the previous passengers had left, so they were six now. The new passenger took a seat, giving the rest of them an apologetic look, she did a bit of a double take when she noticed Berri and the two of them looked at each other for a few moments.

Meratha asked, “Where are you from, Berri?”

“Hmm? Oh, Swampdown more or less. A little hamlet actually, a half days walk from Swampdon.”

“You live in the swamp?”

Berri scrunched her nose up, “Yeah, we do actually.”

“Did you know Swampdon is one of the oldest human cities in the world?”

“I’ve heard that a time or two, but there’s a city somewhere north of Elquin… Lantra, I think it’s called. That’s supposed to be the oldest human city.”

“That’s correct. How long have you been travelling?”

“Since mid spring…”

The two of them chatted, nearly non-stop, as the coach raced along the broad stone-finished road to the next station. Periodically Berri noticed the other new passenger watching her. Over the course of that leg of the journey they exchanged a couple of smiles, the other woman seemed embarrassed or maybe just shy. Mostly Berri listened to Miss Mollywagon, the teacher seemed to know a bit about everything. She had as many questions as Berri did. They talked about GreensBridge a fair amount and though the teacher had never heard of Janderton before Berri brought it up, she had many questions about that place as well. Berri’s questions were more practical, dealing with money and the proper pronouncement of the few Maldorn words Darra had tried to make her learn.

It was around mid-afternoon when they next stopped. They had come to a small village, east of which the plains slopped towards lower elevations. Berri took the opportunity to relieve herself and shortly thereafter they were all back on the coach rolling towards the last stop of the day.

Miss Mollywagon had taken advantage of the stop to fetch a book from her luggage, “I thought you mind find this useful.”

Berri looked at the cover of the book the woman was holding out to her. She thought it looked a bit odd, “What is it?”

“It is a lexicon and dictionary of common Andalee and Maldorn words.”

Berri shrugged, feeling somewhat self conscious, “I don’t read.”

Miss Mollywagon seemed shocked, “Oh no, dear me… Well, we have a day or so more together. Let’s see what I can do to rectify that.”

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