The Innocence of Teacups

These woods were almost creepy in the dark but after being witness of all those red swirls and Freyr’s un-naturally white face, walking down a known trail was nothing to be afraid of. The townsfolk were always playing in the woods, seeing who dared get closest to the mountains. Rumour was many a Kazaran traveller never came back once they stepped foot in the mountains. This was probably a true enough rumour however one which shouldn’t scare people. Those travellers most likely never returned because they either wanted to live on the side of the mountain they’d been travelling to in the first place or they’d not been prepared to do battle with the spirits over the mountains, rather than on them. There was nothing deadly in the mountains or at least Freyr told him so.

Freyr. He stopped in the middle of the trail and turned round, looking at how much trail he’d jogged. This was it. He was leaving the life of an assassin behind him to do something he wanted for a change.

The trees sighed as a brisk breeze glided down from the mountains. Thank goodness the mayor had made sure the trail was kept clear. Maybe the mayor’s wife would carry on keeping the path clear. Dead mayor. Guilt, he swallowed the lump back and kept on walking. This was a new start. Eagle the assassin was left behind, along with Freyr’s favourite smashed teacup. The air was a little cooler as he journeyed up a slope. Trees shrank to shrubs. His walking turned to jogging, to get as much distance as possible from the church. Once on the mountain path he’d feel easier. Hopefully Freyr would assume he’d run away in the opposite direction to the mountains. A new surge of guilt over-whelmed him; leaving Fryer after all those years together must be selfish of him.

Chewing the inside of his cheek, he stepped onto firmer terrain; there was no way he was getting involved with dark magic. The trail became a chalky stone path.

Up up up went the path. To get through the mountains some climbing was involved. Thanks to those who dwelt on the other side of the mountains this path had been built so their trades people could come over. He’d seen them last summer, driving past their church with carts full of wares including: decorative silks, elaborate weaponry, strange fruits, and handsome instruments. As a certain sleazy merchant expressed with deep criticism, those from beyond the mountains were nothing but showy swindlers, whose wares appeared pretty to the eye however fell to pieces in days. The merchants from Zoticas only tended to come to their side to buy rice and hobs seen as they hadn’t the right soils to grow them.

Brrr was getting rather chilly in between grey rock what with a distinctive breeze whistling along at intervals. There were never summer nights in the mountains. Snow came in the winter, preventing anyone travelling through them. How rare violets with magical properties were supposed to grow on the highest peak of the middle mountain, which was the largest of six, he’d no clue. Thankfully only two mountains were in the way of him getting to where he wanted to be. Too bad on foot it was a four day hike. He would be at a loss if he’d failed to pack enough to eat and drink for the duration of his journey.

His own shadow was spindly and tall on the rock face. Climbing this mountain path in the dark was very much similar to walking down those stone steps underneath the church. He could easily lose his footing and fall. His hands reached out to touch the rock face, meeting his shadow’s hands. The world seemed so black up until he looked up and was met with a masterpiece. Never in his life had he seen such a starry shower dancing round a three quarter moon, looking much like fairy dust he supposed. Further back was the second moon which was a crescent this night. Would be better for him to keep moving rather than admire the starlight. He may not actually be alone in this lonely place. Putting his knife at the bottom of his pack was stupidity. So he wanted to leave the life of an assassin behind him but that didn’t stop there being thieves and cutthroats out on the road.

This path sure was getting higher. Thinner air was stealing too much breath from the lungs. He crossed his arms and rubbed at his elbows to try keep warm. Dragon breath circulated into the air. At least little kids in winter always pretended they were dragons when the air was cold. Everyone knew dragons were only terror tales made up by bards. How could he have been forgetful enough to take off without a cloak? Just because it was summer did not mean everywhere was going to be warm. The suns would come up soon and maybe some warmth with them, even if he was so very high up.

A few minutes later and there came a glint of sunshine, peeking in between the gaps between him and the smaller mountain to his right. He sat down right where he was and took a canteen from out his pack. Cool water wetted his mouth and cleared his throat of a dryness made by the mountain air. Even his lungs seemed to benefit from a drink. The sun rose giving the mountain peaks pinky hues. This light did wonders for confidence levels so he was soon up and on his feet with Freyr completely pushed to the bottom of his heart.

While concentrating more on the pink peaks rather than the road ahead he almost walked right over a mound and tip of his shoe just missed catching the lump covered in cloth. He leaped backwards and stared at what must be a body in the path. Was this person dead? It was hooded and cloaked with its head laid on a bulging pack. A man by the looks... yes definitely a man. Being unable to speak at a time like this was a bother. He could simply slip on by without a care however this man could be hurt and need assistance. On another note the man could be dangerous and if he went waking him up might get hurt. What an odd place to be sleeping, sprawled out in the middle of a public pathway, even if the pathway was not used frequently. He bent down and gave the man’s shoulder a nudge which caused the man’s reflexes to spring into life. An arm slipped straight under the man’s cloak, no doubt reaching for a weapon. Helping was a bad choice; he ran a few steps, the man’s free hand grasped round his ankle and bam he was face down on the ground and in a few sharp seconds felt a sword point tickling his neck.

“Speak your business!”

Sasha phew. Speak his business that was quite impossible. He reached his hand out onto the toggle which kept his pack fastened up. If he could open it up and show Sasha the picture book inside maybe a sword would refrain from striking through his neck.

“Oh boy I’m sorry,” Sasha said and pulled away his sword. “I assumed you were armed. Now I can see you’re not so be on your way.” With a bump Sasha sat down and crossed his legs.

His hand remained on his pack as he got to his knees. He kept his back to Sasha as he made sure the toggle was done up securely.

“But you really shouldn’t have woken me so suddenly without even a word. An excuse me please, would have done.”

He shook his head and turned to face Sasha who was sat with elbows on knees and head in hands.

“Eagle! What are you doing on this mountain path?”

At least his appearance gained some emotion. He held out his pack then thumbed behind him as though he were trying to hitch a ride on the back of a cart. When really he was trying to tell Sasha he was travelling.

“Heh, are you delivering something?”

He shook his head then looked down at the chalky path. Words, he tried to trace them onto the path without having much success. It was chalky but not flaky enough to write on, well it was if he really pressed down. Sasha was not even looking at his attempts to write. No Sasha was too busy rooting round in his pack. Giving up he clapped his hands together seen as they were now covered in fragments of white path. This chalky stuff stuck fast.

“Here these would be better.” Sasha held out a scrap of parchment to him. There was also a bottle of ink and quill. How thoughtful.

Thank you he wrote on the parchment and held it out for Sasha to read.

“No problem.”

I’m travelling over the mountains.

“Hey, you have beautiful script going on there.” He smiled his thanks then Sasha went on speaking. “Travelling? There can be some shady characters on this path. I’m surprised your Freyr would send you off this way.”

He did not send me.

“But he knows you’re up here, right?”

He shook his hand from side to side.

“He so so knows you’re up here. He must either know or not.”

He will know I’m gone by now, if he has managed to get out of bed. But I’m not sure he has guessed where I went.

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve left without a word?”

He nodded and Sasha tut-tutted. Well excuse him for getting tired of being called dumb, doing all the hard graft, killing Freyr’s enemies, and being a witness of illegal dark magic.

“You can’t go doing such a thing to family!” Sasha all but gasped. “I mean mine are the worst but I said goodbye.”

Wave goodbye to Freyr and he was likely to get given a brush or shovel and talked into some form of work. There was the problem, Freyr refused to listen to him and it wasn’t on the basis he was unable to talk. If he stayed they would continue in the same master and apprentice loop until they managed to wind each other up so much one of them murdered the other.

I’ll write him when I get myself sorted.

“Sorted where?”

He shrugged.

“Because I hope you know at the end of this path there are some wastelands where spirits live. And you best have some coinage if you do get through the wastelands. There’s a toll to pay.”

A toll for what?

“To live in the country. You can’t just waltz on into Zoticas. They’ll want your name and profession.”

There was an obstacle in the way. He couldn’t very well tell toll collectors he was a trained assassin. Reality always got in the way of big plans.

Sasha returned to sitting in his broody position. “Go home to Freyr, kid.” An over powering sigh followed.

You’ve not gotten very far, to say you started on your way yesterday afternoon.

“I didn’t much feel like going anywhere when I set off. Everyone back home will want Lanzo alive rather than me. I don’t blame them because unlike me he was a resourceful intelligent gentleman.”

While Sasha whittled on about the loss of a friend he took back his parchment. Trying to keep his hand from shaking wrote: I really am sorry about Lanzo.

“Sorry yes me too. We should have been more careful when knowing someone killed the mayor in cold blood for telling us what he knew about the church’s history.” Sasha must have seen his face drop because he added. “No need for you to threat over Freyr. I’ve pieced it together and reckon your church is only a cover up for our evil warlock’s magic working. I’ve heard and seen no solid evidence that your church is host to a secret labyrinth or anything other worldly.”

No not a labyrinth more like an underground cave, filled up with demon statues.

“I should have stuck around to seek out the warlock,” Sasha drew back a fold in his cloak to reveal the knife he’d dropped, “but no worries I’ll find the bastard one day and intend to send his own blade through his heart.”

He let out a breath glad he’d kept the knife’s twin at the bottom of his pack. He was the warlock Sasha was seeking, only he wasn’t a warlock at all, however feared he worked for one. How often had Freyr snook off at night to delve into dark magic? What he must keep in mind was all the Freyr stuff was the past, and so was Sasha. He got up, waved goodbye and carried on his journey. Even if there were toll collectors he could still try get into the country. Maybe they would accept his expensive knife as payment.

“Hold up a sec,” Sasha called and scrambled to his feet, tripping over his half-shouldered pack as he did so. He probably wanted his quill and ink back; he turned round to hand these over. Sasha gently pushed them away. “A youngster like you can’t possibly tackle this mountain on his own then idly wander round Spirit Land.”

He could and would so kept walking. In any case there was no way he was travelling with someone who’s best friend he’d assassinated.

“The path only goes one way and since we’re both travelling along it, it would be foolish to keep our distance from each other. Besides I find travelling alone boring. Not that you could ever replace my travel buddy Lanzo, but I might feel a little less empty with someone to share my journey home with. Hey I could even give you a good recommendation to the toll people. Or if you preferred I could walk you to Freyr’s and explain to him you’re feeling unhappy at being called dumb. Sometimes you need a mediator when you’re having a domestic. Although Lanzo always advised me to stay out of peoples’ domestics. Nope I reckon sometimes an outsider has to step in or an argument can escalate out of control. Take my father and uncle as an example. They ended up fighting over a loaf of bread. I think deep down it had more to do with mother sleeping around with my uncle, even still they put the blame on a burnt loaf.”

Did this guy ever pause for breath?

“What pushed you over the edge with Freyr?”

Pausing a moment he leant his parchment against the rock face and wrote: A smashed teacup. Which was putting it mildly.

“A smashed teacup! You see burnt loafs and broken cups, all silly things which make us snap. I reckon I could easily save your relationship with Freyr.”

What a disaster it would turn out to be if he and Sasha went looking to mend his relationship with Freyr together. Quickly he scribbled down more words. Please don’t. You can accompany me to the toll collector, I’d prefer that.

“How old are you anyway?”

Sixteen almost seventeen.

“Then you’ll definitely need me to escort you.”

Definitely not. Having Sasha chatting away to him in an attempt to get over Lanzo’s death was wrong yet there he was going along with the whole set up. How cruel of him not to tell this man he’d been the murderer. Besides he was quite capable of travelling independently. Freyr always made him do most things on his own: cook, clean, kill. Following a mountain path was easy in comparison.

“Me escorting you doesn’t mean I’m onboard with you running away from Freyr without a word, well not word, you know what I mean.”

On and on Sasha talked all morning, being one of those types who hated silence. Did Sasha talk to himself when no one else was there? Quite possibly. It was useful to hear about the country Sasha came from which happened to be the main topic of this one way conversation. According to this traveller with the mysterious sword, Zoticas was a beautiful land home to the most decoratively carved cities, full of statues and sculptures.

On sitting down for a rest and lunch, he took out the painting book and turned straight to the vampyre. There was nothing this artistic in Kazara at least nothing he’d ever come across on his travels.

“Oh so you brought your piccy book along,” Sasha said and leant over him and hovered over the book while chewing at a beef sandwich. “My least favourite painting he is.” A shower of crumbs landed right on the vampyre’s face. He brushed them away with the back of his hand. “You don’t talk back much do you?” Sasha pointed at his parchment.

Sorry it’s rather difficult to write and walk at the same time.

“We’re not walking now. I’m surprised we’re so far along the mountain. I assumed you’d be a slow walker.”

Me and Freyr went lots of places.

“I can imagine, spreading the word of great deities. Do you have a favourite?”

Did he have a favourite? Well no, he only really knew the one because the church at Violet Town was the only church they’d ever bothered with. Pek is okay. We’re not supposed to favour one over the other. Tell me something useful about Zoticas. How do your rulers operate?

Sasha continuously tapped his hand against his sapphire sheath as though trying to think. “I don’t know about ruling systems. Boring.”

You must work for somebody important. His eyes rolled over the expensive sapphire sheath.

“I work for Lady Lev. She’s the mayor of Azure City. In return I get board, payment, and yeah this baby.” Sasha stroked at his sheath and let a smile slip. It looked as though the pain of losing a friend was being forgotten for a little while.

But you don’t know why you work for her. Don’t you find that unsettling? I mean she could be doing something you don’t agree with. What do you do exactly?

“I’m a Sapphire Knight. Our company seek out evil doers like spirits. We strike them down, make sure they don’t cross over Spirit Land.”

Knights in stories rode round on horses and wore clunky armour. This knight wasn’t even wearing a helmet with a feather pluming out the top. Knight must be a fancy word to describe soldiers.

How do you know you’re working for a good person who respects the citizens she rules?

“Lady Lev is ever so easy going. I don’t think such a casual woman could be capable of wanting to hurt anyone.”

If she’s so lenient a mayor why is she fixed up on some dark magic using warlock who isn’t even living in your city?

“Dark magic is evil and damaging.”

What is dark magic?

“Dark stuff.”

His smile widened. It didn’t sound like Sasha knew anything at all about dark magic. But what is it?

Sasha pointed to the vampyre in the painting book. “Pasty, pale creatures like him.”

Freyr wasn’t usually all pasty and pale. Dark magic had certainly sent him that way though.

With lunch eaten they journeyed on. With the sun shining away, Sasha was forced into taking off his cloak. He was now glad he hadn’t weighed himself down with one. Dark magic kept drifting into his thoughts blocking out Sasha’s chattering. He couldn’t understand why his master would need magic of any kind let alone the dark sort.