Blood Ties

Morwyn grunted with effort as she leaned her shoulder into the back of the wagon and heaved. Her boots slipped in the mud and splashed through rivulets of rainwater until she found purchase against a stone and was able to get some leverage. The power that flooded through her from the scroll she'd used to enhance her strength would only make a difference if she could keep her footing. Gritting her teeth, she dug the heels of her boots into the gravelly mud and pushed for all she was worth. The rear wheels finally pulled free of the rut into which they'd sunk and the wagon lurched forward, nearly causing her to lose her balance.

Panting from the exertion, Morwyn wiped the rain from her face with wet hands, accomplishing nothing. She cursed the weather as she wrung out the hood of her cloak and flopped it back over her head from where it had fallen for the hundredth time. She gestured tiredly to the next wagon in line, directing it away from the worst of the washed out trench carved into their path by the ceaseless deluge. As with the others, the front wheels were able to clear the gap with some effort while the rear wheels stuck fast. The oxen huffed with effort, steaming breath billowing from their flared nostrils, but the grade was too steep and the mud too slick.

Morwyn sighed wearily and moved to the back of the final wagon just as Argoth trudged forward to assist her. He crouched down with a grunt and gripped the rear of the wooden frame with both hands as the drivers urged the oxen onward. He gave her an ironic grin, water dripping from his tusks in two little streams as he also fought for footing on the slick path.

“Havin' fun yet?”

Morwyn rolled her eyes and heaved against the stuck wagon. Argoth lifted and pushed at the same time and by their combined efforts they managed to send the last sodden wagon on its way. Morwyn tried to crack her sore neck but the back of her hand slipped from her wet chin and caused the twinge to worsen slightly. Lacking relief, she huffed in frustration and simply trudged on ahead.

“I don't mind the cold, I don't mind the heat, but by the gods this incessant rain is going to be the death of me,” she complained, despising the sensation of her wet stockings squishing in her boots with every step. Argoth chuckled as he kept an easy pace by her side.

“I'm with you on that one. Couple of months back I got a bad case of rot-foot after a storm like this. Hazel just about skinned me from the ankles down and I couldn't walk for three days. Sometimes I can still feel her knife scraping against my toes.”

Morwyn almost laughed at the absurdity of the mighty orc being brought low by something as mundane as a foot condition, but the soreness in her own feet made her cringe with sympathy instead. She desperately hoped they would reach the pass before long so she could change into her spare clothes that were hopefully still dry in the back of Hazel's wagon, though she still faced the onerous task of drying and oiling the leather and steel in her kit.

“Any idea when we'll reach the top?”

Argoth squinted up the winding trail in the gloom of the stormy evening.

“Not long now, I think I can see Amrak up ahead. I don't see us movin' on from the pass until the weather breaks. The descent will be twice as dangerous as the ascent, and without the giants to help us at that.”

Morwyn put a hand to her brow to block the rain from her face and squinted to try and peer through the darkness. Though she could see the lanterns on the backs of several wagons, she couldn't make much out beyond their rough outlines and the occasional silhouette of a giant trudging up the slope beside them as they kept an eye out for rockfalls or pending landslides. Morwyn didn't know how the giants could sense when such things were imminent but they'd already averted several disasters with their advanced warnings. They'd even carried them across several seemingly insurmountable washouts, protesting oxen and all.

She shuddered to think of what they would do without their over-sized protectors. The Narrows had been harrowing but at least it had been on mostly level ground, and with the magical wards securing it... mostly. This winding mountain path was altogether a different menace.

As she trudged wearily along she wondered if the path had only ever been traveled by previous iterations of the caravan. They'd not even encountered a frontier village along their route, at least not while she'd been conscious. At most she'd seen smoke rising in the distance. It seemed a stroke of madness for anyone else to try and follow in their dwindling tracks, though she surmised that perhaps that was the point. It also fueled the question that had been lingering in the back of her mind for some time now.

Who were the enemies of the Vale, that such isolation was necessary?

Despite her affection for Rennock and the others, their secrecy continued to gnaw at her. She trusted her companions but couldn't help the sense of foreboding that grew heavier with each step forward. They were good people. They had to have a good reason to hide... but would she, with her own pressing issues, be safer amongst them at the journey's end? Or was she simply bringing more danger to a people that seemed to value security over almost everything else?

Her dark thoughts washed away as the magic of her scroll faded, leaving her limbs leaden and sore in its absence. She bent over with her hands on her knees to rest for a moment as her irritation festered. Argoth paused beside her as well but said nothing. He held himself tall as he waited for her to recover and scanned the trail behind them, but she could tell from his heavy breathing that the orc wasn't having an easy go of it either. It was fortunate that the wagons were slow going, as when Morwyn had regained a bit of her strength, it didn't take long to catch up.

She groaned with relief as the narrow, flooded trail began to level out and she could finally make out the steep, rocky slopes jutting up on either side of the narrow pass. The saddle between the peaks was more shale than mud. Though she didn't sink into it as she had on the muddy trail, it was still slick with the rain that flowed through it in dozens of miniature streams and puddles. The wet stones crunched beneath her boots and stuck into the accumulated mud, but it wasn't long before that washed off as she splashed through the standing water.

They spotted Rennock and Trux conversing with Eronir, Yvonne, and Amrak at a high point toward the center of the pass. They stood inside a large stone hut that seemed quite out of place in their surroundings while Amrak and his hunter stood outside, apparently unbothered by the rain. Morwyn frowned as she studied the three-sided structure. It looked to have been hastily constructed from massive slabs of slate stacked against each other to form a crude shelter the size of a small house.

“Giants must've made that for us,” Argoth said as they approached. “Wasn't here last time around.”

“I'm certainly going to miss them when they're gone. I can't imagine doing this for a living without having them along,” Morwyn muttered as she futilely wrung out a corner of her sodden cloak.

Argoth nodded soberly and gestured to the line of wagons.

“Get them organized then come join us. Full circle around the hut, I think. Security is even more of a priority since our new friends will be leavin' soon. Not that I expect anythin' nasty to be runnin' about in this downpour, but it doesn't hurt to be safe.”

Morwyn nodded and broke off from him to tackle to the task without complaint, as the sooner it was done the sooner she could rest her weary body. It was certainly easier than traversing the slope, though the iron-clad wheels of the heavily laden wagons still struggled to roll over the shale. Though she had no experience in driving a wagon herself and the oxen were understandably short-tempered, she was fortunate to have one of Gildur's apprentices offer to take the reins on Rennock's wagon. In short order and with minimal cursing, they had the wagons set in a rough circle.

Morwyn cast a brief glance toward Hazel's wagon to see how she'd weathered the storm. The halfling looked three quarters drowned and absolutely miserable, though a small, unconvincing smile graced her features when she met Morwyn's gaze. She hopped off the bench as soon as the wagon stopped, helped to lock the brake blocks, then disappeared beneath the canopy in a flash as William set about the sorry work of tending the oxen before he could do the same.

Wiping the ceaseless rain from her face once again, Morwyn slogged on to the stone shelter at the center of camp. Amrak gave her a broad grin as she approached which she returned weakly. She struggled to keep herself from running to get beneath the shelter of the slate roof and out of the rain for the first time in hours. When she made it beneath the outer edge of the overhang and stood beside a drenched Yvonne, who looked just as uncomfortable as she was, Morwyn threw back the hood of her cloak with a wet slap and squeezed water from her braid. After taking a moment to settle and breathe a silent sigh of relief, she directed her attention to the ongoing conversation.

“...doesn't seem natural. Too much rain, not enough wind. A hard spring rain is one thing, but if a natural storm were to come through the pass I say it would have traveled inland from the coast, not from over the mountains. I don't like it one bit,” Eronir said with a perplexed scowl.

“Agreed,” Rennock murmured in response, his voice grave. “I am inclined to believe that our dogged pursuer has conjured this storm, but once again I am stymied by their ability to cover their tracks. I do not think they are one of our old adversaries, for I would have surely identified them by now. This threat is unlike anything I have encountered. I will investigate further as I lay the wards tonight.”

Rennock briefly locked eyes with Morwyn. She raised a questioning eyebrow and he gave a subtle shake of his head.

*Not yet, dear one. They are aware of the threat, that is enough for the moment.*

Morwyn shrugged and kept her silence, glad to not be drawn into the thick of it. As irritable as she was from being soaked through, she was more than happy to observe and wait for instruction for once. Being overeager had cost her a lot in recent days.

“The mage be buggered. If it is conjured, how long will this bloody rain last?” Trux said unhappily as she shook droplets of water from her crossbow. Though it appeared to be well maintained with oil, as was her bow, Morwyn still felt a twinge of sympathy for the dwarf. She was just as concerned about the state of her own equipment.

“If the spell that brought on the storm is the one I think it is, and has been enhanced in the way that I believe...” Rennock appeared reluctant to continue. Argoth growled discontentedly and crossed his arms, looking genuinely upset with Rennock for the first time that Morwyn had witnessed.

“Out with it, old man. Holdin' back bad news ain't gonna make it go away.”

The old wizard sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of one hand, his brows knotted with worry.

“To control the weather in such a way, for such a length of time, would necessitate that the caster is one of immense power. Perhaps equal to or surpassing my own. Unless they are interrupted, I believe they could maintain this... indefinitely.”

The silence that overtook the group was palpable. Beside her, Morwyn sensed Yvonne stiffen. The elf hadn't been privy to the guards' threat assessments before and looked ready to be sick, but to her credit she held her composure. Morwyn was sure her own face belied her feelings on the matter as well. Rennock was their symbol of magical authority- for the others even longer than he had been to her- and here he was admitting he might be outclassed by their mysterious foe.

Seeming to sense the impact of his words, Rennock cleared his throat and rubbed a hand over his mouth.

“It does not fall onto any of you to face a threat of this magnitude. Such things are my responsibility and mine alone. I have been far too passive to this point. At the first possible opportunity, I will engage this enemy directly. I advise that you keep your distance in such an event.”

While the others reluctantly acquiesced to Rennock and turned the conversation toward dealing with more mundane threats, Morwyn unconsciously touched a hand to where Rennock's silver pendant hung beneath her tunic as her brows drew together in concern. Yvonne gave her a nervous side-eye and clenched the grip of her longbow with white knuckles.

“Hell of a time for me to volunteer for the guards,” the elf whispered to her. Morwyn shifted her weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other and leaned in closer to the other woman.

“I was wondering why you stuck around for the bad news,” she said under her breath, only half in jest. Yvonne tucked a wet strand of dark hair behind her pointed ear and turned to look at Morwyn, her mouth set in a hard line.

“Having seen how badly you've all been injured to protect us, and especially after your recent ill-fated duel, I decided it was time to do more than simply ride along on this journey. I have more bows than we have archers and I've fletched enough arrows in my spare time to outfit a small army.”

Morwyn gave her a smile, strained though still sincere.

“I've seen your skill with that bow so I'm very glad you chose to do so. And despite our current circumstances, there is a bright side.”

Yvonne raised one graceful brow in curiosity.

“Between you and Eronir, the rest of us won't have to keep watch anymore.”

The elf rolled her eyes but a small smile broke through the worry written plainly on her features. She glanced to the side and came to attention as she looked back to the group. Morwyn followed suit, her willful distraction taken from her. She was suddenly and immensely tired. She could tell that the others were worn down as well, though none amongst them wanted to let it show. Eronir and Yvonne were the exception, presumably having rested at the pass for some hours while waiting for them. Argoth finished a whispered conversation with Rennock and addressed the rest of them.

“Ren's gonna put up the wards while Eronir keeps watch. Everyone else get yourselves as dry as you can and rest up, be that in a wagon with room or on a cot in here. If this storm gets worse or anything bad happens, get the non-combatants into this shelter. Watch order after Eronir is Yvonne, Morwyn, myself, then Trux. Know where your relief is so we ain't stumblin' around in the downpour. Any questions?”

Yvonne moved as if she was about to raise her hand but Morwyn subtly caught her wrist and shook her head with a subtle smile. They held their peace until the others began to wander off to find a place to shelter from the rain.

“Trick question,” Morwyn explained to Yvonne with a wry smile once the others had gone about their business. “He caught me with that one on my first day, wants to know if you'll speak up or raise your hand. If you do the latter, he makes a show of acting like a schoolmaster. Guess which one I chose.”

Yvonne chuckled and shook her head.

“I appreciate it. I've been with the caravan for close to six months and I suddenly feel like a newcomer. All of this is new territory for me, I don't have any martial training like the rest of you. My experience has been limited to practicing my craft as a bowyer, hunting, and entertaining children...”

Yvonne looked suddenly unsure of herself which caught Morwyn off guard. Though she hadn't interacted with the elf much at all before the Narrows, she'd assumed her to be rather stoic like Eronir. Morwyn wasn't used to playing the veteran giving advice to a fresh recruit. That was Argoth's job, but the orc was nowhere in sight.

“Oh, that's not a problem,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “I'm sure you'll do fine. With a crew like this you're certainly getting a better start than I did alone.”

Morwyn's heart sank as Yvonne perked up, looking to her as a pupil looked at a wise instructor. When had she signed herself up for this?

“Any advice for a... what did Argoth call me... a New Blood?”

Morwyn chuckled as she drew her wet hood back up over her head and prepared for the uncomfortable jog to Hazel's wagon.

“Yes, actually. When the boss tells you to get some rest, get to it. Your watch will come sooner than you think.”