Chapter 79: Whiteriver Village
Whiteriver Village was a small mining community nestled in the roots of the Solori Peaks, the range that wrapped around the eastern border of the Kingdom of Radia. We traveled along its namesake, the White River, winding along beaten paths just large enough for a wagon and passing through farms carved from the heavy pine foresting the region. As the sun began to drop beneath the towering peaks, several narrow plumes of smoke dwindled into the air, clustered together just a few miles away.
"Finally!" Trithe complained, "When he said ’just over the hill,’ I thought he meant it."
Soltair nodded, squinting his eyes at the pillars of smoke. "At least they’re alive still. A basilisk is no laughing matter and is more than capable of wiping the small towns here off the map.
"Is it really that strong?" I asked in between heavy breaths. Due to Sun’s curse, my body fell far behind my soul, making the brisk hike through the forests extremely taxing. I didn’t dare ask for rest, for fear of inconveniencing the other two, but I caught them sneaking irritated gazes back every once in a while.
Soltair slowed, allowing me to catch up, and began a quick explanation. "Basilisks are one of the stronger monsters native to the region, who normally keep high up in the mountains. I haven’t seen one myself, but one of the tutors mentioned that they could get as large as a house and are masters of poison and curses. While not exactly intelligent, they are cunning, and use traps to wear down stronger foes."
I shivered at the mention of ’curse magic,’ feeling a slight pang in the scarlet lines on my chest. My adaptive resistance was growing steadily, but I didn’t trust myself to the untried ability. There were too many unknowns to make it reliable.
"Anyway, can you hurry up?" Trithe asked, shooting us a sharp look back, "I’m looking forward to a soft bed tonight. Maybe they’ll have enough rooms for us to sleep separately. I could do without being awoken by bad dreams, especially if they’re not my own."
I dipped my head, marshaling what remained of my strength and chasing after them. Soltair remained beside me, but I found his easy step and light breathing more irritating than comforting, a constant reminder of what the curse took from me.
As we progressed closer to the village, the farms and houses appeared with greater frequency. Occasionally, we’d look up to find someone staring at us curiously, whether just finished working in their fields or gathering firewood for the night. I doubted they knew who we were, but our weapons made our mission apparent, and we were greeted with friendly waves and hopeful smiles. I pulled the hood of my traveling cloak up, before we arrived in the village proper, with the hopes an introduction might soften their response.
The news of our arrival traveled ahead of us, and a sizable crowd of expectant faces gathered before the inn. Soltair strode forward, clasping the hand of the pot-bellied man in front of the crowd.
"We heard of your troubles and came as quickly as we could," he said, raising his voice just loud enough that everyone could hear.