Chapter 49:
Asarus’s Book of Old Tongue
“We must travel with haste,” Trevus says. He’s standing on the tall rocks surrounding our camp, peering at the horizon with his hand blocking the morning sun.
I sit up. “What’s happening?”
He offers a hand, pulling my weight up onto the rock beside him. I steady myself on the stone, which has doubled my height. “Turn your gaze south to the lone ickther tree, then observe left of the two rocks,” he says. “A footman walks our trail.”
I follow his finger. The small black specs look like distant boulders, no different to the ones we’re standing on. “I see three stones.”
“We passed between two rocks yesterday. Either the landscape has changed, or we have a pursuer.” He jumps off the boulder and helps me down.
“Is it possible they’re just fellow travelers to Tarsis?” I ask.
“Travelers tend not to stray from the main roads.” He unhitches our horses.
I throw our things into the saddle bag, and Trevus helps me up onto Gal. We’re on our way immediately, pushing Gid and Gal to move quickly.
“Are they Versillian?” I ask.
Trevus turns to look again, but they’re obscured by the landscape. “‘Tis unclear,” he says. He must be wondering the same thing I am – did a Ceramayan piece together that I’m the girl on the wanted poster?
We trek through the fields of dry grass with haste. Pushing Gid and Gal to gallop would only exhaust them, so we settle on a brisk walk – slower than a man could sprint, but faster than one could walk.
The sun rises to its highest point in the sky. We haven’t seen our pursuers since dawn, but Trevus won’t let us stop. Tactics are his forte, so I follow his word without question.
My saddle falls out from under me, and my body flies forward. A horrible snarl leaves Gal as she tumbles down. We both crash into the hard dirt. My arms absorb the impact, but a sharp pain erupts in my leg.
I groan. Gal’s lying sideways on my leg, her body flailing about as she struggles to find purchase on the dry soil. I try twist my leg out from under her, but the pressure keeps it pinned in place.
“Jade!” Trevus rushes over. His voice is distressed. That’s not like him.
“I’m stuck,” I say between gritted teeth.
Instead of trying to lift Gal’s large chest, he approaches her from a different angle. Careful to avoid her swinging legs, he takes hold of her reins and guides her head away from my body.
I cry out from the pressure of her large shoulder shifting over my leg. Soon she’s twisted enough that I can drag myself out.
The moment I’m free, Trevus rushes back over. He rolls his jacket into a makeshift pillow to rest under my head. His eyes run up and down my frame. “Where is your pain at its peak?”
“My whole right leg aches.” I push myself up on my elbows to get a better look. My arms are sore from the impact, but they’re not what I’m concerned about. To my relief, nothing about my leg looks skew or out of place.
Trevus raises my dress to an inch below my hips. “You may feel discomfort, but I shall not aggravate the injury.” His fingers wrap around my upper thigh, and he pauses, waiting for confirmation that I’m ready.
I nod.
He probes my skin deep, slowly shifting his fingers down my leg. It hurts. I force my teeth together, muffling a scream to a loud grunt. He checks every ridge and crevice, pressing deep until reaching bone.
He stops upon reaching my ankle. “Nothing is broken. Only bruised. I have witnessed similar injuries on patrol. You shall be limping by tomorrow.”
I lie back on his rolled jacket. Thank goodness.
He helps me sit up all the way before attending to Gal. With some careful maneuvering of her reins and taps from his foot, he’s able to coax her back onto her feet, but all is not well. She’s favoring putting weight on her left hoof instead of the right.
Her leg injury appears like mine – painful, but no sign of broken bones. Our pursuers aren’t far behind. We can’t remain still for long. Gal is going to need time to recover, walking slow without a rider on her back. Gid is a courser, bred for speed, not having the strength of a destrier to carry two riders.
I doubt those men are following us through the wilderness to have a friendly conversation. An encounter with them will lead to violence, and I can’t bear the thought of losing Trevus.
Trevus helps me stand, then raises my body up onto Gid. Once he’s sure I’m balanced, he frees Gal of her bridle and saddle, leaving it in a pile on the ground.
“She may return to the wilderness unhindered,” Trevus says.
From my perch on the saddle, I examine the flattened vegetation where Gal tripped. There’s a badger’s burrow obscured by cilca stems. It escaped my notice when riding, and the same was true for Gal.
Trevus takes Gid’s reins. Soon we’re moving again, with Trevus on foot and me on the saddle, still nursing my bruising leg.
I glance back in the direction we came. It doesn’t appear like anyone’s there, but it’s hard to distinguish between lone standing trees and men. At our slowed pace, I fear it may soon become more obvious.
We trek on under the afternoon sun. Dusk is approaching, and my sore leg dreads the thought that we may be traveling throughout the night. Trevus has been silent for a while. Being on foot must be even more exhausting.
I’ve been regularly glancing back since we set off, but the once long open fields have broken into rolling hills, slowing us down and obscuring our vision beyond a few hundred yards. If our pursuers catch up, they’ll be on top of us before we have a moment to react.
Trevus’s steps are long and drawn out. He tugs Gid’s reins behind him, leading us up over another hill.
We reach the crest, and I light up at the sight ahead – wagons, families and a campfire. Caravan traders – just like the ones I hitched a ride with to Lystra. We’re safe.
Trevus leads Gid and I down the hill. I hold my breath as we approach the caravan.
A little boy with long black hair is the first to notice. He points in our direction. “Strangers!”
The men and women jump up from their seats around the fire, every pair of eyes landing on us. Four men pick up javelins and rush forward.
Trevus stops, and I hold one hand in the other. At least with swords you know you’re safe at a distance, but I’ve heard that sharp, heavy javelins can pierce right through a person even when thrown from twenty yards away.
“We mean no harm,” Trevus says. His sword remains on his hip. “We are travelers seeking the sanctuary offered only in numbers.” These people walk in a caravan for the same reason. Hopefully our plight appeals to them.
A voice to our right grabs our attention – an older man with shoulder-length gray hair is approaching, his decorated jolcan announcing his authority. “Versillians are not known to be tolerant of their neighbors.” The two men closest to us draw back their javelins, as if ready to throw at the slightest transgression.
I pull my good leg over the saddle and slide off Gid. Trevus catches my arm, offering support to keep me standing. My leg is still far too sore to support my weight.
The four guards relax a little at the sight, drawing in their weapons. There are at least a dozen men in this group. We clearly don’t pose a physical threat.
I eye the old man. “And are Mephians known for it?” I ask.
His gaze traces over my frame before returning to Trevus. I don’t quite sound Mephian, but hopefully my accent is close enough to convince him.
“A Mephian-Versillian couple.” The old man rubs his chin. “How unusual.”
“We’re going to Tarsis, but there’s a robber following us,” I say. He appears warmer towards me, so I take the opportunity to explain. “We just want to sleep without worrying about a dagger in the night.”
The old man looks over his group – about forty men, women and children in total. His attention returns to us. One man and an injured girl isn’t a risk to the people he’s dutybound to protect.
“We too are headed to Tarsis,” the old man says. “I do have more trust in the words of a Mephian, and the Versillian must not be as prejudiced as others, for he has taken her as his wife.”
Trevus smirks. I cover my face to hide my blush. Once this is over, we should make our vows.
The men lower their weapons, and soon the whole camp has settled down again.
We hitch Gid with the horses, then sit with the others around the campfire. We’re friendly but still careful of what we share. From our accents, there’s no hiding that we’re from Versillia and Mephia, but we steer the discussion to our home in Zaybeth, implying that we lived there longer than we did. That wanted poster still lingers in the back of my mind, and I don’t want anyone making connections to a girl who just fled Versillia.
Later in the night, Trevus and I retire to our own space. I carry the lantern, and he carries me. We pick a spot close to the center of the group to lay out our sleeping pouch – where it would be near impossible for our pursuers to reach us.
Sentries armed with javelins and shields are posted at the four corners of the camp. I can rest well knowing our safety is ensured.
The camp quietens down, leaving only the noise of crackling fires and neighing horses. I examine the book we took from Asarus’s study under the lantern’s light. It was important to him. Maybe it holds clues to why he abducted me, and why he’s so convicted to do it again.
The old crumbling cover has no title, description or author. Peering at the seams reveals layers of old glue underneath. This book has been rebound many times. It’s old.
The pages are yellowed and brittle, dense with unrecognizable words. Trevus said it was old tongue. How long ago was this written?
“Trevus, can you make sense of any of this?” I ask.
He takes a seat beside me, and I hand the book to him.
He points at a word – Niktr. “Nomier’s symbol,” he says. His eyes trace the text for some time, then he returns the book to my lap. “That is all I can interpret. Old tongue died hundreds of years ago. Few men harbor the knowledge to read it.”
“But you can read Nomier’s name?” I ask.
“Much of Nomier’s sacred text was recorded in old tongue. Priests often engrave the old spelling of her name into the temple walls, advocating for its purity.”
I page further through the book. Nomier’s old name comes up often – at least once every page.
After some time, I’m approaching the end. An image is drawn on the last page. I tilt the lantern over the sketch for a better view. It’s of a woman on a throne. Her left hand holds a staff with a diamond tip. I’ve seen that design before in the statuette of Nomier that Marcellus carved. Her right hand is stretched out, and a group of people lie before it. Their crooked bodies lie broken and deformed, some even appearing dead. Their mouths gape and arms stretch in every direction, as if crying out for help. Why take the time to draw something so grotesque?
The text underneath the image is indecipherable. I wish I could understand more.
I look to Trevus. “Nomier’s name appears often. Could this be a copy of a sacred text?” I ask.
Trevus takes a look at the image. “No. Nomier is the goddess of Versillian earth, not of torment. The priests would consider such a depiction vile.”
The unsettling picture doesn’t appear particularly sympathetic to her.
Trevus takes his place in the pouch. I examine the image further, and then a shiver runs down my spine.
Black ink is shaded around her eyes, as if they’re cast in a dark shadow. I snap the book closed. That’s enough for this evening. I’m overthinking it. The shading is just the artist’s style, nothing more.
I climb into the pouch beside Trevus. Closing my eyes brings back memories of Nepolis, and the reflection of my face on that iron shield. It’s just the artist’s style.
Author’s Note:
Title change – I’m going to experiment with a new title “His Captive Sorceress”.
catchy😌
I like Stolen Sorceress better
Could she have been like Jade and the other six? What if she was the one who Jade got her powers from because they said when the person died the power would choose a new person
What are two people going to against a whole camp? They are overreacting a bit
Awesome 🤩
wow 👏
Stolen also aligns with the fact she was his captive for a time, but also that’s there’s a bit more to it. She did agree to travel with him at the start so she’s not fully being forced.
And the possessive nature of the wording implies a connection
I like stolen sorceress tbh lol
Cause he did steal her, both times he left with her he wasn’t supposed to lol
Your welcome, it was great to make it!
So the godess isn’t aloud to be drawn? Or the idea of texts on her is forbidden hmm
Her name?
Nomier is a woman, and here I thought Versillians were led by a masculine God. I mean I thought so due to the serious nature of their culture.
That’s cute!
Yeah and how they will handle it as it’s bound to differ between Mephians and Versillians
They look like a married couple aye
I suppose there are benefits to having a mixed couple in this regard. Both have their skills and ways to get to certain places the other can’t alone.
Yeah, I mean he wasn’t supposed to run off with her either time he did it lol
That’s an interesting question
At the fact he’s showing concern for Jade and doesn’t seem too aggressive… he isn’t after a fight with his companion being hurt
Yes prpjectile weapons a human speciality and a reason we survived while our Neanderthal cousins died out (though there were many factors really)
Ah I see, they are wary due to Trevus’ background as a Versillian
They are wary of strangers…
He’s also alert to the fact they are hindered so he has to keep his wits about him to keep you two safe
Depends on if they recognize you from the posters that are around various towns and cities they travel through
Maybe they aren’t going to leave her there?
I’m sure he feels the same
What’s a destrier?
He’s doing what’s called a secondary survey where you press harder to check for deeper issues then just blood you look for on a primary survey. I’m guessing he’s thinking she might have a broken bone.
Yeah the last thing she needs is a broken bone atm
dun dun dun, I think her power is more important to the versillians then we believe hehe
Dang, wonder what kind of marriage traditions they have here
HELLOOO EVERYBODY
breaking the norm dude, soon everyone will have a mephian partner XD
Where is the pain, what makes it better, what makes it worse, what is the level of pain? l
Lots of useful questions when it comes to assessing pain and injury
There are other questions too but Lance knows those at this stage like when it started, what the cause was and such.
yes! he did the right thing! remove everything, but she will quickly be eaten by wildlife sadly with that bruised leg 😅
Yeah using the reigns makes sense
(quickly say, you used the wrong word, it’s Bred not Bread)
Oof
What happened?
Oh no!
that dang dress, now she probably has dirt inside it and will be having it aggravate her more then the pinching leather 😭
You have a head start no need to wear yourself out and give them a chance to catch up
True
Honestly, I’m just hoping it’s best man Marcellus