Adversaries Together by Daniel Casey Page A

well.
    Nights spent on the highroad were unpleasant,
there wasn’t really the option of settling in comfortably for it
was meant for travel, not camping. The Cathedral had forbade the
establishment of inns believing that doing so would create waysides
that would exploit pilgrims. The law infuriated more than a few
trade guilds, but the alternative was exactly what the Cathedral
had feared. Travelers typically wanted to spend as few nights on
the highroad as possible, but it seemed as though the paladin and
the alm didn’t mind.
    The two would rise obscenely early to engage
in some kind of ritual and then ramble until the light died. Declan
couldn’t complain really, the job was appearing to be far too easy.
But it was beginning to annoy him—he wasn’t a simple tail and if
this task turned out to be such, he’d seriously have to reconsider
working for the Kyria again. Impatience killed, it had become his
mantra. Declan knew he needed to settle himself, take the task at
hand for what it was and meet its needs. As the highroad rose up
over the foothills hemming the Siracene Highlands, the Anhrathid
lowlands open up.
    The descent into the lowlands running between
the small cities of Rautia and Anhra had been a passage though
mists trapped by the Glen Mark hills to the east and the Siracene
to the west. The air was rich with the scent of sea kill and salt;
it curled its way into your nostrils as the air thickened. Below
the cloudbank, the highroad revealed its true worth, all around it
the marshes and moors seemingly stood still. The trapped clouds
made rains a constant.
    The ever-present hum of insects and the churn
of smaller creatures slithering through wet earth took center stage
as visibility fell away. You only knew the road in front of you.
Unlike the hinterlands, the lowlands proved to be difficult for
Declan. He shadowed the pair closer than he would have liked and
highwaymen were now an actual threat. The wetlands were far enough
away from the larger cities that the Far Watch couldn’t be relied
upon since Anhra was lax, to say the least, believing too much
policing was bad for business.
    The second day in the lowlands, Declan
realized the pair were being stalked. It was clear these new
shadows had been waiting for them, biding their time until the two
appeared on the road. Declan stood over the remnants of the third
camp he found of theirs—not more than seven men, no horses, but
they were well armed as their tracks sunk deep into the soft peat.
The camp space all looked the same, a small fire pit surrounded by
the pressed ground of four small tents. This group wasn’t from the
region, Declan figured, since they’d started a fire using tinder
and wood. It must have driven them crazy trying to get a flint to
spark with how damp it was. Most Anhrathids used the deep black
peat for fire as it burned continuously giving off the necessary
heat but without a revealing and easily doused flame. Their weapons
weren’t too heavy, but they certainly weren’t lightly armed. Yet
the tracks revealed soles more suited to sailing. Declan guessed it
had been at least two days, if not more, that they had been here
waiting, probably came up from the harbor.
    “ Couple days at each,”
Declan muttered, “so at least a week waiting around.” He knelt and
poked the charred ground around the fire pit, “Anything like me,
must’ve been itching. But who? And why?”
    He now had questions, which meant he had a
new task. Declan smiled and looked around taking in the wild, the
contract just got more complicated. Mircha Crossing was the one
point where the highroad tapered down to join with the old Northern
Road, which headed off up into the Siracenes. The junction would be
the most opportune place to strike; it’d be where Declan would
strike out at them if he were looking to do so. He stood and left
the camp, making his way through the trees and brush.
    “ Maybe two days,” he
whispered to himself as he climbed over a mound of