Legend of the Ravenstone by M.S. Verish Page A

tone and went to check his horse.

6
Travel by Foot
    A rcturus was more than dismayed to learn that the majority of travelers, spooked by their experience with the thieves, preferred to return to the safety of Belorn. With their leader destined to escort them back to the kingdom, all modes of transport would follow. “Which means,” he told Kariayla flatly, “that if we choose to continue, we must do so by means of our own two feet.” Then, seeing the fear in her eyes, he added, “Returning to Belorn is not an option. While I admit that my travel experience has been limited to carriages and wagons, I am prepared to face the challenge of a bipedal trek. Besides, as I understand it, Valesage is along the Southern Link. We cannot possibly err in our direction if we follow the road.”
    Jaharo, who had led his horse up to them, handed the Markanturian a roll of parchment. “There are villages along the way, so you need not fear destitution.” He looked evenly at Kariayla. “Remember what I have told you.”
    Kariayla nodded, and Arcturus looked from one to the other. “What did our cartographer tell you?”
    “To be wary as you go,” Jaharo said.
    “As I am always.” Arcturus narrowed his eyes at Kariayla. “Was I absent during this conversation?”
    “You were sleeping.”
    “Oh,” he said, embarrassed. “Absent indeed.” He unrolled the parchment enough to glimpse its contents; he turned to Jaharo in awe. “This is—”
    “A token of friendship,” the cartographer said. “And you may also find it useful whether as a practical map or as reassurance of your direction.”
    “Graciously and with much admiration, I thank you,” Arcturus said. He tucked the roll away in his bag with great care. “I wish you well in your venture, my good man. We will sorely miss your company.”
    “As I yours,” Jaharo said with a slight smile. He swung easily into the saddle. “All partings initiate new beginnings, and not all that is new is unfamiliar.” He bowed his head and trotted down the road, disappearing in the rain.
    “A most provocative statement,” Arcturus mused, staring after the tall man. He turned to Kariayla. “Well, my dear, let us then initiate this new beginning. Oblige an old Markanturian, and check the wagon for any stray belongings we may have missed.”
    Kariayla did as requested, searching the blankets but finding only the crumbs from their pastries. As she left the wagon, she spied the duke’s men standing before the group of thieves. The latter were bound and sitting in the mud, the rain dripping down the faces of men who knew they were doomed. What struck her was how ordinary they looked, like anyone she would pass in the market. Beside them were those who had fallen, arrows yet jutting from their bodies. The White Demon did not seem to be amongst them. Kariayla tore her eyes away and returned to her companion.
    With nothing more to hinder them, they started on their way, each shouldering a pack of what was deemed most necessary for their journey. Once the sight of the camp was behind them, Arcturus cleared his throat for conversation. “I am curious as to your thoughts, my dear.”
    “My thoughts?”
    “About the incident this morning. You had mentioned the involvement of magic.” He glanced at her. “How did you know?”
    Kariayla did not regard him, nor did she answer immediately. “I know storms,” she said. “Just as you read a map, I can read a storm.”
    “An interesting comparison. I would think there are not a great many who possess such an ability.”
    Kariayla removed a plastered lock from her face. “I can do more than read storms,” she admitted. “I can summon them, and I can move them.”
    “You are a magess,” Arcturus said.
    She looked at him, uncertain.
    “You have this natural ability to manipulate the elements without use of a cantalere.”
    “What is a cantalere?”
    “An object that channels magic to a specific purpose.” He thumped his staff in front