The Hero's Gaze

Alaric soon discovered that the awkwardness that filled the start of their journey was a chorus compared to the silence now. Elara stormed ahead, arms wrapped tightly around her small frame. Alaric kicked a loose stone off the dirt road as he trailed behind. He tried apologising several times, but that only made things worse. They were stranded on the mountain pass with no food or water, and a day's worth of travel by wagon. The wagon that was transporting contraband they planned to use was gone and with it a chance to infiltrate the Magenta Hand, rescue Kethryll and thwart the kidnappers’ plans.

He stopped. Raising his gaze to the clear blue sky, Alaric roared his frustration until his throat was raw. Birds fled to the skies, and various four-legged furry animals scurried off. Alaric turned his attention back to the trail where Elara was staring at him with her arms folded, head tilted to the side and her eyes narrowed down to slits. “Are you done with your tantrum?” Elara’s voice oozed condescension.

“Oh,” Alaric pressed his hand to his chest. “I’m sorry that I didn’t want to get you killed. How selfish of me. Next time we are naked and outnumbered by dozens of archers, I’ll blindly attack.”

“I can take care of myself,” Elara resumed her storming off.

“I’m sure you can,” Alaric muttered.

“What was that?” Elara snapped back around.

“Nothing,” Alaric shook his head then jogged up to Elara and matched her pace. “Look, can we just get past this? Working together will get to the bottom of this quicker than going our separate ways. We know where the wagon was going to be delivered. Someone is bound to travel in the same direction as us. We can hitch a ride, snoop around the delivery address, beat up a few henchmen to find out who hired them. Then smash the counterfeiting ring and rescue my friend. We both get what we want.”

Elara cocked an eyebrow. Behind them, a snort and the clopping of hooves on dirt rumbled from around the bend. Alaric smiled as he pointed down the trail. “See.”

“Hmmm,” Elara frowned.

A moment later a nag pulling an old woman on a loaded cart emerged from around the bend. They waited patiently on the side of the road for the woman to arrive. The old woman dressed in well-worn leather travelling gear eyed them up and down with a scowl as she stopped beside them. “It’s dangerous to be out here. Word is Bobbin Snood is lurking around these parts.”

“So I’ve heard, “Alaric approached the old woman. “If it’s so dangerous, why are you out here by yourself?”

The woman’s leathery skin almost cracked as she gave Alaric a wicked smile and produced a cudgel from her side.

“I don’t think that—” An explosion of stars filled Alaric’s vision as the old woman bopped him on the forehead. “Ow.”

Alaric backstepped a few paces rubbing his brow. He could have sworn he heard Elara giggle for a split second. He shot her a glare through watery eyes. Her hand covered her mouth as she coughed to clear her throat as she approached the old lady.

“Sorry to bother you,” Elara began. “But could we trouble you for passage to Kelra?”

“No free rides,” the old lady’s lips pursed as she raised her chin to the sky.

“Well,” Elara rubbed her chin. “We could give you coin. Alaric, could you give the nice lady a fair price for inconveniencing her?”

Alaric murmured under his breath as he rumbaed through his pouch.

“I’m not taking coin.” The old lady jostled the leads in her hand. Her horse snorted and started its slow trudge forward. Alaric finally found a silver coin only to see the horse and cart, with Elara walking briskly next to it. He cursed under his breath again and jogged after them.

“I could get you a letter from the Crown,” Alaric gasped between breaths. The tin mountain air wasn’t doing him any favours. “You’ll be rewarded greatly. Within reason.”

“Coins no good these days,” The old woman kept her eyes forward, “and the seal of the crown isn’t worth the parchment it’s pressed on.”

“There must be something of value we can give you?” Elara pleaded. The old lady pulled on the reigns and her horse came to a halt. She rubbed her chin, deep in thought. Alaric finally stopped beside them, hands on hips taking in a deep breath.

“The only thing of value these days is the sweat o’ your brow.” The old lady poked Alaric in the stomach with her cudgel. “Ya not afraid of a little hard work, are ya? Tubby?”

Alaric swatted the cudgel away and grumbled a few choice works. The old woman’s cackling laugh forced some bile to sting the back of his throat. Elara placed a calming hand on his shoulder and asked, “What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” the old woman started. “My sister is the Master Chef at Duke Fairsheild’s estate. They’re having some fancy banquet in a few days. All sorts of officials, socialites and fancy-pants will be hobnobbing, and my sister is understaffed. She could use a few hands in the kitchen or handing out hors d’oeuvres. A few days’ work for a ride off this mountain pass seems reasonable, yes?”

Alaric’s eyes lit up and raised a finger to the old lady. “One moment,” he waved Elara over and then walked a few paces to what Alaric hoped would be out of the old lady's earshot. Elara paced to him, her face a grim mask.

“The gunpowder and banquet, can’t be a coincidence.” Alaric blurted under his breath. “If the Magenta Hand gather all the top officials in Kira in one place and say, oh, I don’t know, blow them up. They would be able to fill the power vacuum.”

Elara nodded “And with all the chaos with all the counterfeit coins and land titles, the crown would struggle to field an army to stop them because they’d think they wouldn’t get paid.”

“This is worse than I thought,” Alaric sighed as his gaze lifted to the sky.

The old lady cupped her hands around her mouth, “Are you coming or what, Tubby?”