Chapter 24 #2
The entire journey to the mouth of the canyon, Theory and Saryn rode a small distance ahead of me side by side, speaking quietly, proving that he was capable of idle chatter—just not with me.
Soon the landscape began to change again, grass and soil becoming clay and rock.
While my two mentors seemed unsuspicious of our surroundings, I remained on constant alert.
If Nasallus was performing a secret operation, who’s to say they wouldn’t have travelers on these very same roads?
Were either of them concerned about such an encounter?
Were we going to play ignorant and pretend to be part of the cause, arriving to do the very same work already underway?
Knowing my companions, they would be content to engage in more violent activities if necessary.
I, on the other hand, was not looking for a fight of any kind, knowing I would likely need to muster all my energy to deal with whatever was going on in the canyon itself.
I especially didn’t need to attempt such a feat while injured, so I kept my wits about me.
The only positive thing about this portion of the journey was the absence of sand.
But there was an absence of something else that was causing me anxiety: I could no longer feel the bond.
There was no hum or vibration. I had lost sense of it more than a day ago, and until now, had kept my concerns suppressed.
The absence of it made me fearful. I kept telling myself not to be distracted by it, but I was.
If I had only sealed the bond, I would know he was okay, and he would be comforted by knowing the same of me.
Our souls and minds would be bound to one another in a way that transcended the tangible world.
In many ways, he had become my best friend.
Our simple conversations and laughter centered me.
There was a serenity to our relationship that made me feel firmly rooted, even now, so far away.
For someone who had two travel companions, I felt extremely lonely being so far from anyone I could call a true friend.
Theory and Saryn were mentors; they were brethren in the Imperi, but I did not believe there was true friendship between us.
Sometimes I wondered if we would always feel such apprehension toward our mentors in the Order, and if our group would be able to surpass that relationship with subsequent recruits.
I had my suspicions regarding Saryn’s feelings towards Idris.
There was understanding, respect, and loyalty between them, but no semblance of friendship.
Idris had only ever presented a calm demeanor in my presence, but one could imagine his vigilance in training new members of the Order.
Something like vicious repetition came to mind.
In reflection, I promised myself that if I was ever given the opportunity to train and swear-in new members of the Order, that they would be met with more understanding and warmth than I was granted.
A sword may be forged beneath a hammer, but an arrow does not fly without the delicate fletching.
The sun was retreating toward the horizon as we arrived at the gorge of the canyon and began our ascent on horseback.
Saryn had indicated a desire to assess the situation from higher ground, and we were unlikely to encounter anyone upon the elevated cliffside.
He also declared that if we happened to run into any scouts keeping watch, they’d be handled expeditiously.
This confirmed my earlier suspicions about how they’d manage such an encounter.
Theory instructed me that should any sort of scuffle occur, there should be no hesitation on my part to take flight.
I hadn’t unfurled my wings since Basdie, so I spent the remainder of the trek centering my thoughts on what it would be like to need them abruptly while in a saddled position.
When we reached the canyon rim, we found a vast plain of rock laid out before us.
Only the occasional tree or shrub clinging to life dared disrupt the barren landscape.
Shades of orange and hues of red were the only colors as far as the eye could see.
Later, when the pale, violet shadow of twilight overtook the horizon, we rode along the edge of the gorge, studying the Ledor River as it narrowed and carved out the jagged shape of the canyon below.
The swaying of my saddle ushered forth a wave of nausea as I gazed upon the intense and insufferable depths of the canyon. I held my hand to my head, trying to relieve myself as we continued on, looking for signs of mining activity.
“There.” Theory pointed, drawing our attention.
Evidence of Artume’s efforts were finally made apparent.
On the Cambrian side of the river there were clear indications of attempts to make entry into the rock walls along the river’s edge.
At some of their entry points, they appeared to dig deeper than others, but each of them was abandoned with none fully breaching the exterior.
If there were moonstones, did they expect to find them so close to the surface wall?
Saryn had implied that these stones took centuries to form.
From what I knew of the sciences, moonstones, like all precious stones, needed two things to flourish: time and immense pressure.
Why did they choose to dig there, and what made them stop?
Every hundred paces or so, there were signs of more attempts.
Though it was clear they hadn’t found anything worthwhile at these dig sites, it confirmed the rumor—they were looking.
Which meant the odds of needing me to resolve the issue had increased dramatically.
I winced as this dreadful realization took hold.
The land above and within the gorge was treacherous, but not entirely unmanageable.
King Aeon hadn’t needed to do much to convince his people that this area was not worth settling.
Even its exploration posed risks that seemed to outweigh any reward.
But if our king did have an inclination about what was in the canyon’s crust, why was the area not guarded?
How were Artumian thieves able to travel across Cambria’s border and pillage resources so easily without repercussions?
I squeezed the horse suddenly with my legs, prodding him to catch up with Saryn and Theory. Now that we had seen signs of their activity, we couldn’t risk the echoes of our voices. When I caught up to them, we exchanged whispers.
“Why is this canyon not guarded?” I asked.
“If a place is guarded, it implies there is something of value,” Theory explained.
“Isn’t the border reason enough?”
“The rest of the Artumian border consists of more obvious resources to trade and is populated by Fae who are willing to break the laws of Cambria to trade illegally.”
Saryn added, “Official trade means taxes. Those who have no interest in sending wealth to the Crown, both Northern and Southern, will avoid it even if it makes them a criminal.”
I pondered my father’s business for a moment.
Most of his trade occurred among the northern territories.
I vaguely recollected some negative remarks about taxes on occasion, but I did not think he would have engaged in illegal dealings directly.
The longer I thought on it, the more I wondered if my father was aware of the illegal trade going on in the southernmost Riverlands.
This would have been his territory to oversee, after all.
He had shared nothing of this with me if he had known.
If I had someday taken over for him, would I have been exposed to those sorts of dealings?
Which then begged the question: Would I have allowed it to continue, knowing it typically benefited the far less fortunate?
The inequity I had seen in my own village after a day of handing out Lorcs brought visions of a world where their survival did not hinge on lawlessness.
My life at the academy was far behind me, but I was becoming increasingly frustrated that none of this was being taught or explained.
Not in courses of history, finance, or any other academics offered to us.
If we were the wealthiest of our lands, privileged to be educated, how were we to rule, govern and guide others, when were all being kept in the dark?
Since the Imperi had torn the veil of naivety from my eyes, every day I saw people and their interactions differently.
I think it’s why Theory and Saryn were as bitter as they appeared; they had been exposed to the dynamic truth of our world for far longer than me.
My world, once captured in the narrow space between a thumb and forefinger on the map, now seemed impossibly vast and incredibly complex.
Nightfall had finally arrived, making our travel along the edge of the gorge even more intimidating.
Saryn lit a small lantern, the only light to guide us along the precipice at our side.
I could fly, and therefore wasn’t fearful for myself, but my horse could not.
I wouldn’t wish that sort of death upon any living creature.
I hadn’t thought of Rain in such a long time, and it amused me to think of him on this foreign terrain.
I’m pretty sure he would have refused the climb, never mind trotted on hard rock with an ominous drop-off.
He was a spoiled, pampered horse. His hooves had only ever galloped the lush green forests near the estate, fueled by an everlasting reserve of grass, hay, and the rosy apples that littered the orchard.