Chapter 19 #2
“Spin, he already told us, it’s because he’s a rotten magic-user,” said Quiddle.
Ashe and Bren snorted with laughter as Ainsworth buried his face in his hands.
“Look. Doing it the way I’ve proposed would take more time, but I believe it would be much more reliable.
And as I said, I also wish to scout the area for physical signs of magical interference, should I find any.
I only want to try this once. Then I can move on in the project, whatever the answer. ”
Honey, now also looking at the map, shook her head. “But this kind of journey…it would be difficult, Ainsworth. You’d be traveling around the bottom of the range to set these two wards, progressing much farther around the mountain than we did. You might be attacked!”
“I believe I can achieve what I need in a week. I have my camping supplies, and I can pay for food supplies. Also, despite these”—he pointed to his antlers—“I used to know how to hunt. There’s more human, more predator, in me than prey—er, if someone could lend me a bow. Or a dagger or something, maybe?”
“I mean no disrespect, Ainsworth, but…can you actually protect yourself, though? I mean, the beasts you’ve seen since you arrived…they’re not even half of what’s out there!” Honey gave him an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry, Ainsworth. I really don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Look, I’ll admit, I am a little scared,” Ainsworth said.
Initially, he had briefly considered waiting for an adventuring party to take him out to the mountain to set his wards.
But, well, the whole point of this spell was to figure out why they didn’t want to go near the bloody thing, so it wasn’t as if that was going to happen.
“I didn’t face any bother on the way here, and as for the mountain—I can be stealthy, I know a few helpful spells, and I—”
Ashe, who had been loudly gulping down a tankard of ale, slammed her cup on the table. “Not to worry, Honey. I’ll protect him for you.”
A day after Ainsworth had proposed his plans, the rain on his skin was a welcome relief from the heat his exercise-challenged body generated.
They had departed early that morning, and Ashe had swiftly turned into the mountain cat form she favored—which, when seen from up close, was far larger than any mountain cat Ainsworth had ever heard of.
She was more wolflike in bulk, and had spent the day circling wide, every so often returning to Ainsworth’s line of sight to indicate a safe path onward.
They were still a day’s trek away from where he wished to place his first ward, and walking in solitude suited him.
He found that the harder his body worked, the clearer his mind felt.
He had even started to appreciate the wild, riotous surroundings.
There was an art in how the landscape he once thought monotonous shifted and shone in the wake of rain, which left the area slick and deepened in color.
At times a splash of greenery interrupted: thick, spongy shrubs of hardy heather, or a cliff-fern sprouting from between fallen rocks.
It was odd to feel warmth about such a fearful place—especially with a dragon and dreadful beasts lurking around.
It was enough to send a chill down his spine—but still he relished the walk and thought that even the most fearsome of creatures deserved somewhere to call home.
By evening, the rain had stopped and they were treated to a cloudless sky.
The night was cold, clear, and still. Having finished her scouting, Ashe allowed a campfire for a few hours.
“It’ll keep as many beasts away as attracts them, and we may as well warm up,” she said as she watched Ainsworth make a start.
He initially began a simple ignition spell—one he had quickly mastered on his original four-week journey here—then decided to undertake the challenge of creating a natural spark.
On his third attempt, he managed it. “Nice job,” Ashe remarked. She must have smelled the smoke drifting toward her, for she lay a few feet away on the spongy mat of heather outside the small clearing where she had pitched their canvas tent. “Didn’t think you’d know how to do that.”
“Is that why you offered to help?” Ainsworth asked, earning a chuckle from the wildeshifter. “I used to camp with my father, on hunting and foraging trips.”
“Oh? So you weren’t brought up surrounded by books and fine food and all the other stuff you used to complain about missing?”
He gave a sad smile. “No. I was not.”
Ashe rolled over on her belly, eyes fixed on the flames. There was nothing of note to cook on them. They had brought hard cheese, bread, and dried meat and fruit for their staples, with plans for Ashe to hunt and Ainsworth to forage once these supplies ran out.
However, Ainsworth decided that the ambience was just right to eat one of the few treats they had brought for their trip.
Reaching into his pack, he rooted around tentatively for the carefully wrapped package he had placed in one of the internal pouches.
The fragrant, spicy scent of the orradan cakes filled him with warmth and a sharp recollection of the first time he had experienced it—only yesterday.
The day before, Ashe and Ainsworth had ransacked the kitchen for any preserved food they could take for the first few days.
“That all looks very…bland,” Honey had said, ghosting behind him as he organized their food rations on a table in the tavern room.
The wind was roaring outside, and the warm, crackling fire made Ainsworth regret that he would have to temporarily leave these comforts behind, even if for the sake of his research.
“Well, yes,” Ainsworth said, bundling some dried apples together.
“But we must be practical. I won’t be lugging my trunk around.
I don’t have the capacity to do a levitating spell and set up a detect-magical-interference spell, too.
I almost regret not studying and training to be a sorcerer alongside my heritage and history studies. ”
Honey snorted. “It doesn’t seem like magic flows easily through you. It sticks and stops, spluttering out like a bad cough.”
“Hey!”