~
WHEN Ella woke again she squinted against bright sunlight. It felt like midmorning, but she was cold again. Sitting up, she saw that the heatplate’s runes had faded. It needed to be re-enchanted if it were to ever again provide warmth. Rather than giving the heatplate anger for running out, she thought of Layla, and sent it love for saving her life.
Layla!
Ella hurriedly put on her now-dry clothing. Scooping her belongings into her bag, she started to search the area.
"Layla!" she called again and again.
She looked all along the bank up towards the waterfall, then back down, past the place where she had washed up. She looked everywhere, scanning the opposite bank, searching the reeds for sign of the raft or Layla’s possessions. Nothing.
Then, walking up a hill to get a better view, she saw the road, only a few dozen paces away.
The road.
Ella looked south, conflicted. Killian had undoubtedly gone in that direction. She’d probably made up a lot of time on the river. She could catch him, find out who he was working for, and get back her house’s Lexicon.
Then she looked north. In this direction was Layla’s homeland and her own. If Layla had perished in the waterfall, there was no use in going this way. If she’d survived and gone back to the Dunwood, there was also little use.
Ella had checked the river. She felt certain Layla wasn’t there. As certain as she could be.
She had to make a choice.
She stood there for a long time. Layla was her friend. But her people needed her. Miro needed her.
With a heavy heart, she turned south.
~
IT was strange to see the signs of civilisation again. She passed cottages and farmland, much of the earth lying fallow in winter’s heart. With one final heart-stopping lurch of hope, Ella clutched at the inner pocket of her dress.
They were still there, two deen coins and twelve cendeens.
Passing a small farmer’s market she bought eight crusty white bread rolls and a block of hard ripe cheese. Unable to stop herself she followed it with some cured sausage, a pot of jam, a bottle of fresh milk, two large sourmelons and three bottles of dark beer.
She received a few strange looks as she heaved her satchel to her shoulder and without stopping began to assemble her lunch.
For once, Ella didn’t care. She munched contentedly and ate while she walked, the bag getting lighter with every mouthful.
It was easy going for the most part. The road was dry and dusty. The temperature during the day was cool enough that the walk wasn’t uncomfortable. Ella marvelled at the towering trees that lined either side of her path, beautiful evergreens with their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. This was the great farmland of Altura’s south.
Always at the back of her mind though was the importance of her task. Her long legs found their traveller’s pace, she focussed on landmarks in front of her, determined to reach them in the shortest time possible. She finished the milk as she walked, feeling instantly invigorated. The beer she would save for later.
The sun started to sink low on the horizon, the rays casting a glow on endless fields of sugarwort, covering the land with red and orange colours. As the road turned slowly east, Ella could now see the forbidding peaks of the Elmas in the distance, the natural barrier that separated the lands of Altura from the lands of Petrya.
Ella knew where Killian was headed.
There was only one route through the Elmas, one way to leave Altura behind and head for the east. The Wondhip Pass.
Ella walked while it was still light enough to see and then stopped at the next hamlet she came upon, a tidy little place with a sign proclaiming it the village of Rowen.
Facing the road was a small inn: the Steady Hand. Before she entered Ella looked down at herself. Her blue dress was scratched and torn. The knees were dirty and the hem had obviously been dragged in the mud. Her hair was a tangled mess. Making a decision, Ella placed a few coins ready in her palm and walked around the back of the inn.
Ella found a huge woman behind the building, sweat pouring down her forehead as she pounded at some stubborn laundry stains. Water and soap sloshed down her jiggling arms. A barking dog challenged Ella. The woman looked up.
"Lord of the Sky, dear! What are you doing back here?"
"I’m seeking lodging for the night," Ella began.
"Then you’ll be wanting to talk to my husband, Oerl." The woman looked Ella up and down. She smiled over her wobbly chins, a kind smile. "On second thought, perhaps you’ll be more comfortable if I let you in back here and get you settled, yes?"
Ella nodded.
"You have… ahem... you have got…"