Tara slumped against Nephthys’s back, swaying slightly with Shadowstreak’s canter. She had initially felt awkward clinging to the woman so tightly. Sure, she had agreed to teach Tara some things, but they had only known each other a few weeks, and even that contact was not constant.
Such thoughts had vanished as the saddle bruised her backside and chafed her thighs. It only took a few minutes to figure out that pressing her weight against Nephthys, regardless of awkwardness, was far preferable to squeezing the saddle. Still, there was no way to offload the bumps onto Nephthys, and Tara felt she would be unable to sit down for a week after this ride.
And it had only been a few hours.
The sun hung low in the sky, and the wall in the distance was even more imposing for it, casting long shadows across the plains. It stood at least twenty feet high, made of a smooth gray stone, and stretched nearly as far as the eye could see.
This was Gloamview, a frontier city in the Radaar Kingdom. As the name suggested, it was the final checkpoint between the more civilized lands and the Gloam. There were sparse villages further out, but this was the final city. As such, it was a hub for trade from those few braving the frontier and those wishing to purchase frontier goods.
Strangely, Tara noticed that the gate was closed. The sun had not even fully set, so unless there were extenuating circumstances, it should still be open.
“Ho there!” Tara called as Shadowstreak approached the gate, slowing to a walk.
A guard’s head appeared over the battlements, and though he was far away, Tara thought she saw surprise on his face.
“Who goes there?” he called down.
“We are travelers seeking respite,” Tara answered.
The guard grunted and disappeared. After about three to five minutes, a porthole beside the postern gate opened. The same guard’s face appeared, though only his beady eyes were visible behind the visor of his now-donned sallet.
“Travelers comin’ from the Gloam, eh?” he asked.
“Indeed. There is great wealth to be found amidst great danger,” Tara answered cryptically.
“...why’re you speakin’? Somethin’ wrong with the lady?” the guard said, eyes shifting between Tara and Nephthys.
“My master handles the arcane, while I handle the mundane,” Tara said quickly, thinking on her feet.
She was pretty proud of that one.
“Your master, huh? Teachin’ you what, magic? Out in the Gloam?” the guard said, a brow quirked.
“Great rewards for great danger,” Tara reiterated.
The guard grunted, seeming to take in Nephthys and Shadowstreak properly for the first time. He must have confirmed something, as he visibly relaxed, if only a little.
“Well, I’d love to let you two in, but the city’s on lockdown, what with the Wraith about,” the guard said with a shrug.
“The Wraith?” Nephthys asked, surprising both Tara and the guard.
“Aye, suppose that would pique the interest of you magic types,” the guard chuckled. He then leaned in conspiratorially, his mouth and chin almost sticking out of the porthole. “Marquis’s son died in his sleep last night. No prior health issues, no signs of struggle, nothin’. They say the Wraith steals into your bed chamber and sucks your soul straight out. Nothin’ you can do to fight it.”
“Fascinating,” Nephthys replied, her eyes glazing over, clearly checking out of the conversation.
“So, you can’t let us in due to the lockdown?” Tara clarified.
“Tha’s right. Marquis says that if there is a Wraith, we gotta find it while it’s still in town,” the guard explained, adopting his original posture now that the gossip was ended.
“That’s meant to keep people from leaving, right? Surely, there’s no problem with us entering? Not to be too blunt, but my master could just fly the two of us over the wall if she needed to,” Tara said with an exaggerated sigh.
“Hmm…well, it ain’t my decision either way. Gimme a sec,” he said, sliding a metal plate over the porthole.
“You are quite good at this sort of thing,” Nephthys idly observed.
“I’ve had practice,” Tara said, grateful that she was sitting behind Nephthys, her blush hidden.
After another few minutes of waiting, the postern gate opened, the former guard appearing with another in tow. They both wore metal plates over cloth gambesons, the plates covering only the essential areas. The second man approaching overtook the first guard, and Tara could immediately tell he was of a higher rank.
His armor was the same, but he was absent a helmet, instead wearing some sort of slanted hat that Tara thought looked both silly and impractical. He had a ribbon hanging over his chestplate, seemingly attached behind it and draped over the front. She was not sure what it signified, but the guard behind him did not have one, so she guessed it indicated an officer.
“Names and purpose,” he said with a deep voice, though his tone was mechanical, as if performing a practiced routine.
“Tara and…” Tara started, trailing off.
“Tara and Nef,” Nephthys said, picking up the hanging thread. “We seek accommodations for the night. We are here to trade goods we procured in the Gloam.”
The guard captain looked up, his eyebrows raised.
“Goods from the Gloam? I’ll need to check those over,” he said.
Nephthys held her hand out, and several different species of mushrooms appeared, floating above it. The guard tilted his head, coming close and examining each spore as if he were inspecting currency for counterfeits.
“These are…valuable?” he asked, looking at a particularly putrid-looking mushroom.
“Yes, for the right purposes. Some make useful ingredients for potions. Others simply taste good,” Nephthys replied.
Tara thought she saw the guard’s face grow a shade paler as he looked at a mushroom with black sludge dripping from it.
“Right, well…that should be fine, then,” he said, standing straight and motioning them forward. “Be aware that the city is currently on lockdown, so if you enter, you may not be able to leave as soon as you wish. We will also have to tie your horse outside. You can collect it tomorrow morning. It will not fit through the—”
Tara yelped as Shadowstreak suddenly vanished. However, rather than her bottom slamming into the ground, she descended slowly, having ample time to get her feet under her.
“...follow me,” the guard captain said with a sigh, entering the guardhouse.
Tara wondered if the man was annoyed at having his script interrupted or just generally tired.
They were led through a sort of holding area, where a couple of guards sat behind desks, their armor unbuckled and lying on the floor beside them. There were a few empty cells that opened directly into the room, but little else.
“Is there an inn you can recommend? Ideally, one near a market,” Nephthys asked as they exited the guardhouse.
Tara heard the exchange, but she was barely paying attention. Through the open door, she saw bustling crowds, narrow alleys, and dust from a myriad footsteps. It had been a long time since she was in a crowded place, and she suddenly realized how overwhelming it was.
“—would register at the adventurers guild, if I were you. Just to smooth things over in the future,” the guard captain said, drawing Tara’s attention back.
“Oh? What is that?” Nephthys asked before Tara could stop her.
The captain stared at her, furrowing his brow as if he had misunderstood, but the question was so simple that there was no way he could have.
“The…adventurers guild?” he asked.
“Yes. Is that a new institution?” Nephthys said, plowing ahead with a stampeding obliviousness.
The guard captain glanced at Tara, and Tara returned the look with a shrug.
“She’s much older than she looks,” she said simply.
“Huh…I guess that is pretty normal for magic types. Well, the adventurers guild is new in the sense that it was set up within the last century, I suppose. It’s a miscellaneous guild that consolidates several disparate activities under one roof.
“For your purposes, though, it will provide you with identification that’s nearly universal,” he explained.
“That sounds quite useful. Thank you for the tip, captain,” Nephthys said.
“Sure. Finally, be careful. Our Marquis’s son died recently. An investigation is ongoing, and foul play is suspected. Anyone who would, or even could, murder a noble would be quite dangerous,” the captain said, his face stern.
“The Wraith?” Tara whispered, fidgeting nervously.
“I’ll have to have a talk with my guardsmen about their loose lips. There is no evidence of some supernatural force at work. I simply mean that since murder has not yet been ruled out, you should be cautious,” the captain said, waving his hand dismissively.
“Of course. Thank you for the warning. We will be off, now,” Nephthys said with a small bow.
“Thanks!” Tara called back with a wave, relieved that the existence of a ghost stealing into bedrooms and sucking out souls was not accepted as a fact.
The two weaved through the crowd, Nephthys somehow avoiding being jostled a single time, while Tara was bounced back and forth. She did not know whether the crowd was usually this lively and dense, but by the time they reached a wide plaza, she was huffing and puffing not only from the exertion of moving through the crowd, but also from a growing feeling of claustrophobia.
They stood before a three-story building, with large stone columns supporting a porch lined with packed benches. Over the entrance was its name, declared in bold font: Old Maid’s Knees.
“Have a seat anywhere!” someone called from the counter.
Tara glanced around the packed tables, looking for a spot, but Nephthys started off immediately. Tara ran to keep up and nearly ran into her back as she stopped abruptly before a table with only a single occupant. Actually, it was strange that everyone else seemed to ignore this table. The rest of the tables were crammed full, strangers sitting so closely that they rubbed arms.
“Would you mind if we sat?” Nephthys asked the lone occupant.
A woman with long white hair braided down her back looked up from her mug, halfway to her thin lips. She wore a mishmash of armor, mostly chainmail, with metal plates on the gloves and shoulders. She was completely unremarkable, save for the cold blue eyes that chilled Tara to her core.
“Of course,” she said, motioning with her cup.
Just as Tara’s backside hit the chair, a young serving girl came by, somehow getting to their table right away, despite the clamor.
“A meal of whatever you recommend for both of us. For drinks, I will have ale, and Tara will have what the kind lady across from us is having,” Nephthys ordered.
The serving girl scampered away, and Nephthys made what Tara would describe as an uncomfortable amount of eye contact with the woman across from them.
“Name’s Liz. A pleasure. Bold of ya to think a little girl’s gonna match me in drink,” the woman, Liz, said.
“Nef,” Nephthys said, a hand on her chest. She then motioned toward Tara. “This is Tara, and I have a feeling that what she is going to receive is water.”
“Ho? You accusin’ me of not bein’ able to hold my drink?” the woman scowled, taking a swig from her mug.
“Oh, no. Certainly not. I suspect that alcohol does not affect you at all,” Nephthys replied, the corner of her lips twitching, as if on the edge of smiling, “but different drinks for different needs, hmm?”
The two stared at each other for several uncomfortable moments, eventually interrupted by the girl's return with two mugs. Tara eagerly sipped hers, only to find that it was, indeed, just water.
“Are you perhaps an adventurer by trade?” Nephthys asked once the serving girl left.
“Sellsword. You?” Liz answered.
“A drifter, though I have considered signing up for the guild. I have heard membership could prove useful, if only for identification purposes. I must say, I was surprised to find that the adventurers guild had sprung up and become so ubiquitous in the last century,” Nephthys said, sipping her drink casually. She then looked knowingly over the rim of her cup. “You?”
“Me what? I look that old to you?” Liz asked, and Nephthys did not answer.
The two, once again, had some bizarre staring match, thankfully interrupted once again by the serving girl. She set two platters of bone-in meat dressed with greenery before them. Tara had no idea what the meat or vegetables were, but she tore into them gratefully. It had been nearly a full day since she last ate.
“Not eating?” Nephthys asked.
“Maybe I already did,” Liz replied cryptically.
A silence passed as Tara and Nephthys ate. She savored the fatty meat, cut with just the right amount of tang from the vegetables, which must have been pickled. The only complaint she could find was that the meat was a tad salty, but it was a minor issue, especially compared to her hunger.
“You take a girl that young ‘drifting’ with you?” Liz suddenly asked.
Tara squirmed, both at Liz’s sudden, intense gaze and at becoming the object of conversation.
“Tara is my student. Rest assured. I would never place her in harm’s way,” Nephthys explained.
Tara thought she saw Liz relax a little, which was strange. It was not nearly as strange as Nephthys’s behavior, though. What had gotten into her? Tara could not figure out what specifically was strange about Nephthys’s demeanor, but it was certainly weird, if for no other reason than that she was never so outgoing.
“You know, Tara’s current object of study is mana perception. It is quite a useful ability, yes? There is magic everywhere, all around us, so training opportunities are ample.
“Speaking of which, did you know that magic leaves traces, Tara?” Nephthys asked, glancing at her with a small smile. “Strong perception can detect even the faintest whiffs of mana, but strong magic will leave a trace that even a layperson can detect.”
Tara nodded, thinking it a strange time for a lesson, but she was engaged.
“Certain types of magic also tend to linger more than others. Fire magic burns itself out and vanishes quite quickly. Water and wind are fleeting. Magics like earth or necromancy,” she said, suddenly making eye contact with Liz, “tend to linger long after their spells. The more powerful the magic, the stronger the trace, and the longer it lingers.”
The two stared at each other for so long that Tara was on the verge of writhing in her seat when Liz suddenly stood.
“Well, been a pleasure, you two. Gonna get goin’,” she said, heading toward the counter, where she dropped a few coins and headed out the door.
“What was that about?!” Tara hissed once Liz was gone.
“Do not let the warhammer strapped to her belt fool you. That woman was a powerful mage…among other things,” Nephthys said with a small smile.
She had a warhammer? Wait, that didn’t answer my question!
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