Descent Into Darkness (Book 2) (19 page)

EAN STIFLED A YAWN from his seat on one of the dozen or so wagons making their way northwest and away from the city. It had still been dark when Azalea roused him out of bed that morning. Pale yellow light blanketed the local farms as the caravan of wagons rolled over the grass. Ean sat in the back of a wagon that was bumping along somewhere near the middle of the caravan. As he chewed on a tough piece of jerky, a lonely empty feeling invaded his chest. It was a familiar sensation, one he had lived with most of his life. A sensation that had also been missing during most of his journey but had returned with the still of the morning. Zin was off somewhere behind his wagon, up to who knows what. Azalea had probably procured a cushy seat in one of the owners' wagons towards the front, enjoying all of the benefits that came along with getting cozy with the rich and powerful. Ean found himself missing both of their company.

With Lurthalan fading away behind them, the area they were moving through consisted of farmlands and pastures. Tiny houses sat next to massive barns, surrounded by fields of an assortment of different crops. Whenever they passed close to one of the farms, the workers would stop whatever they were doing in the fields to stare or give a quick wave before returning to work.

Even though Ean was curious about the types of food being grown, what really piqued his interest were the flags that flew in front of some of the homes. Grand, solid colored flags wavered on flagpoles, each with a different design. Ean immediately recognized the sigil of the bear on a yellow flag and guessed that the others he did not recognize must be the symbols for the other Hawkpurse families as well.

Ean felt momentarily overwhelmed at how little he knew about the outside world. The Hawkpurse families had their hands in anything that could be sold. The farms they passed without flags were noticeably smaller and clearly not as well taken care of as the Hawkpurse-owned ones. The workers of the Hawkpurse farms were greater in number and seemed to be younger and healthier as well. If Ean had to make a guess, he would say that the older men working on the smaller farms were probably the owners, men just scraping by, compared to the Hawkpurse farms and their ability to hire more workers. The whole situation rubbed Ean the wrong way, but he had no plans of becoming a farmer. Instead of worrying about the influence of the Hawkpurses, he let his mind wander to the journey ahead as the wagons rumbled on through the morning.

When they stopped for lunch, Ean got down and set off to look for a friendlier group. He passed a few of the other wagons as he received the cold shoulder from those drivers. Giving up on the chance to find a more pleasant wagon team, Ean made his way toward the back of the line of wagons. The last three wagons were for passengers that had paid for the chance to travel into the Deadlands, which meant they probably weren't as nervous about the trip as the wagon drivers were.

Reaching the end of the line, Ean took a quick look at the three large wagons that held the paying customers. Painted a dark red that was a sharp contrast to the unpainted brown wood of the other wagons, the travelers' wagons were both wider and taller than the average wagon and had storage boxes attached all along their sides. Each wagon wall even had a window set right in the middle, although on all three, a curtain blocked the view of the inside.

Around the wagons a few fires had already been started, one for each wagon. The first fire Ean avoided, the men sitting around it were sharpening weapons or checking over armor. It was doubtful that he would be able to have a pleasant conversation with men who were hunters or guards or whatever else required all of those blades. The second fire was more inviting, the few men and women gathered around it were dressed plainly and going about normal chores--cooking, cleaning clothes, checking their supplies. Ean smiled as he approached them, but the smile quickly faded as a woman walked over to him and stuck a hand palm up practically in front of his face.

"He's not doing autographs and has no interest in wagon workers wasting his time. So whatever thoughts you had of asking for a quick show or trick, wipe them straight out of your mind."

Blinking a few times to catch his thoughts, Ean raised his own hands in a soothing gesture. "I don't want to see any tricks. I was simply coming over to--"

"Don't tell me, you want to try and be his apprentice. Let me just dash that dream right here and now, boy. Mr. Faustman does not train Sparktellers, and as far as I know he never will. Now just keep on moving boy, I've already wasted enough time with you."

Without waiting for a response the woman turned her back on Ean and returned to whatever she had been working on. Ean turned and stalked away. The woman had been a whirlwind of words and he wasn't even sure if he should be insulted by her brisk manner. Not that it would matter if he were insulted of course. Trying to brush the experience from his mind, Ean walked over to the last fire.

There were four men gathered around the third fire: a stocky man in a plain brown shirt, vest, and pants; a man that looked to be slightly older than Ean in a similar outfit; a bald, older man wearing a thick red robe, and a younger boy in fancy clothes. The older men were gathered around the fire while the younger boy was lounging slightly away from it. Approaching slowly with no idea how he would be received, Ean seemed to be walking into a heated conversation.

"...don't know why the boy doesn't help with the cooking," the stockier man said with a growl. "Isn't the whole reason his family let him come on this trip to learn what it's like being on the road? That certainly involves cooking his own meals!"

"I think the boy is just acting out, Iacane," the bald man said as he stirred the contents of the pot. "From what he has told me, he has no interest in the trader's life. I would be shocked if this situation had not been forced on him by his parents."

"That's no excuse to be lazy," the one called Iacane replied. "If he didn't want to be here then he should have stood up to his parents. That's what Fredren here did, and he wants to waste his time making maps of the realm." Reaching over, Iacane patted the back of the man that looked to be around Ean's age. "No offense of course, Fredren."

"None taken," the young man replied in a friendly tone, "I don't expect many people to understand the importance of mapping the land. Just give me time though, and my maps will be one of the most sought after items in the realm."

"See?" Iacane said, patting him on the back again. "That's a boy with ambition. I don't see how he will be successful, but my parents said the same thing about me when I told them I wanted to be a traveling Saniteal. Now look at me. I'm probably one of the strongest Saniteals in the land. Not much left that I can't heal. At least as far as I know. Sure, I've heard about a Saniteal down south that can--"

"Oh, hello," the one called Fredren said, the first one to notice Ean had walked up to their fire. Do you need something?"

Three pairs of eyes focused on Ean, making him feel slightly uncomfortable. Shuffling his feet, he waved a hello, felt dumb about doing that, and then finally spoke.

"My name's Ean, I'm working for the caravan to pay my way to see the Deadlands. I was hoping to find a warm fire and some good people to spend the lunch break with before we headed out again."

The one called Iacane was the first to speak. "Why don't you eat with the other workers? I didn't pay all of that money for a ride just so I could eat with the hired help."

"Iacane, that is no way to speak to someone," the bald man said, rising slowly to his feet. "Of course you are welcome here, Ean. My name is Sadiek. This not so polite fellow is--"

"I can introduce myself, thank you very much," the stocky man said, rising as well. "My name is Iacane, although I'm sure you have heard of me before. Many consider me the greatest Saniteal in the entire land of Ven Khilada".

"Self-proclaimed greatest..." the younger man said, his voice low but clear.

"Quiet boy! I am the greatest! No one has my skill or power. Just the other day I was called on to help--"

"I'm joking with you, Iacane. In the short amount of time we have been traveling, we've already heard many of your amazing accomplishments as a Saniteal. I'm just as confident you are as good as you say you are, as I'm confident we will hear many more examples of what you have accomplished on the rest of the trip." Turning his attention to Ean, the younger man stuck out his hand. "My name is Fredren, by the way. Nice to meet you, Ean".

Ean took the offered hand in his own gloved hand and shook it warmly. "It's nice to meet the three of you as well."

"We'll see if you still feel that way after actually spending some time with us," Sadiek chuckled, returning to his seat by the fire. "We've only been traveling half a day and I'm already concerned that we might be at each other's throats before we even cross into the Deadlands."

"Why Sadiek, I did not know you were so humorous," Iacane replied, also returning to his seat by the fire. "Maybe you should abandon your scholarly pursuits and focus instead on entertaining others with your humor. There is probably more money in entertaining than whatever it is you do, and I could follow you around and heal all of those people that come close to dying with laughter."

Ean joined them by the fire, not bothering to hide his smile. This group seemed like they would make the journey enjoyable, at least the three out of the four he had met. Ean glanced over at the boy sitting slightly off by himself, wondering if he would ever meet him.

"That's Creg," Fredren said, talking a seat next to Ean. "He's some distant cousin of the Ciantar family. Apparently his parents forced him to come along so that he could try to get into the family business." Leaning in close, he lowered his voice. "He's been nothing but rude and bitter since we set off. The rest of us have gotten the feeling that this isn't in line with his professional aspirations."

Not knowing how to respond, Ean simply nodded along. It wasn't any of his business what the boy was doing. If the boy were going to be miserable, it would be best if he stayed away. Ean was already starting to warm up to the other three, so there was no need to draw in someone that was going to be in a bad mood the whole trip. Returning his attention back to the rest of the group, Ean had something to ask about.

"Iacane," he began. "You say you're a Saniteal. What is that exactly?"

The stocky man returned such a shocked look, his eyebrows climbing his forehead while his jaw dropped, that Ean turned quickly to make sure nothing was behind him.

"You've never heard of a Saniteal?" Iacane was finally able to get out. "Where are you from, boy, a cave?"

"No, I..." Ean struggled to come up with an answer. He didn't want to mention Rottwealth, not with how that had been poorly received so many times in the past. "I'm from a small fishing village south of Rensen. We don't get many visitors or news from the rest of the realm."

"Oh, I suppose that makes sense," Iacane said, rubbing at his chin. "Most Saniteals tend to stick to where there are a large number of people. Still, I'm surprised you never heard of me..."

"A Saniteal," Sadiek cut in, "is someone that can heal the sick through magical means, usually taking in the pain or disease into their own body, cleansing it, and then releasing it. It's actually a very dangerous practice, with many documented cases of Saniteals killing themselves by trying to heal more than they can handle. It's a testament to both Iacane's skill and intelligence that he is still alive at such an old age."

"Old age?!" Iacane blustered. "I look younger than you, Sadiek, and if I were a betting man, I would wager a large sum of money--which I have--that you are older than me."

"Now, now, I meant it as a compliment to your ability. I've heard of some of the things you've done, and I doubt any other Saniteal could have accomplished what you have and still live."

"Oh, well then, it is true I've never heard of a Saniteal that's been able to do half of the things I've done in my career either. I have heard a few things about Healers using medicines to cure some of the things I've cured, but that must be all rumors. I mean honestly, to believe a couple of plants could cure blindness or mend a broken bone cleanly? Bunch of charlatans and tricksters, if you ask me. Healers are horrible people that prey on the foolish."

"I'm a Healer," Ean said as calmly as he could.

Ean was surprised at how angry he became at the pompous man's comments. No, on second thought, it wasn't that surprising. As much as a mean old man Cleff had been most of the time, Ean had always respected his abilities as a Healer. Plus, after everything that had happened at Rensen and all of the people Ean had helped, he would be a fool not to consider himself a full blown Healer by now. So Ean let himself glare at the much older Saniteal with as much anger as he could put into his own expression.