The following week and a half became a cycle. Wake up, eat a meager breakfast, ride, and then stop for the evening. Occasionally, Veran would go out hunting. Marius and Calavius would take turns going with him, leaving the other with me. The conversations were idle chit chat, and occasionally we'd sing together. Soon enough, I knew most of their favorite folk songs by heart. They were catchy, and sometimes I would hum them.
Though, as we got closer and closer to the city of Maverith, a sense of melancholy grabbed a hold of me. The destruction the recent war had left in it's wake was still prominent. The road was disgusting and muddy with thousands of month-old footprints, remnants of camps dotted the countryside along the road.
Despite the war-torn countryside, I began to spot familiar places. The series of rocky foothills that kind of took the shape of a sabertooth from one side, the s-curve in the road with a small footbridge over the shallow creek. Mother liked to paint little land marks like that. And even though her hands were shaky, she managed to find a way to use that to her advantage. Sometimes, she would take me with her when she rode out to the country side to find something to paint, and I'd sit and watch her.
Finally, we came to the old mill on Redbeard's hill, and I knew we were close to Maverith. I knew that just as we went over the hill, the valley would spread out below us, and right at the center would be Maverith, with the castle on the hill, and nestled against the Baleford with an old stone bridge spanning the thinnest part of the river.
Once we'd gotten over the hill, and the smoking city of Maverith came into sight, I brought Angrid to a stop. I clutched the reigns as I watched wispy clouds of smoke rise into the sky. I had known they burnt a good portion of the city when they were leaving, but I'd only gotten glimpses of the fires, brief flashes that I could barely remember. I had shoved them from my mind until now.
Veran, who had been riding beside me previously, brought his golden steed to a halt, and glanced back at me. "Don't linger. It will only make it more painful." Then, he spurred his steed to catch up with the others.
I supposed there was some sense to his words, but I couldn't heed his advice. How could I not linger? I spurred Angrid to a trot to catch up with the rest as well. The closer we got, the more my stomach tightened.
Then, up ahead, I caught sight of a figure driving a cart pulled by a pair of horses, one painted brown and white, and the other white with black speckles, and a streak of black in it's pristine mane.
As we were beginning to pass us, I saw her eyes fall upon me, her expression light up. "Lady Zaraline? Is it truly you!?" Our party came to a halt. For a split second, I was shocked, but then I realized she must have been a former citizen of Maverith. Perhaps too stubborn to leave until she had absolutely no choice. There was not much in the back of her cart.
"Yes," I replied, my tone solemn. I supposed it was only a matter of time before someone recognized me. Red was a memorable shade. She eyed my three companions with distaste. I knew she could tell where they were from. They dressed the part, certainly. Then her gaze fell back upon me.
"So, it is true that you yet live. Have you come to rebuild the Northerlands? To right the wrongs that were committed against us?" I hesitated a heartbeat or two before I answered. In a way, I suppose I had.
"Yes. I am on a quest to the north, to travel beyond the Weygate Mountains. We are seeking the aid of a dragon." Her expression lit right back up once again.
"A dragon? None have been seen since you were very little, m'lady. Are you sure there are still any left?"
"...We are not sure," I admitted sheepishly. "But it is worth a shot. As of now, our land lay in tatters, barbarians have taken control of Fort Grey, and who knows what else lurks in the country side, ready to take advantage of our weakness. Right now, we need a miracle."
"Aye, that we do m'lady." She frowned. "I wish you luck on your quest. I hope it is fruitful." She was just about to snap the reigns to spur her horses once more, but paused a moment. "I will spread the word, m'lady. The Northerlands will not forget you." Then, she snapped the reigns, and continued along the path. I looked back at her, watching her leave. It was of some comfort to me, knowing that there could be something left of the Northerlands to return to.
We continued on. As we came closer and closer to Maverith, I vowed that no matter what came of the meeting with the dragon, I would return and rouse my people. While I wasn't sure if I was ready to lead, I knew I had no choice. The Northerlands needed a leader. Our lives must be rebuilt. Then, together, we might have vengeance on the Emperor who wronged us.
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