He mistook us twice: first for husband and wife, secondly that she was some kind of slave. Leana’s scowl nicely liberated him of that opinion. Should I have pointed out that I was a member of the Sun Chamber, he would not have wanted to take me on board unless I paid twice the price. We could have commandeered his vessel, but it wasn’t worth the hassle.
Besides, whilst at sea, it was wise not to anger the gods.
It is said in most religions that one of the realms one may fall into after death is a violent, dark and oppressive location. I’m almost certain that we sailed right through that place.
Seven nights we spent at sea, travelling north and east along the coastline, and it only took one night to convince me that my hatred of this mode of transport hadn’t lessened with time. I vomited at least five times on the first day and barely left our cabin, if indeed it could be called a cabin; it was a small hold that was used mainly for carrying who-knew-what decaying matter in rancid crates. Leana despaired of my weakness and, impatient and anxious, spent much of her time on deck, offering her assistance, and generally making herself far more useful.
Most of the time aboard was a blur to me. I may have blanked it from my mind, or it may have been the bottle of strong wine from the captain’s cabin Leana had acquired so I might drink myself unconscious – all the rarer an act considering I didn’t often drink.
My one fear during the trip was that the gods would curse me again and that I might suffer a seizure of the sort that came upon me in times of trial and tribulation – a physical weakness that had dogged me since childhood. On rare occasions the seizures would strike me during the day, but it was more commonly during my sleep. But instead only one intense headache came – usually a precursor to a seizure, like a premonition, though sometimes they occurred afterwards. Leana informed me there were no episodes, however, which came as a relief.
My goddess, Polla, must have intervened with the sea gods on my behalf, for we arrived at night – alive – at a small trading town on the border of Detrata and the lush, green hills of Koton.
My only memory of that night was the captain’s wild laughter as I stumbled eagerly towards land clutching my belongings, before falling with minimal dignity into a bush.
We acquired horses and set off early, moving across hilly farmland bathed in the red light of sunrise. Gradually the styles of buildings, the crops, the living history, all became familiar once again.
Was it me that had changed, or Detrata? Now that I saw my home with a stranger’s eyes, I was far more aware of its context within the wider world. Upon my departure from this country, I was a young man somewhat sceptical of such a fragile, continent-wide set-up. To me, it shouldn’t have lasted for so long. Upon returning, and as I explained to Leana, I understood how Detrata fared far better within a united Vispasia than alone, even during the glory days of the Detratan Empire. There was no war to speak of and across the silent battlefields rode determined traders.
‘I hear your old empire mentioned from time to time,’ Leana said. ‘It was a cruel place. Vispasia is still a little like that abroad.’
I considered my words carefully. ‘The old Detratan Empire was a savage period. The continent lurched between extremes of maniacal dictators, civil war and famine. Wars came, then out of peace Vispasia grew, a weird and wonderful royal democracy. That said, it is the best option for people here. Stability has been maintained for two hundred years and blood is rarely spilled to the extent it used to be.’
‘You have not addressed my point. All of these countries, they take their wars abroad still. They still make slaves of people from outside Vispasia. In fact, I could be one, if in life I had been even more unfortunate.’
Eventually, I said, ‘I agree it’s a horrendous practice, but it’s better than it used to be.’
We reached the summit of the Olosso Mountains about an hour after dawn and the full splendour of Detrata was laid out before us. These famous plains became flooded with memories. The vista of rolling hills, grasslands, hamlets and tiny, stone fortifications, brought back such a strong sense of nostalgia that I did not notice Leana speaking to me for several moments.
‘Are you feeling well?’ Leana asked, though it sounded more of an order to be fine. ‘You seem uneasy. A mild seizure?’
I slid from my horse to regard the terrain and to take a good lungful of Detratan air. It was warm even at this hour of the morning, and the cool breeze was a pleasant relief. The air was not as humid here, and the place seemed far gentler than I was used to.
I had stood at this same vantage point ten years ago. Like most young and optimistic people, I’d left with every intention of putting some distance between my father and myself, as well as making my mark on the world. At least I could say I had achieved something.
‘It seems so unfortunate,’ I said eventually, ‘to be confronted with such a glorious sight, when I should feel only sorrow.’
Leana said nothing as she slid with skill off her horse, again making apparently athletic movements seem so effortless. She reached into her pack for a flask of water. Garbed in a similar fashion to myself, white shirt, brown leather doublet and heavy boots, she wore her dark hair tied back as if always being ready for combat, and regarded me with one of her unreadable expressions.
Perhaps that’s why I found her the perfect travelling companion: we kept our wandering thoughts largely to ourselves. She took heavy gulps of water before offering the flask to me, but I declined.
‘Lucan,’ she said. ‘Why have you not noticed the man following? Half a mile back down the slope?’
I glanced back down, following the line of the straight road along the yellow grassland until – some way in the distance – a figure on horseback came into focus. ‘It’s a road, like any other. He’s free to pass through.’
‘But you said this route was not frequently used, yet he has kept pace with us since our landing. He does not catch up or fall back. He remains the same distance.’
‘You’re right, I should have spotted this,’ I said.
‘Spirits save us,’ Leana added, but made no further comment about my lapse of judgement.
‘We’re in no hurry. We’ve made good time so far. Let’s hang back and let him pass. I’ve some bread in the bag, and some fruit – we should eat.’
‘And when he arrives here?’ Leana asked.
‘He could be an innocent trader.’
Leana drew her sword.
‘He could simply be a traveller,’ I continued, ‘like us. Not everyone is out to attack us. Just because we represent the Sun Chamber does not mean we can draw blood for no reason at all. We are not barbarians.’
We ate quickly, and waited behind a wind-smoothed stone outcrop as the figure came closer. Now that he could not see us, he gained pace considerably. It made no sense that someone would be after us – who in Detrata knew of our arrival?
A few moments later and the ground began to vibrate under the horse’s hooves. I stepped out into the road casually while Leana remained waiting by the side with her bow, covering me. He carried a sheathed weapon and wore a scarf around his mouth, but struggled to control his startled horse. Unnerved at my sudden appearance, the horse bolted towards the horizon, hooves thumping into the sun-baked earth. His dust trails lingered in the air.