“May your travels be safe ones,” offers the merchant.
“Thank you,” Jiron replies. Stepping aside, he lets James leave the chandlery and then follows him out.
They secure the rations behind their saddles and James puts the new mirror into one of his belt pouches. Then taking the water bottles over to the rain barrel sitting against the building, they fill them up.
James says, “So they are indeed going after Illan.”
“Hope he’s faring all right,” replies Jiron. Worries for his sister and friends have been a constant companion since he and James left them.
“With Miko and the Hand of Asran to take care of any magical foes,” James says, “it would take a large force indeed to cause him any real problems.”
Topping off his last bottle, Jiron secures the stopper in the bottle’s neck. James finishes with his and they return to their horses to pack the extra bottles away. Mounting once more, they turn south to follow the road through town.
Once past the last building, they break into a fast gallop as they race down the road. Seeing as how the force of soldiers ahead has wagons traveling with them, they may be able to catch them before they attack Illan. Alternating between a fast gallop and at times dismounting to give the horses a break, they put many miles behind them. As they ride they keep an eye on the tracks of those they are pursuing to make sure the soldiers don’t turn off the road unexpectedly.
By time they reach the town of Arakan, the sun has begun its descent to the horizon. Having bought sufficient supplies back in Bindles, they decide against stopping. Instead they hurry their way through town.
As they enter the outskirts, James eyes the building that the officer who had stopped and checked their papers exited from during their last visit. Since neither one can speak the language, any confrontation can only lead to disaster. Coming abreast of the building, he quickens the pace of his horse slightly and moves past. He breathes a sigh of relief when no one makes an appearance.
“Take it easy,” Jiron says to him softly. James gives him a nod and brings his horse back to a normal gait. The last thing they want to do is attract attention. Continuously scanning the people on the streets for any potential problems, they make their way through town.
One thing James notices is the lack of guards or soldiers. Since entering Arakan, he’s only seen one guard. Glancing to Jiron he sees that he’s noticed that fact too. Last time they had more of a presence. Perhaps when the soldiers passed through here they took most of the guards with them.
If that is the case, James is both elated and worried. Elated in that if they are forced to strip town garrisons and city guards to bolster their army, then they must be hurting for men. On the other hand, he’s worried because that would mean more to face should there be a battle.
They reach the far side of town and leave the last building behind them without incident. Not far past the town they come across an area that looks like it could have been the bivouac area the army they’re following used the night before. Piles of horse dung dot the area and there’s evidence of over a dozen fire pits spaced evenly throughout.
“We’re gaining on them,” Jiron says after examining a pile of horse dung.
“I hope so,” replies James.
They push on for a couple more hours until the sun drops below the horizon and twilight has almost turned into full night. Pulling several hundred feet off the road, they make camp without a fire. Rolling out their bedrolls, they have a quick meal then James takes first watch while Jiron turns in. A little after midnight, James wakes Jiron for his turn at watch and then sleeps peacefully until dawn.
Up before first light, they’re back on the road and put a mile behind them before the sun breaks over the horizon. Using the same alternating pace as the day before, they eat up the miles quickly.
Two hours before noon, date bearing trees appear ahead of them. It’s the oasis where they rescued Jiron from the Commander of Ten when he was captured in that ill-fated mission to retrieve James’ backpack from Mountainside. A caravan is currently watering their horses at the oasis’ pool, ten wagons along with an accompanying guard of twenty.
“Better not get too close,” cautions Jiron.
“I agree,” replies James.
The road passes alongside the oasis and it would be very suspicious if they were to leave the road and pass in the desert. Rather than raise their suspicions, they stay as far away from those at the oasis as the road will allow them without appearing to do so on purpose. They pick up their pace as they hurry past.
One of the guards offers them what sounds like a greeting in the Empire’s tongue. Ignoring him, they continue on. When the guard realizes they aren’t going to answer he shouts at them, obviously offended. James glances back and sees the guards staring at them with an expression of indignation. They lock eyes for a moment before the guard turns back to the others.
“I hate not understanding their language,” comments James after the oasis has disappeared behind them.
“I know what you mean,” agrees Jiron. “Would make life easier. Is there anything you can do with magic that might help?”
“Possibly,” he replies, “though I’m not sure how to go about it. Foreign languages were never my forte.”
Picking up speed, they once again race to catch the force ahead of them. It isn’t long before the road begins turning to a more southerly direction. All of a sudden, Jiron stops in the middle of the road.
“What’s the matter?” asks James coming to a stop as well.
Jiron is studying the ground intently. “I think they left the road already,” he explains. The telltale signs of their passing which have been evident since Bindles are no longer present.
“I think you’re right,” concurs James. Turning back to the north, they watch the road closely as they travel for the spot where the force turned off. A mile back, just after the road turned to the south, they find where the force moved eastward into the desert. Turning to follow, they break into a gallop.
An hour into the desert, they see the dust rising from the marching feet of thousands of soldiers. They slow when they come within visual range of the soldiers. At least seven thousand strong, they look to mainly consist of foot soldiers. Only a fraction are cavalry, maybe less than five hundred.
“Do you sense a mage?” Jiron asks.
Shaking his head, he says, “No. I haven’t felt any other doing magic since before Kern.” Pulling out his mirror, he brings his horse to a halt.
“Do you think that’s wise?” asks Jiron. “If there is a mage with them it could get dicey.”
“I realize that,” he states. Glancing at his friend he adds, “But we need to know the situation. Where are Illan and the others? Are there any other forces converging with this one?”
“Alright, I understand,” concedes Jiron.
Summoning the magic, James has the mirror show an overhead view of the army ahead of them. He scrutinizes the leading edge of the force and finds no sign of a mage among them. Holding the image, he waits for a moment to see if the tingling of magic comes to him. When it fails to materialize, he scrolls the image further east.
Ten miles further ahead of the army lies a river running north and south. Just to the east of the river lies a major road running alongside of it. The road is packed with people. Whole families riding in wagons, pulling wagons, or even carrying their belongings on their backs are in an exodus to the north.
“Illan’s to the south,” he concludes. When Jiron comes closer he shows him the image of the fleeing people.
“That means this force is moving to work ahead of him and cut him off from Madoc,” Jiron reasons.
“Looks that way,” agrees James. He scrolls along the road to the south and it isn’t far before they find what’s left of a bridge. The center span is gone. James smiles when he sees more evidence that the seeds he planted within caravans have worked. He scrolls as far as he can and still the road is packed with people. Before he reaches the point where the draw of magic is too great, he discovers another bridge destroyed.