And entered in the new Hardorn
They quickly passed both the Valdemarian and the Hardornen sides of the border, irritating Legacy. After she'd gone to the trouble of acquiring herself an impeccable set of credentials as a messenger, they hadn't even asked. The guild owed her, she'd managed to deliver a message to a mage they hadn't been able to find. Some people have very paranoid definitions of privacy. Of course, if she had that many enemies, she'd be scared too. Actually she probably did, she just made a point of keeping the list pruned.
As the Hardornen guard waved them through she had the uncomfortable feeling he wanted to give a warning, but couldn't think how to phrase it. Legacy was hoping he'd speak up. She wasn't that much harder to kill than a human. Finally, he told them to 'be careful now'. As they continued south she had the disturbing feeling he was trying to memorise their faces, like a doctor marking a terminal case in their mind.
As they moved from the border the scenery changed, becoming sparser and rougher. It wasn't as bad as it had been, not by any means, but you could still tell the energy had been sucked out of this place. And it'd been what, fifteen years? More? It'd be a few decades yet before the energy level was back to where it should be. This sort of reckless damage made Legacy furious, reminding her of the pollution that had ruined so much of the land she was born to.
Camon felt uneasy. Iearnen had managed to get across to him that something had happened at the border post when Chesh had gone for lunch. He'd managed to communicate that she'd been in a good mood earlier, but she certainly wasn't now. She was wearing a frown like his mother'd had when the plants he'd kept in his room had attracted a swarm of beetles. He could still remember the lecture vividly. Camon wondered if she was having one of her moon days, but he certainly wasn't going to suggest it. Illya, one of his year mates had taught him that by throwing a screaming fit at the question. All the lessons I seem to have absorbed well came from women who were mad at me. This is an unfortunate pattern.
He watched Chesh out of the corner of his eye, and saw her glaring at the stunted trees like they were a personal offence. Maybe she's remembering the war. She wouldn't have been very old then, but maybe she still remembers it. It was something that would make anyone mad. He'd studied it in history class with a group of his year mates. His teacher had been on the front and had impressed the entire class with what a near thing it had been. Gave him the shivers just thinking about it.
He got Iearnen to slow as they passed a farm. Camon shuddered at the thought of trying to eke a living from the soil, but his discomfort eased as he saw the fields bordering the road. They were not quite as rich as the ones he had seen leaving Valdemar, but they were certainly doing well. He realised the price of grain would likely be higher here too. As they walked along the dusty road the fields slowly changed to grass. He saw a herd of cows, a reassuringly normal sight. Then he saw the farmer, and what he was standing over brought him and Iearnen to an abrupt stop, eyes wide.The farmer was trying to hitch the remains of a cow to a team of horses, which weren't cooperating. What fascinated him though was the state of the dead beast. It looked like something had torn it limb from limb. Camon tried not to visualise a creature that could do that. Even the gryphons at Haven, the largest predators he had ever seen wouldn't have been strong enough. To kill the cow; certainly. To tear it apart. . .
Chesh had circled her horse against the fence and was now on foot, leaning against it.
"Ho, farmer! Would a hand with them horse be welcomed?"
" 'Deed it would Lady. If ye could just make em hold still a moment I could get my poor dead beastie hitched." Chesh quickly vaulted the fence. Camon flushed. He was the herald! He should have thought to offer. As Chesh skillfully calmed the horses and tied rags over their noses to blunt the smell of blood, he helped the farmer tie the milch cow to the rig. There was no shortage of protruding bones to tie the ropes to.
"Agh, them things be no news. They bin 'round since them mage storms a few years gone. Kill a beast ev'ry so often. Scares me it does, that this one didn't eat so much. Nothin' worse than a hungry beast, cept maybe a hurt one."
"You think it was chased from it's kill?"
"Eyep. That why I aint leaving the bits, case it come back. Take it to the midden, bury it deep. Figure the stench'll keep it from finding the bits. Don' even slaughter m'own pigs anymore less it tracks the scent."
"Smart of you. You'd best dig this path under, maybe with manure, as well as the spot where the kill was made."
"If you have any human hair, spread it around." Camon advised, glad he had something to contribute. "Most animals will say away from it."
"Eyah" Said the farmer nodding sagely. Then squinting at Camon, "Hey, don' you be one a them herald folk?" Camon nodded, happy to be recognised. "You headin' to the capitol then? Gonna see the king?" Camon nodded cheerfully, feeling proud. "Then you tell him that he's an ijit f'r lettin' monsters eat my stock. You tell him that, from me!"
I wonder how I can rephrase that to sound tactful? In his head he heard a sound suspiciously like a horse laughing so hard it was going to fall over.