Wind Blown Ashes: Episode 1 Joining a Caravan

After overcoming the destruction of home and running from a sorceress, Ashes set out to build a new life here in the East with her own hands and powers. It won’t be easy, but she is confident she can.

Setting a spell on her robe, sending mystical symbols dancing across it, Ashes took a deep breath and marched out the same gate she’d entered naked and bound a fortnight ago. Others gave way once they saw the now magical robe. Not one was interested in hindering a mage. The scarf wrapping her head and face hid her smile.

Stepping beyond that wall, more tension left her. No more whoring! To her right, she spotted a caravan ready to leave tomorrow. That was Perfect. Heading for it, she froze two steps later. A pair of dwarfs and several gnomes sat at the common fire, mixed in with the humans!

That complicated things. She had almost no experience with nonhumans since laws forbid nonhumans from entering the kingdoms west of the mountain. She took a deep breath and braced herself. Those kingdoms were gone. The only human-only cities this side of the desert she knew of were the very ones Mistress Gru held influence in. Going further east meant moving into cities with larger and larger nonhuman populations and her current destination was an elven city with just a few humans in it.

Taking a deep breath and bracing herself, she approached the half circle of wagons around a central cooking fire, her stomach tying itself in knots. Those soulless, nonhuman eyes on her as she approached sent a shiver down her spine. Ashes took another deep breath and addressed the group as a whole. “I am looking for guard work as far as Kematree.”

An older dwarf with a gray-streaked beard, a little better dressed than the other dwarfs, spoke. “Mage? Headed for the Kematree Archives?”

She locked her eyes onto his face, though he avoided looking her in the eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“I am Rockhammer Silversmith, manager of the caravan’s guards,” he said in a voice as gruff as any she’d heard. He went on. “The caravan manager is a Gnome named Ississine, but you can call him Golden Needle, which is what that translates into in your language. He and his wagon are inside the city, won’t be here until tomorrow. We could use a mage if the price is right but don’t have a strong need of one.”

Ashes wished she could read the dwarf better, but the meter of his speech was wrong and he didn’t make eye contact the whole time he talked. Did all dwarfs do that, or was it just this one?

Rockhammer continued, “I can pay you half a silver sovereign a day.”

Though a reasonable offer for a mage at her level of skill, she sneered. “Then you don’t want much of a guard for that. For that, I only guard after we stop until wagons close up shop. I ride in a wagon, not walk. You give me a bedroll, and I have a place in a wagon to sleep.”

A broken tooth, dirty bearded fat man, spoke. “Hell girl, you can share my bedroll,” padding the bed roll he sat on.

“Kyayonday.”

Ashes’ hand burst into flame, and she turned to face the man, raising her hand to shoulder level.

Rockhammer spoke, “Crim, pack your bedroll. You’re out of here. I can’t have a guard in this caravan stupid enough to insult a mage to her face.”

The man looked into Ashes’ eyes.

She stared right back, well aware that she’d overreacted, but having come that far, she had to convince him she would kill him if he didn’t leave, or none here would take her seriously. To convince a man like him, she had to be ready to kill him.

He lowered his gaze. “Fine, I’m going. There are other caravans.”

She let the fire go out, but stayed ready.

Once the man was gone, Rockhammer turned to her, still not looking her in the face. “You can ride in a seat of a wagon, not inside, but you will need to sleep under a wagon, rather than in one. Four of them have mounts for a hammock under them. You get one of those and a hammock along with your bedroll.”

Her first offer hadn’t been what she’d planned, but with modifications it would work and get her there safely. “Meals,” she said. Then added, “And something better than porridge and soup.”

“Fine, plus two full meals, morning and evening, but you will need to settle for a couple of pieces of fruit for your third one at lunch on the road.”

She nodded and held out her hand.

The dwarf just looked at her extended hand. “I will get you a bed roll and hammock. Tonight, you can hang your hammock under the food wagon, and I will sleep elsewhere. Tomorrow, you sleep under Golden Needle’s wagon. That is also the wagon seat you ride and where you spend most of your time on guard when we stop. He has mostly jewelry. Only a little of it silver and jade, the rest copper but enough silver that he is always a target. He is the one your deal guarding the caravan is with, and he will put it in writing, not shake on it.”

He stood. Standing, he was still a head shorter than she. With an abrupt turn that took her off guard, he led her to the nearest wagon. Opening its back, he handed her a new bed roll and hammock. “The bottom of Golden Needle’s wagon is like this one. Tie your hammock to these rings here.” He pointed to two large brass rings hanging down on its bottom. Opening a small cupboard, “This is my hammock, bedroll and pack. There will be an empty one on Golden Needle’s wagon for you to store yours in. Practice tying it now, because you will need to do it in the dark most of the time.”

Without another word, he turned around and went back to where he’d been sitting. She found out why she needed practice. If tied too loose, her bottom hit the ground. But too tight, made getting in and out of it difficult as she was right up against the wagon bed.

*

Once again, her butt was touching the ground when an older man with short gray whiskers set a plate with sweet potatoes, bread, and a quarter of a pheasant on it down on the ground next to her. “Eat your dinner and when I come back for the plate, I will show you to trick to getting it done right, fast.”

His voice surprised her, deeper than expected and with the same short, clipped cadence as the dwarfs. Was that the common way of speaking in the east? It would be far harder to blend in if her manner of speech was that different.

The food smelled great. She banged her head on the wagon bottom, getting out of the hammock. Surprisingly, the bread was still warm from the oven. It tasted far better than any she had had in weeks. The sweet potatoes, too, were heavenly. Even the pheasant had less of a gamey flavor than such birds usually had. If all her meals were to be of this quality, she’d made a better deal than she’d thought.

The old man came by just as she finished the last of it and was sopping up the last traces with the last bit of bread. “When word reaches him that you not only got him kicked out of the caravan, but now had his job guarding Golden Needle’s wagon, Crim might try something. Stay near the wagons and don’t let your guard down.”

She swallowed. “If I know he is there, I can take him. My problem is if he surprises me.”

The old man raised an eyebrow. “That sure of yourself?”

Putting far more confidence into her voice than she felt, she replied, “Certainly. Any reason I should not be?”

“Not that I know of, other than he is very good with his axe.”

Ashes looked about. “Will the others in the caravan let me know if they see him or hear anything about him?”

The old man looked over to where the caravan guard master sat. “They’ll tell me and Rockhammer. I’ll pass it on to you. Name is Ho. Behind Golden Needle, I am senior wagon master here. I sell spices.”

She raised an eye at that. Unless things were far different this far east, he would be the riches man in the caravan, though he dressed no better than any other person there. “Thank you, Master Ho.”

“Now let me show you how to tie that so you can quickly adjust it if it touches the ground. You start by tying a loop and passing that loop through the ring like this.” He tied a loop.

episode 2

Book one is available for to read for free.

Remember to tell me what you think of this, I really want to know.