Conjunction

It was a good half-hour before Caden's meal arrived, brought to him by a rather fetching blonde whose age suggested that she might be the innkeeper's daughter. She set the tray down on the table beside him, reaching over to place a large bowl of stew in front of him, wisps of steam rising from the broth. He could see chunks of floating vegetables, mostly potatoes and carrots, its scent inspiring a fresh wave of hunger. On a small plate beside it were a pair of spiced sausages and some butter for the loaf of bread that had already been waiting for him at the table. It was probably a little stale after sitting out in the open, but if he soaked it in the stew, it would make a fine addition to his meal.

She was wearing a low-cut blouse that showed off her cleavage, sparsely dressed on account of the heat, Caden keeping his nose buried in his book to save from accidentally catching an eyeful. It might appear rude of him to avoid her attention so, but having spent the majority of his life in the confines of the tower's library, he had next to no experience when it came to the fairer sex. One could learn almost anything from the pages of a book, but confidence and the ability to woo a lady were not among them. A sorcerer should not concern himself with such matters anyway. Romantic entanglements would distract him from his studies, as the Master had always told him. Celibacy was not enforced by the guild, merely encouraged.

"Thank you," he muttered as she left his table. She responded with a polite smile but was swift to turn her back on him, carrying her tray over to one of the other patrons. This man was stout and broad-shouldered, the sharp edge of his chin peppered with beard stubble, a faded scar on his cheek suggesting that he was no stranger to violence. He wore a padded gambeson of the kind usually worn alongside chain mail or beneath plate armor, identifying him as some manner of warrior or sellsword. The Master had told Caden that highwaymen and bandits were setting upon travelers with greater frequency as of late, and so it was not unexpected to come across mercenaries and bodyguards on the road. Perhaps his profession was guarding supply caravans or protecting wealthy travelers.

The woman's reaction to him was markedly different, the smile that she gave him far warmer and more sincere. She lingered beside the brute of a man as he plunged a chunk of bread into his broth and began to eat noisily, the two of them chatting as she twirled her golden hair flirtatiously.

Caden glanced over at them as he speared a sausage on his fork and bit into it, feeling an unwelcome pang of jealousy. For all of the man's brawn, his strength paled in comparison to what Caden could bring to bear. The power of swords and spears was insignificant next to the magic wielded by a sorcerer. With a few spoken words and a wave of his staff, even a knight's shining steel could be melted to slag.

He turned his attention back to his book, chiding himself for allowing such ill-humored thoughts to fester. It was as the Master had warned him, this newly discovered power had the potential to corrupt, to turn his mind to ideas of cruelty and supremacy. It was not to be wielded for reasons of self-aggrandizement or petty jealously, he had to remain humble in all things.

Ignoring the woman's exaggerated laughter, he turned his attention back to his spellbook, contenting himself with enjoying his sausages.

***

When Caden was done with his meal, he packed away his book, heading towards the stairs that led to the second floor. As he stopped by the counter to collect the large, iron key to his room, he felt someone's gaze on his back. He turned his head to see a man staring at him from a shadowy corner of the room. The stranger was sitting on a stool beside a small, round table, the hood of his cloak hiding his face from view beneath the dim light of the oil lamps. Although Caden couldn't make out any of his features save for a few strands of long, dark hair, his instincts warned him that the man was fixing him with an intense gaze. He was smoking a long pipe, nursing a tankard of ale between puffs, a haze of wispy smoke hanging over him like a cloud. If Caden had to guess, he was likely a fellow traveler, judging by the pack at his feet. There was a short sword in a scabbard hanging from his belt, but his attire was not that of a mercenary. His clothes were worn, not those of a vagrant, but certainly someone of modest means.

Caden suddenly realized that his knife was showing, its ornate handle glittering as it caught the light. He hastily covered it up with his cloak, chalking up the stranger's interest to mere curiosity. The innkeeper handed him his key, and he mounted the stairs, emerging onto a carpeted landing. There were two dozen rooms, and it took him a moment to find his own, Caden careful to lock the door behind him after his mildly unnerving encounter with the hooded stranger.

Inside was a bed and a washbasin, nothing lavish, but more than enough to satisfy a weary traveler's needs. After walking so far, being able to lie down on a soft mattress was a small taste of heaven, Caden quickly letting his fatigue overcome him as he drifted off to sleep.

***

Caden awoke feeling refreshed and ate a hearty breakfast before setting out again. The Master had been wise to give him as much money as he had, because the prices of food and board were rising as resources dwindled. By the time he was leaving the inn, he had spent eight gold crowns, which would have been considered extortionate just a couple of years ago. Famine was not yet upon the kingdom, but the threat was looming ever closer. Still, the feast of eggs and bacon almost seemed worth the price.

As he left the tavern behind him, making his way along another winding path, he noticed that he was not alone. There was a figure following him at a distance, keeping to the shadows of the trees that lined the road. It wasn't until Caden reached the top of a hill and paused to take a nonchalant draw from his canteen that he took the opportunity to glance back at them, realizing with no small measure of concern that it was the hooded man from the night before. He reminded himself that there were only two routes to take from the tavern, and that another traveler setting out in what now passed for the morning was not anything to be worried about.

When he eventually came to a fork in the road, he paused to read the weatherbeaten signposts for a moment, then continued on his way. The stranger followed, his tattered cloak wrapped tightly around him. Another coincidence? Caden was starting to become nervous. The winding path led through a patch of dense forest, Caden waiting until a bend put the trees between him and his pursuer before slinking off the road, concealing himself between their gnarled trunks. As he peered out from the shadows, he began to feel rather foolish. Maybe he was just overreacting, and the man meant him no harm at all?
He waited with bated breath as the stranger rounded the same corner, Caden's heart starting to beat faster as he watched him pause, glancing from left to right beneath his cowl. His body language was confused, surprised, he was searching for his quarry.

Caden's instincts had been right, he really was being followed, but to what end? Could this man somehow know about his quest? Could he be a sorcerer from a rival kingdom out to steal the artifact for themselves?

The hooded figure reached a gloved hand down to touch the hilt of his short sword, then crouched low to the ground, brushing the dusty earth with his fingers. With a start, Caden realized that he was searching for tracks. He considered moving deeper into the forest, he was only a hundred feet from the road, but the sound of the desiccated plant life crunching underfoot would certainly give him away.

His breath caught in his throat as the man found his footprints, the stranger's hand resting on the leather-bound hilt of his blade as he began to make his way closer, Caden finding himself paralyzed by fear. Only the day before, he had imagined himself besting an experienced sellsword, but now, he couldn't lift a finger. He was rooted to the spot, just like the trees that surrounded him. What should he do? Stay hidden, and hope for the best? Leap out and confront the man? His well of courage had run dry.

The snapping of twigs and the rustling of desiccated foliage alerted him that the stranger was drawing closer, Caden holding his breath as he pressed up with his back against the trunk of a tree.

"Show yerself!" the man shouted, Caden almost jumping out of his skin. "I know you're 'ere, you little whelp. You can't hide from the likes of me."

Slowly, Caden emerged from behind his tree, gripping the shaft of his staff tightly in his trembling hands.

"W-what do you want with me?" he demanded, his voice wavering. The man drew his sword, the sharp blade glinting in the sunlight that made it through the sparse canopy, Caden recoiling at the sight of it.

"That fancy knife on yer hip," he replied in a rasping voice, the beginnings of his angular face visible beneath his shadowy cowl. "Throw it on the ground. Yer coin purse, too. Drop it. Empty yer pack and turn out yer pockets."

Caden was too afraid to move, the man brandishing the sword angrily.

"Are ye hard of hearin'? Hand over all of yer possessions, or I'll take yer life as well, savvy?"

"Alright, alright!" Caden exclaimed. He began to reach for the knife, then hesitated. What was he doing? This was precisely what the Master had prepared him for, he couldn't roll over and give up the moment a common brigand flashed a sword at him. A plan began to formulate in his mind, and he moved his hand to the coin purse. What was it the Master had said about the enchantment that lay upon it? Those who tried to steal it would find it far too heavy to lift...

"Don't try any funny stuff," the thief warned, waving his blade.

"Okay, just...don't hurt me," Caden pleaded as he unfastened its drawstring from his belt. He tossed the purse to the man with an underhanded throw, his hooded assailant faltering as he snatched it out of the air. He weighed it in his hand, a grin spreading across his face beneath the shadow of his hood.

"What are ye, some rich merchant's son? I saw ye throwin' gold around back at the inn, but there must be a hundred crowns here. My luck must be turnin'."

His smile faltered as his arm began to droop, the purse growing heavier as it sat in his palm. His momentary confusion turned to panic as it pulled him off-balance, his sword still tightly clutched in his right hand as the left was suddenly brought to the ground with an audible thud. A yell of alarm and pain echoed through the trees as it pinned him to the forest floor, dragging him to his knees, the brigand fighting to free himself from the ever-increasing burden.

"M-my hand!" he wailed, the enchanted coin purse driving it deeper into the soil. It was as though an invisible anvil had been dropped on him. He finally managed to pull himself free, toppling over backwards onto the carpet of dead leaves, scrambling to his feet. His hood had fallen off, revealing a mop of long, dark hair that fell about his shoulders. His stubbly cheeks were gaunt, his piercing, green eyes full of fear as they stared out from beneath a furrowed brow.

He pointed the tip of his blade at Caden as the young sorcerer took a step forward, the man scooting away as he leaned down to pick up the purse. The brigand's eyes widened in confusion as he lifted it effortlessly, stowing it in one of his pockets.

"What the hell is that?" the stranger demanded, his injured hand shaking as he held it by his side. "What did you do?"

Caden was still terrified, adrenaline coursing through him, but he mustered the courage to brandish his staff.

"Leave me be," he replied, his tone a little more panicked than he had intended.

"You little wretch," the brigand snarled, his fear turning to anger. "Think you can play tricks on me!?"

He lunged, his sword flashing as he stepped in to drive it towards Caden's belly with a violent thrust. Caden reacted reflexively, deflecting the blow with a quick swipe of his staff, wood clattering against steel. The brigand stumbled, but quickly overcame his surprise, raising his blade above his head with a frustrated growl. It whistled through the air as he brought it down, Caden blocking it with the haft of his stave. Rather than biting into the wood, the blade bounced off it as though it were as hard as stone.

Only now did Caden's mind catch up, and he remembered his training, how the Master had taught him to amplify the power of his strikes. It was so difficult to concentrate in the heat of a fight, but he willed that energy to flow from his fingers, pouring it into the staff. His grip on it tightened as he swung it again, but this time, he felt it grow heavier. He could feel its mass shifting towards one end, as though a lead weight had been fastened to it. The blow connected with the thief's wrist with a crack, sending the blade toppling from his hand, Caden following up with another swift strike to his ribs that sent him reeling.

"I yield, I yield!" the brigand wailed as he scurried clear. He clutched his bruised ribs, his eyes wide. After making to retrieve his sword, he thought better of it, slowly backing off as Caden aimed the bronze falcon beak at him. How easy it would have been to set him aflame, or strike him with a bolt of lightning, but the confrontation was over. He willed himself to calm down, letting the impulse pass, breathing hard as he stared down his would-be assailant.

"Off with you!" Caden shouted, jabbing his staff at the man. The thief turned tail, stumbling through the underbrush in his haste. When he reached the road, he headed back in the direction of the inn, quickly rounding the corner and vanishing from sight.

Caden took a few moments to catch his breath, composing himself as he lowered his staff. He had known that he would face challenges, but he hadn't expected to be tested so soon, he was barely out of the city. Even so, he had prevailed, the Master's training had paid off. As frightened as he had been, he now felt the warmth of pride filling his belly, a kind of elation overcoming him. For the first time since leaving the tower, he felt as though he might actually succeed in this endeavor.

He checked that he still had all of his belongings, walking past the discarded sword as he made for the road. After checking that the brigand had indeed fled, he continued on his way, feeling a little more sure of himself.

***

It had taken several long days of walking, but Caden had finally reached the border of the kingdom. The grassy fields and patches of woodland were now giving way to heath, the hills becoming rockier as they transitioned to more mountainous terrain. Boulders protruded from the hardy vegetation, covered in furry mosses and patches of lichen, surrounded by tough grasses and squat bushes. The violet of thistles and clusters of heather contrasted against the greens of the grass and the yellow flowers of the blooming shrubs, not one of them rising above three or four feet. What few trees persisted here were twisted bristlecones, their gnarled trunks bleached the color of bone by the sun. He would have assumed that they were long-dead, had it not been for a few clusters of green leaves clinging to their skeletal branches here and there. They fared well in harsh climes, and they seemed relatively unfazed by the drought compared to some of the yellowing plant life that surrounded them.

This was the last natural obstacle that stood between Caden and the desert. He set down his pack and retrieved the leather tube that held the map that his mentor had transcribed for him, rolled up inside its container like a scroll. He unfurled it, holding the parchment up as he compared it to what lay before him. There would be no more carefully signposted roads traveled by trade caravans and wandering merchants beyond this point, he was heading into the wilderness. His kingdom was one of the Easternmost on the continent, and most of the trade flowed in from the West.

After his encounter with the brigand, he was more confident in his ability to defend himself, but the thought of meeting a more organized band of outlaws or tribals worried him greatly. Not to mention the feral beasts that might be roaming these plains, starved and desperate enough to set upon a person.

Although the delineation between the wilderness and the kingdom that he had always known existed only as a line on a map, and there was no physical indication that he was about to leave it, he still felt a powerful swell of nostalgia. He turned to look back at the hills and forests, the city far beyond his sight now, then stepped over that imaginary boundary.

***

Caden paused to sit in the shadow of one of the gnarled trees, taking a long draw from his waterskin. He was doubly glad of the ability to refill it using magic, as there wasn't a river or a spring in sight. This part of the world had been dry and harsh long before the endless summer.

Wincing, he began to remove one of his boots, finding that his sock was stained with blood. Blisters had been plaguing him ever since he had set out, and his feet were killing him. The furthest he ever walked under normal circumstances was to and from the library, his body was not built to hike across hundreds of miles of rough terrain.

Fortunately, he had a solution for that, too.

He pulled the spellbook from his pack and opened it in his lap, leafing through the pages until he reached the chapter on healing magic. The incantations were more complex, harder to master, but he wouldn't be able to proceed much further if he didn't deal with his injuries. His eyes scanned the text as he memorized the spells, relieved to be able to immerse himself in study once again. It was oddly comforting, and the scent of the library was still imbued in the old tome's pages, reminding him of home.

When he was ready to give it a try, he took off his boots and socks, and was alarmed to see the extent of his wounds. Especially around the ankles and the balls of his feet, the skin almost seemed to be peeling away, leaving them red and raw. He stopped to pour some water over them briefly, washing away the sweat and dirt, the cool liquid soothing him.

"Alright," he muttered to himself, "let's see if this works..."

He reached over and gripped his staff, which had been leaning up against the tree, remaining seated due to his soreness as he began to chant under his breath. Healing was a more difficult task than conjuring fire or water. Not only were the incantations themselves longer and more complex, but the knowledge required to truly understand what one's magic was acting upon was far greater. Caden was no apothecary, and so the workings of the human body were somewhat of a mystery to him beyond what he had read in passing. The spellbook contained the necessary reference material, he just had to hope that it would be enough.

The staff began to pulse with magic as he imbued it with his will, his lips moving ceaselessly as he whispered the incantations under his breath, his eyes slowly closing. The energy that he relinquished was returned to him amplified, he could feel it coursing through his body, its power growing within him. Once again, he saw those silver strands with a sense that transcended sight, joining his body to the staff as though they were being sewn together by ethereal threads. Like the string of a harp being plucked, they seemed to vibrate in harmony, a sensation that he could only compare to being moved by a beautiful orchestra overwhelming him.

Healing magic was different from that which manipulated the elements. One could create a static charge to form a bolt of lightning or ignite the air to conjure flame, but the way that one's body repaired itself was quite different. If that natural process was to be accelerated and enhanced, then the nutrients and energies required had to come from some external source. In this case, it was the nature that surrounded him.