Sorceress of the Sapphire by S. E. Turner

Author:S. E. Turner [Turner, S. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

'Now it is time for you to leave.' said Sansara. 'The horses know the route. They have been given their instructions and will take you there safely. Do not fear anything, for fear is your greatest enemy. Have belief in the orb, trust your guides, and have faith in what the Fates know about you. Go now fearless warriors and come back triumphant.'

In three steps we were on the Moray Peninsular.

We travelled from dawn to dusk, through woods and orchards and neatly tended fields. Then the route took us over a series of passes, a long twisting course that ranged through impenetrable forests where the owl hunted solitary at night, and wide open spaces where the elk and the stag shared a million miles of barren terrain. This was a magical place where natural caves and waterfalls had been gouged out of the mountain face, providing feeding grounds and homes for many animals.

Ahead was the flash of one of the many waterfalls, silent as a ribbon from a distance, yet with the power of a herd of stampeding bison close up. I had heard it said that the man who lives near a waterfall doesn't hear it after a while, but right at that moment I begged to differ. Here, the eagle nested in the heights and hunted in the valleys, circling on seraph wings that turned golden in the sky. For a long way we stayed on the trail, following its twists and turns as the serpent coiled the side of a mountain. We continued our journey through the canyon and witnessed the raw beauty unfolding before us. Miles upon miles of rolling hills and wooded river valleys scattered themselves along the fringe of the mountain, and allowed respite and cover for small rodents and birds. We decided to make camp here. With the backdrop of the mountains and a clear river spilling with fish and vegetation it would make an ideal base for the night. Laying my doublet on the ground, I removed my boots and long woollen socks, then rolled up my breeches. I stood by the water’s edge and waded in nimbly, I didn't really know what better way to catch a fish without a rod or something equally useful, so I decided to use my hands. At first it proved impossible, and every single one slipped through my fingers like butter. I could see Delphine laughing at my efforts, which broke my focus for a while, but undeterred and with my dignity still intact, I decided that I needed to concentrate.

It paid off handsomely, and I soon secured a catch of fresh pink trout.

Delphine dug a hole and lined it with stones. She made a fire with her firestone and flint, and left it to heat up for a while. She then searched up and down the water's edge for the right combination of greens and herbs, and added them to the stone oven. She collected a concoction of coltsfoot for its salty taste, nettles for a tangy flavour, pigweed and wild sorrel for their delicacy.

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