The Quelling by C.L. Lauder

Author:C.L. Lauder
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781632997661
Publisher: River Grove Books
Published: 2024-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

20

KYJTA

It’s an uncomfortable ride to the little shack at the base of the Qetheral Mountains, especially with a heavy backpack in the heat. The midday sun is beastly; sweat cords down my midriff, tickling my skin like the feather-light touch of scurrying insects. When we finally arrive, I’m relieved, though I know I can’t stay long. If the Rheman procession passes through the canyon before I reach the lookout, I’ll have no way of reaching Thormyth. Without their trail to follow, I’ll only lose myself in the desert. I wouldn’t have made the detour to my father’s shack if I didn’t need the protection of my mother’s zionate jars. I’m already cataloguing the list of potions and tinctures I’ll collect from my father’s shelves; zionate isn’t the only thing I’ll need in the desert.

I tie Bloodbane and Materare to a tree and head for the shack’s only door. I don’t know what I’ll do if it’s locked, but fortunately, it’s open. I locate the zionate jars, empty now, stuffed into my father’s porter pockets and hanging over the back of his beat-up old chair. The relief is staggering. I wasn’t willing to admit to it, but without them, I doubt I’d make it as far as the desert. One by one, I sew the handles of each jar to a lightweight blanket I fashioned into a poncho. As soon as it’s done, I slip it over my head, astounded that I never thought to do this before. I guess I never felt the jars belonged to me until now, with my stepfather gone.

I’m about to ransack the shelves for potions and elixirs that might be useful in the desert when I hear Bloodbane give an aggravated snort. Something about the sound unnerves me, so I walk to the door and check outside. The elvakans are where I left them, tied beneath the trees in a patch of long grass that’s never failed to get them grazing. The slender stalks sway in the breeze at their feet, but the pair seems oblivious, staring out over the green hillside. I follow their gaze, awake to the noose of uncertainty tightening at my throat. With growing apprehension, I survey the mountain pass that meanders through the hilly landscape. Finally, I spot them. Black cloaks. The House of Vigilance. I try to think what they might want with my father’s shack when they must know he isn’t here. There isn’t time to guess at their objectives.

I must act quickly. I dash back inside and quickly scan the shelves—no time to be selective. Some tinctures and potions look familiar; green bottles are usually medicinal. I find a pain reliever and something to help with fever. There are other potions I don’t recognise by sight, and very few are labelled. I scoop them up indiscriminately and shove them into my porter pockets. I can figure out what they do later. I’ve always suspected the darker the bottle, the greater the potion’s malignancy. I grab a few of them and then scan the room for my father’s crossbow.

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