"So, you just travel around all the time?" Aurial asked as they retrieved their hobbled horses from the pleasant forest clearing on top of a hill overlooking the valley that the forest city Elestrey sat in. "Must be a lonely life."
"It has its benefits and its downsides," Armyd said, glancing around to get his bearings. "But it's the only life I've known for a long time now."
"So you're a professional adventurer, eh?"
He glanced back at the woman. She had traded her heavy skirts for a set of trousers and tall boots, placing a long leather coat over the twill tunic and vest she wore. The clothing all had earth tones and showed signs of weathering. She led a small roan gelding, her pack slung along its withers in front of a simple saddle.
"Once upon a time, maybe," he replied. "But now I just drift, looking for a place to stay, and the occasional bit of adventure that life may have in store for me."
As he stepped over a large fallen log, he glanced around, eyes narrowing. "Did you hear something?" he asked.
Aurial glanced around, frowning. She couldn't hear anything outside of the normal sounds of the forest; wind in the leaves, the chattering of squirrels, her horse nickering softly as he bent his head to nip at some wild oats growing in the ground.
"I don't hear anything," she said, returning her gaze to the mage. He was staring off into the distance, eyes unfocused. "Armyd?"
His response was to whirl to the side, hand going for his sword as five figures burst out of the foliage to their left. They had rather refined looks for travelers, fine clothes and cloaks and they were impeccably well groomed. Two were tall men, their fine and fair chiseled features speaking to their heritage from the Northern Expanse, a large region where the winters were harsh and the summers short but lush. A third man was shorter and his bearing placed him for one of the larger cities to the south and his clothes were of the latest style. A dwarf with a neatly trimmed and braided beard tucked into his belt stood to one side, his stern visage backed with a large and very sharp looking axe. An Elf stood on the other side, a walking stick capped with a metal likeness of a hawk preparing to take flight. Each of the men bore a weapon at their hips, a rapier, A short sword, a bearded axe, and an estoc; each very well made and meticulously polished.
And each weapon was as extremely dangerous and deadly as they were elegant.
"Friends of yours?" the young Elf said to the mage in the silence.
"We've met," Armyd said tersely, not taking his hand from his sword.
"We've done a bit more than that, mage," said the third man, the apparent nominal leader of the group. "You cheated me and my friends here out of thirty gold marks."
Aurial turned to look at the man standing to her right, an eyebrow raised in question.
Armyd smirked at the comment. "Ah, but you had cheated those coins from others long before I sat down at the table. If you can't cheat without getting caught, don't cheat at all."
One of the Northerners surged forward at that, only to be held back by his comrade. The leader glanced back at him before turning his eye back to the snickering mage. "Be that as it may, you have ruined several fortnights' worth of planning and setup. We'd like those coins back as an apology."
Armyd drew himself up at that. "And if I refuse?" he said in a low voice.
The man waved his hand in a dismissing motion. "Then we'll exact a higher toll from you and take what you have." He glanced towards Aurial. "You we have no quarrel with, but you can stay if you wish to help bury your companion."
Aurial snorted. "I don't think a fop like you could even handle me to begin with."
The man flushed red, hand flying to the saber at his side. "I shall not take an insult from one such as you, madam!" he snarled. "You have this last chance: leave or join this half-breed in his fate."
"What did you call me?" the mage asked in a quiet voice.
A low hum began to fill the air, accompanied by an electric tingle that made the small hairs on the back of Aurial's neck stand on end. A light breeze began to blow, rustling the few fallen leaves across the ground.
The mage's face was washed with annoyance. His hands were clenched in fists, revealing his anger.
The dandy stepped forward, sneering. "I called you a half-breed, you misbegotten coward. What of it?"
Armyd gave a cold sneer in return. "You should get your facts straight, you peacock." He squared himself. "I hope you plan to last more than a few strokes, or is all your steel just for show?"
Red-faced, the foppish man drew his saber and brandished it in a light grip.
The mage shook his head. "You seem to forget two things," he said, hands unclenching slightly as the breeze picked up, an electric hum beginning to become audible.
The fop looked at him, uncertainty filling his face. "What would those be?" he asked.
"First, sabers are best used from horseback to make use of their size and shape," came the reply.
Blue light filled the man's hands, arcing bolts of tiny lightning leaping from fingertip to fingertip.
"Two, you've just challenged a mage to a duel."
The fop's stance faltered, his saber drooping slightly. His comrades took several steps back, the dwarf whispering out a prayer in his rough tongue.
"If you had any sense of self preservation," he said, his voice oddly echoing in itself over the sound of whatever spell he was casting. "You would be running right now."
The elf and dwarf had already vanished into the woods, but the two Northmen and the foppish man stood rooted to their spots, either by fear or awe.
Armyd threw his arm out, the energy flying forward and exploding, making Aurial turn her head from the bright flash, her sharp elven eyes watering. When her vision cleared, she saw the three men lying on the ground just behind a small charred hole in the earth.
Armyd was panting, visibly trying to compose himself.
"Was this worth thirty marks?" she asked hotly.
The mage began taking up the reins of his horse, calming it as he patted its neck. "I didn't kill them," he said, not looking back. "They were just tossed back by the force of the spell. All the rest was just their own minds."
A groan from the prostrate men confirmed his account. Aurial glanced back at them, pulling her roan forward as she stepped up to her companion.
"Did you actually cheat them out of that money?"
Armyd snorted. "Only if you can call cheating gamblers out of ill-gotten wealth cheating," he said, mounting his mare.
Aurial looked back at the men as she mounted her horse as well.
"I suppose you have a point," she murmured as she led her gelding down the trail to come up even with the mage. Glancing at him, she frowned.
"What did he mean by calling you a half-breed?" she asked.
"It's a common misconception," he said. "A lot of people think that because of my eyes that I have elven blood in my family."
Aurial snorted. "And what idiot believes that?" she asked, knowing that eye color among the various branches of her people tended more towards crystal blue, earthen brown, or emerald green like her own than any metallic color.
Armyd nodded. "The world is full of superstitious fools, even for all the learning that has taken place in the centuries." He led the mare down a narrow turn in the trail, looking about to get his bearings. "We'll travel for another three hours and then break for the night on the road to Brannen."
She nodded absently, realizing that he had ignored the unspoken question of where he did get his unusual golden irises from, and he was quiet the rest of the trip.
That night, as they sat around the fire and watched it drive the shadows from the small clearing they had set up camp in, Armyd broke his long silence as he finished a few bites of the simple stew they had made.
"When we reach Brannen, I think we should see about getting you something better than a dagger to defend yourself with."
She glanced up at him, curiosity filling her gaze. "Any reason why?" she asked.
He shrugged as he poked at the fire, resettling the embers. "You never know what's going to happen out on the trail," he replied. "Better to have and not need than need and not have."
She nodded at the pragmatic view and was about to ask another question when the mage spoke again.
"Don't be alarmed at what you're about to see," he said without preamble.
She started to ask what he meant when a large wolf with slate grey fur trotted into the firelight and sat down across from her, bushy tail wagging.
Sniffing at the stewpot, the wolf looked over at Armyd and snorted.
"I bet you didn't save a bit for me, did you?" the wolf said.