To Paxaria: part 8.1

Review: Rue and her mentor Altha finally were able to leave the small village where they got waylaid tending to Mysie, the woman who'd been mysteriously injured (Altha pieced together the probable details of the injury a couple chapters ago). In the last part, Ruelle and Altha finally neared their destination at the capital city of Eldgamel. They found themselves in an unusually long line to pass the security protocol, and Ruelle tried to intervene in a scuffle between some Dwarves. Just when she was realizing she was in over her head, a young man came on the scene, introduced himself as being from The Garrison, and took into custody the elderly Dwarf Rue was trying to defend. 

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Ruelle looked on in bewilderment as the young man led away the elderly dwarf. Her mind reeled trying to keep up with everything.

The other three dwarves watched with gleeful sneers, and one of them called out, “Looks like we’re not the only ones who think your despicable people are worthy of punishment! Perhaps you will pay for your crimes after all!”

The young man from The Garrison stopped short in his tracks and faced the mockers. He had a fierce look on his face.

“You three, mind your own business, or else someone will be sent to escort you into the city as well – and it would be no respectable entrance on your part.”

The dwarves grumbled amongst themselves again, but either the young man’s presence or his threats – or maybe both – subdued them enough that they begrudgingly fell back in line. The young man walked swiftly off with Bangrom Orebrand.

Once the pair was gone, however, the only thing different about the scene than before the scuffle was the distance people put between themselves and the unruly dwarves. Everyone here was headed into Eldgamel. Unless they wanted to turn around and go back to wherever they came from – which would be an undesirable option, given the lateness of the hour – they were all forced into the same vicinity as one another, catching up to the crowd which preceded them through the gate checkpoint.

But an uncertainty and discomfort still hung thick in the air like the sticky atmosphere that leaves one wondering whether it will pass or unleash a nasty storm.

Indifferent to all this, the actual atmosphere was mild. A pale, blue-ish gray painted the evening sky, and Ruelle suddenly became aware of a friendly breeze playing about her. She had hardly moved from the middle of the road while the confusion of the last several moments abated, and now a new worry bloomed inside her.

Where did Altha go? And how am I ever supposed to find her if she’s gone very far?

Just then, however, she looked up and saw Altha with her horse and cart, standing in nearly the same place Ruelle had abandoned it. Ahead and behind, people still waited in the line for the gate checkpoint, although that line was ever shortening. But other that, it almost seemed like no one had ever moved, except now Altha was standing, leaning against the side of the cart, waiting.

Springing into a half sprint, Ruelle crossed the short distance between them. She knew she would have to process the confusing feelings about all this later, but right then she was just glad she had not lost her way into Eldgamel.

She wove through the stragglers who had not preceded them to the gate checkpoint, and stopped to catch her breath when she reached the cart.

The first words out of Altha’s mouth were straight to the point.

“That was foolish.”

“You left me.” Ruelle matched her bluntness.

Altha climbed back into the cart, and Ruelle was compelled to follow suit.

“Yes,” Altha said. “Who do you think alerted the young man from the Garrison?”

Ruelle side-eyed her mentor skeptically.

“You could not have gotten past the gate and done all that so fast. Not with all this,” she motioned to the horse and cart.

“I did not go into the city, and I did not take ‘all this.’” She mimicked Ruelle’s gesture. “Who would have held our place in the waiting crowd?” she pointed out.

Ruelle raised an eyebrow as they moved forward once again.

“So what did you do?”

Altha smiled wryly. “My age is not so much against me that I could not reach the gate by foot in a hurry. But it turns out that the young man – Elric is his name – was on his way this direction already.”

Ruelle nodded, putting pieces together. “Word must have reached the guard ahead of you,” she deduced. It made sense, seeing as a crowd was not a place where the dwarves’ chaos could easily stay hidden in its own little spot. Even if the gate guards and the majority of other travelers were too far away or too taken with their own affairs to notice on their own, the report of a disruption down the line would spread like a spark to kindling. It was the way and nature of people.

“It’s fortunate that Elric and I recognized each other already,” Altha continued. “It made the whole exchange much quicker.”

Questions bounced around in Ruelle’s mind – questions about how Altha knew Elric, and about whether poor old Bangrom Orebrand really was a criminal, and whether what he was currently wanted for had anything to do with the other Dwarves' accusations against him just a few minutes ago.

But there was no time to pursue those issues at the moment. Instead, a wave of new excitement pulled Ruelle into the current of what lay immediately ahead. They were finally near enough to the gates for her to get a proper view of the guards.

The guards had been imposing figures from a distance. Closer, they seemed to have stepped from a gleaming dream itself, strikingly arrayed with the emblem of Paxaria emblazoned across their chests. Bright swords hung at their sides, unspoken declarations of power and competence. But it was upon their faces that Ruelle’s eyes fixated.

Never had she seen faces so noble, so rugged and yet so flawless; structured, strong, and striking as if sculpted from marble, and yet in all ways living and real. Though they were indeed masculine, somehow the first word that came to Ruelle’s mind was beautiful. How could a human face be so perfect?

No, not human, Ruelle realized.

Elven.

They recognized Altha right away.

“Miss Silverthorn,” one greeted with a congenial smile as they approached. “You’ve returned to the city at last.”

Altha dipped her head in respect and acknowledgement. “There are times I fear our people would come after me if I didn’t,” she replied with a smile.

Without instruction, Altha retrieved a small disc hung on a cord around her neck and held it out to the guard. He gave it an obligatory glance, all but waving it away dismissively.

“You have no need to present your physician’s sigil every time,” the guard told her. “And you know, as always, that it grants you permission to the head of any crowd awaiting access into Eldgamel.”

This snagged Ruelle’s attention.

“What?” Her eyes snapped from the guard’s face to Altha’s. “It does? Then why in the world did we endure that long line?”

Altha gave a half shrug, infuriatingly nonchalant.

“I prefer not to take advantage of that particular privilege unless the situation is dire.”

Ruelle stared at her, truly befuddled.

The guards, swiftly carrying out the protocol of inspecting the cart and the travelers’ belongings, smiled at her reaction.

“I see your travel companion does not possess the same patience as you do,” one of them remarked to Altha.

“I wouldn’t expect her to be the same as myself,” Altha said. “Especially at such a different stage in life. And besides, it may do well to introduce a new temperament into my field of service.”

Her words were unexpectedly gracious, leaving Ruelle strangely self-conscious and unsure what to say.

One of the guards looked up questioningly. “You are among those receiving an apprentice this year, then?” he said.

“Yes. This is Ruelle from the Island of Whispertide.”

“Aha, I have been wondering how this new development will go,” the second guard mused, now evidently curious as well. He turned his eyes to Ruelle. “And how about you? Are you eager about this opportunity?”

“Yes. Well, no? I don’t know.” Ruelle felt her cheeks grow warm under the attention. “I mean, I think you could say I am mostly excited,” she tried again. “It’s all just . . . not what I expected.”

The first guard smiled a warm smile that reached his eyes, a calming thing amid Ruelle’s nervousness and sudden self-awareness.

“Such is the nature of new experiences,” the guard offered. “But rest assured, Eldgamel welcomes you wholeheartedly.”

“Thank you,” Ruelle said. She didn’t know what else to say, and she had fumbled enough with her words already. She didn’t attempt to add anything else.

“Well, Miss Silverthorn,” the other guard was saying, “You are cleared to proceed, as always. And may your apprentice always be as trustworthy as you are.”

Don’t expect too much, Ruelle wanted to say. But she kept the sentiment in check.

“Thank you, and good evening,” Altha said to the guards, giving another slight bow before urging her horse forward.

And just like that, Ruelle passed through the gates into Paxaria’s capital city for the first time ever.