Chapter 2 - To be Alone

Qandra stared only at the dusty brown road before her as she left the training center. A spell, a staff, and a mystery quest, she thought, going over the requirements in her mind. She traveled away from Juiqed, the town where the training center was located, for that village held no more than a dozen farms, two shops, and a church. An odd place for a training center, she thought, but shoved the extraneous thought out of her mind. She ducked under a leaf larger than her head that shadowed her path, careful not to step on a small mound indicating the home of Blood Ants. Her calf-high leather boots sank slightly into the springy soil, damp from the jungle's frequent rains. She walked slowly, enjoying the warm, moist air as she made her way to the neighboring town of Shrlindi. Although it was a town notorious for its rough inhabitants, it was also an information hub. If anyone knew where she could find a silver staff or a mage willing to teach an apprentice a spell for free, he or she would reside in Shrlindi.

A dim figure appeared atop a hill in the distance, coming towards Qandra on andra on the path, and she sighed. He was probably just an innocent traveler, but jungle bandits and drunkards were not uncommon this close to Shrlindi. I really don't want anyone to see me. She slunk carefully off the path and concealed herself in some nearby foliage, her curiosity to know the figure's identity and her desire to remain unseen by the stranger precariously balanced. A frisky whistling fluttered through the air, and Qandra frowned. I know I've heard that song somewhere before . . . As the stranger came into view, Qandra gasped and ducked lower behind the branches. The tousled black hair, the jaunty walk, the sharp angle of the jaw -- it must be her brother Jadin! She didn't know how he would react to seeing her here, and she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. But he was her brother . . . The young man passed without seeing her, so she moved a step forward onto the path, dead leaves rustling beneath her feet. The darkly-cloaked figure whirled at the sound, sending a dagger flying directly towards Qandra.

She had no time to move, and in her shocked realization of the dagger she had only time to wishfully imagine a brick wall -- a very thick brick wall -- directly in front of her to ward off the dagger. When the soil thrust upward and solidified to form a dark red mass on the path, she stepped backwards, startled. She had mentalized!

She quickly ducked around the new wall that spanned the road toto meet a wide-eyed Jadin. She picked up his dagger from where it lay on the path, and handed it to him with a grin.

"I believe this dagger belongs to you."

"Qandra?! You -- how did you -- what are you -- huh?!"

"Hello to you too!," she said, giving him a bear hug. "I've been busy lately. Learning -- a lot."

"Yeah, really, I can tell!" Both just stood there, grinning at each other, until Jadin remembered something. His smile disappeared as easily as it had come.

"You had Mother and Father really worried when you left. They thought maybe you'd gone forever, or had killed yourself, or something." He shook his head in disgust. "They tried to blame it on me, saying, 'If you hadn't argued so much, this wouldn't have happened!,' but I know better. It was their fault, wasn't it?" Qandra opened her mouth to respond, but instead was cut off by his outburst, "Everything's their fault, the woolly-headed old ronwinkers!" Jadin's face was quivering and red, and his fists were clenched in intense agitation. Qandra looked away, deciding to ignore her brother until he could speak more calmly. He laid his hand on her olive-skinned arm, and when she glanced back, he spoke again.

"Sorry. I know you don't like it when I criticize them. It's just that, urgh, their ignorance gets to me! I mean, I was talking to them the other day, trying to make them see why The Free Way is inevitable, how the people must rmust rule, and they just . . ." Jadin's voice faded out of Qandra's mind as she reverted to her previous method of dealing with her brother's ranting. He doesn't really want to talk with me. He just wants someone to listen to him, to make him feel like he's right. She began looking around distractedly, trying to subtly convey the message that she was not listening.

"Sure, some of the members of The Free Way have made some mistakes in their past," he continued, "but now they're okay! I met with some of them last night in Shrlindi, and they're not all that different from you and me . . ." This is why I left, she thought, irritated, but then thought of something and smiled. I am an apprentice of Mentalism. I don't have to listen to his garbage anymore.

"At the meeting, I met this guy, Dash'tan, and he just seemed so knowledgeable. I mean, I was really impressed by his--"

"Jadin, I'm under time constraints here. I have a mission to accomplish in seven," she glanced at the sun overhead, "no, six and a half days. I don't have time for chatting."

"You? Have a mission?!" Jadin began to laugh. "What, do you have to find the latest selling price for tedro cattle in Shrlindi for some farmer? Or are you going to the blacksmith to get scissors sharpened for some senile ronwinker? Oh, I know, maybe you're--"

"No. I am on my way to becoming a Sorceror and I need to find a silver staff, aff, learn a new spell, and, uh--"

"And what? You don't sound too sure of yourself -- you sure you're ready for this?," Jadin smirked.

"And complete another task yet to be determined. Tell Mother and Father I'm safe and in a good apprenticeship, and give them my love. Good-bye, Jadin." She kissed his rough, unshaven cheek perfunctorily, and then turned away, towards Shrlindi. She then remembered the brick wall. I'd better get rid of this before some merchant tries to pass through here. She tried to remember the path the way it was before she had altered it, and struggled to implant that image in her brain. She closed her eyes tight, but upon opening them a few seconds later, the wall was still there. Sighing, and careful not to look over her shoulder at Jadin, she closed her eyes again, fixed the mental picture of the path firmly in her mind, and then walked forward. It took all her concentration not to expect to bump into hard brick, so when she did not, she barely registered Jadin's gasp as the wall disappeared. Eyes open, she strode down the path, walking quickly, but not running; holding herself tall, but not proudly. Not once did she turn to see whether or not Jadin still watched.

Hours later, as twilight settled like a fog around her camp, she sat in a small clearing not far from the road eating a stale roll and a shred of dried meat. Good thing there's a clearing close to the road. If I go go much further back, I'll run into the Jing Jungle, and that's not a place I'd want to spend the night. Qandra built a small fire of twigs and dead branches using her tinderbox to keep her warm until it got dark enough to sleep. As she finally sat down with her back to a tree, her muscles helped her remember her tedious labour from last night. She closed her eyes for a second, enjoying the fire's warmth and the respite from walking. I should reach town tomorrow, she thought, yawning. I can ask around at the Inn, and then . . .

She was suddenly awakened by the sound of twigs cracking. She noiselessly moved to her pack and took out her hunting knife, wary of the being she heard coming closer. She crouched defensively in a form Shah'na had insisted each student memorize, ready for whatever creature might come.

A short, small-boned man stepped from the trees, smiling slightly, and Qandra lowered her hunting knife. A little. For a moment, neither of them spoke while they studied each other in the dim light of the dying embers. She quickly took in his delicate, embroidered city clothing, his self-assured bearing, and the long oaken staff he leaned on casually.

"An odd time of night to be sauntering about," she remarked warily, easing slowly out of her defensive stance. The young man smiled charismatically and nodded slowly.

"Yes. But I had a sudden need to leave town in the night, and was lookinoking for a spot to spend this figly cold evening when I saw the remnants of your fire." He stirred the embers a little with his staff and stooped to pick up a small log to throw on the pit, then paused and looked up.

"You don't mind if I stay a while, do you?" The corners of his oak-brown eyes crinkled up as he smiled, and Qandra found herself grinning and searching for more firewood. Soon they had built a warm blaze, and Qandra could now see his slight figure was cloaked in a garish scarlet coloured coat with green and gold trim that swirled around the edges, almost making her dizzy to look at it. His loose pants were light blue, and his thin, black leather shoes slashed with white were obviously not made for hiking. They sat down; not too close, for Qandra was still cautious despite her immediate liking of the boy, and for some reason did not feel like sleeping quite yet.

"Nice shoes," she said, fishing for some common ground they could find to converse over.

"Oh, thanks. I just bought them recently, from a shoemaker in Shrlindi named Naikiri. Cost a fortune, though." He brushed a little dirt off them carefully and rotated his feet from side to side to make sure the white slashes were still clean. Qandra barely suppressed a chuckle.

She studied his staff again, noticing the leather handle that allowed it to double as a walking stick. The staff was long, about two feet taller than the man, but its color was aas a polished brown -- almost like his eyes.

"I see you carry a quarterstaff. Are you of the Sorceror's Guild?" The young man smiled wryly and shook his head.

"I tried, but they said I didn't have what it takes, so instead I went to the city and found myself a place with some artists. The sorcerers let me go on my Quest, in hopes that there I might learn to mentalize, but although I found a staff and fulfilled my task, after four more months I still couldn't learn even one figly spell. They wouldn't let me keep the silver staff I had found, but they did teach me to use this, and then they sent me on my way with a letter of reccomendation." His airy facade slipped for a moment as he stared quietly into the fire for a moment. Then he asked seriously,

"What about you? What are you up to here?"

"Well, coincidentally, I'm on my Quest as well. I thought I'd head to Shrlindi to try to obtain more information about the staff, spell, and mystery task, but perhaps you could help me . . ." She trailed off, waiting for a reaction. He fidgeted a little, and then answered,

"I suppose so. I don't think there's any rules about not getting help from others." He absentmindedly brushed off his shoes and looked at her. She tried to ascertain his thoughts by looking at his eyes, but they were blank, and his casual pose told her nothing, either. She blinked and cleared her throat.

"Uh, well, thanks . . . I guess firss first I should try to find a staff, since I haven't yet figured out what my task is and you don't know any spells. Uh . . . well, where did you find yours?"

"Not too far from here. Perhaps there is another there." He continued to stare blankly, thinking, and Qandra looked away. I wish he'd stop giving me that look. Will he help me or not? He shifted position and then continued, "I don't know about you, but I've been travelling for quite a while, and I'd like to get some sleep." With that, he took a blanket from his pack and lay down near the fire. With a yawn Qandra nodded and resumed her sleeping position against the tree, but she couldn't fall asleep. Not yet.

Her mind filled with questions. Did I say something wrong? Is he going to help me? Why do I feel so suspicious? She fought to stay awake until his breathing became regular and she thought he was asleep. Only then did she allow her strained muscles to relax, her eyes close, and her mind to wander into sleep. I don't even know his name . . .

The sun was already peering through the towering, shading trees when she awoke. The youth was still asleep, only his short, dark brown hair poking out of his blanket by the fire pit, but Qandra stretched out sleepily, ignoring her sore joints, and ate a small portion of food from her satchel. If I'm going to survive this week without starving, I better find another source of food. >. She wandered around for a few minutes until she found a small stream, and then searched along its banks for a while until she found a tree bearing a round, soft, and bittersweet fruit. She ate two, and then took four more as an afterthought. Two for him, and two for me for lunch. As the air began to warm, she walked back, and as she neared the camp, she switched into tracking mode, gliding slowly and soundlessly through the trees, watching. I'm not spying. I just want to observe him, maybe find out more about him. He was awake, now, and was crouching on the ground near her pack -- and eating some of her precious dried fruit. Unconsciously she began to scowl and took a step forward as if to stop him. With a start, he looked up, and then smiled when he saw it was her.

"Oh, there you are. I hope you don't mind; I got a little hungry and took a little bit of this food here. It's really very good; did you dry it yourself?" She stopped narrowing her eyes and walked into the camp.

"No, the cook at the training center did. If you had waited, you could've had fresh fruit." She held up her spoils and shrugged. "But you're probably not hungry anymore." Before she could stow them in her pack, he grabbed her arm.

"Oh, I'm sure I could find a good use for some of those." They paused awkwardly for a moment until she sighed and handed him a fruit.

"If you're going to help me, you better eat while you pa pack, because I don't have all that much time," she said, picking up her blanket and stuffing it into her pack. He nodded and packed his blanket and coat in a small saddlebag she had missed earlier.

"Don't tell me you brought a horse," she stated, glancing around warily.

"Yes; is that a problem?" She sighed and nodded.

"I'm allergic to horses." Puzzled at the unfamiliar word, he opened his mouth to ask, but she cut him off. "It means that when I get close to them, I start to sneeze and cough, and, if I have too much contact, I can stop breathing."

"Look, I paid good money for that horse, and I'm not going to leave it just because your nose is going to get a little itchy around him. You'll just have to deal with it, okay?" With that, he walked through the edge of the clearing near where he had entered the previous night, but came back a few seconds later, surprise coating his face like wax.

"He's gone. I know I tied him to a tree, but he's gone."

"I apologize if I don't grieve."

"Well, I have no idea where he went, so I guess I'm stuck with my own two feet for now." He gazed at his black and white shoes for a moment, then sighed. "So much for clean shoes!" Qandra cleared her throat.

"Ahem. Where was it you said we were going?"

"I didn't say. But we'll need to head south."

"Into the Jing Jungle?! Slickshao, you better know where you're going, because there are no roads no roads through there, and, well, you know what the tales say." She remembered as a child hearing many stories about foolish children who disobeyed their parents, tromping into the Jing Jungle and never coming back. Sometimes strange, howling noises were heard coming from that direction, and then the villagers looked around fearfully and hurried to their homes. Even though Qandra suspected these tales were highly exaggerated, most stories were based on something real.

"Well, if it wasn't difficult, it wouldn't be much of a quest now, would it?" Although he had paused for a moment to hear her speak, for further answer he walked south, out of the camp, and into the jungle. She watched, stunned, as he disappeared into the dense, damp vegetation, then shook herself and followed after with a growl. He better help me get my staff. The pace he set was not fast, so she caught up easily. After a few moments of walking in silence, he said, with a teasing glint in his eye,

"You know, I'm not as slick as I look." Although she had planned on scowling at him, instead she found herself laughing. He did look like a city boy, with those shoes, the bright clothes, and the short hair that obviously had to be cut every month or so.

"You better hope those flimsy shoes of yours hold up long enough to find my staff!" The tense silence broken, she then asked, "Oh, by the way, what's your name?"

"Dash'tan. And you?"

"Qandra." She pShe paused, remembering how he clammed up last night when talking about the staff, then asked carefully, "Is it far to where we're going?"

"We should get there late this afternoon." He paused, conflict painting his face as he debated how much to tell her. However, she didn't notice, only nodded and continued marching through the forest.

After a midmorning break, Qandra and Dash'tan came across a wide, slow river, but a distant rushing noise told them it was not so lazy further downstream. Frowning, Dash'tan mopped his brow with a silk embroidered handkerchief and looked up at the sun.

"We are too far east," he pronounced, "There was a bridge across this river somewhere -- upstream, I think. It would save us a lot of time if we could cross here, but I'm afraid I can't swim, and even if I could, we don't want to be carried downstream into those rapids." She nodded again and followed him west this time. Just as she was about to suggest taking the time to make a small raft, a low rumbling reached their ears. They stopped, and Qandra glanced quizzically at the young man, but he only shrugged.

The sound was at first so low Qandra could barely hear it, but it rose higher and louder until it sounded like a death-scream and Qandra clapped her hands over her head to protect her throbbing ears. Just as she thought her head would burst, the noise stopped. However, she had only seconds to enjoy the relief, for soon a scalscaled, four-legged creature about the size of a large dog lumbered through the trees ahead, mouth open in a malicious, drooling grin, Its tail split into three at the base, each tipped like a flail in a mass of armoured, callused flesh covered in coarse fur. Its legs, though short, were well-muscled, and she could spy several teeth in the mouth that were obviously made for tearing flesh. Qandra chanced a quick glance at Dash'tan, but he stood still as a window pane and looked about as sturdy.

"Dash'tan!," she hissed, elbowing him hard, "Wake up! Come on, you slickshao you, now is not the time!" Her efforts were vain, however, for he was still staring as if entranced. Between the distant trees, she could barely make out a wide wooden bridge, but the creature was too close to make a run for it. She had no desire to face this thing alone, but with a tight sigh she forced herself to turn to it.

She began to mentalize, imagining a cage with very thick bars imprisoning the beast, but at that same instant it opened its mouth and began its rumbling, rising song. No matter how hard she tried, the image would not stick in her mind. The animal stalked closer, swishing its tail and picking up speed, for it was more agile than it looked. I don't think I could outrun that even if I could leave Dash'tan here like this. Knife drawn, she crouched and prepared to meet it.

How do you fight anything with armor like that? I I only had to spar with people before, maybe hunting a rabbit or squirrel on occasion, but never anything like this. She frantically searched for a weak spot, anything she could exploit and use to her advantage, while the corners of the creature's mouth seemed to twitch slightly as if it detected her fear.

Where the helmet-like shell covering its head met the body armour, Qandra thought she saw a small slit of unarmoured flesh. There's your weak spot. Now how do you get to it without getting whipped by that tail? As it neared, its odor wafted up to her nostrils, a fetid, reptilian smell of scales and feces. It feinted, as if going for her leg, and she stepped back, barely avoiding the slashing jaws. Before she could recover, it leaped at her, and she had scarcely enough time to duck and roll to the side before it pounded to the ground right where she had been standing. She did not have time to wonder how a thing that heavy could jump, for she was busy with her own attack. Now.

Not pausing to ponder her flash of what she hoped was inspiration, she jumped on its back like she used to do to Jadin when they wrestled as children. It seemed confused, turning in a circle, looking for her until it finally realized her place on its back. Ignoring the raised armored half-domes jutting into her legs, she raised her knife to strike, the creature lashing at her angrily with its tails. One hit her squarely in the back,k, knocking the girl and her knife forward to bury Qandra's knife into its vulnerable spot between its head and body armor. She twisted it and worked it around in its neck, trying to reach the windpipe until, with a growling screech it fell, tails still swinging. One of its club-like tails connected with her torso, knocking her off with a grunt. She tried to roll, but her leg was caught underneath the creature's side, so instead she kicked it with her free leg and managed to slide out from under it. Luckily, her leg was only bruised, not broken. The creature was not as heavy as it looked.

Brushing a few strands of thin black hair out of her face, she stood up slowly and nudged the creature with her foot. Hard as a rock. With that thought, she remembered Dash'tan and glanced around for him.

"Dash'tan!," she shouted. Where has he run off to now?

She walked to where he had been and examined the moist ground. It held no more footprints of his small, soft shoes, but she did spy the prints of some large, heavy boots leading to where he stood, and then becoming deeper as they led off. Following the blades of broken grass and depressed mud towards the river, they then lead her upstream to the bridge. Testing the wooden slats held with dried vines carefully, she stepped on and walked across, holding tightly onto the coarse railing until she was on steady ground again. I'm not scared, just careful. The tr trail continued into the forest on a small path, and she moved faster, breaking into a slow trot. That boy has been more trouble to me than help.