Black Stone and Crimson Memories
Ninth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC
The day was dark under the shadow of the sentinel pines, the air heavy with the sweet scent of northern bedstraw flowers. It was almost enough to make Waymar forget that he was riding through lands far north of the Wall, not the trails of the Vale he had known as a boy, though one look at his companions would have been enough to put paid that notion. Besides Vee, the one he had the most in common with among them was the wildling 'king', Mance Rayder. Beside them, there was the white-scaled snake priest who
flew by strength of sorcery, easily keeping up with the shaggy northern ponies, while Amrelath flew high above the clouds, after having told Mance that 'he would find his own way to the quarry', not wanting to unveil his nature while there were foes about, and foes there were aplenty.
Mist shrouded wraiths that struck at dusk, twisting the failing light into cruel phantasms to befuddle the mind and break the spirit, cruel things of twisted wood and blood soaked thorns that crawled over the forest floor to smother them in their fetid embrace, and worst of all, new-made wights still fresh enough not to know they were dead, the poor bastards. Something was out here, something that really didn't want them looking through these hills. It was as good a sign that they were on the right track as any.
"Bet you have some tales to tell, eh, boy?" the wildling asked between the crackle of dry leaves under the horses' hooves.
"What makes you say that?" the young valemen asked, stung in spite of himself by the word 'boy'. Not that he really expected to be called a knight here. The only knights these wildlings were likely to have met were men of the Night's Watch and that over edged steel.
"That there is a two-headed snake man wizard," Mance replied in such a perfect seriousness that Waymar found himself struggling against a smile next.
"Maybe I just met him before coming here," the knight countered, in a much lighter tone.
"Oh aye, are there a lot..." The question cut off abruptly as a strange yowling echoed through the woods. Waymar drew his word and the wildling reached for his own bronze blade just as quickly. He'd shown himself skilled in its use, and the sword itself possessed some subtle rune magic, for the black blades of the dead would ever slide off it leaving it clean after a battle.
This time it was neither dead men nor wicked wood-spirits that barred their path, instead a half-grown shadow cat coiled in the middle of the path, hissing angrily enough to likely spook the horses if it weren't for Vee. As Waymar pulled on his reigns to let his friend deal with the beast, he noticed a patch of crimson on the grey and black fur. The beast had been wounded somehow.
Mance didn't find it strange when when Vee started talking cat even as she moved to heal the beast, Waymar noticed. He must've seen some sorcery of his own besides that sword of his, maybe he even had a mage or two among those that followed him. Before Waymar could ask him about it however, Vee lifted her eyes from the now hale and healthy shadowcat to look at them. "I think I've found it, the quarry."
***
No pines grew here, the soil too poor and stony even for their roots. The most you could find looking about were scaly lichen, tough weeds, and a few fragile white Fairy Bells peeking out from among the rocks. Still, it didn't seem an evil place, this hidden vale Vee's new friend had lead them to. There was no sense of watching malice like in the ruins of Hardhome, and no trees for enemies to hide behind, which after the last few days of being harried through the woods, was a blessing in itself.
Amrelath was waiting for them, of course, having flown ahead just enough that no one would notice a 'man' falling from the sky hard enough to shatter stone. The valeman had to admit, no matter how prideful the dragon was, he took his ruses seriously.
"That, I suspect, is the old streambed they used to end the blocks of jade down," the dragon motioned down. "And these are the marks of miner's tools, though still we have yet to find the jade."
It took them another half-day carefully leading their horses up increasingly steep slopes such that the poor things were starting to look at their riders reproachfully, until they finally found a limestone face with something strange running through it, slick black veins, branching out like the crown of some strange tree. The shadowcat wouldn't come near it, having set off at a loping run as soon Vee said something to it, likely holding its debt paid. The horses were no more eager, eyes rolling in their heads, not that Waymar was of a mind to force them. Mance, on the other hand, could probably do without the protection of her herd. "Come on then, Rayder, it's just a rock," he called.
"Aye? The way those 'were' just corpses back there?" the wildling snorted. "There's something dark there, I can feel it pressing down on my shoulders." Still, in spite of the scoffing, the man stepped forward to look at the rock.
Something dripped on the stony ground, then again and again. Waymar looked down to find, to his horror, that Mance was dripping blood in small streams.
"Fuck! Vee, he's hurt!" he called.
The answer, however, proved far stranger. A bewildered Mance took off his cloak to show himself unharmed, but blood kept flowing from the red silk.
"Where did that come from?" Riz'Neth hissed, motioning to the red silk wet with fresh blood.
"The woman who patched it for me said the silk came from Assahi," Mance replied, uncertainly.
OOC: I hope all this investigating does not drag. Not yet edited.
