Carrion Crown Season One IC

[Narbaculus]

Is that half a mile straight there, or half a mile following the road? Ekard wonders, not for the first time, at how much roads wind aboveground. It certainly makes it harder to keep track of where you're going when the path turns about itself so.

Speaking of turning about, he glances behind him for the umpteenth time. Unsettling spirits, those horses are, and no mistake. They seem tranquil enough now, plodding along the hard dirt road with the same steady pace as their corporeal counterparts. Ekard knows, though, that such tranquility can turn to disquiet at a moment's notice—or no notice at all. What would Professor Lorrimor think of them? Ekard has never fought a spirit before, but he has no doubt he could describe the creatures in a letter to the Professor. Lorrimor has always had a knack for naming precisely whatever weirdness Ekard has last encountered below Kraggodan.

A shifting sound ahead of him brings his attention back to Luramin's wagon, and to the woman ensconced among the supplies. She can't be comfortable there, Ekard reasons.

Shrugging, he resumes his conversation with the guard hanging off the back of the wagon. "On the one hand, it's easier: I know the tunnels like the back of my hand, and I can expect danger from certain, discrete directions. On the other hand, it's harder: I'm never going anywhere, really, or doing anything other than waiting for disaster to strike. If something is out there, it doesn't have to sneak around and follow me. It just has to wait." Ekard smiles wryly, adjusts the weapon on his shoulder, and keeps walking.