A violent thump jolted the wagon, its rear lifting into the night sky before crashing back to earth with a resounding crack. The wagon’s momentum dragged it forward along the narrow forest path, the broken axle groaning in protest before finally giving out. The back end sagged to the right, causing the wagon to wobble and lurch.
The horse strained against the unexpected resistance, muscles quivering as it tried to pull the damaged wagon forward. The driver cursed and shouted, “Whoa!” as he yanked back on the reins. He fought to control the horse and wagon as the shattered undercarriage scored the ground, slowing its movement to a crawl.
The thump jarred Jack from his dreams and tossed him from the makeshift bed. Thrown across the small cabin, he tumbled headlong, landing atop the young woman who shared the confined space. Their bodies pressed together, her warm breath stirring against his cheek. Her body was soft, yielding, and unmistakably feminine beneath him.
The girl, who was close in age, had been a quiet travel companion, and over two days, they’d exchanged nothing more than polite words. Most of it was the typical cliches shared by strangers who knew they’d only be together briefly. When he tried to probe deeper, her replies to his questions were never more than a few brief words. As if she feared elaborating might open the door to deeper conversation.
Jack sensed and respected her guardedness, leaving her to drift into her thoughts as he settled into his. Thoughts that centered on the excitement and uncertainty of his journey, her thoughts remained a mystery.
Tangled together in the chaos of the wagon’s abrupt halt, Jack realized with embarrassment that he’d landed on top of her. He pushed himself back, bracing against the tilted wagon wall, desperate to put a respectful distance between them.
She opened her eyes, her gaze steady as she assessed the situation. Jack stammered an apology, but she only gave a slight nod of understanding before slipping free and moving toward the wagon's rear.
The driver’s grumbled complaints echoed as he shuffled back to inspect the damage. He unlatched the gate with a clank, letting in a rush of crisp night air. They clambered out, straightening their rumpled clothes as they examined the damage. The rear axle had snapped clean through, leaving both rear wheels mangled and useless. It was evident in the forest's wild that with no tools or spare parts, the wagon wouldn’t be moving again.
The driver, a large, weathered man named Rugr, his face as furrowed as old leather, shook his head. “Can’t fix this out here,” he rasped, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. “Best I take the horse and ride for help—though it might be simpler to leave this one for good and find a new wagon.”
He continued, muttering to himself before looking at them with a calculating gaze. “If we prop her up right, I reckon you two could stay here until I return—two, three days at most. There’s food and water, but you’ll want to ration if I'm gone longer.”
The driver’s gaze lingered on the woman. He studied her to gauge her willingness to stay alone in the woods with a stranger. She met his stare, her eyes steady as a silent exchange passed between them.
At last, he turned to Jack. “Mister Jack, it’d be helpful if you could start sorting through the wagon’s contents. Some things might’ve gotten tossed in the shake-up—see if anything's damaged.”
The driver gestured toward the restless horse. “Kleo,” he said, “if you could calm the beast, that’d help. It seems he prefers your hand.”
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Kleo nodded, giving Jack a glance before heading toward the horse.
Jack set to work in the wagon, sorting through the scattered items. The cramped space held a modest cargo of crates, most packed tight enough to stay in place during the crash. Some were off balance, and one threatened to topple onto the area where the woman had been sleeping. He repositioned them, checking for any damage to the food and supplies. As he worked, he could overhear the driver and girl speaking in an unknown language—a lilting, ancient-sounding tongue.
“Best to kill him now,” Rugr said. “Continuing will only lead to trouble.”
Kleo’s voice was low but firm. “No. You take the path to Balta and leave him with me. Find the ship’s captain and convince him to hold the ship until you can deliver the box. Offer him double, if needed.”
The words were unintelligible to Jack, but their hushed voices carried through the air. The urgency in the girl’s tone caught his attention.
Rugr hesitated, then sighed. “And you’ll handle our friend here?”
A heavy silence passed between them before Kleo responded, her voice firm.
“No.”
Rugr didn’t understand.
“Kleo, the remains must be kept safe, and he's a liability.”
“I cannot stay with the remains. There is something else I must do. I have a different path I must follow.”
Her words carried layers of meaning, and Rugr’s eyes narrowed.
“It cannot be.”
“It can.” Her whisper was barely audible.
He stared at her, a glimmer of surprise in his eyes. “Kadas Shadoom—by the gods, finally,” he murmured.
“Yes,” she replied, her gaze distant. “The Unyielding Fate.”
As Jack listened from the shadowed wagon, he felt the weight behind her words. They were heavy with purpose—ominous, yet magnetic.
“The boy will be in the way. I’ll kill him now, and we can ride to Balta,” Rugr said, his tone sharp.
A flash of anger lit Kleo’s eyes. “Rugr, stop being so difficult. You know who he is.”
Rugr peered toward the wagon. The boy was watching, listening. It mattered little—there was no chance he understood their conversation.
“A poor urchin boy raised on the streets of Cabal? A fool who set off into the world with little more than the clothes on his back?”
Kleo’s expression grew weary. “What is his name?”
Rugr softened, her meaning sinking in.
“Fine,” he muttered, refusing to answer her question. “I’ll leave the boy in your hands."
Kleo gave him a relieved smile and nodded.
Though she wasn’t his daughter by blood, he had raised her and knew her heart. If her Kadas Shadoom had come, he would not, and could not, stand in her way.
"He’s watching us, by the way. Best we end this conversation and get moving.”
Rugr and Kleo returned to Jack, their expressions composed. Clearing his throat, Rugr addressed them both.
“You’re only about a day’s walk from where you need to be,” Rugr said, casting Jack a measured look. “It’s best you continue on foot.”
Jack glanced around, taking in the silent trees pressing in from all sides. The road ahead seemed dark and menacing. He started to protest, then hesitated as Kleo met his eyes.
“I can lead us,” she said.
Rugr confirmed. “If anyone can guide you to Astiria, it’s Kleo.”
Kleo faced Jack, and her expression was neutral but expectant. She was asking him to trust her, yet he barely even knew her. They had met two days ago, and she had said about as many words in that time. The only thing he knew for sure was that they were heading to the same place, Astiria. It was hardly enough, yet something about her drew her to him. Some mysterious pull that he couldn't explain. Uncertainty gnawed at him, but something deep within nudged him forward.
He finally nodded, making his choice.
"Good," Rugr said. "Get your things from the wagon."
As Jack rummaged through the wagon, Kleo signed Rugr. You better get moving; the captain won’t hold the ship for more than a day.
Rugr glared at her, irritation flashing, but he said nothing more. He moved toward the horse grazing near the roadside, watching Jack join Kleo, belongings in hand. Then Rugr mounted, hesitating momentarily before urging the horse into the deepening shadows.
Jack stood beside Kleo, watching Rugr disappear. A heaviness lingered around her, an unspoken burden he could sense even if he didn’t understand it. When she finally met his eyes, her calm aura masked something deeper.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Jack took a deep breath, knowing he was walking into uncertainty, but he fell in line behind Kleo as she stepped onto the forest path.
