Chapter 20: The Road to Millhaven


    A Morning mist clung to the grasslands. The Haulder''s steady pace marked time while dew settled on James’ clothes. They''d left the homestead''s cultivated fields behind, returning to the wild grass that seemed to stretch forever.


    Dayne broke their comfortable silence as the sun burned away the last of the mist. "First stop''s a haven by the creek fork. Built right where three trading paths meet." He gestured ahead with the reins. "Good place to water the Haulder and a meal."


    The haven''s stones finally emerged from the grass, smaller than the one they''d sheltered in during their Storhold journey, but built to the same ancient design. James guided the Haulder toward the entrance, understanding now why trading paths converged here. The structure''s position was perfect, high enough to avoid the creek''s flooding, but close enough for water access.


    The haven''s interior was well-maintained, showing regular use by passing traders. A worn path led down to the creek, and stone rings marked old fire pits.


    "Other traders might stop here too. Good place to hear news of the road ahead."


    They ate some of Kira''s dried meat and bread in the haven''s shade. The creek''s sound mixed with the wind through the grass, and somewhere in the distance, wind-singers called to each other. James found himself watching the other trading paths that converged here, remembering how this same scene would have seemed alien just months ago.


    "Lot of traffic through here lately," Dayne observed, noticing tracks in the haven''s dirt floor. "More than usual for this season. Worth keeping in mind."


    The sound of wagon wheels came first, followed by the heavy breathing of what James recognized as a Grullox. Two traders appeared around the haven''s entrance, a weathered man with grey-streaked beard and broad shoulders, and a young woman who moved with the same efficiency, clearly his daughter.


    "Room for another wagon?" the man called out. His eyes found Dayne''s Thulmarks almost immediately, though he gave no obvious reaction beyond a slight straightening of his spine.


    "Plenty of space," Dayne replied easily. "Creek''s running clear too."


    They introduced themselves as Kern and Lira, traders out of the southern settlements. Their wagon carried preserved meats and leather goods, also bound for Millhaven''s market with a couple of stops along the way. James noticed how Lira kept glancing at Dayne''s arms when she thought no one was watching, the way she stayed close to her father''s side.


    "Northlanders been through here?" Kern asked as they watered their Grullox. "We heard they were scouting on the south road. More than usual."


    "Haven''t seen any," Dayne said. "Not since Storhold."


    James helped them clear space for their wagon, setting up alongside them in the haven. Kern fell easily into trade talk with Dayne, discussing road conditions and market prices. Lira, meanwhile, couldn''t seem to keep her eyes off Dayne''s Thulmarks, her expression showing more curiosity than concern.


    "So," Lira finally asked during a lull in the men''s conversation, turning to James. "Is he your father?"


    The question caught James off guard. He glanced at Dayne, who was watching him with an unreadable expression.


    "My uncle," James found himself saying. "After my parents..." He let the sentence trail off, surprised by how close to the truth it felt. He had lost his parents, in a way, his father to death years ago, his mother to whatever strange circumstance had brought him here.


    "I''m sorry," Lira said softly. "About your parents, I mean. It''s good you have a family to trade with. Father says the roads are too dangerous to travel alone these days."


    "Notherlander on the south roads you said?" Dayne asked Kern, steering the conversation back to the roads ahead.


    "Aye. Moving in groups of six or seven. Well-armed." Kern scratched his beard. "Claiming they''re just patrolling the trade routes, keeping them safe during the peace talks."


    "Awful lot of patrols for peacetime," Dayne observed.


    "That''s not the strange part," Lira chimed in, her earlier curiosity about the Thulmarks forgotten in favor of sharing news. "They''re asking questions about the river valleys. Water routes, flood seasons. Things traders wouldn''t normally care about."


    "All of Millhaven''s worried," Kern added. "Old Gareth''s been strengthening the walls, stockpiling grain. Not that he''d admit to worrying about anything."


    The Grullox snorted softly from where it rested, its massive form casting shade over their gathering. A warm breeze carried the scent of sun-baked grass through the haven, mixing with the creek''s freshness.


    "The valley''s still safe though," Kern said, gathering his water skin. "And Gareth''s got enough hands to keep the peace, so long as you stick to the main trading paths."


    "Gareth''s been gathering more than just grain," Lira said, leaning forward. "Every smith in Millhaven''s been working double shifts. Making tools, they say, but everyone knows tool steel doesn''t need that much tempering."


    "Lira," her father warned, but she was already continuing.


    "And they''ve been training more guards. Young farmers mostly, but..."


    "That''s enough," Kern cut in. "Gareth''s business is his own." He turned to Dayne. "Valley''s good for trading still. That''s what matters."


    A wind-singer''s call echoed across the grasslands, drawing everyone''s attention momentarily. The Haulder''s patterns shifted at the sound but settled quickly.


    "Should get moving soon," Kern said, checking the sun''s position. "Want to make the valley edge before dark." He nodded toward his wagon. "Lira, check the Grullox''s straps."


    As she moved to tend their animal, Kern began gathering their water skins. "If you''ve traded in Millhaven enough, you know how Gareth runs things. Fair man, but careful. All this preparation has people on edge."


    The Grullox snorted as Lira tightened its straps, the massive creature rising ponderously to its feet. Trade noise from up the road suggested more wagons approaching.


    James helped Dayne hitch the Haulder while Kern and Lira''s wagon creaked its way out of the haven. More traders were visible on the road now, two wagons approaching from the south path, another from the direction they''d come.


    "Getting crowded," Dayne observed, checking the Shellbacks one last time. "Good time to move on."


    The Haulder''s patterns showed eagerness to be moving again as James helped secure their water skins. The beast had rested enough to be fresh, but not so long as to grow restless.


    Kern raised a hand in farewell as their Grullox-drawn wagon merged onto the eastern path. Lira turned to wave as well, though her eyes still lingered on Dayne''s Thulmarks until her father called her attention back to their own journey.


    They pulled out just as the other wagons were arriving, the Haulder''s steady pace quickly putting distance between them and the haven. The grass seemed greener ahead, suggesting they were getting closer to the river valley''s influence.


    "Half a day to the valley edge," Dayne said, settling into the familiar rhythm of travel. "Terrain changes there. Need to watch the Haulder''s footing more carefully."


    The grasslands gradually changed as they traveled east. The endless sea of grass began to show patches of different colors, darker greens, and the occasional bursts of vegetation James didn''t recognize. The ground felt different under the wagon wheels too, less of the hard-packed earth they''d grown used to.


    "Ground''s getting softer," Dayne said, guiding the Haulder around a particularly damp patch. "River valley feeds the soil here, even from miles away. Makes for good farming, tricky traveling."


    Small streams started appearing, cutting across their path with increasing frequency. Most were shallow enough to ford easily, but each crossing required careful attention. The Haulder''s coat patterns showed growing uncertainty with the changing terrain.


    "Valley proper starts at those hills," Dayne pointed to a line of dark shapes on the horizon. "We''ll stop before then. No good camping spots once the ground gets too wet."


    A group of Springbacks grazed in the distance, more than James had seen together before. Their presence was another sign of the valley''s influence, more water meant more life.


    Dayne chose their camping spot with careful consideration, a slight rise in the ground that kept them above the dampness creeping up from the valley. There was no haven here, but the position offered good visibility in all directions.


    The Shellbacks seemed more active than usual as James helped secure them for the evening, perhaps sensing the change in environment. Their shells caught the setting sun''s light, spirals appearing almost fluid in the golden hour.


    They kept the fire small, using dried grass and what little dead wood they could find. The valley''s humidity made everything slightly damp, but Dayne knew how to build a flame that would last. The twin moons were just beginning to rise, their combined light casting double shadows across their camp.


    "Sleep in shifts," Dayne said, settling into his familiar position where he could watch both the road behind and the valley ahead. "More traders on this route than usual. Best to be careful."


    The Haulder''s coat patterns showed contentment as it rested, though its ears still tracked every sound from the grasslands. Night birds they hadn''t heard before called from the direction of the valley, their songs carrying clearly in the heavy air.


    "What''s Millhaven like?" James asked as they ate. After seeing Storhold''s massive walls and tiered streets, he found himself eager to discover how other settlements had built their own versions of civilization.


    "Different from Storhold," Dayne replied, poking at the fire. "No great walls or towers. Built along the river instead of up. Streets follow the water rather than climbing hills." He paused, choosing his words. "Feels more open. Houses have gardens, trees between buildings. Space to grow."


    James tried to picture it, a city spread out rather than stacked up. "But they still trade? Like Storhold''s markets?"


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    "Trading''s different too. Storhold''s all schedules and permits. Millhaven works on relationships. Knowing who needs what, who''s got grain to spare, who''s looking to breed better Shellbacks." He gestured at their cargo.


    The night birds called again, closer now. The sound made James realize how the wildlife had changed just in their day''s travel toward the valley. Everything shifting, adapting to the river''s influence.


    "You''ll see tomorrow," Dayne added. "River comes into view first, then the settlement spreads out along it. Worth watching for."


    The twin moons rose higher, casting their silver light across the damp grass. Dayne stood, stretching. "I''ll take first watch. Wake me when the large moon hits that point," Dayne said, indicating a spot in the sky.


    He settled into his bedroll, positioned so he could rise quickly if needed.


    James found his usual watch position, back against the wagon where he could see in all directions. The valley birds called their strange songs into the night, while somewhere in the distance, a night-singer answered from the familiar grasslands behind them. Two worlds meeting, just like the twin moons above.


    The night air felt different here. It was heavier, carrying scents of water and strange flowers. James noticed movement in the grass that didn''t match the patterns he''d grown used to. Smaller creatures, quicker, darted between clumps of vegetation rather than rolling through it like the grassland animals.


    A group of Springbacks passed within sight of their camp, moving with the cautious grace of prey animals. They paused at the crest of a nearby rise, silhouetted against the moons'' light, before continuing their journey valley-ward. The wagon''s Shellbacks stirred occasionally in their sleep, their shells clicking softly.


    Light from the larger moon caught something moving at the edge of his vision. He turned slowly, remembering that quick movements drew attention. It was just another of the valley birds, its wings briefly catching the moonlight before disappearing into the darkness.


    The trade road remained quiet. No torchlight from other travelers, no sound of wagon wheels. Most traders, Dayne had explained, waited for the full day to navigate the valley''s tricky ground.


    A sound cut through the night, that three-toned call he''d hoped never to hear again. James''s heart began to hammer against his ribs as another call answered, closer. Much closer.


    The grass parted, and a Sarrith emerged, its leathery hide shifting colors to match the moonlight. It was larger than the ones he''d seen in the grasslands, its muscles rippling with predatory grace. The triple-jawed mouth worked silently, tasting the air.


    Its eyes found James, obsidian black in the moonlight, reflecting nothing. His mind flashed to those practice sessions with wooden swords, but the thought seemed absurd now. What good would a practice sword do against this? The creature''s claws could tear through wood like paper, its jaws could crush bone. All that training, all those careful stances, and blocks meant nothing in the face of actual death.


    His body refused to move. Even breathing seemed impossible as the creature''s gaze held him.


    The Sarrith''s muscles bunched, preparing to spring. James tried to call out, to warn Dayne, but his throat had closed with terror. He could only watch as the predator gathered itself, its three-part jaw beginning to open.


    A roar shattered the night, not from the Sarrith but from Dayne, seemingly appearing from nowhere. His axe caught the moonlight as it swept through the air. The Sarrith''s head left its body in a spray of dark fluid before its pounce could begin.


    James saw Dayne''s face in that moment, eyes wild, teeth bared in a snarl. The Thulmarks on his arms writhed like living things, darker than the night around them. For a heartbeat, he looked more dangerous than the predator he''d just killed.


    "There''ll be more," Dayne said, his voice rough. The Thulmarks still moved on his arms, though slower now. "They hunt in pairs near the valley. Sometimes threes." He wiped his axe clean on the grass, eyes scanning the darkness around them.


    The Haulder was making distressed sounds, its coat patterns wild with fear. The Shellbacks crashed against their compartment walls in panic, their shells clicking rapidly against the wood. The noise would draw any other predators right to them.


    Another three-toned call echoed from somewhere in the darkness, but further away this time. The sound snapped James out of his paralysis. It was the same call he''d heard that first night in this world when he''d run blindly through the grass with those three-part jaws snapping at his heels. He remembered the haven''s stones rising before him, his legs burning, lungs on fire, knowing if he slowed even slightly, he''d die. Now here he was again, facing the same death, but this time there were no ancient stones to hide behind.


    "Get the fire higher," Dayne ordered, still watching the grass. "They''ll keep their distance from good light."


    James''s hands trembled as he fed more fuel into the flames. The Sarrith''s headless body lay just at the edge of their camp, its hide still shifting colors even in death.


    The Haulder''s panic was getting worse, its thrashing threatening to break free of its harness. Shellbacks continued to slam against their compartments, the wood creaking under their desperate movements.


    "Need to calm them," Dayne said, not taking his eyes off the darkness beyond their camp. "Start with the Haulder. Talk to it. Steady voice."


    James approached the frightened beast, trying to keep his own voice from shaking. "Easy," he said, though nothing about this felt easy. The Haulder''s coat patterns swirled with colors he''d never seen before, pure fear made visible. Its eyes rolled white in the firelight.


    Another call echoed across the grass, closer this time. The Haulder reared, nearly pulling the wagon over. The Shellbacks'' panic increased, their shells creating a desperate percussion against wood.


    "Steady," Dayne''s voice cut through the chaos. Not shouting, but carrying power that seemed to ripple through the air. The Thulmarks on his arms pulsed once, and somehow that energy reached the animals. The Haulder''s patterns didn''t calm completely, but its movements became less frantic.


    The night held its breath around them, waiting to see if more death would come stalking through the grass.


    "Need to move the body," Dayne said once the animals had settled somewhat, once the calls died down and the normal sound of night resumed. "Blood draws scavengers. Worse things too." The Thulmarks on his arms still shifted restlessly, ready to flare back to life if needed.


    James helped him drag the Sarrith''s remains away from camp, trying not to look at where the head had separated so cleanly from the body. The hide was rougher than he''d expected, like scale-covered leather, still changing colors even in death.


    They piled more wood on the fire, building it higher than they usually would. Larger flames meant being more visible to other travelers, but better that than another Sarrith attack. The growing light pushed back the darkness, creating a circle of relative safety.


    "Valley Sarriths hunt differently," Dayne said as they worked. "More organized than grassland packs. First one drives prey toward the others." He paused, scanning the night beyond their fire. "This one was alone though. Strange."


    The Haulder''s coat patterns had settled into nervous ripples rather than chaotic fear, but it still startled at every sound from the grass. The Shellbacks clicked occasionally in their compartments, no longer panicked but far from calm.


    "No sleep tonight," Dayne added unnecessarily. "Not until dawn."


    They sat back to back, keeping watch in all directions. The twin moons cast shifting shadows through the grass, each one a potential threat that kept James on edge. Dayne kept his axe across his lap, the blade still dark with Sarrith''s blood.


    James found himself counting the hours by the moons'' positions, willing the night to pass faster.


    "Movement," Dayne said softly. "Three lengths out, near that tall grass."


    James turned slowly, seeing the slight parting in the vegetation. Something large moved through the darkness beyond their firelight. The Thulmarks on Dayne''s arms darkened, but whatever watched them from the grass kept its distance.


    More shapes passed in the darkness as the night wore on, some probably Springbacks or other prey animals, others moving with the deliberate grace of hunters. None ventured closer than the firelight''s edge. The flames between them and the darkness became a barrier between life and death.


    Dawn felt years away.


    The first hint of dawn came as a slight lightening of the eastern sky, turning black to deepest purple. The larger moon had already set, leaving its smaller companion to fade as true morning approached. Their fire had burned low, but they hadn''t dared let it die completely.


    The Sarrith calls had stopped an hour earlier. In their place came the first voices of morning birds, not the valley sounds from earlier, but familiar grassland singers. The Haulder''s patterns showed exhaustion rather than fear now, and the Shellbacks had fallen into uneasy sleep.


    "They don''t hunt in full light," Dayne said, though he kept his axe ready. The Thulmarks on his arms had settled back to their normal appearance, but James noticed how quickly Dayne''s eyes still tracked any movement in the grass.


    As the sun finally crested the horizon, they could see evidence of other night visitors, tracks in the damp earth around their camp, showing how close some creatures had come to the edge of their firelight. One set of prints belonged to something large that had circled their position at least twice.


    "Break camp quickly," Dayne said, already moving to check the wagon. "Want to be well into the valley before night falls again."


    James''s hands shook as he helped check the wagon. The night''s adrenaline had burned out hours ago, leaving him hollow and clumsy. Simple tasks like securing straps took twice as long, his fingers refusing to work properly. Even keeping his eyes open required constant effort.


    "Eat something," Dayne said, taking over the strap James had been fighting with. "Long ride ahead."


    The thought of food made his stomach turn, but James choked down some dried meat and bread anyway. Everything tasted like ash in his dry mouth. The morning sun felt too bright, making his eyes ache after the long night of staring into darkness.


    The Haulder wasn''t in much better shape, its coat patterns showing the dull colors of exhaustion. Even the Shellbacks moved sluggishly as the wagon creaked into motion. But tired or not, staying here wasn''t an option.


    The valley waited ahead, its rich greens promising a different world from the grasslands. James found himself swaying on the wagon''s bench, each blink lasting longer than the last. Even the rough motion of the wheels felt like it might rock him to sleep.


    The sun climbed higher as they followed the trade road, which grew more defined as other paths merged into it. A wagon appeared ahead of them, loaded high with what looked like ceramic pots. Its driver raised a hand in greeting as they passed.


    More travelers began to appear, a woman leading two Grullox laden with bundles, a group of three traders sharing a wagon, each acknowledging Dayne with the casual familiarity of people who shared the same roads. Some looked as tired as James felt, suggesting their nights had been equally long.


    "More traffic than usual," Dayne observed as they passed another heavily-loaded wagon. "Valley markets will be busy."


    James tried to focus on the passing traffic rather than his exhaustion. Each face was a reminder that they were leaving the dangerous solitude of the grasslands behind. Even the Haulder seemed to move with more purpose, perhaps sensing the approaching civilization.


    A trader coming the other way pulled his wagon alongside theirs for a moment. "Night hunters out by the creek fork," he warned. "Lost a Grullox. Watch yourselves if you''re camping there."


    "Got through there last night," Dayne replied. The other trader''s eyes went to his Thulmarks, understanding passing between them without need for further explanation.


    The ground began to slope more noticeably downward, and the grass changed, thicker, deeper green, growing in clusters rather than the endless waves of the grasslands. Small streams appeared more frequently, cutting across their path, forcing them to choose crossing points carefully.


    "Valley''s proper start is just ahead," Dayne said, guiding the Haulder around a particularly wet section of road. "You''ll smell it before you see it."


    He was right. The air grew heavier, carrying new scents, rich soil, and water moving over stone. The trade road widened, its surface more deliberately maintained. Other wagons moved ahead and behind them now, all heading down into the valley''s embrace.


    James caught glimpses of worked fields between patches of trees, actual crops growing in neat rows rather than wild grass. Someone had built stone channels to direct the small streams, turning natural water flow into irrigation. Even through his exhaustion, he could see how different this was from the grasslands they''d left behind.


    The Haulder''s steps grew more careful on the sloping ground, its coat patterns showing concentration as it navigated the changed terrain. Ahead, the valley began to open up properly, promising their first view of Millhaven.


    The river appeared first, not a narrow stream like the ones they''d been crossing, but a proper waterway that curved through the valley like a silver ribbon. Its surface caught the morning sun, almost too bright to look at directly.


    Millhaven spread along both banks, but nothing like Storhold''s imposing walls and towers. The settlement followed the river''s natural curves, buildings spaced comfortably apart rather than pressed together. Gardens and trees grew between structures, making it hard to tell where the farmland ended and the settlement began.


    "Main trading happens there," Dayne pointed to where several wooden docks extended into the river. Boats of various sizes were moored alongside them, some being loaded or unloaded. "River carries more goods than wagons ever could."


    The buildings themselves were different too, mostly single-story, built from wood and river stone, with wide porches and roofs designed to shed water. Smoke rose from multiple chimneys, mixing with the morning mist that still clung to the valley.


    Their road joined others as it descended toward the settlement, wagons and traders converging like streams flowing into the river.


    Through his exhaustion, James realized something: while Storhold had conquered its hillside with walls and towers, Millhaven had grown from the valley itself, as natural as the river that gave it life.