Out of Character:
The road ran in a series of growing hills, like a gigantic rounded staircase. After each steep incline it levelled out for a few hundred yards, only to curve upwards again. Every so many miles a weather beaten signpost stood, letters carved and dyed white in the dark brown wood. Joshua Cronen had passed several of the signs, but still read each one as he came to it, a habit for long road trips. Thinking about just reaching that next signpost, the soldier could push himself until he dropped from exhaustion. He was nowhere near that point as he passed the latest sign, legs churning with all the stamina of a steam engine. His hazel eyes flicked across the whitewashed lettering, squinted against the early morning sun that reflected back at him. The same sun poured its rays into his black clothing, transforming the lightweight garments into a personal furnace. One long muscular arm plucked a canteen from his backpack and poured a measured ration of water down his throat. He rolled the words on the signpost around his mind as beads of sweat rolled down his neck.
”The Road to Akashima.”
Josh had visited nearly ever noteworthy location in Corone; from the grand cities of Gisela and Serenti to the woodland village of Underwood. He had fought duels in Radasanth’s archaic Citadel and followed the course of the Firewine River. And yet one city eluded the capacity of his travels. Akashima; land of the Great Crystal Spire. Ever since meeting the ninja Tetsoma Kyosku in a duel at the Citadel, Akashima called to him. It represented not only the missing link in his chain of sojourns across Corone, but also possessed an element of mystery. Everyone he asked spoke wonders about the Martial Artists in Akashima. Where men and women alike trained in the ancient art of unarmed combat, and also with exotic weapons like the nunchaku he carried on the back of his belt. Josh wanted to meet with these legendary warriors; to test his mettle against the best Althanas had to offer. Perhaps equally as appealing were the tales of the Akashiman Autobow. A repeating crossbow that could fire thirty quarrels in a minute. Cronen never bothered to learn the use of crossbows, but chalked that up to their lengthy reload time and single shot capacity. An Autobow, contrastingly, might come in handy.
Breaker, as many had taken to calling him, paced energetically up the ever rising road. The Road to Akashima would take him to the top of the Comb Mountains. A two day hike, his sources said, to Pagration, the mountaintop town that marked the end of the road. Josh intended to make it by nightfall. The irony that ‘The Road to Akashima’ would only get him halfway there tickled the warrior’s intellect as he trekked up the dusty road. Many such senseless thoughts chased around the inside of his head, like the wind that chased leaves and dust motes across the road. Allowing his mind to wander helped Josh pass the time. Still low on the mountain, vegetation grew thick on both sides of the path. Not the same towering trees that dominated the foliage in Concordia. Mostly thin-trunked cypers, clustered in patches where the ground was more soil than rock. Long grass grew widespread, each blade as tall as a man. The wind teased the tips of the gargantuan grama, creating a sound like soft rain on a slate roof. Somewhere nearby a stream gurgled, probably an offshoot from a river higher up the hill. The burbling reminded Josh constantly of the dry discomfort in his throat.
“What I wouldn’t give for a hot meal with a jug of fresh water right now...”
As if the Gods picked that day to cater to his every whim, Breaker crested the next rise and stopped short, staring at a ramshackle village. “This can’t be Pagration,” he thought, and then spotted the town’s welcoming billboard. It looked identical to the many signposts behind him, except for the words whitewashed upon it. A simple name for a simple town.
“Stalworth eh? Interesting name. I hope they can manage a decent meal.”
The soldier’s stomach growled as he trudged past the billboard. A couple dozen thatch roofed dwellings surrounded the town’s only two story building. It was also the only Inn, and from the looks of the other establishments, the only place to find hot food. A bell tinkled overhead as Josh pushed through the chestnut door.
Inside, the temperature dropped several degrees. Dim lighting compared to the blinding noonday sun. As his eyes adjusted Breaker found a table and sat down. The inn’s bar sparkled nearby, freshly polished, made from the same dark stained oak as the door. The single front room tripled as a pub, restaurant and reception area. A couple chesterfields sat around the cold stone fireplace, with a couple old women sitting on them, needles clicking as they knitted abstractly, conversing in hushed tones. Normally Josh would have established himself at the bar, but a group of rough looking Akashimen occupied every stool it offered. They were heavily armed, for travellers in such a remote area, but dust speckled their loose fitting gis, proving that they had been on the road recently. Pretending to examine a menu, Josh peered at them in mild curiosity. Most of them had the traditional katana-wakizashi combination strapped to their backs, with a tanto or two sheathed on their belts. A few longbows poked over burly shoulders, and one man even had a pair of nunchaku cased on his back. They ignored Josh completely, all leaning in to listen to the man at the middle of the pack. Breaker thought about eavesdropping, but at that moment a white haired waiter swept out of the back room, ready to serve him.
“I’m so sorry for the wait my good sir,” the old fellow bowed, then continued. “Will you be staying with us long? Most of our rooms are vacant, so you’ll have a decent select—“ Josh raised a hand, gently cutting off the well-rehearsed sales pitch.
“I’ll just be here for about a half hour, thanks,” he said in a friendly tone, gesturing at the backpack hunkered next to his chair. “I’m on my way to Pagration, should make it by nightfall. Just need to re-fuel for the rest of the trip.” The innkeeper nodded knowingly.
“Very good sir, shall I have one of the stable hands see to your mount? We can supply hay, water, oats, a hot blanket if—” Josh sighed, then cut the man off again, perhaps a little less gently.
“I don’t have a horse. All I want is some hot food, how about—“
“But sir, you’ll never make it to Pagration before nightfall on foot—“
“You let me worry about that, please.” The soldier’s friendly tone became keen and clipped, like a dagger fresh from the whetstone. The innkeeper hesitated for a moment, as if he might protest more, but then decided to pick his battles.
“Very good sir. What would you like to eat?” Josh smiled, his amicable demeanour back in place.
“The venison casserole with vegetables sounds fine, and a pitcher of water to go with it. Thank you.”
The elderly innkeeper took the menu and hastened back to the kitchen, nearly getting trampled by the gang of Akashimen en route. The well-armed travellers rose from their seats simultaneously and moved out the door in single file, the speaker from earlier taking the lead. “Probably just a group of warriors on their way back home,” he figured. All the same, he would be wary on the latter half of his hike to Pagration. No sense letting himself get ambushed by a bunch of wayward samurai. Josh rolled his shoulders, cracked his back and reclined in the chair.
His order arrived in timely fashion, a steaming plate of sweet smelling meat and dark green salad. Josh took a gulp of water straight from the pitcher, swilling the life giving liquid around in his parched mouth. The greying inkeeper hovered momentarily, hands clasped at his waist.
"Anything else I can help you with sir?" The man clearly needed more clients to occupy his time. Breaker let his curiosity get the best of him.
"Who were those men that just left, if you don't mind me asking?" He gulped another mouthful of the clean springwater as the other man leaned close, his voice hushed in conspirational manner.
"That was Jeb Galatian and his men. The Galatian brothers and their gangs are always stirring up trouble. Be careful of them on the road sir; they're not the type you'd like to mix with." Josh grinned despite himself. It was a long time since he had feared a gang of rabble like Galatian's.
"Don't worry, I can take care of myself. The Galatians would be well advised to steer clear of me." He winked at the inkeeper and turned to his plate. The white haired man's eyes widened a little at the cryptic statement, but he bowed again and backed away.
"As you say sir. Enjoy your meal."
By the hearth, the knitting needles clicked on like frolicking insects.
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