Adventure of Waylan Grey 1

Waylan Grey and the others leave the grove, the wrapped blade heavy between them. Ahead, the main road climbs toward the distant Throat of the World, clear enough to feel like a promise and a warning.

A small patrol of Kingdom soldiers blocks the way. Their boots are planted wide, spears low, eyes fixed on bundles, packs, and Waylan’s burden. One soldier watches the cloth wrappings as if he already knows what is hidden there.

The blade gives a faint hiss through the wrappings. Smoke curls up, thin as a warning finger, and Hrolf tightens his grip before the sound can grow.

At that, the patrol stiffens. The road stays blocked, but the path ahead is plain now, if they can convince the soldiers to let them take the blade to its ending.

Waylan angles his gaze off the road, past the soldiers and toward the ditch line. A booted track slips through the grass where the patrol has not packed the earth, leading to a narrow fisher path under the wall.

He shifts one step, testing the sightline. From here, the wrapped blade is hidden by Rae’s shoulder and the tall spear shafts, but the smoke thread betrays a faint curl above Hrolf’s hands.

Waylan catches the patrol’s attention with his movement, and one soldier turns sharply toward him. The line closes ranks at once, but the gap by the wall is now plain to see.

Waylan has his bypass, a brush of trampled grass and shadow beside the stonework, yet the cost is a fresh warning from the sergeant and a second pair of eyes on the bundle.