Chapter 12: Getting A Lift

Ephraim moved as quickly as he could, through the shadow travel. The darkness amplified his abilities, thereby increasing his speed. His amplified abilities reduced the strain of carrying Carl. He was moving twice as fast as normal. Ephraim changed directions slightly to shake off anyone trailing. The fact that they were moving through the shadow made it difficult for them to be tracked down. This was due to the fact that they left footprints or broken twigs to be tracked. This method of traveling also hid their smell. All in all, the only way to track them was to track the shadow or to divine their location from a diviner. Diviners usually needed an item of the person in question before they could perform the act of divination.

Ephraim's journey through shadow was a blend of darkness and fatigue, winding through towering mountains, dense forests, and across an almost still lake. The night amplified his abilities, allowing him to navigate unseen, yet the weight of carrying Carl in his shadow strained him physically and mentally. Using an ability for so long constantly drained manna from the user, the stress, fatigue and strain were no laughing matter. It took Ephraim, pure determination and focus to keep pushing on. The consequences of being caught played a major role in his determination to move on. He knew that if he got caught, only a fate worse than death awaited him.

As he traversed the jagged peaks, he appeared as a flat mass of shadows in the shape of a fried omelet but much bigger to accommodate 2 people. The cold air bit at his skin even through the shadow, and each step felt heavier as hours turned into an eternity. The forest loomed ahead, its twisted branches resembling skeletal hands reaching for him. Despite the eerie beauty, Ephraim felt the shadows closing in on him, giving him a bit more power as he braved the journey.

Crossing the river was a test of endurance; the chilling water splashed against him as he waded through, Carl's form a constant reminder of his burden. Each ripple echoed his exhaustion, and he longed for respite.

Though darkness granted him power, it also deepened his weariness. The journey became a tedious trial that stained his spirit. As dawn approached, Ephraim emerged from the shadows—physically intact but emotionally drained, with his strength spent. Being in the shadow for so long didn't help his psyche. The fact that he could see the outside was a great help.

Ephraim emerged from the shadows, taking a moment to catch his breath beneath a sprawling oak tree. He had arrived a short distance away from a market. It was still very early and the place was relatively quiet except for a the movement of a few people, goods and some guards.

Ephraim moved to a secluded area and brought Carl out of his shadow. They both lay on the ground spent, Ephraim, from the journey, but Carl from his betrayal in Madew, the attack on his life, his escape, the torture in the Braim's dungeon, and finally his second escape. Carl and Ephraim had given it their all and now lay spent on the ground. Sleep took them by force.

The sounds of merchants and their caravans awoke Ephraim from sleep. He spread his shadow around Carl's form and Carl's body begun to submerge into the shadow. After that, Ephraim mentally controlled the shadow to merge with his own shadow and moved towards the market. The market served as a place for merchants and travelers to restock before continuing their journey. The next town was a very long distance away.

Ephraim stood at the edge of the bustling market, the vibrant sounds of bartering and laughter swirling around him like a whirlwind. The sun hung high in the sky, casting warm rays that danced on the cobblestones, yet his heart felt heavy with uncertainty. He had traveled far, and the journey ahead was daunting. With a deep breath, he steeled himself and approached the first merchant for a lift.

This merchant was a stout man with a thick beard, surrounded by crates filled with colorful textiles. Ephraim called out to him, his voice steady despite the knot of anxiety in his stomach. "Excuse me, sir! Might you have room for one more on your cart?" The merchant barely lifted his gaze from the pile of coins he was counting.

"Not now," he grumbled, irritation etched on his face. Without even a flicker of acknowledgment, he waved his hand dismissively, as if brushing away an annoying fly. Ephraim felt a pang of disappointment but quickly shook it off; he had to keep trying.

With renewed resolve, he turned to another stall nearby. This merchant was tall and lean, with sharp features that seemed to scrutinize everything around him. As Ephraim approached, he could see the merchant's eyes, narrowed with suspicion."Can I help you?" the merchant asked, though his tone suggested he had no intention of doing so. "I'm looking for a ride to the next town," Ephraim replied earnestly. "I can pay—"

"Pay?" The merchant interrupted with a scornful laugh. "I have no time for beggars like you." He turned his back on Ephraim, focusing instead on arranging his goods as if they were more important than the young man standing before him. The sting of rejection cut deeper this time, but Ephraim pressed on.

Determined not to let despair take hold, Ephraim approached a third merchant who was packing up his cart for departure. This merchant had a weathered face that spoke of many journeys and hard-learned wisdom. Ephraim hoped that perhaps this time would be different."Sir," he began, "I am in need of passage to the next town. I promise I can offer something in return." The merchant paused and looked Ephraim over thoughtfully. For a moment, there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes—a recognition of shared struggle—but then it faded into pity. "I'm sorry," he said gently but firmly. "I cannot take you with me today." Ephraim's heart sank as he watched the merchant turn away, loading the last of his goods onto the cart. He felt invisible amidst the throngs of bustling townsfolk and merchants who were too preoccupied with their own lives to notice him.

As he stepped back from the market stalls, Ephraim took a moment to gather himself. The vibrant colors and sounds around him felt muted now; each rejection echoed in his mind like a reminder of his isolation. Yet deep within him burned a flicker of determination. He would not give up so easily; there had to be another way forward. With renewed resolve, he decided to seek out other paths—both literally and metaphorically—knowing that every setback was just another step on his journey.

"Excuse me!" Ephraim called to a merchant with a weathered face. "Could you spare a ride?"

The merchant, named Garrick, eyed Ephraim skeptically. "What do you have to offer in return?"

"I can pay 50 silver coins," Ephraim replied, hopeful.

"Fifty? That's hardly enough for the journey ahead," Garrick retorted, crossing his arms.

Ephraim thought quickly. "I can help with your goods. I'm strong and can lift heavy loads."

"Strength is good, but I need more than just muscle," Garrick said, raising an eyebrow. "How about 100 silver coins?"

Ephraim hesitated but then countered, "How about I give you 300 for a full caravan."

Garrick considered this, rubbing his chin. "Fine, then it is a deal, my son's caravan is yours, he will join me in mine."

"Deal!" Ephraim exclaimed, handing over the coins as they shook hands on it.

With that, Ephraim joined Garrick's fleet of caravan, ready for the journey ahead.