Lux Tenebris: The Graymist Way

            The road stretched before Malora, wide enough for two carts to pass each other. To the east, the road was bordered by thick woods. On the western side, the road dropped away to nothing but air and sea. Thick fogs were common, making the road slick and perilous. Malora saw the remains of more than one cart crashed on the sea rocks. More often than not the skeletons of horses could be seen, still harnessed to the vehicles. Malora kept her own pace slow and careful.

            She knew that the Graymist Way ran from Darkwater, in the north, to just south of Moontree. The route was used by traders to transport goods from the major ports to the smaller villages and towns that lined the route, and provided access to the major trade routes that ran east.  Moontree and Darkwater were the biggest ports, but there were scores of small fishing villages along the way.  From what Malora had seen, traveling between Widowmaker Bay and Gullcliff, many of those villages were clinging to existence by their fingernails.

            Most of the local economies were based around fishing and logging. Trade was limited between the villages. Most of the communities were self-sufficient and insular to the point of actively distrusting strangers.

            It had taken her a day to make it to Gullcliff from Widowmaker Bay. The town was small and the source of its name obvious. Gulls in their hundreds nested on the cliffs around the town. She wasn't at all surprised to discover that gull pie was a local specialty.

            The liveryman in Widowmaker Bay had given her the name of an inn in Gullcliff where she would find safe lodging. The Blackwood Inn stood on the outskirts of town, near the Graymist Way, and offered no-frills lodging and meals. Malora had stayed at much worse placed and, after making sure her horse was properly tucked away, she'd had a meal and gone to bed. The night had passed uneventfully and she'd left the next morning just after dawn.

            The innkeeper had told her she'd make it to Moontree before sunset, depending on the weather. It was changeable this time of year, the thick fog often heralding coastal storms that could be inconvenient to dangerous. An hour after leaving Gullcliff, the fog turned into a heavy, persistent rain that prompted Malora to take shelter in a copse of trees until it relented.

            The rain had cost her a couple of hours, but she was hesitant to rush. The road here was made of fitted stone, hard and durable, but slick as glass when wet. She slid off her mount and they proceeded on foot.

            They passed tiny hamlets comprised of a few stoutly built wooden houses. Smoke rose from chimneys, but she saw no sign of the inhabitants. Occasionally, she could hear the sound of trees falling in the woods, and surmised the local folk were more loggers than fisherfolk.

            The further south she went, the more the landscape flattened until the road was flanked by forest and beach. Gradually, the road twisted eastward, taking her away from the beach, until there were tall pines all around and the only hint of the sea's presence was the smell.

            Ahead, a wooded track diverged from the Graymist Way to the east. A simple wooden sign identified the track as leading to Elawor. The name was Elvish but the meaning escaped Malora. Remembering Master Dusk's warning, she did not leave the Way but continued south.

            The road twisted west again and, once more, the sea came into view. The sky was blue and cloudless, a rarity in this region, and the water shone like polished silver. Malora ducked her head against the glare, but enjoyed the sunlight on her skin.

            Now, she began to meet traffic on the road, coming from the south, from Moontree. She adjusted her cloak, pulling her hood over her head.  Her hand drifted, quite unconsciously, to the hilt of her blade. Old instincts died hard.

            Another hour and she passed a waystation. It consisted of a three-sided structure with a roof. There was a firepit, a cistern and a trio of latrines.  A battered carriage, being pulled by a team of four, was parked nearby. The top of the carriage was laden with trunks and luggage. A lanky human youth sat beneath the waystation roof, next to an older looking man that Malora assumed was the carriage driver. They nodded amiably as Malora drew her mount to a stop.

            "Well met, mistress."

            "Well met, sir. Might you know how far it is to Moontree from here?"

            "Just a hop, skip and a jump, mistress," said the driver. "Be there before nightfall, you will."

            "Thank you, good sir," said Malora.

            "And the road north, mistress?" asked the driver. "Was it hard traveling?"

            "No, sir. Well-kept between here and Widowmaker Bay. Not a bandit or a beast in sight."

            The driver nodded. "Good to know, mistress. Our thanks."

            "Fair travels to you and yours," said Malora, and guided her horse back onto the road.

            The day progressed, the sun marching toward the west. The area became more inhabited. Tracks led off the Graymist Way toward wood and water, toward small hamlets with names like Silverbeach and Honeywood.  There was more traffic than before, heading north and south.

            The road began to snake up cliffs and coil around hills. And, then, cresting a small hill, Malora looked down and saw Moontree.