Chapter 22

  “What are these for anyway?” Eike asked, holding up the pannier brimming with pale violet blossoms.

  “I was hoping you could tell me. Aren’t they from up north?”

  “Sure, but I never knew they were for something. I just thought they were pretty. We put them in garlands and wreaths…for festivals…weddings…you know.” The edges of his face had turned slightly pink, cooking in the heat of the midday sun. “So why are you collecting them?”

  “It’s for a potion. I’ve been hired to collect samples, but I’m not exactly sure what the potion is for.”

  “That’s odd, isn’t it?” Eike frowned, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Everything’s so secretive and yet she’s hiring you to collect a flower that can be found all over the continent...Why doesn’t she get them herself?”

  Fia paused, thinking, “I guess it is a little strange,” she conceded, “but the pay's so good, I didn’t question it.”

  He laughed, “You must be from Orent then.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  He shrugged, “You just wouldn’t get such an unusual request anywhere else, there isn’t enough coin for it. Gold has a way of bringing out the peculiarities in people. And the more gold one has, the more one is comfortable sharing those oddities with others.”

  “It's not like that. At least not where I live.”

  “No?” He turned, lifting the pannier onto his cart. “I guess not all the stories can be true... Will you go back there now?”

  “No…I’m going to be travelling for a while now.”

  “Then what’s the plan? There's a village not far from here.” The horses brayed as he strapped them to the wagon. “We could head there together. Figure things out over a hot meal.”

  Fia smiled, “Alright. But let’s stay here until it cools down a bit.” She sat, stretching her legs in the long grass, and lifting a large canvas from her pack, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to do.”

  **********

  “That should do it.” She held out a hand, and her umber heartwood staff faded into focus, its knots and grooves finding their familiar place amidst her fingers. She raised it to the canvas, and the air shimmered as paint dried.

  “Eike!” She called, looking back towards the wagon. “Let’s get going!”

  His head appeared, popping out from below the creek’s bank. Soaking wet and breathing heavy. “How’d I turn out?”

  “You’re not in it.”

  “What?” His face curled into a scowl. “Why not?”

  “I told you, it’s a landscape. And unless you’re planning to stay here, locked in that pose forever, the spell won’t work if you’re in the picture.”

  He sniffed, turning his nose up and hurling a rock towards the creak. As it tumbled down the slope, his face brightened, smiling contentedly as he watched it splash into the waters, swept up in the frothing current. “Maybe you can do one of me sometime?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, could you at least do something about my clothes?” He raised his arms, sending droplets cascading down into the grass.

  “Of course.” Fia closed her eyes. A breeze filled the air, rippling through his hair as his robes billowed in its warm embrace.

  When it was done, he looked at her, head tilted as the shadows of late afternoon clouds drifted across his face.

  “What?”

  “It’s just…” His voice trailed off. “I could get used to that.”

  **********

  The sun had just vanished behind distant peaks when the dust-choked roads finally opened up upon the small settlement of Varrow. Its outskirts were abandoned, barren furrows and pitted earth, painted in the violet hush of twilight.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  As they passed through the walled gates of the hold, a damp musk of animal hide filled the air. A sour, earthy aroma stung at her eyes, and she pulled her cloak up, burying her face in the fabric to hide from its stench.

  “You get used to it,” Eike whispered, leading her by the hand.

  The streets were cramped. Lined with shops made of salvaged wood, stacked high, their roofs leaning over narrow walkways, almost kissing in their center. And they were lively. The clanging of hammer folding steel echoed down every alley, and bells rang as criers called out, singing lists of wares and services for whatever establishment had enough coin to buy their song.

  All around were soldiers, their blue and gold hues, peeking out from beneath shining plate. They stood in the shop windows, haggling with merchants and tailors. They sat outside taverns, roaring with laughter, passing drinks back and forth. They followed brightly painted women down side streets bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of lanterns. They were not like the soldiers of Orent. They were far from battle and happier for it.

  Fia pulled at her cloak, wrapping it tightly around her, to hide the gold beneath. A mage would not be welcome here.

  They stopped outside a glowing window. A rusting sign hung above, creaking softly as it swung in the breeze.

  “The Stag’s Rest.” Eike looked back at her. “It’s a little run down, but the rooms are cheap, and there's this amazing coney stew… I don’t even know what coney is, but I love it!”

  “It sounds perfect.”

  Inside, the inn was alive with golden light. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, and beneath their flickering flames sat well-worn benches and battered tables marred by countless meals. Near a roaring hearth, a man dressed in fine silk stood strumming a lively tune on a chestnut lute. The scent of roasting rabbit, hot bread, and spiced ale filled the air, mingling with the faint trace of fresh beeswax from the candles above.

  “Grab us a seat,” Eike said, heading towards the bar. “I’ll see about our rooms.”

  There was room at the end of one of the long benches, closest to the singing minstrel. Settling by the fire, Fia watched the dancing flames as she listened to the bard’s song.

  He sang an enchanting tune. A silken chorus that floated, dancing in step to the rhythm of the humming strings. His melodious voice called out to her, rich and piercing, in ethereal words of a language long forgotten. But in the flames, she thought she could almost see their furtive meaning.

  “Watch out!” Eike came crashing into view, balancing too many cups and bowls in his arms. “There we go!” He slid them onto the table before her, the metal clattered against the wood, rousing her from the bard’s spell.

  “Got us two rooms!” He mumbled, mouth stuffed with bread. “And look! Coney stew!”

  “How much do I—”

  “—This one's on me.” He choked, swallowing the bread. “You can get the next one. If we’re going to be travelling together, it’ll just be simpler if we take turns.”

  “Are we travelling together now?” She took a bite of the stew. He had been right. Simmered with roots and fragrant herbs in a rich broth of savory spices, the tender meat seemed to melt in her mouth. Its flavors clinging to her lips, promising warmth and comfort.

  “Aren’t we?”

  “I thought we were here to decide our plans.”

  “Yes,” he grinned, “Our plans. We make a good team. And there are plenty of dungeons we could explore and even more treasure!”

  “Well…”

  “Oh, just say you will!”

  “I suppose—”

  “—Then it's settled!” He lifted his mug, knocking it against her own, and downing it. “Fia, I humbly accept the invitation to join your party!” He swept his arm back, bowing dramatically, then doubled over, groaning.

  “Can’t hold his liquor! The poor thing.” A barmaid called out, and the room roared with laughter.

  “I’ll be right back…” Eike whispered as he hobbled towards the door.

  The inn fell back into a dull hum, clattering plates, murmured conversations, the rattle of dice, and the following moans of dismay or laughs of triumph. But there was something else. Eyes. Watching from the shadows, lingering on the edges of the room.

  “...A fog swirled around us!”

  Eike was back. He was speaking excitedly with the bard by the fire.

  The king’s men, or rebel spies? What were they looking for? Was it her?

  “…She was covered in blisters, and sores…”

  The eyes were on her. Watching her every move.

  “And then Fia, she’s over there, lit her on fire! It was amazing…You should really be writing this down.”

  There were two men approaching. They pushed through the benches, hands resting on thin daggers, tied to their waists. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight, and her fingers twitched, feeling for the grooves of her staff.

  “You there!”

  She turned, hesitating. “Yes?” They were large men, their faces darkened by anger.

  “You don’t belong here.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eike. His brow creased, furrowed with worry, moving to join her.

  “I’m just passing through.”

  “You should leave.” He stepped forward, spitting on the floor. “Witch!”

  “I’m—”

  “She’s not a witch.” Eike stepped between them. He placed his hand on the man's shoulder. “I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding. Let me get you two a drink.”

  The inn was silent, watching with bated breath. Though many shared in the men’s anger, most were simply eager for action; a drunken row would be good fun for all involved.

  “Get your hands off me!” The man shouted, shoving Eike back into the benches. The crowd jeered as his companion stepped up to join him.

  Eike rose, wiping spilled stew with his sleeves. “Fia, if you would excuse me for a moment.” He winced, turning back to the men. “I’ll need you to step outside with me.”

  She sighed, “Eike, it's not worth it. And besides, there are two of them.”

  “Oh, I can take them,” he replied confidently. Then he winked at her, leaning down and whispering, “A spell or two wouldn’t hurt either…”

  “Well, are you cowards?” He turned, shouting at the men. “Let us settle this, like men! Outside, now!”

  The men exchanged looks, then nodded, sneering. And the inn exploded, roaring with delight. Cheering as they followed Eike out into the streets. He shot her one last glance, a sly smile creeping across his face, and vanished into the night.

  And Fia was left alone in the inn. Sitting by the fire, with the bard, and a shadow.

  Cycle: Timor 5-2