THE SETTING SUN CAST A warm glow over the city. The yellow-orange rays splashing down over the smooth grey stone of the buildings made Camylin look so magical.
Ella had spent the day exploring the endless markets across the city. She had never seen the likes of it. Entire squares of market stalls dedicated entirely to different colours of silks. Broad streets full of merchants selling scarves, dresses, and hats of all varieties. There were packed colonnades of hawkers flogging everything that Ella never knew she didn't need. She could spend days roaming the city streets and never come close to seeing everything there was to see.
The sheer size of Camylin made The Glade seem like the smallest place in Epheria. She wished her father had brought her along with Calen when they visited. She missed them and Mother already. By the gods, she missed her mother. It had only been a few days, but she felt it already. She knew it might be years before she saw any of them again. She gripped the hem of her skirt subconsciously. It was the right thing.
"'Scuse me, Miss," came a little voice behind her. There was a small child, maybe ten summers of age. A rounded cap with a stiff brim at the front sat upon his head, giving shade to his gaunt cheeks, which were blackened with dirt. His clothes dangled about his slight frame, clearly handed down from an older sibling. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and he looked as though he hadn't eaten in days. "Could you spare some food? I'm really hungry… I'm sorry to ask…"
Ella's heart melted when she saw the little boy. "Of course—"
"Oi, you, get out of here. Leave my customers alone!" The merchant's eyes were hard as stone. He was a horrid-looking man with a thick bushy moustache, a furrowed brow and bald head. She had seen pigs in better shape; his big round belly drooped out from under his fine silk shirt, and he looked as though he were out of breath just from standing still. With one last regretful look towards Ella, the little boy bolted away into the crowd.
"Damn street urchins…" murmured the merchant, shaking his head as he fussed over the arrangement of his fine clothes.
"Better an urchin than a pig," Ella snapped. The man looked at her in shock as she picked up the corner of her skirts, turned and headed after the boy. She found him leaning with his back against a wall, a steady flow of tears rolling down his cheeks. "Hey… Hey!" She hunkered down in front of him and dipped her hand into her bag, producing a shiny green apple. "Take it. Go on."
The boy looked at her, caution painted on his face. He clearly wasn't used to someone helping him. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around the green apple. He pulled it back towards himself, as if he thought it was a trick. As soon as it was out of Ella's grasp, he pulled it to his mouth and sank his teeth into it longingly, spraying his cheeks with its sweet juices.
"Thank you," he said, his mouth still full.
Ella gave the boy a weak smile. She looked back into her bag, at the loaf of bread and the block of cheese she had gotten herself and Rhett for later that night, and then back at the boy. He had eaten the whole apple, core and all. "Here," she said, pushing the bread and cheese into his arms. "For you and your brother."
The boy's eyes were a mixture of joy and confusion. "I… I can't take this… how did you know I had a brother?"
Ella raised her hand into the air, with her palm out towards the boy, like she had seen her mother do to Calen whenever he argued with her. "Take it.
I won't hear any argument." She stood straight up, brushing her dress down with her hands.
"Thank you."
"You are very welcome. What is your name?" Ella asked.
"My name is Gareth, Miss," the boy said sheepishly.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Gareth. My name is Ella. You look after yourself, okay?"
"I will, Miss Ella. Thank you."
Ella smiled. Gareth stood up and made his way down a side street nearby, looking back towards her with a smile on his face every couple of steps.
She laughed to herself as she walked along the market stalls. She would have to find something else to eat for later, but there was no way she was going to let that boy go hungry. I suppose that is what happens in cities likethis. There are so many people that some of them are just forgotten. Thatwould never happen in The Glade.
Ella picked up another loaf of bread from a bakery nearby but didn't have enough coin to replace the cheese. They would just have to go without. She quickened her pace as the sun got lower in the sky. She hadn't noticed the time passing. Rhett would be back at the inn, and she'd never been in a city on her own after dark before. She had insisted to him she wanted to do her shopping on her own, that he would only slow her down and that he should let a girl do what girls do. She was regretting that as the streets began to thin out. The orange glow faded, blending into the pale light of the moon, and the merchants and hawkers packed up their wares into the carts and cases.
Ella became overly aware that the faces that were left on the streets were not as friendly as the ones she had seen earlier in the day. These faces were hardy. Dark-circled eyes. Rough leathery skin marked with cuts and scars.
Each of them stared at her, tracing her from head to toe. Their eyes did not look like there were good intentions behind them. She picked up her pace again. Any faster and she would be jogging. Shadows lurked around every corner and side street, growing as the sun retreated. She brought her eyes down, tracking her feet. Just walk. She wasn't sure why her heart was racing. Nothing had happened, but she was scared.
"All right, love, fancy a bit of company?" came a gruff voice from the other side of the street.
Ella glanced over. The voice came from a man at least twenty summers her senior. He had long, greasy greyish-black hair. A horrendous scar ran diagonally across his face. A shiver ran up her spine. She looked back at the ground in front of her and kept walking. Not far now. Only a few minutes.
Why did I insist on going alone?
She was only around the corner from the inn when she walked into what felt like a brick wall. She looked up to see the face of a reasonably handsome man. He was about an inch or two shorter than Calen, but maybe ten summers older. Despite his disarming good looks, his eyes were different. They unnerved her.
"Well, well, well. Look what we have here, Rufin. Looks like a lost little lady." The man's voice was oily. A pungent smell of cheap spirits wafted from his open mouth. Ella leapt backwards with shock.
"Now, now, little lady. Don't go running away." The other man, Rufin, was a ratty man with a wiry frame. His thick black hair was slicked back
against his head, shining in the moonlight. A thin smile painted his face.
"We only want to play."
Both men chuckled wickedly.
Ella's heart pounded. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking. "Please, just leave me alone. I don't want any trouble." The words trembled off her tongue.
"Little lady, we don't want no trouble neither. We just want to play. You like playing, don't you?"
The two men circled her slowly, getting closer and closer, teasing and taunting her.
"Come on now. I think we could show you such a good time that you might even want to pay us after," the handsome man said, laughing to himself.
There was a flash of movement that Ella's eyes didn't catch. The handsome man went crashing to the ground with a howl. His left hand pulled up to his face, attempting to stem the flow of blood trickling from his lip.
"The woman said to leave her alone." The man who had thrown the punch had a strong, confident voice. He stood a head above both men. He could not have been more than two or three summers older than Ella, but he held himself like a man who had seen many more than that. His rich green eyes were warm against his porcelain skin. He had near shoulder-length brown hair and a short, close-cut beard to match. A glistening white mantle was draped around his shoulders, and he wore a surcoat of deep green. At the centre of the surcoat was a motif of a sword, pointing downward, set into the image of a sunburst, all painted in white. The surcoat just about covered a polished steel breastplate, and he had a pair of shimmering steel greaves, and vambraces that matched the breastplates meticulous sheen.
"Oh, you are going to pay for that," the handsome man growled. He pushed himself to his feet. The thin ever-flowing stream of blood now marked a line from his lips to his chin. He twisted his hands into fists. The man in the green surcoat tilted his head to the side. A wry smile formed on his lips, as if amused by the comment.
"Kaffa, that symbol," Rufin said, pointing at the sword and sunburst motif on the man's surcoat. His voice only rose above a whisper. "The Knights of Achyron."
Kaffa's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "The Knights? That old cult? You listen to too many fairy tales, Rufin," he scoffed.
"It's not a fairy tale, Kaffa. She's not worth it."
Rufin put his hand on Kaffa's shoulder, tugging at his shirt to draw him down one of the side alleys. His hand was met with resistance, but Ella saw hesitation in Kaffa's eyes.
She became very aware that she still stood between the man in the green surcoat and her would-be attackers. She slowly stepped backwards, towards the edge of the street, her eyes flitting between the two.
"I would listen to your friend. All fairy tales hold truth," the man said.
His voice was flat and measured. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, his fingers tapping on its rounded silver pommel, one after another.
Kaffa and Rufin exchanged a glance. Kaffa let out an irritated sigh. His eyes narrowed, and a growl escaped his throat. He raised his hand and pointed towards the knight. "We'll be seeing you around." The words left his lips like stones being dragged across rusty iron.
"I sure hope you do," the knight called back as the two men skulked away into the shadows. He turned back towards Ella. He puffed out his cheeks and let out a sigh, then his mouth stretched into a tentative smile.
"Well, that could have gone worse," he said with a cautious chuckle. He ran his hand through his hair. "Are you okay?"
Ella was completely off-put by how calm he was. Her heart raced like it was running for its life, and her stomach was in knots. But he seemed like he had just broken up a fight between two children.
"I… Thank you for what you did. This is my first time in the city. I didn't know…"
"It's okay. Camylin is a lovely city – by day. By night, it is a bit different, much like any city you will find. It's not safe to walk around by yourself, whether you're a man or a woman."
Ella raised one eyebrow. "But you're walking around on your own."
"Well, it's a little different for me – as you can see." He gestured down the alleyway after the two men who had slithered away.
"Right, well… Thank you. Your kindness is beyond appreciated, but I must go. I'm definitely late, and Rhett will surely be worried." Ella clutched the hem of her skirt, her nerves still in a fluster.
"You don't have far to go, do you? I can walk you where you need to go."
"No, no… it's okay. I need to be going. Thank you again. Please be safe."
Ella walked away so fast that she was almost running. She heard him calling after her, but she couldn't make out the words. Her heart still pounded on her chest like it was a door that desperately needed to be answered.
As she walked, she felt a tear trickle down her cheek She broke into a soft sob, never slowing her pace.
She couldn't tell Rhett. She didn't want him to worry. He would never let her go anywhere alone again.
Rhett tapped his fingers on the old oak table. It had seen better days. He pulled a strip of wood off the edge; it crumbled and flaked at his touch.
He had been back in the Twisted Oak for about an hour or so. The innkeeper, Forn, approached him as soon as he came in to let him know that someone had left a letter for him, a big grin on his bony weathered face.
Rhett had told his uncle where he would be, but he still only half-expected to receive the letter.
He took a pensive sip of his ale. He wasn't sure he would ever really get used to the harsh, bitter taste. It always clung to the back of his throat for far longer than it was welcome. It was nothing like the sweet taste of Lasch Havel's mead. He could almost taste it on his tongue. He was going to miss that. He sighed longingly to himself, then picked up the letter with both hands and read over it again.
Rhett,
I hope this letter finds you well.
The Twisted Oak has seen better days, but Forn Blackwell is a good man. He will lookafter you while you're in Camylin. As we've discussed, I have arranged a position foryou in the City Guard here in Berona. It's nothing glamorous, but with time, you will dovery well here.
Now, in your previous letter, you mentioned that you and your lady would be travellingvia the port at Falstide. Rhett, Falstide is not a safe place to be, no matter how well youthink you can handle yourself. And the journey across Illyanara is long and hard oneven a hardened soldier. I have reached out to my contacts at the port in Antiquar, and I have secured you twotickets through Gisa. I know you don't have the money for that right now, but I have
paid them in full. You can pay me back over time once you arrive. I just want to see youhere safe, or my brother would never forgive me.
When you arrive at Gisa, go to the port and ask for a man named Jack Narys. Tell him Isent you.
Look after yourself, Rhett. I'm looking forward to seeing you and meeting your lady.
Stay safe,
Tanner
It was the fourth time that Rhett had read the letter. When he and Ella first thought about leaving The Glade, it was Tanner whom Rhett first contacted.
His uncle was a good man. Rhett had only met him a handful of times – it was always difficult to get from the South to the North – but every time they had met, Tanner treated him as if he were his own child. Gisa?
Gisa was one of the wealthiest cities in all the southern lands, despite it being isolated from the rest of the mainland. Gisa was the principal port between the North and South, where the Lorian riches flowed into the southern land. It was also where the gold from Aonar was transported to Loria.
His uncle must have paid a small fortune for those tickets. It was an incredible act of kindness, but Rhett also cursed him, for it backed him into a corner. It left him with no options. He despised the idea of starting his new life on the back foot, paying back his uncle for a ticket he had never planned on getting himself.
Ella would not be happy. He would have to tell her. Pretending they had more coin than they did so she could enjoy the markets was one thing, but this was different.
Were it anyone else, he would just ride to Falstide anyway, and they would work out the issue when they got there. But he couldn't do that to his uncle.
He sighed, exasperated. He sat back in his chair and took a deep draught of his ale. He grimaced as it hit the back of his mouth. It is a taste to beacquired.
His uncle was right. The Twisted Oak had seen better days. He could tell that it used to be a place of some esteem in its day. The ceilings were nearly twenty feet high, tall enough for three men to stand atop each other's shoulders. The legends said that Camylin used to be a city of the giants, but Rhett had always assumed they were just that – legends.
All the tables were made of solid oak, which was expensive, even if they were now as worn as if they had been recovered from a sunken ship. The chairs were fitted with red velvet cushions, embroidered with fine weavings of gold. At least, he was sure that they were fine weavings at some point in time. They were now tattered and falling apart.
Massive slabs of stone decorated the bottom half of the walls, layered atop one another. It was probably the only thing in the inn that had stood the test of time. The top half was another story. Mould peeked through the layered scraps of peeling paint. He was sure that at some point, this inn was as grand as the city in which it resided, but right now, he could not wait to leave in the morning.
He jumped, broken out of his pensiveness by the chesty, phlegm-filled cough of an old man who sat in the other corner of the common room. He looked like he had been sitting there so long that he had been painted into the chair.
Rhett reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out his coin purse.
He set it down on his lap, just below the table, so as not to attract any unwanted eyes. There were not many people in the common room – the old man who sounded like he was about to lose a lung, the drunk at the bar who was struggling to keep his eyes open, a handful of tired merchants, two serving girls, and the innkeeper, who was a nice man, if a little past his best.
Rhett didn't think any of them would be paying him much attention.
He opened the drawstrings of the purse, taking a quick count of his coin.
He had half-hoped to magically find more than he expected. He was not pleasantly surprised.
The trip to Gisa would be far shorter than the trip to Falstide, maybe only a week and a half by horse. Their money would go a lot further. They wouldn't have to ration the food. They could stay in nice beds every night.
It would be safer.
He picked out a coin from his purse; a copper mark. Rolling it across his fingers, he looked over at the letter and then up nodding at the innkeeper, who nodded back and started pouring another tankard of ale.
"Here you go, young man. This one's on the house. Just give my best to Tanner. I'm sure I owe him one at this stage." Forn placed the ale down in front of Rhett. He picked up the empty tankard, his bony hands wrapping around the metal handle. Rhett looked closer and realised that, although his
skin looked old and worn and his hair was thin and grey, the man's eyes were bright and full of life. How did his uncle know this man so well?
"That is not necessary but very much appreciated, Master Blackwell. My uncle mentioned your kindness in his letters. He did not overstate it one bit." Rhett smiled and raised his tankard to the older man, who nodded thankfully in response.
"May I ask," he said, "how are you getting to Berona? Is it by Gisa or Falstide?"
Rhett hesitated. He truthfully wasn't sure himself.
"I… I only ask as I've heard some bad news out of Falstide as of late.
Large number of bandits along the road from Baylomon and in the Argonan Marshes. I've heard stories of other things, coming down from the Marin Mountains. It's no place to be travelling, not now. The Blood Moon don't be far away. And it does be stirring up all sorts of trouble. I'll tell you that much for free." The older man shook his head, absently wiping the inside of the tankard with his cloth.
"Well, the original plan was to travel through Falstide, but Gisa might be an option. We haven't decided yet. Won't have to decide until we reach Midhaven. The Blood Moon?"
Forn nodded and turned back towards the bar, still absently wiping away at the inside of the tankard. "Gisa would be my choice, young man," he called back over his shoulder, "if you have the coin." He ignored Rhett's question about the moon. Poor man. The years are eating away at his mind. Just as they are eating away at his inn.
Rhett stared down into his purse. He took a deep draught of the bitter ale.
It's going to take a long time to acquire this taste. He sighed heavily as he rolled the coin across fingers, back and forth.