Chapter 10 Stormwatch #3
As twilight approached, the sun bled golden light across the horizon.
The dwindling rays illuminated the clouds in swaths of flame reminiscent of Nix’s transformations.
The city awakened with flickering lanterns.
Soon, an inn with a dimly lit sign in front announced the Pour House, its L-shape forming a shadow that stretched across the intersection, backlit by the purple-stained sky.
The wooden sign creaked gently in the evening breeze.
“Thanks for the ride,” Lark said, disembarking toward the packed gravel intersection.
“Hang on. Where are you staying?” Ezra stopped her.
“Don’t know yet. I’ll find some place.”
“You can stay here, at the Inn.”
“You don’t have to buy me a room.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” he replied.
Lark’s breath caught as her gaze fixed upon the war hammer held firm in his calloused hands, its leather grip worn smooth by years of use.
A primal instinct rippled across her skin, raising the hairs on the back of her neck as she met his cold stare.
The moment teetered like a scale balanced on a knife’s edge, her decision to strike or dodge vanishing as Ezra’s deep voice rumbled forth.
“I’m partners with the elf who owns this establishment,” he replied in a harmless tone.
Lark’s shoulders sagged with relief, the taut coil of angst within her releasing.
“You don’t need to pay. Just go into the main office there, the door should unlock for you. Grab a room key from behind the front desk.” As she turned away, he brought his great hammer to rest over his shoulder. “I’m leading the caravan to Astral City in the morning. We meet at sunrise.”
“I can’t afford the caravan,” Lark said.
“We’ll discuss it in the morning,” he grinned, the creases at the corners of his eyes as his beard turned up in a smile hinted at hidden intensions.
“Let’s go,” Lark said to Nix, her feelings toward Ezra’s kindness as murky as the void of her past.
Nix flew toward the paneled wooden door. Lark heard a click as the fire fae opened it.
“You can unlock doors?” she asked.
“Not regular doors, only these kinds,” Nix replied with an innocent giggle.
“What does that mean?”
“That I’m special and you can thank me later,” Nix winked.
Lark passed through the empty lobby, only looking long enough to ensure no threats would assail her from darkened corners. “We need to talk,” she said, attention shifting to the drawers behind the front desk.
“About what?” Nix came to rest in a seated position, hovering several inches over the drawer Lark opened.
“You have some explaining to do,” Lark said.
“I do?”
“Yes. You had decided I needed to follow Ezra without me properly considering it.”
“I can’t explain it. It just felt right,” she said.
Lark sighed, “What about the dragon I saw in the forest. You didn’t give us a chance to see if it was trying to show me something.”
“Oh, I forgot about the dragon,” Nix said, twisting her fingers through her flaming red hair. “I don’t know why he was so interested in you.”
The sound of someone’s throat-clearing shattered the moment like a stone through glass.
Behind the desk, Nix disappeared in a spectacular display of elemental chaos.
Her flame-spun figure collapsing inward as she winked out in a cascade of golden sparks.
The sudden absence of Nix’s warmth left the air and Lark’s pendant feeling unnaturally cold.
She rose from behind the counter, the movement carrying the startled energy of a disturbed animal, only to find herself facing a young man.
His lute hung across his back, its polished wood glistening in the lanternlight.
Evidence of violence told of his misfortune in vivid detail.
Dried blood traced a dark constellation down from his nose.
The taint of a recent altercation in a back alley shone all over his worn clothing.
A crimson stain had bloomed across his once-white shirt.
One eye had swollen shut, the yellow swelling around it deepened in shades of purple that faded to a black arch contouring his high cheekbone.
He held a simple burlap sack that sagged to the ground.
“Have any rooms available? Preferably single bed,” he said, his voice cracking as though he was forcing himself to be bold.
“Sorry, can’t help you,” Lark replied, dropping below the counter to hunt out the room keys.
“What?” he said in surprise.
“I said I can’t help you with that,” Lark reported, not bothering to meet his gaze again. She didn’t work there.
“Don’t you have any vacancies?”
“I don’t work here. I just arrived. I’m looking for a room key.”
“Are you Cheyanne?”
“No, they call me Lark.”
“Lark?”
“That’s right, like this necklace,” she said, annoyed and in disbelief of how clueless this young man seemed to be.
“I see,” he said.
Lark found a key in the drawer, took it, and looked up. She noticed his gaze lifting sharply from the necklace.
He straightened, a touch of rose coloring his cheeks. “I’m Hardin Morningstar.”