Chapter Fifteen
Andi
This apprehensive feeling hasn’t shifted after my dream as it usually would. My senses have become heightened, whether that’s due to the dream or the fact that I am running for my life.
The days blend, filled with repetitions of wake up, walk for hours, and sleep when falling over exhausted. The only exception is sparring practice, when Myles attacks me with a sword at random. His reasoning being: I need to be ready for anything.
In theory, it’s a great idea. Realistically, I still can’t hold the sword, let alone swing it at someone and aim.
At least, I have been able to throw a decent punch, since Myles had me jabbing at trees for hours at a time, practicing thrusting the underside of my wrist upwards to break someone’s nose.
My hands were raw and bloodied by the end.
I’m not sure where we are, how far we have travelled, or even which direction we are heading. I don’t even know what day it is anymore. The weather feels colder, the breeze whipping past has a bitter sting to it, biting my skin whenever the sun dips.
The road is empty, the only sign of life except the nocturnal animals waking from their slumber, the soft crunch of autumnal leaves beneath our feet scaring off smaller animals.
I look up at the trees, once covered in shades of green, now flecked with orange and gold.
The sweet smell of Autumn has come too fast.
With gentle chirping from the trees, squirrels scurry around hunting for their winter collection; hares the size of a small dog, race past us across the path.
In the distance, a soft howl sends shivers down my spine.
Luckily, we don’t get many wolves near Vendyl, but after I came face to face with one years ago, I’ll always have a fear.
I pray we reach a town before the wolves catch our scent.
My feet ache, a shooting pain has been twinging across my shins for a while, each step causing them to splint, but since I’m the reason we are fleeing, I don’t want to complain. I force my feet to keep moving through the pain.
Above this arduous hill, smoke billows, signalling life. A town. Shelter.
I skip down the hill.
“What’s gotten into you?” Myles chuckles as he runs to keep up.
“Bed. Bath. Food,” I shout back to him as I hurry down the hill, careful not to trip over my feet.
It’s an effortless journey down, surrounded by a flock of sheep leaping over a stream. Myles and I fill our canteens from the fresh spring, and I guzzle down some water, using some to wipe my face.
After many days of walking, we finally arrive in a small town, although bigger than Vendyl, a sign posted above the entrance tells us we are in Cyvail. The sound of children laughing lightens my heart, taking me back to those children playing in the river, before…well, everything.
The joyous laughter is driven away by a ruthless chopping that explodes through my brain, and my body flinches with each thump. As we pass the front of a cottage, an older man lifts his axe, waving it at us, dripping blood everywhere.
His face breaks into a grin, showing his gummy smile, my eyes widen as his smiling face transforms into that vicious sneer of Toothless.
I panic at the smell of blood before seeing dead chickens scattered around.
Shaking my head, the image of Toothless disappears, in his place is the curious man with an axe.
I lift my hand to wave back but can’t hide my nauseated look.
Stalls line up along the main road, vendors tidy away what’s left of today’s stock, food strewn across the floor, squashed by people passing by.
Stray dogs race to scrounge up the residue scattered across the ground.
Women and children wear headscarves, mud trailing at their feet as they move away from the fields.
Even after a hard day’s work, they still eagerly welcome travellers.
Lanterns guide us into the square, leading right up to the inn.
The door opens with a loud creak, and all the patrons turn to look at us while we trudge dirt all over the floor.
I can’t even imagine what we look like. It’s been at least a week since our last bath and warm bed, with only quick washes in icy streams, and sleeping rough in the woods.
We have been lucky; the weather has been mostly sunny and warm.
More than we could have hoped for, until a few days ago when the skies opened, soaking our clothes with grime as we trudged along the paths, ducking under trees to shield ourselves from the worst of it.
My clothes reek and are caked in mud; I can’t wait to bathe and scrub the dirt from my skin.
It’s a far cry from the mud baths Elana used to dream of.
The patrons maintain their stare on the curious newcomers as we reach the innkeeper. I lower my head to avoid eye contact, hiding my red eye.
The inn is surprisingly elegant, considering the town's farmland trade.
I would have imagined more rustic features, rather than refined furniture and artistic paintings with gilded frames decorating the cedar walls.
Lanterns glow a dim light along the ceiling, a few candles setting a calming ambience for weary drifters.
Plush mauve, velvet chairs are tucked into the wooden tables that are decorated with vases filled with freshly picked flowers.
Looking at the innkeeper, I doubt the décor is his doing.
He walks towards us, hunched and tired, using the bar as support as we approach.
“One or two rooms?” asks the older man with a greying beard growing up to his kind eyes.
“Just the one,” Myles says as he pulls out a few coins from his pocket. “We’re heading to Yiren. Exploring a little before we settle down, what’s the best way to get there?”
“Yiren? A long while yet if you’re goin' by road, I'd say head up through t'mountain pass. Might not be t'best way, but it'll be t'quickest, for sure. Better get up there before winter sets in, and I'll tell ye, it's not far off!”
The innkeeper was right, the weather had already turned, Linorah was beautiful in the summer, but her warmth and beauty pass in a flash, while winter often feels like it’ll never end.
My legs quiver, the travel had been working muscles I didn’t know I had. Leaning against the bar, I whisper to Myles, “Maybe we should rest here for a few days. Get our strength back before heading through the mountains. We have time before the weather becomes too bad.”
He looks at me for a few moments. Dark circles have grown under his eyes, and new creases between his brows. These past few weeks have taken their toll on him, and I don’t believe that I have fared any better.
“How much for the room for a few nights?”
“Five silvers a night.”
Counting the coins in his pocket, he nods and hands some to the innkeeper. “Okay, we’ll stay for a few days and can see where we go from there,” he says, looking to me for approval.
I guide Myles to a table tucked away in the room's corner, as much as I need a bath and sleep, I am starving and lack the energy to make it up the stairs. By the rumbling groans coming from Myles, I assume he is just as hungry. A young barmaid skips over to our table, carrying an empty tray.
“Anything to eat?” she asks in a sweet, singsong voice. I’m drawn to the large arch of her ears poking out of her blonde hair. Noticing my staring, her eyes meet mine, and I shift in my chair, feeling uncomfortable being caught gawping.
Myles doesn’t seem to have the same problem.
I kick him under the table to bring his attention back to me.
Asking for a hot pie for us both, he hands her a few coins in thanks.
I narrow my eyes at Myles, who chuckles and shrugs before resting his head on the table.
Running my hand through his hair, he takes my hand in his.
Closing my eyes tight, I try to remember Dad’s map.
“The mountains are in central Linorah, Cyvail is north to Vendyl, Zury is northeast. I think we’ll be safe enough to stay for a little while, before the guards make their way this direction at least,” I say as I draw on the table with my finger as if tracing a map.
“Wait for the guards to show up?”
“I know, I don’t like it either, but we’re both exhausted, and nowhere near the border to Yiren. There’s no way we can afford another horse. Maybe after a few days' rest, we can find someone travelling up north, preferably with a wagon.”
“Okay, but any sign of guards or trouble and we’re gone.”
I nod in agreement, images flooding my mind of guards terrorising the folk of Vendyl, my family. Guilt flushes over me for leaving them to the mercy of the guards. I rest my head in my hands from exhaustion, but mostly out of shame.
“There was a job board outside the inn, maybe… if we’re staying a few days, we could earn some more coins. We’ll never get enough to pay for a new horse but maybe to have a few more warm nights.”
Lifting my head, my eyebrows raise, it’s a good idea, actually.
He can blacksmith, but what can I do? Other than sewing and reading, what skills do I have?
I was never very good at helping folk like Mum was; I never remembered the herbs or plants for their medicinal purposes.
My skills go as far as wrapping a leg, but assisting with childbirth? I’d be more of a nuisance than help.
The Elven barmaid brings our ale and hot pies. I smile at her in thanks, struggling to maintain eye contact with her as her golden honey eyes burrow deep into my soul, rifling through all my secrets. Every move she makes is graceful, and she nods in acknowledgment before floating away.
I should know better, I always hated it when folk would stare at me as I passed by; knowing me for as long as they had, they never got used to my one red eye. It’s rude to stare, no matter the reason, but the elven folk have a beauty about them that makes you falter.
Myles and I don’t talk during our meal, both ravenous, we devour our plates in minutes. Having barely eaten anything for days after losing a lot of food in Misty’s saddlebags.