Chapter 18
After packing rucksacks with supplies and water, then locking up the inn, the group of us who slept at Kamtaur Inn make our way to a small, rustic village called Winstoft.
Apparently Rynthea and Torjack have a cabin outside of this village that their parents built before they were born.
Penju owns a hut in the heart of town, and it has been decided by Rynthea that Torjack will stay with him until she returns.
“I wish you’d change your mind, Ryn. I’m sure I’ll be fine if I travel with you—at least during this first part.” Torjack shifts on his hooves as he stands in front of Penju’s hut.
The hut’s roof is swathed in vines and ivy, the exterior a combination of stone and wood painted a light blue.
The door has been crafted into an arch that I’m not so sure Torjack will be able to squeeze through with his wide frame.
Flowers are planted in stub barrels, and clay pots surround the hut, ranging in various colors and sizes.
Despite its washed-out, rustic appearance, Penju’s hut has a charming appeal. It embodies a real home—a place I’m sure he cherishes and respects. I can tell by the swept stone steps, rocking chairs, and hanging lanterns on the short porch.
Rynthea glances sideways. I don’t want her to think I’m eavesdropping, so I look away. Even though I am…unintentionally, of course. She told us earlier to wait at the end of Penju’s walkway, but I can still hear pretty well from here.
Not too far away, Algar stands in front of a merchant stand, buying fruit, jerky, and nuts. Zephra rests on his shoulder, eyeballing all the food.
Thane is a few feet away from me, leaning against the wall of a cobblestone building with his mask in place and his arms folded.
He remains vigilant as he keeps watch of our surroundings.
I don’t think he has very much to worry about in Winstoft.
There are a few mortals, but most dwellers here are peaceful beastials.
Pearl is right behind him, drinking from a bucket of water he’s collected for her from the village well.
“We agreed. You’ll stay with Penju where it’s safe,” I hear Rynthea say to Torjack. “No one should come for you here. And if I don’t like what I find out about our odds, I’ll be back soon anyway.”
I bite into a juicy white snow fruit, focusing on the chipped statue of a beastial in a combat uniform in the center of the village.
Torjack groans with reluctance. “Fine. But be careful, Ryn. I need you.”
“I’ll be okay. Just make sure you take your medicines and let Penju escort you to the healers. If you feel stiff anywhere, rest and relax.”
I glance their way as I finish off my fruit.
They’re hugging. When Torjack turns and ducks his head to enter Penju’s hut, Rynthea stares at the spot where he’d been standing for several seconds with sorrow twisting her features.
Her grip tightens around the handle of her scythesword, then she turns around and stomps down the steps.
“Let’s go,” she mutters, brushing past me.
“All set?” Algar calls after her.
Rynthea doesn’t answer, just keeps marching.
Thane pushes off the wall to grab Pearl’s reins and waits for me to pass. When we walk through the wooden gates of Winstoft, I can’t help giving the quaint village one more look before continuing on.
I know how Rynthea feels. Leaving someone you love behind to do something incredibly dangerous yet could potentially save their lives? It’s a hard decision to wrap your head around. None of it makes sense, but it feels necessary. I should know. I’m in the same boat.
Not that Rynthea has to do this, but if there is treasure in Elphar, she and Torjack could live the rest of their lives in peace.
Torjack could have as many treatments as he wants.
They could probably find a permanent healer for his disease.
Kamtaur Inn would be restored. They could hire protection so no one would attempt to destroy it again.
So many possibilities are ahead if this works out.
A forest looms before us. Rynthea clomps through a gap between two trunks, and her large body disappears as she goes deeper. I hurry to catch up with her.
“We need to be careful walking through here.” Rynthea’s voice is low as the forest becomes dense and thick with trees.
Sunlight becomes scarce, and several crows perched on nearby branches flap away.
“There are paths in Delchester Forest that you do not want to encounter. Do you see that?” She pauses for a moment, pointing at a fork in the trail ahead.
“Never take the left or right. Always stay on the middle path.”
“You’ve been through here before, too?” Algar asks.
“Twice,” she answers. “And only during the day. I’ve heard stories about people veering off. They never return.”
I look both ways as we press forward. The left path doesn’t seem too bad.
More light is coming from that way than the middle; however, the right is ominously dark.
Clumps of long moss hang from the branches, floating like bodies that have been maliciously strung up.
Branches croak, and the wind carries an eerie melody from that direction.
Out of instinct, I move closer to Rynthea but end up bumping into her arm. She glances at me with a note of concern.
I force a smile. “Sorry.”
“All good.” She says that, but her scythesword is gripped tighter in hand now, like she’s expecting something to attack at any minute.
Up close, I see that the scythesword’s blade is made of gleaming silver with a clean-cut edge and a dangerously sharp tip.
It isn’t your typical farmer’s scythesword.
Hers is crafted delicately, the polished black handle half of its usual size.
The handle is crafted in a rope-like design and is truly impressive, especially since not many people fight and kill with scytheswords.
They are much heavier than your usual sword and require not only great strength, but a unique set of skills.
“So why are we going through Delchester Forest if it’s not safe?” I ask. “There are other routes, right?”
“Delchester is the quickest route from Winstoft to Bernwood,” she answers.
“We could have traveled to Junsho and hiked the mountains or waited at the ports, but the steepness of the mountains would slow us down, and who knows how long it would take just to get someone to let us ride their ship? Junshorians keep to themselves and aren’t always inclined to go out of their way.
If you want to beat that curse you mentioned, we can’t afford to spend time begging for a ship ride to Bernwood ports. That could take days.”
“Oh.” I try matching my pace with hers. She has long strides, and her hooves stamp into the ground hard enough for me to consider being careful where I step. I’m lucky to not have broken spectacles. The last thing I need is a broken foot.
“I’ve heard way too many stories about Delchester,” Algar says behind me. “Where I’m from, they call it Deathchester.”
“For good reason,” Thane mutters, leading Pearl, who is packed up with our rucksacks and satchels.
“It’s not too bad if you know where you’re going.” Rynthea scans the area ahead as she steps over a thick tree root.
“How long will it take to get to Bernwood from here?” I ask.
“Two hours, give or take.”
“Hmm.” Silence lingers between us before I clear my throat. “Well, while we’re having a rare moment of tranquility, I was thinking I might need a weapon of my own.”
“For what?” asks Thane.
I glance over my shoulder at him. He’s frowning.
“Because if I’m traveling with people like all of you—”
“Whoa! Come on now!” Algar says as he feeds Zephra a slice of jerky.
“No offense,” I add, looking between him and Rynthea, who simply laughs.
“But we have to be honest here. You’re a thief, Algar—not to mention you have an incredibly rare creature occupying your shoulder that people will pay a lot of coin for, especially when they realize she can steal on command. You told me that.”
Zephra squeaks and bobs her head as Algar shrugs. “Fair point.”
“And Rynthea, you’re part minotaur.” I gesture to her as she looks down at me again through the corner of her eye. “If the wrong people come across you, they’ll try to kill you on sight.”
“In their dreams,” she grumbles.
“And Thane, well…you know what kind of threat you bring.”
He provides a jaded blink.
“My point is, I’m traveling with a targeted group of people. We could be attacked at any time. I want to be able to protect myself somehow. So, if any of you have a spare dagger, a knife, or anything, I’ll be happy to take it.”
“Would you even know how to use it?” Thane chimes in.
“I can try,” I shoot back. “I’m a quick learner.”
“Okay. Say someone is about to kill you. Would you be willing to kill them to save yourself?” he asks.
I hesitate with my response, holding his gaze.
I can tell he’s smirking underneath that damn mask.
“You don’t strike me as a person who can steal a life and live with the consequences afterward, sweet one. If we give you a weapon, the enemy will likely turn it against you if you hesitate. There’s no point in having one if you don’t know how to use it or if you’re not willing to use it at all.”
“Then show me how,” I counter. “You’re the savage sorcerer with the blades, right? Show me where to strike so I can save myself.”
Thane contemplates this as he rearranges Pearl’s reins in one of his gloved hands.
“If he doesn’t teach you, we will.” Algar gestures between himself and Rynthea, tossing me a wink. “We’ve got your back, princess.”
I smile. “Thanks, Algar.”
“Okay, fine.” Thane comes to a halt, and Algar follows suit. When I stop, Rynthea blows out an agitated breath and pauses, too. After digging through his rucksack strapped to Pearl’s saddle, Thane takes out a sheathed weapon and hands it to me handle first.
“I was going to throw this one out anyway,” he says as I close my fingers around it. “Don’t let the size fool you. It’s small but lethal.”