Chapter 11 #3
“The city is just around the bend.” Sawyer points forward.
We continue walking along the side of the road as the rays of the golden sun beam down upon our faces.
The season here is in a cold period so the warm heat upon my cheeks is welcomed.
A group of field workers pass us going in the opposite direction.
The women carry sacks of grain on their back as they make friendly conversation.
A few pay small notice to us, eyes catching on our fine clothing.
I wrap my arms around my midsection and smile tersely as the city comes into view. A stone bridge crosses a large river before opening up into the bustling capital.
“Veda,” Sawyer says, pausing to take it all in.
“Wow.” I release a breath. Towering spires and stone arches rise into the sky.
Some buildings look to be leaning upon one another and strings of light, so many of them, stretch across neighborhoods.
We cross the bridge and turn down a narrow street, feet avoiding mystery puddles along the storefronts.
Business owners are barely setting tables out and opening their doors. An older, plump woman sweeps her doorstep and waves to us as we pass. I smile a little bigger in response, still trying to keep my head down. Sawyer looks down at the top of my head and groans.
“That hair will get us back to Demis like this –” He snaps his fingers.
He arches an eyebrow as he looks up and down the street.
More citizens begin to wake up and enter society around us.
Sawyer grabs my hand and tugs me down a small connecting alley.
The alley is roughly cut, narrow in some places and wide in others.
The wider openings are used to full advantage by nearby tenants.
Rugs and chairs in circles give me an insider view as to how close this community is.
“Where are we going?” I ask, ducking under a low patio. We exit onto another street of businesses, similar to the last.
“Here.” He pulls me into an odd shop.
Odd in the sense that it looks to be the size of a broom closet on the outside, but once we cross the threshold the entire space opens up to the size of a warehouse.
“How?” I trail off, spinning around to take in the thousands of shelves and crates all around. Workers stack pallets in one corner, another has a sorting station and busy couriers weave in between the rest of the staff.
“The owner is a cess,” he replies as a younger robed man steps out from a second story office.
“My prince.” The man opens his arms in welcome as he descends the stairs. Sawyer embraces the man and shakes his hand, the two whispering something that ends in laughter before he turns to me.
His eyes widen in shock before he looks to Sawyer then looks back to me one more time.
“Hi?” I croak.
The man clenches his fist and works his jaw before turning back to Sawyer.
“What the fuck?” That, I hear.
“Don’t ask any question you don’t want the answer to, Tyn.”
Tyn smiles uncomfortably at me before shifting his gaze to the rest of his warehouse. He walks over to a large green bell and gives it four rings. Every worker stops moving before placing their work down and exiting out of the back.
He takes a heaving breath before dragging his hands down his face. “They’re on a break. What do you need? I need her gone. Now.” He keeps looking over my body as if he can’t believe my presence. I pray he will act in discretion.
“First –” Sawyer points to my hair – “a cloak.”
Tyn curses under his breath. “Are you here consensually, Elivienne?” Sawyer goes to speak and Tyn holds a hand up. “Nope, I didn’t ask you.”
“Yes, I am. Can you help us?”
He curses again and leaves to go to his office. When he emerges, he has a dark blue cloak in his hands. I take it from him and throw it on, noting the aged smell on it.
“As for your second request, the answer is no.” He turns to Sawyer who flexes his jaw.
“And why is that?”
Tyn gestures to me with both hands. “Are you serious? Killian is in wait. Here. In Veda.”
“Killian is not going to be a problem,” Sawyer growls. “Will you help me or not? This is the only favor I ask of you.”
Tyn laughs, but angrily, and steps away from Sawyer. “No. This is beyond me and my morals.”
Sawyer growls and grabs my arm, leading me from the warehouse. He mutters, “Fucking cess,” as Tyn calls after us, but we don’t hear him because the store door slams behind us.
I adjust the hood around my face to cover any escaping pieces of distinguishing hair. “Who is Killian?” I ask, moving aside for a cart to pass us. I glance back once at the small door, grateful to be away from the uneasy feeling I had in there.
We turn into a winding alley framed with small gardens hanging from trellises.
Fresh dew clings to the leaves. “Nobody of import. We need to avoid the risk of magic’s trace, so we’ll take the rest of this journey by foot and find a cart or something,” he seethes and begins walking down a paved street.
“How long will that take?”
Sawyer does not answer as he heads right into a square. Musicians and dancers circle in the middle. A crowd claps to the rhythm of the performers, some managing their breaths in between movements.
We turn and turn, bouncing between alleys and stores, avoiding guards who pass in groups. We’ve been here for hours and have yet to get back to the original road. A large fountain comes into view in another square and we pause to sit on its edge.
“I’ll be right back,” he says before heading towards an aged tavern next to some buskers. Women and men smoke pipes of herbs from the windows and the music is louder from inside than the artists on the street.
The fountain behind me has a worn golden hawk statue in the center, its wings caught mid-flight by the artist, eyes narrowed as if locked on prey or a landing.
A ring of water runs along the edge before waterfalling into a dark hole at its center.
The statue, rising from the depths of the abyss, catches the light beautifully.
A family approaches the fountain. A little girl skips up to its edge a few paces from me.
I move my hood over slightly to conceal my identity.
The father leans down and hands the girl a coin.
The other father whispers instructions to her, giving her space to act.
She holds the coin to her chest and furrows her brow, thinking of the prayer.
She nods, brings the coin to her lips, and tosses the silver circle into the air.
It makes a tink against the base of the hawk before dropping into the depths below.
Sawyer returns just then, hands in pockets and face unreadable. I peer over his shoulder at the tavern he just visited.
“What did you need in there?” I ask, following him up the cobblestone sidewalk. “One last drink of ale?”
“In a way,” he replies and motions to turn left. We carry on in silence again, only speaking when a guard is spotted. We stay close to the walls as we make our way through avenues. Sawyer turns once again, this time heading in the opposite direction towards the way we came two turns ago. I know it.
The smell of herbs burning hits me again and I see the glint of the hawk in my peripheral vision through a small crowd. At first I thought it was a mistake, but we pass by the family from before for a third time and I speak up. “Wait, didn’t we already come this way?”
“No, we came from that direction.” Sawyer points to the south. I shake my head, feeling that pounding headache come on once again. It feels as though a drum is beating a harsh rhythm on the inside of my skull, blinding me with pain.
“We’ve passed this before. We need to go this way.” I take a few steps towards a small wooden bridge that crosses a canal. The drum pounds again in my head, causing my steps to drag slightly.
I try to coach myself again, hands gripping the interior of this old cloak. Sawyer’s footsteps falter behind me and when I try to turn back, the dizziness takes over.
It all hits at once.
My vision blackens and I double over, hands coming to my head.
Everything lights on fire. My chest and head, the pain, it continues to amplify as waves of agony rush through me.
Sawyer runs over to me as I drop to the ground, losing my sense of everything.
The wooden bridge gives some leave as my head cracks against it, sending my body writhing with pain. I can’t stop the scream that erupts.
“My head,” I croak out, my body snaking in pain. Blackness pulses at the edge of my eyes as I turn onto my back. A few citizens have crowded over me, Sawyer’s lips tight as his voice fades. He turns to speak to someone in the edges of my view but I can’t hear him.
The sounds of hooves pounding against the earth rumbles in my ear, sounding like an earthquake. The black filters in more, my body tensing.
“We found them!” a voice yells. A guard.
No, no, no, no.
He moves over me, his breastplate showing the celestial crest of Lux.
The fading light of day above me is shielded out by a group of guards now trying to speak to me but I can’t manage to say anything.
My body demands sleep but I fight it again.
I lose feeling of everything at once. Everything but the pain, which successfully consumes my every nerve. The crush of it lances out so sharp and deep that my mind simply goes out, finally resting.
Birds sing.
Little noises of their chirps fade in and out. My fingers brush against cool cotton, their fibers bringing sense to my body. My eyes peel one at a time, the light from a new day only peeking through slits in the curtains.
With focus, I wake some more, my head heavy on my neck. My body is beyond fatigued. This fact is evident as I orient myself ever so slowly. Each movement feels like it is being done under the weight of stone.
I struggle to sit up, a pinch of pain in my temple as I try to remember what happened. I remember the chalice room and Sawyer. We left the castle and fled into the forest.
Veda. We made it to the city. A cess was there.
Tyn. The cloak.