Chapter 38
Rafe
Her letter burns in my breast pocket. I must have read it a dozen times, tracing each word with my fingers, hoping if I held it long enough the ink might smudge, and the meaning might change. It didn’t.
I told myself the entire way to town it didn’t matter where she was headed, that it wasn’t my concern, and I should leave her be; the ache in my chest and the fear in my gut told a different story.
I rode hard, leaving everything behind, taking the old worn path to the town. That’s where she’s gone, to get a portal back to Valandor, and it’s where she’ll jump from.
I still don’t understand why she went on foot through Eklin, instead of jumping from my cabin.
The town is quiet this time of the evening, nothing for the steady thrum of hooves beneath me and a few townsfolk passing by.
Every step my horse takes is one step closer to Lina. She may have twelve or so hours on me, but she’s on foot, so I should get to the town’s Portal Master just after her.
The light’s already fading, and ache lays heavy in my gut. The Portal office stands shuttered and dark. The old sign, ‘Gilly’s National Portal Transport’ swings in the breeze, clinking against the wooden post.
I rein in my horse, dismounting so hard my boots kick up dirt.
The tavern across the way appears open and judging from the gruff sounds of drunks, brims with life. She might have come here. A few merchants packing up their stalls glance at me, and I catch the eye of the stable boy loitering by the water trough. He pales when I stalk over.
“Hey! You see a woman, this high,” I level my hand at my chest. “Brown hair, grey eyes, no tongue. She’d be wearing a dark tunic and trousers five sizes too big.”
He shakes his head. “No, but I did see a pretty brown-haired woman with grey eyes wearing a forest green dress,” he shrugs.
That sounds like her but doesn’t.
“Did she have a tongue?”
“Mister, you think it’s appropriate going up to the ladies asking them to open their mouths.”
He has a point.
“Where did she go?”
He points to the office.
Fuck.
“Gilly’s in there, ask him.”
Shouldering the tavern door, the stench of ale and pipe smoke stings my eyes and burns my lungs. Can barely see a few feet in front of me, but I manage to find the bar.
“Looking for Gilly,” I say to the tender behind the wooden counter.
He jerks his head to the side, motioning to the other end of the bar at a scruff of a man with a dodgy haircut and a missing tooth. I fight through the throng of patrons.
“Gilly?”
“One n’ only,” he slurs, stinking of sweet mead.
“A woman come to you for travel, grey eyes, this high, no tongue?”
He chuckles, swigging back some more drink. “How would I know if she had a tongue or not. You can’t go round asking ladies to open for you to look inside can ya.”
So I’ve been told.
My jaw clenches. “Did she speak?” I say through gritted teeth.
“Who?”
“The fucking woman I’m searching for.”
“Ere boy, relax.” He slides a tankard my way, and I slide it right back.
“Please, it’s urgent. Did a woman of that description come to you for travel but couldn’t speak.”
He pauses for a moment, sizing me up before raising a brow. I slam some coin on the counter. He pulls them to him, never taking his eyes off me.
“Aye. Wrote down her words. Sent her on her way this morning. My only customer today, she was.”
“This morning!?”
I missed her. I missed her by like nine fucking hours.
“Aye. Came into town on a mount with a companion.”
“Who?” My heart clenches, my lungs struggling for breath.
“Some elven wench, I don’t know. Not my job to keep tabs on your woman.”
No, it’s mine, and I’m doing a fucking poor job of it.
“She came to me too.”
A sour smell hits me first, then a crooked smile. A tall stocky male covered in soot, wearing his blacksmith apron still.
“Asked me to melt down some pearls to encase a small pouch of hers. Now I didn’t think pearls could melt I told her, but she wanted me to try anyway and yeah, these pearls melted alright.
Weird. But made her pouch nice n’ pretty for her.
She was well happy, pinched my cheek she did.
Think she liked me.” His smug grin is seconds away from being wiped off his face.
She melted down some Taka to encase a pouch… for what? Would that mean she can time-travel without losing the pouch? Of course, her book and quill. She’d need it to communicate.
“I need you to open up your office.”
“Didn’t you see the sign, I’m closed.”
“I’m Rafe Foran, a portal master in Valandor, I need urgent travel. Right the fuck now!” I fist his grubby shirt. The blacksmith steps back from Gilly, chugging his ale.
“I suggest you…”
“Don’t fuck with me Gilly, I’m a desperate man and I will do some desperate and questionable things to you if you don’t open your office.”
His eyes widen beneath my glare. I’m aware I must look like a rabid wolf, but he doesn’t realise the ache in my chest is the one running my brain right now… and my mouth.
He leads the way back to his office, the air dry and musky.
“Valandor you say.”
“I say.”
“Righteoo.”
He pulls back the portal curtain, and calls upon his power to open it up, the colours changing from the blue Alarithian colours to Valandor’s golden glow.
I chuck him some more coin. “Tell the stable boy to look after my horse whilst I’m out of town.”
The familiar sensations of magic ripple through me, caressing my skin. Portal travel is second nature to me now, so I land on steady feet to a lively street. This part of town brims with nightlife. Music, food, dancing and laughter. Joy.
If only they knew seeing all their glee makes me want to throw up.
The golden glow of the portal fades, but it’s only now I register the distinct colours. My heart sinks, bile creeps up my throat. I fist my hair and yank at the roots until it stings.
I fucked up.
“Fuck!”
My realisation startles folk passing by. She was his only customer today. When he opened the portal, it was blue, the colours of the Air lands.
She went to Alarithia. Not Valandor.