The Kind Innkeeper of Vierdorth

Reagan awoke to the sound of a deep, persistent hum. It crescendoed before dropping back down to start again. He tensed and sat up, looking for the source. It took him several seconds to realize they were still seated in the covered wagon of the caravan, with Elisa beside him and Liam perched atop the pile of boxes before him.

“What is that?” Elisa asked, turning to the woman beside her.

“It’s the alarm from the detection spell in Vierdorth,” she responded. Her voice was bright and cheerful, matching her vibrant red hair and sparkling grey eyes. “It means we’ve arrived.”

“It’s supposed to detect unauthorized magic use, set in place by the capital to keep the mages in check,” said the man beside her. He was several years older and had a rough, weathered voice. “But nowadays Alan and Ronan use it to announce their comings and goings to each other without having to cross town. He’ll turn it off right about… Now.”

As though the spell was listening, the hum stopped, and silence fell over the caravan.

The gentleman sighed and said, “Imagine when they leave before dawn and that resonates all throughout town in the middle of the night.”

“Oh please,” the woman said, giving him a light slap on his arm. “You’d sleep through the caravan crashing into our living room.” She turned to Elisa to say, “That almost happened once. Alan’s horse got spooked by some monsters and ran amok through town. Crashed right through our neighbor’s vegetable garden.”

“There’s a big difference between a vegetable garden and a brick wall.”

“Tell that to Katarin’s tomatoes.”

The older man sighed and grumbled, ending the conversation, and Elisa turned to Reagan and said with a smirk, “I just got a glimpse into your future.”

Liam exploded into laughter, almost drowning out Reagan’s mumbled, “Watch it.”

The sound of his laugh made it hard for Reagan to be annoyed, and even through the exhaustion weighing him down, he found enough strength for a small smile.

The caravan slowed to a stop. Reagan hadn’t noticed the sounds of the horse’s hooves outside until silence settled into every crevice of the wagon.

“We’ve arrived,” said a voice from outside. A gloved hand reached in to pull back the covering, letting the late evening sunlight trickle in, and giving the party a proper view of the green-haired man who’d been leading the caravan and the bell tower behind him. The amulet, which had been glowing the last time Reagan saw it, was now dimmed. “Watch your step,” the man said, stepping back to let Reagan out. He offered a hand to Elisa, then to the woman behind her, and guided them both out.

“Thank you, Alan,” said the man as he left the caravan last. “We’ll be back in the morning with our son to unload our belongings, if that’s alright.” He groaned as he stretched his back. Something popped in his hip, and he let out a contented sigh.

“Not a problem,” Alan said. He had an easy smile and a gentle voice. “Get home safely.”

As the older couple walked away, Alan turned to Reagan and Elisa. With a concerned frown, he examined Reagan. There was a faint recognition in his eyes that made Reagan uneasy, even though he was certain he had never met the man before.

Reagan’s entire body fought to stay still under the scrutiny. He glanced away from Alan to catch Liam staring at the man, too, specifically at the amulet he wore.

“Thank you for letting us ride with you,” Elisa said. She showed no signs of discomfort, even as Alan turned to her. “We never would have made it to Vierdorth otherwise.”

“You’re welcome,” he said before returning his attention to Reagan. Looking down at the gash in his arm, Alan said, “You should visit the town physician. A wound like that could get infected quite quickly, and you look unwell already. I’d heal it for you myself, but I’m afraid I’ve already used a lot of magic today.” He touched the amulet around his neck as he spoke.

“We’ll head straight there, thank you,” Reagan said. His skin crawled with the need to escape, and he jumped on the first opportunity. After listening to Alan’s instructions, he hurried to bid the man goodbye and walk away with Elisa and Liam in tow.

Reagan felt no better after the physician had bandaged his arm. If anything, the walk had taken more out of him. By the time they made it to the inn, Reagan craved nothing more than a good night’s rest.

It took everything he had to hold back a loud groan when the innkeeper said, “I’m terribly sorry, but we’re all booked up for the evening.”

The innkeeper was a middle-aged woman with light auburn hair and a kind, round face. She regarded Reagan and Elisa with worry, crossing her arms and resting one hand under her chin. The blue apron she wore blended into her dress, and it was heavily dusted with flour. A small streak of it highlighted her hair, too, and the smell of freshly baked bread lingered around her.

Casting a worried look back at Reagan, who was as pale as he’d been in the forest, Elisa asked, “Is there another inn nearby? Or perhaps a boarding house? We just came from the physician’s, and my cousin desperately needs to rest somewhere…”

“No, deary, I’m afraid we’re the only one in town…” She worried at her lip, glancing from Elisa to Reagan then back again. “Oh, you look like a pair of nice kids. It wouldn’t feel right to turn you out into the cold. I’ll tell you what -- you can stay in the guest bedroom of my home tonight. It’s not as luxurious as one of these rooms, but it has a bed, and you certainly look like you need one.” She looked at Reagan as she spoke. “I’ll bring you there, and then I’ll bring you each a bowl of hot soup, alright?”

Reagan didn’t have the words to convey how he felt. Both he and Elisa thanked her repeatedly as the woman led them out through the back door of the inn and into a small one-story home.

The living room branched off into four smaller rooms, two of which had their doors open -- a bathroom and a small bedroom. Reagan noticed some toys scattered around the bedroom door.

The innkeeper led them through a closed door on the right. “There’s only one bed, but it’s quite spacious, and I’ll bring you extra blankets. You’ll find firewood in the corner over there.”

The bedroom was large but bare, with only a bed and an oak night table. Firewood sat stacked high beside the cold, dark fireplace.

Elisa made a beeline for it while Reagan sat tentatively on the bed. The mattress welcomed him with a gentle embrace, and he lay down without further protest.

Just as he was resting his head on one of the pillows, a knock sounded from the door. He moved to answer it, but both Elisa and Liam motioned for him to stay, and Elisa opened the door.

“My mom asked me to bring you some soups,” said a young voice.

What Reagan saw as he turned toward the door made him bolt upright.

The little boy came up to Elisa’s waist. He was around eight years old, and had hair so dark it looked almost black. It reflected red in the firelight, a blackened crimson shade. His blue eyes were as light as the dawn sky and almost as bright. He had thin, arching brows that disappeared into messy bangs, and when he smiled, dimples appeared on his rosy cheeks.

As he carried the tray to the night table, Reagan glanced at Liam, who was also staring at the little boy, before returning his attention to the kid.

“Is something wrong, mister?” he asked, frowning as he stepped back.

“Sorry,” Reagan shook his head. “You’re the spitting image of my childhood friend.”

The little boy tilted his head to one side. “Is he nice?”

Reagan swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Yes, he’s very nice. And very brave, too.” He looked at Liam, who offered him a sad smile.

The little boy smiled. “That’s good! Mom says being nice is the best thing you can be.”

“Braiden!” the innkeeper called from the living room. “Let our guests rest now.” She appeared in the doorway a second later, regarding Elisa and Reagan with a kind smile. “My name is Aislinn, and this is my son, Braiden. I’ll be in the next bedroom over if you need anything during the night. Try to get some rest.”

She led Braiden out of the room amidst more thank-yous from Reagan and Elisa. Reagan ate his soup in silence, hardly tasting it, before laying down for the night.