Chapter Two

The good news; I wasn’t robbed in my sleep.

Or killed.

The bad news; my head hurts.

I didn’t think I had that much to drink but, turns out, this city’s ale is a lot stronger than what I’ve had before. When I woke up, it felt like a dagger was pressed into my forehead and, worse, my throat was drier than a desert.

When I got dressed and went downstairs to get some food, I asked the barmaid about the drink and she said, “Our ale here, good sir, is our own home brew. Made with secret ingredients that only the innkeeper knows. Says it tastes great but hurts like a curse in the mornin’.”

“And my dry throat?”

She smiled. “The innkeeper spent months perfectin’ it so it’d make people thirstier so they’d drink more.”

Yep.

Never, ever, ever, coming back here.

Not that I ever intended to.

Thank the Gods I was leaving today with Wiatt, or else I might find myself drinking something as awful and as foul sounding as that brew again.

Maybe the innkeeper was an alchemist, or maybe he was just a bored old sod with more time on his hands than he knew how to use it.

Still, after a few mugs of water and a full cooked breakfast, I felt rather refreshed and cheery, more so than I had been in weeks.

And, as if on cue, I had to overhear something to ruin my day just soon after it had begun.

“I heard that a rebel army is heading towards the city. Twenty thousand strong at least.”

“Apparently, the Legion has been diverted this way, but they might not make it in time.”

“When are they meant to get here?”

“About a week, I hear.”

“Shit! I heard it was at least two.”

“Maybe there are two armies coming for us.”

“Do the rebels have that many men?”

I wasn’t worried about that bit, because it was obviously bollocks.

No way the rebels had an army that big, let alone two; more likely, it was their entire force of twenty thousand men coming or the rumours were just exaggerated.

So, that didn’t ruin my day.

“Lads, that’s not the worst part.”

“What’s the worst part?”

“I heard there’s at least two Children of the Stars among them.”

That one, damn sentence.

That ruined my mood in an instant.

As if it wasn’t God-damned bad enough that a rebel army, maybe two, were heading right for us, but one, or perhaps both, armies were being led by Children of the Stars.

…

Sorry Wiatt, but I’m getting the fuck outta here right now!

Sure, it would’ve been nice travelling with ya, but goodbye forever!

I quickly finished my food and drink, paid the innkeeper, wished him well, went to my room, packed what possessions and coins I had, casually and coolly walked out of the inn, and then ran to my horse in the stables.

I fumbled to store my belongings on my horse’s packs and undo the rope lashing my steed to the fence when I heard a familiar voice call to me.

“Good morning, sir. Fine day today, isn’t it?”

Wiatt, I like you, but you really, really, have the worst sense of timing, don’t you?

And fine?

Fine?!

“Wouldn’t call this a fine day myself, Wiatt.”

“Oh? What troubles you?”

I looked at him, dumbfounded and sighed. “So, you didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?”

“About the rebel army coming to the city.” I continued, untying the rope and stroked my horse’s mane. “We might have less than a week before they get here.”

“I heard.”

I frowned at him. “You heard?”

“I did, sir. What about it?”

“What do you mean what about it?”

He titled his head, clearly confused about what I was talking about…I think.

“If the rebels hit this city before we leave, we’re dead.”

“Yes, but we were planning on leaving today anyway, weren’t we, sir?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“So even if the rebels get here within two weeks, a week, or even three days from now, we will be long gone by then. Even if Children of the Stars are with them, it isn’t our concern, is it?”

I relaxed a little and lowered my head, mumbling in agreement.

He was right, I knew he was, and I felt like an idiot for panicking this much. Clearly, I hadn’t thought things through.

My heart hurt, no just because my pride had been wounded, but because I felt terrible for the people of this city.

So few, if any, of the people here had a hand in the schemes against the Children of the Stars, and yet many would suffer, and die, because of them.

A part of me wishes I could do something but, no matter how much I pray to the Gods and offer up my services, I am but just one man and one man cannot make a difference unless he has power.

I looked back up at Wiatt who, even now, was still smiling brightly, just like he had been yesterday, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he truly didn’t care, or perhaps he was just better at hiding his feelings than me.

Maybe it’s because he’s still young that he can act that way and hide his true feelings.

Once, I might’ve done the same, but I can’t remember if I ever did.

As far back as I can remember, I’ve worn my heart on my sleeve, both the good and bad…maybe Wiatt wasn’t that sort of person though.

“Where’s your horse?”

“He’s right outside, sir. When you’re ready, we’ll head off.”

“Right. Won’t be a moment, so saddle up, lad.”

Wiatt nodded and left me to finish preparing my horse for the long ride ahead.

I double checked everything, the saddle and sack quality, making sure that they weren’t damaged, then the horse hooves, then my sword and dagger, and then my own boots. If they fell apart mid-journey, it’d be hard to make it home with bloody feet.

I mounted up and rode out of the stable. Wiatt and I plodded our way through the streets towards the southern gates.

As we rode, my eyes turned to the people and buildings around me, even though I knew that I shouldn’t, and my expression once again darkened.

There were so many refugees that even the space under the houses in the slums had people sleeping in them. There were few guards on the streets and even fewer on patrol, the market was sealed, and, in the distance, I could see and hear a large crowd of angry people down by the docks.

I put the image out of my mind and turned back to riding out of the city.

Whatever happens next, I have no part in it.

When we reached the gate there were still more people coming into Yarthan, and only about half as many trying to leave.

We got to the gates, paid the guards the toll price and rode at a quicker pace away from the city.

Once we were a few hundred metres away from the city, Wiatt turned around and said, “I imagine a riot will break out in Yarthan within a day or two.”

“Aye, I reckon so. With any luck, it’ll succeed, and the people will fling open the gates for the rebels in surrender.”

“I imagine they will, sir. I imagine they will.”

We said nothing else and rode hard, following the road south-east to Yacatecuhtli.

The further we got from Yarthan the more I feared for our safety.

If we ran into any Imperial patrols, chances are we’d be arrested, fined or killed, or all three in quick succession.

If the rebels found us, they might think us spies or agents sent to recruit the people of the Narrow to the Empire’s side.

Or maybe bandits would ambush us along the road, killing our horses, robbing us and leaving us to die.

Maybe we’d even get attacked by wolves, or a bear, or a monster.

However, despite what I had feared, the journey was largely uneventful.

No Imperials.

No rebels.

No bandits.

No random monster attacks.

No…nothing.

My inner adventurer was somewhat disappointed about that.

The most ‘eventful’ thing we saw on our journey to Yacatecuhtli was a vast army of Imperials marching near the coast north.

“They are definitely marching to Yarthan, right?” Wiatt asked, uncharacteristically nervously.

“Yes. They’re keeping as close to the coast as possible so that they can’t be hit in their flank. They’ll probably keep up that pace for another two hours before making camp. Speaking of.”

I saw that the sun was beginning to lower above our heads.

“Know any villages or towns nearby?”

“There should be an inn a few miles from here. If we increase our speed, we should be there way before sunset.”

“Then, let’s hurry.”

So, we did.

We rode in silence for the rest of the day and, just as Wiatt had said, we found an inn where we could stay.

Nice enough little place, quite cosy, and we were the only ones there, aside from the innkeeper and his family. They all worked and lived there, and were more than happy to have people to serve.

We settled in, paid for our rooms, drinks and food for the evening and, as the night began to set in, everyone was sitting comfortably together across a few tables.

Honestly, I had hoped that this evening it would’ve just been me and Wiatt speaking alone at our own table in a crowded inn, so that we could get to know one another better. I still didn’t know much about him, despite riding on the road on a week with the lad.

The reason was simple.

During the day, we were too busy watching out for trouble and at night we were too busy staying hidden from any sneak attacks. If we took our minds off keeping ourselves alive for too long travelling through a country at war, we could end up dead.

I had feared that because our hosts were so eager to want to get to know us that I wouldn’t get to know Wiatt any better; but, like our hosts, Wiatt was filled with questions for me. About my adventures, the places I’d visited, the things I’d seen, the people I’d met, the stories I knew, the whole lot.

And I was more than happy to oblige them.

“So, what’s the furthest you’ve ever travelled, sir?” Wiatt asked first.

“Hmm, probably the Land of the Dying Sun,” I said, rubbing my beard gently. “I think it took me about a month by boat to reach the continent and I stayed there for the best part of three years in the end.”

“The Land of the Dying Sun?” The daughter asked who I guessed was quite young based on her looks.

“You might know it better, dear, as ‘The Eastern Province’.”

“Thought it was always called that by the people there,” the innkeeper said.

“Ah, that’s a common misconception,” Wiatt interjected. “The Eastern Province was the name given to it by Tyber the 3rd before his failed invasion of the continent. He had, quite arrogantly, named it as if it was his own territory before he had even conquered it.” Wiatt chuckled and leant back in his chair. “What an arrogant bastard. Never even landed on the continent before his army was destroyed.”

“Did he not?” The daughter asked.

“No, he didn’t,” I said. “Didn’t think people this far from the Easterly Greens would know that part of history.”

For less than a second there, I thought I had seen Wiatt tense up, before he smiled at me and said, “My father served as a librarian to House Stowall where he spent much time reading and teaching me about such things.”

“A learned man like yourself this far from a library must be rough, eh?” The innkeeper joked to which Wiatt laughed.

“A little, I suppose.”

“Well, doubt you’ll find anyone selling books in the Westerlands until this war’s over.”

“Indeed,” Wiatt mumbled. Then, he said, slightly louder, “What about in the Green, sir? What great things have you seen there?”

I smiled. “Too many things to name in a single night.”

“Truly?” The wife asked.

“Aye. The Green is filled with all sorts of beautiful and wonderful things, many of which I long to see again, even if it is just for a moment.”

“Like what?”

“The Onyx Tower of the High Elves. It stands more than two hundred metres tall in the centre of the Golma, the great city of the Central Lands. According to some legends, the High Elves built the entire thing with magic, carving and laying every brick with precision using their spells.”

Everyone seemed captivated by such an image and I, admittedly, was too the first time I’d heard it.

A structure like that of that size would take years, maybe decades, to ever finish, but, as the stories go, it took the High Elves less than a week. A High Elf scholar I once knew told me that it took less than a day.

The Empire might not have been built in a day, but that tower might well have been.

“Golma?” Wiatt repeated the name a few times to himself softly. Then, he said, “I’ve always wanted to know something, sir, if you wouldn’t mind telling me.”

“Ask away.”

Wiatt swallowed hard and shook anxiously, like a child confessing their petty mischief to their parent.

“Does the Head of Golmertha truly exist?”

Ah, I got it now, why he was so nervous about asking me something like that.

Most people I’d run into in my travels that hadn’t gone to Golma believed that the Head of Golmertha, the Great Stone Golem, never truly existed. Many thought it was just a fairy tale made up about a gigantic rock in the city’s park to scare people into believing the Dread Dawn was real.

Even though the Dread Dawn was real and Golmertha had definitely existed.

In the oldest surviving legends and records we have of the Dread Dawn, Golmertha was a gigantic stone golem that stood taller than even the Onyx Tower, whose footsteps shook the ground so much that people thought an earthquake was happening. While few remember how the Golem fell, the stories that I heard was that Golmertha died during the last day of the Dread Dawn, when the Demons were thrown out of our world and he lost his life protecting us mere mortals.

His head, more than twenty metres wide, still sits in the heart of Golma in memoriam of him and his kin.

Even I didn’t believe wholeheartedly he existed until I gazed upon his head myself.

“Yes, it exists,” I said confidently with a smile, lightly patting his shoulder. “I have laid my own eyes upon it and it is a beautiful, if tragic, thing to behold.”

“Gol-mer-tha?” The daughter asked.

“Ah, perhaps that’s not a story well known to these parts either,” I said.

“Should it be one we heard before?” The innkeeper asked.

“Almost everyone I told my tales to in the Green knew about his head, but perhaps it isn’t that popular of a tale here in the Westerlands.”

“So it would seem, sir,” Wiatt said.

If that’s so, then why do you know about it?

“Perhaps it isn’t that popular because to see the head, you’d have to travel to Golma and that would be quite the expensive trip for anyone,” Wiatt thought aloud.

“Aye, I’d agree with that,” I said. “Then.” I turned to our hosts and asked, “What sort of stories or adventures would you most like to hear about?”

“Do you know any fairy tales?” The daughter asked.

“Fairy tales?”

The innkeeper smiled and rubbed his daughter’s head. “She’s always loved them since she was little, and always asks the bards we get here about them. She never grew up from them.”

“Dad!”

The man chuckled as his daughter’s face turned red, a sight I couldn’t help but smile at with envy.

One day, I hope.

One day.

Fairy tales, though?

I leant back in my chair and let out a low hum, closing my eyes as I did.

Truth be told, few people had ever asked me to tell them such stories, mainly because bards were usually the ones who recited such tales. Tales of great heroes and legendary beasts, of long forgotten wars and quests, of forsaken treasure and cutting morals.

Most people, even little kids, were entertained enough by stories of my adventures, so I had to think about it for a moment.

What did the bards back in my old village used to speak about?

The Dread Dawn, the Goblins, the Dragon Mausoleum, the old Nordic continent at the bottom of the ocean, the Sands and-

“Niefraditti,” I whispered. I sat forward in my chair and all eyes turned to me. “It’s not a fairy tale, but it’s quite a beautiful one, one of a woman of eternity.”

“The Dragon Priestess?” Wiatt asked; I nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard any stories about her.”

“Nor have I,” the innkeeper said.

“I haven’t!” His girl cried loudly, earning a gently smack on the head from her mother.

How bizarre. People this side of the continent know of the Dragon Priestess but not Golmertha, though perhaps that’s because her islands are closer to them than Golmertha’s head is.

I smiled at them, cleared my throat and began to recite the poem that I had heard only a few times, desperately praying to the Gods that I got all the words right.

Far from our shores,

Across vast seas she adorns,

Niefraditti; eternity, alone on the shore

For she longed for life so little she roared

For she, poor she, was truly forsaken

Doomed to live alone in that haven.

On the Five she awaits all alone,

For she is the one trapped there by the sea.

A beauty like her left there, such a waste!

For she, never she lost her chaste.

For there, they swear, she lives all alone,

Where she dwells, few truly know.

There, in a temple, carved in the mountain side,

There, a great temple though ancient she resides.

In chambers of water and stone, she bathes

Patiently, waiting, a soul as gentle as the waves.

For there, only there, she can feel at peace

Whilst waiting for her all pain to cease.

Waiting, and waiting, for the one to set her free…

Whom, she wonders, who shall that be?

Once I had finished, I closed my eyes and smiled sadly.

I had always liked this tale and yet, every time I recited it, I would always feel sad afterwards.

“Wow,” the daughter said with a happy smile. “Thank you, Mr Athellio!”

“You’re very welcome, child.”

She nodded and then yawned loudly, not bothering to cover her mouth as she did. Her parents smiled warmly at her and slowly stood up.

“It has gotten quite late, good sirs,” the innkeeper said. “If it pleases you, would you please retire to your rooms and we’ll lock up for the night?”

“Yes, we shall do just that,” Wiatt replied, leaping off his chair. “Goodnight, good sir and madams.”

“Aye, goodnight,” I said, and our hosts answered in kind.

Once they had finished locking the front and back door, they proceeded into a room into the back where I imagine all their beds were. While I was happy that we had been in good company this evening, I was still somewhat bitter that I hadn’t gotten to know my companion any better whilst he had just heard me almost brag about the great things I’d seen.

Wiatt, few things seem to upset you, so I hope that this isn’t one of those things!

“Thank you for the wonderful tales tonight, sir,” he said to me; I immediately relaxed and smiled. “Shall we depart after lunch tomorrow?”

“Aye, sounds good.”

We both walked upstairs to our own rooms, bid each other a goodnight, and I made sure to lock, and barricade, my door using the drawers they had in the room.

After my last few experiences with inns in this country, I didn’t want to take any chances, not even when our hosts were this friendly, hence why I didn’t drink any booze tonight.

Still, I must admit, as I gazed up at the darkness above me as I lay in bed, that I feel rather happy for once before I go to sleep, more so than I did knowing that Wiatt was willing to help take me home to the Green.

I smiled and closed my eyes, thinking of the last time I felt this happy and optimistic about my life; then, she appeared in my mind, right before my eyes with a beautiful, blissful smile that I haven’t seen in many years.