by RG Long
He paused and leaned in. The few candles on the dinner table gave him a chilling appearance.
“Ghosts,” he said in a hushed voice.
Marty, Ealrin thought, was a good storyteller.
Lote rolled her eyes so hard Ealrin thought they'd fall out. Gorplin nearly fell backwards out of his chair, choking on a mouthful of bread.
“You don't expect us to believe such foolishness do you?” she asked,
Bertrom spoke up, breaking his silence.
"We've already covered the fact that ghosts don't exist," he said with a weak smile.
Ealrin knew how much Bertrom had tried to hide the fact that specters scare him. Maybe he was trying to show Lote that he was over his fears?
Ealrin wasn't convinced.
"I would've said the same thing a month ago, had I not seen them for myself," Marty said a knowing expression on his face.
"Just over the wall on the western side, floating over the horizon," he said as he moved his hands up and down to emulate a floating ghost.
"Are you sure it wasn't one of the halflings dressed up like ghosts?" Tory asked as he looked suspiciously at Jurgon and Jurrin.
Jurrin shook his head and waved his hands innocently.
"To my knowledge none of us little folk have even come this far out of the forest, sir. Let alone gone off to other countries. Allet said we were crazy and the first halflings to leave Big Tree in a century!"
"I know the difference between a costume and something from another world," Marty said incredulously.
"That family saw it, too. They all nearly ran through the gates to get inside. Little monsters floating not three miles away from the wall."
"Goblins," Ealrin said still not believing Marty's story. "That or another troll," he said as he took a swig of the cider from the wooden mug in front of him.
"I've never seen goblins or trolls wrapped in purple flames," Marty said as he reclined back in his chair, with a satisfied look on his face.
Ealrin nearly gagged on his drink. Gorplin flew backwards out of his chair. Lote's eyes narrowed into threatening slits.
That one detail got the reaction Marty was looking for.
Of those gathered around the table, all but three had seen with their own eyes the monster that had attacked them during the battle with the Southern Republic.
A beast covered in purple flame had appeared right after a stone fell from the dark comment. Its supernatural strength had wrecked the forces of Thoran. And its undoing was what claimed the life of Holve Bravestead.
"Not ghosts," she said as one of her fists clenched and she shook with anger. "Some demon, or worse."
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She began to talk without looking at Marty. The mood around the table had become somber.
"We are very familiar with the purple flame. A large monstrosity destroyed half our army and claimed the life of the best general I've ever known. If monsters like the one we faced in the south indeed roam the land here freely, your country is in greater peril than you know."
"Plus we don't know how to actually kill the infernal things," Gorplin said as he set his chair back up and rejoined them at the table.
"That may be true. But Fray don't need to know that. Does he?" Marty said with a wicked smile.
"But how are we going to convince him that we know what we're doing when we really don't have any clue?" Tory asked.
Jurgon and Jurrin exchanged mischievous smiles.
"Leave that part up to professional ghosts," Jurrin said.
***
THE ENTIRE COMPANY, halflings and all, crowded into the officer's quarters the next morning to put their plan into action.
Fray wasn't quite sold.
"But why didn't you tell me that this was the true nature of your expedition in the first place?" he asked suspiciously as he drummed his fingers on his ornate wooden desk.
"We didn't know if we could trust you," Lote said. Ealrin wasn't too sure if she sounded convincing. Perhaps it was because she was the one who liked the plan the least. But since she was desperate to pass the border, she finally caved in.
"But now that we know you are a man who faithfully served his country and doesn't want it to come to any harm, we can tell you the true reason of our journey to the capital."
Now it was Ealrin's turn to continue the deception. Part of it would be easy, because it was truth scrambled up with a little bit of embellishment.
"I have seen the purple beasts myself. Many of us here have. But unlike the people in your country, I've also seen them defeated."
Fray looked back, skeptical.
"I have seen the purple flame. I have seen the creatures that walk the night. I've sent scouting parties to try to learn more about them. None have returned."
He paused as he considered them. Ealrin felt bad for their trying to deceive him. He probably had sent soldiers he knew well and trained to go find out about the monsters. To not have them return must have been a hard blow.
"You are saying that you are better trained and more knowledgeable than even the Red Guard?"
Ealrin wanted to ensure the next words he spoke were done so carefully.
“Not better trained. I've heard tales of the Red Guard's superiority.”
This was a lie altogether. Ealrin had never heard of the army of Beaton before arriving at Mountain Gate. But he did want to praise Fray where he could.
“What I do know is that I have seen one defeated with magic. Rimstone, to be exact. The beast was nearly ready to strike out and destroy the entire army of Thoran. Had it not been for the bravery of Holve Bravestead, the renowned general, none of us would stand here today.”
As Ealrin spoke, the room became darker. It was early in the morning and the suns should have been shining brightly into the office. As Ealrin wove his tale, he noticed Jurgon mumbling under his breath and twisting a small glowing charm in his fingers.
“With one blow from his enchanted spear, he struck down the monster and saved his country. Unfortunately, his spear was stolen from us, but we know that it has traveled into Beaton.”
Fray looked right and left at the company, noticing the darkening room and becoming more tense in his chair. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead.
“Hey now!” he said, his voice faltering. “What's going on?”
Ealrin continued in his deepest voice he could muster.
“The one who allowed the man who stole the spear that could save his country must repent of this wrong. Or a curse will fall upon his city.”
Ealrin knew what was coming, but still almost flinched as flames sprung up from his shoulders and head, wreathing him in fire.
But he felt no warmth or pain.
“Let us pass,” he continued, arms outstretched. “And you shall be spared.”
The old man nearly fell out of his chair as he looked on Ealrin, horrified.
“You may pass! You may pass! I'll sign the papers!”
He ran out of the room, calling for one of his attendants to get him the travel papers for eight persons.
“Quickly!” he shouted as he passed through the hallway of the Red Guard's building.
The flames around Ealrin went out and Jurgon chuckled as the room returned to its normal light.
“Were those fires to your liking, sir?” Jurrin asked with a sly grin.
19: Miss Greer's Home for the Helpless
Blume gasped as she saw Drake outlined in the doorway to their room, knowing that even if he had only just arrived there, he would have heard her say too much.
“Well, well,” he said as he stepped into the room, pulling down the sheet that was used for their privacy. “A dwarf, an elf, and a girl who talks too loudly to keep secrets.”
He chuckled dryly.
“I bet somebody would pay a lot of coins to find out about you three,” he said as he scratched his chin.
Jeremy had stood up on the bed, making him only come up to Drake's chest. Abigail huddled more into a ball, a look o
f terror on her face.
Blume stood defiant.
“And I bet your parents would disown you if you turned us in!” she challenged, hoping to buy them some time.
It didn't work.
Drake put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed so tightly Blume let out a small squeal of pain. Jeremy tried to jump on him, but Drake simply shoved the dwarf back onto the bed. His head hit the wall right beside Abigail with a thud.
“And I bet your life that you'll never get the chance to tell them what happened here tonight. Unless you have something better to offer me than...money,” he said. His breath reeked of alcohol. As he looked at Blume, she saw a hunger in his eyes that terrified her. He wasn't talking about anything they had of value to trade.
A fury rose up inside her.
“Get your hand off of me,” she demanded through clenched teeth.
Drake leaned in closer and nearly whispered in Blume's ear.
“Make me,” he said.
The blast of energy that sprang from Blume's hand sent Drake flying backwards into the hallway.
She nearly fainted as she felt the energy being drained from her body. Holding back was still a lesson in Speaking that she needed to learn. Blume steeled herself and grabbed Abigail and Jeremy by the hands.
Jeremy had been clutching his head, with Abigail next to him, seeing if he was ok.
“Grab your things,” she told them. “We have to leave. Now!”
They each shoved their belongings into a sheet or towel, tied them up, and ran down the stairs.
Drake was stirring in the hallway. A terrible sounding moan escaped his lips.
Blume wasn't sorry she didn't kill him.
Several patrons poked their heads out of their doors to see what all the commotion was. When the trio got to the bottom of the last staircase, Beryl was there in her night clothes and hat. She had her broom in her hands as if she was wielding a sword.
“What in heaven's name is going on, Blume?” she asked them. Then her eyes went wide as she stared at Abigail.
“You're.... You're an elf!? In my inn!”
Blume looked back and realized that in the commotion, Abigail hadn't put her bandana back on. Her ears were prominently displayed for all to see.
Abigail tried to reach for the headpiece in her towel and say something to the innkeeper's wife at the same time.
“Drake attacked Blume, Miss Beryl. He nearly...”
“Suns protect us, an elf!” she said loudly over Abigail. She swung her broom in their direction. “Shoo! Get out! Out I say! Blume, my darling, come away from that creature!”
But Blume didn't heed Beryl's words. She grabbed Abigail's hand and ran from the inn as quickly as she could. Jeremy followed closely behind. Many more guests were stirring and coming down the stairs to see what all the yelling was about.
They didn't stand around to try to explain themselves any further to anyone.
Out into the streets of Sea Gate, the trio fled.
***
THE CITY WAS STILL bustling with life, but not the kind that was appropriate for daylight. Blume had steered them clear of the main street and onto a different area of town that was closer to the docks. The Sly Pirate was on the north side of Sea Gate. Blume was taking them as far south as she could judge.
Beggars walked the streets, talking to other vagabonds or warming themselves by makeshift fires.
A few women, dressed in revealing clothing and fancy jewelry, talked with any passerby who walked by the heavily perfumed building. Many different colored lights came from the first floor windows, but on the second story of the building, not an opening could be seen.
On an old bench, several men sat and smoked their pipes, watching Blume, Jeremy, and Abigail walk by.
“Why can't we stop, Blume?” Abigail asked. “Not that I've seen any nice places to stop and rest, but I mean, why can't we stop and try to figure out where we are and try to find a place to sleep tonight? I'm awfully tired and my feet hurt.”
Blume looked back at Abigail and saw the tired look on her face. Her own feet were dragging as well. Jeremy looked better than they did, but he may have just been trying to look like he was ok.
In truth, they were all exhausted.
Blume turned down one street, then another, and then an alleyway.
They found themselves, once again, in a dark alley with stone walls on either side. Blume directed them behind some boxes, pushed a few to block them from sight, and then sat down, exhausted, on the sheet and blanket she had purloined from the Sly Pirate.
“I was hoping for another inn, Blume,” Abigail said pitifully as she also sat down on the dusty alleyway floor. “Maybe we can find one in this area, though it seems a little bit more of a run-down part of town in my opinion.”
“We can no longer find comfort in a reputable lodging facility, I fear,” Jeremy interjected, his back turned to them as he looked over the boxes and barrels for any potential followers.
Abigail blinked and looked up at him.
“Why's that?” she inquired.
Blume ached for the realization Abigail would have. That she, as well as Jeremy, had already assumed.
“Abi,” Jeremy said in a consoling tone as he dropped down beside her. “We just ran from a small inn with a very old innkeeper who has lots of friends in the city. Many of them, I'm sure, will soon hear about the elf who hid her race as she worked for The Sly Pirate. And if they see Blume or myself, they'll know for sure that we are still with you. And if they find out your true lineage...”
Jeremy shuddered.
“You heard Beryl. Even after all you've done to help her run her business, she told you to shoo. Just because of your blood. Because of your race.”
A small tear trickled down Abigail's cheek.
“But... but... she was so nice before. Maybe... maybe she didn't mean to say...”
She wasn't really able to get out many more words than that. She buried her head in Jeremy's shoulder and Blume looked on at them.
An elf and a dwarf in a city that didn't want them. Far from their parents. Far from anything they had known as familiar.
Maybe Jeremy was right.
Maybe they needed to find a way home.
She was so tired, though. Her spell and the subsequent flight from the inn had winded her. She needed rest. They all needed food. A plan to get home would have to wait until morning.
Blume had just come to that conclusion, when a box tumbled over and a man wielding a whip and a near toothless grin stepped forward.
“Ah. Some street urchins, eh? It's to the shops with you three!”
A crack of his whip was the last thing Blume heard before passing out.
***
BLUME WOKE TO THE SMELL of dust and sweat. She jerked awake as she realized she was sleeping on some terrible smelling mattress. It took her a moment to orient herself and take in her surroundings.
She was in a warehouse with a three story high ceiling. Several low burning lamps showed her that she was not alone. Rows and rows of bunk beds were neatly lined up in four rows. Two touched the walls of the giant room, while the middle two touched each other. The sound of a large group of collective breathing echoed in her ears. She looked down at her body and saw that, instead of the clothes she had worn in the escape from the inn, she wore a stained nightgown and nothing more.
Then she remembered.
She had been nearly drug here by a group of men, led by the one with the whip. Blume was so exhausted she had barely been able to walk, let alone protest. Their belongings had been taken and put into a chest, and then they were given these awful clothes to wear.
Wait a moment, Blume thought as she processed what had happened. Jeremy! Abigail!
She looked frantically about for signs of her friends. She didn't need to look far for one of them.
Abigail was sleeping in the bunk above hers. Or at least, she was lying down. When Blume jumped out of her bed to look around, she had just barely laid eyes on her compa
nion when a voice called out.
“Hey! You! Back in bed!”
The shrill call echoed throughout the warehouse. Many of those who had been feigning sleeping gasped sharply.
Blume, still too tired to resist, climbed back into bed and began to whisper to Abigail.
“Psst. Psst. Abigail. Are you ok?” she said as softly as she could, hoping she could be heard.
A squeak was her only answer.
“Abigail,” Blume continued. “I don't know where we are, but I'm going to get us out of here.”
“Hush!” came a whisper, not from the same shrill voice that previously quieted Blume, but from another, much closer and smaller sounding person.
“Do you want breakfast in the morning or not? Keep quiet!”
Blume didn't respond to the voice, or even dare look over to see where it came from.
All she heard were the small, stifled sobs from the girl lying on the bunk just above her.
***
BEFORE EITHER OF THE suns had risen to shine their light through the large windows of the bunkroom, a horn blast sounded. Blume nearly fell out of her bed. The others around her were much quicker to their feet and their shoes as the same shrill voice from last night called out.
“Breakfast! If you ain't there in five minutes, you won't have a scrap to eat!”
Blume saw, laid neatly next to her bed, two pairs of beat up shoes. They looked to be ten years old at least. Abigail quietly climbed down from her bed. She didn't look Blume in the eye. Instead she just stared at the ground.
“Hey! New kids!” called a girl who was walking quickly past them. “You better hurry up if you want something to eat. But don't get your hopes up about how good it'll be.”
Blume noticed the girl seemed no older than ten and wore the same type of stained nightgown as she did. Her hair was tangled and her shoes mismatched.