by Aya Knight
The dimly lit building was dingy, with a dangling wooden sign, held by two chains, which had foreign writing carved onto the front. Thomas pointed out the symbol in the left corner; three vertical lines, the standard markings to let travelers across the region know that it was a welcoming place to rest. The old sorcerer gently rapped upon the wooden door.
In silence, they waited until the faint spark of candlelight could be seen moving toward them. The door creaked open and a frail, old woman with bronzed skin could be seen. She greeted them wearily with a heavy accent, and welcomed them inside.
The interior was much quainter than Braxle’s inn and Kale couldn’t help but make comparisons. There were two small tables, indicating travelers in the area were scarce. A couple of bar stools lined a tall counter, telling them the inn also functioned as the village tavern.
“Please sit.” The woman gestured to the tables. Her dark eyes inspected each from head to toe. “I make food.”
Kale struggled to distinguish her words through the thick accent. “Many thanks,” he replied in hope that he’d properly understood.
Illadar, Kale, and Neelan sat and discussed their limited options while Thomas remained completely silent. He stroked his long beard in thought while holding a stern gaze upon the table. Moments later a young man appeared in loose-fitting shirt and pants without shoes. He carried a wide tray topped with four clay bowls.
“Freesh loop,” the man said as he gently set the bowls upon the table. His dark eyes, tanned skin, and shaped lips immediately revealed that he was the woman’s son. Their resemblance was uncanny. He humbly bowed, clapping his palms together and dipping his head down in respect before walking out of the room.
“What in Pan’s name did he say?” Kale questioned as he eyed the bowl of chunky liquid.
Illadar laughed aloud before dropping his voice to a hushed tone. “He said fresh soup. Your manners never change, kid.” He shook his head with another silent laugh.
“It appears to be tomato soup with diced potatoes,” Thomas added.
Illadar leaned in and took a sip of the broth from his wooden spoon. “Not bad either.”
They finished their meal and paid the woman to use the bathing room. She immediately heated a scarce amount of water for the tub and provided each with a cotton drying cloth.
“Only can fill half. Water supply low,” the woman spoke with disappointment as she left the room.
Neelan hurried first and Kale found himself struggling not to accidentally walk in on her.
Not long after, she emerged with her wet hair swept back upon her head, leaving her high cheek-bones and delicate features accented. She slung her bow over a shoulder and approached Kale. “That was incredibly refreshing. You should clean yourself now. You’re beginning to smell like the walking dead.”
Kale grunted before hanging a cotton cloth around his neck. “Fine.” He took a step directly in front of Neelan and inhaled. “Ah, your odorous smell has finally relinquished itself to the warm bath waters. Such a shame I must now wallow in your stench.” He grinned playfully and walked toward the bathing room.
A damp wad smacked against the back of his head and he quickly turned to see Neelan flash a smile before dashing out of sight. Kale chuckled and approached the tub. Though the water was low, he maneuvered his body and sank down until the surface rest just below his nose. It felt amazing and instantly soothed his aching muscles. A laugh escaped his lips as he reminisced about the irony of his life.
The Black Dragon, Firehart—no more than a thin man, soaking in a tub and enjoying human luxuries. He thought to himself. Yet, despite this, he felt whole. He released a long, content sigh and leaned his head back. The water rushed over his ears and numbed all sound. His eyes shut, as a wide grin spread upon his face. This is amazing.
His lids slowly parted in bliss, only to find the sight of an old withered face staring down at him. “What in Pan’s name?!” Kale shot up and out of the tub, swiping the drying cloth and holding it in front of his bare body. “Thomas?”
“I have been attempting to call you for some time now. Dress yourself quickly and join us.” Thomas turned uncomfortably and quickly left the room.
“This had better be good,” Kale muttered loudly.
“I assure you, it will be,” Thomas replied from the other room.
Chapter 14: Illadar’s Nobility
They gathered around one of the tables and Thomas immediately leaned in. He dropped his tone to a hushed whisper and widened his emerald eyes.
“I know where the tower is!” He quietly exclaimed. “I thought it all sounded terribly familiar and it picked at my brain since we’ve arrived here. The tower was once home to Oran; an incredibly powerful sorcerer and founder of the Romlits Academy—a school I attended as a youth to train in the magical arts. This same sorcerer is the very individual who cast the barrier around The Forest of Forgotten Whispers. I have travelled to this very tower long, long ago during a course on arcane history. The land in which this tower rests upon emits an intensely powerful aura. If Zasha resides there, I feel more is happening than we expect.”
“That is wonderful news, Thomas!” Neelan squeezed his hand. “We should leave at once!”
“How many days will it take to arrive?” Kale questioned, trying to tame his excitement.
“I cannot say for certain; though I anticipate two weeks on foot,” Thomas replied.
Kale sighed. “We’d better begin. If it weren’t for those sand bags, we could teleport. I sure hope we cross paths with the real Beshin, to end this once and for all.”
“If we hold a steady pace, I believe we will cover a great amount of terrain before making camp at dusk,” Thomas said as he stood and stretched his tired muscles.
They bid thanks to the old woman and her son before returning to where Reem and his men waited. Neelan glanced in all directions before kneeling to the ground. She lowered her face to the sand and spoke, “Reem, it’s safe to show yourself.”
“My Queen, I can hear you fine from above,” Reem spoke.
“Oh…” Neelan flushed as she hurried to her feet. “Right.”
The sand began to twirl swiftly upon the ground and many small cyclones lifted into the air. Each crumpled pile of clothing hovered above, spiraling violently in the center of each whirling funnel of sand. The fabric expanded, and sand filled the inside until taking the shape of a human body. In a fluid motion, they each fell to a single knee before Neelan.
Neelan looked away, embarrassed and uncomfortable by the unusual treatment. “You may stand.” Her eyes shot to each side, ensuring no one from the village had woken to their commotion. “We need to leave, the sun is rising.”
The pale, pink hues lit the horizon and a sense of serenity surrounded them as they embarked onto the open sands. As the sun crept higher into the sky, green tips of pine trees came into view. A pleasant ambiance filled the air as a flock of red birds soared above.
“Thank goodness, we’re out of the desert. I’d die happy if I never set foot there again,” Neelan sarcastically spoke, but with truth behind her words. She tapped the remaining sand from her boots and patted down her skirt.
Thomas inspected the sky, determining which direction the sun was moving. They set off down a deserted path that wound in and out of the lush forest perimeter. The climate had changed dramatically since stepping foot outside of the desert. Though still warm, it no longer felt as though they were being baked alive.
Neelan admired the vast wildlife in the area, pointing out each squirrel and deer they crossed.
Kale couldn’t help but to turn away from the creatures, for fear he would allow his animalistic desires to overtake him. Despite living as a human, there were still many times when his innate cravings would press upon him. Regardless of how many years he dwelled the earth as a human, his heart
would always beat as a dragon’s.
The hours passed and the sun slowly descended in the sky. They weaved back into the forest where tall branches offered instant relief from the heat.
In a sudden movement, Illadar held an arm out in front of Kale, stopping him in his tracks.
“What are you—” Kale’s voice was stifled as Illadar smacked a palm across his mouth.
“Shh. I hear somethin’.” Illadar cupped his ear and carefully listened.
“Yes, Kale, he is correct,” Neelan added. “A female. I can hear her struggling.”
“We will aid in any way able, upon your command, my Queen,” Reem spoke.
“Please remain back for now. Only attempt to intervene should this not be as it seems. We do not need to cause unnecessary alarm,” Neelan replied.
“Let’s go!” Illadar dashed forward. “She must be hurt.”
“I see we are not adhering to the cautious route.” Thomas sighed. “I do hope this is not a thieves trail or we could be setting ourselves up for trouble.” He shook his head and followed the others.
They came upon a horse-drawn wagon that had lost a wheel. Two black stallions bound to the front stood tall and silent; their muscular legs sturdy, in place.
“Hello? Is someone there?” A woman’s voice called from the opposite side of the wagon. “Please, if anyone can hear me, I am in need of help. My foot has been injured when my wagon tipped.”
“Do not worry, we’ve come to help you.” Illadar hurried around to the other side and abruptly paused. The sight of the woman instantly took his breath away.
Her raven hair cascaded down her back in perfect curls. Her porcelain-toned skin created a flawless appearance to her facial features. A tightened corset accented her feminine curves in an alluring manner.
Illadar cleared his throat and shook his head. He knelt next to the woman and gently lifted her ankle. As she flinched in discomfort, Illadar assured her that everything would be all right. He pressed softly into the tender meat of her foot and asked the woman to inform him when pain struck. By the third time, Illadar applied pressure, the woman cried out in agony, tugging her foot from his grasp.
“My apologies, but I believe you may have broken it,” Illadar stated while locking eyes with hers. His breathing intensified and he forced himself to glance away for fear of becoming lost within her stunning beauty. Not since Kleana had he felt any attraction toward a woman. His heart had been completely frigid, until now. His chest throbbed in a steadily swift pattern as he uncomfortably stood.
Illadar cupped a hand over his mouth and forced a cough. “Thomas, can you help her? I don’t think it will take much to conjure a healin’ spell that can fix her up.” he stated, while trying to shake off the unaccustomed feelings.
“No! I don’t trust them—only you. I fear all things magic,” the woman replied.
“I give my word that he will cause you no pain. He is a highly skilled veteran of spell-casting.”
She furrowed her brows and shot a glance at Thomas. With another look back at Illadar, she quickly softened her expression and silently nodded. “As long as you will take my hand, noble savior.”
Illadar smiled and tilted his head toward Thomas.
The old sorcerer paused a moment before clearing his throat and stepping toward the woman. “I find it interesting that a young lady like yourself would be travelling through the woods alone.” He moved his palm across her foot; once more pausing as though in a brief moment of thought. “None the less, I cannot leave you in pain.” He locked his eyes to hers. “Shall we then?” He awaited her approval before casting a mending spell upon her.
“Unbelievable! It feels completely healed!” The woman braced herself upon Illadar’s shoulder and stood. “I apologize for my poor manners; I have not yet introduced myself. My name is Marg, and I am honored to make your acquaintance.” She curtsied before Illadar, paying no mind to Thomas, Kale, or Neelan.
Illadar introduced himself and his companions. It was the first time in many weeks that they had seen him genuinely smile. Marg kept a hand lightly upon his forearm as they spoke.
“I do hate to interrupt this wonderful conversation,” Kale spoke, poorly hiding his sarcasm, “but I do believe we must be on our way now.”
“Come now, kid; we can’t leave her with a damaged wagon. It’s just an issue with the axle; I can have it fixed quickly,” Illadar spoke as he lifted the thick wheel.
Kale had never seen Illadar behave in such a manner. From the tone in his voice, to the movement of his body—there was something obviously different about him. Kale laughed to himself at the realization that Illadar was interested in Marg. In all the time Kale and Illadar had spent together, he had not once seen Illadar fancy a single female. It was rather amusing to watch as he fumbled around anxiously.
“There we are. The wheel should be secured now,” Illadar told her while holding his sweaty palms tightly together.
“How can I repay you for your kindness?” Marg bit at her lower lip. “I’ve got it! Please allow me to escort you to your destination. We can use my wagon to expedite your arrival. I am only carrying a couple of bags filled with grain; there is no dire need for rush.” She gripped Illadar’s hand into hers. “Please—I insist.”
Thomas stroked at his beard. “Oddly enough, I do not recall seeing those bags here when we first arrived.” He added to the conversation with a frown of doubt.
Illadar glanced toward his friends and Kale could immediately read the look of hope within his dark eyes.
“I suppose it would be a good idea. It would save us a few nights, at least … though there is one small problem.” Kale pointed through the foliage.
Marg released a shrill cry as she gazed upon the many cloth-covered bodies standing behind the brush.
“What is going on here?!” Marg quickly ducked down, peering cautiously out from around the wagon. “Please spare my life, I have done no wrong to you.”
“Don’t worry yourself. They are with us and we bring you no harm,” Illadar spoke while extending his arm to assist her up.
Marg questioned whether or not they were part of an army, and what their purpose in the forest was.
Illadar began to speak when Thomas bluntly interrupted. He stated they were no more than a group of wanderers. He informed her that they roamed across Ravondore in search of work within different villages, before moving onto the next—it was their way of life, to explore new destinations.
Marg hung onto each word with intrigue. She explained that her life was simple and spent mostly on her father’s farm.
Thomas raised a brow. He found it incredibly hard to believe that someone wearing such scanty attire would be caught milking livestock or harvesting crops.
“Enough idle chatter. We must get moving. Dusk is upon us and soon it will be too dark to travel.” Kale interrupted.
“I regret to say that we cannot all fit within my wagon.” Marg replied with a frown.
“We do not desire to ride. We can maintain pace behind,” Reem spoke while keeping a purposeful distance from Marg so she would not discover their true identities.
Before Marg could respond, Neelan added, “They really will be fine walking—they prefer it. We will ride with you.”
Illadar assisted Marg into the wagon, followed by Kale, who carried Neelan within his arms.
They rode down the winding path, which stretched for miles. Kale couldn’t help but admire Neelan as she gazed down upon their surroundings. He fancied how the simplest things in life could put a smile upon her face.
The lush pines bordering each side of the trail extended their branches. The overgrowth had caused them to intertwine around one another, creating a solid canopy of lush leaves as far as they could see. A final chirp could be heard within the forest, and they knew the birds
were nestling down for the night, high above the ground in the safety of the branches. Twilight had approached and steering the wagon proved difficult with nothing more than the light from Marg’s lantern. They pressed on for a brief period longer, until the oil began to run dry.
“I believe it would be best for us to make camp now—that is, if you don’t mind my company.” Marg tilted a cheek toward Illadar and eyed him with a hopeful expression. “The woods ahead are rumored to home vicious beings known as monsloths. We will surely place ourselves in jeopardy should we enter their territory at night.”
Kale’s eyes widened. The memory of his encounter with the creatures was vividly burned into his mind. From their clever ambush, to their prominent lust for blood, they were not a band to be trifled with. He took one look at Neelan before nodding in agreement. He had made a promise to protect the woman he loved, and placing her in obvious danger was not an option to him. Even with the force of the sand-people on their side, the risk was too great for his comfort.
They discovered a small clearing off the trail and settled in. Marg roped her stallions to a nearby tree before seating herself next to Illadar.
“Do you often travel alone?” Illadar finally questioned.
“No, my eldest brother has always accompanied me—rather, I accompany him…” Marg sighed. “As of late, he has grown weak with an illness and can no longer fulfill our duties to the farm. My other brother has moved from our village and begun a family of his own with no regard to our well-being.”
“You’re a strong woman,” Illadar replied. “It can’t be easy on you to have such burdens. You walk a dangerous path; there could be monstrous creatures lurking anywhere within this forest, and yet you brave it alone—you’d be an easy target, you know.”