by James Somers
Morning had fully come by the time Ethan and Gideon arrived inside Tilley Town. They passed what appeared to be a separate shantytown on its outskirts. Old run down shacks with thatch roofs stood in long rows on either side of the road. Most had been cobbled together from scraps of lumber and mud bricks.
The sight was dreary enough without seeing the people who lived here, but it was still very early yet. The smell, however, had not retired with the residents. The foul stench had assaulted Ethan and Gideon from well outside the shantytown, only growing worse as they rode through.
The conditions improved when they reached the metropolitan area of Tilley. People bustled about in the early morning sun. The main road traveled through a vast market area where merchants busied themselves setting out the day’s goods. The early birds had already set up their wares and had begun to make their calls to the passersby.
Many different smells ascended from the market place, creating a blend of aromas both delightful and exotic. Cooks prepared food on large, flat iron skillets setting upon mud-brick foundations with fire kindled inside. Others stirred boiling caldrons with spices and various kinds of fish, creating thick gumbos and stews for the many travelers and sailors making port in the city.
This early in the morning, the more unsavory elements of the city still gathered behind closed doors sleeping off the previous night’s debauchery. It would be hours before any of them ventured outdoors again in preparation for another scandalous evening of revelry.
Gideon led them through the market to where the hill crested. Beyond the minor horizon on the road, the boys saw the Azure Sea stretch out beyond their sight. The masts of tall sailing ships jutted into the sky by the dozens along the shoreline like a forest of burnt trees.
The Azure Sea stood in stark contrast to the city of Tilley around them. Seeing the two together reminded Ethan of a sapphire dropped into the mud, its beauty still there but tarnished by the association.
“Larger than you expected, isn’t it?” Gideon asked as they continued riding. Horse and wagon traffic began to pick up steadily, especially as they descended toward the harbor area.
“Yes, it is. I was just wondering—”
“Why it’s called a town? It just got bigger and bigger, but no one ever bothered to change the designation. Now that Mordred is in power, no one really bothers with bureaucracy. Everyone is just trying to figure out how to survive on a day to day basis as he takes more and more from them.”
“Tilley certainly seems to be thriving,” Ethan said.
“Sin always does in a wicked world, Ethan, sin always does.”
Ethan remained quiet after that, at least for a while. The statement bothered him. Sin was a part of who man was—at least what man had become, after his rebellion to Shaddai.
Something set off Ethan’s senses, drawing him from his musings on the natural man. He looked up, noticing a blur of motion moving through the streets ahead of them. The crowds thickened as people came outdoors, tending to their daily business. But what Ethan saw had not been the movement of bustling crowds in the street of a busy city. These were the preternatural movements of demons.
“What is it, Ethan?” Gideon asked.
Ethan’s attention snapped back to Gideon, his expression intense. “There are demons moving through the streets ahead,” he whispered.
Gideon nodded. Fortunately, he had disguised his priestly appearance with the cloak. Hopefully, the demons still couldn’t see Ethan. “Gideon they can’t see me, but what about Whistler?” Ethan asked.
Gideon reached over nonchalantly to take the reins from Ethan’s hand. “Tell me where they are,” Gideon whispered.
“There are several hovering over the street traffic,” Ethan said. “There coming this way, searching among the people…probably for us.”
Gideon assumed a casual posture, continuing to ride with Whistler’s reins in his hand. The horse had fallen slightly behind, flanking Gideon’s horse. Ethan watched intently as the demons floated just above the heads of the people milling about in the streets.
The demons were searching for two people. The call had gone out through their ranks in this region. They scanned the crowd for a priest of Shaddai in brown robes with a red sash and a young boy with blonde hair, tan shirt, and breeches. When they reached Gideon, they saw a man in a dark green cloak with two horses. There was an old woman with an apple cart and a man purchasing from her nearby. A wagon with a team of two horses passed by on the opposite side of the street with a man and two children—one boy, one girl. An elderly couple walked across a wooden porch in front of a store. A man with a brown dog crossed the street, carrying a piece of fish and a steaming loaf of new bread. They had seen nothing out of the ordinary—no priest, no boy.
THE WEARY TRAVELER
After Ethan and Gideon had spent the better part of an hour making their way through the streets of Tilley, they came to a large inn. Ethan saw few other demons searching for them. “We should stop for a meal and inquire about passage across the Azure Sea,” Gideon said, steering the horses toward the large wooden building ahead. The sign read, The Weary Traveler Inn.
Large alleyways stretched down either side of the building. In the housing district, the alleys were lined with heaps of garbage. A spider web of criss-crossing lines hung between buildings on which hundreds of pieces of stained laundry swayed in the sea breeze to dry. But here in the business district, things had been kept marginally cleaner. Ethan assumed the merchants wanted to keep down on the filth in order to encourage business.
Hitching posts stood along one side of the building. A young boy waited to water and feed the animals and to take them back to the horse stalls for customers who would be staying overnight in the inn. “I’m not sure if we’ll have to stay the night, or not, Ethan. It just depends on what ships are available and when,” Gideon said.
“What about money?”
“Money won’t be a problem for us. The Order has provided.”
Gideon led the horses to the hitching posts beside the Weary Traveler. He and Ethan dismounted casually. Most people probably would not have noticed the nearly imperceptible way Gideon passed his sword and scabbard from the blanket wrap to his cloak. Ethan did.
They left the horses with the servant boy, then walked around to the front of the inn. A wooden plaque read, No Weapons Allowed. Gideon rolled his eyes. “Most of the people inside will be armed—some to the teeth,” Gideon whispered. “The innkeeper is a dim one indeed if he doesn’t know it. That sign is only there so the local law can issue fines with greater ease.” They faced a large mahogany door. “Are you ready then? There will be some rough customers in here, maybe even pirates or highwaymen,” Gideon said.
Ethan put on his best mask of determination. He supposed he had already seen worse in his life than whoever might be lurking about in the Weary Traveler Inn. What could be worse than demons? At any rate, he was with a warrior-priest of Shaddai and likely the best in his Order. Gideon gave him a wink and said, “Don’t let them see any fear in your eyes and stick close to me.” He pulled his hood up as he pushed on the heavy wooden door and entered the Weary Traveler Inn.
As soon as they walked into the inn, a pungent smell assaulted their senses—old sweat, spilt ale and urine. A secondary aroma began to filter through, bread baking and sausages.
The Weary Traveler was decorated in rich dark woods and sailing artifacts—an anchor, a net, and even a helm—all bolted to the walls. A large main room trailed down the far side of the bar while a set of stairs consisting of two flights ascended to a landing up on a second floor. Here there were rooms for rent depending upon the clientele needs.
On the main floor, tables sat here and there and booths lined the walls. Everything looked well worn but sturdy. The only light in the main room came from oil lamps and candles. There were no windows.
This was the sort of place where sinister bargains were made, where secrets were told, and where plots were planned. The inn held a feeling of
restrained danger like sleeping lions in a cage. Ethan felt like a piece of fresh meat right now. These people lived on the edge of danger, even thrived upon it. They could spot fear from a mile away and knew a hundred different ways to exploit it to their own advantage.
Ethan stayed behind Gideon as they walked through the room. His eyes danced from table to table and along the bar. Everyone watched them, even the people who never seemed to look at them directly. They were a rough looking sort—the kind who would laugh and toast their glass high with you one moment, only to turn around and stab you in the back the next.
Other things moved in the Weary Traveler—things which were not human, clinging to shadows, hating the light. Ethan’s flesh began to crawl and the hairs on his neck stood erect. Demons dwelt in this place.
Gideon led them through the morass of gamblers and drinkers to the bar. A thick middle-aged man wiped glasses behind the curved slab of mahogany. He kept his eyes darting from the rag to the boys as they approached. When they reached the brass rail edging the counter, he said, “What’ll it be gentlemen?”
“Cool water and a plate of bread and cheese,” Gideon said. Ethan took a strong whiff of sausages cooking over a flame in the kitchen area. “And bring the boy some sausages too.”
The barkeep laid a weary eye on the pair. Gideon slapped a silver coin down on the counter, and the man snapped to attention. The money erased any trace of doubt on his face. “Yes sir, coming right up, gentlemen.”
Gideon left his index finger standing on the silver coin. “We’ll be needing a room for this and some information.”
The barkeep nodded and stepped into the kitchen briefly. Gideon did not remove his hood. The more mysterious and secretive they appeared the less likely anyone would come bothering them. When the man returned, he brought with him the meat, bread, cheese, and water. It all smelled wonderful, and Ethan dug right in.
“My friend and I are looking for passage across the Azure,” Gideon said.
The barkeep leaned in with his elbow on the countertop. “And what might your destination be?”
“It might be Emmanuel,” Gideon said, his voice very low so that only the barkeep could hear him.
The man’s eyes flicked side to side before he answered. “I might be able to recommend someone to you.”
Gideon slapped a copper on the counter. The man snapped it up quickly before continuing. “There’s a certain captain whose vessel is taking on provisions for a journey across the Azure two days from now. I could make the arrangements for you, if you like.”
Gideon slid another silver coin across the mahogany. The man slapped his hand down upon it, but when he raised it again, the coin was gone. He looked at Gideon and found him twirling the piece of money between his fingers playfully. “When services are performed to my liking,” he said.
The man gave him the slightest sneer, watching the shiny silver twirling through Gideon’s fingers. “I’ll make the arrangements personally,” he said. From the shadows across the room, several men watched as Gideon tucked the money back in the purse underneath his cloak.
Ethan continued to wolf down the food. Gideon started slicing a piece of the cheese for himself, but stopped in mid-cut. Movement from behind them caught his attention. The air shifted. He felt vibrations, heard creaks in the flooring. Several men walked toward them from a table across the room.
Gideon did not react, did not lower his hood, but he did remove the knife from the block of cheese, placing it under his cloak. Gideon watched Ethan eyes. The boy had a better view of what was coming. Ethan had stopped chewing and was looking at the men as they approached.
“How many?” Gideon whispered
“Four.”
“Stay calm. I’ll handle it,” he said. Gideon remained cool and collected. His training as a warrior-priest had taught him many things. He knew more than one hundred ways to kill a man and many more ways to place someone in gut-wrenching pain, forcing their submission.
The only thing he wondered was how seriously these men felt about their reasons for intruding. Gideon supposed they had seen the money and wanted it. Silver coins were hard to come by these days and someone with an apparent abundance of them, in a place like the Weary Traveler Inn, was just asking for trouble.
In a way, Gideon had hoped this might happen. He wanted everyone to know to keep their distance. Therefore, it was helpful for someone to volunteer and prove his point. Whoever these four gentlemen were, they had just made a bad choice.
One of the men came over and stood behind Ethan. He wore a beard with plenty of gray streaking through it. He was dressed like a mariner, probably a pirate, and his portly belly placed a strain on his wide belt and steel buckle. Ethan glanced back at the man, but stayed calm as Gideon had instructed. The man leered maniacally at the boy, waiting.
The other three men stood behind Gideon. They could not see his face, could not tell how young he actually was. If they had, it would have only made matters progress more swiftly. They would’ve supposed a man as young as Gideon to be easy prey—an unwise assumption.
The men flanking Gideon were average pirates, not very clean, personal grooming not high on their list of priorities. One wore a bicorn hat. The other was almost bald. Both men were missing a fair number of their original teeth, and many others looked in need of falling out.
The leader wore a captain’s tricorn hat with a scarlet, velveteen waistcoat that was cleaner than one might expect with a brace of pistols extending from shoulder to hip. A cutlass dangled in a scabbard from his left hip and his right hand was already patting a dagger in his belt, just beneath his jacket.
“I see you ‘ave some shiny silver pretties over ‘ere,” the pirate captain said. His voice bellowed deep and menacing. Obviously, he knew how to intimidate folk, using it to his advantage.
Gideon whispered a prayer under his breath. He always did at times like this. When he turned to face the men, Gideon noticed surprise light on their faces, their smiles growing noticeably. He was younger than they had expected and it bolstered their confidence. This would be like taking candy from a baby.
The captain showed his unkempt smile. “Well now, you lads just ‘and over that purse and we’ll be on our way. No need in either of you gettin ‘urt.”
“No,” Gideon said. The pirate captain had not expected to hear that word. It was evidently rare someone dared say it to him—the sort of word that got a man keelhauled.
Anger washed over the captain’s face, while surprise covered the faces of his men. The captain grabbed the dagger he had been petting beneath the left flap of his waistcoat, loosing the weapon. He tried to bring it down in his right hand to put a quick end to the miserable whelp standing before him.
Gideon moved as fluidly as water through a pipe, following a pre-plotted course without need of thought. He caught the captain’s hand inside his wrist, rotating it outward while forcing the whole arm down. From underneath his cloak, Gideon’s left knee bent up to meet the captain’s elbow.
The limb cracked at the joint. With his right hand, Gideon pulled one of the captain’s pistols from the brace across his chest. Gideon cocked the hammer as his arm extended in the direction of the pirate to his right, bringing the barrel right up under the man’s chin before the pirate even realized what was happening.
“Tell them to stand down,” Gideon said. He still had a hold on the captain’s wrist, twisting the broken arm to emphasize his point.
The captain howled in pain, just barely able to voice the order as tears streaked through the dirt on his face. “STAND DOWN! STAND DOWN!”
In a potentially deadly situation, no one had died. The two men not encumbered by the priest had not even had time to blink before the situation completely turned from their advantage to their captain’s heavy-breathed begging. They both stood stunned.
“Relieve these men of their weapons, Ethan,” Gideon said.
Ethan happily complied, removing every weapon from the men he could find, including th
e captain’s dagger, which had fallen on the floor. When Ethan had finished, a fair pile of weapons sat on the bar next to their food.
None of the other patrons moved. No one appeared eager to come to these pirates’ rescue. Gideon gave another slight twist as he leaned into the pirate captain’s ear. “If I were you, sir, I would have a physician take a look at this arm. It will need to be set quickly for good healing.”
The captain gritted his teeth, sweating profusely, which only exacerbated the odor in the Weary Traveler Inn. Gideon let him go as the pirates all backed away under the stare of Gideon’s pistol. Two of his men attempted to help their captain, but he refused. “Leave off, you gutter rats! Don’t touch it,” he said, holding the arm protectively against his body. He staggered toward the door with his men following. “This isn’t over, boy,” he spat. The heavy door closed after them with a loud bang.
Gideon procured the brace of pistols for himself and handed Ethan the captain’s cutlass and scabbard. The rest he pushed across the bar toward the keeper who had only just reemerged from kitchen. “Could you take care of these for me?” Gideon said, gesturing toward the pile.
“Oh yes, sir,” the barkeep said, remembering the silver piece he had been promised. The barkeep began pulling the weapons off the mahogany bar top, placing them below.
“We’ll take the rest of our meal in our room,” Gideon said.
“Of course, sir. It’s all ready for you. Room number seven, fourth on your right, up the stairs. I’ll arrange your passage to Emmanuel and let you know when your ship leaves.”
“Thank you.” Gideon grabbed the vessel of water and Ethan took the platter of food. The young men crossed the room and ascended the stairs, two flights to the second floor. They found their room as the barkeep had said. Gideon opened the door cautiously, surveying what lay within.
There was a large bed with a basic wooden frame. The sheet did not look very clean and there was a heavier brown blanket on top of it. Against the wall, opposite the bed, stood a simple chest with two drawers. A ceramic basin and pitcher for washing sat on top. A small table with two chairs sat in the corner.