“Is this electric or oil?” I ask, while dropping my arm to the side.
Ami giggles and I feel like I’ve asked a question with an obvious answer. “Considering that we’re likely in the past again, we don’t want to draw too much unnecessary attention, so it’s oil. There’s an extra oil flask in the bag.”
“Electric?” Eve asks with an attitude.
“Hah! Looks like you get to teach Eve what you had to teach me. I wonder if she’s from farther in the past than my time and that’s why she’s so uncouth.” I smirk at Ami.
“Not funny.” Ami puts her hands on her hips. “Now, get out of here before I change my mind and I go with you anyway.”
“What do we have for lighting the lantern?”
“Matches.”
“Matches?”
Pulling a small box from my bag, she slides it open, retrieves a small stick among many from inside and swipes it across the side. It ignites and I remove the lantern’s glass cover while she brings the flame down to the wick. It catches fire and I replace and examine it. She returns the box of matches to the bag under my arm and then spins me around and places her hands on my back to get me going.
“Be safe out there Rain,” Ami coddles.
“Yeah, be safe out there,” Eve teases sarcastically.
I slip my shoes on and exit the house, once again I finding the edge of the property. Looking back I see Ami standing on the small wooden porch watching me anxiously. I wave at her to let he know it will be okay and she hesitantly waves back.
Reaching my hands up I pull the cloak’s hood over my head and tug on the sides to bring it over each shoulder as a cool draft from within the woods threatens to give me the chills. Stepping nervously into the forest, I find that both its eerie darkness and thoughts of what happened to me here gives me pause, but I strengthen my resolve to find Agatha and begin to stride into the unknown.
Even with a lantern to light my way, making my way through the woods is more difficult than I thought it would be. Having become accustomed to roads or openness I trip and stumble over the vegetation within the woods as if it had a vendetta against me. The forest throws everything it can muster at me, including tree roots, bushes and dips in the ground, all in the direction I need to go. Even after adjusting my eyes into a habit of looking mostly at where, rather than the direction that I’m walking, I still get caught up.
My stomach grumbles and I stop for a moment to dig through my bag. There is a sandwich right at the top and I pull it from its plastic container, eating while walking. Finding my attention divided between eating and walking in the dark, I choose to focus on not falling face first, leaving my food to be eaten slowly.
The woods seem endless and were it not for a few random creature noises, it would be silent. Not even the wind seems to dare rustle the trees. Though I’m not sure how long I have been walking, my mind obsesses over just wanting to be home with Ami and Agatha safely, relaxing. But adventure seems to be in my blood, my very essence, and I cannot tell if I am subconsciously seeking it out or if it’s finding me.
It cannot be ignored that so far I’ve been stabbed, fought a crime ring run by a little boy and fought against being a slave to an egotistical woman. And now I’m off to find what has happened to Agatha. Nothing may have happened to her at all. It’s quite likely that she found some semblance of civilization and got stuck there simply because it got too dark to navigate the woods.
My legs ache from the walking and my arms grow weary from having to hold the lantern, even with switching hands every now and then. Out of the corner of my left eye I notice a glimmer and I’m not sure if my mind is playing tricks or not, but I turn to it anyway. I pick up the pace and begin a quick stride toward that glimmer where it turns from a small dot into a light colored similar to mine.
Another lantern?
The quick pace turns into a jog and I have to take great care not to hit anything that might trip me up. In my haste I nearly barrel right into a large thistle bush. Turning to my left I try to find my way around it while keeping the light in my sight. It takes me a minute to find my way around but when the path is clear again I stride quickly toward the light again. Closing in on it I can now see the light illuminating a structure, a watchtower constructed with wood and men in armor guarding it.
One of them notices me and yells out. “Halt!”
I stop a few hundred feet from the guard at the base of the tower and upon closer inspection of his armor I find it very familiar; leading me to the conclusion I’ve been here before. The most noticeable pieces are a cone tipped helm with a guard piece coming down over the face for his nose, chainmail on his chest and large silver boots all marked with a crest that looks like two birds swooping down for the same kill. A wave of nostalgia hits me.
Do I know this person?
“State your business at this hour of night!”
“I’m simply a weary traveler looking for refuge for the night,” I explain.
He looks at me with his head half-cocked and his eyes quirked telling me he is confused. “The city gates are closed at night. You will have to wait outside until the rooster crows at the dawn.”
He has a slight accent that comes from the way he moves his jaw. It’s different from the way I speak, but it also has a familiarity to it and I find my own speech blending naturally to accommodate his.
“Tell me sir, how might I find the front gates?” The feeling of remembrance hasn’t faded.
It’s like the information is right there at the front of my mind and I can almost find my own way down, but I can’t get to it. I’m still being blocked by my own brain.
“Follow the path beyond our tower here. It will lead you down into the valley where the Asta resides.”
“Thank you sir,” I reply politely and bow.
“Long live Asta!” The guard snaps to attention and pounds his left fist against his right shoulder.
“Long live Asta!” My mouth and body react in the same manner instinctively.
Now I know I’ve been here, but does that mean Drake is waiting for me?
As instructed, I follow the dirt path from the guard’s tower down into a valley where, while mostly dark, I can see a whole city, a familiar city, illuminated by lanterns and lights in windows. There I recognize Asta. The crescent moon and starlight, now unhindered by any trees, still provide little to help to illuminate structures within the valley, but what I can identify is that inside the city walls, deep beyond rows of buildings, sits a large castle surrounded by another much larger wall with archers towers all around it.
Finding my way down the curvy dirt path, making a gradual descent down into the valley, where I can see scattered homes and farms. When I reach the bottom of the hill, I do not see a single light on within the farmhouses, leading me to believe that it’s fairly late in the night. Slinking through a field of corn stalks, I find my way to the main cobblestone path leading in between the two large sections of farms and up to the gate of the city. Though high above the city it looked small, now in the thick of it I find that the farms are actually quite large and I am still at least a fifteen minute walk from the well-lit front gate.
When I get there, two large, stone fire columns sit out front burning intensely to illuminate the two armored guards on the ground and two in the archer towers on the wall. The feeling of familiarity hasn’t faded and though I still cannot remember, I know for sure that I have been to this place before.
“Halt!” The guard turns and puts up his hand.
“Yes, sir.” I stand still.
“The city gates are…” the guard starts in with the same warning as the last one.
“…closed for the night. Yes, thank you. I will wait out here until they open in the morning,” I finish his sentence for him and move to a fence that is bordering a farmhouse near the wall.
That is probably why Agatha never returned. With the city gates closed she would be stuck in there.
Sitting down with my back against the end post
of the wooden fence, I turn the wick down in the lantern and blow it out. I set it to my side and sitting with my knees up I wrap the cloak completely around myself to keep warm. Resting my chin on my knees is uncomfortable for a few minutes while the muscles in my back relax, but I get to the point that I can ignore it and close my eyes. Waiting for the dawn that comes slowly I feel myself in need of a nap and I let myself drift to sleep with my hand placed on the hilt of the dagger.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sound of feet beating against the stones in front of me wakes me and upon opening my eyes I look up to see a smartly dressed couple arm-in-arm walking past me on the dirt road toward the open city gates. Looking the man over, I find that I should be able to blend in well enough, as what I am wearing is not exactly out of place with their Dark Age fashion. Wearing a long-sleeved undershirt covered by a thicker vest and loose pants with a slight bit of embroidery sewn near the seams of his breeches, I almost feel underdressed compared to him.
I remove my hand from the hilt of the dagger and grab the lantern instead. Using the fence to help me stand up, I look into the now open gateway to the city of Asta and my next move is unknown. Knowing that the city is large I wonder if I should wait at the gates to see if she appears or if I should venture in and start searching.
I suppose I could at least look at any local inns, see if she had stayed there.
Swiftly I stride to the couple walking arm-in-arm toward the gate and lower my hood. “Excuse me.”
“Yes, what is it? Oh…” the man turns to speak but looks at me with disgust. “We do not need any trouble. The guards are mere feet away.”
Do I look like a bandit or something?
“No, you misunderstand. I’m simply a traveler in need of a little direction.” I put my hands up to show him I mean no harm before he calls guards over unnecessarily.
“Make it quick, we have somewhere to be.” His deep voice intimidates me.
“I’m looking for someone who probably stayed here last night. Are there inns within the city?”
“There are at least half a dozen inns within,” he offers.
“I appreciate your time.” I place my arm at stomach level and bow slightly. “If I might borrow just a moment more of your time, which way is the closest inn?”
Annoyed with my questioning he answers brashly, “Enter the gates, go four streets up and take a left. Follow that down a few hundred yards and you will find yourself at ‘Farstride Inn’. Now if you will kindly leave us be…”
He abruptly turns to lead them toward the city and I follow to the gate. The doors are open and a massive gate now sits up between the two archer towers. Guards stand at the ready on either side of the entrance and as my eyes meet theirs, I nod out of respect. Beyond the gates lies a city that nearly eclipses the castle as the buildings reach as far as I can see. I admire their simplicity compared to the monstrosities of Chas in little Emma’s time. Stone stacked upon stone, wood nailed to wood. I find myself at home within this simplistic environment.
The streets are bustling with people and it slows my progress to the inn, despite the short distance I have to go. Moving through the crowd I find myself dodging and ducking around people, evaluating the alleyways for shortcuts through the city to my destination, but those too are filled.
Turning left at the fourth street, I delve deeper into the city but as I continue farther off the main path, the type of people I find myself surrounded by quickly turns from classy to a bit untidy. Unsavory types lurk around every corner and I am unable to imagine Agatha choosing this inn if she did in fact make it here, but I have nothing else to go on at the moment and cannot leave any place unchecked.
The door of the two-story inn is simple with a brass knob. It’s made of wood, and it appears that it’s in dire need of replacing due to rot. The building itself looks decent otherwise, until I step in and a nauseating smell wafts over me. I can’t put my finger on it, but it could very well be the smell of death. The design inside is depressing, with dull colors and minimal lighting. There are a few heavily worn chairs strewn about, apparently for guest lounging and stairs off to my left. I spot a desk near the rear of the room and a stout, bald man behind it, not paying attention to me, with a ratty looking book in front of him. As I walk over the stench gets stronger and I realize that it’s coming from him.
Oh wow. When was his last bath?!
A fly buzzes my face as I reach the desk and wait for the man to acknowledge me. He either doesn’t care that I’m here or is oblivious due to picking at a festering sore on one knuckle. The ratty and decrepit book in front of him is the guest logbook.
“Good day sir,” I announce myself, causing him to briefly glance up at me from his current endeavors. “I’m looking for someone who might have stayed here last night. Could I look at your guest log?”
“No one stayed ‘ere last night lad.”
“Did a woman perhaps stop by here last night? She’s in her early forties, wearing a dress and tan cloak.”
“I said no one stayed ‘ere last night,” he responds, continuing to pick at his knuckle.
“No one even showed up?”
“Tha’s not what I said.” He looks at me the same way the guards looked at me, as if there is something wrong and I find it a little unnerving that people seem a little hostile here.
“So then, you didn’t see the woman I described?”
“Nay.”
“Thank you for your time.” I nod and turn around.
Walking out I get the feeling he’s staring at me. I can’t explain it, but when I reach the door I turn and he is staring me down. I shiver and exit back out into the sunlight and fresh air. A cough of relief escapes my throat no longer under the stench and tension in there.
One down. I need to find the ones that aren’t rat-infested holes.
I find my way back to the street I came in on and turn back toward the castle. Walking with the flow of people I find my way to what appears to be the city center, open and filled with many different things for my eyes to take in. In the center lies an enormous fountain with a variety of bronze eagle statues on it and each one has its beak open with water spouting out. In the bustling center, I find performers, jesters and a whole slew of market shops both built into buildings and on carts. My eyes start scanning for Agatha. Wandering in circles around the fountain, I scour the crowds hopefully.
My track of time is lost and I only regain it with the help of my stomach telling me that it’s hungry. While it is gurgling and grumbling, I quickly seek more food from the bag and upon finding a jar of sliced apples I sit at the edge of the fountain to eat. Eating slowly I look around but there is no sight of her amongst the masses. When the apples are gone I reach into the bag to see what else Ami packed me; more apples, dried hunks of meat, another sandwich and a little pouch. Pulling the little pouch out I hear it jingle. To my surprise I find a couple dozen gold coins upon opening it. Anxiously, I look around me to make sure no one is looking over my shoulder and then close up the pouch, throwing it back in the bag.
Just another thing to keep me on edge. Carrying gold.
With the sun directly overhead and having no inkling to Agatha’s location I stand and move to find another inn. Needing directions, I look for someone a little friendlier than the last time and a brightly dressed jester passing by seems to be the ideal candidate.
“Excuse me,” I stop him briefly. “Could you direct me to the nearest inn?”
“The nearest inn?” The jester gets a smile across his face and quirks his head sideways making several bells jingle on his two-pronged hat. “Your mind will wear thin just sitting in an inn. Get out and mingle, you look like you are single!”
“Thanks. Nice play on words. But seriously, I need to find the nearest inn.”
“Seriously?” The jester dances about in a circle in front of me waiving his fool’s bauble around while laughing.
I should have known asking an entertainer would result in th
is. No doubt he will want payment too. I get the sense that even before my memory loss I despised jesters.
“Yes. Come here.” I motion for him to come over waving my hand.
“I come, I go, running to and fro. We are all but dust for the wind to blow.”
“Are you a poet or a jester?” My voice comes out snidely.
“A little of both my friend, and for a little coin I shall direct you to the tavern and inn of ‘Day’s End’,” he points his bauble at me and sticks out his hand expectantly.
There was the pitch, both for his flippant display and his rhymes. At least I will get direction to yet another inn and hope it leads to Agatha. This would have been at least a little more entertaining if it were a harlequin.
Rummaging back in my bag I keep my hand hidden while I pull a coin from the pouch. The gold shimmers in the light and the jester’s eyes go wide, making me think that it’s probably more than anyone usually pays him.
“For you sir, I shall lead you there!” The excitement in his voice confirms my suspicion.
“That’s quite all right. Just direct me and I will find my way there myself.” Despite his newly found attitude to help, I don’t care to follow or be followed by a jester.
“A map then, it’s the least I will do! Nothing less for a man as generous as you!”
I trustingly hand the coin over to him and he quickly rushes off into a crowd. Waiting patiently at the fountain I stand up and climb onto the stone I had just been sitting upon, still trying to see if I can catch a glimpse of Agatha but I am at a loss. When the jester takes a few moments too long I begin to worry he will not be coming back.
Could it have been a mistake to hand it to him first? He didn’t seem dishonest, but for all I know he could be just a thief dressed up as a jester. One who, rather than reaching his hand into your purse to take the money, reaches into your brain and makes you feel like you owe him something, and so you pay him.
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