by B J Hanlon
The crash was louder than he’d imagined but the fire started nearly immediately.
Dorset ran outside. “What in the hell was that!” Edin shook his head as he stood before the burning firepit. “How’d the fire start?”
“Magic…” Edin said.
Then he noticed Dorset was carrying a pair of steaks and a jug. “For an end-of-week celebration,” Dorset said.
“End of week?”
“Yeah, besides the merchants and guards, no one goes to work tomorrow. You know, Losilin’s day off.”
“The church? You have a Vestion church here?”
“Of course, we still follow the old ways of the church, before the reformation…”
The steaks were seasoned and cooked to perfection, a juicy pink center with a flavorful crust on the outside. Dorset poured wine from the jug, a deep red with hints of fruits and spice that Edin couldn’t discern. “We drink with class here,” Dorset said.
The next day Edin slept till seven, woke and made eggs and bacon and ate it outside while watching the sunrise. As he was finishing up, he heard the ratty door slam behind him. Dorset. “There’s breakfast on the stove,” Edin called out.
“I got it, thank you,” Dorset said and sat at the table next to him. “Gods I’m sore.”
“Do you want to take the morning off?” Edin asked.
“I have to...”
Little happened that morning. Dorset went to his study up at the top of the tower and Edin pulled out his sword and started his basic weapons forms again. Then he studied Ulstapish.
Around eleven they crossed the bridge into the city with a large group of laborers. Edin gripped tighter on the rope as the bridge swayed with all of the famers and ranchers.
A boy of about four stared up at him curiously. He bumped into the back of a woman and was yanked back in line by another who Edin assumed was the boy’s mother.
The men wore the dull uniforms of their profession. The ranchers had brown and green striped uniforms, men who Dorset said were construction workers wore all gray.
Once in the city, the people began to disperse. There weren’t any guards watching the road, at least none that Edin noticed. These seemed like the good and honest folk who produced the food and labor that allowed the city to run. Salt of the earth, unlike the city dwellers.
They went to a square where the paymaster’s building was. A four-story brick building, dull gray and as sad as every government office he’d ever seen.
On the north side, there was a small window in front of a line of out-of-towners. The paymaster hid behind metal bars that separated commoner from currency.
Edin glanced around, the city was busy, but he didn’t really pay attention to anyone. His eyes slipped back toward the castle.
Was Arianne in there? Was she thinking of him? He hoped he’d see her, but wouldn’t know what to say.
Dorset tapped his foot and kept looking at a clock tower near the north end of the square. Edin ignored him.
Finally, they arrived at the front of the line and Edin gave the card to the man. He eyed it. Edin remembered what it said. Farmhand, two and a half days’ work. A moment later the man pushed over three chits. Small metal coins with a carving at the center of a wrinkled figure. The face was too small to make out details.
“That’s it?” Dorset exclaimed.
“It’s the rate.”
“Alright move it.” A guard said approaching from the side, his hand on the pommel of his sword. It wasn’t a rough voice, more annoyed.
Edin figured he probably had to deal with people complaining about their pay all the time.
“Three? It should be at least five…”
“Take it or leave it,” the paymaster growled.
Dorset placed his card down. “You can get maybe a dozen eggs and some bread. Not enough for a farmhand.”
“Twenty chits,” The paymaster said pushing them toward Dorset.
“Twenty? My salary is thirty-five.”
“Cutbacks,” the paymaster said and shrugged. “Everyone needs to pay their fair share. Got a problem, take it up with the Praesidium.”
Edin began to notice more people moving closer to them, eyeing their cards. He hadn’t been paying attention before.
As he looked up, he saw a more guards appearing, four from the south, another four from across the square. Another set seemed to materialize out of a large water fountain. There were twelve, all dressed in breastplates adorned with the jeweled fist and swords drawn.
Somehow, Edin knew that they were waiting for this. Pharont had prepared for Edin…
Edin pulled Dorset away from the paymaster while his roommate tried to pry Edin’s hand away.
“Stop,” Edin whispered as he pulled him to the side of the building. The soldiers, along with another group of four began to flank the line. A guard with a shinier helm than the rest strode forth.
The man looked directly at Edin. “By order of the Praesidium, anyone who causes trouble will be taken to the dungeons.”
Someone, a wiry old man stepped in front. “Haven’t they taken enough from us?” he yelled. A crowd began to form. “Yeah,” a few shouted. “They live in their towers like kings, we get treated like slaves.”
Another salvo of agreement.
“What is going on?” Dorset asked.
“I don’t know...” Edin whispered slipping back further. The people were beginning to get rowdier. “I don’t want to be here when this gets uglier and it will.”
They slipped between a pair of tall orange buildings and down a slender alleyway. It moved straight until they reached a crossroad then they took a right.
Despite the grid pattern of the city, Edin somehow got turned around. He was behind a bunch of tall buildings and the sun was directly overhead.
“This way,” Dorset said turning right down a wider road. A sharp wind tugged at his tunic as they continued to run.
A carriage barreled past them, Edin yanked Dorset out of the way as the driver cursed at them.
“What is going on?” Edin asked. “Is the city always this crazy?”
“Never.”
They were under what looked like a ramp that climbed the city toward the mountain. The distinct sounds of trickling water came from above him.
“What is that?” Edin asked.
“An aqueduct, to transport water…”
Peals of bell ringing erupted in the distance, Edin couldn’t tell the direction. Another bell, somewhere else, then another. They began to blare in different directions. Dorset gripped his forearm and dug his fingers into Edin’s exposed skin.
“Stop that,” Edin said.
“That’s the warning bell, we’re under attack.”
“Attack?”
Around them, people began sticking their heads out of windows and doors. They gave curious glances and yelled. Softly at first, as soft as yelling could be, but as the bells continued it changed.
Edin could see fear rising in them like a water in a kettle. Suddenly, people exploded onto the street running in all directions. The bells were drowned out by the sounds of screaming.
A young woman with gold bows in her bronze hair caught his eye for a moment. She was near the center of the road trying to go left when she was swallowed up by the crowd. The last thing he saw was her hands flying up as she disappeared.
It took him only a moment to realize she fell. People trampled all around, some stumbling, others hollering unabashedly.
Get up, Edin thought. This was a stampede and no one was stopping to help her.
“Blast it. Come on,” Edin shouted and ran toward her. Edin pushed into the crowd and began to feel like a ball being bounced between a gaggle of children. He nearly lost his balance, stepped on something or someone, and looked down. It was a man’s foot. He stared at Edin, but his eyes were more frightened than angry. He pushed away.
He barely remained standing. A thick elbow or fist hit him in the back of the head. The world blurred for a moment then he opened his
eyes.
To the right, he spotted a group of people stumbling. Through the colorful river, he noticed a pale white hand on the ground. A foot stomped on the underside of the wrist and the hand clenched.
He pushed through, taking the random slaps, elbows, and knees to his body. A few feet away, someone grabbed him by the wrist and pulled. He thought it was Dorset at first and glanced back.
“She’s…”
It wasn’t Dorset. The man wore a dark robe with a red fist on the chest. He had the sudden thought of a Por Fen, but the man had brown hair. His nose was upturned as if someone had tied a rope from the top of his head to the tip and pulled back like a fishing line.
Edin tried to yank his arm away.
The man held tight and yelled something. It seemed the man knew Edin and wanted him to do something but that didn’t matter. The girl needed his help. Edin twisted his wrist down, gripped the man’s hand and stomped the top of his foot as hard as possible.
He felt the bones cracking underneath and the man screamed like a child who fell while running and didn’t know that the ground would hurt.
The man let go and Edin turned back toward the woman. He was feet away. Through the crowd, he could see her dress, what had once been a light pink or yellow was now splotched with dark stains, boot prints, and blood. He dropped next to her and put his hand on the woman’s arm and closed his eyes.
His gut twisted as the culrian shield appeared around him and the girl. People hollered and were pushed backwards by the bubble. There were screams, angry and afraid. But moments later, they were in an open space.
Edin checked her and saw blood trickling down her face from a cut on her cheek. Other rivulets came from her nose and one from her ear turning her hair a darker shade. The woman’s chest was barely rising. Edin lifted her, she needed a healer or someone who knew healing spells…
“Dorset!” Edin screamed and looked around. He spied the aqueduct and for some reason it was in the opposite direction from which he thought it had been.
Edin carried her past some people who stared, others jumped out of the way and dragged friends or onlookers. They parted for him, though it was partially due to the large ethereal bubble that pushed through.
He spotted Dorset perched on a crate next to a stone pillar that supported the structure. He had a confused look on his face as if he were trying to figure out a riddle.
Edin released the shield as he approached. “Can you help her?”
Dorset didn’t say anything.
Edin kicked the crate hard, it rocked back. “Hey, help her!”
Dorset nearly fell off but it seemed to work. The stupor he’d been in ended and he leapt down next to Edin.
He laid her on the stone ground and Dorset knelt over her and started to move his mouth while he put his hands above her body. Slowly, the blood began to stop flowing and her face gained a small amount of color.
Dorset nearly fell backwards, he was pale and breathing heavily. “She needs a healer, but I stopped the bleeding,” he huffed.
“Where?”
“That way,” a woman yelled pointing down a small road. She was older, sixties or so.
Edin scooped up the girl with hands under her neck and knees and followed the woman down the descending road. They reached a white brick building with the healer’s sigil burnt into a round wooden sign. The throngs of the crowd had quieted and they parted to let them pass.
The word, ‘philios,’ came in soft whispers like a moaning echo from deep in a haunted tomb.
At the shop, the door flew open and the woman stepped inside motioning for Edin to leave her on a carved stone table as she began yanking shut flowery curtains.
She closed her eyes, moved her hands over the body as Edin watched. A soft glow was emitted from her hands as they followed the length of the girl’s body. Only her rising chest told she still lived.
Dorset appeared in the doorway, “how is she?” He looked out of breath and tired just like after he’d tried the Oret Nakosu.
Edin shrugged and the woman made no movement or sound. After almost fifteen minutes, the healer opened her eyes.
“She’ll be fine.” The woman ambled toward a long couch and laid down. “You did good Dorset.”
“Thank you, Madame Caesum.”
“You too, Edin,” she said to Edin. “The girl almost died.”
“How’d you know my name?”
A thud on the door turned their attention toward it.
“Be a dear and get that for me,” Madame Caesum said.
Dorset began to move when the door shot open and three men with dark black cloaks with the clenched red fist emblem on their lapels burst inside.
Edin began to feel the connection to the talent weaken as they approached.
“Grab him,” A man commanded.
Edin recognized him as the one who tried to grab him.
“Brosons?” Dorset gasped. “What are you…” the first man punched Dorset in the gut and the thin boy doubled over, coughing as a glob of blood flew from his mouth.
“Get out of my clinic!” Madame Caesum yelled.
They came at Edin. “Don’t try anything.” The man outside called over their shoulder. “You’re under arrest for disturbing the peace and starting a riot.”
Men and women were peering in through the opening. There was a look of concern and fear on their faces as they stared at the confrontation.
“Shut up wench!” The leader called as his three companions moved forward.
“You are silencing my healing spell, Cannopina will die!” Caesum yelled.
Edin clenched his fists, he was unarmed and they held short swords with black stone handguards. Wan stones, fashioned into weapons.
Edin could fight, it was close quarters and he had no weapons. It was a fight he could not win. The leader glared as if expecting Edin to fight. It was as if he wanted himself or his men to stick Edin with one of those blades. He released his clenched fists and nodded.
“Fine,” Edin hissed.
7
Dungeons are a quiet place
Shackled and cut off from the talent, Edin was led from Madame Caesum’s clinic and paraded down the streets. People whispered about him as the shackles around his wrists rattled like loose coins tucked in his tunic.
The bells were no longer sounding and the roads had quieted to an eerie silence.
Crack. Edin barely registered the sound before another, then another. Crack, crack… no, not crack, clap. He glanced to the side and saw people clapping for him. The leader of the broson’s head was churning back and forth, a deep scowl on his face as he hobbled before the group on a makeshift crutch.
“Silence!” He shrieked as the sounds grew louder. “Or I’ll arrest all of you!” Another shriek… shriller.
Edin chuckled and glanced at the two men next to him. The third was directly in back of Edin. Somehow, these men kept straight faces.
The leader tried spinning around, he must’ve put too much weight on his injured foot and stumbled. After a moment, he stood before Edin and pulled a blade.
“Are you laughing at me?” Even the other members of his group were taken aback. “I can gut you right here.”
Edin stared at the beady eyes of the man, his nostrils flared and his eyes burned with hate. With his cloak pulled back, Edin saw thinning black hair that looked to have been combed over the top of his head from the side.
The crutch was in his peripheral vision, all it would take was a quick kick and the man would go down. Edin took a deep breath but said nothing, he did not blink and he did not look away.
A hooded man stepped from the crowd approaching from behind. He was Edin’s height with a thin chin.
Suddenly a knife glinted in the sun and was instantly at the man’s throat.
“Worian,” the man whispered just enough for the two of them to hear. It was Le Fie. “The FAE’s laundrymen have no jurisdiction to arrest anyone. Release him.”
“We were commanded…” Worian
said but his words were choked off by the pressing of the blade at his neck.
“If my uncle wishes to see him, then he’ll have to make an appointment with me. Understand?”
Edin saw the hesitancy of the two brosons next to him. They looked nervous.
“You, unshackle him or my men will leave you bloody. The Darsol Rose takes no prisoners.”
“Give the criminal to Le Fie.” He grumbled. “I’m still taking credit for his capture.”
One of the men moved in front of Edin and pulled out a small key. He unlocked the shackles and let them fall to the stone road with a loud clang.
An unexpected shove hit Edin hard in the upper back causing him to stumble forward. In that moment, Le Fie pushed Worian to the side.
The gimp cried out, and fell to the ground shrieking.
Le Fie caught Edin. “You okay?” Le Fie said.
Edin nodded.
“You’ll pay for this…”
“Cratmonger,” Le Fie said as they walked past Worian on the ground. Le Fie accidently on purpose kicked his broken foot causing another cry of pain.
“What’s a Cratmonger?” Edin said as the suffocating feeling of the wan stone began to dissipate.
“A man who eats animal manure,” Le Fie said as they walked up toward the castle. “You haven’t told anyone about… the talents.”
Edin shook his head then looked up at him, “I thought you were going back to Bestoria?” Edin questioned. Despite Le Fie keeping him unshackled, they continued up toward the castle.
“I was…” Le Fie said. “A friend requested I take a vacation. It’s long overdue.” They reached the open castle gates. The guards said nothing as Le Fie marched him across the stone path, around the fountain, and straight up toward the castle.
“What are we doing?”
“We need to see someone.” Le Fie said. As they turned a corner, he thought he heard his name but a rustle of wind through thousands of leaves covered it up.
Just before the front entranced, Le Fie turned down a smaller stone path that led to the left opposite of the Praesidium. They reached a door with the crest of a yellow fist. It was at the base of a tower attached to the castle. He opened it and stepped inside.