Her squad begins marching their way back to the large fortress sitting just south of them. She maintains her spot in the ranks as they march ever closer to the gates of Kern. Wanting nothing more than to break ranks and get out of there, there’s no way she could do so without being uncovered.
The squads marching ahead of her, one by one, make their way through the gates into the formidable fortress which guards the southern border between Cardri and the Empire. When at last it’s her squad’s turn to enter, she almost bolts out of line in panic, but her courage holds steady and she marches through the gates.
They pass through the long entry tunnel through the walls. In the ceiling above are many murder holes where defenders could drop stones or burning oil down on any attackers caught within. The other side of the entry tunnel opens onto a large courtyard where the other squads are getting into formation.
Her squad is brought to stand in a similar position as they had back at the battle lines. Once all the squads have entered and formed ranks, the command is given to fall out but to remain close in the event the Empire’s forces should move to enter Cardri.
As her squad breaks up, Aleya, still having the cloth wrapped around her face, quickly moves away from the others and makes for a corner of the nearest building bordering on the inner wall.
“Wonder what all that…” one of the archers next in line begins to say something to her but stops when she walks away from him. Feeling somewhat affronted that she would just walk away while he was talking, he says a few choice words at her back before turning and beginning his conversation again with another who’ll stick around to listen.
Upon nearing the wall, she glances around and when she’s sure no one is looking, removes the cloth from her face. Placing it within the pouch at her waist, she then removes her cloak and wraps it around her bow and quiver.
The gate is not very far from where she stands, soldiers fill the fortress’s courtyard but so far none seem to have noticed her there among them. With her tunic off and her bow hidden, she looks just like another one of the servants moving around the courtyard performing various duties.
Holding her head up and trying to calm the shaking that seeks about ready to consume her, she steps away from the corner. The soldiers and civilians within the courtyard pay her no heed as she makes her way toward the gate.
As she crosses the courtyard, she hears fragments of conversations going on around her. None pique her interest until she hears two footmen talking about how during the worst of the storm, horses ran amuck in their lines. She slows down to try to hear what they’re saying.
“The riders were never found?” one asks the other.
“No,” the other replies. “In fact, one of the horses managed to impale itself upon Loen’s pike. I hear they’ve got search parties hunting for them all over the countryside.”
“Think we’ll ever know what really went on out there?” the first one asks.
Shaking his head, the second one says, “Doubt it. You know they never tell us grunts anything and by the time the rumor mill has ground it out, it’ll be so far from the truth as not to be believed.”
“True,” the first one replies. They start moving away from her and the rest of their conversation is lost in the buzz of the courtyard.
Resuming her way toward the gate, she begins thinking over what she just overheard. At least James and Jiron haven’t been caught yet. As she reaches the entrance to the inner portcullis for the gate, she quickens her pace slightly. Moving through the confining passage through the walls, she almost breathes an audible sigh of relief when she at last reaches the far side.
She begins moving back out into the daylight when a hand grips her shoulder from behind. Startled, she cries out as she jumps three inches in the air. Her cloak wrapped bow and quiver slips from her hands and falls to the ground. Turning around quickly, she looks into the face of one of the foot soldiers.
“Sorry, miss,” he says as he bends over to pick up her package. One end of her bow slips out from beneath the cloak as he hands it to her.
She takes it from him and says, “Thank you sir. I was just taking this to have it repaired.”
He nods his head. “I was wondering if you would like to have a cup of ale with me over at the Shining Flagon later on. Say in a couple hours when things calm down around here?”
That’s why he scared me out of ten years growth? To ask me out? “I’m sorry,” she tells him, trying her best to hide the irritation in her voice, “but I already have someone.”
“Oh,” he says. “Sorry to have bothered you.”
Turning, she hurries away. After taking a few steps, she glances back and finds the soldier having already returned to within the fortress. Breathing a sigh of relief, she makes her way away from the gates to the fortress.
To the north of the fortress is the city of Kern, a large collection of buildings whose main purpose is to house and support the troops stationed there. At least that was its original purpose, now many trading houses have sprung up, those who trade primarily with merchants within the Empire.
It’s a mile away and by the time she crosses the distance, her nerves have managed to calm down. So as not to attract undue notice, she keeps her bow and quiver tightly wrapped and concealed within her cloak.
Many people are in the streets, there’s a buzz going around about the activities out by the keep. The general mood is one of curiosity rather than fear of an attack. Aleya finds it easy to make her way through the milling populace without attracting attention.
One of the last buildings on the north side of town, before the road leaves the outskirts, is a run down inn. The aroma coming from it makes her stomach ache with hunger. It’s been quite a while since she’s had anything to eat other than food foraged off the land. Warring needs collide within her, the need to get out of here and the need for real food. The need for real food wins out and she makes for the inn’s entrance.
As she walks through the door she finds a quiet inn, only three other people sit at the tables while having their morning meal. One couple, an older man and lady sit off to one side. The other is a solitary man who sits in a corner and whose eyes watch her as she enters. Their eyes lock for a moment before the proprietor comes forward.
“Good morning miss,” the fat man says. Beaming a smile which genuinely makes her feel like he’s happy to see her, he readily puts her at ease.
“Good morning to you, as well,” she replies.
“What can we do for you here at the Weary Traveler?” he asks.
“Just something to eat,” she replies.
Nodding, the innkeeper says, “Just take any seat, and Millie will be out shortly to see to your needs.”
“Thank you,” she replies and moves to a table far from the gentleman in the corner.
The innkeeper passes through a door into the kitchen and shortly after, a young lady comes out and makes her way over to Aleya. Taking her order and her coins, she goes back to the kitchen and returns with a platter of eggs and ham. Setting the platter before her, she says a quick “Enjoy,” before returning once again to the kitchen.
As Aleya eats, she can’t help but notice how the man in the corner continues staring at her. Maybe he’s just bored and has nothing better to do, but the attention makes her decidedly uncomfortable. She knows the danger a woman traveling alone faces. That’s why she had remained up in the mountains after the Empire had taken Mountainside.
Her mind wanders to Jiron and James and how they’re doing. She’s sure they made it safely away from Kern by now or she would’ve heard about it. She intends to meet them down the road as James had mentioned before that ill fated run through the lines which left her stranded and alone.
The people here are not the enemy, and she has to continue to remind herself about that. They would only become so if they knew how she and the others had ran through their lines. Maybe not enemies, but would have definitely posed questions she couldn’t have answered.
After s
he meets with Jiron and James, she’s not sure what she’ll be doing. It’s a long way back to the mountains above her home, perhaps she’ll try to work her way back through from this side.
A movement from the corner of her eye draws her attention to where the man in the corner is getting up and making his way across the room. At first she thought he was heading for her but then he angles more for the door and soon leaves the inn. She’s quite relieved that he’s no longer in the same room with her, he gave her the creeps.
Once she’s done eating, she picks up her tightly wrapped bow and quiver and leaves the inn. Outside, the sun has already risen quite a distance and the temperature is beginning to rise. The people on the street no longer seem anxious or curious about what transpired near the keep, most have resumed going about their normal routines. A few knots of people congregate together as they hash and rehash what happened. She’s sure that by tomorrow, the gossips will have the facts of what actually happened mired in a most improbable tale just as that one soldier had said.
If she plans on making it to the inn down the road to the north before nightfall, she figures she better hustle. Moving quickly, she puts the inn behind her as she hurries down the road. Not exactly running, but alternating between a fast walk and jog, she soon leaves the outskirts of town and enters the hills beyond.
The road before her is fairly straight as it winds in a generally northern direction through the hills. Shortly after the town has disappeared behind the hills a horse is heard approaching from the direction of Kern. Always nervous about confronting someone alone in the middle of nowhere, she edges off the road and hides behind a hill as the rider approaches.
When the rider comes into view, she sees it’s the same soldier that had stopped her as she was leaving the keep. Hurrying down, she rushes to the road before he has a chance to race past.
“Stop!” she hollers to him as she reaches the road after he passes by.
Glancing back over his shoulder, he sees her there and brings his horse to a halt. Turning around, he comes back toward her. “What are you doing out here by yourself?” he asks once he’s come close to her.
“Going to the next town up the road,” she tells him. “Can I ride with you?”
Giving her a grin, he asks, “Thought you already have someone?”
“I do,” she replies. “I’m going to the next town to meet him.”
Considering her request a moment, he reaches a hand down to her and says, “Sure.”
Taking his hand, she swings up behind him. Once she’s in position, he turns his horse back to the north and breaks into a gallop.
Chapter Twenty Six
“Would you stop your pacing?” James asks in exasperation. Ever since coming to Yerith, the first town north of Kern, Jiron has been on edge due to his worry over Aleya. James lies in bed in their room at the first inn they came to when they reached town. Exhausted from his magical endeavors, all he wants now is simply to rest. But the nervous pacing of Jiron makes it impossible for him to be able to relax enough for that to happen.
“What could’ve happened to her?” Jiron asks for the hundredth time. Maybe not that many but it sure seems that way to a tired James. Going to the window, he looks out over the road where it enters Yerith from the south, hoping to see her coming. “She should’ve been here by now.”
“Jiron,” begins James in a tired voice, “it was very chaotic as we came through the lines. She’ll be here.” Pulling the covers over his head, he tries to block out Jiron’s nervous pacing.
Turning to him, he asks, “What if she doesn’t come? What if she’s been taken as a spy from the Empire? She could be undergoing torture right this very minute!” Worry and concern are etched across his face as even worse fates run through his mind.
James peeks from under the covers to gaze at his friend and watches as he reaches for his knife, pulls it out a few inches and then slides it back into the scabbard. He does this several times as he turns back to the window and looks for Aleya’s return. “If it’s bothering you so much,” he finally says, “why don’t you go back down the road and look for her?”
“Do you think I should?”
“Yes,” he assures him. Anything to get a little peace and quiet.
“Will you be alright?”
“I should be fine,” James replies. “We’re in Cardri after all.”
“True,” admits Jiron. He again looks out the window and then abruptly turns for the door. “I think I may just ride back down the road a ways.” He looks over to James but his eyes are already closed.
Opening the door quietly, he slips through to the hallway and closes it behind him. Practically running down the stairs, he makes it to the stable and quickly saddles his horse. Mounting, he bolts out into the inn’s courtyard and turns toward the road.
Once on the road, he kicks his horse into a gallop just as he hears, “Thank you, I’ll be fine from here.” Bringing his horse to a sudden stop, he looks back and sees Aleya dismounting from behind a man wearing the uniform of a Cardri soldier.
“Aleya!” he hollers as he turns his horse toward her.
She turns and sees him there, a smile breaking out upon her face. “Jiron!” she replies back. The soldier moves his horse away and continues down the road as Aleya moves toward Jiron.
In his excitement at seeing her, he vaults off his horse and lands next to her. Grabbing her in his arms, he gives her a big, warm kiss.
Smack!
Jiron’s head snaps back as her fist strikes the side of his face. Letting go of her, he stumbles back in shock as he gazes upon the grim expression she’s wearing. “What did you do that for?”
“You never, EVER, do that again without my permission!” she yells. With the enwrapped bow and quiver under one arm she stands there and glares.
“I was just so worried…” he begins and then trails off. “And when I saw you, I just…”
“Just what?” she asks her demeanor not softening in the slightest.
“Oh, never mind.” Grabbing the reins of his horse, he begins walking dejectedly back to the stables.
“Jiron,” he hears her say, her tone somewhat softer.
Not turning around, he replies, “What?”
“You have my permission,” she says in a soft, caring voice.
He stops in his tracks and glances back to her. She comes forward and takes him in her arms. Pressing her lips to his she begins to give him a kiss. This time, he’s the one who breaks it off. “What’s wrong?” she asks as she looks him in the eyes.
“It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you,” he begins. “But…”
“But what?” she prompts him.
“But my face hurts where you hit me,” he admits.
She just stares at him for a moment and then they both start laughing.
He gives her a hug and then says, “Let’s go up to the room, James is sleeping but I think he’ll want to know you’re back.” With his horse’s reins in one hand, and his other around her waist, they walk back to the inn.
Epilog
He makes his way down the darkened street on his way to the inn. This far into the Empire, he needs to be extra careful, their agents are everywhere. He has just come from a meeting, that should its agenda be known, would surely mean his death. But he’s played this game far too long to let a little thing like death be an obstacle.
Many people know him by many different names, here he’s simply Kir, a traveling musician who makes his way by playing at various inns. This persona has blonde hair and slightly darker skin than he’d originally been born with, a result of just the right mixture of dyes and other solutions. The overall appearance is that of someone from the southern region of the Empire.
Lately, the other players in the game have begun to suspect him, as the last attempt on his life proves. How many more effective years he may have has yet to be seen, but through his long years as an agent, he’s learned the art of disguise and misdirection well.
With his instr
ument over his shoulder he continues down the street to his current engagement at the Wallowing Swine. A none too classy establishment, its environment fits in well with what he’s here to accomplish.
As he approaches the inn, several people standing outside the Wallowing Swine wave to him as he draws near. He’s a favorite around these parts, many wonder just what brings him back to this same inn time and again. They’re sure that a singer of his talents would be welcome in any of the finest inns in the city. When asked about it, he just replies that he likes it here.
A slave dressed in the regular slave garb, loin cloth and nothing else, stands at the door and opens it for him. “Thank you,” Kir tells him. The slave gives him a grin as he passes by. Kir is one of the few people who treat slaves decently, most don’t even acknowledge their existence, which has earned him their help in various ways.
The smoke filled common room is crowded, always is on nights he’s performing. He makes his way through the crowded room to the stage, many people call out to him or offer hellos. Returning their greetings, he finally reaches the stage and gets his chair situated just where he likes it.
Next to the chair is a stand where he rests his instrument when not in use. Once everything is set, he leaves the stage and goes over to the bar where one of the slaves has already set out a plate of food for him and a mug of wine. Nothing too much, he can’t afford to stuff himself before a performance. The quality of his music will suffer for it if he does.
This is his last night before he heads out, could be why it’s so packed. Word gets around when he’s here and no one wants to miss out hearing him.
“Sure wish you could stay longer,” Kalim, owner of the Wallowing Swine says to him.
“I know,” replies Kir. “But I have other engagements in which I’m committed, I’m sorry to say. I should be back in a couple months.”
Trail of the Gods ms-4 Page 35
