Parker opened the back door to the inn, holding it for the others as they entered. Ashland smiled as she stepped past him. They walked down a hallway and past the stairs that led to the upper levels. The hallway brought them to a taproom, currently occupied by the lunch crowd. With half of the tables still open, it wasn’t difficult to locate a long table that could seat the group. Ashland slid onto a bench next to Brock, who still had his hood up. With both long benches full, Parker grabbed a chair and set it at the head of the table before taking a seat.
Moments later, an older woman with graying brown hair approached. “Hello. Welcome to Gulley’s Inn. I’m Charlotte, but you can call me Char. What can I get for you?”
Parker took the lead. “We need four rooms, with one of them large enough for three. We will also need meals for the nine of us.”
Char began counting on her fingers, calculating the cost. “That will be two silvers and two coppers per day, but ale will cost you extra.”
Parker nodded. “Done.” He turned toward Benny. “Benny, please pay the woman. Give her some extra to cover the ale.”
Benny had a pained look on his face as he pulled out his coin purse. He handed the woman three silvers before flashing Parker a bitter look.
Char pocketed the coins, smiling. “I’ll be right back with some roasted lamb and potatoes.”
When she stepped away, Parker leaned close and spoke to the group. “After we eat, Benny and I will search for a ship bound for Sol Polis that can accommodate us.”
Benny winced. “I get the feeling that this little trip is going to cost me.”
Brock laughed. “It’s not our fault that you’re the one with all the gold.”
The pained look resurfaced on Benny’s face. “I earned my gold through hard work.”
“What?” Brock replied. “You earned most of it by placing bets on us in last year’s arena duels. The rest was from an invention that we helped you build and test.”
“Well, I guess I didn’t have any plans for it anyway.” Benny said, sounding dejected.
Ashland smiled. It felt good to have this friendly banter surrounding her.
The banter continued throughout their meal. Once finished, Parker and Benny departed on their mission to find transportation. The rest of the group followed Char upstairs to settle into the rooms they had rented.
Tipper and Libby took the first room. Ashland smiled as she watched Puri pull Cam into the next room. The third room they came to was larger, with three beds.
Brock turned to Lars. “Go ahead and take this room to share with Benny and Parker. We’ll take the last one.”
Lars nodded, dropping his pack and plopping onto the nearest bed.
Char led them up another set of stairs to the room at the end of the third-story hallway. She opened the door and let them inside before giving them a smile and pulling the door closed
Ashland looked around the small room, finding it furnished with a vanity and a bed large enough for two. Brock crossed the room and pulled the curtain back to look out the window. The view faced south, toward the bay. Streaks of bright aqua blue glowed within the darker blue waters of the sea. The white sails of ships crossing the bay were bright in the sunlight. Gulls circled above, in search of food over the busy docks. One thing spoiled the amazing view, the one thing that drew Ashland’s attention. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions in check as she stared at the Wayport Temple.
. . .
The group chatted in friendly conversation as they waited for dinner to be served. Ashland ran her hand through her hair, which was now almost dry. Like most of the others, she had seized the opportunity to bathe during the afternoon. It felt good to be clean again. She had begun to smell a bit too much like a horse for her own liking.
As the others talked, she attempted to remain engaged, to stay in the present. However, she could feel her dark past lingering like a shadow just beyond view. Brock asked her what was wrong, but she shrugged it off. She should have known he would see it, despite her attempt to hide her discomfort. The sooner they were away from the city, the better.
When she saw Parker approaching with a smile on his face, hope bloomed inside of her. He plopped into the chair at the end the table and addressed the group.
“I’ve good news. We’ve found a ship that can take us. We leave at noon tomorrow.”
Lars clapped Parker on the back. “Good news! I knew you were the man for the job.”
Benny slid onto the bench opposite from Lars. “Yeah. Great,” he grumbled.
Brock put an arm around Benny. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you glad to be on our way?”
The pained look reappeared on Benny’s face. “Yeah, but it cost so much.”
Lars leaned in. “How much?”
When Benny didn’t respond, Parker grinned, “Two gold Imperials.”
While Lars whistled, Ashland winced. That was a lot of money.
Parker spoke again. “The price includes passage and food for the horses. Unfortunately, we are limited to two cabins, so we’ll need to squeeze a bit. If we can get out of here safely, I think we can endure cramped quarters for three days.”
Brock nodded. “Good job, indeed. Thanks for making this happen, guys.” Brock clapped Benny on the shoulder. “Sorry about the gold, Benny. I’m sure you’ll come up with some scheme that will make you rich again.”
Benny nodded, a small smile sneaking out. Ashland expected that spending the money didn’t hurt Benny as much as he let on.
Char approached the table with a tray filled with tankards of ale. She passed the drinks out to the group before retreating to fetch their dinner.
Brock held his mug high. “Let’s toast to Benny and Parker. Thanks for getting us a ship, guys. We’re off to Sol Polis tomorrow.”
Mugs tapped each other over the table as the group toasted to the two boys. Ashland felt a spike of joy. She was happy to be leaving the city.
. . .
After a long night of tossing and turning, Ashland felt relieved when she saw light coming through the window. She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Brock as she dressed. Using the washcloth and small bowl of water on the vanity, she quickly washed. Rather than attempt to tame her curly locks, she pulled her hair into a bun and slipped out the door.
When she descended the stairs, the dining room was empty other than Char, who sat at a table looking over some papers. As Ashland approached, the woman glanced up and smiled.
“Good morning, dear. I hope you slept well.”
“Good morning, Char.” Ashland gave a brief smile. “Actually, I slept horribly. It’s not the bed; it’s…just something that’s been bothering me.”
“Oh my, dear.” She pointed to the chair across from her. “Please sit. We can talk about it if you like. Sometimes it helps to get it out.”
Ashland sat across the table from the old woman, trying to gather her courage. She swallowed hard and forced herself to explain how she felt.
“There’s something…something I dread. I feel helpless about it and am afraid to even think about it. Being here, in this city, makes it worse. I don’t know what to do.”
The old woman’s kind eyes stared at Ashland before giving a nod.
Char reached out, taking Ashland’s hand. “Gulley was my husband. He bought this place over thirty years ago. It was run down back then, but he fixed it up and built a good business. Three years later, he died. His heart just gave up on him. He was a big man with a big heart, but apparently not a strong one.”
She leaned back, her eyes distant. “When he died, I was lost. I had always relied on him. He ran the business, bought our supplies, set our prices, and managed the money. All I had done was serve tables. I’m marked with the rune for the job, but I didn’t know what to do, so I closed the inn down.” She sat upright. “After a month of wallowing in pity, I made a decision. I didn’t want to be the victim.” She shook her head. “I decided that I couldn’t let Gulley down. I was stronger than that. He had given me t
he tools to succeed, laying out how everything needed to be done. I just needed to take charge and make it work. Now, here I am, thirty years later still running this inn and making a good living. In a couple years, I will sell it and retire in a nice little home near the city, not having to work another day in my life.” She smiled at the thought.
Ashland smiled back. Char was right. She had the tools she needed. It was time to address her fears and stop being the victim.
CHAPTER 30
Ashland took a calming breath and entered the temple. Though the morning air was warming outside, it remained cool inside the brick building. Rows of benches surrounded the dais located in the heart of the large space. Colored shapes of light shone brightly upon the walls as sunlight streamed through the stained glass panels of the dome above.
Since it was still early, the building was empty. Patrons would soon arrive to pray and to give offerings to Issal, but for now, it was peaceful and quiet. Ashland stopped before the glowstone altar and closed her eyes for a moment of reflection.
“Can I help you, child?” A voice came from behind, a voice she recognized immediately.
She turned to face the man. “Hello, Uncle Tyrin.”
The man’s brow lifted in surprise. “Ashland!” He stepped closer. “My favorite niece and pupil has returned. How are you?”
Tyrin looked much the same as she remembered. Graying curly brown hair puffed at the sides of his head, although the top was bald. His narrow face accentuated the graying brown mustache draped below a large nose. Although the man had a lean build, he stood a head taller than Ashland. His long, wiry frame held more strength than one would guess. Of that, she knew well.
“I’m with some friends, visiting the city for a few days.” she replied. “I thought I would stop by the temple while I was here.”
Tyrin’s eyes scanned her again. “I do not see an Academy cloak upon you. Were you not able to get in, then?”
Ashland shrugged. “I did get in, but it didn’t last. I’ll not be an Academy Master after all.”
His eyes narrowed, his lips drawing a thin line. “Perhaps we should adjourn to my apartment to discuss this further.”
Not waiting for a response, he grabbed her wrist and led her toward the rear of the temple with his purple cloak billowing behind. Ashland’s heart was thumping and her vision a bit unstable as she dug deep for the sense of resolve that she had found when she decided this course.
They exited the temple and entered the adjacent apartments. Tyrin opened the door to his room, waving her in. She stepped inside, not surprised to find the room looking much the same as she remembered. It did seem a bit smaller now though. For that matter, so did he. She realized how much her perspective had changed in the past three years. There was a time when this city, this temple, and this man were all she knew.
The man stepped closer and put his hands on her shoulders. “What did you do? If you got in, why are you not at the Academy?”
She looked him in the eye, feeling anger stirring with the fear inside. “I decided that I’ll not be a party to their lies. Much like you, the Ministry hides cruelty and deceit behind a thin veil of pure intentions.”
The man’s expression changed, hardening. He released her shoulder, his open hand flying toward her face. When it stopped short, he looked down to find her arm blocking his. Rage lit in his eyes as he shouted at her.
“Why do you resist me? You know what it will get you!”
“I’ll bend to your will no longer, Tyrin.” Ashland was firm. “You are wrong to abuse your position like this, using Issal’s name as a shield while inflicting pain on others. It is evil, Tyrin. Promise me you’ll stop, and Issal might forgive you.”
Anger clouded the man’s face. “How dare you!”
His fist flashed toward her, stopping in her palm.
His eyes grew large. “How?”
Tyrin screamed as she squeezed his hand, bones crunching and snapping as blood squirted between her fingers. He fell to his knees and she let go, turning and stepping away from him.
Ashland could hear him whimpering behind her. Not having the stomach for cruelty, she took a breath to steady herself. Closing her eyes, she recalled memories long buried. She could picture her ten-year-old self, sent to him so that he could be her guide and guardian. He took that trust and twisted it. Behind a fake smile and smooth words, he had used fear and violence to control her. That fear now fueled Ashland’s anger for what he had done; for the years of happiness that Tyrin had denied her.
Hearing him move behind her, she spun about as he struck at her with a cold fire iron, the same fire iron that he had used countless times to burn her for little reason. Her hand flashed up, snatched the iron from the air, and yanked it from his grip. She tossed the iron aside, driving it through the thick wooden door. She twisted and slammed her boot heel through his knee. Tyrin screamed in pain and collapsed to the floor, his eyes wide with fear as he stared up at Ashland. She stood over her tormentor, telling herself it was about justice and not revenge.
With her heart pounding in her ears, Ashland stared down at her tormenter. He lay curled into a ball, clutching his ruined hand to his chest and crying like a baby as blood pooled beneath his destroyed knee.
“For six years, I suffered as you stole every bit of joy from my life.” Ashland spoke with the heat of anger at the thought. “I was a child, Tyrin, and you were to train me and take care of me, not beat me upon every misstep. With my actions, I sentence you to the life you deserve, knowing what it’s like to be crippled by fear and pain.”
Her gaze flashed to the door as it burst open. Master Herrin and Minister Jerrold stepped into the room.
Herrin looked down at Tyrin then up to Ashland. “What happened?” the old man asked, sounding horrified. “What have you done to him?”
Calmly, Ashland replied, “I’ve done what you cowards should have done long ago. I’ve ended his reign of tyranny. He’ll hurt others no longer.”
When she attempted to walk past the two ministers. Jerrold made the mistake of trying to stop her. With a flick of her wrist, she slammed the big man against the heavy wooden door and he crumpled onto the floor, unconscious.
Her eyes flashed toward Herrin, who backed away in fright. “Go on and heal him, Herrin, just like you healed me countless times after Tyrin went too far.” She stepped closer to him as the larger man cowered in fear. “You’re as bad as him, you know. You knew what was happening and did nothing to stop it.”
After staring at him a moment longer, she turned and stepped over the prone form of Minister Jerrold. She paused at the door to look back at Herrin. “Like I said, go ahead and heal Tyrin. He won’t ever be the same, though.”
Ashland walked down the hallway and into the temple, looking down at her hand as she walked toward the exit. She’d have to wash the blood away, along with the Power rune she’d drawn on the other hand.
Ashland stepped out into the sunlight and paused atop the stairs. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. When she opened them, she began descending the stairs before stopping abruptly. Her eyes locked with Eldarro’s, who was standing just two steps below. The recognition in his eyes instantly turned from surprise to anger.
He lunged out, his hand gripping her arm. As he pulled her toward him, she braced her feet against the steps and pushed against his chest. Her Chaos-charged strength launched the much larger man backward, causing him to smash into the armed men who were following close behind. The six guards in the vanguard took the brunt of the impact and tumbled to the ground.
Ashland leapt from the stairs, hurdling the entire group to land in the street. She dashed off, weaving her way through the crowd. Careful not to hit anyone for fear of injuring them with her chaotic strength, she wiggled her way through and darted into the first alley. Shouting sounded from the street behind her as she bolted down the narrow corridor.
Emerging from the other end, Ashland pulled her hood up and melted into the foot traffic
of the busy street. Keeping pace with the flow of people around her, she resisted the urge to look backward, hoping that her plain gray cloak would blend in with the foot traffic surrounding her. Two blocks later, she made another turn and felt a surge of relief when Gulley’s Inn came into view. She glanced backward just before reaching the building. Not seeing her pursuers, she stepped to the door and entered the inn.
Ashland crossed the taproom and pulled her hood down as she approached the table where her friends sat eating breakfast. Her eyes caught Brock’s, his smile melting when he saw her expression.
“What happened?” Brock asked.
“It’s Eldarro. He’s here with some men,” she replied, her heart still pounding from the encounter.
Brock stood to approach her. “Are you hurt? Do you need healing?”
She glanced down at her bloody hand. “No. It’s fine. I’m not harmed.”
Parker stood and addressed the group. “Our plans have changed. We leave now. Get your things and meet at the stable in five minutes.”
As the others stood and made their way for the stairs, Brock stepped closer. Ashland looked into his eyes, still seeing concern.
“You’re not telling me everything,” he said, taking her non-bloody hand. He looked down at it, clearly noting the rune drawn on it.
Ashland grew angry. “Leave it be, Brock. I don’t want to talk about it.” She paused, calming a bit when she realized that he was trying to help. “I just needed…I needed to deal with something from my past. The rune was necessary for my protection. It also enabled me to escape from Eldarro.”
Brock stared into her eyes before nodding. “Just as long as you’re okay.”
He gave her a smile, which she mirrored, feeling thankful that he didn’t press further. Ashland believed that what she had done was necessary, but it was horrible at the same time. She didn’t want to talk about it. In fact, she now found that she wanted to forget the whole incident.
The Emblem Throne (The Runes of Issalia Book 2) Page 15
