Chapter Eighteen

Noah

 

They rode for the remainder of the night and most part of the next day, indulging rare breaks by the riverbank, scarcely speaking.

Watching the sun slowly painting the clouds in breathtaking pinks and blues, they arrived upon a small village, exhausted, saddle-sore, and hungry. The village, Kitera said, was home to an inn Dharkan was fond of.

The Royal Ale, Noah read on the sign.

~ Best ale in Fellera, if I’m to take a wild guess. ~

The music of a few bitterns and zithers spilled from the inn’s common room as they jumped off their saddles, meeting with a stable boy of perhaps fifteen.

“We’re looking for someone,” Kitera said, pulling her cloak tighter against a southbound wind, “Laethi, tall, black hair, brown eyes, perhaps not as weary as he should be for a man on foot yet with no horse to place in your stables…”

A flicker of recognition flashed across the kid’s eyes.

“A man like that did come here, my lady. He’s in there, I reckon.”

“Thank you,” she handed him a few coppers, and Bolt’s reins.

Inside was a well-needed respite, full of light, music and warmth. A band performed on the raised stage while merchants, travelers and locals mingled around the tables.

The innkeeper welcomed them, a plump woman with greying blonde hair and a wide dimpled smile.

 “You’re in luck, I have one room left,” she announced. “But no more tables at the moment I’m afraid.”

“That’s quite all right,” Kitera said, a glint in her eye, “I should like to sit by the bar.”

Noah spotted a lone man sitting on a stool at the end of the counter that ran along the far wall. Lifting his gaze from his mug, Dharkan waved his fingers at them.

The innkeeper rubbed her hands against her apron, studying Kitera with a slight frown.

“Would you like me to send someone to show you to your room so you can perhaps change?”

Kitera waved her off. “Maybe later.”

She strode past the astonished innkeeper, towards Dharkan, scabbard flapping against her hip.  

“We’ll have ale and food,” Noah told the innkeeper.  

With Jaden they grabbed spare wooden stools and dragged them over to where Kitera and Dharkan sat.

“Hi Noah,” Dharkan smiled.

They huddled against their corner of the counter, Noah seated between Jaden and Kitera, taking in Dharkan’s smirk amidst a few days’ stubble, and the evident mirth behind his eyes.

Noting the white amulet dangling from a silver chain around Dharkan’s neck--clashing stupidly against a snug black outfit�"Noah said: “Pretty necklace you’ve got there. Really brings out your eyes.”

“How sweet of you. I stole it actually,” Dharkan replied, his Laethi accent noticeable in the way he pronounced some vowels oddly.

“Michaela sent you?” Noah asked.

“Obviously. You were gone a while. Got yourself a boyfriend?” Dharkan spared Jaden a glance. “That explains a lot. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Noah replied. “By the way I heard this inn recently had an issue with spiders in the bed sheets, just in your room though.”

Kitera let out a heavy sigh and took a swig from Dharkan’s mug.

The innkeeper chose this moment to bring fresh ale for everyone.

“Best ale in--”

“Fellera?” Noah finished for her.

“The world,” the innkeeper corrected, beaming.

Dharkan raised his drink. “Gods bless you, I like people who aim high.”

Blushing, the woman said something about Dharkan’s accent being very nice, before she returned to ordering serving girls around.

Jaden leaned over Noah, addressing Dharkan. “May I inquire how you did it? Steal it, I mean?”

Dharkan sipped his ale, gaze hovering over Jaden. “I get what you see in him, Noah; pretty as a girl isn’t he?”

“You should see his sister,” Noah said before he could stop himself.

“I do hate it,” Kitera commented, “when you two are in the same room.”

Showing admirable patience, Jaden simply prompted: “So how did you do it then?”

Dharkan shrugged. “Got there last night, bribed a useless servant who didn’t know anything, but he did let me in. I was watching,” he turned to Noah, “when the old man showed this to you.” He fingered the white amulet. “All I had to do was wait my turn.”

“We could’ve just left together,” Noah pointed out.

“Now,” Dharkan replied, “where’s the fun in that?”

Jaden was still confused: “What, did you hide in the walls?”

Dharkan winked. “There are ways to conceal oneself, sweetheart.”

“You mean with magic?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

Jaden gave up, settling back in his stool, sipping his ale.

Dharkan waited until after their meal had come and gone before asking the inevitable question.

“So what in the name of the gods are you doing here anyway?”

“We’re simply traveling companions,” Jaden answered. “And before granting us your unoriginal jest again let me assure you Noah and I are not romantically involved.” 

“Why does he talk like that, where did you find him?” Dharkan turned to Kitera. “Is he one of your little guards?”

So Kitera had told him about that.

“Actually,” Kitera said, “he’s the queen’s brother.”

“The b*****d?” Dharkan replied with his usual finesse.

Jaden said: “The one and only.”

Dharkan raised his drink. “Consider yourself lucky, where I’m from the king has a thousand b******s running around, what with all the w****s he fills his castle with. Cheers to that.”

Kitera arched an eyebrow. “Why on earth would we drink to that?”

Dharkan never got to answer that question, as a party of five men stormed inside the common room, armed with short swords, claiming they were Dedrifel militia, their stares finding Noah and the others.

The oldest of the group, perhaps somewhere past his fiftieth year, stepped forward, hand on his sword pommel. “We were sent by Lord Fairlocks himself to track your horses; you need to return what you stole.”

Noah leaned closer to Jaden. “I take it you didn’t leave your grandfather a note, then?”

“That may have been a fine idea,” Jaden conceded.

“If you cooperate,” the man went on, “no harm will be done to you.”

The innkeeper frowned, rubbing her hands down her apron; serving girls stopped in their tracks, the music puckered off, most conversations interrupted.

One of the militia pointed towards Dharkan. “That one’s got it, sir.”

After fishing something from under his stool Dharkan rose, unsheathing an elegant curved blade in one graceful motion.

“You know what they say; finders, keepers.”

People seated at tables nearby struggled to their feet and stood back, knocking down several chairs in the process. Facing Dharkan, the militia raised their short swords.

In an instant Kitera and Noah flanked Dharkan’s sides with sword and throwing knives ready, metal glinting in the hearth’s firelight.

Dharkan leapt, touching his blade to the older man’s sword, sweeping it upward then around and twisting it from his grasp in a blur. Dharkan caught the short sword as it spun in the air.

Summoning just a small amount of magic, the familiar tingle coursing through his body, all the way to his fingertips, Noah hurtled his knives, the two officers rushing his way stumbling and falling.

Kitera ducked a short sword and rolled, forming a parry as she came to her feet, her opponent’s blade clashing with her own. She whirled, dropped to one knee, sword arm extended and there was a shout of pain and brief spatter of blood as her blade found flesh.

Another pulled his short sword over his head, screaming as he ran to hack down at Dharkan’s shoulder; Dharkan turned, the blade missing to crash into the floor.

Dharkan delivered a kick to the man’s side, sending him sprawling.

The innkeeper was shouting. “If you must fight, do it outside, gods’ sakes!”

“No need!” the eldest of the group exclaimed. “We surrender!”

They all stumbled back towards him, uniforms disarrayed, Kitera’s opponent nursing a stomach wound that didn’t look too deep, the two Noah had stabbed gasping suddenly as the knives left their legs, flying back to Noah’s waiting hand.

“Black magic,” one muttered uneasily, pressing a palm to his bloodied thigh.

Ignoring him, Noah snatched a random cleaning cloth from the bar counter, wiping the blood off his knives.

Jaden stepped forward. “Please tell my grandfather,” he addressed the militia, staring into each pair of widening eyes in turn, “that I apologize for my being inconsiderate. I really should have left a note.”

Baffled, the fifty-something man asked: “That’s it?”

Jaden hesitated, then began again: “I shall return the necklace… eventually… if possible.”

They still eyed Jaden expectantly.

“Go on, then,” Jaden said, waving them off. “Get patched up, ride back home, and don’t come after us again.”

“Y-Yes my lord.” They scurried away.