Haunted by visions of the night prior, I took due precautions to avoid another incident. I tethered my steed nearer to the heart of the outpost, and I carried out what remained of my slumber in a tent towards the village's center. It held more occupants than it was truly able, but the snores of fellow men were vastly preferable to the hot breath of whatever apparition had visited me during the witching hours. The three, four—however many hours thereafter weren't enough to replace those I was robbed of, but it was blissful sleep.
With morning having truly come, I needed to seek out that woman before she found another willing to guide her. After an expedited breakfast of the scraps and starches lining my pockets, I rose from my ragged bed of straw and stepped carefully through the men blanketing the ground in their cold stupor. As I stepped into the gelid breeze beyond the canopy and drew it in threw pursed lips, I experienced an acute sense of deja vu; it was my third trip to the tent even if I’d only been there once before. This time, however, I walked among the same warm faces that I had missed so dearly. My back was no less stiff, and my eyes no less heavy, but I was more lively as I hastened there.
When I arrived, it was more than slight apprehension that had my hand trembling against the tent cloth. Fortunately, I found it as crowded as it was on my last visit and just as jovial as it was the first. I set out towards the bar as planned, stopping when I saw that all of the stools were occupied by customers, the woman not among them. My first hopes were dashed, but I carried excess in reserve. It was early yet, and I figured that if I passed some time, she might still show her face. From what I gathered, she was a regular here.
In the meantime, I drifted towards the center of the room where another debacle was unfolding. These men were guardsmen from the looks of it, though they hadn't the trappings of a richer state; they wore dirtied, studded leather garb versus the elaborate mail I was accustomed to. A heavyset man sporting a patchy beard and a thinning scalp had the floor. His head bobbed, and his face was red, but I couldn't decide if it was exasperation or inebriation that had that effect on him.
"Just the other day I came across a lurk of goblin. Must've been at least a dozen of 'em!" he proclaimed between long drinks from his tankard. "But I had the critters scrambling with a flash of my steel."
"Please!" cried another man standing opposite to him, arms thrown up in rebuttal. "You sure you don't mean they had you runnin'? That blade's as clean as a babe's arse!" He and his posse laughed with mouths half-full of teeth and leaking spittle.
Having seen my share of feral beasts, there were none as frightening as the day crowd in a tavern. It was probably wisest to steer clear; however, I felt myself giving in to their infectious roar. I couldn't remember the last time I shared a laugh with someone other than myself, and I had my questions about the ghostly leech that came wriggling out from the night. I interrupted their pissing match with a clearing of my throat, speaking half in jest and half to appease my nagging curiosity.
"Goblins? Just last night I woke to a writhing shadow, sat on my chest like a boulder while it sucked the life out of me. But I didn't wet my pants like you boys would have."
The same balding man whose ass dangled above the fire spit now cackled. "Spent a night at the brothel did ye'?"
"It's a damn fool that gets himself attacked by a wraith," teased another. "Didn't your mum ever tell you to stay inside at night?"
His jab had garnered only a few chuckles when another man stumbled from his stool and raised his glass, grabbing our attention as he cleared his throat with a wet snort. "No, but yours has!"
The tent and table shook as all of them howled, the quarreling duo included, and like that, they had forgotten their differences and joined in drunken merriment. They quaffed drink after drink while a desperate barkeep raced to fill their hands, a wobbly platter of mugs in each of his own. When he came to me, I lifted my hand in protest, but the gesture was mistaken, and the frothy golden brew set before me. I wasn't a drinker, but the idea of taking a day to enjoy myself had its appeal after months marred by constant stress. I took the brimming beverage in my fist. The foam pooled around the rim, spilling across my hand before I took a sip. It was light and crisp, but warmer than I liked it. A whirl and a whiff of ether sufficed to make it just right.
“Alas, the little miss would have nothing to do with me, like she was repulsed at the sight! Would ye believe that? Me?”
A big sweating man laid his limp arm along sulking one’s shoulder. “Don’t let them get to you, Thomas. These ladies would be lucky to have a gent like you. Isn’t that right?” He asked, prodding the crowd.
“You’re damn right they would!”
“Lucky as ‘ell!”
“Aww, thanks lads,” he beamed with his few remaining teeth. “Ye really know how to make a man feel better.”
A strangely wholesome bunch they were when they stopped bickering. Though a good friend, I must have spent too many long nights talking to my steed, because these sots suddenly seemed like good company. Persisting off of as little food as I had, it didn’t take many drinks before the edge began to dull, and the choice became an easy one. Eyes glazed, the guild took me in as its own, heaving me along for the ups and downs of their wild lives.
One drink was all I’d stay for: that was the agreement I made with myself, but no matter how many times I brought it to my lips, the cup never seemed to drain. For what must've been hours I sat and listened to their stories, even telling a few of my own given the chance. They started as nothing more than wasted ramblings, but over time and with the clarity provided by copious amounts of liquor, I found myself enraptured by their tales. Big Pete's run-ins with the law were particularly gripping, and Toothless Tom's escapades and woes in a loveless realm were always taxing on the heart; it was by God's good graces that we had each other's shoulders to cry on after such an emotional saga.
At some point, I realized how long I had been there and tried to stand from the table whilst I was able, but that line had already been crossed. Evidently, it wasn’t my imagination that kept refilling the glass. Though I’d sat there all day, when I stood I was in a different room entirely. The heavy room churned. Everything moved in a blur, pulsing in and out—the ground especially seemed closer, imminent.
“There’s a lad. Up on your feet.” My new compatriots slung me across their shoulders. “Where’s that waiter? Can we get another round over ‘ere?"
My head swung like a pendulum from left to right. “Not today boys. It’s been fun while it lasted.”
Big Pete gingerly set me on my feet and nodded. “As long as you know where to find us, we’ll always 'ave you.”
I didn’t imagine myself returning, but I certainly knew where to find them, dawn to dusk and back. It took me another half hour of leaning against the table before I could walk away on my own, and though I very nearly forgot what brought me there, I did one last sweep of the establishment before turning to leave. It was a less-than-detailed look, but I didn’t see any shapes I thought resembled the woman from before. That meant another day wasted, and somehow, I’d done even less with it than the one prior. Maybe if the fog cleared before nightfall I could take a different job. Then again, ale might be the only way I’d subject myself to that nightmare again. For now, I squinted in the bleakness of the tent to find the thin light seeping from outside of it.
“Hey, watch where you’re—”
Having lost much of my coordination to the bottom of the mug, I was slow to react as I plowed into someone a head shorter than me. They spilled like a bucket, landing on their hands and knees while their robes cascaded over the ground. When I extended my hand it was promptly swatted away.
“What’s wrong with you? Have you lost your damn mind?”
"My apologies si—" I stopped short of a full apology as the hazy countenance cleared and revealed a woman’s face. Not just any woman, either. I cursed my luck—just like me to roll inconceivable odds. Of all times, I’d found her in a daze.
"What are you looking at?" she griped at my blatant staring.
"I've been looking for you."
She drew away defensively. "Excuse me?"
Her tone painted my face a warm red. I admit it was a poor choice of words, and given the ale on my breath and the rosy hue on my cheeks, I didn't blame her for erring on the side of caution. "I'm really sorry miss, but you misunderstand. I mean to grant you my services."
“And what the hell kind of ‘services’ would those be you swine?”
“Escort—” I stopped myself before I could make that mistake. “I found your request for a guide and I wanted to accept it personally.”
Now it was her turn to be shocked. "Truly? Then, perhaps that's not the best way to introduce yourself?"
From there, we decided to relocate, opting for a private setting as best we could find one. I followed her swiftly out of the marquee, albeit not in a straight line. My crown still teetered on my shoulders, but I held it high so as to not risk losing it. This was easier done beyond the second-hand smog of the taproom; a clean breath immediately lightened my heavy dome and restored at least in part the awareness I’d squandered. Just enough in fact to prevent a second collision.
“I wish I had somewhere better, but this will have to do. At least it’s far enough from the stench of that pigsty, no offense intended.” Some taken, not that I disagreed with her. “Now, where should we start?”
I could only recognize her from her voice before, but under the sobering light of day, I could finally make her acquaintance. She was better dressed for the climate than I was, sheltered by a long brown cloak and fur-covered mantle. Not bound by the fine cotton that wrapped her head-to-toe, a deluge of thick black hair fell loosely over her shoulders, accentuating a deep, tan complexion. By her sharp features, she looked a stern woman, but her eyes were soft in the light. She was quite sightly, exuding such confidence that she seemed imposing despite a short stature.
"I'm sorry to assume something so heinous of you," she began. "It's just rare you meet anyone with a shred of decency in a place like that. If you've been here as long as I have then you know those oafs don't know when to quit. Just the other day this man came and took a pass at me? No teeth! so you've already got a leg up on him."
"Think nothing of it. I should've consulted the bartender about it but thought to come to you directly."
"And you'll really help me to Chenglei? You're sure I'm not asking for too much? I'm aware of the rumors, and I don't want to burden you if you'd rather not travel somewhere like that." She showed great anxiety in asking me, as though I'd refuse her after going through the trouble to find her.
"I did come to you, right? I know what I'm getting myself into, and, trust me, the further from here the better." Accompanied by a warm smile, I held out my hand to signify our deal.
Her face flooded with relief as she took hold of it with both of hers. "I can't begin to tell you how thankful I am! And your name would be?"
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In the hurry to work out our arrangement, we had foregone simple introductions. "Kaiser Arrowood. Yourself?"
"Cordella Dumont," she answered proudly. "A pleasure to meet you. Now, for how long do we plan to gather supplies?"
"No more than a few days," I surmised, my lack of supplies having a heavy hand in my answer.
"Then it's better that I give you this now," she said, drawing a fistful of coins from her pockets and sliding them into my palm. The faces etched into them were unfamiliar. "I've other business to tend to before our departure, so purchase enough for the both of us. That should afford more than my share of the rations, and we can pool our resources when next we meet, say, Monday, at that hole they call a bar."
We bid each other our short farewells so that we may sooner prepare for the journey ahead. At that moment, lady fortune had shined upon me—a blessing in the form of loose change—and for once I felt confident that there were clearer skies ahead. I counted to myself. With this small sum I could rest assured that we'd make it to our destination, and when I arrived, the reward would go towards procuring the new life that I envisioned for myself. Everything was falling just into place—
"One more thing," she stopped before I could walk away, hand lightly cupping my arm. For a moment, I thought I shared glances with a different woman; her stiff posture rounded over, and her tone softened. The sharp edge of her self-assurance was temporarily dulled. "I'm sure you heard from that wretched barkeep, but I've waited weeks hoping someone would take this job. I said it before, but I really am thankful you've come along, even if you do smell of beer."
"It's nothing, I mean it."
"It's not. I know my terms aren't easy to swallow, but you're a good man, Kaiser. I can't think of many willing to take me all that way without proper payment."
"It's my pleasure," I said warmly, basking in her praise. It was only after she slipped between the tents that it dawned on me. Without pay? I echoed the words with dread. Why in god's name had I agreed to a job without pay? More importantly, who would offer it? Why would the barkeep have let—
My head rolled back as I realized that my list was short of names. Who else could end up in that predicament? A tent full of boneheads and booze-hounds, and her call went unanswered until I rode into town. And now what? I had realized too late after our acquaintance what I’d agreed to, and I’d sooner make a meal of my tunic than tell the woman she’d wait for another eternity. I wasn't proud to receive her acclaim under false pretenses, but at least I could be true to my word. The money she handed me would without be enough to get us to Chenglei, that much I could be thankful for. Still, what the hell was wrong with me that I could have that kind of lapse in judgment? Was I that desperate to leave, or was I just starved of company?
For the rest of the day, I gathered supplies—accepting my faults and grumbling all the way. In a few quick stops, I'd loaded my arms with burlap enough to make my own tent. It may have pained me to watch good money burn, but it didn't sting like my stomach would a week into the trek. Eventually, I had enough stock for the first trip, and enough for the second when things inevitably went south. I just had to get back to camp and get everything packed away.
“Guaranteed freshest in Ethelburrow or beyond! Take your pick from our fine selection of fresh fruit!” the vendor prattled on while I strolled past their stand. At least, I had intended to. “Young man, would you be interested in any fruit? Apples, pears, whatever you like!”
A kindly old woman was situated behind the counter. I grimaced. I had everything that I needed and more than I could hold, but I’d already caught her gaze. For their 'fine selection' of fruits, I saw a lot of apples and little else when I glanced over their stock. Nothing I couldn't live without, but to just walk away...
“Half a dozen apples, please.”
Maybe my problem was refusing people. I didn’t consider myself easy prey, but watching the sullied silver coins plink into the woman's hand, it was worth considering. After all, this wouldn't be first hole I dug for myself with goodwill's shovel. In exchange for a scoop of paydirt, the merchant wrapped and handed me what I asked for in a thin sack, the contents of which threatened to spill when I brushed shoulders with an armored man. Perhaps I also had a problem not looking where I was going.
"Truly sorry, sir!" he blurted as he recovered a dropped bag. "There you are."
I dismissed his worry with a shake of the head. I was more interested in his attire. "Pardon my asking, but where do you hail from?" I inquired, trying to place the elaborate crest emblazoned upon his armor. It was a badger in a green coat of arms.
"Oh, this? I've been stationed here from Kelworth. Yourself?"
"Abdera, far west of here."
"You don't say. Seeking refuge from the strife? Dire times that city finds itself in from what I've heard."
I donned a false, sheepish grin. "Aye, couldn't have left at a better time."
"Well, I'll get to see it for myself soon," he sighed. "I work as an intermediate between our cities. Most of the time that means I'm just an errand boy in a forty-pound suit of tin, but if things are as bad as they say, then any day I might have to take up arms."
I wanted to press further regarding the situation in Abdera, but I didn't want to draw attention given my connection to it. "For your sake, I hope things resolve themselves."
He nodded. "Oh, and while I have you, might you take a look at these?" He had in his hand several faded pieces of parchment. "You might not guess it, but this is a common hiding place; a gutter for the trash that our cities sweep from the streets. Any help you can provide in identifying them would be much obliged."
I agreed, taking the crumpled clump of print and flipping absently through to humor him. Shoddy work all, exaggerated characters matching none of whom had ever lived in Circadia. I had but a few left beneath my thumb when a particular name flashed by. Had that said Havlynn? It was too quick to be certain, but I recognized the grin. The rest of the packet I pieced through slowly, nearly strewing them across the paving when my own caricatured face passed beneath my fingers. The rest of the pages turned over with a smack.
"Afraid none of these look familiar to me," I confessed, all the while pulling my sheet from the stack with as much subtlety as my clumsy fingers could manage.
"Shame that," he cursed, causing a bead of sweat to roll down my flushed cheek. "Do have a fine evening though! Enjoy all that Ethelburrow has to offer."
By the time he turned and rounded the corner I was left drowning in my own perspiration. An ancient and stagnant breath fled my lungs, and I tore the paper from my underarm. Examining it more closely, I’d overreacted. It was my name on that paper, but the picture resembled a goblin more than it did me; had it not been for the text, I wouldn't have recognized myself from the unflattering depiction.
"Kaiser Arrowood," it read plainly, "for crimes against the royalty and state. Ten gold pieces rewarded in exchange for apprehension."
So that's what I was worth to the Duke. Ten paltry coins and a third-rate scribble. Had he given any effort I would have been apprehended right then, but that'd be giving me too much renown. He'd rather my name fade into obscurity than admit I had caused him to sweat. Regardless, it was clear my status as a wanted man would influence me long after I fled from Abdera. If this was any indicator, I could never make a life for myself in Ethelburrow, and Chenglei was therefore my only option.
I held my head down as I frantically searched the ins and outs of the marketplace for my new companion. Now that I was aware of my bounty, the papers bearing my likeness seemed to be plastered at every which turn, and I'd rather her hear it from me than the guards. I didn't know what to tell her, but I knew I had to leave, and since it was her money that swayed in my pockets, I knew I couldn't do it without her.
It was when I passed an open plaza that I saw her out of the corner of my eye, her finger to her chin in contemplation of her purchase. Heart in throat, I wondered if I had what it took—if I could vanish then and there, or if my guilt would drag me back here if I tried. But what would she think of me when she found out? Would it be worse to be dragged away in chains, or would the look on her face be all the sentencing I need? Sometime during my approach she noticed and waved, but her hand fell when she saw my grim expression.
"What's the matter, Kaiser, can't handle being apart for too long? We've only just met." She joked, but I could sense she felt something was amiss.
"We need to go. I can't stay here any longer," I told her in a hushed tone.
"And why not?"
I tried to lie, to spin a yarn convincing enough to lead her astray, but I hadn't the steady hands to hold the needle. "I—I didn't mean to—" I stuttered before handing her the paper balled in my fist, watching in agony as she peeled it open and traced it with her eyes. They widened and shot back at me.
"And you had thought it best to wait until now to tell me?" she asked with fuming intensity. "You’re all the damn same. I should have known better than to trust another drunk! You’d never run to Chenglei without some bloody law-hounds nipping at your heels."
I accepted all of her wrath and all of her rage and awaited quietly her final ruling.
"We leave at sundown."
I sputtered, baffled by her response. "You'd still help?"
"Let's get this straight: you're helping me," she growled, pressing her thumb to her chest. "And only until you give me another reason not to. Now get out of here."
I did as ordered, well aware that I was treading dangerous ground. The woman was imposing well in excess of what her small frame should have allowed, and I needed to watch my step.
Her terms were clear as day, and I could ask for none better, but I dreaded when she would ask me why. At a brisk pace, I returned to where my horse was tied, throwing my goods into the saddle bag and tying up the blankets in preparation for our hurried exit. However, this only took so long, and I was forced to sink to the dirt and wait for time to pass.
In my anxious state, I rolled an apple in my hands, only able to take a few bites of it before deciding to forego my nightly meal. It felt like I spent an eternity there waiting, either for a mob of guards to whisk me away, or for the sun to finally fall, but dusk did eventually greet me with its cloak of darkness trailing close behind. When the time had come, I met her on the eastern outskirts. She came on foot.
"Where is your horse?"
For the second time that day, she looked at me with frustration. "What do you mean? My listing was more than clear I needed you to provide a mount. Why do you think I've been stranded here?"
"Dammit," I cursed. "It's too late. We have to get moving while we still can.
I felt my horse dip slightly as she hoisted her bag onto the rear, climbing up a moment later. "You have no right to be angry. This is your own damn fault."
With stark white knuckles and a loud grumble, I snapped the reigns and sent us speeding into the night.