From the edge of the forest, where the slope down led to Ardhill, Crane could see the whole town. It was larger and a lot more crowded than what Fennec had told them about. Surprisingly chaotic even.

It was built on the banks of a wide river with a stone bridge to connect both sides. The bridge looked like a small fortress. Four watchtowers, two on each side and a gate no smaller than the one Endov broke through.

The last place Crane had felt Azavel was on the east and the only way to get there was through the bridge. The river was wide and deep, and it cut the valley corridor between two mountain ranges in half. If they wanted to leave the town with horses, they were going to need that bridge. A still water he could freeze but a river, that was above his talent.

It is going to be hard to get to the other side, Crane thought. Armed guards kept the gates shut, keeping a large crowd at bay.

He couldn’t still believe how they got past the last gate they had to go through without a permit. He didn’t want to repeat that.

“I hope your friend can open those gates for us.” Endov had the same concerned look on his face, just like Crane.

“Don’t worry.” Fennec was the first to go down the hill, leaving the woods for good. He took quick but steady steps as he went down. “He owes me his life. Expect a warm welcome.”

Crane hoped that this was not just one of the stories Fennec made up. Otherwise, they were going to face some resistance. He wasn’t afraid but he didn’t want to burn some random guards to the crisp just because they were doing their job. Especially not after what he did to those at the castle. His hands still shook when he thought of the man he threatened in the inner ward of the castle. He wasn’t expecting to lose Azavel's warm touch in his heart and losing it made something snap in Crane. Something that he wasn’t proud of.

“You sure they went beyond this town, brother?” Endov asked as they left the hill and forest behind. Soon, they were walking on the cobblestone road that lead to the bridge from the south of the forest they emerged.

Apparently, merchants and travellers preferred the roads, instead of running their caravans through the forest. Crane could have had the same preference had they not been fugitives.

“They were further east when I lost them.” Crane’s face soured upon the thought of Illgale catching them before he did. Azavel’s absence grew each second and set in his stomach like a rock.

As they went silent and got closer, the town grew louder and louder as the wooden houses of single stories surrounded them. Wooden houses and carts. Lots of carts.

“There shouldn’t be this many carts stationed here.” Fennec studied the merchants they passed by. People of various colours and fine clothes shouted in anger and quarrelled among themselves. “There must be something wrong at the gate.”

Fennec’s observation soon proved to be right as a mob of merchants started to gather before the gates of the bridge. Men and women clad in fine silk on the back shouting, demanding a pass and the mercenaries they hired in their front.

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The militia guarding the gate and the towers didn’t look like they would be able to stop the mob if they tried to open the gates by force.

“What was your friend doing here anyways?” Crane asked, looking at the small horde of people gathered, shouting and raising their fists.

This was the first time Crane saw this many people at the same time. It looked wrong. How can there be so many people, he thought as his chest tightened. How in Eilar can they breathe standing so close to each other in that crowd?

“He’s one of the guards,” Fennec replied, peeking through one of the carts’ curtains. He was surely interested in a cart full of merchandise whose watchmen and owners were too busy to take care of it.

Just as Fennec was about to reach for the window, Endov held his shoulder.

“You sure he can help us?” He then pointed at the bridge. “Looks like he might not be able to for a while.”

“He will.” He said as he left the other two and forced his way through the mob, like swimming through a raging storm. It reminded Crane how he failed to pull Arash to the shores. Just looking at Fennec and how he made his way suffocated him.

Endov was the first to follow Fennec, leaving Crane behind. The latter soon joined the other two, trying not to set anyone on fire to make space. He swam in the sea of people and instead of the raging waves his hands met shoulders and backs.

Soon, he got out on the other side and stood right on the small field between the angry mob of merchants and mercenaries, and the guards.

“Hey!” Fennec looked at one of the guards. “Kalvar!”

The man he addressed stood behind the other guards who were tightly holding onto their spears. His one hand rested on the hilt of the sword on his waist and the other turned into a fist as he approached Fennec.

He walked past his subordinates and punched Fennec right in the face. Upon the punch, Fennec dropped on his butt and the mercenaries rushed at the guards, thinking they attacked one of their men.

Seeing the chaos unravel, Crane shouted. “Stop!” But the raging crowd jumped on the mercenaries, trying to pass them.

Crane shouted a few more times in vain. Most didn’t hear him and those who heard didn’t care.

So, he held a fireball over his hand and the sudden light and heat froze both the guards and the mob. “Go to your carts!” Crane shouted. “Or I’ll carry there what’s left of you!”

To Crane’s anticipation, the crowd disbanded into dozens of pieces, all of whom bore angry faces. So my words are not worth a fireball… He thought.

He then turned to the guard who punched Fennec. “And if you punch him again…” Crane dispersed the fireball, taking in the leftover mana used in his spell. “I won’t disperse the next fireball but use it.”

Endov whispered to Crane’s ear. “I told you your threats could use a little more fire and less fish.” And the latter smiled briefly.

Kalvar spat on Fennec who was still on the ground. “I told you to never show your face again.”

“And what if he does?” Crane backed Fennec up. He didn’t have a fireball on his hand this time, but he figured he didn’t need to show it. The man already knew what he was capable of.

Still, Kalvar’s men held tightly onto their spears. Crane could see the hesitation in their eyes. Mercenaries they could fend off. A mage, they would rather not face.

“Ah!” Fennec got up as he swiftly and wiped his face with his sleeve as if nothing ever happened. “Friends!” He opened his arms, turning around as he brokered peace. “Must we bare our fangs while we can talk?”

“I am being merciful.” Kalvar joined his hands on his chest. “I told you what I would do if I saw you again.”

“Don’t be like that, brother.” Fennec walked to Kalvar walked past him, stopping right behind with his hand on Kalvar’s shoulder. “You know I mean no harm. Not now, not in Harbera.”

Kalvar looked at Fennec over his shoulder and then turned at Crane, studying him. “Fine.” He looked at Crane in the eyes. “Follow me. Let’s talk inside.”

So, follow the rest did as Kalvar went through the gates and closed them behind to avoid the malicious gazes of the merchants.

Crane couldn’t understand their resentment. Were they carrying something so important that their voyage was unstoppable? Compared to his quest, merchants’ whims seemed insignificant.