Chapter 2

When the feeling stopped and he opened his eyes, he was in a dark room. It was the same room he had stayed in when he first arrived in Holmberg. The room was small, made of wood like the rest of the settlement, with little furniture. Only a tiny bed in the corner, just enough to barely fit a man his size. A nightstand sat beside the bed, and a trunk was at its foot. A small fireplace on the opposite side looked like it had not been used for days. Maybe since he last stayed here. Luckily, the room was empty, so there were no surprises. It would have been hard to explain how he had just popped into the room because he did not understand it for now.

“Holy shit,” he said, trying to collect himself as he walked to the door. Then he put an ear to it to see if anyone was around.

Xavi looked at him inquisitively, “Do you Humans worship your filth, Master?”

“What? No. It’s an expression, Xavi. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then why did you just say your droppings are holy stupid human?”

He turned to the Imp, trying to think of a response, but decided to ignore it and return to the door. Hearing no sounds from outside the room, he quickly entered the hallway.

He knew he was on the second level from his initial visit to this establishment, though it was dark enough that he wasn’t sure of the exact time, but he listened for any movement. ‘I don’t want anyone to think I’ve been squatting. I would not want to be on the receiving end of that bear of a Tavern keeper’s fists,’ he thought. There were no sounds still. How late was it? Slowly, he opened another door and made his way out.

Stepping into the hall and closer to the stairs, he looked down at the tavern below. There were no sounds so far or songs from the intoxicated patrons, so he figured it must be early rather than late. ‘Gods, that week down in the tunnels has messed with my internal clock,’ he mused.

Making his way down the stairs, he found no life. The smell of stale alcohol reached his nose as he looked around toward the exit. It could not have been too long since they closed because the fireplace was still smoking, but it was long enough for every patron to leave. Luckily, no bears still.

He spotted the door and crept through the space, weaving through tables and chairs in the dark. Then, as if every god in existence hated him at once, a bright mage light ignited behind him.

“A thief then? Come to steal some late-night drink?” From behind the bar, a colossal figure stood. He was almost seven feet tall with massively broad shoulders and arms as big as Silas’ thighs. It was the tavern keeper.

A long beard ran below his bald head, and his stained apron at his waist. One massive hand held a mage light, and the other was stuffed in his pocket. The bear of a man stepped closer to see who was in front of him and paused, “Wait, I remember you. You were that nobleman looking for a guide down to the tunnels. What was your name again, son? Bah, never mind. What in the hells are you doing in my Tavern at this hour? If you needed a room, you should have just knocked! Not skulking about like some damned thief.” He paused again, removing his hand from his pocket and balling it into a fist, “You trying to steal from me, son?”

“I would never dream of such a thing in your fine establishment, sir. It was late when I arrived, and the door was opened, so I walked in thinking of speaking with your gracious self about another room for the evening.” Silas said with the most authenticity he could add to his lie. “When I noticed no one was in, I decided to turn and find another place to stay for the evening. I am truly sorry for startling you, and I will be on my way. Have a good evening, Sir.” He turned and started walking to the door.

“STOP. RIGHT. THERE.” The man said.

Silas froze. He unconsciously reached for the Grimoire. He stopped himself after realizing how he reacted.

“What kind of innkeeper would I be if I turned around a returning customer just like that.” The bear of a man said with a smile. “I have the same room as last time you were here if you’d like it again. As before, if you're staying, three copper for the night and one silver for the week. Up front, of course.” The man laughed.

He let out a breath of relief. “How kind of you, Sir. I would very much…”

“BOW TO YOUR GOD STUPID HUMAN!” Xavi yelled and threw an object at the tavern keeper.

SPLAT. Something struck the man straight across the face, covering his head and beard in goop that reeked even from where Silas stood.

“Xavi, did you just…” Silas turned to Xavi, horrified. “XAVI DID YOU JUST THROW…no.” He looked between the massive tavern keeper and the imp. With a devilish smile looking back at him, showing those needle-like teeth that made his skin crawl, Xavi said four little words that made him freeze again.

“Kill him or run.”

“What?!” he said in shock.

“Kill. Him. Or. Run. Stupid human. I just saved your life, and you’re just standing there, Master Dreamwhisper. Wield the power given to you, or run like a coward. You choose.” Wings flapping soundlessly, head cocked to the side, with the ever-present toothy smile of his.

At that moment of hesitation, two hooded figures burst out of the shadows, grabbed Silas by the arms, and quickly dragged him backward to the door. Silas decided not to fight, got to his feet, and ran with them.

“ARAGHHHHHHHHHH.” The gargantuan man screamed from inside the tavern as they turned the corner.

“Follow us, quick like. And keep up unless you want the old man to squish your insides into next week’s stew.” One of the hooded figures said from a run.

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A feminine-sounding laugh was heard from the other one. “But wash your hands when we get there, please. You can stay with us for the night after helping with the distraction, not that we needed it, but I’ll not have you smelling like shite.”

“Smelling like what?” Silas muttered, then quickly realized what the stranger was referring to, eyes going wide. “Oh, gods, that wasn’t me!”

“Yeah, sure, buddy, just keep up. It’s just right across the way. We’ll be there in no time.”

After running for a few blocks through the darkened streets, they slowed and looked to see if anyone was following them. A strange clanking sound began slowly growing behind them sounded like a child banging on a pot. Looking back, they found two guards running towards them in full armor with their swords drawn, shouting for them to stop.

“Looks like the bucketheads are out tonight.” The first one said, pointing a thumb at the duo. “You just had to throw that, didn’t you? Well, it seems we will have a little fun after all.” He said with what sounded like a grin. “Tip or tail?”

“What?”

“Tail for me.” Said the second.

“Tip it is then.” Turning slightly to Silas, “Keep running straight for four more blocks, then take two lefts and don’t stop for anything. We will be right back.”

“What?!” but they were gone before they could respond. The guards were getting closer despite the heavy armor they wore, so he pushed himself harder despite his legs beginning to burn.

One block was gone, and he was starting to gain some ground on the guards but was determined to keep going. Luckily, this hour had no foot traffic, so it was a relatively smooth run. When he reached the third block, two more guards came around a corner, and he almost ran straight into them, barely dodging to the side.

“Watch it!” one of the new guards yelled, pulling the other back at his shoulder. “The hells are you acting like that boy? Slow down!”

“Stop him!” the pursuing guards called from down the street. Before the new guards could move, there was a resounding crash from behind. The new guard’s eyes went wide. Silas glanced back to see the two strangers slamming into the pursuing guards from the sides, one low, one high, causing them to crumple into each other and roll to a stop. Laughing together, they immediately got to their feet and ran directly to Silas, pushing him forward faster. As they rounded the corner on the fourth block, they finally heard the shouts from the new guards again calling for them to stop.

“Does asking to stop people ever work?” the second stranger asked.

“All the time, I’m sure of it!” the first said sarcastically as they rounded the second left.

They sped two more streets around a corner into a dark alley and silently skidded to a halt. As soon as Silas stopped, the first stranger pressed one finger to his lips and motioned for him to get low, as they waited.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears as the seconds stretched into minutes when, finally, two guards raced past them loudly in full armor with weapons in hand. They stopped at the following street and spoke softly to each other, pointing in different directions. Finally, after a few moments of arguing, they took off, heading in the opposite direction to them, with the sound of their armor fading into the distance.

The second stranger turned to the first and whispered, “Looks like we are clear. It might be time we moved on from this town, don’t you think?” said the first, looking at Silas. “Bunk with us for the night; we will go our separate ways come morning. Just keep your slanging to yourself, alright? Mind your head.” Then, they ducked into an almost invisible crack in the wall they were standing by. Silas followed, hand slipping down to the Grimoire hanging from his hip.

When he entered the space, he saw a well-kept room with boarded windows. Small lamps hung from the walls, illuminating the area enough not to trip on any furniture. Piles of random goods were in the room's corners, with two beds and a full couch covering most of the remaining area. A small table with two chairs was next to a large fireplace that sat cold on the back wall. Opposite the fireplace was the only door in sight, and it had three large wooden beams sealing it, which looked like it would take a small army to open. ‘One way in, one way out, I guess.’

The two strangers pulled their hoods down, and he could finally see who he had followed. Both had shoulder-length jet-black hair tied back behind their heads with almost identical features, one male and one female, obviously twins. Each had matching black leather carapaces, dark grey pants, and black leather boots. The man had daggers strapped to his waist and chest, with a short bow and quiver slung over one shoulder and a bag hanging off the other. The female had two scimitars hanging from her hips, standing with the grace of a cat, looking like she was about to either pounce or bolt. She turned and faced him with a smile and gloved hands resting on the hilts of her swords and asked, “So what’s your name then?”

“Silas.” Shifting uncomfortably.

The man stepped forward and held out a hand. “Antony and the twitchy one is Kara, " he said with a laugh and nod.

“I’m not twitchy, I’m cautious.” Kara shot, leaning back by the crack in the wall.

“Right. Cautious,” rolling his eyes. “By the way, try anything funny, and I’ll slice you from stem to sternum before you even think of uttering a single spell. Good?”

“Spell?” extending his hand to meet the man’s.

“Yeah, expensive-looking robes, book on your hip and sword on the opposite. You walk like a Noble but smell like dusty tomes from an old library. Mage. Though with that sword at your side and you move like a fighter, I would like to say battle mage; however, this part of the world doesn’t take too kindly to that sort.” Antony said with a laugh. “So, what is it?”

He thought about the question. He was unsure what he was if he was honest with himself. He had very little memory of his life before his banishment from his family. The spell the mage council used to wipe his mind was incredibly powerful. It was common practice for noble families to wipe the memories of disgraced ones to protect them from traitors and usurpers, but it had flaws. He would get flashes of memories from time to time, faces he knew he loved, but that was all. Feelings and images. When he picked up a weapon, it felt comfortable and natural, from swords and axes to staves and halberds. He knew he could use them all just from a glance at a passing guard.

His magic was another story altogether. He had his mage light and a tiny wisp of flame that he would conjure. It was just enough to start a campfire but nothing else. All he had were his dreams and that feeling of immense power. He instinctually knew that his dreams and obsession had caused his banishment, but he knew that if he got the power, he could return to his family and be whole again—the power that was his now.

Silas shuddered at the thought of the tunnels and what had transpired there with the small man.

He had not even had time to think, let alone comprehend what had happened because of the whirlwind of an evening he’d had since leaving the tunnels. “Figuring that out myself.” He replied.

“Okay then, mage, keep your secrets. Gods know we have ours.” He smiled. “You take the couch and get some sleep. The sun will be up soon enough. Nighty night.” Then he turned, dropped the sack over his shoulder into a nearby pile, and jumped into the bed closest to him.

Kara was already lying in the other. She sat on her elbows and said, “And wash your hands.” Nodding to a bucket on the table.

Grumbling in frustration, he replied, “It wasn’t me.” as he walked to the table.

After washing his hands, Silas looked over to the couch and sighed, ‘Well, it’ll do, I guess. Would have rather had the room at the tavern, but someone had to mess it up.’ He thought. ‘Speaking of that someone, where is the Imp?’. Looking around, he found no trace of the demon. Shrugging his shoulders, he walked over to the couch and lay down. Exhaustion took him quickly, and he fell asleep as fast as he hit the cushions. No dreams or voices haunted him that night—just peaceful sleep.