As soon as Harpyn was out of view of the soldiers, he stopped and pulled the star-speckled robe off, bunching it up and holding it under one arm. Underneath, he wore simple leggings and a thin vest. When he got into town, he would go in search of a proper shirt and maybe some extra provisions for the road. After all, he was beginning to believe he had a much bigger journey ahead of him than he would like.
He moved quickly on the open road, looking both directions before using his magic to transport him in great leaps and bounds until he was nearly at the city gates. When he arrived, he was shocked to find the gates locked against outsiders, a thing he had never before seen in this tranquil little town. He was so used to waltzing straight past the guards and heading to the market, he wasn’t entirely sure what to do about the closed doors.
“Ahem!” he tried clearing his throat, wondering if there may be a guard standing nearby who would hear him. “Hello? Anybody in there?”
The gates remained solidly closed and he didn’t hear so much as a peep from the other side. Growing curious, he marched all the way up to the great double doors, lifting his fist overhead and rapping his knuckles hard on the wood. Of course, his knock sounded like little more than the flutter of a moth against the city’s defenses.
Harpyn was beginning to grow even more concerned now. He’d lived in Torg Uyen all his life, at least until he’d moved in with old Geor, and he’d never seen the gates locked like this. Pressing his ear to the door to make sure no one was waiting on the other side, he listened for several long minutes. Finally, he decided his mission was simply too important to be put off by something so frivolous as a locked door.
“Ready or not, here I come…” he said to himself before closing his eyes and stepping through the transport spell once more.
He had never used the spell to reach a place he couldn’t see before, but he knew the streets of Torg Uyen well enough, so he figured not much could go wrong. For the most part, he was right. He arrived on the opposite side of the door a split second later, standing right in the middle of the main thoroughfare, the locked gate at his back.
But the inside of Torg Uyen was like a foreign city to him. Shops and homes were closed up tight. The streets were empty save for a brave rat that ran across the cobblestones with delight.
“Now this is strange,” he mused, walking down the road, searching for any sign of living beings. It occurred to him that the town might have been struck by something strange, perhaps related to the meteor that struck the tower.
It wasn’t until he reached the outskirts of the marketplace that he heard the first sounds of life and he breathed a sigh of relief. The tavern, of course, was humming with activity. Maybe all was not lost. He just needed to make a quick stop, gather some information from people in the know, and then he’d make a quick round of the market to grab a few things before he was on his way.
As he rounded the corner to enter the market square, he found himself stumbling to a halt, eyes wide with concern. It appeared that the tavern was overflowing with soldiers. Men in armor spilled out into the street, some of them sitting right on the ground, drinking and talking loudly as a large woman in an apron made the rounds with a tray of drinks.
“Hey you! Kid!” one of the men shouted, struggling to get to his feet when he spotted Harpyn. “Don’t you run away from me! I’m with the king’s guard! Stand right there!”
Harpyn recognized the markings on the man’s armor as matching those of the guard at the tower, but that didn’t make him feel any better. In fact, it made him feel much, much worse. And then there was the fact that the guard was moving straight toward him, several of his friends flanking his sides as he shouted.
He backed away slowly until he reached the place where an alley opened up to one side before he stopped.
“What are you doing out here alone?” the guard shouted. “Haven’t you heard? It’s dangerous around these parts! The mages are up to something!”
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At that, Harpyn froze, suddenly realizing that there was a much more mundane explanation for Torg Uyen’s unfriendliness this evening.
“Oh? I hadn’t heard. I’ll just be on my way then,” Harpyn answered, eyeing the guard suspiciously.
Behind the guards, the tavern owner waved her arm overhead, urging him to run away.
“Now just hang on a minute,” the guard replied, taking another step toward Harpyn, closing the distance as his two friends moved to either side, blocking the path. “How’s it possible that you hadn’t heard about the mages? Ran through the city shouting the news, we did. Why’d you think everyone closed up shop early? The king’s holiday?”
Harpyn shrugged, steadying himself. “I don’t know, sirs. I was just coming out to grab a bite to eat, and then I stumbled into you all. But I see I’ve made a mistake, so I’ll get out of your way. Enjoy your evening!”
Harpyn said this last bit with a flourish, and then he was blinking and stepping through his most practiced spell, transporting himself down the alleyway to the next road and breaking into a sprint.
There was a shout as the guards lunged for the place where Harpyn had been, and he heard the clatter of their armor as he ran around the next corner, headed for Torg Uyen’s rear gate. Using his magic so much had left him quite drained, and he was in desperate need of a proper meal, but it was obvious that he would not find what he was looking for here.
More troubling was the fact that he had not a single clue as to where he should go. If he left by the rear gate, he could take the long way around to the high road, and then he could chart a path to Yaal. If there was anyone who could answer his questions about the mages, and the lost magic, and the ancient weapons, and… Ashamsikunu, it would be the scholars of Yaal.
Running down the abandoned streets, Harpyn was keenly aware of the sound of his footsteps on the stones, and the shouts of angry men in his wake, but he didn’t dare stop or even consider hiding anywhere in this town. He rounded one last corner, passing a baker’s shop, and with a swift hand, grabbed a lingering loaf of bread, forgotten on a cart. He ripped a chunk out of it with his teeth, running as he chewed and trying not to choke as it sapped the moisture from his mouth.
He reached the gate, gasping, and looked around desperately for a source of water, but found none. Fortunately, there was a creek that ran through the town and down through the hills. In another blink, he was outside the city gates and darting along in the shadows of Torg Uyen’s outer wall. He could no longer hear the guards shouting and he presumed that they had returned to their drinking.
He followed the wall until he heard the trickle of water running out from beneath a concealed tunnel. He set his robe on the ground and wrapped the bread in it before dropping down the side of the ditch to the water’s edge. Then, he scooped the cool water up in his hands and sipped of it gratefully. It might have been the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. And after all the dust and commotion at the tower, he hadn’t quite realized how parched he was. The bread had really done him in though.
His stomach gurgled appreciatively and he climbed back up the bank and gathered his things. Now, standing here alone, he found himself in a predicament. He had seen maps of Torg Uyen, and all of Andrysfal. He knew, more or less, which way it was to Yaal. But never in his life had he heard of anyone walking that great distance on foot, and especially not alone. He considered his options with a sigh.
He could probably use his magic to take him some of the distance, but he didn’t want to over do it. Geor had never had him go much further than Torg Uyen and back. The distance to Yaal was at least ten times greater. And then there was the matter of supplies, which he had not gathered in the town thanks to the king’s men.
A chill breeze passed through the trees and Harpyn shivered. He became acutely aware of the thin sheen of sweat that had gathered on his skin as he made his escape. Hesitantly, he unrolled his robe and pulled it back on, warding off the worst of the wind. As long as he was out here alone, there was no sense in taking it off. He’d just have to remember to be cautious when he neared the next town. You never could be sure how people would react to a mage coming around.
“Well, it can only get better from here,” he muttered to himself, pulling his hood up over his head and setting a path through the trees.
To his left, there was a rustling of leaves and then a howl that sent shivers running up and down his spine. His breath quickened and his heart raced as he spun in a circle, trying to spot the animal that cried out, but he could see nothing. A branch cracked, closer now, and he spun again, clutching the bread until he had smashed it against his chest.
Then, beneath the sound of his pulse beating in his head, he heard a low growl, an angry warning from some beast that didn’t much like intruders.
“One last time,” Harpyn pleaded to his magic, closing his eyes and imagining a place on the high road, over the next hill. A place he had never been, nor even seen pictures of. But how different could any road be from another?