Page 96 of Keldori By Daybreak

“She’ll be better the faster we find a healer.” Ciarán’s gait swayed beneath me, and I lurched as he adjusted his grip. I forced my eyes open and squinted at the massive wall ahead of us. It was cut from a single stone, and I stared at the grooved pattern carved into its surface before realizing it was more bark grain.

“Can you hear me?” Ciarán asked in my head. I hummed back in response, unable to muster anything more. His pace quickened, and I closed my eyes again.

“The Northern Gate is closed!” an unfamiliar voice barked up ahead.

“We’re travelers!” Ciarán called back. “One of us is injured. Please, we need to enter Willow’s Grave.”

“The Southern Gate might help you,” the voice said lazily, “but it’s a bit of a walk.”

“We don’t have time. She might not—”

“If I say no one comes into Willow’s Grave through the Northern Gate, then no one comes into Willow’s Grave through the Northern Gate,” the man insisted. “But if you’re really that desperate, perhaps you can convince me.”

“Convince him?” Orla repeated. “We’ve already told him Wren is injured.”

“Orla,” Ciarán growled, “offer the man a Skal bottle.”

“An entire bottle?” Iseult said.

“Now, Orla,” Ciarán pressed.

Orla rustled beside us, and a gentle light pressed against my eyelids.

“Let us in, and it’s yours,” Ciarán announced.

The guard was silent as he thought, and then—

“All of it?”

“The whole bottle,” Ciarán assured him.

“Surely your friend’s life is worth more than one bottle of Skal.”

Iseult started to protest, but Orla was already pulling out a second bottle.

The gate guard laughed. “I don’t suppose she’s worth three bottles?”

“Two is all we have,” Tiernan said. “Unless you want a cat.”

“No!” Fana squeaked, and Jonquil meowed.

“Three bottles,” the guard said. “Southern Gate might be happy to take just the two, but there’s a healer not far from here once you’re inside.”

“We just restocked,” Orla whispered to the others. “We can spare another bottle if we have to.”

“This guy’s a bully,” Iseult hissed back. “If we keep giving him what he wants, he’ll keep asking for more.”

“Four bottles!” Ciarán’s chest vibrated against my skull as he called back to the guard. “That’s all we have.”

The guard laughed, and heavy wood grated against cobblestone. Ciarán jostled under me as he carried me over a small bridge and through the citadel gate.

“Orla, give the man his Skal.”

“It better not be cut with anything,” the guard warned.

“Pure Skal. I swear it on the Three Magicians,” Ciarán said. “You said there’s a healer nearby.”

“Sure, down a few streets that way. Look for the purple tapestry.”