AllFreeNovel
Share Us
There were no settlements but Adira this close to the border, all having been either razed or abandoned in the many skirmishing centuries. Dom couldn’t even spot a village or castle on the horizon. It wasn’t until afternoon, when the sun dipped toward the distant ridge of the Ward Mountains, that he saw a smudge far off, trailing smoke.A tavern or an inn,Dom knew as it came into sharper focus, the thatched roof and stonework chimney stark against the sky. It was shaped like a horseshoe, at the intersection of two tracks.A crossroads.
A mile off, the sour scent of beer wrinkled his nose.I do not think I will enjoy this,he thought as they approached, the sun sinking behind the mountains.
When Sarn ushered them through the tavern door, he knew he wasn’t wrong.
The interior stood in stark contrast to the empty road and empty landscape outside. All manner of folk gathered within the boisterous common room: travelers and merchants, priests and wanderers, crossing paths as the tracks crossed outside. Judging by the full stable, it was a busy evening, and the barkeep didn’t break stride when they entered, barely glancing over their strange party.
In this part of the world, where the east and west began to collide, it was difficult to seem out of place, even for them. An immortal Veder, a Jydi witch, a copper-eyed assassin, a royal squire, a criminal fugitive, and the pirate’s daughter, the Ward’s hope.What a mess we are,Dom thought as Sarn claimed a corner of the room.
Her glare and Dom’s bulk were enough to send a few patrons scuttling for alternate seats, leaving them a nook of space to cram into. Far too tight for Dom’s liking, so he leaned against the wall instead, feeling like a statue, wishing he could be one.
Corayne dropped her hood as she sat, planting herself in the narrow corner between the table and the wall. She braced her back, taking some of the blade’s weight off her shoulders.
Dom expected Andry to slide in next to her, if his stolen glances were any indication. Instead the squire sidled up to him instead, his expression gentle but shadowed with exhaustion.
“How are the ribs?” he said, glancing at Dom’s side.
The flesh had healed over and caused him no more pain. But he could still feel the knife between his ribs, tearing as it went in and tearing as it went out.
“Better” was all Dom could say.
Andry didn’t push and offered a tight-lipped smile. “You’ll have a hell of a scar.”
“The Vedera don’t scar,” Dom said quickly, without thought. Then he remembered his face, the long, jagged lines he would never be rid of. Weapons and monsters of the Spindles did not cut Vederan flesh in the way he knew. “Not usually.”
At least I’m not alone in these,he thought, remembering Taristan’s face again. The lines down his cheek, torn by Jydi magic and Corayne’s own hand.He has scars to match me now.
It wasn’t like Squire Trelland to fidget. But his fingers twitched and his eyes darted, not to their table or even to the bar, where any young man might wish to stray. Instead he eyed the stairway, bending up and around to the bedrooms upstairs.
“If you’d like to retire, no one will stop you,” Dom said softly, looking down at the boy.
As in Ascal, Andry was torn between duty and desire.The squire will march and fight and carry on until he drops. Until someone gives him permission to stand back, and be a little less strong.
Dom felt a burning in his chest when he remembered Cortael at his age, and his same dogged, sometimes misguided resolve.
“You’re no use to anyone half-asleep, Trelland,” he said, putting a hand on the squire’s shoulder. “I’ll be sure to wake you if any trouble arises.”
A wash of relief fell over Andry and he sagged, the last few days pulling on his shoulders. He gave Dom a grateful nod, and with only a single glance back to their table, fled the common room. Though the squire was mortal, he had a grace to him that most did not, even with lanky limbs and overlong strides. He dodged tables and took the stairs two at a time, disappearing to the next floor with his pack and cloak.
Dom turned back to their corner, satisfied with himself. “We should do the same,” he said to the others, now sprawled around their pitted table. “Rest is what we all need right now.”
Four cups were slapped down on the table, sloshing with ale and foam. Dom sighed, watching the mortals eagerly reach for their drinks. Charlon grabbed the first, downing it in one gulp. Corayne was quick to follow.
She glanced up at Dom over the rim of her cup. “It’s not just sleep he’s after,” she said. “I don’t think taverns agree with him.”
“A squire who doesn’t like taverns or barmaids or drinking on another man’s coin,” Charlon laughed, gesturing for another beer. “Rare as a unicorn, that boy. Not that I’m exactly clear on what that boy is bringing to the table, if I’m being honest.”
“Andry Trelland is the reason we have the Spindleblade and even a chance of saving the realm,” Corayne answered coldly, her Cor eyes inscrutable.
Charlon raised a hand in placation. “All right, all right.Cagalle’ansallouve?” he muttered, raising an eyebrow at Sarn.
Dom failed to hide a smirk. He did not speak Madrentine, but by now he knew that Corayne most likely did. With the same twist of her lips, Sarn met his eye, sharing his sentiments for once.
Corayne’s face flushed, her grip closing on her drink. “I can think of nothing more ridiculous than being lovestruck in times such as these,” she said tightly. “And if you’d like to talk about me, I suggest you do it in Jydi. I can follow in almost everything else.”
Valtik cackled merrily into her cup.
And Charlon laughed too, his face flushing with surprise. He laid a hand on his chest, blue fingers bare. “Well,m’apolouge.” He sounded truly sorry.
