Alright! Two notes to begin this chapter:#1: Again, humblest apologies regarding chapter 10; I truly hope this does not dull or ruin anyone's enjoyment of the story. If you haven't heard yet, chapter 10 is corrupted and gone mia, so we have to pick up the journey a chapter later, in 11.
#2: I have decided for reasons of time constraints with Bible studies, writing Canticles of Andurun book 5, and family affairs (my little one is nearly here) to make posting Stromfyre bi-weekly. So look for chapter 12 in another 2 weeks or so. God bless and enjoy!
It was two weeks to the day that Cameron Reol led his charges into the village of Casteel. The journey, for him, had been a difficult one. There were no problems at first; everyone seemed content to their own thoughts as they rode along the plains that stretched from Hamla's outskirts to the foot of the Torvana Mountains where Casteel was found. The ride was swift and the weather was good. Cameron had Father Damien Alohm there for conversation, and if he wasn't the mercenaries favorite person in the all the land, he always had something to say. Which really started to grate on Cameron's nerves after a few days. He found relief when the father decided that he wanted Ferrin to teach him the language of sign. The mute youth was more than happy to try teaching him, was happy for anything that relieved the boredom of the ride.
On the fourth day of the journey Kirstin had been speaking with Kamil as they rode, which was new because neither of them spoke much to anyone since they left the village. Kamil refused to comment to Damien how he parted with his father, Andor. Cameron guessed that Andor tried to make him stay and for some reason Kamil told him that he wanted to go. There must have been harsh words spoken because Kamil had yet to recover. Kamil just seemed to be recovering, both from his departure and from finding out that Sara was killed that night of the attack. They both seemed to find some comfort from the words that they shared.
Toward the end of the week when Cameron and Ferrin had been reduced to hunting because all of the dried rations were gone Kirstin began to complain about homesickness. Kamil echoed her sentiment, though not with the heart that she put into it. Later that night she was content , however, eating her fill of a deer that Ferrin had snared in one the many traps that the youth excelled at making from nothing but wood from the forest. Ferrin was most content of all, puffing up at the praise he got from being such an efficient hunter.
The very next day, the eighth day of the journey west, when they were unrolling their sleeping bags from the backs of their horses in a stand of trees that grew around a clear watering hole, Cameron suggested to Kamil that he should practice the blade. The youth stared hard at him, thinking that Cameron was making some joke about it. Cameron smiled easily and assured him he wasn't joking.
"We may have trouble on the way to Cromley Tower. There are thieves abound, and highwaymen that would feel no remorse about killing someone that didn't know how to defend themselves. If I'm called on to fight I want to know that there's at least one other in the group that I can rely on. I want that one other to be you."
"I don't even have a sword," Kamil shrugged his shoulders, "Name of the One! I've never even held a sword! You want to teach me? Do you think that I have any chance of getting good at it?"
"There's only way for us to find out, now isn't there?" With that Cameron cut down two branches of equal length and sheered them clean of smaller nubs and leaves. He handed one of the branches to Kamil, beckoning him to take it. Reluctantly he took the branch and held it in both hands tightly, elbows locking as if he were expecting Cameron to suddenly lay into him. He sighed
"There's a lot to teach you."
"Teach me too," Kirstin broke in from where she watched by the small fire they had burning. She stood up and crossed out of the stand of trees, making her way onto the small hill where they stood, their backs to the sinking sun.
"Kirstin," Kamil snorted, "Swordsmanship is a man's sport. There's no reason for you to take it up. You don't have the strength or skill enough to do this."
"Says you, Kamil Dravan! I want to learn too! I want to learn for the sake of my brother!" Cameron shook his head but said nothing, instead going to the tree again and sheering one more branch from it. When he was done he tossed it to her and showed them both how best to hold the branch without making it look like they were trying to choke it to death.
"Alright then, are we ready to start learning?" Cameron asked. Kirstin shot Kamil a triumphant smile before telling Cameron that she was more than ready to begin. After beating his anger down Kamil mouthed the same response.
That was how it went for the rest of the week. Night after night, after a long day of riding the horses and little else save for eating the two would practice in any open place they could with Cameron. He only taught them the most basic fighting stances. Kirstin was eager every night, her weariness vanishing from her the moment she finished her meager meal and took up that branch he carved for her. Kamil was always tired looking, bags under his eyes, but tried to keep too much from complaining when the fighting sessions lasted half the night. Cameron wasn't surprised at all to see that Kirstin took to the blade much better than Kamil.
Finally, on the night before he knew they would be riding into the village he told both of them that they didn't need to train. Kamil was more than happy for a break from the lessons, leaving the light of the campfire and making his way to a pond that they had stumbled across a quarter mile back. He muttered the he was going to bathe to Damien and the priest told him to be careful.
It didn't surprise Cameron that Damien was excelling at grasping how to sign. Ferrin could, if he signed to the priest slowly, have a limited conversation with him. What did surprise him was that he hadn't woke up one night to find that the wiry young man had made off with all the gold that Devlin Telba had given him.
He recalled that morning as they were riding a mountain path to the village that Kamil was markedly happier then he had been since leaving the village. He was chipper, talking with anyone that would talk back, meaning that he spoke all morning with the father and Kirstin. By the time the sun was directly above and they were nearly a quarter mile up the path they came into Casteel. The village was all stone roads and heavy set buildings that could grow to better then four stories in height. Kirstin and Kamil gaped as they rode down the main street, watching a mass of people haggling with rows of street vendors that lined the walks all along the edges of the roads. There were hundreds of people out during the market rush of the day. No one seemed to take the least amount of interest in the five new comers that strolled in from the Dagoth borders. Ferrin took that opportunity to liberate some bulging coin purses from some rather rude looking gentlemen that were shouldering their way through the crowd, seemingly eager to get to the tavern that was on the outskirts of the village. Ferrin mused at the thought of those men entering the tavern and finding that they had no coin to pay for the drinks that they ordered. Smiling wickedly he looked for the next mark that he could fleece.
Cameron lead his horse along the main street until he saw the village square and a tall, thinly built Inn standing on the eastern corner of the square. He craned his head back to tell the others to follow him and nearly broke out laughing. Kamil and Kirstin were gaping like awe struck children at the houses and Shoppes that surrounded them. Even Damien Alohm looked quite impressed at the amount of people he saw around him, only he did better to hide then the first two.
"This is your first time in a larger village?" Cameron caught their attention. Kamil blushed and clamped his mouth shut, suddenly happy just to look at the boots he was wearing.
"This is the first village outside of Hamla that I've ever seen!" Kirstin said, wonder clear in her voice. She made no attempt to hide the fact that the size of the village impressed her. In fact she seemed to like it. Her curiosity could run unchained in a place like this, he thought.
"The Inn over there," he pointed with a hand to the one that he spotted in the square, "Follow me there. We'll rent rooms for the evening. I have a desire to sleep on a bed and bathe well for a change." The others nodded their agreement and followed, Ferrin finding three more dupes to score off along the way. But then as they passed the house that stood before the Inn he saw an old beggar woman sitting cross legged in the alley that ran in between the buildings. She had the smell of poverty and sickness on her. She was sleeping when he came closer so he took the opportunity to place the bags of coin in her lap under the dirty blanket that she had draped over her. A smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, Ferrin hastened to follow the others to the Inn.
The youth got up just behind the good father and craned his neck up to look at the sign. It read the Hayloft Home. It sounded too quaint to Ferrin. He got the impression that they would cross through the front door and find a bowl faced woman in her sixties working at the front desk, giving keys to her customers and beaming at them, telling them to have a good night. He was close. A man far older than sixty and fatter than three of him sat on a chair behind an oak desk in the front room. A pipe hung from his mouth, letting off wisps of smoke as he spoke to the lot of them, the smile never once leaving that rotund face.
"Wha's it gonna be? Rooms for the five of ya?" The old fat man took the pipe from his mouth and cast an appreciative glance at Kirstin, "Or will some a ya be sharin' rooms?"
"Five rooms," Cameron said coldly, giving the man a stare that knocked the grin clean off his face, "How much will a room for all five of us be?"
"I'm afraid that we don't have that many at the time, only four. So I guess that yer gonna hafta share."
"Fine," Cameron retorted, "Four rooms. How much?"
"That'd be twelve silver pieces in advance, good sir." Cameron dug in his pack and took out the satchel of silver that Devlin paid him. He scooped in a hand and removed twelve coins, letting them fall to the desk top. The old man scrambled to catch them, dropping his pipe in the process. When the Inn keep rounded up all the silver he opened a drawer low on the desk and put them in a safe box, locking it after he placed them in. He then reached back on the wall behind him and snatched the last four keys that hung on a plain rack. With a broad grin he opened his hand and held it out to Cameron. He snatched the keys from the man and turned his back before he could say anything else to him.
"Father, I think that you should share a room with Ferrin, seeing as how you said you would watch over him." Cameron handed the man a key and the priest looked it over. It was plain bronze with the number nine etched into it. The father locked eyes with Cameron and nodded his head.
"I was going to suggest the same arrangement anyhow."
Ferrin looked outraged, his nostrils flaring and his brows rising. He signed to Cameron, What if I don't want to stay in the priest's room? Don't I get any say in this?
"No,” Cameron said simply. Ferrin started to move his hands to form more words but Cameron caught hold of those hands and stopped him, "I only tolerated you out of respect for Father Alohm. If you push me, I'll bring you right to the jailhouse."
What would you have them arrest me for? Making you angry? I don't mean to deflate your ego but I don't think you’re that important.
How about the pouches of coin that ended up with an old beggar woman near the Inn? I watched you take them from the men in the market place and then give them to her.
Kind of an act as that was, it's still thievery, and I don't think the garrison will listen to your tale, anyhow. Cameron stopped signing when he saw the others casting him questioning looks. He guessed that Damien had tried to keep up but they had been speaking far too fast and he had learned too little for him to catch any of what they just said. Cameron nodded to the youth, letting him know that he was serious. Ferrin scowled, his cheeks turning red from heated anger but he stayed his hands, not talking back when that was all he wanted to do. Seeing that one problem had been taken care of he turned to Kamil and Kirstin.
"Take the keys and keep them on you. Feel free to wander around the village and take in the sights but stay out of the taverns and don't wander around after dark. I'd just as well keep us all out of trouble while we're in the village, alright?"
"Sure," Kamil said. Kirstin nodded, showing that she understood.
"Let's go see what there is to see. Kamil, Ferrin, do you want to come with?" Kamil was out the door fast, eager to look the large village over more thoroughly. Ferrin was happy to be anywhere but the Inn at that moment so he followed Kirstin out the door, looking back only once, watching Cameron and the priest before he vanished out the door.
"I am going to look for the church, put in an evening prayer," Damien tucked the key in his pocket and pulled his leather overcoat closer about him, "I be back here by dusk, Cameron."
With everyone else gone Cameron took on the task of bringing everyone's horses to the stables behind the Inn. There were better than half a dozen stalls open for the animals and keeping them all in there for the night cost him six more silver pieces. He handed them over, taking care to keep the bag out of sight of the stable hand, keeping the gangly youth from getting any ideas. The boy put the silver in a bag that hung on his side and took the reins of the animals, leading the further into the stable where he would take their riding gear off and rub them down. Cameron said his goodbye to Starn and left the stable, thinking that he would find the tavern and have a drink before he bedded down for the night.
Turning a corner past the small butcher's shop near the village square he spotted a pair of garrison making their way through the thinning crowd of people and taking some aside, asking them questions, letting them go when their questions were answered. Cameron watched as the men grew closer to him, weaving from one walk of the road to the other. Pulling his travel coat closer to his shoulders he stepped almost right into one of the garrison. The man pulled back, hand coming to rest on the hilt of a sword that he wore on his waist. He also sported light armor that gleamed silver in the dying sunlight. The garrison officer fixed him with a suspicious glance as Cameron stepped back from the man, feigning surprise at how close he came to running into him.
"Terribly sorry about that," Cameron commented briskly, making haste to step past him like he was in a hurry. The garrison officer stopped him with an outstretched hand, the look of suspicion plain on his face. Cameron faced the man, coat tight around him, trying to seem like he was worried about being stopped on the road.
"Where are you going to in such a hurry?" the officer asked him.
"To the tavern, sir. I hear that the keep there makes great meldian spirits."
"I don't seem to recall your face in this village before. Where were travelling from and what might be your destination?" Cameron sighed inwardly when he heard the question. Could it be that the king men after them and ahead of them this fast? What resources were at his command lately?
"I came from Lemall to the south sir, just passing through this fine village on my way to Bordertown. I have relatives there that are just dying to see me." Cameron watched the officer's face closely, reading his eyes to see the reaction that the man had to his story. The officer seemed to relax, rolling back on his heels and sighing a little.
"Better watch yourself in these parts. There's rumor abound of bands of demorn travelling the mountains in the west. You had best stay in a caravan if you intend to go past them."
"Thank you for the advice, officer. Might I ask who it is that you're searching for? I might have seen whoever that might be."
"A pair of youths that came from an eastern village. Word is that they're wanted for questioning with something that happened in that village. Whatever it is it can't be good because the order for their capture came straight from Dagoth." Cameron noticed that the officer found his last words troubling, guessing that the man found it odd that the king would decree a search of a village for a pair of youths that were wanted only for questioning. Cameron mouthed something to the officer and swept past him, hurrying for the church. He had to find the father so that they could search for the children faster, before the garrison caught them. He feared that neither was quick witted enough to dodge the officer's questions if he tried too hard. And the garrison officers had ways of prying hard.
Cameron found the church, a tall building with twin doors and a V shaped roof. A picturesque white fence rounded the yard and trimmed bushes grew on the sides of it. Cameron slipped past the front gate and around a pair of old men that stood at the foot of the steps talking quietly. Silence hung on the inside of the church like a cloud, making him take care to stay quiet. The candles that were lit, sitting on low shelves that filled the room from wall to wall were dim, casting their yellow glow on shadows that never saw the light of the sun.
At the front altar where the priest would stand to deliver the sermon he spied Damien, talking with the resident priest, an elderly man of sixty who had thinning white hair and wore spectacles to better his eyesight. The priest wore a thin robe over his formal clothes, flowing and untied, colored black in the candle light. Both the men turned from where they were standing to face him at the same time, Damien frowning when he caught sight of him and the elderly man smiling a bit, the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and making it wrinkle.
"Cameron, you're the last person I would have expected to find here," Damien said, stepping from behind the altar and joining him in the front aisle.
"Why thank you father, but I'm not here to pay respects. I had a talk with the garrison of the village and it seems that they have been ordered to apprehend two youths that were said to be fleeing from an eastern village. Does that sound like anyone you know?"
"They're after Kirstin and Kamil? How in the name of the One were they so swiftly informed that we were moving in this direction?"
"I don't know. And until I do know the answer to that question I suggest that we find them and stay at the Inn until morning, then we leave before the sun has fully risen. I suggest that anything you need to do get done now because there is no more time."
"Father Alohm?" called the elderly priest from where he stood behind the pair of them. Cameron realized that he may have been listening to the entire conversation and cursed his loose tongue.
"Oh I'm terribly sorry, where in the world are my manners? Cameron Reol, this is Father Thomerson. Father, this is one of the men that I spoke of. He is leading our party to Cromley Tower."
"How do you do, Cameron?" the elderly priest held out his hand and Cameron took it, "I hear that there is trouble on your heels. Is there anything that the church can do to aid you?"
"No, father. The trouble is minor and soon to be fixed. But thank you for asking." Cameron motioned for Damien to follow him and made his way for the front of the church. Damien muttered a heartfelt apology for the abrupt ending to their conversation and followed the warrior out. Father Thomerson watched them go, eyes troubled with the few words that he gleaned from the conversation the men had. He sent a silent prayer to the One God that he watch over them and keep them safe until what needs be done is done. Then they were gone from his sight and there were other people asking for his time and patience. The elderly father felt a slight pang of envy for the freedom that youth accorded.
The trio of youths stumbled across a brightly lit tavern at the center of the village, complete with swinging doors and a wooden sign that hung on an outstretched post over their heads. The name of the tavern was faded and hard to read but from what Kamil could see it was called the Anvil's Keep. Kamil thought that with the name it sounded more like a smithies Shoppe but as he watched men and women coming to and fro from the swinging doors, most of them laughing or sharing kisses, he thought the name didn't sound that bad after all. Ferrin smiled wickedly at them, prompting them to enter, pulling at their shirt sleeves and making haste for the doors. Kamil was more than ready to enter but Kirstin hesitated, looking at them uncertainly.
"Cameron said that we weren't supposed to go in any places like this. I think he'd be really mad if he found out that we did." Ferrin gave her a shocked look and did a waving off gesture like he was brushing away a fly. Kamil turned on his heel from where he stood in front of the tavern, still watching the people going in and out.
"And you want to do what Cameron says of course," Kamil sighed, taking her shoulder and staring into her eyes, "It isn't that you like Cameron, now is it?" Kirstin shrugged off his hand and flashed angry eyes at him, but a hot pink rose in her cheeks.
"I just don't want to cause any more trouble then we need to. I think that you of all people would understand that, Kamil."
"I'm just talking about the tavern for the One's sake! I'm not talking about murder! I've never even been in the one in Hamla, and I'm nineteen years old! I think that it's high time that we find out a little more about the world, don't you, Kirstin?"
"Well said, stranger," came a feminine voice from behind the trio. Ferrin was the first to face her. He smelled the scent of danger hanging from every part of her. It was plain in her eyes. Ferrin gave her a sneer that told her flat that she wasn't welcome. But the woman in question didn't have eyes for the gangly shaggy haired youth. She was staring plainly at Kamil.
Kamil doubted if any woman, even Sister Julia, was as beautiful as this woman was. She had short black hair and eyes darker still. Her dress was close to her delicate frame and split just below her right hip to show the pale flesh beneath. She wore an over coat that had cut sleeves, loose and draping on her, a touch of modesty on a very forward woman.
"I...I don't think that I know you," Kamil managed to say even though his mouth felt all dried up.
"The name is Taria. Taria Murough. I couldn't help but overhear you speaking. It's nice to hear one so young with the state of mind to speak what they think. I just stopped by to ask if you would like to come into the tavern with me."
Ferrin stepped between them before Kamil could even respond, putting his arms outstretched and flashing Maria a warning glance. The youth couldn't help but shake the feeling that there was something very wrong with her no matter how sweetly she spoke. Maria stepped away from him, a shocked look on her face, but behind that there was hidden malice, something he knew the others couldn't sense.
"Ferrin, what in the world are you doing?" Kamil grabbed his shirt sleeve and pushed him aside like a discarded sack. Ferrin stumbled but recovered from the shove, glaring first at Kamil and then at Maria. He thought of leaving Kamil to find what troubles there could be in the larger villages. But he thought better of it. The good father would be angry with him and he didn't want to upset him. It shocked Ferrin that he even cared what the father thought of things that he did or didn't do. He pushed the thoughts into the back of his mind, sighing inwardly that like it or not, he was going to do the right thing.
"How do you do, miss? My name is Kirstin Telba," Kirstin nodded politely at her, expecting the woman to do the same. Instead there was the subtle malice that was so easy for Ferrin to catch on to. Kirstin shivered in the light of her eyes, stepping back from her without trying to before recovering, cursing herself for being impolite to a stranger, if only her mother had been her to see this she would never have heard the end of it.
"Pleased to meet you, Kirstin. Do you share the same feelings toward me that your friend shares?" she nodded over to Ferrin, not bothering to even look at him.
"You'll have to forgive us, Miss Murough. We have been on a long journey and haven't properly rested from it yet. I think that Ferrin is simply tired." Maria gave her a pleasant smile and focused on her objective.
"As I was saying, Kamil. Would you like to go into the tavern on my arm? If you would rather be in the company of your friend I will understand."
"Oh no!" Kamil nearly shouted, bringing a soft smile to Maria's face, "I want to go. The others will understand I'm sure." Kamil cast a pleading eye to his friends. Kirstin simply stood near the middle of the road, a confused expression coloring her face. Ferrin shook his head adamantly. When he saw Kamil scowl at him he turned and stalked off, not looking back.
"Ferrin!" Kirstin called after him, "Where are you going? Oh Kamil you didn't need to do that! Ferrin was just looking out for you!"
"I don't need anyone to look after me anymore, thank you. My father did enough of that when I was in Hamla. I'd like to see what life is like when there isn't anyone there to take it from me before I can even taste it."
"Well said, Kamil," Maria told him, lacing her arm around his and pulling him closer to the doors of the tavern. A pair of bulky heavily clothed merchants shouldered past him as they entered the door, mumbling some quiet conversation, then he was gone. Kirstin stood in the middle of the road for a minute longer, hoping that he would come back out, but to no avail. Finally she turned and walked down the road that Ferrin had gone, praying that nothing happened to him while he was in the company of that strange woman.
"They're not in here either!" Cameron fairly rumbled as he left the local eatery that stood on a rocky hill on the outskirts of the village. Father Alohm shook his head, studying the angry features on Cameron's face.
"Cursing about matters will not help anything, Cameron."
"The One forbid. I don't have the cold demeanor that you seem to have built up, father!" Cameron stalked past him. The priest let the comment go, knowing that it was the anger speaking and not the man. It was fast approaching dusk, with the sun just beginning a lazy descent in the sky, making the land glow gold as it shined it's last for the day. There were few people on the road at this time. Shoppes were closing for the night, knowing that there was going to be no more business this day. A smattering of garrison patrolled the roads, lighting the street lamps that stood on iron sconces all along the main roads. Only a handful of merchants wandered the streets, pedaling their wares to any that had the misfortune of crossing them.
Damien followed Cameron back into the main section of Casteel, saying a kind word to any of the garrison that happened to patrol past them. He feared that the black mood Cameron was in would attract the attention of the garrison and he knew that it was something the warrior didn't want.
"Cameron, could it be at all possible that they went back to the Inn? It is late, after all and I recall you saying that you didn't want any of them staying out in the dark. Perhaps you're not giving the children enough credit this time."
"Then you go back to the Harvest Home, father. Find them then find me; I'll be making my way to the north side of the village. If not, then there's going to be hell to pay." Damien shook his head but wisely chose not to say anything. Instead he turned down the right walk of the road, making haste to the Inn where he hoped that he would find the children all waiting for them.
Cameron turned a corner and caught sight of someone in the shadows of a thin alley way watching him. The shadow figure raised a spindly hand and beckoned him closer. Cameron stepped closer, being wary for anyone else that was near, on the ground or racing along the roofs of the buildings. He failed to see anything but neither did he dismiss his roaming eyes.
"If you have something to say to me, why not come into the light where we can talk on even ground?" The figure shrugged and moved in black silence toward him. He let his guard down when he saw Ferrin emerge into the street light. The youth came closer until he stood beside him, eyes simmering with anger.
Ferrin, Cameron signed to him, Where were the three of you? I have been searching the entire village for an hour if not better. Where are Kirstin and Kamil?
Ferrin smiled at him but the look was not happy. He stepped back and motioned with an outstretched hand to the road that led to the western most edge of the village. Cameron could guess what it was that Ferrin was pointing at and grimaced, his anger already boiling over. Trust them, father? Give them more credit? This is the credit that they deserve!
Are you telling me that they went to the local tavern?
I'm telling you that Kamil went to the local tavern after we met up with some strange woman outside of it. I didn’t like the look of her, Cameron. I think that you should get there and get him out of there fast. As for Kirstin, I don't think that she went in there. I didn’t know where she went. I waited here, knowing that you would come this way sooner or later. I thought that someone should point you in the right direction.
"Why didn't you stop him, Ferrin? Why did you let him go in there after I specifically told you all not to?"
Do I look like the boy's mother? He shoved me in the dirt when I tried to stop him. I told you, it's that woman he met. Her name's Maria and there's something about her, something that's all wrong.
Cameron grabbed the youth's collar, dragging him with as he strode to the tavern. Ferrin's eyes bulged with surprise as he got pulled from where he stood, wrapping his arms around Cameron's arm and holding on, thinking dark thoughts about what he'd like to do to Cameron while he slept but didn't fight back. He could smell the dangerous smell on him and knew the extent of the man's anger. It seemed that he was going along to the tavern whether he wanted to or not. As a matter of fact the tavern didn't sound half bad after all.
It didn't take long for Cameron to find the place. The tavern was called the Anvil's Keep, a shabby looking place with bright overly large windows and swinging doors that were dull and chipped with age. The V shaped roof sagged if only a little from age and the lack of proper up keeping. There was no one going into or out of the tavern now that dark had fully fallen. The residents were all there for the night, paying heavy coin to drink their sorrows away. Cameron felt a bit jealous that he couldn't partake in the drinking tonight. He let Ferrin go; who tumbled to the ground a lot harder then was necessary. When Ferrin realized that he was looking for sympathy from the wrong person he stood up and dusted himself off.
"Is this the place?" Cameron jerked a thumb to the doors. Ferrin nodded only once to confirm that it was the place. Cameron stepped up the wooden stairs and pushed the doors open, entering the tavern. The smell of stale alcohol and greasy food caught his nostrils, and his eyes were quick to catch the position of any men that looked like they might plant a knife in your back if they had the chance. To his relief there weren't very many. He was quicker still to spot Kamil, in the corner of the room past several tables and right beside the bar. He was in the company of a raven haired woman that seemed to laugh at everything the youth told her. Pulling his travelling coat around him he circled around the tables, taking care to watch the tavern goers, who seemed too drunk to care about him.
"Kamil, we're leaving. Now."
Kamil spat out a mouthful of ale that he was drinking, wetting the table down with foamy lather. Kamil looked up from his chair to see Cameron sanding right on the opposite side, arms folded against his chest, eyes hotter than the sun. Kamil set the mug of almost empty ale down and nearly missed the table, soaking his sleeve in the process.
"Cameron, this is Maria. She lives here. She's a baker," Kamil sputtered the words, knowing that they were more jumbled than he meant them to be.
"Charmed," Cameron barely shot her a glance and brought Kamil to standing height with a sharp tug. Kamil fell against him, using his free hand to push himself back up. The room spun around him and he had the funniest feeling that if it didn't stop soon he was going to vomit. Maria stood fast, taking hold of Cameron's arm and fixing him with her eyes.
"This young man was keeping me company for the night. Is there some reason that you're taking him with you? Or this normally how hospitable you are to people that you don't know?"
"He's always like this," Kamil muttered, trying hard to keep his stomach from letting go. Fresh air sounded great to him but he found that he was too drunk to break free from Cameron's grip.
"You know nothing of this man or me, lady. So unless you have something better than petty insults at me I suggest you stay out of my business. It would be better for the both of us if you did."
"And you know nothing of me, warrior," Maria's tone was flat, emotionless, and it reflected in her eyes, like she had just gone lifeless right where she stood. Cameron wrenched free of her hand but found it much harder to do then he thought it would be. Ferrin's words came back to him, how he thought there was something very wrong about her. It was an opinion that Cameron was quickly taking up. With Kamil in tow he strode around the tables a second time, making haste for the door. A large, bald headed man stood up quickly in front of him, drool frothing from his mouth as he shouted something that Cameron couldn't make out. Cameron leaned back against a wooden support beam that was near the center of the room and kicked the man square in the crotch, bringing him to his knees. Amid a gale of laughter he exited the tavern and deposited Kamil onto the ground. Kamil took that time to relieve his aching stomach of everything that he had taken in.
Ferrin was still there, lurking in the shadows of the alley that stretched all along the right side of the tavern. Cameron quietly asked for his help in dragging Kamil's slack frame back to the Harvest Home. Ferrin slipped an arm around his narrow shoulders and started moving him along. Neither of the men noticed a figure in black, shadow as much as shape, watching them as they made their way to the Inn. The shape drifted deeper in the shadows and faded from sight, leaving only the faintest stench of filth floating on the air.
Light burned hard into Kamil's eyes as he opened them, and then shut them just as quickly. There was pounding in his head that made a groan escape his lips. He knew he had vomited, maybe even more than once. The taste of acid in his mouth told him it was so. He sat up at length, the pounding in his head compounded by loud rapping at his door. Groaning a second time he quickly stood up and made his way to the door. He was still in the clothes that he had worn to the tavern, wrinkled and stained with what he prayed was ale. Kirstin was on the other side of the door, smiling at him, her fiery hair pulled into a long ponytail. She was wearing her light leather travelling clothes, clean, the smell of pine on them. The smell only made him nauseous and he stepped away from her. Kirstin took it as an invitation and walked in; shaking her head at how slovenly he looked. Kamil crossed the small room and found a wash basin with fresh water in it. He splashed a handful over his face before he took a cloth to clean his face and neck.
"Father Alohm said that you weren't feeling well so I waited to see you."
"Father...Alohm? He was in here? Was he...angry?"
"No, but Cameron looks angry enough for both of them. What were you doing in there with Maria? You didn't have any silvers. How were you drinking?"
"Maria paid for them...I think. I can hardly remember with all the ales that I had. It was bitter at first but tasted a lot better after I had a few." Thinking about ale made his stomach churn so he banished it, looking out the window at the forming crowd of people outside. Market day was just beginning.
"Where did Maria go to? I was sleeping when they brought you back. I went back here after you went inside."
"You should have come with us!" Kamil exclaimed, bringing both hands to his head when his own loud voice made his head split. Kirstin was quick to sit beside him, putting an arm around him to steady him.
"Do you want me to go and get the father?" Kirstin leapt from the bed but Kamil's pleading stopped her.
"There's no need to bother him. I just have a headache from drinking too much. Or from vomiting. Or from both," He glanced at the attire that she wore, "Does this mean that we're leaving already?"
"Cameron said that there's a problem here so we have to go. I didn't really want to either. Riding a horse for so long at a time makes my back side hurt." she giggled a little at that but fell silent when she saw Kamil's face, "What's wrong?"
"I know why we're leaving this morning. Cameron wants us to leave because of Maria! He's angry that I developed my own mind. He warned us not to go in there and nothing bad happened."
"You got sick," Kirstin noted but Kamil ignored her.
"I'm not going to see Maria anymore but at least I'll still have..." Kamil trailed off, his face turning deep red. Kirstin cocked her head, staring at him questioningly. She was going to ask why he looked so peculiar when Damien poked his head in and told them that they were leaving for the mountains in a few minutes.
"How are you feeling, Kamil?" Damien asked, eyeing the youth with a stern eye. Kamil knew that the father was disappointed in him and blushed even more.
"I'm fine father. Only a little sick this morning, is all."
"Well then, get ready. Cameron wants to leave within half an hour and I wholly agree with him. See to it that you don't forget anything before you meet us at the stables." Damien left them alone again and Kirstin patted him on the hand, telling him she hoped he would feel better, and then she too was gone. Kamil stared listlessly out the window for a time, thinking of the woman that he would never see again when he left. Feeling a new pain in his chest, one that had nothing to do with being hung over, he began to undress.
