Chapter 1
Jarek-Mulkavien tasted a hint of change in the air as the rickety old buckboard rolled northeast along Tamayan Road. The waxing crescent moon illuminated the cool fall night, yet he remained persistently shirtless, displaying a weathered, bronzed torso adorned with tattooed artwork, unbothered by the crisp air tossed about by a swirling headwind blowing in from the eastern Saryan Coast. The salt dispersed from the air long before reaching that far inland, but the pressure from a coastal storm was building. Whether it remained over the sea and the coastal city of Mitolas or billowed over the three-hundred-foot white Cliffs of Dain, ripping across the farming realm of Ikarton, would be revealed soon.
A long white goatee dangled across his broad, muscular chest as he held the leather reins loose in his hands, speaking in a rolling guttural accent to his longtime companion.
“You see, Fiona, not that long ago we had a ten-foot winter! Och, you should’ve seen the snowdrifts that year! Touched the eaves of the houses across all the realms. Aye, it was a blustery brigand of a winter, that one was. No one could use their front doors! Ha! Second-floor windows became the only way into the houses!”
He ran a thick hand over his bald head, smoothed by a fresh layer of hoof wax from when he shaved it that morning.
“Och, the bitter cold of that winter cost a plenty of people their lives, lass. Once the snows fell, the sun could do little to warm the air. It was well past summer before the last snows melted in Ikarton. By Yaqol, the poor farmers couldn’t plant their crops until late, and it set all the realms back without enough food for their families and animals.”
He looked into the distance while the old black mare pulled the wagon along the dusty road. A few scattered clouds wafted across the firmament of bright stars filling the night sky.
“Hattie remembers it well, though, I’m sure! Don’t you dear! Och, she had some cold ears that winter! Someone got wise and started making hats for all the horses that pulled the merchants and caravanners around between the realms. Made our horses happy, no doubt! Got someone rich, too! I heard they moved to Havash and live a fancy life now.”
He glanced at the loaded wooden crates in the back of the buckboard.
“Why not, I say? Don’t have to invent anything new, just gotta make something better than what it was, and that’s what they did. Here we are all these years later, still delivering fancy horse hats to the realms before winter hits. Pretty sure the ones we’ve got are just knock-offs, the way our customer loaded them up so quiet and sent us on our way so quick.”
The smuggler patted the heavy purse full of mignahs resting by his feet under the seat, making the coins rattle.
“Makes no nevermind to me. If it pays what needs to be paid, then so be it! That’s what my ma used to say to my pa.”
He lifted his voice into an unnatural falsetto to mimic his mother while adjusting his green and blue kilt.
“I don’t care what you do, as long as you do it well and keep food on th’table to keep young Jarek-Mulkavien fed!”
His voice dropped back into his natural, raspy tone.
“They always called me by my full first name, but my pa was so in love with her, he couldn’t leave her alone long enough to get paid for the jobs he did. He’d be rushing home empty-handed but have his arms wrapped tight around her singing every night. It was right simple, but a blessed life, all the same.”
He squinted his seasoned gray eyes against the darkness, peering at the distant lights emanating from Chazel’s Inn. As the buckboard jostled along the dirt road, he caught the faint smell of smoke and saw a smoldering campfire off to his right, shifting his gaze toward a small encampment.
His voice dropped to a low tone as he furrowed his brow.
“Judging by those Subanderii horses, that’s a group of Baksa Rangers out on patrol.” He shook his head. “Keeping the realms safe for honest folks like us, eh, ladies?”
He could not withhold his booming laugh echoing across the open fields as the mare pulled the creaking wagon to its destination.
************
The thief held his breath as he lay flat on his belly, trying to stay invisible as he watched the gregarious smuggler pass by on the dusty road until he was out of sight and his voice faded into the distance. He was surprised by the man’s talkative nature, since no one else was in the wagon. The black mare swished her tail and bobbed her head in response to everything he said, and he kept looking down at the gold hilt of a rapier sheathed at his hip, patting the handle while he rambled on. If the thief did not know any better, he would have guessed the man was talking to the horse and sword.
He raised himself to one knee once the night fell silent again. An owl hooted in the distance, as crickets conducted an orchestral tune in the cool air rustling across the long grass of the open fields.
A sixteen-year-old with plain features, a pale complexion, and ruddy features, his shock of curly brown hair was unmanageable. Stronger than his lean frame let on, he pulled the thin, drab vest closer to his chest as wisps of breath turned white in the cool air while he looked all around with soft brown eyes.
He remained low while approaching the encampment as the night grew quieter. He was an aspiring sneak thief, hoping to make a name for himself, but his previous foray did not go as planned. The perfect opportunity presented itself with the chance to change his fortunes for the better. Baksa armor and weaponry brought a high price in the less reputable markets. Selling even one set of armor might provide enough money for a year, but fleecing all ten men of the Ranger patrol would make him a legend. His name and reputation would be more valuable than any income he could earn.
He stayed cautious, looking for anyone on watch, but everyone appeared to be sleeping. The horses were staked to the ground nearby, but he crept from downwind to avoid alerting them. Subanderii horses were the finest horses in Ganden, raised upon the Subandem Plateaus in the northwest reaches of the realm. He was ambitious, but he was no fool. Stealing the Baksa armor was one thing, but stealing one of their horses would be a death sentence. With a quick glance, he saw their knees locked out as they stood, sleeping upright.
He approached the nearest Baksa, whose lusty snoring was loud enough to cover most of his movements. The thief’s thick hands were calloused from many years of apprenticing for his blacksmith father, but his fingers had an unexpected gentle touch as he nimbly untied the gold-trimmed white armor and removed the breastplate from the Baksa. He relieved the slumbering man of a small purse of mignahs, hooking it to his belt while being careful not to rattle the coins. The thief lifted the Baksa’s sword from nearby on the ground and snuck away with the items, stashing them a short distance away before returning for more.
The laborious night wore on as the young thief relieved the Rangers of their goods with painstaking discipline, building a stockpile. He was grateful Baksa armor and weapons were made from lightweight materials as he organized it on a rolled-out canvas. Once finished, he would tie the canvas tie into a simple backpack. The challenge would be getting to the desert city of Arena to sell the items, but he was confident he could hitch a ride with traders from Riverwynd. He knew the risks of crossing the Midbaros Desert on foot, so paying to ride on a buckboard was worthwhile. An organized crime ring called The Five dominated every business in Arena and was always hiring new talent. With a substantial score from the Baksa, he could establish a reputation that would lead to promotion within the criminal organization.
As he slipped the armor and coin purse from the last sleeping Baksa, he smiled to himself. He had taken everything worthwhile without them ever knowing he was there. The sun had not yet risen on the clear eastern horizon while the crescent moon hung low in the west. He needed to load up and put as much distance as possible between himself and the Baksa before they awakened. He knew they would be livid and already left a false trail leading northeast toward Chazel’s Inn, hoping it would buy him enough of a head start on his journey southwest to Riverwynd. Once in the desert, he would be free from their pursuit. The Baksa did not venture to the lawless realm of Arena often, finding it pointless to enforce morals in a place where no laws existed.
He remained on one knee for a moment and peered at the sleeping men, wondering if he had miscounted. He found it odd that there were ten horses but only nine men, knowing the Baksa Rangers always rode in groups of ten. Perhaps they had encountered bandits and raiders on their route, and one of their men died.
He looked around one more time with sweat glistening on his brow in the cool air, and lightweight shoes damp from the dewy grass. The man nearest him snored loudly, startling the young thief while no one else stirred. He tried calming his racing heart while remaining low to the ground on his way through the camp. The sleeping horses were still unaware of his presence.
Giddy with excitement, he had to force himself not to rush from the excitement of how much the Baksa’s haul would change life, but as he approached where he left the stash, he scrunched his eyebrows. He had returned to the same spot all night, but must have lost his way on the last trip. The armor and weapons were not where he remembered placing them. Perplexed, he searched around, trying to retrace his steps in the dark. Panic rose in his throat as he whipped all around. It was challenging to see in the darkness, but he made every painstaking effort to take the same route every time, hoping to avoid such a disaster. He cursed at himself under his breath at his recklessness.
The stars provided a dim glow that strained the eyes as he laid down the breastplate, sword and sack of coins on the ground. Careful to remember where he placed them, he hurried back to the camp. It was all he could do to resist the urge to rush. The only thing worse than misplacing the stolen items would be awakening the Baksa while searching for them.
Once at the encampment, he regained his bearings and overemphasized every step, retracing his path back to where the stash should have been. He was frantic while searching along the way, desperate to find where he got twisted up.
It took every ounce of willpower in his body to inhibit the scream of panicked rage trying to erupt from his throat when he returned to the same spot he had just left. The location was accurate, but the newest pile had vanished as well.
He sprinted back and forth in a crouch, trying to unravel what he had done wrong. He knew he was in the right place. The dry grass was flattened where the canvas kept the dew from forming.
He froze in his tracks, as terror paralyzed him, with goosebumps erupting all over his body and the hair on the back of his neck standing on end at the sound of a deep, raspy voice speaking from the dark close behind him.
“Did you find it yet?”
The young thief remained transfixed, still crouched low.
“You’d best not reach for that short dagger on your belt.”
“Trust me … I may be an idiot, but I’m no fool.”
A low, subtle laugh rumbled in the dark. “I’ve got to say, you impress me, kid. I don’t think anyone’s ever tried robbing a Baksa Ranger of his armor while he wore it, but you just stripped nine of them bare. You’ve got some ambition.”
“Thanks…” He could not control the smile forming on his lips from the compliment.
“Don’t be stupid.” The serious timbre turned threatening. “That wasn’t a compliment. You’ve signed your own death sentence. You have two ways this can end, and neither will be pleasant. Stealing one of our horses would have been better for you because you’d be riding away right now. I don’t think you understand how much our armor matters to us Baksa.”
The tone sent a terrified shiver down the thief’s spine as a ball of emotion formed in his throat. Unhindered tears sprung from his eyes, soaking his cheeks as he attempted to be brave, though his shaky voice revealed his fear.
“Wh-what will you do to me?”
“Nothing at all. That’s not my call. Your fate is in Lieutenant André’s hands now, but how well he slept tonight will decide whether you live past sunrise. If you want to see what sunset looks like, stand up slowly with your hands behind your back. Make any sudden moves, and I’ll have to tell my Lieutenant how you died. Got it?”
It was all the teenager could do to keep his bladder from purging itself down his pant leg while he hyperventilated and stifled sobs.
“Y-y-yes sir … yes s-s-sir! D-d-don’t kill me! Please don’t kill me … my momma … it’ll break her heart!”
He felt a massive presence loom behind him as giant hands wrapped around his wrists and tied them together.
“What’s your momma call you, kid?”
The young thief took a deep breath to calm himself. “Aapeli, sir.”
“Where are you from?”
“H-Havash.”
The huge hands grabbed Aapeli’s shoulders and spun him around. In the predawn twilight, Aapeli was shocked by the towering man’s size. His hands were the size of Aapeli’s head. He wore the gold-trimmed white armor of the Baksa, but it looked nothing like the armor he removed from the other men. It was much larger, and still strained against the mass of muscles bulging from the Baksa’s arms. Aapeli’s eyes were level with the man’s chest, where a silver pendant hung from a thin chain depicting a wolf howling at a crescent moon. He looked up and saw he had shoulder-length black and tan hair pulled back into a loose top-knot. His dark-bronze face was smooth, clean shaved, and fierce, deep brown eyes glared at him as a humorless smile danced across the man’s lips.
“Well, Aapeli of Havash. I’m Cadel of the Baksa, and if you want to live, you’d better keep your mouth shut and do everything I say.”
************
The smell of fresh-cooked bacon filled the air as the Baksa stirred. Cadel crouched beside the crackling fire, shifting the slabs of sizzling meat around on the cast-iron skillet with a pot of coffee percolating nearby on the embers.
Aapeli sat uncomfortably nearby, his arms bound behind him. His discomfort was less physical and far more psychological. Cadel had said nothing to him since throwing him to the ground and beginning to make breakfast. The relentless fear of the unknown tormented him, and he felt sick to his stomach.
One of the men walked to the fire to pour a cup of coffee. Dark-skinned, with light brown eyes, a short patch of hair on his chin, and thick, short black hair, he was an athletic man of medium height.
“Morning, Cadel. Who’s our guest?”
Cadel kept shifting the food around. “Sleep good, Kobus? You look a little lighter.”
Kobus shifted his arms around and stretched his torso, pretending not to notice he was not wearing his armor as he beamed and nodded toward Aapeli. The young thief squirmed under his intense gaze.
“You know, I thought something felt different this morning. Thought I might’ve just lost some weight, you know?”
“You?” Cadel smiled and glanced at him. “You lose any weight, and a breeze could carry you away.”
Kobus chuckled and sipped his coffee.
One of the other men bolted up from the ground in a breathless panic and rushed to Cadel’s side in a loud whisper. A light-toned man with short blonde hair and a thin beard, his blue eyes were wide with fright.
“By Yaqol! It’s daylight, Cadel! I slept through my watch! André’s gonna kill me!”
“André’s already got one person to kill today, Deorsa. I think he might let you slip through.”
“But why didn’t you wake me up?”
Cadel shrugged his broad shoulders and nodded his head towards Aapeli. “I was having fun watching him work all night.”
“Wait!” Aapeli’s eyes shot wide. “You watched me the whole…”
A fierce glare from Cadel immediately shut the young thief’s mouth.
Kobus leaned closer to Cadel. You don’t suppose André will…”
Cadel stayed silent and stared in response as Kobus trailed off. Lieutenant André had a reputation that provided a pessimistic outlook for Aapeli’s future. Cadel returned to finishing breakfast while everyone grabbed their meals and ate in subdued silence, bracing themselves for an inevitable discussion.
Lieutenant André was soon up and eating with the men, only acknowledging Aapeli’s presence with a perturbed grunt, when he saw the teenager bound and sitting on the ground.
In his early fifties, with a dark tan complexion and hair that was once jet black but matured into a solid mix of salt and pepper, André was the oldest lieutenant in the Baksa. Everyone knew it, though no one ever talked about it. He should have been an officer in the Barracks at Zanai. He should have been promoted to the King’s Guard long before. But André was still a lieutenant because that was the peak of his abilities, with the primary reason being his short temper and incorrigible devotion to his own unreasonable standards of enforcing laws and dispensing justice.
He did not look up from his plate, making a gruff comment in Cadel’s general direction.
“What’s with the kid, Sergeant?”
“Caught him sneaking around the camp last night, Sir.” Cadel knew the Lieutenant’s nature and forced himself to stay calm.
The rest of the men stiffened, wishing they could be anywhere else. Cadel had a reputation as well. At twenty years old, he was the youngest of any Baksa Rangers, an accomplishment based on more than just his size and strength. Physical abilities aside, he was an intelligent strategist who held himself to an unyielding standard of high moral integrity that valued a person’s life, even when they deserved death.
“He was sneaking, Sergeant Cadel?” The Lieutenant scoffed. “That’s all he did, huh?”
Cadel stared at his superior without responding, knowing his answer would have little effect on the Lieutenant’s response. Tension was mounting in the Lieutenant’s tone as he stood. Cadel respected his authority, and also rose, standing at attention with his hands folded behind his back.
“Explain the pile of armor and swords, Sergeant. Was that not more than just sneaking?
“Yes, Sir.”
Cadel remained calm and respectful as André berated him.
“Wouldn’t you say that looks a lot more like stealing, Sergeant?”
“Yes, Sir.”
André was getting red in the face. “Considering I see our possessions piled up and that young man on the ground with his hands bound, I get the distinct impression that he’s a thief, Cadel! Wouldn’t you say that’s an accurate assumption?”
Cadel’s face remained rigid as he nodded in silence. No one else in the camp dared move lest they draw any undue attention upon themselves. Aapeli’s eyes were wide with fright as he watched it all unfold.
“Let me ask you one more thing, Cadel! Correct me if I’m mistaken, but I believe you had the night watch, did you not?”
“Yes, Sir.”
André was screaming in Cadel’s face, or at least attempting to, as the younger man stood six-foot-five, a full head taller than the Lieutenant.
“What in the name of Yaqol’s beard and His four mighty rivers were you doing while this thief was in our midst? Please tell me you were not sleeping!”
“No, sir. I was watching.”
“W-watching! You were watching?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“While he robbed us all blind?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“What if he intended to kill us?”
Cadel turned his gaze down to meet André’s eyes.
“Are you dead, Sir?”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, are you dead? Sir.”
“Of course not!” Andre blustered.
“I guess he didn’t come to kill you then, did he?”
The rest of the Rangers stifled their laughter, but Deorsa’s audible snort set everyone off. The Lieutenant glowered at them without saying a word, then turned back to Cadel.
“Sergeant! What would possess you to let him rob everything from us while you just watched?”
“Honestly, sir, he impressed me. More than that, it is a principle my father taught me. It’s a lot less work to let someone else dig their own grave. If he aspired to be a thief, I wanted to see how far he would go with it. By all accounts, he went as far as he could, and that’s when I stopped him.”
André paused for a moment, his red face trembling, veins bulging. Then he nodded and stepped back.
“A perfect choice of words, I would say. Sergeant! Draw your sword!”
Cadel knew where the conversation was going and was already prepared.
“No, I don’t think I will, sir.”
“Excuse me?” The Lieutenant’s eyes bulged. “Who do you think you are?”
“Sergeant Cadel of the Baksa Rangers! Sir!”
André’s voice cracked from intensity while Cadel’s tone remained controlled.
“Not for long if you defy a direct order from your superior officer! Draw your sword!”
“No, Sir. I will not be doing that. With all due respect, nothing the young man did justifies a death sentence.”
Aapeli let out a squeak of shock as the reality of the conversation hit him, and his body began trembling.
André snarled at Cadel.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion on the matter!” André snarled at Cadel. “I gave you an order!”
“I understand you, Sir, and I can hear you very well. In fact, I’m pretty sure the loggers in Lobana can hear you, for that matter. But I will not be drawing my sword to execute anyone today. You may have given me an order, but I gave my oath to the Baksa and Ganden, not to you. I swore to stand for the well-being of everyone in Ganden in the face of injustice….” He stared into André’s eyes to remove any possibility of a misunderstanding. “…and currently, I am facing injustice.”
The Rangers gasped, but André was too enraged to respond to Cadel’s statement before the young Baksa continued.
“There’s no justice in putting this young man to death. I’ve seen his eyes and there’s good within him. What will do, Sir, is defy your direct order. I’m going to get on my horse with the young thief and deliver him to Arukah Prison. Once finished, I’ll return to Zanai and face whatever punishment you, Captain Andronicus, and Colonel Naet deem necessary. Sir!”
Cadel did not wait for a response. He knew how things would go with the Lieutenant and packed his horse before making everyone’s breakfast.
The Rangers all watched in stunned silence. André could think of no response as Cadel saluted and turned, squeezing Kobus and Deorsa on the shoulders before walking past them to Aapeli. As he reached down and lifted him to his feet, Cadel felt the young thief’s body shaking with fright. He cut the bonds holding his wrists and spoke under his breath.
“Keep your eyes on the ground and keep your mouth shut.” The look in his eyes emphasized there was no room for argument. “You’re going to walk with me. Don’t make any sudden movements. We’re getting on my horse and walking out of here. Trust me, kid. If you blow this, I’ll kill you myself, and no one will have to order me to do it.”
Aapeli did what he was told, climbing up behind Cadel once he was settled into the saddle. Cadel gave a gentle nudge with his heels, and the Subanderii stallion began walking across the short distance of grass toward Tamayan Road.
Cadel looked straight ahead, feeling everyone’s gaze on him. He knew he was risking his Baksa future for the young thief, but his integrity was worth more than a career. Aapeli trembled uncontrollably as Cadel smirked while André and the Rangers watched him turn Calaé, the Subanderii bay, southwest onto the dusty road, and continue the deliberate pace until they disappeared from view.
Not everything worth fighting for made sense. Some people were worth sacrificing everything for, even if they were just young sneak thieves trying to establish a reputation. Cadel never spent much time thinking about Yaqol, but he gave a silent prayer that he had not made the wrong choice. If Yaqol existed, it was all in His hands. Whatever happened next would have to be His will because Cadel had no plan beyond showing mercy to the kid.
He knew a severe punishment would await him at Zanai. Probation would be just the beginning. Time in prison or a flogging for insubordination were realistic possibilities, depending on how far Lieutenant André exaggerated the incident.
The details were beyond his control now. Arukah Prison in the northeast corner of the Midbaros Desert was a little over a week away, followed by a few days back to Zanai. He remained focused on the task ahead, letting everything beyond his control play out however it would.
Little did he know that his sacrificial act of mercy towards a guilty thief was about to thrust him onto a path that would change his life forever.
Chapter 2
It had only been two days of gentle riding, and Cadel already regretted saving the young thief. He was eager to get to Arukah Prison before he strangled the spoiled teenager himself. When the teen was not complaining about how uncomfortable his seat was on the back of the saddle for hours on end, he whined about his belly being empty, no matter how much or how often he ate.
They camped along the road the previous night, and Aapeli pushed Cadel to the limits of his patience even then. Cadel gathered massive armloads of sticks for a fire, then snared three rabbits for a meal while Aapeli wandered around empty-handed, complaining about how he could not find any sticks. Regardless of how often he tripped over another branch on the ground, he remained oblivious to their existence.
All the while, he could not stop talking about his skills and exploits, no matter how unrealistic and unbelievable the stories became. It astonished Cadel that the aspiring thief legitimately believed the nonsense spewing from his mouth as he listened in incredulous silence. Oblivious to reality, Aapeli took Cadel’s lack of response as a confirmation that he believed the stories and had been shocked into muted admiration.
That would have been frustrating enough if not for the chasm of eternal emptiness known as Aapeli’s stomach. He ravished two of the rabbits before Cadel finished cooking the third, and the voracious way he tore through the carcasses turned Cadel’s appetite after just a few bites.
The moment Aapeli finished eating, he rolled over onto his bedroll and fell into such a deep sleep, Cadel could not rouse him, no matter how hard he tried. Forced to keep watch for the rest of the night, he was forced to listen to an unholy roaring snore tearing from the teenager’s throat. The impossible sounds the thief produced amazed him, scaring away every small critter within the vicinity, loud enough to alert every bandit within a hundred yards.
They had crossed Rumyah Bridge over the Giah River earlier in the afternoon, continuing on Tamayan Road, which originated at Giah Gate in Mitolas, running deep into the Tamayan Rain Forest to the realm of Tamayar. Soon after crossing the bridge, Cadel turned west onto Red Road, and as they approached a bend in the road overlooking Riverwynd, his stomach rumbled to remind him of his hunger in case he had forgotten. Because of his night observing Aapeli’s unsuccessful robbery attempt, he had not slept in three days, and was irritable, pushed to the limits of his patience.
“Can’t you scoot up or something, Cadel?” The teen remained gloriously unaware of how exhausted Cadel was. “I swear the saddle’s pinching me in places where nothing should be pinched. I know you’re huge, but you could shift just a little, right? Yaqol’s beard, I’m hungry! Got anything left in your pockets? I ate most of the dried fruit in your saddlebag earlier this afternoon.”
A grunt was all Cadel could muster without unleashing a furious tirade on the inconsiderate teen.
“I still can’t believe you let me steal everyone’s stuff the other night. You could’ve stopped me before I wasted all my time like that. Not very considerate if you were just going to apprehend me, anyway. Kinda an invasion of my privacy, if you ask me, watching me in the dark like that, saying nothing? Makes me wonder if you’re some kind of creep or something. To be honest, I’ve been spending this entire ride wondering if I should trust you. I mean….what if you’re not taking me to Arukah Prison? You could be some weird stalker that collects young boys or something. It’s not like you talk all that much, and that’s weird. You didn’t even let me choose who I wanted to go with. You took me against my will and never asked what I wanted. That was after you snuck up on me in the dark and tied me up. Are you some kind of creep, Cadel?
“Man. I shouldn’t have let you arrest me. I knew you were there the whole time. It’s not like I was actually robbing everyone. You can’t prove I was. As far as I’m concerned, I was just collecting all the armor so I could wash it up and polish it, you know? For all that matters, you’re the actual thief, according to the law. I had everything in a pile, and it was in my possession, and you stole it from me. I could arrest you if I wanted to. You better treat me good, or when we get to Arukah, I’ll tell them you kidnapped me and that you’re the thief. They’d have to believe me because I’m still a kid. But you should have seen it! I could become the best thief in The Five! I stole an amulet from a giant, and I…”
“Kid. Shut up.”
“You know, there’s no need to be so rude. All you had to do was…”
“I wasn’t asking. Either stop talking right now, or you sleep in the stable tonight.”
“Rude.”
Cadel had to hold back a chuckle. His foul mood notwithstanding, the young thief had an endearing nature. Cadel never had siblings, but Aapeli acted just like an annoying little brother.
The dusty Red Road led straight through the center of Riverwynd, a small, growing trading village situated where Elias Bridge crossed the Meppashah River, a violent series of rapids, chutes and canyons for most of its duration. It slowed somewhat in a series of flats and hard bends near the town before picking up speed and rushing south once again.
The Happy Jackrabbit Inn was the first building in the burgeoning community, which had a stable, a blacksmith and a couple of simple, wood-framed homes clad in clapboard siding and roofed with cedar shakes. The small village was a perfect waypoint for traders, merchants and travelers venturing between Havash in the distant southwest, Mitolas on the eastern coast beside the Saryan Sea, or north to Zanai at the center of Ganden.
By the time Cadel finished watering, feeding, and getting Calaé settled in the stable, it was late afternoon. The bay had thrown a shoe, which needed repairs before continuing their journey, but that could wait until morning. Cadel was too tired and hungry.
He and Aapeli made their way into the inn, a modest, yet sturdy establishment. The bustling common room had an open beam vaulted ceiling, with every table filled. A pleasant aroma emanated from the kitchen as a vibrant woman in her late forties with a gorgeous dark complexion and long black dreadlocks tied back bustled throughout the room with an enthusiastic smile on her face, tending to her patrons’ needs.
“Morning, er … afternoon!” She waved while walking past them in the doorway. “Feel free to seat yourself anywhere!”
She never stopped moving and scarcely glanced their way. A quick look around the room showed there was no room at any of the eight tables, but the bar had two stools together beside a man slouched forward on his elbows.
Cadel sat beside the man while Aapeli hopped onto the stool on Cadel’s other side just as the hostess arrived.
“Hey! Welcome to the Happy Jackrabbit. What can I get you?”
No menus were available, and she continued working behind the bar while listing off a few options. The travelers both told her their choices, and taking no notes, she walked away, clasping
