I watched the imposing shadows
grow longer and darker from the towers
of Ebonhedge. Built in a place where the moors and hills meet, the city was
built so tall and dense that from a distance we had thought we saw a settlement
carved into a mountain. Though this area had changed since I last saw it, there
was no magic that could make a mountain grow in such a short time. And yet
humans still managed to raise a gargantuan web of structures that completely
transformed the view. It was difficult to contain my excitement.
I made my way down the inn’s tower,
eager to tour the city with my companions. A sweet smoke filled the dining
hall, dulling my senses. Nevertheless, the crowd was not thick, so it was with
no problem that I spotted the right table. It was impossible to miss. A tall,
burly young man with thick auburn hair and beard, a comely face and electric
blue eyes turned around and smiled at me. Cillian’s smile was honest to a
fault. One glance was enough to see what he was – innocent, kind, happy to finally
rest from all the heavy lifting he had to do for us. Opposite him sat my
sister, Isolde, seemingly no older than five with thick blonde curls framing
her round, bored face cradled in her hands. There was one missing from the
table however. I glanced up and there he was, perched on a beam under the
ceiling sat a large raven, his sable eyes turned to me just as I glanced at
him.
“Come, Nevermore,” I said as I
extended my arm. And down he came in a silent swoop so gentle none of the other
guests even noticed him. As he landed on my shoulder, I gave him a single pat
on the head and beckoned the others. I had promised myself I would keep them
close. The manticore incident was something the likes of which I needed to
avoid. Cillian and Isolde had asked me about it on occasion, but I could not
tell them anymore than the fact that we had been betrayed by the knights of
Haegyn and needed to simply move on with our journey. And so we pressed on down
Pilgrim’s Road in silence until we finally reached Ebonhedge.
The sun had almost set, dying the
sky and the landscape below amber. We followed the narrow alleys down to the
market square nestled in what looked like a pit within the city. The dark
towers surrounding it ma arket quite so busy. Out of the hustle and bustle
there were a few sounds that stood out – the shouts de me feel as if I was
surrounded by a dense forest. It had been a long time since I’d visited a m of
children playing games, the barking of dogs, the peddling of the peddlers.
“We’d best get some food now,” I
said. “We’re leaving come dawn. We must be prepared.”
“What’s with the bloody rush, eh?”
Isolde said with her tiny arms on her hips. “The Hierophant can wait. We’re
going fast as it is now. And poor little Gillian here is exhausted from
carrying all out inventory.”
“N-nay, it’s fine,” Cillian said as
he frantically shook his head. “If it’s me that be the cause of concern, worry
not, Lady Isolde. I can go on for as long as Matoya wishes.”
I turned and looked him in the face.
I could have sworn I saw him blush. I knew he couldn’t keep that word and that
he would push himself, but I’d rather see him drop from exhaustion than drop
dead from my mistake. “See, Isolde? Ye should have more faith in yer own power.
Who was it that made this man into a shapeshifter?”
Isolde let out a heavy sigh. Just
after that, I heard her shout out an offended “Oy!” I turned to face her – shy lay
on the ground, seemingly knocked back with extreme force. As Cillian was
helping her up, she clutched at the string on her neck. She glanced up at me
with wide eyes. “It’s gone,” she whispered. “The eye is gone.”
“Ye be forgetting,” I said as I
pointed my finger to my chest, where the real eye still hung safely. Still, I
leaned forward to her to check if she had been unharmed. “Who in the hells hit
you?”
“I saw no one,” Cillian said as he rubbed
his forehead, squinting. “Can’t have been too tall, then.”
“I’ll give ye that,” Isolde said. Already
up on both her legs, she was clearing her skirt of dust.
“Although I doubt he
was a midget. He was about two heads taller than me and-“
“Thief!” a voice came from behind. I
turned around and saw a large, round man garbed in sparkling, elegant robes,
gasping for breath, heading in my direction. He stopped in his tracks right by
my side, clutching at his knees with one hand, pointing ahead with the other.
The rings on his hand glimmered in the setting sun. “Thief! He st- he stole my...”
he heaved.
I noticed Isolde’s eyes widen with
delight. Before she could say anything, however, I spoke to the merchant: “Steady
yer breath and tell us what happened.” The words came out the way they did
before I even managed to think them. Why was I offering my help to this man
knowing well that it might as well be another trap?
“My prized item,” he heaved in an
unpleasant-sounding, high-pitched voice. “My ebony sword. Please, help me
retrieve it. It was ordered by an outstandingly important buyer. If I lose it,
I lose my life with it.”
“Then ye’re already dead, aren’t ye,”
Isolde snickered. Cillian gave me a helpless glance and Nevermore cawed on my
shoulder, startling the merchant.
“Not if we do something about it. We’ll
find yer thief. Some compensation is in order, I expect.”
“Most certainly, madam. I thank you
from the bottom of my heart.” The man bowed and slowly went back to his stand.
“Ye’ve caught us up in another
bloody mess, Matoya,” Isolde scoffed.
“I must agree,” Cillian said with a
frown. “How do we even find the thief?”
“If me assumption is correct, and
they usually are, we are searching for the same thief who took our eye copy.”
“Oh, I see,” Isolde nodded.
“I don’t understand, though,”
Cillian gave me a perplexed look.
“The crystal eye is connected to the
copies. That means we may be able to find the exact location of the ebony
blade. Pretty soon, at that.”
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