A: Ch. 4.3

Hilt was acutely aware of each and every movement that was made by his little pet as they walked through the intricately carved wooden gates of Marigold. The City of Wildflowers, people called it. Hilt thought it was hideous, and the smell. It was as if each person in the city had bathed in bottles of sickening perfumed oils. All of the girls and women had wild roses or daises braided in their hair and the boys had caps with sprigs of lupin and one man had a cape made entirely of lavender.

Hilt had to ignore it, though. He knew that if given the opportunity, his little dove here would kill him, or at least try. That was a disturbance he did not need. The goal was to slip into the city, across the river, and then out the other side without anyone noticing them. Well, he still had the matter of another horse. While the ass had been delightfully entertaining in Nibheis, it would be more logical to buy a true horse.

The southern part of the city was mostly residential, with large, wobbly houses built on top of each other. All were made of wood, mostly oak, and, of course, more flowers. Hilt couldn’t understand how an entire roof could be constructed out of lilies without requiring to be reconstructed on a near daily basis.

“The flowers are actually planted there,” Kya explained. She obviously noticed him staring. “The roofs are actually considered more planting area. Some people grow more vegetables or herbs to sell. Much of their agriculture arrives by boat, but everyone here still enjoys the idea of farming, though on a much smaller scale. It still stays relatively warm in the winters and their freezes are minor. It’s silly, and requires more work than it should, but they enjoy it.”

“It’s not silly, it’s absurd,” Hilt growled. It was getting difficult to breathe. How could people live here?

“I think it’s quite beautiful. Everyone loves the colors of life which Lilari the Belligerent has blessed us with.”

“Don’t start on that Spirit nonsense again,” Hilt growled. ‘By the Spirits,’ she would say, or ‘Thank the Spirits’. It was obnoxious. He had been intrigued by the Spirits in the past, back when he questioned his own faith, but he came to the inevitable conclusion that the Northern religion was just another method to control the people, just as the Southern version. Spirits, Gods, it didn’t matter. They were all the same.

“Watch your tongue,” Kya hissed. “While much of the country may be faltering in their beliefs, Marigold holds some of the most devout believers. You don’t want to offend the wrong person.”

Hilt rolled his eyes. How ridiculous. She was scolding him! The sooner they could leave this city, the better. They continued walked down the cobbled streets, Hilt leading Fierant and keeping Kya directly beside him.

They soon made it to the great Luisant River, which was the main reason for Elivagar’s continued existence. It cut the entire continent in half and was too wide to simply wade across, yet too shallow and rocky for any large ship to go down. More than that, only a single bridge, the one that connected the two parts of Marigold, had ever been created. Thus, this was the only way to make it through Elivagar on foot. Despite its feeble creation, Marigold was built like a fortress. The pasties had managed to discover a method of treating wood to make it as hard as steel. The entire circumference of the city was surrounded by a thirty foot wall made of such magic wood.

The obvious weakness to such a city would be fire, but the constant rains and damp mist always extinguished any attempt Nibheis ever had to burn down such a city. Thus, they had never successfully conquered the city. Their best attempts had always been to take a ship up through the Ylid Sea, and try and navigate as far as possible up the Luisant or one of its many branching streams.

As they reached the bridge, Hilt noted most people stopping to touch a small statue before they crossed. “What are they doing?” Hilt asked. He felt silly for having to ask. Why couldn’t this just be a normal city?

“It’s a monument erected as an offering to Lilari the Belligerant and Rubicon the Detached, the spirits of earth and water. It’s considered good luck to touch the stone and offer a prayer of safe passage across the bridge,” Kya said calmly as she reached out and touched the rock which was carved with worn engravings that could hardly be seen anymore.

Hilt did the same, though he felt like an idiot doing so, and then the couple and Fierant started across the vast bridge. On foot it would take at least an hour to cross it was so long. It was not made of wood, like the rest of the city was. It had river rocks and shells and bricks… It almost felt as if the bridge was there long before the city ever was. It felt older, yet so much stronger. There were lanterns every couple of strides, but there were no candles in them. Odd, Hilt was certain he had seen them lit the prior night from his campsite.

He tucked that nugget of information in the back of his mind while they continued to walk with the steady stream of people going to and from the shopping district. Many were trotting on horses, some had carts full of goods, and the rest were on foot, just like they were. Hilt glanced at Kya and noticed she looked rather pale, even by Northern standards. She was sweating, despite the damp chill, and was just barely favoring one foot over the other.

“Get on the damn horse,” Hilt finally hissed.

Kya blinked and looked up at him. “Why? I’m fine,” she insisted. Stupid pride. It would be the death of her, and hopefully not him.

“I can see it starting to swell in your boot. I know it hurts. Just get on the damn horse.”

“But you said—“

“I know what I said!” Hilt growled. People were staring at them. “But I would rather people not ask me why my younger sister is limping and bruised while I don’t have a scratch. Get on Fierant before I pick you up and put you there.”

Kya looked rather shocked, but stopped to climb up into the saddle without another word. When she was settled, Hilt roughly pulled on the reins to move forward again. Fierant was not pleased. Hilt could only imagine. First he had to put up with being stolen by this oaf, and then he was ordered to carry her all the way through this bloody rain forest. Hilt would be cranky, too. What was he saying? He was cranky.

It was eerie walking along the bridge. Hilt had expected a lot of chatter from the people mixed with the rumble of the river below. Instead, most people were somber and the river calm and reticent. It almost felt like walking to a funeral. For a city so dependent on the river, they truly were terrified of it, weren’t they?

As they walked in silence, Hilt watched young children and women pull the petals off of flowers and toss them off the bridge where they would flutter to the slow moving waters below. Some were even crying as they did so. Oddly, though, some of the fish in the river would pop up and nip at the flower petals. The children were thrilled by this and the women seemed comforted. Hilt just found it all strange, but said nothing while they were still on the bridge.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally touched ground on the other side of the river. Instantly, the people became joyous again. They laughed and gossiped and quickly made their business in the shopping district.

“What in the seven hells was that about?” Hilt grumbled as he turned to get to the outskirts of the city where stables were likely to be.

“The Luisant is effectively a graveyard, in your terms. We do not bury our dead. Instead they are carried to the closest river and sent down on a raft made by the eldest child. The most sacred river is the Luisant and the sick and elderly tend to travel here so the great waters can be their final journey. Many of the rivers connect with the Luisant as it is, so these waters have been safe travels to the next life for practically everyone.”

“And the flowers?” Hilt asked.

Kya gave him an odd look. “Do you not give gifts to your dead? Those flowers are offerings to the Spirits to help guide our dead. It’s legend that if the fish nibble at them it’s a sign that the Spirits will care for your loved one. Those fish are said to carry the raft all of the way out to sea.”

“Silly superstitions,” Hilt growled. “When you die, you’re dead. There’s nothing beyond that.”

“And you are so certain of this, Damien?” Kya asked, her back stiff and her jaw tight.

“Aye, very certain,” Hilt spat in response. “Let’s just get you a proper horse and leave. The stench alone is enough to drive me mad.”

He tugged at Fierant and started looking for a possible merchant. It would be good to properly ride his horse again and they would finally make good time. He found it absurd that it had taken this long to begin with.

“Don’t speak,” Hilt hissed as he finally found a promising set of stables. Kya only rolled her eyes and adjusted her hood.

“Hello there, young one. Care to check the horse for the night?” the older man asked. He had leathered hands and a rather thick belly.

“No,” Hilt said in a bright tone. “I was actually hoping you had some for sale. My sister and I are traveling north and our mare had perished.”

“That’s a fine stallion you have there,” the man said, circling Fierant, examining with an expert eye. Hilt tensed slightly. The Arabian was not a common breed in the north, and even in the South they were bred for military use almost exclusively.

“He’s been a valiant steed, but it is too much for him to carry us both for such a distance.”

“And where are you two youngin’s going?” he asked. His voice was cheery, but Hilt could sense his suspicion.

“The coast. Port Herring,” Hilt said quickly. “It’s where our mother is. We are just trying to meet her there. My sister had been sent with my elder brother to collect me from an apprenticeship in Cauntin. When we stopped in Vawl there was a raid. My brother was killed and we lost our other mare.” The lies came easily to him. They flowed off his tongue like water.

“Vawl?” the man said, concerned. “What has happened to Vawl?”

“A raid by nearly a hundred Nibhein soldiers. That’s all I know, sir. I just took my sister and ran. My brother tried to fight, but they cut him down before he even raised a hand.” Hilt even sounded a bit choked up as he spoke. He could even make his eyes glisten with tears. It was easy since the lenses were extremely irritating and made his eyes water as it was.

“Vawl is a good town, full of good people. I have family there.” Hilt felt like he was finally warming up to the old man, which was good. The fewer suspicions, the better. “Do you know what’s happened to the villagers?”

“No, sir. I ran and never looked back. Call me craven, but I had to protect my young sister.”

“Mmm, I understand, lad. These are difficult times.”

Hilt paused politely. “I have money; I can pay for a horse.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll find a good mare for you. I don’t have much; my best were just purchased by the army, but I think I can find one to get you to the Capital.” The man turned and walked back into his stables.

Hilt reached at his hip where he still had his two swords. They were concealed by his long traveling cloak, but it still made him nervous to be this exposed. He looked up at Kya who was still patiently sitting upon Fierant, though she didn’t look happy. Hilt could only assume she was furious with how easily he lied.

The man was taking longer than he should have and Hilt grew nervous. They were standing in one spot for too long. “We should leave,” he said quietly, taking Fierant and turning him around.

“What? Why? We came to get a horse, and he is getting us one.”

Hilt glanced up and saw an elderly woman staring down at them. The curtain quickly closed and she disappeared. It had grown rather quiet and Hilt noticed that the street had fallen empty. He looked to his right and saw a group of guards speaking with someone. He could just see the protruding belly of the stable owner. Shit.

“We’re leaving,” Hilt growled. Without delay, he mounted Fierant behind Kya and spurred the horse into a quick canter. He veered down a side street and spurred the horse toward the northern gates which would lead them out of the city.

“Hil—Damien! What are you doing!” Kya gasped.

“He questioned the horse, noticed my skin, and didn’t buy my story of being from Cauntin. If nothing else, the guards will question us about Vawl, which I’d rather not talk about.” Hilt explained as the horse easily made a path through the pockets of people.

“Slow down! People will think we’re running from something!”

She was right. Hilt pulled back on the reins to a rather brisk trot, but circled through multiple streets to shake the trail of any who were following them. He finally came to the main street which led directly to the gate. It was littered with guards.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Hilt hissed in Kya’s ear. He could practically hear her roll her eyes.

They moved slowly, weaving between the groups of shoppers and avoiding the soldiers. Neither made eye contact with anyone but Hilt kept a firm arm around Kya’s waist. The last thing he needed was for her to fling herself at a guard in hysterics or scream to the world who he truly was. After her last few plots, he didn’t trust her.

“You there!” called a guard, stepping directly in front of Fierant. Hilt pulled the horse to a stop and clutched at Kya tighter.

“Yessir?” Hilt asked innocently.

“I’ve been hearing that you two know a bit of something about Vawl. Mind telling me ‘bout it?”

Kya tensed under Hilt’s grip and he noticed that the guard had his hand firmly on the hilt of his blade. More guards were filtering through the crowds.

“I ran away before I could see much,” Hilt said calmly.

“And this horse… Ne’er seen one like it. Where’d you get it, boy?”

Boy? Ha. If only he knew who he was speaking to. “I worked in Cauntin. This here horse was a gift for my apprenticeship.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Fierant was from Cauntin. Kya shifted uncomfortably in front of him and Hilt noticed she was looking warily to their left where three guards were trying to surround them.

“Seems unlikely you’d get such a fine lookin’ horse for just being an apprentice, boy. And that skin of yours looks awfully dark… You wouldn’t happen to know a bit more about Vawl, would you?”

Without warning, Kya reached out and kicked the nearest guard with surprising speed directly in the face. The man squealed like a pig and fell back. The others tried to move in, but Fierant was quicker. The horse noticed the change in atmosphere and quickly charged through the guards and civilians alike.

They were close to the gate, and regardless of how loud the pathetic guards screamed, they could not close it quick enough. Fierant easily sped through before Hilt could even give the order. Such a wonderful horse. Hilt would give him a dozen apples and sugar cubes after this.

They rode at a full gallop for a long while, Hilt steering the horse in a convoluted trail in and out of the thick forests and then out into the plains again. When he was certain that they were no longer being trailed, he finally gave his horse a break and settled next to a small creek.

“You kicked an Elivagan soldier,” Hilt said, still breathing heavily as he helped Kya dismount and started taking off the heavy equipment from Fierant. “Why in the seven hells did you do that?”

Kya was gasping for air. Her face was flushed and her feet wobbly. She started walking aimlessly around the camp. “He was pulling out a blade, and you were looking at the other guard. He could have attacked,” Kya said between gasps of air.

“Not in such a public place, they wouldn’t. They would have captured us and taken us to a jail, but they wouldn’t physically harm us,” Hilt explained, finally allowing the exhausted steed to get a long drink of water from the stream.

“You still kicked him in the face. You realize that they could have arrested you for that,” Hilt warned.

“They’d release me when I told them who I am,” Kya said confidently.

“No, then they’d ask why you lied initially, and why you aren’t in uniform. They’d insist you were lying. You should have let me handle it,” Hilt growled.

“Well, I didn’t say anything,” Kya insisted, looking oddly proud that she hadn’t broken her promise.

Stupid wench. She would be the death of him.

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