Enflamed (Book 2) Page 2

  “Stop helping every damnable refugee that comes through here,” the other guard scolded.

  “Sorry, sir. He looked too weak to walk. I just wanted to—”

  “Use that strength to help keep order around here. All these refugees are liable to cause trouble.”

  “Yes, sir....”

  Kaijin glanced sidelong at the two men before making his way into the city. Looking above, Kaijin noticed Miele flutter over the gates, entering the city unnoticed.

  Once he was inside, she swooped back down to follow him.

  The city appeared considerably smaller than Easthaven; however, it was just as crowded. Refugees young and old filled the streets and alleys. But even amid the despair hanging heavily in the air, streamers, ribbons and other decorations adorned some of the buildings, creating colorful paths toward the town square. Flashy posters embellished the walls near the city gates, advertising an upcoming event.

  Tired, Kaijin spied an inn nearby, and relief spread through his body like a wave. As he dragged his exhausted and beaten body to the door, he heard murmuring around him and noticed some refugees and resident passersby cast curious glances his way. Candles flickered in the windows of the inn, emanating a welcoming glow.

  Before entering, Kaijin looked to the sky. He felt Miele’s presence nearby but could only make out the faint outline of her small body against the black night sky. “I doubt they will allow you inside. Enjoy the evening, but don’t stray too far from the inn.” Miele screeched softly in response, and he watched her silhouette flutter to the side of the inn, where a blossoming moonflower vine grew. Kaijin smiled slightly, feeling her contentment.

  Kaijin stumbled through the door and slumped over at the counter. The inn was quiet inside, with very few patrons milling about at that late hour. The smell of stale ale and spoiled apples lingered heavily in the air.

  “Welcome to the Bottomless Cauldron,” a portly man greeted him in a husky voice. “What’ll it be tonight?” He paused, looked down his nose at Kaijin and scowled. “Hells! Not another one.”

  Kaijin lifted his gaze. “Sir?”

  “I thought all you damned refugees stopped coming days ago!”

  “How do you know I’m a refugee?”

  The man crossed his thick arms. “Seen enough of ’em to know what they look like ...” The man’s bushy peppered-blonde mustache lifted slightly, revealing his sneer. “And smell like. And don’t even think about asking for a room. Did you not see all those people sleeping on the streets on your way in here? Every inn in town’s been filled beyond capacity—including mine. I suggest you find a nice li’l corner to sleep in like the rest of ’em.”

  Kaijin heaved a sigh. “Please, sir. I’ll do anything for a room. I’ll work and pay it off, if I must. Please. I just want to sleep in a bed.”

  “You and half this city. Look, I told you—I’ve nothing available. Now, unless you intend to buy a meal or a drink ...”

  A meal sounded nice, but a good night’s rest sounded even better. It was getting harder to stay awake the more he thought about a cozy room. Out of desperation, Kaijin dumped the contents of his haversack—his spellbook, dagger and the honeystick jar—onto the counter. “If it is gold you want, I will give you all that I own.”

  “What did I just—” The innkeeper paused as Kaijin turned the bag inside out.

  Kaijin couldn’t find a single coin. He felt for his jewelry—checked his bloody, skinless earlobes and his hands for any gold the vagabonds might have missed. They were likewise barren.

  “No,” Kaijin muttered, “I could’ve sworn I had ...”

  The innkeeper frowned. “Wait a minute.” He pointed to the book. “Those symbols—I’ve seen those kinds of things before from those pompous Ghaeldorund folk that often come around here.” He narrowed his eyes at Kaijin. “You’re one of those ... mages, aren’t you?”

  Kaijin paused and then met the man’s gaze. “Is that a problem?”

  The innkeeper growled and shoved the book off the counter. “Mages are nothing but trouble. Get out of my inn. Hells, get out of Faywald! We don’t need Ghaeldorund’s corruption spreading here.”

  Kaijin knelt to retrieve his spellbook. He regarded the innkeeper again, raising his brow curiously. “What are you talking about, sir?”

  “Everyone knows Easthaven was destroyed by mages. It’s obvious the mages came from Ghaeldorund. Buncha wicked, vile monsters, they are! Now get the hells out of here, and don’t come back!”

  Kaijin swallowed. Disturbing images flashed in his mind—the frightened innocents, the undead, the chaos. His master’s voice, speaking a single name: Xavorin.

  Has news of Xavorin’s misdeeds caused all of Aransiya to despise mages?

  “Xavorin didn’t destroy Easthaven. You did,” responded the fiery voice in his mind.

  Kaijin gritted his teeth. No!

  He cast a wary gaze around the rest of the inn. The lingering patrons had looked up from their drinks and toward the two of them. Frowning, Kaijin turned back to the innkeeper. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, sir. I will leave.” He hastily stuffed his items back into the haversack, then left.

  Standing outside the inn, Kaijin surveyed the crowded streets and occupied alleys. “Hells if I’m leaving now,” he muttered bitterly. “I can barely keep my eyes open.” He heard horses nearby. Following the sounds, Kaijin walked east from the inn back toward the main entrance. Across from the gates, a trail of hay stopped before a small stable. Kaijin spied three horses in their stalls.

  He carefully looked around, ensuring he wasn’t being watched or followed. He heard Miele flutter overhead and saw her make her way into a small opening in the gable. He hustled to the stable and quietly opened the gate.

  The horses’ ears flicked his way. They turned their heads and acknowledged Kaijin’s presence by snorting at him.

  Kaijin’s heart anxiously pounded. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He crept toward one of the horse’s stalls, placed his finger to his lips, and whispered, “Shh.... It’s okay.” Gods, what am I doing, trying to calm these animals?

  To his surprise and relief, the mare turned her attention elsewhere. The horses in the adjacent stalls followed suit.

  Kaijin entered one of the empty stalls and plopped down on the small nest of hay inside. He lay on his back and stared up at the shadows among the stable’s rafters, where he spied Miele hanging from one of the wooden beams. The dim lights from outside reflected eerily off her large, ochre eyes as she stared at him intently.

  “It’s not the luxury of an inn, but at least it’s better than sleeping on the hard cobblestone streets. I really need to rest, now. Go out and play. Alert me if there’s trouble.”

  Miele responded with a series of soft, high-pitched screeches and then promptly flew out of the gable.

  After she left, Kaijin tucked himself into a fetal position, clutched his haversack, and listened to the sounds of night. His necklace pulsated warmth, a soothing sensation against his chest, and soon he was lulled to sleep.

  * * *

  Miele embraced the shadows of night, encircling the stables from above. Her keen nose detected the pleasantly sweet fragrance of the moonflowers’ nectar she had feasted on earlier, and she perked up. However, her attention was drawn to the sounds of scuffling below. She spied a tiny figure walking near the stable and toward the Bottomless Cauldron. She swooped down, clung to the wooden beams above the stable’s entrance, and scrutinized the stranger more closely.

  The newcomer, a male, appeared to be a small child. Shadows concealed his face and traced the outline of his lean frame. Walking with a skip in his step, he whistled a hearty tune as he counted a handful of coins. One of the coins slipped from his hand and rolled underneath the stable gate.

  “Soddin’ ’ells!” he grumbled. He rushed to the gate as fast as his little legs could go before the coin rolled out of his sight.

  Miele watched the coin roll down the stable’s aisle before settling to a stop beside one
of the stalls. The pinging sound of the silver piece roused a nearby horse, and one of its ears turned backwards.

  The stranger swore under his breath. “Why does it always gotta be one?” His ears suddenly perked and he immediately took refuge behind a stack of unopened crates sitting beside the stables. Two guards walked past, making their way toward the Bottomless Cauldron while they chatted. When they were gone, the small, shadowy figure re-emerged and opened the stable gate.

  Miele watched the stranger crawl on all fours down the aisle in search of the lone coin. He ran his hand along the ground.

  “Aha! Found you,” he muttered quietly, locating the coin next to a hay bale. He scooped up the coin and placed it in a pouch tied to his belt.

  The horse nearby turned its head and snorted at him. Its tail swished back and forth.

  The small figure tilted his head back, gazing up at the towering unsettled hackney in awe. Barely standing as high as its gaskin, the stranger held up both hands in surrender. “’Ey, now, I was just leavin’. No need to get your ’orse’airs in a foddle.”

  The horse shook its head and gave another snort in response.

  As the stranger turned to leave, he craned his head toward the adjacent stall, where Kaijin huddled atop a small bed of hay, snoring lightly. The stranger slinked into the stall to get a closer look.

  He blinked in surprise. “A man?”

  He reached out to touch Kaijin’s face, but his hand drifted downward, toward the haversack, where the top of Kaijin’s spellbook peeked out. The stranger tilted his head. “’Ey, now. What do we ’ave ’ere?” He nervously licked his top lip and reached for the book.

  Miele screeched and flew down from the beams, diving toward the intruder. She plunged tiny fangs into the ruddy flesh of his pointed ear.

  “Ow!”

  * * *

  A sound woke Kaijin, who instinctively tightened his fingers around his haversack. He opened his eyes to discover a small male.

  The pointy ears were enough for Kaijin to realize that the stranger wasn’t exactly human. His straight, ebony hair was braided in several spots and tied back in a single topknot. Light battle scars marred his young, sideburned face, and a single, prominent scar extended across the bridge of his nose.

  “Ahh! I’m bein’ attacked!” the creature cried out. He dove into the nearest hay pile and hid.

  Kaijin looked at Miele just as she returned to the rafters. He stood and approached the hay. “What are you doing?” he demanded, prodding the top of the trembling mound with his finger.

  There was a moment of silence before the small creature’s topknot poked from the top of the hay. His head slowly appeared as he rose and he gazed at Kaijin with wide, fear-filled eyes. “Is it gone?” he asked in a trembling voice, muffled somewhat from the hay. His large eyes turned left and right, as though anticipating another surprise attack.

  Kaijin arched his eyebrow. “Is what gone?”

  “That ’orrible, man-eatin’ bat! ’Ow could you not see such a thing? Look! I got th’ scars to prove it, I do!” The stranger bent over his injured ear, revealing two tiny bite marks on the tip.

  Kaijin studied the marks, then chuckled softly. “Miele is no man-eating bat,” he assured. “She is my familiar. She likes eating fruit and sweet things—like honeysticks.”

  The creature scrunched his face. “’Oneysticks?”

  “Yes.” Kaijin retrieved the jar from his haversack and pulled out a treat.

  “Oh! ’Oneysticks! Kinda like nyrium-tegos.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a popular treat amongst brownie children. Nyrium-tegos are made from sweetberry nectar. Very tasty, indeed!” The stranger licked his lips. “Ah, brings back memories of Mum givin’ me one before bed every night.”

  Before Kaijin could respond, Miele screeched. She swooped down, snatched the honeystick from his hand, and returned to the rafters.

  “’Ey, now! Get that soddin’ thing away from me!” the stranger sank back into the hay.

  Kaijin smiled as he watched Miele hang from one of the wooden beams and began feasting on her treat. “Don’t worry. She would rather eat her honeystick. She is a fruit bat.”

  “Fruit bat, vegetable bat—does it matter? She’s soddin’ dangerous! She bit me, she did!”

  “She probably thought you were trying to harm me, so she attacked—and perhaps she had every reason to. Who are you? Rather, what are you?”

  The stranger gawked at Kaijin. “What? Never seen a brownie before? Well I sure as ’ells seen plenty of ’umans. This place is swarmin’ with ’em—’umans, I mean. Did you ’ear about all those refugees comin’ from Easthaven? Soddin’ shame, it is....”

  Kaijin opened his mouth to respond, but the brownie continued talking.

  “Oh! Th’ name’s Nester. Also known as ‘Nimble’ Nester Two-Blades. An’ you are?”

  Kaijin exhaled once Nester finally stopped. “I’m, ah ... Kaijin. Sora. Also known as Kaijin.”

  “Kaijin! Good to meet you!” Nester relaxed a bit, his attention no longer focused on locating Miele. He emerged from the hay and picked out the strands from his hair and long sideburns. Standing before Kaijin, Nester’s head barely reached his waist. “What were you doin’ all ’oled up in ’ere for?”

  Kaijin sighed. “I was tired and needed a place to sleep.”

  “Well th’ stables ain’t no place for winkin’—’less you like th’ smell of ’orse piss.” His eyes focused on Kaijin’s haversack. “’Ey, that was a ... a nice book you ’ad in there....”

  Miele shrieked a message to Kaijin in his mind. “He did that, did he?” Kaijin replied through the link. He shot a cool gaze at Nester and said aloud, “It is, isn’t it? Some ruffians tried to steal it from me, too. I dare ask what kind of bold fool you are to attempt to steal from someone who is far bigger than you?”

  Nester huffed and puffed out his chest, making his leather jerkin appear smaller on him. “’Ey! I may be short, but that don’t mean I don’t get around. ’Sides, your book looked interestin’.”

  “There’s nothing interesting about this book, I assure you,” Kaijin said flatly. “If it’s gold you want, I have none. Those ruffians beat you to it.”

  “Pah! These peepers know value when they see it.” Nester deflated his chest and picked out another stray piece of hay from beneath his jerkin. “Are you lookin’ to sell it? ’Ow ’bout we ... ah ... split th’ profits, aye?”

  “What!” Kaijin’s eyes widened. “My spellbook is not for sale!”

  Nester’s jaw dropped. “S–spellbook?!”

  Kaijin pursed his lips and quickly averted his gaze from him. “Yes, I’m a mage,” he muttered in a low, bitter tone. “Apparently, people like me aren’t allowed in this city.”

  “Well, it ain’t like that. There’re lotsa superstitious sods ’round ’ere—more than ever now after th’ news of what ’appened to Easthaven. You know that Ghaeldorund’s only a three-day walk north from ’ere, aye? Everyone around ’ere says a fiddler from that city came an’ destroyed Easthaven. Can you believe it? One soddin’ fiddler destroyin’ a ’uge city like that?”

  “‘Fiddler’?” Kaijin chewed on his bottom lip. “If you mean a mage, then yes, I can believe it.”

  “Poor sods are scared, as you can imagine. They don’t want th’ same thing to ’appen to Faywald. Everyone says fiddlin’ is dangerous—’ells, fiddlers are dangerous! They got every soddin’ right to be afraid if a fiddler can destroy a whole city.”

  “Magic is only as dangerous as the wielder.” Kaijin’s mouth turned bitter.

  “Well I sure ’ope th’ evil fiddler’s been stopped. I sure wouldn’t like to be th’ unfortunate bloke to meet ’im.”

  Nester’s words stung. Did I really cause this? “Yes, well ... I’m just a man trying to survive like the rest of the refugees here. I’m not looking for trouble.”

  “You’re not just a simple bloke. You’re a simple bloke who knows a bit of fiddlin’. Say! You can ’elp
me, y’know!”

  “Me? Help you?” Kaijin blinked. How absurd! “I’m a mage, remember? I’m ‘dangerous’. How can I possibly help you?”

  “Pah! I never said I believed in all that soddin’ rubbish.” Nester waved his hand dismissively. “’Umans tend to take things out of proportion, y’know? Buncha cowardly blokes, some of them are. But a scared ’uman means ’is peepers ain’t watchin’ ’is coin purse none too closely, if y’know what I mean.” He gave a gap-toothed smile.

  Kaijin frowned. “You take pleasure in stealing?”

  Nester gasped and looked overly surprised. Probably acting. “‘Pleasure’? Nay, Kaijin. Who do you think I am? Some kinda poor street bloke lookin’ for a ’andout? I’ve got a bit more dignity than that.” He proudly thumbed himself in the chest. “Th’ way I see it is, if all these soddin’ refugees are just sittin’ on th’ streets with pockets full o’ gold and not spendin’ it, then what’s th’ point in ’avin’ it in th’ first place? That’s where I come in. I ’elp ’em spend th’ money they’re not spendin’, see?”

  Kaijin crossed his arms, eying him coolly. “I fail to understand your logic.”

  “That’s ’cause you’re a ’uman.” Nester tapped his finger against his temple. “It’s a known fact that brownies got th’ sharpest wits.”

  “I see....”

  “As for th’ ’elp, well, I’m runnin’ out o’ funds here, y’know? Th’ soddin’ innkeeper at th’ Cask an’ Iron thought it’d be nice to raise th’ prices of th’ rooms a few days ago when all th’ refugees came floodin’ into town. And on top of all that, th’ sod wants all th’ inn patrons to pay three days in advance! ’E’s gonna kick me out soon, I know it! Can you believe it? Anyway, I prigged—er—did favors around town but I’m still short—er, not literally. Well, I am short, but I didn’t mean it like that....”

  “Whatever shady business you’re doing, you can count me out. Why don’t you ask some of those ruffians who tried to rob me, instead?”