The sun beat down on Dryden's back, the warmth an odd phenomenon,
one he wished he could take for granted. He set his hammer down and
reclined on the shed's half-finished roof. A spotless sky smiled
down at him, the eternal stretch of blue interrupted only by a lone
golden sphere. Zaltoras was nowhere in sight.
Funny
that they would name a cloud, as if it were a living creature. When
was the last time it vanished like this? Two years ago?
How
strange the sun felt, its caress something neither fire nor steam
could replicate. Why must it always hide beneath Zaltoras, that sheet
of darkness? Zaltoras brought the rain, the thunder, the
lightning--all unpleasant things. The sun brought warmth,
brightness, tranquility--pleasant things.
Footsteps
sounded somewhere nearby, snapping Dryden from his daydream. He sat
up to a flock of sheep and the pasture's rolling hills sprawled
before him. He looked over his shoulder. His boss, Martron, walked
towards him, his young son following at his heels like a loyal pup.
"Young man, it seems like the sunshine is distracting you from my
shed," he said with a laugh.
Dryden
fumbled for his hammer and box of nails, eyes searching for where he
had left off. "I'm sorry. I just paused for a minute to look at
the sky."
Martron
rubbed his chin with his wiry fingers. "It's keeping us all from
our work, eh? It's nearly two hours past noon, and I've hardly
moved." He glanced down at his son. The boy stood with two fingers
in his mouth, bright blue eyes fixed on Dryden. "Why do you look so
frightened? Say hello."
The
boy muttered something incomprehensible and held up a wooden soldier
for Dryden to see. Dryden smiled back. "That's a nice toy you
have."
"It's
mine."
Dryden
chuckled. "I won't touch it."
Martron
tousled the boy's hair. "It's simply too difficult to work on a
day like this. My wife and I plan to take my son on a picnic instead.
Work will always be there tomorrow, right?"
Dryden
scanned the shed Martron had hired him to build. The frame was
finished, and the cedar siding had all been cut to size. It'd go up
rather quickly, but if he focused on shingling the roof, he could
have that done and out of the way by the end of the day.
"Dryden?"
Martron looked up with a half-smile. "I said work will always be
there tomorrow, right?"
Dryden
scratched the stubble on his cheeks. "I can keep going..."
Martron
waved his hand. "Pah! Zaltoras is gone. You've been working
hard--you deserve a little break."
"I
really don't mind..."
Martron's
grin faded. A serious expression overtook his hard-edged features.
"Take the day off. And don't run back home to help your father
around the farm. Relax for a little while."
A
smile crept onto Dryden's lips. He brushed the ink-black hair from
his face and threw on a knitted hat. It was a little warm for the
summer, but it hid his pointed ears well.
He
gathered his tools and leapt from the roof, landing with the grace of
a cat. "I appreciate your generosity," he said, as he stowed
everything in the shed. "I'll be back tomorrow morning."
"You
deserve a day to yourself." Martron gave him a sly wink. "A young
man your age has other things to do besides work."
"And
what would those things be?"
Martron
turned to leave. He spoke over his shoulder as his son chased after
him. "Whatever men in their twenties like to do. Things a wife and
child forced me to abandon."
Dryden
opened his mouth, paused, then departed without a word. Flocks of
cinereal sheep bleated at the three as they crossed the fields to
Martron's home. The sizeable building dwarfed every other house in
town. It garnered a state of near nobility with its proud display of
brick and mortar, glass windows and slate roof. Beside it stood a
wooden barn painted a strawberry red. Not a single board looked split
or rotten. Even in a village as small as Byromar, the position of
mayor promised wealth beyond what mere farming could ever produce.
Martron
stopped at the door to his house. His son scampered inside while he
remained beneath the porch's awning. "You're not going to the
tavern, are you?"
The
question caught Dryden off guard. "Why do you think I'm going
there?"
A
bout of guilt shaded Martron's brow. "I was just asking. Don't
look so offended. I know you're no carouser. It's just...you
might want to keep your distance. Gravenir told me some foreign
looking fellows checked in recently. There's quite a few of them,
and um..." He chewed on his lip, eyes downcast as if he were about
to give some tragic news. "...He's not too sure what they think
of thruins."
Dryden
flinched. As the lone thruin in a town of humans, the issue of
standing out never seemed to wane. With his pointed ears covered,
though, one would never suspect his race unless he were to somehow
cut himself and they witnessed the exposed blood fade to its vibrant
white colour. Even then, the chances of a confrontation was rare in a
place like Byromar. But the thruins long, hostile history with humans
still gave him enough reason to exercise wariness around any
strangers.
"Thanks
for the warning," he said. He adjusted his hat and fluffed out his
hair until it drooped across his shoulders.
A
serious frown lingered about Martron's jaw. "Sorry for bringing
it up."
Dryden
smiled. "It's better to be cautious."
They
bade farewell, and Dryden set his sights on the stretch of trampled
grass that folks called the main road. Divots lined each side, formed
by the heavy and frequent tread of wagon wheels. It wove along the
edge of several forests capped in resplendent bouquets of lush
verdure. They seemed to sparkle under the naked sun, and the leaves
chattered gleefully with every gust of wind. Dryden took a long
breath and imbibed the crisp aromas.
His
trek brought him to an orchard. Rows of apple trees speckled the
green hills with red and yellow dots. From somewhere deeper inside, a
woman hummed to herself, her voice accompanied by buzzing bees and
whistling birds.
Haley
stood halfway up a ladder with her back turned to Dryden, stretched
on her toes while she filled a basket with ripe fruit. Dryden crept
unnoticed, picked a rotten apple from the ground and tossed it in her
direction. It bounced off the side of the ladder with a delightful
thud.
Haley
yelped and dropped her basket. The ladder wavered a moment before she
steadied herself and collected her composure. "Dryden!" she
cried. "I didn't even hear you coming!" She brushed the hair
from her face and gave a playful sneer. "You're wicked. I nearly
fell off."
Dryden
stooped over and began gathering the apples back into the basket.
"Don't worry, I would've caught you."
Haley
climbed down and knelt beside him. "I hope you're prepared to
explain to my father why all the apples are bruised."
Dryden
held one up, twisting the plump fruit with his fingers. "They look
alright to me."
"They
don't bruise immediately. What are you doing here anyway? Aren't
you building Martron a hay shed?"
"I
am, but he told me to take the day off."
Haley
gave a sideways glance. "So you decided to bother me instead?"
Dryden
stood up and threw the basket of apples onto his shoulder. "If it's
alright with you. Where should I bring these?"
Haley
pointed to the far end of the orchard. "Would you carry it to the
shop for me?"
"Only
if you forgive me for scaring you."
Haley
rose to her feet and brushed loose blades of grass from her knees.
"I'll think about it."
She
led the way to the shop, a small wooden hut with a grand apple
painted on a sign above the door. Metal chimes rang as they entered.
The smell of baked fruit drifted from within.
Haley
disrupted the chimes a second time as she shut the door behind them.
"Father? Are you in here?"
A
man appeared from behind a display of jelly with several jars cradled
in his arms. "Hello, Haley." He looked over at Dryden. "It
seems you've found a helper."
Dryden
waved his free hand. "How are you, Chrizodo?"
"I'm
doing well," answered Haley's father. "What brings you here?"
"Martron
gave me the rest of the day off, so I thought I'd stop by."
"That's
nice," Chrizodo murmured, as he placed the jars onto an empty
shelf. "How is your family doing? I hear your sister's fianc
is leaving tomorrow morning."
Dryden
frowned. "Yes, Vilitamian will be gone for almost five months. But
we're having a farewell party tonight, if you're interested."
"I'll
do my best to make it," said Chrizodo, never shifting his eyes away
from the jelly.
Haley
took the basket from Dryden and set it on a nearby counter. "Dryden
asked me to go to the bluffs with him."
"I
didn't--" Dryden's words dried up in his mouth. Chrizodo eyed
him with what looked like amusement, though his subtle expressions
made it difficult to tell what he was thinking. "We have a lot of
work to do," he said to his daughter.
Haley
tilted her head and smiled. "We always have lots of work to do. But
Zaltoras is gone, and Dryden came all the way here to invite me. I
don't want to be rude."
Chrizodo
continued setting jars on the shelf, this time with his eyes fixed on
Dryden. "I imagine your mother would needed help setting up for the
party."
Dryden
shuffled his feet. "Well, yes, I should be home some time before
the guests arrive."
"We'll
only be an hour or two," said Haley. "And his mother has plenty
of helping hands at the moment."
Chrizodo
straightened his back as he placed the last of the jelly on a lower
shelf. He examined the rows, and adjusted each jar until they sat in
perfect synchronization. "Alright, you can go, but if you're not
back before sunset, you'll have to sweep in the dark. We can't
afford to waste any candles."
Haley
skipped for the door, her skirt twirling about her knees. "Thank
you, Father!"
The
metal chimes declared their departure as she flung open the door.
Dryden turned to close it, and met Chrizodo's stare before he
stepped out. The man's lips arced upwards in the faintest manner,
but still managed to deliver a clear message. Dryden gave a cordial
nod, then hurried after Haley, making a conscious note to leave some
space between the two of them as they walked for the main road.
Haley
watched him from further ahead, her expression half mockery, half
glee. "Are you scared of my father?"
Dryden
smirked. "What do I have to be afraid of?"
"Nothing
at all." Haley tossed back her head. Her chestnut hair trickled
over her shoulders. "You know, my father and Flint used to be quite
the rebellious duo. They were notorious in Byromar--you couldn't
take your eyes off them, or they'd start some sort of trouble."
A
brief silence flickered, as if the past had enraptured her
imagination. She turned to Dryden with a shrewd mischief in her eyes.
"So how did you become such a stuffy old man if Flint was the one
who raised you? You never have time for anything but work."
Dryden
shrugged. "My real father must've been a stuffy man, too."
His
remark erased the smile from Haley's face. "No--I--sorry...I
didn't mean to word it like--"
Dryden
brushed his hand through the air. "Don't worry about it. It's
not like I'm the first person to be abandoned as an infant."
"Yeah,
that's true..." Haley gave a quiet titter. It failed to dispel
the tension that had begun to swallow the air around them, so Dryden
altered his attention to the road and changed the topic. "Why do
you want to go to the bluffs?"
Haley
curled her lips, and put on an air of indifference. "Because I was
bored. The orchard can get lonely sometimes. We're so far away from
the main square, and we hardly get any customers. Though we might
travel to the city soon and rent a stall at the marketplace. I hope
we do--it would be so exciting!"
They
chatted casually for a time, until the sound of hooves clopping down
the road interrupted the conversation. Two horses crested a hill with
a small wagon in tow. A man steered from the front seat, his face
hidden by a worn straw hat. He brought the horses to a stop in front
of the two and lifted his brim.
Haley
waved to the man. "Good afternoon, Renoll."
Renoll
smiled, his grin checkered with two missing teeth. "Good afternoon,
Haley." He looked over at Dryden. Hesitation seemed to hamper the
muddy brown of his eyes. "Same to you."
Dryden
nodded, well aware of the sudden awkwardness.
"Are
you headed to your farm?" asked Haley.
Renoll
nodded. He pointed his thumb at the wagon's contents. "I just
picked up a load of hay from Daven's place. I'm on my way back
now."
"Would
you be kind enough to take us to the bluffs?" Haley cast an
irresistible smile, one Dryden felt no man with a heart could say no
to.
Renoll
bit his lip. His eyes darted in Dryden's direction for a split
second. "The two of you, eh?" He pondered for a moment, but
Haley's charm must have trumped Dryden's heritage. The
amicableness soon returned to his face. "Well, it is on the way. I
suppose you could hop in the back with the hay."
Haley
clapped her hands together. "Thank you!"
Dryden
tried his best to ignore the nervous eyes of Renoll as he climbed
into the wagon. Taking Haley by the hand, he hoisted her up, and they
flung themselves into the prickly mound of straw.
?
A
fervent wind, jostled into existence by the ocean's unending fury,
tore away loose strands of hay and rapped Dryden's hair against his
face. The wagon slowed to a halt, and Renoll turned around with one
hand on his hat to keep it from blowing off.
"We're
here," he called in a voice raised to compete with the wind.
Dryden
and Haley leapt down from the wagon. "Thanks again," said Haley.
"Have a lovely afternoon."
Renoll
smiled at her, then nodded tersely to Dryden, as if he only possessed
enough pleasantry for one person at a time. As he departed, Dryden
and Haley moved for the bluffs--a stretch of insurmountable cliffs
facing the eastern ocean.
The
water was rough today. White foam rode the dark blue waves. Dryden
mounted the fence that guarded the edge of the cliff and seated
himself. Far below, waves crashed against the rocky base and swirled
about in a whirlpool of froth.
Watching
the pelagic bustle left him feeling heavy, as if the water kept
forlorn memories imprisoned beneath its surface. He closed his eyes
and let out a long breath.
Something
brushed his shoulder. He opened his eyes to find Haley seated close
beside him on the fence. "What's the matter?" she asked.
"I
don't know..." Dryden turned to face the ocean. "There's
something about the bluffs--I'm not sure what it is. It seems a
sad place, like a graveyard."
Haley
narrowed her eyes. "That's odd. What's it have in common with a
graveyard?"
Dryden
chuckled. "I don't know. It just has that invisible presence."
"You're
a strange one."
Haley
clicked her feet together as they sat side by side, no words
exchanged while the ocean stormed below them. Dryden's mind began
to wander, though it never strayed far from the touch of Haley's
shoulder against his own. Maybe I should say something. He
peeked at her from the corner of his eye. Or maybe not. Damned if
I had a clue...
He
chose to relish the silence, though it didn't last long before
loud, deliberate footsteps interrupted. A square-jawed fellow
approached the two with his tiny eyes locked onto Haley as if she
were a fount in a desert. "Hello, Haley. What are you doing here?"
Haley
peered over her shoulder with a disinterested mien. "Oh...hello,
Murar. You aren't at your father's today?"
Murar
straightened his posture. Dryden noticed him puffing his chest
slightly. "No, I decided to go for a walk today, since Zaltoras is
gone. Business is going well, so I can afford to take the afternoon
off."
He
cast Dryden a quick glance after the last remark. Dryden took no
heed, instead leaning into Haley just enough for the man to notice.
To his delight, it sparked a flare of obvious envy. It practically
oozed out of Murar's eyes and nostrils.
"I'm
glad you're doing well," Haley said in an absent-minded tone.
Murar
adjusted his feet and stroked his clean-shaven cheeks. "Yes, I am
enjoying it. I was actually planning on heading south later. I could
walk you home this evening, if you'd like."
Haley
ran a finger along the fence. "That's kind of you, Murar, but
Dryden is taking me home."
Murar's
eyes darkened. "I see. Well, as long as you have someone to escort
you."
Haley
giggled. "Yes, Byromar is rife with danger, isn't it?"
"It
can be," murmured Murar. He stood awkwardly for a moment before
flashing a smile too wide to be genuine. "It was good talking to
you, Haley. Enjoy your day." He trudged away, shoulders sinking
with each step.
Dryden
watched him depart. A slight empathy fluttered in his stomach, yet he
couldn't keep his lips from splitting into a stupid grin.
Haley
turned to him with a sour expression. Her cheeks glowed red. "What
are you smirking at?"
Dryden
couldn't hold his composure. He laughed to himself and brushed
loose hair back under his hat. "You're quite the heartbreaker."
"I
am not!" grumbled Haley. "It's just...he's a little strange.
He makes me feel uptight." She furrowed her brow. "I'm not
interested in him--it's as simple as that."
"I
think that's a good reason," said Dryden.
Haley
blushed even more. She ducked her head. "So what do you think of
your sister's fianc? Vilitamian? He's sounds quite wealthy. I
heard he's building a house that's going to look over the ocean."
Dryden
opened his mouth to reply, but stopped as a figure clad in a
night-hued cloak hurried by. Their eyes met for a brief moment. The
stranger had a harrowing stare. Purple shadows ringed his sullen eyes
as if he hadn't slept in days. A sword hung from his belt--an
oddity in a town as peaceful as Byromar. His long and frenetic
strides carried a sense of earnestness, one that suggested he was in
a rush to be somewhere of the utmost importance.
Haley
and Dryden both craned their necks to watch him move along the
bluffs. His shadow almost seemed sentient, as if it possessed more
spirit than his body. An odd aura hung about him, something Dryden
couldn't quite define.
Haley
leaned close and spoke in a serious tone. "I saw that man before!
Three days ago, I think. I found him wandering in the orchard. He
asked me if anyone else worked here. I could barely understand his
accent, but I told him it was only me and my parents, so he turned
and left for the shop. It was the strangest thing."
"Did
he buy anything?"
"No.
And he asked my father the same question. It was like he was looking
for someone. I don't know why he wouldn't just ask, though. We
all know each other in Byromar."
Dryden
checked to make sure his hat still covered his ears. "Is he one of
the visitors staying at Gravenir's inn?"
Haley
held up her hands. "I don't know. I didn't know we had
foreigners staying in Byromar."
"Martron
told me today. He said to keep a distance."
Haley's
mouth gaped. "Are they hostile? That guy had a sword."
"I
don't know. I know nothing about them."
"I
wonder if we should talk to Gravenir."
Dryden
frowned. "What could they possibly want? There's nothing in
Byromar but crops and livestock."
"I
suppose they could be visiting." Despite her hopeful words, Haley
looked far from convinced. "It's awfully strange, though, to ask
both me and my father the same question. His Velian was good enough
for him to explain why he wanted to know that."
"What
does your father think?" asked Dryden.
Haley
pursed her lips. "The same as me. That man was looking for someone,
but for some reason, he wouldn't say who."
Dryden
dug his heels into the fence. "Maybe we should let Martron know.
I'll tell him tomorrow. If he or any of the other foreigners start
acting strange, he can send for some guards from Feldamor."
Haley
sighed. "I hope they're just visiting. Byromar has nothing to
protect itself with."
"Byromar
has nothing to protect. If he's so desperate to find someone, he
can ask around. There's no need to be secretive about it."
"Then
why was he?" asked Haley.
Dryden
shrugged. He looked to his right. The stranger had already made it
quite a distance. The wind rippled his long black cloak; his shadow
flickered atop the grass. Though it was difficult to tell from so far
away, it seemed like he had turned around and was staring back at
him.
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