Dunmouth

Taliesin had been awake before the other two. He let the fire simmer down to an ember until Leiren woke.

“Dunmouth, hm?” he asked. His voice was coarse, as it always was on rough mornings.

She stared blankly at him for the first few seconds, and then inhaled sharply. Pulling herself quickly out of her bed, she scanned around, taking her time between the shadows beyond the tree, and above for any movement in the branches. Eventually, she stopped, and looked back at Taliesin. “Sorry? I didn’t hear what you said.”

He cleared his throat. “You’re thinking of heading over to Dunmouth?”

She slumped back into her canvas tarp, which doubled as a blanket when it was folded over. “Is that so bad?”

“No, I didn’t say it was bad.”

“I know you think it. I can hear it in your voice.”

“You just woke up,” Taliesin argued.

“Don’t try that on me. I know what I heard.”

“Fine… You got me.”

“Why not go into town?” she asked. “I don’t even remember why we’re doing this, and no, it’s not because I just woke up.”

“We’re finding a way to defeat the blight.”

She stayed slumped on her side, responding with a blank stare, and a subtle head shake. “Sure.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Leiren scraped dirt into a pile until she grabbed a decent sized handful. She spent a few seconds aiming it at Varith’s face.

Taliesin glanced over right before she threw it. “Don’t do it.”

She was too focused and didn’t hear what he said. She only heard Varith’s sputtering as he came to. He sprang out of his bedroll. Spitting out wet dirt from his lips, dry heaving when he didn’t get enough out. While doing so, he aggressively brushed his face with his arms, and once his eyes cleared, he searched for the culprit. She laughed uncontrollably. “You—” He said to Leiren. Hastily, he shoved his fingernails into the dirt. Until he gathered enough ammunition for his retribution.

“Really?” Taliesin let out a long sigh. “You’re better than this Varith.”

“Perhaps,” Varith said, “but for now, I choose not to be.” He chucked his pile of dirt at Leiren.

She blocked it easily with her tarp, still laughing.

Varith dug his hands back into the dirt, intending to quiet her laughter with mouthfuls of dirt.

“We’re going to Dunmouth.” Taliesin said.

“Oh.” Varith stopped mid-dig. He stood straight, composed himself, and he spoke softly. “Well.” He cleared his throat. Then cleared it again. His nostrils flared briefly, as he felt dirt between his teeth. “If that’s what you want. I myself, don’t mind these pleasan—” He hacked out more dirt, then faced Leiren. “I don’t like you very much.”

Leiren cleaned out the dirt from her nails. “How come? Was it something I did?” The sides of her lips spilled into a grin. “You were saying something about pleasantries?”

“Yes, I was, and it wasn’t concerning you.”

Taliesin snuffed out what was left of the fire, which broke the other’s attention for a second. “We need to head out if you two want a bed to sleep in tonight.”

The two took his word, and began rolling up their tarps. Varith would take the pots and bowls, and Leiren would take skinnings from last night, thinking they could be sold.

Of course, Taliesin had already had his bedroll set, and he pulled it over his back. He covered the ash pile with dirt and removed any signs of a fire. By the time he was done, the other two carried their packs and waited idly for him to start walking.

They marched quietly, which was unusual for them. Most of the travel was filled with the same bickering, random stories to pass the time, and wildlife spottings. In that silence, Taliesin knew what they were thinking. A fresh meal, a soft bed, and actual conversation with people. Their steps were livelier, their strides bit longer, and their pace a little faster.

They took breaks, but again, with the same anticipatory silence. They stopped twice, both times to drink water and stretch their legs. The first rest ended when Varith said, “I think I’m all stretched out.”. The second rest ended when Leiren gulped the rest of her waterskin and said, “Best we keep moving.”

They reached Dunmouth in a few hours. The sun began to set, and the autumn chill rose in its absence, wrapping around Taliesin like a false coat. Chimney smoke coiled above wooden homes and carried a familiar longing with it.

A building marked Dunmouth’s centerpiece. Age had cracked its wooden walls, which housed streaks of moss. The sign was covered in with the same mossy growth; only “Gry” and “erch” could be seen. Nonetheless, Taliesin’s companions took quick strides, uncaring as they welcomed the blended breath of warm air and chatter.

“It’s been forever since I’ve had a warm meal and paid for a room,” Leiren sighed as she eased into a chair.

“That’s because you drink away whatever coin you find.” Varith said, taking a seat as well.

The chatter quieted as the three sat. Laughter subsided and curious stares settled on them. Taliesin whispered, “Let’s be quick.”

“The wilds have really worn you, Tally.” Leiren smirked, hoping his name would pull his focus. “I’ve already checked the room.”

Taliesin settled in his chair after hearing her conviction, and he flagged for service.

“What good is that?” Varith quipped. “I have eyes too, and I can say the same exact thing.”

“Oh?” Leiren smiled.

“That’s right.” Varith swung his head around and after a few moments he turned back, “I’d wager you didn’t notice the—”

She stopped him, “Group of soldiers? That one’s obvious.”

Varith brought up his finger in defiance.

“— or the flirting Steelbrite in the corner.”

Varith turned to find him.

“— or maybe the veteran in the corner that’s glancing this way.”

“Oh that’s Bryn—” Varith pinched his lips closed before he let out the full name.

“You’ve been here before!” Taliesin stopped himself from banging the table.

Leiren’s smirk widened. “There’s eight other patrons in the inn, and the only fool I can find is—”

“Forget I said anything!” Varith threw his shoulders back and rubbed his eyes. “Yes, yes, fine, I’ve been here before.”

Taliesin rolled his head back and slumped into his chair, mimicking Varith’s voice under his breath. “I heard Dunmouth was a nice place.” He rolled his eyes and continued. “They have sweet mead and warm beds…” Continuously rattling off Varith’s prior suggestions.

“The only person you seem to have noticed…” Leiren’s eyes darted to the inn’s counter. A man sat there, alone with a drink; wood dust settled on his clothes making an outline of an apron he wore, perhaps earlier in the day.

Varith covered his face with his sleeve, hiding his growing redness. “He’s nobody, just a woodwork— I mean we don’t know where you came from, why does it matter where I’ve been?”

“Your eyes tell me that there’s wood you want him to work on.” Leiren stooped in, hoping to catch a glimpse of Varith’s embarrassment as he retreated more into a thin covering of sleeves.

Leiren sat back in her chair and spoke softly to the innkeeper once he placed the drinks on the table. “Who’s that over there?”

“Elias.” The innkeeper responded, “the town’s carpenter.”

“Say, is he promised to anyone?”

“Not that I know of—“

The conversation faded in the background as Taliesin glanced at the soldiers. Their uniforms showed sparse wrinkles and their boots barely creased. He swept his eyes to other side of the room, the Steelbrite’s tattoo being flaunted by its owner, he pointed at the stripes that fell beneath. Between every other story, he would disengage briefly and peek over at Leiren. After the last look, he massaged his head and shook off a nervous expression, and continued his conversation.

Varith tugged at his arm and tilted his head towards the “veteran” in the back of the inn. “Bryndall is the gryfalcon master, he could fly us over to Shone in a d—Bara help you, the drinks weren’t just for you!” Varith extended a palm out to Leiren, who had already gulped down the first drink that came to the table, and was halfway down the second.

She kept drinking until the wooden mug was upended, then wiped away the remaining drink. “I didn’t see you order. Besides—“, she dragged the drink that was placed in front of Taliesin. “He said he’d pick up the tab.”

“I didn’t.” Taliesin grumbled.

“You were about to.”

Taliesin shook his head.

“This brings me to the second point,” Varith said after ordering for himself. “There’s always jobs here and beds to sleep in, and if we’re heading to Shone soon, we’ll need it. Although—” His lips curled into a disgusted frown and side-eyed Leiren, “we’ll probably be delayed a few jobs to pay for her habits.”

“Please.” She snorted, then made a circular gesture at the innkeeper for more drinks. “Don’t act like he can’t afford it.”

Taliesin kicked her leg hard. She slammed her drink on the table, revealing a dangerous glare. “Do it again, and you’ll pay extra for the table that’ll break against your pretty face.” She leaned over the table and picked up her chin to make sure Taliesin watched her lips, mouthing the word prince.

Varith picked up the cue, and his eyes bounced back to Taliesin, begging for an explanation.

He just looked away, dismissing the query.

More drinks and a few bowls of fatty stew were placed on the table. Varith quickly snatched his share and started consuming his food. Then washed it down with a drink as if he were the runt of a litter.

Bryndall started his way out of the door.

“Where’s he stay?” Taliesin leaned near Varith.

“This is his inn, somewhat.” Varith replied, swallowing down a slurry of food and alcohol. “The coop is attached to this place. Just go outside and you’ll see him.” He said, then pointed his spoon at Taliesin’s food.

“Have it.” Taliesin stood to leave the tavern. Something tugged against his rear pocket as he took his first step. He snatched it immediately and pulled up Leiren’s wrist, pinched between the tips of her fingers was a gold taelmark.

“Making sure it’s in a safe place, being in an unfamiliar place and all.” Her dangerous expression faded away into a guilty smile. “All these dangerous people in one spot you know.”

He tossed her hand aside, letting her keep the mark. Funding her vice was a bargain compared to having a Steelbrite protect him. From what he’d seen, she’d probably be worth two.

Once Taliesin reached the outside, he circled around the building until he found the gryfalcon.

The giant bird caught Taliesin’s attention and peeked its head from out of its wing to inspect him. The bird cocked his head, keeping one of his eyes trained on him.

“He likes people.” It was a delicate voice. “How they taste at least.”

A woman appeared from behind the gryfalcon. Dirt and feathers were shoved in small pockets of her short disheveled hair.

“Is that so…” He humored her, but left a skeptical expression.

“He needs a healthy diet of people. Why do you think it’s only me working here?” The woman chuckled to herself.

Taliesin kept his stare. “Have you seen his master? I saw him in the inn earlier.”

The woman’s awkward chuckle turned into a cough. “Well, uh- my dad, the master gryfalconer, he’s just in the house.” She spun towards the little house attached to the inn. “Dad!”

As the door opened, a man with subtle gray and brown hair ducked under to avoid the doorframe and headed towards his daughter. “No, you can’t take Borus for a scenic ri—” he stopped as his eyes focused on Taliesin. “What does he want?”

“He wants to go to Shone.”

“No.”

“What about Ormstormyard?” Taliesin stepped closer, and showed his palms, hoping to compromise. “It’s far enou—”

“No.”

Taliesin took a deep breath, “where can you take me?”

“I’m not taking you anywhere.”

“Why?”

“Go back home.”

“I can’t.” Taliesin growled.

The man stared him down and took a ready step towards him. “Go back home,” he leaned in to growl back, “prince.” Hinting that he was watching the group earlier. The man stood back to his original position and put an arm in front of his daughter. “Get out of Dunmouth, you’ll only bring trouble to us.”

The woman understood and started towards the home. “You know him dad?” The woman asked.

“If he’s like his father, I hope not to.” He responded, then glared back at Taliesin.“I know who you are, what you are. You’re not fooling me like you’re fooling your friends.”

Taliesin stumbled away; his legs weakened and he caught himself. With a blurred vision, he made it to the tavern’s outside wall. He hunched beside the wall and braced his hand against it. His breath became suffocating, his throat tightened.

“Get away from me!” A man shouted as he threw open the inn’s door.

A familiar voice followed, “Can we just talk?”

“No, we can’t just talk, Var, what makes you think you can come back after —” his voice became distant.

“Taliesin—” Varith noticed his companion holding himself against the inn. He bounced between going after Elias and helping Taliesin. “I—I—”

“Go take care of what you need to.” Taliesin waved him away. “I’ll be fine.”

Varith graciously pressed his hands together and hurried after the carpenter.

While Taliesin stumbled back into the inn, a cold wind made him shudder, nipping his skin. He hurried inside, escaping the incoming cold.

Leiren was slumped over the table like a damp cloth. Her mouth quivered as if she spoke to the table itself.

Taliesin snuck up behind her, hoping to catch the silent conversation, only able to make out one word, “mum.” He tapped her shoulder, and after the first tap, she pulled his arm and twisted his palm outwards. In the same motion, her hand slipped to the blade attached to her leg.

“Oh.” She stopped, his face nearly hitting the table. “Tally.” She sighed, and slumped back into her arms.

Stares heated the back of his head. He guffawed and played it off. “Too much to drink? Ha!”

He didn’t look back to check, he just sat back in his seat, and listened to the ambient chatter rise back to its original volume and rhythm.

He leaned close to her ear. “We need to get you to your room,” he whispered.

A soft muffled giggle followed. “That tickles.”

“I’m not joking.”

“You never do.”

“You know me.”

Her eyes poked up out of her arms. “I don’t.”

“More than most.” He reached for her arm, but she flicked his hand away.

“Only from contract reports, not from you.”

“That’s all there is.”

“No.” She fiddled with the mark she stole earlier and her gaze shied away from Taliesin, settling on the coin. “It’s like a deerling caught in a trap.” Her hand clawed around the coin, forming a cage. “But instead of asking for help, it knows its fate, and just accepts…” Her hand steadily closed in on the coin. “…that it’ll be lonely until…” The coin disappeared in her grasp.

He nodded with aggressive agreement. “You’re definitely gone.”

“No, I’m right here!” She shoved her head back in her arms.

He let her continue to sulk, and then checked the mugs around her. Empty. Empty. Empty. After jiggling a few more, he found one mostly filled.

He sat back in his chair, and drank the rest of the mead. The drink washed down his throat like a sweet wisp of air across an empty field, but a bitter aftertaste cut through it.

He poked Leiren’s head. It fell limp to the side of her arm. In a gentle motion he pulled her arms over his neck; coins jingled in his breast pocket as he did, reminding him to drop a few more marks for the drinks and extra for a room.

As he moved to the rooms, her head swayed into his, and her cheek pressed against his.

She faked it well, but Taliesin maintained the ruse.

As he reached the entrance to the corridor, Varith walked back in the inn—nervously scratching his head until he saw Taliesin struggling.

“Too much again?” He grumbled, taking her other arm. “Ugh, how is she so hard to grab?” Her arm slipped off his back when he tried slinging it.

“She’s messing with you.” Taelisin said.

She smirked, unveiling her thin deception.

Varith rolled his eyes and walked to the other side of her, speaking in a low tone. “I can’t believe you told her.”

“I didn’t.” Taliesin pushed open the door to a room.

Varith sucked his teeth. “Obviously you did.”

“He didn’t have to.” Leiren said.

Varith stopped against the doorframe. “What’s that mean?”

“Maybe I know royalty when I see—”

“That’s enough,” Taliesin grunted. “Take a room’s mark and find a room.”

“Save your money.” A sly smile curled on Varith’s lips.

“Good work.” Leiren smiled, this time a real one. “I mean it.”

“Sure.” Varith nodded. “Not only that, I heard about your—conversation… with Bryndall. Elias has a contact with the Runners, it’s how he gets his expensive wood—” He waited for a snide comment, but only silence followed. “Anyways, they’ll be coming to drop off a shipment tomorrow evening. They have a route in, I think.”

“Thank you.” Taliesin replied.

“Alright,” Varith clapped. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, likely not early. Good night to me.” He swiftly left the room.

The room itself was dimly lit, mostly from a short candle and the rest from the moonlight, which came from a small window opposite of the doorway. A bed sat against the leftmost wall, along with a chair beside it.

With emphasized effort, Taliesin hoisted Leiren into her bed. “Gently!” she grunted, as her head smacked the pillow.

Taliesin chuckled and pulled the blanket over her.

“My boots are still on.”

“You’ll be fine.”

Leiren snarled for a few moments, but then settled into her pillow. Once her breathing steadied, Taliesin moved towards the exit.

“Wait.” Leiren begged before he reached the doorway.

“Lei, I’m tired.” He looked back with irritation. Her eyes glazed over, and beads of tears started to form. It was the first time he’d seen her cry, even after a few… or several drinks.

He sighed and sat in the chair that was adjacent to the bed. He shifted in the chair, trying to find a comfortable position.

“You think you’ll ever forgive me?”

“For what?” Taliesin asked, still shifting in his chair.

“Nothing. Nevermind.”

Leiren’s expression eased, and her eyes started to close. More tears continued. Taliesin started to brush his hands through her hair.

Taliesin spoke with a solemn voice. “You’re thinking about them again…?”

“It’s hard not to.”

“That’s enough now.” He said gently. “It’s not your fault.”

She gave a thin smile.

A soft breeze snuck into the crevices of the window, whistling a melancholy tune. The pair listened as if it played just for them.

“Do you ever want to run away?” Taliesin whispered, half-hoping his friend nodded off.

Leiren struggled some words, her lips hummed as if she spared little energy to speak, “You drag me along for your fake adventure, and now you want to run away?”

“I mean - what if we went off towards the other side of Taeleer’a? Just forget whatever lie I told you.”

She reached out to place a hand on his knee. “Tally, you have to stop running away. Once I did, I found what I was looking for.”

He chuckled. “And where’s that?”

Leiren responded with even breaths and silence.

A couple more minutes and the wind finished its tune. The quiet made way for the outside fire crackle a soothing echo into the room. Its fumes carried an unfamiliar scent.

It warmed him when he breathed it in.

He welcomed the solace, this time, without a whisper.