Page 9 of Song of the Shadow Prince (The Dragon’s Ballad #1)

8

CAT

W e secured a table in the far corner with a view of the whole tavern. The only light came from flickering lanterns that created sluggish, dancing shadows on the rough wooden walls. The fetid air boasted competing smells of stale ale, sweat, and the faint hint of something roasting on a spit. The floor was a patchwork of worn wooden planks, sticky in some places, hinting at countless spilled drinks and the occasional bar fight. All in all, the place had a cozy, if somewhat grimy, charm.

Across the room, a loud ruckus drew my attention. A gaggle of men surrounded a table, shouting “Big!” or “Small!” above the din. The noise was almost deafening. I wrinkled my nose. “I smell beer. Do they serve anything else? Like any fruity cocktails?” I asked, hoping for something a bit more my speed.

“Cock- what ?” Maeve gasped, her cheeks tinting pink in embarrassment.

I frowned. “Cocktails, you freak! Get your head out of the gutter!”

She shook her head with wide eyes. “My lady, I do not know what it is you speak of.”

I sighed. “Never mind. What do they serve to drink here?”

“Ale,” she answered primly. “And I believe they have mead as well.”

I wasn’t a beer girlie, but I could enjoy a Corona and lime once in a blue moon. And like the good Colombian I was, I appreciated a nice refreshing refajo, which was a mix of beer with Colombian soda, something akin to champagne soda. It was quite delightful. “I guess I can go for some… ale,” I said reluctantly.

Maeve chuckled. “Stay put, and I’ll go get us some.” She stood and gave me a hard look, followed up with a stern reminder not to move, before heading to the bar to get our drinks.

I returned my attention to the commotion in the other corner of the room and craned my neck to see what was going on, but I couldn’t get a good look amongst the crowd. I glanced at Maeve’s back as she tried to push her way through the throng at the bar and smirked. My curiosity got the best of me and I decided to step away for a moment. What was the worst that could happen?

Untying my cloak, I placed it on my chair to save our table and gingerly crept over to the crowd in the corner. I pushed through the gaggle of men as they tossed money on the table and realized they were gambling.

Two men, one on either end of the table, were playing against each other. Each held a tubular wooden container with a flat surface at the bottom. After vigorously shaking it, they’d slam the wooden case on the table and yell.

“Big!” the man on my left shouted. He had shoulder-length, dirty blond hair tied back with a leather tie, with loose, sweaty strands stuck to his face. A brown leather eye patch covered his left eye, but his right eye was green and bright with excitement as he waited for the other person to declare his bet.

“Small!” the man on my right barked. He wasn’t as disheveled as Mr. Eye Patch, but I wouldn’t peg him as someone from the Northern District, either.

Each man removed the wooden case from the flat surface, revealing three dice that were still spinning. The crowd yelled out their predictions as money exchanged hands. The excitement was contagious, and I sort of wanted to participate myself, but then I remembered I was broke.

The dice stopped spinning, and the results were in. With smaller numbers emblazoned on his dice, Mr. Eye Patch lost. “Damn it!” he fumed, slamming his hands on the table hard enough to make all the coins rattle.

“Come on, Garrick! You lost again! You owe him!” someone from the crowd bellowed at Mr. Eye Patch, whom I now knew as Garrick.

Garrick grumbled and dug in his pockets, pulling out a few coins and slapping them on the table with a snarl. “There! Happy now?”

The coins weren’t round like the ones I was familiar with. These were shaped like leaves, made of gold. Another strange element to this bizarre world into which I’d fallen.

The winner, a sly-looking fellow with a sharp grin, scooped up the leaves with a proud flourish. “Very. Care for another round, Garrick? Or have you had enough?”

Garrick’s eye blazed with defiance. “One more round. This time, I’ll win it all back!”

“How about we sweeten the pot?” the winner said with a crafty smile. “Toss in the deed to your place and then we can really play. I’ll match it with a hundred thousand gold leaves.”

The sparkle in Garrick’s viridian eye bloomed and I knew he was sorely tempted. I wanted to tell him to call it quits before he got any deeper into debt. His opponent seemed shady as fuck, but honestly, this was none of my business. Getting involved in their squabble would only bring trouble I didn’t need.

“My lady?” I heard Maeve shout, her voice panicked. “Lady Arya!”

I peered over my shoulder and watched her place two mugs of ale on our table and turn to search the bar just as Garrick yelled, “Deal!”

I turned and pushed through the crowd toward Maeve, who caught my gaze.

“My lady!” she admonished, her eyes widening when she realized where I had been. “I told you to stay put!”

I shrugged one shoulder and offered a crooked grin. “It looked fun. That one-eyed guy really has a gambling problem, though. He straight-up put the deed to his home in the pot!” I shook my head and reclaimed my seat.

“One eyed? You mean Garrick?”

The sight of Maeve sipping her ale like a princess made me chuckle. She might hail from the Southern District, but the girl was all Northern. I guess we had Arya to thank for that.

I nodded. “Yeah, I heard his name was Garrick.”

“Hmm.” She licked the foam from her upper lip. “He’s a famous warlock around these parts. Poor fellow has truly fallen from grace.”

“Warlock?” I raised one brow. “What does that mean?”

She batted my question away as if people discussed warlocks all the time. “Oh, he practices sorcery. He’s the male equivalent of a witch.” Maeve leaned forward and whispered, “He was once favored by Emperor Valenor, who also happens to be Damien’s father, but rumor has it that the emperor asked him to do something dreadful and he refused. As punishment, Emperor Valenor took his eye.” She pointed to her left eye. “Now he spends his time gambling the scant gold he has left and getting drunk at The Broken Tankard. He’s a regular here.”

My ale was forgotten. I tilted my head to the side in contemplation. The guy was a witch… well, a wizard, warlock, whatever. The point was, he did magic. Could he get me back home? I leaned forward and lowered my voice to a whisper. “Is he powerful?”

Maeve nodded. “Oh, yes. He is the most powerful warlock we’ve seen in the last few centuries. It was why he was recruited by the emperor. Unfortunately, fate was not on his side. His talents are now wasted.” She sighed and took another sip of her ale.

I glanced back at Garrick, who was now shaking his dice with determined fury. If he was as powerful as Maeve claimed, maybe he could help me. But first, I needed to figure out how to approach him without looking like a complete lunatic.

The atmosphere in The Broken Tankard was electric as the men prepared to bet again. Across the room, the crowd roared when Garrick slammed the dice down on the table. The anticipation was palpable as the group of men fervently watched the dice spin. Money rapidly exchanged hands and the tension reached a fever pitch.

Maeve raised an eyebrow at my untouched ale. “You’re not going to drink that?”

I ripped my attention away from the heated exchange on the other side of the room and glanced down at the frothy mug with a resigned sigh. “I’m not much of a beer person, but what the hell.” I took a small mouthful and grimaced at the bitter taste. “I’ve had worse.”

Maeve chuckled. “You’ll get used to it. Now, back to Garrick. Why the sudden interest?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just curious. If he’s that powerful, it seems like a waste of his talents to be stuck here.”

“It is, but it’s his choice.” Maeve and I glanced toward the crowd of men as they shouted and cheered. It seemed like someone had won… or lost. “I just hope he hasn’t lost his place,” she whispered.

I furrowed my brows. “How come?”

Maeve turned to look at me. “It’s the only thing of value he has left – a glorious piece of land the emperor bestowed on him before they had their falling out. I believe he’s currently renting it out, which is how he makes his money.”

My mind whirred with these details. “I’m assuming this place is in the Northern District?”

She nodded. “Precisely. Many have tried to buy it from him, but he refuses to budge. I’m surprised he’s using it as a bet.”

Just then, one man’s voice boomed above the din. “You lost, Garrick! Now give me the deed!” Maeve and I turned our heads toward the noise. “A deal is a deal. You can’t squelch on it now! Not in front of so many witnesses.”

Garrick stood, wearing a mix of sewn rags that had seen better days. He stumbled through the crowd, waving off the man’s claim. “I’ll get you the money. A hundred thousand gold leaves, you said? Don’t worry, I’ll have it to you by tomorrow night.”

The furious winner pushed through the crowd and roughly grabbed Garrick’s shoulder, spinning him around. “I don’t want the gold leaves,” he growled. “I want the deed!” His mottled face and clenched hands declared his intention to pummel Garrick, and it didn’t appear as if he would meet much resistance. Garrick was all skin and bones under the rags he wore. Unless this was like Harry Potter and he was about to bust out a wand and Avada Kedavra this fool, he didn’t stand a chance.

Maeve whipped her attention to me when I slowly stood, but my gaze was glued on the men closing in on the two combatants. It seemed our winner brought a few friends. This wouldn’t end well for my new friend Garrick. At least I hoped he’d become my new friend.

“My lady!” Maeve whisper-yelled as she reached for my sleeve and attempted to pull me back down to my chair. “What are you doing ?”

I smirked as I continued to assess the room. “I’m getting my ass home.” Before the other guy’s cronies could jump into the fray, I slid between him and Garrick, leaving my back to the warlock. Plastering on a winning smile, I offered the burly winner a wink. “Come on, mate. Don’t ruin the fun. You heard him – he’ll get you the equivalent, which is a hundred thousand gold leaves. Honestly, that doesn’t sound so bad, if you ask me. Am I right?” I asked the crowd that had formed around us.

A chorus of murmurs rippled through the cluster of men, with most agreeing with me and a few arguing that a deal is a deal .

The winner glared and sized me up and down like I was a wandering prostitute from The Gilded Serpent down the road. “Stay out of this, sweetheart. The men are talking.” With a condescending grin, he placed a hand on my shoulder to push me out of the way.

Sensing his intention, I grabbed his hand and twisted it, forcing the burly man to bend at an odd angle to relieve the pressure. His pained scream quieted the noisy tavern until you could hear a pin drop. I tightened my grip. “Man, you really should keep your hands to yourself. I don’t like it when people touch me without my permission.”

The winner’s face turned beet red, partially from pain but mostly from embarrassment. “You’re making a mistake, wench!” he hissed through gritted teeth, glaring at me with pure malice. He signaled to his cronies. “Get her!”

Four brawny men stepped forward, cracking knuckles and stretching necks, looking like they would enjoy beating up a woman far too much. I released the winner’s hand and squared up to face the incoming goons, ignoring the man as he stumbled back. Fighting in a dress? This was going to be interesting.

The first guy lunged without warning, swinging a meaty fist aimed straight at my head. I ducked and felt the rush of air as his fist whooshed past. With a swift uppercut, I caught him under the chin and sent him staggering back into the arms of the jeering crowd.

The second thug was quicker, already swinging a wooden chair in my direction. I sidestepped and grabbed the chair mid-swing, yanking it out of his hands. Spinning it around, I used it to block a punch from the third guy before smashing it over the second guy’s head, splintering it into pieces.

Seeing an opportunity, the third guy came at me with a low tackle, trying to sweep me off my feet. I leapt into the air, my dress fluttering around my legs, and landed on his back, then rode him down to the floor like a surfboard. I jumped up and delivered a swift kick to his ribs that made him curl up in pain.

The fourth guy, apparently the smartest of the bunch, quietly stood back to watch the melee before deciding to jump into the fight. He smashed a bottle on a nearby table and advanced slowly, jabbing the jagged glass in my direction with a sinister sneer. I grabbed a mug from the same table and flung it at his head. The ceramic shattered on impact and disoriented him long enough for me to close the distance between us. Placing my fingers on the pulse points of his wrist, I twisted and forced him to drop the bottle before delivering a sharp elbow to his nose. Cartilage crunched and blood spurted as he stumbled away and clutched his face.

The first guy, now recovered and bolstered by the crowd’s taunts, tried to blindside me with a sneak attack. Hearing his lumbering footsteps, I spun and ducked under his swing, then launched a series of quick jabs to his midsection, finishing with a knee to his groin. He dropped like a sack of potatoes.

The second and third guys, their faces livid with fury, charged at me together. I grabbed a nearby tray and flung it like a frisbee, hitting the third guy square in the face. He stumbled to the side and crashed into a table, which came down with him when he fell on his ass. Swinging wildly, the second guy stormed toward me with ferocious determination, eager not to be felled as swiftly as his mates. Leaning on my years of military calisthenics, I gracefully sidestepped and used his momentum to flip him over my shoulder and onto the floor.

When I took a step back, my dress snagged on a splintered board and I yanked it free, tearing the silky fabric across one knee. Great. Now I was fighting with one leg exposed.

Still clutching his bleeding nose, the fourth guy attempted one last, desperate attack, but his movements were sluggish and I easily blocked his punch. Twisting his arm behind his back, I shoved him face-first into the bar. Defeated, he slumped to the ground and stayed there.

While the tavern rang with raucous cheers and taunts minutes earlier, now it was dead silent. The only noises to break the stillness were groans from the conquered and ragged breaths of those too afraid to intervene.

I dusted off my hands and turned back to the winner, who looked at me with a mixture of bewildered fear and grudging respect. I cocked one eyebrow and dared him to move. “You were saying something about me making a mistake?”

The man swallowed hard. “N-no mistake. You made your point.”

I smiled sweetly. “Good. Now, let’s make sure we’re clear. Garrick here will get you the hundred thousand gold leaves by tomorrow night. No more threats, no more fights. Understood?”

He nodded vigorously, then turned to Garrick. “D-Don’t worry about the gold leaves. We’ll call it even, yeah?” Without waiting for Garrick to reply, he hurried out of the tavern without a backwards glance.

I turned to the warlock, who watched with his single eye wide and unblinking. “Well, that was fun. Some would say you might even owe me a favor…” I patted his shoulder and sauntered past him toward my table.

Maeve rushed over, her eyes wide with admiration and worry. “My lady, are you alright?”

I grinned, excited by the adrenaline coursing through my veins and the breeze that cooled the skin of my exposed leg. “Never better.” I winked. “Now I really need that drink… and maybe a tailor.” I grimaced and looked down at the torn silk.

“Lord Zacharia will have my head if I bring you home like this!” Maeve grabbed my cloak from the chair and wrapped it around my shoulders, scandalized by the thought of me showing a little leg.

“God, I’m hot.” I fanned my hand in front of my face. “Please take this off me!” I whined and tried to remove the fur cloak, but Maeve only tightened it and fixed me with a stern look.

“My lady, you are a proper lady! You cannot walk around with your skin exposed in such a manner. Especially not in the Southern District! They might think…” Her words trailed off and her face flushed.

“They might think what?” I quirked a brow, quivering on the brink of laughter.

“They might think you’re a whore,” Garrick nonchalantly finished for her as he dragged a chair from a neighboring table and sat beside us. “The name’s Garrick. Now who do I have the pleasure of thanking?” All surprise and shock from my earlier display was gone.

“Cat.” I held out a hand for him to shake. “Oh, well here, I’m Arya,” I added with an eye roll. “Long story. Wait for the movie.”

“It’s Lady Arya,” Maeve clarified, giving him a stern look. “Of House Ryder.”

Garrick’s brows shot up to his hairline. “House Ryder? No shit. You mean to tell me one of the noble folk from the Northern District can fight like that ?”

I giggled. “Hey, you said shit. At least I know that’s a familiar term here,” I muttered to myself.

“My lady!” Maeve reprimanded, aghast by my flippant use of profanity.

I waved off her genteel horror. “Yes, it seems I come from a noble family—”

“Not just any noble family, my lady,” Garrick interrupted me. “The Ryders control the iron here in Elaria. It’s big business. You’re one of the few humans who are considered nobility.”

I fought the urge to laugh at his assessment. If what Maeve said was true, then our family business was trash and we teetered on the brink of bankruptcy. The Ryder family must have some really good PR to keep up their prosperous image. I shrugged, not interested in discussing things that would force me to lie to my new friend. “If you say so.”

“So tell me, Lady Arya,” Garrick smirked, “what brings you down south to The Broken Tankard?”

I sighed and leaned back in my chair, resting my arm on the back of it and spreading my legs to get comfortable. Maeve’s eyes grew wide, appalled by my lack of decorum in such a public place. “Well, Garrick, you see, I’m in a bit of a pickle and I’m hoping you might be of service.” I grinned.

A sly smile slid across his face. “I’m starting to realize our chance encounter might not have been by chance.”

I chuckled. “Oh, it was definitely by chance… once I figured out who you were, that is. I’m sort of… new here, you might say.” I motioned to the woman sitting rigidly beside me. “My lovely friend Maeve here has been showing me around and told me just how awesome you are.”

Maeve choked on her ale. “Friend? I’m your servant, my lady!”

I brushed her off. “Friend, servant, whatever.”

“Awesome?” Garrick whispered to himself in confusion, glancing between Maeve and me in bewilderment. “From my understanding, the Ryders are natives of Elaria and you’ve lived here your whole life.”

“Like I mentioned, long story,” I said by way of explanation. “In any event, I’m in need of your expertise.”

Garrick cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, then folded his hands in front of him on the tabletop. “My lady, I don’t deal in magic anymore.”

“Aw, come on, friend. Come out of retirement for a second! I mean, you sort of owe me. I saved your place, and I wiped away your debt of a hundred thousand gold leaves. You can’t really say no.” I shrugged.

“Are you threatening me, my lady?” he asked, a subtle grin teasing one corner of his mouth.

I gasped mockingly and clasped my imaginary pearls. “Moi? Never. Just a friendly reminder of all my meritorious deeds.” I gave a broad smile, feeling overly pleased with myself.

Garrick threw his head back and laughed uproariously. “I like you.” He straightened and stared at me, focusing his one visible eye solely on me. “How can I be of service, my lady?” he entreated with a slight bow.

My grin widened and I wiggled in my seat, ready to get down to business. I leaned forward and placed my elbows on the table, then pitched my voice to a whisper. “Here’s the thing, friend. I’m not really from here.”

He frowned. “Where are you from, then?”

I looked around to make sure no one was listening in and continued. “I’m from somewhere very, very far away… like, another world. Possibly another dimension, if my theory is correct.”

Maeve exhaled loudly and slumped in her chair, looking defeated. “My lady! Please don’t start with this again,” she groaned.

I knew Maeve didn’t believe me. She still believed I was Lady Arya, even after my display of fighting prowess just a few minutes ago. I didn’t know what else I could do to convince her.

Ignoring her outburst, I continued to whisper. “I came through a portal or something in the river…” I turned to the long-suffering servant beside me. “Which river was it, Maeve?”

Resigned, she sighed and mumbled, “River Elara.”

I snapped my fingers. “Yes! That’s the one. I was pulled out of there a week ago and brought here, where everyone thinks I’m Lady Arya, but I’m not. My real name is Cat and I’m from the city of Los Angeles, from a country called the United States of America. I’d never even heard of Elaria until I landed here.”

Garrick watched me intently without interrupting. When I finished, he reached for my mug of ale and chugged over half in three gulps. “Well… that’s quite a tale, my lady… or Cat.”

I slumped in my chair, crestfallen. “You don’t believe me.”

Garrick shook his head and waved off my words. “No, no, I did not say that, my lady, it’s just… a lot to process. There have been… tales of travelers who arrived from other… lands throughout the centuries. Folk songs have been written about it, but that’s all they are – songs and stories. No one has ever met someone who actually came from another land before.” He peered at me with clear skepticism.

“Wow… that’s very Outlander of you guys,” I murmured.

He narrowed his gaze. “You’re not lying to me, are you? Trying to pull one over on a man down on his luck? Having a bit of fun, are we?”

Surprised, I jerked back. “No way! Are you kidding me? I’m trying to get home!” I said a little too loudly.

Maeve glared at me, clearly mortified by my outburst. A cluster of nearby patrons turned their heads our way, curious about the commotion. I lowered my voice and leaned closer to Garrick.

“Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I really need your help to get back. If you’re as powerful as Maeve says, you’re my best shot.”

Garrick took a deep breath and scratched his scruffy chin as he considered my words. “Assuming I believe you, what exactly do you want me to do? Magic isn’t like flipping a switch. It’s complicated.”

I sighed, frustrated and desperate. “I need to find a way back to the portal in River Elara. If you can’t open it, maybe you can at least guide me to someone who can.”

Maeve’s eyes were wide with concern as she glanced between us. “My lady, are you sure this is wise? Magic is unpredictable, and if something goes wrong…”

I gave her a reassuring smile. “Maeve, everything about this situation is unpredictable. I’d rather take a chance with magic than stay stuck here, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

Garrick nodded slowly. “Alright, I’ll help you. But it won’t be easy, and it won’t be quick. There are no guarantees. Understand?”

“I’m not expecting any miracles; I just ask that you try… please,” I begged, and I never begged.

“Very well,” Garrick said. “I’ll help you.”

“Thank you!” I sighed with relief and tried to ignore Maeve’s questionable look.

“How do I get in touch with you? In my current predicament, it would be unwise to walk up to the doors of the Ryder residence and demand to see you.” Garrick waved to himself and his attire to prove his point.

“Right,” I mused, then looked over at Maeve. “Any ideas?”

She furrowed her brows. “Well… we can send messages by raven,” she reluctantly offered. “I’ll have one sent to your… residence.” She glanced at Garrick with pursed lips.

“My residence in the Southern District, please and thank you.” He winked at her, which made her scowl.

“Well, it’s probably time to get out of here.” I stood and dusted the wrinkles and debris from my dress and cloak. “It’s been a real pleasure, Garrick. I hope to hear from you soon.”

“The pleasure is all mine, my lady.”