Page 7
“To surviving the hunt!” Gavin lifted his glass, his voice rising over the tavern’s lively hum of clinking tankards and laughter.
Reid did the same, leaning forward unsteadily in his chair. “And we didn’t get slaughtered by marauders.”
“Or maimed by a swing blade!” Cass sliced her hand through the air, then slammed her palm onto the table with a loud thwack, startling a barmaid carrying a tray through the crowd.
Our dinner plates rattled against the scarred surface, and her fork clattered to the floor. No one bothered to retrieve it. The utensil was just another casualty of whatever sticky film coated the wooden boards.
“This is a very violent toast.” I wrinkled my nose as I raised my glass.
Bowen rapped his knuckles on the table to claim our attention. He’d barely touched his drink and was the most level-headed of us all.
He cleared his throat and pressed a hand firmly against his chest. “To my friends, who’ve spent the last year by my side, never giving up. Who believed in this mission, put faith in each other, and—”
Gavin’s lips kicked into a grin. “Oh, no. We’re doomed. Bowen’s feeling sappy again.”
“Hey, let him finish,” I said, glaring at Gavin from across the table. “I, for one, enjoy Bowen’s speeches.”
“They are quite eloquent. Even if they are long-winded,” Reid added, trying not to slur his words.
Cass eyed her plate of roast chicken with longing. “But our food is getting cold.”
Bowen pinched the bridge of his nose as if channeling his patience. He muttered something under his breath, then reached for his glass and lifted it into the air with a flourish. “Fine, I’ll keep it short. To good friends… and getting paid!”
“Cheers!” Five mugs of ale clinked together, sending amber liquid sloshing over the rims.
I took a deep drink, relishing the cold brew and pleasing buzz, dulling the aches in my muscles. It had been a long trek back to town, and now we were celebrating in a busy tavern with plans to sail home on the morning tide.
Cass swiped Gavin’s fork with a wink and dug into the rest of her meal while I picked at my plate of chicken.
A fiddler played a festive tune, weaving through the patrons and collecting coins as he passed.
The air was sweltering and heavy from too many bodies pressed together, all enjoying a night’s revelry.
It was a far cry from the dank, isolated cave and perilous traps.
But neither place reminded me of home. I was ready to leave behind the southern isles with their wild jungle peaks, moss-slick temples, and smothering heat, and return to the Kingdom of Ever. A land where it was cooler, and the windswept air was filled with salt and not bat-sized insects.
Bowen dropped a handful of coins onto the table and signaled the barmaid for another round. I shook my head and pushed unsteadily to my feet. Fresh air sounded better than more ale.
Boats and I barely mixed, and a raging headache would only add to my misery.
Especially if I got drunk and rivaled the bard with a mournful tune about my final hunt.
No need to repeat that mistake. Gavin had enough blackmail material from the last time I drank too much and fell for his dare.
At least going home would spare me from scoundrels and their sneaky bets.
Cass had finished eating, and she linked her arm with mine.
“See you ruffians back at the inn. Remember, we leave first thing in the morning. Don’t be late.
” She cast a sympathetic gaze toward Reid.
“And go easy on the ale. I know the hot spring destroyed your journal, but it’s not the end of the world.
You can still write your article for the gazette. ”
Reid buried a hiccup behind his fist. “It had my notes. A year’s worth of diary entries. And all my sketches! I was going to publish those.”
I sighed, sharing Reid’s grief, especially the loss of his drawings. They were irreplaceable.
“You can try again from memory,” I suggested. “Or we can pose for some more drawings.”
“It’s not the same. Everyone will think I’m a hack. A true scholar would have had scales and dimensions. Weather accounts. Topographical facts. We don’t even have a copy of the map!”
Gavin made a face. “Sorry. The hot spring got my version, too. Next time, I’ll suggest a more water-resistant paint.”
I shook my head. “Not helping, Gav.”
Reid swatted an arm through the air. “It’s fine. It wasn’t a total loss. I’ll just have to catalog all the details of our next hunt.” He dropped his forehead onto the table with a miserable sigh.
Bowen clapped Reid on the back and muttered over his head. “We’ll keep an eye on him.”
I nodded and tugged Cass away from the table before Reid launched into a page-by-page list of what he’d lost. I was already dreading the sail home, but Reid was smart; I was sure he could salvage something.
We left the tavern and tumbled into the sticky night air. My tunic immediately clung to my damp skin like I’d never escaped the humid treasure room.
Brass lanterns dangled from chains, illuminating the gritty cobblestone streets, still teeming with people. Most were browsing the awning-covered stalls that made up the night market—an eclectic mix of wares, entertainment, and magic.
Cass wheeled me down a narrow aisle of vendors hawking their goods. Wooden platforms overflowed with stacks of worn books and glass jars filled with brightly colored potions that fizzed and bubbled. Silk scarves and woven tapestries hung from corded ropes stretched between stalls.
A fortune teller peered into an orb from her perch behind a draped table, the crystal glowing like the sea glass I always carried.
She called out to us, offering a glimpse into our future, but Cass shuddered and muttered something about the bliss of ignorance, and that one time she’d kissed a frog because she was promised a prince.
“It’s a scam,” she grumbled. “They’re laughing as they pocket our gold.”
“Or maybe you just kissed the wrong one.” I stifled a grin and bumped her hip. “I say try again until it works.”
Cass scowled and nudged me into the path of a lively group of fire-swallowers. One of them winked, then blew sparks in a circle around my body like I was standing among the stars.
I flipped them a coin and leaned against a pillar, watching the crowds as Cass haggled with a vendor over a jar of mystical salt.
A hypnotic thrum of conversation flowed through the market, riding a wave of spice and incense-filled air.
When the din shifted into the haunting notes of a beguiling melody, I craned my neck, trying to locate the sound.
An old woman hummed a tune, partially hidden in the shadows of her stall’s awning. It wasn’t the same one I’d heard inside the cavern, but it drew me closer to the cluttered table of dusty relics and exotic jewelry.
I traced my fingers over a gem-studded hair comb, remembering the ocean-inspired one I’d found buried in the tomb.
Had the marauders taken it, stowing the exquisite piece in their blood-soaked gear?
I clenched my teeth, cursing, not for the first time, the morals that made me question whether I was fit for this trade.
“See anything you fancy?” the old woman asked, sliding into the glow of a lantern.
She drew back her hood, revealing paper-thin skin, a hooked nose, and sharp cheekbones. Thick silver hair was piled high off her neck, with wispy strands framing her face. She reminded me of Aggie, the old woman I’d met years ago in a market like this one.
We'd already lost the manor by then, buried under the weight of back taxes and the debts my father took trying to save it. He always believed we were one miracle away from turning things around. But that miracle never came.
My father and I survived on the streets for a while, until a stranger's knife took him from me, over the handful of coins he'd earned that day. That was when I stopped believing in miracles and started relying only on myself.
Then Aggie appeared.
Our partnership began simply enough. She gave me maps and hints where to look, and I brought back relics for her to sell to private collectors. Over time, the jobs grew riskier, the relics harder to find. And as the deadline to pay off my debt crept closer, I needed a bigger score.
That was when Aggie suggested I join a crew searching for the lost treasure of Incantus. Instead of a relic, I’d share a cut of my finder’s fee. It was more than enough to clear the last of the debt and fulfill my obligation to her.
I even planned to give her a little extra. Aggie never pushed. Never asked for more than I could give. She offered gentle nudges, guiding me toward what felt like destiny. In the end, she hadn’t just led me to treasure; she’d led me to the friends I didn’t know I needed.
I owed her everything.
“No. I’m just browsing,” I said, tearing my gaze away from the hair comb to study the rest of the items sprawled across the table. Most were jewelry, bracelets, and time-worn rings polished to restore their luster. A few pocket watches and medallions hung from metal chains, dulled with age.
I flipped a medallion over, only to find the back smooth and unmarked. Slowly, I worked my way through each piece, turning them over in my hands, a silent ritual I performed whenever we stopped in a market.
“Are you searching for something in particular?” she asked. “There are a few other pieces over here.”
I pulled a folded slip of paper from my satchel and smoothed the edges before holding it out.
“Have you ever seen a crest like this before? Etched into the back of a medallion, or on a compass, perhaps?”
She squinted at the image. “Can’t say that I have. But I carry a compass or two if you’re interested.”
I shook my head and palmed the slip of paper. “I’m just looking for information. It’s for a friend.”
“Ah, I see.” The old woman nodded. She returned to the shadows but kept a wary eye on me.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7 (Reading here)
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
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- Page 29
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- Page 39
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- Page 63
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- Page 67