The Fires of Cerran

Chapter Thirty-Two

It was a dark, ramshackle collection of slanting and crudely constructed whorehouses and taverns that flanked the dusty road that met the riders as they came into Herran's Gate. The wall of Greystone, as Melran turned her eyes back to it, had been cut away and replaced with rudimentary internal parapets from which several heavily armoured men peered down to the new arrivals with arctic glances. About them, a small collection of soldiers sat wearily on upturned barrels and boxes, surrounding fires built from rags and emanating columns of thick black smog into the clear skies above. It seemed colder here, like the sunlight itself was merely a mirage and not permitted entry into this harsh land. This place, a place she had not passed through with Tharandal's carriage, appeared bereft of morals and proper assertions. From above her, as she came to the side of a building where she could tie her mare, she heard a whore collecting her crowns with shrill fake cries of enjoyment. Melran swallowed hard, pulling her robes tightly and giving Astriel a counterfeit smile in reply to her assuring node.

The group, having rode for a good few hours, where hungrier than anything, and a tavern at the opposite side of the road offered a glimmer of hope.

'Go with Astriel, sit and eat.' Lenren commanded of the girl, passing her a few coins for her lunch.

'Do they not know we ride for the King?' She asked, eyeing Ramon's surprised expression as she spoke.

'They care not who we ride for, be careful in this place. Eat, drink and stay out of trouble.' The man returned with a nod, and then he eyed Astriel and nodded to her. The girl took the woman's hand and they passed over the road, quiet except for a horse and cart of an elderly merchant steadily making their way along the way.

'Hear what Lenren says, stay at my side. Do not engage with anyone, we will sit and eat. Do not look upon those in this place.' Astriel whispered to the girl as they stood before the place. It was a large thing, made of old timbers and straw, grey in colour and boarded windows only adding to the initial impression. It had no name, at least there was no signage at the front of it. It totalled three stories, with a porch where a few glum faces sat drinking or gambling.

'I can look after myself.' Melran answered, feeling her dagger beneath her robes.

'So can everyone here, do not underestimate them.' The woman returned sternly before they made way into the place. Melran took a final deep breath of clear air, and they entered.

Watching as Astriel and Melran entered the place, Ser Ramon of Garth patted his mare as she took a well-deserved drink.

'I've heard that some of them that survived are here.' Lenren said, glancing up to the whorehouse.

'Where else would you go after something like that, try and take your mind off things.' Ramon replied with a heavy sigh. He covered his sword with his robes and removed his hood. Lenren took the lead, moving around to the back of the place, to be met with a doorman of considerable size.

'Not seen you two before.' He said in a low, grumbling voice. He was taller than both men, his arms and leg thick as tree trunks and covered in black tattoos, his balding head was scarred with burns and slashes.

'From Ceraborn, riding East.' Lenren replied with a smile. The doorman huffed, his folded arms unmoving from his chest.

'East? Not many heading that way nowadays, most is going West. What takes you East?' He asked, now eyeing Ramon.

'I think you know exactly.' Ramon replied, exposing the crest on his breastplate for a moment. Again, the man grumbled, flicking his eyes to either side of the men as he searched for any who may be listening.