The Sprinter

Chapter 1

Eloise was sick of it. Utterly and completely sick of it. If she had to spend one more day in this place, she might just run off. She sighed. Of course, she couldn't do that. She still needed the money.

She kicked the bedroom door shut firmly behind her. Working at The Curved Swords wasn't easy. She knew that. She'd known that when she'd signed up, but she hadn't thought it would be this bad. The pay wasn't nearly enough for the work she was doing. Sure, it was only carrying plates and serving customers - but they were some pretty awful customers.

Eloise leant back against the bedroom door and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Everyone who worked at The Curved Swords inn had their own free quarters in the building, but those who could afford it chose to live somewhere else in the city. There wasn't a single person who hadn't complained about the quality of living space in The Curved Swords - staff as well as customers. It smelled of rotting wood, there were rats underneath the floorboards, and there were so many stains that you could mistake them for the intentional colour of the room.

Needless to say, The Curved Swords functioned better as a place to drink than a place to sleep, but Eloise needed the free lodgings to save money. She reminded herself of this as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she looked around. Her room was small - a cramped, uncomfortable space. It contained a bed and a small chest of drawers, which doubled up as a table. There was a window on the opposite side of the room, above her bed. It was, doubtless, the worst room in all of Cestrada.

Eloise sat down on the bed and emptied her pocket out onto it. She stared in dismay at the coins that fell out. So few - there were so few. She scooped them up and tipped them into her jar. They fell in with a small, sad clatter. Eloise stared at the jar. It was almost full. Thank the Eternals. The sooner she could get out of here, the better.

She reached into her other pocket, and her fingers brushed against a small scrap of paper. Eloise pulled it out. It was creased from being folded too many times, and felt thin, and fragile in her hands. She didn't need to look at it to know what it said - the words were engraved in her mind.

Passage on the Kini Ship to the Western Isles will cost 500 nihrar. This must be paid upfront, on the day of departure.

It listed the date and time of the ship's departure, and the details of the captain, a Mr Burgo Opirum. She'd never met him before, but she had been told this would be his last trip and, as no-one else was willing to sail anywhere close to the Western Isles, her last chance. Her only promise of a new life.

No one had ever come back from the Western Isles, yet somehow it was widely accepted that there was a peaceful settlement there. Ships didn't return, no trade ran through and no one could exactly describe what existed there. It could be nothing - just an estranged human settlement. It could be Rellae, living peacefully, magic powering their entire city. A haven, while the rest of the world warred.

She jumped as the bell on her wall rang sharply. Eloise couldn't stop her groan. She'd already worked overtime today, and now they needed her again? They'd better pay her extra for this.

She pushed the door open and pulled it shut quietly behind her. Eloise sighed as she trudged back down the uneven, twisted flight of stairs.

This time of night tended to mark the changeover in the pub - where it went from diners meeting up and quietly having dinner, to drunks and brawlers chugging and puking all over the floor. Thankfully, The Curved Swords seemed to have remained decent for now. Eloise stopped at the entrance and looked around, wondering who her new customer might be.

The entire pub was covered in dark oak panelling. It was lit purely by lanterns, and the candles at the centre of each table, which gave the pub a comfortable, warm feel. The dim lighting also disguised the stains too big to be covered by a rug. The pub was unadorned - bare, even - save for the curved swords that hung, crossed on each wall - the pub's namesake. Eloise could see her manager - Grunit - standing on the far side of the room, in the alcove. She frowned. The alcove was reserved for rich, or important guests. Few were common here, and in fact, she wasn't sure she'd ever seen anyone in the alcove. But now, there was very clearly a tall, dark-haired, tanned man sitting in the alcove. She assumed he would be her customer.