Brecken could still see the mountains through the thick trees they walked through. Grum insisted they stay off the road. If someone was looking for them, probably Anai, she would be able to find them, on the road or otherwise. The woods were safer he said, you never know who might be following you. He gave Hurin a hard look when he said it.
Hurin walked in front of Brecken by four or five paces. His cheek was still swollen but looked better than it had the day before. Guilt was not the word to describe how Brecken felt about punching the man. It was more pity than anything. He still hated Hurin, years of abuse wouldn't be overwritten by one declaration of servitude. In the night before, spent in the darker than black shadow of the mountains, he heard the faint sobs from where Hurin laid under a bush, out of the light from the campfire.
He found his hatred for the man waning. It wasn't that he didn't blame Hurin, but he realized his hatred would be wasted on a broken man who was following him like a wounded puppy. The hatred he felt, when the deep lonely void in his stomach wasn't there, was more than he ever knew he could feel. It pulled him like Lucas was pulled to the prism in his bag. It pulled him to Kingstown. To kill the King of All for taking everything from him.
He wasn't sure exactly how he would manage that, the actual killing. The force of the unseen man in Mabank still stood in his memory like a stone atop his chest. Brecken could turn to stone, but that wouldn't save him against an attack from a man who can call lightning from the sky.
It was almost noon when they broke through the tree line and the Riverblack came into view across the flat banks. It was large enough for boats to take down to Stanton in the south. A few ships floated down it, appearing still in the distance.
To their right was the main road to Passtown, where Brecken could see a few carriages and horses making their way to or from the city. Over the river the road turned into a flat wooden bridge, wide enough for two wagons to pass next to each other just like the road. It looked sturdy, despite its apparent age. The hope that he would see a few recognizable wagons was dashed when he remembered they only travelled at night.
His stomach knotted as they approached the bank of the river, cutting right to head towards the bridge. The sun was bright overhead, but over the mountains thick black storm clouds loomed. The rain didn't bother him, but he remembered very clearly how little his mother cared for it. The clouds brought back old memories of sitting in the house around the hearth waiting for a storm to pass. They would sit under a large blanket that his mother made, cozy and happy.
The group approached the road and joined the few carts and wagons that were traveling to the town. No one gave them any mind at all. It was uncommon for anyone to meddle with another's affairs, a side effect of the King of All's control. Each person was assigned to their guild, which gave them very clear parameters of what was expected of them. Brecken could make out a few sigils that matched the one he still wore, though the left half did not always show the symbol of the Eartheye.
There were others though, a few that he saw from the mining guild, like his own from back home. Passtown was a base of operations for a mining operation in the mountains if he remembered correctly. There were also a few people from the farmers guild, most likely in town to trade with the merchants coming to and from the Western Province. They made their way across the bridge and to the small gate in the stone wall surrounding the town. A military man sat atop a raised chair behind a raised desk. He did the same as the man in Mabank, checking the sigils of each person coming in.
When Brecken and the others got to the front of the line, he looked them over, and his face tightened in displeasure. "Merchants with no goods, no wagon, and no cart." He said dryly, peering over the reading glasses that sat on the tip of his pointed nose. He was a skinny man, a Windish by his sigil and hair, and scowled in much the same way as the gatekeeper in Mabank.
