Divided Lands

Chapter 15

Sho’s eyes darted all around the market and lingered for a brief second on every man, woman, and child in his path. A little girl chased a ball across the cobblestone path and startled a pack of free-roaming chickens. A plump shopkeeper raised his voice and gesticulated towards a snobbish man with an upturned nose-a haggler, obviously. A woman with a basket full of bread pointed at a cart of melons while her husband only gave her an absent minded nod. 

Here they all stood, just carrying on with their lives, while he felt certain in his mind the biggest shit-storm the quiet little city had seen in years was about to go down.

“Maybe we should go see that man about getting you back to normal before I take care of…erm…business.” He muttered, his gaze focused on his toes peeping out of his sandals. 

Fafnir shrugged. “Nah. Let’s get your bullshit out of the way first. As soon as your guy gives me the information I need, I’m getting the hell out of here.”

He grabbed onto Sho’s sleeve and pulled him along faster. “And seeing as the world’s like…a thousand years or so older? Is it?”

He kicked a chicken out of his path and turned up his nose. Sure, they both shared the same evolutionary ancestors, but it was clear who managed to climb higher up the reptilian totem pole. 

“Anyways.” He continued, “Seeing as the world’s a hell of a lot different than I remember it, I’m going to need you to explain to me what he’s saying. I’m also going to need you in order to get to where I need to go, and most importantly, I’m going to need you to show me where I can find the great great great great great great great grandson of that monk bastard and kick his ass. All you religious types know each other.”

Sho stopped and raised his eyebrows. “What if I refuse?”

“You won’t.” Fafnir rolled his eyes and yanked Sho even harder. “You don’t have the balls. 

Sho sighed. No…indeed, he did not.

“You’ve got to take my word for it. These people…” he made a wide, sweeping gesture with his hands at all of the people in the market, “…their spirituality is their way of life. They’re as scared of the Warlord as anybody, but now that he’s screwed around with their faith, they’ll go mad. This isn’t just some errand I’ve got to do before we can get on to your needs. This…this is going to change everything.”

Fafnir tilted his head, his eyes glassy and detached. 

“…ssssoooooo?” he asked. “Shit changes. They wouldn’t need to write history books if it didn’t.”

“Ugh.” Sho groaned. He swallowed had. “Let’s get this over with.”

He leaned upon his staff and climbed the steps surrounding the trapezoidal platform that sat like an ancient pyramid in the dead center of the market. A buzzing sensation slithered over Sho's arms as he was sure every eye in the city—even those who were shut away in bars or houses—was on him. He turned to the multitude going about its day below him and, not surprisingly, not a single gaze met his. No one was looking.

Sho swallowed and winced at the pain it caused his dry throat. He turned to the bell suspended between two wooden planks and reached out to it with his staff. He tried to blink back some moisture into his eyes.

"Okay..." he stammered. "...here we go." 

He tapped the bell once with his staff, just to make sure it was working. The soft metallic din of the brass drowned beneath the normal sounds of village life. Sho bit his lip.

"You might have to do it again. I think a few people missed it." Fafnir snorted.

Sho, with his spot on abilities in sarcasm detection, nodded. "You're right."