Soul Fire

Soul Fire - Chapter 5

Dathion's growing collection of titles sounded impressive - first in line to the throne of Asillia, promising swordsman, delegation leader, and official diplomat. He found it a shame that worldly-wise wasn't one of them. The first steps on his uncertain journey fell with sadness and the emptiness of a deep sense of loss. He wasn't ready to be a decision maker, having spent his whole life deferring to the instructions of others. Thankfully, Malithas soon offered a suggestion.

"Young prince, our journey is long and your charge has been thrust upon you unexpectedly. Why don't we spend this evening in one of the taverns of Asillia City? I know just the one. It's named the White Stallion. We will have many opportunities to suffer on the road ahead, so why not enjoy ourselves while we still can?"

"That is a good idea. I am relieved you are here with me and my brother. I am safe in your custody ... and Jerodai's of course."

A wry smile flashed between Dathion and Jerodai.

"I now understand why you allowed me to rest yesterday. I wish to express my gratitude."

Malithas cocked an eyebrow.

"Understand? Perhaps you are mistaken. You seem to forget your promise of a double training session in return for yesterday's respite. I only offered my services to your father to secure an opportunity to honor our agreement. Enjoy the evening but sleep early."

Dathion laughed, turning in his saddle to face Malithas. His mirth slammed into the wall of Malithas's even stare. Dathion's smile faded. He swallowed hard then cleared his throat.

"Dawn, Malithas?"

"That will be acceptable, Dathion."

Their ride became blanketed by awkward silence.

Dathion swayed to the rhythmic clacking of Asheron's hooves on stones. He desperately wanted to turn back. Absorbed in the events of the day he had found little time for introspection. Now, a wave of doubts and fears surfaced. Dathion would never forget the emptiness in his father's eyes before they had left. In them, Dathion had seen the King's sacrifice, a conscious choice to forfeit something more precious than even his kingdom.

His sons.

Haunted by his thoughts and tired of speculating on his father's reasoning, Malithas's suggestion of a tavern filled with cheerful strangers sounded like the ideal tonic. 

The first street lanterns had already been lit when they reached the inn and tethered their horses. Muffled sounds and a nimbus of light bled out from under and around the entryway, giving Dathion pause. He approached the doors with his hand outstretched but couldn't bring himself to take the final step. By virtue of his station, he hadn't mingled with commoners before. Palace etiquette was unlikely to apply in this situation. He stepped aside for the others.

"Scared of doors are we? Fear not, young prince. Despite the glow of what may be demonic flames visible around the edge, I am reasonably certain that these doors are unarmed."

Malithas pushed past Dathion. He freed his sword from its scabbard then used the tip to poke both of the door panels in turn.

"It's just as I suspected. We are safe, for now."

Malithas resheathed his sword, brushed the back of his hand across his forehead while exhaling loudly, firmly pushed the door open, then strode inside. A chuckling Jerodai went next with Ellishan and a sheepish Dathion last.

Perhaps the door had been harmless, but the tavern behind it was another matter entirely.

Sound, movement, and laughter hit Dathion like a mace, all blending together in a crude affront to the senses. The tavern brimmed from wall to wall with people - a deafening cacophany of eating, drinking, and revelry. Dathion had to barge his way through the dense crush. Nobody seemed to realize that they were bumping shoulders with the princes of Asillia. If they did, no one apologized.