Phony Potions

Chapter 36

Blythe's walls rose in my vision. The walls before had made the city snug, but now it was a loathsome barrier to our safety. We raced through a legion of campers comprised of those who couldn't afford the inn, or had arrived too late in the evening to enter the city on this day, or those who preferred the moon light. Their small campfires passed in blurs on either side of me, the savory smell of their cooking fires combined with the sickly scent of human occupation. Shouts and pointing fingers followed us. Some stood, staring into the darkness behind us imagining a horrid threat urging us forward. They would find nothing. Terror melted into confusion and gossip, Flatchert barely outpacing the rumors as they sprung from campsite to campsite like fleas.

The gate was closed, the moonlight highlighting its unforgiving iron bands. I remembered the guard's warning about letting visitors into the dungeon after sunset. I remembered the night I camped outside the city walls in my carriage. Blythe was a cautious city, but Thessa hadn't been safe despite that.

The real threat came not as a marauding army, but as an invited guest. I was sure they hadn't had to grab and steal Thessa away like someone had Mallow. They hadn't stolen at all. Like me, they had probably given Thessa tempting lies, empty flattery, promises with no foundation. It wouldn't be hard. She trusted people. She had many friends. And if a sorcerer paid attention to her, then she'd be sure to listen to whatever he said, such was her infatuation with the Enchanted. They were supposed to protect her, provide for her, not mangle her. Winsor spasmed with frigid coughing against my spine.

"Let us through, let us through!" Thessa screamed, her tiny voice buffeting against the wind that slapped against her as Flatchert hurtled forward. It rose above the clatter of the hooves, the cacophony of the curious crowd, more powerful than I imagined such a small, injured girl being capable of. The guards, already watching us with weapons drawn, gaped at each other in surprise upon hearing her voice.

"Thessa?" One called out, his sword arm going limp as he squinted.

"Yes! Open the door!" Thessa screamed, I felt her stomach muscles contract beneath my grip with the force of the shout. The guards scrambled over to the windows that led to the other side, shouting at the guards on the inside. The sound of the chain clicking under the stress thumped methodically with the guards grunts. Impatient, we did not stop. Flatchert ducked her head low to fit through the man sized opening. Shouts and cries came from the people in the street as they dove and darted to get out of the way of the barreling animal. I felt Flatchert jostle as her hoof clipped a too-slow man carrying a basket of cheeses, sending them scattering everywhere. I heard the guard call after us, woe instead of outrage in his voice.

"Thessa? What happened to you?"

"Where to now?" Thessa cried. Winsor's narrow fingers were limply entangled in the folds of my fabric instead of actively clutching. Each breath on my back was a small flurry of winter cold. My mind raced. I needed to get Winsor back to the manor where his parents were. They'd heal him. The other sorcerers, the many tourists and visitors in town, might hurt him now that he couldn't defend himself. Ricardo had convinced me that Winsor wasn't unpopular; he'd been tormented in some deeper, darker way. But his family was here. The manor was our destination for him... But what to do with the girl... they might not have time for her...

A glittering pool of water in the distance highlighted the Avalonry. They could help, if any of the icicles were home. The windows were dark. Ripples in the water caught my eye as a fish skimmed the pond's surface... Oh!

"Stop here," I ordered as we reached the ivory colored building. Thessa's small arms tugged on the reins and Flatchert gave a snort, coming to a sudden stop. I moaned from the shock, irritated that I wasn't numb to the pain yet. I used my good hand to untie the sash, and then shoved Thessa.