That One Time I Went on a Quest

The Prismatic Cuirass

My neck hurts...have I not moved an inch this whole time? They could have replaced me with a snowman and no one would have been the wiser. So much easier to stare at my hands and avoid eye contact than spouting stupid questions and getting told how stupid they are.

Not what I signed up for, being a snowman, yet it is so comfortable to be silent and still.

Haylis suddenly speaks up, her voice light and conversational.

'Oon'Shang says there's...' She cups a hand to her ear, '...people, a huge group of people, gathered on the highway. We have to slow down.'

Arkai dashes to the front of the carriage without another word.

Five seconds of silence.

With a shaky sigh Kathanhiel rubs her face with both hands. 'What am I doing – why did I –' without acknowledging either of us she goes after him.

I look at Haylis and she at me. Suddenly my tongue is capable of moving again.

'Nice.'

She raises an eyebrow. 'What are you talking about?'

'So...what do you think we should do? Keep going in the coach and have the dragons chase us, or try and find a boat at the Ford?'

She scoffs. 'Stupid question. Didn't I say I'm sticking with Aunt Kath? I wasn't going on your stupid ferry ride in the first place.'

'Don't say anything if you've got nothing good to say.'

'Just tell her you don't want to leave. She won't make you.'

That's not true though. Unlike her, my name, initials, and blurry thumbprint are on a contract that says I have to do whatever I'm told.

The carriage grinds to a halt. The rooms begin to echo with the fleshy banging of panicky hands slapping against steel. Muffled shouting seep through the walls, eclipsing the rain.

Arkai and Kathanhiel return, and lo and behold, they're arguing again.

'It's not safe, the crowd is too agitated,' Arkai says.

'I cannot leave them. Haylis, fetch my ceremonial set. Kastor, get into gear and herald my presence to the people – no more objections Arkai, I shan't cover like some criminal.'

'The cultists are here for certain. They'll take advantage of the chaos –'

Kathanhiel silently points to the next room, her face set in stone. With an undisguised growl Arkai storms away, and for the first time ever I hear the clap of his boots on the floor.

'You too Kastor, don your armour.'

I grab my bags and scamper after Arkai as the carriage rocks from left to right as if riding a high tide.

One peak through the window shows that Arkai is being quite reasonable. Thousands of people have gathered around the coach, a sea of grey faces shrouded by the downpour and the feeble sun. Their mouths are all moving wildly, yelling words that are yet indistinct, but the moment we open that door –

'What's happening?'

'Refugees from the north,' Arkai replies as he wraps a black scarf around his head, 'or at least what appears to be.' A swish of his cloak reveals two dozen throwing knives slotted into various pockets. 'Keep your eyes on the crowd. If anyone suspicious get close don't hesitate to strike first. Don't get in her way if she decides to...' He adds in an undertone: 'No. No she won't.'

With that he vaults to the ceiling and flings open a hatch that I didn't even know was there, then slips out silent as a cat.

Get moving, stupid.