The Knife's Edge

Chapter Twenty-Two

A FESTIVAL

The light of the town was lurid in Gray’s vision as he ran, nearing the stone gate. Exhausted, he fell to his knees. “Someone help!” he bellowed and pounded on the gate.

He glanced over his shoulder, flinching, expecting to see beasts hurtling out of the night and across the stretch of earth—but there was nothing. The creatures that had been scraping on his heels were nowhere to be seen. He paused, as his breath came quick and hard. Suddenly, he heard sounds and lights danced, bobbing up and down upon the rampart. In the center of the door, a slot scraped open. A helmeted eye peered out. “Quick, I need help! Someone’s hurt!” The slot slammed shut. His fists clenched and he shouted, “What’s wrong with you? Why will you not help?”

Suddenly from behind, he heard the clop of hooves on the soft dirt. He twisted, half expecting to see the monsters. Instead, he saw an orange light in the darkness. He hid behind a nearby rock as the light approached, resolving itself into a cart. A skinny man, wearing the simple garb of a merchant sat in the driver’s seat. Who else would attempt to enter at this time of night? Gray wondered. The cart rolled closer and he saw it was full of hay. The merchant stopped before the door. The slot slid open again.

“Who is it?” a voice called.

“It’s me, open the door!” the merchant ordered.

“Show me the sign!”

The merchant grumbled and pulled back his sleeve, exposing his forearm, showing the guard something Gray couldn’t see. This was his chance. Gray slid from his hiding place. He dashed towards the cart, staying low and quiet. The merchant’s back was still turned and he dove into the mountain of hay, wriggling and burying himself deep. There was a scraping sound. The gate slid open. Through the hay and the wooden slats of the cart, he saw a soldier in leather and mail approach.

“Did you see a young man?” the guard questioned gruffly.

“Man? I saw no one,” the merchant replied. “What are you talking about?” Gray was right below the merchant’s seat and could hear the man’s wheezing breaths. Moist straw pricked his flesh all over, and sweat trickled down his brow as he waited for the two to speak again. What were they doing?

“I suppose I was mistaken,” the guard said at last. “You see and hear strange things at this hour. The darkness plays tricks on you. What’s your name, brother?”

“You may call me, Erebos,” said the merchant.

“Was the road difficult?” the guard asked.

Erebos snorted. “I did not travel from the lands to the east, moving day and night to exchange pleasantries.”

“Whatever you say,” said the guard. “So it is time then?”

“Soon enough. We must prepare for their arrival. Are any suspicious?”

“None yet. However, there is a new presence in town giving orders.”

“Who is it?” Erebos asked.
“I’m not sure. They arrived just recently. I heard it is a woman. The watch has been doubled already. It is only a matter of time until someone suspects. I’m not sure if I can wait any longer.”

“Steel your nerves,” the merchant commanded under his breath, “The reward is well worth the wait.” A straw pricked Gray’s ear, and another tickled his nose. The desire to itch made his skin crawl, and he struggled for a breath in the stale air.

“What’s in the cart?” the guard asked abruptly, moving closer, so close Gray smelled the guard’s breath that stank of ale. If he wanted, he could reach out and grab the man’s sword from his sheath. The guard pushed at the straw with his gloved hand.

“No use looking back there, just hay,” Erebos said. “I stole the cart on my way here, and killed the man who owned it. I saw no use emptying it. It proved useful and aroused less suspicion. Now if you don’t mind, the last thing I want is to be sitting in the cold and jabbering with you. Direct me to the nearest hovel and I’ll be on my way.”

“The Golden Horn is our best inn,” said the guard, “Talk to Mishif. He knows everyone and everything that goes on within Lakewood. He’ll set you up. Till next I see you, brother.”

Erebos grumbled something in reply, and Gray heard the horse nicker as the merchant flicked his reins. The cart rumbled through the gate, and he glimpsed the tall stone walls, and the cobblestone road.

As soon as he entered the town, and got a fair distance from the gates, he slipped out the back of the cart, and rolled to the street. He ducked into the shadows of a nearby roof and caught his breath, brushing hay from his clothes.

Beyond he heard sounds of laughter and cheer. He saw colorful displays of tents. Delicious smells hit his nose and made him groan. A festival? It’s as good a place as any to look for Mura. He headed towards the lights as a round of explosions lit up the night sky.