Echoes of the Past

Chapter Eighteen - Part One

Chapter Eighteen: Unsettled Business - Part one

Their steps crunched on the gravelly ground, accompanied by the sounds of chirping insects as they joined the main street that ran through Toolin.

Houses and shuttered shops lined the wide street. There was something serene, almost haunting, about a quiet, empty street in the dim light. James envied the people that lived here, and the simple lives they must lead. Adjusting the sword on his hip, James looked over the lightening sky with a warm, content feeling in his stomach. Their brief stay at Tabetha's had reminded him how good a pleasant, inviting situation could be, especially with good company. Despite the nice distraction, he knew that their real journey was only just beginning.

He thought about the unknown dangers they faced ahead, and of the wider world out there he still had yet to see. And he welcomed it all. He felt ready, perhaps for the first time, to really begin the rest of his life. He tried not to think about their upcoming confrontation with Higero Jaxx and remain focused on the present. He still had a long way to go, especially with restoring his friendship with Evan, but he felt better about moving forward now.

"How far to this Riondon?" Evan asked, walking on the other side of Sam.

Sam raised his chin ahead of them. "There are stables at the end of town, where we can hire some mousslos. Should take us around six hours to ride to Riondon. That's taking the longer route, away from the main road where we might be spotted by roaming Red Guards or any Sacre spies. We can't afford the luxury of a straight public road, or to take a transport craft."

"And if a roaming Redcraft spots us from the sky?" James asked.

"They may just see three locals in the desert and think nothing of it," Sam said, and nodded to their new desert cloaks.

The buildings lessened ahead and the area opened to more vegetation and sparse trees. On the left side of the edge of town, the metallic, ridged roofs of the stables could be seen over an alley wall. The hilly dunes of the surrounding land spread out ahead of them, mostly shadows and dull shapes in the low light. Tiny specks of lights could be seen on the sharp peaks that lined the horizon, likely from mountain villages.

They approached the stalls and found the sleeping form of a rotund man, spread out on a fold-out chair. The man's broad arms were crossed over a heavy cloak that hung down his front and back, similar to the ones they wore. A wide-brimmed hat hid his face.

Sam cleared his throat loudly. When the large man did not stir, Sam shrugged and kick at his chair. Jerking back, the burly man threw his arms out to steady himself, letting out a heavy grunt. His small eyes searched them, a long, bushy moustache rising as he frowned.

"Looking for business?" he asked in a thick Canarrian accent, heavy with sleep.

"Three mousslos," Sam told him. "To Riondon."

The merchant scratched the stubble over his fleshy cheeks. "Aye. Okay." With a loud groan he rose to his feet and nodded towards the stalls. They followed his waddling strides.

James noted a sign hanging on a beam over the stalls, the words Sumid's Animal Hirecrudely written in faded paint, beside Canarrian words.

"Just to Riondon? Or keep longer?" the merchant asked.

"Just to Riondon," Sam said. "We'll drop them off at the stalls on the border."

The merchant nodded, breathing loudly through his mouth. "Three mousslos. Forty five jouls. Fifteen jouls back when you give to Riondon."

At the gate of the stalls James glimpsed the tall forms of the mousslos through the wooden slats. He had seen the four-legged animals a few times before, but had never thought of riding one before.