The Crystal Cage

Chapter 3

Betsy's gait began to slow as Noah tugged lightly on the reins, telling her to relax from the gallop she had developed on the long, dirty road. They were now approaching the drab village walls, which were still painted in the scars of war. The dents and burns still coated some of the wooden logs. Some sections that had been so badly damaged had even been completely replaced by stone or new blocks of wood. But there was no blood- not a single trace of the crimson red that had sprayed these walls previously. Erased, Noah thought.

Noah blinked, shoving the thoughts aside as he dismounted and tied Betsy to a fence post. "Here," Noah said, reaching into his pack and pulling out the ruby apple he had swiped from his cabinets, "I was gonna save it for later, but-" He paused, chuckling as Betsy seized a huge chunk of the fruit, "I guess you can have it."

As he began walking up to the open gates that led into the village, his bag of ratty clothes and jingling silver strung over his back, Noah's smile faded. Maybe their blood had been wiped away, but he could still see it. See them. The empty, lifeless faces looking up at him. The thought clung to his troubled mind as he stepped through the bruised wooden gates and was swallowed whole.

The sound of coins had always sounded like a melody to him, but today they were nothing more than another sound in the desolate streets. It had been almost a year since the war, but the effects could still be seen everywhere- In the people, the air, and even in the deserted wooden shacks, their owners long gone. All once brimming with new life, they now lay cold and vacant in the grim town.

"Noah?", someone called as he walked into the busy square, startling him out of the daze he had entered. While the streets were bare, the village square was peppered with the distant burble of people conversing amongst themselves. Noah whipped around, only to be greeted with a face from his past, someone who he thought he'd never see again. Han Fiduke looked at Noah as if he was staring at a ghost. "Well, damn. I thought that was you, but I couldn't believe my eyes. I'd know that face anywhere."

Noah cracked a smile, trying to stop himself from covering the scar that ran down his face- a self-conscious reflex. "Hey, Han." Noah was suddenly aware of how filthy his clothes were, how his hands were plastered in dark mud. This was exactly the reason he didn't want to venture into the village. The people. He didn't want to face anyone he used to know, didn't want to revisit the ghosts of his past. He had left them behind long ago. "It's been a while."

Han chuckled and crossed his arms. "Yeah, it really has. But its really good to see you man," Han chuckled, "I mean—hell, Aaron thought you were dead."

Noah forced a grin to wind its way up to his cheeks, hoping he didn't look too tense. "No, not yet anyways. How is Aaron?"

While Han was covered in muscle from years in the fields, Aaron was scrawny and limp- a liability at first, but he proved himself to be vital. His knowledge of battle strategies and planning had saved all of their asses innumerable times. Aaron had never worn a pair of overalls in his life-had outright refused, calling them a 'monstrosity borne of farmers'- a stark contrast to Han, who tended to wear his until the color had faded and most of the original fabric had been replaced by multicolored patches keeping the outfit from falling to pieces.

"Oh! You don't know, do you? Aaron got married!" Han explained, running his calloused hands through what was left of his ginger hair and staring down at the dry earth soil. "It's unbelievable."

Noah laughed, a little skeptic. There's no way the Aaron he knew would ever get married. "You're kidding."

Han gazed at him, a bewildered look on his face as though he still didn't believe it himself. Noah gaped back, stunned. "You're not kidding."

Han dropped his hands to his sides and chuckled at Noah's expression. "I'm serious. He married Duan's daughter. It surprised me too, honestly."

"The blacksmith?"

"Yeah, him. His daughter and Aaron ran off together and got married right after you left."

Noah nodded slowly, remembering again why he was here. Remembering the pitch black bottle rolled up in his pack. He was here for a reason. Noah knew who he needed to find. "Well, good for him. I'm glad he found someone who appreciates a scrawny muck-spout."

Han's booming laughter filled the square, bouncing off the walls, the outburst out of place in the scarce village. "Still got that smart mouth on you. You haven't changed one bit, have you?"

Well, he was undeniably wrong about that.

Determinedly ignoring the gazes of the curious and judgmental onlookers, he straightened to look Han in the eye. Interrupting this gritty reflection on the past, Noah spoke abruptly. "Do you know where Eythcan lives?"

"The Rahumn?"

"Yeah."

"Uh...I know he lives in this area, but I'm not sure where—I haven't seen him in ages. But," Han hesitated. " I think Gerald sees him occasionally."

"Gerald?" Noah asked, not recalling anyone who went by that name.

"Yeah," Han said, pointing down the dusty path, "He has a tent down there."

Noah nodded and thanked him before departing, turning his back to Han and stubbornly not looking back at him as he strolled down the dirty path towards the tent, stopping right in front of it. It was a passable tent—big enough to fit some barrels of watery beer and a few paying customers. Besides the fraying rips in the pine-green fabric, the splotched mud, and the fuzzy mold that covered the sides, it appeared fairly competent. Replacing his distaste with a strained smile, Noah unfolded the flap of the tent and walked in.

Noah muttered curses as he attempted to stand up straight and hit a small, dust-filled lantern hanging off one of the rickety wooden supports.

"Watch your tongue boy," Someone snapped at him from the opposite end of the tent, "You break it, you pay for it."

Noah's faux smile faded from his face as he nodded and straightened the lamp. A toothy smile wouldn't get him anywhere with a money-grubber.

"You're Gerald?" Noah said as he approached the wooden counter to get a better look at the speaker.

"Depends. Who are you?" Gerald spat, the flickering light revealing his face to be pinched and wrinkled with age and greed, most likely stemming from a lifetime of harsh poverty. Upon further inspection, Noah realized that Gerald—while still being unpleasant and rude—could barely see over his desk. Without his stool to sit on, Noah probably wouldn't be able to see anything except the few little grey hairs that still remained. That and his crooked nose almost made Noah chuckle.

"Doesn't matter," Noah finally said, putting down a small golden dagger he was fiddling with and stared down Gerald, "I need to know where to find Ethycan."

Gerald nodded and scratched his skinny chin, a small spark dancing in his wolfish, stormy-grey eyes. "I may know where he is."

Noah let loose a sigh before slinging his leather-pack off his shoulder and pulling out the tiny bag of coins. A small hunk of shining silver slid across the counter towards the greedy old man.

Gerald, inspecting the gleaming silver with a hoarder's smile, pocketed it. "He lives about two miles outside of the walls. To the west."

Noah thanked him and turned around, inclining his head as he exited the dirty tent. Smirking to himself, Noah shoved the small golden knife he had snatched into his pocket and strolled back towards the front gates. Hopefully, Ethycan would know this crap was- and maybe what it had to do with the creature that desomated his home.