Chapter 103

Like a Mouse.

Abigail

Before I left Lavenfuavish, Hiccup gave me a few portal attribute beers to help me find Hawkin. These beers would land me in more eastern cities, but I was resolute in climbing the coast first and foremost. Thus, I bade Hiccup farewell, and took the road up to Omes Arbor.

The road was hot. Sweltering. I knew it would be and had prepared for the trip. Other travelers weren’t so lucky. They didn’t have attribute beers to ward off sun damage. They wore cloaks to protect themselves from the beating sun, leaving some to fall from heat exhaustion.

The cities of Lavenfuavish and Omes Arbor knew it would be this way and sent wagons carrying water and first aid back and forth. Yes, it was that time of year. I stopped a couple of times to hand off water to folks in need and to pour a libation of Cloud Crafting attribute beer. The clouds would hover low and offer shade the rest of the day.

I took no payment of course. Helping others felt good, and my spirits soared after visiting Hiccup. I hummed a made-up tune as I approached the beautiful sight of Omes Arbor.

The vegetation thickened as I came near. A coolness extended beyond the giant forest. I could feel it from several thousand feet away. Spotted touch-me-nots bloomed on the roadsides. Lilies too. Goldenrods. Piles of yarrow. Summer was at its fiercest. The flowers were bursting with pollen and the pollinators mixed in clusters.

First I passed the merchants in the shade of their caravans, wagons, tents, and pop-up shelters. Then I passed a wave of travelers bound for Lavenfauvish. The shrubbery gave way to the dominant towering trees and then I entered Omes Arbor.

Never been there before and it felt like my type of home. Surrounded by nature. Owls hooted from their unseen perches in the far heights of the canopy. I heard more owls than other birds, although a few colored streaks ribboned through the city.

The thoroughfares were busy, and people climbed intermittent stairs and long ramps that led to suspended bridges. Wide bridges that allowed me to traverse the city while always keeping an eye to my destination.

First I visited the alchemist's shops, stopping last at the Poppy Wings to ask if anyone had come by selling attribute beers. The owner shook her head “no”.

That was day 1 in Omes Arbor. I then paid for a room at the Eye of the Barred Owl.

“Larry,” said the innkeeper. “Pleased to have such a lovely woman visit our establishment.”

“I heard that this is an eclectic place,” I said.

“Indeed! We have a resident merchant off to the room through that door, and the bar is through that door opposite. If you need anything at all, come see me, or flag down any of my employees.”

The resident merchant was out for the moment, so I dropped a few things off in my room. 108. Down a hallway behind the stairs. I changed into an orange sundress embroidered with white Queen Anne’s Lace flower patterns. I liked it. The dress made me happy.

It was just about evening by the time I visited the bar of the inn. The bartender blushed as he greeted me. Stumbled over his words. Wrung his hands.

“I a-apologize,” he said at last. “I’m not usually this beside myself around beautiful women.”

My smile was small and I extended a hand.

“Abigail,” I said. “Abigail Yak.”

“Kip. Kip Foundman. Bartender.”

His handshake was firm.

“I’d like a few things from you,” I said. “First off, a beer. Anything silver or above if you’ve got it. I love memory attribute beers. Honestly, any beer will do. I’ve come up a long road from Lavenfauvish.”

“We have two memory attribute beers. The gold ranked one is from brewery Harney. It’s called Bridge over Grotto. The second-”

“Gold,” I said. My eyes lit up. “I’ll have that one!”

Then I chuckled and apologized for interrupting the man. He blushed fiercely and said it was “alright, no worries” and brought me back the beer in exchange for 5 gold.

The bottle was small. 250ml. The bottle was stoneware with a band of thick ceramic around the body.

The cork came out without a fight. Green fog streamed to the ceiling in twirling ribbons. The sight was enough to draw other patrons around my stool and I was asked a dozen questions.

“I’ll share,” I said. “That way we can all see what this beer’s about.”

“Nonsense, miss,” an older gentleman said. “We’re just curious, is all. You’ve the right to enjoy your own things.”

“I know, and I enjoy sharing,” I said with a bright smile.

The bartender helped me by laying out a row of shot glasses, enough for everyone that crowded me with curiosity. They all grew quiet as I poured a little in each glass. They whispered to each other in anticipation.

Each man took a shot glass half filled with the golden colored ale. Our glasses met in a huddle with a collection of clinking. We drank.

The beer was quite effervescent. Bottle conditioned. The malt tasted wild and peaty. I could taste the humidity of a bog freshly washed by a lashing rainstorm. An unfamiliar spice lit my tongue.

Grains of paradise, perhaps.

The foam of the beer went down like a splash of the sea.

The memory began. I was suddenly at the foot of a long bridge that leapt over still water. A swamp. The water was brackish. Mounds of grass dotted the swamp. In the perspective of an unknown figure, I put one foot in front of the other. My boots clapped upon the wooden bridge.

The song of cicadas and crickets undulated with great volume. Clusters of gnats hung in the air just off the bridge. The swamp rippled violently when the figure made it halfway across the bridge. Then the snout of a bear leapt from the swamp followed by one-hundred feet of serpent, equipped with fins and webbed flippers.

The monster landed upon the bridge before the figure, and the monster’s body followed its head, slapping down with every foot of serpent until it was all present and rearing to strike. It revealed a maw of saliva and shark teeth before striking.

Just before it made contact, the memory ended.

The crowd and I lunged back from the memory of the attack. Several men fell back. A quick hand propped me up from falling back off my stool.

For a moment we all stared at each other in dumb silence. We laughed in camaraderie. The men guffawed.

After helping everyone to their feet, they thanked me for sharing the beer. Some offered a piece of silver, but I turned down the payment. A few stuck around to flirt but I made it clear I had business to discuss with the bartender and then I’d be off.

“Always fun to see folks react to that one,” Kip said, once I’d waved him over.

“I was surprised,” I said. “Memory attribute beers aren’t often a jump scare.”

“I’ll have to try one day. Anyways, what can I do for you?”

“I’d love a tankard of something. Your pick. Anything.”

Kip poured me a tankard of crisp ale.

“Something to beat the heat today,” he said. “It's going to get even hotter this week.”

“There’s another matter,” I said. “I’m in town because I’m looking for a brewer. Goes by the name Hawkin. Have you heard of him? Bought any beer from him? Served any of his beer?”

Kip considered deeply while he fulfilled drink orders for newly arriving patrons. He returned to me, asked about the crisp ale, and then said he couldn’t recall the name. Hadn’t run into anything from that brewer.

“Shame,” I said. “As I expected. He’s been hard to find.”

“If there’s anywhere in Omes Arbor to be looking for beer, it’s certainly here. Veronica is the one who manages our rotating inventory. I would check with her. She’ll know for sure.”

“May I speak with her?”

“She returns in two days. If you’re around that long, I’d say it's worth the wait. She’s quite informed.”

“Two days,” I said. “That’ll give me plenty of time to ask around in the meantime.”

The bar was suddenly bustling with patrons. The day was at its end and I paid for my second beer, gathered my things, and crossed to the exit. Thought I’d go for a brief walk before turning in.

Just before I reached for the door, it opened. A man carefully tucked deep into a cloak came through. I saw his chin, but his face was hidden in the shadow of his hood.

“Excuse me,” I said.

“No,” he said. “Excuse me.”

His voice was dark and gravelly. Slow and cavernous. My hackles raised and I frowned perceptibly. There was something off about this person. He wore something sinister.

He held the door open for me to pass. I thanked him and squeezed by. I felt a sense of vulnerability as I passed him. It seemed to take the entire day to move under the threshold of the door. To exit the inn. To pass by this eerie figure. I felt something uncanny. Like I was a mouse crossing the kitchen floor of a house filled with cats.