Harbiya and the riders with him pulled up to a stop by a point of land that looked out over the capital valley.

He dismounted and directed Kassim and Adilah to do the same. The fourteen other Kamwa remained mounted and formed a loose semicircle around them.

The late morning sun threw light into the valley. There, the verdant valley floor looked like it wore a sparkling necklace. There was only farmland down there; on the hills were many buildings decorated in golds, silvers and many other painted colors. No one building was the same; each had its own style of architecture. Sumptuous gardens surrounded the estates, and some, those farther to the east, even spilled out into the valley.

The farther to the west and south the valley curved, the less elegant the buildings became.

Gems sparkled so brightly upon the walls of the royal palaces, they couldn’t be clearly seen. These gave way to mansions only gilded in gold and silver, then those to the brilliantly colored, then drab mansions of more traditional design. Eventually, there were only normal houses for a long stretch. Off in the distance, one could make out brown smudges against the hillsides.

“What does it feel like to have so much wealth in one place?” Harbiya looked at Kassim and Adilah. “What does it feel like with the Third Eye?”

Kassim pursed his lips. “Like I’m being smothered to death by the softest pillow in the world—”

“And have eaten nothing but honey for a week,” Adilah finished.

Harbiya smiled. “And what of the king? What is his presence like?”

Kassim was silent for a moment. “It feels like the sun veiled behind a curtain. If you were to look at it directly, you would burn and become blind.”

“Fascinating,” Harbiya breathed. “It almost makes me scared of the man.” The sound of horses’ hooves interrupted his thoughts. He turned and held up his hand in greeting. “This’ll be my scout.”

A plainly dressed rider stopped abruptly, dismounted, and gave a short bow to Harbiya.

“My liege, the convoy has set out. You must hurry!”

Harbiya cursed under his breath. “Which way do they travel?”

“They haven’t left the valley yet.” The scout approached the spot near Kassim and Adilah. “We may be able to see them still.”

Both men peered into the valley.

“There.” The scout pointed.

Along a road that ran the edge of the farms were three large carriages. Mounted knights were in front and behind, along with several royal attendants.

“Come, my liege. There’s still time to get ahead of them, even if they should take the southern route away from us.”

“Wait.”

The scout stopped as he was heading back to his horse. Harbiya’s intent gaze upon the convoy below brought him back.

“There’s a fork in the road ahead,” Harbiya said. “We’ll first see which one they take.”

They watched as the convoy neared the fork and made a smooth turn without slowing. He shook his head.

“They won’t be going south. It will either be north or west.” He turned and walked back to his horse. “Mount up. We need to make it to Sunset Falls as quickly as possible.”

***

Hyrestl walked back into town. His eyebrows were creased in a slight scowl. The rest of his face drew hard stoic lines. Fire smoldered beneath cold ashes in his eyes.

It was past midday. The sun was out, warming what it touched, and a cool wind chilled what it didn’t.

The streets were busy but not overly crowded like they would be in the weeks to come. A couple of guardsmen on their rounds suddenly appeared from an intersecting street. Hyrestl calmly walked to the side of the road and hid behind a stall selling clothes. He waited a few seconds until he was sure they had passed by. He snuck a peek out from behind a pair of red pants. They were gone.

He gave the clothes another review, nodded to the shopkeeper, and continued on his way toward the inn.

He didn’t consider it his inn, anymore. It was as if he had been protecting a fortress this entire time only for the enemy to finally overcome it and occupy it. It was pitiable for them. No one knew a fortress like its builder.

He kept to the smaller side streets where there would be fewer guards. He imagined they were already keeping a lookout for him. There would be those who would surely recognize him in the crowds, but they would likely know only that he’d lost the business at this point and little else.

He took himself to Jak’s smithy, where the large man was busily shuffling about his workshop with his son at his side. He knocked on one of the sturdy wood tables to get their attention.

Jak looked up. He turned to his son and said a few things to him, then set his project back in the coals. He wiped his hands on his apron.

“Hyrestl, I seldom see you around this time of the day. What brings you here?”

Hyrestl eyed the top of the inn, barely visible. “They have me on an errand. I figured I’d stop by.”

Jak shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear about it. I didn’t know you were in trouble like that. You should have said something to me. Perhaps…well, actually, it won’t matter, now will it?” Jak smiled. “Come on, cheer up! Once everything is done, you can simply ask for it back. Even a prince won’t be able to do anything about it.”

A wry smile sneaked across Hyrestl’s face. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’d pay good money to see how the prince would react.

“Maybe. I’m not counting my chickens. Any noteworthy news?”

Jak shook his head and grew more serious. “We haven’t heard anything from the priests yet.”

The barman’s eyes looked far off into the distance to a horizon blocked by the surrounding houses. “It’s been a week already.”

Jak took in a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Hyrestl patted the bigger man’s shoulder. “Patience.” Jak nodded and turned back to tending the smithy. Hyrestl continued on to the inn.

He was only a few blocks away when he heard a familiar sniffle. He stopped and backtracked, looking into an alley. Pahanna was sitting on a crate, wiping his eyes, with a forlorn look on his face. Hyrestl approached. As his bulk came into the shadow of the alley, Pahanna looked up sharply.

“Hertle?” He sniffed again.

Hyrestl knelt down beside him and some of the fire beneath the ashes cooled.

“What’s wrong?”

Pahanna sniffed. “Those meanies wanted to know where you’d gone. I couldn’t tell them. I didn’t know. They hit me and said nasty things.” His face scrunched up and new tears fell down his face. “Rylie left, and then you too. It was just me.”

Hyrestl reached out a hand as if to pat Pahanna on the head. He hesitated. The mantra that had been drummed into him for years as a child surfaced again.

“Enemies. Every one of them. Whoever is not Telamian is an enemy. Associate with them and you are an enemy.” He blinked a few times, then placed his hand on the small head. He brushed his hand through the boy’s hair a couple times, then looked into his eyes.

“Don’t go back there.”

Pahanna clumsily wiped his tears with his hands. “But where do I go?”

“Home.”

“I don’t want to go home. I want to work with Rylie and Leyla again.”

Hyrestl smiled. “You can find a place. Or, if that doesn’t work, make your own.” He stood up.

“Where are you going? They’re really mad you left.”

“Don’t worry about me. I just need to pick up a few of my things. Don’t follow.”

Hyrestl walked away and back into the street and flow of people. He came to one of the streets that ran alongside the inn and gave it a cursory glance before moving directly to the side door. Once there, he made a motion as if he was knocking, but didn’t touch the door. He listened.

It was difficult to hear the muffled noises within with all the noise around him. There was the sound of someone working in the kitchen.

Hyrestl pulled up on the door’s handle and unlatched it. He creeped it open just a bit and put his ear to the crack as he leaned with one arm up against the wall, as if waiting. For a few minutes, he listened to the rhythm of the new servants working and what they said to each other. He was about to leave and come back when he heard one of them say, “Here, help me carry this order out.”

Hyrestl waited a few moments, then nudged the door open the rest of the way with his foot as if someone inside had pushed it open and let him inside. He slipped in and after a few steps he was stepping quietly up the stairs. He paused once he was out of sight from the kitchen and listened.

He hadn’t been seen.

He continued up the stairs to the third floor and carefully peered around the corner to ensure the room was empty. He quickly went to his chest and unlocked it. Usually, he kept it unlocked, but since Bardullah’s servants had arrived, he had made sure to keep the key on him at all times.

He pulled out an already-packed traveling bag and bedroll. He also pulled out a wide length of cloth that he wrapped snugly about his abdomen. It was heavy, as if it held money in it along its length. In a sense, it did: Telamian money. This was his old money purse from Telam.

Gwyanians had coins, but Telamians carried around blades. These were the most basic form of currency for them, being flat pieces of metal with three or more sharpened points. A hole was in the middle of each one, allowing them to be kept in great numbers on a piece of string. He pulled out his Gwyanian money purse, paused, and hefted its weight. It seemed lighter. He couldn’t dwell on that, though.

He stashed two knives into each of his boots and several more into his money-belt. He pulled up his sleeves and tightened the buckles of the leather bracers, which held iron darts around their circumference.

Next, he wrapped his hands in strips of cloth and pulled them tight. He checked the wraps on his torso as well to make sure they were snug.

He pulled his sleeves down, then untied his pants. He pulled out a short sword from the chest that was in a scabbard, and he lashed this to his thigh and retied his trousers.

He hefted the pack and bedroll and stopped. There were footsteps on the stairs. One set.

He set the pack down on the floor again and crept to the side of the stairway door.

One of the servants came into the room.

Hyrestl leaped up and struck the man in the temple. Then, without stopping, he pivoted to the other side of him and caught him as he fell unconscious. Hyrestl dragged him to one side and breathed in slowly, then breathed out. He flexed his hand.

It had been a long, long time since he’d knocked someone out. It felt good, like meeting an old friend.

He listened, but no one else was coming upstairs. He had to act quickly. He retrieved his heavy winter clothing and tied it to his pack. He flung on his colorful festival robes and pulled the hood up over his head. He locked the chest again, then he listened at the top of the stairs for a moment before moving down. He paused at the corner of the stairway right before the kitchen. Heavy boots clomped on the kitchen floor and stopped.

“Hey, where’s that shirt I told you to get? They won’t let the dogs loose until we’ve got something of his.”

“Yes, of course. We’re on it. The man didn’t have many articles of clothing, and he kept his chest locked. We have a man working on it right now.”

“I’ll be waiting out front. Bring me some hard cider while you’re at it, will ya?”

“Of course, sir. Right away.”

The footsteps clomped back out the kitchen.

Hyrestl thought the boot man was the same guardsman who had come with Bardullah’s servants to the inn. But Boot Man hadn’t spoken much, so he couldn’t be sure.

The servant muttered something under his breath after the boots left, then picked up a few things, and headed out to fill orders. Hyrestl risked peeking around the corner. The coast was clear.

He slipped back out the side door and was lost in the throngs of people dressed in bright colors in a matter of seconds. He took a roundabout way through the area, careful to avoid the front of the inn but also keeping his eye out for the dogs. They wouldn’t be much good in the throngs of people, but if he was too close it wouldn’t matter.

His old instincts for survival as a Telamian Kyapushen were awakening again. He could feel the rust shaking off razor-sharp edges. Strange: he’d remembered this feeling being more stressful. Right now, it felt almost exhilarating, like he was alive again.

He didn’t spot any dogs out front or waiting in the streets. They were likely set up somewhere outside of town. In fact, that’s where they would look. They would assume he’d run away. That meant the best place to hide would be where the people would be the thickest. The fairgrounds.

Pahanna rose as Hyrestl came around the corner. His brows creased as he looked up at him. “Um, are you okay?”

Hyrestl realized he was smiling. He patted Pahanna’s head.

“What do you say? Want to take a vacation and bum around a bit? I’ve never really enjoyed the festival.” He started walking east toward the fairgrounds, and the boy followed.

He couldn’t afford to leave town. The curse would keep his body up all nights until Rylen was found again. It would take him back where it knew—however it knew—the best way to find Rylen. Kassim and Adilah’s scouts would be reporting directly to Jak. Hyrestl needed to be close to him.

There was only one way he would be able to escape his curse, the ball and chain that kept him tied down. He had to find Rylen; then, the curse would be sated, for a time, at least.

He searched within himself for the resolve to kill him. He remembered the night when he had tried and failed to do just that.

Then again, Rylen was older now. He could take care of himself. If Hyrestl traveled with Rylen again, perhaps he could get much further.

A small bit of hope was kindled next to the smoldering coals of his frustration and anger.

If he couldn’t kill Rylen, then he’d drag him to Telam with him.

***

Rylen stepped into the water. It felt warmer than the chill late afternoon air. He was a bit surprised he had made it back as quickly as he had. Then again, his soreness was slightly lessened, and he wasn’t limping as tenderly either. Also, he hadn’t traveled all the way to the town on the other side of the lake.

He could see the lake bottom clearly. The sun dappled the bottom in the same shapes as the small ripples he made.

Satisfied that the water wouldn’t freeze him, he took off the rest of his clothes and dunked under the water. The sudden chill across his whole body shocked him, but the feeling soon dissipated. The air cooled his wet head and shoulders, making him shiver. He lowered himself into the water to where it was just below his nose. That made him feel warmer.

The sun had basked the lake in its light all day, so the shallows were warmer than the deeper areas. Rylen could feel the difference in temperature from the water around his chest to the water at his feet.

He moved around, feeling the muck squish between his toes and finding the occasional rock on the lake bed. He lowered himself so the water was just below his eyes. He smiled. So this is how frogs and turtles saw the lake. It was kind of frightening: even the smallest waves seemed like big swells.

Next, he tried to swim. He launched himself forward and kicked while flailing his arms in circles. He held his breath for as long as he could, then tucked his legs back under him, bringing his head out of the water and gasping for breath. However, there wasn’t a lake bed for his feet to stand on. The lake sucked him under just after he’d taken a breath.

He thrashed his arms and legs wildly, and his head broke back to the surface. He sucked in air, then the water covered him again. He’d seen which direction the shore was, and he struggled that way. It wasn’t far, but it felt like leagues away.

He struggled up for air once more. The shore was closer now. Where was the bottom?

He kicked his feet as quickly as he could, and he reached out and grabbed a tree root and pulled himself up.

He gasped for breath and panted as if he’d run the distance of half of Edge. He glanced around and realized he wasn’t far from where he had started. It was no wonder why few people swam. He pulled himself along until he could put his feet on the bottom again.

He caught his breath and tested the boundaries of the shallows. It didn’t go too far out before it got deeper. There was something frightening about the deeper parts. Though he could see clearly to the bottom of the lake everywhere else, it quickly descended to a dark blue depth with no bottom in sight. It was an abyss.

He didn’t want to go too far out anyway. The water got noticeably colder to the point that it felt icy. So, he stayed in the shallows. He entertained himself for a few minutes by laying his hand at an angle and skipping it across the top of the water back and forth. Then, he tried to float in the water by lying on his back but found he only sank like a rock. Eventually, he ran out of ideas. There was only so much he could do by himself. The sun was sinking closer to the horizon, and it would get colder soon. He started scrubbing himself off. He’d started to stink after the days he’d spent traveling. He missed the regular warm baths at home.

As he was doing this, he saw a young boy come out of the bushes not twenty feet from him.

The boy looked at Rylen, and he looked back, somewhat embarrassed he’d been caught bathing.

The boy gasped and ran off like he’d seen a wolf.

“Papa! Papa!” a receding voice screamed.

Rylen had an uneasy feeling in his stomach. While it wasn’t widely practiced in Edge, he’d heard of travelers who taught their kids that Erans were dragons disguised as humans. If a child ever saw a person with black or colored hair, they would be in danger of being eaten. He quickly finished scrubbing himself down and climbed out of the lake. The chill breeze made him shiver.

He quickly dried off using his blanket, then put his clothes back on. Many parts of him still ached from his bruises, but he didn’t need to wrap them anymore. Still shivering, he packed up his things and turned back to the road. He made it back just as the sun was setting behind the mountains, basking the valley in shadow. The road was empty, as most travelers had settled down for the day. He glanced back up the road toward the town out of habit, not expecting to see anything.

Something caught his eye.

He frowned and looked closer. There was the light of torches that he could see moving along the road. He could only catch glimpses of them through the trees. It was strange to see people traveling this late in the day. The fact they had torches meant they were planning on walking through the night.

He didn’t want to run into them, so he started walking down the road away from the lake. He’d seen a spot where the leaves had gathered together on his way here. It would make a nice place to bed down for the night.

After he’d walked for some time, the land sloped downward. He could hear a waterfall off to his right where the lake fed a small river.

While in most places the road had to zigzag down slopes, this one was gentle enough that the road was straight the whole length. He could see the bottom about a half mile away.

The sky was still bright with the sun’s rays as he walked down the slope. However, the road was only dimly lit.

He’d walked several minutes when he heard a shout behind him. He turned to find the group with torches he’d seen. There were about twenty of them, and one was on a horse.

“There he is!” one of them shouted. The group started running, and the mounted one spurred it into a gallop. Rylen’s eyes opened wide as he realized what was happening. The horseman was quickly closing the distance.

He ran off the road and into the woods. Where he found a slope up, he took it, hoping it would be enough to lose the horseman. The day was quickly getting darker, making it difficult for him to make his way through the terrain of the mountainside. He stumbled on roots, sticks, and rocks. Branches slapped and scratched his face. Breathing heavily, he paused to look back. Torchlight blinked in the clear spaces, moving toward him. All it would take would be a regular huntsman to find him. Flame it, he was sure the trail he left could almost be followed by a child.

He looked around in the fading light. The land rose sharply to his left. It was a mixture of gravel, rock, and soil. Scraggly evergreens clung desperately to it. A part of it stood out, though. The dark maw of a cave punctured the land, some ten feet above the ground.

Rylen quickly picked his way through the underbrush and broken rocks toward it. When he reached it, he found a handhold on a small tree and pulled himself up. He tried to find another hold on the rock, but it was brittle and broke away.

His footing wasn’t much better. Gravel and sand made the rock underneath slippery.

He spotted a root looping out of the dirt and grabbed onto it. It held, but just barely. He used the tree trunk to support most of his weight and pulled himself up further. He placed a foot on the tree and pushed farther up still. The cave’s ledge was in reach.

He put both hands on the ledge and heaved his body up onto it and rolled himself inside. He checked the position of the torches. They were getting closer.

Before he left the dim light of the cave entrance, he pulled out a pinch of fine tinder from a leather pouch and put it on the ground. He placed himself between it and the cave entrance to block any light it would make, but so that he could still see what he was doing.

He pulled out a candle and his flint and steel. He also pulled out some coarser tinder made of small twigs and placed this on top of the other.

He struck the flint and steel to it, and a spark caught in it. He gently blew on it until a flame appeared, then used that to light his candle. He quickly stamped out the burning tinder and, shielding his candlelight, ventured deeper into the cave.

***

The group of men stopped at the cave entrance and conversed among themselves. There weren’t any other exits from this cave that they knew of. In the past, search parties for lost children hadn’t found any.

It was decided that a number of the men would stay and take shifts guarding the entrance. The others would go back to town for more supplies and make a report to the guardsmen about the Eran spy. After hearing these plans, one of them slipped away and began making his way back down the mountainside. Once down, he untied a horse from a tree and mounted it. He picked his way through the forest until he met with the road again.

The moon rose above the mountaintop. In its dim, pale blue light, the rider’s orange and golden robe could be seen. He spurred his horse into a gallop to the north, back toward the lake and town.