Fury in the Wind chp 11 - The Hostile Hostel

The hostel was a sight for very empty stomachs. The only thing to sustain Kenway and Carris had been frigid water from the creek they had spent the previous night at. Such was their hurry to leave Potter’s Creek that Carris hadn’t even thought of grabbing some provisions. Kenway had said nothing of hunger, his intent to get Thessapon superseding all wants of the flesh, but as they now came upon in on a bend in the trail, even he let out a sigh and smiled.

“Hungry?” he asked.

Carris laughed. “Don’t tell me that you’re not.”

Kenway scratched his beard. “You could persuade me to stop for but an hour to rest our horses and fill our bellies. But it is your coin, and as such, I leave it up to your discretion.”

 “Really?” Carris wasn’t used to those older than her giving her a choice in the matter. She did some quick calculations with the coins she had left from renting the horses; they had more than enough to stop several times for meals, and at least two nights of sleep in an inn, but she thought that it was better to save it. She wasn’t used to being out in the bigger world. And she had no idea what things might cost money as they ventured further away from her hometown.

“Something simple,” she said. “Bread and stew.”

Kenway nodded and prodded his ride down the road in the late afternoon sun that spliced through the snow-topped pines. It widened as they approached the hostel on the right. Here the snow had been trampled into mud. The large building sported a second story with a pine railing running around the whole thing, and a walkway of the same material spreading across the front. There were several hitching posts for those in a hurry, and a large stable peeked out behind for those spending the night or even longer.

A few patrons sat on the verandah, one older man, rocking back in a rickety rocking chair, one smoking for an exorbitantly long pipe, and another whittling away with a sharp knife on a hunk of wood. A few horses sat still at the hitching posts.

Carris let Kenway take the lead, unsure as she was in this new environment. It was dawning on her that if she went to Thessapon this would be the first of many such instances. It was intimidating, and she was glad that at least for this time, she had a man with her. There was something about Kenway’s demeanor that relaxed her, and at the same time caught her off guard, like he might suddenly explode at any moment. That was something she was accustomed to.

Kenway dismounted and looped his reins around the hitching post, waiting for Carris to do the same before they hopped up onto the verandah and entered the hostel. Carris was familiar with Porgie’s back home. But this was nothing like that. The place was filled, mostly with men, looking gruff, bearded, wild, draped in furs and long coats, smoking pipes, armed with big knives, bows strapped to some backs, and nearly to a man they were as loud and boisterous as one could possibly be. The place was cramped, musty and musky, dark, and the cacophony of shouts, laughs, and hollers was distressing to Carris. She felt herself shrivel inside her coat and found herself sticking as close to Kenway as she could.

He looked as calm as ever, gliding through the crowd, working his way to the front of the hostel’s first floor, where a small man sat behind a desk with a massive ledger covered in scrawling. His hair was fleeting and combed to the side, his beard scraggly, but underneath it his eyes told the tale that he was not as old as he appeared. He looked up at them, squinting continuously.

“What can I do fer ya?” he said. He sounded like how Carris imagined a mouse would tak.

Kenway smiled. “We’re just looking for a hot meal.”

The man nodded, muttering to himself. “Sure I can’t interest ya in a warm bed fer the night? Winds be howlin’ and the worst of winter is yet tah come.” He leaned forward and jabbed his quill at Kenway. “You’d do well tah get some rest before facing the coming storms.”

Kenway laughed. “Thanks for the warning, kind friend, but I’m afraid we are on a schedule.”

“Oh, and what might that be?” The man eyed Carris up and down.

Kenway stepped across his view, pulling his focus back upward. “Our business is our own, but some of our coin could be yours.”

The man nodded rapidly, scribbling something on his ledger. Very well, very well. Two bowls of our special.”

“And a bit of bread,” Carris chimed in. She so loved bread.

“That’ll be extra,” the man chattered.

Carris pursed her lips. “No bread then,” she said at last.

The man behind the ledger chuckled to himself. “Makes the decisions fer the group, does she?”

Kenway smiled. “And as you see, we’ve done well thus far.”

“I’ll need a name,” the small man said. He wasn’t sure who to look at.

“Kenway.”

The man muttered something to himself, then walked out from behind the ledger, leading them to a table in the midst of the crowd. Then he was gone amidst the bigger trappers and travelers like a mouse through a hole in the wall. Carris scooted her chair in as body after body shambled by, half of them bumping into her chair, none of them apologizing.

“Who are these people?” She asked it, stretching halfway across the square table, scared of what might happen if any of them heard the question.

Kenway looked around, unbuttoning his jacket. “Mostly trappers. See all the fur and pelts? The big knives for skinning? That’s a sure sign of a hunter and trapper. Do you not have those in Potter’s Creek?”

Carris shook her head. “We mostly do our own hunting and growing. Porgie takes a trip down the mountain twice a year. I’d bet anything he buys from them. We’re not so rude as all this lot.”

Kenway chuckled. “Easy there. These men are out on their own for months at a time. Out in the cold, in dangerous places, surviving on little more than their will and dried meats. It does funny things to the head, being alone so often for so long. Treat them fairly and they’ll react in kind.”

Their food was brought through the crowd by a young woman, who was kind enough to also set down a tray with two mugs of milk. Carris guessed that if the man behind the ledger had seen it, he would’ve scowled and reprimanded her for not charging more, but she had a kind face, and winked as she walked away.

They ate in silence, or rather, they were silent as they ate. The late afternoon into dinner crowd only got louder. Smoke wafted through the air, a mixture of burning smells and sweet herbs. Kenway devoured his bowl and chugged his milk, sitting back and patting his belly with content. Carris started fast but realized soon that her stomach was not as ready to consume a massive bowl of stew as her mind had been. She gave up at the halfway point, content to sip on her milk.

Then the door to the hostel opened, longer than usual, long enough to push most of the smoke to the back of the room. The throng quieted near the front and the effect rippled across the room. Carris craned to see what had changed. It was hard to see him in his entirety, but the horsehair helmet bobbed above the heads of the hostel guests. This man was large, and probably a soldier. Carris scrunched her nose.

Kenway’s face turned more serious as he watched through the crowded room as the soldier strode by. He came close enough for Carris to see his Astorian armor and the blue band on his bicep. This was a sight she was familiar with. Any time a regiment came through Potter’s Creek she had seen the same band on the soldiers’ arms.

“Something troubles you?” Kenway said.

Carris turned back his way, trying her best to turn her face emotionless. “Bad memories,” she said.

Kenway nodded. To her surprise he didn’t egg her on or try to dig deeper. She kept waiting, but no question ever came. The soldier disappeared into the crowd, and Carris disappeared into her thoughts. Thoughts of how he represented everything wrong in her life. And then he was back at their table. Carris choked on her milk.

The soldier stood between them, looking down with no emotion on his young face. He was but a few years older than Carris, but he had this self-important look to him as he had his thumbs tucked in his belt and stood tall as an oak tree. It would have made Carris laugh if he hadn’t shown up so suddenly.

She wiped her mouth from the spilled milk and set her mug down. He gave her a cursory glance and then turned to Kenway. When he spoke his voice was low, much lower than Carris expected for someone so young.

“Kenway, is it?”

Kenway looked a bit startled but recomposed himself. “Who is asking?”

“A captain in the Royal Army,” the soldier said. He breathed out his nose, his annoyance already apparent.

“And what would a captain want with an old librarian like me?” Kenway asked, offering a chuckle. But Carris sense tension in his rigid posture.

“A word. Outside.” He side-eyed Carris. “Alone.”

Carris could feel the jump in her heart. The last thing she wanted was to be alone in this hostel. And more than that, something was wrong about this situation, and it was quickly gnawing a new pit in her stomach where her hunger pangs had been filled. She looked to Kenway, but he shook his head no.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he said. He rose. “Tend to the horses. See if there isn’t some feed for them, and I’ll meet you out front when this captain and I have completed our business.”

Carris said nothing, only gulped as her throat tightened.

The two men left, vanishing into the crowd, as conversation returned. Somewhere in the back, someone started singing a ballad, and soon half the hostel had joined in. The juxtaposition between the cheerful singing and Carris’s mounting worry could not be starker. She rose and tried to push her way through the crowd. Some grumbled at her, but finally she reached the front door, sweaty but with chills running down her spine. She pushed the door open with her clammy hands. Those old men were still on the verandah, and before her, the sun was dipping behind the tallest mountain peaks.

She looked at the two horses. They were no doubt hungry as well. She should feed them. That’s what Kenway had said. But it didn’t feel right. Just like leaving her friends didn’t feel right. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to concentrate. Kenway and the captain had left, but not through the front door. She hurried down the verandah to the right, splashing through the mud as she rounded the corner. The space was empty until the stable rose up. The Gnofen river rushed by with power too great for the cold of winter to slow its an angry flow. But she couldn’t see it. There was a steep embankment that blocked her view as far as she could see. There was a mess of footprints in the snow. There was only one place out of her sightline, the back of the stable.

She crept across the space. It just felt right to stay low and out of sight of prying eyes. She reached the rough wood of the stable walls, pressing her hands up against the corner. Inside she heard the whinnies of horses, but there was a low conversation being held outside around the way. She peeked the corner. Her heart dropped in her chest.

Kenway was all the way up against the edge of the embankment. The captain had a dagger held to his chest. He was speaking.

“You will answer me truthfully, or you will not see the sun set.”

Carris looked over her shoulder. It was nearly sunset already!

“I do not know who you think I am, but I can assure you that you are mistaken!” Kenway said, all semblance of calm and composure gone. His voice cracked as he took a quick peek behind and below him into the rushing river. The captain stamped his foot.

“Do I look like someone who makes mistakes?” He hissed.

Kenway said nothing. He took a deep breath. This was to be his end, and it seemed he would not go screaming to his demise. He would take it as nobly as he knew how. Which seemed stupid to Carris. If she someone was to kill her it would be at her last breath as she bit and clawed. Her heart pounded in her chest. She could barely think, but all she knew was that she couldn’t let an innocent man be murdered.

Here she paused. She had so few facts. Who was Kenway, really? What did she know of him except the few things he had said. What if he was simply using her for her money and the horses, lulling her to sleep until her guard fell and he had no more use for her? She didn’t even know if his story was true, or if he had ever even been to Thessapon.

But the painting before her told her that Kenway was the innocent man in this situation. What good man holds another at knifepoint, demanding answers and threatening his life away from the public eye. If Kenway was a criminal, a traitor even, then the captain would have had no problem arresting him in the hostel. But he had pulled him away. And if he pushed him over the edge there wouldn’t even be evidence that he, or Kenway had conversed back here, let alone that he had killed him!

That was sound enough logic for Carris. She could feel her legs trembling and her arms going weak. She was about to do something crazy, all for an unknown. But she had to trust her instincts.

“Did you ascend the Flatheads two weeks past?” The captain was asking.

How did he know that? Only those in Potter’s Creek had been privy to this information. Had this captain been to her home? Had he threatened anyone she knew at knifepoint? She narrowed her eyes. Now she was full of anger at just the thought of Gwyn, Malcolm, even her mother, being under this soldier’s blade.

Kenway was fumbling for words.

The captain spat on the ground. “It’s as I thought. Your friend did not make it, but it seems you were able to weasel away. Not so this time.”

“Kill me if you must,” Kenway said.

“And the girl?”

Kenway’s eyes widened. “What of her?”

“Does she know?” The captain screamed, his face turning red as he inched closer to Kenway.

“She knows nothing,” Kenway said.

That was all Carris needed to hear to convince her body over her mind. He had no need to defend her. She was not working for him, and yet he had protected her. The captain was the enemy, and Kenway was faithful in the face of his own demise.

She stepped out from the corner, pressing her body against the stable wall. Her eyes scanned the ground, looking for a weapon. She had to get him away without pushing Kenway over the edge. A twenty-foot fall into the Gnofen River in the heart of winter could be a death sentence. She now realized that Kenway had seen her. If his eyes had been wide before, they were about to burst out of their sockets now.

The captain seemed to believe him. “Time for you to die then,” he said. “Time for Sadoria to reclaim her glory.”

Carris huffed. She was out of time. She could scarcely believe it, but her legs were still working. She pushed off the wall and sprinted straight for the captain’s back. He heard her at the last second, spinning around. As he was about to swing at her with her dagger, she closed her eyes and aimed for his midsection.

The collision smashed her neck, and she tumbled onto the ground, arms still wrapped around the captain. She opened her eyes. The captain shoved her off as Kenway and he fought for the dagger. Carris put everything into her legs and charged again, her view blinding with survivalist rage. The captain swung a backhand her way and she dodged instinctively, putting her on the brink of the embankment. She looked down. The white waters rushed by over craggy rocks and broken branches.

With the lightest of pushes she began to tumble over the edge, the ground crumbling beneath her feet. She reached out in desperation. Her fingers laced around a leather strap, and she grabbed onto it for her life. Unfortunately, the leather strap was part of a satchel looped around the captain’s back, and with all her weight pulling it to stay upright, even he could not stay standing while fighting for the dagger.

He dropped to his knees, pulling Kenway with him. Carris careened over the edge as the dirt crumbled away and was pulled taut as the strap reached the end of its flexibility. She frantically spun like a wind chime, looking for a foothold. A large tree root curled from the cliff, making a small handhold, an arms-length to her right. The captain’s eyes met her as she spindled in air. His eyes were black with fury, the veins in his neck and forehead bulging.

With a scream he lashed out at Kenway. His foot met the old man square in the knee, and he crumpled with a screech of pain that made Carris boil and her heart shrivel in anguish. She had never heard such a cry of pain. Fear was now gone, replaced with desperation. The captain tried to stand upright, brandishing his dagger, but Carris’s weight forced him to choose between her and Kenway.

He chose her.

The first swing whooshed by her head as he tried to swing over the edge without tumbling. Carris’s fingers brushed the root. The captain yanked the strap, pulling her back. Still on all fours, he leaned over the edge, farther this time. His arm rose in the air and he swung again. Carris ducked which tugged on the satchel and pulled his chin directly into the ground with a thud.

In the moment, Carris could barely think, but why he didn’t cut the satchel away vaguely caught her attention. Kenway’s head appeared over top of him, his face caked with mud and tears streaming down his disheveled face. With a yell he brought a fist down. It cracked across the captain’s face and drove his face back into the ground. He swung back again, but Kenway caught his wrist with both hands. It was an unfair match of strength, and Kenway would surely lose. But it seemed that he would not go silently either, and to Carris’s surprise he bit down on the captain’s hand like a hungry man does to a corn cob.

The captain cried out in pain and the dagger tumbled out of his hands. Carris kicked off the embankment and caught it by the blade, wincing as she felt the warm blood trickle across her fingers. She let her momentum take her back toward the exposed tree root and reached out, grabbing it with her left hand and flicking the dagger into her right. With a slash she cut the leather strap that had been her would-be death trap. The sudden loss of pull on the captain caused him to stumble forward, right into Kenway’s arms. With a two-handed shove he pushed the captain to the edge. For a moment the soldier was suspended in mid-air. He made eye contact with Carris, his pupils tiny, his eyes wide and blue as the oceans, and then pinioned down the embankment and was dragged under the dark waters of the unforgiving Gnofen River.