Prophecy of Thieves [chapter 23.1]

Almost everything had gone wrong in Styrka. They had stolen layouts that were of no use, wounding Rieka’s side in the process; they had almost starved and died of dehydration within the Kiertsk mountains; they had almost been killed by a dragon, Rieka once again sustaining injuries; and now they were out of food and water, looking down into the port city of Styrka with aching stomachs and dry mouths. Yet, Rieka wasn’t pissed—she wasn’t even ready to leave Styrka. Instead, she found herself longing to stay, even if it meant another night with an empty stomach.

At the base of the last mountains in the Kiertsk range, the sprawling city of Trigovnik lay. It was a web of stone, wooden, and brick buildings, the streets arranged in no logical order. The ocean sprawled just beyond, the waters a dull grey-blue, white foam lapping along the rocky shores. The docks were flooded with ships of all sizes, some bearing the seal of Bahajad, Arlan, and Larabos.

Rieka knew that the minute she entered, any peace she had managed to gather within the mountains would be demolished. She would be surrounded by chattering crowds and busy streets. Not to mention, entering the city would signify the nearing end to her journey. They would board a ship and sail to Bahajad, leaving her home country once and for all. She doubted she could ever return. Not after she had been seen within the fortress, only solidifying her treachery against Styrka.

The others obviously didn’t share in her melancholy as they continued forward without a second glance to the harsh mountains behind them. She waited a brief moment as they continued ahead, their horses stumbling weakly down the steep slope. Glancing behind her, she took in the sight one last time. The towering pine trees, the snow coated on their needles; the trampled path their horses had taken, winding up the slope; the fragmented sunlight spotting the snow, bright against the shadows.

Her horse shifted beneath her, sweating through its coat despite the chill, and froth forming at its mouth. While she wished to stay in the mountains one more day, she knew her horse wouldn’t make it that long. It needed water and food as much as she did—more even.

Rieka sighed and turned away. The others were already halfway down the slope, nearing the flat expanse before the port city.

Rieka urged her horse forward, her chest constricting as she began to follow behind. She had left Styrka before and survived. She didn’t see why this was any different. If anything, she should’ve been more prepared, the impact of losing her home all the more diminished.

One thing she was sure of was that thinking about her feelings was a waste of time. She shook her head at her own idiocy. Her stupid heart loved to cling to what it couldn’t have.

“Enjoying the scenery one last time?” Ren joked as she caught up to the others, his voice a dry rasp. Sharing a saddle with the prince, he looked more comical than ever. While the prince was scrawny, Ren was smaller, matching him in thinness yet shrinking in height. He looked like a child, grinning at her from where he was nestled into a very uncomfortable prince.

“Only feeling disappointed you didn’t die within the slopes,” she bit back.

“You always turn to murder whenever you are feeling sentimental,” he pointed out.

“Wrong,” she retorted. “I always turn to murder whenever you are involved in the conversation. With how annoying you are, it’s not surprising.”

Ren sighed, turning back to the dirt road to Trigovnik. “I think this will be the first city I will enjoy in Styrka,” he mused, swaying his bandaged feet from beside his horse’s skeletal torso. “Full of merchants from across the world selling their goods… It’s perfect for a thief.”

“No breaking the law,” Kai said from ahead of them. He turned in his saddle, grimacing in discomfort. “We shouldn’t be bringing any more attention to ourselves.”

“Have you learned nothing, dear Kai?” Ren asked. “I’m a magnificent thief. No one will know I stole from them.”

“Regardless,” he said, shifting uncomfortably, “No need to break laws unnecessarily.”

“Since when did you think I only broke the law out of necessity?” Ren mused, shaking his head. He turned to Rieka and jerked his thumb to Kai, brows raised. “Pft. Fool.”

Rieka couldn’t help but chuckle. She bit her cheek to hide it, but failed miserably. Turning away before Ren would notice, she forced her smile to die, replacing it with a scowl.

The sounds of the city began to reach them on the road despite the distance still left to travel. There was a muted clatter of wheels on cobblestone, neighing of horses, and the chatter of a city full of people. Rieka’s gut only sank the closer those sounds grew.

Having taken account of all the gold left on them that morning, they had plenty left to buy seven tickets to Bahajad. Rieka knew that was all due to Ren, for half their gold was in the form of stolen trinkets from the guards in Reindale’s palace. After selling it at a pawn shop within Trigovnik, their pouches would be filled with gold.

Rieka almost wished they were short on coin. Then, staying in Styrka another day would be necessary as they gathered money—or as Ren gathered money, she supposed. But no, she was being foolish again. It made far more sense to leave now before anyone noticed their theft.

Rieka’s eyes drew to the sword strapped into Kai’s belt. Under daylight when the blade didn’t glow, it could pass off as any other weapon. Unless, of course, the person inspecting it was Styrkish, in which case they would recognize the shape and color of the metal from storybooks and paintings.

During their trek down the slopes, the air had begun to grow increasingly warmer. While it still nipped at her skin and maintained the snow coating the flat plains around her, she felt almost suffocated under all her fur and wool layers. Rieka panted, pulling at the collar of her coat. Her poor horse didn’t fare any better, sweating profusely.

The further she separated from the slopes, the more each physical toll within the mountains struck. Her mouth felt stuffed with cotton, her stomach hollowed out. Each muscle began to sag, exhaustion looming over her with a heavy weight. Even her wound, which she had done well to ignore, began to ache fiercely, the pain thrumming across her torso.

Rieka pressed her palm into the wound with a scowl, the pressure amplifying the pain. She could handle a small wound and a bit of dehydration. She had dealt with worse in Arlan.

The trodden, dirt road began to meld with stone. Their horses' hooves clopped against it, the sound blending with the increasing noise of the city.

“Can we have a feast?” Shadya blurted, leaning forward in her shared saddle with Amani to try to get a glimpse within the city. All they could see were the edges of surrounding buildings.

“Definitely,” Rieka agreed readily. A feast of Styrkish food before she left. It was the only goodbye she was going to get from her home.

“Yes,” the prince said, his voice contemplative. “We might have to sail out tomorrow morning.”

Rieka shoved down her rising relief. She shouldn’t be this relieved over a few measly hours.

“A feast does sound wonderful. Although, darling Rieka,” Ren prodded. “Do the Styrkish make sweets or is it all fish, meat, and cabbage?”

“It’s not all fish, meat, and cabbage,” she grumbled. “There’s plenty of Styrkish foods, all of it delicious.”

“I’m going to have to disagree with you on that,” he muttered. “That pickled fish in that one small village before the Kiertsk mountains? Not delicious.”

Rieka rolled her eyes, ignoring him. The thought of a feast though… Her hunger began anew, gnawing at her stomach with such force she felt nauseous. She placed a hand to her hollow gut, grimacing.

Not only did her stomach ache fiercely, but she had grown so thirsty her lungs burned and her mouth tasted like sand. Rieka licked her lips, trying to wet them, but her tongue only caught on jagged, chapped skin.

Stars, she would give up a feast for a single cup of water. Even a sip. She would even take the musty shit in Reindale that made her stomach churn.

As they began to enter the city, all she could envision was the water she could get. It wasn’t often she wanted water over alcohol, but today was one of those days.

The city was vibrant—more so than Aryotsk. Tapestries and banners were displayed out of windows, and merchants set up stalls filled with colored cloths and different goods from across the world. Unlike the rest of Styrka, the streets were filled with foreigners, all different languages chorusing against her ears in a chaotic symphony.

Among the crowds were marching warriors, more filling the streets than in the capital. Rieka hid her face from them on impulse, her heart thrumming against her chest.

They rode through the busy streets for a while, Rieka watching the passersby. Children laughed, running along the streets playing with toys. Merchants shouted at customers and customers shouted back, bargaining their wares. Everything was so… normal. Rieka felt as though she had been plucked from another world and placed into this one.

Only a day ago, they had all been huddled around a fire, stomachs aching and mouths parched. Three days ago, she had been sitting in a cave, blood oozing from her side, a dead dragon mere steps away. So much had happened, yet the world didn’t know about any of it. Rieka didn’t know why she had expected it to.

She reached up to touch her face, her cheekbones sharp and her eyes hollow. As she took a deep breath, it scraped her lungs like shards of glass. No one paid her or her companions a second glance as they rode. Not even with their travel-worn appearances, tattered clothes, and thin, panting horses. In a city so big and magnificent as Trigovnik, no one bothered to care.

They ended up stopping at a row of stables, paying the stableboy a gold coin before pulling their horses inside. As Rieka dismounted, her weak legs wobbled beneath her, black flooding her vision. She swayed, cursing under her breath. Stars, she was so weak.

The minute they tugged their horses towards the trough of water, the beasts buried their heads within it, lapping greedily. As they drank, she began undoing the saddle and packs, her movements sluggish.

“What’s going to happen to the horses?” Shadya asked, petting her horse’s muzzle.

“We will leave them here,” the prince said. “When no one comes to claim them, they will likely be sold to a new owner.”

“Why wouldn’t we just sell them ourselves?” Ren mused, leaning heavily upon the wooden wall of the stables, hissing as his bandaged feet shifted on the dirt floor.

“It would take too long to gather buyers. We need to leave sooner rather than later,” the prince responded.

“Yes,” Kai murmured, sheets of paper in hand. “We do.”

“What is that?” Rieka grumbled, stepping forward to snatch the papers from him. As she stared down at them, her gut sank.

“Is that me?” Ren asked, peering over her shoulder. He supported his weight upon the wall of the stables, keeping most of the pressure off of his feet. “Can’t be. I’m way more attractive than that.”

Kai gave him a look. “We are wanted as criminals of Styrka with our faces posted all across the country, and that’s your first concern?”

Ren snagged his wanted poster from Rieka’s hand and held it for them all to see. “Look! It’s an injustice.”

She scowled, snatching the paper back. They had gotten much wrong. His hair had been sheared off and his eyes were large and bug-like. “I’d say it’s an improvement,” she said.

“Put those away,” Kai hissed, glancing to the entrance of the stables.

Rieka couldn’t stop staring at the posters. In bold, Styrkish letters along the top, it read, “Wanted! Criminals of Styrka, dangerous and armed. Report to the nearest guard if seen.”

It was official. She was no longer merely banished from her home, she was labeled a criminal to it. Not just a criminal, but a true traitor, the worst dishonor one could bring. Though neither her name nor the others were written upon the forms, it changed nothing. Anyone she once knew and loved would recognize the drawn image of her instantly.

Rieka shoved them violently into the pack strung across her shoulder. Her thirst and hunger drowned beneath the buzzing in her skull. The gold. She was here for the gold.

No, she was a fool. She had accepted this ridiculous prophecy because she had held the delusion that gold could solve all her problems. The truth was, there was a reason the Styrkish didn’t place such importance in wealth and valued loyalty and honor above all. Wealth couldn’t solve any of the problems at her feet. It couldn’t buy back her family’s acceptance and it definitely couldn’t buy her place in Styrka’s society.

She had chained herself to a prophecy written by gods that weren’t her own, and the only thing she had gotten from it was being titled a traitor to her home. She had come too far, now, to abandon the gold. The damage to her reputation was complete, and she would need it now more than ever to build some semblance of a life for herself beyond it.

Rieka shook her head, staring out onto the busy street as the others finished unsaddling their horses. She was being foolish once more, thinking about such things. There was truly no difference between her banishment and her new traitorous title. Both only certified that return to Styrka was impossible, a fact she had already been aware of. There was no reason in sulking over it like a child.

Her self-scolding did little to quell the rising… Anger? Sorrow? Whatever emotion was choking her throat and churning her empty stomach.

Rieka was sick of feeling things. She wished she could close her eyes and when she opened them, her chest would be hollow of any emotions at all. Instead, when Rieka opened her eyes, nothing had changed. She was still just a foolish, sentimental child pining after her lost life.