Virelya exited the front doors to the keep the heavy wooden doors closing behind her. Standing at the top of the stone stairs she looked at the city sprawling out before the keep. The streets were coming to life vendors setting up their booths of wears and foods. The smell of fresh baked goods and smoked meats wafted up to her as she made her way down the steps to the dirt streets.

  In the chaos she could hear conversations of people’s everyday lives.

  She pulled the hood of her cloak up hiding her face. As she made her way through the streets she knew by heart she listened as vendors argued over prices with customers. A group of children ran past her laughing and paid no mind to the black clad shadow that walked the street near them. One children tripped in front of her landing on her knees and immediately crying.

  She stepped back unsure what to do in this situation. The child’s mother came quickly running up and scooped the child up in her arms kissing the tears from her cheeks. The child wrapped her little arms around her mother neck and buried her face in her shoulder the young mother looked towards Virelya with a soft smile nodding greeting before walking back to the small home she had emerged from and going inside. A peek in the door and Virelya could see the warm colors and fire places burning. A cast iron pot simmered over the fire. She had a sudden feeling in her chest and quickly looked away in the chaos it all seemed normal, not evil or awful like Arethyn has described chaos to her as.

  A warm pulse at her wrist reminded her of her real task at hand and she turned down the side street that would lead to the inn on the river.

  The inn was an old stone building that sat just along the rivers edge the moss towing on the stones and the damp smell of the slow moving water. It made the inn look like it was built there but had grown naturally with the trees on the rivers edge. She stood for a moment across the lane, observing. People entered the inn and she could hear the sounds of laughter and dishes in the main area. She looked up to the upper level of the inn counting windows.

  One. Two. Three. There in the third window she saw the historian bent over the desk near the window parchments scattered across the desks surface. He stood and ran his hand through his shoulder length blonde hair before looking to the window. He made eye contact with Virelya no fear shown in his face a gentle smile on his face before he returned his attention to the stacks in the desk.

  Virelya hesitated, he looked so…normal? He was younger and more put together than she had anticipated. He didn’t look like someone trying to make an army to cause chaos that would endanger anyone. Were Arethyn’s sources mistaken?

  A quick sharp tingle at her left wrist flared at these thoughts.

  “I’m going” Virelya whispered Heather to herself or the tattoo she wasn’t really sure.

  She crossed the lane and made her way into the dining area of the inn. She found a table in the corner and seated herself, no one paid her any mind. The barmaid made her way over to her apron hanging comfortably over her brown skirts.

  “Would you like to place an order or a room my dear?” Her voice was light and airy and her eyes were bright as she looked down at Virelya.

  “I’ll just take some water please.”

  The barmaid smiled again and walked away. Virelya studied the dining area noting the tables, friends and couples gathered with each other enjoying breakfast. No one even looked at her, they didn’t even realize there was a deadly weapon sitting in the same room as them.

  From her peripheral vision she saw a figure moving down the stairs. The historian appeared and ran his gaze through the room picking a table just to the left of the one where she was seated.

  He had parchment with him and was calm and collected. A large man entered the front door and his eyes lit up as they landed on the historian. He walked over and patted his on the shoulder with a genuine laugh before seating himself in front of him.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The inn was too loud to hear their conversation but she could see their mouths moving in easy conversation. The barmaid returned setting her drink in front of her.

  “Ahh you’ve taken notice of Dornath. His been here a few days they customers love him. He is so nice and his story telling is amazing.”

  Virelya looked to the maid. “He’s been telling stories to the customers?”

  The maid pulled her gaze from the two men back to Virelya. “Oh yes and they are epic tales of magic.”

  Virelya looked back to the table both men now bent down over the parchments studying. Almost as if he could feel her stare Dornath looked her way. His brows pulled together slightly before he went back to his work.

  The maid watched the exchange with curiosity. “He won’t mind if you interrupt he’s happy to tell his tales.”

  Virelya nodding absently to the maid and felt a pulse at her wrist again.

  She sat watching the two men for a bit more before the large man clasped Dornath on the shoulder again and walking back out the door. The historian gather his stacks of parchment and headed back up the stairs. On silent feet Virelya slipped up the stairs behind him keeping to the shadows.

  She made her way dow ln the hall and noticed he had left his door open. She hid in the shadows outside of it. Watching. His back was to her and he continued straightening his stacks of parchments before he said without turning.

  “You’re welcome to enter my lady.”

  His voice was deep, calming. It reminded her of something she just couldn’t place it.

  “You have questions or a story you’d like to share?” He turned to face her as she stood in the doorway hand hovering over the hidden dagger at her side.

  When she didn’t answer he titled his head and gave her a once over.

  “You’re not here for a story are you? You’re here for me?”

  Again Virelya didn’t answer watching as he calmly started gathering his papers again.

  “I’ve always known that sharing and gathering these old stories would get someone’s attention.” He sighed slightly finally closing the clasp on his bag and putting it over his shoulder. “Not here my dear, these people have done nothing to deserve to find my body. I was planning to leave let’s make our way to the woods and river at least I can feel the sun before I go.”

  “You aren’t afraid?” The words spilled out of Virelya before she could stope them.

  Dornath glanced at her with surprise, not at the question itself but that she had even spoken.

  “Oh I am my dear. Just not of you.”

  She wasn’t sure what caused her to agree but Virelya stepped to the side allowing him to exit into the hall. She followed his down the stairs and they made their way through the dining area and out the front door.

  The sun had reached the midday area of the sky by now and she followed quietly behind the historian as he made his way towards a clearing in the trees a ways down river from the inn.

  “Most people think that power is loud.” Dornath continued stepping over a root in the path. “That it shows itself with obvious violence. Enduring power almost never is. It’s quiet and sneaks up on you gaining your trust before you realize what you’ve given it.” He smiles softly at her.

  The rune at her wrist warmed with slightly more intensity. Not a command yet but a warning…complete the task.

  Dornath didn’t notice her discomfort as he sat gently on the ground before making a swat for himself on a stump. Virelya found herself sitting on a log across from him.

  Dornath continued, “The stories and records I gather rarely speak of rulers. They speak of the ones who carried things for them. Those who were told the actions that were asked of them were necessary…protective.”

  He looked down at his ink covered hands. “There are even more ancient records,” his voice was soft nearly a whisper above the flowing river. “They speak of those bound to oaths without choosing, wound so tightly around them they can’t tell where the oath begins and they end.”

  He looks up at her with warm eyes. The tattoo at her wrist burns now and she flinches as her hands finds the dagger in its sheath. He glances at her left wrist.

  “Whatever you’ve been told, freedom is not granted. It’s painful and fought for it often feels like death itself.”

  She slowly slips the dagger for the sheath and Dornath’s eyes flick to it then to hers looking almost sad. “If you’ve come to be my demise.” His words are soft, gentle. “Make sure you are certain of your actions and not just because someone told you it was the only way.”

  An intense pain hits Virelya’s left wrist shooting up her arm into her shoulder making her gasp as her dagger drops to the ground.

  She looked at Dornath, wide eyed with terror.

  He didn’t move. He didn’t run. He met her terrified eyes with soft understanding.

  And for the first time something inside her cracked open.

  Virelya fell to her knees