Fortress Walls

Chapter X, Part 3

Tariq looked warily up at the shopkeeper.

“I’m not going to turn you in,” the man said, “if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t approve of how the hunter’s guild is run here. But I’ll warn you. You ought to get out of town as soon as you can, and stay in the Wilderness from now on. Officials have issued these to all the border towns and all the guilds. They’ll do anything to intercept you before you leave the country.”

“Oh,” Tariq said, staring at his wanted poster again.

A moment passed. Then he looked up and said, “Thank you.”

The shopkeeper smiled at him. “The least I can do, boy. I’m sure your city friends will be disappointed to leave town without one night in a bed.”

“They will,” Tariq said, holding in a sigh.

“If you think you can risk staying the night, I can recommend an inn where you’ll be safe. The innkeeper is a friend of mine, and like-minded. He’ll look the other way and keep his mouth shut if one of your friends books a room for you.”

Tariq thought for a minute. He had, after all, promised his companions a good night’s sleep. If he was vigilant...

“Please,” he said. “I would be much obliged.”

The shopkeeper nodded. “I’ll write you a note.”

He ripped off a sheet of paper from a notepad, uncapped a fountain pen, and began scribbling. As he wrote, he glanced up at the big shop windows facing the street, and suddenly he stiffened. A blot of black ink began spreading at the tip of his pen pressed to the paper.

He dropped the pen, grabbed Tariq’s collar, and dragged him across the counter. He wasn’t very strong, but Tariq was too taken by surprise to resist, and he scrambled along with the man’s tugging, sending the wanted poster floating to the floor.

“Hide,” the shopkeeper was hissing, pushing Tariq into the space underneath the counter, out of sight from the rest of the shop. In a state of semi-shock, Tariq curled up. His wanted poster settled nearby and lay staring menacingly up at him. He was near the point of panic, but he stayed frozen and dead silent. He knew better than to foolishly ask what was going on.

Above him, the shopkeeper’s fountain pen resumed its calm, unhurried scratching.

~

Phineas, Cass, and Sutton loitered on the street outside the shop. It seemed it would be a while until Tariq came out, so they’d set down their grocery bags and sat on a low bench near the shop door. The street was not so busy as it had been earlier. The sun was golden on the cobbles, but it had grown colder. They looked forward to spending the night indoors.

Phineas was counting the contents of his purse, weighing the merits of finding a place to buy coats, when Cass nudged him and nodded towards the street. Three rather strange-looking men walking by had slowed down to stare at them in a way that was much different than mere curiosity.

Two of them were clearly Tavarian: one a huge hulk of a man with a bald head and a bare chest despite the cold, the other a slight figure wearing a mask and double swords like Tariq’s. The man in the middle, though, seemed neither Tavarian nor Andean, nor even somewhere in between. He was something of his own, and his fanged smile and his too-friendly eyes as he stopped to look at them gave Phineas shivers.

Phineas stood up as they approached, wary. He hoped Tariq would come out soon and send these suspicious-looking men packing.

“Hullo,” he said cautiously. “Can we help you?”

The odd man’s smile was much too excited as he looked Phineas up and down. After a moment he let out a high-pitched snicker and snatched Phineas by the collar, pulling him off balance with a strength that didn’t match his small size.

Cass and Sutton jumped up in alarm, but they didn’t get far. Sutton choked, put in a headlock by the larger man. Cass found himself lying against the bench on his back, twin blades at his throat. Fear washed over him in a wave as he stared at the mask above him—a blank, paper-white, androgynous human face. Even the dark eyes behind the mask were frighteningly expressionless. He pulled his gaze away, shaking, to look at the blades—not swords like Tariq had, but scythes. He’d never been so terrified in his life.

Mayhem toyed with his cudgel, studying Phineas’ face delightedly as he held the boy pinned and helpless. He laughed again and let go. Phineas made to move, but his captor slid the masked man a languid look.

“Kill that one, Draeger.”

The masked man’s hands tightened on the scythe handles, preparing to slash Cass’ throat, and Phineas cried out in horror.

“Don’t! Please! I won’t move, I swear!”

Mayhem nodded, and Draeger relaxed. Phineas slumped onto the bench in relief; Cass was pale as a sheet, sweat beading on his forehead.

“What do you want?” Phineas said, his voice shaking.

Mayhem was pulling on gloves. “You,” he said with another snicker. “Highly dangerous individual, my foot. This is our easiest gig yet. You didn’t even put up a fight, my little fugitive. I thought you wouldn’t be so foolish as to show your face in a border town, at least.”

It struck Phineas suddenly, what the men were, who they thought he was. He panicked. Survival instincts kicked in.

“I-I’m not him,” he stammered. “The—the man you’re looking for—he's missing his leg, isn’t he?” Frantically, he pulled up his trousers, revealing two normal flesh-and-bone legs. “I’m not him, see? I’ve got nothing to do with him. I’m not the one you’re looking for.”

Mayhem’s face shifted into a scowl. He pulled the rumpled Wanted poster out of his pocket and turned it over to read the description again. He cursed.

“You’re right. Says he’s got a prosthetic. Dammit.”

His smile returned, but smooth and apologetic this time as he stuffed the poster back into the pocket and pulled off the gloves.

“I am so sorry, my friend. It appears we’ve made a mistake. Feel free to submit a complaint about me to the Hunter’s Guild. They’re used to it. Tormey, Draeger, you can let his friends go.”

The two bounty hunters backed off, leaving Sutton and Cass stunned and speechless.

Mayhem bowed at them. “Goodnight, my new friends. Behold, we continue our search elsewhere.” With a flourish of his hand, he beckoned his companions to follow him into the shop.

The boys looked at each other in horror.

Tariq’s in there.

~

The bell on the door tinkled, and the shopkeeper looked up with a bright smile. “Welcome! How may I help you?”

His smile faded.

Mayhem swaggered to the counter. “My dear Kabiri! Nothing, nothing at all! I merely had a question. I know you get quite a few travelers, and we’re on a new hunt.”

The shopkeeper sighed. “Do you have a picture?”

Mayhem pulled out the crumpled poster, spreading it almost lovingly on the counter. “Look at him, our latest prey. Look at the price on this cute little boy. Thought I saw him outside, but I must’ve been so excited I made a mistake and almost frightened the life out of some poor stranger!” His high-pitched laugh rang through the shop. “Anyway, have you seen this fellow?”

Kabiri peered at the picture for a long time. “An Andean boy, h’m. Blonde, gray eyes, limp...can’t say I’ve seen him. There was an Andean in here just now, about his age, looked like him, too. But I don’t think he was the one.”

“Yes, I think we saw the same one.” Mayhem retrieved his poster, disappointed. “You sure you haven’t seen him?”

“Unfortunately, I’m sure, Mayhem. Thank you for your service.”

Mayhem grinned and bowed. “Of course, old man, of course. Have a beautiful night. We won’t bother you any longer.”

Kabiri waved with all the amiability he could muster as the bounty hunters left.

But Draeger lingered. He took off his mask and stood fidgeting, his eyes uncertain and pleading. Kabiri bent an unfriendly look on him.

“Dack. What’s wrong?”

Draeger tucked the mask under one arm as his hands flew. Kabiri watched carefully, then confirmed, “You want to know where Glory is.”

The young man nodded hopefully.

“She’s not around right now,” Kabiri lied.

Draeger’s face fell, but he shrugged, put his mask back on, bowed, and followed his companions out of the shop.

Kabiri sat still for quite a long time.

The bell on the door tinkled again and he looked up, feeling exhausted. But it was only the other Andean boys, their faces stretched with raw fear.

“My brother—is he—”

Kabiri pushed his chair back a little to look under the counter and said, “They’re gone now. You can come out.”

Tariq unfolded himself from beneath the counter. Phineas slumped his shoulders in relief and dashed around the counter to grab him in a hug.

Tariq flinched and pushed him off.

“You didn’t lose our groceries, did you?” he asked, frowning at his companions.

“No, they’re outside on the bench.”

“We should go,” Tariq said. He bowed slightly to the shopkeeper. “Thank you for your help, sir. I’m very indebted to you.”

“Wait. I haven’t finished writing your note.” The shopkeeper retrieved his pen, and the boys waited as he scribbled down a couple more sentences. Sutton trotted outside to make sure no one stole the supplies, saying he’d meet them around the back.

The shopkeeper folded the note and wrote an address on the back, handing it to Tariq. “The Green Stag. It’s on the other side of town, but you can reach it by following this same backstreet behind the shop. Be careful, and good luck.”

Tariq took the note and thanked him again with another slight bow.

They left the shop by the back door. Sutton was waiting for them in the back alley.

“Why’d he help us?” Phineas asked, rubbing his throat, still jumpy from his encounter with the hunters.

“I never ask why.” Tariq looked at the address and started leading the way down the alley. “Someone helps you, you thank them and move on. Knowing why complicates things.”

They followed him, bewildered as ever.

A pair of unfriendly eyes watched them go. Wedged in the narrow space between the shop and the next building over, the shopkeeper’s daughter took a pull on a cigarette and glared after the customers. She’d hidden when the back door opened, ashamed at her defeat.

“Bastards,” she whispered in her own language, spitting on the ground between her steel-toed boots. She blew out a cloud of smoke, imagining she was a fire-breathing dragon like in the legends. If only she really could burn them all to ashes.

~

Tariq shifted the bag of groceries to his other arm and glanced at the address again.

He'd pulled his hood up, wary even in the empty alleyway. The setting sun tinted the roofs above them a rosy glow, but the light didn’t reach any further than the roofs, and the street was soft with purple darkness. All the same, he kept his face shielded. He didn’t want to take any chances.

The boys’ mood was disintegrating, though. Cass was surly, Phineas afraid of every shifting shadow, and Sutton disappointed that they couldn’t spend time seeing the town. They’d complained until Tariq had threatened to skip the inn and make them sleep in the woods like usual—that shut them up for a little while.

They’d walked for a little while before they realized Sutton had stopped. Cass made a noise like a dying cow, and Phineas plucked Tariq’s sleeve.

Tariq let out a poorly suppressed moan. Sutton stood a ways back down the street, nearly invisible in the growing dark, staring at something.

Tariq shifted the bag of groceries again. He didn’t want to shout and attract attention, so he walked back the way they’d come, gritting his teeth all the way.

Sutton was staring up at a shop’s back door. “Please,” he mumbled as Tariq came up. “Please, Tariq. Just one fun thing before we keep running.”

Tariq looked up at the door. A curtain covered the window, but a soft glow came from the other side, and behind the glass was a note: Come in, we’re open. The dark purple paint on the sign over the door was old and peeling, with gold stars sloppily painted around the words “Fortune Teller.”

“Let’s get our fortunes told,” Sutton pleaded. “We can even go in the back here. We won’t get caught. Please, Tariq.”

Tariq scowled. “Abso-lutely not. You want a repeat of what happened at the supply store?”

“But no one will be in a place like this, not at this time of day. Everyone’s at home having supper.”

Tariq looked at Cass and Phineas. “Tell him we can’t.”

Cass shrugged, a malicious look on his face, and Phineas said, blushing, “I actually would like to. Sutton’s right—there's no way we’ll get caught here.”

Tariq pulled his hood down, frustrated. “No. We should get to the inn as soon as possible. You all were acting all scared just a little while ago cause of those bounty hunters. Why are you changing your tune, and over a fortune teller at that? That’s just stupid.”

Phineas tugged his sleeve. “Come on. It’s just for fun. We haven’t done anything fun this whole trip. It won’t take long.”

“This isn’t a vacation.”

“Still. It can’t hurt, can it?”

“Go ahead then without me. I’m not getting mine told.”

Phineas tugged his elbow a little harder. “Just come inside. Please? If you wait in the street, even back here, you’re more likely to be seen.”

Tariq shook him off, too irritated to argue anymore. He relented, and they entered the building.

A shiny bauble over the door tinkled as it opened, catching the lamp and sending shards of light fleeing across the walls and floor. Purple curtains swathed the interior, hiding the rest of the room. An old Tavarian woman sat knitting in a rocking chair in the front, a strange, lumpy rug piled at her feet. She hardly looked exceptional, nothing like the mysterious, magical figure the boys had been expecting. She looked up and smiled at the boys as they came in.

“Welcome. All four of you want readings?”

“Just the three of us,” Sutton said, pointing to himself, Phineas, and Cass. He was nearly hopping with excitement.

She stood up, setting aside her knitting. “Separately, or together?”

They exchanged nervous grins. “Let’s do it together.”

“Alright, follow me.” She noticed Tariq standing awkwardly by the door, head down. “You too, lad?”

“No,” he growled.

She looked at him askance, but beckoned the other three behind the curtains. They billowed around the group, then fell shut.

Tariq, left alone, shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He set down the groceries by the door. He wished to be anywhere else. He wished he hadn’t caved.

There was a scrabbling noise by the chair, startling him. The strange rug had gotten up and was trotting over to sniff at his boots.

He squatted to inspect it, curious. A wet nose poked his hand, and then a very small pink tongue began to lick it with relish, intrigued by the unwashed flavor. Tariq rubbed the thing with his other hand and found that underneath all the hair, it was vaguely dog-shaped. He sat cross-legged on the floor, picked the little animal up, and scratched it more vigorously. It seemed to like that quite a bit—it jumped up to put two tiny paws on his chest and just barely grazed his chin with its tongue. He almost giggled.

The dog quite distracted him from the murmur of voices behind the curtain, so he was surprised when his companions reappeared, clearly excited over their results. Suddenly shy, he curled himself around the dog a little more.

The old woman’s slippered feet appeared in front of him. “I see you’ve made friends with my Genie.”

The dog wriggled out of his arms and returned happily to its mistress, emitting a series of sharp, high-pitched barks. Tariq got to his feet reluctantly, removing several long hairs from his shirt.

His brother patted his shoulder. “You ought to get yours told too. I'll pay for it.”

“Don’t waste your money on a scam,” Tariq grumbled, eyeing the old woman, who eyed him back in a distinctly strange way. It gave him shivers. Had she recognized him...?

“I’ll tell yours on the house,” she said suddenly. “Genie doesn’t like many people.”

“No thanks.”

“Come on,” Sutton said. “It was great fun.”

“I said no.”

Phineas pushed him forward. “Brother, she said she’ll do it for free. Just be gracious.”

“I’ll let you hold Genie,” the fortune teller said.

Overwhelmed, and angry at himself for being overwhelmed, he gave in, snarling, “But I don’t set any store by it. Foolish superstition.”

“Says the one who makes us follow a set of silly Rules,” snickered Cass as the old woman deposited the dog in Tariq’s arms and led him behind the curtain. The other three boys made to follow, but she lifted an imperious hand to stop them.

“No. Only him. Stay out.”

Abashed, they stepped back, and the curtains fell around Tariq. He clutched the dog, unnerved by the heavy fabric pressing in on him. It was hard to breathe. The woman’s hand, stronger than it had looked, took hold of his elbow and pulled him into the alcove.

Hey Dear Readers!!! Me here 👻

Fact of the day: Tariq is a dog person 🐶🥰 He especially likes small dogs (whereas Phineas and I like big ones). Share this post if you agree with Tariq <3

Ok bye for now! I know I’ve said this before, but please comment with feedback and/or criticism, I always want to hear what I can do to improve my writing, and it means a lot to me to hear from y’all. Thanks for reading 😘