Winged Shadow Chapter II

Winged Shadow

Chapter II: Moving On

Delila walked quickly on the well-worn cobble path in the town. It was called Emerald Valley, but the townspeople referred to it as “The Town”. She had been to this town many times, trading and buying from the shops. She had only been here twice on market day, for although  there were cheaper prices, there were large crowds.

Today was a market day, and the streets were bustling with hurrying people. She could hear the market vendors advertising their wares with loud yells. She had not brought a lot of money, and she was determined not to spend it unless absolutely necessary.

Her resolve faltered almost immediately, for as she passed a pale wooden stand, she could smell a delicious fragrance of sweet cherry pie wafting through the air toward her. She turned, and saw that the vendor was a very fat, bald man whose head was shining with sweat. He had a large moustache. He saw her looking, and exclaimed,

“You would like to try, yes? Very tasty! Straight out of the oven!”

Delila looked at the sign, which said “One copper a piece, one silver a pie!” on it it fancy, loopy writing. She had taken with her one royal, two silvers, and five coppers.

“Yes, I think I’ll have one slice,” she told the vendor.

“Good! Here you are,” he said as he gave her a piping hot piece. She plunked a copper down onto his tray. As she walked away, she scarfed it down, burning her tongue.

She traveled on and found a sign with a lily on the front of a two story building. She guessed it was the inn her parents had told her about, “The Painted Lily.” She almost went inside, but then remembered her parents saying that it was very pricey, a royal per night. She could not afford that. So instead, she followed the path out of the village and found a large tree with branches full of needles. The ground had a blanket of heather and brush, so she set up her blanket beneath it and laid down, her head on her small pack. As the moon reflected on a small silvery puddle, a feeling of giddiness sprung up inside her. She was free. She was free, independent and searching for the warrior clans. She closed her eyes, happy with her lot in life.

✦

“I’ve missed you,” her mother said, smiling. “Why don’t you come home?”

“That wasn’t home, Mother. I’m searching for my real home, fighting among the warrior clans,” Delila told her sadly.

“What?!? Disgrace! You have shamed me!” Her mother screeched, furious.

“Mother-”
“No! Just shut up! Don’t come home, and don’t call me Mother! I don’t want to be related to a dirty mongrel!” Delila’s mother stalked away angrily.

“Mother - no - come back!” Delila yelled after her. Her voice echoed in the looming blackness of the forest. She felt so alone, with no defense against the darkness that was creeping up on her.

She woke, sweating. She sat up, hitting her head on a thick bulky branch. She reached her hand up, and felt a large bump on the back of her head. The bloated bump throbbed, and her stomach growled. She reached her hand into her pack, and realized that her fingers were still clenched around a knife. She massaged them open, and flexed them. She felt groggy, and her hand stung. Delila sighed. Her stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her that she needed breakfast. She reached her sore hand into her pack and took out a slightly bruised apple.  As she crunched on it, she packed up her small camp and started hiking through the green, leafy forest, deciding on her next move. Inns usually have lots of gossip and rumors. I’ll start there, and see if anyone knows where the warrior clans are. I hope that they let me join. If not - no. She didn’t want to go there.

She tried to distract herself from thoughts like that. As her feet crunched down the grassy hillside, the ground beneath her leg gave way, and she tripped over and rolled down the hill, onto sharp rocks, stinging pine needles, and knobbly sticks. The metal pan in her pack didn't help either. When her body stopped spinning, she lay face-up on the damp grass. Ugh, she thought, dizzy. She tried to stand up, but fell onto her backside. She tried again, slowly, and succeeded. She stood up in her well-worn leather boots and turned around.

The next village was in sight. She began to tread toward it, her boots squeaking in the mud.

✦

As Delila entered the inn, she felt a rush of warm air, and she quickly found an empty table. The atmosphere was loud and jolly, just the place where one might hear gossip. She pretended to look at the intricate cobblestone mantlepiece, but really she was listening hard. At the table next to Delila sat three men. One had straw-colored hair and was pencil thin, and pale as the moon. The man across the table looked familiar, and Delila realized that it was the fat vendor who had sold her the pie. Next to him was a very muscular man with a long shaggy beard down to his waist that he was curling around his finger.

“So did you find out when it’s coming?” whispered the pale man hoarsely.

“No. The secret is very well protected,” replied the man with the beard, with a heavy Glasgon accent.

“Well we can’t bloody attack the caravan if we don’t know when it’s carrying the valuables, can we?” said the first man angrily. Delila’s blood chilled as she realized what these men were planning.

“You could always try Alyss O’Hess. She’ll know,” put in the vendor, shifting in his seat.

“No. She’ll twist our words until we’re eatin’ them,” argued the man with the beard stubbornly.

“Quiet, Horace. Now, Kaspar, who is this “Alyss O’Hess?”” asked the man with the pale hair coldly.

“She knows everything, everyone, and everything about everyone. No one knows how she knows, but what we do know is that all of her information is for sale. For a price.”

“Everything?”

“She knows where the king orders his eggs, she knows where the warrior clans camp, she knows the new laws before they’re written. She knows everything,”

Delila’s ears perked up. This “Alyss O’Hess” could tell her where to find the warrior clans. She stood up, scraping the rickety wooden chair against the stone floor. The three men looked at her, the thin one staring at her with piercing, icy blue eyes. Delila froze, chilled to the bone. The men slowly turned and sat down, but Delila couldn’t shake off a feeling of foreboding as she exited the inn.

✦

The pale man watched her coldly out the window. It was her features that stuck in his head. She was not pretty, but she had a rugged beauty in her jet black hair and her deep green eyes. In this town, where it was normal for light brown or blond hair, with brown eyes, she stuck out like a sore thumb. There was an air of confidence about her that made the thin, blue-eyed man remember her.