Chapter 7: Eklinston

Back to: ""Chapter 6: On the Road" "

Eklinston

Torin found the small town hardly big enough to even be called a village. With maybe two hundred people, two of the place could have fit inside the smallest elven city, with room to spare. Walking alongside the merchant, Torin found himself the subject of curious stares, even as the townsfolk conversed easily with Benedict. As they stopped in front of the inn, square in the middle of town, Torin found his own gaze drawn to a small window in the church across the street.

The merchant swung an arm around his young companion's shoulders. "This, Mayor," he said, "is Torin, an elf from beyond the mountains. He saved my life, he did."

The mayor shook Torin's hand vigorously. "Thank you, my young friend. And welcome to Eklinston. After you've had a chance to settle, you must join me for a pint of ale." He turned his head to speak to the excited townsfolk. "Now, now
Merchant Benedict will still be here in the morning. Let him see to his gear and supplies. Igran! Why don't you ready a place in the stables? I'm sure the sooner he's settled, the sooner he will catch us up on the news."

Reluctantly the people dispersed, many heading into the inn. A few helped the merchant with his bags, leaving Torin standing alone in the dusty street, unsure what to do.

"Come along, then," said Benedict, catching the elf's arm. "We must give our thanks to the gods for our safe passage."

Torin let himself be pulled into the church, kneeling as did Benedict before a rough, wooden altar covered in flickering candles. He looked curiously around, searching for the face he'd seen earlier at the window.

The inside of the church was bare, if lovingly made. The pews were simple benches, draped with homespun cloth pads. A lone, woven basket sat at the front of the room, a handful of coins set within. The walls curved toward the high, vaulted ceiling, of which through expensive, clear glass, Torin could see the darkening sky. A few of the windows in the room had windows of glass, but most held opaque, smoky, oiled parchment. At the front of the church, to the right and behind the altar was a door, leading to a small room behind the church.

Benedict stood, prodding Torin. The elf obligingly stood, waiting while Benedict dropped a handful of copper coins into the basket.

"Now," said Benedict, outside, "we can enjoy the mayor's hospitality."

Two bright, black eyes watched the two strangers enter the inn across the street. She ducked as the elf turned briefly to look back her way. She gazed at the inn speculatively for a minute before returning to her charge.

Beneath one of the pews was a trap door. The stairs leading down emerged into a small, dimly lit room, full of shelves containing books and magical ingredients.

"What is it?" asked the half-elven occupant of the only bed, thrust into the shadows of one of the corners.

"A merchant," Lin replied, "and an elf with him."

"That draws the attention?"

"Yes, this is but a small town, remote and alone in the wilderness."

The half-elf smiled, despite her pain and fatigue. "You speak too kindly."

"They have indeed been kind to us," Lin replied. "But you must rest. You are still too weak. He will not stay long, this merchant, and Alton should soon return."

"You sense something, don't you?"

Lin frowned. "I don't know. Possibly. I dislike waiting. Even as we cower here, Nature is becoming ever more upset. Disaster will be upon us soon."

"You should leave me."

"What? And let you go after those men alone? You would kill them, and I need them alive. No, I stay. I will wait until Alton returns."

"That halfling makes me nervous."

"Indeed, but we have need of him. Rest, now, or I shall spell you to sleep."

The half-elf chuckled softly, "I am certain you would. If you could."


{c}"Chapter 8: Call to Arms"