WitchHunter ✔️

Travelers

Stable Boy

From a distance, the city seems to dance with fire. Plains and farms surround Kindleridge, the dense Saturnia Forest wall a mile out from the outlying homes and shops. I bring the horses out here sometimes, just two or three at a time, to graze on the fresh grass outside of their pasture, far from the city cobble.

I sit atop Graham's palomino, Litty, and watch Cruor's black steed, Maverick wander around the last remaining greenery before the frost hits. Tonight, the Cleansing Festival begins, and 2 days from now is Cleansing Day. The citizens of the Ridge began decorating yesterday, and now the whole town is draped in reds, oranges, and blacks. Thin strips of cloth blow in the breeze and triangular flags hang from strings draped over roadways between houses. From a distance, in the daylight, a traveler may think the city ablaze.

I perch sideways on Litty, one leg pulled up to me, the other dangling down by her side. The road out of town meanders through the fields and meadows and disappears into the treeline 50 yards to my left. Outsiders have been coming through all day in search of an inn so they can partake in the Ridge's festivities. Cleansing Day is big on Haven, one of the biggest celebrations of the year. It's a sort of memorium celebration, honoring the deaths of all the innocent townspeople who died in the fires, but celebrating the deaths of the Cinderous and our ability to move on and grow from the embers. It's this time of year that I most yearn to be free of this hellish place.

I cast my gaze over the port, at the forest of masts and sails. One day, I will own one of those boats. One day, I'll conquer my fear of the sea and travel to Par'lok. I'll find my mother, and my siblings and be free of this town that celebrates the deaths of people like me.

I tick my index finger upward. "Come here." My voice is breathy, quiet, as I summon a small stream of water from the grass below me. The pencil thin stream gathers in a warbling ball in my palm, floating like a marble in the slanting sunlight. Out here, I'm free to do this, at least in this small scale. No one can see what I'm doing, what I am. Aquaous. The word crashes around in the back of my head late at night when I lay huddled up in the hay of the barn. Aquaous lochri. Unnatural.

The irony of an aquaous lochri being so terrified of the ocean sits with me, and as much as I hate my curse, I'm sure it's the only reason I'm alive. This power is surely the only thing that allowed me to survive the storm that swallowed up my father and the rest of our merchant fleet. None of the others were ever found, but my unconscious body, clinging to a slab of wood, somehow drifted into Kindleridge Harbor, days after the storm had passed. The portman had brought Velius a starving 6 year old Par'lok boy, and it just so happens that the stableskeep had just lost a fourth finger to his kleptomania, rendering him largely useless at his job. The Par'lok are known for keeping the best horses in the world, and the greatest population of the beasts, so when Velius saw my honey skin and grey eyes, he made the connection and saw opportunity in my small, starving body. I'm certain he thanked Kindre Fie for providing a replacement for that which was no longer useful.

I hated that stableskeep with every fiber of my being, but being merely six, I couldn't be left alone with 11 horses. It didn't take long for him to give into his manic obsession again though, each time losing another finger to the dark-haired girl who was enchanted by horses, and eventually, Zeif, entirely fingerless, disappeared one night.

The only person who really cared that he was gone was Velius, the man he had been stealing from, as they had been long-term friends. It was a relief for me, when he vanished, and I relished in the freedom of his absence. At 14, I was the stableskeep of Kindleridge, and many of the other townskids stopped messing with me, a fact for which I was grateful.

I kept largely to myself, aside from the Raven's regular visits to the stables. She never spoke to me, but I would lounge on the hay while she gently caressed her horse's nose. I would often fall asleep, she was there for so long, and when I'd wake, a heavy horse blanket would be covering me. I worked with Crow a little extra every day, and he was the only horse I gave Parki commands. Very few people outside of Par'lok speak the native tongue, so no one but her and I would be able to control him.

Litty gives a warning snort, and I allow the water to fall back into the grass below. My eyes scan around, and just a moment later, an odd group of travelers emerges from the treeline. Most people who come to the festival wear plain, commoner clothes, but these 5 men are clearly trying to stand out. They are all dressed in identical cloaks that fade from sunflower yellow at the top down to orange and then finally black at the bottom. Their faces are concealed by black, orange, and red paint, their hair tied back with gold twine.

One of them spots me as they come into view. "Greetin's, Lad."

"Welcome to Kindleridge." I call back, waving a hand in greeting. "Are you performers?"

He smiles pleasantly. "We are. Our show will be after the parade on Cleansin' Day. I do so hope ye 'ill attend."

I nod. "I'll be there."

He gives a short bow. "Thank ye for yer support. 'Ave an excellent day."

My eyes follow their backs as they travel onwards, catching sight of the city, aflame in the arching sunlight, a vivid reminder for those who lived through it.

How morbid.