The War of Six Crowns: The Vanished Knight

The White Dragon Inn

James's stomach growled for the millionth time, pushing his temper back to the edge. His every thought swirled around two things: food and when he would eat it. He trudged forward, his chafed skin burning because of his damned shirt. His feet stung with blisters from walking an impossible distance.

All the while, Phipps whistled a lighthearted ditty, never glancing their way. James and Ward had been walking for five hours without stopping. Not once. But of course, it would be easy for Phipps to forget when he traveled in comfort. The poor sods who'd put their trust in him, they'd be the ones who did the remembering. When they got past the fact that they were starving.

The stitch in James's side slowly turned into a queasy feeling in the pit of his empty stomach. His body screamed for a rest, but every time either he or Ward asked to stop, Phipps would ignore them and keep his horse trotting forward.

"Enough," James panted, bending over to catch his breath. "No...more...need...rest."

He heard the horse turn. Finally. Some mercy.

"You can't," Phipps said with that reasonable tone parents used on petulant children.

"Don't. Just don't. I'm starving, tired, sore—"

"And because of that, you must keep going."

"No. I need rest!"

Ward came to a stop next to James, panting. "I'm sure Mr. Phipps has a reason to—"

"Shut..." Gasp. "Up..." Gasp.

If Ward wanted to die a martyr, James couldn't do anything to stop him. But he wasn't going to listen to Ward do it.

James glanced up into Phipps's murderous face. Oh... Well screw it. James wiped his sweaty face with the back of his hand. A pleasantly warm breeze made the wheat fields by the road ripple, soothing away some of his discomfort.

"We can't stop," Phipps rasped again. "If we do, we'll have to sleep outside."

"Then we sleep outside." To emphasize the point, James headed off the road.

"No. We sleep in an inn tonight." Phipps wheeled his horse and trotted away.

James sent a challenging smirk to Ward.

He shrugged in his incredibly annoying Ward way. "Phipps must know what he's doing." He dragged his feet after Phipps.

James fumed, plodding after Phipps and his new puppy dog. He'd keel over before he asked to stop again. On the other hand, Phipps had mentioned an inn. Inns had warm food and beds. James perked up and picked up his pace. The sooner he got a room of his own, the sooner he could shut himself in and not see the old man.

The sun hung low over the horizon when a small town came into sight. For a time it seemed to be a mirage of faint blinking lights. No matter how fast James dragged his feet, the town remained out of reach. It took forever to reach the outskirts.

When they did, the town's faded wooden houses didn't do much to welcome them, but it seemed clean. Unlike Caranth. Phipps led them straight down the main street to a two-story log building at its end. Its large windows beckoned with inviting golden light. As did the smell of roast beef and cooked onion, so intense the flavors danced on James's tongue. He spotted the sign hanging above the building's entrance. The White Dragon Inn.

He almost cried with relief and would have jogged in his hurry to finish the journey. His cramping muscles put an end to that idea. A quick shuffle got him to the heavy front door.

It flew open just before James could knock and a stocky giant with a chest-length black beard stepped out. He peered right over James's head.

"Phipps. ye auld rascal! Ne'r I think yer appir agin," he boomed.