The Flamer

VI - The Flamer

     "Oh dear, he'll be here soon," the old lady muttered, as she weaved through her mess of knick knacks, snatching up dusty bottles, potion-filled vials, and odd little ingredients such as mushrooms, moss, and samplings of herbs. She straightened up and peered around the room, a bright blue eye darting to the left and a dull green eye turning to the right.

     The wooden room shone with a warm glow, only enhanced by the cheery fire crackling in the stone hearth on the eastern wall. Upon the mantelpiece was a closed circular box, a shriveled daisy chain, and a warding stone containing dried angelica leaves. A rickety old table was set beside the left of the fireplace, while a wood burning stove was placed on the left. Upon the stove was a chamber pot, empty and soon requiring a good scrub.

     Off to the west, a staircase spiraled up to the second floor, and upon the wall one could see all sorts of mirrors in various sizes, shapes, and designs. Each of the mirrors curiously did not reflect the stairwell, but instead showed anyone who came by a different area, presumably in Hettleden.

     The old woman disregarded the clutter of trinkets and hurried to the stairs, heading straight for a particular oval mirror that displayed an empty path winding through a dark forest. As she drew nearer to the mirror, however, a large silhouette appeared on the beaten road, growing larger by the second.

     Two brown horses came into view as they trotted into the moonlight, and then a wagon, followed by a familiar young man with scruffy black hair seated in front, clutching the reins tightly in his fists.

     The old woman sighed, kneading her forehead with her knuckles. She turned her gaze to the door wearily, as the sound of hooves echoed from outside and resounded faintly throughout the hut.

     "Can't blame him, but dear me, I hope he listens..." she muttered to herself, shuffling to the door slowly.

     Before she could open the door, it burst open with a bang, and the man seen in the mirror now bounded through, his hair tousled and his eyes alight with some fierce emotion. The air around him seemed to crackle with a tense excitement, and the old woman, whose head only reached his collarbone, looked up at him with something akin to dismay, though she smiled at him warmly.

     "Welcome home, Daian," she greeted, gently taking the traveling cloak from his shoulders and tossing it behind her. A chair suddenly lifted off the floor and caught it, settling back down onto the floor all in a moment's time.

     Daian, the well-known travelling merchant, stood where he was. He stared at Bryln in a daze, before he blinked and grabbed her by the hands with both of his own.

     "Did you hear--about the break-in--Sky Palace--" he drew in a breath, "En--En--!"

     "Shhh, not so loud, they'll be here any minute!" Bryln broke a hand free and slapped it over his mouth, standing on her toes and craning around him to look back at the door. Then she returned her gaze back to Aidan, who stood there fidgeting and becoming restless by the second.

     She sighed and pinned him down with a stern stare. "Do you remember what I said before you left?"

     He visibly drooped. "But..." he tried to protest weakly.

     "No. Don't say anything. Act like you know nothing. You're just a merchant called Daian. You're not anything more than that."

     She watched him stiffen and lower his head the more she spoke, and her eyes softened as she remembered a man with white hair riding away in the dead of night, and a young girl with dark hair peering back at her before they disappeared.