Freeing Lilia

Rot

Unedited. 

Chapter Nine. Rot.

The first town we came across was two days later. It was a sore sight on the horizon, a set of dingy shacks along the flat, stiff grass where smaller houses spread out in what was supposed to be farmyards. The poverty seemed to seep into the land and the air around us; there was hunger on the faces of the people who watched us approach which turned to suspiciousness and then hopefulness that we would spend coin in their little town.

Even with the greyness of their world, there was laughter. I had been raised in a gilded cage, with food and money and yet misery sat heavy on my shoulders. Smiles were rare, pulled up only by the rare sight of free beauty that I caught a glimpse of outside the window. These children had barely anything; ratty clothes and shoes with holes on them but they tore through the streets with their shrieks of laughter ringing through the air.

I couldn't help but smile at them as they shouted at our approach. I made sure to dismount Storm, keeping a firm grip on her reins as they swarmed us. I knew some would have nimble fingers to slip into our pockets. What money I had was kept in an inside pocket of my tunic, a thief's trick to ward off other little thieves who knew too little.

I kept my injured shoulder to Storm's side, wincing as it throbbed. It was slow to heal, and the flesh seemed just as ragged and inflamed. I was un-schooled in this, only learning what Beryl had made sure to teach me. He would know; I'd trust his word explicitly.

A leathered ball was kicked across the road in front of us. It was a pitiful and ragged thing, but the toy was beloved to these street children. One older boy who could have only been around nine years inched forward as it rolled towards us. His bravery seemed to vanish when the ball rolled towards Ailbrich's feet. The boy took one look at the looming, warrior male with his dark and watchful eyes and paled.

My attention cut to the male, wondering if he would just ignore them or destroy their toy. Instead Ailbrich stopped his mouth and leaned down, taking the ball into one hand. He examined the pitiful toy that was barely holding together, his mouth pressed into a thin line. There was a look on his face that I couldn't place, like a memory he tried to call back on.

Without saying anything, he threw it back to the boy who had been brave enough to approach the strangers. The young boy caught it, eyeing Ailbrich carefully as we continued past.

"What is the name of this town?" Dara asked, examining the ramshackle houses.

From experience, I knew that the richer members of the village would live further back. It was so they wouldn't have to mix with the commoners, but in times of raids and pillages, the poorer people would be swept over first by the brigands seeking the gold of the rich; rich people who would have been warned in time and could escape with their precious gold.

I kept an eye on my surroundings as I approached. On the small baker's shop where the smell of freshly baking bread wafted through an open window. To the tiny boy with a gaunt face who stared longing at it, holding his cap in his hands. Dark curls were plastered to his head, his lip pursed but he knew no amount of staring would ever make the baker give him a cupcake. His family probably struggled to buy bread, never mind a treat for the boy.

Chest clenching, I forced myself to keep walking.

"It's called Homley." The Lycan looked around with the same strange look that Ailbrich had, had on his face. "This area and beyond was subject to two consecutive years of bad crops. The former mayor stockpiled the food when it got low, issuing writs that forced the peasants to give him their own. Many died of starvation, but word never reached the King. People rarely use this road, and these are not trading parts. The Mayor would not let the people's plight leave the village until those who escaped managed to get word to the castle."