The War (All Chapters + Synopsis)

Chapter 7.1 - Lues

I feel nothing but exhaustion as the day begins. All night I lay twisting and turning in the comfortably warm feathered bed, thinking of my sister, cold and hurt and alone in a cell. The very little sleep I did get during the night gives me the energy to leap from the bed and pull on my clothes. I check the small mirror in the room and make sure that my hair covers the right side of my neck and the tattoo that mars its surface.

When I'm presentable as I can get, I exit my room and knock on the door to Amalia's. She responds with a muffled, "I'm coming." I tell her to meet me down in the tavern.

She shouts her assent to this plan of action and I go down the stairs.

I don't really know why I told her any of that yesterday, about my sister and father. About the cousins I didn't really know, and the coronation battle I never watched. I was just so sick of the constant questions, the arrogance, ignorance, and childishness of how she talks about my people, about Ilena.

"Goodmornin' Genna!" Miss Garvin greets me cheerily and I take a seat at the bar. "What can I get fer ya today young man?"

"Is there anywhere near here where my sister and I might be able to purchase clothing? All we have are these rags from when we left Feralis," I ask the woman, gesturing to my filthy clothes.

"If ya give me a moment, I think I might 'ave some spare clothes that might fit a strappin' lad like yerself," Miss. Garvin responds, disappearing further into the inn.

Amalia comes down the stairs, her hair is all tangles and knots now. She grudgingly sits down next to me and taps a finger on the counter of the bar as we wait for the innkeeper to return. Miss Garvin returns with a pile of clothing in her arms and says that she also found some that might fit Amalia.

We thank the woman and purchase some breakfast, but when I try to give her money for the clothes, she waves my hand away. "There be no need fer that young man, I feel sorry fer ya Feralins, always at war. Think of this as an apology, a'right, for our country not helpin' ya as much as it should."

We eat heartily then return to the rooms and change into the new clothes. I wrap up my old clothes and burn everything but the coat and neckerchief, the former something warm in case it gets cold, and the latter a keepsake from my late father. I exit the room to find Amalia waiting for me in the same sort of clothes.

We walk down quietly together and thank the innkeeper who waves us away with a smile. We go to the stables and hire two horses to take us up to Cyfala. The stable master thanks us for our business as we mount the Mawrhydian ponies. The sun rises slowly as we begin our ascent to the capital of Mawrhydi.

Sometimes we get closer to the long winding river that comes from the top of the mountain, and we see boats floating down the river. Carts and horse drawn carriages occasionally pass us on the wide roads through the forest.

"Amalia, don't fall too far behind, you'll get lost!" I shout back to the girl following me with about a mile's distance between us.

She doesn't respond, but she does urge her pony to catch up with mine. Her crystal blue eyes glance about the green forest that shelters us from the sun. Every noise catches her attention, and every shake of the trees makes her look. She's jumpy, but to be fair, so am I. Mawrhydi is one of the most beautiful countries in the world, but it's also legend for the bandits that attack any unsuspecting passersby.

It's midday when we catch another glimpse of the Gardens of Mawrhydi, this time though, we also see the bronze cap of the Grand Pyramid, or in other words, the royal palace. A sprawling city comes into view as we reach the labyrinth that is Cyfala. The gods must have been watching over us because we found no trouble on the way here.