The Flamer

II - A New Visitor

He brushed his hand softly against her chest, kneading it gently, as he used his other hand to cup her cheek. He looked into her dark eyes and she looked back into his. Burrowing his face into her neck, he sighed, before he brought her head down and rested his forehead on hers. As he did, he heard them.

"In public? Again? The boy's mental!"

"Oh dear, don't look children, you don't want him after you," a woman anxiously said as she herded her kids away.

The young man in question bit his lip, inspecting his attire. It consisted of a black hooded cloak over a sepia cotton tunic, dark leather breeches, and a pair of black boots. This soothed his anxiety slightly. The mutters behind him were nothing new, but it all added to his guise. True, it was exhausting that he kept having to run, to don on a different disguise and personality with each town, but there was no other option.

He gave the dappled grey horse he had been petting a smile, before he drew up his hood and walked away from the outskirts of the town.

*******

"You wretched, raving heretic!!"

Run. Fast. Yes, fast is good. Fast was very good.

His footsteps pounded away into the dim fabric of the night, stamping themselves onto the cobblestone street, ricocheting off darkened windows and silent shops.

No slowing down, not just yet, just around here, a left, a hard right, up and over the wall, through the tunnel...

And here. The young man climbed carefully out of the worn tunnel, taking care to hide the entrance with the rune inscribed on the wall, before hurrying down a set of crumbling stone steps. He soon reached a heavy wooden door with a symbol carved on its surface, the shape of fire. With one rattle of the handle, he sighed in relief when he realized it was locked.

Doesn't seem like anyone broke in, he thought, as he dug his right hand down into a satchel hanging at his side, pulling out a plain bronze key. He fumbled with it momentarily, cursing under his breath, before he managed to push it into the lock and turn. The door clicked softly and swung in, letting a golden light emanate from inside. As he strode forward, he let the door close with a quiet thud behind him.

A crackling fire in the hearth immediately washed its warmth over his face, casting a fiery hue over the blue irises. He unclasped his cloak and threw it towards the other side of the room, not caring where it landed, before he kicked off his boots and collapsed into an armchair near the fire, rubbing his eyes and turning to inspect the room.

Excluding the honey-wood flooring, the stone walls, and the small bed with a patchwork quilt in the right northern corner, the layout would be considered odd to many people. The stove, for example, was not in the corner, but in the center, and connected to the ceiling by the piping. A stack of wood lay haphazardly next to it, waiting to be used as fuel. Long wooden counters stretched around the room upon which shelves arose and branched off of, attaching to the walls. These had strange objects and scrolls of yellowed parchment strewn across every available surface, barring the mantle above the fireplace, to add to the peculiarity of the room. From maps of castles, tarnished keys, and glimmering vials with concoctions in a multitude of colors; to daggers with embedded gems and a variety of disguises with hidden pockets, the room's sole occupant gave an impression of being eccentric.

It wasn't too far off the mark.

As the young man finished inspecting his temporary dwelling, he nodded in satisfaction. He then took his dark olive satchel, scooted over to the bed while in his armchair, and dumped it unceremoniously onto the faded quilt. A jumble of keys in all shapes, sizes, and colors fell out along with a tightly bound scroll, but his eyes focused in on a dull silver locket. Carefully, with a barely noticeable tremor, he plucked the locket out, breaking the magnetic attraction between the chain and the keys.