Jolette kicked and struggled. She tried to shout and scream and yell at the stranger, but the hand across her mouth was like steel, gripping her so tightly she could barely breathe. She tried to bite it, but her mouth could not open. She tried to stare at their attacker, but her head was impossible to turn around. All she could see was a black sleeve in the corner of her vision.
Next to her Edmian sat frozen in shock. She gritted her teeth. Something had to be done, and it had to be done by her. Her hands did nothing against the one on her face, large and harsh and merciless. In her panic she remembered the knife in her pocket. Her hand closed around the hilt. But before she could pull it out, their attacker abruptly let go of their faces and dropped them down to the ground.
"Not a sound," he whispered, crouching between them and pinning them down, the dark silhouette of a man against the dim light creeping in from outside. "You're much too exposed here. One wrong word, and the entire village will be coming for your hides."
Jolette spluttered and coughed, pushing and kicking to no avail. "Let us go!" she hissed. "Who are you? What do you think you're doing?"
"Shh," replied the man, a twinkle of eyes coming to rest on Jolette's face. "I'm trying to protect you. Who I am isn't something that should be discussed where the walls have ears."
Jolette fidgeted with her knife. "You're pretty damn violent for somebody who's trying to protect us!"
"It's the fastest and quietest way. Shush." His hand darted over to grab Jolette's arm before she could pull out her knife, pinning it across her body. "Be quiet. I think someone's coming."
Jolette gritted her teeth. "Who cares!" she shot back. "There are no Colorless People here, right? Let us go–"
"Colorless, no." The man's hold tightened on her wrist. "But there are enough people working for them. And if I understand anything about what you spoke of, you have more enemies than you know."
Footsteps approached, and Jolette fell silent. She was unsure why. Part of her wanted to scream and shout and get people's attention to get this man off their back, this man who was questionable at best and a danger at worst, but his words held her back. If what he said was true, then they couldn't risk being spotted by anyone else. Besides, for better or worse, he knew too much about them now. If he was an ally, all the better. But if he was an enemy, it was best not to do anything that would make him want to harm them even more.
As if understanding her thoughts, the man abruptly let go, standing up and slipping out of the empty stall, the shadow of his large black cloak shielding them from prying eyes. The footsteps entered the stables, and a beam of lantern light abruptly fell into the darkness. "Who goes there?" asked an old man's voice.
"A traveler," said the man, suddenly sounding perfectly exasperated with the villager's suspicious tone. "Who else? Is it not custom among the people of Firland to bring horses to the stables yourself when servants are scarce?"
The old man hesitated, then gave a huff. "Sometimes," he said. "But what are you doing here? I heard whispering, and...and voices!"
"I heard only one voice, and that is my own," replied the man. "What, am I no longer allowed to speak to my horse before I leave it for the night?"
"There was more than one voice!" the villager huffed, marching closer. "I heard it with my own ears! Who were you speaking to, stranger?"
Jolette held her breath. Next to her Edmian lay motionless, only his eyes darting around, as if searching for an escape. Her hand crept through the shadow to close about his.
The man, however, seemed unfazed; his tone now turned to one of long-suffering amusement. "My poor man, you should listen to fewer ghost stories behind that bar of yours," he said. "Or perhaps you should stay away from your own ale; you must be hearing things double. There was one voice, and that was mine. Everything else is the sound of the horses and the overbearing imagination of your frightened mind."
There was a moment's pause. Then the old man gave another huff, and the light turned away. "As you please!" he said. "Can't be too careful these days, sir. So if I may give you some advice, you hurry up and leave for your room as well!" Footsteps moved away towards the door, and Jolette caught him muttering, "Still don't trust this man as far as I can throw him."
The light and footsteps disappeared. Jolette and Edmian were left with the man who had covered for them.
"Well," he said, turning back around. "Do you trust me a little more now?"
Jolette crossed her arms. "How do we know you didn't just send him away 'cause you want to kidnap us or something?"
"You don't."
Jolette blinked; out of all the responses she had not been prepared for this one. "Huh?"
"You can't know for sure," the man whispered, slipping back into the stall. "Not unless I show you something I can't show in an open place like this. The old man will be coming back soon." He nodded over his shoulder. "You two can't stay here all night. Will you not trust me long enough to follow me into a safer place?"
"Absolutely not!" Jolette declared, but Edmian said, "I will."
Jolette whipped around, flabbergasted. "Say what?"
"He has protected us," Edmian said quietly. "He knows about us, and he protected us. And he isn't one of...one of..." He shuddered. "One of them."
"There are other bad people around in the world!"
"I...I know." Edmian shrank in on himself, and Jolette hastily looked right and left to see if she had alerted anyone. "But he...he doesn't seem that way. I can't explain it. He just...he..."
"He feels right," Jolette finished his sentence. "Is that what you're trying to say?"
Edmian nodded.
Furrowing her brow, Jolette hesitated, looking back and forth between Edmian and the man. Edmian wasn't one to trust strangers easily, especially not adults. She knew that better than anyone. If he of all people trusted this man, did it not mean something? Should she not give his intuition a chance?
"If it makes you feel any safer," the man offered, "I promise to you I won't try to lock you in, bind you, or otherwise hinder you from running away. And if I do, you have every permission to scream and stir up the building until help arrives."
Edmian cracked a small smile, but Jolette squinted. "Help from who? The people you tried to warn us about?"
The man stared at her, then he softly began to laugh, a warm, friendly sound completely unlike his previous whispers. "You're a sharp one, girl," he said. "I couldn't possibly hope to lure you into a trap, even if I tried."
She crossed her arms, but her suspicions wavered. Maybe, she thought, she was beginning to understand how Edmian felt, even if she still very much didn't want to go with a man she barely knew. In spite of all her common sense, part of her wanted to believe he had a good heart.
"Fine," she said, sticking out her chin in spite. "But if you try anything, I've got a kitchen knife, and I'm not afraid to use it."
"And I have military training," said the man, but he smiled. "Now let's hurry. Pull your hoods low into your faces and follow me quietly."
~ ~ ~
Neither of them understood how, but not a soul met them as they followed the man into the quiet inn, up a flight of stairs and along a dark corridor. Directly in front or behind them people passed without noticing, but the stranger's timing was always impeccable, hovering and waiting until the exact moment it was safe to turn a corner. Finally they reached a door at the end of the corridor, closed as all the others, but through a crack underneath it shone a yellow light. The man went up and knocked.
From inside the room a woman's voice answered, "Who goes so late in the dead of the night?"
"'Tis the black swordsman, ready to fight," the man answered without a second's delay. Footsteps resounded behind the door, then there was the click of a key being turned in a lock, and the door sprang open.
"You're late," said the woman who had opened the door. "Where have you–" She stopped short in her tracks, her eyes resting on Edmian and Jolette.
"Forget being late," she said, ushering them inside and hastily closing the door. "I have so many more questions."
The two stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, their eyes slowly adjusting to the light of the single lamp resting on the windowsill. It was dim, but after the gloom of the stables it still seemed blinding, the colors it fell on shining ever the brighter. For the first time Jolette got a good look at the two adults in front of them and stood in marvel and awe.
They were both tall, taller than any of the villagers, their figures casting long shadows in the small confines of the room. Jolette guessed them to be a little older than her parents; but that was all they had in common with them. Because these two were foreigners if she had ever seen any.
The woman was long-limbed and athletic, her posture upright and proud. Her dark brown skin shimmered softly in the dim light; her hair was black and fell over her shoulders and back in a thousand tight braids. Black, too, were her sharp, piercing eyes, perceptive but friendly, matching the maturity and wisdom in her narrow, shapely face. She reminded Jolette of the Jadirian ebony statues she had sometimes seen on merchant ships; she seemed just like them, long-limbed, dark and well-carved, almost as if they had been modeled after her.
The man, previously hidden in the shadow of his cloak, had pulled the hood off his head, and now he was barely any less striking than the woman. He, too, was tall but of broader build; his hair was thick and dark, his skin golden-brown, but his eyes were green like rich pastures in the summer, framed by long dark lashes. His face was stern and grave, his bearing less proud than the woman's; but there was kindness in his features along with cunning, wit as well as warmth. "Now we can talk," he said, and his voice suddenly seemed the same hue as his eyes; rich and green. "I'm sorry for startling you earlier."
Neither Jolette nor Edmian said anything. They only stared back and forth between the two adults, wondering where this was going.
"Sounds like you have quite a story to tell," said the woman, moving to lock the door again when the man gently stopped her. "And by that I mean all three of you." She eyed Edmian, then Jolette, raising a curious eyebrow. "To begin with, what are two children doing alone at an inn in the middle of the Snowy Mountains, and where are your parents?"
Jolette shuffled awkwardly, suddenly reminded of the first time Edmian had come to Rivertown. Did adults always ask the same questions, she wondered?
"Our parents aren't here," she said defiantly, crossing her arms. "And we're not children."
The woman smirked. "How old are you?"
"Fourteen in spring."
"Thirteen, then," the woman answered with a smirk, and Jolette went pink; she hadn't exactly made herself look more mature by trying to exaggerate her age. "Pretty young to go around without an adult, or is that how people here do it?"
"We don't," Jolette said, getting irritated. "But I don't gotta tell you."
The woman gave her a long look, then she took a step towards her, towering far over Jolette's head. "Don't you snap at me, young lady," she said, over-enunciating every syllable. "I'm asking because I'm worried."
"Saryana, hold on."
The man, who had kept quiet through the exchange, now stepped in to place a hand on the woman's shoulder, making her turn around. "I think I can explain part of the story," he said. "At least I can guess enough from what I overheard. Don't worry, your secret is safe with her," he added towards Edmian and Jolette, who had just opened her mouth to protest. "She's my bride."
The woman smiled and playfully ruffled his hair, earning herself a quick kiss on the cheek. Jolette grimaced in disgust, but she relaxed. For a second she had almost felt like she was watching her parents again.
"Now, let me guess," said the man, lowering his voice and glancing around as if searching for eavesdroppers. "You—" he motioned at Edmian—"are from the Colorless Land, and you escaped from there after getting your hands on one of their three pendants. Now your people are hunting for you all over the land, and you two somehow escaped from them and are now on the run. Your family, however, you had to leave behind." He tilted his head. "Am I not close to the truth?"
They stood flabbergasted. Then they both simultaneously turned towards each other in panic.
"Don't worry, don't worry!" the man said with a laugh as they began to fret about how much they had revealed. "Not everyone could have pieced together that much. But I know things others don't, and I know those who are like me." He placed a hand on the closed window-shutters, confirming they were locked. "I think it's safe for me to reveal the answer to all your questions."
With that he reached under his garments and pulled out a fine gold chain.
Jolette and Edmian gasped.
Hanging on the chain, wrought of finest gold, was a pendant with a glowing red light perfectly alike to Edmian's blue.
"So this is why," Edmian breathed, his fingers closing tightly around his own necklace. "This is the reason I trusted you."
For a moment he looked frightened, terrified even, as if he had been betrayed. Then a sudden emotion crossed his face, and he stepped forward, his hand half extended as if to touch the light. "Where did you get it?" he asked in awe.
The man smiled, but his smile turned sad before it had fully spread over his face. "It's a long story," he said. "I can't tell you all—yet. But the summary is that my family took it from the Colorless Land, and for that they were taken captive. I'm looking for a way to get them back."
His eyes drifted to Jolette as he spoke, and she shrank back even as her heart stirred in understanding. "How do you know what happened to my family?"
"An educated guess, as well as the rumors." He gazed at her in sympathy. "Everyone here heard their own version of what happened to Rivertown. And unless you are an orphan, miss, I suspect your family is among the captives too."
"...Who are you?"
Jolette tried to glare, but her expression betrayed her. Too many emotions were swirling inside her chest, and she wanted to cry. "Shut up already," she snapped. "You're so creepy with all this guessing! What do you know? Stop acting like you feel sorry for us and– and–"
"It's all right."
This time it was not the man who spoke, but the woman. With a few quick steps Saryana crossed the distance between them and gently brushed a hand over her head, letting her rest it against her chest. "You're a fugitive," she said quietly. "You lost your village. You're scared. This is too big for you."
Jolette struggled, but part of her couldn't tear herself from the comforting touch. Tears burned at her eyes. "It's not," she snapped. "I'm not a baby."
"It is too big," Saryana repeated, her voice unwavering. "Even for us adults. This isn't something one person can fix. I think not even an army."
"You're not explaining any damn thing!"
"Watch your tone, young lady," Saryana said again, but her voice was gentle this time. "I'm saying you don't have to be scared of us. We're on the same side."
"Anybody could say that."
Jolette mumbled that last sentence out of spite, but deep down she already knew she wanted to believe these people. She hated that they understood her, and yet it made her feel safe, almost safe enough to forget her pride and bury her face in this woman's shirt and let her tears flow like a child. She wanted to believe they were allies. She wanted to believe they would do them no harm.
"Whatever," she said, pulling away and averting her face to hide the telltale shine of her eyes. "So if we're really on the same side, what do we do about it?"
The adults exchanged a glance. For a long moment hesitation hovered on the man's face.
"Let's decide that later," Saryana spoke for him. "For now you can stay here and sleep."
The man's expression lit up with relief. "Let's do that," he said. "Sleep in safety, and tomorrow we'll decide everything else. You two must be tired."
"Not really," Jolette said, stifling a yawn.
"I'm fine," Edmian added, but he looked grateful all the same.
"So it's settled then," the man said with a smile. "Sleep in peace, while you can. What tomorrow may bring only tomorrow can tell."
"Wait."
Jolette stepped into his way, her eyes locking with his. "You still haven't told us who you are," she said.
"There is a lot to be said," the man answered, "and yet little. When we have more time I may tell you the whole story. For now I am but a diplomat in Jadiria, a humble man of Elodia who has never set foot on his homeland."
Jolette stared at him, and Saryana chuckled. "Don't you mind him," she said. "He gets paid to be cryptic."
"And for a good reason, in these dangerous times," the man said with a laugh. "All you need to know is that I hold the Pendant of Courage, and my goal is the same as yours. Is that not enough?"
"It is to me," Edmian said softly, "though I don't understand why."
The man gazed at him for a long moment, then he knelt down before him, not like one talking to a toddler but like a knight before the young prince he served. "I think I do," he said, "though you should show me some other time. It's dangerous enough that I brought out my treasure."
With that he hid the pendant under his clothes again, and suddenly Jolette realized how powerful he had looked with it. Now that it was hidden again, he seemed ordinary once more.
"You should still tell us one more thing," she said, though she had already made up her mind about him. "What's your name?"
"My name...I wonder which one I should tell you." The man gave a half-amused smile. "But if you want the one I give my friends, I guess you can call me Aithal."