Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 153795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Maybe the assassin has a heart after all.
Chapter 18
After packing rucksacks with supplies and water, then locking up the inn, the group of us who slept at Kamtaur Inn make our way to a small, rustic village called Winstoft. Apparently Rynthea and Torjack have a cabin outside of this village that their parents built before they were born. Penju owns a hut in the heart of town, and it has been decided by Rynthea that Torjack will stay with him until she returns.
“I wish you’d change your mind, Ryn. I’m sure I’ll be fine if I travel with you—at least during this first part.” Torjack shifts on his hooves as he stands in front of Penju’s hut.
The hut’s roof is swathed in vines and ivy, the exterior a combination of stone and wood painted a light blue. The door has been crafted into an arch that I’m not so sure Torjack will be able to squeeze through with his wide frame. Flowers are planted in stub barrels, and clay pots surround the hut, ranging in various colors and sizes.
Despite its washed-out, rustic appearance, Penju’s hut has a charming appeal. It embodies a real home—a place I’m sure he cherishes and respects. I can tell by the swept stone steps, rocking chairs, and hanging lanterns on the short porch.
Rynthea glances sideways. I don’t want her to think I’m eavesdropping, so I look away. Even though I am…unintentionally, of course. She told us earlier to wait at the end of Penju’s walkway, but I can still hear pretty well from here.
Not too far away, Algar stands in front of a merchant stand, buying fruit, jerky, and nuts. Zephra rests on his shoulder, eyeballing all the food.
Thane is a few feet away from me, leaning against the wall of a cobblestone building with his mask in place and his arms folded. He remains vigilant as he keeps watch of our surroundings. I don’t think he has very much to worry about in Winstoft. There are a few mortals, but most dwellers here are peaceful beastials. Pearl is right behind him, drinking from a bucket of water he’s collected for her from the village well.
“We agreed. You’ll stay with Penju where it’s safe,” I hear Rynthea say to Torjack. “No one should come for you here. And if I don’t like what I find out about our odds, I’ll be back soon anyway.”
I bite into a juicy white snow fruit, focusing on the chipped statue of a beastial in a combat uniform in the center of the village.
Torjack groans with reluctance. “Fine. But be careful, Ryn. I need you.”
“I’ll be okay. Just make sure you take your medicines and let Penju escort you to the healers. If you feel stiff anywhere, rest and relax.”
I glance their way as I finish off my fruit. They’re hugging. When Torjack turns and ducks his head to enter Penju’s hut, Rynthea stares at the spot where he’d been standing for several seconds with sorrow twisting her features. Her grip tightens around the handle of her scythesword, then she turns around and stomps down the steps.
“Let’s go,” she mutters, brushing past me.
“All set?” Algar calls after her.
Rynthea doesn’t answer, just keeps marching.
Thane pushes off the wall to grab Pearl’s reins and waits for me to pass. When we walk through the wooden gates of Winstoft, I can’t help giving the quaint village one more look before continuing on.
I know how Rynthea feels. Leaving someone you love behind to do something incredibly dangerous yet could potentially save their lives? It’s a hard decision to wrap your head around. None of it makes sense, but it feels necessary. I should know. I’m in the same boat.
Not that Rynthea has to do this, but if there is treasure in Elphar, she and Torjack could live the rest of their lives in peace. Torjack could have as many treatments as he wants. They could probably find a permanent healer for his disease. Kamtaur Inn would be restored. They could hire protection so no one would attempt to destroy it again. So many possibilities are ahead if this works out.
A forest looms before us. Rynthea clomps through a gap between two trunks, and her large body disappears as she goes deeper. I hurry to catch up with her.
“We need to be careful walking through here.” Rynthea’s voice is low as the forest becomes dense and thick with trees. Sunlight becomes scarce, and several crows perched on nearby branches flap away. “There are paths in Delchester Forest that you do not want to encounter. Do you see that?” She pauses for a moment, pointing at a fork in the trail ahead. “Never take the left or right. Always stay on the middle path.”
“You’ve been through here before, too?” Algar asks.
“Twice,” she answers. “And only during the day. I’ve heard stories about people veering off. They never return.”