Ember Born

Coins for a ghost

Rook stood frozen in the noisy tavern, staring at the scarred palm of Kael’s hand.

"That scar..." she whispered again, her dark eyes wide with shock. "It can't be."

Kael quickly pulled his hand back, pulling his shirt sleeve down over his wrist. His heart slammed against his ribs like a trapped bird. "I don't know what you're talking about, miss! It's just an old cut!"

Before Rook could say another word, old Martha called out from behind the bar. "Kael! Grab the dirty mugs off table four!"

Kael didn't wait. He turned on his heel, grabbed his broom, and rushed toward the back of the room, blending into the crowd of drinking men. He didn't look back, but he could feel Rook's sharp gaze burning into his shoulder as she slowly turned and walked up the stairs to her room.

That night, Kael couldn't go back to his cold loft. The image of Rook’s shocked face kept flashing in his mind. Who was she? Why did she react like that to his scar? And why was she asking about the scorched earth and the beast?

He decided to stay at the tavern until closing time, helping Martha scrub the heavy wooden tables and sweep up the stale sawdust.

It was nearly midnight when the last of the drinking guards finally stumbled out into the cold night air. The tavern grew quiet and dim as Martha blew out the oil lamps one by one.

"Good work tonight, Kael," Martha said, tossing him a small copper coin and a piece of wrapped bread. "You can sleep in the storage closet under the stairs if it's too late for you to walk home."

"Thank you, Martha," Kael said gratefully.

He waited until Martha retired to her room behind the kitchen. The tavern went pitch black, save for the dying red embers in the fireplace.

Kael sat in the dark closet, but sleep would not come. The questions in his mind were too loud.

An hour passed. Then, Kael heard a soft, barely audible creak above his head.

He leaned his ear against the wooden door of the closet. The sound came from the upstairs hallway. Someone was moving stepping so softly that a normal person would have missed it completely.

Kael gently cracked open the closet door and peeked out.

A dark shadow glided down the wooden staircase. It was Rook. She was wearing her dark traveling cloak again, her long leather pack slung tightly across her back. She didn't make a single sound as her boots touched the ground floor.

Instead of walking toward the front entrance, Rook slipped through a side door that led to the tavern’s private back room a place where wealthy traders and traveling merchants met late at night to do business away from prying eyes.

Curiosity overwhelmed Kael's fear. He quietly stepped out of the closet, staying in the deep shadows, and crept toward the back room.

The door was slightly ajar, letting out a sliver of yellow candlelight. Kael pressed his back against the wall, peeked through the crack, and listened closely.

Inside the room sat an old, shady merchant named Silas. Silas was known in Millhaven for buying and selling rare goods, stolen items, and forbidden goods. On the wooden table between Silas and Rook lay a thick roll of dusty leather.

"I told you, girl," Silas rasped, his voice sounding like dry paper rubbing together. "That map is ancient. It shows the realm before the Great War, fifty years ago. It's not for sale to just anyone."

"Name your price," Rook said, her voice calm, steady, and cold.

"Ten silver pieces," Silas grinned, showing his yellow, decaying teeth. "Or five copper bits and that nice steel dagger at your belt."

Rook didn't argue. She reached into her pouch and pulled out three large, golden coins. She set them on the wooden table with a quiet, heavy thunk.

The candlelight caught the face of the coins. They were the same old golden pieces she had used to pay Martha earlier ancient coins stamped with the symbol of a sun and a roaring lion.

Silas stared at the gold, his eyes bulging in utter disbelief. He reached out a dirty, shaking hand to grab them, but Rook instantly slammed her hand down on top of the coins, pinning them to the table.

"Before you touch these," Rook warned, her dark eyes narrowing, "you make sure this map shows what I need. I am not looking for trade routes or merchant roads."

"Then what are you looking for?" Silas asked, his voice trembling slightly under her intense glare.

"The old war roads," Rook said softly. "The hidden military paths created by the Royal Guard during the fall of the capital. The ones that run through the Misty Mountains."

Kael's breath hitched in his throat as he listened from behind the door.

The old war roads? The fall of the capital?

That was the same war Tobias had mentioned! The war where the Crowned King was killed!

Silas unrolled the old leather map, tracing a yellowed line with his dirty fingernail. "These roads haven't been used in decades, lady. They are dangerous. Monsters and bandits live in those mountain passes now. No merchant travels those paths anymore."

"I am not a merchant," Rook replied coldly, pulling the map toward herself and rolling it up tightly. "And I am not here to trade."

Silas blinked, watching her shove the ancient map into her leather pack. "If you're not a merchant, then what are you doing out here all alone?"

Rook released the golden coins, letting Silas snatch them up greedily. She stood up to her full height, her dark cloak draping over her shoulders like shadow wings.

"I am hunting," Rook said, her voice dropping to a icy whisper that made the hair on Kael's neck stand up. "I am hunting the beast that escaped the burning palace. And I am hunting the ghost who left it behind."

Kael pressed his hand against his mouth to keep from gasping out loud.

Hunting something, not trading.

She wasn't a traveler. She wasn't a mercenary. She was a hunter following a path of blood and magic that went back years into the past!

Rook turned around, walking toward the door.

Kael panicked. He quickly backed away from the crack, slipping into the shadow of a giant wooden ale barrel near the hallway wall. He held his breath, praying she wouldn't see him.

Rook stepped out of the back room, her boots making no sound against the wood. She didn't notice Kael hiding in the dark. She walked straight toward the front door of the tavern, lifted the iron latch, and slipped out into the chilly pre dawn fog.

Kael waited three seconds, then rushed to the front window to watch her.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the distant eastern hills, casting a pale gray light across the quiet dirt street of Millhaven. Rook was walking fast, heading toward the town square.

Kael knew he should stay inside. He knew he should mind his own business and go back to his simple life of hauling water. But he couldn't. Everything inside him was screaming that this girl held the answers to his nightmares, his scar, and the burning throne room.

Kael pushed open the tavern door and quietly followed her from a distance, staying behind wooden carts and building corners.

As Rook reached the center of the town square, the heavy sound of thundering horse hooves echoed through the foggy street.

CLOP. CLOP. CLOP. CLOP.

Kael ducked behind a large stone watering trough, peeking over the edge.

Rook stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of the empty square.

Riding into the town square were four men on massive, armored warhorses. They were not local guards. They wore polished silver armor, long crimson capes, and helmets shaped like striking hawks. On their chest plates, a dark crown symbol was carved into the steel.

They were the Regency patrol the feared, ruthless soldiers sent directly from the high capital to enforce the law and hunt down rebels.

The leader of the patrol, a broad man with a scarred face and cold blue eyes, pulled his horse to a halt near the old town fountain. He held up a rolled parchment, his loud, harsh voice booming across the quiet square.

"By order of the High Regency!" the leader shouted. "Notice to all citizens of Millhaven!"

A few early-rising farmers peeked out from their windows, terrified by the sight of the armored warhorses.

The patrol leader scanned the empty street, his eyes sharp and dangerous. "We are searching for a fugitive. A girl traveling alone. She is carrying forbidden gold and ancient maps. Anyone hiding her will be executed for treason against the state!"

Kael's heart stopped.

A girl traveling alone.

They were looking for Rook!

The patrol leader turned his horse slowly, scanning the shadows near the forest edge. "If you see her, report to the guard post immediately!"

The soldiers began to dismount, their heavy iron boots clanking against the dirt ground.

Kael looked toward the center of the square, where Rook had been standing just a second ago.

His eyes widened in absolute shock.

The middle of the square was completely empty.

There was no sound. No rustle of a cloak. No footsteps in the mud.

Rook had vanished into thin air before the soldiers' boots even touched the ground.