James Somers - The Realm Shift

The Weary Traveler was decorated in rich dark woods and sailing artifacts-an anchor, a net, and even a helm-all bolted to the walls. A large main room trailed down the far side of the bar while a set of stairs consisting of two flights ascended to a landing up on a second floor. Here there were rooms for rent depending upon the clientele needs.

On the main floor, tables sat here and there and booths lined the walls. Everything looked well worn but sturdy. The only light in the main room came from oil lamps and candles. There were no windows.

This was the sort of place where sinister bargains were made, where secrets were told, and where plots were planned. The inn held a feeling of restrained danger like sleeping lions in a cage. Ethan felt like a piece of fresh meat right now. These people lived on the edge of danger, even thrived upon it. They could spot fear from a mile away and knew a hundred different ways to exploit it to their own advantage.

Ethan stayed behind Gideon as they walked through the room. His eyes danced from table to table and along the bar. Everyone watched them, even the people who never seemed to look at them directly. They were a rough looking sort-the kind who would laugh and toast their glass high with you one moment, only to turn around and stab you in the back the next.

Other things moved in the Weary Traveler-things which were not human, clinging to shadows, hating the light. Ethan’s flesh began to crawl and the hairs on his neck stood erect. Demons dwelt in this place.

Gideon led them through the morass of gamblers and drinkers to the bar. A thick middle-aged man wiped glasses behind the curved slab of mahogany. He kept his eyes darting from the rag to the boys as they approached. When they reached the brass rail edging the counter, he said, “What’ll it be gentlemen?”

“Cool water and a plate of bread and cheese,” Gideon said. Ethan took a strong whiff of sausages cooking over a flame in the kitchen area. “And bring the boy some sausages too.”

The barkeep laid a weary eye on the pair. Gideon slapped a silver coin down on the counter, and the man snapped to attention. The money erased any trace of doubt on his face. “Yes sir, coming right up, gentlemen.”

Gideon left his index finger standing on the silver coin. “We’ll be needing a room for this and some information.”

The barkeep nodded and stepped into the kitchen briefly. Gideon did not remove his hood. The more mysterious and secretive they appeared the less likely anyone would come bothering them. When the man returned, he brought with him the meat, bread, cheese, and water. It all smelled wonderful, and Ethan dug right in.

“My friend and I are looking for passage across the Azure,” Gideon said.

The barkeep leaned in with his elbow on the countertop. “And what might your destination be?”

“It might be Emmanuel,” Gideon said, his voice very low so that only the barkeep could hear him.

The man’s eyes flicked side to side before he answered. “I might be able to recommend someone to you.”

Gideon slapped a copper on the counter. The man snapped it up quickly before continuing. “There’s a certain captain whose vessel is taking on provisions for a journey across the Azure two days from now. I could make the arrangements for you, if you like.”

Gideon slid another silver coin across the mahogany. The man slapped his hand down upon it, but when he raised it again, the coin was gone. He looked at Gideon and found him twirling the piece of money between his fingers playfully. “When services are performed to my liking,” he said.

The man gave him the slightest sneer, watching the shiny silver twirling through Gideon’s fingers. “I’ll make the arrangements personally,” he said. From the shadows across the room, several men watched as Gideon tucked the money back in the purse underneath his cloak.

Ethan continued to wolf down the food. Gideon started slicing a piece of the cheese for himself, but stopped in mid-cut. Movement from behind them caught his attention. The air shifted. He felt vibrations, heard creaks in the flooring. Several men walked toward them from a table across the room.

Gideon did not react, did not lower his hood, but he did remove the knife from the block of cheese, placing it under his cloak. Gideon watched Ethan eyes. The boy had a better view of what was coming. Ethan had stopped chewing and was looking at the men as they approached.

“How many?” Gideon whispered

“Four.”

“Stay calm. I’ll handle it,” he said. Gideon remained cool and collected. His training as a warrior-priest had taught him many things. He knew more than one hundred ways to kill a man and many more ways to place someone in gut-wrenching pain, forcing their submission.

The only thing he wondered was how seriously these men felt about their reasons for intruding. Gideon supposed they had seen the money and wanted it. Silver coins were hard to come by these days and someone with an apparent abundance of them, in a place like the Weary Traveler Inn, was just asking for trouble.

In a way, Gideon had hoped this might happen. He wanted everyone to know to keep their distance. Therefore, it was helpful for someone to volunteer and prove his point. Whoever these four gentlemen were, they had just made a bad choice.

One of the men came over and stood behind Ethan. He wore a beard with plenty of gray streaking through it. He was dressed like a mariner, probably a pirate, and his portly belly placed a strain on his wide belt and steel buckle. Ethan glanced back at the man, but stayed calm as Gideon had instructed. The man leered maniacally at the boy, waiting.

The other three men stood behind Gideon. They could not see his face, could not tell how young he actually was. If they had, it would have only made matters progress more swiftly. They would’ve supposed a man as young as Gideon to be easy prey-an unwise assumption.

The men flanking Gideon were average pirates, not very clean, personal grooming not high on their list of priorities. One wore a bicorn hat. The other was almost bald. Both men were missing a fair number of their original teeth, and many others looked in need of falling out.

The leader wore a captain’s tricorn hat with a scarlet, velveteen waistcoat that was cleaner than one might expect with a brace of pistols extending from shoulder to hip. A cutlass dangled in a scabbard from his left hip and his right hand was already patting a dagger in his belt, just beneath his jacket.

“I see you ‘ave some shiny silver pretties over ‘ere,” the pirate captain said. His voice bellowed deep and menacing. Obviously, he knew how to intimidate folk, using it to his advantage.

Gideon whispered a prayer under his breath. He always did at times like this. When he turned to face the men, Gideon noticed surprise light on their faces, their smiles growing noticeably. He was younger than they had expected and it bolstered their confidence. This would be like taking candy from a baby.

The captain showed his unkempt smile. “Well now, you lads just ‘and over that purse and we’ll be on our way. No need in either of you gettin ‘urt.”

“No,” Gideon said. The pirate captain had not expected to hear that word. It was evidently rare someone dared say it to him-the sort of word that got a man keelhauled.

Anger washed over the captain’s face, while surprise covered the faces of his men. The captain grabbed the dagger he had been petting beneath the left flap of his waistcoat, loosing the weapon. He tried to bring it down in his right hand to put a quick end to the miserable whelp standing before him.

Gideon moved as fluidly as water through a pipe, following a pre-plotted course without need of thought. He caught the captain’s hand inside his wrist, rotating it outward while forcing the whole arm down. From underneath his cloak, Gideon’s left knee bent up to meet the captain’s elbow.