The inn was now the beating heart of the town’s survival. The upper-level common areas were slowly filling up as families close to town had begun to arrive. Those who dwelt in the town proper were also taking in friends as family as they arrive. Windows and doors were being barricaded and on most rooftops someone sat with a bow and a horn, keeping watch over the walls that would protect them.
The area around the hearth had all the windows propped open so the small council of leaders could see what was happening outside easily. Mayor Tamblin sat facing the small flames in the hearth, to his right were Merlitz and Emrys, and to his left were Friar Belvedere and Gren Fell-Beard. Gren and Merlitz were hashing out some old debate about the cult, while the Mayor and Emrys looked at each other in frustration.
“I don’t care what you remember you decrepit old fool! There has to be something left from the cult, someone survived, and you know who it is just like I do!” yelled Merlitz at the wizened old shopkeeper.
“If anyone from Wenlan’s group survived, then it will fall upon you Merlitz, you swore they were all killed,” interjected the Friar.
The Mayor looked at the assembled elders and exclaimed, “This arguing is getting us nowhere. It is almost midnight, the moons are high in the night sky. If they are coming, it is soon.”
He took a deep breath before continuing, “What we need to decide is when, and who,” looking towards Merlitz, “we are sending to the monastery.”
“I can take the Friar and maybe one other, we can use the horses from Tor, be there before dawn,” said Emrys, absentmindedly playing with the knife and carving in his hands. His eyes flicked towards the Friar, who nodded in agreement.
Merlitz blew out a long breath of frustration and sat back in his chair, facing his old companion. “You sure you are up to that, Em? With Aris and Tor out in the wild, shouldn’t you be here in the morning? To go after them?”
“We need you here, Gren is too old, the Friar is no help here. We either send a group of untested young ones, who will make too much noise…or you send me.”
The moment of silence clung to the room like a fog, making the air thick. This was not the outcome that the group wanted, but it was the one that balanced the argument best.
“I know you promised never to put yourself, or your family, in danger again. But the time for action is upon us, Emrys. The Sect thanks you,” responded the Friar.
The Mayor turned to Belvedere and asked, “And what will you tell them…exactly?”
“Rumors. Fears. They will want to come and see the signs for themselves, possibly with a Knight, if one is still in the monastery from winter.”
“Wonderful. So no Rangers around, except me and Tor, and we will have to deal with a Danikan Knight?!?!”
The Mayor looked to Merlitz and motioned for him to be calm. He turned to the Friar.
“Belvedere, no mention of the Daemon, please. We don’t know if Wenlan was possessed all those yiars ago. We only know the signs pointed to that. If they suspect something from the Beyond is residing here, it will bring more questions and challenge the future of Tommen’s Rest. We have narrowly avoided the rule of a Danikan Knight for three cyclaths. We don’t need to give them a reason…yet.” The Mayor looked to the three longtime residents to drive the point home.
Now was not the time for this, not until there was a new mayor for the town…
Aris led the way through the fields towards the heart of the farm, avoiding the areas that had been set aflame. The Parsimmions’ had built a compound in the center of their original lands, at the center was a sun temple, constructed from a framework of wooden beams attached to stone pillars that encircled the area. Hastily placed fencing had been wedged in the areas between pillars to form a palisade. Liam could hear the cries and commotion inside from the farms’ residents. They were trapped, having chosen this spot as a location for defense.
The raiders circled, taunting them as they banged on the outsides of the wooden barrier. Aris turned to Liam as they snuck through the brush nearby and silently pointed out the numbers.
‘I spot nine,’ Glitters added. He was only speaking to their minds and was acting as a bridge of communication, translating their signals to speech so they could keep their eyes open and senses alert.
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