The Dream Walker

Chapter Three Ádlíc-1

Chapter Three

ÁdlícFey drew the horses to a stop outside the large gates of the confined city of Castlefort. This world had but two castles of such grandeur, Albeth Castle, also known as Oureas' Rest, and the one he stood before now. Rumour had it that Castlefort had once been known by another name, but it was one that seemed to have been long forgotten.

Both castles had their own allure and shared but a few similarities. They both stood when they should have fallen, and were strongholds, nearly impossible to infiltrate. For two constructions believed to have been built in the time of the ancients, they were immensely different in architecture.

Albeth Castle was an enormous building, spanning the width of many cities. It was protected by a moat and drawbridge, and the castle itself was fused with mountains. Its rear overlooked one of the largest inland bodies of water known, which granted sailing vessels access into a secured port. Castlefort, however, was a city surrounded by an enormous fortified wall. Within, small houses littered the streets, and barely visible from outside was the royal castle, known as Castle Iris. This structure had earned its name due to the iris-shaped, purple flower wind-vane which stood prominent against the castle's roof. The outer petals rotated, while the inner ones remained stationary. Its breeze-driven motion was said to bestow blessings upon the surrounding land. Rumours suggested that this vane was a symbol of a blood-pact made by the royal house, and as long as one of royal blood was within the walls its boons would be granted.

Over a decade ago, when the king had been assassinated, the iris had closed and drought and famine had taken the land. The Chancellor had acted as Regent, guiding his people through the crisis, and yet whispers of underhanded deeds, and suspicion about his role in the king's death, had kept him from earning support. Even when the great flower opened once more, it brought no recognition of his actions, only suspicious tongues that spun tales of a prisoner escorted into the castle under night's cloak.

Without trust in its leader Castlefort had become divided, and no plans to name a successor to the throne had been made. There was an uneasy order across the land, and Fey noted the increased numbers of guards patrolling the battlements above, keeping close vigil on everything both within the walls and beyond.

Seeing Fey's approach, a guard from the battlements gave an order. At once the deafening grinding of metal echoed through the air as the enormous chains began to pull up the larger of the two impressive portcullises that protected the city's doors. Castlefort had two entrances, a small shielded door for travellers on foot, and the larger trade entrance for horses and wagons. Due to its location across marshland, and its rear border of steep cliffs, it was rare for people to approach on foot. Despite it being an infrequent occurrence, a well-maintained, wrought iron knocker could just be seen within arm's reach through the smaller door's portcullis. Both gateways progressed into a transitional area within the thick wall, where vehicles and people were searched thoroughly, and their business and intentions recorded.

There were stables inside the city but, quite often, those arriving on horseback were asked to leave their animals outside and enter through the smaller gate, with assurances that a stable hand would attend to their animals. This ensured the main gates were not opened and closed more than necessary. Fey's arrival, by luck rather than intention, had coincided with the evening traders. While the first large gate was still being raised a large wagon pulled to a slow halt beside them. Fey had been aware of its approach, but the driver had not sought to pass them, possibly in a show of respect for his finely dressed company. He forced back a slight smile as images of the mud-soaked figures played on his mind.

Inside, Fey and the two ladies waited in silence as the trader's carriage was surveyed, and the inventory checked along with the appropriate trading documents. While one small group attended to that task a familiar guard approached, chuckling as he saw the relief on Fey's face at finally arriving. He studied the invitations with care and scrutiny. The huffing and sighing of the older woman made him consider turning them away and saying he believed they were forgeries, and subjecting Fey to further torture, but the ill health of the woman astride his friend's saddle gave him second thoughts.

“Sam.” Fey nodded his head greeting the guard.

“Still rescuing damsels?” His smile faltered as he caught a glimpse of a woman's boots from beneath the blanket. They were a very distinguishable white and pale green knee-length leather. “By the Gods' breath Fey, that's Lady Mayrah. Please tell me this wasn't your doing.”

“No, Sam, I found her in the marsh. There was no sign of a struggle, I thought it best to bring her straight here.”

“Scavenger food. I told him he should have left her. Those filthy creatures were everywhere, who knows what disease they passed on.” The elder woman once more found her voice, earning herself a scowl from her own daughter. “A lady you say, by title alone I tell you. What kind of nobility would walk the marshes, wearing that no less? Oh well, dear, it looks like there's a little less competition for you.”

“Mother!” Her daughter's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she glanced towards the awaiting crowds, who were all now looking on with interest at the unfolding events.

“Fey, take her to Val. I'll see to your nag, and I'll stable your horses too.” Sam grinned. “The suitor ball is it? If you'll dismount and follow me please, I'll show you to the appointed changing areas. I assume you ladies will wish to dress appropriately.” He gave Fey a knowing wink having seen all too clearly that they had ridden in their best attire, and could only imagine the headache this outspoken woman had inflicted upon his friend.

Fey dismounted, before sliding the woman carefully into his arms and exiting towards the main street.

He was no stranger to this great city. Despite how often he attempted to avoid such fares his tasks always seemed to bring him here. There was always some manner of social event. Today's gathering was once more centred on finding a partner for the son of one of the more recognised nobles. For months his mother had organised banquets and galas trying to pair him with the perfect bride or groom.

Time after time he would sit and watch the spectacle in mild amusement, seeing only the arrogant sons and daughters of pompous fools who thought low cut tops and heaving bosoms, or oiled, glistening muscles would draw his eye long enough for him to overlook the fact that the depths of their personality could turn a fertile land barren. He would watch in polite boredom, humouring his mother's wishes. He turned his affection to no one, and still every father thought their own vacuous child would be the exception.

Unfortunately, for Fey, suitors often arrived in advance. As a respected guide he was less expensive than commissioning someone from the Hunters' Plexus, and thus his services during such events were often in great demand.

The remaining guards stepped aside, leaving Fey to his task. He walked the symmetrical streets. This entire town, almost down to its last cobblestone, gave the impression of uniformity. It was only the positioning of the water sources and farmlands that deterred this illusion. A uniform space separated each house, the bricks were a matching shade of reddish-brown, and the doors were planed to a smooth and uniform finish.

Each house, however, had its own individual touches. The trade houses hung iron signs announcing their services, tailors, clothiers, alchemists, produce stores, Fleshmongers, even armouries. The trade within the city was diverse, but there were rules. No two shops could sell the same speciality items. Although, there was always some overlap, and it was particularly noticeable in potions and alchemy, but the laws were strictly adhered to. Of course, what occurred beyond sight was another matter entirely.

Finally, Fey reached the small property belonging to the healer. Surrounding her home was a modest area of land contained within a low fence. Here she grew herbs and medicinal items. Fey had often told her some sections would be better served for growing food, but she would hear none of it. Stepping over the small fence, to save struggling with the gate, he approached the door, surprised when it opened before he had even had a chance to ring the small bell which was bolted onto the wall by the door. He remembered fitting it for her. It was less than ideal, in times of strong winds the weighted chime would bluster causing it to ring itself. Val often corrected his observation, saying it was the spirits of the land making their presence known to those around.

Whilst not an innate healer, Val had a talent which saw people flock to her in times of need. Even the nobles—much to the frustration of the court's physician—would seek her services. She had once welcomed many through her door as friends, but hateful rumours started by jealous competition saw those she once counted as companions turned away. Fey thought this was the greatest injustice of all. Val gave everything she had to those who called upon her, more so since the death of her husband and son, and was repaid only with loneliness until something was sought from her.

Healers were uncommon, it was thought that they were able to harness the part of magic associated with life. Unlike other users of the arcane who could use healing artes, such as a sorceress and the long extinct Hectarians, healers trained hard to develop the skill. It was by no means instinctive and required firm dedication and a strong aptitude. With enough practise they could assess ailments and even heal small wounds. But unlike those attuned to magic, they could do little more.

Seeing the young woman cradled in his arms she hurried them inside, quickly placing a fresh sheet over a long table specifically crafted for this purpose.

“Lay her there, my boy. We'll postpone the pleasantries until later. Go through, I've made scones, and the preserve should be just about cool now. We'll talk later.” As Fey gently lowered the figure in his arms, Val shuffled across the large room returning with a soft pillow which she placed under the woman's head. As Val began her scrutiny, he moved carefully, silencing the rattling of the bead curtains as he passed through them into the rear rooms.

Being welcomed into Val's home was something Fey had grown accustomed to over the years, and yet the unusual layout of the interior never failed to amaze him. He had been given cause to enter many of the businesses and dwellings here, and hers was the only one to differ. They were small houses, built from brick and wood, and each had a uniform square layout with an identical number of rooms. He had seen make-shift partitions for larger families, but never had he seen another house with such a large, singular reception room.

Val often recounted the tale of her husband returning home after trying to prove to the younger Shantymen he could not only out-pace them in work, but in drinking as well. Apparently his misadventure had resulted in a minor injury for him, and the near demolishing of the interior wall. Even as she told the tale she would let slip just some of the berating words he received about the thickness of his skull. It had taken some specialist intervention, but the wall was torn down, allowing her to relax in the living area while keeping vigil on resting patients.

“She's the second one this week.” Val appeared through the bead curtains to see Fey standing at the kitchen counter, using a small knife to spread the strawberry preserve across one of the scones. He placed it onto a tray with a cup of tea before laying it on the table at her habitual place. “I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for her. She has contracted Ádlíc, a corruption or sickness of her spirit. We have a house down the way that is caring for the other one. It's something they have to come out of on their own, we just try to keep them nourished.” She paused for a moment, her brow furrowing.