Episode2
1263 Words
LEON NIGHTFALL
“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!”
The men in the bar hailed and clapped as I gulped down my tenth cup of beer. An uproar erupted the moment I slammed my jug on the table before my other contenders. Every man around me had a glint of surprise on their faces.
“How are you still…standing?” The bartender muttered as she gathered the empty bottles.
Before I could give my sarcastic response, a whistle rang in my ear. “Arm wrestle! I bet Hundred Wul coins,” my opponent yelled. His fingers locked mine even before I could agree and the table was cleared.
“What’s your name?” I asked with a smile.
“Bran,” he mugged.
“You’re a big guy, Bran. And you’re about to lose to a small man,”
He smirked, flexing his muscles. “Bran never loses”.
The whistle was blown, and we went right in. He was tough. Real tough. The crowd cheered his name while I let him climb to the top of his hope. Then in the blink of an eye, I pulled against his weight and slammed his arm on the desk.
“Booooooo!” The crowd sang.
Bran’s right hand friend tossed the parcel of coins to me. The moment I grabbed it, someone tapped my shoulder and whispered in my ear. “She’s here,”
I turned to meet the boy whom I saw the sketch with earlier today. He pointed towards the corner at the end of the tavern. “She’s there. We need to hurry.”
“Why? She just got here,”
“Yeah, not everyone has as much time to squander as you,” Dylan said. I followed him to the end of the corner.
My first glance at the girl made me freeze. “She’s…the artist?”
“Yes. I’m the artist,” she answered, sitting upright. “What’s your offer for my art?”
I stared at her for a moment. Interesting…I thought. Sitting came easy, but my eyes couldn’t stop analyzing and picking up every single detail. She looked…weary, but beautifully weary. Pale skin, raven black hair and amber eyes similar to her bloodline.
If she was the one.
“What’s your name?”
“Indra. How much are you paying?” She spoke with so much tension in her voice. She seemed to be in a haste, and maybe hiding from someone.
“Indra. Can we talk privately?”
“I don’t have that time,”
“Just tell her your offer,” Dylan chimed.
“Can you come with me, Indra? I promise to make your time worth it. I have something to…”
“Bullshit! This is a waste of time. Don’t ever drag me out here for something aimless again Dylan,” she heaved, pushed off her seat and turned to leave.
“The castle of ash!” I called.
Indra froze. Then turned. The shock on her face forced me to my feet. “It’s called the castle of ash. Your sketch,”
She stared at me, more like accessing my face, like she was trying to recall where she’d seen me.
“Your face. Now I know why something was off. I’ve…seen you,” she said with doubt lingering in her tone.
I took a step closer to try to explain, but she stormed out immediately. Dylan grabbed the parcel I was given and went after her.
“Dylan, wait!” I yelled. Luckily, he stopped. “Tell her five thousand Wul coins. No games, I promise,”
“How am I supposed to believe you?”
I reached for my coat and pulled out another parcel. “Here, that’s a thousand Wul coins,” I tossed it to him. “Same time, same place, tomorrow. I’ll balance up,”
His expression was stoic for the smallest moment. “Pray she listens,” then he zoomed off.
A heavy sigh escaped my mouth, relief washing over me as I leaned on the wall. “f**k! I may have found her,”
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INDRA
The lights in my room were still on when I returned. Theo was on the bed, sleeping perhaps. Darion's unmistakable scent lingered around my wardrobe, forcing my gaze towards that area.
“Where are you coming from?”
My blood ran cold instantly. Words traveled with the speed of light out of my mouth. “The garden,”
He didn’t respond. At least not immediately. A few seconds went by before he stood from the rocky chair.
“Are you lying to me?”
“No. I’m not,” I steadied my shaky breath. “Dylan needed help in the garden so I…”
“Dylan,” he cut in.
I should have made use of a different name. Or maybe used the store keeper's name. Dylan’s name and presence always stirred an issue between us.
“Always Dylan. Do you love him?” He asked, inching closer until I could feel the heat in his eyes. “I mean…for you to spend so much time with him, it means you must love him,”
“I don’t love him,” the words forced a heavy saliva down my throat.
“Oh really? So what you're saying is…he hasn’t laid his hands on these…” his fingers traced the lines of my bra from my cloth. “Large, juicy, boobs of yours. And your…”
“Stop it!” I muttered, stepping away respectfully. “Why do you treat me like your tool? Like a property?”
“Are you not?”
“I’m your wife! Your mate!” My voice came off louder and angrier than I intended. Theo stirred in bed, then his eyes flicked open. f**k!
“Mum? Dad?” He grumbled, sitting upright.
“Put the boy back to sleep. Then you get some rest. I can see your eye sockets threatening to drown your eyes.” Dorian mumbled before walking off. I sat with Theo for a while, cajoling his hair until he went back to sleep.
The silence stayed with me for a while, filling my head with what happened at the tavern. That face…he looked strikingly familiar.
But from where?
All I could think of were images. Sketches. Pictures I drew a long time ago. I searched my desk, the small shelf, the bed lockers and in between large and small books.
My instincts pushed me back to the shelf. After emptying every row and going through lots of old sketches, I finally found it.
Same eyes, same brows, same hair. Everything was similar. I raised the paper towards the light, comparing and contrasting with the image of the man in my head.
“I sketched him. That's the reason,” I blurted.
It still felt strange.
Who is he? Why is he interested in an old sketch of the castle which I made several years ago and named the castle of ash? A name I didn’t inscribe on the sketch. Why is he ready to pay such an amount?
How possible could I have drawn the man I met this night four years ago? A total stranger.
Could Dylan be up to something with him?
More questions wandered in my mind, but I was too tired to keep asking myself. I slipped into the duvet, resting my head beside Theo while staring at the man in the paper.
One last thoughtful wish slipped into my mind before sleep stole my consciousness…I better have a dream to answer these questions by tomorrow.
- Writer
