Greenspring sipped a cup of tea as he watched the cat-like creature. Both of them stared at each other, looking for some weakness. We had tied the supposed harska to a chair outside. He pulled against his bindings, never taking his eyes off Greenspring. The rest of us stood by the house. Finally, Greenspring set his tea on the floor. He grabbed his staff and stood up, facing me, Nia, and Tamara.

“It is a harska, an adult by the looks of it,” said Greenspring.

“How do you know?” asked Tamara. “Have you seen one before?” I was curious too but didn’t want to be the one to ask.

Greenspring laughed. “In my travels as a druid, I have seen many things. Harska are not as rare as you would think. Or at least, they were not.” 

Druids were magicians who focused on magic concerning nature. Trees, animals, and some were even blessed with the ability to control time. They were an ancient sort of magician, only related to bards in that they could both use magic.

“Alright, but what is it doing here?” I asked.

He held up his hand. “Patience my boy, patience. These things take time. Trust me, you can never be too certain.” 

Rolling up his left sleeve, he revealed a large scar on his bicep. His upper arm wasn’t wrinkled compared to the rest of his body. It was also paler, with a pink undertone, compared to his forearm. I thought about commenting but decided against it. Greenspring rolled down his sleeve and nodded.

“You can never be too careful, especially not around…” He quickly looked to his left and then to his right. “Tigers! Nasty creatures tigers are. Always watch out for them. Large cats of all kinds are dangerous, but especially tigers.”

“Are harska related to tigers?” asked Nia.

“Nope! But that does not make them any less dangerous,” he said smiling.

“We’re getting off track!” I yelled, throwing up my hands. “Why is he here?”

Greenspring leaned down towards the creature. He muttered under his breath, “Wolf spirit of the forest, guide me to the truth.” Vines began to appear from under his clothes. They wrapped around his limbs and sank into his skin. Like green veins, they pulsed with magic energy. Greenspring waved his hand over the harska causing the same vines to appear in the harska’s eyes. The vines expanded and took over the eye sockets.

“I will ask you again, what is your name?” asked Greenspring.

“Damian,” said the harska. He blinked, creating a scratching noise from the vines rubbing against his eyelids.

“Do you serve another?”

Damian nodded. “King Gunner, The Rebel King.”

Tamara and Nia exchanged a worried glance. I had never heard of a rebel king. The king of this region was King Raford. He wasn’t well-liked, but no one tried to rebel against him, at least as far as I knew.

“Why did he send you here?” asked Greenspring

Damian bit his tongue, causing a splatter of blood to shoot onto Greenspring’s face. The druid recoiled back, pulling the vines back with him. As Greenspring lost his balance and fell to the ground, Damian fainted. Nia walked over to him and checked for signs of life. I helped Greenspring stand back up.

“Asleep,” said Nia. “What was that about?”

“I am not quite sure,” replied Greenspring. “There are few who can resist my magic. This one is very strong-willed, but that is not what I am worried about. If what he said is true, and I am sure it is so, then the harska have a new leader. That is very troubling.”

“There’s been talk of a fake king from the east causing trouble,” said Tamara. “Could that be this rebel king?”

“Perhaps.” Greenspring leaned on his staff, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Can we wake him and try again?” I asked.

Greenspring shook his head. “If we tried again he could die. Forcing the truth to come out causes a hefty toll on the body,” said Greenspring. “As the saying goes, the truth hurts.”

The four of us looked toward Damian. His chest rose slowly with each breath. Greenspring explained that once he got some rest, they would have another chance. I was eager to try again, but I didn’t want to argue with Greenspring. He knew more about druidic magic than I ever could. Still, I didn’t like waiting.

The sun was starting to drift toward the horizon. I wanted to stay and wait for him to wake up, but I couldn’t. It would soon be time for another performance at the tavern. If I wanted to keep my room, I had to perform every night. Plus, I had yet to mail my letter to my family. Until I was sure of where to go next, it was best to wait and gather more money.

Nia and Tamara moved Damian by the forge. Greenspring promised to watch him while I was gone. I wasn’t sure if he was up to that, but I didn’t complain. If anything went wrong Tamara and Nia would be there. With their assurance that they would come to get me if anything happened, I left for town.

The trip back to town was lonely. I had enjoyed the small bits of time I had spent with Nia and Tamara and was glad that Greenspring didn’t seem mad at me. It was almost like I was back home with my family. Spending time working together, getting to know each other, and laughing together. Once I left Xalir with David, I knew I would miss them, but I knew that Henry and Arienne missed us more. Saving them came before my feelings.

Before I headed to the tavern, I made a quick stop at a postal tent. The previous king had set them up all over the kingdom to make information flow better. Because they hadn’t been around long, most of the buildings were nothing more than tents set up in the center of town. The postal tent in Kent’s Crossing was a nice green color. An older-looking man with a neatly cut beard stood in front of it.

“Afternoon,” I said as I approached. “I’ve got one letter here for Xalir.”

The man smiled, he held out his hand and then raised a gold coin.

“Right. Should have one somewhere around here.” I searched through my bag before pulling out a small leather sack. After a bit more searching I pulled out a single coin and handed it to him. He took it, and after checking it in the sunlight, placed it in his pocket.

I pulled out my letter, signed it, then rolled it up. The postal man held out his hand and I placed the letter in it. He took out some wax and a ribbon. Gently, he wrapped the letter with the ribbon. Then he snapped his fingers three times, igniting a small flame on the third time. Using the flame, he melted the wax, creating a perfect seal.

“To Xalir, please,” I repeated. He smiled and nodded, placing the letter in a bag on the floor. With that done, the postal man waved me off. I gave a quick bow and headed to the tavern.

As it was getting late, the tavern was already filling up. Servers rushed from table to table, wiping them down as best they could before more arrived. Light from the candles nearest the door flickered as I entered. They wavered from the wind before settling as the door closed. Samuel noticed me from across the tavern and waved me over.

I maneuvered my way around the tables and servers. Even with the floor cleaned every morning, it was still sticky from spills made years before. I tried to step on the spots that seemed cleanest but only succeeded half the time.

Samuel clapped his hands together as I reached him. “There’s my star! Ready for another good night?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Pulling my mandolin in front of me, I strummed a quick chord to make sure it sounded okay.

“Perfect, perfect. Well, let me know when you want to take a break and I’ll have food ready.”

I thanked Samuel and made my way to the fireplace. The fire was roaring and the heat felt uncomfortably hot as I got close. I gave myself a minute to get used to the heat before I started to play. It wasn’t anything fancy, I wasn’t really in the mood to perform, but it was good enough to invite people in. With the music playing and the sun setting, the crowds arrived all at once.

Miners shuffled into the tavern in groups of two or three. The smell as they entered clogged the senses and caused many to cough. Since I was a good distance away from the door I was fine. Their expressions changed as soon as they saw I was back, and many chose seats closest to me. I made a mental count of how many people entered and how many people ordered food. Once people were settled, I began the real music.

I dove right into a song about good friends. The kinds of friends that stick by you during the worst of it. While I sang, I thought about Henry. Even though he was my brother, he was that kind of friend. I would never forgive myself if I didn’t save him. The miners cheered throughout the song.

As I played, I looked around the tavern and included verses about people I saw. A young man eating with an older man became a verse about how it didn’t matter how old you were, friendship never aged. A young couple was eating with their daughter, reminding me of Arienne. That became a verse about families and how friendships could also bloom from them.

The song finished and most people in the tavern clapped respectfully. I bowed to show my gratitude before starting back up with another song. While I sang, my mind was somewhere else. Nia, Tamara, and Greenspring were all still looking after the harska. I should have been with them. Henry and Arienne needed me to hurry and save them. If they were even still alive.

If only I knew where in the Sapphire Mountains they were, if they were even there at all. There were too many unknowns. As much as it pained me, I tried to put on a happy face. The money I made would help find them, that was what I told myself. Do it for the money, then you can help the others.

My next couple of songs were received well. Drinks were starting to empty as the wallets of those drinking them dwindled. I made a gesture to Samuel, and then finished a song about a made-up adventure with a dragon. Did I have any idea what a dragon looked like? No, but neither did most people. So I felt the description that I gave worked well enough.

A server came over and placed a plate full of food on the table nearest to me. Dinner was a meaty broth with carrots and potatoes with bread on the side. The savory smell wafted over to me causing me to end my song early. This time the server didn’t stay, so I didn’t get a good look at them. Seemed like some sort of elf.

The meal was amazing. The beef, which made up the majority of the meat in the dish, was cooked to perfection and melted in my mouth. The potatoes and carrots were soft enough to eat without being mushy. Once all that was left was the broth, I drank it directly from the bowl. The warmth was comforting as I drank it all down. With the bowl empty, I took pieces of bread and wiped the edges. The broth leftovers made the plain bread taste even better. A glass of cold water washed down anything left.

A server, different from the last, came over and took my now empty bowl. I sat back in my chair for a bit to let the food settle. She came back after a few minutes with a large pitcher of water and filled my glass. The server looked at me and smiled, “I’ll keep it filled for you, Mr. Benson. As long as you keep playing, of course.”

I said thanks as she bowed before walking away. She looked young with straight black hair tied into a ponytail. Younger than me, that was for sure. Sighing, I stretched before moving back towards the fireplace. I wasn’t getting any younger.

The droopy eyes of the miners rose once they saw me get up to play. For many of these folks, this was the one joy they had in life. I enjoyed making them happy, but it didn’t feel right to be singing while my family was suffering. Still, I needed the money. Renting a room wasn’t cheap and neither was food.

With these thoughts on my mind, I played a song about the trappings of wealth. A song about a young man searching for a dragon’s cave. In the cave was rumored to be wealth that could make a man a king ten times over. When the man found the cave and the wealth inside. He tried to fight the dragon inside.

The dragon would normally have eaten the man and been done with it, but this dragon was bored. He didn’t want to hunt for food anymore. So he made a deal with the man. The dragon would give the man one hundred gold pieces for every human sacrifice the man brought him. The man thought hard about this, one hundred gold pieces was a lot of wealth.

The next verse was about the man taking the offer and regretting it. I would have sung it, but in the middle of my song, the doors to the tavern burst open. They smashed against the walls, sending a thunderous crash echoing throughout the tavern. Everybody stopped what they were doing and looked at the pale girl gasping for breath. Her panicked eyes looked around the tavern as she struggled to get the words out.

“Fire!” she yelled before taking a deep breath. “The blacksmith’s hut is on fire!”