Rylen and Leyla sat in silence under the shelter.

It had been a quarter of an hour since the dragon and rider had flown over. A few people emerged furtively from their hiding places and spoke in whispers.

After a half hour passed, and some, either stupid or brave, were starting to go about their business again. Which is to say that they weren’t doing much, not with most of the inhabitants still hiding. A few grouped together and chatted in low tones, while keeping an eye on the mountains and sky.

At three-quarters of an hour, Rylen heard the thunder of far-off galloping. That would be the soldiers from Night’s Eye.

He stood and stretched, brushed off his pants, and held out his hand to Leyla. She didn’t meet his eye and rested her head on her arms again. He let his hand drop to his side.

“We’re supposed to wait for the soldiers,” she said.

Rylen glanced at a group of men talking. “We’ll be fine. Others are already walking around again.”

“We’re supposed to wait for the soldiers.”

He stood awkwardly for a moment, then rejoined her. He picked up a piece of kindling and started breaking it in two, then those in two again, and so on until he couldn’t create any smaller bits. He repeated this on the other half.

Leyla sat quietly, her legs hugged to her chest, her arms resting on her knees and her head nestled in her arms. Her breathing indicated her nervousness.

The sound of horses’ hooves grew louder until it echoed down the street, and they slowed to a trot. They came by their hiding place shortly, and one of the soldiers dismounted.

“Hear, hear!” he shouted. “The ambassador of the Erans means to make a mockery of us! Toamla-Kegol is at his games again! All is well! All is well!”

He repeated this a few more times. Even so, he was soon surrounded by people asking questions or demanding that something be done about it. Other soldiers came to his rescue, shooing the crowd away.

“All is well! Go back about your business! All is well!”

One of them spotted Leyla’s bright yellow priestesses robes and came over to her.

“Priestess, there is nothing to fear anymore. Come, help us put the people’s minds at rest.”

She held out her hand, and he helped her up. Rylen followed her, and the soldier did a double take. Where Rylen’s features were somewhat obscured by the shadow of the lean-to, now it became obvious he was Eran.

“Flaming—” The soldier pushed Rylen away. He face grew red, and he let go of Leyla’s hand. He took a step toward Rylen, who stepped back.

“Wait.” Leyla grabbed the soldier’s arm.

The man didn’t take his eyes off Rylen but did stop his advance.

Leyla let out a breath. “The king has made peace with Ara-Era and its people. You should know this is the king’s will.”

The soldier’s hand flexed. “Of course.” He slowly eased up and took a step away from Rylen. He turned and motioned Leyla to follow him as he walked away.

Rylen watched him warily and glanced at Leyla.

Go HOME, she mouthed.

Rylen backed away. What was this feeling? He felt like she was being taken away by an enemy, but it couldn’t be any further from the truth.

He forced himself to turn and walk away down a side street. People were mingling again now. Carts were starting to roll again; shopkeepers were helping those whose stalls had been damaged in the panic.

Rylen walked close to one group and a leg suddenly jutted out, and he nearly sprawled flat on his face. There were laughs behind him, but he quickly hurried off. He increased his pace, and he did his best not to meet the many eyes that glanced his way or openly stared in hostility. The whole town had been embarrassed and there was no way for them to mend their broken pride.

He now knew why Hyrestl kept him inside for a week every time Toamla-Kegol came. It was for the reason that every person in town wanted a little piece of him right now. Usually, Toamla-Kegol just flew over the town to pass on his greeting. Then again, everyone was expecting it too.

Rylen had heard his customers talk about it before. They grumbled and cursed Toamla and shot him mean looks. Even with advance warning, there was still a tinge of fear that crept into their hearts. They hated Toamla for that. They hated Rylen for being associated, even distantly, with Toamla. All Toamla did was fly over the town, and he earned the loathing of every person there. His dragon didn’t even make a sound. But this time he had come unannounced and had put on a frightening show. It was no wonder, then, when someone decided to vent their anger.

Rylen was walking briskly across a main street to the other side where a less crowded passage was. He dodged through the throng, getting every manner of curse called down upon him, and was shoved and rudely shouldered.

Suddenly, there was a shout. A group of finely dressed young men was looking his way as one of them pointed.

Oh no. Rylen recognized them as the sons of nobles who lived on the other side of the hill.

He took off, and they split up and ran after him. Three split off to a road that was parallel to the one he was headed for. The other four followed right behind him. Seeing that they wanted to head him off and block him in, he swerved to the right before he entered the side street.

One of the nobles close behind grabbed at him but missed and shouted over the houses to their friends on the other side.

“He’s going right!”

Rylen’s feet pounded on the cobbles but soon he had to slow down and dodge his way through a crowd of people, carts, and animals. The nobles pushed people out of the way in their pursuit.

Rylen knew he had to get home, but his pursuers were driving him farther and farther to the east. He couldn’t go north: he was sure the other group was mirroring his movements there.

He turned right at the next crossroad and headed south again. He was slowly gaining ground on his escape. He could choose the path he took, and they had to follow. When he noted the crowds reducing, he took the next right again, westward. He heard a shout from behind him, but he couldn’t make it out.

The chill autumn air burned in his lungs. He accidentally bumped into someone and stumbled. He didn’t waste breath on an apology and carried on. He could only hear the usual sounds of the city around him now. He checked behind and didn’t see his pursuers.

He forced himself to run another couple of blocks, then turned north again toward the inn. He let himself slow and recover his breath somewhat but kept a close lookout in case any of them had guessed his ploy.

Rylen wiped his sweat-slicked brow and slowed from a jog to a walk. He paused at every corner and glanced each way before continuing. He made the rest of his way like this until he was almost home. He could see the inn’s pointed roof above the neighboring houses.

“Hey! I found him!”

Rylen whirled around to see one of the nobles down the street and running after him. Instantly, he knew they had come back to the inn to lie in wait for him.

He sprinted. He was only two blocks away now. Even if he could only get to the street near it, he could call for Hyrestl. Feet pounding stone echoed against the hard wood walls of the houses all around. He turned a corner: one more block. He could see his street through a gap between two houses.

A noble ran across that gap and glanced his way before disappearing.

Rylen made a sharp left but not before he saw the noble double back into sight and sprint his way.

“Hyrestl!” Rylen yelled. “Help!”

He made a dash to the right again into a little street, trying to get to the inn. He came out onto his street and started running down it but then he quickly doubled back as one of the nobles was already there waiting for him.

Something slammed into his side, and he sprawled to the ground. The one chasing close behind him had crashed into him. Another caught up, and the two reached down and yanked him up.

Finding his feet again, Rylen raised a fist to strike the one on his right.

In that moment, he saw not fear but fury kindle in the man’s eyes. Rylen hesitated. The one on his left punched him in the gut. He doubled over, and the pursuers dragged him toward an alley.

Rylen looked up and met the eyes of Kaden.

“Kaden! Help!”

But he, who Rylen had shared many laughs and jokes with, turned away. The other nobles ran up and pushed Rylen into the alley.

***

When the nobles had had enough of their sport, they left Rylen propped against the alley wall.

No one came to help him. He knew there had been people, customers he had spoken with often, who had simply walked by while he was being beaten. Eventually, he had noticed that there was no one passing by on the street anymore. The sun was nearing the peaks of the mountains now. It was midafternoon.

He found the strength to stand and gasped at the pain in his side. He didn’t know if they had cracked his ribs, but it certainly felt like it.

He spit out blood and limped out of the passage. He looked up and down the street but didn’t see anyone except a woman sweeping her step. She spotted him, then averted her eyes and stepped back into her home.

As he limped slowly back to the inn, he felt his cheek. It was starting to swell. Even though he had covered his head like Hyrestl had taught him, he would still end up with a black eye and swollen jaw.

As he walked, Rylen felt the sore spots all over his body. He could already feel the places that would have bruises. His left ankle felt like he had twisted it at some point during the chase. He didn’t know how many times he had been kicked in the side and had the wind knocked out of him. A few knuckles had been jammed. His arms would be bruised from trying to protect his face from blows. And his thighs would be bruised where he had been kicked.

I should consider myself lucky. They could have been wearing boots and not slippers. The thought didn’t bring him much comfort, though. And I can’t blame Kaden for not helping me. They’re nobles, after all. Even helping someone who is getting beaten up by thugs is hard.

He covered the two blocks and slowly pushed open the front door.

“Hey, boy, where did all the people—”

The man’s question died on his lips as he saw the state Rylen was in.

Only a few others were at the inn. They all looked like they had been there for some time. Dirty plates were in front of them, and each patron had at least one empty mug. Rylen wondered where the server could be.

Oh, that’s right. He was in the doorway, bleeding.

Hyrestl came out from the kitchen to fetch something from behind the counter. He caught sight of Rylen and hissed.

“Subu!” he cursed. He hurried from behind the bar and helped the young man into the kitchen and onto a stool.

Someone laughed in the dining room. There were low murmurs, and more people joined in on the laughing. Hyrestl stalked out, and Rylen heard him say something. A guest responded hotly.

“You need to kick that flaming Eran out of here! It’s ruining your shop and your reputation!”

Hyrestl said something else.

“Hey! What are you doing? Ack!”

Others shouted at the innkeeper to stop, and there was the sound of a chair falling over and feet dragging across the floor. A man grunted, and the front door was thrown open and banged against the wall. Hyrestl’s voice came to Rylen distantly.

“You’re no longer welcome here! Stay out!”

He had seen it happen enough times to know that Hyrestl had gripped the man by the jaw and forcefully dragged him out into the street. Chairs scraped as they were pushed back, and boots thudded as the other customers made their way out. Voices murmured, and soon it was quiet.

A lone set of footsteps approached through the dining area, and Hyrestl appeared back in the kitchen. He promptly fetched a few things from the cupboards and returned with some bandages. Then, he set about cleaning the youth up and prodding his wounds to check for broken bones.

His face was dark with a scowl, and he felt Rylen’s arm none too gently. He gasped in pain.

“It’s not broken,” Hyrestl said. He felt Rylen’s ankle next, and he jerked as sharp pain shot up his leg. Hyrestl fetched a piece of wood and made a splint that would keep Rylen’s ankle in place. The ankle was already swollen considerably.

“So,” Hyrestl said, “who did this to you?”

“Some rich nobles from the bright side.”

Hyrestl motioned for him to take off his shirt, so he gingerly pulled it up over his sore ribs. The older man prodded, and again Rylen cried out in pain.

“Hmm, they’re not broken, probably just cracked a little. Good thing those nobles only wear soft shoes.” He proceeded to wrap the tender chest with bandages.

“They chased after me as soon as they saw me. I couldn’t get back.”

Hyrestl was quiet for a moment. “The dragon scared them pretty good, I imagine. Toamla’s made the whole town feel like cowardly fools. I imagine the nobles were trying to get back a little of their pride.”

Rylen winced as his guardian pulled the bandages snug.

“So,” he continued, still paying attention to what his hands were doing, “how did they fare?”

Rylen frowned. “What do you mean?”

Hyrestl’s own face was still dark. “Did you break any of their bones? Get any good punches or kicks in? Tell me.”

The rustle of bandages against the barman’s calloused skin was the only sound in the kitchen. Rylen felt each intake of breath strain against the bandages, and pricks of pain crawled along his sides.

“I didn’t fight back.”

“You didn’t fight back? What does that mean? Why?”

Rylen was silent, and Hyrestl’s eyes bored into his.

“I’ve taught you so much! Why didn’t you fight?”

“I…I… Because—”

“Because what? You were afraid? All I’ve taught you and you just throw it away?”

“What? No!”

“Then, what? What is it that keeps you from fighting back? You should have been able to injure them as much they did you. If you didn’t fight them, then what is it besides cowardice?”

“They already think of me as an enemy! If I fight back, I’ll only confirm it for them!” He clenched his teeth against the pain that yelling had worsened in his side.

The man’s scowl deepened, and he looked around as if searching for something.

“If I fight back,” Rylen continued, “they’ll kill me.”

Hyrestl stood and stalked out of the room. “Then, it is cowardice. You dishonor me.”