Chapter 2
Halt walked slowly through the town. Not many people were up this time of day. The sun had only just touched the sky.
He had his bag over his shoulder and it seemed to be getting heavier every step he took. Making a life for himself was harder then he had imagined in this foreign country. He touched the pouch where he kept his amulet.
"You wouldn't like it here," He murmered softly.
"Oi, move it kid," Halt jumped like a startled cat. He'd been so absorbed in his depression he hadn't noticed the horse and carriege barely ten metres away. He moved off the path, instinctively blending in with the shadows.
The carriege passed him. He wondered breifly where it was heading but shook the thought away. For now, he needed to find an inn before he collapsed from exhaustion.
For the past two days he had been trekking across the country, resting when he could but never for a full night. He had no camping equipment and had heard stories of travellers freezing to death at night. Every three hours he'd slept for one hour, huddled in his cloak. It was a challenge to force himself onwards and completely different to what Halt was used to.
A window creaked open. Halt glanced up. An elderely woman was leaning out, breathing deeply. She noticed him and sent him a friendly smile.
"Just getting a breath of fresh air," She said cheerfully. Halt swallowed, gritting his teeth as another wave of homesickness flooded over him. Tears sprung up behind his eyes. He blinked them away, annoyed at himself.
"Do you know where the inn is?" He asked her. The woman peered down at him.
"Oh, you're new here," She said as if she'd only just realised she didn't know him, "Straight ahead until you reach the big oak, then turn left and four houses down is the inn,"
"Thank you," Halt called up to her. She smiled again and waved cheerily.
"Not a problem," She said, "Welcome to Clifend,"
Halt adjusted his rucksack on his shoulder. So Clifend was the name of this cheerful little town, he thought to himself.
Some of the residents were waking, he noticed. Severel homes had smoke rising from the chimneys. A few people passed him but had little interest with a small, wiry boy who's words were laced with a hibernian accent.
As Halt neared the centre of town, the castle became visible. He couldn't help his lip curling in contempt. It was barely more then a large fort, he thought, effective enough against an attack but lacking the.. the..
He couldn't think of a suitible word, to his disapointment. Now Hibernia, that had had real castles, he remembered, huge castles with soaring towers...
...and you never liked any of them, Halt told himself severly, what are you trying to do? Make yourself more homesick than you need to be? He had hated Hibernia, hated it. So why did he miss it so much?
The answer was simple. He didn't. He missed the people who lived in it, his friends, family. They were his home and without them...
He touched the pouch holding his amulet again. Halt even missed the reason he'd left. Mostly.
Where one of the streets branched off from the main road, a huge oak tree grew. He brushed his fingers against the rough bark. The tree would have been growing peacefully for decades. It must be filled with wisdom. How many events, good and bad, had it witnessed?
He counted the houses as he passed them. The inn had two floors, the dining hall at the bottom and the rooms on top. He pushed open the door.
The dining hall was empty, which was only to be expected. People would be waking up still. A tall man sat behind the bar. He noticed Halt and rose, a small frown on his face.
"Lookin' for breakfast?" He asked. Halt looked at the ground and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.
"A room," He mumbled. The man cupped a hand behind his ear, leaning forward.
"Say again, boy, don't go mumbling now,"
Halt gathered his courage and lifted his head, "I'm looking for a room," There was a pause, "To sleep in," he added.
The man blinked at him, "Funny time to go booking a room," he said. Then he shrugged. Business was business.
"Two silver pieces," He said, "Unless you got a horse, that's extra,"
Halt handed over two silver coins, "I don't have a horse," He said, "I came here on foot,"
The man eyed him curiously, "Where from?" He noted the accent but one could hardly walk all the way from Hibernia.
"The coast," Halt said shortly. He just wanted a clean bed, not a discussion with a stranger.
"Clifend is right by the coast, y'know," the inn keeper said conversationally, "Near a cliff. That's where the name's from,"
Halt tried to think of a polite way of phrasing what he had in mind but words failed him. Luckily, the inn keeper noticed his expression.
"Well, I'm sure you must be tired after your walk," He stuck out a grubby hand, "John Henderson's the name,"
Halt shook the hand with distaste, "My name is Halt," He said. He unconciously decided not to use his last name. That would remind him too much of home.
"Have a good nap, Halt," John said cheerfully, "Don't forget to come down for lunch later,"
Halt climbed the stairs and found his room. He locked the door behind him and tossed his stuff in a corner. He didn't bother to undress, just collapsed on the soft bed and let his eyes drift shut.
…...
Halt woke suddenly. He couldn't say what had woken him but he felt he hadn't woken naturally. He sat up, ears straining for an unusual sound, eyes roaming the room. Nothing happened. Birds were twittering outside in a peaceful manner.
He stood warily, feeling for his amulet as he always did when he was uncertain. His nose wrinkled. He wished he hadn't slept in his cloths. He hadn't been able to wash recently and it certainly hadn't helped matters.
Halt relaxed a little, convincing himself that it had been nothing. He was just getting paranoid being so far from home.
Crash
Halt's body stiffened and he became alert once more. He fastened his knife scabberd to his belt, unsheathing the knife to admire it's deadly shine. His knife was the only weapon he'd taken with him. The sword he'd left behind. He'd never been a particularly good swordsman anyway.
He slung his bag over his shoulder, planning to leave without getting involved with whatever was going on.
Halt descended the stairs. As he did so he heard yelling voices. A girl screamed.
He reached the bottom of the staircase and pressed against the wall, hoping to stay unseen.
Broken glass littered the floor, cracked cups and smashed plates. There were two men, huge men, with bulging muscles and giant swords on their backs. A small girl, roughly two years younger than Halt, crouched amongst the broken glass. She was remarkably pretty, with curly dark hair and wide hazel eyes. Tears streaked down her face.
Guilt brushed it's fingers across Halt's heart. He was planning on sneaking out the back door while no one was looking. How could he just leave her there?
He looked around the room at the petrified faces. John Henderson was cowering behind the bar. One of the giant men raised his fist above his head.
"Not very brave, are you?" He hissed at the girl. She closed her eyes and looked away.
"Leave her alone!" Someone shouted. Halt blinked in surprise. He saw a boy step forward. He was wearing a strange cloak that seemed to shimmer and distort his figure when he moved. He also had a bow slung over his shoulders but it wouldn't be much use in a close quarter fight like this one.
The big men turned to face him. The boy held out two knives, one smaller, the other large, in front of him.
The men laughed. It started with the one on the left. An explosion of laughter burst from his fat lips, mocking and a little disbelieving.
Halt couldn't see the boys face under the cowl of the cloak. He himself felt a little ashamed at not doing anything. His hand fell to the knife at his hip.
One of the men lunged forward, a massive hand bunched in a fist. The boy neatly side stepped it and brought his big knife up into the giants side. The giant man bellowed in pain and rage, doubling over. The boy knocked him out with the hilt of his knife and turned to face the other one.
Halt saw the girl scurry out the back of the room without a word of thanks and felt a surge of contempt. Then he remembered he was about to do just that and changed his plans. He unsheathed his knife and started to creep behind the remaining man.
The boy didn't see him. He was busy watching the man draw his massive sword. The man grinned. He drew the sword back over his head and swept it down in a crushing stroke. Halt hurried forward, knife at the ready but knowing he didn't stand a chance at getting to the man in time.
There was a clang of metel on metel. The boy had crossed his two knives in an x shape and stopped the sword. Halt had never seen a style of fighting like that before.
Halt couldn't see the mans face from his position but he saw his muscles bunch as he put all his weight on his sword. The boy was forced to his knees, trying to keep the sword away from him.
Halt swung his knife with all his strength. The man crumpled to the ground.
The boy's cowl had fallen off his face and Halt could now see his features. He had blond hair and expressive blue eyes. He was puzzled, Halt saw. The boy bent over the man, checking his pulse.
"I didn't kill him," Halt said.
The boy looked up at him. The inn snapped back to life, John coming out from behind his bar. He seemed embarrased. Halt would be too, if he'd let someone else do all the fighting. The innkeeper said nothing, just started sweeping away the mess.
The buzz of chatter returned. The boy rose to his feet.
"Thank you," He said to Halt, still a little confused. The hibernian shrugged and made a move to leave.
The boy impulsively stepped forward, "I'm Crowley," he said. Halt paused and looked over his shoulder.
"Halt," he said. The boy, Crowley, frowned.
"What?" he asked uncertainly. Halt kicked himself.
"My name is Halt," he nodded.
"Oh," He said. Halt swung the door open, the midday sun shining down.
"Wait!" Crowley called after him, "Where are you going?"
Halt shrugged, "Dunno," he muttered.
Crowley smiled, "I dunno either," he said, "Lemme get my stuff, we can go together,"
Halt sent him an irritated look but the strange boy in the cloak was already darting up the stairs. He didn't really want any company. Then he thought of the crossing knives and the way the cloak shimmered. There was something decidedly strange about it, he thought.
Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to travel with someone else for a little while. It might take his mind off Hibernia.
Crowley returned, his face lit up with his eager smile. Halt's stomach growled.
"You haven't had breakfast?" Crowley asked. Halt shook his head.
"I know a great tavern," The Araluen said, "Lunch is on me,"
Halt decided that he would definitely travel with Crowley for a while.
