Chapter Fifteen
James was silent as Sparrow led him out of the Temple of Shadows and up to the inn at the top of a small hill in Rookridge. They passed a small, makeshift camp by the coach house where the workmen were sleeping while they repaired the bridge. He vaguely noted that it was still nowhere near usable and wondered to himself exactly how Sparrow intended to get them back to Bowerstone.
The inn, which Sparrow told him was called the Lucky Heather tavern, though he wasn't really listening, had been empty and rather ramshackle when they'd first passed through on their way to Oakfield. James supposed the bandits were to blame for that. It didn't look to be in much better shape now, either, but the soft, warm light from the fireplace shining out of the windows made it a welcome sight in a desolate place like Rookridge.
Shuffling in behind Sparrow, James hovered by the door with Pumpkin while Sparrow went about bartering for a room with the tavern owner. James' gaze drifted across one man, sitting in an upraised area to his right. If James thought correctly and he was fairly sure he did, the man was a Games Master. He wondered just how many people were in debt to him and just how much better his family's situation would be if his father had had the good sense to get into debt with a fairly harmless man like that, instead of a cult of petty murderers.
"Oi," Sparrow said, and James turned to him, his expression mildly alarmed by the somewhat softer tone Sparrow used. He did hope that the adventurer wasn't feeling sorry for him. That would just be an added insult to an already grave injury. "There's a room upstairs. Yeh should get some sleep."
Sparrow started up the stairs and James followed quietly. Pumpkin, unsurprisingly, followed too, and James thought he heard the barman mumbling something about filthy mutts, but the man obviously had the sense not to complain. James doubted Sparrow would appreciate having to leave his dog outside in the rain for however long they were here.
The room was on the first narrow landing and Sparrow stood to the side to allow James to enter first. Stepping inside, James was disappointed to see only one double bed, a dresser and a chair. If he had to put up with Sparrow's lewd suggestions again right now-
"Take the bed," Sparrow said, easing past James and plopping down onto the chair. "Yeh'll need the rest if yeh gonna get back to Bowerstone in one piece."
"What about you?" James replied, uncertainly. "You need to sleep too."
Sparrow smirked a little and shrugged. "I lived most of my life in what was basically a cramped wooden box. I'm used to bein' uncomfortable. The chair'll do me fine."
James frowned a little, still not convinced, but he was tired and distressed enough that after a moment he decided not to complain. Toeing off his shoes and shrugging off his coat, he pulled back the thick sheets and slid underneath. As he snuggled into the pillow, pulling the sheets up around his shoulders, he closed his eyes and said. "Thank you." Sparrow made a small curious noise at that, but James refused to elaborate. The general thanks was more than Sparrow deserved in his opinion but... perhaps he did deserve at least a little gratitude.
"Time to wake up, Pumpkin."
Curled up tightly beneath the blankets, James grunted, drawing his knees higher up and ducking his head a little. Something was touching his shoulder, shaking him gently, but the sensation wasn't intrusive enough to convince him to open his eyes. In his foggy, mostly unconscious state he heard a sigh, before he was pushed onto his back and the slight weight on his shoulder was removed. However, before he could doze off completely once more, something patted his stomach and before he could even begin to wonder as to what it might be, something heavy leapt onto him with a grunt.
All of the air was knocked out of him and he awoke in a most unpleasant fashion, flailing around beneath whatever it was that was snorting and digging it's bony elbows into his gut. He blinked fast, trying to clear his vision, and when he could finally see properly again, he came face to face with Pumpkin. The dog was panting right in his face, evidently quite happy with where he was sitting now.
Squirming out from beneath the dog a little so that he could breathe, James looked up and fixed his gaze on Sparrow. The young adventurer was sitting on the chair in the corner of the room again, looking quite amused by his incredibly obnoxious wake up call. "Very funny," James muttered, dragging himself the rest of the way out from beneath Pumpkin and turning to the side, slipping his feet over the edge of the bed.
"Well, if yeh'd woken up when I was callin' yeh..." Sparrow said, giving a one shouldered shrug, before leaning forward and picking up his pack. James watched him, rubbing one eye and trying not to look too grumpy. After a moment of raking around in the pack, Sparrow surfaced with the remaining apple and what was left of the cheese. He made a motion as though he was about to toss them to James, but after one look at the younger man's sleepy eyed stare, he stood up and handed them over instead.
"Aren't you going to have anything?" James asked as he peered at the apple sceptically for a moment. Sparrow just shook his head.
"Nah. I'm still full from eatin' those birds," he said. The corner of his mouth twitched downwards. Evidently he was still feeling a bit queasy. James gave a little nod and after a moment deemed the apple safe to eat, taking a small bite and chewing it forlornly. Sparrow watched him for a few moments, a small frown marring his expression, but after James had finished his third bite, he spoke up. "What yeh gonna do now then?"
James paused halfway to taking another bite and glanced over at Sparrow. His usual haughty, snobbish expression had long since given way to a far more vulnerable one. For the first time since they'd met, he actually looked like a sixteen year old boy – not a stuck up socialite. Lowering the apple to his lap, he looked down at the ground and gave a helpless little shrug. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "We don't have that much money, and even if father sold the deeds to all of the houses he rents, we'd still not have nearly enough." He swallowed, staring down at the apple cradled in his palms. "I supposed our best option is going to the guards- well. That's my best option. Mine and my mother's. My father would probably be arrested and put on trial for being a member of the Shadow cult, so really, either way he's not getting out of this unscathed."
Pausing and shaking his head, he looked away at the wall opposite him. "But... even if we do go to the guards, it's the Temple of Shadows, and the guards aren't exactly known for their competence. I doubt my family is ever going to be safe again." He gritted his teeth before sighing miserably. "But this isn't your problem."
"Guess not," Sparrow agreed. The frown was still in place but it had relaxed a little.
They sat in an uncomfortable silence while James finished the apple and once he was done with that, Sparrow stood up and moved out onto the landing. James watched him curiously. "We should head out again now," Sparrow said when he stepped back inside. "It's light out, so if yeh want to get home by this evenin', we better be makin' tracks. Yeh can eat the cheese on the way."
James nodded and stood up, pulling his shoes and jacket back on and stuffing the handkerchief containing the cheese into his pocket. Nodding to let Sparrow know he was ready, they set out once again. This time, however, instead of going downstairs and leaving the way they had came, Sparrow led James and Pumpkin out onto a balcony at the back of the inn.
They left Rookridge via an the abandoned railway tracks, passing through the now abandoned bandit camp. The place made James extremely skittish, but Sparrow moved through the camp with the confidence of the man who had emptied it of its inhabitants, and so James felt just a touch more comfortable following him. They spent the better part of the journey walking in silence, communicating mostly through grunts, gestures and clipped, one word answers and when Bowerstone finally came into view, James sighed in relief, happy to be home.
As they approached the bridge that led into Old Town, however, Sparrow fell to a stop. James' steps faltered and he stopped too, staring at Sparrow in confusion. "What's the matter with you?" he asked, more out of obligation than any real sense of curiosity. He just wanted to go home.
Sparrow shook his head, eyeing the archway into the city – or rather, the guard standing just outside of the archway. "I've gotta go back to Oakfield. Still got business there," he explained, somewhat distantly, "I reckon yeh can find yer way home from here, right?"
James hesitated, fidgeting uncertainly, but after a moment he nodded. "Yes, I suppose I can," he said. "Thank you for bringing me home." Sparrow snorted softly, his usual look of vague amusement still present, but muted by a faint hint of anxiety flickering in his eyes.
"Yeah, whatever. Look after yerself, Pumpkin," and on that note, Sparrow turned and started back the way he came, the dog close on his heels as always. James was too tired, and too concerned by his father's problems and the sudden change in Sparrow's attitude, to even bother correcting him.
...
My only excuse is that falling in love is a terrible cause of severe procrastination. Please don't stone me.
On another note, thank you to En Requiem for the kindly worded email. C: If I hadn't been in such a terrible state of writer's block at the time I received it, I'm sure I would have finished this (pitifully short) chapter a while ago.