Witcher Warrior Scholar Spy

“They say it is the Doom who

Threatens the land of their youth.

They never knew

That it was—”

***

Arkim hopped out of the stalled wagon, stretching his arms across himself, before turning to look at the gate holding them back.

“What I wouldn’t give to be the Spy,” Arkim said under his breath.

Beside him, Kuala snorted. “Or the Witcher. Neither need wait in such long lines.”

Taking in the winding line in front of the wagon, Arkim fought back a groan. Because she was irritatingly correct. The line into Opine was a horrendous thing filled with merchant caravans much like their own. Which meant several dozen times the people per wagon. Glaring at the line, Arkim did some mental math.

“Eight-seven. There are eighty-seven people in front of us,” Arkim bit out, no longer bothering to hide his scowl. His usually affable expression had been worn down slowly, and then all at once.

“Are you sure?” Kuala asked idly. “It seems like much less.”

Now, he could hardly muster the energy to mock Kuala. He did it, but it was a struggle to keep himself in check.

“Are you sure?” Arkim parroted, his voice overly low and slowly drawn out. “Yes, of course I’m sure.” Arkim waved vaguely. “It’s not my fault you are unable to count what is unseen.”

Narrowing her eyes, Kuala leaned in, her vibrant eyes meeting Arkim’s rosy pinks. “Immitate me again, Ark. See what happens.”

Huffing, Arkim could acknowledge it wasn’t just he who was ragged from the stress.

“No, actually, I don’t think I will.”

Kuala looked mildly disappointed at that, but Arkim was sure it was only because he wouldn’t give her a real reason to hit him.

Peering at how quickly the line to their right was moving, Arkim made a snap judgement. “Okay, Lala, we’re headed to the tourist line. Whatever’s happening here is taking much too long. Get your things!”

She stood, unmoving, and looking at Arkim with unimpressed expectation. Arkim looked around, before—“Oh, right, I’ve got everything. Very well, let’s move along.”

Arkim led Kuala to the same woman he’d paid for the passage and waved his fingers to get her attention. “We’re leaving you here, may your time in Opine be prosperous.”

She nodded, then pulled out a small bag and tossed it to Arkim, who fumbled but caught it with both hands. “Local currency. A bit of your fee. Good luck.”

Blinking, Arkim found himself at a loss. He nodded, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Many thanks. We’ll take care of ourselves from here, but wish you to be blessed by your chosen God.”

The woman grunted, going back to looking at her clipboard, and the duo took off to the other line.

Within the hour, they were at the gate, with papers they hated showing, and neutral expressions that wouldn't betray their nerves and irritation, both. In the merchant line, there were still about fifty people waiting. Arkim was really rather smug about that, but he kept it to himself. For the moment.

“Purpose in Opine?” The guard asked, taking Kuala and Arkim’s papers.

“Passing through,” Arkim answered lightly. “We’re on our way to the eastern edge of Tayaran.”

The guard looked between them and the papers that had a very official seal from Bayquest, saying that was where they were coming from. Then, he pulled out a stamp of his own.

“Very well, fee for entrance of less than two days is a single Hill. Per head.”

Arkim frowned. “Could it be paid in Priars?”

They only had a few of the local coins, and that was by pure chance. The guard sighed but nodded. “It’s three Priars and a Joiner.”

Whistling his appreciation for the terrible exchange rate, Arkim dug his palm into his pocket before summoning some coins from his ring. Pulling them out, he paid the man.

“Next time, I’ll get the moneychanger to give it to me in anticipation,” Arkim said lightly, glancing at Kuala, who was mid-eye roll.

Arkim could feel she was about to say something offensive, so he turned back to the guard who was holding their papers out to them. Grabbing them, Arkim stepped into Opine. “Away we go into the unknown.”

He ignored Kuala’s muttered, “We were here like four months ago. Unknown, my ass.”

She was right, of course, as the last time they’d passed through the Wistra Plains, they’d come through Opine as well. It was hard not to. Going around the city was a fool's errand—on either side were valleys filled with monsters of the deep. And the only other roads went too far north and south, respectively. Opine was on the central passage through Tayaran, and it was by far the safest.

Taken from NovelFire, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Striding through the bustling city, they had no need to take in the clay houses stacked atop each other and arching over the streets. No need to stop and gawk at the shining colored panes of glass that filled the windows, or the sparkling lights that shone within the shops they passed. They didn’t have to adjust to the draped clothing that the locals wore, or the way they wrapped their hair up.

They’d seen it all before.

What they hadn’t seen was the scattered blue birds resting atop the main street.

Arkim smiled, anticipation filling him.

“Lala, let’s hurry and find an inn in the main square.”

Kuala grunted her acknowledgement and let him lead the way.

They slipped through the crowd, only looked at twice by beggars and thieves. Arkim saw the way they stared at the sunset on his vest, the way the dirt fled from his white gloves as if terrified to mark them, and then they saw the length of Wrezgul hanging from Kuala’s hip—and they looked away.

He didn’t have it in him to feel satisfied by that.

It was a simple thing, following his memory to the main square. There were actually many squares in Opine, but there was one at the center of the city. It required taking a winding path to get there, because the entrances were at an angle and the streets connected to it wrapped around the different sectors of the city proper. It took them another hour, and by then the sun was high in the sky, nearly at its apex.

Despite the heat beating down on them, despite the sweat that had formed in their walk, despite the ache of sleeping in a wagon for weeks, Arkim and Kuala were stock still at the center of the square, their eyes fixed on the entrance of the nicest inn around.

Because, pressed with his back up against the door was a tan, medium-haired man in crimson traveler’s clothes. On his fingers were rings the two of them recognized well, and his pale green gaze was locked onto them.

They stood there, spellbound by each other for a moment that lasted an eternity, before they all three rushed to each other.

“Shen!”

They shouted at the same time, and Kuala, the most fit of them all, got to Shen first and wrapped her arms around his waist, lifting him and swinging him around effortlessly.

Shen let out a laugh thick with emotion and pulled Kuala’s head into his chest as she spun them.

Arkim stood to the side, a fond grin on his face.

“All right, all right,” he laughed, “let me have a go!”

Kuala dropped Shen down and let her arms fall away. Before Shen could steady himself properly, Arkim’s palm was on his shoulder, giving him balance and strength.

“Hey, baby boy,” Arkim said, his rose-pink eyes glittering with emotion. “It’s been too long.”

Shen shoved Arkim’s arm off him and brought him into a tight hug.

As Arkim pulled his head away, he looked at Shen, and he really saw his friend. His grin was wide, but his green eyes were tired. And Arkim—Arkim didn’t miss it. He didn’t miss the way the darkness between Shen’s teeth was too dark. There should have been more pink.

Gripping Shen’s cheeks tightly, Arkim pried open his mouth. Shen blinked but didn’t fight him.

“Damn, which Well did you go to?” Arkim ground out.

Pulling back, Shen held up his hand and pressed his thumb to Arkim’s forehead.

Something wormed its way into his mind, something that was antithetical to his Inheritance. Something insidious and dangerous. Something that threatened to make him mad.

Arkim couldn’t stop himself from fighting it, but while he did, he saw Shen speaking. Not before him, not really. But in his mind—in his memory. Arkim wasn’t entirely sure.

“Xolo thought I had too silver of a tongue,” Shen said in the memory, a wry grin spread across his face.

And as quickly as it had appeared, the vision was gone, and before Arkim was Shen, pulling his hand back. Immediately, Arkim’s Inheritance calmed down.

“You’re a fool, aren’t you?” Arkim sighed, but fondness crept in. He wiggled the remaining fingers of his bad hand and said, “But I’m not much better.”

Shen immediately gripped Arkim’s palm with both hands before whipping his head to Kuala. She shrugged. “Mirage took what I was willing to give. Let’s not dwell on it.”

Arkim’s mind prickled again, and another memory appeared. One of the Shen before them rubbing his eyes—it mimicked the actual Shen but wasn’t quite right.

“I was alone. No one could understand—no one but you two,” the overlaid Shen said. Arkim blinked, and it was gone once again.

Once Arkim processed what Shen meant, he couldn’t stop himself.

“And Olea.”

It was a choked-out thing, filled with pain and consternation.

Kuala grimaced, but Shen’s eyes grew glassy once again, a pained expression crossing his face.

“We need to find her.” Another not-quite-Shen said before disappearing.

“Of course,” Arkim said at the same time Kuala barked out, “Leave her be.”

Both men sent Kuala a look, Shen’s of resignation, but Arkim’s of irritation.

“Of course we’re finding her. She’s the Witcher, chosen by Krohnic himself. We owe it to Him to try and find her.” Arkim’s voice brokered no argument, but he watched as Kuala’s face went through several iterations before it settled on quiet outrage.

“What makes you think she wants to be found? She would have felt the Break as all of us did,” Kuala demanded.

Shen shook his head.

“I’ll at least send a bird.” Another not-Shen said.

Arkim felt a shiver spread down his spine. “Ugh, that is so awful.”

Kuala looked at Arkim oddly. “What is?”

“However, he’s doing that, it feels terrible.”

“Doing wha—oh, the speaking? Yeah, how are you doing that? Your tongue isn’t moving.” Kuala peered up at Shen oddly.

Shen blanched, and another sense of wrongness wrapped around Arkim.

“You probably don’t want to know. But it shouldn’t cause a problem.” Shen fidgeted with one of his rings before spreading his palms and summoning a bird made up of blue light. “Anyway.”

As the bird manifested, it ruffled its feathers and spread its wings before taking off south.

South.

“How far—” Arkim said sharply before cutting himself off and pulling a notebook and pen from his ring and furiously marking down measurements. Shen and Kuala looked at him quizzically but left him to it.

Arkim looked up at the sun sharply, he tilted his body, he angled his finger just so, before snapping the book shut and blinking.

“It’s headed toward Quoral.”

“Do you mean—?” Kuala began, but Arkim cut her off, a distant look in his eyes.

“Yes,” Arkim said oddly. “She must be headed for the Grotto by herself.”

They shared a look, and as one, they left the inn behind.

Whatever Olea they would find, they needed to find her sooner rather than later.