A Second Chance (1/2)

Writers: Estelle
Date Posted: 27th August 2020

Characters: R'fal
Description: What if...R'fal chose not to go with the Searchriders?
Location: Emerald Falls Hold
Date: month 5, day 22 of Turn 10

It was early afternoon, and the crossroads tavern sweltered, without so
much as a patch of shade to relieve the sun that blazed down on the
dusty courtyard. Even the hardiest drinkers had retreated outdoors,
leaving the weathered tables empty, and the only sound was the
relentless buzzing of insects. Even the beasts lay, panting, in whatever
small matches of shade they could find.

Then a young man stepped out of the back door, carrying a pail of
kitchen scraps, and crossed the courtyard to the small pen where the
porcines were kept. After he'd emptied out the swill, he rested for a
moment, leaning against the fence and looking up to the clear blue sky
above. Renfal didn't mind the heat, or the white-gold light. Sometimes
he thought if he stayed out long enough, it'd finally bake out the
memories of damp, bone-chill and flickering glows, underground.

He shook his head, as if to reject those thoughts, tried to think of
other times. It had been on a day like this, he remembered, that the
Searchriders had come. Green and bronze wings, circling over the
cothold. Home...

"Hey! Boy!" A grizzled, scowling man in a dirty apron poked his head out
of the door, screwing his eyes shut against the dazzling sunlight.
"You're not paid to lounge around out here. Customers are waiting, and
we're almost out of clean mugs."

He wasn't paid at all, but Renfal didn't argue. "Yes, Tavern Master." He
knew he was fortunate to have work in a hold at all, with six months in
the prison mines behind him. Not many would employ someone like that. At
times he wished he could be back at his uncle's place, where at least
they knew the boy he'd been, but his father wouldn't settle and every
day, he'd seen the shame and defeat in his mother's eyes.

There were memories of that night, coming in flashes. The distant
shouts, the frenzied barking of the canines. Running to his parents'
room and finding his father missing, then seeing the lights around the
old barn. His mother calling to him, and him running out into the night.
And then, when those guards had seized his Da, he'd thrown himself at
them, not knowing who they were, struck a blow, heard a curse - and
woken up with a pounding headache, in the iron cage on the wagon, on
their way to Emerald Falls.

It had been his own fault.

**Don't think about it.**

Returning to the tavern, he passed through the kitchens, stifling with
the heat of the cookfire and the odour of grease and smoke, picked up a
tray and headed out into the bar area. Although it was early yet, there
was a big tithe train passing through and the traders were gathered
around the tables, laughing and drinking, while hungry eyes watched from
the shadows.

He passed his father, dealing cards for a small group of the new
arrivals, his familiar smile and easy flow of chatter drawing them in to
the game. Renfal glanced over a few shoulders at their cards as he
reached across to gather up empty mugs, then brushed a curl from his
brow and scratched idly at his ear in one of their shared signals. One
bluffing on a poor hand, another with potential, if the deal went in his
favour...which Da would make sure it wouldn't.

Terren smiled back for a brief instant, then returned his attention to
the unsuspecting players.

No-one had noticed, except perhaps the tavern master, and he didn't care
so long as Terren gave him his cut of their winnings.

After filling his tray, Renfal headed back to the kitchens and rinsed
out the mugs in the greyish water at the sink. He was almost done when
his father slid into the kitchens, eyes bright with excitement. Clearly
something was up.

"Dragonriders!"

As he spoke, two men in worn, faded garb pushed past him and slunk
together out of a side door. Renfal pretended not to notice. It was
usually the wiser course, here.

The tavern keeper's wife heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Bloody
dragonmen, coming in here like they own the place, driving away half our
customers. They'd better drink their fair share, is all I can say." She
glared at Renfal and he ducked, flinching in anticipation of a blow.
"You heard - we need clean mugs! Finish up those and take them out to
the bar, you lazy little beggar."

Terren winced, but made no objection. "You'd better get out here
quickly, son. I'll need your help."

He'd started to hastily dry the mugs, but that brought him up short.
"Da! You're not going to cheat a dragonrider?"

"Why not? Their marks are as good as anyone else's." He winked at the
woman, who snorted and turned back to her stew pot.

"But they protect us. From Thread. It's not right."

"Says the thief boy from the mines," One of the tavern girls snickered
as she darted in for another tray.

He cringed. "Da, I can't."

Terren lowered his voice. "Renfal, it's not been a lucky sevenday. I'm
still short for Tavern Master Krivek's share, and he's been getting
testy. Dragonriders have marks to spare." He glanced over his shoulder.
"Looks like they're coming in. Don't let me down."

"But..." Renfal watched him leave, then turned, helpless, to the woman.
"Ma'am, can't I stay in here?"

She shrugged. "I've said it before. I don't give a heap of wher dung
what you and that smooth-tongued rascal get up to, long as you don't get
caught and bring the guards down on us. Now take those mugs out before I
give you a sharp clip around the ear."

Defeated, Renfal finished drying the mugs, stacked them on the tray and
carried them out to the main room. The tavern master barely glanced at
him, so he unloaded them on the shelf below the bar. A quick glimpse
showed the remaining drinkers gathered in muttering groups, the girl
swinging her hips as she passed the gaming table - and a broad back with
unfamiliar knots, ocean blue wound with brown. **Dolphin Cove,** he
thought, remembering long-ago harper classes.

Across from the man, his father laughed and dealt, the cards fluttering
across the table like avians taking flight. He saw Renfal, and made the
slightest nod. Now.

Taking a deep breath, Renfal picked up his tray again and started to
work his way around the room, collecting empty mugs as he went. Slowly,
casually, he approached the dragonriders' table.

As he passed the door, propped open to catch the slightest breeze, he
turned to look out. Eyes narrowed against the light, he saw them. The
great brown dragon, his half-lidded eyes giving him an air of drowsy
grandeur, and the smaller blue, his hide jewel-bright against the dusty
backdrop. Again, a memory stirred. The cothold, what seemed like a
hundred Turns ago, and the dragons, gliding low over the courtyard, and
a boy running, running back from the fields so he'd be there in time to
see them...

He'd been a dutiful son that day, told the Searchriders his place was at
home. And now here he was, and there was no home any more. Just an
abandoned cothold, and empty fields growing wild.

Renfal set the tray down on a table, by the door, and walked out into
the heat of the day without a backward glance.

Last updated on the September 29th 2020

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A Second Chance (1/2)