Dragon & Dreamer | ONC 2023 honourable mention

3 - The Golden City

The sun stood low in the western sky when Melish pulled up his horse in the long shadows of the city walls. "This is as far as we can take you, Liha. We have the king's business to attend to and can't bring a stranger into the fortress. But there's always a need for stable boys. With your hand for horses, you might find work there or ensure a place as an apprentice in the king's smithy."

Liha frowned. He didn't plan to work in the stables or as a blacksmith. But he had learned that Melish was a stern leader and hard to convince to change his mind. So he slipped from the horse's back and untied his blanket. Berim dismounted to place a hand on his shoulders. "Well met, Liha-isha-Arashin. May our paths cross again in brighter times."

"Thank you, Berim, for everything. I'll watch out for you."

Melish chuckled and shook his reins. "At least he's easy to spot in a crowd. Let's move."

He clicked his tongue and rode away towards the guard's gate. Berim winked and pressed Liha's shoulder before he mounted and took the rein of the mare Liha had ridden. The horse seemed confused, shook her head, and trotted away with the others.

On his own again, Liha watched the group reach the smaller gate between two narrow towers west of the main gate. Before he entered, Berim turned around to wave. Liha waved back. In the few days he had spent with them, he had learned to admire the tan warrior's quiet efficiency and friendly nature. He suspected there must flow more than a little Tannarí blood in the man's veins, but he'd never dared ask. His colleagues teased Berim because of his black hair and dark skin no end, and Liha didn't want to add fuel to their game. His mother had been a northerner, and he knew too well how hurtful words could be, even when spoken in jest.

With a sigh, he turned towards the main gate. The mighty limestone walls of Penira looked forbidding in the evening light. But the sun painted the steep roofs of the fortress towering above the town in shades of gold. This was the famous castle of the house of Diun, home of Mirim, the sun king. Liha had never been this far south, but he remembered his sisters gushing about the castle's legendary beauty. A dark cloud of grief overcast his mind. Of his family, he would remain the only one to see the stronghold of the kings.

Liha pushed the troubled thoughts aside and picked up his bundle. His legs were stiff, and his back was sore from the riding. The walk would help him feel more human again. Besides, he wanted to reach Penira before the gate closed for the night. Until the end, he had hoped Melish would change his mind, but Berim had told him sticking with the warriors wasn't an option. To join the king's men, he had to apply on the official recruitment day. Only those who passed the test and were admitted to the training could become regular members of the king's forces.

In front of the gate, he passed a train of merchants. Dust from a long day on the road clung to their gear, and exhaustion slowed the step of the oxen and horses drawing the wagons. Only the drivers seemed to cheer up at the outlook of a night behind the city walls, a roof over their heads and a mug of ale with their dinner. At least the men and women talked about this while a few children ran between the wagons, excited at the prospect of arriving.

No one paid attention to Liha, who overtook the slow-moving train and reached the gate well ahead with a group of craftsmen and women. The guards at the gate weren't interested in them. Three men wearing the king's colours, the golden sun symbol prominent on their breastplates and sky blue coats covering their shoulders, stood to the side, chatting amongst themselves. One with a beard even wilder than Melish's scrutinised Liha but didn't address him. For a moment, he wondered if he should ask the guard about recruitment day. But Berim had already suggested it would be on the day of the full moon, so he lowered his gaze and walked on.

"Hey, you." The harsh voice made him jump, and he whirled around, his hand reaching for his weapon. But the bearded soldier didn't look at him. Instead, he strode towards a slim girl or a young woman. With her dark skin and long black hair carried in a braid, she reminded him of Berim, but that's where the similarities ended. She wore a long black skirt and a black shawl over her threadbare jacket. The guard blocked her way, and she glanced up at him.