Chapter 34

  It was dusk when Titus found himself riding into a little village by a lake. He had taken a road lined by orchards of squat, umbrella-like trees that followed it down between houses and rocky outcrops. But as the lake grew closer, the ground leveled off into gentle pastures of sheep, goats, and peaceful cottages The village was already lit for the evening and many residents seemed to be in the process of making their way home for the night. Titus passed by a few who were wishing good evening to each other in a kindly manner and the sight lifted his spirits.

  The only building with light in the windows was the local inn. It sat attached to a lively tavern called The Hard Apple. Laughter burst out of it as the door swung open and closed. Titus imagined farm hands and fishermen enjoying the autumn night with hard cider and bawdy stories. The thought made him smile and long for a bit of company.

  After all the drama of the past two weeks, he was thankful to have come into a quiet spot where the trouble of the cities and outer lands had yet to penetrate. He could really use the respite. That was until he saw the horses stabled behind the inn.

  As Titus dismounted and stretched his legs, he saw the stable was full of horses with the four-point star of the saviors branded on their rumps. He exhaled a curse as he briefly walked down the stalls and counted. There were well over a dozen here.

  What the hell are they doing here?

  There was no room for his stallion, but now he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to board him here and risk running into anyone he knew. He didn’t know who the horses belonged to or if they were part of whatever conspiracy Kern had revealed. At least he was sure they weren’t here for him. Even if they were involved in some clandestine plot, they couldn’t be here for him. Kern could not have reported back so soon and had troops move out so fast.

  Titus’s stomach growled painfully as he stood there watching the horse tails twitch and flick. It was either risk being recognized or ride on to somewhere else. He doubted that a village this small had another inn.

  Titus sighed and led his horse around to a post and stripped off the tack.

  “At least it doesn’t look like it’s going to rain, right?” He patted him. Thankfully, Mooch had no such brand, he had belonged to Titus long before he joined the order.

  “I’ll bring you back an apple,” Titus whispered into his ear. Mooch nuzzled with a soft blow at the sound of an apple.

  The tavern was indeed loud, but it wasn’t the locals causing all that noise. Titus could see a clear separation in the room with most of the locals sitting quiet in a corner as saviors ruled the space. There were at least three tables full of them, and many were swapping seats as stories changed and challenges accepted. Despite the modest main street outside, the Hard Apple seemed well made with polished wood, glass windows, and a billiards table where a handful of saviors stood with cues in hand.

  Some faces he might have seen before, but he knew none of them by name. After days riding without a proper shave, he hoped the thick scruff on his chin was a good enough disguise for any who might recognize his face with the same vague familiarity.

  Titus caught the innkeeper’s eye and walked up to the bar to greet him. Another savior sat there apart from the rest of the bunch. He couldn’t see that one’s face, but Titus took no risk and did his best to disguise his voice. In truth, it wasn’t that hard over all the noise.

  “I don’t suppose you have any rooms?” Titus asked.

  The innkeeper shook his head with a tight grimace before gesturing to the rowdy bunch of saviors. “All full.”

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  Titus looked about the room. The hearth was lit on the other side where the locals sat and the smell of food was in the air. His stomach begged him to stop for just an hour or so.

  “Just a meal then and some feed for my horse,” he said and placed some coins on the counter. “He’s outback tied to a post.”

  The innkeeper nodded and took the money with a smooth gesture. Titus glanced once more at the quiet savior at the bar before walking over to the hearth and pulling up a chair.

  Another uproar came from one of the tables on the far side and Titus looked over his shoulder to see a few saviors going at an arm-wrestling match. He then looked back to the quieter locals sitting around him who appeared to be discussing the current affair with unhappy scowls. He didn’t blame them. A sight like this wasn’t what he would imagine when people spoke of dedicated saviors. This crowd looked more like a bunch of drunk soldiers.

  Titus caught eyes with one local who sat with his back straight and a fist on the table next to his cider.

  “Some party here tonight,” Titus smiled amiably as he said it.

  “Three nights long now,” the man replied with anger boiling beneath his skin.

  “That’s some party,” Titus replied as his smile faded in the face of the man’s obvious rage.

  The man’s neighbor laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder and patted.

  “Easy. Won’t be much longer. Elissa will tell them no,” the man said to his friend.

  Titus was ready to scoot his chair closer and ask what the man meant by that when a pair a boots could be heard walking up beside him.

  “I know you, don’t I?” a voice said from over his shoulder. Titus winced before slowly turning back to see the same quiet savior who had been sitting at the bar. Or more accurately, he saw his face now, and it was indeed familiar.

  Titus silently cursed as he tried to remember the man’s name to no avail.

  “It’s Titus, right?” the man asked.

  The savior was an equal match in size and height, but Titus knew he had only recently picked up a sword. He had been new to the ranks, thanks to a terrible loss.

  “Yes,” Titus admitted as he tried to put on a kind smile, “Sorry, but I’m still reaching for yours.”

  The man wasn’t smiling. In fact, he was probing Titus quite carefully before he extended his hand.

  “Max.”

  Titus shook it and then found the man pulling up a chair to sit with him. Gods, this was the last thing Titus needed. One savior would soon be two, then six.

  “You’re out of uniform,” Max observed quietly.

  “I’m on my way to visit family,” Titus replied.

  Well, might as well make the best use of this.

  Titus nodded to the other side of the room. “What brings you all out this way? Looks like a quiet place.”

  Max scowled. “It was.”

  “Problems?”

  Max’s voice turned low. “Not really.”

  The local that Titus had spoken to earlier suddenly got up and came over to where they sat and took Max’s shoulder.

  “When the hell are they leaving?”

  Max sighed. “I wish I knew.”

  Titus gave them both a quizzical look, which prompted Max to explain.

  “I grew up here,” Max said before the man pulled his attention back.

  “And you knew better than this!” the man said in an urgent whisper. “You knew the temple was no harm! You knew those women only helped and healed this town from the moment it began!”

  “Easy Wilem, they’ll leave,” Max replied, though his eyes looked back at the saviors with doubt. Titus knew that look well; him and doubt were old friends now. And this Max fellow looked like his mind was just starting down the same road.