Chapter 4
Alana crouched alone in the darkness. She had completed her mission and killed Tannis Tirinius, although she realized now that the feeling it left behind made her rather uncomfortable. Tears had even stung her eyes a few times thinking about it. She had never expected to be able to escape, but the gods must have been smiling upon her on this glorious day. Perhaps glorious wasn't the best word for this occasion since she sat rather uncomfortably in wet horse feed in an unoccupied stable somewhere in the city of Brinn. While avoiding her pursuers, she could only think to hide there in the piles of apparently discarded wet feed. The smell was heavy and overpowering, and made her feel as if she couldn't get a full breath.
She had been sitting there silently since just after sunset. There was no telling how late it was, but she assumed she had been waiting there about three hours. When she began her mission, she felt she was ready to die in the attempt, but now with death out there at the tip of every Medoran sword, she wasn't so sure she was ready to go to the gods.
No army could walk right into Brinn and kill the General, but she knew that a lone person had a chance. No one would suspect her of such a thing. Times had changed in Medora in the years since the alliance. Ten years ago they probably would not have allowed a Vindyri anywhere near a city, and certainly not the capital. Of course, that was what she was told. This was her first time in Medora, and she didn't know anyone who had come this far west. Alana didn't put much faith in peoples' word. So far, the people she met were very well-mannered and polite, not the brutes she had always heard that they were.
The cities were amazing too. Things were well-built in Vindyrion, but everything there was much more plain and practical. The stones used for buildings were not polished marble, but drab-colored stones, cut neatly, but lacking the level of elegance or ornate design found in Medora. Even the capital, Burnhamheade, didn't compare to the smallest of Medoran cities. Gold was used as currency, but here they decorated with it, somehow covering parts of buildings and even weapons with the yellow metal. She was amazed at the wealth she could see sparkling in every corner of this nation. It was like the stars were made of diamonds, and each morning they fell into the shimmering sea, just to please these people. She wondered how it all was possible.
Of course, such opulence is easily forgotten sitting in a giant pile of rotting grain. She wanted to leave the wretched place, but she knew that out there in the streets thousands of bloodthirsty soldiers roamed around looking for a female with long blonde hair. How they had not thought to look in this stable was beyond her. She picked at the hem of her shirt as she sat there, frustrated that she didn't think to plan an escape, or at least bring some kind of disguise.
She gulped a thick mouthful of air as an idea shot into her head. It wasn't a great idea, but she had come up with nothing else in the past few hours. She stood up, careful not to make a sound, and looked around the stable. She didn't yet know exactly what she was looking for, but she would have to find something. She walked slowly out from the stall with all the grain and peered around the corner. It was dark, but the moon was full and enough of the light came in from the open tops of the walls to navigate somewhat safely. She assumed the walls were built that way to vent the smell of the horses, but if that was the designer's intent, it wasn't working very well. She gently shooed a fly away from her face as she searched the place for some kind of cloth. After searching a while in the darkness, she came across a few burlap bags filled with grain. She wrinkled her nose at the idea of having to use burlap, but she was low on resources and wanted to get out of the city. She pulled her dagger free and knelt down to the bags, cutting one open and then dumping the grain on the floor. She presumed the bag was large enough, but either way there were no other options. She cut two holes that were supposed to look like circles into the burlap, and then started to take off her shirt.
She froze when she heard a noise. It was a thumping, rumbling sound, not like the rolling of carts or voices she had been hearing all evening. She had no idea what it was, but she held her breath to see if she could hear it again. Her fear faded some when she heard nothing but the light breeze outside. She took off her shirt and gently wiped off the wet muck that had once been grain. She bent down and picked up her burlap creation, made a few adjustments, and slid her arms through the jagged holes. Her new shirt didn't fit well; it had no way of holding itself closed, but worst of all, it made her itch like crazy.
She took her shirt?which was dark blue, but she hoped in the darkness would pass for black?and wrapped it around her head, hiding her blonde hair inside. She tried her best to tuck and tie parts so that it would stay on her head. This blue shirt would have to pass for the dark hair of the Medorans, and it was a fairly poor imitation. It would have been easier just to cover her head with the burlap, but the burlap was a light color and would not pass for dark hair at all. And in all her travels here in Medora, she had not once seen any women with any kind of covering over their heads. She decided this was the only practical solution.
Coming to the doors, she peered through the slit that cast a sharp blue line of moonlight across the straw-covered floor. Although it was hard to see much, the coast was clear as far as she could tell. She again held her breath and waited to hear any kind of noise. After waiting long enough to muster up her courage, she gently pushed open one of the heavy wooden doors.
She was amazed at what she saw. For a moment she forgot about her troubles as she stared in awe at yet another astonishing Medoran feat. Above the roofs of the buildings on the street, rising up onto the mountains, stood several temples, each glowing a bright orange as if touched by the setting sun in the middle of the night, unwilling to concede defeat to the darkness. She marveled at the sight and felt at that moment to be very small in the world; a world where the great Medoran empire shined brightly above everything else.
As she stared at the buildings and wondered how this glow was accomplished, she heard the rumbling sound again. Panic took her breath as she ducked into the shadows. The sound came from around a corner, not far from where she stood. Since any soldier would have probably killed her by now if they knew where she was, she decided to check on the noise. She kept to the shadows and slowly walked to the end of the street. When she looked around the corner, she saw three young men, not soldiers, in front of a building. There appeared to be a low wall around the building, and she determined that there was a shallow pit that the wall encircled. The men were dumping and stacking wood inside this pit, and suddenly she realized how the temples on the hill were lit. They could light these pits of wood to create the orange glow, although the cost of keeping these fires burning must be astronomical. She wondered how they kept the smoke from ruining the illusion, but she wasn't going to go over and ask them how their clever trick worked.
Deciding that it was foolish to stand there, especially when these men were probably about to light a bright fire, she took one last look at the majestic temples in the sky and started her departure from Brinn. She knew from the temples rising up on the mountains in front of her that she needed to turn around and head south to leave the same way she came in. She walked to the right and turned right at the first corner she reached. She could see in the distance the large temple at the southern entrance to the city. That was probably the temple with the red curtains she saw earlier in the day. She adjusted her burlap shirt, holding it tightly closed, and headed in that direction.
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