Chapter 33 - Moving Forward

  Zio’s steps followed a narrow path stretching toward the south.

  He had been walking since leaving Greyhollow.

  Leaves carried by the wind brushed against the hooded black cloak he wore. The trees began to thin, and sunlight fell more freely onto the ground, hardened by countless wagon wheels. The air felt lighter to him, no longer as dense as the northern mountain air.

  Now and then, he adjusted the strap of the small bag on his shoulder, then continued on without stopping.

  The path ahead slowly widened. Deep wheel ruts and overlapping horse tracks formed a clear direction for anyone passing through.

  He walked calmly, unhurried.

  Zio stopped when night fell, then resumed his journey before morning fully opened.

  Dense trees gave way to smaller ones and low shrubs. The ground beneath his feet was dry. Young grass grew along the edges of the path, flexible and unobtrusive. He chose the flattest footing, letting his body move without unnecessary sound.

  The wind carried a wider range of sounds. Birdcalls he did not recognize passed through and faded, blending with the rustling leaves.

  Zio lifted his gaze.

  The sun moved slowly above him. Light fell across his face without blinding him. He shifted his hood slightly, then let it remain open.

  He did not think about the destination of each step.

  He did not count the days he had traveled.

  Ravenhold lay to the south.

  And for the first time in a long while, this journey did not feel like an escape.

  He was simply moving forward.

  The sound of Zio’s steps changed as his feet reached the main road. The stone surface felt harder, worn smooth in places by countless passages.

  The sound of impact carried clearly from afar. A muffled curse followed. Something heavy struck stone.

  Zio quickened his pace slightly.

  Ahead, a cargo wagon stood at an angle. One wheel was broken. Several crates had spilled onto the side of the road, their contents scattered among dust and stone.

  Beside the wagon, two grown men stood breathing hard. One muttered a quiet curse. The other tried to lift the side of the wagon, then stopped and bent forward, defeated by its weight.

  Zio continued toward them.

  One of them, a middle-aged man, turned his head.

  “Hey, kid. Come here and give us a hand.”

  Zio did not answer, but his steps quickened. He set his small bag down on the road.

  “Thomas, grab the brace from inside the wagon,” the man said to the younger one beside him.

  Then he looked back at Zio.

  “Kid, help me lift this.”

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  Zio moved immediately.

  The man’s eyes widened as the tilted wagon began to rise. The weight that had felt far too heavy for the two of them now felt noticeably lighter.

  “Hold the brace there,” he said quickly.

  The young man slid the brace beneath the lifted wagon. The wheel was replaced, then the brace was pulled free.

  “That’s it,” the man said.

  He let out a long breath. The wagon settled back into a stable position.

  “Thank you,” both of them said to Zio.

  The brown-haired youth looked at Zio a moment longer.

  “If you hadn’t come along, this could’ve taken hours,” he said. “Waiting for another caravan to pass.”

  Zio gave a small nod.

  “Where are you headed?” the youth asked again, more casually.

  “Ravenhold.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “On foot?”

  “Yes,” Zio answered quietly.

  The youth let out a short breath. “That’s two days more if you keep walking all the way to the city.”

  “Thomas, help me get these crates back onto the wagon,” the middle-aged man said as he tried to lift a particularly heavy crate.

  Thomas and the man lifted one crate together.

  Zio took the others, lifting them on his own without comment.

  The sun had risen higher by the time all the crates were back in place.

  “Uncle, he’s headed the same way as us,” Thomas said.

  The man glanced at the wagon, then back at Zio.

  “If you want, you can ride with us.”

  Zio paused for a few seconds.

  Then he picked up his bag and climbed onto the back of the wagon without much to say.

  Thomas smiled faintly. The wagon began to roll forward.

  On the wagon, Thomas’s voice carried more often than the others’.

  “What’s your name?” he asked casually.

  “Zio.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “The north,” Zio answered briefly.

  “Traveling alone?”

  Zio nodded.

  “I’m Thomas. You already know that,” Thomas chuckled. “Up front is Albert, my uncle.”

  The sound of hooves and wagon wheels striking stone rang clearer than the wind. Their rhythm accompanied the journey toward the city.

  On the horizon, the sun had begun to sink. Its light stretched thin and golden across the stone walls that marked a clear boundary between outside and within.

  The city walls were not grand. They did not tower like those of the capital. But they were solid enough to mark this as a large city.

  The wagon stopped briefly for inspection of its cargo.

  Zio sat quietly in the back.

  He watched the flow of people passing through the gate.

  The wagon moved again, passing through and entering the city.

  Within Ravenhold’s walls, stone buildings stood packed tightly together. The main road branched into narrow side streets.

  The air was layered with sound. Footsteps. Curtains being drawn. The dull clink of metal.

  Sounds adjusting themselves to the rhythm of city life.

  Zio lowered his head, his hand reflexively touching his temple.

  Albert glanced at him briefly, then returned his focus to guiding the horses.

  The wagon stopped beside a large warehouse.

  Thomas climbed down and loosened the ropes. Zio followed, immediately lifting and unloading the crates.

  Other workers looked over. No one said anything.

  Zio worked quickly. Lifting, stacking. Not a single movement wasted.

  When everything was done, Thomas rubbed the back of his neck.

  “So… where are you heading after this?”

  Zio paused. He did not answer right away.

  Thomas sighed. “If you don’t have a place yet, come with me. I think there’s still an empty room at the inn.”

  Zio nodded quietly.

  “Thanks to both of you,” Albert’s voice came from the warehouse doorway. “Don’t be late tomorrow, Thomas.”

  “Yes, Uncle.”

  The two of them turned and walked off together.

  The inn stood modestly among the surrounding buildings. Stone and wood. Two stories. A wooden sign displayed the family name Halvor, its paint faded by time and weather.

  Thomas went in first. Zio followed behind.

  Inside, a middle-aged woman stood and smiled at Zio.

  “Welcome.”

  Zio nodded slightly.

  “Sit for a bit,” Thomas said. “I’ll get you some food and water.”

  Outside the inn, street lamps began to glow. Window curtains were drawn one by one. Footsteps grew fewer, and the city slowly quieted.

  WOMEN’S DORMITORY, SOLCARYS MAGIC ACADEMY

  A young elven woman sat on her bed, reading a book, facing the window of her room.

  Footsteps sounded from the doorway.

  Two hard knocks broke the silence.

  “Nyssa, are you in there?”

  She did not answer. She only shifted her sitting position slightly.

  “Don’t pretend you’re asleep. The head of the dormitory wants to see you.”

  She stood and straightened her academy robes.

  “Why is it always me,” she muttered, complaining softly.

  The wind blew in through the open window. The oil lamp in the room cast a dim glow, swaying gently with the night air.

  Zio lay on his back, facing the ceiling.

  The sounds of the city drifted faintly. Footsteps moving away. Doors closing. The last wagon rolling past, then fading. Ravenhold drew a long breath, then slowly settled.

  Zio exhaled calmly.

  He closed his eyes.

  For tonight, he stopped walking.