Chapter 1

Kane's cautious eyes shifted wearily under his dark hood at the silent street as

his midnight-black horse, Spirit, tiredly trudged through the empty cobblestone

street. The inky-blue firmament didn't house any stars, thanks to the dark clouds

that rumbled with the threat of rain.

He had been on the road for days and hated

the tingling feeling of illness in his body that he had been trying to ignore for a

while now.

He let out a sigh of relief and pulled back his hood when Spirit neighed

and stopped in front of a building. 'The Garland' he managed to make out of the

large sign carved in brown wood above the door. He unmounted his horse and

heard a squelch underneath his left boot. His face contorted in disgust when he

lifted up his boot and saw brown sludge. "Uck. Hate this town." He muttered

grumpily as he roughly dragged the left boot across the ground.

He entered and if he was being brutally honest, the reception of the inn

wasn't impressive. It was dimly lit, smelled like piss and there was a sleeping

drunk with a bottle of half-empty booze in his hand at the bottom of the

staircase next to the front desk. Kane shrugged nonchalantly and made his way

to the front desk and tapped the broken bell that gave off a scratchy ding. It

would have to do. It wasn't like he was loaded anyway.

He waited for a few seconds and a scruffy looking, middle aged man

emerged from the door beyond the front desk with the most unfriendly look on

his face. His beard was patchy, clothes stained and threadbare, beady eyes

bloodshot and he smelled like cheap booze and body odor.

Kane pushed down the urge to vomit and threw him a charming smile that

didn't work, judging by the unimpressed piglike snort that he released. "How

much for a room in this your…" he trailed off as he and the innkeeper turned to

see the sleeping man urinating on himself. "Fine establishment?"

"Depends. How long you staying?" The piggish man asked, unconcerned

about Kane's repulsion as he picked his scattered, rotten yellow teeth with a

freakishly long fingernail and smacked his lips.

Shivers of disgust run through Kane's body at the man's gruesome lack of

hygiene and etiquette, giving him goosebumps. For a quick second, he

considered that maybe sleeping under a bridge or in an alleyway wasn't so bad

after all. But it had been so long since he had left this province, Alminé, ever

since the incident all those years back. It was his birthplace but who knows how

much the place had changed? Who knew if criminals were now bolder and more bloodthirsty?

The last thing he needed was to be stabbed. Heaven knows he's had too

many stabbings for one life.

"I'll be staying for three days. A week max." Kane answered.

"If I had the coin, I wouldn't stay in this godforsaken place for a damn

minute. You should do the same. Got some guts to be waltzing around the empty

streets at night. It's not safe in these parts." The man muttered and reached

under the desk. He brought out a key with a slab of wood attached to it that read

'Room 5'.

He gave it to Kane and Kane in turn reached into his left inner coat pocket

and pressed five gold coins into the man's hand.

"Which place ever really is safe?"

The man frowned at him and held his gaze. "Nowhere… But believe me

when I say this accursed city takes the cake."

He turned away briskly, walked into the back room and slammed the door

hard.

"Wow, such delightful customer service. Five stars." Kane mumbled

sarcastically.

He sighed and carefully stepped over the sleeping man and made his way

upstairs. There were five doors on each side of the hallway, following

chronological numbering order.

He found Room 5 staring right at him when he got to the top of the staircase. He unlocked the door and entered the small

room. He couldn't help but stop and roll his eyes when he heard a series of

moans, rough pants and grunts coming from Room 4.

He decided to ignore it and closed the door behind him.

The room was small and could only take one person. A lit lamp hung from

the ceiling. To the left side of the room, a surprisingly, adequately dressed bed

was placed and Kane dreaded the idea of being woken up in the dead of the

night by his fellow inn guests because they decided to continue their raunchy

romps and serenade him with their vocal orchestra of carnal pleasure.

A small table that had drawer compartments and a jug and bowl of clean

water on it was positioned on the right side against the wall and facing the bed.

A shattered mirror hung above the table. From the square-shaped window, he

could see a little bit of the eerily quiet town and could hear dogs barking from

their respective compounds.

He tossed his boots to the side and got down to undressing, shrugging off

his black coat and removing the three day old white shirt that had smudges of

brown and red. He unbuckled the belt around his waist that had seven pockets

and housed seven, silver throwing daggers. Being curious, he opened up the drawer compartments and found a clean cloth, which he guessed was for

bathing.

He soaked the cloth in the water and wringed it. Looking at himself in the

broken mirror, he sighed glumly at his reflection. His short and freshly cut black

hair was ruffled and some strands decorated his forehead. Despite the evidence

of a life of struggle on his face by the three gash scars across his right eye that

started from his hairline, he was still handsome as any twenty-seven year old

man could be.

A slim chin-strap beard lined his strong jaw to his temples.

His dark blue eyes were an enigma of secrets and memories that Kane

would rather push to the back of his mind.

His body was rippling with muscle from years of training and he trailed

the scar gashes on his torso that their sizes ranged from small to large with his

index finger.

He ran the soaked cloth over his body and released a relaxed sigh at the

cool droplets of water that ran down his chest, V-line, shoulders and back. It

wasn't a proper shower but it was better than stinking. He cupped his hands and

scooped some water into his mouth. He gargled and spat into the metal bucket

at the corner of the room.

Blowing out the lamp and laying down on the bed, he groaned in delight at

the soft feel of the bed and its light sheet. Kane stared up at the ceiling and

listened to the little sounds here and there. He had always had trouble sleeping

as a child. In a brief moment, the image of his beloved mother flashed through

his brain and he could almost feel her fingers fondly pinching his cheek and

remarking what an energetic little rascal he was.

He shook his head in annoyance and muttered to the darkness, "Deirdre

better have a good reason for making me come back here."