The sun was setting as
Dillon walked emptying streets. No longer bright, the city had changed from the
dazzling white of midday to a rich red as the sun cast crimson light across
the desert. This shift in mood was another thing Dillon loved about this place;
the city itself changed color with the day; white at midday, red at dusk, and a
silvery blue during the night.
Dillon wandered aimlessly,
musing on shifting colors and thinking of the old man and his hungry children. Everywhere i go, hungry people and fat rulers. This
thought, most of all, troubled him in his travels. It was rare indeed to find a
city where there were no rich or poor, so rare, in fact, that he had yet to
find it.
“There! Grab him!” A voice shouted nearby.
Dillon was ripped from
his thoughts by a strong hand and a thick set of arms. As he struggled in the powerful
grip, guards filled in the street around him, blocking the way in both
directions. The men were wearing the tell-tale red and white of the royal
guard, which was bad news indeed.
“It seems the “Phantom of
the White City” is not so difficult to catch after all.” One of the men said,
stepping forward.
The man had the piercing
white eyes of a noble, glowing faintly in the shadows of the evening. He wore
the uniform of the guard as well; a loose fitting pair of pants and a finely
trimmed white tunic with two red stripes entwined into the fabric. This man also had markings denoting his official rank and was obviously in charge.
Despite his predicament, Dillon
couldn’t help but smile. Phantom of the White City? I’ve never heard that
one.
“Ah, well, we all have
our off days, but “Phantom” might be a bit much,” Dillon replied, letting
himself relax in his captor’s grip. “You apparently know who I am, but I have
no idea who you are.”
“Remember the name,
thief,” sneered the man, stepping closer. “I am Captain Helkir, I tracked you
down in less than a day, and I will bring you to the Sahvir myself.”
“Yes, well, about that,”
said Dillon stiffly. “I don’t know about phantoms, but I don’t much like being
caught.”
And with that Dillon shot
up, ramming his head into the jaw of the unsuspecting man holding him. With a
shout of pain the man released him, giving Dillon just enough time to sidestep
a tackle by the Captain and shove him in the back, toppling him into the recovering
guard.
Dillon ran, jumping onto
the counter of a nearby booth and vaulting off, sailing over the heads of the
guards on the far side of the street.
“Get him!” Shouted
Captain Helkir, enraged at his humiliation, “Or I’ll have your heads sent to
the Sahvir!”
The royal guards
themselves… Maybe I’ve ruffled more feathers than I thought. Dillon
sprinted down the street, dodging people, stands, and the occasional camel. Unfortunately,
this chase was not going as well as Dillon would have liked. Whenever he
thought he was losing his pursuers they would somehow reclose the gap. They’re
good, I’ll give em’ that. Definitely better than the normal thugs I have to
avoid. Dillon ran up a large stack of barrels and crates lining the street,
deliberately toppling the pile as he ran. A loud crash behind him let him know
that he had successfully brought the whole thing down. He glanced back and saw
most of the men either jumping the mess or plowing straight through, knocking
barrels aside roughly. He shook his head in disbelief, that barely slowed
them down at all! This chase was quickly losing its thrill as he sought
desperately for a way to escape. Suddenly he rounded a corner and saw a man in
a doorway, hurriedly motioning for him to enter.
Dillon dove into the
man’s house and the door closed quickly behind him. As his eyes adjusted to the
darkness inside he looked around. It was not a beautifully adorned home, but it
was cozy. A few lamps lit the area with a warm glow and a table and cushions were
arranged in the middle of the room. More importantly, he saw a mother and two
small children in the corner, staring at him apprehensively.
“Uhh.. Hello.” Dillon
said carefully, “Thank you? I suppose?”
“Oh, my friend, my
friend! No worry, they are only surprised, they are not knowing who you are!” A
man speaking spotty Orran was quickly
closing the windows, glancing back at Dillon as he spoke. He looked vaguely familiar.
“I am sorry, but do I
know you?” Dillon asked, still speaking Yhildrish.
“Oh, my name is being Yholdan!
And this is my wife, Saree, and my two children. Saree, this is the man! Yes,
you once gave me enough frankas to move out of the pit where I was living in. I
guess you are not remembering!” The man said happily, apparently unaware of his
poor grammar.
They both fell silent as
the thundering of footsteps outside told them that the guards were passing by. Dillon
took advantage of the moment to examine Yholdan further. He was a large man,
both in height and width, wearing the traditional white robe and turban of his
people. Dillon thought he recognized the man, but he looked so different Dillon
could hardly recognize him. Last time they met, more than a year before, Yholdan
had been homeless, dirty, and broken spirited. After waiting a few moments
Dillon spoke.
“Well, I am grateful for
your help. You can speak to me in Yhildrish, but thank you, you’re Orran is
quite good.” Dillon said convincingly.
“You are much to kind!”
The man seemed overjoyed that Dillon had complimented him, but he had begun
speaking his native Yhildrish. “Because of you my life has been changed forever.
I now have a place for my family; I have a home. On top of that I have a good
way to keep them both. For this I cannot repay you.”
“I don’t know about that,
I only gave you money, if I remember right. You did the rest. Besides,” Dillon
said, peeking through one of the windows, “I think we might be even considering
you just saved my hide.”
“Ah, I’m sure you would
have gotten away somehow. Now, we must move quickly, how are you planning on
leaving?” Yholdan asked, sitting down at the table and motioning for his family
and Dillon to join him.
“Leaving, you mean your
home?” Dillon replied, furrowing his brow.
“No, no, I mean the city
of course! You cannot stay here,” said Yholdan.
Dillon sat across from Yholdan
and asked “What do you mean, leave the city? Why can’t I stay here?”
“Surely you know?” Yholdan
asked, surprised. “The Sahvir has personally called for your death! All of the
guard will be out looking for you. You are not safe here.”
“The Sahvir?!” exclaimed
Dillon, “Why? I steal things, yes, but why is he concerned with a petty thief?”
Yholdan laughed, it was a
deep and booming laugh that made Dillon smile, “Petty?! Ha! You have gotten
away with stealing from some of the richest men in the city. Still, I do not
know why the Sahvir would busy himself with such affairs, but I know he wants
you dead, while I do not. Whatever I can do to help, I offer freely. We must
get you out of the city.”
Dillon’s thoughts ran
wild, leave Yhildran? It had been over two years since he arrived in and for
once he was not thinking of leaving.
“I can’t leave, this
place is my home now.” Dillon said quietly.
For the first time Yholdan’s
wife, Saree, spoke up “You honor us,” she said sincerely.
To consider a place home
was of great importance to the people of Yhildran; it meant it was the place
you would die for. For a foreigner to call Yhildran home meant that he had not
only moved here, but he had adopted the people, the city, and even the land as
his own.
Yholdan nodded, “Yes, it
is your home, but until it is safe again you must leave. I am sure this is one
of the Sahvir’s passing whims and he will forget you. Once things have calmed
down then you can return.”
“I see…” Dillon replied
slowly, “Well, you may be right, but I cannot endanger your family any further.
Thank you for your help, I’ll find a way to get out.” Dillon began to stand but
was quickly interrupted.
“Nonsense,” Saree said, “You
have saved my family. Allow us to help you one more time. My brother, he is
leaving for the north tomorrow. He can take you in his caravan, no one there
will betray you, I can promise.”
“Ah ha! This is why I
love this woman, always thinking!” Boomed Yholdan, kissing his hand and
motioning to the stars in gratitude. He was obviously convinced his wife was
the best woman in the world.
Dillon paused, it was a
good idea.
Back north… It had
been over six years since he had been there, would he be welcome? Dillon was
not sure what kind of reception waited for him, but it was still probably his
best choice. Besides, a caravan would be perfect for blending in; all sorts of
people left the city to go north and one more Orran going back to Oris wouldn’t
raise any suspicions.
Dillon sat back down, “Very
well. Thank you, Saree, going north would be perfect.”
“Wonderful, I will speak
with my brother tonight.” Saree said.
“Do you have somewhere to
stay in Oris?” asked Yholdan.
“Yes, I think I do. Far
north, past the great city Vandar, there’s a small village called Kressing,
that’s where I’ll go.” Dillon said absently, rubbing his chin.
“That far?” asked
Yholdan, “Why? Anywhere in Oris would suffice.”
“Because,” Dillon
replied, “it is always good to visit family, isn’t it?”
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