as was the coast.
“There it is,” said Abram with a smile. “The great coast city of Fendale.”
Whill had not laid eyes on the city in eight years, but he remembered it well. Now he looked upon it with the same awe he had as a child. Fendale sat upon the northern coast of Eldalon, and a large stone wall thirty feet high surrounded its entire border. At Fendale’s center stood a great lighthouse seven stories high, the oldest standing building in Fendale. The lighthouse, called by the people “the Light of the West,” was also home to Rogus, Lord of Fendale. The thriving coast city was a main source of trade for most of Agora. Its wealth was very evident in its beauty. The exterior wall boasted ten magnificently crafted mermaid statues, each more than fifty feet high. They lay with fins curled, long flowing hair falling over their breasts, watching guard over the city. Four looked to the sea, while two looked in each opposite direction, north, east, and south. Within the eyes of each there sat a guard, and so the statues were called the Eyes of Fendale.
The wall itself was as smooth as marble, with an arched overhang that went in a complete circle, making the wall inaccessible to ladders. The main gate stood twenty feet high and fifteen feet wide, made of oak five feet thick and covered in iron.
The rear of the city was built on a cliff in such a way that the wall actually hung over the ocean. A large cave under the city acted as its harbor, with four points of entry capable of admitting the largest vessel. Each entry point had a massive iron gate that could be closed in seconds, effectively making the harbor inaccessible. Aside from being a port city, Fendale was also Eldalon’s main naval base, able to house more than two hundred warships.
As they approached the main gate, which stood open, Whill marveled at the mermaid statues that loomed overhead. Already he could hear the crowd within. A soft buzz of activity emanated from the city.
“This will be a night to remember,” he said with a grin.
Abram nodded. “But do not forget, these are times of war, and a pair such as we may look slightly suspicious. Most outsiders coming to the celebration have done so in great numbers. It is not often men travel alone these days, so act naturally.”
Whill laughed nervously. “I was acting naturally until that bit of advice, thank you.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll do the talking.” He slapped Whill on the back.
Upon reaching the gate, four guards on horseback approached Whill and Abram. They were fully armored, with swords at their sides and shields in hand.
“What is your business?” asked the guard closest to them.
“The celebration, of course,” answered Abram with a smile. “We also hope to sell these here hides.”
The guard looked suspicious. “Not much of a cargo for traders.”
“We are not traders, so to speak; we were actually attacked by these ten rascals last night. Luckily we escaped with our lives, though my horse was not so fortunate.”
The guard looked them over closely. “You must be great fighters to take down so many wolves without harm to yourselves,” he said in a skeptical tone.
Whill had the urge to ask if they would like to find out, but held his tongue. Abram gave a small laugh. “Oh, they drew blood, friend, but not enough. Great fighters we are not, but a man must know how to defend himself these days. We are simple men who only wish to enjoy your great city. That is all.”
Not looking completely satisfied, the guard nevertheless said, “Go ahead.”
Abram nodded. “Good day.”
Upon entering the city, Whill saw more people than he had ever seen at once. The city was alive with the excitement of the celebration. Crowds filled every street. Already there were booths set up and people digging in their pockets to buy a trinket or treasure. Many women gazed longingly at fine silk and jewelry. Men tested the weight of a blade or looked over various tools. Children ran wild, candies in hand, chasing each other with gleeful laughter.
The city was shaped in a half circle, with the wall spanning its entirety. It consisted of mostly stone buildings with the exception of a few wooden houses here and there. Twenty streets circled the city. One main street ran the length of the city from gate to ocean wall, effectively splitting the city into two parts.
“Follow the main road for a while, then turn left onto Third Street. I know of a good place to find drink and lodging,” said Abram. Soon they came to a beautiful, two-story stone building with finely carved windows.
Abram told Whill to stop and dismounted with a groan. A boy of about nine with shoulder-length blond hair ran up to them. “Welcome to Ocean Mist. Will you be needing a room tonight?”
“In fact we will, young lad. What is the price?”
The boy lit up. “You’re in luck, we have a few rooms left for only ten coins a night.”
Abram scowled. “Hmm. That is a little steep, is it not?”
The boy gestured toward the crowd. “Well, you can look around if you want, but you’ll not find better quality for your money, and when you return you’re sure to find us booked.”
“A born businessman, eh? What is your name, lad?”
The boy gave a slight bow. “I am Tarren. My father is the innkeeper.”
“Well, Tarren, see to it that our horse finds a stable and our belongings are not touched, and there will be more of these for you.” He tossed him a coin.
The boy looked at the silver with glee. “Yes, sir, thank you, sir, I will, sir!” He led the horse to the stables.
Whill followed Abram inside. The main room was a large tavern with a bar extending the length of the back wall. A staircase wound its way up and over the bar on both sides of the room, leading to the living quarters. They went to the bar and sat down. After guzzling two tall beers, they banged the cups together and said, “Lelemendela”-in Elvish, “to life.”
Whill wiped the foam from his mouth with his sleeve. “It’s been a while since we could do that.”
“Too long.”
After two more beers, hot stew, and fresh bread, they were feeling the effects of their long night. The bartender gave them keys to their room and accepted a fine tip. They made their way upstairs and were pleased to find a full water basin, fresh bedding on both beds, and a good view of the city.
“It’s about one o’clock now,” Whill said. “We should be able to take a good nap and be ready for tonight.” But Abram was already snoring softly. Whill laughed aloud and plopped down on his own bed. Soon he was asleep, dreaming of fair maidens and fine music.
CHAPTER THREE
Whill woke with a start. He looked around, bewildered, trying to figure out where he was.
“Dreaming of wolves, are we?” Abram asked, chewing a green apple.
“No, I don’t think so. What time is it?”
“About seven. Don’t worry, the real party hasn’t started yet.”
Whill got up and washed himself, the basin water cool on his skin. When he had finished, Abram handed him a new set of clothes. “I sold the wolf hides while you were sleeping. We got fifteen coins each. Not too bad, eh?” He looked out the window at the busy street.
“One hundred fifty coins for ’em, that’s damn good.” Whill grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl that sat on a small table. It was delicious. Sitting at one of the chairs, he started tying his boots, the apple in his mouth.
“I also entered you into a sword-fighting contest,” Abram said with a mischievous smile.
“Eyu ut!” He spat out the apple and said again, “You what!”
“Lord Rogus has put up a challenge for tonight: whoever can beat one of his best knights with a blade wins his own weight in gold.”
“And you think
“Yes. Besides, I have already made a side bet of one hundred coins in your favor.”
Whill was speechless. He had only ever fought Abram and the occasional troublemaker. He knew he was
