30. Colt

Colt

The Snaptooth Tavern had been a lively place in Colt's youth. He had sat and played cards many times in this rowdy mess hall that had once thrived on tomfoolery and ale. The Snaptooth was where his gambling life had begun, and was home to more regulars than tourists. In fact, few tourists visited the place. If a new face showed, they were either lost or homeless. The Snaptooth made quick marks of such lost souls.

Colt had spent many of his days sleeping upstairs above the kitchen, where the innkeeper lived. He would sleep on a pallet below the window in the hallway, and every evening he'd pack it up and place it in the storage closet before leaving for the night. Other times, he'd meet with Rowan and they'd spend their nights at friends' houses, most of them women, before they got run out, especially on rare occasions when Colt had gotten handsy with one of the women's brothers or cousins.

Colt smiled as he recalled the memory of a woman who fancied him finding him with his hand down her older brother's trousers, cursing at him and telling him to fuck off and never show his face again. Now here he was, showing his face back at the Snaptooth.

Yesterday morning, he'd passed Elian in the street. Elian had ignored him, passing by without acknowledging him, and Colt wondered if he'd even seen him. When Colt took the next turn into an alley, Elian was there, passing him a note. The only words on it were ‘Snaptooth, noon.' Colt had chuckled at the coincidence that the Wielder chose to meet him at the bar he'd once considered home.

Inside, the fire in the hearth of the empty mess hall burned low. Cobwebs had gathered in the corners of the room, and a few floorboards were loose and squeaking as Colt walked over them. One person sat in the corner of the room, eating near the window, dressed in dark clothes and looking worn. The tavern owner smoked from a pipe at the bar, staring at Colt as he made his way over to the lone stranger in the corner.

The owner wasn't anyone Colt remembered seeing before, and the man looked curiously at him as he walked, but he only watched, which made Colt a little leery. When he came to the table and sat down roughly, a familiar face looked up at him.

"What brings you here, O'Malley?" Elian asked. The Wielder looked tired, and Colt noticed a few strands of gray in his dark hair he hadn't remembered before.

"Ale, of course," Colt replied, playing along with him, pretending they were just two friends joining one another for food.

Elian gave a laugh and raised his mug, then glanced at the tavern keeper. "How about one for my comrade? It's been a while."

The man filled a mug and came over right away, and when Elian gave the man a handsome amount of coin, he nodded and made his way to the back of the tavern, out of earshot.

As Colt settled back against the chair, he took out his pipe and lit the herb at the end. Then he puffed off his pipe and blew the smoke out slowly. "What's the word?" he asked.

Elian spoke quietly and clearly, "I was informed two days ago that you and Brom had come into the city. This will be how we communicate. I will leave a note on a loose stone on the roof of the brothel you're staying at. If I need you to meet at night, meet here on the rooftop. They are safe for travel." He took a bite of potatoes from his plate.

"Alright." Colt nodded and ate a bite from the plate in front of him. "So, what's the plan for now?"

"The Legion will infiltrate the city soon. My assistant works in the citadel. She mentioned the word sacrifice ."

Colt's stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"

"That's what's going to happen to Owen."

Colt tried to steady his frantic heart. "We need to get him out of there."

Elian was silent for a long moment, and this worried Colt. He tipped his mug back and forth as he said, "He's being kept in a tower in the citadel. Guarded by Rem."

The Hunter's name made Colt's stomach twist. He leaned forward with determination hot in his chest, "Then I will get him myself."

Elian's eyebrow curled up. "How?"

"If I can find a way up to the citadel, to his tower, I can scale the wall…"

Elian let out a nervous laugh and scratched the side of his face. "Then what? What if he's chained or bound? How will you escape the tower? No, Colt, it's impossible…" He paused, seeming to consider his words. "Mordren needs Owen alive. Even if you could free him, there's no telling what Mordren would do to this city."

Colt wanted to say he didn't care, but he knew the Wielder was right. This place was his home, and more importantly, it was full of innocent people. Colt's shoulders lowered, and he leaned back, puffing on his pipe as he thought .

"However…" Elian suddenly said.

Colt's heart picked up, and he moved forward again. "Yeah?"

"It's just… if Mordren wants to use Owen as a sacrifice, it means he's planning something on a scale we can't imagine."

"What do you mean? How do you know that?"

"The Legion used the same method similar to that of sacrifice with the Cleansing to extract only an Astran's power. By wholly sacrificing those with divine blood in them, like Owen, I can't imagine what would happen." He trailed off and went silent. Then he closed his eyes and sighed. "There is a plan I've been mulling around in my head."

Colt cleared his throat and took a drink from his mug. "I'm listening."

"The catacombs beneath the city are extensive." Elian lowered his voice. "There is one entrance within each district, all heavily guarded. We get into the tunnels beneath the city, we can get to the citadel. It's a dangerous path, wrought with traps and twists and turns."

"The labyrinth?" Colt asked, recalling the conversation they'd had at Bridge's home about it. When Elian nodded, Colt licked his lips and said, "Alright. That sounds good."

"Right." Elian eyed the bar, ensuring the barman was still out of sight. "Now we need to figure out how to take care of the big guy."

"We can't. We don't have emberstone."

"But you do have emberstone. Hanging around your neck."

"It's not big enough to shape into a weapon. What about the emberstone in your Core?"

"It's ground up into particles." Elian looked away and tapped his mug, thinking. "There are six Wielders in the city, besides me. All of them have been imprisoned. It's possible I could take my Core apart and use the powdered emberstone inside, but there's nothing I could fuse it with to form into any kind of weapon."

"How are you walking freely through Luthien?" Colt asked.

"The general…overlooked my arrival. I am not on the ledger of people coming into the city."

"Alright." Colt took a deep breath. "Then we need to come up with a plan for creating a weapon. How much time do we have?"

"Less than a week? I'm not certain, things are changing and moving so fast."

"By the time the Legion invades from the outside, whether we have a weapon or not, I'll be going to get Owen."

"And I will aid you… either way."

A half-smile crept onto Colt's lips. He took several gulps from his mug—now this was good ale—and slammed it down with a heavy sigh before getting up. He tossed a few copper pieces on the table to pay for his meal before going to leave.

"Colt," Elian said softly, and Colt turned around, waiting. "I'm sorry."

Not sure he'd heard correctly, Colt asked, "What?"

"I'm sorry. For what I put you all through."

Colt raised his eyebrows in surprise and then looked closely at Elian. He was no longer the poised, clean-cut man he remembered following them through Milarc, nor even the same man from their journey out of Vanhelm. He held himself with less arrogance now. Humility had etched itself into his features, making him appear weary and remorseful.

Finally, Colt tipped his head at Elian and placed his pipe between his lips before turning to go. He looked back one last time as he reached the door. For a moment, as he looked at the empty tables, he imagined the laughter and music that had once filled this pub. He felt the heat of the people dancing and saw the blazing fire of the hearth, warming them all on a snowy night. He saw Rowan smiling as he sat next to him playing cards, and he felt the rush of ale as it entered his body.

Then he turned and stepped outside into the snow, leaving the Snaptooth behind. He had spent most of his youth here. It had shaped who he was in every way, and now he was walking away from this tavern as the adult he had grown into. The relief it brought him was strange, but rewarding. From this sacred spot of his childhood, Colt looked up until he found the gold-domed building of the citadel. That's where Owen was. That's where he had to get to.

I'm coming, Owen.