Zach Brenner's Arc

Chapter 6 of 86

The alley spat them out into a wider street before Zach could find the low quarter. His arms still burned from the fight past the gate. Two monsters had crawled from a drain, and he had cut them down without thinking. Raven watched him wipe the sword clean. Her eyes moved over the blood on his tank top, the tears in his jeans. "You can't walk these streets looking like that," she said. "You look like a man who kills things. People remember that." "I am a man who kills things," Zach said. "That's the problem." Raven pointed to a low stone building set into the city wall. A faded shield hung above the door. "The armory. Leather and a cloak. Cover the tattoos. Cover the sword. In this city, blending in keeps you breathing." Inside, the air smelled of oil and old hide. Raven moved fast, like she knew the trade. She pulled a leather vest off a hook and pressed it to Zach's chest. "Try this." He shrugged into it. The leather sat stiff across his shoulders. She grabbed a gray cloak next, plain and worn, and threw it over him. "Better. Now you're just another traveler." She dropped coins on the counter without asking his help. The old keeper counted them and looked away. Zach felt the change at once. The cloak hid the blade. The vest hid the ink. He caught his reflection in a dented shield and did not know the man in it. "I look like I belong here," he said. "You don't belong anywhere yet," Raven said. "That's the whole point of belonging nowhere. You can pretend to be anyone." She said it lightly, but her ears flattened. She knew what it cost him. Home was still a road he could not find. They stepped back out hidden. "Now we ask questions," Raven said. "There's a tavern near the square. People drink there. Drunk people talk." The tavern was loud and low. Zach kept his hood up and took a bench in the corner. Raven ordered two cups and leaned close, listening past the noise. Her ears turned toward the fire, where three men sat in dark hoods. They kept their voices down. Zach could not hear them. But Raven could. Her whole body went stiff. She gripped his wrist under the table. "They said a name," she whispered. "Maximus." Zach turned slow. The three cloaked men huddled tight. One traced a shape on the table in spilled ale. Another shook his head and glanced toward the door. They spoke of the master waking. Of the road north opening. Of blood owed. Zach's grip tightened on his cup. He had come for a map to the dead river. Now the men who served Darkthorne sat ten feet away, whispering the very road he sought. The armory had bought him a hood to hide under. It had also placed him at the enemy's table. "We follow them," Zach said. "Wherever they go."