In Deeper Waters by F.T. Lukens (most motivational books txt) 📕

Tal lifted an eyebrow. He twisted in his seat and gave Athlen an incredulous look. “There’s not a cloud in the sky. There’s no breeze. And we’re inland.”

Athlen shrugged. “I don’t think I’m wrong. There is going to be a storm.”

“How do you know?”

Athlen looked away, not meeting Tal’s eyes. “I have a feeling.”

Frustrated and confused, stressed and exhausted, Tal turned back around in the saddle and focused on the road ahead. “My family is in danger. We still have two days until we reach the castle. We’re not stopping because you have a feeling.”

Hours later the wind whipped through Tal’s tousled hair, and his cloak pulled at the clasp at his throat, choking him. Soaked to the bone, hunched over the horse, Athlen shivering and clinging to his back, Tal regretted not stopping at the farm they’d passed an hour or so back. Angry with himself, he cursed his own stubbornness for ignoring Athlen’s warning. Athlen had merely tried to help, and Tal had dismissed his concerns because of Tal’s own tangled emotions. If only he’d listened, they could’ve bedded down in the barn for the night with the horse, safe and warm and dry. Instead they were riding down the muddied road, and Tal gripped the reins with white knuckles, terrified that the horse would take a misstep and send them sprawling, or worse, injure herself.

The thunder rumbled above them as clouds rolled in dark, ominous clusters, obscuring the stars and tumbling over the low light offered by the moon. Athlen jumped when lightning forked above them, and Tal gritted his teeth.

With a soft kick to her sides, Tal spurred the mare onward, hoping the storm would blow over or they’d find a place to rest. The path curved through a small wood, then widened, and Tal straightened from his hunch when they came upon the outskirts of a town.

“Up ahead,” Tal said, his voice drowned out by the rain and the wind, “there’s an inn. We’ll stay there for the night.”

Athlen didn’t question the intelligence of stopping in a public place where Tal might be recognized, small as that chance was, and Tal took that as acquiescence to the plan. Perceiving the potential for a respite from the storm, the horse picked up her pace with minimal urging as the mud beneath her hooves transitioned to stone at the border of the village.

Within minutes they stopped in front of a bustling tavern and disembarked. Athlen slid off the mare’s back and collapsed into the mud, his legs unable to hold him. Tal jumped off and hauled Athlen to his feet, throwing Athlen’s arm over his shoulders.

“I’m fine,” Athlen said, clipped and impatient.

“You’re not. You need to rest.” Tal slipped the dagger from the saddlebags and into the back waistband of Athlen’s trousers. “We should be fine in here,” he said, “but you shouldn’t be unarmed.”

“What about you?”

Tal clenched his hand, smoke blossoming from the creases of his fist. “I’m prepared.”

Together they hobbled up the three short steps. Tal flipped a coin from Athlen’s stash to the boy waiting on the leaky porch.

“Take care of her. She’s had a long day. Then bring the saddlebags up to our room.”

The boy held up the gold in the light. He bit it, wiggling it between his teeth, before leaping off the porch to lead the docile mare to the stable.

With the pair of them sopping wet and Athlen grunting in pain with every step, they drew far more attention than Tal wanted as they stumbled into the tavern, but there wasn’t much to be done for it. Tal dumped Athlen into a chair right inside the door and squelched his way to the first barmaid he found.

“Room for the night,” he said. “And dinner.”

She gave him a once-over. “Can you pay?”

“Yes.” He slipped a coin into her palm.

She then jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Up the stairs. Second door on the right.”

“Thank you.”

Tal hauled Athlen to his feet by his upper arm and dragged him up the stairs. Every step was a chore, and by the time they reached the landing, the boy from the stable had run past and dropped their bags into the room.

“For another coin I’ll tell you the day’s news. Royal messenger came through. I heard what they said.”

Interest piqued, Tal fumbled for a coin while Athlen leaned hard into his side. He found one and tossed it to the boy. “Go on. Tell us.”

“The prince was assassinated. We might go to war, but the royal family is doing what they can to find a ‘diplomatic option.’ ” He said it as if reciting a lesson from school, making sure to get the words correct. Tal sagged with relief. They weren’t at war yet. They still had time. The boy continued. “My dad said the prince was sickly and he died, and the queen just wants a war. My grandpa said that he was killed because he had magic. Actually, the baker said that too. And the farmer over the hill. Oh, and the tavern keeper.”

Tal’s eyebrows climbed. “They all said that?” The rumors had grown, and they weren’t wrong.

The boy nodded his head like a puppet on a string. “Yes, sir.” He held out his hand, palm open. “I can find out more if you want, for another coin.”

“That won’t be necessary. Thank you.”

On his way out the boy wrinkled his nose. “You look awful, mister,” he said to Athlen. “My mum is a healer. She’s got a tonic that’ll fix you up, if you need it.”

Athlen sagged against the wall. “No, thank you.”

The boy shrugged and ran out, his shoes slapping down the hallway.

Tal’s thoughts spun with the information the boy had provided. His focus shifted, though, when Athlen made a noise of pain and grabbed his leg, his bare toes curling against the wooden floor.

Tal gripped his arm and steadied him.

“You should rest,” Tal said, gesturing to the single narrow bed along the wall. “I’ll get