The Forgotten Prophecy

Chapter 8

Matthew and Peter walked side by side through the streets of the city. So far, they had managed to resist ripping each other's throat. Ines only attempted to escape a couple of times, but it seemed like Matthew read her mind, and he gruffly put her back on track every time she drew off him.

They started off in the eastern part of the city, where the wealthiest families resided. The houses were new, with high fencing that kept away any unwelcomed guests. Guards were stationed in front of every entrance, keeping an eye out for possible intruders, and the roads were recently fixed. The rich people cared too much about the safety of their fortunes and they had money to spare.

After making sure that nothing was out of the ordinary, they went on west. The buildings became lower, made of wood, or better yet, of stone, while the streets grew narrow and full of potholes. The traffic got thicker as shop owners took out their products to be sold and workers made their way to their jobs. Wherever they went, people stared at their fine armour while keeping a safe distance. Only a bunch of children once passed by running and carelessly bumped against Ines, making her almost fall on her butt.

Matthew's eyes sparkled in humor when he saw her huff in annoyance. Before she could run after them, he pulled her by the arm, and they headed towards the city square. There, the imposing cathedral stood high in the centre with tall trees around it that provided shade under their dense canopy.

'Ah! This square brings back memories,' he mused.

Peter glanced at the church and a smile blossomed on her face. Her happy expression took Matthew by surprise who gaped at her dumbfounded like she had grown two heads. He realised that she was quite beautiful when she smiled. Ines caught him staring at her, and he quickly averted his gaze.

'Remember when we used to set the priests' copes on fire every time they came out of the church?' he asked her.

'That was a classic one! By the way George got married last week.'

'Which George? George the bald?'

Peter nodded. 'I don't like his face, nor do I trust him,' she mumbled.

'Yeah, me neither. But his swords are the best in town.'

'Ugh! I've got to replace my sword with a new one. I guess I'll have to pay him a visit tomorrow.'

'You will bear to be around him that long? You are a true warrior.'

'At least I'll try. I make no promises...'

Matthew and Peter carefully checked the area for anything unusual. Everything was as it used to be; people entered and exited the library where monks transcribed and housed the city's books, shops were closing one by one, the street lamps were being lit by the soldiers. They left the square and progressed towards the city port.

Since the weather was good, they expected it to be crowded with sailors and fishermen, getting busy with boarding the ships and untying the ropes in preparation for the night's voyage. The city heavily depended on fishing, especially when many farmers' corps had already been irreparably damaged by unexpected floods. When they arrived at the port, though, they found it completely empty. The ships had been tossed aside to rot in the sea.

'The city trade has gone down recently,' Matthew pointed out. 'And they expect things to get worse. People don't feel safe sailing outside the lake anymore. Especially at night.'

'Why? Have you heard anything?'

'The only thing I know is that half the ships that went down the river have gone missing.'

'Hasn't anyone tried to find them?'

'Oh, they have tried, but in vain. It's like they have vanished in thin air.'