CRYSTALLUM LOST DREAMS | Fantasy Novel |

Chapter 4 - Part 1

He watched the road below through the window. The patrols of the Kharzanians had been patrolling that stretch for hours now: until they left, he was stuck there. "Three days... damn! Three days and I haven't been able to find anything," he hissed. He brought the chair closer to the windowsill and pushed the chamber pot aside.

With the soldiers free to roam around Lud, he couldn't use his abilities: they would identify him in a few moments. The energy source was important, of course, but dead, he wouldn't be able to search for anything. And if the Kharzanians spotted an Hozman, there was no guarantee he would make it out on his own two feet.

It was already late morning and as soon as the alley was clear of the soldiers' shadows, he took the long luggage wrapped in hides and put it on his back. He stepped in front of the mirror hanging on the door and put on a cap that left his almond-shaped eyes in the shadows and hid his long, raven hair; he wouldn't pass a close examination, but at least his origins wouldn't be in plain sight at first glance. He touched the silver ring on his finger, barely touched the symbol of the carved sunset, and with the small piece of Seorite set in the center.

He relaxed his shoulders and took a deep breath, cautiously descended the stairs that ended in the main room of the inn. There were no customers among the tables and the floor had just been swept.

"Good morning, Mr. Camiel! I hope you slept well!" the innkeeper exclaimed. That day, the owner of the inn seemed to have an even more swollen belly or perhaps it was just his impression; the head, however, always had the same irregular surface due to the holes. He was cleaning the surface of the dark wooden countertop with grooves. Even from that distance, his breath smelled like an ashtray. "Would you like some eggs for breakfast?" he asked, offering him a holster filled with yellowish sludge.

"Thanks, but I'd rather not." Camiel looked at the plate, as inviting as a punch in the teeth, and looked back at the innkeeper's red face. "Rather, do you have any news?"

The innkeeper stood staring at the entrance for a few seconds, paused his duties, and walked briskly across the room. He closed the door with a snap and leaned against it.

"Shhh, there are Kharzanians everywhere!" he said, looking out the window. "I'm sorry, I haven't heard anyone mention Seorite deposits," he replied in a lowered voice.

"I paid for information and you gladly accepted my gold coins," Camiel insisted, this time he was serious.

"Well, with the Great Jalme in those conditions ... that's all people talk about." The innkeeper wiped his damp hands on his apron and looked uncomfortable.

"What is this Jalme?" Up until that moment he was aware of only one truth: he had sensed a huge amount of Seorite in the region and it must be there, somewhere. The impulse had been too strong to go unnoticed and the presence of an entire foreign detachment in the city was further confirmation of his thesis. He couldn't waste any more time.

"You can tell immediately that you're a stranger," the man snapped. "It's the Lud tree: the Great Jalme with red leaves," he said with amazement, "Never heard of it?"

"Just some stories, but I never looked into it."

"Our greatest pride, nature that never loses." The innkeeper gestured with his hands. "Just yesterday one of our regular customers showed me a dry leaf. Dry, you understand? It was on the ground and there were others!"

"Well! Are you worried that a tree loses its leaves? Sure, it's summer, but I don't think it's that important."

The innkeeper shook his head and sighed. "From our experience and what our fathers have written, it has never happened. It must be a sign of pestilence and misfortune." His voice was dark.