Free The Banished of Muirwood by Jeff Wheeler

overtake us on the trail.”
    The burly hunter sheathed the throwing axe in his belt. “Yes, I am not squeamish about leaving corpses behind us to rot in the woods. Or under rocks.” Maia watched him bend over near the edge of the cave mouth and scatter mule’s ear leaves over a thin, rough cord half hidden by the edge of the stone. She realized he had triggered it to collapse.

    Maia’s feet were aching by the time they reached the end of the mountain trail and arrived at the town of Roc-Adamour. The sun was dipping quickly in the sky, casting a purple shade over the town. Maia stared at the scene before her with wonder and fascination. The town was nothing like she had expected, for it had been built into the side of a craggy cliff face.
    Most of the towns and cities in her kingdom were built on flat ground and overlooked beautiful lands. This was rocky country, thick with dense woods and jagged boulders. There was a luxurious manor house on the top of the craggy mountain and she could only imagine how exquisite the view must be. The town was built lower down the mountain face, a series of tall but narrow buildings with highly slanted roof lines that were connected together, though they came in a variety of sizes and shapes. Lower down, along the flatter lands, was another series of buildings. If Maia had to guess, she thought perhaps several hundred people lived in the town, which Jon Tayt had dubbed Roc-Adamour, or in her language, the Rock of the First Fathers. It was an ancient town by the look of it, but the ruins and rubble were at the fringe of the town and the core of interior buildings was new and maintained.
    There were no walls to fortify the town, but the terrain provided a natural barrier to conflict. Lanterns and torches were already starting to be lit around the settlement, giving it a peaceful air. None of the lights from the manor house at the top of the crest had been lit. It seemed abandoned.
    “Your friends will have trouble finding us here,” Jon Tayt said with a broad grin. “There are many inns and travelers here since this is a major crossroads in the Hundred. More than one road comes in and out, so finding our trail will be tedious. It will buy us time. The big house on the top is one of the king’s manors. That is where the Dochte Mandar will likely go to solicit help. The other places midway up the cliff,” he said, pointing, “those are for the rich traders. We will not be staying there. And over there is a little haunt I know near the edge of the cliffs, hunkered deep down by the woods. Easy to hide, easy to flee. Not many know of it. The people here keep to themselves. Follow me.”
    Maia craned her neck as they entered the town. The streets were crowded, which brought a sensation of safety she had not experienced for some time. She had worried her accent would betray her if she needed to speak Dahomeyjan in their journey. Traveling with Jon Tayt would lessen the chance of discovery because he was likely known by reputation, which would save them from asking questions of strangers who would remember them. She was grateful to have his help and determined to reward him handsomely in some way.
    The kishion did not gawk at the tall, slender structures as she did, and he kept an impassive look on his face as they slipped into the shadows of early nightfall. “Raise your hood,” he ordered sharply.
    She was tempted to defy him, but she obeyed.
    They walked down the main street, ignoring the shopkeepers and traders for the most part, though Jon Tayt did purchase several meat pies to stave off their hunger as they crossed the majority of the town. They finally stopped at a small two-story dwelling, also with a pitched slate roof of heavy stone shingles. It had two wings, and its walls were coated in ivy.
    Jon Tayt entered first, stomping his boots on the rush matting as he entered, and the smell of wine and roasting meat made her mouth water instantly. There was a main hearth, full of lively