by T Nisbet
Chp. 13
I followed the directions the best I could, and wound my way through the crowd to the hallway. I found what I thought was the correct door and opened it stepping in, or in this case out. The cold evening air sobered me up ever so slightly, but not a lot. I had obviously made a wrong turn, I was standing in a darkening alleyway. I spun around to go back inside, only to find four men stepping out through the door I had just come through. I backed up to let them pass.
“That’s em all right,” said two of the men at the same time. They looked kind of familiar. I squinted my eyes, trying my best to focus on them. The twins blurred together becoming just one man. It was the sword merchant from earlier. Standing beside him was a powerfully built man with an oddly embroidered patch over one eye. Seeing him gave me an idea and I closed one of my eyes. There were only two men and I could see each man much more clearly than with both eyes open.
“You be sure?” said the one eyed man closing the door behind him.
“Of course I’m sure. Look at the sword, and he’s glowing just like I said!”
I looked down at my hands, sure as shootin, I was lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Give me the sword boy, and I’ll let you live,” growled the man slowly drawing his own sword and pointing it toward my chest.
“Hey, I don’t wann any trouble guys,” I said staggering back into the stone wall of the building next to the tavern, opposite the doorway.
Realization of my situation struggled through pleasant fogginess covering my mind. Toby probably wasn’t going to burst through the door and save me any time soon. I was on my own, in an alley, standing in front of a man with a sword. Great, just great!
A distant voice in my head urged me to draw my sword. It sounded like good advice, so I put my hand on the hilt, and freed the beautiful sword from its plain sheath.
My hand suddenly stung like it was on fire, and a rush of images and blinding memories I couldn’t remotely grasp flashed through my mind, as adrenaline flooded my system. I reeled to my left under the fiery assault of the images and crashed over a garbage can, falling to the smooth cobblestones.
“The sword boy, now!” said the one-eyed man advancing, his own sword held ready before him.
Somehow, I hadn’t dropped the sword during my fall, and I staggered to my feet using the wall for balance as the images started to fade.
The one eyed man moved forward and swung, his sword all but a blur trying to knock the ornate sword from my grasp. I unconsciously countered his slash. My return slice opened up a bloody rent in the pants across his thigh.
“Damn he’s fast Pierre,” said the merchant, backing away towards the door.
The one-eyed man stepped back favoring his bloody leg and cursed in a language I couldn’t recognize. He moved painfully into a swordsman’s crouch, I stumbled away from the wall, holding my sword low.
“Don’t be fooled, he’s using Guldan’s defense!” said the merchant, now standing with one hand on the door jam.
“I know, you idiot. Be quiet. He’s drunk.”
The brigand moved forward in a series of lightning quick feints and slashes. Somehow, I countered them easily and punched the tip of my sword deeply into the space between his shoulder and chest, severing a tendon. His sword clattered to the paving stones in the alley. Blood flowed freely from the cut, down his arm, and onto the dark cobbles. His one eye widened, as he stood swaying in the moonlight. He grunted painful and backed away slowly, trying to stanch the bleeding with his other hand.
“I just wanna pee,” I slurred, one eye still closed so I could see.
He backed away another step, leaving his sword on the ground.
“And I… just want to live to see another sunrise light the horizon young master,” he conceded, bowing at the waist, good hand still pressing hard against his bloody shoulder.
“Help me stop this bleeding Mormont!” he yelled, but the merchant was gone.
He was losing an awful lot of blood. I sheathed my sword after wiping it on the edge of my cloak. I couldn’t let him bleed to death in an alley.
“I’ll help you,” I said and weaved forward.
He nodded.
“A kindness I will someday repay,” he groaned.
I put an arm around his waist, and helped him back into the tavern. As I closed the door, Toby appeared and helped me support him. The people in the hallway stepped aside for us.
“What the hell happened Jake?” Toby asked over the brigand who sagged into unconsciousness.
“He got lucky,” said Coach walking up, relieving me of the man’s weight.
They carried the man away through the crowd. I just stood there staring, drunk and more than a little dazed by what had just happened. How they heck did I know how to use a sword? It had seemed like second nature. The thoughts flew from my head as the pressure in my abdomen became unbearable. I couldn’t for the life of me remember the waitress’s instructions on how to get to the bathroom. I knew I’d explode if I didn’t relieve myself any second. I turned, and was about to go back out into the alley, when a soft hand grabbed mine and pulled me down the hall. The waitress stopped at a door and opened it for me.
“The second door on your left, not the first door on your right,” she said giggling.
“Oh,” I managed.
“Do you need me to… help you further?” she offered seductively, her eyes looking me up and down.
I became very aware of her low cut blouse and what it barely held in check.
“I think… I can handle it.” I stammered.
“A bath then, afterwards?” she winked.
My heart was suddenly pounding in my ears and I felt the flush rising over me like a tidal wave. I staggered forward into the water closet, and shut the door behind me, locking it. I could hear the waitress’s giggling fade as she returned down the hallway to her work.
I searched in vain for my zipper, and then remembered that the brown leather pants didn’t have one. I unfastened the leather strings as fast as I could and barely made it to the large chamber pot in time.
I didn’t know it was possible to urinate for that long. I certainly never had before. When I finally finished, my heart had quit racing, and the flush had faded. I poured water from a bucket into a deep marble washbasin, and washed my hands and face. The cool water pushed back the fog from my thoughts a bit more.
“What the hell happened?” I said aloud, grabbing one of the towels piled up beside the grey and white washbasin.
“You’re not ready for it,” said an old voice as clear as day.
Startled, I looked around the room, but I was alone.
“Crap!” I said throwing the towel to the floor. “I’ve really lost it.”
“Like I said, you’re not ready,” the voice chuckled softly.
“Not ready for what?” I shouted.
“Not ready to hear that you just received the accumulated knowledge of several thousand years of weapons experience, of course,” said the voice calmly. “Not ready to face the fact that you just bested a fairly decent swordsman while drunk, having never held a sword in your hand before. Shall I go on, or shall we wait until tomorrow?”
I sat down on the tiled floor awkwardly because of the sword and put my head in my hands. I had lost it. I was hearing voices. So this was what it was like to go insane. None of what had happened had been real. Ivy would never go out with me. She probably wasn’t even pretty like I’d believed. Immortality, vampires, elves, one thousand foot trees, her beauty… it was all a part of a progressive break with reality.
“Oh, she’s beautiful all right,” the elderly voice said. “You’re not insane either, just confused, drunk, hormonal, and perhaps a little too skeptical of what your senses confirm is the truth.”
“Why are you talking to me?” I groaned.
“Why? Because you released me,” soothed the voice, “You touched Gwensorloth and were chosen.”
“Touched who? Chosen?” I asked, and suddenly it came to me through my be
fuddled, swirling thoughts. The sword, when I had first touched the sword in alley, the pain, all those images that had utterly overwhelmed me, causing my fall. It was the sword!
“I’d give you a prize, but I just gave you more than you will realize for a long, long time in your case,” sniggered the voice.
I looked down at the sword. The sword was talking inside my head?
“Gwensorloth is just the tool, a magnificently crafted tool to be sure, but a sword is in the end, just a sword. You listened to me when it was important Jake, so I chose you.”
“You told me to grab the sword?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Why not just let me die?” I groaned.
“I made a promise to Gwensorloth’s last owner,” said the voice.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“Tomorrow Jake, tomorrow,” said the voice fading from my head.
I tottered to my feet and composed myself the best I could. I hadn’t gotten any of Pierre’s blood on my tunic, but I did have a piece of lettuce from the trashcan I’d fallen over, clinging tenaciously to my sleeve. I plucked it off and smoothed down my rumpled, plain brown leather tunic. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and walked out into the hallway. Somehow I managed to find my way back to the table.
“Jake Gunn!” whispered Carla furiously as I sat down, “What were you thinking!”
I reached out for my tankard. My throat was so dry.
She moved it away.
“Answer me!” she continued. “Coach is furious. We saw Toby and him drag a bleeding man out of here a few minutes ago, and you’re… ”
“He just kicked some guy’s butt Carla, chill,” said Toby sitting down beside her. His tunic had a dark stain on the side. “McNutty and I got him to a physician in time, he’ll survive. He’s lucky there was one open across the street.”
“Chill?” she said staring at Toby. “I’ll show you chill!”
Bri leaned forward and took the tankard from Carla. She frowned as she passed it to me.
“You owe us an explanation Jake. Your trouble is trouble for us all,” she said.
I shrugged still not sure of what happened myself. Insane or not, I wasn’t crazy enough to tell everyone that I was in the midst of a break with reality, that none of this was real.
“A guy tried to steal my sword on my way to the restroom,” I said, and reached forward for the tankard.
“We’re foreigners in a strange place, that makes us targets. Maybe we should stick together more,” Brianna suggested.
“Guess we’ll have to go to the bathroom together Jake, start powdering our noses and what not. Hey! Can I borrow some powder?” Toby asked looking around at the girls.
Carla punched him in the arm, hard this time. Toby winced, but pulled her chair closer to his and kissed her on the cheek.
“Are you okay Jake?” asked Ivy looking up at me. I could see her eyes were welling up with tears.
I nodded and took a sip from the tankard. The cold beer soothed my throat. She smiled and wiped her eyes. The musicians returned to the little stage and began playing again. It wasn’t long before we were all wrapped up again by the entrancing music.
I woke up feeling refreshed, and just slightly sore. I swung my legs off of the bed and looked across the room. Steam rose languidly from two huge brass tubs I could have sworn weren’t there last night when we’d finally gone to bed. Toby’s huge feet hung out of one. His head rested on a pillow at the other end, and a white towel was draped over his face. I walked over and sampled the water in the other bathtub. It was warm and inviting, so I stepped out of my boxer-briefs and got in. The soothing warmth took away what little soreness I had almost immediately.
Wasn’t I supposed to be hung over? We sat there listening to the musicians and drinking ale for a long time. I didn’t really remember very much about going up the stairs and getting in bed.
“Lucy, you have some splaining to do,” Toby said from the bath next to me.
I held my breath and let my head sink below the water. I came up after less than a minute wiping the water from my eyes.
“Lucy?” Toby said.
I groaned. “Guy tried to take my sword.”
“So you went all D’Artanon on him, I know, but how did you accomplish that Jack-O? I know enough from the couple of classes I went to, that Aikido isn’t about swords. Was it something like the catching arrows thing?” Toby asked.
I sighed deeply and explained the whole thing to him, at least as well as I could, I didn’t remember everything. For his part Toby sat there quietly listening.
“Several thousand years worth of combat experience and knowledge, just from drawing that sword? If I didn’t know you better, I’d ask you to share some of that crack your smoking, so we could be on the same page.”
“This has been the most bizarre, un-real couple of days. Honestly Toby, I wish I was smoking crack, rather than cracking. I don’t know how much more of this bullshit I can take.”
“Your not crazy Jake,” he laughed, “I have seen most of it too. At first I denied what I saw, or made excuses, but this is all real bud. It’s kinda like we’re living out a Tolkien book in real life.”
“You’re the biggest hobbit ever Tob.”
“You’re the one with the hairy toes my precious!” he shot back.
“Carla got you dreaming about rings again Smeagol?”
“Very funny!”