"You know why we did it right?" Talin asked. He supposed he should talk to his nephew and make sure the boy understood sense from stupidity.
"Yeah," Brys replied and poked at the fire with a stick.
Talin frowned. "You know he woulda done the same to us if he had the chance. People can't be trusted, not in this life. You gotta take what's yours and not worry any on what happens to the people in your way. Trust me, I know," Talin promised and adjusted the black patch he wore over his right eye. He knew all too well what could happen when you trusted someone else to do right by you.
"Sure, uncle. I understand."
"I hope you do. As soon as we were done escortin' that fat oaf to the city, he woulda made up some excuse to short us on our pay, or he woulda told the city guards that we were troublemakers. I've seen it all, boy," Talin said.
Brys said nothing, and Talin supposed that would have to be good enough. Talin had recognized the greedy look in that merchant's eyes and knew right away they had to act. If they hadn't tied him up and robbed him, he would've screwed them over good. Talin had seen it happen like that, time and time again.
Talin let his good eye roam over his nephew. He was glad the boy was the quiet type. He wasn't sure what he'd do if Brys had turned out to be one of those chatty runts that wouldn't stop asking all sorts of stupid questions.
"How old are ya anyway, boy?" Talin asked.
"Sixteen."
"Sixteen and you were still livin' with your ma'? I ran off when I was bout' twelve, if I remember right. Couldn't wait to get out on my own. Kinda small for sixteen, ain't ya?"
"Mother said that I'm small on account of us not having much food. She promised that when we get more, I'd grow and get to be tall like my dad. He was a knight," Brys said and smiled.
Talin snorted, shooting a bit of wine out of his nose. "A bloody knight, eh? Your da'? I s'pose he had an Ember Blade enchanted by one o' them Mage Lords, and only left your poor old ma' because he was called away to slay a dragon or some such thing?"
Brys flushed red and looked down at the ground. "He just left, that's all."
Talin felt a bit of pity well up and drowned it away with a mouthful of sour wine. "Your da' was a filthy mercenary who just happened to come through town with a pocket full o' gold. Your ma' got on her back and spread her legs for a nice smile, and the hopes that a man would stick around and take care o' her. Instead she got a bastard and saggy tits. That's real life, boy! Not your little fantasy about a knight for a father."
Brys hunched his shoulders and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head.
"Anyway, screw your da', he's prolly rottin' in some battlefield to the east. You got me, and I know how to make it in this world." Talin scratched his stubbly chin and stared at the boy a while, considering. "Tomorrow I'm gonna take you to a place I like to go. The women there are friendly, and they know how to turn a boy into a man, and make a man forget all his troubles. Trust me. Your old uncle is gonna take care o' you, boy. Understand?"
"Yeah, uncle. I know you will," Brys said.
"Ok, good. Now, I'm gonna get a bit o' sleep. You keep watch, then wake me up in a couple hours and you can sleep. Got it?"
Brys nodded.
Talin laid himself down by the fire and tried to get comfortable. It wasn't easy when you had a rock for a pillow and it was several minutes before he found a spot he liked. The night was cool, but they had a strong fire going, and he had his cloak to wrap around him for a bit of extra warmth. It was nice to have someone to keep watch, even if it was just his simple nephew. Talin's eyes shut and within moments, he was asleep.
"What the hell?" Talin muttered as he woke up, wet and shivering. It was raining, but the sun was up, and trying to peak through a veil of angry clouds. It seemed to have been up for a while. Talin looked around trying to find his nephew, and spotted him curled up beneath a tree, sleeping the morning away like a nobleman drying out after feast day.
Talin stood up, grunting as his knees cracked, and walked over to his nephew. The wet ground pulled hungrily at his boots as he walked, making his knees hurt even worse, and darkening his already foul mood. He kicked the boy in the ribs, then as Brys' eyes shot open, he back handed him once for good measure.
"What do ya think you're doing sleepin' through the blasted night and not wakin' me? What is it I told ya when I went to sleep? Wake me in a couple hours, then you sleep! We just robbed a man o' all he's got a few miles down that way," Talin growled and pointed vaguely in the wrong direction. "You don't think he's gonna get a group o' blades and come ridin' after us?"
Brys rubbed the side of his face where his uncle struck him and stared back in hurt surprise. "Sorry, uncle. I meant to, I swear. I guess I just nodded off. I'm not used to having to stay up all night. Usually I go to bed around sundown, then in the morning mother wakes me up for breakfast."
"I ain't your dead mother, boy! Now get up and pack up all our stuff! Ya left me sleepin' away the morning in the cold rain, now my knees are gonna be actin' up all day."
Talin watched as Brys hurried to clean everything up. He felt bad for hitting Brys, but the boy had to learn how the world worked. His mother had sheltered him and made him weak. It was Talin's job to change that.
When Brys was done, Talin grunted in approval and they started walking south. The day was dreary and cheerless, and Talin wished he had something to sip on as they walked. Silence stretched out between them again, making the miles pass by slowly. The only thing that kept Talin going was the thought of sweet Avalina only half a day's walk away. She wasn't the prettiest woman, but she knew how to make a simple man feel like a king, and Talin was ready to feel kingly right about then.
"Uncle?" Brys asked with excitement filling his voice. "Look over there!"
Talin frowned at his nephew. He didn't like to have his fantasies interrupted. Day dreaming about Avalina was just about as good as the real thing. His irritation disappeared when he saw what the boy was pointing at. An old fellow with a scraggly beard was desperately trying to push his wagon out of some muddy ruts. The wagon was covered in every imaginable kind of odd and end that a man could want. Talin was willing to bet his good eye that there was gold squirreled away there too, and maybe a bit of wine.
"Hullo, peddler!" Talin called out and waved. He put on his friendliest smile as they walked up towards the man. "Looks like you could use a bit o' help there."
The old peddler glanced up in surprise, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he got a good look at Talin. The look disappeared quickly though, and was replaced by his own friendly grin. "I sure could, good sir. This rain has turned the road to muck and my stupid horse got me stuck in these ruts here," the peddler said and glared at his old mare. "The name's Halfin'," the peddler said, and extended his hand to Talin.
Talin shook the peddler's hand. "Halfin'? That's a strange name if ya don't mind me sayin'."
The peddler grinned once more. "I don't mind at all! My mother named me such because on the day I was born, she dropped me in the creek by our house. She was a big drinker, my mother was, and I nearly drowned. My dad pulled me out in the nick of time and said I was born with a foot half in the grave! After that, the name just stuck!"
Talin smiled at the peddler's story, even though he knew it was as fake as the potions and cure-alls the old man undoubtedly had for sale. "A fine story, friend, and as good a name as any I'd say."
"Thanks. So, are you and your lad there willing to give an old man a push out of this mud? I could give you half off whatever I've got on my wagon here. I've got jewelry if there's a special lady whose heart you care to win. I've also got fine wine from the vineyards of Iliander, the Mage Lord. If none of that pleases you, I've got a potion that will make your luck change once and for all. I've seen it work, friend! All of this and more, half off for a minute of muscle from you two. What do you say?" Halfin' asked and flourished a wave at his wagon.
Talin glanced at his nephew and winked. The boy made no response and Talin hoped th
e fool lad would be ready to back him up if need be. "I thank ya for the offer. It's a kind one, I'll give ya that. I think that instead, my boy and I will be takin' your gold and anything else we might want from your wagon."
Halfin' frowned. "That seems a steep price to help push a man out of a bit of mud."
"That's not all we're givin' ya, friend. I'm also not plantin' this in your belly and lettin' ya die slow on the side o' the road," Talin said and patted the short sword strapped to his waist.
"Damn you both. What kind of people rob a peddler? You know the gods curse those who harm peddlers and old folks, and I'm both! You'll burn for this!" Halfin' shouted at Talin, and pointed a bony finger at him.
Brys grabbed his uncle's shoulder and asked, "Is that true, uncle? Will we burn for this? Maybe we should just push him out of the mud and be on our way."
Talin narrowed his eyes at the peddler. "You're fillin' my nephew's head with lies, old man!"
"I'm saving his soul, is what I'm doing!" Halfin' replied.
Talin shrugged, his anger seeming to disappear. "Maybe you're right. I do get a bit excited when I've got a thirst, and let me tell you, friend, I sure am thirsty right now," Talin explained, and held out his hand to the peddler as if to shake it again.
Halfin' nodded and reached his own hand towards Talin. "Of course, I am. Now, even though you were a bit rude to me, the original offer still stands. I'll give you--."
Talin balled his hand into a fist and slammed it into the old peddler's mouth, silencing him mid-sentence. Blood mixed with rain water at their feet. "You don't worry about my nephew," Talin screamed and grabbed the back of Halfin's neck. He pulled the old man's face into his fist as he swung. The first punch knocked out several of Halfin' teeth and the next sealed shut his left eye. Talin let the old man drop to the ground, then start kicking him in the ribs and face.
After a few kicks Halfin' stopped struggling, and lay quiet and still in the rust colored mud. Talin's knees started to ache, so he stopped kicking before the pain grew and made it impossible to walk. He leaned on the wagon to catch his breath, and massaged his throbbing knees. "See that, boy? Just like I said, he was gonna rip us off. Tryin' to sell us his trinkets and crap, even though we were helpin' him. He deserved what he got, he was no peddler, but a damned thief!"
"Yes, uncle," Brys mumbled, as he gazed wide eyed at Halfin' laying face down in a puddle.
Talin turned around to get a look at his nephew. The boy was white faced and staring at the peddler as if he was seeing a corpse for the first time. "You alright, boy?"
Brys pulled his eyes from the old man and glanced at his uncle. "Yeah, I just thought we were going tie him up, like the other man. I didn't think we'd beat him so bad. I guess, if he was going to rip us off though," Brys muttered.
"Damn right he was!" Talin turned away from his nephew and stepped over the dead old man. "C'mon, let's take a look through his junk. Take any food and gold ya find. The rest is prolly all crap, but a nice warm cloak and a thick blanket wouldn't hurt us none."
Brys rummaged through the wagon for a minute or so, then pulled out a heavy purse, clinking with coins. "I found some gold, uncle," Brys said and jiggled the bag to prove it.
"Good boy," Talin shouted back. He was always happy to have more gold to fill his pockets.
"These too! Look!" Brys shouted.
In one hand there was a thick clay jug with a cork jammed in the top, and the other a knife. It looked like the kind of knife hunters used to gut and skin their kills. Talin grabbed the jug from his nephew, but let him keep the blade. He figured the boy should have something to defend himself with. Talin popped the cork out of the jug and smelled it. A big grin split his face as he realized what it was.
"What is it?" Brys asked and strapped the knife to his belt.
"Rum. It's been many years since I tasted some o' this," Talin breathed and took a long pull from the bottle. The liquor slid down his throat in a river of warmth that pooled in his belly. He took another sip, and the heat spread through the rest of his body, dulling the pain and dimming his senses. He couldn't get rid of the pain, not completely, but he could drown it for a while at the bottom of a bottle of rum. "You did good findin' this."
"Thanks, uncle," Brys said and smiled.
Talin nodded, then brought the bottle to his lips for another taste.
"Get outa here, Talin! You're too drunk and your money's all used up," Avalina shrieked.
"I ain't too drunk, no such thing," Talin slurred as two sets of strong hands grabbed him and hauled him down the stairs. He saw his nephew curled up in a chair in the common room, sleeping with his head on the table. "Boy! We're leavin'! You got our things?"
Brys lifted his head and tried to blink away the sleep from his eyes. He saw his uncle being thrown out and hurried to grab their gear. A hand rested on his shoulder.
"Sorry to throw you out in the rain, sweetie. You're a good lad, too good to be stuck with a man like Talin for an uncle. You ever run into any trouble, you come here and I could give you a job in the stables, or maybe washing dishes or something?" Dalara offered.
"It's ok, ma'am. My uncle's not so bad, he's just drunk, that's all. We'll be ok." Brys smiled at Mistress Dalara, then picked up their bags and slung them over his shoulder.
She'd been really nice to him while his uncle had seen to his girl. She made sure he had enough to eat, and even tried to set him up on a 'date' with one of the ladies living there. He'd wanted to, but he was scared, and the woman had bad breath and sores around her mouth. Brys didn't think that was the kind of lady he wanted to go on a date with.
"You take care of yourself, and your drunken uncle too, I suppose."
"I will," Brys replied, then stood up and walked to the exit. He grabbed his uncle's short sword from the man there and pushed open the door. It was cold out and still raining, but Brys figured he had no choice but to go out and see to his uncle.
Talin was puking noisily while the two men who hauled him out stood by and glared at him.
"Uncle, are you ready to go?" Brys asked.
Talin spit, then wiped his mouth, and turned towards his nephew. "Sure am, boy. Looks like as soon as your gold is done, so are the manners in this place. We got better places to be."
"I suppose so," Brys said and looked around. He didn't think they had anywhere to go at all.
"Gimme my sword, boy," Talin rasped.
"You want me to carry it for a while? You've been drinking quite a bit," Brys offered hesitantly.
Talin turned towards his nephew and his eyes flashed. "Sword, now."
Brys fingered the hilt for a moment, before handing the blade to his uncle.
Talin strapped the sword to his waist, then slapped Brys in the back of the head. "Next time I tell ya to do somethin', ya do it."
"Sorry, uncle," Brys said and rubbed the back of his head.
Talin glared drunkenly at Brys for a few moments, then started walking. "Now, let's get off this stretch o' road and head to the fields. I don't trust those two oafs that threw me outa Dalara's, and I'd like to be able to sleep without worryin' about gettin' a dagger in the belly. We both know you can't be counted on to keep watch."
"Mistress Dalara wouldn't do something like that."
Talin turned to his nephew and his lip curled back in a sneer. Brys flinched, expecting another slap. "What have I been tellin' ya over and over again. Don't trust no one. They're gonna screw you over the first chance they get. Don't give 'em that chance, boy!"
Brys nodded. "Sorry, uncle, you're right. I guess she was just so nice to me, I kinda thought maybe she wasn't so bad."
Talin stopped walking and stared at Brys, his one eye simmering with remembered rage. "Those are the worst kind. They're nice to your face, then when you're least expectin' it, they stab ya in the back. Ya think I was born missin' an eye, boy? Came from trustin' people. When I was in trouble they left me to the trash we was s'pose to be killin'. I told the bastards what they wanted to hear, and more, but
they still took my eye from me. Told me it was the price o' soldierin' against Mage Lord Reinmar."
"Sorry, uncle. I dunno what I'd do if something like that happened to me. I don't think I could take it," Brys said and put his hand on his uncle's shoulder.
Talin put his hand over his face, lost in memories of youthful adventure that quickly turned sour. "Thanks, boy," Talin mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. He cleared his throat, and shrugged away Brys' hand. "Now, c'mon. Let's get into those fields."
The two of them trudged through the wet fields of grass, shivering as the cold seeped through their clothes and settled in their bones. Talin started to sober up and began to regret his decision to leave the road. His knees were aching and the grass had quickly changed into thick wheat fields that made travel difficult.
Talin stared off into the distance as he walked, trying to see through the thick rows of wheat. He spotted a light ahead of them, then nudged Brys and pointed. "You see that, boy? What's that look like to you?"
Brys squinted for a few moments. "Looks like a lantern or something shining from a window."
"That's what I thought too," Talin replied. He hurried towards the light and the warmth it promised. His knees flared up with each step he took and Talin hoped that whoever lived there might have something to help ease his pain.
Brys sped up to keep pace with his uncle. "You think they're gonna let us in?"
"We'll see, boy," Talin said.
When they got to the door Talin ran a hand through his hair in a hopeless effort to straighten it, and cleared his throat. He knocked three times, trying not to hit the door too hard and startle whoever lived there. He wasn't sure what time it was, but it was probably past when decent folk came visiting.
Talin waited a minute, then knocked again, more insistent this time.
"Maybe we should just go, uncle," Brys whispered.
Talin frowned at his nephew, then turned back to the door, ready to knock again. He heard a latch being lifted, and the door opened just enough for a face to peer out. It belonged to a man not yet in his middle years, but no longer young either. He was in that stage of life where the promise of wisdom could be seen in his eyes, but the fires of youth still smoldered inside him. "Can I help you?" the man asked.
9 Tales From Elsewhere 10 Page 2