by J R Marshall
“So tomorrow, I’m travelling down in a caravan, and I’ll find lodging in town this evening.” I looked at Tam, half wanting her to initiate the conversation.
“Is that what you want?” Tam was still studying me.
Tam always had the answers, but this freedom was difficult, I didn’t know what I wanted, never having had to choose before, and to be honest, not really knowing my options. Trying to correlate my thoughts, I explained…
“I’m conflicted between friendship and liberty, knowing that I’ll let you down, that you’ll hear reports of me that may be partly true.” I was unsure of my words. “Now that I’m faced with the reality of my existence I don’t want to be close and not able to associate. Your friendship and that of Grimnir’s is precious. When Grimnir challenged me to combat and with all the insults… well… I was gutted.”
Tam encouraged me to continue, listening attentively.
“I do not know what you had in mind for me, nor perhaps if I’d like it, but I just feel confined, and it’s not the last two days, it’s probably the reality of what I always wanted to be, fay, able to make my own mistakes, without you and Grimnir being ashamed.”
This was too much, for feelings were not my strong suit.
“If I stay as previously planned, and I concede it was forthrightly argued, my idea, then I would be remote, yet close and still subject… if only in my heart.
“Look, I’ve said it, these feelings aren’t me, it’s not in my nature to express myself, to be circumscribed by duty.”
Tam, for once didn’t smile, but neither did she show any inflexion of thought. I studied her face, but either by chance or skill, she gave away no hint or suggestion of what she was thinking.
“You are under no obligation to follow either mine or Grimnir’s counsel. Miller, you have silver and a great deal of intelligence, the wisdom will come with experience, but…” And she, for the slightest of moments, hesitated. “If you need at this late hour one last point of guidance, at least in this matter…” She slowed, choosing her words. “If you would like me to say it straight, I will for friendship’s sake give advice. You must be free to take any course you desire…”
Tam looked straight into my eyes; the ten feet apart seemed as inches. “Go with Grimnir tomorrow. Hedgetown is unlike any other experience you will have had, not at all like Gledrill, yet only thirty-eight miles or so from Cragtor, totally different from the two towns.”
“You know…” I hesitated. There was finally a resolution of the conflict in my mind, the tumult of trying to empathise. Empathy for me was intuitive, rather than considered, as a wild animal instinctively knows, for I was akin to them. If any human was so closely aligned to chaos, I was that creature, partly domesticated yet with wits and comprehension, and a feral heart.
But at the last I knew the problem, comprehending finally. I understood my internal conflict.
“…I value your advice, appreciate your opinion, look forward to your company, but, my oldest friend, what I really need is your permission to ignore you!”
Said with a heavy heart, yet there was exhilaration, a surge of adrenaline, as stepping over the River Styx, into the shadow of night, the sword of Damocles, no longer threatening.
Tam finally smiled broadly, and laughed. I confess she cleared the air, with that most wonderful of sounds, Tam’s laughter.
“My dear Miller, oh, you most wonderful of souls. May the gods bless you, for I have trod carefully, anxious not to direct too much.” She spoke with genuine sincerity. “You are free from reproach, do as you will, the six months’ apprenticeship, your contract with me ended. But the contract of friendship may bind you yet… but look at me… please look at me.” Hesitating, I caught her gaze.
She looked deep into my eyes, and I was embarrassed, finding it hard to maintain the connection, until with a firmer voice her courage reinforced mine, so that I dove into her mind. I looked, and there was no flaw. Only power, perhaps wisdom, but I saw the power, and surprisingly, the song, as though bound, maybe I was drawn to it, but it was there. Why had she given me this insight?
“You are free, released!” came a small voice as on the wings of the earth song, distant through the castle walls. I heard it and was strangely not surprised.
So, the fleeting connection was broken.
Sat finally comfortable on the padded chair, I said, “Will you inform Grimnir, or shall I tomorrow? I’d rather you do it, for, for me it’s hard.”
“Well, he already knows, I told him so! He will be pleased to see you tomorrow, but he has steeled himself for your non-appearance, in case I was wrong. Will you travel with the company, tomorrow?” Tam asked.
She already knew I would.
It was perhaps ten o’clock in the evening, and I had everything on my person, the armour, backpack and a small rusty nail.
Tam had passed this tiny, rusty, worthless nail to me, saying that if I was in peril, devoid of friends, and desperate to find sanctuary, the nail would facilitate my return to these chambers, once only, and regardless of distance, but and she had warned me carefully.
“It’s restricted to the prime material plane or suffer potential mishap. Plane travel is possible, but ill advised.”
Preparing to depart, I stood beside Tam.
“Shall I, or do you want to try yourself?”
“You do it, I need to practise.” So I held her hand and she said no words, and her craft, her spell, brought us both outside one mile from the front gates next to an old ruined sentry post; it was raining.
Tam gave me a hug. I half reciprocated, but without skill. Tam started walk towards the town, her silk clothes scarcely protected by a fine cloth cloak.
“Tam, you’re not dressed, you’ll get soaked.” She turned briefly and said she needed to think.
“The rain won’t upset me, I’ll be fine.”
I waited, giving Tam a few hundred yards head start, watching and guarding her, but as we advanced, there was nothing to disturb the night’s peace and as the northern main gates came into view. I held back and watched as the guards allowed her access, the gates banged shut behind, a scraping of wood on metal as a bar was drawn to seal and secure.
I waited ten minutes and started walking. The gates as a wall of wood stood like some foreboding malevolence barring my entrance. Approaching, I wondered whether I was observed, for no one appeared between the crenellations, yet the moon shed a little light.
Nothing, no activity. I stood beneath the gate, some twenty paces back, and other than the muffled noise from within the town there was silence.
The rain trickled down my neck between the helm and my mail, slowly absorbed by my cloth vest and jerkin.
“Open, I have business in town tonight, and I’m wet and cold.” Nothing, not the hint of movement, neither a footfall to indicate awareness or any hint of comprehension.
The bastards can see me. “Open, damn you, I require entrance, it is yet early,” but as though speaking to a rock it was to no avail, no sign of activity, and waiting for five minutes, I swore, “Open the gates, you bastards. I’m wet and need lodgings tonight.”
Grimnir’s a sod. ‘I might watch and check they interrogate you correctly,’ or words to that effect. I sat down and waited.
After an hour of my shouting and cursing someone came to the top of the left tower, throwing a chicken bone, or some such like at me, bidding me to be gone.
“Stop disturbing the night. The gate is shut and wouldn’t be opened till half an hour after sunrise, so begone.” He mumbled something to someone else; there was a short discussion. “We don’t want your kind in here, why not live in a cave? Just sod off.”
“I understand that you are in breach of your duties, I’ll be settling this tomorrow, as I travel down in the caravan, and am much needed. I have been hired to assist.”
“Piss off,” came the clear reply, and for the first time there was the sound of others, listening, and encouraging their comrade, for tonight I was mild entertainment.<
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Sitting there, I considered whether I could use craft to gain access, but my ability in the spell was at the edge of my competence, and dreadfully unreliable.
Where the bloody hell is Grimnir? But it was approaching a half-hour to midnight, and I was concerned my lodgings would be shut or closing soon. Sod it.
I had always known that the entrance might cost perhaps two copper pieces, there were twenty to a small silver coin, and strangely I had not considered this option, having been reassured that they would open the gates.
Standing there, getting more angry, I bellowed, “One small silver!”
There was silence, yet not quite, for the man reappeared atop the tower, looking at me momentarily then turning, no doubt in discussions with his peers.
After three minutes there was a grating and the door slowly swang open, only three feet wide. Four men appeared, with swords drawn.
“Show me,” said the lead man, as his comrades tried to look stern and serious, for I was clad as a warrior, and they knew there would be trouble if this came to conflict.
“It’ll be a silver piece each, so five for all of you,” he said, looking optimistic.
“All?” What the hell? For behind me shivering in the rain stood a family with a mule and looking bedraggled and in desperate need of warmth, a small boy stood there with three adults shivering.
“Sod them,” I said, taking a half silver piece out of my purse as discreetly as possible and thrusting the coin in the man’s outstretched hand. “They’re not with me.”
Entering the town, I enquired from the guard the whereabouts of the ‘Haggard Hen’, Grimnir had recommended the tavern as ‘reasonable’, yet where it was I knew not, and I hadn’t expected the delays in gaining access.
Realising it was not too far, I strode towards the eastern wall, heading towards one of three market areas, now long since packed up, yet not devoid of activity.
Drunks, thieves and to be fair quite a few normal merchants and fellow travellers passed me by as swiftly as discretion allowed. Nonetheless, most people were secure behind shuttered windows with locks on doors, and only the hint of light escaping gaps beneath lintels and door frames.
Such it was, that when having threatened a drunk into guiding me to my destination and passing the dissolute and scum of the town I arrived at the Haggard Hen.
Three young men loitered outside; they appeared to have some wealth for their clothes were of a quality that was beyond the reach of most common folk, and noticing my approach nudged each other and muttered comments.
Let’s get this straight, in no way do I look rich like Grimnir, nor by inference as powerful, but compared to the average man-at-arms, I looked rich. I stood six foot four inches with heavy build and muscles that only a lifetime of toil can produce. The cost of my equipment was close to one hundred and seventy-seven gold pieces or a little over thirty-five hundred silver. It was a price beyond the dreams of most. And I was pissed off.
The three fops, for they seemed that way to me, somewhat dandy and drunk with a confidence that comes from drink and ignorance, stood in my path, making very little effort to part ways.
“Get the fuck out of my way.” I was tired and needed to eat and secure lodgings before it was too late.
“I think,” said one, slowly trying to raise his posture, “The Old Swan is perhaps where you’re wanting. Are you sure you’ve got the right place?”
“Ralpor, stop looking for trouble,” one of the companions said, for looking at me, and realising the risk, he had stepped back, trying to grab Ralpor by the sleeve.
“Oh please, Kam, for fuck’s sake, what’s the world coming to if orcs can come in here?” He swayed, looking me up and down. The creature’s obviously a thief, and it’s just not right, allowing this sort in here, it’s not right, not right that we suffer such company.”
I almost laughed as I heard this. But my countenance was grim, and I didn’t want trouble, not on Tam’s doorstep. Anywhere else Ralpor would have had his manhood stuffed down his throat.
I stood there looking at the three of them. I growled, “If your friend apologises I’ll forgive his insolence.” The menace was stark for all to see; even the drunk Ralpor hesitated before drink and stupidity got the better of him…
“Oh please, this is ridiculous, I’ll not…”
I swung my knee into his groin and he bent over like a man retching, and drawing my sword, swivelled the blade so the pommel drove sideways into his mouth, hopefully knocking a tooth out as he tumbled in ruin, crashing to the floor.
“Your friend is lucky to be alive,” I said, looking at the two remaining companions, carefully checking for any attempt at retaliation. None. Thus, I walked in, lowering my head slightly, the doorway arch was low, the frame allowing for little headroom, and left Ralpor to the ministrations of his peers.
The inn was nearly empty, the barman and one of his employees, or daughter, were sweeping and tidying around customers in preparation for the shuttering of the establishment.
Walking now upright, my feet which were part shod with iron sounded a little like horse shoes over cobbles, smiting the floor with each step. I was certainly not inconspicuous, my presence caused most of the remaining patrons to turn and gaze.
Catching the eye of the innkeeper, and stepping in his direction, I said, “Say, it isn’t too late, but I need to secure a room tonight, three pints of beer and food, bread, cheese, meats, anything that’s good, nothing crap,” and remembering not to fall out with anyone else that evening, added, “please,” and, “how much?”
Observing my surroundings, I noticed the fire was slowly fading, but still produced heat, and there was room for my dragging a table closer, if one of the other patrons moved slightly aside.
“Yes, I have rooms. Good, average or,” he looked doubtful, “expensive. Do you want your own or if you prefer you can share a dormitory, it’s cheaper?”
“Give me the price for one night.”
We settled upon the good room at two silver pieces, that included the beer and some broth, bread and cheese.
I exercised more manners, asking the other customer to budge up a little, as I dragged a table across the flagstones and stuck my boots up against the firedog to dry.
The innkeeper had disappeared, and the barmaid brought me a large wooden pitcher full of ale and pewter tankard. Smiling, she advised that the room was getting prepared, they hadn’t expected anyone quite so late.
After half an hour there were five left in the room and the innkeeper said that he was locking up for the night, “But as most of you are lodging then you are welcome to stay and finish your drinks. Everyone else needs to leave, and that includes drunken cobblers like you, Arthur.”
The innkeeper carried out Arthur, whilst the daughter started shuttering the windows and extinguishing the candles and occasional lamp.
It was warm, pleasant in the darkness, the tavern lit by the shadowy illumination of a lamp hidden down a corridor plus the glow of a subdued fire.
The innkeeper offered to show me my room, but I declined, instead enquiring as to the location. “Second right down that corridor.” He pointed to where the lantern glow lit a passageway.
“The hound will not trouble you, but protects the barrels and entrance to the rest of the building.” He clicked his fingers. “Ben, get,” and a half wolf, half hunter dog walked to a pile of rags, settled itself down and turning its face, watched me.
Eventually, in the early hours of the morning I awoke. The fire had died down, I must have dozed off.
For a moment I sat there listening, wondering what had awoken me. Ben was alert, looking, but nothing further disturbed the night and getting up, I walked slowly to the corridor. Ben growled softly.
My room was shuttered, the bed was a mattress on the floor. I locked the door internally and wedged the bolt with my knife. The window was closed, but not secure enough, so I placed my helm precariously on a hinge, a warning should anyone try to gain access. And lying on the be
d, went back to sleep.
CHAPTER 4
In the morning I awoke listening to the sounds outside, there was work to do this day and I needed to meditate and learn the craft that might be needed quickly should trouble befall. What would be useful on the road to Hedgetown? Grimnir had said that with a certainty we would be attacked.
Three magic darts, one explosive fire and pondering a little I decided to choose a stun spell, useful against weak and unsuspecting opponents.
Crouching down, my hand clearing away the straw, I touched the ground almost with a caress, seeking the earth’s music. Slowly I would be drawn in, listening and allowing the gentle eddies to engulf me, but this time it was different.
Clearing my mind of sounds and distractions and settling into meditation, I sank as a stone, an instant connection, faster and more powerful than I had ever experienced before, the intensity of energy, the whispering, but this time like a chorus, shouting.
Swept away I held on mentally as borne along a river tumultuous in strength, marvelling at the earth song, deep down I was drawn, riding the waves of rapture, searching, listening for the unique strands, the different ingredients for the fashioning of my spells, like searching in an apothecary for the parts of a potion, but the parts were all around.
Absorbing the energy, my mind incredulous for this was the most powerful experience I had ever had, and grasped emotionally and intellectually, absorbing an abundance of connective force, no longer seeking the mundane. Down I was drawn, intuition drawing me ever deeper. Voices in the deep spoke, no longer distant.
Now I do not suffer fear, but that morning I felt vulnerable, and after a while thought to draw my mind back, seeking to regain consciousness, I essayed to return to wakefulness to reach the ocean of perceptions yet floating across the subconscious mind. There was resistance to my return, like a gull tossed on the winds of a storm, seeking to land, but being driven aloft. Panic was setting in, the cold killer, devoid of reason, the secret terror of the mind. Breaking the meditation, I tried to recall the lessons Tam had given me.