by Wilson Harp
The Return of Cathos
Tales of the Silver Sword Inn
Complete Collection One
By Wilson Harp
Copyright © 2013 by Wilson Harp
All rights reserved
Cover design by Laura J Miller
www.anauthorsart.com
Table of Contents
Horas and Lendin Hunt Some Orcs
The Crimson Toads
The Goblin Mine
A Debt to Pay
The Kidnapped Child
Danger in the Woods
Ruins of Balcchor
The High Pass
Mirari
Into the Dark
Rescue
To Catch an Elf
Cavern of Fire
A Thief in the Night
The High Horse
Fire and Sword
The Siege of Black Oak
Through the Swamp
The Scepter of Alamalis
The Ritual
Other works by Wilson Harp
Bright Horizons
A military science fiction adventure.
The Ghost of Sherwood
A new telling of the Robin Hood Legends
Bible Stories for Grown-Ups
39 Stories straight from the Bible
Keep up to date with Wilson Harp! Sign up HERE for updates on new releases!
Horas and Lendin Hunt Some Orcs
The sun stood a single hand past noon when Croft heard the door open. The fact that it was too early for the dinner crowd and the lack of any noise from a merchant’s wagon meant that it was a local or two traveling between the nearby town of Black Oak and one of the outlying farms or hamlets.
As he stuck his head out of the storage cellar, he saw that it was a couple of very young men from Black Oak talking to Cassie. Horas was a strapping young man whose father was a farrier, and Lendin was the son of the cooper from whom Croft had recently bought a large supply of barrels.
Croft put the basket of vegetables on the worn, bare wooden floor behind the bar and closed the heavy door to the cellar. He heard Cassie’s giddy laugh as he turned back to the main room. Horas had a steel axe in his hand and was acting out some fighting as Cassie sat on the table listening to him. Lendin sat watching Cassie laugh.
Croft shook his head. He hadn’t been much older than these boys when he had started going out looking for adventure, but surely he hadn’t looked as stupid as they did. He stopped, turned, and looked at them again. Horas had his axe and was wearing a heavy leather vest. Lendin had his bow and quiver, as normal, but he also wore a long narrow knife at his waist and wore a tight fitting leather jerkin.
This time Croft didn’t stop shaking his head until he made it into the kitchen. Those fool boys were up to something, and he was pretty sure they weren’t ready for it.
As he walked back into the common room, he started wiping down tables to prepare for the evening fare.
“And Lendin really saw them?” Cassie asked, her eyes wide with excitement.
“I sure did,” Lendin answered. Cassie’s eyes never left Horas.
“Cassie,” Croft said. “Magda needs help in the kitchen. Get in there girl.”
Cassie blushed a bit and shot Croft a sharp look as she hurried into the kitchen.
“You boys need something, or were you just coming in to keep Cassie from her work?” Croft asked, already knowing the answer.
“We need to ask you for some advice, Croft. But Cassie isn’t a bad reason to come in, is she?” Horas asked. Croft had to smile at this cocky young man. He knew that Black Oak wouldn’t be able to hold his attention; he had known it since Horas was old enough to talk.
“Go ahead and ask,” Croft said as he moved to the next table.
“Well… what we were wondering is…” Horas stuttered and tripped over what he was going to say.
Lendin cut in. “Where do we store the money we’ll take from some orcs in the woods?”
“Take? These orcs owe you money? Are you going to sell them some apples?” Croft answered.
“We spotted a small orc camp just north of the river, near an old deer path,” Horas answered.
“I spotted them two days ago, and I showed Horas the camp yesterday,” Lendin added.
Croft had figured that was the case. Lendin was a hunter, at home in the woods and good with his bow.
“Did you see any of them?” Croft asked.
“I saw three of them the first day, but the camp was empty when we went back,” Lendin said.
“Three? Are you sure that was all?”
“Yes,” Lendin responded. “I watched them for a good hour from across the river.”
“When we looked at the empty camp, there were only three bedding areas,” added Horas.
“You men need to be prepared to run if you have to; that’s the key to survival out there. If things get too dangerous, you run,” Croft said looking straight at Horas.
“Is that how you did it? Stay alive, I mean,” Horas asked.
“Most adventurers don’t retire. They end up biting off more than they can chew and leave their bones in some divine-forsaken pit somewhere. I got lucky and learned early on that sometimes not doing the daring thing is the smart thing. Maybe that doesn’t thrill the bards… but they make up all sorts of nonsense anyway. My point is, staying breathing at the end of the day means knowing what you are facing, leaving yourself a way out, and making your own luck with careful planning.” Croft slowly looked at the large axe hanging over the bar. “Someday, you might decide to hang your weapon up and run an inn. To me, that was a choice that got easier every year.”
Lendin slowly nodded as he let the words sink in. Horas just looked at the large axe with eyes that shone with wonder.
“Thanks for the advice, Croft,” Horas said. “We know where the orcs are, we figure they must have some silver or maybe even gold coins, and we know how we are going to take them.”
“How’s that?”
“We will set up on an outcropping across the river, and Lendin will shoot them while they are in camp. If any try to cross the river, they will have to do it at a shallows a good walk away where I can meet them and kill them as they try to get up the river bank. If things are going bad, we know the trails in that area better than they do and can run and hide,” Horas said, clearly proud of his plan.
“That is actually a pretty good plan, Horas. I’m happy you thought it through. Are you sure you wouldn’t want to wait until tomorrow to try it? The sun will be starting to get low by the time you get near the river, and Magda says that there is a storm coming.”
“If we wait, the orcs might move on. No, we will kill them this afternoon and be back to tell of our exploits before the moon is up,” Horas laughed as he slid his axe back into his belt and started for the door. “Come on Lendin, let’s get going.”
Lendin gave one last look at the axe hanging above the bar. “Thanks, Croft. We’ll be back in a few hours.”
Croft watched the young men leave his inn. Once they were out of sight around the big elm out front, he started cleaning the next table.
------------------------------
The hard packed dirt road had hosted thousands of merchant wagons from the cities of Gen and Loramund to Black Oak over the centuries. The merchants brought the townspeople not only wares and materials but also stories of valor and adventure. There wasn’t a young man from Black Oak or the surrounding countryside who hadn’t dreamed of fighting some vile creature in a far off land and coming home with a king’s ransom in gold
and jewels.
“One day, I’ll be the one sitting in an inn telling other young men how to find adventure,” Horas said to Lendin.
“One day I’ll be living in a large stone tower with a huge feast hall, and you innkeepers will just tell tales about me,” Lendin countered.
The next hour the two friends laughed and teased each other as their boasts and visions of their adventures became more and more grand. Finally they reached the north path which would take them off the safety of the road and into the Shadowmist Wood.
Lendin stopped as they started down the trail. “Did you hear that?”
Horas looked back at his friend. “I didn’t hear anything. What was it?”
“I thought it was thunder.” Looking to the east, Lendin stared at the skyline. “It’s getting dark on the horizon. I think Magda was right. A storm is coming.”
“Rain from the east is a bad omen, my Mother always says,” Horas muttered as he looked in the distance.
“We should get going. With any luck we can be on the way back before the storm hits,” Lendin said starting down the path.
The trivial talk was muted now, not only because of the chance that they might run into wolves or even a bear in these woods, but also because of the impending storm. A half hour later the wind picked up, and the birds started finding the shelter of lower branches.
“We have to really move if we are going to make it. I didn’t bring wax for the fletchings, and neither of us has a cloak, or even a sack, to cover the quiver with if it starts to rain,” said Lendin as they moved quickly down the long abandoned dirt path.
The path once led to a small hamlet deep in these woods in their grandfathers’ day, but now the path was used only by hunters.
“Here, this is where we need to go,” Lendin said as he stepped between two bushes. Just a dozen or so strides through the brushy ground put them on a deer path. That’s when the storm hit.
Horas and Lendin looked at each other and frowned. Even under the thick canopy of trees, they were immediately soaked by the sudden downpour. The wind whipped the rain around, spraying it into their eyes. Lightning was heavy in the sky above them, and the thunder drowned out their words.
Lendin reached for his quiver and felt the fletchings of his arrows.
“They’re soaked,” he said with the sound of despair. “I can’t shoot them this way.”
“Do you want to head back?” Horas asked.
“No, we might be able to figure out something. I just won’t be able to shoot in this rain,” Lendin grumbled.
It was a little before sunset when they reached the south bank of the river. Even under the shadowing clouds, it was easy for them to pick out the camp on the far side as a heavy smoke from the damp fire crawled its way down the river bank in the steady rain. The reddish glow of the campfire clearly showed two large orcs sitting, focused on ripping chunks of meat from whatever animal they had managed to bring down. They grunted and growled as they shoved the pieces of cooked meat into their filthy mouths.
After a few minutes of looking, Horas spotted the third orc about a quarter of a mile away down on the edge of the river.
“What do you think?” asked Horas.
“My fletchings are wet, and even if they were waxed it wouldn’t matter. With the rain and the wind, I couldn’t make sure I would even hit the camp, much less kill one of them with a shot,” Lendin muttered in frustration.
Horas grimaced. “Do you want to come back tomorrow and try again?”
Lendin looked at the camp. With two orcs at rest and a third off along the river a good distance, he thought he and Horas could still take them.
“If we kill those two quick, the third might just run away, and if he doesn’t, the two of us could handle him pretty well,” Lendin said finally.
“Good, because I had no intent of going back empty handed today. Let’s cross over and start moving towards them,” Horas replied, making his way to the shallows.
Lendin smiled. “With the wind and thunder, even you should be quiet enough to get close to the camp.”
Horas laughed and pushed on through the brush.
The rocks across the river were wet and slippery, but both young men were sure footed and agile and made it across with no trouble. A quick scramble up the far bank brought them within a few minutes’ walk of the orc camp. They used a deer path hidden by a screen of light brush to quietly approach the camp. The two orcs were resting, and both men could see them clearly as the campfire came into view.
“Do you think you can slip around on the far side?” Horas whispered.
Lendin nodded. “I’ll wait for you to go in, and then I will slip in from the back. I’ll signal you when I am ready. If I see the third orc coming before you move in, I’ll make a barn owl hoot to let you know,” Lendin whispered back.
Horas pulled the axe from his belt and made sure he had a good grip on it. The rain did little to hinder him; in fact the extra moisture seemed to give his leather glove a better hold on the rough wooden haft. A loose grip, not firm, was what the merchant guards had taught him, and Croft had shown him how to hold the haft a little higher up than he would have expected for going into battle.
He saw Lendin moving through the brush on the far side of the camp and then saw his hand go up for a second, signaling he was ready.
Horas took a deep breath and charged through the brush. Just as he got to the edge of the camp, he heard the hoot of a barn owl and realized that the third orc was coming back to the others. The two orcs he was running towards each let out a bellow and reached for their weapons.
Horas crashed into the first one as he swung his axe at the second. His swing was hard and fast and bit deep into the orc’s face. He lost his balance, though, as the orc he had run into grabbed his leg and pulled it straight up.
He landed hard on his back and rolled quickly to his right as he saw the orc swing a jagged blade at his head. Spinning up onto his knees, he struck out behind himself with the axe and felt a spray of blood hit his face as the orc screamed in pain. The filthy beast’s sword dropped in front of Horas as the orc fell across his back and started biting at his neck.
With a panicked push, he shoved the orc to the side and staggered to his feet while the monster kept clawing at him. He looked down to see the orc struggling to get to the blade that had fallen to the ground by the fire, and with a swift stroke of his axe, Horas dealt a killing blow to the back of the orc’s neck.
As he looked over to where Lendin was, he saw his friend pushing a dead orc off of his body. Lendin grimaced in pain and shouted, “Behind you!”
Horas felt a shock course through his body as he heard a loud cracking sound. He saw the ground coming towards him fast and twisted to land on his side. He saw an orc with a metal-banded club start to run past where he had fallen and over towards where Lendin had been.
Shoving himself to his knees, his hand fell on the grip of the jagged blade that had fallen to the ground. Realizing his axe was no longer in his hand, he picked the sword up as he got to his feet. Looking for his friend, he saw Lendin dodge a blow from the orc and jump behind a tree. With a surge of energy at seeing Lendin in danger, Horas lunged forward, blade in front of him, and skewered the orc in a single thrust.
Horas slumped to his knees as he felt the sword slip from his grasp. The orc staggered one step, looked like he was trying to turn, and then dropped straight to the ground.
“Lendin? Lendin! Are you alright?” Horas frantically cried out.
Lendin staggered from behind the tree. Even in the dim light Horas could see the dark blood covering Lendin’s leather jerkin.
“I’m alive, but he stabbed me,” Lendin said. He pulled his hand away from his side and held it up. “It’s not all my blood, but a good amount is.”
Horas shook his head as his vision blurred. “Will you be ok?” he asked.
“I think so, but I might need someone to sew me up when we get back to town. Are you all right? When I saw him hit you in th
e head, I thought he had killed you,” Lendin said as he stepped around the skewered orc.
“I guess my Dad is right, I am hard-headed.” Horas started to chuckle and then winced in pain. “Let’s see what we can gather up and then get out of here.”
“Horas. There is a dead man in these bushes,” said Lendin. He was standing about ten feet from the campfire looking into the brush.
Horas got to his feet and slowly made his way over to his friend. There lying on the ground next to the trunk of an oak was a dead man. His chest looked as it had been split open, and his clothes had been ripped and torn.
“I wonder who he was?” asked Lendin quietly.
“I don’t know, but look at his wristband,” said Horas.
Reaching down he pulled the wristband off. It was more of a wide bracelet than anything, made of leather strips intertwined in a peculiar way. A single copper coin was set in the strips.
“Maybe someone will recognize this and we can let them know we found him,” Horas said as he put it in the pocket of his trousers.
“Let’s look around the camp and see what the orcs had,” Lendin suggested as they moved away from the dead man.
As they moved around the camp, they looked under the bedding and in some piles of refuse. Lendin found two nice knives in well worked leather sheaths, and Horas retrieved his axe and found a burlap sack with some coins in it. He was sure he saw glints of silver among them, but the light from the fire was almost gone, and the clouds blocked out any lingering twilight. The orcs also had some coins in their belt pouches, but nothing else of real value.
Lendin had gone down to the river to wash his wound when he called back to Horas.
“There is another dead man down here.”
Horas carefully made his way down the steep bank and saw the body. His head had been smashed, probably by the metal-banded club the fourth orc had carried, and his clothing was ripped and shredded as well. He also wore a leather wristband with a single copper coin nestled in the interwoven leather strips.