Lesser Prince (Guardians of Gaeland Book 1)

by Jamie McFarlane

  From the corner of her eye she saw the leader stumbling toward Sam with his sword raised. “Tig, help Sam!” she yelled. The sentence took forever to expel from her mouth. There was no way Tig could react fast enough to save Sam. Mentally, she cursed the bandits for forcing her to make such brutal decisions. Amber flung the dagger with a mastery she hadn’t realized she possessed.

  Sam raised his hands defensively, falling back from the blow he knew was coming. He didn’t even see the blade that would save his life until it was imbedded in the attacker’s throat. Amber’s aim had been true. The leader’s arms and legs went limp and the sword clattered harmlessly to the ground.

  Amber sped toward their last threat - the blond – knowing he didn’t need to be close to kill one of them. She watched the archer’s eyes as he processed the scene and knew before he turned that the fight was over. The hunter had become the hunted. Amber grinned wryly as he ran off.

  “Are you guys okay?” she asked, returning to a normal sense of time.

  Tig looked at her with horrified fascination. “What just happened? I’ve never seen anyone move so fast!”

  Amber didn’t respond, but looked at the man who had the dagger protruding from his neck.

  Tig followed her gaze to the thug and could feel the certainty of his passing. “He’s dead, Amber.”

  Amber’s face blanched and she looked back at the heavyset club-wielder. Without asking, she knew his fate was the same. A mixture of guilt, horror and sadness filled her, but she was certain such violence had been the only way. “Kestra!” she called. She ran over to one of the horses and jumped up into the saddle. It felt good to sink into the warm leather.

  After several minutes of searching, she came across two riderless horses grazing in the native grass. Nearby, two men lay face down, but Kestra was nowhere to be found. Amber trotted back to where she’d left Tig and Sam.

  “What’d you find?” Tig asked.

  “Kestra’s gone, but I found where she took care of the other two. They’re dead.” Amber dismounted and picked the sword and the club off the ground.

  “Bert, you were incredible! How’d you do that?” Sam asked incredulously.

  “Later. Let’s clean this up. What if they’re more of them? We can take these two over to where the others are.”

  “I’m not touching that,” Sam said squeamishly.

  “I’ll help.” Tig offered.

  Together they struggled to load the two bodies onto the horses and walked them over to where Amber had discovered the others.

  “We should search the bodies and take anything useful,” Amber said grimly.

  She and Tig rifled through pockets, finding nothing of import, beyond their own monies. Even the horses were poorly equipped.

  “What should we do with the bodies?” Tig asked Amber thoughtfully.

  “I say we leave them here. We have no way to bury them and I don’t want to drag them into town. What about Kestra?”

  “No idea. I don’t know if it was her plan, but splitting the group up probably saved us.”

  “Well sure, only because you turned all ninja and stuff,” Sam added.

  “I think Kestra has proven that she can take care of herself and we should get to town. Who knows if we’ll run into more trouble?”

  They each mounted a horse and rejoined the road. Finally, with the sun low on the horizon, they approached the walled city. The town’s poorly kept walls were half as tall as those around Parnassus Castle and the large gate was opened wide. Guards in dingy, light-blue uniforms patrolled the top of the wall and a single guard stood behind a lectern next to the gate.

  Tig dismounted and approached him.

  “State your business.”

  “We’re looking for a place to sleep and a good meal,” Tig answered.

  The guard barely wrote something in a journal, satisfied with the answer. “Three coppers each and one for the extra horse.”

  Tig rummaged through his belt wallet and pulled out a silver and handed it to the guard. “Would you have any suggestions for an inn?” Tig asked.

  “No.”

  Glavious Shoth

  The smell of the city wasn't something Tig expected. The sweet smell of bread and cooked meat mixed with that of human grime and refuse. The road leading into the heart of the city was paved with cobblestones, but there were trenches on each side carrying bad smelling water. Tig didn’t want to think about what that might be.

  As if reading Tig’s mind, Sam said, “Towns like this have open sewers. Basically, trenches where food waste and worse flow downhill and out of the city.” Neither Tig nor Amber felt compelled to respond.

  In search of an inn, they slowly made their way toward the center of town. Most of the buildings were two or three stories tall with reddish brown clay facades. It reminded him of a very sad version of Faire Town back in West Virginia and nothing at all like what they’d seen on Tig’s map. The locals in West Virginia dressed much like the people here, but no one in this town seemed very happy.

  “We should find an inn and get settled for tonight.” Amber suggested. “Remember, we don’t want to be out too late.”

  “How about that?” Tig indicated a sign that read ‘Crabby Goat – Inn’.

  “Yeah, like that,” Amber jumped off to walk her horse. Around the side of the building was an entrance to the adjacent stables.

  A young boy met her at the entrance. “You be staying at the inn tonight?”

  “How much for the four of them?” Amber asked.

  “A copper each and half a copper for grain. Six for the lot,” the boy answered.

  Amber waited for Tig to take six coppers from his belt wallet and hand them to the boy. The stalls were wide enough to put two in each and indeed that was what was expected. They worked quietly as they removed the saddles and blankets and brushed the horses down. Amber went to each of the horses and inspected their hooves, becoming more dissatisfied as she progressed.

  “Their hooves haven’t been properly cared for. To the last one, they have problems. The black gelding has something jammed up in there. We need to get it out, but it could be abscessed. The others aren’t as bad. We need to visit a farrier.”

  “Can they make it until tomorrow? I don’t know if it will be that easy to find a farrier tonight.” Tig asked.

  The stable boy walked back. “Master Renner would be who you are looking for. Be too dark for him to do much this night, but the stable is clean and none of ‘em is too lame yet.”

  Amber considered the boy and recognized that he probably had experience with horses. “Right, what was your name?”

  “They call me Bolt, ‘cause of my size. But I don’t mind.”

  “Okay, Bolt. Take good care of them for us, would you?” Amber asked encouragingly.

  “Master Talish would have me hide if anything happened. I sleep here in the bunk. No one bothers ‘em, though.”

  After checking the water, Amber was finally satisfied and they went to the front door of the inn. It opened into a room with twelve round tables, half of them filled with patrons. Against a long wooden slab that served as a bar, stools were pulled up and people sat holding ceramic mugs and chatting cheerfully. As they entered, the bar quieted down. Apparently not interesting enough, the noise soon climbed back to its original level.

  They sat at an unoccupied table, their packs pushed against the nearby wall. After waiting several minutes, a haggard, buxom, red-haired woman made her way over to them after dropping off mugs and plates along the way.

  She asked, “What you be having tonight?”

  Tig responded. “We’re looking for a room and a meal.”

  “Stew is two coppers and chops is three. Ale is a copper each. I’ll tell Talish you’re looking for a room.”

  “Stew for me.” Tig said. Amber and Sam nodded in agreement. “Could we have water?”

  “I suppose so.” The woman stalked off, obviously peeved at their cheap request.

  She returned with three st
eaming bowls of stew and clunked three mugs on the table. Water sloshed over the top of the rim. Something in the mug caught Tig’s eye. The woman demanded, “That be six.”

  Tig handed her a silver and asked, “How about three mugs of ale and keep the last for your trouble.” The woman harrumphed and stalked off again.

  Sam was reaching for his mug and Tig grabbed his arm and whispered, “Something’s wrong with the water.” Sam gave him a weak grin and dropped his hand.

  The stew was hot but tasteless. It had been a long day so they were happy enough to sit and eat. The grumpy waitress finally returned with three more mugs and thumped them down on the table, picking up the waters wordlessly.

  Sam reached for a mug and pulled a long drink. He sputtered but didn’t let it stop him. “Holy cow! This is beer,” he said under his breath. “Crap, don’t tell mom.” He looked at Amber conspiratorially.

  Amber rolled her eyes. “With everything that’s happened so far, you’re worried because you got your first taste of beer?”

  Tig and Amber followed suit, each sputtering as the bitter liquid hit their throats. Amber said quietly, “This stuff is horrid.”

  A barrel chested man approached and sat at the table. “Evening, gents and lady. My name is Talish. I understand you be looking for a room. Are yah betrothed then?”

  Tig and Amber exchanged an uncomfortable glance.

  “Ah, I just be a playing, we don’t care about things like that here. Be a silver for the three of you and that includes a porridge in the morning.” The man appeared to be in a good mood.

  Tig dug another silver from his rapidly depleting wallet and handed it to Talish.

  “Room number one be up the stairs. The walls aren’t any too thick, so don’t be a making too much noise.” The portly man stood up and walked over to a table that burst into laughter once he sat down.

  Tig swallowed the last of his ale and decided that he’d had enough stew. “I’m pretty tired, you guys ready to turn in?”

  Amber and Sam both nodded and they headed up the rickety steps to their room. There was a single bed, maybe wide enough for two, so Tig pulled his bed roll out from his pack and placed it on the floor. The differences between the hard wooden bed and the floor didn’t look significant. They stacked their packs in front of the door to keep out uninvited guests.

  “Where do we go in the middle of the night?” Sam asked.

  Amber nodded toward a bucket sitting in the corner. “It’s called a chamber pot, pudwinkle. Make sure you put the lid back on when you’re done.”

  The next morning arrived uneventfully.

  “I might just eat some of the food Kat sent along, I don’t think I can handle more tavern food,” Sam said under his breath.

  “Yeah, let’s get out of here,” Tig agreed.

  They left and went to the stable where they found Bolt trudging back with an empty cart.

  “Hallo. Your horses are doing well and the black gelding’s foot hasn’t lamed up at all.” Bolt offered cheerfully.

  Indeed the horses looked as good as or better than they had the night before. The boy must have spent more time brushing them down the previous evening.

  Amber, who’d been riding the black gelding, placed her saddle on the other horse. Since they had an extra horse, she’d let the black rest its foot today, at least until they had a moment where Tig could take a look at it. “Say, Bolt, you wouldn’t happen to know where we could find a dwarf called Glavious Shoth would you?”

  “I’m not sure about his name, but I’ve seen a dwarf in Trader’s Square. If you ride down Fourth Street here, you’ll run into the square. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thank you, Bolt. You’re a good man.” Tig said and tossed a copper to the youth.

  “Thank you kindly.”

  Just as he’d suggested, Trader’s Square was easy to locate. Uniformed guards had a checkpoint set up and were stopping carts and wagons leaving the square.

  “Probably collecting taxes,” Sam said.

  The outside of the square was lined with buildings that all shared common walls. Some of the buildings were residences while others were warehouses and permanent retail stores.

  In the large open space in the center, rows and rows of canvas-topped booths were lined up with all manner of wares displayed. From stacks of bread, baskets of fruits and vegetables to shelves full of candles and bolts of cloth, it was a bustling marketplace.

  “Bread smells good,” Sam said wistfully.

  “No kidding,” Tig replied. “Let’s find this Shoth and then we can eat something. How about we split up? I’ll go to the right and you guys to the left.”

  Amber nodded and turned her horse, leading the black along behind. The first building she approached was a red one with two brightly painted white doors. Above the doors was an arched window with foot high golden lettering saying ‘Shoth Trading.’

  “Stay here, Sam.” Amber handed him the lead to the gelding, wheeled her horse around and trotted back to where Tig was chatting with a middle-aged woman who was pointing in Sam’s general direction.

  “Red building,” Amber said when she got close. Tig thanked the woman and followed her back to where Sam waited. They tied the horses to a rail and walked to the door. Amber knocked, but there was no response.

  After a few minutes Sam asked, “Now what?”

  “Maybe this is more like a business and we should just go in.” Amber twisted the handle and was disappointed to find the door locked. They walked down the length of the building to where high barn doors hung on iron rollers.

  “Be early for Shoth,” a man’s voice said behind them. They turned to see a portly man walking by. He was well dressed in a black and gray three-piece suit and a small hat. He also carried a black walking cane that he didn’t seem to need.

  “Oh? Thank you,” Amber replied. “When would be a better time?”

  The man puffed as he spoke, “Give him a couple of hours. He’s never been much for getting to things too early. Can’t say I see that as a way to run a business. Harrumph.”

  “Be off with you, Horace Henderpuff,” a gravelly voice said. “My business be my own and not for the likes of you.” A weathered face peered out from behind one of the bright white doors they’d knocked on. Long wavy shocks of gray and black hair tumbled in disarray from the top of his head and a full gray beard reached the waist of the very stout dwarf.

  “Who’d be knocking at my door at this ungainly hour of the morn’?” the dwarf continued.

  Amber took a step forward, “We’re sorry to disturb you, but we’ve come a long way and need to speak with you.”

  “I dun know you and I dun need whatever you might be selling. Off with yah!” The dwarf looked odd with his head stuck out the door. He looked Amber up and down, then did the same to Sam and Tig.

  Amber raised her shoulders and gestured to Tig as if to indicate it was his turn. She didn't know what to do.

  Tig stepped forward and spoke in a low voice, “Elder Triest suggested we find you …”

  “Oh, hmm. There looks to be a story here,” the dwarf said, mostly to himself. Then louder, “Bring your horses in through the big doors there and we can talk. I’ll be along in a few.”

  Horace Henderpuff harrumphed once again, and strode off purposefully.

  Tig slid one of the door panels to the side, revealing a deep warehouse. At the front were several immaculately clean stalls, all empty, but with fresh water in the troughs.

  “Tig, would you mind checking the hoof on this gelding?” Amber asked.

  “Sure. Sam, could you close the door first?” Tig approached the black horse. He was still nervous around horses, having only ridden a few times. “How do you get him to pick his foot up?”

  “Just run your hand down his leg like this, wrap your hand around like so, and give a gentle squeeze. Tell him what you want and he’ll help you. Some people try to force it, but you just aren’t going to pick up a horse’s leg without their cooperation.” Amber did
as she said and the horse complied.

  “Looks easy when you do it. Could you hold it there?”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  Tig placed his hands on the hoof, feeling awkward about touching Amber’s hand at the same time. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Almost immediately he felt the familiar presence of Faerie. He focused easily on the wound and could see an object embedded deep into the hoof. It would need to be removed.

  “There’s something stuck in there,” Tig said. “We’ll need to pull it out.

  A gravelly voice spoke from the other side of the warehouse, “Tongs are on the bench. Lemme grab ‘em.” Shoth’s voice had lost some of its edge.

  The stocky dwarf stood a head shorter than Sam and was dressed in a brilliant purple robe that shimmered like satin. His long hair was pulled back into a pony tail with thin golden bands wrapped around it every inch and a half. His beard was similarly adorned, but the golden bands had small gems in them.

  He brought over a hoof pick and nippers, leaning over to poke at the gelding’s hoof.

  “Better out than in. Hold him tight, lass. He might get a wee bit jumpy.”

  Amber nodded. The dwarf swung his compact girth around and went to work on the nail.

  “Aye, there it be. That be a nasty infection, though, might have done him in.” He deftly snipped, trying to clear the overgrown hoof.

  The gelding was becoming jittery and threatened to pull away. Tig realized that Amber was holding fast, but knew she was no match for a horse's hindquarters. The smell of the infection told him that it was getting bad.

  Before he was completely conscious of what he was doing. Tig reached for the infected hoof.

  “Lad, step back, we’re having a dickens of a time.” The dwarf tried to shoulder Tig away.

  Tig ran his hands down the Achilles of the spooked animal, feeling its distress as well as seeing the damage the infection had done. Tig reached out and counteracted the pain by numbing the area. He hadn’t been sure that was even something he could do, but the emergency of the situation caused him to improvise.