The Chronicles of Outsider: Humble Beginnings

by Justin Wayne

  Chapter Twenty Two: Secret Hand

  Dradewen walked through the gates of Delvin and sighed deeply. “How I hate this city.” he remarked to his father who just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “When can we leave?”

  The chief shrugged and scratched at the thick beard that now covered his neck and cheeks. “Soon as the weather permits and the Guard know of our deeds. Surely there is a reward to be had!” He smiled broadly at the thought of spare cents to reinforce his purse during the hard winter.

  Dradewen merely shook his head in disappointment and followed him down the street with his eyes cast down, not seeing any of the buildings or people until they entered the Guard’s quarters.

  Instantly the smell of meat took hold of his attention.

  “Ah, gentlemen, you’ve finally arrived.” Captain Robaine announced and shook hands with the chief. “I pray your trip was fruitful.”

  Dunawar laughed and sat at the table before them. Upon it was the most succulent pig he had laid eyes on in decades, surrounded by sides and sauces among breads and other local delicacies. He nodded and helped himself to a large platter worth.

  “I dunno about the ‘gentlemen’ part, but the rest is true. Those orcs didn’t stand a chance, did they boy?” he called between mouthfuls. Grease dribbled down his chin as he sucked the gristle from his fingers. “Caught them in the middle of another fight then hit ‘em with their pants down! What brings you here by the way?”

  Dradewen sat at the end of the table as his father spoke. Already he was tired of this conversation.

  “Oh, just your typical matters of sharing information on criminals who have hit more than one town. Nothing compared to a tale such as yours.” Captain Robaine sat across from Dunawar and listened intently to the story and placed the traditional oohs and ahhs at the precise moments he knew the Warrior would want it; nodding along and leaning forward in his seat.

  “—So I threw my hammer and sent it straight through the foul beast! Broken and utterly vanquished, it slammed through a dozen of orcs at least and then pinned it to the rock! Next thing I know, the battle’s ours and my boy here,” pointing down the table to Dradewen, “has pulled the hammer out with the strength of Griphon himself!”

  Captain Robaine faltered then for a moment, his eyes whisking down to the young warrior and back. “What became of the thing?”

  “Oh the hammer? It’s right he—“

  “No!” he shouted. Faces turned toward him curiously, the Warrior chief surprised yet still sipping his ale. The captain smiled and shook his head. “Forgive me. Apparently I have been too enticed by your tale and find myself enthralled. Do continue.”

  Dunawar did with a dip of his head and after refilling his mug. “Then with a shriek the likes of which would chill your bones and make your skin crawl as surely as a worm; the thing grips me and my boy by the throat with a power unseen. Just as I figured a way out, another orc I had thought dead threw an axe through it. Then with a fiery explosion like a thousand suns, the beast exploded into flames and we narrowly avoided certain death. Didn’t we, boy?”

  “Oh definitely.” Dradewen replied with a roll of his eyes.

  “So we packed up and left, caught a few orcs along the way, and here we are!” Dunawar concluded with a flourish, spilling ale across the tabletop. He wiped the foam from his beard and continued ravishing his plate with one hand and gulping the warm mead with the other.

  The captain nodded and placed his hands together to cover his nose and mouth, elbows on the table; thinking. He leaned back in his chair and waved his hand absentmindedly. “So what kind of axe was it?” he asked casually. “The one that managed to kill the thing?”

  Dunawar shrugged as he ate. “Dunno, just took it with us and gave it to my brother, Durgen. He always liked axes, and this one was a beauty. Gleaming black it was, and without a scratch on her.” He paused at the memory then cleaned the meat from his porkchop with a smile.

  Robaine nodded and rubbed his temples with his forefinger and thumb. “I see, and did Durgen come with you to town?” A small shred of hope rose in his voice which was quickly snuffed.

  “Nah, he decided to stay back with the others outside the walls. He’s had too much of politics he says. Which is why he gave me control of the tribe I wager.” the chief muttered. “He’s the oldest, but he cares not for the intric..the intrici…the nice parts of debate! Such as I.” he finished smugly and wavered slightly in his seat.

  The captain nodded and then snapped his eyes to focus on the chief’s. “Well, congratulations to you on your success and may your tribe thrive for many winters.” With that, he stood erect and turned on his heel, exiting the building.

  Dunawar hardly noticed and continued to feast long after he had left. Dradewen restlessly paced about the room, waiting for the time they would depart for home, and he would be free again.

  “How much longer can you possibly gorge yourself? I long for the fresh air and cold winds of Rusk! Not this dirty city of too many people and too little space.” he complained and threw himself down beside his father. “Even this pork pales in comparison to those our women prepare.”

  Dunawar snorted. “Hardly, this is so..so juicy. Jes’ try some. It’s goods it is, my..my boy.” He stuttered and teetered backward in his seat as he tilted the mug back to drain the last drop, then collapsed to the floor with a loud snore.

  Dradewen shook his head and laid it down on the table.