“Trestan? Answer me if it is you boy! Who is out there?”
Trestan’s heart pounded, but could imagine his father more scared at that moment. Hebden Karok must have been awakened by the sounds of battle. Katressa and Loung had battled on the roof next door. It must have been frightening for his father to hear the fighting and not know what was going on. Trestan wouldn’t have been surprised if the bedroom door was blocked by objects on the inside to stall anyone forcing entry.
Feeling guilty about betraying his father by his own silence, the young man moved into the room that served as both kitchen and common area. He quickly scavenged some bread and cured meat. He took a quick drink of water, for he lacked a suitable container such as a canteen. He did take the metal cup that he had used since boyhood. He was looking about one last time when his father’s voice changed.
“Whoever you are, get out! I have a weapon in here! There is nay money or valuables to be found, you are only looking for trouble if you stay!”
Trestan paused just outside his father’s door. The young man felt guilty and ashamed that he was scaring his father, and leaving in the night. He wanted to speak and put his father’s mind at ease. Unfortunately, everything wasn’t all right. Hebden’s son was about to leave home and go on a fool’s errand. Trestan was scared enough about this journey. If his father had the chance, he would talk Trestan out of it. The young man didn’t doubt that any of his logic would fail in the face of his father. The choice came down to sneaking out quietly, or not going at all. It was the hardest choice the young man had ever made in his life. He quietly walked out the door, into the moonlit yard.
In the yard behind the house, he paused only long enough to change into his old set of trousers. He wasn’t about to take another step in wet pants. Once done, he strapped on the sword, feeling awkward about it. He shouldered the burlap bag and retrieved Cat’s rapier. Trestan grabbed his quarterstaff but paused again.
He couldn’t yet bring himself to leave his home. He had every hope and dream of coming back, but he had to be realistic with himself on the seriousness of the quest before him. He closed his eyes, and whispered, “Abriana, fair goddess to whom I have opened my devotion, I need your counsel. My path before me is hard, and maybe more than I can handle. I need your guidance again.”
Trestan turned a bit, randomly, and opened his eyes. There before him, on the ground by some discarded junk, lay Katressa’s helmet. It had been knocked from her during the battle, and seemed to fall in a place where Abriana could send him a message. Trestan actually smiled when he looked up to the heavens. “I was afraid you would answer my query as such. I pray you watch over my friends and me. I try not to dwell on how ill-advised this whole course of action is, but I go forth anyways, hoping this will find a good ending.”
Trestan stared at the old wooden boards of his lifelong home. His mind envisioned the flicker of candlelight under his father’s door. “Watch over my father. I fear he will worry much over me.”
Trestan picked up the helmet, and took off into the night.
* * * * *
In the still quiet of the night the three of them trudged down the south road. The moons, (Aburis, Nirahha, and Liijay), lit the path under a thin cover of trees. At times they walked through more open spaces, viewing distant ranches of people that did business in Troutbrook. The first few miles were familiar to the two young men. No one spoke much. There was much waiting to be said or asked, but the weariness of the night weighed down on them. They wanted to cover as much ground as possible. The three walked a fast pace but their minds were isolated and self-absorbed.
Katressa had gotten several supplies from her room for the journey. She retained a backpack and much of her equipment. Most of her dry rations were in her stolen saddlebags, but she managed to sneak some food from the inn. She owned and brought a full waterskin, some blankets and a basic tent. The tent was really only composed of the canvas covering, as well as ropes and pitons. One had to find wood to serve as a support beam and the uprights, or fasten it between trees or such to provide some shelter. Her original crossbow had been damaged during the fight. She now carried her spare, which had been stored in her room at the time. Her boots were well made for walking as well as riding. Though she was smaller and more heavily laden with equipment than the two men, she carried herself lightly. The two young men had offered to help her carry some things, but she politely refused. Trestan and Petrow benefited from a hard working lifestyle, but Cat was used to traveling long distances with a load on her back. Her elven heritage kept her from stumbling in the dark.
Petrow grabbed more food as well, and unlike Trestan had actually found a canteen for carrying water. He easily leaned the woodcutter’s axe over his shoulder as he walked. Petrow also carried a knife tucked into his leather harness of tools. A wool blanket, guaranteed warmth on any cool Florum night, slung over a shoulder. Other than that, he had little more than Trestan. He carried some coins, no utensils or candles, and two torches. Katressa advised against using torches this night. It would only attract attention if they got near their quarry, and they wouldn’t burn very long, so it was good to conserve. On this night all three moons provided ample light to see the road.
The nighttime walk went by at a brisk pace. Petrow and Trestan were surprised at how fast and easily Katressa walked despite the weight she carried. Neither Trestan’s shoes nor Petrow’s sandals were the best comfort on the long walk. They hoped the adventurers and their hostage hadn’t diverged on one of the smaller paths crossing the road. Katressa wasn’t a tracker and the light wasn’t sufficient to see details on the road. The moons slowly advanced across the sky. All were weary in some way, whether from the fight or the knowledge of those lost. They put a few miles under their feet out of sheer determination. At some early hour in the morning, Petrow sat down on the side of the road, calling for a rest. Before long, all three were asleep, wrapped up in what blankets they had.
* * * * *
A gentle shake woke Trestan. He opened his eyes to rays of sunlight filtering through the leaves above. Cat was calling his name, though it took a moment to adjust to his surroundings. The young smith normally woke in a dark room, on a bed slightly softer and much warmer than the cold ground. When his eyes focused on Cat, the vision before him brought him fully awake. Her long, raven-black hair fell about her shoulders as her green eyes fixed on his, and that exotic, half-elf face smiled above him. Even more noticeable, she was slightly underdressed. She wore a light brown chemise, and short, knee length pantaloons. It wasn’t as form fitting to her slim frame as her armor, but it was certainly more intimate looking. Glancing to the side, he saw her dark leather armor on her backpack. Her blanket had been rolled up and tied to the bottom of her pack already.
He looked back at her questioningly. A man only saw as much of a lady’s underclothes when during the act of passion. Cat could tell she was getting more attention from him then she had foreseen. “Good morn. Don’t go looking for something I’m not offering. The elves have been known to dance under full moon with much less covering them than this. I have a morning routine of stretching and relaxing following a night spent on the hard ground; it helps the muscles for the day ahead. It’s time to wake up and get ready to travel again, and we won’t be tarrying long. So I’d be pleased if you and Petrow could dig up a decent, if cold, meal. My rations are in the large sack next to my backpack.”
With that, she walked barefoot to the side and closed her eyes in silent meditation. Trestan sat up and looked about their campsite. It was more like a disarray of sleeping blankets, weapons, and packs than a camp. By the time weariness had overtaken them, they had simply walked off the road a few steps and settled down. Petrow slept on grass a short distance away from his blanket, curled up from the night’s chill. The young smith kneeled by his own burlap bag and started to shake out his thin blanket. He felt several sore spots throughout his body as he moved. He did not know whether they were from the way he slept or the events of the previou
s night. Trestan put his blanket away. Although a fresh shirt appealed to him, there was no bath and a long road in sight. Having only two shirts handy, he decided to save the other one for when he had a chance to clean up.
He woke Petrow. The slightly older man got up after a series of yawns, stretching and scratching. Trestan passed on the message to clean up the camp and help scrounge up a good meal. The young smith also nodded his head to where Katressa was performing her morning routine. Petrow’s eyes widened almost comically, and his jaw dropped. Cat stretched and flexed; some of the positions she assumed seemed unachievable by most humans. The young adventuress went about the routine like no one was watching, and eventually the young men had to pull their eyes away. Each silently admitted the woman was extremely flexible.
They prepared a meager, cold meal of salted meat and day-old bread. Both looked forward to satisfying their stomach growls. Trestan found a container of jelly from The Fishing Hole Inn; swiped during the previous evening and stored in Cat’s food sack. Trestan didn’t complain about the questionable theft. His stomach convinced him how much better the old bread would be with jelly on it. When the men had most of their belongings put away, they ate. Trestan grabbed Cat’s portion before Petrow could get his hands on it. Petrow looked to Trestan and whispered, “I thought you were set on Lady Shauntay? Have you changed your mind in the face of our traveling companion?”
Trestan shrugged, “Every young man has his heart on Lady Shauntay, and I only dream she might actually pick me. Likely just a fantasy, I know. Until then, I’m going to take breakfast to our lovely traveling companion.”
Katressa finished her routine as Trestan approached with her meal. When she accepted, her eyes looked stern. The half-elf reprimanded, “You two were staring. I’d like a little respect regardless of how I choose to walk about.”
Trestan kept his eyes respectfully in line with Cat’s. “I ask forgiveness, milady. I truly mean nay disrespect, yet my eyes betray my admiration of a beautiful woman. If I didn’t stop for at least one moment to savor the sight of such exotic beauty, I fear it would have meant my heart was dead.”
Katressa could not hide the hint of a smile, “You are as charismatic as the ballad minstrels of faraway Orlaun. I shall forgive you for the image of me you hold so highly, as long as you don’t forget my wishes of respect for my own habits. I shall eat and dress fast, and once I do you better be ready to outrun a horse with the pace I shall set for the day.”
* * * * *
The sun still burned low to the horizon on their left as they hurried along the road. The three companions must have looked out of place for the eyes that viewed them on their journey. Katressa walked fast and effortless, black armor and silver rapier giving her a formidable appearance. Trestan and Petrow, following in their modest peasant garb, looked more like servants than anything else. Petrow carried his wood axe in hand, while Trestan favored quarterstaff though a fine elvish sword displayed on his back. The men expended considerably more effort than the woman.
As it was, few eyes would have been observing them in this countryside. Occasional homes or shacks dotted the horizon, but most were in a bad state of abandonment. Although the roads through Kashmer’s Protectorate generally boasted safety, the routes passed through lands claimed by less civilized creatures. Several times a year, armed patrols searched parts of the countryside near the roads to root out rumored beasts and other creatures that staked out homes too close to villages. In return for such protection, the city of Kashmer to the north collected taxes and increased its wealth through the trade of goods from the local towns. Many would say the protection extended only to the roads. The wilds were still too vast and untouched, allowing many things to hide away from the beaten path.
The newfound companions walked in a more talkative mood than the night before. Katressa and Trestan filled Petrow in on the details of the battle. Trestan had seen more, being forced to watch from the middle of the street as the fight raged around him. It didn’t seem that Petrow seriously believed some of what they told him, but they spoke truthfully in what each had seen. Trestan and Petrow turned the subject towards Katressa, trying to learn more about how she came to be in Troutbrook and what role she played in events.
Katressa took off her helm, and straightened her hair a bit as they continued to walk. “I work as a privateer for Kashmer. The city regularly hires out adventurers as extra militia, using their talents to root out homeland threats. The biggest concern of Kashmer is that they remain the leaders of trade for this region, bringing in wealth and business. To stay on top, they use a sizeable navy to protect their fleets of mercantile ships from pirates and such. They also hire out private ships to hunt pirates for them, hence the origin of the word privateers. However, they also see the need in keeping their eyes on the land as well. This countryside is not tamed, and threats from the local woods and hills are every bit as much danger to their prosperity.
“So that is where fate finds me these days. I only really get paid if I do anything useful and can prove it. I also get deals from certain merchants, with the cost paid for by the Guild of Mercantile, or by the local lords. Other than those few perks, I might as well find excitement and pay elsewhere. There are certainly better paying jobs out there, but I’m nay unscrupulous mercenary. I prefer to help people when I can. Even searching around for rumors and information can lead to its own rewards. I passed through Barkan’s Crossing to the south of here just a few days ago. Nothing much going on, I just walked around listening for rumors and such. While there, a group of adventurers came out of the countryside from out of nowhere and started poking around. They arrived on foot, except for the minotaur’s steed. They bought horses yet only light provisions, for it seemed they were mostly well stocked. The minotaur, Bortun, caused quite a stir. I’m not surprised that he covered up his appearance a bit by the time he got to Troutbrook.”
Katressa turned and saw the two young men listening well. They had their full attention on her, even though they struggled to keep the pace. “Revwar spoke very well to the locals, calming them a bit, even though he himself kept a certain mystery and aloofness. Savannah, like all clerics of Death, also naturally caused some nervousness. Nay commoners like to deal with DeLaris’ chosen. On the last night there, they caused a bit too much trouble with some locals. I should say, however, the locals were asking for it. Local tempers and fear flared into a mob at an inn. As things got heated a dwarf bouncer tried to separate the sides before anything bad broke out. He asked the band of strangers to leave then and there. Revwar tried more sweet-talking, laced with contempt, and the dwarf made known his dislike of weak and cowardly spell casters.”
She sighed at the memory, “Well, the elf made an example of the dwarf in the face of the angry mob. He cast a few spells, including some snake-rope, which immobilized and embarrassed the dwarf. The mob shrank back. The adventurers didn’t kill him, or cause any physical wounds that I could see, but I think he was hurt one way or another. The crowd gave way fearfully when the band left the tavern…and the town. Other strong arms working at the tavern cut the dwarf free, and carried him to a back room. After that incident, being the privateer that I am, I decided they were up to nay good and worth tailing to see what they might do next. I still find myself wondering what their real purpose was. They kidnapped the noble’s daughter, but in such a way that I think it was unplanned.”
More conversation passed without yielding more insight on the motives of the strangers. Meanwhile, their feet continued to push the road and Troutbrook behind them. The countryside was rich with grasslands and areas of forests. Low rolling hills were a part of the horizon, hiding streams, pastures, hermits, and possibly inhuman eyes. When the road passed through woods the party hoped they would come out the other side and see the other adventurers. When the road opened once again into endless grass and hills, they simply trudged on.
Near midday Petrow spotted the clue they had been hoping to find. Alongside the edge of the road in a small woo
d was a soft muddy area. Imprinted in the mud were footprints belonging to a large hoofed creature. After looking about the area for some time, Katressa ventured a guess.
“Well, I’m nay more a tracker than you two. I see several footprints, large and small. Bortun certainly might have made those large ones; I’d even bet on it. I couldn’t tell you how many people were here, but in places the large hooves cover the small ones, and in other places the small prints mar the large ones. Someone I knew told me once that you could tell if a group passed by at the same time if their tracks overlap each other. I think I’ll check it out this slight gap in the bushes.”
Before she could move far, Petrow and Trestan were pushing ahead. Petrow acted tough and confident as he said, “I’ll take a look too!” Then Trestan simply stated, “Stay back for safety milady!”
Before she could say anything, Cat found herself being outdistanced by the two young men as they crashed through the trees. Her plan to sneak up the trail was ruined as the other two blundered through the woods towards whatever dangers might lie within. Muttering a curse, she ducked into the underbrush and continued forward in stealth.
Petrow and Trestan charged from the trees into a small clearing. Sunlight filtered through a leafy canopy to illuminate an empty campsite. Ash and blackened tinder remained of a fire pit in the center. The grass and small plants were trampled around the area of the camp. Both men looked about for some sign that anyone might still be around. They held axe and quarterstaff close, fearing and yet defending against any angry minotaurs. Even the rustling of small animals in the underbrush kept the two young men on their toes. As they moved deeper into the empty camp, they saw the remains of food and other trash.
The Earthrin Stones 1 of 3: Inheritance of a Sword and a Path Page 10