by Moore, Scott
“That is ten, five for both,” said a young boy.
Malik wondered how much the hands made each day. He looked out over the hundreds of animals lined along their postings. He doubted that he could do the job of manning these posts. He loathed the time he spent brushing Callie in the morning. He chose not to imagine what it would be like to shovel hundreds of mule’s piles. Not to mention the permeating smell that would embed into clothes and nose hairs.
Malik came back to reality. He still reeled from the shock of the proposed separation.
“It is not for long. I will go gather some wares. You can show Mollie where she may find what she is seeking. Were you not the one who proposed we do more to help her?”
Malik had been the one who asked to help Mollie. This was not what he suggested when he said it though. This was the exact opposite of helping. Abrie sent her off with a pitiful guide.
“Not what I meant,” Malik voiced.
Abrie already moved toward the entrance to the Markets. “You two will be fine. Introduce her to the swords for hire section. You can then meet me in a few hours at the Red Top.”
The Red Top was the only non-green wagon in the entire Markets. Other wagons had tried to change their colors, but the outcry had been too much and they either closed down or changed back. The Red Top was special. It was said that the founder of the Green Market had been the one to color the top stating that they had the best brew in all the continent. Malik did not know if those stories were true.
He worried about the overwhelming thrum of people and the prospect of going at it alone. He may have protested further but Mollie interrupted him.
“If you could just show me the barracks, I will be on my way from there.”
Malik felt no better about that. If she went on her own too, then he would truly be alone in this oversized maze. Malik swallowed the lump building inside his throat. There remained nothing to do for it. So, he stepped forward into the mess of it all.
Malik pushed the anxiety down, pulling a map from the sign post. The map did little good. It generally indicated the whereabouts of items but wagons always tried to rearrange into better set up areas. Not all landscapes were the same, and no one wanted to post in a ditch, ravine, or river bank. Here in these wide open plains, it may be the closest to actuality as the Green Markets ever came.
“The swords for hire are on the far east corner,” Malik said folding up the map and slipping it into his pocket.
Malik walked down the already beaten paths. The Markets did not set up on pathways and roadways. The farmers, merchants, and buyers made their own pathways, killing the grass underfoot.
“The swords here are good. I have watched them do mock combats a few times,” Malik said trying to hype Mollie. He knew very little about actual sword combat. He had watched them play at swords though, but he had no way of comparing them to others.
“Hopefully they are brave,” Mollie replied.
Malik shrugged his shoulders. “They are jerks, if that counts.”
“I am not sure that will help them when the Tempre kill them,” Mollie said.
Malik stopped laughing. The Tempre sucked any humor from his demeanor.
Malik tried to find something else to talk about. Nothing came to him. As a bard, he talked for a living, and yet he had nothing to say to Mollie. He felt like a little boy when he was next to her. He stuttered over words, his mind went blank, and he was one red cheek away from looking like a complete fool.
“Do they sell packs here?” Mollie asked.
Malik joyed for the break in silence. He pulled the map from his front pocket and unfolded it again. There would be no area marked packs, but he figured that the fabric wagons would have some type of carrying sack. He scanned the map until he found the marked area and pointed with the tip of his finger.
“If we move a little north from our current path, we can find something I am sure,” Malik said.
Mollie nodded. “Thanks.”
“Not a problem,” Malik replied thinking Mollie referred to the map reading.
“I mean for everything. I know you don’t want to guide me to the mercenaries. I am glad you did it though.”
Malik went red cheeked, darn. He turned away from her and looked out into the growing mess of wagons.
Malik did his best to avoid Mollie’s direct eye contact for the rest of their trip. He figured if he could just get her into the fabric section, get her a bag then drop her off at the combat arena; he could slip to the Red Top before anyone was the wiser that he was a fool with a crush.
Plans had a funny way of never working out. At the first fabric wagon, Mollie found a perfect sack for her travels. The problem ended up being that she had no coins to pay for the sack. Malik fished around in his pockets until he came up with the needed amount.
“I will pay you back,” Mollie said.
Malik thought of another problem. If Mollie had trouble paying for a traveling pack, then no man would follow her to fight the Tempre. He kept the thought to himself. There would be nothing to gain from him breaking her spirit. Maybe there would be another, like them, who had been slighted by the Tempre. He doubted they would find that much luck in one day, but the alternative saw him breaking Mollie’s heart; he balked at the thought of that.
“You can pay me back by killing every one of the Tempre Warriors,” Malik replied to her.
Mollie nodded. “I will do just that.”
Mollie threw the pack over her shoulder, starting back off down the paths. Malik consulted the map, continuing north toward the small fighting arena.
The arena was not much of an arena. It was more of a pit that the fighters circled in with rocks. There was barely enough room to fit two men, let alone hold a sword or weapon for combat. Still, the idiots lined the street, waving their coin in the air. The most profitable wagons in all the Green Markets were the gambling wagons. You could bet on almost anything imaginable. If you could think of it, then you could find a place to bet on it here. Malik avoided the betters, walking straight toward the small mercenaries wagon. This was where Mollie would find any hope of coming out of this with men to fight alongside her.
“The mercenaries don’t participate in the arena. However, they have mock trials to show their skills. There is no betting here. At least not where the mercs can see. They have no worries about killing another man for money but the thought of betting on combat sickens them.” Malik shrugged his shoulders. “Makes no sense to me but everyone has their own set of values. Even if they are stupid.”
Mollie almost smiled. Malik smiled, then wished he had kept his eyes to himself. He tried not to imagine how stupid he looked at that moment.
“I will introduce you to the bookers, and then I will head back to find Abrie,” Malik said, looking away toward the wagons.
Malik heard the grunts and clanging of swords before he saw the mercenaries. The men sounded fierce; the combat sounded heavy. It turned out to be neither of those things. The two men fighting were smaller than Malik, their swords looked too heavy for either of them to lift.
“These are your combat warriors?” Mollie asked.
Malik looked around. “I assume the others are in the wagons resting.”
Malik had been to the Green Markets enough to know that top of the line mercenaries sold themselves here. These two men were not the normal wares. So, it left him to assume that they were the bait used to catch the real swordsmen.
“Do you know where I can locate a booker?” Malik called to the two fighting men–if they could even be called that.
The two broke from combatvery loose termletting their swords dip into the ground, tip first. Malik thought he saw relief as their shoulders could relax. Malik wondered for a moment if he could take them in single combat.
“The booker isn’t here,” one of the two said.
Malik pressed further. “Well, where would I find him then?”
Both of the men gave the same tired shrug. “Best bet is to travel toward th
e king’s castle.”
Malik did not understand what they were rambling on about. “Why would the bookers be at the king’s castle?”
Bookers would make no money in court. The tournaments were for knights, lords, and dukes, not mercenaries.
“I suppose it has something to do with the Tempre Warriors holding open tryouts for their ranks.”
Malik felt like his insides had turned into mush. He heard Mollie let out a gasp. If she felt the blow like he had, he knew she was in complete discomfort. He swallowed that hollow feeling. He had been swallowing it for years now.
“Why are you still here then?” Malik asked.
“I don’t want to die,” the smaller man said.
It was good to hear the truth from someone. Malik figured him to be right. If he had gone, he would have died in the trials to become a Tempre.
“I reckon it is the same for me,” the other said.
Malik could blame neither one of them. He would have hoped for a more liberal reason. An excuse that they hated the Tempre for crimes against them. That seemed to be unlikely though. They were just cowards who valued their lives more than a shot at glory.
“So you two plan to stay here and hire yourselves out?” Malik asked.
If this was all Mollie could find, she would die before the end of her first day of travel.
“That is the plan,” they said.
Malik marveled that they had this much confidence in themselves. They could barely hold a sword but they sold their services. He wondered if some idiot would buy these two.
“I request your services then,” Mollie said.
Malik laughed, assuming that she joked with them. She shot him a cross look, and he realized she was serious about her request.
The two men exchanged looks of shock. Malik doubted that either of them ever expected anyone to pay for their services.
“We would love to be of service to you, my lady,” the smaller one said.
Malik looked from the men back to Mollie. She stood stern like a statue. Malik thought she may have frozen. Then she cleared her throat. “I am no lady.”
The two men tried to retreat from the titles. “Sorry, I meant we would love to work for you…” Both stopped talking, leaving the question opened ended.
“I am Mollie. You are?”
The shorter fellow with the scrawny arms and brown hair spoke first. “Drack is what my family called me. Blades is what my friends call me.”
The taller man looked down at the smaller one. “Who calls you that?”
Blades shrugged. “My friends.”
“Well that must mean you don’t have a friend in all the world, because I have never heard one person call you that, ever.”
Blades looked abashed but Mollie saved him. “And what is your name?” She asked the taller man.
“Top,” he said.
Malik looked from Blades and Top to Mollie. He tried to gauge if she would go through with asking these two idiots to be her back-up.
“Well Blades and Top, I am glad to have met you. Now, I will need your swords to help me along a certain quest I am undertaking,” she said.
Both men nodded their heads, looking eager to earn some coin. Malik would bet that this was their first paid work. He wondered for a moment if there was a wagon that would take that bet from him.
“Where will we be going and how much coin are we talking about?” Top asked.
Mollie seemed to realize at that moment that she was poor. Her hand went up, fingering her sack. There had been no time to fill it with anything. She had no supplies, no mercs, and no coin to remedy any of those things.
“I will pay you when we get there,” she said.
The two laughed. “No really, how much is the job paying?”
Mollie did not back down. “I will pay you when the mission is complete. Only then will I know if you were worth the sum.”
She lied to them. She had no way of knowing if she would ever get her hands on another coin. She had nothing to promise anyone.
“You two could be rich men at the end of this,” Malik helped her lie.
She shot him another cross look. He whispered under his breath. “I am just trying to give you a hand.”
“I will pay you a fair wage upon the completion.”
“I think we will pass on promises. You can’t buy food, booze, or anything else with promises,” said Blades.
Malik realized that she would continue refusing his help, so he jumped on their bandwagon instead. “That is true. Not one thing in all of Bently’s kingdom will take a promise as payment.”
Mollie shot him another look, but he figured he would get them either route he went.
“If you two are any good at what you do, then your names will be sung throughout Luberg and the rest of the world,” she said.
The two men were already shaking their heads in their reply. Malik could see no fault in their logic. If he were in their shoes, he would have given the same answer.
“Would you two be interested in glory beyond any man in known history?” Malik asked.
“I am interested in getting paid, real coin,” said Top.
Malik was sure everyone was interested in getting paid real coin but Mollie had nothing of the sort, so he tried to improvise for her.
“I said shut up,” Mollie said through her teeth.
“To be fair, no you didn’t,” Malik said aloud.
“Would you be interested in killing the Tempre Warriors?” he asked.
The two men stopped their headshaking. There was the shock value Malik had been going for. Their faces went from hard and resounding no, to a panicked no.
“You both are insane. Brave enough to even mention them. Stupid as to mention their deaths in that same sentence. You two have fun going to get your insides introduced to your feet. We will stay here, waiting for some idiot to pay us to guard his apples,” Blades said. Top shook his head, turning away from the conversation.
“So you two are chicken?” Malik pressed.
Mollie shot him a third glance. This time she was more interested in catching what his play was. Malik had no plan. This was a lost cause. It was always a lost cause. These two would have never been worth it anyhow.
“You can offer us stupid jobs. You can go get yourself killed, but you are in no position to name call. You don’t even have a sword.”
On cue, Mollie pulled the giant sword from her back. Malik gave them a smirk. “You two are just about as blind as you are stupid.”
They were laughing with him. “That thing is bigger than she is,” said Top, “she won't even be able to swing it. Go home and play kids.”
Malik had no idea if Mollie could beat these two in sword combat, but he knew she was too stubborn to back down.
“You willing to make that a bet?” Malik asked.
“You have no coin,” they chimed in.
Malik pulled his own purse from his pocket. “Correction. She has no coin. I have plenty.”
The two stopped laughing. “Are you serious?”
Malik shook his head, never conferring with Mollie if she wanted to do this dance. She had not protested though, so he figured she was in it with him.
“Fine, if you want to lose all of your coin then I will be more than happy to take it,” said Top.
Malik shook his head. “Nope, it has to be both of you.”
Malik had no idea what he did, but he was all in now.
“I will be happy to help Top take your coin,” Blades said.
Top looked a little less than thrilled to be sharing his profit with the other man but only nodded to agree.
“Then it is a bet.”
The two men took purses from their pockets, throwing them into the air they landed in front of Malik.
“You can hold them while we work, it won’t take long,” Top said.
Mollie, who had been quiet this whole time, stepped forward holding her sword out before her.
The two men lifted their swords. Malik stepped
back, he had no part in any sword combator combat at all. He would watch, doing his best to cheer Mollie to victory. He just hoped he had not set her up for failure.
The two men looked bored by the prospect of fighting Mollie. Mollie looked serious, ready for a fight. Mollie moved fast, much faster than the two men expected; faster than Malik thought possible. She twirled to her right, jumping into the air as she did so, coming down after a full circle, slamming the oversized blade into the shoulder of Top. Mollie was smart enough to use the flat side of her blade, but Malik still heard the sickening crunch of Top’s collarbone breaking in two.
Blades tried to move in to finish Mollie while she was vulnerable, but it turned out she was never in any danger of losing this fight. She moved a slight step back, allowing the blade to just miss taking off her nose. She tucked her elbows back, slamming the sword’s pommel into Blades’ ribs. Malik could tell without the audible confirmation that at least two of his ribs were now in shambles. Blades fell to the ground coughing. Top rolled on the ground in near tears. Malik stepped forward as if he had taken part in the fight.
“Looks like we won,” he said.
Neither of the two answered with anything intelligible.
“Sorry you didn’t find anyone to help you on your journey,” Malik said.
Mollie looked down at the two pitiful men at her feet. “Not that they would have been of much use,” she replied.
“Well, you can have the coin if it is any consolation to you.” Malik handed her the purses. “Maybe you can find someone to hire somewhere else.”
Mollie weighed the bags in her hand. “You should take a cut for thinking of this.”
Malik chuckled “I had no idea what I was doing. I am just glad you made me look competent.”
Mollie seemed to realize the truth. She put the bags into her pocket.
“What will you do now?” Malik asked, curious where she would go next.
Mollie took another look at the carnage she left. “I don’t know. I still need to travel to the east.” She bit her lip. “Beyond that I need to find the Tempre, which I guess won’t be hard with a thousand mercenaries leading my way.”
Malik still had not processed why the Tempre would hold tryouts for their ranks. He knew that any man would bleed themselves to death to join them. A Tempre Warrior would never want for anything in their lives. Malik’s stomach flipped. He wanted nothing more than to make them want for something.