“Funny lookin’ ain’t ‘e,” whispered Dannard as he nudged the tailor.
Stitch wasn’t really paying attention, far too amused in perfecting his impersonation of Senn. “Who?” he asked quietly.
“Lord Gutbucket there,” replied Dannard. “Wonder if he smiles like that all the time? I don’t care what Hunter says, I think he’s a bit nuts!”
“What’s wrong with someone being nice for a change!” exclaimed Stitch. “He’s obviously been chosen to lead these people because he is nice. If the village is going to grow and be successful, they’ll need someone like him to make everyone feel relaxed and happy. In a way, he’s like you, you’re nice, well, most of the time. You always help people who need it!”
“I’m nothing like him!” hissed Dannard. “I don’t go around with a big stupid smile on my face all the time!”
Stitch closed his eyes and shook his head, “I didn’t mean… look, can we talk about this later?”
As they neared the tavern, Dannard glanced up at the sign above the door. “The Hangman’s Noose,” he read slowly. “Well that’s really going to make visitors feel welcome ain’t it!”
Senn turned and smiled at him, “It is not meant to intimidate… well I suppose it is, in a way.”
“Do you always talk such crap?” asked Dannard, placing his hands on his hips.
Stitch nudged him sharply in the ribs, “Don’t be so rude!” he exclaimed. “Now apologise!”
“For what?” asked the bewildered Dannard. “How can something not be a warning, but on the other hand be a warning?”
“It’s alright,” chuckled Senn. “I understand what he’s getting at.” He studied Dannard closely before attempting to explain, “You see, the idea of the name is to show that we’ll stand no nonsense or lawlessness. The noose shows the law-abiding citizens that they will be protected from those who are not.”
Dannard shook his head slowly and pouted, “Well I think you is just inviting trouble giving the inn a name like that.”
Senn smiled again, “Trust me, my dear nemilar, it is as friendly an inn as you would find anywhere. Come inside, you’ll see,” he said opening the door.
They had taken no more than a few steps inside before Stitch grabbed the back of Ballorn’s jacket and tried to hide. “He didn’t say there’d be monsters in here!” he whispered. “Look at the size of them, Ballorn! Quick, let’s leave before they see us!”
Ballorn glanced around the inn, “What monsters?” he asked with confusion.
“Over there in the corner! Are you blind?” hissed Stitch.
Senn patted him on the shoulder and laughed, “Not monsters,” he whispered, “Men.”
“Men?” asked Stitch, nervously. “What are men?”
“They’re much like you and I,” Senn assured him. “Only, a little bigger.”
“Well I don’t like the look of them,” replied Stitch, dubiously. “Come on, Ballorn, we need to go before they decide we look tasty and eat us!”
Ballorn wriggled free from his grip, “We aren’t going anywhere yet,” he grunted. “We have business to conduct, or did you forget about that? Anyway, after three days on the road, I doubt anyone or anything we encounter would want to eat us. Especially him!” he added, pointing at Dannard.
“Is you sayin’ I is stinky again?” asked Dannard, glaring at him. “You made me wash just the other day, how could I possibly be pongin’ again?”
Ballorn lowered his head in disbelief, “Senn…” he began slowly, “… we should sit and talk.”
Senn steered them toward a table, Stitch doing his best to keep as far away from the men as possible.
“I needs an ale,” said Dannard, clicking his tongue in the roof of his mouth. “I is as dry as an old stick.”
Senn ordered drinks for them all, and they had barely touched the table before Dannard grabbed a mug and slurped noisily from it. “Ooh, that’s better,” he gasped, ignoring the looks of embarrassment from the other nemilar.
Ballorn turned to face Senn, “We need silver,” he said bluntly.
“You’ve come to the right place then,” smiled Senn. “How much do you need?”
Ballorn tilted his head to the side, “Roughly… 150lbs.”
“That’s a lot of silver, Ballorn,” replied Senn. “Why do you need so much?”
“To save the world,” said Ballorn, quietly.
“Ha, to save the world!” laughed Senn. “Are we in danger then?” he added, smirking.
“More than you would ever know,” replied Ballorn. “Can you help us?”
“But of course we can,” grinned Senn. “But tell me, what are you offering in exchange for the silver? Precious stones perhaps, or something even rarer?”
Ballorn locked his fingers together as he leaned on the table and looked deep into Senn’s eyes, “Nothing,” he replied. “You’re going to give it to us, providing you want to live of course.”
Two men listening in on their conversation suddenly took more interest in what was being said and sat forward.
Ballorn held up his hand, realising that they had misconstrued his meaning, “I offer no threat, Senn, you have no need to fear us. We have grave news, news that you may find hard to believe.”
Senn looked at the men who were now watching them closely and nodded. They sat back, but still watched them intently.
The smile had gone from Senn’s face, “Tell me more,” he said. “But I warn you, Ballorn, this had better not be a trick. We deal swiftly with swindlers and the like who try to take advantage of our generous nature.”
Dannard slammed his empty mug on the table noisily, “I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started on about that noose,” he sighed. “All they wants is someone to…” he jerked his head to the side, holding his fist above his head and allowing his tongue to hang from the side of his mouth.
***
They spoke for almost an hour before Senn leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, “Well, I must say, Ballorn, it is a convincing story. But you admit that you can offer no proof of its validity. How can I be sure that once you leave here you would ever return to compensate us?”
“You shouldn’t concern yourself with that,” grunted Ballorn. “If I don’t return, it means that I’m dead. If I die, so will you. The only thing that remains to discover is in which order our deaths will occur.”
Senn drummed his fingers on the table, “So, if I don’t give you the silver, we will both definitely die. But if I give you the silver, then there is only a chance that both of us will die?”
“Precisely,” replied Ballorn. “And no amount of silver has any worth to a dead nemilar.”
“Or man,” added one of the men.
“I have a suggestion, Ballorn,” said Senn. “If what you say is true, does it really matter where you forge the armour? You could make it here and simply wear it on your homeward journey.”
Ballorn shook his head, “That’s a lot of weight for one nemilar to carry,” he sighed. “It would be far more manageable for the four of us to transport the silver between us, but even then, it would be no easy task.”
“If, once it is forged, it would be too cumbersome for a lone nemilar to bear on a simple journey, how would he expect to cope with that weight when facing a dragon?” asked Senn with a wry smile.
Ballorn shrugged, “I’ve asked myself that very same question,” he replied, “I was hoping that the dragon may have the answer.”
“Ah, you think that the dragon you are hoping to slay is going to give you advice on how to defeat it then?” suggested Senn.
“No, not that dragon,” sighed Ballorn. “The other one. The one that’s helping us.”
“Ah, now it’s starting to make sense,” sniggered Senn. “One dragon is going to help you to kill another dragon. How silly of me of me to not understand that!”
“I know how it sounds, Senn, but you have to trust me,” Ballorn implored him. “There is an honesty in its voice that cannot be mistaken. We can tr
ust its word.”
“Or could it have cast a spell on you to make you believe its sincerity? You say you can trust this dragon, but it was reluctant to even give you its name!”
“Not reluctant, only that it would be difficult for me to pronounce!” Ballorn rubbed his hands over his face. “We’re going around in circles,” he sighed, “it’s obvious you’re not going to help us. We’ll just go. We’ve wasted enough of your time, and ours.”
The four stood, ready to leave, but so too did the men. Their hands rested on the hilts of their swords, it seemed that the four nemilar and the villagers would not be parting on good terms. Before the first man’s hand had even fully gripped his sword, he was facing an arrow.
Hunter’s movement had been so swift that the man had not even seen him raise his bow, “Take your hands away from your weapons,” he said quietly.
The men did as they were instructed.
Senn glared at them, “How dare you treat my guests thus!” he roared. “Get out, both of you.”
The second man began to speak, “But, we thought that…”
“You thought? Really? You thought? No, you didn’t think, that’s your problem, George, you never think! Now get out before I have you put in the stocks for harassing our visitors!”
The two men hurried from the tavern. Senn immediately began to giggle, “Don’t be too hard on them, Ballorn. They really are lovely chaps, just a bit dim that’s all.”
“But they were…” began Stitch.
“Mistaken,” said Senn, finishing the tailor’s sentence, but not as Stitch would have.
Ballorn glanced at Senn, “We’ll be off then,” he said quietly.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” asked Senn.
Ballorn glanced around, “No, I don’t think so,” he replied.
“What about the silver?” asked Senn.
“I don’t have time for any more discussion, Senn. You’ve made your decision and I thank you for your time, but we must hasten and rethink our plans if we are to continue with our quest. We’ll have to make do with what we have.”
“Who said I’m not willing to give you the silver?” laughed Senn.
“You will?” asked Ballorn in surprise. “All it took was a show of arms and you hand it over. So much for the noose being a deterrent!”
“Oh, don’t be stupid!” exclaimed Senn, “I decided ages ago that you could have the silver you needed. That little misunderstanding was just… unfortunate.”
“You’d already decided! So why keep us here all this time?” asked Stitch.
Senn rolled his eyes, “Have you ever had a conversation with a miner? Even worse, with a guard? They’re so boring! Bless them all, they are wonderful at what they do but…”
“You is sayin’ we can have the silver then? Why? What’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch!” replied Senn, enthusiastically. “You can have the silver, I’ll let you have a couple of carts and ponies to transport it, and I’ll even assign those two men as guards to protect us on the way to your home!”
Ballorn’s eyes widened, “That’s very generous of you, Senn. I, I don’t know what to say. Thank you, thank y…”
“Us?” said Dannard, suddenly.
Ballorn stared at him.
“He said us. There’s your catch, Ballorn. Fatty wants to go with us… don’t you, Fatty!”
Senn beamed at them, “Oh, absolutely. You don’t think I’m going to miss out on an adventure like this do you?”
CHAPTER 9
Their return journey to Krevick was far more difficult than they had envisaged. Many slopes and tracks they had so easily clambered up on their outward trip were far too steep or rocky for the carts to traverse. Time after time a halt was called. They would huddle together, studying the terrain and trying to figure out the best way to steer the ponies so that they, and the carts carrying the silver, could continue safely. As night fell at the end of their first day, they had barely covered half the distance they would have. The carts were slowing them far more than they had anticipated.
“I estimate that the way we is going, it will take us more than a week to get home!”
Ballorn rolled his eyes before staring at Dannard, “Work that out all by yourself, did you?” he sighed.
“Well, we has climbed bigger hills than these before we got to here on the way up.”
Ballorn had learned to tolerate Dannard when they were in the village. But out here, in the wilds, there was no escaping the annoying cooper. Turning his back, he wandered away and flopped down behind a boulder where he could no longer hear any of the conversations being held within the camp.
“You too?”
Ballorn glanced up at Hunter. A brief smile flickered on his face, “Yeah…” he chuckled, “… me too.”
“I know he’s annoying, Ballorn, but he means well.”
“I understand that,” replied Ballorn holding up his hands in surrender. “But does he have to speak every word that comes into his head? He never shuts up!”
“I thought you’d be immune to his ramblings. You must have known him for a long time. Did you both grow up in the village together?”
Ballorn shook his head, “Good grief, no. I’d have killed him by now if I’d had to put up with him for that long,” he laughed. “No,” he repeated, “he moved into the village about five years ago.”
“And before that?” asked Hunter.
Ballorn shrugged his shoulders, “No idea,” he replied. “Never asked him. Then again, we’re not exactly what you’d call friends.”
“You’re not exactly friendly with anyone, Ballorn,” smiled Hunter. “I just thought you may have heard rumours from the other villagers.”
“Oh, I don’t listen to tittle-tattle and gossip from all those busy-bodies,” snorted Ballorn.
“You must admit though, Ballorn, it is a little intriguing.”
“What is?”
“I find it a little odd that a half-decent cooper would choose to set up shop in a village such as Krevick. Admittedly, there were a few individuals who had coin to spend, but surely it would make more sense to open a shop where there was more commerce. He could have made a fortune in Cheadleford, or even that new village where men live.”
“What new village?”
Hunter scrunched up his eyes and tapped his brow, “Oh, what’s it called?” he mumbled. “Burble! No, that’s not it… Bremble…” He paced as he tried to remember, gently slapping his forehead. “Borell!” he suddenly exclaimed, “Yes, that’s it… Borell!”
Ballorn snorted, “What a stupid name for a village! Wonder what dumbbell thought that one up?”
“The same man who brought them all out here,” replied Hunter. “Dunbar is his name. Very polite man, but you can see in his eyes that you wouldn’t want to upset him. And when I say village, that’s a bit of an understatement. It’s huge, there must be at least a thousand people living there.”
“And they all look to this Dunbar chap for guidance?”
“Indeed they do, my friend. And rightly so. He’s as willing to muck out the pigs as he is to pass judgement on a criminal.”
“And I suppose he demands taxes from all the others for his leadership skills?”
“I don’t know about that,” replied Hunter. “But it seems that the people who live there are his main concern. You should see the size of the fences he’s building to keep them safe!”
“Fences are made of wood, Hunter, and wood burns. If the crystal lord gets a sniff of the place it’ll be the biggest pyre you’ve ever seen.”
They were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Stitch eyed them suspiciously, “If you’re hungry, Senn has started making everyone some supper. Apparently, he likes to cook.”
Hunter smiled at Ballorn, “Well that explains a lot,” he snorted, unable to contain his laughter.
“Someone should tell him he doesn’t have to eat everything he cooks, and if he does, he should cook less,” chuckled Ballorn.
&nbs
p; Stitch scowled at them, “How rude!” he exclaimed as he marched away.
As he accompanied Ballorn back into camp, Hunter could not resist the urge to question Dannard about his past. He tried to hide the fact that he was watching him before ambling over and taking a seat on the ground next to him. “How are you coping, Dannard?” he asked with a smile.
Dannard eyed him suspiciously. Very rarely did anyone ask about his wellbeing and when they did he immediately went on the defensive, “I’m fine,” he snapped. “Why wouldn’t I be? What’s it to do with you anyway? Pokin’ your nose into other people’s business is not polite!”
Hunter’s eyes widened, “Well, forgive me for being friendly!” he laughed. “Just making sure you’re okay. You know, no blisters on your feet or aching legs. It’s a hard trail and you’re not used to it.”
“How dare you!” exclaimed Dannard. “You can’t just walk up to someone and talk to ‘em about their legs! My legs is my own concern, not yours. Leave me alone!”
“Ah, but you’re wrong, Dannard. Your legs are my concern. If you end up falling behind because of a muscle strain or a turned ankle, you’ll slow us all down. Krevick is nice and flat and you’re not used to hills like these. I’ll bet that your homeland was the same,” he sighed. “Where did you say you were from originally?” he asked, trying his best to make his question sound innocent.
Dannard glared at him, “Keep… your… nose… out!” he growled. “Where I is from is also none of your business.” He clambered quickly to his feet and stormed away.
Hunter glanced over at Ballorn, “Think I hit a raw nerve there,” he said smiling. Ballorn shrugged his shoulders and returned the smile.
Senn joined them and flopped heavily onto the ground, “How’s your supper?” he asked. Ballorn and Hunter complimented him on his culinary skills, which was a shame really, because they were both lying when they said it was delicious. The only thing they were convinced of was that it was supposed to be some kind of stew. As they poked around, neither of them recognised any of the ingredients. There were green blobs of what were originally vegetables, but the brown chunks they thought to be meat were a complete mystery. “Oh good,” smiled Senn, “remind me to give you the recipe before I leave.”
Mark of The Nibrilsiem: Set before The Ascension of Karrak (The Karrak Trilogy Book 4) Page 8
