* * * * *
The jovial mood soured immediately when the inn door thrust aside. It slammed open against the wall with enough clatter to wake anyone sleeping in the upstairs guest rooms. The exchange of conversations in the common room abruptly silenced. Raised eyebrows jerked towards the door. Three adventurers loomed outside, but one, “It”, filled the opening of the doorway. The cloaked giant strode past the comparatively small doorframe while bending over, and even once inside it almost brushed the ceiling as it straightened to full height. Trestan couldn’t take his eyes off the peculiar horns coming out of the sides of the cloak hood. Each horn stretched easily as long as a short sword, sporting several notches along their yellowish lengths. The face remained hidden, though the cloak hood scanned the room. Petrow was right, the biggest axe Trestan ever laid eyes on hung from its back. It stopped and stared in Trestan’s direction, and the young smith averted his eyes in a hurry. Only after it moved again did he venture a peek from beneath his brows. The elf and human followed the tall one to a table not far from the entry. The three strangers appeared calm and casual despite the silence. Petrow’s descriptions didn’t do justice to their real appearance. The elf and human had spent a fair amount of coin on their wardrobe. The elf’s yellow eyes swept across the room and took note of everything. He did have the look of a spellcaster about him, complete with decorated staff and pouches of mysterious contents on his belt. The human definitely bore Tariykan lineage, wearing silk garments adorned with designs. The tension ended when the elf snapped his fingers and ordered a simple soup and bread for him and his companions. The serving people, all family that owned the inn, moved to fulfill the request as the conversations began to start anew. Voices remained hushed compared to before, and many eyes lingered on the three strangers whenever a subtle glimpse seemed possible.
Trestan and Petrow talked quietly, barely murmuring between themselves and Cat. She acted more aloof compared to the fun, easy-going spirit displayed earlier. She only nodded to their comments and didn’t respond back. Her emerald eyes observed the three over the rim of her glass, displaying no clue as to her thoughts. In that moment, she seemed every bit a crouched hunting cat, watching her prey. Trestan could not help but glance at the band of three often. Adventurers were usually sources of entertainment. It wasn’t they were required to be social, but usually such people tended to be more boisterous. These three acted different, separating themselves from the lesser people with looks and actions. Aside from the fact they ate in the Inn’s common room, they seemed as eccentric as visiting nobility. Trestan noted with alarm that in the midst of the strangers’ conversation they threw looks towards his end of the bar. The young smith wondered if his stares had been that rude. Without warning or provocation, the big one stood up and turned towards him. The elf and human stopped eating and stared in the smith’s direction. Slowly and powerfully ‘It’ rumbled to the end of the bar. The young smith heard Cat set her glass down with a loud clink. One hand dropped out of sight, possibly to the hilt of the rapier she carried. Trestan realized it wasn’t his stares, but something about the adventuress that drew the ire of the three. He and Petrow were probably sitting in the worst spot at that moment.
Trestan kept his face down and tried to remain calm; however, looking downward as he was he confirmed the creature was definitely not human. As it walked, the cloak slipped upwards enough to reveal cloven hooves instead of boots. The cloaked one stopped near them. Trestan could have tried to get a look at his face, but his fear overruled curiosity. That musky smell reached him for the first time and he grimaced. It was as bad as the smell of an animal that recently died. The common room of the inn went silent.
In a deep guttural voice, mixed with some grunts, ‘It’ spoke to Katressa, “Why do you choose to follow us? Poking into other people’s affairs is not only rude, it is unhealthy.”
Cat calmly sipped her drink with her left hand, while her right stayed out of sight and hidden behind Petrow. If the woman was afraid, she hid it well. Nevertheless, Trestan could visualize her right hand poised to draw the silver rapier. “Oh, Bortun, I could claim you were following me. I arrived here at midday, long before your group rode into the village. I am a free, traveling spirit. After seeing how your group acted two days ago in that other town, I’m surprised you have the gall to call me rude.”
The tall figure, Bortun, tossed his cloak wide open. Others in the tavern cursed and stepped back. The two young men could swear that he grew another foot even as his true nature was revealed. Bortun was physically a man over only a small portion of his body. Muscles bunched up on leathery arms. Large animal-like legs ended in the cloven hooves Trestan had glimpsed. Armor composed of animal hides provided cover over hairy skin that looked just as tough. The short brown fur covering much of his upper body was nothing compared to his head and face. Bortun was a minotaur: a half-bull, half-man abomination. Steer’s horns protruded from the sides of his bullish head. The creature’s eyes appeared like inky black pools, and animal grunts issued from his throat. The other folk scattered about the tables in the common room stared wide-eyed. The minotaur moved closer to the much smaller half-elf. She didn’t flinch, not even when that gruesome snout exhaled a blast of air in her face. “Small fool, we like to keep our business to ourselves. What right do you have to watch our every move?”
The elf companion of the minotaur voiced his own opinion, “It is obvious. The way she dresses, the way she moves, her quiet and inquisitive demeanor, and her disarming smile give her away.”
Although the elf did not speak loudly, his voice carried over the hush in the room. “My name is Revwar. My poor, cursed friend over there is Bortun. My other friend at the table here is Loung Chao, from far off Tariyka. We are adventurers, and we’d like to keep to ourselves. We may not be the strongest on social graces but we pay well for food and drink, and then we move on the next day. I’d be more worried about this lone traveler in your midst. She follows us whether she admits it or not. The only real motive that presents itself in my mind is a rather lucrative robbery if we let down our guard. I would keep a close eye on your purses.”
Katressa was about to make a reply of her own, but Petrow cut her off. Even to Trestan’s surprise, the handyman rebuked the elf’s insult upon the half-elf’s character, despite the intimidating minotaur standing over them. “She didn’t come in here laying down accusations, sir! It doesn’t sound like she has done anything to you, so don’t be labeling her a thief in public without proof.”
Trestan felt Petrow was going too far in trying to impress a woman. His friend’s rash actions might well be more than either of the friends had bargained. The group of visitors to the inn had probably fought for their lives and knew how to defend themselves well. Their unfriendly appearance suggested they wouldn’t shy away from starting a fight. The expression on Cat’s face suggested she didn’t welcome Petrow’s intervention on her behalf. Trestan placed a restraining hand on his friend’s shoulder, and gave him a warning glare.
Cat spoke next, “I assure you I am also an adventurer that sometimes likes to keep to myself. I won’t have any reason to interfere with your journey, as long as you don’t interfere with mine. Why would I attempt to incite your wrath after seeing the amusing way you dealt with that dwarf? Leave me be and we won’t have a problem down the road.”
Bortun actually stepped closer and flexed his arms a bit. The creature had the look of wrath in its eyes, betraying his eagerness to trade more than words. Revwar called him back, “It is not in our best interests to cause any problems here, Bortun. We shall let the young lady go on her way. If she misbehaves, I am sure some misfortune will befall her soon enough. I think it’s time to retire for the night.”
Revwar and Loung Chao left their unfinished meal and proceeded to the stairs. The minotaur did not back down easy, nor lower its muscular arms until after snorting a blast of fetid breath in their direction. Bortun brushed hard against the half-elf as he went by. For a moment she seemed to loosen th
e rapier from her scabbard, but she calmed down and let the unwanted contact go unanswered. Bortun had probably hoped to provoke a response. She disappointed him by remaining calm as he lumbered past, finding the willpower to turn away from him and take another sip of her drink. The stair boards groaned heavily as the abomination climbed them. His two companions followed. Revwar briefly paused at the top of the stairs and looked back at the half-elf. “We ride to Kashmer in the morning, see that you don’t infringe upon our privacy again.”
Katressa waited until the room’s conversation levels had resumed before she downed the remainder of her drink. Trestan and Petrow looked at their drinking companion in silence. Neither young man knew what to say after such a tense encounter.
“Well, wherever they are going next, it sure isn’t Kashmer.” Turning to Petrow, she smiled, “I thank you for sticking up for a stranger, but its best not to get those three upset. I’m still wondering where their fourth companion went. I bid you both a good night. Perhaps we shall meet again in the morning.”
Katressa “Cat” Bilil then turned back to the staircase and headed up to her own room. Her footsteps left no noise on the aged stairs. She left a lot of unanswered questions behind her.
* * * * *
The night deepened until the inn was empty of its drinking crowd, and the pub’s drinking crowd was falling off of their chairs. Most of the good village folk snuggled in beds. Lanterns lit parts of the street and the southern bridge, but few figures moved about. Troutbrook quietly surrendered to peaceful slumber.
On the same side of the main street, south of the church and the inn, Troutbrook’s second largest house, (slightly smaller than Priest Gerloch’s), still had candles lit and an occupant moving about. Inside, Sir Wilhelm Jareth stirred a hot cup of tea. He then took it and another cup into his upstairs common room. At different times it could be a meditation chamber or a reception room for guests, but above all it was the heart of his home. His suit of armor stood supported on a stand on one side of the room. Under his roof he wore plain-looking clothes of good quality. The elvish sword occupied a mantle of honor over the hearth. The hearth retained only embers; candles provided illumination for the room. Tables and shelves displayed many odds and ends discovered during the old warrior’s career, though of some he never spoke. Sir Wilhelm set the cups of tea nearby, and gently reached out to wake his friend.
“Trestan, you seem to have fallen asleep. Wake up and share some hot tea with me, and then off to bed in your own home.”
Trestan yawned and stretched. He blushed but accepted the tea gratefully. “I’m sorry; it was such a long day. What were we talking about?”
Sir Wilhelm chuckled. “You asked me if I wouldn’t mind a little sparring session to practice your sword skills. Of all things, you yearned for more of a work out while falling asleep in the chair. You didn’t want this day to end.”
Trestan smiled. His quarterstaff and his wooden sword-pole leaned near the chair. He didn’t think he would seriously get in a practice session, but it never hurt to be prepared. Jareth sipped from his own tea and took a comfortable chair nearby. “Your father has never mentioned it, but I’m guessing he doesn’t know you have been practicing your skills with a weapon.”
The young man shrugged. “He expects me to know how to use a quarterstaff well enough to protect myself. I don’t let him know I’ve actually tried practicing with a sword, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew. He’s seen me wield swords that we forged together, but I have to treat them carefully and proper so as not to tarnish or nick them. But, all boys practice like they have a real sword right? I can remember when I was younger; Petrow and I sometimes knocked our brains out with our wooden ones!”
Sir Wilhelm chuckled at some recollection. “I remember the time you two fought on that bridge for over an hour. Smacked your heads around enough you both walked off complaining of headaches. A few bruises too, I recall.”
The young smith laughed at the memory. They sat quietly chuckling for a bit longer before Jareth switched the subject. Sir Wilhelm went back to an earlier conversation. “So, what did you think about those strangers in the inn? Not just the three at the table, but the woman also.”
Trestan thought about it for a moment. “It’s hard to know someone when you have only just met them. Cat seemed nice and fun, but I can see where she might be a thief. I wonder why she followed them, if she did indeed follow them. The minotaur scared me to the bone, but I guess that’s a normal reaction. I’ve never seen a creature like that before. The other two, well…they also felt intimidating but I couldn’t tell you if they were bad or good.”
Jareth nodded. “Good and evil are not always so clear. A person can go from one to the other and thus always be a mix of the two sides. A person may be rather set on one path for most of his life, but any traumatic or frantic moment can make anyone take an action that they can’t undo. In the long run it shapes our lives.”
“But people do tend to follow a course in life right?”
“True,” Sir Wilhelm agreed. “Most of life is built on how we react to it. We can choose to let things get us down and think of retribution, or we can choose to ignore the bad and focus on the good. Let’s say you are walking down a trail after a rainfall, and a rider flies by and the hooves kick up mud on you. He might shout an apology as he goes by, or he might not. How does that affect you? Anyone would get a little upset at being soaked in a mud shower, but you knew it could have been accidental that his horse hit a puddle near you at that moment. The rider might be carrying a life-saving message to a far village, or he might be a noble out for a pleasurable ride.”
Sir Wilhelm put his hands out like he was weighing options on a scale. “How you react defines parts of your personality. You can get upset or even beat up the rider if you ever catch him, but he may have friends that will kill you if you did. You can also just go home, take a bath, and laugh over the whole thing. There is not always a right or wrong decision, only how we face life. I tend to prefer the easy way of living. Get over it and move on, unless it is a reoccurring situation that needs to be fixed. In the great scheme of things, it truly does not matter. I fancy that better then some people I have seen who react as if their whole day is ruined because they couldn’t find just the right color of something or some event didn’t go as planned.”
Trestan nodded, “I hope to take life easy as well, though not one that lets important responsibilities pass by.”
Sir Wilhelm spoke again, “People do form patterns on how they choose to deal with stress and bad times. That pattern is how you might be judged by others. People might blame the God of Trickery or someone else, but they are victims of their own temptations and loose morals. A person can always change their course, even if they don’t think they can. So it’s hard to judge someone else because of that. You never know their history either and what kind of life they’ve faced already.”
The young man nodded, then sat back and thought to himself a bit, “I’ve seen lifelong friends that would have an angry incident and suddenly they would never talk to each other again. Stubborn! I guess you get to know people and just accept them for who they are or let them go their own way.”
Jareth agreed. “You never really judge people. You get to know them better, and then you accept them for all their good qualities and faults. That’s a thing about love, you love a person for who they are, and that may include some faults.”
Jareth leaned back farther in his favorite chair. He seemed to laugh at some inside joke before speaking again. “I’m sorry, the whole point was simply that you can never know all about a person in a glance. Here I was asking about the people at the inn, and instead I dragged you into another of my lectures.”
Outside the shuttered window, they heard a dog barking in the alley below. Trestan looked to the older man, “I should be sorry, for keeping you up this late and infringing on your hospitality.”
“Oh nonsense!” Sir Wilhelm glanced towards the window. The dog’s barking b
ecame a distraction. The older warrior spoke again, “It is nay bother at all! I have all the time in the world on my hands. I am happy to relax after all the adventures in my life, and spread my wisdom with the younger generation.”
Trestan Karok reached over and patted the strong sword arm of his mentor. “I do like talking to you and hearing your philosophies. It gives me a lot to think on. I do hope to ask more about…”
In mid-sentence Trestan was interrupted by a flash of light beyond the shuttered windows, as if a lightening bolt had struck just outside. The dog in the alley started yipping pitifully. A moment later there was a sudden and final yelp, and the dog’s voice died away completely. The two men sat in silence for a few moments listening to the outside noises. The only thing they made out was the sound of someone running.
The Earthrin Stones 1 of 3: Inheritance of a Sword and a Path Page 5
