Trestan voiced one of his thoughts to the group. “They could have cut across terrain earlier if they had another destination in mind. Why did they risk going so close to town?”
The dwarf shrugged. To him the answer did not matter, only vengeance. “Maybe it could have been something as trivial as supplies, but for whatever reason they turned and I’m ready to follow. By the time I talked to the ranchers last night, they had heard a neighbor who had seen individuals running across his fields. He said there was a band of armed strangers, one o’ them large and misshapen. They also mentioned one person was being carried. Those country folk weren’t about to go out and ask the group’s business. They shut and barred their place until the group was out o’ sight. The direction is even further up this trail.”
Katressa nodded at the dwarf. “One was being carried…so hopefully she is still alive.”
Salgor questioned, “If they killed her they couldn’t collect the ransom could they? Well, I suppose they could but they would need her as a secure bargaining chip right?”
Trestan shook his head, “I’m not sure if that was their intent.”
The others looked to him, but he had no answers. “I don’t know what they want. I doubt the street fight in Troutbrook was planned. I don’t know why the wizard’s band was out that evening.”
Salgor looked to each of them. “None of you has told me much about that yet. What happened in Troutbrook?”
* * * * *
The company relaxed in a sandy clearing as the sun was passing its zenith. Partially eaten meals sat unattended on rocks, as the group members enjoyed other activities. Mel had finished his meal, despite eating larger portions than either of the humans, and sat down on a fallen tree. He watched the others as he puffed away on his pipe. The rest decided on impulse to do more weapon training. Salgor and Petrow went through the combat motions with axes. Trestan and Cat then started their own training duel with swords. Petrow learned a lot from the dwarven axe-wielder. Salgor called on him to try different strikes, and the dwarf used shield to block while in comparison Cat had originally been dodging them. The human tried figuring how to get in good strikes when dealing with a shield. Salgor offered lots of good advice, showing the young man a better grip and how to avoid overextending himself. Across the clearing Trestan and Cat practiced with naked steel. Elvish sword ringed against cat’s-head pommel rapier several times, though never very hard. Neither one wanted to cause any amount of nicks on their weapons, or draw blood, so the swings were polite and easy.
Mel gave his own comments, though never practiced with his own small mace. He watched Salgor with a lot of attention, admiring the dwarven warrior’s moves. Mel would have loved to swing an axe like the dwarf, but his muscles were never suited for such a task. Despite Mel’s chosen faith, the worship of a warrior dwarven god, he never did try to master melee weapons. He preferred the magic gift within him, or the trusty crossbow by his side. In his mind, a true warrior used any weapons at his disposal. The magic that had tormented his younger years remained the best weapon he had.
Cat would have liked to watch the axe battle, but she found herself trying hard to match Trestan’s improved skills. The agile half-elf was amazed that the blacksmith had tutored so well under Sir Wilhelm. She could still beat back his attacks easily, but even in practice the keen edge of his blade commanded her complete attention, lest she accidentally get a deep cut performing a bad move. One of the young smith’s strengths was the speed at which he maneuvered his sizeable weapon. Sir Wilhelm had taught him how to use such a blade fast and to react quickly. The half-elf called out to Trestan as she attacked, seeing how well he could defend from different attacks.
“High then low.”
Cat brought her rapier up high to force his sword high in a block. After two strikes, she circled the blade into a low cut designed to cripple the legs. He moved wrist over wrist to switch the sword from a high block, into a downward pointing low block. Weapons connected, though Cat knew she would have scored a hit if this had been for real.
“Low leg stabs.”
Keeping her blade low, she snaked the rapier left and right trying to stab at either of Trestan’s legs. She forced him to move as well as block in order to keep his legs safe. Trestan blocked and dodged, continuing to learn how to keep his balance and fight defensively.
“A feint towards your chest.”
Cat threatened his chest with the strike of her rapier. He blocked and was forced to block again as she kept the weapon dancing at chest level. As she had warned him, she was feinting towards his chest to distract him from an attack destined to surprise him from another direction. Cat had to watch the elvish sword carefully, for she intended to move very close without getting cut. The moment came where she trapped the elvish blade for her attack. The silver rapier blade snuck under the bastard sword, yet part of the rapier’s basket hilt came down on the top of the blade. A twisting pressure of her wrist allowed Cat to hold the blade in place and even push it away from her. Trestan set his stance different to gain leverage, but he didn’t see the other attack coming. Katressa reached her left arm around the human’s side. Trestan felt the handle of her dagger, as opposed to the blade, smack him in the back near a vulnerable spot. The hit done, they stood frozen for a moment as Trestan studied the move and figured where he could have improved.
“Beware the tricks and cunning of your opponents. I don’t think you could retaliate after being stabbed back here.” Cat relaxed her stance a bit. “But you are getting good and fast, and you…”
“Oh my!” Trestan exclaimed, looking beyond the half-elf, “Petrow got hurt.”
Even as Cat half-turned to look, her instincts suspected her human friend was playing a trick. She could still hear the ringing of axe on shield as if nothing wrong was happening. Trestan applied the leverage of his larger muscles to pop the rapier out of Cat’s grasp. She tried to step back quickly to gain room. She kept her dagger blade away, withdrawing to deliver another hit with the handle. Trestan dropped his sword to get his hands on her fast enough, locking on her wrist. A spin and a pull, and the human yanked Cat over his back to land in a heap on the ground. The dagger went flying away, but the adventuress figured that was probably a good thing for safety. Her mind tried to adjust to her opponent’s bold move. Dust kicked up as she scrambled to crawl away. Trestan reached and grabbed at her as she moved to get back to her feet. She only got as far as her knees before a tackle sent her sprawling to the ground.
Cat was smiling and laughing as she struggled. Now here was a surprise! Trestan rolled her onto her back and worked to pin her arms. Her instincts almost made her lash out and kick him between the legs, but she reminded herself this was all in good fun. Without her trying any of the dirty tricks she would normally employ, the woman found herself held down as he sat on top of her thighs. Her arms were pinned to the ground. He didn’t hurt her, but his weight and muscles kept her trapped underneath him.
There was a moment of silence except for heavy breathing from the both of them. The dust floated between their eyes, but Cat could make out Trestan’s face despite the sun shining over his shoulder. He was also smiling, looking quite happy about his little victory. His surprise move had been fun, though she felt awkward being pinned by the young man she had been trying to train.
“Now that you have me, what are you going to do with me?” She asked, a little demurely.
Mel’s voice called out from his viewpoint, “Nice job taking her down lad! I think you passed the training lesson!”
Trestan, ever the gentleman around women, suddenly blushed and realized the position he placed her in. He stammered an apology as he got off, and then offered a hand to help her up. They dusted themselves, Trestan brushing away some of the sand on Cat’s shoulders and back. Cat took off her helmet and shook out her hair a bit. The young smith turned around to see Salgor and Petrow observe what had been going on.
He turned back to Cat and said, “Pardon, milady. I wanted to demonstrat
e I could be tricky and cunning also. I hope you didn’t take offense.”
Cat put her helm back on her head, with a smile still on her face. “Trestan, you did not offend me. It was a pleasant surprise and well done. You don’t have to always address me as ‘milady’ you know. I’m your friend.”
Trestan smiled back, “Old habit. My father and Sir Wilhelm brought me up to always be honorable and respectful. I’m glad to see you liked my little trick, and that I didn’t hurt you.”
They all ended the training, passing around the unfinished food and drinking water to quench their thirst. While they packed away their lunch, Salgor motioned to Trestan that he wanted to look at the elvish sword. Trestan handed it over proudly. Trestan guessed the dwarf had probably seen a variety of good weapons. Salgor seemed to look over the sword with a knowledgeable eye. When he was done examining the blade, the dwarf handed it back without comment.
Trestan was interested in what the dwarf thought. The young man was proud of the weapon, though he could not yet accept it as his, “There is quite an enchantment upon it, the blade cuts through items unlike any weapons I’ve ever seen.”
“Bah,” Salgor scoffed, “Don’t take this personally, lad. It’s a good blade for one o’ small skill to have in his defense. I’ve never been impressed with elf-made weapons requiring a magical spell to give them a good edge.”
The group started up the road, with Salgor continuing to comment on the blade. “If you want the true measure o’ a warrior, it lies within muscle, steel, and the heart. No silver-piece conjuror can replace that!”
Katressa, leading her mount alongside them, addressed the dwarf, “I must point out, respectfully, dwarves enchant weapons also. I’m just commenting, not trying to argue.”
“Well, it is an enchantment of a natural type,” responded Salgor. “We put meat on our bones and use our muscles to dig ore out o’ the deepest parts of the mountains. Hard forged steel and mithril…hammered and folded more than any human master would attempt in order to achieve a strong blade. If anything else, is it the miraculous blessings o’ our gods. Many a dwarven priest has consecrated weapons to be used to great effect against our enemies.”
They walked on more, though the dwarf noticed a frown on Trestan’s face. He clapped the human on the back and spoke again. “Be neither insulted nor shamed lad, dwarves say it like they see it. I judge you by the way you act, not by the weapon you wield.”
Trestan nodded, “I’m not really an adventurer. I’m a smith hoping to make some small difference where I can. I carry this sword because it was left to me by a good and noble man, who strongly upheld his ideals.”
Salgor smiled then, “Now that sounds like something worth toasting!” He reached back into a pocket of his pack as they walked, and pulled out a different alcohol flask.
The dwarf took a big swig and invited the others to do the same. Everyone politely and timidly sipped it, nodding their appreciation even if it burned their throats. Trestan finished his sip and returned it to Salgor, then asked a question, “What about you, Salgor? What does the adventuring life hold for you?”
Salgor shrugged, “You see lad, I don’t really see myself as an adventurer though many would call me one. I follow the natural course o’ my people, which often includes bashing in goblin skulls and hacking orcs apart. In have my ambitions in life just like everyone else. Some day I seek to open my own tavern. I’m a brewer by hobby you know! I work these taverns and inns just to better get to know the business and sample what other people consider good ale. It brings in some money to help me get by. I’ve already created my own special brand, Bandago’s Brew! Someday I’ll want to settle down and be a host to many a drink lover such as myself.”
Trestan prodded the dwarf further, “And your axe? It seems a fine weapon that has seen a lot of use.”
“Indeed!” Salgor agreed, as pride glowed in his eyes. “Made by our own dwarven miracles, our natural magic. My uncle forged it before I left home to wander. Another relative o’ mine performed the blessings o’ my god to keep the blade sharp and strong. Daerkfyre the Valorous offered his strength for me to be his tool in the world!”
Mel piped in then, and the moment the others had dreaded arrived. “What a coincidence! I’m a blessed tool of Daerkfyre in this world too!”
Salgor scowled at the gnome, “What makes you say that gnome?”
“When my god abandoned me, I found a new one that would watch over me,” Mel fished through his pockets and pulled out a crude metal symbol, similar to Salgor’s tattoo. “Daerkfyre took me in and made me the warrior I am today!”
“O’ all the preposterous…” Salgor started sputtering nonsense, apparently having trouble saying anything clearly. The warrior stopped in his tracks, and the rest of the party came to a halt. Cat, Petrow, and Trestan all tensed, unsure what would develop between their companions.
Mel mistook Salgor’s reaction as the joy of meeting another Daerkfyre worshipper in a land where it wasn’t as common. After all, Mel was always jolly and happy to meet a fellow worshipper. “I know it’s rare to see a fellow brother in this land.”
“Brother? Brother?!” Salgor’s expression walked the line between disbelief and anger. “If Daerkfyre touched you he sure made you deaf and dumb! Don’t ever insult me by calling me your brother again, and never again blaspheme a dwarven god. Especially my own! I’ll bury you right next to the elf wizard if you do…a mix o’ body parts that people won’t know which part belonged to which person!”
Mel looked shocked, “Why are dwarves upset that I honor their god? I would think you would be privileged to know me!”
“Privileged?” Salgor shook his head, “More like embarrassed! A gnome worshipping a dwarven god is a mockery o’ that god. How dare you speak homage to a deity promoting strength and courage! You have nay muscles! You wear that tiny mace that I don’t think you can use well, and you are a caster as well as a gnome. You aren’t fit to worship a young dwarf maiden’s beard stubble!”
Mel fought back a sniffle, drawing a breath and trying his best to stand tall again. “Well say what you may, in my heart and soul walk the path which I was led to follow. I am strong in battle, and courageous. I’ve sent enemies running before me. You watch! I’ll show you that I won’t embarrass our god.”
Salgor shook his head, facing Mel with a terrible scowl, “You already have. Step warily around me, gnome. You would be wise not to invoke my anger. If you do, I’ll give you a lesson on Daerkfyre’s strength.”
The party resumed their walk, though they marched on silently.
* * * * *
The path faded to almost nothing, becoming more of a game trail. The group hadn’t seen any structures, even ruined ones, in the last couple hours. They could feel the salty air blowing in from the east, indicating they approached the Sea of Krakus. At times they could see the blue expanse of water just to their right side, drawing closer. Salgor admitted he could not track, but this seemed to be the general direction the other band had been heading.
Cat’s excellent vision spotted smoke from a campfire near the setting sun. She pointed to a bluff some distance away that ran close to the shoreline. It had a peculiar rock formation: from the side it jutted as the head and curved beak of a bird of prey. The top of the bluff had trees and brush, and before long the rest of the party could see the smoke as well. This caused some elation for the party members. They hoped this was their opponent at last.
From this point Cat led them, finding a path to bring them closer without coming within view of any sentries that might be up there. Trestan and Petrow led the horse, trying their best to guide it and keep it hidden from view. Her chosen route brought them down a ravine that channeled a river during the thaw. For now, only a stream trickled a winding path to the nearby sea. They laid their packs in a spot where foliage overshadowed a dry section. The horse grazed on some long grass, though they hitched it to a tree to keep it from wandering into eyesight of the bluff.
Everyone eyed
the campfire smoke. The sun hid behind the hills, covering the low areas in shadow. Trestan hated breaking the silence. “What now? Do we sneak right up or scout it out?”
Salgor spoke his mind, “We walk right in. If they are friendly they won’t attack. If it’s our quarry or bandits, we slay them all fast.”
Mel went through his packs, “Let’s see, I have materials for ‘Timed Boomy’, ‘Rat Blaster’, and…will we need a pack of ‘Twirly Lights’ for some illumination?”
Cat shook her head and sighed. “These people, if it is our prey, are well-trained killers. If we make a mistake, we will die. They don’t know we are here, so I will scout them out.”
Salgor threw up his arms, “Bah! Sneaking and skulking around; that is the elvish way.”
Cat narrowed her eyes at the dwarf. “Have you forgotten their hostage? Above all the best thing we can do is rescue their prisoner. If we do nothing else, we have achieved a victory.”
Trestan and Petrow looked to each other and the plateau where the unknown camp was located. They knew they were both thinking of Lady Shauntay. Each wondered if she was indeed this close, or whether she even lived at all.
Cat interrupted their thoughts. “I will scout. You all make camp here. Build nay fire, for that elf will see it as surely as I see theirs if he is up there.”
Salgor scowled again, “Who put you in charge anyway?”
Trestan and Petrow both raised their arms in response to supporting Cat. Salgor was not too happy that his only support came from the gnome. The dwarf spoke again, “Fine…sneak around in the dark. But, I insist on this: you take one of us with you. That way when you see the elf or find out it isn’t him; that extra person can run back and grab the rest o’ us.”
The Earthrin Stones 1 of 3: Inheritance of a Sword and a Path Page 20
