Out of desperation, Alaezdar jumped off the horse and withdrew Bloodseeker once again. The horse ran a few yards, but then circled around and waited for him to remount. He smiled and thought it was fortunate how well this horse was trained. Rivlok’s horse had clearly bolted and never returned when Rivlok had been knocked off the by the gront. He’d have to ask Tharn about that later, if he lived.
The bird circled around Alaezdar’s head just out of reach of the sword. He could feel the bird laughing at him and her younglings watching the battle, they seemed to be cheering on their mother as they flew around her and in between trees in their chaotic anticipation of a feeding.
Then something unexpected happened. The mother clearly had Alaezdar in her sights as her prey, but her younglings spotted the horse just a few yards away and were circling the animal as if to tell their mother that they wanted the horse. The mother, seeing the cue of her young, whipped her tail and smacked Alaezdar across his left cheek. One of her barbs hit him below his eye and left a deep gash.
She flew to the horse at breakneck speed like an arrow flying through trees.
She landed on the horse’s head and wrapped her wings around its eyes as she curled her tail around its neck and squeezed tightly. The horse nickered once and reared up on its hind legs and its head began to bleed. When its forelegs came to the ground, the horse lost consciousness and its front legs folded over.
The Dok Churner screamed a loud, high-pitched screech as she tightened up on her grip and began to saw her tail back and forth. The horse’s head gave way and fell to the ground. Blood first sprayed out of the horse’s neck in a minor explosion before pouring out of the body in a steady flow.
The young birds landed on the horse’s body and began the feeding. They had long tongues that stretched out of their beaks five times the length of their bodies. Alaezdar watched in fear as their tongues went down the throat of the horse and they began drinking the blood as if their tongues were large straws.
The mother sat on the horse’s hindquarter watching Alaezdar as if to say to him this was your lucky day. Alaezdar nodded to the Dok Churner, sheathed Bloodseeker, and was surprised again that the sword let him put it away. He looked at the mother Dok Churner once more when he felt her gaze still upon him. There seemed to be a mutual respect with the bird, as if it were displaying an intelligence not found in a typical bird.
Shaking his head, he turned and ran back to the group. Down another horse, he cursed at himself, as he ran.
Chapter 16
Kunther rode hard, and the harder he rode, the better he felt. The steed he rode was the best in the village. The horse was in her prime and had been chosen specifically for the long trip to Daevanwood. Kunther knew he had to ride as fast as he could, but he also knew that he could not ride the horse hard all day. If his horse collapsed from exhaustion, he would be nowhere except stranded in between two points, and his mission would be a failure. He had gone too far to let his horse die from exhaustion now or at any point of the trip.
He had left Valewood six days earlier, when the village was still in a state of emergency. He rode off with a fresh body, a motivated soul, a fresh horse, and five days of food. He even brought “Straight Edge,” the crude, homemade sword that Rankin had made for him. It wasn’t as fancy or as magical as Alaezdar’s Bloodseeker, but it was his.
The first day he rode the hardest in his blind ambition to succeed in his mission. He rode maybe a little too hard, for the more often he stroked his horse, the slower she went. He decided to give up and let her rest for a few hours. He could use a nap, and it was getting close to sunset.
He was tired and sore by the time he stopped, and he cursed himself for being so out of shape. He worked hard every day as a blacksmith apprentice, but he realized it took a little more stamina to ride a horse all day, at least a different kind of stamina than he was used to. His inner thighs and butt hurt badly, and it was only the first day.
When he finished tying up the horse, he made a small fire to cook on and he began to think. Feeling all of his pain, he began to dread the rest of the trip and although the road to Daevanwood was a relatively easy trip -- aside from the pain -- he dreaded the unknown of what will happen when he reached Daevanwood. What if Rager’s House of Renegades would not receive him? He knew he had dangerous news to tell and their just knowing it could be justification enough to kill the messenger. Alaezdar told him that he might be risking his life just to go on this mission. Kunther didn’t care though. He would do his part to make sure that Aaelie was rescued and safely returned home.
The roads to Daevanwood were actually the easy part. He knew they were marked clearly, and even though the condition of the roads was usually quite worn from the trading caravans constantly traveling on them, the surface would be no problem for a single rider on horseback.
Within the first few hours of the second day, Kunther had gotten behind two trading caravans and was forced to swallow their dust until he passed the many wagons of the train which were bumping along the dusty road. Both times he had to wait until he could find a place where the forest was clear enough to take his horse off the road so he could pass. The caravans generally did not let commoners pass with ease. Only soldiers and raiders had that much authority over the road greedy caravans.
By sunset of the sixth day, Kunther had reached the small vale community of Hollenwood. The town seemed smaller than Valewood to Kunther, but the attitude was the same. Hollenwood was the last vale village before entering the borders of the big southern kingdoms. After Hollenwood, he would ride thirty miles until he reached the Torellan Forest and after the small forest, he would be in the land of soldiers, warriors, mages and mercenaries.
Even though Hollenwood was so close to the kingdoms, the inhabitants somehow remained an untouched vale community. They would see the people of the kingdoms passing through their small community in caravans, for the main road passed right through the center of town, and generally these travelers did not stop. When they did, the village shop and inn keepers made the most of their efforts to earn any coin they could from the travelers by offering food, shelter, goods and services, even if they rarely stayed more than for one night’s rest. The kingdom folk had little desire for Hollenwood other than its pleasant view of the peaceful surroundings, its cold ale and a good night’s rest.
Kunther rode his tired and weak horse down the main street of Hollenwood. He was out of food and in need of immediate nourishment, and he needed to stock up for one more day. The sun had just disappeared behind the Raezoures Mountains and the dusky evening brought a comfortable feeling to Kunther as he rode past the shops of the village.
The main street only had a dozen shops that carried the necessities of the village. He first passed the blacksmith, who was retiring his leather apron and closing his shop. Kunther smiled at the man. He knew how good that feeling was to finish the day’s work and retire to a hot meal, something he sorely wanted right now. He knew he must first find an inn, and then a stable to keep his horse for the night, and maybe even make a trade for a fresh horse so that he could get up the next morning and charge towards Daevanwood completely fresh. He was now so close he could taste it.
It didn’t take him long to find an inn, right across the street from an elaborate building that looked like an establishment where prostitutes might do their business. He saw a big pink sign that had a picture of a white foamy waterfall spraying down off a mountain cliff and into a calm and serene pool below. The sign on the front read simply “The Bathhouse of the Serene Falls.”
Kunther passed the bathhouse and tied his horse to the post at the inn across from it which the proprietor had titled “Old Man’s Inn.” He walked inside. The inn was quiet, aside for a few customers enjoying their evening ales, and a fire was burning in the hearth. He could smell a roast cooking in
the kitchen. Kunther looked toward the bar and saw that no one was behind it, but he walked ahead anyway and sat on a barstool.
“Excuse me, boy, or warrior, should I say? Are you a soldier?” someone asked from one of the tables behind him. Kunther turned around and saw a middle-aged man with a slight beard and a mustache, as dark in color as his long black hair. He sat amongst the other men of the same age drinking their ales. The man who spoke had no ale, but was smoking. Kunther figured him to be the innkeeper.
“I am neither,” Kunther returned.
This caused a few quiet chuckles amongst the men.
“Then place your weapon in the rack, if you would,” the man said in a voice that was not polite, yet was more firm than offensive. He pointed to a small rack next to the door which had hooks where one could hang their sword. Only a small dagger and scabbard hung there and Kunther headed towards the rack. He untied the scabbard from his belt and put Straight Edge upon the rack.
“Where are you headed, boy?” the man asked as he got up from his table and walked behind the bar. “Ale?” he asked and pulled out a glass from below the bar.
“Sure.”
Kunther eyed the man, not sure if he should divulge his mission, but he realized he should tell some of the story to be polite and not to offend anyone there. He did indeed want a good night’s rest tonight and a fresh horse to finish his trip. Conversation he knew would help to get honest answers.
“Daevanwood,” he replied unemotionally.
“Daevanwood? Why in Markenhirth would you want to go to such an evil city as Daevanwood?”
“I seek mercenary help,” he answered, barely louder than a mumble. “Of course!” the man exclaimed, laughing and slapping his hand on the bar. “Why else would any young man such as yourself go to Daevanwood, except to hire a mercenary? But do you mean, you seek to hire or to be a mercenary. Which to be honest, a warrior is what I thought you were intending to be in the first place. I mean the way you walked in here with your sword and all. Walking like no man alive could defeat you.”
Kunther gave the man a polite laugh along with a look that let him know that he really wasn’t pleased with the comments.
The innkeeper poured his ale and handed it to Kunther.
“Copper,” he said smiling.
Kunther reached in his pouch and gave the man his coin.
He took the coin and watched Kunther drink his ale. Kunther’s shoulder length red hair made his round red face look even redder than if his hair were darker. He was not overweight, but he was not in great shape either.
“If I may ask,” the man said, breaking the silence. “What sort of mercenary help do you seek?”
Kunther paused mid swallow, looked over his glass at the other men to see if they were listening to the conversation. They were not. They were beginning to argue about who could cut a log in half faster, and they were about to go outside to prove it in a match. Kunther tried to second-guess the innkeeper as to whether or not he was just curious or if he had other plans in mind. The innkeeper reached under the bar, withdrew another rolled cigarette and lit it as he waited for Kunther to answer.
“I am seeking out the help of Rager’s House of Renegades,” he said
The innkeeper quickly exhaled his first puff of the cigarette and nearly choked.
“Boy, are you mad? You must be in great trouble or have high standards of your swordsmanship. You seek high company, probably the highest in all of the Known Lands! Besides that, I don’t think you can afford them.”
Kunther withdrew and began to regret his eagerness to divulge.
Seeing Kunther’s discomfort, the innkeeper smiled.
“It’s okay, boy. I didn’t mean to frighten you. It is just that those boys are serious, not to mention very expensive. I am curious why would one boy need help with a group of miscreants such as those Rager boys? They aren’t the type you mess around with lightly, unless you really know what you are doing, and no offense, boy, but you really don’t look like you know what you are doing.”
Kunther smiled politely. “Thank you, sir, but my business is my own.”
The innkeeper chuckled slightly. “If that is the way you want it, boy, but I can offer you some advice if you seek it. I have seen many people pass through here seeking out swords for hire among the various groups among the two Daevan kingdoms, and if you don’t know what you are doing, you could find yourself in a pit with no one ever knowing what happened to you.”
Kunther took a sip of his ale and stared at the hearth.
“I may be in deeper than I can handle,” he admitted after a while.
“What do you need them for that you can’t handle yourself? You look to be a boy from one of the vales.”
“The gronts attacked our village and kidnapped one of our own,” he answered. He was beginning to feel the effects of his ale.
The innkeeper frowned.
“Now why did you want to go and make up a story like that? Gronts, goblins, orcs coming out of the forest. Why, next you will be telling me the flying demon Fyaa came out of the woods taking prisoners to sell them to the slave trade. Boy, if you don’t want to talk to me, then just say so, but don’t go making up stories about creatures that never cross the Sippling river attacking your village. Dangerous as they are, they would never attack a village of humans. They fear our numbers, boy, or else they would be ruling all of the Known Lands by now.”
“Yes, sir,” was all that Kunther could muster after his tirade.
“Well, regardless, you don’t want my help. No problem for me. You are just another traveler with a big tale, and believe me, I have heard them all. You better hurry and get your rest. I don’t want to stand in your way. Tomorrow is a big day for you. Those people aren’t exactly the nicest people around.”
“Thanks, I guess.” Kunther felt relieved, but not altogether comfortable with his situation. “If you don’t mind, I do have need of your help for one more thing. Do you know where I could board my horse for the evening?”
“Well, something I can do to help the brave boy. I do, actually. I can keep it here for the night for you, or you can go to the stables about a mile down the main road, outside the village. But the stable master there is a cranky old man and is probably already asleep. He rises very early you know.”
“Then I suppose I will leave it with you. How much?”
“Five copper for the horse, and five copper for you for the night’s stay.”
Kunther gave him two silver pieces.
“That’s for your help and to cover a little extra if you don’t mind walking my horse around back and brushing her down for me.”
The innkeeper picked up the two silver coins and smiled.
“Don’t mind at all, boy.”
Kunther didn’t trust the innkeeper’s smile, but he was very tired, so when the innkeeper gave him his key and number, he left for the room and his first night’s rest in a bed since he’d left Valewood.
Upstairs, the room was simple. There was a bed with one sheet, one dirty blanket with small holes, and one pillow stained yellow with age and use, but for Kunther it looked ready for royalty. A bath, he figured, he would have to get across the street. He thought about walking over to take a bath, but decided that it wasn’t all that necessary. It would be nice, but he was on a mission to save his friends’ lives, and to indulge in such luxury while his friends were in such trouble would eat at his conscience.
Daevanwood was still a little more than a full day’s ride, but with a fresh horse he could make it just after dark. That might be a little dangerous, he thought, but he had to take that chance. His friends went into the Goblin Tribes Forest facing immense danger so he felt th
at he should take a few extra chances if that could speed up the help for his friends.
Kunther undressed, pulled back the covers to his bed and crawled in. He put his head on the pillow and began to drift off into a deep and much needed sleep. Kunther only awoke once that night, just after he had fallen asleep. He awoke with the realization that he had left Straight Edge downstairs, but he was too tired to wake up and get it. He slept and did not awake again until the sun shone through the window upon his face, when he woke with a start.
He looked out the window. The townsfolk were already beginning their morning errands. “Damn, I overslept!” he shouted to himself in a panic.
He ran to the other side of the bed looking for his clothes. He found them on the floor ruffled and soiled and he sat back down on the bed, put his head in his hands, and stared at his dirty clothes. He did feel refreshed and energized -- regardless of how late he was getting started -- but he couldn’t believe that he had slept so long. He must have been more tired than he had thought.
He reached for his pants to put them on when he remembered that he had left Straight Edge downstairs. Quickly he pulled his trousers over his legs and sat back down on the bed to put on his boots. He had finished putting on the second boot when he realized his pants seemed lighter when he had put them on.
Fearing the worse, he checked his belt for his money pouch and found nothing.
“Oh, no,” he said and jumped off the bed to search the room for his money pouch. It wasn’t but a few gold pieces, a half dozen silver and a handful of copper, but it was enough to help with the trade of a fresh horse, and maybe one more meal once he reached his destination.
The Warrior's Bane (War for the Quarterstar Shards Book 1) Page 21
