Jaikus and Reneeke Join the Guild

by Brian S. Pratt

  “Good evening Rupert,” Riyan said.

  “Didn’t I tell you not to use this area for your stinking sheep?” Rupert asked.

  “We pay your father for the use of this land,” argued Riyan. “He’s the only one who can tell us not to use it.”

  “Sounds pretty uppity for a sheep dung boy,” one of Rupert’s cronies said.

  “I don’t care what you think you can and can’t do, sheep dung boy,” Rupert asserted with a scowl. “You aren’t to use this area.” He moved to stand in front of Riyan and poked him hard in the chest with his finger. “Do you understand me?”

  When Riyan failed to respond quickly, Rupert slaps him across the face. “I asked you a question!”

  “I understand you all too well,” replied Riyan. Face beginning to turn red, he stared at Rupert with undisguised hatred.

  “Scatter ‘em boys,” he said to his cronies. As the three young men with him began scaring off the sheep, he added, “Maybe this will help you to remember.” Then he too started yelling and waving his arms to scatter Riyan’s flock.

  Riyan and Chad stood there in the road and did nothing. They had long ago learned that if they tried to stop Rupert and his friends, that things would only get worse. So they stood there and waited for them to stop. When at last Rupert and his cronies ceased chasing Riyan’s sheep, they laughed and continued along their way.

  “I hate him,” Riyan said with great feeling.

  “I know,” replied Chad. “Everyone does. I don’t know how a nice man such as his father, could spawn such a person.”

  From the surrounding area, the sound of bleating sheep rang out. “We better go find them before the sun goes down,” Riyan said.

  So while the sun sank further to the horizon, Riyan and Chad combed the neighboring hills until all the sheep were accounted for. Then they resumed their way to Riyan’s home.

  It was a small house with only three rooms; one for his mother, one for himself, and the outer living area. His father had died several years ago while out watching the flock. One of the mountain spiders had attacked and bit him. The venom quickly worked through his system and before he could return, had passed into unconsciousness. He was dead when they found him the next day.

  Riyan still blamed himself for his father’s death. Had he been with his father that day, he could have gone to Old Glia for one of her potions which would have cured the poison coursing through his father’s veins. Instead, he and Chad had gone fishing.

  Mountain spiders such as what attacked his father were rare in these parts. At most they were sighted once or twice a year. In the last five years, his father had been the only one to have encountered one.

  “We better hurry, or my mother will be getting worried,” said Riyan. Then with Chad’s help, they herded the flock along the trail leading to Riyan’s house. By the time Riyan’s home came into view, the stars were already beginning to appear.

  Chad helped him get the flock into the fenced area where they spend the night. Then he said, “I better hurry along too, or my father will get on me again about not being home on time.”

  Riyan patted him on the back and said, “Thanks for the help.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replied. “Don’t know when I’ll be able to join you in the hills again. With Tye gone for a week, I’ll be stuck at the mill.”

  Riyan shrugged. “What is, must be,” he waxed poetically. “Next time it’ll be your turn to tell the tale.”

  “Already figured out how I’m going to kill you off,” he replied with a grin.

  Laughing, Riyan gave him another good natured slap on the back. “Can’t wait.” Then Chad hurried home.

  Riyan turned toward the door just as it opened to reveal his mother. “Everything okay?” she asked, worried.

  “Rupert again,” he explained.

  “I’m going to talk to his father in the morning,” she said as she stepped aside to let him enter. “He has no right to do such things. We pay them good money to graze our flock on their land. We should not be treated in such a manner.”

  Riyan went to the table and sat down. “It’ll do no good,” he said. “The last time you went to his father after something like this, all that happened was that I got a beating the next day.” He reached out for the ladle in the stew pot and began filling his bowl.

  His mother sat across the table from him and looked at her son with sad eyes. She wanted something better for him than a life as a shepherd, especially one around here. It wasn’t so bad before Rupert grew to adulthood, but now things for her son were not so good. But there was little hope of improving their lot in life.

  “He can’t do anything serious,” he said to his mother between bites. “If he does, then his father would be forced to intervene. He’ll not risk that.”

  Throughout the rest of the meal, they talked about more inconsequential things in an attempt to put Rupert out of their minds. Afterwards, Riyan headed off to bed as he must be up with the dawn to once again shepherd the flock.

  The following morning he was up well before the sun crested the eastern horizon. The place where he planned to take the flock to graze was a bit further into the hills than where he took them yesterday. But as his father taught him, if the sheep were allowed to graze too long in one place, it would eventually ruin the area for grazing. His father once related an experience he had while a young man. He was just learning the art of shepherding and had allowed his flock to graze one area for several weeks in succession. Such constant grazing had left the area unusable for many weeks. So now Riyan always made sure that he rotated the flock between the various pastures among the hills.

  It took him well over an hour to bring the flock to the desired pasture. Nestled in among the hills such as it was, it had always been one of Riyan’s favorite places to take them. The quiet and tranquility of this area of the hills was accentuated by a stream that worked its way from one end to the other.

  Once the flock was situated where he wanted them, he made himself comfortable under a tree while he kept an eye on them. Off to the west rose the mountains that separate these lands from that of the goblins. He often wondered what they looked like. Oh sure, he heard tales of them all his life. Supposedly they were about half to two-thirds the size of the average human with a slight greenish hue to their skin. But he’s never seen one and always wanted to. Though from a distance, as they’re reputed to be rather antisocial creatures and prone to attacking anything that came near.

  The day went by as every other day of his life has, boring and dull. Most of his time was spent simply doing nothing but sitting and watching his flock. Other times he took out his sling and pretended that he was a fighter in one of the stories he and Chad tell one another. He would run around the hill and ‘kill’ enemies with stones slung from his sling. Of course the plethora of enemies he killed was in actuality small plants, trees and the occasional rock. His aim has improved greatly over the years. Even at a run he could hit his target more often than not.

  He always carried a staff with him as well as his sling while out watching his flock. There had been times over the years when between his staff and sling, he was able to fight off predators that tried to make off with one of his sheep. When not spending time ‘killing monsters’ with his sling, he worked on his staff. He’s become pretty decent at twirling it, but not so good that it hummed when he spun it. In the stories the bards always tell, the great staffers could cause their staves to hum. There were times when he believed some of the tales the bards told were a bit overexaggerated.

  Baaaaaaa!

  “Now what?” he asked himself. He had been dozing under the tree, basking in the warmth of the morning sun. Looking over the flock, he tried to ascertain which one of them was bleating. Black Face, the trouble maker, was nowhere to be seen. “Of course.” Leaving his staff leaning against the tree, he got to his feet and followed the sound of the bleating.

  The sound was coming from over the far side of a nearby hill. He walked quickly towa
rds it, dreaming of the time when they would sell off some of the flock. He’s going to make sure Black Face is one of the ones to go.

  He hurried up the side of the hill and when he crested it, looked down the other side. “Black Face!” he cried out as he took his sling from his belt.

  Baaaaaaa!

  Black Face again cried out in fear as one of the predators of the mountains circled it. A small animal barely half Black Face’s size, yet with a strong jaw and sharp teeth they were a constant threat in these parts.

  Riyan placed a stone within the cup of the sling and quickly got it up to speed. Then he launched it at the animal just as it readied to attack. The stone flew straight and true towards the small dog like creature and struck it in the side of the head. The blow sent it reeling to the side before collapsing to the ground.

  He raced down the hill and when he reached Black Face, shooed the sheep back up the hill towards the rest of the flock. Then he turned his attention back to the predator and saw that it was still breathing. Riyan stepped closer and pulled out his knife. With a quick strike, he killed it.

  Quillim’s city council has posted a two silver piece bounty on the animal due to the menace it posed to the community. Many sheep have been lost to them over the years. Riyan picked the animal up by the scruff of the neck and carried it back to where he’s been keeping watch over the flock.

  The rest of the day passed uneventfully and when he returned home with the flock later that night, showed the dead animal to his mother. “I’m going to go in early tomorrow and collect the bounty,” he said. “Then I’ll take the flock out in the afternoon.”

  His mother took the carcass and cut the animal’s head off. That’s all that was required by the Council in order to receive the bounty. The rest of it she dressed and began to prepare it for the next evening’s dinner.

  The following morning an hour or so after they finished their morning meal, Riyan walked into town with the sack containing the animal’s head. Quillim’s not much of a town. It has the essentials required of every town; a chandler’s shop, baker, butcher, etc. All the places the neighboring townsfolk needed in order to survive.

  The building housing the Magistrate’s Office and the Council’s meeting hall sat prominently in the center of town. It was to this building that Riyan took the animal’s head. He slowed down when he saw the three young men who were Rupert’s cronies talking with one another near the town hall’s front entrance. When they noticed Riyan approaching, they grew quiet and turned toward him. Just then, Freya and her father exited the building through the front door.

  “Freya!” he exclaimed quite happily. He and Freya have been friends for as long as either one could remember. In his heart he has always cared deeply for her and even had thoughts that they may one day be married.

  His mood quickly sobered when she failed to meet his eyes. Her father nodded his head in greeting and gave him a curt, “Riyan.” Then they brushed past him without speaking. He turned to look at them as they left and Freya glanced over her shoulder back to him. Their eyes locked for a brief second before she broke the contact and turned her head forward once more.

  He came to a stop as he watched her leave, puzzled by her reaction. Usually she was quite excited to see him. After all, with him out in the fields with the sheep most of the time, there was little opportunity for them to spend any time together.

  “What’s the matter?” one of Rupert’s friends asked as the three of them came and surrounded him.

  “Maybe she doesn’t like him anymore?” another one quipped.

  “Could be she found a better man, one that doesn’t smell like sheep dung,” the third one said. At that he and the others started laughing derisively.

  Riyan ignored their taunts as he knew that to respond in any way would only egg them on. He tried to continue on to the town hall’s entrance but was blocked when the first one stepped in front of him and put his hand on Riyan’s chest.

  His eyes went down to look at the sack Riyan held in his hand. “What do you have there?” he asked.

  “Nothing you’d be interested in,” replied Riyan.

  “Oh yeah?” asked another of them. Then he snatched it out of his hand.

  “Give it back!” demanded Riyan.

  Holding the sack before him, the young man asked, “Or what?”

  Before Riyan had the chance to reply, Rupert and his father the Magistrate exited the building. The Magistrate quickly grasped what was going on by the way the three young men had Riyan surrounded and how the one young man was holding the sack out before him.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked.

  The three young men turned toward him quickly, startled by his sudden appearance. “Uh, nothing.”

  Riyan turned to face the Magistrate and said, “I killed a kidog. I was bringing it to collect the bounty when they took the sack containing its head from me.”

  The Magistrate’s face darkened as he turned to face the one holding the sack.

  “Was nothing like that your honor,” the young man explained. “Just having a little fun is all.”

  “Give it back Girg,” the Magistrate ordered.

  “Sure thing,” Girg replied. Then he handed the sack back to Riyan. “Here you go.”

  Riyan snatched the sack out of his hand and then said to the Magistrate, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcomed my boy,” he replied to Riyan. “Go inside and Ceci will take care of it for you.”

  Riyan nodded and as the young man stepped out of his way, he walked towards the door. Behind him he heard the Magistrate begin to berate his son about the conduct of his friends. Riyan doubted it would do any good, more than likely would cause him to get a beating the next time he and Rupert met.

  He walked through the entrance and then entered the first door on his right. Within he found Ceci, the lady who looked after the town hall as well as paid for the bounties and various other duties. She looked up from her desk and saw him standing there just within her doorway. From the blood stains on the sack, she knew what he was here for.

  He held up the sack and said, “Bagged a kidog yesterday.”

  She motioned for him to come forward and then took the sack from him when he offered it to her. Opening it up, she saw the severed kidog head and then nodded. She set the sack on the floor behind her and then opened a strong box that was resting on the floor next to her desk. After removing two silver pieces, she handed them over to him. “Good work Riyan,” she praised.

  “Thank you,” he replied as he took the coins.

  “Did you hear?” she asked with a smile.

  “I haven’t been in town lately,” he explained. “Something going on?”

  “Oh yes,” she replied. “Rupert and Freya are to be married.”

  “What?” he exclaimed loudly.

  “Sometime last night Rupert asked her father for her hand and he said yes,” she explained. Then she saw the look in his eyes and realized something was amiss. “Are you okay?”

  Dazed, his mind numb and heart breaking, Riyan paid her question no heed. Instead, he turned around and rushed from the building. Once outside, he searched for Freya and her father but they were no longer in sight. He then began running towards their home that set on the edge of town.

  How could she be marrying Rupert? All his life he had thought that one day they would get together and be married. He just hadn’t worked up the courage to ask her father as yet. Now there was no longer any time, he had to state his intentions and get him to change his mind.

  Several people hailed him as he ran through town, but so intent on his own inner turmoil was he, that he didn’t even know they were there. Finally, their house appeared down the street before him. He could see the front door was just closing. Running up to the door, he gave it three firm knocks.

  When it opened, Freya’s father stood there before him. “I thought you might show up,” he said.

  “You can’t let Freya marry Rupert,” he said. “He’s a terr
ible person.”

  “I know you care for her,” her father replied. “But I have to think of what’s best for Freya. This marriage will assure her of never having to worry about what tomorrow will bring. His family is wealthy and well connected.”

  “But…” Riyan stammered. When Freya’s father looked questioningly at him, he blurted out, “But I love her and want to marry her!”

  Her father’s eyes turned sad at that. “I know son,” he said. “I’ve known for awhile now that you’ve felt this way.”

  Then behind her father Riyan saw Freya appear from the back room. “Freya!” he hollered to her. “You can’t marry Rupert!”

  Her father turned around and said, “Get back in your room Freya. Riyan and I need to have a little talk.”

  She looked with deep sadness to Riyan and then replied, “Yes father.” Then turning around, she went back into her room.

  Freya’s father stepped outside and joined Riyan before shutting the door. “I like you boy,” he said. “I always have. But I can’t let that get in the way of making the best match I can for my daughter.”

  When Riyan tried to break in, he held up his hand and stopped him. “You are a poor shepherd,” he continued. “You don’t even own the land on which your sheep graze. What life could you give her?”

  “But I love her,” he asserted.

  “Son, in life, love simply isn’t enough.” He laid his hand on Riyan’s shoulder. “My daughter cares for you, I would hate for her to lose your friendship because of this.”

  Riyan snapped his eyes to his and replied, “She’ll never lose it. I just…”

  “Go home Riyan,” her father said. “Go home and work to get over it.” He then turned and opened the door. He paused there a moment before saying, “It might be best for all concerned if you don’t have any contact with my daughter until after the marriage.” Without waiting for Riyan’s response, he went back into the house and shut the door.