The Travelers' Song

by Brendan O'Gara

  “Please bear with me, as I’ve been mostly dead all day.” Johan began to center herself and grabbed up a tankard of mead. Chuckles went through the crowd. “This song is called ‘Green Dresses’,” Johan said, and caught the eye of an attractive barmaid and flashed that smile again.

  “I find in the evenings ten times out of ten

  If I smile at her right, I can get any gal

  We go somewhere secluded and lie down on the grass

  And we’ll fool around and I’ll show her my...rank

  I’m a young man of savvy and charm

  And I’ve slept with all the young girls on the farm

  Some like it gentle and some like it rough

  I want it all and I can’t get enough.

  Oooooohhhh, flatten the grass, flatten the grass

  It’s clear what we’re doing to flatten the grass

  Flatten the grass, flatten the grass

  It’s clear what we’re doing to flatten the grass

  Da says that gals have one thing on their minds

  But she may be in shock, if she only finds

  That I have the same thing on my mind as well

  She’ll preach and she’ll tell me I’m going to hell

  But I’m not gonna stop, it just feels too damn good

  For a roll in the hay I’m always in the mood

  But I do it discreetly and the clues I mask

  I’ll tell her no lies if no questions she’ll ask

  Oooooohhhh, Flatten the grass, flatten the grass

  It’s clear what we’re doing to flatten the grass

  Flatten the grass, flatten the grass

  Ma says that young lads have to take care

  So I heed these words and I always prepare

  I make sure to take droughts, you can’t count on the girl

  If she’s after sex then she surely will lie!”

  Johan took a bow to a roaring ovation and laughter from the crowd. After the accolades quieted down, he took a long pull on a tankard of ale. He gathered up his wits and began to tell a story.

  “One day a young lad, let’s call him Glen, approached Mr. Clemmons’ house and knocked on the door. After they exchanged a few pleasantries, Glen asked Mr. Clemmons, ‘Sir, I noticed ye got some milkweed growing in your pasture, mind if go back there and get some milk?’ Amused by the request, Mr. Clemmons replied, ‘Help yer own self’, knowing full well that the lad could not possibly get milk from weed. Glen came back to Mr. Clemmons with pails of milk. Glen thanked the now shocked and speechless Mr. Clemmons and went on his way. The next day Glen knocked on Mr. Clemmons’ door again. ‘Afternoon, Mr. Clemmons. I noticed ye had some buttercups growing in the pasture, mind if I get some butter?’ Mr. Clemmons replied, "Help yer own self.’ Mr. Clemmons thought that Glen must be a daft one. Glen came back with pails of butter. The next day Glen knocked on Mr. Clemmons’ door for a third time. Mr. Clemmons eagerly greeted the young man. ‘How may I help ye today?" said Mr. Clemmons. "Well sir, I noticed ye had some pussy willows growing in your pasture...’ Before Glen could finish Mr. Clemmons interrupted, " Let me go get my boots!’ Johan finished and the crowd erupted into laughter. A smile crept across Charlotte's face. She was amused, though she had heard many versions of the story around tables in her father’s court.

  The door opened and a stranger walked in, holding close to the wall. His head was covered by a crimson cloak so dark it appeared black in the tavern’s torchlight. He took a seat at the far end of the bar in an equally dark corner. He watched as the crowd moved and laughed in unison at something Johan and said. Then he saw her. She was seated across from the bard, smiling. Just as he remembered her. The stranger ordered a tankard of ale, sliced raw beef, and bread. He ate in shadow, watching her. She was smiling and safe. That was all he needed to know. It was not the time or place to make his presence known to her.

  The evening passed with happiness in the hearts of the townsfolk, Johan, and Charlotte. The stranger left the tavern as he arrived, in shadow and unseen by Charlotte or Johan.

  Later that evening Charlotte was helped by Pearl Cleage, who eventually did tell his story, to get a slightly inebriated Johan back to the room. As Charlotte stood and supported Johan, his arm on her shoulder, she felt a tingle on the back of her neck. Something stirred in her gut and she turned to look at an empty, dark corner of the tavern. Shaking off the feeling, she and Pearl Cleage ascended the stairs to the room.

  In the room, she reported to Darr that all was well. Darr ventured down to the kitchen to gather food and provisions for his company. The others slept soundly. When they did wake, Darr knew they would be famished. He returned to the room to find even Charlotte asleep in the bed situated in the center of the room. He locked the door, covered the girl with a heavy quilt, and settled into the chair next to her.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  From the outside the house looked old, but wonderfully so, with brown bricks and granite decorations. Tall windows let in plenty of light that lined the house in a eye pleasing asymmetric way. The house was equipped with an average kitchen, one bathroom, a large living room, three bedrooms, dining area, sun room, and a storage room. The second floor was same size as the first, with an overhang on the bottom and a balcony on the top. The top floor had a slightly different style than the floor below. The roof was high and square, covered with overlapping roof tiles. One small chimney sat at the side of the house. A few small round windows let in enough light to the rooms below the roof. The house was surrounded by paved ground, with a small pond at one side and various potted plants all around the house.

  Stepping out of the mirror-like portal in space, leaving behind a liquid like a ripple in the glass, an elf in tan leather breeches with a flowing linen shirt and matching leather vest, dark brown leather fedora on his head, entered the house. Silver shoulder-length hair slightly covered a furrowed, lived-in face. He stood short among other elves, despite his sturdy frame. Freckles spread seductively over his nose and cheekbones, leaving a delightful memory of his fortunate destiny. A true gentleman among Silver Elves. Conspicuous green eyes, set tight within their sockets, watched slowly over the surroundings. He was satisfied that he’d stepped out into his bed chamber.

  There was something mystifying about him—perhaps it was the indifference on his face or perhaps it was simply a feeling of regret. Nonetheless, because of his trustful face people tended to share local gossip with him, trying to please him.

  As soon as he stepped past the threshold of the mirror and away from it he was followed by a large person. This man was the polar opposite of the elf. He was in a set of armor, that had a coif with half-face guard shaped like the eyes of a demon. Attached to the top were hundreds of thin, sharp metal pins scattered all over. The shoulder plates were rounded, long, and quite large. They were decorated with three sword handles on each side, all pointing downward as if a sword had pierced the shoulders. The upper arms were protected by pointed, fully covering rerebraces which sat well under the shoulder plates. The lower arms were covered by vambraces which had a hook attached to the outer side, usable in combat. The breastplate was made from many vertical layers of leather with rounded edges and decorative pieces. It covered everything from the neck down, narrowing near the groin and leaving part of the sides exposed. The upper legs were covered by a skirt of diagonal layers of leather and fur, reaching below the groin. The front was open. The lower legs were protected by leather boots which had rows upon rows of small leather pieces, mimicking fish scales. No pants were worn beneath this all. His face was not in view at all. Hollow amber eyes, set narrowly within their sockets, watched cautiously over the man he was paid to protect, never far from one another.

  The man in the armor was known as Vanquish, a true shadow among assassins. He stood graciously among others, despite his bulky frame. Those who saw his true face never lived long enough to tell the tale. Speaking in the language of the assassins’ guild of Emeranthia, Vanquish addressed his charge. “Why here?”
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br />   “Are you aware of what that language sounds like to the everyday person?” the elf said, his face scrunched up in disgust. Like a cow had dropped a steaming pile of feces in front of him.

  “Do not care, why here?” Vanquish continued in the same language.

  “Well I care, and I am not going to answer further. I am not going to speak another word to you until you begin to speak in the common tongue,” the elf complained. Vanquish cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders a couple of times to prepare. “Is this better?” he said, in the common tongue of man.

  “Yes, just so,” the silver-haired elf replied. Vanquish raised a hand, palm up, in a silent manner to request explanation. “Shall I give you the definition of quantum entanglement, physics, and teleportation of energy, or should I just give you the simple reason?” the elf said.

  A fairly sour grimace crept across the face of Vanquish and he waited.

  “Right, simple it is. Why here? Exact known location. I know where this room is and where that mirror is located. I do not know where the nearest mirror is for the location of the people I have been sent to find, only that they are in this city, such as it is.” The elf looked around the room, noticing that the window to the room was open here on the second floor. There were water stains from a recent rain storm on the floor. The elf shook his head. Low air pressure from a storm front had been through recently, forcing the temperature to drop; unseasonably cool for this region and time of year “Do you require anything? Some refreshment, some water or anything? This is one of my houses after all, and I’m duty-bound to offer you hospitality,” the elf gestured about the room and the house.

  “You are most kind, however I require nothing,” his companion replied, raising an eyebrow in mock politeness, and moved towards the door.

  “Then we are away, just so.” The two exited the room, making quick time of the stairs, not even bothering to look at the premises. They moved out the door, not a word between them. Once outside the home, with a quick incantation and slight move of the hand, the Silver Elf used Eldritch to close and lock the door.

  Vanquish fully took in his surroundings. He looked up at the stars, inhaling deeply of the evening air. He smelled and tasted brine. Cautious of others in the streets, he looked around at the shadows before removing a red gemstone the size of a small plum from his belt pouch and looked at it intently for a moment. “There are agents of the Empire twenty-five-hundred-feet that way,” he said, and pointed out towards the city buildings.

  “Excellent, my friend. With any luck we will be able to collect them and be back to the Stygian Keep before dinner.” The elf was pleased. He looked to the sky and was again pleased that it was early morning. The small hours of the morning were best for travel—fewer people to nose around and ask questions. The stars were still out in Blackweb. Time was nearing the hour of the Jackal, around four in the morning. A clear night after a storm had passed he imagined.

  “I remember when I was younger, I was fascinated by the stars. I thought they were magic.” The elf chuckled. “I kept coming up with all these crazy ideas about how they worked, what they were. I drove my teachers insane at the Academy of Magic.”

  “You were educated in the capital; you do not seem the type. Not that it matters,” Vanquish said as the two men rounded a corner and had full view of the city. The elf had failed to mention that they were on an island portion of the city and would have to cross a short bridge to get to the mainland and to the agents.

  “The air is heavy tonight. Something stirs within it, so we need to move quickly,” Vanquish assessed as they came through an opening, where they saw a short bridge. He looked at the location gem again and saw they were headed in the right direction.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Not too far from the bridge, in the upstairs room, Darr awoke and said morning prayer. The rest of the group still slept; except Gadlin, who sat down the hall inside the community bath. As he washed himself, he also washed his clothing and undergarments. Relaxed, he hummed a tune with words that he made up. Gadlin often changed the verses depending on his mood. “When I heard that sound, when the walls came down, I was thinking about you, lord.” Gadlin sang peacefully to himself as he sat in the large copper tub. He wondered if it had at one time been a bath for one giant person or for groups of regular sized people. Gadlin thought it did not matter. He was using it and was going to enjoy it. The tub was far better than getting rained on and calling that a bath. “When I run out of air to breath it’s your soul I will see,” Gadlin sang. He was happy and truly free.

  In the harpy cloak, Wandalor came to his senses and realized he was sitting upright with his legs crossed. He was surrounded by the cloak and assumed the harpy cloak had moved and righted him in his state of torpor. He spoke a simple activation word. The cloak opened, and he stood and exited the safe space. The room, lit by the fire and a pair of oil lamps, was warm and peaceful. Thalin lay on a bed, beginning to rouse from slumber. Charlotte slept entangled a pile of blankets on one of the beds. Darr was, as expected, in his position to pray to his God of Light. Gadlin was nowhere to be seen; Wandalor presumed he was in the bath cleaning, as was his morning routine in the city.

  Wandalor’s eyes fell on the reason for the whole ordeal. Johan. A smile crept onto Wandalor’s face and, try as he might, he could not remove it. Johan’s chest rose and fell in even, steady breaths. Alive. His friend had survived.

  The sun crested the city walls and shone through the thin glass windows of the inn, landing on Darr as he ended his prayer. He stood and announced like a general, “Up! Up! Up with the dawn, you heathens. We have work to do. Morning rituals to attend, armor to mend. Miles to cover.”

  The room erupted in a bustle of elbows and knees. Charlotte moaned as she pulled the cover over her head.

  “Come on, fair Lady Charlotte. Let the sun warm your beautiful face,” Johan said as he stretched. Under the blanket Charlotte smiled, happy to hear Johan’s voice.

  “Not a day has passed since you were a dead man and you’re already trying to get under a skirt,” Darr chastised.

  “If it were a skirt I wanted, I had my choice of flowing fabric last night in the tavern. I am simply paying my loyal friend the respect she’s due for sitting with you over my body for countless hours. The woman deserves an honor greater than a compliment,” Johan said with a laugh.

  Charlotte moaned again. “I am not getting out from under this quilt until all you males get out of this room. I care not your race.” The men shrugged. Each in turn pulled a chair and sat facing the far wall, their backs toward Charlotte.

  “There you are, miss. We’re not watching,” Darr said.

  Charlotte lifted one corner of the quilt and saw the men were in a straight row in chairs. She smiled and rose. She reached for a pair of sturdy pants, a long sleeve shirt, brown leather corset with silver claw hooks on front which she fastened, and around her waist she tied a kama that looked like a leather skirt, open in the front, that landed right behind her calves. She topped it off with a soft, worn, brown leather jacket adorned with shoulder pads studded with metal. “You may turn around now,” she said, satisfied.

  “Now that is how a lady should dress for travel,” Thalin said approvingly as he tossed some of his clothing and armor onto one of the empty cots.

  The group worked together, getting themselves into clothes. As they moved they each slapped a friendly hand on Johan’s back. They each laid out the armor that needed mending onto the cot with Thalin’s. Gadlin came through the door with nothing on but a smile, looking at the pile of various clothing and items on the cot. He tossed his armor and his wet clothing onto the bed, then let out a deep belly laugh and wrapped his arms around Johan in a huge man hug before he walked over and sat in a chair at the table. A serving girl followed behind Gadlin and set down platters of eggs, fruit, and meats. A second girl came in with a tray of bread and a carafe of wine. As the first two had, a third girl came into the room and presented Gadlin with a bottle of mead
, to which he nodded and smiled.

  Wandalor walked over to the bed with the pile of clothing and armor. He pulled a wooden wand from his cloak and with a simple incantation and wave of the wand over the pile, the wand’s runes glowed a bright blue. As more than one charge was needed for the mending, Wandalor continued to wave. As he did so, the runes glowed less and less until finally he stopped and declared all items refreshed.

  Johan sat next to his friend, and Gadlin passed him some food. Darr and Thalin sat as well. Thalin began to pour mead for the group. Charlotte moved to join them at the table. She passed by Gadlin’s chair and dropped a square cloth onto his lap. “A prize like that should be covered, sir,” she said, and sat across the table.

  Darr shook his head. “A lady indeed,” he quipped as the table erupted in jovial laughter.

  Wandalor took a seat at the head of the table. “Did you know that humans are the most biased when it comes to racial problems? In their history we can see ages of man that appear to be more bigoted than others. Humans sat judge on each other simply because of skin color. Ridiculous. As if the sun did not darken or lighten their hides like the rest of us. They had their moments, that is true. However, even in humanity’s lowest racist moment, they were by far not the worst of all the races. Take elves for instance. Elves are concerned with their pure blood. The pure elf ideas are law, so much so that a half-elf is shunned from Elven society.” Wandalor shook his head in disgust. “Pushed off to go live with humans. The half-dwarves are the same way, to an extent. The dwarves are so racist it’s pathetic. Even the orcs have a problem with half races. The half-orcs are not seen as being ferocious enough or strong enough. Now, they are smarter than full-blood orcs. The half-orcs have ears and can hear better, you see. Yes, you find a lot less racism in humans than you do any other race. Racism at all in any race is a problem. The humans are happy for anyone else to join their clan or their family. They will accept you no matter what your species as long as you are civilized, even somewhat civil. They respect and often honor you for your uniqueness. They like that you bring something new to the table. Humans are known to embrace and enjoy multiculturalism. Some say that mere humans are primitive, some say they evolved from apes, not created beings at all. Truth remains, we all owe our existence to the lowly human. Now tell me, who is the more enlightened and who is the more primitive species?” Wandalor said.