Chenga

The Road South

Morning came all too quickly for Nirgalen and Simarl.  They'd forgotten how good it was to just lay in a soft bed and, as they woke, they felt terrible.  Aches and pains, hunger and fatigue from the last months of running and hiding had all caught up with them.  All they wanted to do was rest.  Yet they knew that a new day and a new venture lay in store: the die was cast, it was time to play on.

'So, Kahu, how did you know that the Peytahns wouldn't have seen the old bottle trick?'  Nirgalen looked over to Simarl.

'I didn't, but, hell, I figured there were only three of them.'  Simarl yawned, scratched his head, sniffed at his unwashed armpits and winced at the smell.

'Right.  And as for offering me up to die... next time leave me out of it, okay.'

'Well, look at it this way: we got food, more ale than our heads could do with and... we have weapons!'

Nirgalen grunted.  It did look as if their luck had changed.  During the night a slave of the Peytahns had arrived, cursing as he drove a lumbering ox cart into the yard of the inn.  Although their clothes were still ragged, Nirgalen and Simarl now had light chain mail, albeit a little bloodstained and torn, and the weapons they had asked for.  The weapons were all shoddy, and a little on the large size, but they had weapons.

Now, Nirgalen, why do we need this old witch?'  Simarl threw a question back to his friend, as he searched for his boots.

'Well, let's just say I've got a feeling about this... not a good feeling, but I think she might know what's going on and she might have something useful up her sleeves.  Didn't your mother tell you to respect your elders?'  Nirgalen stretched his arms and started to make ready to leave.

'Sad to say, I'm not sure if I even had a mother.  How do we find this old trelk, then?'  Simarl was putting on his boots and peered at Nirgalen through holes in the bottom of the soles.

'The innkeep said his daughter would show us the way?'

'Oooh, now that does sound good, was she that big wench?'

'Not sure.  He just said to set off down the road heading south and that the girl would catch up with us.  He said she was a good looking girl, with long dark hair, but he is her father, so who's to know?  Anyhow, get yer boots on and let's see what's out there.'

The sky was clear again and the day all the colder for it.  As Nirgalen crunched his way along the frozen ice of the roadway he wished they'd sorted out getting hold of some new clothes.  Muldoon the innkeep had given them the hundred in gold, but that wouldn't go far.  They weren't a whole lot better off than when they had walked into town.  Still, gainful employment of a kind lay before them, and dinner, sleep and breakfast had all been welcome.  The weight and smell of the chain mail and the weapons at their sides made Nirgalen feel much more comfortable, too.

As they moved on out of town, the dark trees closed in around them.  Simarl was whistling some tune he'd picked up in a bordello in Deneb and Nirgalen was pondering what their next move should be.  He was almost lost to his thoughts, but a nagging feeling snapped him out of his day-dreaming.  He turned slightly and looked to the right side of the road.  Time slowed for an instant.  Too late, he heard the sound of a bowstring slapping against the leather at someone's wrist.

'Dren, get d-'  he just had time to shout before the arrow hit him in the side.  A painful punch and the feeling of ripping flesh was the next thing he knew.  Nirgalen fell to the ground in the bushes by the roadside.

Simarl spun around as another arrow sailed past his ear, then dived into the bush where Nirgalen had fallen.  All the leaves were gone and the thorny patch of vegetation gave little cover.  Nirgalen gasped for air.  Simarl dragged him further into the woods and checked his wound quickly.