Radulf: The Unlucky [Act 1]

Chapter 5: Three days at Tyzmyn's (Townspeople)

The townspeople

Chapter 5: Three days at Tyzmyn's

Three days at Tyzmyn's

En. The Three Days

Day one

I woke to find Icon standing quietly in the center of the charred remains of one of his great fires. He was just standing there, as though posed by a sculptor or sketch artist.

Louder than I'd intended, I said, “Icon … ?”

He looked up, turned his head, then his body and walked over to where I was sitting up on the straw bedding. The shape was more a pile now than the neat rounded rectangle I had seen originally. “I think we are to wait for them to return.” Icon sat and began arranging individual pieces of straw. “There are creatures over there,” he casually indicated by turning a hand and nodding his head, “and Tyzmyn's camp is further,” he gestured up the mountain, “up the mountain”. He went back to arranging the bits of straw. I remember thinking, that will take awhile.

“Creatures?”

“In cages. Small people, I don't know. I've rarely ever exited the valley.” Icon's the valley is the Archangel Valley, or, the valley north of The City on the coast, south of the Archangel Mountains range. “I presume we should feed them. They are pets, I suppose, or something.” Icon stared off into the distance and scratched his chin reflexively. He appeared to be concentrating on his new life-long project of putting the bed back together one grass stalk at a time.

I started getting dressed and wished I could wash up; how many days had I been wearing these clothes? I honestly couldn't remember. Certainly that's a bad sign for more than one reason, “Icon,” I inquired, “is there somewhere I can—”

Not looking up, but interrupting me, he said, “you can get cleaned up, the facilities are near the camp, surprisingly elaborate; we must be close to civilization or something …” He trailed off, deep in thought or work on the bed.

Instead of getting dressed, I bundled everything together and walked in the direction indicated. Icon was right, tho, Tyzmyn's camp wasn't nearly as rustic as the word camp may suggest. I was able to not only shower, but also freshen my clothes. After I finished putting on my—now clean-smelling—outfit, I investigated the cabin which was not very big, but clean. I picked up a bag marked feed and carried it back down to where Icon was still arranging the matchsticks of hay or straw that composed the bed, but it did not appear any work had been done.

“Helloa, that was extraordinary.” I said as I approached Icon. He looked at me, turned his face up and then began to stand, swiping his hands together twice. I noticed for the first time that he was wearing different clothes. A kind of fitted top of the style favored by children and baggy pants held at the waist and ankles with an elastic cinch. “You're dressed like a nørd, by the way.”

“'Twas all I could find, Mr. Fancy-pants.” The truth is, I can't remember his exact words. He and I inspected the cages.

“Goblins,” I said, “goblins and gremlins.”

Icon strummed his skarpe kløer, his fingernails, against the bars of one of the cages and the creature inside stood up, reached out. Icon carefully tore the feed bag open. Addressing the captive, he said, “is this your food?”

“The mistress.” It said. Icon looked at me and I shrugged, he shrugged. We waited thinking the goblin would continue.

“Speak!” Icon said this, a frustrated command. But besides a sharp yapping cry, the creature said nothing more.