The Shattered Path

Chapter 2 - The Report

"That won't be a problem," Aryl assured. Sarcastically he added, "But what a great tale it would be to tell the tale of a guy killed telling the tale of a guy killed telling the tale of a guy being killed."

"I give you permission, if such befalls me, and you be so foolish to draw bad luck," Jaegor replied solemnly.

Aryl already had bad luck. Shaking his head, he walked near the corpse of the hanaran and lifted his water skin from a withered, brown bush. He gripped the cork with his teeth and spit it to the ground. The water was hot, but it was the best he had tasted in a long time. He didn't drink it all, picking up the cork from the soil and brushing it against his leg before plugging the skin. He gave this cork an extra push to make certain it was firmly in place.

"The other scouts think you be scampin' coins from the Brotherhood," spoke Jaegor casually, removing a familiar skin from his pack. He pulled the cork with his teeth and spit it aside, mocking how Aryl had done it. He turned the skin to his lips and red liquid trickled through his beard, dripping to the thirsty ground. Most of the drink fell to the ground. He lowered the skin and added, "I know you be here because of loyalty to your friend. Not because you love the Lands." He held out the skin. "Sip?"

Aryl shook his head. "What do you mean by scampin'?" The aroma of the wine was spicy and sweet like only Erinyrians could make wine. "I'm not sure that is even a word."

"You don't be killing the beasties." Jaegor frowned at him. "It be a scout's duty to bring back beastie scalps." He wiped his lips with a dusty sleeve, leaving a brownish-red smear across his cheeks.

"Tengrin mentioned the bounty for scalps, but never said we had to take them," explained Aryl. Tengrin was the Scout Master by title, and not really a scout himself, but a member of the Brotherhood tasked to handle matters concerning the scouts. He was an old man who kept himself clean and well-groomed, thus clearly not a scout. "Tengrin should have simply said so, if that was the case."

"Old Tenny? He wouldn't last fifty paces in the Lands. He don't even like to talk about beasties. Don't surprise me none that he'd skip the subject altogether," laughed Jaegor. "Why be a Mutt? You could be a soldier in the Might and stay behind those shiny walls. Wash you feet and such."

"I wanted to try something different, I guess," offered Aryl weakly. Aerham had lived his whole twenty years with the dream of becoming a Brother of Sun and Aryl had agreed to accompany him. Upon arrival, he had been given a choice: join the soldiers of Ravyn's Might and march in formation; or join the scouts, calling themselves Ravyn's Mutts, and go when and where he chose. It had been the easiest decision he had ever made, and the worst. "Sneaking through a city is a lot easier than this. I didn't think it would be so hard. No one sniffs you out or follows your footprints in the city. And they don't try to eat you once they find you, either. Typically they just remind you to stay away from their daughter."

Jaegor raised an eyebrow, considering Aryl before nodding. "You be true in your heart. I might take you under my wing and teach you some things." He winked and turned the skin up, finishing the expensive wine, though it seemed most of it quenched the ground's thirst.

"I won't complain about the help." Aryl needed a lot of help, but it wouldn't matter by nightfall because he would be at the fortress in a soft bed. Tomorrow, he would wake early and head for Arnich. He wasn't sure what he would do if he couldn't convince Aerham to leave the Brotherhood with him. He would hate to leave his friend behind, but he couldn't scout any longer and he would never be a soldier.

Jaegor dropped the empty skin and belched. "You should carry a sword, featherback."

"I have a sword," Aryl snapped. "Somewhere." He hated being called a 'featherback'. It was the name the scouts used to refer to those who slept on plush beds stuffed with down. It made Aryl think of a goose or duck, which he was not. In normal company, sleeping on a bed was normal. Perhaps, he should call them 'rockbacks' or just 'stupid'.