The Warden

Chapter 13

Masis made no move. Their laughter did little to put him at ease. The firelight cast the men's shadows onto the towering trees, stretched and menacing, intangible giants that danced about wildly with every flicker and fade.

Neither Gris nor Grim made any move. They stood easy, wiping the humor from their eyes. They looked at Masis expectantly.

Shrugging off his wariness with a sigh, Masis stooped to one of his saddlebags, his hands working the flap open. He disturbed the bag of silver with his brusque movements, the jingle of silver sounding out over the cracks and snaps of the fire. He kept his face from the firelight, before he rose to face the brothers.

"Here," said Masis, tossing the waterskin.

Gris caught it easily. "Many thanks."

Pulling the stop from its top, the man took a long pull before passing the waterskin to his brother, who meticulously wiped its mouth.

"Can't be too careful," said Grim, winking. " 'specially, when it comes to me mealy mouthed brother." Grim's grin fully revealed his brown, cankered teeth. He took several long drinks. A few drips dribbled down his chin, soaking into his sweat-stiff shirt.

"So, what in Manu's name is a young lad like yourself doing out in the middle of Asthurn in the middle of the night?" asked Gris, seeming sincere enough.

"Heading to the capital," said Masis.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's dangerous to travel by yourself? 'specially, in this part of the forest. There are some nasty folks about. Didn't your da teach a little caution?"

Masis wilted. His breath caught. Memories of that night arrested his lungs. "I'm afraid neither he or the tutors got around to that."

"Isn't that sad," Grim said, his tone sharpening. "Ma and da didn't get good enough tutors. You must have had a rough go of it. Me brother, Gris, and me, now we had the best tutors in the world. Didn't we, Gris?"

Gris slapped the back of his brother's head. "Shut up, Grim! Don't be so thick. If you didn't catch it, the boy's parents died." He turned back to Masis. "Sorry 'bout that. Me brother doesn't always know when to keep his mouth shut."

Gris offered the waterskin back to Masis.

Masis stayed rooted to the spot.

"Listen lad," said Gris, "I'm sorry about me brother but it's no reason to be rude so," – he shook the waterskin – "thanks for the drink."

Reluctantly, Masis stepped forward, his hand outstretched.

A calloused hand snatched his wrist. Pain flared up Masis' arm as Gris bore down with his considerable weight, pulling and spinning Masis towards him. Masis' back pressed against Gris's gut. A knife, appearing in the man's other hand, threatened Masis' exposed throat.

"Now, lad," said Gris, his mouth right next to Masis' ear, "I might be a bit more polite than me brother, but that doesn't mean I don't agree with him. This forest is no place for such a respectable boy such as yourself."

Grim sucked his breath in sharply. "Gris, look at his face."

"Bit hard right now, Grim," said Gris, his hold on Masis tight and biting.

Grim's finger quivered as it pointed at Masis' marred face. "He's a ruddy Shadow."

Masis froze in place. In the tussle his cowl had fallen away.

"It don't matter," said Gris, twisting Masis' arm, sending another bolt of pain up his shoulder. "Grab what coin he got and we'll be out of it." Grim thrust his chin out, urging his brother toward the discarded tack.