The nickering of the stallion stirred Verick from his restless sleep. As he sat up, pushing his wispy silver hair from his eyes, he blinked the last remaining bits of sleep away. His sinewy arms creaked under his weight, the arms that so many years ago could have lifted the bastard sword he carried with ease, now shrunken with age, struggled to lift such a weapon without pain.
He sat back onto his bedroll, his bony old ass somehow always finding a stone or root just to remind him of the old man he had become. The Stallion's silhouette was almost lost in the deep blue of dawn's first light, and all that could be made out was the bright white star, set right in the middle of his watchful eyes. The horse who owned those eyes had been his only companion these past few weeks. Vaelon, Verick had called him, so that when he introduced himself and the steed the sound of the names would ring together like a well plucked chord. He had always had a soft spot for horses.
"Less likely to betray you" he would say. "Give a horse love and food, he'll do the same. So much can't always be said of people." In his long and eventful life Verick had known many people. Many faces filled his restless dreams, many had been friends, and some had been enemies. This night had been no different. Voices from distant memories calling to him from his sleep, the sight of the woman lying in bed, the crimson sash across her chest, her bare breast cold and pale. Scratching at his beard he shook the dream from his thought.
"Well...seems only fair if you're not getting any sleep that I should be either. You're the one hauling this junk around" the old man smiled patting Vaelon's cheek as he reached down to nibble at the small patches of grass. "Suppose you don't want some oats then?" he laughed as he slowly creaked to his feet. Reaching into the pack he had used as a pillow, retrieving a portion of the oats he had bought for the journey, he frowned down at the now dwindling supply.
Traveling through the mountains was no short trip, and for a man his age, an easy one it was not.
The task had seemed simple in the beginning. A short trip across the mountain pass to deliver a bounty back to the Lake Lord who paid him half in advance for the service.
"A thief he is, and a traitor at that!" The portly lord had yelled, waving his grease dipped fingers. "I trusted this boy, treated him as a son! This is my payment, oh yes!" he said punctuating with lick of his thumb. "To be expected...raising common folk to such status is something only those damned Elves would do!" The table had been laid with a truly wondrous feast. Roasted swan stuffed with garlic and wild onions, Baked fruits bathed in honey, Wild boar roasted with wine and garlic oil. Had he been a younger man this would have been a day for Ale and feasting, but as he had aged Verick learned that drinking with lords was only sure to result in trouble.
A passing laugh, a small misplaced chuckle, a misheard phrase. That was all it took for nobility to feel a need to exercise their power. A trip to stock, or the gallows was soon to follow.
So there he sat, silent, listening to the Lord recant the story in between mouthfuls of greasy swan.
"He was a farm boy to start with, simple boy as he was, only good for shoeing horses and cleaning shit! Well as it so happens his family had died in service to me, defending the keep from some damned raiders. The father had asked one thing of me on his death bed, and that was the take his son into the Keep, make sure he didn't want for much.
Reluctantly I accepted these terms, to his credit the boy was quick to learn, and even quicker to please" He paused a minute, staring into his Ale. His voice becoming less boastful, and a tad more somber. "He was a favorite of mine to be sure. No doubt part of why he expected to escape so freely was he knew my love for him, but what good is my word as lord if I don't punish those who steal from me? Hm!? What kind of lord would that make me then? Surely one of your stature and renown can understand my predicament. Surely as a man of law you know better than anyone Sir Veri -"
"Just Verick is fine My Lord" The old man's voice was like stone, cold and hard. He had no love for nobility, even less so for those who lived in such lavish comfort while their common folk slept in huts beyond their walls. Years of kneeling to higher and better men had worn his knees, and his patience.
"I'm no longer a Knight, and have not been for some time. I don't presume any titles that don't befit me" he cast a cold glance up to the head of the table. "I only ask we discuss compensation, my services are grim, and as such don't come cheap, no matter how one may flatter, no matter how one tries to butter my ass, you'll find I don't take much joy in this trade, but it's all I know, and I won't do it for empty words and praise"
"Ah... well of course" the lord sighed, dabbing his lips with an embroidered cloth.
"Half now, to insure you understand what this means to me, and half upon the deliverance of the boy, ALIVE...to be sure"
"To be sure" Verick repeated flatly.
Two weeks had passed since that night. Two weeks of tracking this boy through the wilds, two weeks of searching through trading towns, and two weeks chasing the ghost of this fleeing quarry.
"Dawn should be breaking just over the tops here soon" he sighed brushing the stallion's back.
"The only way through these mountains is this pass here...no sense in going up farther, the snow would eat him in a day...the only way down is this way here" he gestured vaguely through the trees "he came through this way...no doubt in my mind of that, we found plenty of neat piles of his horse's breakfast back near the first ascent last night. A day or two old at the longest, lines up about right with when those trading lines say they saw a shaggy boy with a big painted mare...can't imagine there's two runaway boys coming from the same direction, and both with the same horse"
Brushing the final bits of dust away from Vaelon's back and draping the saddle blanket over him, he began to gather the packs and bags. With the saddle fastened and the supplies packed neatly into place Verick fastened the bridle once more. He had always preferred to use a hackamore* rather than a bridle and bit. A true rider, he felt, treated his horse like a friend, rather than just a mount.
The chain mail hauberk had frosted over slightly during the night, and even through his long grey tunic the chill of the steel sucked his breath away for a moment when he pulled his head through the tight opening. Luckily though, the thick layers of the light armor he wore, protected him from not only the blows of those who would seek to send him to the grave a little quicker, the cold was also shielded out quite well. The thick black gambeson he wore, which at one time had beheld a wonderfully designed, but now faded golden dragon with outstretched wings. His thick leather boots, lined with goat fur, which helped to keep his feet from blackening in the cold mountain air. The long faded grey cloak he had used as a blanket the night before was the final touch, one of the oldest things he owned, one of the few reminders of his old life. He fastened it with a metal clasp shaped in the fashion of a shield bearing a crest, a winged serpent coiled around a sword. With all the layers fastened in place he stretched his crackling limbs. Hoisting himself up in the saddle, the groom and his stallion made their way farther through the pass.
"Can't have gotten too much farther" Verick sighed, watching the steam from his breath rise into the morning light. "Without any feed for that horse of his, and without any food for himself, he would have had to stop somewhere to forage..." in his years of tracking his targets, he learned the patterns most men would follow. Running away from a lord in a hurry in the dead of night usually didn't leave one much time for preparations. A boy his age would have most likely tried to steal something of trading value before making off, but if that was so, how was it that none of the traders who peddled the goods he would have needed hadn't done any business with him? Perhaps he had and the traders were lying, but why? What was in it for them to do so? No, there was no good reason to put yourself in danger for this runaway stranger who now had a hunter after him.
"Fish..." Verick pondered aloud "He would most likely have gone down towards the stream to fish. Not many berries growing in these mountains aside from poisonous ones"
That was a thought...had the boy, in his panic, eaten anything he could find? What if he had already been done in by a crimson mountainberry?
"Let us just hope we find him before death does"
Vaelon sighed loudly as the the duo started making the decent down the mountain path to the rivers below. The path ahead funneled into a small natural stairway that snaked down the side of the mountain. The way down was steep, and dangerous. Had the boy come through here as Verick thought, then he would have needed to dismount here, and lead the horse one step at a time, just as they were. The path was just big enough to accommodate Vaelon's wide frame, and even still the stallion seemed reluctant to press forward. The decent took most of the morning, and as they neared the bottom the path took a steep drop, causing Vaelon to stop in his tracks.
"Come on you big craven mule!" Verick chuckled as he tugged the leads.
"Only a bit more and the road gets wider again, and there's a big bright juicy apple at the end of the road for you" he smiled pulling the promised fruit out from behind his cloak. The promise of treats seemed to coax the ebony giant to move a little faster, though not by much.
By the time the two had made it back onto flatter ground the sun was directly overhead.
Stopping by the river to reward the stallion the final apple in their supply, the two drank from the stream.
"Don't worry boy...we'll take the long way around next time"
Verick smiled as he splashed the icy water over his weathered face, his thick long beard soaked it in and began to stiffen with frost. He looked down into the crystal water, his reflection staring back at him.
His wrinkled cheeks that had once been so full and pink were now gaunt and pale. The eyes in the stream stared back into his own, deep hazel eyes, eyes that had soaked in much of the world, eyes that had seen more than they would have wished. He brushed his fingers over his crooked pointed nose. Bent from fights long past, the souvenirs of his youth. Lost in thought Verick stared into the water for a time.
He stood slowly to his feet, as his knees groaned in protest, he observed the banks around them.
Prints lead towards the nearest bank, a horse had passed through not too long ago, leaving a nice cooled pile behind. He traced the trail of prints with his fingers one by one, finding a shoe nail in the wet gravel.
"Not as good as shoeing horses as his lord says it seems" turning the nail over he spied small signs of rust. "Steel nail...only a day at most" This was no ordinary man's horse. Nails were expensive, and most common folk were wont to forgo expensive shoes and the nails which came with them. Looking back to Vaelon who was busy sloshing the water around with his lips, Verick tucked the nail into his satchel beneath his cloak.
"Trail leads up river road" he mused, shielding his eyes from the bright sun.
"Only two places to go from here. Either Up the mountain on the opposite bank, or he followed the river upstream. Happens that a nice cozy little trading hamlet is up that way, a good place to stop and resupply. Let's hope he went there, I'd rather not freeze my ass of in the mountain again."
He led Vaelon on foot upstream, searching the ground for more signs as they went. Here and there he spotted a track or two; a rabbit's prints stopped abruptly, a few small spotted feathers had been scattered by wind. A great white owl had found its breakfast. But look as he might, he only spotted hints of a horse and rider. A few spots of grass missing some blades where there were taller weeds, a few flattened saplings that had sprouted in the middle of the trail.
The boy had surely taken his time. Even with a day's ride ahead of them it seemed he wasn't expecting his lord to want him back so badly, had he felt that he made it far away enough that no one would have been willing to follow him through the frosty mountains? If the boy had stopped at the Inn ahead to rest, would he still be there? Surely if he was overconfident in his escape he wouldn't have thought it unwise to rest after such a long trek through dangerous and lonely wilds.
As he walked on silently pondering, he chewed his drooping moustache.
The sound of the wind through the trees and the stream over the rocks always soothed his mind. The world always felt so much cleaner out here, away from the keeps and castles of lords and ladies. No bowing or courtesies were needed in the wilds, one was their own out here. All that mattered on the road was your wits, and your blade.
After a time the duo came upon a signpost adorned with decorative engravings of various woodland animals. Carved in neat deep letters the name of the town was displayed
"Fishtown" Verick chuckled softly. An apt name to be sure, but an unflattering one at that. Most towns had been hastily named for what they were known for, and what else could be said about this small trading hamlet nestled in the very middle of these cold and unloving mountains?
Not long after the thatched roofs and pointed chimneys peeked their way over the hill ahead the familiar smells and sounds began to mingle with the mountain's serene and clear atmosphere.
Salted fish was being smoked ahead, the thick acrid scent of brine and smoke almost choked out the clear mountain air. Bread had been baked recently, the shelves and baskets no doubt full to the brim with twisted loaves or sourdough and long thin staves of flaxbread.
The sound of hammers on wood, the sharp high pitched clank of a blacksmith beating a fiery ingot into submission.
A busy town it was, much alive with the music of civilization. The Inn was their first stop, a nice warm stable and a pitcher of Ale was a suitable reward for the trip so far, and even so, the boy would have felt the same.
"Time to see what news there is of a Fasae boy and his painted mare"