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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Fiasco" data-source="post: 2761889" data-attributes="member: 15187">Chapter 2Morgan straightened his back in an attempt to ease the pain of the straps cutting into his shoulders. The road before him rose dishearteningly up a long incline, promising more grief for his aching calves. Behind him Argonne’s irritating chatter, unabated by two days of hard travel, continued to nag at his nerves.“And then t’lass told me, that ah could take mah boots off afore we ‘ad at it again! Aye twas a grand night.”Morgan’s temper flared, along with feelings of envy. While he had endured the good natured baiting of his brothers, the young woodsman had been cavorting in a brothel! On comparing the two alternatives for spending their last evening in Halfast, he saw much to recommend the second course of action. To make matters worse, the march seemed to have no effect on Argonne at all. Late in the afternoon, while the others struggled painfully, his stride was still as enthusiastic as at the break of day. Were it not for Morgan’s stoicism, a characteristic bred into most Fastendians, he would surely have snarled his tormentor to silence; instead, he endured. A glance to the side afforded him his only consolation. As hard as he found the going, there were others who suffered more. Gerard was marching with the fixed expression of one whose misery had completely imposed itself on his awareness. Fastidious to the point of mania, the nobleman had found it impossible to come to terms with the dirt and hardship of the trail. He had tied an expensive silk kerchief about his face in an attempt to keep it free of dust but this had only temporarily alleviated his suffering. The material was now heavily impregnated with material and black grimed rings had formed on the silk where nose and mouth exhaled moistly. The affect was quite comical, but the amusement of the others did not deter the young nobleman from his futile attempts to alleviate his discomfort.Trailing along at the back of the party, Moxadder’s condition was even worse. The Irudeshian’s bare scalp streamed with sweat as his near skeletal body struggled to keep pace with the others. His guts roiled painfully and with a groan he dropped his pack and squatted to the side of the road, rags hiked up to his hips. As welcome as regular food was, it was playing hell with his long neglected digestion. Mortec and Stravarius averted their eyes from the unpleasant sight as they passed but made no move to offer assistance. Bastien had made it clear that no allowances would be made for anyone seeking a place in the Baron’s service. Besides, none of them truly believed that the vagrant could possibly be accepted. The sooner he abandoned his crazed fantasy of becoming a gladiator, the less he would suffer.Another toilsome hour passed before Bastien finally signaled a halt. The road had finally attained the hill’s summit and this vantage afforded them a view of a village lying a half mile away. Thornwood, for so it was called, was a small community which boasted some thirty dwellings. The simple huts were clustered in a rough circle with partitioned fields all around. Around the perimeter of this arrangement was a thick barrier of hedges, grown to offer some shelter from the elements and marauders. The locale had once been situated inside the surrounding forest, but generations of tree felling had cleared a sizeable tract of land around the encircling wall of greenery. If there were truth to the rumours of plague they had heard in Halfast on the morning of their departure, Bastien suspected the verdant fortification would have been little help against the calamity that had reportedly stricken the village.The young travellers stood next to their leader and contemplated the hamlet below. It was silent, giving no indication of what it might harbour. The odious rasp of Moxadder’s breath announced his arrival, bringing the company to it’s full complement.“We have two choices”, Bastien announced. “We can risk passing through the village, hoping that there is no substance to the stories of plague, or we can skirt Thornwood and regain the road on the other side”. Bastien looked to his charges for their opinions, all the while assessing their reactions and weighing their worth. Although the aspirants ostensibly travelled to Yorath in order to be tested for suitability, in actuality their trial had begun the moment they accepted the Baron’s coin.“Ah think summat’s wrong with yonder village”, Argonne offered. “Tis ower quiet to mah mind”. The others nodded or grunted in agreement. No-one was keen on the idea of risking contact with the invisible threat. “Ah can scout ahead for t’best trail, if tha pleases”, Argonne continued, “tis nobbut a short way round”.Bastien nodded his assent and everyone but Argonne settled themselves gratefully by the side of the road. With a touch of finger to broad brimmed hat by way of salute, the young woodsman made his way a little further down the trail before selecting a route through the scrub that paralleled it. Gerard found himself seated next to Morgan and Mortec. The three of them leaned against an ancient tree stump that had passed the young fop’s fussy inspection. Almost involuntarily, they found their gaze drawn to the hunched figure of Stravarius resting some distance away. Mortec caught the other’s gaze and quirked an eyebrow. “He’s a strange one isn’t he” confided the gnome in a whisper. “Three days we’ve known him and we don’t know any more about him than when we first met! “He certainly is mysterious, the way he creeps around and covers himself from head to toe in those robes; I haven’t seen so much as the tip of his nose. Why, he even sh*ts in secret!” Morgan exclaimed. Gerard snickered despite himself. “No! Its true!” Morgan insisted. “This morning I saw him slip off into the woods, I was suspicious, so I followed him.”“What, he just…” the gnome began.“Aye” Morgan affirmed in a piercing whisper, “While he was going about his business, the cloak stayed on the whole time! I don’t trust him”, he concluded.Mortec stroked his goatee, entwining the darker and lighter hairs. “He was staunch when we fought the lepers wasn’t he?”“To stand with someone in a trial of arms is no trivial thing”, Gerard agreed. “Certainly I cannot blame him for covering his body from this damnable trail dust!” Having said his piece, he dispelled Stravarius from his mind and concentrated instead on the pleasing feel of the sun on his aching limbs. Let the others puzzle the enigma’s secrets, Time enough for that once they reached more civilised areas. His companions also subsided after a few minutes of desultory speculation, content to worry at the matter when they were less tired.Some ten minutes later, a faint rustle of undergrowth announced Argonne’s return. The woodsman knelt next to Bastien and made his report.“Ah found a trail we can foller and ah also ‘ad a brief sniff around t’ edge of village. I heard nowt but ah did find some tracks, troeel tracks.”“Trolls…”, Bastien mused, translating Argonne’s dialect for the others. “That decides it. Argonne, you will lead us to this trail you found and we’ll try and skirt Thornwood. Plague and trolls are perils that bring us no closer to our destination, and we still have a long way to go.”</blockquote>

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