Chapter 6
“But a Horse is a Horse, of course…”
The dwarf whistled his surprise as the Silver Griffon moved cautiously but with great authority toward Durnae, sword drawn.
“Whoa! Horse theft!! Boy, you sure are in lots o’ trouble. You’re not from around here are ya’?” said the surprised dwarf. "Even the stupidest Damaran knows not to steal a man's horse! Hell, you'd be better off stealing a man's wife!"
The guard approached with great care. “I don’t want any trouble here. Let’s take it nice and easy and nobody gets hurt” he said, adding emphasis with a tiny wave of his sword.
The sword wave worked, and Durnae made his decision. This man could kill him easily. Durnae gritted his teeth. The energy in his arms needed release. Already little bolts of blue fire were dancing between his fingers. “Sir Griffon, I must warn you to take a quick step back and give me but a moment and I will go with you peacefully,” he said, holding up his hands for the guard to see.
The Griffon had fought spell casters before, and he knew enough of their talents to be wary. The energy dancing on this kid’s arms was reason enough to pause. Seeing the look of desperation in the thief’s eyes, he took a single step back. “Aye. Release your sorcery and disarm yourself.”
Durnae turned to the makeshift hearth, and placed his hands on the ash covered stone. A flash of energy lit up the room, casting strange shadows among the beams above. Durnae felt the surge of magical force pulse through him and into the stone, a quick powerful release. He was sweating from the concentration it had taken to keep the spell in for so long.
“Well S&#t,” said the dwarf, up until this moment an amazed bystander, “I ain’t seen me a sorcerer in years. What an interesting night this turned out to be!"
“Ok son. Let’s get you ready to ride. I’m afraid I’m going to have to bind and gag you. It’s standard procedure for sorcerers.” He tossed some ropes to Durnae. “Tie yourself as best you can. I'll tighten the ropes in a moment. You make one false move and I’ll snap your hands and cut out your tongue, understand? I got no time for that magical s@#t.”
“I understand” said Durnae with as much resignation as his voice could register. He wouldn’t make it back to Valls, that was for sure. Speck was in Valls, as was the law and an angry horse trader. No, his only chance at escape lay in the next hour. He tried to think of a way he could outwit the Griffon while he tied the ropes loosely around his wrists, waiting for an opportunity.
“It sure is a long ride back to Valls” suggested the dwarf helpfully “and cold and windy too. Hell, I wouldn’t be caught out there right now, the wind’s kickin up a storm no doubt.” Sinking his knife into a slab of mutton and potato, the dwarf began to chew noisily. “If it were up to me, I’d stay the night and start fresh in the morning. The boy isn’t going anywhere if you lock up the horses and the brakk.”
“I don’t take advice from civilians, dwarf, especially about my work. We head out tonight, just as soon as my horse gets some rest. You have one last hour of freedom, son, I suggest you spend it wisely,” said the Griffon as he took up position near the door, hand on his hilt. Both Durnae and the dwarf could see, however, the hunger in the guard’s eyes as he eyed the juices dripping from the roast over the fire.
The dwarf continued smoothly, “Suit yourself, but this mutton is mighty tender. And the ale is Chultan Stout. You ever had a mug of Jungle Ale, Sir Griffon? It’s the strongest I’ve come across. And to think it’s made by humans. Normally they know nothing of ales and meads, but somebody down there in those steamy jungles found a way to make a fine, dark ale. My insides squeal in protest every time I chug one down, but it’s a damn fine experience.” The dwarf took a sloshing, noisy gulp.
“How about one for the road, Sir?” The dwarf poured a frosty mug for the guard and set it next to a plate of steaming mutton, freshly sliced from the roast.
The overpowering combination of meat and ale was too much for the Griffon to bear. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to have a single mug,” he said with guilt in his eyes.
“The two of you stay there and don’t make any sudden moves. It’ll be a long ride for both of you if you try anything.”
“And dwarf, let me see your papers”
“Gladly, there all right here,” said the dwarf, fumbling in his pack. He found some papers and set them down next to the ale. “A Rover’s Charter from Bloodstone Pass, signed by Meldane Forsythe himself. Yup, it’s my job to roam these plains, looking for deposits of Bloodstone. It’s all there in the papers” he said with a nod.
“Well you better be legitimate, or I’ll have to ask you to come to Valls, too” the guard said, as he grabbed his mutton, ale and papers, and retreated to the doorway.
“Mirny, eh? Got a last name, Mirny?” said the guard as he glanced at the papers.
“Naah. Not in my clan’s custom”
“Eh? Strange, every dwarf I ever met had lots of clan names and words tacked on to the end of their title, like Axebreaker and Hammergiant, and stuff like that. But you’re just Mirny, hmm?” the guard said.
A severe gust of wind blasted through the open doorway just then, sending a shower of dust and ice through the small room. It grew suddenly frigid in the shack as the warmth of the fire evaporated. A quiet silence followed the wind as it howled off.
All three of them ate quietly for a while. Durnae was tired from a hard journey, pushing his steed into the fierce wind. The Griffon, he could tell, was fatigued as well. Maybe if he stalled, thought Durnae, the fatigue will be too much to bear? Maybe he could sneak off during the night. It was worth a try…
“Will I get a chance to plead my case, Sir Griffon? I am unfamiliar with the laws of this land, but in Impiltur I would get a chance to tell things the way I see it,” Durnae said, trying to sound innocent, “I’m fleeing for my life from a man in Valls.”
“I don’t care about your stories, boy. I’m just doin my job, see. Captain told me to track down a youngish boy on a black Narfellian colt, and that’s you. Easy to follow, really, the horse’s hooves aren’t even shoed, boy, and they leave a huge track in the sand that way. You’re damn lucky you didn’t break the horses legs, the penalty for that is more sev…”
“GO TO HELL YOU FILTHY HORSE F@*&#ER!”
The dwarf began shouting with no warning, surprising everyone in the room. He tossed his remaining dinner at the guard, leapt on the table, and drew his axe.
“I’LL PUT AN AXE THROUGH YOUR SKULL, YOU KOBOLD LOVING &*^% $@#$%ER!”
“But a Horse is a Horse, of course…”
The dwarf whistled his surprise as the Silver Griffon moved cautiously but with great authority toward Durnae, sword drawn.
“Whoa! Horse theft!! Boy, you sure are in lots o’ trouble. You’re not from around here are ya’?” said the surprised dwarf. "Even the stupidest Damaran knows not to steal a man's horse! Hell, you'd be better off stealing a man's wife!"
The guard approached with great care. “I don’t want any trouble here. Let’s take it nice and easy and nobody gets hurt” he said, adding emphasis with a tiny wave of his sword.
The sword wave worked, and Durnae made his decision. This man could kill him easily. Durnae gritted his teeth. The energy in his arms needed release. Already little bolts of blue fire were dancing between his fingers. “Sir Griffon, I must warn you to take a quick step back and give me but a moment and I will go with you peacefully,” he said, holding up his hands for the guard to see.
The Griffon had fought spell casters before, and he knew enough of their talents to be wary. The energy dancing on this kid’s arms was reason enough to pause. Seeing the look of desperation in the thief’s eyes, he took a single step back. “Aye. Release your sorcery and disarm yourself.”
Durnae turned to the makeshift hearth, and placed his hands on the ash covered stone. A flash of energy lit up the room, casting strange shadows among the beams above. Durnae felt the surge of magical force pulse through him and into the stone, a quick powerful release. He was sweating from the concentration it had taken to keep the spell in for so long.
“Well S&#t,” said the dwarf, up until this moment an amazed bystander, “I ain’t seen me a sorcerer in years. What an interesting night this turned out to be!"
“Ok son. Let’s get you ready to ride. I’m afraid I’m going to have to bind and gag you. It’s standard procedure for sorcerers.” He tossed some ropes to Durnae. “Tie yourself as best you can. I'll tighten the ropes in a moment. You make one false move and I’ll snap your hands and cut out your tongue, understand? I got no time for that magical s@#t.”
“I understand” said Durnae with as much resignation as his voice could register. He wouldn’t make it back to Valls, that was for sure. Speck was in Valls, as was the law and an angry horse trader. No, his only chance at escape lay in the next hour. He tried to think of a way he could outwit the Griffon while he tied the ropes loosely around his wrists, waiting for an opportunity.
“It sure is a long ride back to Valls” suggested the dwarf helpfully “and cold and windy too. Hell, I wouldn’t be caught out there right now, the wind’s kickin up a storm no doubt.” Sinking his knife into a slab of mutton and potato, the dwarf began to chew noisily. “If it were up to me, I’d stay the night and start fresh in the morning. The boy isn’t going anywhere if you lock up the horses and the brakk.”
“I don’t take advice from civilians, dwarf, especially about my work. We head out tonight, just as soon as my horse gets some rest. You have one last hour of freedom, son, I suggest you spend it wisely,” said the Griffon as he took up position near the door, hand on his hilt. Both Durnae and the dwarf could see, however, the hunger in the guard’s eyes as he eyed the juices dripping from the roast over the fire.
The dwarf continued smoothly, “Suit yourself, but this mutton is mighty tender. And the ale is Chultan Stout. You ever had a mug of Jungle Ale, Sir Griffon? It’s the strongest I’ve come across. And to think it’s made by humans. Normally they know nothing of ales and meads, but somebody down there in those steamy jungles found a way to make a fine, dark ale. My insides squeal in protest every time I chug one down, but it’s a damn fine experience.” The dwarf took a sloshing, noisy gulp.
“How about one for the road, Sir?” The dwarf poured a frosty mug for the guard and set it next to a plate of steaming mutton, freshly sliced from the roast.
The overpowering combination of meat and ale was too much for the Griffon to bear. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to have a single mug,” he said with guilt in his eyes.
“The two of you stay there and don’t make any sudden moves. It’ll be a long ride for both of you if you try anything.”
“And dwarf, let me see your papers”
“Gladly, there all right here,” said the dwarf, fumbling in his pack. He found some papers and set them down next to the ale. “A Rover’s Charter from Bloodstone Pass, signed by Meldane Forsythe himself. Yup, it’s my job to roam these plains, looking for deposits of Bloodstone. It’s all there in the papers” he said with a nod.
“Well you better be legitimate, or I’ll have to ask you to come to Valls, too” the guard said, as he grabbed his mutton, ale and papers, and retreated to the doorway.
“Mirny, eh? Got a last name, Mirny?” said the guard as he glanced at the papers.
“Naah. Not in my clan’s custom”
“Eh? Strange, every dwarf I ever met had lots of clan names and words tacked on to the end of their title, like Axebreaker and Hammergiant, and stuff like that. But you’re just Mirny, hmm?” the guard said.
A severe gust of wind blasted through the open doorway just then, sending a shower of dust and ice through the small room. It grew suddenly frigid in the shack as the warmth of the fire evaporated. A quiet silence followed the wind as it howled off.
All three of them ate quietly for a while. Durnae was tired from a hard journey, pushing his steed into the fierce wind. The Griffon, he could tell, was fatigued as well. Maybe if he stalled, thought Durnae, the fatigue will be too much to bear? Maybe he could sneak off during the night. It was worth a try…
“Will I get a chance to plead my case, Sir Griffon? I am unfamiliar with the laws of this land, but in Impiltur I would get a chance to tell things the way I see it,” Durnae said, trying to sound innocent, “I’m fleeing for my life from a man in Valls.”
“I don’t care about your stories, boy. I’m just doin my job, see. Captain told me to track down a youngish boy on a black Narfellian colt, and that’s you. Easy to follow, really, the horse’s hooves aren’t even shoed, boy, and they leave a huge track in the sand that way. You’re damn lucky you didn’t break the horses legs, the penalty for that is more sev…”
“GO TO HELL YOU FILTHY HORSE F@*&#ER!”
The dwarf began shouting with no warning, surprising everyone in the room. He tossed his remaining dinner at the guard, leapt on the table, and drew his axe.
“I’LL PUT AN AXE THROUGH YOUR SKULL, YOU KOBOLD LOVING &*^% $@#$%ER!”
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