The events of Mid-Sandstone, 1064The rest of the merchants bedded down for the night, and the guards pushed out to their stations, Johnny sat with Rosycats and Guildstern, passing around a jug of wine. As the dwarf leaned over to hand the rope-wrapped jug over, Rosycats smiled and asked, "We're nearing the middle of Kemsagil. It'll only be a few more months before we reach Stramgil."
"Indeed, so true," Guildstern added, smiling. "And lest we forget,"
"You did promise us more of your story."
"Did I, aye? Well... if'n that's the case... When we last spoke, me Da was splittin' from a town a' fisherfolk, his companions dead..."
***
The events of late-sandstone, 1020Stravitch and Gerald had been on the road for nearly a two weeks now, and they were dirty and dehydrated. Originally they had thought to travel up the river, but Gerald mentioned that any that might be on their tail would follow the river as well. Instead, they pushed into the forest, living off rainwater, and grubs, and the occasional squirrel Gerald could stab with a spear.
Fuming, Stravitch kicked over a rotten stump, sending up a spray of wood and termites. "This is absurd," he raged, "It's been weeks, and we haven't even seen the ground begin to slope. Are we even heading in the right direction, or just walking to our graves?"
Gerald squinted and looked to the sky, leaning on his spear. "Aye, we're headin' right, just be patient... we're not followin' river o' road. I s'pect will be there within a week."
"You've been saying that for weeks," sulked the Captain.
They set out once more, but within the hour they stopped. There was rustling in the brush, and the low growl of one of the many wolves that roamed the forests. In the distance, the howls of more could be heard. Stravitch motioned to keep walking, and they did - keeping their pace slow and steady to not bely the nervousness, though Gerald was careful to keep glancing over his shoulder at the growling and howls.
Just as dusk began to fall, one of the wolves pounced - others rushing in from the north. Gerald let out a cry of surprise and jumped back, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws of one. It was promptly stabbed in the side, the steel tip punching clean through meat and ribs to protrude dripping from the other side.
Stravitch fared less well. Bulky in his heavy armor, he was surrounded and passed on. Though his great maul shattered legs and heads, one wolf plowed into him, teeth sinking into the meat at his unprotected elbow. It snarled and shook it's head while he tried to kick it away, and it wasn't until Gerald stabbed it in the throat that the wolf dropped, taking a chunk of dwarf meat with it.
They stood around the corpses panting. Stravitch crushed a few of their heads with his hammer, kicking a third corpse, while Gerald quickly disembowled two of them and tied them to some downed branches with cloth ripped from the bottom of his shirt. "Quick now, we need t'move. Grab th'other end an' get'em off th'groun'. We'll eat when it's too dark t' keep walkin'."
***
It took less than a week to reach their destination, and for that Gerald was thankful. The packs of wolves had grown restless in the woods and even firelight wasn't keeping them away like it used to. Leaving the wood finally, they had seen the mountain rising in the distance, the tall spire of the Nish Neth architects jutting high to pierce the sky.
As they trudged down the steps of the spire, the rank stench of death assailed them. Reaching the bottom, they saw the source: An elf corpse on the floor. It's stomach had been slit open, and it's entrails were drug across the stones. It had been quarted, and days suffering under crows and the sun left it black and bloated, and neither of the Soldiers could tell if it used to be man or woman.
"Quite the welcome," Gerald said, covering his mouth and nose with the remnants of his shirt.
"We should send it back the way we came. If the wolves don't get it, the Elves might learn what happens in their insolence."
"Ahh, Captains Fillwhip and Fountainspring," A voice called from the central ramps down. The soldiers turned from the corpse to see a Dwarf bedecked in a splendidly ornate steel breastplate, iron armor covering where it was obvious steel couldn't be purchased. He wore an ax and shield strapped crossed on his back, and his beard was line with silver rings. "It's so good of you to arrive. I'm Colonel Jonas Ringedletters, and I'm the officer in charge of this place. We received word by pigeon you'd be arriving, though... we expected it much sooner."
"Aye, well, we jus' want t'get the goods and go," Gerald said, deftly avoiding the swipe Stravitch made at him. "After we get some new supplies, and some rest" he added hastily.
"Can't be done," Jonas said, spreading his arms apologetically. "With you not showing up, we sent the ballista parts east. We're making more, but it will be a week or two before they're fully finished."
"Fine by me," Stravitch said, "But... what the hell happened to that squeeky?"
"Oh, that? Assassin, sent in the night. She was spotted one of the traveling singers between sets. Miss Lanni something-or-other. Came down and reported the sighting to the guards, and the Elf was captured on the spot. Owe a lot to her, as I 'spect the Duke was her target. Would have hurt a lot to have him lost."
"Yes," Stravitch said, bordem and annoyance tinging his words. "That's a wonderful story, and much more than I asked. Now how about a room, hmm? And some mutton... By Lenod's flaming rage, I'd marry that corpse to get a trencher full of mutton."
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Topic: Migrursut: What Comes After The World Ends? [Epilogue] (A Community Fort) (Read 389433 times)