.XXXII. Snare for the Wind.
Thus, Gerd headed north. On the road passing by the remains of the Kilkerinn Palace. A road that took him so far northeast of Novigrad, that if he would continue to ride two more days north, he'd reach the southern bank of the Duppa River. Therefore, after a two days ride, late in the afternoon, he deemed the distance he placed between himself and Novigrad, to be just far enough. And so, he made camp off the main road, into the woods. A short distance from a livestock village, recently known for lumber, by the name of Yeene...
'Her eyes were of a green alike spring's vibrant plains, and shined from amidst her locks of hair as black as the night. Her skin as white as fresh snow laid upon the frozen earth...', Kaela whispered, watching through a crack in the tent's canvas as Kairr alongside with others danced around the fire with Elia.
'What's that ?', Gerd asked, laying beside her on the bed.
'A tale Kairr and I heard a while back...', she replied standing on the side of the bed.
'What's it about ?', Gerd asked kissing her hand.
'In a recent reinterpretation, a maid...', Kaela softly began, shifting her gaze towards the witcher. 'Cursed to spend eternity as being young and beautiful, yet, blighted to never know nor feel true love. None of her lovers able to keep her. Forever bound to loneliness...', she continued, then laid down, resting her head on Gerd's upper abdomen.
'Kind, as far as such curses go. Sounds like a fairytale. Forever young and beautiful, yet unable to know nor feel true love.', he began, as Kaela softly chuckled. 'What's the catch ?'.
'None.', Kaela replied, turning her head his way. 'Though, I agree, it is not as bad, as far as curses go. And, unlike your presumption which is rather amusing, it is a fairytale.'.
'Is there a knight in it too ?', Gerd asked mockingly.
'There are a couple. And none succeeded in trying to lift the curse.', she replied, running her fingers along Gerd's arm.
'Is there a particular reason you thought of it ?', he asked while playing with a few locks of Kaela's hair.
'Elia, among a few others...'.
Gerd attempted to reply, yet he was cut short by Kaela. 'You must allow me to finish...', she said, kissing his chest. 'You see, I was about Elia's age when I first heard it. It was in the form of a ballad, sang around the campfire, by a bard hailed Tértec, outside of Old Vizima.', she continued with a soft chuckle.
'Tértec...', Gerd softly spoke, staring at the tent's canvas roof as it was slowly waving. 'I've heard that name before. Wasn't he burnt on a stake, in Cidaris, over a ballad of his ?".
'Not as far as I know. Where have you heard that ?'.
'A ballad...', Gerd answered, then attempted to recall the verse. '...'For a fist of gold', was the proud lord's behest. 'At long last, Sire.', had been Tértec's the bard retort, keen to keep his lord 'till dawn awake, Strummed his lute, and sang his best. Yet, come morn, both he and his lute had been burnt at the stake.'.
Kaela reply had been a smile followed by a short laugh.
'He didn't ?', Gerd inquired, while Kaela was still amused.
'He did not.', she replied. 'He was murdered by humans, a week later on the road, after he sang his ballad about Anwen to us, near Vizima. He was an elf.'.
Gerd murmured, 'Must've been another bard, by the name of Tértec then...'.
'I would think so.'.
'Do resume your tale.'
'As you wish...', Kaela replied. 'Now, what I am about to tell you, is an adaptation of the ballad into a theater piece, Kairr and I, watched in Ellander.'.
'Why is that ?', Gerd said, with a sneer.
'For I can only recite it, as singing has never been a talent of mine. Sadly, it was passed onto my brother. However, I'd rather prefer to avoid his sulking and craving over you. As I am sure you concur...'.
'So be it. Pardon my intrusion.'.
Kaela replied with a smile, as she then proceeded to tell the tale. 'Her mother was the youngest of five siblings. Three daughters and two sons, descendants of a noble family of warriors and merchants. The oldest son, followed in his father's footsteps, as a merchant. While the youngest, against his father's wishes, not only dreamt to, but trained and dedicated his early years entirely to become a knight, just alike his uncle and grandfather before him. An honorable servant to his people, in service of the king. Yet, one unfortunate day, while riding around the vast grounds of his father's estate, he fell off his horse, and broke his neck. The father cried, his brother and sisters wept. Yet, a mere week later, joy and happiness gripped the merchant's household, for his second oldest daughter had received a marriage proposal, from a venerable noble house. She was quickly wedded to the lord's eldest son. A handsome, fair haired young man, whom, eagerly awaited the moment where he'd leave his ancestral home and take residence, in one of his father's estates, which laid in the southern hills of Nazair. Both sworn to love each other to the last of their days.', Kaela continued, then paused, while turning on her right side with a click of her tongue, as Gerd followed after. 'Must you always be the pessimist...', she sighed, smiling. 'Anyhow, a year later, she gave birth to a son, that she named after his fathers grandfather, Remion. A year after, a daughter. Anwen. Alas, their love for each other did not last 'till the end of their days. But, a mere couple of years. The kindness once expressed by her husband withered away as well. Cruelty and insults replaced it. Yet, she endured. Hoping throughout, that he would one day, come to his senses and behold the unyielding love she had for him. A few summers later, during an evening he spent mostly, by kissing countless bottles of wine. For the mere insolence that she possessed, to dare question his sobriety and advice him when and where he should sleep, he had her beaten and kicked her out of the house, to sleep with the hounds, as the whore that she is...'. Her voice softly began to fade away, echoes lingered, as the songs of wrens and robins replaced it, along with the rustle of the leaves, and the creaking of the woodland...
The early hours of that very morning had been colder then in previous days, for the wind started to howl not long before dawn. Still, about four hours after sunrise, it steered most of the clouds southeast, leaving place to the azure sky, populated here and there, by wispy clouds. It seemed more alike an autumn day, then late spring as the persistent wind continued until late in the afternoon.
And as Gerd was having a handful of bites from his dinner leftovers, rabbit, near what now was an extinguished camp fire, he decided to see if there wasn't any witcher work in Yeene. Thus, after he brushed his mare, Yyn, saddled her, with a deep breath of fresh air, he set out northeast, towards the village.
Yet as he followed the road, north towards the village, the scarce woods suddenly ended, as the road advanced into a valley, where the village was. Leaving place to hundreds of broken trees, plucked from the ground by what seemed to have been a fierce storm. While on the sides of the road, here and there, the eye would make out through the put down trees, and the surviving shrubs, guts, and animal carcasses, most torn to shreds, a handful few still recognizable, and all in origin, sheep. Further, downhill, the village began. Small huts, most wrecked to piles of broken wood, others left roofless, and others blown away as if they had been made out of nothing but sticks. The magnitude of the havoc seemed to extend through the village, then out and around, with the most severe vastness of the vandalism, stretching east. Where among what used to be a woodland shading a pond, was now a greenish mere, robbed bare of any shade.
However, the severity of the gale which had struck a village this far into the mainland, became clearer only as the witcher approached. For along the road, leading to the outskirts of the village, the animal carcasses began to give way to human corpses. Among the three cadavers present on the road, one had suffered a blow to the head, most likely by some kind of debris, which had struck the peasant in the back of the head, hard enough to visibly cave the skull. The other, a few steps away on the opposite side of the road, had a broken neck, as he was laid on his back, with the head propped up against the stump of a tree. While, the third, was nearly torn in half from the waist, his corpse impaled in the signpost near the village's wrecked gate. Whilst, beyond it, about a handful of injured folk. Men, women and children laid on the ground or leaned on whatever was left standing of the huts at the edge of the village. While past them, others were searching for survivors among the rubble, calling names whilst sifting through the remains. And in between the name calling, groaning and whimpering, the cries of a boy were most dominant. Sitting on a bench outside of the collapsed walls of a hut, on the right side of the road, as to his left a leg was protruding out of the doorway, with none of the villagers giving him a second look. Of such nature were the events that unveiled all the while, Gerd, made his way through the remains of Yeene.
So, he wandered forward on the road, slightly inclined downhill, through the first two rows of huts at the edge of the village. Yet, as he faintly glanced over the piles of broken beams and planks, he set his eyes ahead, as from beyond the run down western side of the village, with about a dozen huts reduced to rubble, along with the stables, the rest of Yeene, more accurately, the center of the village rose up. Oddly, it was almost untouched by whatever laid havoc through the western part of the village. True, at first glance, most of the huts and houses left standing there, were made of stone. Yet, beyond them, on the opposite side of the village, almost none of the peasant homes seemed to be razed to the ground, while the woodland beyond, had been put down, broken, trunks flung over the road, and less than a handful, happened to fall on top of the huts at the very outskirts of the village.
'Witcher !', shouted a woman, helping a couple of folk leaned against the collapsed stone wall of what before this squall struck, had served as a tavern. 'Here !', she shouted again, as Gerd passed by, and this time, she waved as well.
Gerd, stopped, got off his mare, and with a nod, he approached the raven haired woman. 'What is it ?'.
'Are you blind ?', the woman asked calmly. 'Well, are you ?', she asked once more, as she received no reply from the witcher.
'Not to my knowledge. No...'.
'Then why are you acting as if you were ? Look around you. There's plenty of folk that need a hand- And if you dare ask why, well I'd argue it's your civic duty to do so. Don't you agree ?'.
'Alright.', he replied, stopping near her. 'What am I to do ?'.
'Well, help me stand, for instance...', the woman said, as Gerd proceeded to lift the woman on her feet. 'And...', she added, as Gerd helped her up. 'I'm in dire need of a witcher's services.', she continued with a hiss, as she gently touched the small cut she had on the left side of her forehead.
'That was a while back...', Magnar sighed. 'And if I call to mind right, those had been the longest couple of weeks I've ever lived through. Most spent hungry and poor, until we happened upon that caravan traveling into Kaedwen...'.
'Was it ?', Rocco asked, walking a few steps from the backside of the horse. 'It seemed a short journey...'.
'That's 'cause you were pissed drunk and neck deep in that wench we picked from Lothorn.', Magnar replied from the front. 'Said you'll hermit with her in the mountains. Far from all the plight of civilization, and live the rest of your lives in peace.'.
'Funny. I don't recall any of that...It must've slipped me mind.'.
'It slipped your mind alright...', Magnar murmured, leading the horse by the reins, through a narrow path, running amongst two cliffs covered on each side by woodland, whilst from the left side of the path, the roar of a water stream was steadily growing louder.
However, when Galodo regained consciousness, and he did so, with a couple of grunts. His eyes opened to the sight of a horse's right thigh, and thick wooden boards, past which the rapid and loud churn of the course of water was fiercely running below. As he was on the back of a silver bay mare, with his hands and legs tied, while they were passing a rope bridge over the Naa'l.
'He's waking up...', Rocco said.
'About time.', Magnar answered.
'Oy !', Rocco uttered from behind, poking Galodo's shoulder with a long cane. 'Don't try anything funny. Alright ?'.
'Or do...', Magnar added from the front with a snicker. 'But, if we survive the damn fall, and you manage to not drown. If I lay my hands on you, I'll crack you in half alike swine, from your neck all the way to your pecker.', he continued with a short snicker.
'Luckily...', someone added from the saddle, to Galodo's left. 'It'll surely be a far more kinder death than what the Zerrikanians have in store for you.'.
'Vitri...', Galodo guessed, while the individual in the saddle chuckled. 'You're joined up with them now ?', he continued, with a grunt as he attempted to move his head.
'So seems to be the will of the world.', the halfling replied, with a sneer. 'What was I to do anyway ? You left us. Here of all places, and fled west. Our dauntless leader...', Vitri mocked. 'For all we had gone through together. The years alone... I wasn't able to believe it then. Nor was I capable of believing my eyes when I saw you laid down and bloody, after Rocco knocked you. It's a bit rich, I know...', he sighed, clicking his tongue. 'As the first thought to myself was, 'He's back ? Did he return for us ?'. But, not even a moment later, Magnar happened to mention you had only done so, in order to pay the Thyrs debt. And at that moment, I knew It had been foolish of me to believe such a thing, don't you think ?', Vitri said, then scoffed. 'I blame it on Raebthan, he's the one that insisted you'd be back. But, I'd be lying. For we all, in our desperate faith expected you'd return. However, neither of us could fuckin' realize, it won't be for us. A band of thieves, and cutthroats.'.
'Raebthan...', Galodo murmured.
'He's dead...', the halfling began, with a sniff. 'The Walahians...', he sighed.
'He didn't go nicely.', Rocco added from behind, as they stepped off the bridge, on the other side of the great river.
'That he did not.', Vitri continued. 'I noticed you still have his notebook. Made it your own I see.', the halfling said, as he was browsing through the notebook's pages. 'Been reading through it since we left. And so far, it hasn't been a bad read.'.
'You're heading in the wrong way...', Galodo uttered, with a hiss as he raised his head.
Magnar chuckled. 'Are we now ?', he asked with a click of his tongue. 'I might not know the place, but I damn well remember passing that very bridge, when we came down from the hills. You know, after that half a day stop we had...'.
Galodo, huffed, squirming about with a couple of grunts. 'Mhm...'.
'And I can recollect, that you, Zezka and Sartor, where nowhere to be seen. The old dog, Windham, said you three made off soon after we came to a halt. When I asked where, he shrugged, and alike good, old, wise Windham, we made nothing of it. But cut to now...As I know, he knew where you lot went that day.'.
Galodo murmured. 'So, you happened to run into good old Windham ?'.
'Aye. We crossed paths with the old brigand a few months back, on our way down south. As we passed through a village, half a day on horseback, north of here. By the name of Basara or Baztrra, or something of the sorts...', Magnar replied, then spat and cleared his throat. 'As it turned out... He did fare a good livin' for himself at old age. Hell, the man even found himself a fine wench too. About a dozen years younger than he. Tits still pointing up, supple, blond haired, green eyed wench, with no damned spawn of another pillock. To our surprise he was, considering of how we all parted ways, quite merry to see us. Treated us with food, and a couple good drinks. Yet right in between pissed drunk and half asleep, the old hound said something the woke both me and Rocco from our drunken stupor. Nor I, nor Rocco can say of how he got to it, but he mentioned the very place you three went that day. Apparently, he was lookin' for the spots you three had your stashes hidden at for some time, and admittedly, he got two. As before you attempted your robbery, you and Sartor, promised that he'd be fairly compensated for his work. But, the promised share, did not come. Thus...'.
'Where's he then ?', Galodo asked, still recovering from the knock Rocco gave him, unsure of whether he had a broken nose or not.
'Ah...', Magnar said scratching the back of his head. 'He died. The damned troll killed him for trying to steal a fuckin' necklace. Pearls, the old man said. Obsessed over the damned thing for days. Until one day, when he finally nicked them. The troll found out someone took 'em. Lined us all against the wall of the cave, and threatened to mash us against it if we wouldn't give it up. To this day, I've yet to make sense of how he knew that the old man took 'em, or if he just simply guessed...Whichever it was, none of us tried to mess with him ever since.'.
Galodo softly chuckled. 'What does the troll have to do with all of this ?'.
'Not much. 'Sides the fact that we offered to help him rob the folk passin' through, as payment of his fee. Seemed a suitable place for our camp as well, all the while we scoured the damned place looking for the stash.', Magnar replied, leading the horse. 'You know, life hasn't been all that merry since we've all parted ways. To Rocco's luck, and mine, nor the Thyr's or the Walahians had seen us. As we always were left aside from proper business, and spent most of our time huntin' or within the camp. Either that, or they knew we knew very little of your comings and goings, and left us be. Huh. And as luck had it, we managed to scatter, right before they raided our camp, following your botched robbery.'.
'By the way...', Vitri uttered. 'How did you managed to escape ? 'Cause by what I understood from reading this journal of yours...It took you about three weeks to get on the western side of the Blue Mountains. Who helped you ?'.
'Does it matter ?'.
'It does not...', the halfling replied, browsing through the pages of the mercenaries journal. 'But, since you did so in such few days, you must've had local help.', Vitri continued with a smirk, as he gently touched the back of Galodo's head with the spine of the journal. 'You hired, one of those Free Warriors. Didn't you ?'.
Galodo chuckled.
'I thought so.', Vitri added, cracking the journal open once again, still smiling. 'Though, it must've been a costly expense...'.
'So, are you going to tell me what I'm supposed to help you with ?'. Gerd inquired, as he stood near his newest employer, with a medical kit laid open over his arms, watching the woman tend the wounded.
She gasped. 'Does your kind lack the virtue of patience ?'.
'At times.', he replied, while the woman extended her arm towards him.
'Vial...', she continued, as Gerd placed the required vial in her palm. 'Thank you.'.
The contents of the vial itself, consisted mostly of herbs, alcohest, and was similar to a witcher potion, yet the scent wasn't near as dreadful as Gerd expected. It was sweet, with a subtle scent, of what Gerd supposed to be honeysuckle, while the texture itself was oleaginous. She applied it mostly over bruises and small cuts, or other lesions...
'Well, with regards to your lack of patience. I urge you to gather some. And do so, just because I asked you to...'. she added, while she took out of her satchel, a couple of bandages, that she placed over the medical kit Gerd held, then moved to the other peasant in need of medical attention.
'Should you be moving as much as you do ? Considering...'.
'No, probably not. However, considering, that I am still able, I ought to lend a hand to these people.', she replied, as she then stopped and sighed while clinching her eyes.
'Are you sure you're alright ?'.
'I am...', she began taking a deep breath while finishing up bandaging a girl's arm. 'I just need a few moments.', the woman added, as her skin turned pale shortly after. She then leaned forward, as if nauseous.
'Don't mind me saying, but, you shouldn't have used magic to heal folk. Knowing that it would weaken you like this...'.
She softly chuckled. 'You noticed that ?'.
'I did. You're not the first sorceress I've had the pleasure to meet...'.
'Hmm...', she murmured setting her eyes onto the witcher. 'I'm not actually a sorceress, at least not yet...'.
'Furthermore reason to cease the use of magic-'.
'I want to help ! I had to help...', she replied, as she took hold of an amulet that she wore near her chest.
Gerd sighed. 'Nevertheless. It's praiseworthy that you tried, and even succeeded. But you didn't have to. Others alike you wouldn't have even cared. And why would they. Healing a helpless peasant, who might die the next few days of dysentery anyway...And doing that, while knowing that their life would be at stake-'.
'So, I should've left them be ? Wounds untended ? Children too ?', she uttered, cutting the witcher short.
'Someone else would've been able to do it.'.
'Therefore, if you were to be in a similar situation. A village attacked by ghouls for example. You would let innocent children and folk to perish ?'.
'That's another matter altogether. But, I would've tried to kill the monster, as that is my trade. Though, I would not risk my life, to save a few villagers. The former being much simpler.'.
'Why ?! Because you disapprove of altruism ?', she scoffed. 'Or you just loathe that the ealdorman might knight you for your show of chivalry ?, she taunted.
'No. It's that I'd rather prefer to avoid an injury, that would make me wish I was dead instead.'.
'I disagree.', she replied with a sniff.
'Right. You might continue to do so, for several years at the least. I used to be just as stubborn, and believe it or not, I disagreed as well. Naively believed in heroic gestures and ethics, chivalry, morals and so on...', Gerd added, with a chuckle. 'Even though I was taught and told not to. The irony is, that, after so many decades spent on the path, I don't anymore. If I were you, I'd just give it time...'.
'Well.', she began with a scoff. 'I for one pity you. To think and care so little of folk, and to state so placidly that their lives have no value. And what really vexes me the most, is the boldness alone, with which you presume to know me, and beyond that, of how I'll turn out over the years into a nihilist alike you...', she replied, with a huff, as she then attempted to stand. 'It's no wonder folk ostracize your kind so...'.
'Could be...', Gerd murmured, as he stood up. 'However. Many years ago, I stepped in to help a nobleman and his wife, who previously, through an attaché, nonetheless, hired me to take care of some kikimora pestering his estate, from being killed and robbed, on the road to Beauclair. I stepped in and killed two of the robbers while the rest fled, only to find myself then insulted and spat at, all because, by his words, I dared to stick my prick where it didn't belong. All the while he was holding onto his nostrils to stop his nosebleed, vehemently gesticulating with his other hand as he walked and climbed in the wagon.'.
'My point exactly.', she replied, while standing up.
'Meaning ?',
'You're an idiot.'.
'I am ? How so ?', Gerd asked with a chuckle.
'Due to your poor excuse.', she began with a sigh. 'Usually, folk, in villages alike this one, don't have the sense of entitlement and pride of a nobleman. Most fear you, others hate for the simple fact that there is no reason not to. And do not mistake their lack of decorum for mere impudence. I doubt they would curse and spit at you for saving their lives alike the noble you've mentioned.'.
'Perhaps. Yet, what I meant by it was-'.
'I know what you meant...', she interrupted, shifting her gaze towards the eastern hills, at the base of which laid the pond. As after several moments, which Gerd spent by mostly looking around, her condition seemed to take a turn for the better. 'Regarding what you're supposed to help me with...', she resumed.
'Yes, go on...', Gerd murmured, as he turned towards her.
'I require your tracking expertise, in order to locate the whereabouts of my teacher. He and I had been separated during the- incident. However, last I seen of him, was east, near that pond, over yonder.', she continued, pointing towards the hills to the east.
'Alright.', Gerd replied, clearing his throat.
'How much would that be ?', the woman asked, laying her emerald eyes upon the monster slayer.
'It depends, on how far he has gone...'.
'Therefore, all of that translated in coin would be ?'.
'Roughly...', the witcher said, scratching his nose. 'About one hundred crowns.'.
'What !?'.
'This is no ordinary contract. Even though you try to vaguely describe the incident, and offer as little details as possible. Which, increases the risk I'm taking. It's fairly clear to me, by now, that this was not caused by extreme weather. Yet, whatever it was, it must've been magical in nature. Hence the price...'.
She sighed. 'Fine. So be it.'.
'Good. We'll talk details on our way over there.', Gerd said, as he stepped off the front porch of the tavern. 'Shall we ?', he continued, as the aspiring sorceress replied with a nod, and followed in his step. As then, both headed east towards the pond.
'What should I begin with ?', she inquired, after a few moments.
'The beginning.', Gerd replied.
'What's the matter now ?', asked Vitri, as Magnar and Rocco sifted through the pages of a notebook. A question which only served to further irritate the skelligan. 'Magnar ?'.
'Fuckin' Windham and his damned notes !', Magnar burst, facing the woods on the side of the road, as he attempted to make sense of a page's contents. Failing to do so, he turned to Rocco, then approached Galodo. 'Listen now, you little cunt. I know we're close to it. Windham, had it's whereabouts around here. So, where ?', Magnar asked, as they came to a halt not long after they stepped off the bridge. 'Which way is it ? Point me towards it.'.
'Well...', he began, with a snort. 'I recall offering directions. Directions you so swiftly deemed unworthy. Alas, when I said that you were going the wrong way, I meant it.'.
'Fair enough...', Magnar grunted, stopping near the rear of the mare. 'Which way is it then ?', he continued, as he swiftly closed Windham's notebook.
'Had I known you'd be this frustrated about it, I would've made it more obvious-'.
'He did tell you...', Vitri added, with a smirk, to which Magnar scoffed.
'Stop mocking about, you cunt ! And tell me...', Magnar interrupted, taking hold of Galodo's hair. 'Now. Where is it ? Eh ? Where to ?'.
'Shouldn't you know ? Shouldn't your little map and notes tell you ? Well...', he replied, with a roll of his eyes. 'You had me convinced, that you knew its approximate location.', Galodo replied, then continued with a few clicks of his tongue. 'I was so sure you'd find it without my help. After all, the three of you, and Windham, scoured those woods looking for it...'.
'Where is it ?!', Magnar asked through his teeth, with a grunt.
'Well, I could tell you. But, you see... I need to take a piss, badly.', Galodo said, while Magnar, with his patience already stretched thin, and a firm screak of his teeth, briskly laid his eyes onto the halfling. 'I would prefer to not do so, on the horse...'.
'Fine.', Vitri promptly spoke. 'Help him down...', he continued, with a nod towards Rocco, who then proceeded to take Galodo off the horse's back. By cutting the ropes around his ankles, and yanking him down by the belt. 'There...', the halfling said, as Galodo's back smacked the ground.
As then, with a short laugh, he pulled Galodo up, by the rope with which his hands were tied, as he looped another with a knot, which served as a leash. 'Move ! Towards the side of the woods.', Rocco continued, with a thrust of the rope, pulling Galodo in front of him.
'Quite a bunch, you three turned out to be.', Galodo said with a few mutters, as he was heading towards the side of the road.
'You think so ?', Magnar said, as Rocco was following behind.
'Aye.', Galodo said, then spat. 'Had I known it years ago. I would've surely given you three dolts, more assignments together. Sadly, I did not. Certainly, why you three are still here, alive and well...', Galodo replied, approaching a tree. 'Ah. This one seems good enough. What do you think ?'.
'Just take your damn piss, and shut up. Will you ?', Rocco said, stopping a few steps behind Galodo. 'You ran your mouth the whole way here...'.
'On that I agree. You should talk less...', Magnar joined, then drank from a flask he just pulled out from one of the saddle bags. 'But, since we held our end of the deal, how about you do the same. So, tell us which way is it ?', Magnar resumed, as Galodo stopped near the trunk of a tree.
'I thought I was supposed to shut up and tinkle on this tree. Which one is it ?', he responded, with a scoff. 'Can't a man-'.
'Answer the damned question.', Magnar added from the other side of the road.
'Well, not yet, as I've one more request...'.
Amused, Magnar responded with a blank look towards Vitri, and a scornful sneer as he laid his eyes back onto Galodo. 'Fine.', he began, then spat. 'What is it ?'.
'Right...', Galodo said with a sniff, as he finished relieving himself and turned. 'I'd prefer to walk on my own two feet, from here onward. Rather then being carried on the back of that damn horse alike deer.', he resumed, stepping back onto the road.
'No.', Magnar replied promptly, as he signaled Rocco with a tilt of his head.
'Why not ?', he asked, as Rocco was approaching from the left side and Magnar from the front. 'Vitri, I'm not going to try anything. As said, I just want to walk on my own two feet...', he continued, and as he concluded that words were of little effect, he suddenly yanked on the rope Rocco held, pulling him forward. Whom, as soon as he reached Galodo attempted a left punch, which the mercenary ducked and swiftly head butted Rocco, who due to the hit, stepped off towards his left, holding his bleeding nose, whilst, Galodo, quickly looped the rope around him then swiped his legs from under him. And right after Rocco hit the ground, Galodo reached for the hilt of the knife Rocco had on the back of his belt. As then, a bolt flew by the mercenary's head, and stopped into the ground behind him.
'If you pull that knife...I'll put the next one through your arm !', Vitri spoke, aiming Galodo's own crossbow at him. 'Let go of that hilt. Now !'.
'What if you miss ?', Galodo asked, pressing his knee into Rocco's back, ready to unsheathe the knife. 'It happened before...'.
'If he's to miss, you reckon you're gonna be able to take me with that knife ?', Magnar said, about five steps from Galodo.
'I'll try...'.
Magnar chuckled. 'I would like to see that.'.
'I wouldn't.', the halfling added. 'But, fine...', he said after a while, then sighed. 'How about I let you stroll along instead of being hauled on the back of the horse. Wasn't that your second request ?', the halfling resumed. 'I'll grant your request, with one simple condition. Just, let go of that knife...'.
'Go on.', Magnar taunted. 'Take that knife out, and see what happens.'.
'I know you are aware what could happen if you choose to do so. For you might be pretty good with a sword in hand. We've all seen you and we all know it. Unfortunately, old friend, the closest one is right here on the saddle.', Vitri said, hitting the sheath of Galodo's sabre with his left foot. 'With a knife, though, not so much.'.
Aware of his poor chances, as alone the probability that Vitri might miss the shot was rather small, but if he would miss, the least favorable prospect followed. Which was, if he could take on Magnar without being injured. Therefore, after a few moments, with a sigh and a click of his tongue, Galodo, loosed his hold onto the hilt of the knife, as he then stepped away from Rocco. Only to be kicked in the gut, by Magnar, who rushed at him.
'You always been a sore loser.', Magnar said, with a snort. 'I liked that 'bout you. Scheming and messin' about, even when the odds were against you. It used to work, your stubbornness. It doesn't anymore...', Magnar continued, standing above Galodo, with his left foot on the mercenary's throat. 'For you've none left around, to stand and have your back. None. All of them either died, left, or you yourself left them to die.', Magnar spoke, taking his foot off Galodo's neck.
'Try and do yourself a favor, old friend...', Vitri uttered, from the saddle. 'As much as you might enjoy it though, quit screwing with us, especially Magnar here, you know how he can get...'.
'So...', Magnar said, as he was half turned towards the halfling.
'Which way ?', Vitri continued, while Galodo, dragged himself near the trunk of a tree, to catch his breath.
'We'll have to track back a bit.', Galodo replied after a few moments, with a sigh.
'How much ?', Magnar asked, turning around. 'Exactly...'.
'Back to the rope bridge.'.
'Where to then ?', Vitri added, then looked at Magnar.
'There's a path. I'll show you, once we get there.'.
'You better...', Magnar mumbled, as Rocco helped Galodo to stand, then pushed him ahead.