33 – Wyvern Tamers
"And though the roar shook the very heavens
The bastard's blade, he could not release
To turn is death, to falter would doom him
He kept his eyes trained sharp on the beast"
-Unknown Bard, Avorock and the Dragon
A fuzzy sensation ran through Ashura's body and she couldn't help but shiver. The shiver was followed by a sense that a great weight had been lifted away as the belt unfastened and went slack, hanging from her hips. Wider hips, she noticed, a pleased smile on her face as she ran her hands down her sides. One hand slipped down to the front of her leggings and the other to her chest, eager to make sure that her body was truly back to normal and ignoring how incredibly uncomfortable the priest of Lathander looked. The young, bookish-looking man, cringed, examined the vestibule ceiling and blushed a bit.
Sticking out in the right spots now, and none of the wrong ones. Good! Wriggling completely out of the belt, she held it at arm's length. She turned to the priest, and gave a hearty: "Thanks."
He looked down from the ceiling and inclined his head. "You're uh...welcome."
"So what about this thing?" she asked, keeping the wide belt pinched between two fingers and eyeing it warily.
The priest looked thoughtful. "If my power had fully destroyed the curse the girdle would have been destroyed as well, so likely the curse is just suppressed. These objects can be tricky things, as you well know. In fact, if I'm not mistaken this is the very girdle that Duke Lobelahn's court jester once gave to the duke's mistress as a prank. They say the poor man was beheaded, and the cursed thing has been floating around the region ever since."
Imoen shook her head. "How humorless of 'em."
"So the belt is still cursed?" Ashura asked.
"Aye," the priest said solemnly. "My order can store it somewhere safe, at least, if we cannot destroy it."
Turning towards Imoen, Ashura suddenly lunged, shoulders lurching and arms springing forward.
"Yipes!" Imoen squeaked, dodging and dancing away along the wall of the vestibule.
Ashura didn't follow through on the motion. Instead she just chuckled. "It's mine now. Better watch out." She faked another lurch and once again Imoen jumped. "Or maybe I ought to save this thing for Viconia next."
Imoen giggled. "Better watch out. She'd take it as serious as Duke Lobelahn."
"Or Coran. Would love to set 'Corana' loose in a tavern, have him see it from the other side."
"Ha! Maybe he'd look in a mirror and fall in love with himself...er...herself."
"Ahem," the priest interrupted, no humor on his face at all. "We're in the business of curing maladies here, not facilitating your childish pranks."
"Yes yes," Imoen said, still giggling a little. "I promise you won't see us again on account of the belt. Right Shura?"
"Right."
The priest had his hand out now and was glaring at her. "I think it would be best if the temple stored that somewhere safe."
Twisting her lip a bit, Ashura looked down at the belt. It seemed kind of a shame to throw such a novel magical item away, curse or no. And there were probably people who wouldn't see it as a curse at all, provided they had a choice in the matter of putting it on.
In the end she shrugged and dropped the belt into the priest's hand, where he carefully bunched it up and placed it into a pocket of his robe. He gave her an appreciative nod.
As they stepped out of the little vestibule beside the domed temple of Lathander Ashura turned to her friend and spoke. "Wish you'd be more careful about throwing around my real name."
"What? Oh yeah." Imoen frowned. "I'd about forgotten. Hopefully the bounty hunters have too. Or maybe the reason for the bounty has uh…passed or something? We haven't seen any sign of people being after you in a while."
"Hope you're right."
"And hey, least I always shorten yer name!"
Beyond the stony path in front of the Song of the Morning Temple lay the now familiar streets of Beregost. Ashura stopped, lifted herself on her toes and stretched her arms high in the air, taking a breath. She felt relieved; lighter. Technically she probably was.
"What's our next stop boss?" Imoen asked.
"The nearest tailor shop."
Imoen let out a mock-squeal. "Eeee! Clothes shopping! How very girly of you. I'm gonna miss Mr. Ashar."
Ashura snorted. "Yeah yeah yeah." Teasing or not, she was looking forward to replacing her two sets of torn traveling clothes. Maybe even buy a third. They had pirate gold to spare, after all.
It was not quite the army Xan had been hoping for, but you work with the tools that you are given. He would also have preferred that the archdruid lead them in this little battle. The old man had bristled with power and a sense of command when they had met with him the night before, but it seemed he was content to sit at the top of his tree-tower and issue orders.
Izefia and Takiyah, two of the druids they had met at the stone circle, crept ahead of the rest of the group, making no sound and somehow not disturbing a single leaf or branch as they passed. Kivan followed closely behind, taking low, casual strides and dodging the dense foliage. Xan had no idea how they did it. He tried, but he and Ajantis managed to blunder into every other branch, and Shar-Teel seemed to take pleasure in bulling her way through, snapping off twigs and crunching the leaves beneath her boots.
The older-looking druid, Izefia, turned slightly and raised a cautioning hand. Takiyah immediately crouched and the two fanned out through the brush. The rest got down as low as they could and crept forward. Before them the ground rolled down, and the side of the next hill was all of jagged rocks, bearded with green moss and lichen. Between some of the stones there was a wide, dark gap: the entrance to a natural cave.
They stared down in silence for a moment, then Xan stifled a gasp when he noticed movement on the rocks. A tail uncoiled, wings stretched out, and a horned head lazily rose up, swiveling this way and that as if it were sniffing. Beside him Xan heard a faint metallic keen as his companions instinctively slid their blades from their sheaths. Kivan placed an arrow to his bowstring as well, though he did not draw it back.
The adolescent wyvern tilted its head back for one more sniff, and then it hissed at the air and its wings puffed out before tucking in. With a sudden motion it turned and slithered down the rocks, slipped through the mouth of the cave, and vanished from sight.
So much for the element of surprise. As if there had been any doubt.
Silence and tension followed as they all watched the cave. The moments hung, nothing happened, and then they all gasped at the sound of rustling very close by. Brush parted right in front of Xan as a shadowy form rose from the ground, seeming to appear from nowhere. He thought he noticed a few scales on the figure before it flowed into the soft skin and rough hides of Faldorn, the young druidess. Perhaps she had been in the form of a snake.
After giving the cave a stern, backwards glance Faldorn spoke, her voice low and soft. "There are five humans in total, four within the cave and one near the entrance. A lookout. He's very alert now. They have near as many young wyverns. Four, counting the one that sniffed you out."
"Lovely," Xan muttered.
"The man who seems to have tamed the wyvern is tall and blonde. Named Peter. There is another man who they appear to take orders from, named Lakadaar. I would aim for these pack-leaders first. All five wear scaled armor, and the Black Talon mark upon their breasts." With those last words she scowled.
Good advice, but in Xan's experience no one ever told you their name and rank in the middle of a battle. He glanced around at the others. "I suppose we should formulate some sort of plan. We may be able to eliminate the lookout even though he knows we are…" He paused. "Where's Kivan?"
The snap of a bowstring nearby answered his question, followed up swiftly by another. Shaking his head, Xan gripped his moonblade and searched for signs of movement in the brush near the cave. Hopefully that fool wild elf had at least killed the lookout.
And now on to battle, plan or no.
Before Xan could think or say anything further there was an explosion of movement at the entrance of the cavern. From the darkness a young wyvern bust into view and unfurled its wings, followed by another. Then another. The enemy had made their first move it seemed: 'Release the hounds.'
Xan was halfway through the enchantment before he fully realized what he was doing. He flung his fingers forward and spoke the last words, a faint orange globe crackling into existence and flying towards the lead wyvern.
The creature had its wings tucked and was diving directly towards their position on the hill, but when the globe reached it there was a burst and a waver in the air that made it hesitate. Arresting its movement with a flap of its wings, the creature hovered for a moment, curiously swiveling its head and sniffing. The wyvern just behind the first was struck by the shimmer as well, and promptly swerved to the left, diving towards a patch of distant trees and crashing through the branches and out of sight.
Sadly, the third wyvern plowed right through the spell, unaffected and focusing its predatory eyes directly on them. Its tail was curled fully over its body, mouth open in a hiss, and as it neared it tucked its wings in. Ajantis was there to meet it, shield swinging up to catch and turn the barb aside. He managed to twist as they collided, barely avoiding the wyvern's snapping jaws. As they passed he swung his sword down; an awkward, glancing blow. The wyvern's claws skidded along the ground and it whirled to strike at the armored man again.
With a hop Shar-Teel danced in at the wyvern's flank, delivering a fierce chop with her whole body that bit into the trunk of its tail and went more than halfway through. There was a quick spurt of blood, then the rest was a blur to Xan as the massive reptile lashed out, turning and kicking and biting; the armored humans at its front and back trying to keep up.
The three druids had rushed down the hill, and now they were standing at the low point, arms aloft and chanting in unison beneath the hovering wyvern. They looked vulnerable out there, but the skin of each druid had taken on the rough texture and brown tone of tree bark; the mark of a common defensive spell that Xan recognized. If they could truly turn the wyvern then perhaps…
A familiar crackle bit through the air, and Xan cringed as he watched three missiles arch out from the cavern mouth, trailing white dust that sparkled in the sunlight. Those damned ice arrows the Black Talon are so fond of. One struck a tree with a harmless shattering sound, but the other two found their marks. Faldorn's chanting turned into a gasp and then a snarl as one of the arrows hit her arm, though it bounced off her skin.
Izefia was less fortunate. His legs buckled the moment the arrow sank squarely into his back, and only a faint, misty gasp left his lips as he lost the chant and toppled over.
Xan was moving now, keeping his head low as he rattled through the brush and down the hill. He had a protective spell active that would hopefully block any arrows, but not being spotted was always better. If he could just find the archers and get a little closer…
There! Two of the Talons were standing in plain sight right by the cave entrance: a dark haired man and a scrawny-looking woman, both dressed in scale armor that had seen better days. Xan circled and pushed through the brush a few more steps, until he judged that the mercenaries were within shouting distance. They had both knocked arrows and were drawing back for another volley.
With a deep breath Xan stood and bellowed, eyes fixed on the woman: "I suggest you realize that Lakadaar is trying to kill you!"
Not the most subtle way to use that spell, but it had the desired effect. The mercenary's eyes grew wide and she turned completely around, dashing into the cave as she aimed at something. Hopefully her commander. Perhaps it does pay off to know the enemy's names. Shouts rang from inside, and the remaining mercenary glanced around bewildered, before taking aim at Xan.
By then Xan had dived back between the thick bushes and saplings, trying to make himself as small a target as possible. His efforts at dodging failed horribly, but the protection spell did not, and with a hiss and crackle the ice arrow bounced off the barrier and fell away harmlessly.
Something crashed through the undergrowth beside him and Xan turned. Shar-Teel was a blur as always, running in the opposite direction. In a blink she reached the Black Talon and her sword caught his bow just as it thumped. Her blow sent the arrow off course and past her shoulder. At the same time her knife swung in and caught the mercenary in the throat, releasing a light spurt of blood as the blade went in and a messier splash when she twisted and ripped it out.
By then Xan had turned around and was cautiously creeping back towards the cave. No retreating now, with his companions pushing forward. There were still sounds of commotion inside, and while the momentum of battle was still with them it would be good to add to that commotion.
It was funny. Xan had always been a very tidy, serious lad, endlessly teased by his brother and sister for it. But these days it seemed that chaos was his greatest ally most of the time; the sort of chaos his spells could call down on his enemies at least. He began to weave his fingers through the air.
Kivan and Ajantis had closed in on the cavern now, and there was no sign of the two baby wyverns that had been flying around a moment ago. Hopefully between Xan's confusion spell and whatever it was the druids had done the creatures had flown off and would stay away.
Before the rest of the group could act Xan finished his spell, fingers guiding the last strands of light and shadow together to form the image of a great brown bear; just small enough to conceivably fit through the entrance. The illusion silently moved its legs in a mimicry of a charge, but when it dove through the cavern's mouth Xan added the sound of scuffing claws and a great roar. As soon as the bear was out of sight he waved his sword forward. "Let's go," Xan found himself commanding, though his voice was more breathless and weary than inspiring.
Shar-Teel snorted, nodded and just said "Aye!" And as one they all charged into the cave and into the chaos.
The Jovial Juggler seemed to have become their natural home whenever they were in town. Not that Imoen objected. Feldpost's was far too stuffy, overpriced, and full of snobs, the Burning Wizard was a bit on the cramped and shabby side, and she and Ashura were likely still not welcome in the Red Sheaf.
In contrast the Juggler felt just right: clean but lively, with drink that wasn't watered down, food that was decent if not gourmet, comfortable beds and even dancing on the taproom floor most evenings. They had stopped in just in time for a late highbite, and after making arrangements for some of the finest rooms in the house ('royal suites,' the innkeep called them,) they each purchased a steaming plate of mutton with creamed potatoes and spiced cabbage.
Imoen dug into the pile of food with zeal, relieved to finally eat something hot and soft (Blech! She was so sick of dried nuts!) Good to enjoy some luxuries, and double-good to know you can afford them, she figured. On top of the pirate's treasure and the pearls they had taken from the sirines they had earned a surprisingly tall pile of coins turning in the bounty for the mad cleric. If they wanted to they could probably live comfortably in Beregost for a good long while now.
Not that Imoen intended to do that. She had told Xan she would help him, and meant it. He seemed intact enough, wandering through the Cloakwood and trying not to get stung by wyverns last she had heard, but still.
Ashura had said they would come help Xan with his mission too, as Imoen recalled, though it had been in a half-assed, noncommittal way. Probably a subject best broached tomorrow, after they had gotten some rest. Let everyone enjoy themselves first, before thinking 'bout the next 'adventure.'
Apparently Garrick didn't have the same notion. "So what next?" he asked cheerfully.
Imoen looked up from her sparklingly clean plate.
"We enjoy our good fortunes for a few days before even thinking about 'next,'" Ashura said with a shrug. "Least that's my vote."
"I quite agree," Viconia said as she thoughtfully speared a potato with her fork, her other hand holding down the cloth that usually covered her face so she could eat. "I for one look forward to spending as much time on a soft bed as possible. They have been few and far between."
"Spose that means you're sticking with us?" Imoen asked.
Viconia inclined her head. "As I have said, I will follow and assist as long as you will have me. Before my rescue there were no soft beds to speak of. And the company of humans keeps suspicious eyes off me, mostly."
"Well, I'm just glad," Imoen said, scooting her chair back and smiling. "You've been a great help." She turned from the table and sought out Coran, who had gotten up sometime while she was inhaling her food. The wood elf stood at the far side of the room, peering at the wall that was covered with nailed up papers: announcements, broadsheets and bounty notices.
Imoen dodged past patrons on stools and made her way towards the other side of the taproom. When she reached Coran she peered past him. "Which one ya readin'?"
The elf tilted his head round and gave her a lazy smile. "Drizzt and the Two-Hundred Gnolls, of course." He jabbed a fingertip at one of the broadsheets. "I missed a few chapters while we were treasure hunting."
Squinting and bending forward, Imoen peered at the script. "Sheesh. Chapter forty-eight, and he's still fighting his way to the troll king?"
"There've been a few dramatic twists and turns, but yeah." Coran chuckled. "Whoever writes this sure loves their fight-scenes."
Imoen pointed at a different leaf of paper. "Oh! This one's interesting. A warning that a pack of wolves have taken up residence in the ruins of Ulcaster's School, and are killing anything that comes nearby. And a call for 'brave heroes' to clear the ruins out, for a small reward."
"Wolves?" Coran asked incredulously. "In Tethyr we hunted those as children."
"Well, they seem to be some sort of monstrous wolves. Though the bounty isn't really clear what kind. Direwolves? Worgs? Werewolves? Whatever it is, it sounds like an adventure."
"Well, you know me. I can't turn down a good adventure," Coran smiled wistfully. "And the urge to travel will hit me soon, no doubt. Perhaps we should look into Ulcaster's." After a pause he smirked and added: "Of course before then there is plenty of adventure to be-"
"-had in your bed? Yeah, I know."
"I just wasn't sure if-"
Imoen cut him off again. "Oh I've heard all your lines. A couple hundred times. Seen all yer tattoos too."
"And yet-"
"Oh look'it this one!" Imoen stabbed her finger against another bounty notice that had been obscured by an advertisement. The word 'Cloakwood' had especially caught her eye. "Quite a high bounty. Says they're killing lots of cattle on the farms just north of Beregost."
Coran's look of annoyance at being rebuffed soon turned into a broad smile. "Wyverns! Now there's a worthy thing to hunt. Far better than wolves."
"Wait. It's pronounced 'wi-vern?'" Imoen asked. "I always thought it was 'why-vern.'"
Coran shrugged. "That's how we pronounced it. We hunted them in my youth as well."
Quirking an eyebrow, Imoen asked: "Killed one when you were only five or something?"
A hearty laugh. "Hardly. I helped carry spears and nets with the rest of the young, while the older hunters of my village did the work. Twas quite a sight though. I always wanted the honor of putting the final arrow into one of those great beasts."
"Apparently Xan's already killed a wyvern," Imoen said in a teasing tone. "Out there in the Cloakwood."
"Really now?" Coran laughed in a disbelieving tone. "Did he whine at it til it was suicidal?"
"Said it was a baby, and wounded, but he managed to chop it with his moonblade. Told me 'I was just as surprised as you, to still be alive.'"
Coran snorted. "I suppose I can believe that. Those weapons can perform impressive feats even in the hands of shrimp like Xan. Just so long as he doesn't put an arrow through the eye of a grown wyvern. I want that honor."
"Ha! You like the idea?"
"Of a wyvern hunt? Most definitely!"
Shadows writhed and clashed on the flickering walls of the cave, accompanied by incoherent echoes and puffs of flying dirt. Chaos still seemed to be on Xan's side, but as he pressed his back to the stone he felt that their relationship was getting iffy at best. His moonblade was out as usual, though he hoped the melee wouldn't come to him. Best to just throw in helpful spells.
A blast of prismatic color blinded one of the mercenaries when he got too close for comofort. While the man was rearing back Xan followed through with a fear-spell, but the mercenary seemed to shake it off. It just made him angrier really, but luckily his wild sword-chops came nowhere close.
The illusory bear had caused much commotion at first, but now it was swiftly falling apart into smoky whiffs, the enemy wise to the fact that it was not real anyway. The fading image still growled and clawed a bit, but its motions weren't nearly as fast and frantic as those of the remaining baby wyvern. Just like before, Shar-Teel and Ajantis had on the beast, and they seemed to make a good team. The boy wielded his shield with as much skill as his sword, batting away each jab from the creature's tail and facing its front.
At the same time Shar-Teel's terrifying speed kept pace with every turn of the creature's body, flanking and cutting. Loose dirt flew as the wyvern kicked, until Shar-Teel had its legs flayed and bloody and they failed beneath it, giving Ajantis an opening to drive his sword through its skull.
While the wyvern thrashed at the center of the cave Kivan traded blows with a blonde man who must have been Peter the Wyvern Tamer. In the close quarters the ranger had abandoned his longbow and was swinging his halberd about his body, the oaken staff jabbing at Peter's feet in an attempt to trip while the axeblade rang against the Black Talon's longsword. They both moved faster than Xan could follow, feet hopping and weapons a blur.
Lifting his free hand, Xan took aim and a breath for his next spell. He could slow Kivan's opponent down, at least. As the incantation began, the man Xan had stunned with the light-spell blundered towards Kivan from behind, still slashing blindly but getting within reach. One slash looked like it would get lucky, but Kivan seemed to sense it and ducked, tucking his body in and slamming the butt of his halberd into the man's stomach.
The blow sent the Black Talon reeling backwards in Xan's direction. Stumbling, he turned and blinked. There was a flash of recognition and then hatred in the man's eyes as he loomed over the elf, and all of a sudden his blade wasn't swinging blindly.
Holding his ground and ignoring his terror, Xan chanted the last syllable of the spell, releasing it point-blank. The fierce overhand swing the mercenary had begun grew loose and lazy as torpor overcame him. Instead of a blinding flash Xan watched the blade arch and descend, down down down. He stepped aside easily and put all the strength he could muster into a parry, knocking the gentle slash aside. Slow as a dream, the mercenary stumbled and his arm went back and up.
Xan followed through with a lunge. The moonblade seemed to pull his arm along of its own accord, finding an opening at the mercenary's armpit and piercing flesh. It slid through muscle and between bone, practically sheathing itself in the man's torso as his eyes widened in shock.
With a startled gasp Xan yanked his sword out and stumbled back into the cave wall, blood splattering his face and robes as he lifted the sword and got ready to parry. Instead of attempting another strike however, the Black Talon simply stood there briefly, then his knees knocked and he collapsed in a heap.
At some point two wolves had charged into the cave, one pitch black, and the other amber-brown. The black wolf was on top of the blonde mercenary now, violently shaking his limp head from side to side with jaws firmly clamped to his neck. Kivan had taken a step back and was leaning on his halberd, catching his breath. None of the enemy was moving, it seemed.
Nearby Shar-Teel also gasped for breath, half-squatting beside the dead wyvern with the pommels of her blades against her knees. Looking over at Xan she gave him a toothy leer and once she could speak she shouted: "Now I think you're just trying to impress me elf!"
"Wha-what?" Xan stammered.
She pointed at the still body by his feet. "You got their leader. Looks like it was clean through the heart too. Nice."
Xan's lip quivered and he glanced at his sword. "I assure you, the last thing on my mind was impressing you."
"Uh huh." She gave Xan a sharp wink.
Sweet Selderine! This really is her way of flirting isn't it? He considered keeping his moonblade permanently sheathed, despite how handy it had come in lately.
Releasing the dead man's mauled neck, the black wolf leaned back on its haunches and shook its body. As the fur rustled a mirage-like waver ran over the wolf, and it grew taller and thinner, taking the form of a dark haired woman. Faldorn didn't bother to wipe the blood from her face before she spoke. "That is all of the Talons, I believe." The other wolf padded over and sat at her feet, where she gently rubbed it behind the ears. Xan noticed Takiyah, standing near the entrance of the cave. Apparently the second wolf was just a wolf.
"There's still the wyverns out there." Xan pointed out.
"Perhaps." Faldorn sounded unconcerned. She turned towards the cavern's opening and began to walk, her wolf at her heels, and the other druid fell in line behind them.
At Shar-Teel's insistence the three searched the cave and the dead mercenaries for valuables. A worthwhile notion actually; along with coins they found a fair number of enchanted arrows for Kivan and some much-needed healing potions.
Soon the close quarters and butcher's shop smell that the cave was developing grew too much for Xan, and he hobbled out into the sunlight long before the others were done with their search. He would be happy to never set foot in another cavern again, truly. Or on another battlefield. The stench of voided bowls that followed a fight was something best gotten away from quickly.
Ah. And fresh air was far preferable to coins. In the forest ahead Faldorn and Takiyah stood over Izefia's unmoving form, faces grim. As Xan had suspected the older druid was dead, though one casualty for a battle with wyverns and armored archers did not seem too bad to him. And perhaps if that fool ranger had waited for them to formulate a plan-
Xan's thoughts were interrupted by a mighty flap and the rush of air. Wide eyed and slack-jawed, he looked up to see the great wyvern swoop between the treetops and alight upon the forest floor, mere paces from the druids. It was at least three times the size of the creatures they had fought, fierce and fully grown. So much for light casualties!
With a crunch the wyvern stepped forward, tail curled so its barb was just above its horns. Takiyah stumbled backwards and fell on his behind, but Faldorn kept her feet planted firmly, head tilted up to meet the great reptilian eyes and face still smeared with bandit's blood. The wyvern bent its neck until its snout was a few feet from the druidess, barring its teeth and letting out a hiss. With a sharp nod of her head Faldorn growled a few words back in reply. They were words that Xan felt he recognized from arcane study, though he sensed no magic. Was that draconic?
The wyvern hissed again, then reared back and let out a cry that shook the leaves. There was rustling nearby, and the two young wyverns Xan had hoped were driven off marched out into view, one behind the other. Next, the great wyvern's neck struck down like a snake's, its jaws open. With terrifying speed it latched onto Izefia's corpse and reeled back on its feet, flapping its wings and rising from the ground.
Faldorn's hair waved in the wind, and she rocked a bit, but remained upright. The wyvern wheeled up into the air above the trees, followed by the two smaller creatures, the limp body in its jaws bobbing all the while. Then they were gone.
"It is good that she was content to leave with the meal and her children," Faldorn said, not the slightest hint of fear in her voice. The firm conviction of a religious fanatic, Xan realized. "Good too that the winds blow from the southwest, and your companions who are drenched in wyvern blood were still in the cave. If she had smelled them she may have reconsidered."
"Yes," Xan breathed. "Very good."
They rode into Beregost with the early morning mist, four sturdy horses and four men atop them. A rough looking bunch, even the gnome, who was bald and scarred and wore a long black beard over his sharp features. Eyes sharp too, and constantly sweeping. There was a thick, burly dwarf as well, and the other two were humans, tall and broad and armored beneath their cloaks.
The handful of pedestrians going about their morning chores scattered before the riders, but Golin Vend wasn't quite fast enough, what with his mule determined to take things at her own pace. He sighed to himself when he saw that the riders were heading his way. Ah well. It usually fell on him to give directions to strangers. He just wished those strangers were the friendlier sort.
One of the men pulled his horse to a stop right up close. He looked a hardened warrior, a longsword at his hip and fancy chainmail across his chest, dusted a bit from travel. Made Golin real nervous when the man reached for his belt, near the hilt of that sword, but he simply drew out a rolled up parchment. Unfurling it, the man waved the paper before Golin's eyes. There were words there, along with a sketch of a young woman's face, framed by straight black hair.
"Seen this woman?" the man simply asked.
Golin squinted. Really she looked fairly plain. Could be anyone.
"Wears armor. Carries two swords. Travels with a redhaired girl."
Recognition flashed in Golin's eyes, too quick for him to hide it.
"You have then?" Steel gleamed in the early morning light as the warrior drew his sword partway from its well-oiled scabbard. "Speak up then. Or do I need to jog your memory with steel?" No more doubt what sort these were.
Golin's hands shot up, palms wide and surrendering. "No. Please. I haven't seen her recently…" A few more inches of steel appeared. "But…but she's come through town a few times. Always stays at the Jovial Juggler Inn. She could be there now for all I know."
"Where is this inn?"
He pointed down the street and stammered out a few directions. It was a great relief when the man slipped his sword back into the sheath and turned his horse, leading his party south into town. A relief for him at least.
Golin shook his head as the men trotted away and he went back to guiding his mule. Those poor girls.