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f4f31548 words - I'm not even trying to write to this length, it's just happening... Strange. I lost my auction, by the way!
Chapter Three:
Of beans and whisky, of maps, of lies and bluffs. Of reasons to stay alive. Of secret darlings and travel plans. No tar, no feathers and no rail, yet.
The route back to Jak-jak’s was a lot more direct that the one the boy had chosen to get to the corral. BloodRaven caught Erik at the door, and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Why are we going here?”
“Because it was recommended to me by a friend.”
“You have a friend in this piss-hole?”
Erik nodded to the boy.
“Young, whatchamacall him here… What is your name anyway, boy?”
He looked surprised at being asked. “Well, my maw called me Hannibal. She told me that was my father’s name. But, well, everyone around here calls me Han. Except for Jak-jak. He called me cum-bucket. If it’s all right by you, I think I’d like to be called Han.”
BloodRaven looked about to argue, but Erik cut him off. “OK, Han, I’m glad that’s settled. Let’s go inside – if you don’t mind, Red?”
“It looks like the sort of cheap dive where the beer’s warm and the women are cold, where the whisky is squeezed out of a bum’s kidneys and the easiest way to start a fight is to ask someone if they know who their father was. No offence meant to you, boy. I like the look of it.”
BloodRaven pushed his way through the curtain first. Erik grimaced, and realised that he would have to do a lot of talking to get BloodRaven to follow him anywhere. This was a man who was used to being in front. Han followed, looking forward to more entertainment and some free beans, but mostly to the free beans.
There was a new bartender behind the bar. Erik smiled. The place had got busier, with a few of the tables taken, mostly by locals from what he could tell, although there was a group of young bloods hanging out near the bar, comparing knife scars. Erik smiled again- they were looking for trouble, and they didn’t know just how much trouble had just walked in. Still, maybe if they kept quiet they could avoid a fight for as long as it took to eat.
BloodRaven walked to an empty but uncleared table, and swept it clean with a wave of his arm.
“Barkeep!” he roared, “Bring us stew and beer. And keep bringing it until we tell you to stop!” As all eyes in the room turned to him, he unstrapped his sword, and put it on the chair beside him, sliding it a few inches from the scabbard. He looked around the suddenly silent room. “What are you bastards looking at?”
Slowly everyone looked back to their fellows, and conversation restarted. But it was quieter than before, with an undercurrent of angry muttering.
Erik sighed. “Very diplomatic, Red.”
BloodRaven looked genuinely puzzled.
“Why bother being polite in a sty? We’ll never pass this way again, and if anyone makes trouble they’ll be hiring extra help at the undertakers place.”
“Let’s just say that I prefer my stew unsalted by poison, and my ale with no spit floating on it.”
BloodRaven ran his hand over his sword.
“Poison is something that doesn’t bother me much. And a little spit adds season to a pint, doesn’t it boy?” He laughed, and slapped the boy across the back, propelling him into a seat.
“So, old man, we’ve settled what we call the boy – he’s Cum-b… sorry, Han. But what do I call you?”
“I suppose wise and revered master is out of the question? You can call me The Man With The Map.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to tell you my name, mostly.”
The food arrived – wooden bowls of a slop that might have had a passing acquaintance with a cat found which had been kicked to death by an angry horse, but which was mostly beans, and some ale that at least tasted better than the stew. It was warm, and Erik studied the head carefully before shaking his head and sipping it.
BloodRaven downed his pint in two swallows, and threw the mug in the direction of the bar.
“OK, fair enough, although you could have just had the decency to lie about it, give me a false name, but why should I call you The Man With The Map? For one thing, it’s a bit of a mouthful.”
“Because, it won’t surprise you to learn, I have a Map.”
“And what does this Map with a capital M show?”
“Oh, all sorts of things. It shows every major city in this realm, and most of the small ones, it shows 17 treasure hoards, and says a little about the guardian of each, and it shows where 23 magic weapons are to be found, and who currently wields them. One of those weapons is the Diamond Blade you lost.”
“That sounds like a very valuable map…”
“It is – and now you’re trying to think of a reason why you shouldn’t kill me and take it, I suppose?”
“I won’t insult your intelligence by denying it, old man…”
Erik was almost sure the BloodRaven’s eyes sparked red for a moment, and he was almost sure that there was an answering pulse from the gem on his sword. Or had the gem sparked first?
“Here, I’ll save you the trouble.” He reached for his own sword, and before he could even grasp it, BloodRaven’s blade had leapt into his hand.
“Careful, old man…”
“Don’t be so hasty…” Erik unstrung a cylinder from the blade’s scabbard, and pulled out a scroll from it.
“Be careful when you unroll it – it’s several centuries old.”
“And yet it can tell you where my lost blade is? A strange sort of map.”
“Very strange – look at it.”
BloodRaven unrolled it deftly, his confidence with the aged vellum surprising in someone who gave every show of being an untutored Barbarian. He studied the mountain ranges, rivers and plains show, and then turned to Erik with a snarl.
“A pretty picture, old man, but I don’t see any treasure hoards marked – or magic weapons!”
“And you won’t see them, because you haven’t got my eyes. I’m the only one who can see the markings.”
“Well, reveal them to me then! Or tell me how to read it!”
“Don’t be silly, Red – why would I take away the only reason you’ll let me live? Even if I wanted to, and I don’t, I’m the only person who can read it. It was part of the price I paid to acquire it.”
BloodRaven subsided, his anger pushed aside for now. “But you say you can lead me to the blade?”
“I can. I will. It will be to my advantage to see that blade returned to its rightful owner.”
“Then that will have to be good enough for me…” Erik reached over and retrieved the map. Han had begun to study it before he could roll it up, and his eyes widened.
“But the map – it’s….”
“It’s mine, boy, and you best remember that. Now, we’d best make preparations to leave. We’ll be travelling on foot, so I’ll have to sell the nag I rode in on.”
He bent over the table, and BloodRaven leaned in, putting down his third mug of ale to listen.
“I don’t walk. Where I travel the earth shakes, and sandaled feet just don’t make enough of an impression for my liking.”
“Tough. We’ll be heading into the mountains, first, and a horse will be worse than useless there. I don’t feel like abandoning three beasts there to die just to save you a days walk.”
“Three beasts. I only count two of us. You don’t mean…”
Han sprang up, his eyes alight- “Yes! I’d been meaning to ask you to take me, to beg you –but you mean I can come?”
Erik leaned back. “On a dangerous journey, with little hope of making it through the mountains? Who knows what menaces lurk there? And even if we make it through, there’s river crossings, a forest of spears, and, oh, a castle or two to be stormed. Does that really appeal to you?” His voice was grim, but Han seemed to grow with each word. Behind him, BloodRaven grinned, and shook his head at Erik.
“An orphan brat, with nothing in the world except the rag on his back, and you want to take him with us? Are you sure you know what you’re letting us in for?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you know that every stable-boy dreams he’s a foundling prince, or a wizard to be just waiting for the right teacher – he’ll probably show you his birthmark, if you ask nicely. You might even find he keeps a mysterious and rusty old sword in his bedroll. Are you willing to risk taking him along with us?”
Erik looked back at him, and looked at Han. He knew that BloodRaven saw himself in the scrawny youth, as much as he did himself.
“Do you believe in all that, boy, about swineherds who become wizards, and stable-boys who end up on the throne?”
Han looked him in the eye for the first time.
“I do sir. And that’s what matters.”
Chapter Three:
Of beans and whisky, of maps, of lies and bluffs. Of reasons to stay alive. Of secret darlings and travel plans. No tar, no feathers and no rail, yet.
The route back to Jak-jak’s was a lot more direct that the one the boy had chosen to get to the corral. BloodRaven caught Erik at the door, and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Why are we going here?”
“Because it was recommended to me by a friend.”
“You have a friend in this piss-hole?”
Erik nodded to the boy.
“Young, whatchamacall him here… What is your name anyway, boy?”
He looked surprised at being asked. “Well, my maw called me Hannibal. She told me that was my father’s name. But, well, everyone around here calls me Han. Except for Jak-jak. He called me cum-bucket. If it’s all right by you, I think I’d like to be called Han.”
BloodRaven looked about to argue, but Erik cut him off. “OK, Han, I’m glad that’s settled. Let’s go inside – if you don’t mind, Red?”
“It looks like the sort of cheap dive where the beer’s warm and the women are cold, where the whisky is squeezed out of a bum’s kidneys and the easiest way to start a fight is to ask someone if they know who their father was. No offence meant to you, boy. I like the look of it.”
BloodRaven pushed his way through the curtain first. Erik grimaced, and realised that he would have to do a lot of talking to get BloodRaven to follow him anywhere. This was a man who was used to being in front. Han followed, looking forward to more entertainment and some free beans, but mostly to the free beans.
There was a new bartender behind the bar. Erik smiled. The place had got busier, with a few of the tables taken, mostly by locals from what he could tell, although there was a group of young bloods hanging out near the bar, comparing knife scars. Erik smiled again- they were looking for trouble, and they didn’t know just how much trouble had just walked in. Still, maybe if they kept quiet they could avoid a fight for as long as it took to eat.
BloodRaven walked to an empty but uncleared table, and swept it clean with a wave of his arm.
“Barkeep!” he roared, “Bring us stew and beer. And keep bringing it until we tell you to stop!” As all eyes in the room turned to him, he unstrapped his sword, and put it on the chair beside him, sliding it a few inches from the scabbard. He looked around the suddenly silent room. “What are you bastards looking at?”
Slowly everyone looked back to their fellows, and conversation restarted. But it was quieter than before, with an undercurrent of angry muttering.
Erik sighed. “Very diplomatic, Red.”
BloodRaven looked genuinely puzzled.
“Why bother being polite in a sty? We’ll never pass this way again, and if anyone makes trouble they’ll be hiring extra help at the undertakers place.”
“Let’s just say that I prefer my stew unsalted by poison, and my ale with no spit floating on it.”
BloodRaven ran his hand over his sword.
“Poison is something that doesn’t bother me much. And a little spit adds season to a pint, doesn’t it boy?” He laughed, and slapped the boy across the back, propelling him into a seat.
“So, old man, we’ve settled what we call the boy – he’s Cum-b… sorry, Han. But what do I call you?”
“I suppose wise and revered master is out of the question? You can call me The Man With The Map.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to tell you my name, mostly.”
The food arrived – wooden bowls of a slop that might have had a passing acquaintance with a cat found which had been kicked to death by an angry horse, but which was mostly beans, and some ale that at least tasted better than the stew. It was warm, and Erik studied the head carefully before shaking his head and sipping it.
BloodRaven downed his pint in two swallows, and threw the mug in the direction of the bar.
“OK, fair enough, although you could have just had the decency to lie about it, give me a false name, but why should I call you The Man With The Map? For one thing, it’s a bit of a mouthful.”
“Because, it won’t surprise you to learn, I have a Map.”
“And what does this Map with a capital M show?”
“Oh, all sorts of things. It shows every major city in this realm, and most of the small ones, it shows 17 treasure hoards, and says a little about the guardian of each, and it shows where 23 magic weapons are to be found, and who currently wields them. One of those weapons is the Diamond Blade you lost.”
“That sounds like a very valuable map…”
“It is – and now you’re trying to think of a reason why you shouldn’t kill me and take it, I suppose?”
“I won’t insult your intelligence by denying it, old man…”
Erik was almost sure the BloodRaven’s eyes sparked red for a moment, and he was almost sure that there was an answering pulse from the gem on his sword. Or had the gem sparked first?
“Here, I’ll save you the trouble.” He reached for his own sword, and before he could even grasp it, BloodRaven’s blade had leapt into his hand.
“Careful, old man…”
“Don’t be so hasty…” Erik unstrung a cylinder from the blade’s scabbard, and pulled out a scroll from it.
“Be careful when you unroll it – it’s several centuries old.”
“And yet it can tell you where my lost blade is? A strange sort of map.”
“Very strange – look at it.”
BloodRaven unrolled it deftly, his confidence with the aged vellum surprising in someone who gave every show of being an untutored Barbarian. He studied the mountain ranges, rivers and plains show, and then turned to Erik with a snarl.
“A pretty picture, old man, but I don’t see any treasure hoards marked – or magic weapons!”
“And you won’t see them, because you haven’t got my eyes. I’m the only one who can see the markings.”
“Well, reveal them to me then! Or tell me how to read it!”
“Don’t be silly, Red – why would I take away the only reason you’ll let me live? Even if I wanted to, and I don’t, I’m the only person who can read it. It was part of the price I paid to acquire it.”
BloodRaven subsided, his anger pushed aside for now. “But you say you can lead me to the blade?”
“I can. I will. It will be to my advantage to see that blade returned to its rightful owner.”
“Then that will have to be good enough for me…” Erik reached over and retrieved the map. Han had begun to study it before he could roll it up, and his eyes widened.
“But the map – it’s….”
“It’s mine, boy, and you best remember that. Now, we’d best make preparations to leave. We’ll be travelling on foot, so I’ll have to sell the nag I rode in on.”
He bent over the table, and BloodRaven leaned in, putting down his third mug of ale to listen.
“I don’t walk. Where I travel the earth shakes, and sandaled feet just don’t make enough of an impression for my liking.”
“Tough. We’ll be heading into the mountains, first, and a horse will be worse than useless there. I don’t feel like abandoning three beasts there to die just to save you a days walk.”
“Three beasts. I only count two of us. You don’t mean…”
Han sprang up, his eyes alight- “Yes! I’d been meaning to ask you to take me, to beg you –but you mean I can come?”
Erik leaned back. “On a dangerous journey, with little hope of making it through the mountains? Who knows what menaces lurk there? And even if we make it through, there’s river crossings, a forest of spears, and, oh, a castle or two to be stormed. Does that really appeal to you?” His voice was grim, but Han seemed to grow with each word. Behind him, BloodRaven grinned, and shook his head at Erik.
“An orphan brat, with nothing in the world except the rag on his back, and you want to take him with us? Are you sure you know what you’re letting us in for?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you know that every stable-boy dreams he’s a foundling prince, or a wizard to be just waiting for the right teacher – he’ll probably show you his birthmark, if you ask nicely. You might even find he keeps a mysterious and rusty old sword in his bedroll. Are you willing to risk taking him along with us?”
Erik looked back at him, and looked at Han. He knew that BloodRaven saw himself in the scrawny youth, as much as he did himself.
“Do you believe in all that, boy, about swineherds who become wizards, and stable-boys who end up on the throne?”
Han looked him in the eye for the first time.
“I do sir. And that’s what matters.”
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no subject
Date: 2005-11-03 10:15 pm (UTC)A magic map... hmmm....
I have to stop thinking yours and try to get back to mine!
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Date: 2005-11-04 04:57 am (UTC)BTW... wonderful... I'm completely hooked... good job!
no subject
Date: 2005-11-04 08:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-04 12:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-06 01:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-04 06:57 pm (UTC)More More!!!
no subject
Date: 2005-11-05 04:05 pm (UTC)