Disoriented upon awakening, his first thought is that he’s laying abed back in his room after coming out of a particularly vivid dream. Unfortunately, reality sets in and memory returns; and so too does the pain. It wasn’t a dream.
The room bears little resemblance to the one in which he spent the majority of his time the last few years. The walls were fashioned of lengths of timber set horizontally such as one might find in a log cabin. There is very little in the way of furnishings, merely the bed, a night stand and a chest with clothes folded neatly across the top. His spear and backpack rest in the corner next to the chest with his clothes. Clothes?
Lifting the covers, he discovers that he’s naked as the day he was born; the only exception being the bandage covering the wound on his leg where the wolf had bit him. Not sure how he came to be in this place, he does vaguely remember someone at the edge of the stream helping to fight off the wolves.
Daylight filters in through a small window in the far wall. The soft pink tinge in the sky beyond indicates that sundown must be approaching. Or could it be dawn? Beyond the window comes the sound of wood being split with an axe. A slightly off-key whistling tune accompanies the chopping.
Lying quietly, he listens to the whack, whack, whack. When the chopping stops, footsteps are heard making their way around the cabin. From the other side of his bedroom door comes the squeal of hinges in need of oiling, followed by the thudding of wood being dumped into what James envisions to be a wood-box.
After an anxious moment of silence during which James strains to hear what is going on out there, nervousness fills him when footsteps start coming toward the door to his room. He listens with growing trepidation as they draw closer.
Will he be friend or foe? Praying for the one who approaches to be counted among the former but fearing he may be of the latter, James glances toward the spear leaning against the wall. For a split-second, he contemplates going for it, but then the footsteps stop just outside the door and know2 the opportunity has past. He watches with apprehension as the door handle turns.
In walks the man who had been at the river. Seeing James awake, he pauses just within the door and gives him a disarming smile.
“Finally awake, I see. You slept all night and through most of this day. I bet you’re hungry. Yes?”
He’s in his mid forties, about six feet tall with brown hair, and quite muscular. Nothing fat about him, he’s in very good shape. Dressed in woodsman’s attire, he has a clean if not stylish appearance. Earlier apprehension is soon alleviated by the man’s friendly demeanor.
A loud rumbling from his belly answers the question. James gives him a nod. After a moment of silence, he asks, “Where am I? And who do I have to thank for my life?”
“As to where you are, you are here, in my cabin. My name is Ceryn and I am the Forest Warden in these parts. It was lucky I came along when I did. That wolf pack would have had you for dinner for sure.”
“Ceryn?” James says, hoping to have pronounced the name correctly. “My name’s James. I appreciate you saving me.”
Ceryn’s grin widens. “Glad I was there to help. You can rest for a little while longer. Supper’s cooking and will be a few more minutes before it’s ready.” He gestured toward the clothes upon the chest. “I cleaned them a bit, washed out the worst of it. If you have the strength and wish to get dressed, you can join me in the other room. If not, I’ll bring a bowl in here.” He waits for James’ reaction. When none is forthcoming, he mumbles, “Strangest clothes I’ve ever seen,” then turns about and without another word closes the door as he leaves the room. Soon, the sounds of what James’ grandfather always called puttering could be heard coming from the outer room.
Not really having the energy or drive to leave the comfort of the bed, but not wanting to eat dinner lying naked beneath the covers either, James gingerly sits up and swings his legs over the edge. The movement causes the throbbing in his leg to increase. He remains sitting for a few moments to gather his courage before braving the pain and stand.
It’s not going to hurt that bad.
Coming to his feet proved how wrong he was. The pain was the worst he’d ever felt in his life. It took every ounce of fortitude and willpower he possessed to cross the ten feet to where his clothes lay. As soon as he comes within reach of his spear, he takes it and uses it for support. Doing so did much to relieve his discomfort.
He finds that his clothes have indeed been cleaned, and dresses.
Once clothed, he carries his backpack over to the bed and sitting once more, takes inventory of what remains of his meager possessions. Everything is there except the book explaining the workings of magic. He does a visual search of the area where his backpack had sat, but fails to find it. It occurs to him that he could possibly have lost it during his flight from, and subsequent fight with, the wolves. But that doesn’t seem likely as the backpack had been closed tightly throughout the ordeal and still remains so. Could Ceryn have taken it? James didn’t want to believe that of his benefactor, but what did he really know about the man?
Deciding to take things one step at a time, he returns his pack to the corner. Hobbling across the room with the aid of his spear, he opens the door and peers through to the outer room.
Beyond he finds a room three times the size of the one in which he awoke. In the center sits a wooden table with three chairs. One wall holds several shelves containing plates and other cooking equipment. Set against another section of wall is a simple wooden desk atop which papers lay in haphazard fashion. An inkwell sits near the stack of papers with a quill lying beside it.
The bow that saved his life hangs near the desk along with a quiver of arrows. On the side of the bow opposite the quiver lies a scabbarded sword and shield, both of which have the look of having been well used.
Attention drawn to the opening of the door, Ceryn spies him and gives a nod as the Warden continues slicing vegetables for a big stewpot. Indicating the table with a jerk of his head, he says, “Have a seat. This will need to cook a little longer.”
Hobbling to the table, James looks longingly toward the stewpot simmering upon a hook over a gently burning fire in the fireplace. The mouthwatering aroma it emits causes his stomach to growl. Taking a seat facing Ceryn he says, “I haven’t had a good meal for a while.”
Ceryn grins and chuckles. “Whether this will be what you call good or not, you’ll have to decide.” Finishing with the preparations, he places the pot on a hook over the fire in the hearth to finish cooking. After filling two mugs from a pitcher, he brings them to the table.
James takes the one offered him, looks within and sniffs uncertainly.
“It’s just ale, lad. You look like you could use some.” Giving him a wink, Ceryn tosses back his mug and takes a deep draught.
Bringing the mug to his mouth, James hesitantly takes a sip. When the liquid hits his tongue, he has to admit it wasn’t bad. A little strong for his taste, but not worse than some of the stuff he has tried over at his friend Dave’s place. Glancing to Ceryn, James notices that he’s being scrutinized.
“I suppose you have a lot of questions about me?”
“Yes, a couple. But your business is just that, your business. You seem a nice enough lad. You needn’t feel obligated to tell me anything more than what you want.” Ceryn sets his mug on the table then returns to the stew pot where he stirs it with a large wooden spoon. “Can’t let it burn on the bottom.”
“That’s what my grandmother always says, too.” Remembering times sitting in his grandmother’s kitchen while she cooked makes him a little homesick.
“She must have been a nice woman, a good cook maybe?” He casts a look to James and receives a nod in reply. Returning his attention to the pot, he stirs the stew a few more times. Once satisfied that it isn’t in any immediate danger of burning, he sets the spoon on the counter and returns to the table. Grabbing his mug, he downs the rest of it.
“She was the best. Sometimes there would be little in the house, yet she could whip up the most wonderful dinners.” Memories of fine meals make his stomach growl loudly.
“It’ll be just a few minutes longer.”
“Where am I exactly?”
A surprised look comes over Ceryn. “You mean you don’t even know where you are?”
“Not really.” After taking another sip of the not-entirely-unpleasant ale, he adds, “I’ve been lost.”
The Forest Warden studies his face for a moment before answering. “You are near the Kelewan River, not far from the township of Trendle. The forest I found you in is called The Dark Forest of Kelewan. Nothing really dark about it unless you come here ill prepared. It’s my job to help people in trouble, like yourself, and if need be get a crew to clear the roads when a tree falls and blocks the trails.”
“I am very glad you were there for me. Those wolves had been after me since the night before. I took out one that had wandered into my camp and the others seemed to have it in for me ever since.” Pausing for another sip of ale, he then asks. “How far is it to Trendle?”
“About a day and a half’s walk. In your condition you’ll never make it. You will need to rest at least until tomorrow. I’m heading there in the morning and could take you if you like.”
“I’d appreciate that, thank you.”
James was warming to this Ceryn. A rather genial chap, his easy speech and relaxed demeanor put James at ease.
Ceryn goes to inspect the stew once again. Using the spoon to take a taste, he nods approvingly and removes the pot from the fire. After setting it on the table, he crosses to the shelves and selects two bowls and a pair of smaller, wooden spoons. Returning to the table, he hands one of each to James.
Following Ceryn’s lead, James dips his spoon into the stewpot and proceeds to fill his bowl. The stew has a thick gravy and contains many different vegetables, some unfamiliar, with a little bit of meat. While he fills his bowl, Ceryn fetches a loaf of bread. Using his belt knife, the Warden slices off two thick pieces and hands one to James.
Breaking off a corner, James dips the bread into the stew’s gravy. When the gravy covered bread hits his taste buds, his salivary glands go into overtime. This tastes great! Taking up his spoon, he eagerly scoops as much meat and veggies as the utensil can hold. “Oh, man,” he mumbles appreciatively as he chews. The meat is flavorful without being tough and the veggies are soft yet still firm. Eating with gusto, James soon empties his bowl and is scooping a second helping out of the pot.
“Hungry?”
James realizes that he is starting his second bowl while Ceryn still has yet to finish his first. Slightly embarrassed at eating so fast and greedily, he replies, “Either I am totally starving or this is the best stew I have ever had!”
Ceryn chuckles. “Maybe it’s a little bit of both. Eat as much as you can hold, you look like you could use it.” Scooping out another helping, the Forest Warden re-fills his bowl from the stewpot then cuts another section of bread for himself and James.
Once the meal is over and hunger has been satisfied, Ceryn takes the bowls and spoons outside to the river and washes them. Bringing them back inside, he sets them on the shelf then places a lid on the stew pot before moving it over onto a side table.
Night has fallen by this time, the only light being that from the fire. Ceryn settles into a chair near the fire and pulls out his pipe. Filling it with pipe weed, he sets a smoldering stick from the fire to it and puffs several times. He tosses the stick back within the fire and leans back in his chair as pipe smoke begins to encircle his head.
James brings a chair and sits next to the Warden. The warmth coming from the flames feels good and quickly relaxes him. He watches the flames dance as they consume the wood, thinking how his life had changed over the past few days. From home, to the woods, and now a friendly Warden’s home, he can’t help but wonder what the next day will hold. Though thoughts of the past two days and what may lie ahead occupy his mind, he has a hard time keeping his eyes open. Repeatedly, his head droops to his chest only to suddenly jerk back up.
Noticing his problem, Ceryn offers him the bed he awoke in earlier, an offer James is no way able to refuse. After thanking his host, he uses his spear again as a crutch and makes his way to the back room. Climbing into bed, he thinks to himself, Lucky to have found Ceryn. Not many would have taken a stranger into their home and fed them. I owe him a lot. A few lingering thoughts about what the next day may hold are all that he is allowed before sleep takes him.
Thud!!!
The sound of the bedroom door crashing open startles James out of a deep sleep. Sitting bolt upright, he turns bleary eyes toward the doorway. Three sword-wielding men wearing worn, mismatched pieces of armor enter and do a quick look around. Upon seeing James, one of them turns to holler out the door, “There’s another one in here, a lad hiding in the bed. Ceryn lied!”
From outside comes the reply. “Bring him out. We’ll take care of both of ‘em.”
One of the men heads toward the bed.
James is still unsure what is going on as the man takes him roughly by the arm and hauls him to his feet. Pain from his wound shoots up his leg as his foot hits the floor. Crying out in pain, he is propelled through the door with a shove. James stumbles into the front room, his injured leg protesting with every pain-filled step. Another rough shove from behind and he’s pushed toward the door leading outside. Despite the throbbing in his leg, he somehow makes it through the doorway without falling.
Not far from the front of the cabin are two more men with drawn swords standing next to a bound body on the ground. As James is pushed forward, he discovers it to be Ceryn. He’s relieved to see the Forest Warden turn his head and glance silently at him. At least Ceryn is still conscious and alert. One of the men who took him from the cabin pulls his arms behind his back where they are bound painfully tight. Once his hands are secured, he’s pushed roughly to the ground next to Ceryn.
“Don’t move and keep your mouth shut!” one of the four sword wielding men commands.
James glances at the man and nods.
Seeing that James plans to cooperate, the guard grunts then turns to his partner.
With their captor’s attention, for the moment, focused elsewhere, he scoots closer to Ceryn until they are less than a foot apart. “Who are these guys?”
“Outlaws. They’re mad because I brought one of them in and was executed. He killed two women who were traveling through here a while back.”
“What are they going to do with us?”
“They’ll probably torture and kill me. You…” Ceryn pauses as one of the guards glances in their direction. When the guard again focuses his attention elsewhere, he continues. “You they may kill or they may take you south and sell you to the slavers. Sorry, lad.”
An outlaw a little larger than the rest and bearing a tattoo of a snake on his left forearm storms over to Ceryn and kicks him in the side. “I told you to be quiet! Another word and I’ll cut out your tongue.” To emphasize his point he kicks Ceryn hard in the side twice more before walking off.
Two outlaws continue standing guard over them with their swords drawn and ready. James leans closer to Ceryn and in a barely audible whisper asks, “Are you ok?”
A sleight nod of Ceryn’s head is his only answer.
“I’m going to try and loosen your bonds.”
Ceryn meets his gaze and shakes his head. “Too risky.”
“Just be ready.”
Their gazes meet and there must have been something in James’ eyes for Ceryn nods.
Concentrating on envisioning their bonds coming apart, James whispers:
Ropes that bind me and you
Come apart in pieces two.
James feels a slackening in the rope binding his arms together as the fibers part. Ceryn gives him a look full of surprise as his wrists are once again free.
Whispering so only Ceryn can hear, he says, “Now for the outlaws, be ready.”
Another nod from Ceryn, he understands.
Looking around he searches for something that can be used to hurt, maybe even kill the outlaws. His gaze comes to rest on the fire and an idea takes shape. Speaking softly, he casts his spell.
Fire that’s hot
“Hey, the boss said no talking.”
Ignoring him, James continues,
Fire that’s bright,
The guard takes a step toward him. “I said to shut up or I’ll shut you up.”
Send balls of flame
“Ok, you asked for it” Taking two more step, the guard reaches his side, and prepares to kick him in the head.
Before the guard can complete the maneuver, James looks him in the eye and shouts:
To burn outlaws this night!
At the final utterance of the spell, magic streams from him as flaming balls erupt from the fire. The outlaws have only a moment to realize their danger. One such fiery projectile nearly singes James’ hair as it slams into the man standing before him. The resultant explosion knocks the outlaw back and showers James and Ceryn with sparks. Similar bursts flare throughout the area.
The spell uses far too much of his unreplenished reserves, draining what strength he has and causes him to black out. Ceryn sees James pass out but can’t take the time to determine if he’s okay.
Screams of pain and confusion fill the night air. Rolling to the side, Ceryn kicks out with his foot and brings a guard whose clothes are afire to the ground. He deftly avoids the flames as he takes possession of the guard’s sword. Upending it, he plunges it through the man’s chest, pinning him to the ground.
Quickly getting to his feet, he places a foot upon the dead outlaw’s chest and pulls the sword free. A nearby guard cries out as his hair ignites and goes up in flames. Moving toward him, Ceryn strikes out with his sword and the outlaw’s head goes flying. The head hits the ground and rolls like a flaming ball until coming to a sizzling stop.
Another outlaw lies smoldering on the ground. Still another races through the forest, a pillar of flame in the darkness. The man’s screams echo through the night. Scanning the area for who may have escaped James’ flaming attack; Ceryn finds no sign of the leader. Counting those taken out by the fireballs, he realizes two of the leader’s henchmen remain unaccounted.
Returning to James, he finds him still breathing but is unable to rouse him. Using one hand, he grabs his shirt and drags him toward the cabin. In his other, he retains the bloody sword which has already taken out two of the outlaws. He doesn’t get far before the man with the tattoo appears from the direction of the river. Behind him walk the remaining two outlaws, only one seeming to have emerged from the attack unscathed.
“Ceryn,” the tattooed man shouts, “I’m going to gut you and let the animals eat your entrails while you’re still alive to enjoy it. And then I’ll cut the heart out of that demon damned mage.” Covered in burns, clothing charred nearly beyond recognition, he makes a frightening sight. The tattooed man comes for Ceryn while the other two move to flank him.
Knowing they’ll follow him and ignore James as long as he’s unconscious, Ceryn leaves him on the ground and approaches the outlaws with sword at the ready. Three to one would be bad odds in a normal situation but after what James had done to them, the outlaws will be slowed by the pain.
Ceryn feints at the one on the right; out of the corner of his eye he sees the one on the left coming in to his exposed flank. When the one on the left slices toward Ceryns’ head, Ceryn drops to the ground and rolls toward him, striking a serious blow to the outlaw’s thigh, opening an artery. The Warden leaps back to his feet as the outlaw gives out with a cry and drops to the ground.
The leader comes in with a swift thrust aimed at Ceryn’s chest which is deftly blocked, then is forced to jump back when Ceryn counter attacks with a slice to the leader’s leg. Unable to avoid, Ceryn’s sword opens up a shallow cut on his upper thigh.
Seeing an opening created by Ceryn’s attack on the leader, the remaining henchman leaps in and thrusts. Ceryn twists just in time and manages to receive only a small cut along his shoulder. Ignoring the pain, he feints at the leader and then comes back with a backhanded slice causing the henchman to stumble backward and trip over the outlaw writhing on the ground, doing his best to keep his life’s blood from leaving his body.
Seeing his chance, Ceryn presses the leader who is becoming weakened from the loss of blood and the trauma of having been burned. Slash, block. Block, slash. He needs to finish the leader before the remaining henchman regains his feet and rejoins the battle.
Ceryn slices at the leader’s head, at the arm, the head, back and forth. The leader successfully blocks each of Ceryn’s maneuvers.
“Ceryn, you cannot win. I am the better swordsman!”
Undaunted by the taunts, Ceryn doubles his efforts.
Having regained his feet, the henchman moves to rejoin the battle. Ceryn sees him approaching and with a burst of speed and skill, continues his attacks upon the leader.
The henchman finally rejoins the battle and presses Ceryn hard, giving the leader time to drop out of the battle for a moment to catch his breath. The henchman hammers away. Hack, hack, slash; his attacks have very little skill, as if he was trying to bull his way through Ceryn’s defense with naught but brute strength.
Using skill acquired through dozens of conflicts, Ceryn successfully blocks each of the attacks and begins to understand the rhythm of the henchman’s attacks. Hack, hack, slash. Hack, hack, slash. Timing it just right, he blocks the next two hacks and when the henchman comes in with the slash, Ceryn drops under the incoming blade and thrusts with his own sword, taking the outlaw upward through the chest. Ceryn kicks out with his foot to dislodge the outlaw from his blade and turns to find the leader coming straight for him, a wild look in his eyes.
With a primal scream, the leader charges. Wielding his sword in both hands, he brings it down with all his strength, attempting to hew Ceryn in half. Striking the leader’s sword, Ceryn succeeds in deflecting it away, throwing the leader off balance. Ceryn then kicks out with his foot and connects with the leader’s knee. With satisfaction, he hears the knee joint snap. Off balance and with knee broken, the leader cries out in pain as he twists and drops face first to the ground. Moving to finish it, Ceryn slices through the leader’s back and severs the spine.
Paralyzed, the leader stares with hate filled eyes at Ceryn as the blood flowing out of him first brings unconsciousness, then death.
Panting, Ceryn wipes the sweat from his brow as he surveys the battlefield and finds only smoldering, dead outlaws. He tosses the sword down and returns to James. He lifts James from off the ground and carries him into the cabin where he lays him upon the bed.
Waking the next morning, James finds a blood-soaked Ceryn lying next to him. Checking to make sure the Forest Warden still lived, he discovers that most of the blood staining Ceryn’s clothes is not the Warden’s. Even though he has a head that feels like it’s being used as an anvil, James manages to rise and investigate the situation outside.
The area in front of the cabin is a scene of carnage. Bodies litter the ground and blood is everywhere. His respect for the swordsmanship of Ceryn is high. He moves from one outlaw to the next. Not finding any that still lives, he returns to the cabin and builds a fire in the fireplace to ward off the morning chill. Not with magic for after last night he can’t even think of magic without his head hurting. The spell with the fire had been far too draining. In fact, it had almost killed him. He determines to refrain from using magic for the time being, at least until he regains some of his strength.
He finally gets a good fire going then hangs the remnants of last night’s pot of stew over the flames to warm. Taking an empty jug, he hobbles with the aid of his spear out to the river and fills it with water from the river. Once back in the cabin he fills a bowl and locates a somewhat clean cloth. Taking them into the bedroom he begins cleaning the blood off of Ceryn.
Not long after beginning, Ceryn awakens. His unexpected grabbing of James’ hand startles him and nearly causes him to spill the contents of the bowl.
“I can take care of this myself, I’m not that weak.”
Smiling, James replies, “Just returning the favor. You saved our lives out there last night.”
“I think we both deserve credit with still being alive.” Sitting up, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed. “You have many surprises about you, yes?” Coming to his feet, he heads for the door.
“I suppose I do.”
James grabs his spear as he accompanies Ceryn to the river. His leg still hurts badly, but with the aid of the spear, he’s able to make it without fear of making it worse. Changing the subject, James asks, “Who were those guys last night?”
Ceryn kneels at the water’s edge and commences washing away the blood staining his hands and arms; something he was far too tired to do the night before.
“The leader’s name is, or was, Garrett. Some called him Garrett the Snake after the tattoo of the green serpent on his arm. His little band of cutthroats has been raiding this area for a couple years now, but no one has ever been able to stop him, until now. There’s a reward for taking him down. I’ve no use for it, and since you saved us last night, you can claim it.”
“Uh, thanks, but I wouldn’t feel right about taking all of it.”
Turning his head, he glances up at James. “Take it. If you don’t, it’ll just be used to fatten some administrator’s purse. I’m sure you could use it.” After removing all traces of blood from his exposed skin, he gets back to his feet and returns to the cabin. Once inside, he inspects the cook pot and uses his big spoon to stir it. A sniff and taste later, pronounces it ready. Removing it from the fire, he carries it to the table.
James lends a hand by taking the bowls and spoons from the shelf, plus a couple mugs and sets them on the table. While he serves the stew, Ceryn pours the ale and they set to eating.
After Ceryn finishes his first bowl, he looks at James and asks, “So, you’re a mage, eh?”
“In a matter of speaking. I’m sort of new at it.”
“New or not, that was some spell you cast, with the balls of fire. Quick thinking. You would be good to have on one’s side in a fight.”
Reddening slightly under the praise, he shook his head. “Not too good if I pass out before it’s all over.” He still feels ashamed at his weakness of the night before. He feels like he let Ceryn down when he needed him most.
“Now don’t you belittle what you did last night. What you did turned the tide in our favor and without it, this morning would have found us dead or wishing we were.” Ceryn lets James take a second helping then scoops out the rest for himself.
James thinks about what Ceryn had said, coming to admit that there might be some merit to it. Feeling slightly better, he downs the rest of his ale and lets out a loud belch.
Ceryn chuckles. “After we finish here, I’ll hitch my horse to the wagon and take you into Trendle.”
It isn’t long before their bowls are empty. Ceryn glances to James and says, “Just rest here while I get the wagon ready. I’ll bring it around front. We need to bring in the bodies if you’re to receive the reward.” Heading out the door, he turns and makes his way around the cabin to the corral behind the house. In a few minutes he has his horse hitched to the wagon and is bringing it around to the front.
With a strength belying his wounds, one by one he gathers the bodies of the outlaws and places them within the wagon. After the last outlaw rests in the wagon, he uses a tarp to cover the grisly scene and returns back inside to inform James it’s time to leave.
James hobbles to the bedroom where he gathers his belongings, then carries them out to the wagon where Ceryn is already waiting for him. Tossing his backpack up to the Warden, he asks, “You didn’t happen to see a book lying on the ground back where you rescued me from the wolves did you?”
Catching the backpack, Ceryn shakes his head. “No, but I wasn’t looking for one either. I was more interested in saving your life. Why? Was it important?”
“Yeah, it was.”
“Too bad. I doubt if we could find it now. If you lost it during the last fight with the wolves, then it’s in the river and no telling where it would be now.”
With a helping hand from Ceryn, James manages to climb onto the wagon and takes his seat next to the Warden. “I guess you’re right.” He feels bad about losing the book, but realizes there is little that can be done about it now. No sense bemoaning what can’t be changed.
A flick of the reins and Ceryn gets the horse moving. They pull out onto the dirt lane leading from his cabin. After a short ways it meets the main road running along the Kelewan River which will take them into Trendle.
Not far from where they turned onto the road they find where the outlaws had picketed their horses. Pausing for only a short time, Ceryn gathers the horses and ties them in a line behind the wagon. Once they are secure, he returns to his seat and gets the wagon moving once more.
For a time they remain quiet as James takes in the beauty of the area. To his right is the rolling Kelewan River, well over fifty feet across and flowing smoothly. The sun filtering through the trees banishes the morning chill and makes way for a warm summer day. The birds flitter to and fro and call out in a multitudinous chorus.
“How far is Trendle?”
“About a day’s ride. We should be there by nightfall.”
Glancing at James, he adds, “I probably should warn you that mages are not well thought of in these parts. Some bad things happened a while ago and, well, let’s just say that the people haven’t forgotten. They don’t much trust strangers at all, really. It takes them a while to warm up to anyone. They’re good people, just wary.”
“I can understand that. I’ll try not to give them reason to distrust me.”
“There’s a family that I know who has a farm just outside of town. If you like, I could take you there and see if they’ll let you stay with them while you’re recuperating.”
“Yes, I’d like that. I’m a pretty quiet person who tries not to be a bother to anyone.”
Ceryn nods and chuckles. “I’ve noticed that about you. After we deliver the bodies to the Town Hall and talk to the mayor, we’ll head out there.”
Nodding, he agrees to the plan. “How much of a reward is there for Garrett and his band.”
“I believe it’s five hundred gold pieces for Garrett and another hundred for each of his henchman,” he replies after giving it a moment’s thought. “If I’m remembering that right, you should get eleven hundred gold pieces, a tidy sum. You can also have your pick of their horses too if you like. The rest will go to the town where they’ll be auctioned off at the end of the month.”
Eleven hundred gold pieces and a horse! James can’t believe his good fortune. My situation is getting better and better.
“I don’t know too much about horses.”
Ceryn eyes him with surprise. “Truly?”
James nods.
“We’ll then, don’t worry, I’ll pick one for you. One that’s not too temperamental.”
“Thanks, I would appreciate that.”
For the rest of the trip, they ride in silence. James dozes on and off, still not completely over the previous day’s exertions and last night’s magical feat. Later that evening when the sun has sunk low in the sky, Ceryn directs his attention to the road ahead. Nestled in among the trees along this side of the river are several wooden buildings. Ceryn nods when he looks questioningly at him. Trendle.