The Bow of Haladan - Part IV
by
Jason Zavoda
The Bow of Haladan Part IV
Evening came quickly across the eastern fields of Geoff, the sun
dropping beneath the mountains stretched long beams of light over the
tree tops and then was gone.
Two hundred sets of running feet jogged on toward the walls of
Hochoch. Some calamity had occurred and the eighth company was called
forward, after a hard days work, and little rest.
"Kyle, kyle..." Giffard said as they jogged along.
"What is it." Kyle answered back, concentrating on keeping
up his steady pace.
"You saw those sergeants back there today." Giffard said.
"Sure, what about them." Kyle asked distracted.
"I found something that those sods missed." said Giffard in
a hushed voice.
"Don't let them find out or it will be your hide." said Kyle.
"Loot belongs to the one who finds it, thats the law." said
Giffard loud and defiant.
"Keep it down. Those two have their own laws, they'll come up with
some reason to give you the lash." Kyle tried to keep his friends voice
quiet.
"Let them try, I'll bust their skulls and break their backs."
blustered Giffard.
"Then you'll end up dead." Kyle answered sharply. 'You know better
than to talk so foolish, or so loud."
Giffard shut up for awhile and the pair jogged along in silence
among the other members of their squad and section.
"Kyle," Giffard spoke up a little while later.
"Yes." Kyle said snapping the word out as a warning.
"Kyle I'm sorry if I was out of line." Giffard sounded worried.
"Just watch what you say, you'll make trouble for us both with
such talk." Kyle reprimanded his friend.
"Sure, you know me, but I tell you, those sergeants will never
lash me and live." Giffard said with truth behind his words.
"I know that. Don't get into trouble in the first place." Kyle
swore. "You are a damned fool sometimes, keep quiet and don't go
looking to bring on trouble that isn't meant for you."
"Sure." said Giffard without sincerity.
They jogged on some more till Kyle spoke up this time.
"So what is that you found?"
* * *
Dinet could not believe his luck. Master trader Barnett was drunk,
he'd sold off the ogre, hide, flesh, bones and blood, to a merchant just
come to the camp. His strongbox was safely tucked away but the trader
had fifty fresh gold pieces in his pouch, five unclipped ounces, more
than a years bed and board out here among these rustic lands.
The older man sat reeling alongside Dinet as he drove the team
toward the traders tent, their home for the night. He reached out an arm
to steady the drunken man and let his hand slip down till he reached the
coin pouch tied securely onto the traders belt. Dinet held a razor in his
hand and with two deft cuts, slashed the leather cord clean through.
Lightning quick he caught the pouch before it fell, with only the
slightest clinks of golden coins.
Barnett groaned and swung out his arm. He slapped Dinet across the
face, then brought around his other hand and wrestled with the youth.
"Shteel frumee ill ya." the trader tried to shout but his voice was
slurred and his movements clumsy.
"No, no" Dinet cried, "stop!" The trader grabbed him by the
throat and though drunk still he was strong, Dinet could feel the grip
cutting off his air. Without any thought but to breath once again, Dinet
slashed out, his razor cut the traders ear, then gashed across the mans
cheek close to his eye.
Barnett reeled back and slapped his hand against the cuts, but
held to Dinet's throat and dug in with fingers and thumb to keep his
balance as the wagon bounced along. Frantic, Dinet kicked out and Barnett
fell back, with a scream he pulled Dinet with him from the wagons seat.
The ground was rushing by, the two horse team had begun to trot
as the men struggled and let loose the reins. Barnett landed on his back
and woofed out his air as the young thief dropped heavily on top of his
chest. Dinet rolled free and looking up saw a dark iron rim in line with
the traders head. Dinet closed his eyes, he did not want to see, a wet
splash struck him in the face. The trader had made no sound, but for a
dull fleshy crack, Dinet pulled himself into a ball, curled in his head
and pulled in his knees against his chest.
The wagon passed and after only a few moments time Dinet looked up
again. The dark night was clear, the stars looked down, he lived. A
surge of joy went through him, and then he shook with fear, the wagon
wheel had passed within a hairsbreadth, death had nearly claimed him
there and then.
A cool breeze blew around him, as he wiped off the roads dust
and grime. The die was cast, he thought, the camp was no place for him
now.
He tried not to look at the traders ruined head, but squeamish
thoughts aside he went to work and searched the still warm corpse.
* * *
(To Be Continued...)