Send a spelling or grammar correction to: Tracy Johnson
This is Part IX & X of a story set in the World of Greyhawk.
It's based on my own campaign, so some persons, places and things are not
in line with the published setting. Any helpful comments or suggestions
are welcome.
Thanks
Jason Zavoda
Under the thick carpet of leaves, Dinet had buried a short handled
shovel, its blade rusted a dark brown-red. He found the work of digging
distasteful. His hands were made for finer things, but the time had come
to retrieve his hoarded wealth and depart the camp. He might be suspected
of the merchants death, but they could not hang someone that they could
not find.
The camp was nearby, but he'd buried his small box of coins
further on. He'd need to steal a horse, he thought to himself, he couldn't
get far carrying his box of coins on foot.
Dinet was a fine rider, small and light but strong. He had been
trained by a lame old horseman from the northern plains. The old man,
Kassar, had been cast out for some offense. Dinet had never really
listened to his tale.
The nomad had settled in well with the life among the camp, and
helped raise Dinet during the thief's early years. He'd taught him how to
use a knife as well as ride a horse. The wily old fellow was a master with
the blade, almost as skilled at cutting throats as he was at judging
horseflesh.
It was late, but the camp still roared with life. Some soldiers
had moved on, but more had come up and settled into a forest of tents left
behind by the advancing army. The soldiers were only about a mile down the
trail and, every night, dozens of troopers would sneak away after the last
call to spend whatever little coin that they possessed on fast women, dice
or cards. Their money was eased from their pouches with large quantities
of liquor. A rough home brew, sometimes laced with odd concoctions of the
hedge wizards and self-proclaimed witches who joined the camp.
These brewers of potions and makers of charms would stay till their
skills were shown to be false. Their charms nothing but a bag of herbs or
bits of bones and their medicines more fatal than healing. But, as one
left or was driven away or hung, another came to take their place.
Dinet crept to the horse-line of his old mentor Kassar. He avoided
the tripwire and, one by one, muffled the small bells that the nomad had
strung along the line. He'd brought a strong length of cord and when he
sheared through the line, retied it taut, cutting out a horse he always
wished he'd owned. His hand was on the horse's neck when he felt a
razor-edged line of steel pressed beneath his chin.
"Goin' on a trip." Kassar whispered in his ear.
"Kassar, I was...I was..." Dinet stammered out.
"You was doin' some horse stealin'" Kassar told him. "Retie the
line."
Dinet made a clumsy knot with nervous hands. He felt a small
trickle of blood run down his neck as he moved. "Careful there old
friend."
"You jus' keep doin' what you're doin'." the knife didn't waver
from the young thief's throat.
* * *
Kassar was short but broad, and still strong, despite his lamed
right leg and his silver-grey hair. Age had not bitten down too hard on
the old nomad. The hand that held the knife to Dinet's throat was calm and
steady. It was the young thief whose hands shook as he retied the horse's
lead back to the line.
"Ol Barnett, they foun'im on the road with his 'ead all smash to
bits." Kassar said.
"Terrible, that is, terrible." Dinet's voice quavered.
Kassar slapped him across the ear with his free hand. "Don't giv'
me that muck. Keep them tears inside your 'ead. You've been nabbed an' I
aint letten you go. Unless you got somethin' to offer, better then the
coin they'll pay for you."
"A reward?" Dinet asked, surprised that the merchants family would
be anything but relieved to see the old devil slain.
"There'll be somethin." the old nomad thought for a moment. "An'
if there ain't then maybe I turn you in jus' for fun."
* * *
The column made good time down the road, though the scouts were
run a bit ragged trying to keep up. The captain ordered another pair out
on each flank and brought the others in to rejoin the march. The fields,
old and irregular, overgrown with wild grains and weeds, were hard terrain
to cross and keep the pace.
As they neared the town of Hochoch, they passed the broken remains
of houses and small farms that had once stood within sight of the road.
The monsters had left none standing. Even foundation stones and the bricks
of chimneys and walls had been hauled off to strengthen the defenses of
the ransacked town.
One of the lead scouts came running back and Fintan went out to
meet him.
"Sir, sir...." the trooper said breathlessly. He'd run back to the
column at a sprint.
"What's your report soldier." the captain prompted.
"There is a fight ahead. They are waiting for us to make another
assault."
"Sergeant Waddard!" the captain called. They had not stopped their
march, the captain jogged along with the hard-breathing scout at his side.
The top sergeant came running up.
"Yes Sir!" Waddard called out before he reached the captain's side.
"Waddard, send out another scout, and set the column to double
time." the captain said. "Soldier rejoin your squad."
Waddard turned and bellowed out for another trooper to take the
lead. He sent the scout back to his place among the line, then jogged back
up to the captain's side. "Sir!" he said.
"Waddard, we have a fight ahead." captain Fintan told him.
"What should we expect Sir." asked Waddard.
"There is a stream ahead, and an old stone bridge." The captain
explained. "The giants have built a wall across the bridge and they hold
the fords as well."
"More giants Sir." Waddard said with some alarm.
"Yes, and unlike Sterich, these giants don't want to run. We
have a wizard up ahead, he will help to mask our assault." said Fintan.
"Should I tell the troops?" asked Waddard.
"They will see soon enough. It's good that they were blooded on
some giants first. Though we will need every sword and sling this night."
Both men slowed their pace till the company caught up with them. Waddard
drifted back down the line, the captain kept his back to the men in his
command and led the column from the front.
* * *
(To Be Continued...)