Chapter 1 – The Brothers
"It's getting dark and I'm hungry damn it. We have to stop and make camp!" Dirk wasn't nearly as motivated to get to the cave as his brother was. This wasn't the first time Drake had dragged him along on one of his treasure hunts. When they were only nine years old, Drake found a treasure map that said that there was gold underneath the schoolhouse's back porch. Dirk was always a little mischievous and the idea of sneaking off to dig under the schoolhouse seemed like a lot of fun. Sure enough, there was a small bag full of river rocks, a couple of animal teeth, and a little horse figure carved out of a branch buried a few inches beneath the porch steps. There were also two broken pieces of gold coins, could have been from the same coin, but it was so worn it was impossible to tell. It was all stuff that looked like it had been found and collected from the nearby woods and the river that were just outside of town. Probably some other little kid a long time ago buried it there and when he got older decided it would be more fun to leave a treasure map to be found than to go back and dig it up. Dirk never really understood how some kid could have buried it there; he and Drake had to rip apart the porch just to get to it. The gold coins weren't even enough to pay for the damage they caused, and their mom was so angry with them they both got whipped every day for the whole next week. But boys never really learn, and Dirk is still getting in trouble and Drake is still looking for treasure.
"Not stopping yet. This is going to be the big one. This treasure is going to set us up for the rest of our lives. And we will be able to find a doctor and take care of mom. We owe it to her not to stop. If we just go for one more hour today, then we will be on schedule to make it there in just four days."
"This is not going to be the big one. This isn't going to be any one. We never find anything worth a crap! Besides, when has the trip EVER gone according to your schedule? We will be lucky to make it there in six days. Something always goes wrong." Drake had never actually found a treasure since that bag at the school house seventeen years ago, if you could even call that a treasure. But, unfortunately, he did find where a real treasure was four years ago, but we got there too late and it was gone, just a few dusty empty boxes and broken pieces of silver from jewelry not even worth a single gold all together. Once, seven years ago we found a bunch of old scrolls and books that had yellowed so badly, and apparently gotten wet, that they couldn't be read and weren't worth anything. After carrying those damn heavy books for over 30 miles, we found out that even the paper was so warped and ruined so badly a schoolhouse wouldn't take them to use for writing practice. At least they fueled the fire one cold night on the journey home. These three "successful" treasure hunts kept Drake going for all these years and Dirk went with him on every single one. Not sure why he kept going. This was the 33rd trip, and Dirk was never sure why he kept going. Maybe it was because he always liked adventure, or because they always found a little bit of trouble along the way. Most likely, Dirk just saw Drake as his younger brother, but they were twins, and even their own mother didn't know which one was born first. Drake asked her once who was older. "That was a long night! And I couldn't even tell you two apart until you grew up and had your own personalities! Hell Drake, you might have been born Dirk, I don't really know, but you are Drake now!" Even to this day, if they dress alike, no one can tell them apart... except their mother. It's not that they look common, it's quite the opposite that makes them so hard to tell apart. Their dark skin make their freckles unusual, and even their freckles seem to be in exactly the same place on each of them. They were each born with a light brown left eye and noticeably darker brown right eye. They were tall, and handsome, with wavy brown hair, and strong jaw lines. Their upper bodies were slightly large in proportion to their lower bodies, not enough to notice right away, but enough to make an onlooker to think they looked unique or "a little off" as they've been told by a few of the drunken travelers they've run into in the past. They both had a handsome smile which always showed up a little as a smirk. In fact, for their very closest friend, they only had one, this was the only way to tell them apart. Dirk's smirk rose a little on the left side of his face while Drake's was on the right.
"All right, fine. Let's find a place to lay down for the night. Just remember when you go back home and start complaining to me about being away too long and not having enough time to work and make money, you were the one who decided to stop early every night."
"It's not stopping early. It's stopping at a reasonable time. If we keep going, we aren't going to be able to get up and get going when the sun comes up. Besides, the town is less than a day away now, doesn't really matter if we get there early or late in the day. The bed is going to be the same either way."
"But if we get there early, we can grab some food and still have time to make it to Brekken by the end of the day."
Brekken was too far to get to in two days, unless you had a horse, but taking a horse to Brekken would just earn you a stolen horse. And Drake and Dirk only had one horse between the two of them, so that wasn't really an option. Drake always thought it would take less time to get places than it did. Maybe he just thought they would run the whole way, or that they never needed to stop to eat. Dirk never really bought into it, and he knew by now that when Drake came to him and said "I found a treasure, and it's only four days away..." what he really heard is "I found an adventure to nowhere that's only twelve days there and back..." That would be twelve days away from home, away from work and pay, and away from their mom. But it was also twelve days away from the normal, mundane life of fixing leaking roofs, doors unhinged by drunken husbands, and barn walls that had holes kicked in them by spooked horses and donkeys, That was quite appealing, so they would plan it out, and sure enough, a couple months later, they would be packed up and on their way again.
The decision had been made, and Drake knew it. He would have kept fighting to go a little further, but Dirk would have just made camp and forced them to slow down. He really knew this before they left, and he knew that four days would be damn near impossible, but he knew his brother well, and he'd have to push the pace some if they were ever going to get there. Dirk enjoyed the journey a little more than Drake did, and he would stop at every river crossing to grab a drink and try to catch a fish, at every cliff overlook to take in the view, and at every town to eat some local dishes, and flirt with some local waitresses. "I hear water to the east." That was all Drake needed to say. The brothers had been in this situation more times than they could count, and they knew what each other were thinking. That would be the last statement uttered by either one until the sun woke them in the morning. The two hiked through thick underbrush and wood, slowly at first being careful not to show significant signs of travelers heading off the main road. That would only invite robbers to come looking for someone easy to ambush and kill where they wouldn't have to worry about someone coming down the road, or even cleaning up the mess. They ruffled the leaves and were careful not to break and branches or fallen limbs. A true tracker would still have no problem finding them, but the typical outlaw would just pass by without a second glance.
They hiked for twenty minutes deep into the woods and found a small stream, only about eight feet across and probably two feet deep at its center. They looked at each other and continued downstream for another fifteen minutes be be sure they were sufficiently away from the road. Adding thirty minutes to a hike was a small price to pay to not be at the the streams closest point to the road. That was a lesson they only had to learn once when another traveler, innocent enough, was looking for some water early one morning. They startled each other, and both Dirk and the traveler drew a knife. Things escalated from there, and within five minutes, Dirk and Drake were packing as quickly as they could and left the traveler to bleed to death by the stream. It would be on another adventure seven months later when the brothers were having a drink at a local bar when a stranger buys them a round of drinks. When they turned to see who it was, nothing more could have surprised them than the apprehensive face of the traveler Dirk had stabbed the year before. The drink served its purpose well which Henard had said he bought them to show he wasn't looking for revenge or harm. Of course the obvious questions came up. Henard explained that he was just a thirsty traveler and was not looking to rob or hurt anyone, and that he was as surprised to see the brothers as they were when they saw him. He saw the stream first and was looking down trying to get the cap off his long empty canteen and rushing toward the stream that would quench his thirst not noticing that there were other people in the small clearing, or he would have obviously gone up or down stream to not disturb them. Dirk claimed that Henard had drawn his knife first, but of course, Henard said he only drew his knife when he saw that Dirk had drawn one on him. He was weak from thirst and assumed he would not have a chance if he turned and ran, and was too delirious to talk his way out of the situation. After the fight he was really just as happy to be alone with a running river as he was distraught that he had been stabbed in the side, arm, and shoulder. He explained to the brothers that his uncle was a skilled healer, and he knowledge of bandaging and local healing plants were what kept him alive. I took him four days to recover enough to make it back to the path where a passing traveler was kind enough to let him ride his horse to his home in the nearest town. "How do you know we won't kill you now? For all you know, we might wait for you outside the bar to finish the job. Why would you stop to tell us this when it would just be easier and much safer to move along?" Dirk never really trusted anyone, but he never had any reason to. Henard explained "I'm quite sure you two have no ill intentions. Your brother never drew a knife, or showed any signs of aggression if my memory serves me correctly. You may act as a bodyguard or the fighter between you two, but truly evil people do not travel with the good, even if they are brothers. Even if good and bad did travel together in an extremely out of the ordinary pairing, you two did not finish me off, nor did you take my things, what few thing I did have on me. So even if you were bad people, you at least were not murderers or thieves. How bad could you really be? Even an average person with questionable morals would have found it too easy in that situation to not let a potential threat live, and take relieve a dead man of the valuables he would no longer be needing. As for my interests in you, I am simply fascinated with fate, and I don't think our paths would have crossed twice if it were not meant for us to know one another." They talked through the night and slept much of the next day. Drake was a little upset that their new found friend had delayed their journey almost a full day, but denying Dirk interesting conversation on an adventure was not an option. And a friendly conversation with bookkeeper who you had stabbed, presumably to death, was truly interesting. That was now six years in the past and they had never seen Henard again. Maybe coincidence rather than fate was all that had crossed their paths.
When they came to a small clearing at a bend in the stream they both put their small packs down.
Without saying a word, Drake gathered a few dry fallen sticks to make a very small fire. He then pulled out his canteen and got his brother's as well and went to the stream to fill them. Dirk found a tree a few yards to the south and climbed quite high up looking around and assessing from which direction they were most visible, and from which direction a stray traveler was most likely to come; although, in this place, the likelihood of seeing anything on two legs was extremely slim. Dirk also looked for signs of intruders that did not travel on two legs, such as wild bears, boars, bobcats, beimoths, baslers, and all sorts of other creatures that may have nests or trails nearby. The most dangerous threats, after all, were not passing travelers, or even human.
After Dirk was satisfied with what he had seen he chose a place for their fire and pulled a rolled of leather out of his small pack. The packs that Dirk and Drake carried were very small compared to how most traveled, but experience had taught the brothers what was necessary and what was better left at home. Over the years, they had learned that less was almost always better. If the item was something that they did not use on every adventure, invariably better to figure out how to go without it than to figure out how to bring it along. Anything they brought with them needed to be accommodated, carried, cared for, and protected; taking up valuable space, slowing them down, and adding another responsibility or chore. Ultimately, the more they carried the more attractive they were to passing thieves. Any decent thief is never seen unless he decides you are a worth stealing from. A large pack, or a valuable item left in view is much more dangerous to a traveler than not having an unneeded provision. A large high quality sword does wonders in a full out battle, but to a traveler, it is just an expensive item worth being killed over. The brothers have had their fair share of waking up to missing items, and missing packs, have have unfortunately had a few instances where they'd needed to defend their provisions. The fact that the two were still alive testified that they had become skilled defenders; Dirk more than Drake though. They had unfortunately not always come away unscathed, and each had a few scars to show for it. Even more unfortunately, Dirk knew the sting of taking someone's life, and knew it well. Thieves may not be noble, and some may even deserve to perish. Nevertheless, extinguishing the life that flows in almost anything is a hard burden for anyone to bear. Extinguishing the life of another human weighs so heavily, that it is not uncommon for a first time killer to die himself just from the experience. Even a battle hardened warrior will tell you that taking a life is a horrendous experience that can make you vomit, or confine you to quarters for days or even weeks. The battle-sickness, as it has come to be known, is not something to be taken lightly.
Dirk carried the roll to the stream and soaked it in the water for a few minutes. When he unrolled it, it was a fairly large, very thin piece of leather with tiny holes throughout that had been rolled up around four small metal rods, and contained four thin leather chords. He used it to create a shelter, only a couple feet off the ground, much to small to sleep under. Through experience, the two understood that a fire, so necessary for cooking captured food, keeping them from freezing on cold nights, sterilizing questionable water, utensils, and the occasional bloody dagger, and affording them the pleasures of a warm cup of tea, was also a signal calling curious travelers and thieves, a beacon for anyone that may be trying to track them, and attraction for all sorts of nocturnal wildlife, both harmless and hunting. The soaked leather tent covered the light quite well, and even absorbed and dissipated the smoke through the small holes to a point where it was barely visible. It helped retain the heat and allowed food to be cooked underneath it with a much smaller fire, which was also necessary since the fire had to be contained to the small area protected by the leather tent. As with their lighter packs, smaller fires were found to be far superior, being much easier to build and maintain throughout the night, giving off less light and heat, but still sufficient for the needs of the two men. Drake pulled out a pack of five small rods bound together, and proceeded to fit them together end to end. It was thin metal spear, less than half an inch in diameter, but about four feet in length and had a barbed tip. He wrapped the leather binding tightly around one rod near the end to make a handle, and then quietly walked down to the stream and waited patiently perched on an exposed tree root on the bank with his spear held high, still as a rock. As he waited, Drake pulled out a large rectangular shaped item covered in cloth of his brothers pack that was obviously the largest item either of them carried. He unpacked it and put fit together two boxes with trap doors out of the pieces inside. Once put together the two traps resembled tree roots, made of a dark hard wood, with slightly rounded sides and top. Looking in from the open side, it was hard to tell the traps were not fallen hollow logs. The inside of the trap was fitted with a thin handleless blade that came down with the trap door, hopefully killing whatever had curiously gone inside. After about twenty minutes, Dirk heard the splash of his brother's spear finding its target, followed by the splashing of his brother chasing it through the water. "Damn it! This thing needs to be remade to fit together better. It falls apart more than it stays together these days!" The spear, not one solid piece and not actually bound together at the joints had a tendency to come apart when used, especially when it found larger, wigglier prey. A single piece spear was not a practical piece of equipment to carry, as they had found out early on in their adventures when Drake's previous fishing spear went missing in the night along with Dirk's favorite shot sword and short bow that he had carried with him everywhere since he was old enough to travel. Dirk was so angry when he woke the following morning, that even Drake was afraid to speak to him. They had traveled in silence until the sun set on them the following night. They knew each other well, even in their early travels, but that day had actually taken them in the wrong direction and left them hungry and lost. Some lessons are hard learned, and that was the true beginning of their understanding the that bringing less does not mean you are less prepared, but quite the opposite. Though it was frustrating to have a fishing spear that falls apart occasionally, or not so occasionally as had been the case recently, did not actually take away from the functionality of the spear. A spear fish is a dead, or soon dead, fish, and even if it manages to travel downstream it never makes it it far, and the current inevitable gets the end of the spear caught in brush near the bank no more than forty yards downstream.
One of the more interesting tools the brothers owned was a sparking tool invented by a close friend and blacksmith they had known all their lives. It was a an interesting piece of formike, a light grey rock speckled black fragments. Formike was not an uncommon rock, and most people had a few pieces for lighting fires. It was extremely rough and when metal was rubbed quickly over the black specs, sometimes sparks would fly off the sides. Successfully sparking and directing those sparks was tricky though, and the harness of the rock had ruined the knives of many travelers. This piece of formike however shaped into a cylinder, and somehow Brown had created a slightly jagged whole about an inch in diameter through the center. With the rock, he smithed a small, short rod that fit this whole, and barely slid through it when the tool was empty. The idea was to fill the center with dry leaves, tree fiber, or even a piece of cloth, and then quickly shove it through the other end with the rod. The rod would strike the black specks through the center of the rock and concentrate the sparks on whatever was inside, lighting the fire. It worked quite well, and the brothers were very thankful to have such a tool.
They built a small fire, and their dinner tonight, much like many nights together was nothing more than somewhat less than half of a quite small fish each cooked over a small fire. The tail end of the fish, along with enough meat to be enticing went into one trap placed at the base of an extremely large nearby tree that towered over their meager camp site, and the head went into the other trap placed on the opposite side of their camp, at the base of the smaller the branchy tree that Dirk had climbed earlier that night, taller than most of the nearby trees, but not by much. Drake had found that, though not actually necessary, a small pouch of spices was well worth carrying, and although Dirk had been very against it, arguing that compromising on even the smallest items, would add up to much unneeded burden, he had come to appreciate Drake's stubbornness on this particular item over the past few years. Drake had never actually verbally pointed out that his brother had been wrong in this case, but the playful smirk he shot him every time he passed him the pouch was much more gratifying than any words that could be exchanged. The fish was eaten for sustenance and strength, not taste, but often times, on their travels, they were so hungry by the time they ate that almost anything they ate was savored and and even at home, they would miss the subtle tastes of the different woods that would make their way into the meals they cooked while traveling. Night had fallen, and the small light from their modest fire died out. It was not a particularly cold night, and the light, though small, was still an unnecessary risk for heat they did not need. Dirk rising before the sun, as he always had, put a few pieces of small wood and dry leaves over the ashes of their small fire, and uncovered a few still warm coals that had been covered by ash. With a few breaths the fire came back to life. He went to the tree he had climbed the night before, and even before checking the trap he climbed it once more. It was still too dark for most people to see anything from any distance, but Dirk had trained himself, and even with just the dim light of the not yet risen sun, he could see what he was looking for. This morning, he did not see any suspicious movements, changes in landscape, or torches. Satisfied he climbed down and checked the trap, inside, with the blade lodged between the left hind leg and abdomen was a rather large hare. He pulled it out and brought it with him as he checked the second trap at the base of the huge tree towering over the north side of their camp site. In this trap all that was found was an uneaten fish tail and a few new scratch marks around the top of the trap. A couple tufts of fur and the very end of a tail that looked like it was once attached to a squirrel like creature was lodged between the end of edge of the door and the bottom of the trap. It looked like it was going to be a small breakfast for the brothers. He carried the hare to the camp and started to skin it.
Drake woke up rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The woods messed with his allergies, and his eyes were quite productive leaving crust around the inside of his eyes every time he slept outdoors, but for the most part that was the extent of his allergies, just an annoyance. At times he woke up with a nose that did not want him to breathe normally, but a quick face wash and a little walking cleared things up quickly. He looked over to see his brother working fast on the animal, and noted that he truly was a skilled adventurer. Then he noticed, although Drake had already removed the head, that the animal had large rear legs and an odd shape that was not the typical weasel or canine type of animal, they typically caught. "What did we catch last night?"
"A hare. The other trap was empty. Whatever tripped it got away." Dirk replied without looking up.
"That's odd isn't it?"
"It happens sometimes. Looked like some sort of rodent type. They are fast. The trap is still good but..."
Drake interrupted him, "No, I know that happens, I'm talking about the hare. We don't normally catch hares do we? I didn't think they ate fish."
Dirk stopped immediately and looked up at his brother. "They don't." Drake, genuinely surprised by his brother's reaction stopped rubbing his eyes and looked at his brother. The concern was set deep in Dirk's face and Drake knew they would be going hungry this particular morning. However, the expression looking back at him led him to believe that hunger was the least of their worries. After a few moments, Dirk got up, leaving the half skinned hare in the dirt at his feet, and walked to the trap the hare had come from and inspected it closer. Nothing seemed out of order, but he knew that it was always better to error on the side of caution. He carefully picked up the trap and carried it down to the stream where he cleaned it more thoroughly than he normally would, and called back "Get that other trap and bring it here. We need to get moving. If we leave now and make good time, we will be in town by lunch and be able to put something in our bellies. Just make sure you don't gather any berries or plants from these woods. There must be a reason that the hare chose fish over flora."
While Dirk carefully and meticulously cleaned the traps and his knife, Drake took up the slack repacking the fire tent and two thin leather sheets used as padless sleeping mats.. He then carefully spread the fire and took care to cover signs of their presence as best he could. It would of course be easy to tell that someone had been there if they happened across the site, but someone just passing buy or traveling down the stream would most likely not take notice. He then helped his brother breaking down and packing up the traps once they were cleaned, and the two made haste through the forest following the route they had taken to get to the site. The road may have been closer if they tried to find a direct route to thee road, but attempting to shorten their trip by only twenty to thirty minutes could prove to add hours to their travel, or run them into perils that they simply could not afford.
Less than two hours past day break the brothers found the road they had traveled the night before. Though he did not say anything, Dirk took note of the road. Something did not seem right to him. There was nothing that he could pin point at the time, and the last time he had seen this part of the road, it had been dark. As they started their way down the road Dirk looked around them, constantly scouting, looking, listening for some clue that would put the unease in his stomach to rest when he heard a distant low growl. He froze still as stone and quickly commanded Drake to do the same. As he listened, the sound continued. He could not tell what direction it was coming from, it seemed to be all around them, but sounded so low that it could not be close. Drake opened his mouth do speak, but Dirk shot him a glare that communicated that silence was vastly more important than being still. Drake started to look around also, but did not know what he was looking for. The sound seemed to be getting closer, and lower; not just in volume, but almost like the creature may be traveling underground. Dirk quietly laid down and pressed his ear to the ground. Unable to hear anything unordinary from the earth, he quickly but silently got up and and went to the edge of the road where stones had been scattered. Selecting a particularly flat stone, he inspected it for the smoothest surface and placed the stone on the ground with the smooth surface facing up. He laid down pressing his ear to the stone and stayed on the ground for several minutes before Drake quietly approached. "Shouldn't we be getting the hell out of here Dirk? What do you hear?"
"It's not getting any closer. It seems irregular, but I haven't heard anything in a few minutes. I'm not sure if the creature is underground, or if it's even a creature. I don't remember ever hearing a growl like this one. Get down here and listen with me." Drake placed the two packs on the ground near Dirk and found a stone of his own to use. He laid down only a couple feet away and started to listen. Only a few moments went by before they heard the growl again. "Did you hear it?"
Drake quickly got up, not being careful to keep quiet and swiftly kicked his brother in the side. "You may be brilliant traveler, and decent tracker, but you are a half brain dead buffoon when you're hungry! Get up. Getting to the next town and putting food in your belly is the only thing that's going to stop THAT growl from following us." It took Dirk a few seconds to realize what Drake was telling him; he was half brain dead.
As they continued down the road, time seemed to slow down. The sun can up and hung in the sky beating down on them. The mild warm nights had amazing merits, but the benefit of warm nights usually meant grueling days. At times, the cold, almost unbearable nights were welcomed by the promise of cool easy traveling while the sun was up. The heat, coupled with the lack of food, made the brothers count each step, and dread each stretch of road that seemed to never end. As some consolation, at least there were not threats that could be perceived, past starving to death, which was not really a true treat, but only a very uncomfortable inconvenience. However, the lack of threats, was not necessarily a gift. Truly dangerous threats were obviously unwelcome, but the occasional traveler or rider was normal and very mild 'threat' that kept Dirk and Drake on their toes. This road, though not the busiest road they had traveled, was still normally well used, and the two of them had yet to cross paths with a single living creature, human or otherwise, in the three to four hours (it was getting hard to keep track, as it had felt like a full day had passed) they had traveled. The day before, there was rarely a single hour between sunrise and sunset that did not bring another traveler into their path. That was not the only thing that was strange, but whatever was making Dirk and Drake's stomachs uneasy, beyond the hunger, was something they could not quite identify.
A few hours had past and the seemingly endless unchanging road opened up to signs of an approaching town. Farms along the sides of the road seemed to appear out of nowhere. Though they did not see any horses, sheep, pigs or any other animals out on the farms, they could hear them moving around in the barns and coops. It was a particularly hot day, and the sun was beating down harshly, and as hot as the barns and coops were during days like these, most animals would rather be under a roof that protected them from the rays. It was much too late in the day for the farmers to be out tending the farms. Manual labor on a farm was already brutal, but during the heat of the season, necessity drove farmers to accomplish the tasks in the early morning, usually before the sun even rose. Many farmers took to night farming, and learned to complete their chores entirely before breakfast was on the table. Oddly however, the crops did not look the same, seeming to have deeper green leaves and more vibrantly colored vegetables, Drake and Dirk had been working on their own family's minimal farm for years, and though it was a small farm, and not their source of livelihood, their crops had never looked so healthy and rich. For a fleeting moment, Dirk had thought about taking some particularly bright green pears from a tree on the edge of an orchard as they passed, or sneaking in to take a few tomatoes from another farm a little ways up the road, but as hungry as he was, theft was not in his nature, and they had the coin to pay for an honest meal at the local tavern which they would get to in just a few minutes. As they walked, they passed four farms on either side of the road, before they got to the town. There were no gates, welcome signs, or town limit lines, but they passed the first store front, a wagon maker and repair shop, that marked the end of the farms and the beginning of commerce. Along the main road, most of the shops catered to farmers and merchants needing to transport their goods into town, and to other towns. They passed a blacksmith, saddle and horse accommodations shop, a pack maker, and a packaged food vender before entering the small common at the center of town where the taverns, temporary stables, town hall, other assortment of small clothing, gift, and provisions shops, and an open market were all located. Strangely only one in three shops were open for business, and the entire open market was abandoned. They town was not abandoned however, all the farm houses they passed on the way into town had people inside, and they could hear the laughter of children from inside residence located on farms, from the outskirts of the town, and from the buildings where shops were open. No, the town was not abandoned, but the streets certainly were. If it were a local holiday, no shops would be open, but several were, though they did not seem to be doing bustling business this particular day. Thankfully though, one of the few full service taverns was open, so the brother went in.
When they walked into the Blane Inn and Tavern, there were twelve tables with four chairs each, but only one table was occupied by an older couple that looked to be very well traveled, sitting with empty plates in front of them, slowly picking at the crumbs of long finished dishes. A quite bored looking older bar-maiden was sitting at the table closest to the bar, sipping on some sort of steamy beverage. At the bar there were six bar stools, and on two near the middle, there were two young men, each drinking a mug of ale though it was fairly early in the day. The young looking man on the left was sporting a moderately disheveled look with uncombed light brown hair and wearing a typical tan warm-weather traveler’s outfit, equipped with a respectably large sword and worn dirty boots. Starkly standing out in comparison was the darker haired, marginally younger looking man at the bar dress in very clean, very costly looking clothing including a jet black pair of pants and a pristine white shirt that covered his whole upper body to the top of his neck and slightly past his wrists. His boots were shined to a mirror finish, and his face and short curly hair were meticulously groomed. The two companions were in a heated discussion about the difference between dark and light ale and which was better. The dark haired refined man was adamantly arguing on behalf of the lighter ale placed next to him. "Dark ale is only stronger in bitterness, not in alcohol! If I wanted a strong taste I would..." he abruptly turned around and stood up by his stool looking at Dirk and Drake as they stepped in from outside. "You aren't from around here." The statement was not a question. It was not a statement of scorn nor was it a statement of accusation. Rather, a small, subtle hint of surprise to in the statement. "Welcome. Come sit.
Chapter 2 – Blane Inn and Tavern
"Think you can finish up here? It's been a long day for me and I need to get home to make sure the place hasn't burned down." Lackie was not quite sure why Blane had started to go home earlier and earlier in the past few weeks, but she had taken notice and was starting to worry about him and his health. He also seemed to be lacking energy, and though he advancing in years, it was very unlike him to show his age.
"Sure. There are only a couple customers left, and I doubt we will get more than one or two more before the end of the night. Most of the people have already gone to bed to be rested for the early days this summer heat is bringing."
“Thank you Sweetheart.” Blane picked up his hat, an oversized pale leather hat, almost white, that looked as old, but also as well kept as Blane himself, and strolled out of his bar, placing it on his head as he passed through the threshold.
The sun was just starting to set, and a light orange hue was coming through the two west windows on either side of the fire place and made the inside of the bar look almost like there was a small fire lit, but without the heat. This was Lackie’s favorite time of each summer day. The orange light of the setting sun transformed the mood of the bar and signaled the days end, and though she had been on her feet all day, she was comforted by the way the sun seemed to speak to her saying “You did well today girl, relax and rest will come shortly. You have earned it.”
Farmer Mervins was still sitting at the bar, as he typically was after a long day. She never understood why he worked during the heat while all the other farmers did everything they could to avoid it, but Mervins was known for having the most successful crop and most delicious and sought after vegetables in the province. His crops were the reason almost half of the travelers that came to their town, and when they came, they bought more than just vegetables, and they stopped and bought food, drinks, and stayed a night at the inn. And for that, Blane and Lackie were grateful. Mervins had a beer most nights, but usually only one, and never more than two. He was always a pleasure to have in the tavern, normally very quiet and never bothering anyone, but when he did speak, it was always something interesting. He was perhaps the most polite man in town, and for all this, though Blane wouldn’t really consider him a true friend, he wouldn’t take Mervins’ money and those beers were always on the house.
There was only one other person in the tavern, an older woman who had arrived about 15 minutes earlier. She was sitting at a table, and only asked for a cup of water. She looked to be very tired like she had been traveling or shopping all day. She had on boots that looked to be made for travelers and hikers, a small side pack, and a large sun hat. Her clothes were worn but sturdy, and she had the look of a traveler, but not nearly enough provisions to really go anywhere, and she didn’t ask for a room. Lackie knew most of the people in town, but even as small as the town was, there were a few that had no reason to visit the inn, and she rarely left the inn, so it had happened more than once where she had met someone knew and welcomed them to town only to find out that they had lived there longer than she had.
Although there were still a couple hours before she would close down the bar, Lackie started to clean up and wipe down the bar and tables. There might be one or two random travelers or locals that would come in, but washing a few dishes was not a big chore if the rest of the closing chores were already finished. She was sure Mervins was almost done and about to head home, and at this point she was doubting that the woman would order anything else. If she were lucky, she may be able to get a small bowl of stew and sit down herself to enjoy a real dinner. On busy nights she was lucky to be able to take a few bites out of a loaf of bread between serving customers, and she knew that if she waited, she would be too tired to eat a meal after closing up. Even if she could manage it, eating late never set well on her stomach. As she wiped down the bar, as if the action were an exit queue, Mervins got up, said thank you, and walked out the door to head home to his family. She told him “It is always a pleasure serving you sir.” picked up his empty stein and washed it in the sink behind the bar, along with a few other steins, cups, and mugs that had collected over the small rush that had ended about an hour ago. As she finished up, she looked at the woman who looked like she might be asleep. It seemed to be the perfect time to go get that bowl of stew, but as she turned to go back into the kitchen, the tavern door opened and an older gentleman walked in. He looked straight at her and walked towards her with definite purpose. Shooting him a huge smile, she said, “Welcome to the Blane Inn and Tavern. Is there anything I can get for you?”
Not slowing his pace at all, he replied, “A room and loaf of bread is all. Thank you.” When he reached the bar, he placed silver coins on the bar, then turned and walked to the older woman, who had not stirred at all. He went up to her and tapped her shoulder waking her. She jumped a little and then settled back down. “We need to get some sleep. Come on.” He helped her up and she leaned on him as he brought her to the bar.
Lackie quickly picked up the coins and went to the kitchen to grab a loaf of bread. When she returned the older couple was standing at the end of the bar. She handed the loaf of bread and two of the silver coins to the man. “Rooms are one silver, and all meals are free when you stay with us. Your room is at the top of the stairs, third room on the right; room 6.”
“Thank you” he repeated, taking the coins back and placing them in his pocket, and the two slowly climbed the stairs.
…to be continued...
Impressum
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 10.07.2013
Alle Rechte vorbehalten