Durgins Disappearance Pt 3 of 3

Weeks passed leading up to the big exhibition fight between Durgin and the new comers from over seas.  Lord Istar popped in on occasion to observe Durgin and his training.  Teacher would glance over his shoulder during instructions to find the Lord staring down at them both intently.

The morning of the fight, a squire came to Durgins paddock and asked him if there was anything in particular to eat that day before his big fight.

”He’ll have clean water, a small brick of cheese and slice of bread with some of cook Esmerelda’s special jam,” ordered Teacher as he strolled up with the keys to Durgins door in his hand.

”Sure, thanks Teacher, its not like I wanted a roast leg of lamb with mint jelly and a half loaf of rye,” pouted Durgin as the young boy scrambled off to give the orders to the cook.

”Ah my boy you’ll thank me after the fight.  You’ll need to be light on your feet for this fight,” said the older man as he unlocked the door, letting Durgin out.

”You’ve gotten a look at the other fighter?  Found a weakness for me to use?” asked Durgin energetically.

”Ah, no lad, sorry.  I’ve only managed to find out that the ‘guest’ fighter is a bloody female,” roared the man with laughter, shaking his growing belly.

”And to top that, it’s a mercenary female at that, not even a slave fighter but one that’s PAID to die!” he roared again nearly doubling over.

”Oh lad this is a good break for us…eh?” stopped Teacher suddenly as he saw the expression on Durgins face go blank and noticeably pale.

”What’s wrong lad?” asked Teacher nervously.

”Did you say, a woman?” Durgin asked, his voice shaking noticeably.

Teacher just nodded, completely confused.

Durgin sat back down on his bunk, his mind racing and reeling all the same.

”Lad?  Boy what’s the matter?  You look as tho you had to fight your own mother or something?  What’s wrong, ain’t you never fought agin any females?”

Durgin just nodded slowly, staring blankly, “Yes, Teacher, I have fought and killed women.  But it’s just that it was during war.  Where something besides money was involved.  It was about survival or protecting something.  Not for sport.”

“But it is about survival lad, yours!  For starters.  You don’t do as the Lord wishes, he’ll have your head on the axe-mans block,” said Teacher getting irate.

Durgin just sat and stared before looking up angrily at Teacher.

”You don’t understand.  I am not like you!  I am a soldier.  I fight for a higher purpose !  I kill because it’s in the light of the greater good !  Not for one man’s pride!” he yelled as he rose and got nose to nose with Teacher.

Teachers facial expression went from anger himself to a softer look.

”Then lad, you’d best be praying to your gods for a reason to win this fight or ask them to prepare a spot for ye at their side.  Cuz this fight is going to take place and one of you will die,” responded the burly man before turning and slowly walking away, leaving the door to Durgin’s cell unlocked and open.

Later that day, after the meal ordered by Teacher was hardly touched by Durgin, the grand feast was drawing to a close.  Which by the trumpets sounding, meant the festivities were about to begin.  Durgin was wearing a standard tabard, waiting to be called to the pit arena.

When the call finally came, Teacher walked up and opened Durgins cell door.

”Tis time lad,” was all the man said.

Durgin nodded and paused a moment before rising to his booted feet and following his instructor to the palace fighting grounds.  Dropping into the pit, which had been cleaned earlier that day, Durgin went straight to the side where Lord Istar sat above.
The opening announcements were made and the Lord extended his hand to the honored guests joining them.

”My loyal subjects, I present to you Sir Vedin Adwaremos III from the southern climes from across the vast oceans!  Praise Kabala for our guests!” introduced the Lord as the crowd gathered cheered enthusiastically.

Durgin hardly paid any heed to the name but vaguely it sounded familiar.  He didn’t have time to think much about it because the terms of the match were being discussed.

”My most humble appreciation for such a warm and generous introduction Lord Istar.  I am willing to wager 20,000 gold pieces and two slaves on this match,” offered Sir Vedin.

”Accepted!” said Istar with a raise of his hand to cheers.

”Might I offer a suggestion on the terms of battle?” asked the Lord in an almost scripted manner as his opponent bowed his head.

”Unarmed combat until the first blow is landed, then progressively the weapons are added until someone is bested?  After all we don’t want this to be over while the night is young?” joked the Lord looking around for approval.

The crowd cheered as Sir Vedin glanced around nodding.

”Agreed!  However, let us make this interesting.  What say you to also upping the ante of the bet as the fight progresses?” counter offered the mysterious stranger from afar.

Teacher cast a strange glance at Durgin, which he responded with a shrug.

Lord Istar squinted one eye at his guest, trying to deduce if the man was trying at something.  The crowd was somewhat murmuring amongst the unusual terms.
Vedin merely stared back blankly at the Lord, awaiting a response.

”I accept that request.  I believe that might bring some added fun to the merriment!” said Istar as he waved his hand again amid cheers.

“Let the fight begin!” shouted Istar as the two men sat back down and watched as their fighters entered the arena circle.

Durgin took immediate stock of his opponent.  The woman was of average height and build.  Not overly endowed, but her face was masked.

That’ll cut down on her breathing, thought Durgin as he circled his opponent.

In a guarded position, he feinted several strikes and watched as the woman would flinch back.  Afraid of being struck by a stronger opponent.  Probably a weapon type fighter, thought Durgin as he quickly rushed in to speed up the battle.  Throwing a quick punch to the face, he was surprised when the masked woman grasped him by the wrist, dodging the punch and countered with a back hand towards his head.  Jerking back quickly, he narrowly missed being struck.  Several ooh’s went up amongst the cheers.  Teacher winced at the botched attempt and looked up at the Lord who wasn’t paying particular attention.  Sir Adwaremos, tho, was watching the action like a hawk.

”Very nice counter punch,” said Durgin with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

The masked opponent just nodded her head to one side as if to respond, “oh well.”

Taking that as a sign of superiority, Durgin launched a series of punches and kicks in rapid succession.  The woman dodged all the ones she could nimbly and countered with blocks of her own.  Durgin was becoming aware this was not an ordinary mercenary.  Before he could counter, the enemy leaped back and sprang forward with a few front end flips, causing him to step backwards.  Before Durgin could mount a counter offense, the woman had unleashed a barrage of spin kicks and jab’s.  Bending his body and twisting, he avoided most of the punches and blocked several before grappling the woman around the shoulders.

”Gotcha!” he said with a grin.

As she wriggled unsuccessfully, the crowd cheered for Durgin.  Suddenly she reared back her head and smashed it forward into Durgin’s unprotected nose.  Blinking back the tears, the crowd gasped as he released her and grabbed his bloody nose quickly.

A loud gong sounded, indicating a fair blow had landed and the next bout would commence with weapons.  Durgin walked back towards his side of the pit, cursing the whole way as he couldn’t wait to hear what his instructor would have to say.

”Nicely done lad.  Nicely done.  I guess your tactic is to lead them into a false sense of security before unleashing your might on the lil lass there?” said Teacher sarcastically as he threw a cold wet rag at Durgins face and held out a dagger for him to take.

”Yeah something like that.  Was a lucky shot.  I don’t care for grappling.  I like the feel of steel in my hand,” replied Durgin as he wiped the blood from his nose and took the weapon.

Turning he waited for the two men above to speak.

”Ah, I see Kabala favors you in the early rounds my honored guest,” said the Lord.

”But I feel as tho your fighter has more to offer than just a love tap?” he continued as the crowd laughed with their Lord.

Sir Vedin smiled politely before speaking, “Yes luck does sometimes grace everyone now and again.  How about we wager another 20,000 gold?” he said as he motioned for another sack of gold to be brought forth and placed on the wooden dias between the two men’s sides of the pit.

Lord Istar was impressed by the strangers bold move to double the monetary wager and nodded in agreement and had his own stock brought forth before the next gong was struck.

Durgin and the fighter stepped back into the arena and began circling one another, blades at the ready.  The Wargar soldier was keen with the 12 inches of cold naked steel in his fist.  The two finally squared off before stepping into striking range.  The sparks from their blade contact flew in all directions.  Strike and block, block and strike went the pair.  Durgin would lunge and slash while his nimble opponent would twist her body into strange contortions and avoid them.  Then she would launch her own attacks.  Neither one landed so much as a scratch after three heated exchanges.  The crowd was growing restless, knowing the next round would be with swords and shields.

The two took a small distance back between them, to size up their strategy thus far.  Durgin realized his opponent was quicker than him on foot, however her attacks were not as disciplined and she oft times left a small opening, relying on her foot speed and agility to get her from harms way.  Durgin had decide the best opportunity was a charge attack that would force her back to the wall where he could pin her and make the strike needed to move to the next round.

The Wargar soldier made his move, charging rapidly forward at the smaller female.  She immediately began to back pedal.  As Durgin closed the gap, he was ready to launch a quick slash attack that would hopefully land a good strike.  Just before his enemy ran out of room, she flicked her wrist and the dagger she held crossed the shrinking distance and grazed Durgins upper cheek.  Stopping in mid-stride, he came to a sliding stop and reached up to feel his face.  As he pulled his hand away, the gong sounded and he saw that in his palm, a trace amount of blood.  Looking back up stunned, Durgin realized his opponent was merely toying with him.  The dagger throw could’ve easily landed in his throat or head.  He barely felt the sting of steel slice his skin.  Turning amid the roarous cheers, he walked back towards his side of the arena, still staring at his bloody palm.

“For the love of the drink boy!  What in bloody hell are you doing out there?  You’re not winning any favors with the Lord.  Here let’s have a look,” said Teacher as he grabbed Durgin thru the bars and tilted his head to the side.

”Bah, just a small scratch.  Lil dirt in it should stop the bleeding.  Your either bloody lucky or completely out classed her lad.  That she-devil is putting it to you,” said Teacher as he took the dagger from Durgin and replaced it with a short sword and small buckler.

”I…I didn’t even see the dagger coming,” he stammered as he looked somewhat nervously into his instructors eyes.

”Forget it lad, we never covered dagger throwing before…just a lucky hit by her.  Now, THIS is your area of expertise!  HA HA!  That pretty lass is gonna have a wollop of a time now,” replied Teacher confidently as he slapped Durgin hard on the shoulder.

”Well it appears your fighter is having some … issues… against my champion Lord Istar, wouldn’t you agree?” said Vedin confidently yet respectfully to the powerful Lord.

Istars face was slightly red after seeing Durgin get struck by the dagger.

”Mere luck I believe.  Your fighter merely grazed mine.  Childs play at this point.  But NOW we have something to really look forward too.  Larger weapons and protective shields,” replied Istar with very little concern.

”Therefore larger wagers I’m guessing?” asked Vedin quickly in response.

Lord Istar was about to speak before being surprisingly interrupted. 
Staring back hard at the visiting merchant, Istar nodded, “Double my wager!” he shouted.

Cheers went up an several people whispered amongst themselves as Vedin leaned in to his tall accompanying, tattooed servant and nodded.

”Agreed!” he complied and another large container of gold was brought up.

The gong sounded and Durgin slowly marched towards the center of the pit arena.  The female adversary came forward bearing the same weapon and buckler as Durgin.  Standing apart from each other, Durgin blinked back some sweat that had formed rather quickly on his forehead. 

”Prepare yourself for your ancestors wench,” Durgin spat as he began an overhead onslaught of slashes and hacks at his opponent.

As his blood boiled within his veins, the enemy expertly blocked and or dodged all his advances with superb skill and finesse.  Durgin barely avoided several lackluster counterattacks while not being successful at his own.  His vision was constantly blurred by sweat.  His eyes stung with it as his breathing was becoming labored.  He felt as if his strength were being drained.  After a few seconds pause in the attacks, Durgin stepped back to catch his breath.

Teacher peered forward thru the iron bars at his pupil’s diminishing performance and felt something wasn’t quite right.

Durgin panted heavily as his female foe circled him like a jungle cat.  She was crouched low and hid behind the buckler well.  Her eyes shone from behind the cloth mask, as if waiting for a sign to launch her own offensive.  Sucking in a lungful of air, Durgin stepped forward and nearly stumbled.  The tigress before him immediately leaped into the air with a high downward cut, aiming for Durgins exposed back.  Reacting quickly, Durgin tucked and rolled off to one side and brought his buckler up to deflect the cut.  As his enemy sword struck the ground from the missed blow, he snaked out his own blade and nicked her across the thigh.  Twas a good solid cut, but merely superficial at best.  The woman sucked in a hissing breath from the burning of cut flesh.  She clasped her hand to her wound as the gong was sounded and a deafening roar of cheers erupted all around the pit for Durgin.

Lord Istar leaped up from his throne and bellowed, “Behold your champion, Durgin the Mighty!”

Sir Vedin looked somewhat concerned, but his attention was quickly pulled towards the Lord of the arena.

”Well how the tables turn do they not humble guest?” said Istar with confidently.

”Aye, they do good sir.  However, as you yourself said but earlier, luck graces everyone at some point,” retorted Vedin with only the slightest grin.

Lord Istar squinted as he smiled broadly, “Then another wager perhaps…to luck?” he chuckled.

”Another 10,000,” said Vedin somewhat calmly.

”100,000 that my fighter claims victory on the next stroke!!” countered Istar nearly yelling across the distance above the applause.

Vedin’s face paled slightly, but he recovered by leaning sideways to speak with his hooded servant yet again.

Looking back to the Lord, Sir Vedin clasped his hands together before speaking.

”100,000 and…if my fighter strikes fair first, rights to your fighter,” said Vedin coldly as if he spoke thru ice.

Lord Istar’s expression went blank.  He never expected such a request.  Such a thing was unheard of in his lands.  A nobles fighters were like rare breeds.  Expensive to house, train, and keep, they were never used as bargaining chips.  Istar stared back at the negotiator with something resembling contempt.  He quickly weighed his options so as not to lose face with his subjects.  The gamble was high, but he did have faith in Teachers training and in Durgins proven abilities.

”Very well stranger.  However the wager is 500,000 and the fighter that lands the first blow,” he said with cold confidence laced with malice.

”Agreed,” said Vedin quickly as the amount was quickly sent for from his ships stores.

Lord Istar quickly motioned for a servant to approach him.  He quickly whispered to them and sent them off.  Moments later, Durgin was standing before Teacher, the servant just behind him.

”Ok lad, tis time.  The Lord wants you to finish this fight.  He’s instructed you take out the wench’s arm’s legs first before taking her head.  So no messing around boy, do this and lets get back to the stables,” said Teacher as he quickly wiped Durgins brow and gave him a quick splash of water from a cup before handing him a longsword thru the bars.

”Teacher, something’s amiss, I can barely breathe and my limbs feel as if lead weights were tied to them,” panted Durgin.

Teacher grabbed Durgins chin in his hand and opened his mouth, then pulled down his eyelids to inspect the whites of his eyes.

”Blast it!  You’ve been drugged somehow.  I’ve seen these effects before.  They merely fatigue you.  Just concentrate on your breathing and hopefully it’ll pass.  Just focus on the killing stroke boy,” cursed Teacher before the gong rang out.

Durgin marched sluggishly back to the center of the arena.  The woman returned with a fresh bandage on her leg where Durgins stroke landed earlier.  He focused his attention on his rate of breathing and heart beat.  Trying to control it thru the methods taught to him by Teacher, Durgin grasped the handle of the longsword tightly.  The female moved forward with the sword outstretched and at the ready.  The three feet of steel in his fist felt like a hundred pounds to Durgin.  He gritted his teeth to keep the blade from shaking in his unsteady grip.

Sucking in a lungful of empowering air, Durgin howled out a WarGar cry and swung his sword in a typical combination used in single combat.  The woman blocked the first two blows and dodged the second, counter attacking with a backhand swing aimed at Durgins thigh.  Leaping back, Durgin narrowly avoided loosing his footing.  Skidding to a stop he was already deflecting several more blows brought by the youthful woman. 

Lord Istar rose slowly to his feet to get a better view amongst the crowd that was gathering at the pits ledge.  Vedin stayed firmly in his seat, hands folded and eyes on the action and Istar. 

Durgin avoided a wide arching slash and followed it up with a quick uppercut that missed his enemy’s forearm by inches.  The female glanced to the small slit in the sleeve of her tunic.  As her eyes narrowed at Durgin, he merely gave her a sly smile.
His vision began to blur in and out of focus repeatedly, causing him to pause in his attacks.  Throwing his weight into the next volley of strikes, Durgin aimed the last one at her planted feet, hoping to take her legs out as ordered by his Lord and keeper. 
The woman warrior dropped her sword point to the ground, but the blow anviled on her blade and knocked back into her legs.  She hit the ground as Durgin regained his footing and raised his sword for a killing stroke.  No gong sounded because no blood had been drawn.  As Durgin lifted his sword he saw that the mask wrapped around the womans face had come loose as she tumbled to the ground.  His vision cleared as he looked down.

”Kaonna?!” he said in shock. 

The woman quickly rebounded by thrusting her sword at Durgins midsection.  The sword slid cleanly thru his leather jerkin and his arm came down to grasp the sword firmly.

”I’m so sorry Durgin,” she whispered just before withdrawing the bloody sword and kicking him square in the chest.

Durgin fell backwards from the kick, landing flatly on his back, clutching at his side as blood seeped from the wound.  His vision clouded and grew dark as the silence he was unaccustomed to hearing closed in around him.

Istar was shaking with utter rage as he saw his prized fighter lying on the ground, presumably dead or at the least on his way to death.  After a moment, he composed himself and looked up at the still calmly seated Sir Vedin.

”Congratulations honored guest on your victory.  I can see you’ve chosen your warrior wisely as well as won a great amount of wealth this evening,” said the Lord as he sat down slowly looking venomously at Vedin.

”Indeed luck of the lady is with me this evening good and honored Lord Istar.  I can say after all, a woman’s wiles are worth their weight in gold.  However, fortunes won are worthless compared to the word of a true and great noble such as yourself.  For it is with your humble generosity that affords me the opportunity to forge such great alliances and hopefully a mutually profitable trade agreement?” quipped Vedin expertly as he stood slowly and gestured wide.

Lord Istar smiled thru clenched teeth momentarily, allowing his anger of defeat to settle somewhat before answering.

”Truly Kabala has blessed you stranger this eve.  Please, retire with me to the celebration hall so that we may talk further of our profitable future together,” cooed the powerful man as he rose swiftly and gestured with his jewel encrusted fingers.

Sir Vedin nodded his head in acceptance and rose as well to follow, just after his hooded servant nodded to him in return.

Teacher stood transfixed as the gate to the pit was raised.  He rushed forward to check on his pupil as Kaonna limped away and was helped by two of her companions.  She cast a sorrowful glance over her shoulder as she exited the arena.

”Ah lad.  What have the gods done to you?  Tis my fault, tis all my fault,” weeped the older man as tears flowed down into his busy beard.

Several men entered the pit and gingerly picked up Durgins limp body.  Teacher immediately rose and flew into a rage.

”Where do you think your taking him!?” he demanded.

“He’s Sir Adwaremos’ property.  We’re taking the body with us as ordered,” replied the hooded tattooed man.

Teacher’s fists were clenched in pure unbridled rage.  Stepping forward quickly he swung at the hooded man.  The man somehow instinctively ducked the quick punch, spun on his heel and delivered a roundhouse kick.  The kick caught the older man in the chest, sending him sprawling into the dirt.  With the wind knocked from his lungs, Teacher gasped.

”Listen to me old man, we don’t’ want any more bloodshed this evening,” said the stranger as he leaned down closer to the winded fighter.

“We’re going to take him home, if that eases your mind any,” whispered the tall hooded man.

Teacher looked puzzled as the words sunk into his brain.  He only watched in silence, rubbing his chest as the party picked up his pupils body and carried it away.

On the boat, Durgins bloody tunic was stripped off of him and his superficial wound was cleaned and bandaged.  The strange tattooed man threw his cloak off once aboard the vessel and quickly sent for his apothecary kit as he stood over the body lying on a large flat table.

”Will he live sir?” asked a mercenary as he sat the large leather kit down gently.

The tattooed man quickly opened the case and began to mix together several ingredients.

”He should be fine once I administer this antidote.”

The man quickly lifted Durgins head and opened his mouth, pouring the dark greenish liquid down his throat.  As he set the warriors head down gingerly, he poured another substance onto the bandaged wound.  Shortly thereafter, Vedin came aboard the ship, tossing his regal looking attire aside.  Several porters were right behind him carrying the evenings winnings.

”How does our prize fair Rhodes?” asked Vedin slightly out of breath.

”He should be fine.  Might take a few days for the poisons effects to wear off.  How did dinner go with the pompous ass?” replied Rhodes as he placed his ear to Durgins chest.

Chuckling, “Oh he was bent out of sorts, as you can imagine.  Having lost a small fortune, his prize slave fighter presumably dead and beaten by a woman no less,” he laughed just as Kaonna limped across from them to look over Durgin.

”Hey!  WarGar fighters are best, regardless of sex you cretins.  Is he gonna make it Rhodes?” she said boldly.

”Why does everyone keep asking me that?  YES for the love of the coin, he’ll be fine!” boomed Rhodes gesturing wildly over the motionless body of Durgin Vorhir.

She stared at his body for a moment before asking, “Then why is he not breathing and turning blue?”

Rhodes turned quickly with a frown towards Durgin and raised an eyebrow.

”Oh, damn! I nearly forgot!” he said quickly just before slamming his fist into the man’s unmoving chest.

A split second later Durgin’s eyes opened wide and he sucked in a gasp of air before falling back into the black abyss.

”Nice.  Kill our contract why dontcha Rhodes,” said Vedin sarcastically.

”What? I’m sorry!  Geez, you should be thanking me that he’s even here at all and alive!” replied the Unit XIII mercenary shrugging his shoulders in defense.

Everyone around shook their heads and rolled their eyes in exasperation.  Rhodes stood and looked around for some sign of thanks.  He got nothing but snickers and chuckles.

Durgin groaned as he slowly opened his eyes.  His vision slowly began to focus as he became aware of his surroundings.  The obvious ceiling he was looking up at was somewhat drably painted in a mural of some sort.  He blinked several times and rolled his head to one side towards the vague semblance of light pouring in thru a small slit window in the stone wall.

“Uggg,” he groaned, drawing attention of a shadowed figure sitting on a stool in the corner of the small room.

”Where, where am I?  Am I dead?” he croaked, realizing his mouth was dry as a trolls back.

“Do not speak my son.  You have been sleeping with the gods for some time now.  Here, drink this,” said a man’s voice as Durgins head was lifted for him and a cup put to his lips.

He drank gingerly and felt the cool rush of a soothing liquid sweeter than any honey.  The parched feeling relinquished to the refreshment.  Durgin felt his strength begin to return.  He rose slowly to a sitting position.  He immediately felt the restriction of a bandage on his side.  Glancing down he remembered the fight in the arena, of Kaonna and the end result.

Looking at the monk, Durgin’s expression asked a million questions.

Smiling softly and in a soothing voice the monk spoke, “You are safe and well my son here at the monastery of the Brotherhood of Mitra.  We are a society of monks, charged to serve the gods of light and truth.  You were brought to us several weeks ago by some mercenaries and left in our care.  We have nursed you back from the darkness, my son,” the monk explained.

”Where are they now?”

”They had to leave soon after bringing you to us.  It is our duty to serve those in need.  You have been away for a long time, Durgin Vorhir of Rivendell, soldier of WarGar,” the monk replied as he shuffled off to a nearby table and picked up a small plate of food.

”You, you know of me?  Yet, you cared for me, knowing I’ve killed others?” asked Durgin surprised.

Laughing lightly as he returned and handed Durgin the plate, “Of course my son.  Our order believes in the good that resides in all men.  Just because a man can do evil, so he can do good…and in doing so, he should also be forgiven.  If…he chooses to forgive himself.”

Deep inside Durgin, something in the monks words made sense.  He stared at the meager plate of fruits, cheeses and bread.

”You see, even in our order, we have men and women such as yourself.  They fight when they must to uphold law and order for the good of their fellow mankind.  Death is much apart of life as the night is to day.  One cannot exist without the other, therefore balance is maintained.  We understand this and have survived this way for millennia’s,” the monk preached in a very soft voice as if he was soothing a child with a skinned knee.

Durgin picked up the cheese and put it in his mouth, savoring the flavor as he listened to the monk, infatuated.

”Does this make sense to you my son?” asked the monk pulling his hands from his sleeves to reveal hardened leather bracers.

Durgin simply nodded, his thoughts reflecting back on the past few months that he was a slave.  The shame he felt despite being forced against his will weighed on him heavily and it showed in his eyes and face.  The monk smiled with all the compassion the gods could bestow upon any man.  The hardened warrior lowered his head and the tears he’d held back for so long welled up in his eyes.

”Thank you for your kindness and your wisdom, father,” said Durgin thru the large knot in his throat that had formed.

The monk placed his hand gently on Durgins shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze that his life was indeed his own now.

”Rest my son, for you are safe and still have a long journey ahead of you.  I shall leave you to your meal.  I’ll check back in on you in a bit,” said the monk as he rose and walked to the large wooden door with no lock.

Slightly confused, Durgin asked, “What journey would that be?”

The monk hesitated before replying, “Why…the rest of your life of course,” then closed the door quietly.