Chapter 6: On the Road

Back to: ""Chapter 5: A Bargain Made" "

On the Road

Dirty, battered, and exhausted, Torin slumped against a tree, breathing deeply of the fresh air. He stared at the hole through which he'd come, torn between horror and revulsion. He knew one thing for certain: never did he EVER want to have to do that again.

As he rested, Torin gradually became aware of his surroundings. He instinctively knew he was far from home. Through a gap in the trees around him, he could see the mountains. With a start, he realized he must have traveled the night through, struggling through the underground and right beneath that mountain range! Now the sun was directly overhead, even later than Torin had at first thought.

A sudden surge of excitement startled the young elf. He was off on a real adventure -- the subject of the ballads and legends he loved hearing about. He had met a dragon AND HE HAD SURVIVED!

Torin grinned. Hearing the tinkle of water, he pushed himself to his feet. The water felt cool and soothing against his dry skin. He drank his full, then began to work the caked mud and dirt out of his hair and clothes.

Wet, but feeling much better, Torin set off through the forest. He went north, and slightly west, tracing the stream's path. Towns are usually along rivers, he reasoned. Surely in a town I can find a sorcerer.

At first he traveled at a steady pace, but the rumblings of his stomach soon distracted him. For the first time, Torin began to wonder just what sort of a mess he was in. He had no weapons and no supplies and the gods only knew what sort of people inhabited these woods. His people, the people of his mother, were peaceful. They distrusted weapons and loathed those who carried them. Torin's father, however, had lived by his sword most of his life. He taught his three sons everything he knew, but had years ago given Torin up as useless in real combat.

"Sport with your friends, then!" he'd snapped one hot afternoon. "And thank the gods there are those out there who can protect you!"

Those words still stung. Torin was a good archer, everyone said so, but that was not good enough for his father. Archery was a sport, not a soldier's weapon. Combat was no good unless you closed one-on-one with the enemy.

In Torin's opinion, killing the enemy before he got to you had more favorable odds. He did like to fence, becoming proficient with a saber and rapier. Torin had even gone so far as to win a few contests, though not nearly close to those he won by his bow.

Torin, staring into the forest around him, wondered just how useful an archery contest was. He'd never killed a man; hunting was done out of necessity, but never before had he given a thought to actually having to live by his blade. That was left to his two older brothers, now officers in the army. He shivered. Suddenly the loss of his bow made him feel very, very defenseless and alone.

He walked a little quicker then, but not for long. Incredibly hungry, he began searching among the trees for dry tinder. Torin struggled to get a fire going well into twilight. Finally, his hands scraped and sore, Torin managed to keep his fire going for more than a couple of heartbeats. Picking up a stone from the riverbed, he chopped at a branch, shaping the tip to a rough point.

Torin had never been a particularly good fisherman and he soon found fishing in this manner frustrating and exhausting. But, at long last, dripping wet and shivering with cold, he retreated to his fire, one of the gray river trout speared on his crude weapon.

He stayed most of a week alongside the river, fishing and crafting a new bow. Arrows were more difficult and the finished items seemed very crude, despite their sturdiness.

Still anxious, but feeling more confident, Torin continued on his way. He traveled many days without meeting anyone. Eight days after emerging from the underground, Torin came upon a bridge.

The stream had joined a wide, rushing river as Torin followed it. He stared at the bridge uncertainly at first.

"Hoy, there, Stranger!" called a voice.

Torin turned to stare down the road. A man stood by his laden mule, tugging stubbornly at the beast's bridle.

"Where you headed?" asked the man, coming closer.

"I - I need a sorcerer."

The man's eyes widened and he whistled. "Whew, you don't ask anything easy, do ya?"

"Do you know any?"

The merchant laughed. "Sorcerers don't just grow on trees, you know." He eyed Torin with a knowing eye. "But, seeing as you've had some long travel behind ya, come on with me an' I'll take you up to someone's as might know."

Torin hesitated. "How do you know I've been traveling long?"

The merchant laughed again. "Boy, yer covered head to toe in grime, no boots, no weapons to speak of, and them trousers look like they're 'bout fallin off round ya. Doesn't take a wise man to know yer not from these parts." He waved his arm. "Come along, then. We don't get many visitors. Leastways, you'll get food and a place to stay the night."

Sighing, Torin fell into step beside the man.

"Benedict."

"I'm sorry?"

"My name. Benedict. And yours?"

"Torin."

"Well met, young man. What brings you over the mountains?"

Torin stopped in his tracks. The merchant looked back and laughed. "Come now, boy, any fool can tell yer an elf. An' elves only live south've those mountains." His eyes narrowed speculatively. "In fact, you don' even look like them."

"I'm half," Torin answered, walking beside the merchant once more.

"Ah. That why ye've come north, then? Met a couple of elves, years ago, an' they don't seem like the accepting type."

"No, that's not it at all. I have to find a sorcerer."

"Plannin' on bein' one, then?"

"No, no, it's for a friend. He's trapped."

The merchant frowned. "What do you need with a sorcerer?"

"I . . can't talk about it," Torin replied, reluctant to say more.

"Yer business, then," the merchant said with a shrug. "Myself, I come lately from Raven's Peak. On my way to Eklinston now. A little more remote for my liking, but I'll be back in Raven's Peak in less than a fortnight."

"Is that home?"

"Gods no," said the merchant vehemently. "I on'y keep shop there. Business is good and I get to travel. Not much more I cin ask of life, if'n you ask me, o course!" He laughed.

Torin smiled in reply. "Perhaps I might have some business."

Benedict eyed his young companion. "Yes," he agreed, making Torin blush, "I suspect so."

Rounding a turn in the road, the merchant and elf found themselves surrounded by highwaymen. Reacting instinctively, Torin fired his bow, dodging and rolling off the road. He shot three more times, all three arrows finding their mark.

Pale and leaning against his mule, Benedict called, "Hoy, there! Torin! Ye cin stop that now!"

Himself beginning to shake with reaction, Torin returned to the road. Three of the robbers lay dead in the dust, the others escaped. Stomach lurching, Torin stared, dumbfounded at his bow.

"N - not bad shooting," Benedict croaked. Reaching within his vest, the merchant revealed a small flask, taking a long draught. Silently he handed the flask to Torin.

Sputtering and coughing on the bitter ale, Torin brought a smile to the merchant and a little more color to his own face.

Benedict, dragging the mule after, approached the men. "They're the best-dressed gang of thieves I ever seen," he commented dryly. In moments he had stripped the man.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, go on," Benedict said, waving towards one of the other bandits. "There's money to be made here. An' they're not likely be needing it."

Torin swallowed, his stomach turning an odd flip. "Shouldn't, ah, we bury them, or something?"

"Dragon's balls, boy, they were gonna kill you! Take what they have an' call it even. You need it, they don't. Here, take this sword. I won't even charge you."

Torin shook his head. "N - no, thanks."

The merchant shrugged. "Yer funeral, then."

Grimacing with distaste, Torin turned away, not even bothering to retrieve his arrows.

When Benedict finally finished, they moved on. Just as night began to fall, they arrived at the gates to a walled city.

"Welcome to Eklinston," said the merchant.


{c}"Chapter 7: Eklinston"