Abbalar Tales ~ 9 Meyam
By Len Morgan
They took the new
road to Hartwell, a major artery of trade between the Meyam and Corvalen
states. They quizzed for news, of their
young friend, from passing travellers.
They explained he had gone on ahead but, thus far, they had received no
news of him, now they feared for his wellbeing. A succession of travellers shook their heads,
none had seen a youngster fitting his description. They stopped for ale at an
“It runs parallel to and merges with the new road some
twenty miles further on,” he explained.
"He must have gone another way," said Skaa. "Either to Pylodor or as the Inn-keep
suggests, he took the old road. Either
way, we will not split our group further and, we will not be returning the way
we came. We will remain on this road
for the rest of today and continue to make enquiries, of the travellers we
meet, then after the roads merge, if there is still no trace, we will wait a
few days. If we still do not hear of him
we return to Mandrell by the old road.
Are we all agreed?"
Each gave a cursory nod without comment. Skaa took up point, and they moved on, stopping for the night at a wayside hostel. In the morning, whilst breaking fast, one of Skaa's men overheard a traveller newly arrived, via the old road.
"Yester-even, I stopped with an old comrade in arms
who owns a farm ten or so miles back.
I'd oft promised to lodge wi him if e’er I chanced this way. Last eve, there was a young story teller
stayin, who tole the best tales I e’er heard.
A youngster in his teens, wi no more experience o'life n'a mayfly and
yet, he tole tales like a vetran. If ye
close yer eyes ye was there…"
"Your pardon sir was he five-eight with black hair,
slim, and riding a black stallion?"
"Can't rightly vouch fer is orse, but the rest is
accrate enough. Ye know the lad?"
"He's a comrade.
He obviously took the wrong road; we've been worried about him so you've
set our minds at rest. Tell me, did our
friend leave before you?"
"Ha ha no! Youngsters these days prefer to stay a’bed til first light, when the best part o’the day is near past. I left two hours a’fore Sun-up, and will likely be long gone a’fore he arrives here. Hopeflee, we'll meet again at the next waterin hole. Tell im Neddo is lookin for'ard to hearin more o’his tales."
"We're ahead of him, so we move on and stay
ahead. We entice him into a convenient
.-…-.
Ten days he’d been on the road, and Aldor had seen no signs
of pursuit. He was beginning to suspect Wizomi had an ulterior motive for
getting him out of Mandrell. He’d become
more familiar with his surroundings, the land had opened out into fertile farmland and small rural communities, dotted about every five miles or so. He'd got into the habit of stopping for a
flagon, at the occasional wayside
.-…-.
"Cap'n, I think you'd better take a look at
this," said the man who’d administered the sleeping draught to Aldor.
"Lyandra's teeth!
Heh heh, slippery little elver isn't he? Put him in the sack and drape him over his
horse, this does complicate things somewhat.
You don't say a word about this to the other's mind if you do I'll find
out,” Skaa warned him, “we are the only ones who know and I won't be telling
anyone."
"I'll be silent as the grave cap'n," the man
assured him.
"Come on man, I'll give you a hand with
him." They hoisted the sack and
the unconscious Aldor onto his saddle and tied him on securely. "Has anybody settled with the
Inn-keep? He will need to be sweetened
if we are to keep this quiet." He
received a curt nod.
"Ok then let's get out of here."
.-…-.
Aldor awoke, bound and gagged once more. Jostled rhythmically with the gait of his
cantering horse, he groaned involuntarily, the sound was masked by the hooves
of the horses. He was suffering from a
king-sized hangover despite consuming less than a third of the ale. He eased his hands carefully around his
lower body to confirm both his knife and his pouch were gone. He attempted to peer through the coarsely
woven sacking that covered his head and body down to waist level. It was night outside, which meant he had
slept the whole of the previous day and night. he didn’t feel stiff enough for that, so
assumed he had not been unconscious long.
Possibly the sleeping draught was unfamiliar to the person administering
it. Whoever was holding him obviously
knew his identity. On impulse he
checked his throat, not all news was bad. The amulet Genna had given him still
hung around his neck. Obviously, they
only had time for a cursory search. He
would, of course, have to continue faking unconsciousness until an escape opportunity
presented itself, possibly after they stopped for the night.
His horse was reined in, "OK! We camp here for four hours then we move
on." There were groans of protest
from three mayhap four voices, his heart sank, he recognised the speaker
immediately, it was Skaa.
"Why can't we use the
"Not with this cargo. Were in Meyam territory, our warrant is invalid here, it may even guarantee his freedom. Fiercely independent people are the Meyam's." Skaa said.
He waited over an hour for the camp to settle, receiving a
prod every half hour or so to ascertain that he was still sleeping. When the fire died down, the embers retained
only a faint glow and the only sound was the occasional errant knot exploding,
in a shower of sparks, Aldor made his move.
He had already loosened the rope around his wrists; he had only to slice
through one strand with the amulet blade.
He carefully slit the weft of the coarse sacking and stuffed it with a
few rocks and a heavy blanket somebody had draped over him earlier in the
evening. He viewed his handiwork with
satisfaction; it would pass all but close scrutiny. He crawled from the clearing and circled
around towards the horses. They became
skittish and nervous as he got closer and he nearly overlooked the guard,
sitting on a stump close by, watching them.
After a few minutes his chin slumped down on his chest and his breathing
became audible. Aldor took no chances;
he found a heavy rock and laid him out with a single blow, relieving him of his
purse and his knife. He untied all the
horses and led his own away from the clearing.
As he mounted he noted, with amusement, the other horses had followed
him. He turned in the direction of
Hartwell, and as he rode away heard angry shouts from the clearing. He smiled and kicked the horse into a
canter, "Let's go," he urged, "the chase is on!"
"If he isn't caught, we have endured two weeks of rough living for nothing. Retrieve the horses and let's get after him! You get up and earn your share of the bounty," Skaa growled at the unfortunate guard, rousting him with his boot.
Skaa grinned,
this was the part he enjoyed most of all, the chase.
They chased hard, and they learned the lad was an excellent horseman, against all their attempts, he maintained his lead. He kept his mount going whilst they drove theirs to the point of exhaustion without getting more than an occasional, glimpse of him in the distance; always that tantalising half mile ahead.
When Aldor got as close as he could ride he dismounted, allowing the horse to roam free, knowing he might never return. The ground was uneven but he still had to walk some distance before reaching a serious gradient. As soon as he began to climb towards the middle of the three mountains in the range, he felt a sense of fear and foreboding and began to think seriously of reasons not to continue. Then he remembered, Wizomi had urged him to go on, and ignore the fear. With each step his doubts grew stronger, the climb seemed more daunting, just one more step he thought, and for the first time in his life, he experienced sheer blind panic. He turned to run and Wizomi's words repeated earnestly in his mind over and over, ‘you will feel an urge to avoid them; resist! Just head for the highest peak.' He stopped and took several deep breaths, he didn't like these feelings were doing to him, but he would not let them win. He turned to face the peak once more and stepped forward determined to leave all fear behind him.
(To be continued)
Copyright Len Morgan
It's getting exciting Len, liked the vernacular.
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