The first man charged in like a mad bull, swinging his sword in a wild arc. The second tried to skewer him through the gut. Lee stepped aside, easily dodging both blades, and brought his fist down across the first thug’s jaw. Blood and teeth went flying as the man spun and tumbled to the ground, unmoving. Stunned the second man paused, staring at his comrade.
“You should run,” said Lee.
This enraged the second thug. Reaching in his belt, he drew a small dagger and hurled it at Lee's throat. Lee moved aside and the blade disappeared into the darkness. The thug brought up his sword and charged. Lee almost laughed at the clumsy effort. He side stepped and brought the back of his fist across the man's temple. He stumbled and fell to one knee, his sword falling to the ground and sliding a few feet away. Lee kicked him to the ground and brought his boot down on the man's neck.
“If you or your friend trouble Darius again, you won't walk away,” said Lee.
The thug's eyes were wide with fear, and he was only able to nod his head.
Lee released him, and after taking a moment to view the crowd that had gathered from inside the tavern, made his way to the lodge. There he found Darius and Jacob sitting quietly at a table.
Lee took a seat next to Jacob. “They won't be troubling you anymore.”
“That coward of a guard abandoned me,” muttered Darius. “I'll see him skinned alive.” He reached in his belt and pulled out a flask. The sweet scent of brandy filled the air as he opened it.
“He's long gone,” said Lee. “But it seems you are in need of protection. My friend and I would be happy to oblige…for the right price.”
“Wha-?” He shook himself to his senses. “Yes, yes. Of course.” He swallowed a mouthful of brandy. “But you may not be so eager, once you hear where I'm going.”
“And where is that?” asked Lee.
“I go to Whiterun Pass,” said Darius. “Just on the other side of the Angraalborder. Not too many want to go there. Especially with all the soldiers gathering.” He handed Lee the flask.
Lee took a long swallow, and passed it to Jacob. “Then why are you going?”
“War is profitable,” said Darius flatly. “I have twenty wagons full of raw cotton, and the Reborn King pays triple what it's worth anywhere else.”
Hearing that name sent Lee's heart pounding. “I see. Well it sounds like just the kind of job Jasper and I are looking for.” He reached across the table and held out his hand. “I'm Barath, and this is my nephew, Jasper.”
Darius shook Lee's hand, then pulled two silver coins from his purse. He tossed Jacob and Lee each a coin then took another drink. “Then it’s good to have you with me. This is for what you did for me in the tavern. Normally, I pay eight coppers per week…” He studied Lee for a moment. “But I think you're worth nine.”
“I'd say we're worth twelve,” said Jacob.
Darius rubbed his chin. “Done.” He stood up. “Grab your gear. My camp is just a mile north; and a sight more comfortable than this place.”
Lee instructed the innkeeper to gather their horses, and he and Jacob retrieved their belongings. Lee offered his horse to Darius, but the merchant refused.
“I've had far too much to drink to stay on a horse,” said Darius. “It will do me good to walk it off.” He patted his round belly. “Besides, I may break the poor beast’s back.”
This brought a hearty laugh. Once the horses were packed, they slowly made their way to the main avenue north, through town. Lee looked for any sign that the two thugs were about, but to his relief, they apparently decided they had enough for one night. Lee didn't want to spill blood this early in their journey. Such things draw too much attention, and even in a dilapidated camp like Klinton, there was a constable or sheriff, and he certainly didn't need to get mixed up with the local law. Not that they were in danger of finding themselves in a hangman’s noose, but explanations would have to be made and coin spent, should men die in the streets.
The night was cold, but the brandy helped to fight off the chill. When they arrived at Darius' camp, Lee could see twenty large wagons filled to bursting with cotton, and arranged in a wide circle. In the center several small fires were burning, surrounded by sleeping men.
Darius grumbled. “Lazy dogs. They're supposed to guard the wagons.” He straightened his shirt and belt, then stiffened his back, standing as tall as his girth would allow. “That’s why I only brought one blasted guard.”
“How many swordsmen do you have?” asked Lee.
“Ten, not counting the two of you,” Darius replied. “Well, nine since I lost the cur that I had with me tonight.”
“Why so many?” asked Jacob.
“The roads south of Angraalare dangerous,” Darius replied. “You may see some action before we get there.”
Lee nodded. “And after?”
Darius chuckled. “No one raids within the borders of the Reborn King. Not unless they wish for death. I'll be glad when they finish whatever war they getting ready for. At least the roads will be safe. I gotta give them credit; they know how to keep order.”
Lee could tell that Jacob wanted to say something, but flashed him a glance. Darius noticed.
“And what do you think about it?” asked Darius. “I see you have an opinion.”
“I think…” Jacob paused. Lee's face was stone. “I think as long as they let people go about their business, I don't care.”
Lee relaxed.
Once within the camp, Darius began kicking awake the men who had been left to guard the wagons, threatening to dock their pay. He pointed to a small tent at the far end of the camp. “I sleep there. After tonight I want you and Jasper to keep your fire and bedrolls nearby. For tonight find yourselves a place with the others. We leave at dawn.”
Lee and Jacob found a spot in the center of the camp and laid out their bedrolls. The other men scarcely looked at them as they settled in.
“It’s going to get even colder soon,” remarked Lee, as he stretched out.
“I'm a northman,” said Jacob. “I don’t mind the cold.”
Lee smiled. His son had done well that night, and he allowed himself to feel proud. He prayed to the Gods that the feeling would last.
Chapter 9
For the next several days, Lee and Jacob spent most of their time with Darius. Originally from The Silver Isles, a small group of islands just off the coast one-hundred miles east of Baltria, Darius had inherited a cotton plantation on the mainland, when his uncle died twenty years prior. When sober, he wasn't nearly as much of a loud braggart, and Lee found him to be a man of quick wit and good humor.
The first day, he invited Lee and Jacob to engage in a dice game with a few of the other men. Though Lee politely refused, Jacob took great joy in the distraction, as well as taking coin from Darius, who turned out to be a very unlucky gambler. After a few more games, Darius chose to sit and talk with Lee rather than lose more coin.
At night, after Darius went to bed, which was usually early when he had too much wine, Lee tried to get to know the others among the caravan. The hired swords were mostly from the edge of the eastern desert. They were regarded as a fierce people of few words and quick temper. Fortunately for Lee, he had spent time in Dantory, and knew how to approach them. Three of the guards intended to join the armies of Angraalwhen they arrived.
“Better to be on the winning side,” said Fennio, a short, thin guard, one night over a few cups of wine. He was by far the most experienced of the lot, and bore the scars to prove it. Unlike the long swords the others carried he preferred a short sword and small mace. “And I hear they pay thirty coppers a week.”
“I'm not servin' in no army,” said Santino, one of the youngest of the group, though he had the look of a hardened veteran. “I don't care if they're payin' fifty coppers. If you ask me, they're payin' so good, because you're marchin' off to get killed.”
“Ha!” scoffed Fennio. “You ain't seen how big the army is. A hundred-thousand if it's ten.”