Tales of a common man

[shadevar]

Homecoming

“Bludy red-eyes….”

With a grunt, Lars wheeled round, scanning the treelines. The goblin lay down close to him, it’s nose bloody, angling to a commonly wrong degree.

Quickly, he dashed for an open clearing, and found himself speeding through the bushes, leaving the goblin to it’s misery. Perhaps the gob’ had been alone, and if so, lucky for him. He wasn’t about to bet himself on it now. You could never tell in the Rawlins, and for sure not at night.

“Watch for the red eyes…”

He stopped, scanning his surroundings again, listening for any tell tale sign of pursuit.

”Huh… nothing’…”

Everything around him was silent, a bit too silent to his liking. He felt his heart racing as he imagined movement in the shadows, and knew that he had to get out of there as quickly as possible. Sooner or later, the red eyes would catch on to him. And if not the red eyes, then worse.

Again, he found himself running, jumping over roots and rocks as the bushes scathed his arms and sides. With a wild leap, he crossed a small stream, tumbling into the treeline with a light grin, letting his legs carry him as fast as he could over small pathways that few really travel. He couldn’t be far anymore now, Norwick was bound to show soon. He hoped they’d lit torches, so he’d be able to spot the town easier in this dark. Knowing the thick of the woods, and all the time he’d been gone, he feared to miss a bend and end up all the wrong way.

Crack…

A twig snapped behind him, loud and dry. Then, a rustle… Instantly, Lars came to a deadstop, grabbing to his back for his bow. He muttered a curse under his breath, realizing the bow was still where he’d last seen it, in the ravine where those accursed bandits had thrown it a forthnight ago. Not that it mattered, he’d never been a good shot anyway, but still… it was Kai’s bow.

Suddenly he felt a pang, and sighed. He should have known that coming home was not going to be so easy. Kai had always been there for him, a big brother looking out for the kin. But Kai was not here now to throw rocks into the bushes or chase the red eyes away from the cattle. Their pa had sold Kai into service with a roaming knight, more than 20 winters ago, to keep up their farm, and Lars had never seen him again.

”Focus, lad, focus…”

He narrowed his eyes, peering as well as he could into the dark, trying to catch a glimpse of what had startled him. His heart was racing so fast that he was sure it was about to pop out of his chest and run off without him. He breathed once, twice, and again, trying to control his breathing. Silent, careful… a prey stalking the hunter. He imagined the red eyes amongst the leaves, he imagined their screeches, and his fists plastering against their skulls. A light grin appeared on his face as he thought back on the gob’ of before, and it’s nose. Shame those bandits had been quicker.

He had to admit, he’d sure imagined coming home to be quite a bit differently. Normally, the “Misty Maiden” would have sailed as far as the river would have allowed, usually mooring not too far from Bildoobaris. Then, a ten day trek North over the plains, and a passage on a local barge to get him across the Icelace and towards Peltarch would have been all it still took. The Maiden would stay moored near Bildoobaris for the coming 3 months atleast, until the winter settled down and they’d leave again, a time the crew gladly used to go and see hearth and family. The family, Lars couldn’t really cling to now, there wasn’t really much left for him anymore, so the last 10 years, he’d either left the crew near Saerloon, or staid and hung around the boat until the winter would pass.

That had been the same idea this time. The Captain had already made plans to get back the wages he paid his men on a pair of dice, and Lars would have been damned to say no to a winter like that. Dark ale, a lass or three to choose from, and the coin the Captain would lose on him to pay for his bills with the local inn, were all he needed to keep him content for now. Shame things didn’t turn out that way.

They’d pushed their luck by trying to scam their last game. Lars never was much for faking it, but the Cap had insisted, and well… the Cap is still the Cap. That dimwitted barb was going to lose the last penny he had on himself, and then wake up out in the cold snow with a huge hangover and some hurt pride to take back to his tribe folk. No big deal. But the Lady Luck hadn’t thought it all so amusing as the Cap had at that time. Lars had told him to be careful, she didn’t like too much to have her name called over loaded dice, he’d said, but well… an ale or 2 later that was easily forgotten again.

Yep, the Cap still had had it in him, that was for sure. Ale had been squandered around as freely as if it had been water, and the Cap had gone to his bunk with a broad grin on his face and a purse double the weight in coin, close to sunrise. The lad they’d cleaned out had been thrown out, shouting out some words that Lars couldn’t much understand, though he didn’t need much to get their meaning. The next morning though, they’d been woken up by the alarms of fire. The Misty Maiden sure had been a fiery hot lass, but Lars knew right then and there that that was it. No matter how hard they tried, it was impossible to douse those flames on time and still save the boat. The Misty Maiden’s last voyage was straight into a fiery death.

It had been a tough battle to stop the Cap from straight out lynching that barb. No one in Bildoobaris was compassionate about it, that much was for sure. ”If ya seek trouble with the locals, then ya handle yer troubles on yer own!” No one wanted trouble with the locals. The locals were pretty much what kept Bildoobaris alive to start off with, and everyone knew the Nar raiders were not to be messed with. It was going to be tough now, that was for sure too. Getting a new boat before the end of winter was practically impossible, and what of the crew? They’d be back here in a month or two, as every year most likely, atleast half of them. No boat, no work, no coin. No coin, no food. It would be rough times for the lot of them.

Persuading the Cap to get to Peltarch was not so hard. Lars would go with him, see his homeland for a couple of weeks as well, and they could go have a talking-to with the bankers up there. Perhaps they’d hand a loan, so they could get a new boat. After all the Cap had his trade routes to back him up for the credit. It would be a rough year for sure, but it would be something atleast.

”Blu’dy farkin’ deer…”

Lars threw a rock at the critter in an angry burst. The thing had almost given him a heart attack startling him like that. That’s exactly what had gotten the better of Jake too, bloody rabbit startling him off and having him dash straight into the Nar hunters… Those barbs been on their trail for days after they’d left Bildoobaris, apparently still wanting to settle a further score with the Cap. Rodrick, himself and the Cap, they’d made it out of the struggle, but Jake… well, the vultures sure had themselves a good meal on him. Atleast thanks to them raiders riding themselves after Jake, they’d been able to find some cover and shake off the trail. Atleast the lad hadn’t died for nothing.

Lars moved on, dashing again through the trees. To his left he noticed the tree that had always scared him as a little kid. Under the trickle moonlight, it’s limbs still looked just as menacingly, and it didn’t take him much to imagine the wooden teeth and luring dark eyes along the trunk with it. Beyond the tree was a small path that lead to the Elf camp, he knew. It was not far anymore now… soon he’d be home. Softly, keeping his voice very low, he murmured a quick praise to the Lady in thanks. Seemed his luck was finally coming back now. Shame the Cap hadn’t been so fortunate.

The winter had struck them harshly, and the three of them had been stuck in a shelter for days before they’d been able to move on. Thanks to that, they’d missed the last ship that would get them to Pelt quickly. On top of it, the local guard seemed to still know the Cap from somewhere, so they weren’t much inclined to stick around and wait for another Icelace Rider. They’d have to get to Peltarch on foot.

Now the Cap, he’d always been a decent fighter, and had the scars to make more than a few boasts on it too. Lars figured that the last scars though, wouldn’t be worth much anymore to boast about. That bear sure had been hungry… They’d managed to kill it in the end, Rodrick and himself. A few torn clothes and a claw here and there were little compared to the mangled Cap though. He’d still been toughening it out until the day broke, but then he’d been food for the worms just as well. Rodrick and Lars had done the little they could and burried him in the frozen grounds, and that was that. Without the Cap, there’d be no further contracts, and no further boat. They’d parted ways there, Rodrick would get back to the last trade point and try to get hold of the rest of the men, warn them of what happened. Lars… well. Home suddenly seemed more and more interesting again.

He made a mental note to, if he did make it alive, to get himself to the first temple he could and send a quick praise to the Lady Doom just as well. He’d seen enough of luck’s bad temper to get the other one on his back too now. He just hoped they’d both consider he’d paid off his dues doubly and leave him alone for a while. Those bandits had been the last stroke of bad luck he’d needed. So stupid of him to run straight into their camp! They’d been friendly and all, sure. He’d just not been keen enough to notice the shackles under their packing, until it had been almost too late. With a light shrug, Lars wondered how much they would have gotten out of selling him to some slaver. He was happy enough to have made it out there and not have to find out, but most of what he still had, his last rations, and Kai’s bow… they’d ended up at the bottom of that ravine before he could make his run for it.

The torches of Norwick doomed up in the distance, dragging him out of his musings. A sudden glee rolled over him as again, he sprinted through the clearing. No more red eyes, no more bandits. There was Norwick, and behind it, the Nars, the Rom camp, Jiyyd… home.