The turning cartwheel rattled against the few upturned stones, peeking out from the thin layer of soil spread across the old dirt road. Only the dull thud of hooves pounding the musty earth disturbed the perpetual silence of the late autumn morning. Drifting over the bladed tips of the recently frosted grass was a light and cool breeze that gently buffered against the horse drawn cart, reminding the wagon drivers that winter was just around the corner.
Clutching the reins with just enough pressure to keep them in his hand, Jairyth kept his gaze fixated straight ahead, a deadpan expression resting on his features as he continued to watch the irksome curiosity of various flies forming around the back-end of the trotting horses. The smallish man stifled a yawn as he slowly brought his eyes up to focus on the surrounding landscape, the spectacle of a horse’s tail swatting at its own rump holding the same riveting appeal as it did three hours ago.
The rocky formations that had been a familiar sight to himself and his companion for the past few weeks had now faded away to be replaced with flat meadows and sparse woodlands as they slowly trudged their way along the highway to the mountains resting far away on the horizon. The lethargic pace did not bother Jairyth so much, to his own mind there was little need for haste – being well versed in a life that often catered to the need of constant travel, the knowledge of having no reason to rush anywhere appealed to him vastly. And yet, he was quickly reminded of his longing for a more interesting sight to look upon as he gazed out at the neighbouring grasslands.
He shifted his gaze to the woman seated next to him, whose diminutive frame was enveloped by a thick cloak, the swathes of rough hessian fending away the declining temperature. A smoking pipe was pinched between thumb and forefinger, the bowl lit and the smouldering scent of burning leaf caught upon the passing wind. Her eyes traced the vague shapes of the far-off landscape with a lazy abandon, evidently caught up in her own thoughts. Jairyth smiled to himself, if simply at the welcome mundanity of the display. He reached around to pinch at the covering wrapped about the back of the cart, ensuring that it was still quite secure, before setting his sights back to the road.
“You do not know how tempting it is to simply lead the cart over less than even grounding” the Northman commented, glancing in the woman’s direction as she blinked out of her stupor, turning to face him with an expression of intense incredulity.
“Then you should be aware,” she began, her original expression quickly shifting into one of haughtiness, “that this fine leaf, here – and I applaud you, for it is fine, indeed – is of your own stock. Should we find our cargo half-strewn across the road, I fear you should have none left at all” she ended the statement with a dry smile, proceeding to take a long draw from the smoking pipe, her ill-gotten gains illuminating the bowl with a warm red-orange glow. Jairyth heaved a sigh, gesticulating with a wave of his hand to the back of the cart.
“Yet you have a whole barrel of perfectly palatable leaf that has remained untouched since we left the port!” Following the gesture with her gaze, Adaryn shook her head, pointedly prodding the small man’s arm with the tip of the pipe.
“Why should I dare to begin burning fresh leaf, when there’s plenty to be garnered from you?” on that note the Mearcswoman took a moment to pause, scrutinizing her companion, “That being said, your smoking pouch has been dangerously full of late” she paused once again, her brow furrowing “In fact, it’s been a far too rare an occasion that I’ve seen you warming your lungs, ever since we set out those few months ago.” Jairyth sniffed, offering nothing more than a short shrug in response to her inquires.
“Perhaps my brother's woesome tales of its effects have gotten to you, after all” she impishly added, smirking, as it was now the Northman’s turn to offer her a glance of scepticism.
***
Livinian looked down from the bluff, watching the small hazy form of the cart trundle along the road. The woman brushed the cowl of her hood from her face, her lips curling into an indeterminate smile; one of the rarest of sights given the sour demeanour of the woman in question. Placing a hand over her chest, she felt the beat of her heart quicken somewhat – however, never one for irrationality, she took a deep breath and composed herself, whirring about to face the man behind her, who was nodding knowingly.
“You are certain it is them?” she asked bluntly, with a slight hint of a lisp, giving away the extent of the grievous scarring lining her lips. Davick peered down at the woman, his expression perfectly dull, bored even, as he simply nodded once more, before responding in that flawlessly composed manner that exhibited both co-ordination and authority.
“You still continue to doubt my talents, Livinian? If it is not obvious by now, there’s some intricate piece of the puzzle you’re missing. Surely I have proven myself to be a capable hunter, yes?” the man asked, allowing a pause to ensnare the moment before he continued, “Few would leave the safety of a town, let alone one on the edge of such... untamed lands. And even fewer ships would set sail during the colder climates, either. I suspect their route is one derived from a lack of any other path.”
Livinian dismissed the assessment with a mere nod of her head, brushing past Davick and wandering over to the half dozen other mercenaries positioned about the small encampment. Pursing her lips as she paused for thought, she flicked her gaze from Finndas, who was once again tirelessly recounting the tales of his impossibly vast conquests, to Riene, who was intently listening to one of Eornbrand's many harp-melodies, the young woman clapping her hands excitably with each pluck of the string. Considering the remaining two members of the troupe were sleeping, and the distrust of the self-proclaimed ‘harem master' that instantly discounted him as anything more than a loud mouth, the thief-taker turned her attention back to the minstrel and girl.
“Riene” she began, addressing the younger woman, who promptly looked up with eagerness upon her countenance, “You understand your role in all this, I hope?” The girl bobbed her head up and down, opening her mouth to respond, before being silenced with a simple gesture of Livinian’s upraised hand, who had no patience to spare for the younger woman’s ramblings. She turned to the minstrel, whose fingers continued to dance over the strings of his instrument. He tilted his head slightly, allowing his gaze to meet Livinian’s from beneath the brim of his hat.
“Collect the pushcart and set it upon the road, wake up Baerwald if you must – but be quick about it,” Eornbrand set his harp down beside him, sweeping into an extravagant bow, causing the unreasonably oversized feather poking out from his headgear to brush the ground.
“It will be done my lady with the utmost of swiftness, let you hold no doubts to my abilities for I…” Livinian didn’t bother to remain to hear the end of that sentence.
Making her way back to the edge of the ridge, she could see the oncoming wagon approaching, the horses and the drivers now very much discernible against the dirt-track road. Livinian bristled, feeling the warmth of Davick’s breath against the back of her neck; she attempted to straighten her posture, so that she would not appear intimidated by the man’s close proximity.
“I have one last question,” he remarked, leaning in closely to whisper into the woman’s ear. Livinian fought hard to keep her composure, particularly when the cold edge of Davick’s stiletto brushed dangerously against the side of her cheek, “The woman is not to be harmed as you stated, and which I shall honour – but what of the man? You’ve told me much of what he’s done to you, my dear. Let me... give you more than that precious gem. Let me give you vengeance.”
The thief-taker took in a deep breath, forcing her voice to remain unruffled. “Do what you wish. I’ve let go of the past, but... you may severely injure him if you see it fit. Very well.” She spoke after a few bated breaths, hearing a faint chuckle from the sell-sword as he released her from his grasp and slipped away. Tracing a hand over her cheek, Livinian could still feel the icy press of where the man’s blade had rested. She shook her head, not wishing to consider what designs Davick had planned, though knowing the dangerous man, she would be held witness to them soon enough.
***
“You know if you break that, it will come out of your share,” Jairyth commented, cagily watching as the bantam woman fidgeted with a small fishbone figurine that he had carved recently. The month the pair had spent in the port town had been somewhat profitable, even if it was not the true goal of visiting the settlement. During the time in search for a boat to bear them along the coast, Jairyth had begrudgingly decided to put his skill in scrimshawing to good use, managing to fashion together a few ornaments from scattered trout bones, which he had then proceeded to sell to the local market, barely scraping a fair enough sum to keep the both of them sheltered and fed during their stay.
Adaryn gave a quiet ‘tsk’ in response, reclining against the wooden support of the cart’s driving bench, turning her gaze up towards the sombre sky.
“You almost sound like you’ve accepted the idea of honest work” she observed, tilting her head slightly to regard the man. Jairyth held out his arm, gesturing with his fingers for the woman to give the statuette over. She playfully tossed the piece of scrimshaw into her opposing hand, out of her harried companion's reach - despite his attempts to snatch it out of her grasp.
“I just believe it to be wise to have something to fall back on,” Jairyth began, easing back into his previously seated position, “Besides; I doubt there will be legions of blind and wealthy merchants, with stock for us to ‘find’ out here in the wilds”.
“And may I remind you that it was your idea to leave behind the walls that kept us sheltered and safeguarded” the woman countered, “And now here we are, our backs to whomever cares to approach us - and with winter breathing down the napes of our necks, no less!”.
“And yet you did not protest against the idea at all! In fact you said yourself; you grew weary of the palpable scent of the docks.” The woman sniffed indignantly, upturning her nose at the supercilious grin forming upon Jairyth’s angular features.
“Yes, well, I'd hardly expect a rat accustomed to all manner of foul odours to understand” she replied.
Jairyth chuckled at the verbal barb, coaxing the reins of the two horses pulling the cart to follow the ridge of the small bluff on their right.
“Still, the cold continues to draw in. I doubt I could any longer tell you if we could reach the gap before the weather takes a turn for the worse, let alone pass through it” Adaryn surmised, folding her arms as if to articulate her point, though her companion was already nodding his head in agreement.
“I know,” he began, “Though there lies a village not much further along the road, or so I was informed, with surprisingly decent enough folk despite their choice of home – I’m sure we could find shelter there” Jairyth took note of the expression the woman wore, easily guessing that she was less than thrilled with the prospect of waiting out the winter in an unfamiliar settlement, before quickly adding, “And after the worst of it has gone, we’ll pass through the gap and into Rohan itself”.
The ageing miscreant was slightly taken aback at the woman's lack of protest; instead a somewhat absent expression had formed upon her countenance. He outstretched an arm, waving his hand in front of her vision. With a blink and a sigh, Adaryn brushed the Northman’s arm aside.
“I had feared you had drifted into a slumber” he stated, raising an eyebrow as he observed her curiously.
“I’m sure that’s not difficult with the way you go on” she shook her head, before refocusing her gaze on the small man “I heard you. I was merely thinking- may I pose a question to you?”
“By all means”.
“Before we finish with all this,” she began, letting Jairyth follow her gaze to the pouch that was strung to the man’s belt, “And we choose to rest upon our laurels – would you still consider the possibility of perhaps, passing right through the Riddermearc, and taking one final venture to see these Lakelands of yours? Your tales of such lands have oft intrigued me.”
Jairyth chewed his bottom lip in thought; this was not the first time Adaryn had made the request to witness the lands where he had been raised, and in answer to this, a hurried attempt to change the subject had usually followed, or simply the declaration that it was not worth the voyage.
“I suppose the sooner we arrive in your lands, the sooner we’ll grow bored” he said after some deliberation, not missing the appreciative nod in return.
As the cart rounded the slope of the bluff, the pair became aware of increasing sound of raised voices. Jairyth gently slowed the trotting pace of the horses, as they came in sight of the mishap on the side of a road. An upturned wagon lay against the incline of the hill, one of the wheels torn free, and the majority of its load strewn about the direct perimeter. A man and a woman were frantically rushing about to collect the lost stock, stopping only to regard the approaching cart. The Northman brought the cart to a halt, Adaryn, very much guessing Jairyth’s intentions, merely looked at him plainly, her expression markedly devoid of approval.
“Oh, you just happen to have these random bouts of honourable intentions at the less than opportune times, don’t you?” she muttered with a sigh, waving the man away. Jairyth rose to his feet, flashing her his customary grin, before hopping down from the wagon, and pacing about the idle horses.
“Don’t make this a habit” she promptly added, watching him as he made his way over to the wrecked dray.
***
With a subtle flick of his wrist, the musician attempted to signal his young accomplice, though the girl was so preoccupied with actually bothering to gather up the falsely scattered cargo did not even register the gesture. Sweeping the ridiculously wide-brimmed hat from atop his head, the minstrel turned about, offering a bow.
“Hoy there!” Eornbrand greeted the approaching man in his typical ostentatious manner, “Beautiful timing I must say so sir, that is if I have guessed your intentions correctly?” Jairyth eyed the man for a brief moment, running a hand across his chin as he shifted his eyes to the wrecked wagon lying against the side of the steep embankment. He promptly turned his attention back to the minstrel who was steeling the newcomer with an anticipatory gaze.
“How did this happen?” he asked bluntly, keeping note of the wavering attention of the two dull irises set either side of the minstrel’s hooked nose.
“Raiders of course, vile knaves, good sir, ran us right off the road they did, left us for ruin-” adjusting the brim of his hat, Eornbrand took a moment to pause, one very much designed for dramatic effect, before continuing, “I fear if you hadn’t showed up, myself and my- sister, would have been left stranded amidst this cold climate, oh but praise the heavens you and your cart arrived when it did!”
“Your assailants must be either finicky or blind by the sound of it, leaving half your stock like this.” Jairyth commented, casting a dubious look over the man.
Adaryn cupped a her chin in her hand, paying little heed to her companion’s discussion with the bumbling minstrel, but instead focusing on the girl who was still scraping together the pieces of what looked to be broken casing or splintered planks of wood. Frowning, she noted that there seemed to be nothing of any value worth salvaging; perhaps their cargo was one of small size but incredible expense, she mused. Before she could be presented with the opportunity to ponder the mystery further, her attention was taken by the sound of heavy soles, thumping against the craggy ground. Two burly men were approaching the side of the cart. Noting they both bore armaments of sorts, and not in particular warming to the idea of finding out what their intentions were, she quickly scrambled out of the cart and made her way with surprising swiftness, despite the weight of her thick cloak, over to her companion, calling out to him all the while.
Jairyth looked over his shoulder, taking heed of Adaryn’s warning as he spotted the pair, his gaze quickly danced to the girl besides the wreckage of the dray, who now held a blade in hand and was tentatively making her way over to them. Jairyth whirred about, backing away from the minstrel, whom to his honest surprise made no move to attempt to apprehend him, instead merely offered an apologetic bow of his head. He held out his arm, baying Adaryn to stay behind him, as he slowly lead their blind-sides to face the incline of the bluff, his other hand hovering above the pommel of the sword, sheathed to his hip.
“Highwaymen?” Adaryn dared to ask, tugging at Jairyth’s tunic as if to get the man to confirm her anxiety. He opened his mouth to respond, however promptly clamped it shut, as three more joined the encroaching ring of men. One figure caught the man’s eye, a lithe woman, garbed in a familiar tunic of earthen hue and shrouded by a correspondingly tinted cloak, which did little to hinder the recognisable gait she walked with.
Livinian slipped the cowl from her face, peering at the two petty-thieves whose gazes now flitted about with all the agitation of a pair of rats in a cage. Jairyth felt his stomach sink, wooziness over-taking his senses as he looked upon the scarred visage of the woman who abhorred him so. The thief-taker merely passed her gaze over the pair, before calling out to the men nearest the horse-drawn cart.
“Check it, and make sure you're thorough – not that a babe-in-arms should be too much of a task to find ” returning her unrelenting gaze to the duo, she sauntered over to them, accompanied by a man that bore no recognition to the pair. Jairyth and Adaryn exchanged baffled looks at the woman’s words, though as soon as the two thugs began probing the dray, Adaryn quietly hissed under her breath as the answer dawned upon her, “He wouldn't...”
“There’s nothing ‘ere, m’am, nay babes ‘or chil’ren” one of the gruffer men responded after a thorough investigation of the contents of the cart, “Jus’ supplies an' the like.”
“The pair of you truly take me by surprise – though I know you are both scoundrels, I would never have expected either of you to forsake your own flesh and blood-” Livinian ran her tongue along the surface of her chapped lips as they slowly curled into the cruellest of smiles upon taking note of Adaryn's aghast expression, “Oh, bravo. Bravo!” When neither of the cornered couple said anything in response, the weather-beaten woman clapped her hands together in mock applause “What – truly? You, in all honesty, thought this scheme would wash with anyone but the most basic of fools? Your brother may not be the fastest, woman, but even he knew something was amiss.”
She paused only to punctuate her speech with snide laughter, shaking her head before pressing on in an increasingly mocking tone “And how pleased he will be to see you once again, upon finding how far the wool has been pulled over his eyes! You belong to the man he has promised you to, wretch. I shall make certain of that.” Adaryn lurched toward her tormentor, though found herself lost for words, finally beginning with “But-”, only to be cut off by Livinian once again.
“But why?” she cooed, an imperious smirk on her face “For all I've little care of your domestic arrangements, this has been made entirely worth my while. Your brother, for all his lack of a more constant vocation, has paid me quite handsomely. Such a caring fellow.”
She sneered at the pair, flicking the weighty coin-purse on her hip for effect before returning her expression to one of business-like austerity, this time directing a hand in Jairyth’s direction, “Now, from one trophy to the next. You have something that belongs to me.”
Purely on instinct, Jairyth dropped a hand to the draw-string pouch hanging from his belt, tracing his thumb against the flimsy cloth material, he narrowed his gaze and wretched the small purse from the notched buckle, slinging it in Livinian’s direction, whom easily caught it within the palm of a gloved hand. Sparing but the briefest of moments to check the contents, she gave a nod of satisfaction, and pocketed the pouch.
“We’ll be taking this cart, and your woman will be accompanying us” the thief-taker stated, her tone indicating no room for debate.
“Absolutely not” Jairyth retorted, before Adaryn could even formulate a reply of her own.
“Andaious,” Livinian evenly began, locking her gaze directly with the Northman’s, “There is no room for argument, no harm will be brought to her – nor to you, provided you cause no trouble"
"You have your prize, you know the worth of that gem as well as I.” Jairyth responded, his eyes narrowing treacherously “Now begone with you, and nothing more shall you take”.
The man accompanying thief-taker took a stride towards the duo; he stood almost a clear foot taller over both of them, his sharply dressed attire providing no hindrance to his well worked frame. The balance of the man’s strides, and the ease he held the large mace in his grasp, very much presented the formidability the man possessed. Davick peered down at Jairyth, the smaller man insolently raising his gaze to meet the dim intensity of the sell sword’s single eye. The Northman snapped his hand out to his flank, pushing Adaryn away, before ducking low as the head of Davick’s cudgel whipped past, causing him to fall into a roll. Scampering back to his feet, Jairyth drew his own weapon from its scabbard, curling his fingers around both the blade and pommel, as he held the sword out flatly, to block the next swing from his opponent’s mace, the sheer force behind the blow, almost caused Jairyth’s knees to give way as it shook through his wiry frame.
Adaryn managed to scramble back to her feet, after landing unceremoniously on the dirt road, seeing her companion was severely pressed against his skilled opponent, she raised a leg, clawing at it in an attempt to pull free the dull whittling-knife concealed within her boot. Before her efforts could come to fruition, she was grabbed roughly by the arm by one of accompanying thugs, who hauled her over to their leader. She cast a look back to Jairyth, whose unversed swordsmanship was clearly showing. The sinewy thief found himself falling backwards in a spin, his cloak becoming tangled about Davick’s mace, the sell sword giving a forceful tug on the handle of the weapon and freeing it, bringing Jairyth stumbling in line for his next attack. To the small mans credit, he was able to divert the brunt of the blow that would have crushed his head; however Davick’s long reach, slipped over the parrying blade, swatting against Jairyth’s exposed shoulder with a definitive ‘crack’ that launched him into a long and twisting tumble.
Adaryn let out a cry, fighting in futility against her captor’s hold; she turned brusquely to Livinian, repeatedly calling out to the woman to intervene. Managing to push himself to his knees, Jairyth's breath came in short, laboured bursts, all sensation to his left arm was gone as it hung limply to his side, his shoulder and side exploding with pain. He felt Davick grasp at the back of his head, slamming him down face first against the dirt road repeatedly. Eventually the large man yanked Jairyth back to his feet, threateningly drawing the rogue’s own knife from his belt, and running the flat edge of the dirk over the man’s bloodied face.
“Take a good look, my friend,” The sell sword began, whispering into his quarry's ear, leaning closer and closer, his teeth bared a moment before a sneer found its way to his countenance. “...this will be the last time you see her. Your payment is about to be sealed indefinitely.” Jairyth’s bloodshot eyes were barely able to retain their focus, only eventually able to register Adaryn's inconsolable grimace, her face swimming in and out of view.
“It’s a shame your parting could not have been on better terms.” Davick inhaled deeply, casting his gaze around the scene before him. “Aaaah, the thrill of victory running through my veins... so pleasant... so... very... invigorating.” The words and tone of the sell sword gouged into Jairyth’s sensibilities, gritting his teeth, and mustering the last reserves he held in his battered form, he brought the heel of his boot slamming against Davick’s shin, snapping his head forwards and latching his teeth onto the sell sword’s hand, taken by the surprise the larger man loosened his grip. Jairyth pulled away; nevertheless he felt the bite of the dagger cut deeply across his chest, as he plummeted to the ground.
Enraged, Davick fell upon wounded man, pulling his arm back to drive the blade home. Livinian’s hand snapped out, catching the angered mercenary by the wrist, and managing to hold him in place with surprising strength.
“Let go at once, you miserable wench!” He snarled, turning dangerously to face the intervening woman. Livinian ignored the outburst, instead turning her attention to Adaryn who now seemed entirely at odds with herself, standing helpless, dwarfed by the conflict.
“You will agree to come with us now, without trouble?” the thief-taker asked at length, frowning slightly when an answer did not come forth from the Mearcswoman immediately, “You understand he will die, if you do not-”
“I will accompany you.” Adaryn interrupted hastily, her words brisk and monotone.
“You have no right to do this, Livinian,” Davick snarled in protest, as he clambered to his feet threateningly. “I had your word; the man was mine to whom as to do what I will with.”
“That was under the pretence your barbaric ideals would not hinder us any further than is necessary.” She coolly responded, releasing the man’s wrist ungraciously. Davick rose to his fall height to loom above her, raising his hand as if to clout the woman, he held his stroke however, as many of the surrounding mercenaries bristled at the movement. With an avid growl, the sell-sword barged past the woman and trudged back up the incline towards the troupe’s encampment.
“Put her on the back of the cart” Livinian instructed Adaryn’s subjugator. The burly man pulled the small woman over to the wagon, though she offered no resistance as she simply kept her gaze set upon the withering form of Jairyth lying in the road, even the crack of the reins, and the trundling movement of the cart, did not remove her from the catatonia she now found herself in, as she simply watched the crumpled and prone figure move further and further away.
***
He heard the creaking wheels of the cart and the hooves of the horses, the tremor against the ground he lay upon and, finally, the return of what would be all-but silence, save for the moan of the wind. He fought with his senses to keep his eyes open, the drooping lids becoming heavier with each passing moment, as a rolling sensation of sickness passed over his body. On several occasions he attempted to prop himself up right, though neither limb obeyed, and he was left gazing heavenwards at the gently drifting clouds and dreary sky as the light began to ebb away, the creeping darkness leaving him prone to whatever dangers should manifest themselves in the night ahead
Jairyth was certain he heard the howl of wolves in the distance.
