Cretopia: Chapter 8

VIII

Arwa rode down the path until sunset, and then some more. Haste was of the essence. Her destination was Le Derdensdale, a town located on a bend in the Ard River. From there she would rent a boat and take it down the Ard River to Antondad, then from there voyage on foot to, The Living Wood, home of King Ogarth and his kingdom of Elves.
As darkness fell, Arwa rode to the top of a small hill. Down below in the faint moonlight she could see the Ard River, running from Lake Wershere. The river wound down to the Dwarf Mountains, through the ancient city of Antondad, and into the sea at Cretopia’s southern most point. On the coast of the river lay Le Derdensdale, the lights from its houses reflecting eerily on the running river. Arwa kicked the sides of her horse and sped down the hill and in to Le Derdensdale.
The town was quiet aside from the shouts and laughing from the local tavern. Arwa dismounted her horse and led it to the local inn, the Wanderers Home. She tied it to a post outside and stepped inside the stone building. It was plain inside, with wooden floors and walls. The innkeeper sat at a desk in the middle of the room. He was slouched back in his chair snoring, drool beginning to drip from the corner of his mouth.
‘Excuse me?’ She said loudly. He stirred, then bolted straight up.
‘Oh, uh, sorry miss must have dozed off. Looking for someplace to stay for the night? I’ve got a room open for eight silver chips.’ He said in a gruff voice. Arwa reached into her robe pocket and pulled out a small sack of silver chips. Without a word she counted out eight chips and flung them neatly on the desk. The man stoked his moustache and counted out the chips.
‘Very well. First door on the left. Eight more chips for another day.’ He said.
‘I don’t think that will needed. However you could do me one more favor: Where can I buy a boat around here? I need one to get down the river to Antondad.’ She asked. The innkeeper drummed his fingers on the desk.
‘I don’t know…’ He said eyeing her sack of silver. She took the hint and tossed him four more. ‘I’m not really sure…’ She pointed her staff at his head.
‘I’m willing betting your head that you do.’ She said in a cold voice.
‘Alright! Alright! Her names Osha. You can find her at the docks. I got to warn you though, her prices are outrageous but she’s the best darn guide in all of Le Derdensdale and maybe more.’ He babbled quickly. Arwa nodded and tossed him two more chips. He grinned and counted his earnings greedily. Arwa scowled. A greedy good for nothing innkeeper. Then she quietly stalked off to her room.

Arwa awoke early the next morning to the innkeeper’s snores. She gathered her things and her horse outside and slammed the door of the inn as she left, waking the sleeping innkeeper. ‘The pig…’ She mumbled to herself. She set off at a brisk pace down the road. Finally Arwa came to the docks, two large wooden piers going out from the shore to the river. Several boats lay tied to them, some big some small.
On the shore was a small shack. Above the door a sign read:

OSHA’S BOAT SERVICE
5 GOLD CHIPS PER BOAT
5 SILVER CHIPS FOR GUIDE

‘Five gold chips per boat! That’s outrageous!’ Exclaimed Arwa at seeing the sign. A young woman stepped out of the hut.
‘Aye! Five gold chips to rent the best boat on the Ard River!’ She said. The woman was young, with raven black hair and a small scar running above her eyebrow. Her eyes were so brown they almost appeared black.
‘And who might you be?’ Arwa asked. ‘Let me guess…Osha, correct?’
Osha scowled. ‘Aye. So are ye here for my services or not old woman? If so that’s five gold chips for the boat and five for my services. Not that you’d actually get anywhere on my boat without me at the wheel.’ She said in a light, fair voice.
‘Very well.’ Arwa tossed her five gold chips, the equivalent of fifty silver chips.
‘And the money for my services…’ Drawled Osha. Arwa tossed her another gold coin.
‘Keep the change…I need to get out of here as soon as possible.’ Arwa said. Osha pocketed the money in the pockets of tanned bare hide leggings. Without a word she gestured for Arwa to follow. She led her down the pier to the biggest ship at the dock.
‘The Hornet. My pride and joy. Stole it off some Atlantean merchants that came here a few years back.’ Osha said walking up the gangplank.
Arwa grunted. ‘That’s nice to know. Can we leave now?’ She asked. Osha nodded.
‘She’s already loaded with all the food and whatnot. And even though she’s the biggest ship here, both of us alone can handle her on the river.’
‘Can I bring my horse?’ Arwa asked. Osha shook her head no. Arwa undid the poor horses bridle and took off its saddle. A young boy walked up to her.
‘What you doin’ with that miss?’ He asked.
‘Take it kid.’ She said handing him the bridle and saddle. Then Arwa walked up the gangplank. Less the minute later, the Hornet was on its way south down the Ard River. The boy stood dumbfounded holding his new horse as he watched the ship sail down the river and out of sight.

Mythil’s horse darted down the narrow dirt path, Vandark’s in its wake. They crossed over streams and dodged ravines until sunset and then set up camp. They ate their meal in silence. Both knew little about each other, and both were not one to start conversations. At late night they doused the flames of their fire and slept under the stars.
The next morning they set out again, their horses running at full speed. Soon the land began to flatten as they reached the outskirts of Ramina. A small village lay between them and their destination.
‘Oscrogoth. The last village before one can reach the glorious woods of Ramina.’ Mythil said solemnly. That particular day, Vandark noticed, the prince looked quite sad.
And Vandark was right. Mythil was not happy. But that was not entirely true. He was happy and sad all at the same time. Mythil was joyous as he approached Ramina once more, yet going back to Ramina brought back painful memories. Would his father accept him? He doubted it, and he also doubted that the stubborn king would listen to his plea for him to help Atlantis.
They rode their trotting horses into Oscrogoth’s low moving main street. Not many people were walking about. Suddenly voice was heard above the chatter of villagers. ‘Keep moving darlin’. Lord Gendal will pay me dearly for another servant.’ Coming onto the main road from one of the side streets was a peculiar sight. A tall, uncleanly man with a mace in one hand was leading a struggling young woman down the road. She was desperately trying to rid herself of the man’s grimy fingers, but it was no use.
It was easy to tell that the woman was beautiful, even through the dirt and soot that covered her. ‘It’s her! It’s Gwen!’ Mythil exclaimed.
‘Who?’ Asked Vandark.
‘Gwen. She’s the one that I helped rescue from Ramindad’s dungeons during my fathers unjust rule. The reason I was banned. I haven’t seen her in five years… Let’s go.’
Mythil pulled his hood over his face and began to follow the man and the struggling Gwen. Vandark followed. They were led to a large stone house with a thatched roof. Two guards in leather armor and wielding wooden spears with flint tipped points were standing guard at the double oaken doors.
The man with the mace led Gwen to the doors. Mythil and Vandark hid behind a nearby crate of apple and watched. The man spoke to the guards, and they let him in. The doors closed.
‘What are we gonna do Mythil, my lad. We want to get your friend back but the doors are guarded.’ Vandark pointed out.
‘Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it Vandark?’ Said Mythil with a smirk on his hooded face. Vandark grunted and mumbled something under his breath. ‘Were going to have to persuade the guards to let us in.’
‘I say we just chop their heads off.’
‘Naw…’tis too messy. Besides, we don’t want to attract attention to ourselves.’ Vandark chuckled at that. ‘Just followed my lead.’ Mythil stepped out from behind the crate and approached the doors.
‘Who are you? What’s your business with Lord Gendal?’ One guard asked. He apparently did not like the look of Vandark with his shield and axe and Mythil with his hood down and bow on his back.
‘I am Torc the merchant.’ He said, using his friends name as a cover, ‘and this is my servant and bodyguard Gindi. We…er…’ Mythil looked around. His eyes found a barrel of pears being loaded into a horse drawn cart by a villager. ‘are here to talk to Lord Gendal about the fruit and spice trade. We have a rather profitable business offer.’
‘Er…why do ye have weapons…’
‘One can never be too careful. Uh…More than once I have been attacked by vicious outlaws whilst ferrying my goods to Atlantis.’
The guard whispered something to his companion. The other then went into the house. A few minutes later he returned. ‘Lord Gendal says that you can come in. Be careful… he is not a good-humored man. Easily angered.’ He reported. The guard nodded and opened the door. I could use that to my advantage, thought Mythil.
The two found themselves in a great wooden hall. In the center was a wooden table. Many doors were along the walls; each tended to by a guard in leather armor and spears. A man (who Mythil presumed was Lord Gendal) sat at the far end of the table. He was an ugly man with scars all over his face. He feasted on a chicken along with many other foods.
‘Ah…another sniveling merchant and his bodyguard here to strike a bargain with I, Gendal, lord of Oscrogoth. What can I do for you?’
Mythil shifted uneasily. He was in the house but there was no sign of Gwen. Two bodyguards stood at Gendal’s sides. One was the man with the mace. The other was his twin. Both had heavy metal maces. Gwen had probably already been put to work.
He got himself into this and now he had to talk his way out. ‘Uh…well you see…I am a merchant from er…the Expanse… And I was wondering if we could strike a deal for us to import some of our…er… surplus pears?’ He said dumbly. The lord looked Mythil up and down.
‘Go on…’ He said. Then from one of the doors Gwen appeared. Her face was still dirty and she was carrying a plate on which were vegetables. She scowled as she placed the plate in front of lord Gendal, then stood smartly next to the table. She looked at Mythil and Vandark, although she did not recognize Mythil with his hood.
‘Ah…a servant.’ Said Mythil quickly changing the subject. Lord Gendal smiled.
‘Yes…I pay my bodyguards extra to bring me new a new one every month, usually they just find them on the streets…but sometimes they do not cooperate.’ He added glaring at Gwen. She hung her head. Mythil walked over to her and lifted her chin.
‘I could use another servant on my journeys…’ He said. Gwen’s face brightened, but then grew glum as Gendal said: ‘She is not for sale. I got her just today. A few minutes ago actually....’
‘She does not seem to like it here…besides, it’s only another mouth to feed for you.’ Mythil stated returning next to Vandark his ‘bodyguard’. Gendal’s face reddened.
‘Why wouldn’t she? She is working for me, Gendal, Lord of Oscrogoth!’ He yelled in outrage. Mythil smirked under his hood. His plan was working.
‘Lord of this rat hole of a village? Gee, that’s something to be proud of.’ Gendal’s face started to turn purple.
‘Changing your face’s color will not help you Gendal. I want that servant. And I always get what I want…’
‘Kill him!’ Screamed Gendal, with steam practically coming out of his ears. Guards leaped at Mythil and Vandark.
‘Run!’ Yelled Mythil to Gwen drawing his sword. Vandark made a sound between a growl and roar. Gwen darted out the door before anyone could stop her.
Vandark hacked a guards spear in half with his axe, then beheaded the fellow. Mythil sliced two guards in half with one stroke. Vandark kicked one in the shin then found him begging for mercy. Vandark grunted and the man leapt up and ran out the door. In a couple of seconds all the guards that had attacked the two were either dead or fleeing for their lives. Gendal’s two bodyguards were on their knees begging for mercy. ‘Go.’ Said Mythil to them. They jumped up and scrambled out.
Lord Gendal sat baffled. ‘Those guards cost me a gold chip each!’ Mythil pointed his sword at the man’s throat.
‘Is this what you do with men who make you mad? Hmmm? And dare you beset me, Torc the Merchant with your mercenaries? You will soon be sorry you mistreat your servants. I will leave you, but if you try that again, my friend and I will…track you down! I have many contacts throughout Cretopia.’ Mythil said gravely. It was true. The whole animal kingdom was his contact. The man gulped and nodded. And with that Mythil and Vandark left, leaving a dumbfounded Lord Gendal of Oscrogoth.