The Slow Road East

Added 11.1. Polished 11.1, 11.2, 11.4 and 11.5 — 2020/05/28

Polished 11.1 — 2020/06/06

Moved 11.3 from 12 and cut it. Polished 11.1, 11.2 and 11.3 — 01h29m03s — 2020/06/07

Added to Baet and Claiten’s friendship, the feud between the Jindleyak brothers and Baet, Meu and Creigal crushing on each other. Moved the Pembroke GremSorter and Scurra’s day-mare to the end. — 39m21s — 2020/06/08

Polished 11.1, 11.2, 11.3 and 11.4. Also added Meriona and the throat-cutters arguing about fire. — 01h28m23s — 2020/06/11

Polished 11.5 and continued rewriting 11.6 — 53m43s — 2020/06/13

Polished 11.1, 11.2, 11.3 and 11.4. Continued rewriting 11.5 — 01h08m32s — 2020/06/14

Worked on 11.5 and 11.6 — 54m23s — 2020/06/19

Polished 11.5, 11.6 and added 11.7 — 52m50s — 2020/06/21

Polished 11.1, 11.2, 11.3, 11.4 and 11.5 — 44m42s — 2020/06/30

Creigal approached Meu as she stood under the willow; curious to know what she was about, and what she cared to say. For her part, Meu had taken little notice of the old gentleman, other than his proper and cautious ways. Indeed, he was as new to her as these other Jindelyaks—and a bit less interesting. From what she’d seen, he was a calculating and tight-lipped noble; aloof and dispassionate. Except when it served his purpose. She remembered his speech, and how it worked the others into a bit of frenzy. Especially the priestess.

But that didn’t matter. What mattered is that he might have caught her as she shifted shape. She blushed as she asked him what he saw.

Creigal marveled that she could speak with nothing but her eyes. He showed his hands. “I apologize, I didn’t know what I was seeing until I saw too much,” he admitted. “I have met wyrms, and I have met skin-walkers, but I have not met a wyrm that could skin-walk—or at least—I have not met one that would let me know it,” he concluded with a smile.

You mustn’t tell the others, Meu replied.

“I wouldn’t think of it,” Creigal said with a bow. “But if I am to keep your secrets, I must be permitted to ask a few questions. Shall we break fast and talk more?” he asked, and offered the slight lady his elbow.

With a wry smile, Meu took his arm, and allowed him to lead her.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 11.2 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

The door to the cabin cracked open. The dark form of Carringten blinked awake, sat up, and put a hand on the short sword he took from Bence some weeks ago. He relaxed as he realized it was just the duke; then, with a huff, he lay back in bed and closed his eyes once more. "It is impossible to guard you if I know not where you go," he noted.

Creigal gave an absent wave. "At such times, you are free of your responsibilities," he said as he gathered his scant possessions. "I should think even you would like a break from time to time."

Carringten snorted. "One day you will be gone, and I can hang up my sword for good. Until then, I'd rather keep you alive."

Creigal paused as he regarded his adopted son, "Will you do it? When I finally pass from this world, will you quit the profession?"

Carringten shrugged. "Who else deserves my life's blood?"

"What of my cousin, Varius?"

"He has his own men," Carringten answered.

"The day I am gone, what will you do?" Creigal continued. “How will you live?”

"Despite what the other guards say, I haven’t spent all my money on weapons," Carringten answered. "As for a profession, perhaps I shall build bridges, or teach among the children. I might farm, or I might simply travel for a time. I should like to go among other nations and see how different peoples live. I should like to view the Tallian Sea, or perhaps see what lies beyond the jungles of Borzia.”

“Do you care so little for your adopted home?”

“I was never so loyal to the duchy,” Carringten answered. “Only the man that rescued me and treated me as his son. If Daphne survived you,” he shook his head. “But she did not. For Varius, there are other effective and cunning men. Let them protect him and your other ministers—that is—in the unfortunate event that I shall outlive you.”

Creigal scoffed. "Do not think it is such a grand thing to go before an old man like me—not into the underworld! It is never fortunate for a son to proceed his father in death! Indeed, it is against the very order of nature!"

"If it is nature that takes you, and not some villain, then I shall be happy to outlive you," Carringten replied. "But enough of the unknowable future."

"Agreed," Creigal nodded.

"Have you spoken to Duboha?" Carringten asked.

"I have not," Creigal admitted. "I spent a wondrous night under the trees, and only just returned.”

Carringten gave a nod. "Duboha and Aim have asked our pardon. They intend to go back to Ebertin, with the Pan Iskaer. I gave them your thanks and a little coin to prove it.”

"Of course," Creigal nodded, ignoring the fact that all his current coin was borrowed from his new Jindleyak friends. It’d be easy enough to repay, and nothing watered a fledgling friendship like a little free-flowing money.

"Duboha says there is little chance of trouble and leave Saleos in charge of the others,” Carringten shrugged. “I have my reservations.”

"Anything specific?"

“General misgivings,” Carringten shook his head. "Mine is a suspicious line of work."

"Indeed," Creigal agreed.

"I asked Toar for his assessment, but he says he has never been so far east and can only offer his speculations," Carringten said.

“He still knows the people and their customs,” Creigal replied. “His use to us as a guide is undiminished.”

“Still, I worry about the young Trohl,” Carringten continued. “I wonder if he is not overly distracted."

"By Celesi?" Creigal smiled and shook his head. "Yes, yours is a suspicious line of work indeed! We are no longer in the wilds with only our enemies about us, and Toar's attention is not so singular as your own! Yet, he has performed admirably since the first day we met, and seems always to be honest. Despite the former Jay, he continues to attend to my concerns. If he believes we are safe, I am apt to believe him. Besides, do you not want for a bit of holiday?"

"I shall welcome it if our journey should remain as simple as all that," Carringten admitted. "But I shall prepare for the worst."

"That is your training," Creigal agreed. "And let us hope you do not summon trouble with such dark and foreboding thoughts."

"Ah, but you are in charge,” Carringten replied. “So we shall be greeted by sunshine, rainbows, and nothing more, I am sure of it."

“Now, now!” Creigal stared at his captain. "There is no better way to tempt trouble than to say there can be none of it!"

“I may be suspicious,” Carringten grinned. "But you are superstitious."

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 11.3 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

The departure from the Copper Kettle and Rooms, was slow and drawn out. The militiamen decided to practice before Aim and Duboha left for Ebertin and the rest of the Oak and Beast continued on their way home. Scurra was fine to watch them go through the forms, to grapple and roll a bit, but when they decided to hold a tourney with sparring sticks, she complained long and loud. “Is this how it is?” she chided. “While the lot of you scrap for a day’s glory, Traust and Apulton long for their eternal rest!”

“We haven’t practiced for days,” Homoth complained as he took the first point from Andrus. “We are safely away from Ebertin. It is time we return to our exercises.”

“A game is fine for those days when we have nothing better to do,” Scurra scowled. “But I mean to go home, and would like to arrive sometime this month.”

“I shall defeat them as fast as I can,” Homoth shrugged. “But first I must wait for them to defeat each other,” he said as he took a second point from Andrus.

“We’re wasting time!” Scurra fumed.

“It’s not a waste!” Homoth shot back. “Practice keeps us on the knife’s edge! If trouble should come again, you will be most happy to have us at our best!”

“And sometimes he does not win,” Aim interjected. “We’ve all been champion a day or two—even Andrus is champion from time to time.”

“You’ve all lost a fair share too,” Homoth noted. “I think I win as often as the rest of you put together!”

Aim shrugged. “You do get lucky.”

“Tell you what,” Homoth turned to Scurra “If you should beat me, we’ll call it a day and march immediately.”

Scurra glared at the man, “You provoke me.”

“I do indeed!” Homoth admitted as he took a third and final point from poor Andrus. “But I am the last champion, so I can leverage the rules—so long as I do not give me unfair advantage.” He turned to the others. “What say you? Anyone object to calling it a day if Scurra can land three strikes?”

The others shrugged and continued with their own sparring, quite sure Homoth would not lose.

“Come, let us get our blood pumping,” Homoth grinned at Scurra. “Show these others what the fairer sex can accomplish!”

Still glaring, Scurra took up a pair of tourney sticks and squared off against the older brother. She went all out from the beginning. She hacked and swiped at the gifted young man before her.

Homoth deflected and dodged her aggressiveness. He backpedaled and danced away from her as they circled and circled.

As they danced, an audience gathered. “What do you think?” Creigal asked his captain as they watched Scurra slash and assault Homoth.

“She has skill, but he shrugs her off with almost no concern,” Carringten noted. “See how he baits her? He is very talented. I should like to see him up against one of his own caliber.”

“And what of the other men?” Creigal replied.

“It is early to say as much, but I think any of them might fit among your irregulars,” Carringten noted.

“Including the woman?”

“Especially the woman,” Carringten nodded. “What she lacks in talent she has in heart—and she is attractive to boot. Yeah. Men would swarm after her, to protect her, to impress her, just to be near her. Many en would bleed and die for the approval of such a woman.”

Creigal agreed as he watched Scurra and the men slash and dance.

Duboha beat Aim, and Saleos beat Komotz. Duboha and Saleos squared up for a chance to challenge for glory—while Scurra and Homoth continued to dance. Despite Scurra’s aggressiveness, Homoth took the first point, and also the second. Scurra won the third point with a solid blow to Homoth’s right thigh—though Carringten felt like he gave her the opening.

“We may leave early yet!” Homoth chortled as he favored his right leg. “You only need two more,” he beamed at his nemesis.

Scurra didn’t wait for him to set. Instead, she rushed him immediately. Homoth defended himself well—but Scurra eventually overcame him—mostly because he refused to attack. She meant to hit him square once more, but the agile older brother was barely glanced. “That counts!” Scurra pointed as Homoth circled away from her.

Homoth nodded. “Two to two,” he agreed. “Next point decides the day,” he said as he set.

Scurra charged once more. She threw herself into the effort and nearly scored the final point several times, as Homoth defended and backpedaled. “Fight back, you lout!” Scurra screamed. Her attacks took on a reckless edge. She didn’t have to worry about a counter, since Homoth wasn’t retaliating. “FIGHT BACK!” she screamed.

Homoth wasn’t phased. He blocked, dodged, and parried every stroke—then, as Scurra opened up too much—he gently poked her in the chest with the tip of his tourney stick. “Ahahaha!” he laughed as he danced away with his arms held high.

Scurra glared after the man as he hooted and hollered; then she threw down her tourney sticks and stomped away in a huff.

“Aye, don’t go!” Homoth called after her. “Don’t you want to fight among the others for the glory of second?!” he taunted.

Scurra turned and made a lewd gesture.

Homoth turned to the others and chuckled. Duboha beat Saleos, and Homoth beat Duboha. Then, because the others had not yet lost to Homoth, they challenged him one after another. Saleos lost first. “Too fast today,” he said, as he limped out of the circle with a sore hip.

Komotz and Homoth fought for quite a while, going back and forth, seemingly even matched. “Notice how they step,” Carringten pointed.

Creigal shrugged and shook his head. “I can tell they are good, but their style is quite foreign.”

“They take liberties,” Carringten noted. “See there. Watch their steps.”

“If you say so,” Creigal frowned. “Do they prolong things unnecessarily?”

Carringten shook his head. “I don’t think so. Neither seems to notice where the other is opening up.”

The contest continued. Creigal seemed bored and stared off after the others, though Carringten was rapt. The fighting continued as Homoth and Komotz started assaulting each other verbally. The others joined in with their own sharp tongues. After a long and drawn out exchange, Homoth finally won.

Komotz left the circle in disgust. Aim stepped forward. The final confrontation began—except an unexpected thing happened. Aim beat Homoth three to one.

Aim was the last opponent Homoth had to face. But since the giant won, he now had to face anyone that he hadn’t beat, and since he;d lost to Duboha at the start, he now had to beat all the others. One by one, they lined up to challenge the large man, so they might claim glory for themselves.

“And if Aim is beat, will the others line up to fight the new champion?” Creigal asked a fuming Scurra.

“Unless they have already been beaten by the man,” Scurra answered. “It is not just a test of strength and skill, but also stamina.”

The fighting continued. Aim beat Andrus, though Andrus managed a good strike. Next, Aim defeated Komotz, though the younger brother lead two to one. Duboha got another go, since he’d won his first contest against the giant, but he lost the second.

Thankfully, Aim defeated Saleos. Since there was no one else to challenge, Aim declared himself victor; then lightheartedly mocked the defeated as they congratulated him.

“We shall do this again,” Saleos said. “In the morning.”

Scurra groaned to hear it, though the others paid her no mind.

Aim shook his head. “I am jealous that you shall soon play touches among the Jindleyak. I should like to play one militia against another.”

“You don’t have to stay,” Saleos began.

“I am committed,” Aim smiled. “I shall miss you all,” he said as he hugged his cousins goodbye.

The Jindleyaks bought several horses from the Pan Iskaer. The Pan Iskaer threw in some tents and other essentials they had in surplus. Saleos bought a wagon. Elpis was laid in the back of the wagon with the ashes of Traust and Apulton, a thing he did not like. As Aim placed him in the wagon, Elpis complained bitterly. "I am not dead yet!" He scolded his young cousin—despite his numerous bandages, pale countenance, and weird eye beaming at unconventional angles.

"Hush, you," Aim chastised the injured man. "They are not such bad company," he frowned as he patted Apulton’s urn.

"Let it motivate you," Homoth suggested. "You must join us, or you must stay with them."

Elpis snorted and spit to hear this. He felt better than he had in days—though he could barely sit up for more than a few minutes. The back of the wagon was spacious, and his cousins bought him a copious amount of padding—yet Elpis used what little energy he had to complain. The others were happy to have him show such vigor and continued to tease him good-naturedly.

Midday, they were finally all gathered and ready. Duboha, Aim, and the Pan Iskaer, waved them on as Saleos drove the wagon, with Krumpus, Wenifas, Evereste, and of course Elpis as passengers. The others all rode their own horses, except for Claiten. He rode with Meu for a time, then rode with Baet when Meu was too interested in making eyes with the duke—and while his mother took a nap. Baet let Claiten handle the reins, and taught him how to handle the horse. He also showed the boy several magic tricks he’d picked up in various corners, among other sneaks and rogues. In return, Claiten showed the Saot guard a few of his own tricks.

On and on they marched, until the sun was about to set; then paid a rancher for a camp sight where they might be near a stream. They made camp as the sun dipped below the mountains and kept guard in threes as the dark of night spread over them.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 11.4 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Meriona had a low opinion of the four throat-cutters sent with her. They smelled of the streets, drank continuously, and had little interest in anything except the money they’d make by killing the duke. Where, and if they had hair, it was deviled into knots. On top of it all, they tended to leer when they thought she would not notice.

Their faces were grim and troubling. For a while, Meriona told them to smile and nod at those that passed by; but then she saw the awkward and resentful way in which they did this—and she also saw their teeth—so she commanded them to go back to ignoring others along the road.

Night came and they camped a mile or so back from their quarry. Once the horses were tethered and their blankets laid out, an argument began.

“Light a fire!” Meriona demanded. “If you do not, I will!”

Toddles contradicted her yet again, “We cannot, or they’ll know we’re out here.”

The senior Jay stared at the man, flabbergasted. “It’s open country!” she scolded. “You can see a dozen other fires burning in the distance! One more fire among these others cannot matter!”

“And what if someone shall come to join us?” Toddles asked. “It is not expedient.”

“We shall not let it burn for long,” Meriona noted. “It is a dinner fire; not a beacon! We are simply eating and being comfortable. This is what we shall tell anyone that confronts us. And as the night deepens, we will put it out and meld with the darkness,” she told them.

Toddles shook his head. “We will not do it. It is too dangerous.”

“Do you think the duke does not already suspect trouble?” Meriona stared among the men. “It is quite likely they have already noted our camp, and if that is so, won’t he find it more suspicious if we don’t light a fire?” She glared among the men. “Do you think this duke doesn’t know his enemies?! Do you think he hasn’t guessed that some trouble might yet follow him?!” She shook her head, then began to gather rocks in a circle. “We light a fire, and we enjoy it! Then, in the night, you can do what you mean to do, which is…” she left it hanging so the men might answer for themselves.

“We scout them,” Toddles finally answered. “And if we find an opening,” he began, then dragged a finger across his throat.

The other throat-cutters all grinned, chuckled, and nodded in anticipation; as the duke was worth a fair amount of coin.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 11.5 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Oblarra was high and lit the night with an angry red hue. No clouds obscured the sky. Toddles and throatcutter#2 crept up on the duke’s camp. On separate occasions, two of the guards stared out into the dark, having heard something, or simply suspecting—so although the throat-cutters crept close, they dared not enter the camp. Instead, they conferred in hushed whispers as they lay among the tall grasses.

“The duke’s old,” Toddles pointed at the second guard. “Think that might be him?”

Throat-cutter#2 snorted. “You think some hoity-toity is gonna take guard duty?! Some uppity-up, out in the dark, instead of asleep in his tent?!” he shook his head.

Toddles frowned. He thought if he snuck another twenty feet or so, he might throw a knife. But if it wasn’t the duke, he’d alert the company to the presence of assassins, and make their job that much harder. Instead, as sunlight began to creep over the wide valley, the throat-cutters returned to their own camp, exhausted, and none the wiser. Only it wasn’t just Meriona and their fellow throat-cutters that waited for them.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 11.6 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

The sun rose. Creigal spent the night once again caught in thoughts of his daughter. Up early and ready to be on his quest, the duke was agitated and in a short mood when he saw that the Jindleyaks meant to practice again before they took to the road. He turned to his captain. “How many hours before we can leave?” he complained.

“It’ll go faster if someone simply won out,” Carringten noted.

“You saw them yesterday,” Creigal replied. “They are all quite close in skill. If Homoth is the best—he is not the best by much.”

“I do not talk about them,” Carringten clarified.

Creigal realized his captain must have itched something fierce as he watched them practice the day before. “I command you to win out,” he began. “I shall be upset if this continues to drag on, as it did yesterday.”

“I shall do my best,” Carringten said as he began to stretch.

Scurra also complained as her cousins began to train, only this time the militiamen simply ignored her. Carringten approached and offered to join as Scurra’s laments fell on deaf ears. Scurra turned to the dark man and scowled. Carringten also ignored her as he talked with Saleos.

Of the Jindleyak, Saleos and Andrus were agreeable. Homoth and Komotz were not. “If he longs to practice,” Homoth began. “Have him practice among his own. Do they not have no honor to win?”

“I’ll train with my friends,” Carringten said. “Then, the winner among us will face the winner among you.”

Homoth sized up the dark man. He looked over Baet, Toar, the duke; and felt he could beat all four of them at once. “Yeah, fine,” Homoth agreed with a snort. “Then I shall have whatever honor you possess.”

Initially, Baet wanted nothing to do with it—but Creigal gave him a look saying he would join or else—and the ‘or else’ would not be pleasant. Baet turned to Toar, knowing it would undoubtedly come down to him and Carringten—but first he’d continue the young guard’s training.

Creigal lost to his captain in about half the time it took Baet to beat Toar, as the musketeer went slow, and gave Toar time to practice. He gave his friend pointers as they proceeded; then, because he’d been so slow about defeating Toar, Baet fought Carringten while the Oak and Beast all gathered around.

Baet raised his guard against his captain. He meant to fight well, though he knew he was outmatched. He tried—but the match was embarrassing. Carringten beat him quick and efficiently, as he wanted to get on with it.

The brothers Homoth and Komotz chortled over Baet’s quick defeat.

“What’d they say?” Baet asked Toar as he glared at the young Jindleyaks.

Toar shook his head. “Don’t let them bother you.”

Baet’s expression grew darker. “What’d they say?!” he repeated, his blood running a touch hot.

“They said you should train with the boy and his serpent knife,” Toar shrugged.

Baet stepped up to the Jindleyaks as he glared, “I’ll put a lune against each of you; he beats you, and he beats you quick.” Baet said as he pointed back at Carringten.

Toar reluctantly interpreted as Baet and the brothers stared at each other. Chagrined, Homoth, Komotz, and Andrus took him up on the bet.

“How does a bit of silver salvage my pride, win or lose?” Saleos noted, as he turned away from the drama.

Carringten gave Baet a dead-eyed stare. “Thanks for making this easy,” he said with a frown.

As Homoth proved to be the best among the Jindleyak, Carringten faced him first. Still wanting to move things along, Carringten took the first opening and poked the Jindleyak in the chest with the tip of his tourney stick.

Aggravated, Homoth charged the dark man and tried to put the Borz on the defensive—but Carringten had time to study the talented Jindleyak, and also a good amount of his own skill. He ‘d often exceeded the best teachers that Creigal could find. Carringten caught the onslaught, defending and deflecting Homoth’s hasty attacks. He deftly parried a strike, and caught the the Trohl overextending. Carringten stuck the older brother in the chest once more, and danced away unscathed.

Furious, Homoth smashed at Carringten—so the dark man stripped a tourney stick from his hands before poking him in the chest for a third time.

Defeated, and rather quickly. Homoth stared at the Borz.

“I’ll take that lune,” Baet snipped at the older brother.

Komotz faced the dark man next, and tried to slow things down—but Carringten wanted to move things along. The dark man saluted the younger Jindleyak each time, then pressed the attack, and quickly overwhelmed his opponent.

Andrus was next and fared about as well as the brothers. Saleos was a wily vet, and had time to observe Carringten’s attacks—but his experience only dragged things out a bit. Carringten eventually worked his way through the older man’s defenses and beat him three strikes to none.

After his defeat, Saleos shook Carringten’s hand and stared at him in a whole new light—as did everyone else unfamiliar with the Borz. Creigal knowingly grinned as he patted his adopted son on the shoulder and gave a nod of approval, then continued on toward his horse.

“You are a master, and I would beg a lesson,” Saleos bowed to the dark man. “I may be old, but I am not to old to learn.”

Carringten put his hand on the old Jindleyak’s shoulder. “For now, I should like to be on the road—but I think we shall have time for a lesson once we make camp,” he smiled.

“Tonight,” Saleos agreed.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 11.7 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

About midday, Elpis called to Saleos, “Slow ‘er down! We got joiners!”

Saleos looked over his shoulder. He spotted Aim, Duboha with his arm in a sling, and about a dozen others approaching up the road. “What do we got?” Called as he turned back to the road once more.

Elpis continued to watch the approaching men. “Our boys are returning with a handful of Pan iskaer,” the wounded man stated. “And what looks like a half dozen prisoners.”

Indeed, the Pan Iskaer surrounded a number of others—three men and a woman with weapons tripped and their hands tied. A fifth body was slumped over a saddle.

“What happened to him?” Elpis asked as he pointed at hte body.

“While we were questioning them, he took a swing at our cousin,” Aim stated as he noted Duboha’s slinged arm.

“Are you okay?” Elpis asked his dour cousin.

“I’m fine,” Duboha shrugged. “Aim pulled him off me before he could do any real damage.”

“I pulled him off a little hard,” Aim admitted. “But it sucked the fight right out of the rest of ‘em.”

“And why were you fighting in the first place?” Saleos asked.

“We’re marching down the road, and we happen on this suspicious lot,” Aim began. “They were obviously up to no good, so we trailed them. Then, last night, we caught them spying on you.”

“If it isn’t the Jay, Meriona,” Creigal noted. “Under orders from High Commander Gliedian?”

Meriona shook her head, “I’m just looking for a good view.”

“You brought a bit much muscle for simply taking in the sights,” Creigal replied. “So what do propose we do with them?” He asked Saleos.

“You caught them in our camp?” Saleos asked.

“We spied on them as they spied on you,” Aim answered. “Though they still won’t admit it.”

“We’re only a couple days out. I say we take them to the border for a little Jindleyak justice,” Saleos smiled.