Zeff and Dessa continued to walk in the direction indicated by the bird. Zeff thought this was mighty peculiar, but having no better options he kept going. As he walked he began to reflect on this unexpected partnership. He’d had very few companions in his life and even fewer friends. And he’d never traveled with a priest before. He followed Dessa, studying her while looking for something to track through the snow.
His existence had always been focused on survival; finding a meal, keeping a low profile, not getting stabbed. Helping a neighbor or contributing to the greater good was a luxury, and not one he’d always been able to afford. Dessa, on the other hand, had an inner strength that was either bestowed upon her by her god or grew from the faith she placed in him. Maybe both. He liked the thought of being her friend, but would the obligations to her deity make that difficult? Was he supposed to convert to her faith, too?
He silently poured over these questions, not realizing Dessa had stopped walking. He bumped into her hard enough to send her staggering a few steps before she caught herself. She looked over her shoulder at him with a look that was both inquiring and annoyed. Embarrassed, he gestured vaguely at the ground and mumbled “Looking for signs. Sorry.” She nodded her head in the direction they’d been going and said “How about that?”
He looked ahead. The snow had finally stopped. There wasn’t much to see except brush, rocks, birds. Oh, birds again. What was her thing for birds? I guess being friends with someone meant you’d have to put up with their, oh wait. Those were vultures, which was never a good sign. He nodded and unslung his axe without comment, and the two of them went toward the vultures at a hastened but wary pace.
* * *
“Oh, lass, what a fantastic tale! A classic! Duty versus freedom, love and youth, liberty to be won, all the more valuable because of the danger! Fleeing the authorities to find adventure in the Wilds! Ah, it goes straight to my heart like a golden quarrel launched from a bejeweled crossbow, yes it does, yes it does.” Durn drank another shot and chased it with something that, judging by the smell, was only mildly less intoxicating than the first drink.
He was quite loud, which made Gemma cringe at the beginning of the conversation, but the Sandy Landing was so raucous that she found herself shouting half the time as well. The conversations around her were at least as loud as hers, and there were two bagpipers and a drummer performing on a low platform a few tables over. Bagpipers. Indoors. With a drummer. The tavern had a low reputation, so she’d never been there before. It was known as the cheapest bar in Amber and must have also had the strongest drinks, if bad singing and unsteady gaits were an accurate measure.
Her own glass of wine was mostly untouched. “Thank you, Mr. Durn. You can see why I need help. It wouldn’t be safe by myself and I don’t know the way. Mistress LiAdan once mentioned that you and your brother were prospectors who knew the region well.” She shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t have much gold, but I was…”
“Gold? Nonsense! I won’t be having none of your coin, lass. My brother and I owe your benefactor and her friends a great debt and I don’t forget. Now, there be good news and bad. Bad news is, my brother Grald is away on business and won’t be back anytime soon, so he won’t be helping ya. Good news is, if there was one brother who could help out a young miss with your particular predicament then you’re talking to the right one. We’ll get you past those guards and on our way.”
Gemma shifted uncomfortably again. “I wasn’t sure what to expect Mr. Durn, but I don’t want to be a criminal. You don’t… sneak past guards often?”
“Well, certainly not, lass. All law and order for me. But if you’re prospecting a cave or an old mine that might be home to some nasty, many tentacled beast then you’d best learn to be quiet and careful. Now, my brother still hasn’t quite learned that but,” he grunted as he swung his stout feet up on the table and rested his tankard on his belly. “These here are the stealthiest feet to ever adorn a dwarf’s legs. Not to mention, once we get your family’s device you’ll be proving yourself and won’t be outside the law at all. But anyways, we’ll use our brains, not our feet, to get us safely on our way.”
All good points, she thought. And isn’t that why she came here in first place, dressed in the rough spun clothes of a laborer? She couldn’t exactly ask for a militia escort, could she? “You’re right, of course, and thank you so very much” she said. “How soon can we start, Mr. Durn?”
“Tomorrow afternoon is good” he replied, “and drop the ‘Mister’. You and I are soon to be boon companions out for adventure and glory. There’ll be no titles between us! Gather your necessities and meet me in the square after the noonday meal. I’ll take care of the food and basics, but get yourself a sturdy coat. And wear those worker’s clothes you be already sporting! I don’t need you standing out like some empress or whoever in a fancy dress.”
He called for another round of cheap, effective swill. He put his feet down and leaned over the table. “Now, here’s the plan. It’s quite simple…”
* * *
They followed the vultures until they came upon the source of their interest. A hobgoblin, lying face down in the snow and dirt. Zeff threw rocks at the attending scavengers until they flew far enough away to allow them to investigate. The vultures had already been at work, and even a foul creature like this was still grisly to behold in its current state. Dessa put her hand over her mouth and took a few steps back, making a most un-priestess-like gurgle.
It didn’t bother Zeff at all. He looked over the body. The vultures had picked where the flesh was exposed but he could clearly see where the arrow fatally hit him in the back. The arrow had been recovered, but his rusty short sword was on the ground nearby, and he had a sheathed knife in his belt. The last thing he noticed was that the ears had been cut off. That was unusual, and Zeff instinctively felt that made this personal somehow.
The vultures were circling back closer, hunger overriding their fear of hurled stones. He left the body and looked around. Now he could see tracks that were fairly fresh, but there were two sets. One definitely belonged to the hobgoblins, moving northwestward. The other, going northeast, was different. Something had been dragged from the scene. A sled? Or more likely, a second dead hobgoblin? But why? He could discern footprints, but they’d been obscured by whatever had been dragged.
He called Dessa over, who seemed to have regained control of her stomach. He chose a circuitous route around the body to show her the two trails. Dessa noted that the “sled” only dragged away from the clearing, not toward, meaning it was most likely a second hobgoblin. “Could it have been an animal?” Zeff looked at the trail. He didn’t see paw prints, and the trail was straight and seemed to go on. “No” he replied. “An animal wouldn’t take it so far.”
“So what should we do?” asked Dessa. Zeff wasn’t sure. These hobgoblins were miles from the nearest farms, moving further away, and their numbers were reduced to a point where they wouldn’t be much of a threat anymore. The dragged off body was a puzzle, but out here what did that really matter? His stomach put in its two coppers, emitting a low rumble. It was getting late besides. “Let’s find a place to camp. We can decide in the morning.”
The skies were clear, promising a cold night. They gathered what fuel they could find and took shelter near a mossy outcrop, never realizing they were being watched.