Journey of the Messenger Cycle 1 Part 7d

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They did not attract much attention as they made their way through the village, the locals were busy with their own activities and plenty used to seeing strangers. The building Ijah had spotted was a roadhouse which offered food, drink and accommodations. There were a number of horses tied off at a hitching post out front. Judging by the gear, large saddle bags and the fact that two of the animals were outfitted in light barding, whoever owned the them must be on a long journey. A lean fellow, dressed in leathers, seemed to be guarding the hitching post. Ijah did not like the look of the man, he regarded the three of them suspiciously.

Berri said, “Good day. Are these your horses?”

“One is, the others belong to my buddies.”

“Looks like you’ve been on the road for a while. Where from?”

“Different parts.”

“Mind if I hitch my horse with them?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

“Oh, no problem. I’ll just use this post over here.”

“Yeah kid, whatever.”

Berri scowled at him but lead the horse over near the porch and hitched her there.

Ijah noted that most of the animals the fellow was keeping an eye on had weapons of various sorts among the gear that was packed on them. That, coupled with the man’s standoffish attitude, made her wonder about what sort of venture these folks might be on. Bounty hunters, maybe.

Berri was stroking their horse’s neck and eyeing the fellow, “I might stay out here. This guy looks the sort who might not respect other people belongings.”

“That sounds like a good idea, Berri. Osran, leave your extra gear with her. Let’s see what’s going on here.”

Ijah opened the door and stepped into the main room of the roadhouse. The place was unusually quiet. Tension hung heavy in the air. There were about a dozen local patrons by the look of it, mostly sitting at two tables on either side of the main room. The staff consisted of a portly man behind a counter near a couple open kegs, a middle aged woman wearing a heavy apron standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen and a younger, pretty woman was trying to serve a table of seven, in the centre of the room. The seven were obviously the travellers who owned the horses.

The younger woman looked nervous and on the verge of crying, most of the locals were looking at the travellers, their expressions showed clear disapproval. One of the crew, a woman close to Ijah’s age was on her feet, cavorting around the table, possibly dancing, certainly laughing. Some of the locals looked angry, with hands near their weapons while most of the travellers seemed mildly amused or bored. One of them, a broad shouldered man, turned in his chair and stared at Ijah and Osran, calculating.

Ijah adjusted how she was holding her sword. Osran asked, “What goes on?”

The broad shouldered man stood, he was in heavy leathers with a steel breastplate, a broadsword hung from his belt. He turned to face Ijah, stepping away from the table. The serving girl tried to dart away, but another man grabbed her by the wrist, “Where you going, honey? We were just getting friendly.”

Ijah saw the big fellow had a symbol of some sort engraved on his breastplate, she thought it might be the symbol of one of the freehold’s gods. He chuckled dryly, “Hey Krellen. You ever hear the one about the Tannican and half-orc who walked into a bar?”

There was coarse laughter from the crew, the fellow who had grabbed the serving girl dragged her close and started groping her. The weirdly cavorting woman answered, “No Brosser, tell me the joke.”

Ijah interrupted their banter, “Release the girl.”

Brosser raise his brows, “Or?”

Ijah gave her weapon a flick, the scabbard slid off and clattered to the ground. She looked pointedly at the big guy.

He laughed, “Seriously?”

Ijah gave the slightest of nods, “Seriously.”

The locals stood, almost as one, those with weapons drew them and moved clear of the benches or chairs they had been sitting on. The cavorting woman cackled, moved up against Brosser and hung off his shoulder, “Look Brossy, they want to play.”

“Get away from me, woman.” He shoved her aside and drew his sword, she stumbled away, laughing.

The fellow who had been harassing the serving woman was on his feet, a small knife held to the woman’s throat, “You won’t save her, even if you all kill us, she’ll be slit ear to ear.”

The proprietor cleared his throat and came around from behind the counter, “Look folks, no one has to die today.”

Osran pointed out, “That is not much fun.” She stepped clear of Ijah, her war axe in hand.

Most of Brosser’s other companions stood up and drew various weapons. Only one remained sitting, picking at a plate of food, his feet up on a nearby bench. The odd woman stumbled around for a bit, from person to person, Ijah wondered if she was casting magic on her companions.

From just outside, Ijah heard the clank of a crossbow. She darted forward, sword thrusting upwards, there was screaming from outside. Osran bellowed a battle cry, both the locals and the trouble makers moved to engage. Brosser parried her first thrust. Blood spurted from the serving maid’s throat. Brosser parried Ijah’s second thrust and tried to counter, which she knocked aside.

A number of knives were thrown by various people, there were angry cries and shouts of pain, the dying server hit the ground.

Osran rushed past, axe swinging downwards. Brosser moved aside and attempted to disarm Ijah, their swords scraped against each other. She landed a thrust on the man’s chest, his armour protected him. He backed off a pace. Ijah moved forward, another thrust, lower this time.

One of the locals, the side of his face smashed in, fell into Brosser’s back and he missed his parry. Ijah’s blade slid along his inner thigh and came away bloody. He stumbled backwards and fell. A woman in leathers with a pair of swords came at Ijah from her flank.

Osran bellowed, people screamed. Ijah stepped aside, parrying two rapid thrusts. She tried to smack the pommel of her sword into the woman’s face, but she shifted back and slashed Ijah’s exposed arm. Then one of the locals tackled the dual wielding swordswoman from behind, they both went to the floor.

Brosser was struggling to regain his feet. Osran, gripping the weird woman by the throat, smashed her into the keg counter then brought her axe down into the woman’s chest. The woman who had been wielding the two short swords rolled to her feet, one of her swords had been dropped. Ijah decapitated her as she stood, the head bounced off a table and smacked into the floor. Blood spurted, the headless body fell back to the gloor.

The combat was finished. Brosser, bleeding heavily, collapsed to the floor again. Osran struggled to free her axe from the counter. People wailed or moaned in pain. A few locals still stood, shocked by the violence. The proprietor threw up. Over a dozen people were sprawled across the floor, some dead, a few dying and a few who might live. The one man who had remained sitting at the table, tossed a bone aside and picked up his cup.

Berri, standing in the door way with her crossbow ready, asked, “You two alright?”

Osran was still struggling to free her axe, blood spurted and there was a disturbing squishy sound from the weird woman’s body, “Axe stuck, creep lady is dead though.”

Ijah looked at the drops of blood dribbling off her fingers, “I’ll be fine. The fellow out there?”

“He was the first to die.” Berri reported.

“Thought so.”

Osran grunted as her axe came free, she stumbled back a pace, the body of the weird woman slid from the counter and slapped to the floor of the roadhouse.

Some of the locals who had not been fighting moved to help the wounded. One woman was sobbing, the proprietor was retching and spitting.

Ijah addressed the man who had remained sitting, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

He set his cup down and stood, facing her, “I know something you don’t.”

“What is that?”

“Around these parts, there’s a word that should never be said, at least if you don’t want your memories scrambled.”

“Oh?”

He laughed at her, “I don’t think you want me to say it.”

“I think you are full of shit and a coward besides.”

He shrugged, “I think I should be going now.”

Ijah raised her sword. He held up his hands, “Let me go and we can all be about our business. I’ll leave you their horses and belongings. I won’t even file a complaint with the authorities.”

Ijah scoffed, “No shit. Though, I imagine you’ll be hanging from a tree before the day’s done.”

“No. That’s not going to be the way it happens.”

“You have no way out man. Surrender and you might receive mercy.”

“I did nothing here. But I can see none of you are interested in being reasonable.” He took a casual look around, then shouted, “Necromancer!”

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