Journey of the Messenger Cycle 1 Part 8c
As the days passed the tension between Ijah and Berri eased slowly, neither of them had spoken much. By the third day, when Ijah continued to keep a reasonable pace Berri’s mood shifted towards her usual chattiness, though the Kereshi remained in a brooding silence.
Osran missed the training. The horses seemed to be fine, the weather remained hot and they made good progress towards Freeton. Thankfully she was able to convince Berri to resume the weapons drills the evening of the fourth day. After their training session Berri asked, “Do you know women’s cycles?”
“You mean the bleeding?”
“Yeah. I had my first one about this time last month. Since then, I’ve not experienced any moodiness and I certainly haven’t bled again.”
“Oh, you lucky. That… is good.”
“Is it? I thought it was every thirty-two days for most women. Do you have a regular cycle?”
It took a moment for Osran to process the question, numbers were still giving her difficulties, “Regular yes, but for me, three tens of days… you say thirty?”
“Yes, three tens is thirty.”
“Yes, my bleeding time is… thirty days of cycle.”
Berri looked thoughtful, “Maybe I’m late?”
“Maybe. But girls don’t all start with same, every cycle not. Maybe you miss one because body still getting to adult body.”
“I’m twenty-one or close enough. My body should have already been doing this, years ago.”
“Ah, well, pure-blood orc, the women get… have three eight-day of cycle. Very fertile, like these lands of summer.”
“Gross, every three weeks? No thank you!”
“Better than having babies, they hurt.”
“You had a child?”
“Yes, baby childs. Two that lived.”
Berri was shocked, Osran always thought her friend looked funny when surprised. Big eyes, raised brow and pursed lips.
“You’ve had two babies?”
“That lived, yes.”
“How many times have you been pregnant?”
“Oh, just three times before, four now. Usually one born dead or dies in the short while after, War-leader ate the first baby, to do magic with shaman. Two of four is pretty good, and I’m not dead.”
“Goddess!” Berri gasped, “He ate your baby?”
“Yeah, baby pretty good, tender, bones soft.”
“Gods above!”
“You never eat baby?”
“Fuck no! Gross!”
“Oh, that be… is bad? Not eat baby? Even if born dead?”
“Argh… no. No!”
“Hmm, weird.”
“I’m going to go to bed now.”
“Okay, sleep good.”
A couple days later, it was rainy and hot. In the early afternoon they encountered some goblins, kind of. They briefly saw a group of five goblins along the road. They had mounts, two large dogs and three goats, and had recently killed a couple of travellers. They had been in the process of looting when the three of them came into sight. Most of the goblins had their faces covered, one wore eye shields of bone. They scrambled onto their mounts and went, towards the plains.
Ijah slowed, but continued onward, keeping an eye on the retreating group. Osran had expected her to stop at the bodies, but she did not. She looked them over as they moved past. A woman and a man, their clothing had been cut away and bits and pieces of the pair had been removed, including their eyes. It appeared as though most of their belongings had been taken, or perhaps the hapless duo had not owned much. A ways past the bodies they resumed their previous pace, no one commented on what they had seen.
That night, Ijah broke her days long silence, “We’ll all need to take a turn on watch tonight. Stay alert, goblins are cowardly, sneaky sorts. It is unlikely that group would consider attacking us, it is possible they are part of a larger community.”
Berri nodded, “I’ll take first shift.”
Ijah looked to Osran, “Which do you prefer?”
“Prefer?”
“What shift do you want?”
Osran was surprised to be given a choice, this was the first time since they had fled the republic that Ijah had asked her what she would like to do. After a moment of consideration she shrugged and said, “Middle night watch fine. It usual for me now.”
“It is usual.” Ijah corrected her, “That’s fine. I’ll get some sleep.”
The night passed without any problems. Osran had not really expected the goblins to come after them. In her experience goblins were rarely wasteful. Having just gained food and loot that group would likely lay low for a few days. There had been a number of small goblin groups in the wasteland and the orc bands rarely had disputes with them, in some cases, even worked with them regularly. Goblins were smart and very crafty, useful allies.
A few days later they began to see signs of settled lands again, a few scattered homesteads, typically built in or on a hill. The people were wary, lean and often as not, rather mean looking. Even when the three of them passed within talking distance of the locals they usually received flat stares, only twice were they given a civil greeting. What little news they heard was not good, it seemed that Freeton had fallen under the control of criminal elements. Osran was not sure what that meant, but both her companions seemed to think it was bad.
As they continued westward the mountains to the south were further away and the terrain north of them became more hilly. The mountains were definitely not as tall, the upper peaks no longer covered in ice and snow. There were a lot less trees. Many of the homesteads close to Freeton had been abandoned or, in a few cases, attacked and burned. The few people they saw usually headed for cover at their approach, hiding until they had moved past. Osran was hopeful there would be a good fight soon, since killing the bear their journey had been rather uneventful. Ijah remained moody, more concerned with covering as much distance in a day as they could, they only trained occasionally.
It had been over three eight-days since they had fled the republic, though the night sky indicated the summer would soon pass, the days remained hot and those locals lucky enough to have crop fields were harvesting. Near midday they crested a large hill. To the north they could see a walled town with many towers and a large keep. On the road ahead of them was the remains of a village at a crossroads. Many of the buildings had been burned to the ground and, with the exception of a few sturdy stone structures, there was not much left of the place. Despite the recent destruction there were still a fair number of people in the village, most seemed to be concentrated around a two story stone building, larger than any of the other remaining structures.
Ijah slowed their pace. After a few moments of observing the village, she advised, “Best to remain wary here. I see a lot of armed men and horses. The older fellow we talked to a couple days back said there was a toll here now.”
“We could just go around.” Berri suggested.
“They likely would come after us. Better to pay the toll, if it’s reasonable and gather what information we can on the road ahead of us.”
“Alright, we’ll follow your lead.”
Ijah nodded, “As you should.”
Their approach had been noticed, half a dozen armed men rode out to greet them. They met a quarter yat from the village, the men stopped about ten paced away from Ijah. The horses settled and the men looked them over. Osran noted that only one man wore a breastplate, the rest were wearing leathers of various quality, their horses looked as ragged as they did. A long silence followed, Ijah waited patiently.
Eventually the man with the breastplate cleared his throat, “Welcome to Burret’s Crossroads. What’s your business?”
“Passing through. Looking for news about the roads going south. If there’s feed and food we may buy some. We could also use the services of a farrier.” Ijah’s voice was flat, Osran could tell she did not think much of them.
“How far south are you headed?” The man asked, he ran a hand through his long greasy hair then spat to the side.
“About as far south as you can go.”
Osran glanced around at the others, they seemed intent on their leader, they held an uneasy, expectant calm. They also stank, smelling of sweat and sex. She resisted the urge to reach for her spears. The leader glanced at her, then said, “So likely West Port then. You could have just said so.”
“But I did not.”
He scoffed, “Look, woman. I’m just doing my job here. You want information about the roads, better I know where you’re headed.”
“West Port.”
“Best route then is southwest. There’s a trade road that runs alongside the East Sister River. It’ll take you through the southern stretch of the Linklow forest. There’s been goblins and bandits through that area for a few years now, but once you’re out of the woodlands it’s a good road. Your other option is south through the hill country, it’s a winding route, passing through most of the small freeholds that border Maldorn.”
“How long?”
“Well, with the horses you have, the River Trade Road would get you to West Port in three to four eight-days, unless you run into troubles. Going through hill country would take you twice that long, but there are more towns and villages along the way.”
“We heard that there’s been troubles here and in Freeton.”
“There was, but things have settled.”
“We also heard there’s a toll.”
“There is, but if you’re going to hire services and buy food for yourselves and the animals, we can forego the toll.”
“How generous.”
“Just practical.”
“Well, lead on then.”
“Ah, well, there is the matter of your weapons.”
“Oh?”
“With all the past troubles, we’ve been insisting that folks disarm, while they’re in the village.” Osran saw a bit of tension move through the group of locals, most of them shifted a bit, a couple of them placed their hands on their weapons or moved reins to one hand.
Ijah remained calm, “Fair enough.” Osran was taken aback, certainly she never expected Ijah to agree to disarm. Yet, she reached up and removed her sword from her back, then nudged her horse forward.
Berri spoke up, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
The man in the breastplate also moved his horse forward, reaching for the sword. With a quick flick of her wrist Ijah sent the scabbard flying towards one of the other men, following through with a one handed slash of her blade that removed their leaders forearm. He screamed.
Osran roared and reached for her spears. There were startled shouts from everyone else, including Berri. Osran’s horse reared and she tumble off to one side, falling heavily, having only obtained one spear. Shouts and screams of pain followed, Osran rolled to the side and came to her feet.
There were horses bolting in all directions, Osran jumped aside to avoid being trampled. Two of the men were still in the saddle, as was Berri, but their string of horses was fleeing east. Osran threw her spear at one of the mounted men, it hit him in the side. He screamed in agony. She backed off, unwinding the stay cord on her axe as she avoided another fleeing horse.
She had lost track of Ijah in the confusion. With her axe in hand she bellowed and charged into the fray.
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