A Veteran Returns Home: Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Atars brayed and stamped his hooves. Nemo patted him once more on the neck, ‘Soon,’ he said to the horse, leaning forward in his saddle.
Forgiskill had been cleared of barricades and of bodies. The people of the village, many Nemo had never seen, had gathered at the inn. There collective faces stared up at Nemo and Vispa. Both mounted and ready to ride for Beargarth via the city of Tanussi.
Patches of blood stained sand and stone peeked through the haphazard shovelling of sand in the road. Specks of pink in areas of dark, wet, sand where Tura had poured water to wash the blood away gave testament to what transpired. It will take him days, weeks, to be rid of it. Waste of water. Extravagant even, Nemo thought as he watched Tura making the rounds through the crowd of people. Around thirty or more had turned out to “see the heroes off.”
He implored the trio to stay another night and Nemo’s aching sword arm and blistered feet betrayed him. The smell of lamb stew and spiced tea had not helped either. For the first time in months the inn had been full of laughter for an evening. The first of many Nemo suspected. Bold claims of setting off in search of this camp to reclaim lost heirlooms and search for hidden treasures were made. Mention of the men, women, and children lost to the bandits was limited to a short vigil held at the sundown. From there only cheerful conversations rocked the inn walls.
Isvat, Nemo, and Vispa sat alone nursing wounds, aching muscles, and exhaustion. Food and drink had been brought to them throughout the evening and excitable boys, gallant young men, and thrill seeking women had asked for tales of scars, of heroics, and of the “great battle against the bandits.” Isvat, young but in mourning, acquiesced to most requests and retired early, some young village lass chasing him. Nemo and Vispa were reluctant but boys persisted were adults wained and the duo told their tales with all the trimmings, half-truths, and outright lies, expected of heroic tales past and present. Starry eyed children ran through the inn swinging imaginary swords, and sometimes discarded lengths of wood outside, picturing themselves performing great deeds without any of the blood and tears conveniently forgotten from the telling.
Nemo sat astride Atars his thighs still winging, his sword arm still quivering from phantom strikes. For the first time since waking on the Plains of St Iseltor the Stained he felt old. Old and tired. How many more fights did he have left? How many sleepless nights stalking his prey in the dark? When would he lose reflexes he had maintained all his life? Nemo feared for his future. The promise of riches at the end of a great bounty never had came. And yet he relished the hunt and knowing of preventing future evils.
Vispa circled the road on Simbar. The horse eager to stretch into a gallop, or even a canter, but its rider only pulled on the reins when Simbar tried. She approached Nemo, ‘What are we waiting for?’
Nemo pointed to a third horse, complete with saddle and saddlebags but missing its rider.
‘Of course,’ Vispa said, pulling Simbar to a halt.
‘You wanted to help him last night but now you want to hurry off.’
‘You wouldn’t understand.’
‘I think I do. He went to bed with that other lass and left you behind for the night.’
‘It has nothing to do with any of that,’ Vispa snapped her cheeks flaring.
‘Sure.’
‘How did you even know?’ She blurted.
Nemo winked and tapped his nose.
She offered a high pitched grunt through her teeth and returned to circling Simbar in a huff.
Nemo chuckled to himself as the inn door swung open.
Isvat appeared carrying something over his shoulder in a long, white, cloth.
Pasinah, Nemo realised.
Isvat hovered on the veranda. The crowd of villagers staring in silence at him. He took the first step down and the villagers stepped back. He reached the ground and the crowd of people began to part allowing him through to his steed. Some bowed their heads as he passed, others patted his shoulder in support, while others whispered prayers.
He reached his horse and sighed. He went to lift Pasinah onto the rear of his horse. A villager, the one who had cursed Nemo before, Vish grabbed Isvat’s arm. Smiled. And pointed to the Pasinah wrapped in white. Vish held the dead man’s legs, while Isvat held his arms, and they both raised the body up to the horse and gently placed him on the hind of the horse, behind the saddle.
Isvat thanked the once thankless villager and proceeded to loop three ropes around the body and tied them off to the saddle. Isvat mounted.
Nemo clicked his tongue and Atars moved forwards. He reached Isvat and placed a supportive hand on his shoulder, ‘Where are you headed?’
‘West. To the sea. I need to find a village called Fisher’s Crest. The coast is easy to find but who knows how long it will take me to find the town. I can’t have Pasinah’s body in the heat for more than a few days and its at least a weeks ride,’ he scratched his forehead with his thumbnail. He went to continue.
Nemo squeezed his shoulder, ‘You’ll do it. No point talking about it when you need to act on it,’ with a stern smile he patted Isvat’s back and whistled. ‘Vispa. We’re leaving.’
Vispa had left Simbar to wander on his own with her on his back.
Nemo heard braying and then the clack of hooves as Simbar galloped back up the road.
‘Ready,’ she said standing in the saddle. She lowered herself upon seeing Isvat and brushed her hair behind her ear while averting her eyes.
Nemo closed his eyes and muttered a silent mercy to the heavens.
‘Tura!’ Nemo shouted. ‘We are leaving. Use this time for all it is worth. Burn the bodies. And if you do take valuables be careful who sees them and where,’ he waved to the Mayor and innkeeper of Forgiskill standing behind the crowd of people.
Mayor Tura waved back and shouted his thanks which was almost immediately drowned out by the crowd offering thanks too.
Nemo dug his heel into Atars ribs and the horse snorted and broke into a gallop. Storming north on the paved road the cheering crowd soon faded. Abandoned buildings more dilapidated than those near the centre flanked the road. Will they recover? He thought as he saw a village that was once on the cusp of a small city slipping back into irrelevancy.
Vispa and Isvat chased after him. Hooves tapping against paved road. The sooner we are on smooth ground the better. All around was silent save for the galloping horses. The wind rushed passed him, soothing his face with its warm caress.
Atars galloped faster and faster and soon the town broke into flat plains all around. The horse sped from paved road to the dirt track marked with edging stones. Nemo suspected Atars was more thankful for leaving than he was. He felt lighter as if an iron ball that had landed in his chest was gone. Muscles unwound themselves and the one thing he regretted was not having a final bath.
For miles ahead stretched endless land. Flat, sun baked, land. Tufts of pale yellow grass fought against the inevitable encroachment of cracked earth and sand. To the west there was even a tree of thin silvery leaves rustling in the wind. Bundles of leaves clung only to the sky facing branches balanced on a papery trunk threatened by the crevasses creeping towards it in the soil.
Ahead in the distance of the dusty landscape stood a waymarker. As Nemo came nearer he noticed the road split, both ways still marked by the edging stones, one way towards the coast the other deeper into dry land. Nemo pulled Atars to a stop at the fork in the road.
The warm wind swirled around him. Dust devils began to rise before settling to the ground as the wind broke for a moment too long. The pale stone waymarker stood firm at the corner of the fork. Two arrows and two words carved deep into the face of it. Untarnished by wind, sand, storms, or anything really.
‘Woah, woah,’ Isvat yelled as he pulled his own mount to a halt.
Vispa pulled Simbar too hard and the horse skidded along the cracked and dusty road. Simbar snorted and shook its mane.
‘Why have we stopped?’ Vispa asked.
‘Why was he racing ahead more like?’ Isvat added through wheezing breaths.
‘This is where we part,’ he pointed to the waymarker.
‘Huh?’ Isvat leaned forward in his saddle and squinted. ‘So it is, I guess.’
‘Do you know where the road takes you?’ Nemo asked.
‘Not a clue,’ Isvat answered.
‘Trader’s Rest, one of the oldest cities in the Free Cities and Union of Free Peoples, or was anyway,’ a wave of melancholy washed over him. ‘Someone there will know where you need to go. Guaranteed,’ Nemo said. He rolled his shoulders, his back cracking when he did so, as he rested both hands on the pommel of his saddle.
‘Great. And I will be able to find work after this I bet,’ Isvat said, sitting back in his saddle. He ran a hand through his short hair untwining loose knots.
‘So are we going to Tanussi then?’ Vispa said shielding one eye from the sun the other shut tight scrunching half her face into a myriad of lines.
‘We are,’ Nemo said breathlessly. That’s a few days at least.
‘What are we doing for food?’ She asked.
Nemo laughed patted his bulging saddle bags and winked at Vispa.
‘Oh I see,’ Vispa cocked her head to one side and smirked.
‘What?’ Isvat asked.
‘Nothing,’ Nemo said. He reached across with his right hand to Isvat, ‘Good luck and travel safe,’ he said.
The young man clasped his hand, ‘you too.’
Nemo nodded and clicked his tongue. Atars ceased nibbling the ground and stepped towards the road to Tanussi.
‘Hope to see you again, Vispa,’ Isvat waved.
‘Huh-uh. Be seeing you,’ Vispa offered with a curt smile and a half handed wave. She dug her heels into Simbar and fell in side by side with Nemo.
Isvat could be heard whistling to himself, and his horse, as he disappeared down the other road.
‘Don’t you think that was a bit cold for someone who risked their life for the good of the innocent and that you will never see again,’ Nemo said with a hint of humour.
Vispa scowled at the road ahead, ignoring him. Her jaw moving side to side. Then, at the last moment, she turned in her saddle to watch him leave. Her face relaxed, her eyes softened, while she gestured obscenities towards Isvat.
Nemo shielded a laugh behind his hand.
‘What?’ Vispa’s scornful expression shifted towards him.
‘Oh, nothing.’
She growled and forced herself to smile. ‘Done. All over now,’ she smiled, eyes and all, to Nemo. ‘So, how long is this ride?’
‘About three days, maybe four.’
‘Four days!’ The smile was gone.
Nemo threw his head back and roared with laughter.
Vispa cursed and chattered away about missing a final bath, not stealing a blanket, or a pillow. About filling her waterskins up with water and not ale.
Nemo continued laughing knowing the true extent of regret would not reveal itself for hours.
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