Swamp of Death

CHAPTER 39

Piercing flash of bright, white lights startled Roshnak, waking him up in an instant. He squinted, looking around, trying to figure out where he was. Shaman could not recognize the room, or the bed he was in. He could not remember how he got in here, and it bothered him quite a bit. Besides that, his head hurt, like never before. Strange, loud, irritant noises, coming behind the leather screen, to the left of him, only amplified the agonizing pain.

Roshnak peeked over, smiling, once he realized the irritating noise was coming from the young half-orc, who was fully stretched on his back. He was snoring so loud, it seemed as the walls vibrated along with his exhalations. Shaman remembered coming into some strange town. He remembered the innkeeper, and the roast and the drinks. Oh there was so many drinks. Surely they were the reason for his abysmal state. Roshnak put his head in his hands, feeling the pounding. Feeling as if his head was going to burst. Wave of nausea overwhelmed him, in an exact moment he began to sweat. Quickly, he looked around, grabbing the large, wooden bucket, standing near the footing of his bed. And he grabbed it in the last possible second.

Grodish twitched in a surprise, hearing some wild beast just a couple of feet away from him. Only thin, leather screen stood in between him and this loud creature. Half-orc stood up. Still drunk, his head was spinning. He staggered clumsily, grabbing the screen, falling over to the ground with it. Surprised, Roshnak almost spilled the content of the bucket. Realizing, the Grodish is even in a worse state than him. He would probably laugh, but the ill feeling he had in his stomach just made him more sympathetic for the young half-orc.

Awful sounds coming from the shaman weren't helpful at all, as nausea hit Grodish much faster and quite harder than it did to the old orc. Half-orc looked around in panic, relieved to see there is an identical bucket near his bed too. Seconds later, he joined Roshnak in this disgustingly repulsive duet. For the remainder of the morning, they spend hugging their buckets, which inn servants change on a regular basis.

It was almost noon, when they could finally rest. Warm tea, made from some healing herbs, sent by the innkeeper, helped them real soon. And with nausea gone, even the hangover disappeared. They could finally leave their room. The tavern was almost empty. The few people that sat in it, probably sipped the same tea, in an attempt to cure their hangovers. Cheerful innkeeper, a bearded, redheaded dwarf, waved them in greeting.

"It seems you drank a bit too much last night, gentlemen."

"It seems..."Roshnak retorted, as if he was trying to remember something from the previous night "Can we have something for breakfast, or lunch. I don't know what time of day is."

"Certainly." the innkeeper retorted, showing them to the table.

They took a seat at the nearest table. And were served almost immediately, with the bowls of warm, vegetable stew. Shaman looked at the guests more closely, not knowing why he was feeling strange. Beside the fact that he saw some of the races usually in some sort of conflict, sitting and chatting quite friendly, deep inside he felt something else was missing in this picture. Something he forgot. He heard of the existence of a couple of safe havens. Places where many different races would converge, mostly in search of a trade. This town was certainly one of those places, and as such, very interesting to Roshnak. But shaman knew, they could not stay here for much longer. They were in a hurry to proceed with their journey north. Bearded dwarf escorted them through the doors of the tavern, after the orc gave him a few small nuggets of gold.

"Come again!" innkeeper yelled, waving goodbye.

Grodish waved back, joining shaman, who was heading towards the gates in a rather strong strides. A couple of elves and humans were guarding the town's exit. Nodding in their salutations, they wished them luck in their journey. And still, Roshnak was having the same strange feeling. But as soon as they returned on the road towards the north, shaman's thoughts steered away. They were not far away from the orcish fort of Zhinnaeg. And knowing that, Roshnak was again focusing on the plan he created.