Touch of Honor

Touch of Honor: A Red Web - Chapter 1

Four wheels creaked as they rolled, slowly through the grass and mud.

     Two large, chestnut stallions pulled the ragged cart closer to town.

     The dwarf leaned back, relaxed in the front of the wooden wagon. The town of Phandal was now within eyesight with twenty five miles left of the journey. "How's it going back there? You two better not ate any of my goods. That's precious cargo back there." The dwarf yelled as he turned to the back of the vehicle. 

     "We haven't eaten any of your goods you old dwarf!" The elf replied, as abrasive as possible. He observed an amused look appearing on the second passenger's face. "Matter of fact, we haven't eaten anything all gods damn day and you still won't tell us what you're paying."

     A bead of sweat ran down the dwarf's forehead. He let one hand off the reins and with the back of it, wiped off the perspiration. "Oh don't you worry now. We're almost there and I fully intend on paying you two good laddies at least twenty gold for your services." He said, stumbling through his sentence.

     The elf signed and attempted to relax himself against the cart's cramped and splintery inner walls. He found little splice in knowing an exact sum of payment was to be expected. Never trust the word of a dwarf.

     Five more miles passed as did the aroma of horse dung and dwarvish mead, being guzzled by the cart driver.

     The elf flared his nostrils furiously at each new scent that passed. The human passenger was unscathed by the horrific aromas traveling through the very air that gave them life. Or perhaps he's used to the smell of horse shit and drunken dwarves. The elf thought.

     The human, with a raised eyebrow, looked puzzled at the elf who vigorously twitched his nose in discomfort. Ignorant to the elves heightened senses, he thought nothing of it. Allergies perhaps.

     Soon, the elf would cease the dancing of his nares. He took three long, tremendous sniffs of the air. The smell of dwarvish drink and horse feces filled his nose. The scents lingered, then subsided. An equally foul stench permeated, one so sickeningly repulsive that he was forced to pinch his nostrils shut. A disgusted look appeared on the face of the elf, followed by the lowering of his brow and a twisting of his lips.

     Amusement left the face of the human and was replaced by shallow concern.

     "Goblins." the elf muttered in a nasally tone as he looked to the fellow passenger.

     The dwarf raised his brow and hastily pulled back on the reins.

     The two chestnut steeds let out a neigh and snort as they halted and reared.

     The dwarf peered further down the road. Two dead horses laid atop one another further along the path, a swarm of flies buzzing above them. Small wooden arrows stuck out from the corpses, a small puddle of blood soaked into the dirt where they lay. The dwarf turned to each side, attempting to find any danger in the brush along the path. He wiped his glossy brow with the back of his hand again. With his sweaty hands still glued to the reins he turned his body to the cart's rear. As he began to yell out one of the names of his hired muscle, a sharp pain shot through his arm.

     A wooden arrow had struck the dwarf in his shoulder, the arrow head protruding out his upper chest and through his leather jacket. He let out a shrill yelp as he fell off his seat and onto the muddied ground. His brown braided beard was now soaked in mud as he laid aside the cart. He grasped at his arm and heard the whistle of another arrow fletching flying by his head striking the wheel of the cart.

     The horses neighed and trotted in place but could not free themselves from the reins.

     "Lemli! Spruce! Get the hell out here!" The dwarf yelled, as another arrow stuck him in the buttocks. He raised his head to the sky and released a how to the heavens. Then, in the order of which he yelled their names, the two passengers exited from the back of the cart.