Glyph

Chapter 3

Dirk stared at the floor as a whirlwind of frantic motion and preparation raged around him. What could he do? He could not say goodbye to his family even. Silently, he cursed Surd for ever getting involved in this nonsense.

He remembered the options the Chairman had given him. But there was a third. He could turn them in. It would be unforgivable to the townsfolk, of course. Siding with Inquisitors over his own master? He would be shunned for the rest of his life. And how could he do that to Surd, a man who had taught him his trade? No, he could not turn them in.

Well, no use crying over spilt milk, as the old saying goes, he thought. He stood up filled with new resolve.

He walked over to Surd, who was talking rapidly to DeGrey about their needs for the journey. When there was a pause in his list, Dirk broke in. "What can I do to help?" he asked.

Surd paused and looked at him. "You can get yourself outfitted," he said.

Outfitted? For clothing? Seeing his confusion, DeGrey broke in. "You need traveling clothes." He guided him over to a sharp nosed man who was stuffing supplies into packs. "Outfit this young man, Harald," said DeGrey. The man nodded.

Turning to Dirk, Harald asked, "What is your size?"

Dirk didi not know. Being measured for clothes was for wealthy men, not him. He bought the clothes that looked like they fit him. He answered this to Harald, who shook his head.

Harald went into a back room. He came back with a tape measure. Dirk knew this routine, having done it many times to a customer when Surd was busy with another. He stuck his arms straight out, snapped his feet together and stood up straight. Hurrying, Harald snapped the measure across his arms, chest and legs. Returning to the back room, he grabbed a pile of folded clothes and shoved them into a pack. "Here," he said, thrusting the pack at Dirk. Dirk took it. As he held it, Harald began cramming in food items, mostly hard flat travel biscuits. After he was done, he moved purposefully away away.

DeGrey came over. "I got you a weapon. It isn't much, I'm afraid, but it may be helpful. In Redvale, I am sure they will teach you more about warfare." He held out a dagger in a sheath.

Dirk slowly stretched out his hand and took it. When he drew it, he felt more capable. Not by much, but at least with this, he wouldn't be totally defenseless. Inspecting it more closely, he smiled. It was a longer dagger, his namesake: a dirk.

Surd and Brooke walked over to the two. "Councillor DeGrey, I thank you for your aid. But if we wish to avoid the Inquisitors, we must go now." De Grey nodded.

Embracing his daughter, the Chairman muttered words of goodbye to her. Dirk looked away from the tearful farewell.

Surd, Dirk and Brooke were hustled upstairs and through a series of corridors by Harald and a couple of other servants. It seemed deserted to Dirk. He guessed DeGrey had made sure all the servants were far away from this section of the house. 

They came outside and followed Harald to a small building: the stables. Inside, three horses were saddled and ready.

 Harald led Dirk to a black horse. "This is Cyflym," he said. He will bear you quickly to your destination."

"What is our destination?," Dirk asked.

Harald looked at him. "You don't know?"

Dirk shook his head.

"Too late now," Harald said briskly. "Brooke and Surd both know the way."

Harald held the horse steady while Dirk mounted. Dirk had ridden before, but never on such a powerful horse. He could feel the muscles swelling. Harald slapped Cyflym, propelling him out of the stables. Dirk was behind Brooke, bringing up the rear. They veered left onto the road and galloped on leaving dust behind.

They rode all day, eating lunch in the saddle. Brooke and Surd both proved to be able horseman. All Dirk could do was grimly hold on as Cyflym matched the pace set by Surd.

When the sun was just sinking below the horizon they stopped. As Dirk dismounted, a chorus of complaints issued from his body. Since he had awoken that morning, he had dashed through freezing caverns filled with water, then ridden hard from about nine o'clock to sundown. His muscles were clearly overtaxed. 

He stumbled around, sinking to his knees beside the creek they had decided to camp by. Now that he was no longer riding, he realized it was a bit chilly. Grabbing his pack, he rummaged through it for a tinderbox. Finding one, he set it aside, then dug out a shallow pit he lined with rocks found by the creek. He went into the copse of trees growing by the creek and foraged for some firewood. He unloaded several armfuls by the fire.

With Surd's help, he was able to strike a spark into the tinder and ignite the wood. In a few minutes he had a cheerful blaze going. 

He looked over at the others. They were exhaustedly unrolling their sleeping bags. 

He walked over to the horses. He unsaddled and brushed Cyflym, under Surd's direction, and fed him out of his nose bag. The others took care of their own mounts.

His stomach growled. He had fed the horses, Dirk thought. Now it was time to feed himself. He searched his pack for some dried meat. Finding it, he walked over to the fire.

"Anyone hungry?," he asked.

Surd looked up. "Absolutely. Perhaps a stew?"

Brooke nodded in agreement.

Dirk tossed some creek water in a pot, waited until it was boiling, then added the meat and some salt and dried herbs he had found in one of the horse's saddlebags. When it was ready, he ladled it in bowls and handed it out. 

After he had scraped his bowl clean, he rinsed it in the creek, as well as the pot. The others did the same.

Dirk checked the horses one last time, then crawled into his bedroll for a night of well earned rest.

When Dirk woke up, it was no longer dark, but a grey. The sun was about an hour or so from rising. The coals was steaming in the chill morning air. 

As he scooted out of his blankets, he shivered. Arising, he stretched, feeling his joints pop. 

He grabbed the pot and lugged it to the stream. He scooped up water and hauled it to the remnants of the campfire. Dirk, bracing the edge on his hip, poured the water on the ashes. The water trickled through the coals, turning them into a grey-black sludge and hissing when it found a new hot spot.

The noise awoke his companions who sat up, evidently alarmed.

"Huh-Wha," spluttered Surd, shooting up and tangling himself in his blankets. Brooke just took deep heavy breaths.

"Sorry,'" Dirk said sheepishly.

"Well, it's fine, we need to get going anyhow," Surd said with a yawn.

Surd sluggishly arose and started getting ready to go. Brooke was less lethargic. She quickly packed up everything.

"I'm going over to those woods to change," she said pointedly, pointing towards the east..

Embarrassed, Dirk looked down at his rumpled attire, realizing they were the same clothes as yesterday. "I'll go over there to change", he mumbled, waving vaguely in the opposite direction of Brooke. Grabbing his pack, he stumbled off. 

When he had gone a suitable distance into the forest, he looked in his pack. Most of the attire was made of sturdy materials, but was more comfortable than most wear. Normal, Dirk thought, for a richer family. I could get used to this. He dressed in a loose cotton shirt and pants with a warm jacket, suitable for mid fall. Dressing quickly, he stuffed his dirty clothes back in his pack

He walked back to camp and saddled Cyflym, ready to be off. Brooke was still in the woods, so he retrieved a biscuit and ate it, tearing off pieces. After a couple of minutes, she emerged, dressed in formal riding clothes, hair sleek and shining. Dirk reached up to feel his own unruly mop. Seeing her stare, he quickly pretended he was just scratching his head.

Surd caught Dirk's motion and smirked. Dirk pretended not to notice.

"Shouldn't we be going?" he asked pointedly. 

Surd nodded. "Of course, of course."

Quickly, Dirk walked over to Cyflym. As soon as the others were  mounted, he flicked the reins and sped forward.