Threads of Vengeance

Part 1 Chapter 6

Somewhere between Megar and Heran

The sun had long since sunk into depths of the horizon, casting a long desolate road and the fields surrounding it into darkness. A small fire cackled merrily at the side of the road. Three men sat by the fire. Gurak ate his stew, chewing slowly on the squirrel meat. With no conversation going around the fire, his mind drifted back to the one with Oman.

“I know where to find your daughter,” the fat man had said.

“Where?”

Oman raised a roll of fat that somewhat resembled a finger and waved it, “Everything has a price. You, of all people should know that. Find out what I need and I'll tell you what I know.”

“When do I leave?” Gurak stood up.

“As soon as possible. But first, I need to introduce you to your travelling companions.”

“You mean watchdogs.”

“Whatever you wish to call them,” Oman rang a bell.

Two men wearing travelling cloaks entered. One was a tall, thin man with a long sword. He had hair of medium length that fell upon his battle scarred face. His ears wildly stuck out. The other was a bald mountain of muscle with a large nose and an even larger mace that was strapped to his back.

“Meet Deeran and Nistar,” Oman said, gesturing to the men. “They will take care of you during your journey.”

“Which one's which?”

“I'm Deeran” the large man said, with a nod. He had the quiet voice of a much smaller man.

Gurak nodded back. The thin man remained silent.

“Go with them, Captain. Wish you a very happy journey!” Oman laughed.

They escorted him to the stables at the back of the mansion.

“We ride to your house and you pick up whatever you need. We leave by nightfall,” Deeran told him.

He nodded. He was given a chestnut mare with a star on the forehead. He didn't bother learning its name. He wouldn't remember it anyway. They rode to his house. It was on the other side of the city. Gurak had a long list of things he hated and riding featured quite close to the top.

His leg hurt everytime as he bounced upon the beast's back. At his own house, he held his breath to avoid the stench and picked up an old cloak along with a cane that had been a parting present from an old friend. He had no other possessions.

He limped out and nodded to the large man, Deeran.

“Go down the street and take a right. There's a tavern. Get me half a dozen of the strongest thing they've got. Actually, wait, make it a dozen.”

“We're supposed to stay with you,” Deeran hesitated.

“What am I going to do, outrun him?” Gurak gestured to Nistar.

The big man grinned, revealing very tiny, delicate teeth for a man of his stature, “Fine, give me the money.”

“Tell him to put it on my tab.”

“Alright.” Deeran nodded.

A thought struck Gurak, “Tell you what, tell him to send my tab to Oman.”

Nistar laughed, “ I like ya. Yer funny.” He had a deep voice that bounced around the nearby walls.

Gurak turned to him “ I didn't know you could speak.”

Nistar had simply shrugged in response.

Gurak pulled his cloak tighter around him and gazed mournfully at his fast dwindling stock of alcohol. Maybe he should have had Deeran bring two dozen bottles instead. He lifted a near empty bottle to his lips and finished it off.

“Catch,” he tossed the empty bottle to Nistar, who simply swatted it away.

“Don't drink too much, you won't be able to ride tomorrow,” Deeran told him.

“I've been doing both since before you were a babe in your mother's arms,” snorted Gurak.

Deeran shrugged and then shook his head, “I still don't see why he hired an old drunk like you.”

Gurak yawned, “I know people in Heran.”

“More than the bank?” Deeran stared at him.

“No, but I know the kind of people the bank doesn't.”

“There very few types of people the bank doesn't come across.”

“Yes,” Gurak agreed.

Gurak studied the large man. He seemed a lot sharper than he looked.

“Oman also said you were some kind of a hero.”

“They called me that, among other things.”

“How come I haven't heard of you?”

“You're a Heranian?”

“Half. But I grew up there.”

Gurak sighed “ I went by a different name back then. Quite nosy aren't you?”

Deeran grinned, “There's nothing else to talk about. You think I can hold a conversation with Nistar?”

Gurak smiled, "You could talk about yourself."

The large man laughed, "Theres nothing mysterious about me. I was just a street urchin that grew up very large."

"How did a street urchin from Heran end up in Megar?"

"Because of a very fat man. How does a hero from there end up a drunk by the docks?"

“He takes an arrow to the foot.”

He limped up to his bedroll and lay down, “Wake me up at dawn.”