Threads of Vengeance

Part 2 Chapter 4

Heran

Gurak limped down to the gate of the run down mansion where Maara resided. Next to him strode Nistar, who seemed very much eager to get the hell out. A single long, piercing howl of agony suddenly filled the skies. Gurak stopped and turned towards the mansion.

He shook his head, there was no way it was her. It was most likely an animal of some sort or perhaps a street urchin Maara had gotten her hands on. The thought made him very uncomfortable. Nistar gazed at him questioningly. It seemed like the last thing he wanted to do was stop and stare.

They hurried out of the Maara’s mansion where Deeran stood awaiting them. Gurak led the way to the tavern again. This time, no one questioned him. By virtue of the two armed armed men behind him, he once more found seating very easily though the pub was filled to the brim. Nistar drank his ale without holding back. Gurak didn’t blame him, even after all these years, he himself was unnerved.

A pale man, with a dishevelled mop of hair appeared next to him, his thin hand clutching a tankard of ale.

“Sorry, if I’m intruding. I just can’t find a seat any place else.”

“Stand and drink, then,” said Deeran, who was not at all in a very good mood. It seemed that he the one that was shaken the most though he hadn’t even made it to the door.

The man ignored him and turned to Gurak.

“May I?” he asked Gurak.

He shrugged in response. The man was either a fool or fearless to place his bony unarmed self near Deeran or Nistar. Probably both. Such men were usually more of a danger to themselves than to others.

 “You remind me of someone I knew a long time back.” said the man, sitting down next to Gurak.

Gurak glanced at him warily. He did not recognise the man. All the same, he pulled his hood tighter. The man seemed pretty drunk, his eyes gazed somewhere far away, as he took another swig from his tankard. Gurak emulated the action.

The scream he had heard as he left mansion echoed through his mind. He shrugged it off. It couldn’t have been her voice, she had died more than a decade ago. She had died because of his foolishness. He wondered what he would have done, had he known the consequences. The only answer he managed to find, was to bring his tankard to his lips.

The man next to him rose and returned with four new tankards, that he tried not to spill as he pushed his way through the crowd. He placed them on the table and grinned.

“Drink up. This one is on me!”

Gurak took one with a small word of thanks and, Nistar took his worldlessly. Deeran was a bit noisier in expressing his appreciation. It seemed that it took very little to win over him. Gurak drank in silence as, Deeran and the man engaged in small talk.

“Did I mention how much you’re like my old friend?” the man addressed Gurak suddenly.

“At least five times so far,” said Gurak, irritably.

He tried to ignore the drunkard and his treacherous mind automatically brought up memories of her. Her dark hair and even darker eyes swam in and out of his vision. He longed to see her once more. To hold her again, to hear her voice, to feel her lips and...to apologise...

“You got her killed,” he reminded himself quietly.

He downed the rest of the tankard in one go. The bitter after taste he knew, was not because of the drink.

“You know about my friend?” ask the man next to him, now well and truly under the influence of the drink.

“Yes, I fecking look like him! You told me that already,” snapped Gurak.

“Yeah,” nodded the drunkard. “He went and picked a fight with the king once. Pissed him off proper too, and then he ran away from here.”

The man stood up. His spine extended and he grew taller at least by a foot. Muscles appeared in his arms and legs, as he transformed into a wide framed, stocky man. His face slowly transformed into a very familiar one.

“Ahran,” said Gurak, stunned.

“Never thought I’d see him again, the most wanted man in Heran that is.” He grinned widely. “Long time no see, how are you my friend?”

 Gurak introduced the tankard to Ahran’s face in response, albeit not very politely. Wood splintered as it crashed into Ahran’s nose. Blood dripped down his chin and he looked dazed.

“Run!” shouted Gurak, scrambling onto his feet.

That was when the ale he had till then, decided to work it’s magic. He stood unsteadily for a moment and unceremoniously crashed into the floor. Nistar pulled him up and hauled him over his shoulder, grunting under the weight. As Gurak bounced on the tall man’s shoulder, he saw every man in the tavern stand up and surround them.

Out of seemingly nowhere, each man produced a weapon. Deeran flipped up the table and stood up. Someone decided to smash a chair onto his head. He bodily lifted that man to him and flung him into his comrades. Gurak smiled appreciatively as the mountainous man’s mace crashed into someone else. At least a dozen men ran at him together. Nistar did not wait for Gurak to see what happened next. He ran out the door and into a dozen armed men waiting for them.

Nistar lifted his hands and dropped Gurak in surrender. A moment later, Deeran’s limp body was dragged out. It seemed bulk was no match for numbers. His large chest still went up and down though, taking in air. Ahran stepped out of the tavern and approached Gurak.

“You’ve grown careless with age. The Marak I knew would never have been caught so easily.” he waved his hand casually and Gurak felt a sack rammed down on his head. It was unfortunately then, that Gurak’s stomach decided that it would rather be empty. The world went pitch black and a terrible smell emanated from the sack.