T Lain - Treachery's Wake

“My people more than I, elf.” Malthooz began. “The lure of gold and tales of adventure have taken their toll on my village. The youth are no longer content with the old ways. Those of us who stay pay the price for this wanderlust. We can’t keep up with the wolves and the worgs. Stories coming from the north of goblin raids are getting more and more worrisome.”

The barmaid returned with a tray of mugs and four bowls of stew. She set one in front of each of the companions and placed a pot of steaming water before Vadania. Malthooz watched with interest as the druid drew a pouch of herbs from her pack. She dumped the pungent mixture of dried leaves into the pot. As she bent down to return the pouch to her pack, Vadania’s foot caught the edge of Malthooz’s pack. The bag went over on its side, spilling a pile of books and a wooden disk on the floor.

Vadania’s eyes widened and she asked, “You cast, half-orc?”

Malthooz hastily scooped the books back into his pack and drew the drawstrings tight.

“No,” he said curtly, shoving the pack farther under his seat. “They’re nothing. Just…” he stumbled for words, “some reading.”

Vadania shrugged and said. “Your secrets are your own, half-orc.”

She took a sip of the strong-smelling brew. Malthooz glanced at Krusk, but he appeared to have noticed nothing.

“I know difficulty better than most,” Vadania said. “My people have also felt the sting of rebelliousness in our younger folk.” She set her mug on the table. “And I am one of them. I cannot answer for the problems of my entire race. I do what I do.”

“Besides,” Mialee cut in, “Krusk has already said he’s sticking with us. Right?”

The wizard stuck the barbarian in the side with a bony elbow. Krusk nodded with a grunt.

“So, enough of this,” Mialee said. “Besides, Lidda will be here soon and we can find out what she’s got for us that’s so important.”

“Good work, I hope,” Krusk grumbled.

Mialee spilled a few silver coins from a pouch onto the table and said, “Any work, I’d say.”

Mialee just finished counting the coins for the third time when the door to the pub swung open and Lidda walked through. The halfling pushed her way to their table at the rear of the pub and took the remaining empty seat next to Vadania.

“I’m glad all of you made it,” Lidda said, pausing as she looked pointedly at the unfamiliar half-orc seated with her companions. “All of you and then some.”

Mialee jumped in, saying in a low growl that almost approximated Krusk’s voice, “Lidda, this is Malthooz. Malthooz, meet Lidda.”

“He wants to take Krusk back north,” Vadania offered. “Long story, it can wait.”

“Yes, it can,” Krusk growled. “Why don’t we just get to the matter at hand. Do you have a job?”

“Good work, good pay,” Lidda said. “An easy job.”

She gave Malthooz a sidelong glance. He saw the others straighten at Lidda’s words and huddle themselves closer to the woman.

“He’s all right, Lidda,” Krusk interjected. “He’s not much, but he’s harmless. If you trust me, you can trust him.”

She continued, “It seems a local wizard has been waiting for a shipment that never arrived and he wants to hire a crew to find it for him.” She dropped her voice to a whisper and gave each of them a measured look. “He’s working through the local guild to keep it hushed.”

“No!” Krusk growled. “I’ll not work for their like.”

Lidda looked around the room to see if anyone was watching or listening.

“Keep it down, you oaf,” she said.

Malthooz watched Krusk’s hand tighten on his mug. He glanced around the room himself, wondering what he was getting himself into.

“It’ll be easy,” Lidda said, “and you won’t have to deal with the ‘likes’ of anyone. Leave that to me. Just hear me out.”

Krusk growled, but Lidda ignored him.

“A traveling merchant claims that he spotted a recent shipwreck up the coast a few days back. The wizard caught word of this and is convinced that his shipment, some sort of artifact, lies in the wreckage.”

“Enough,” Krusk said. “I’ll hear no more. Wizards, artifact, thieves guilds—I want no part in this.”

“You want to pay for breakfast tomorrow?” Mialee asked. “We don’t have much choice.”

Vadania nodded and said, “And it sounds like a good break for Lidda, if this guild can be trusted.”

Lidda grinned.

“I knew you’d have a level head at least, Vadania.”

The druid sipped her tea then added, “Besides, Krusk, I know you’re probably as eager to get out of this city as I am.”

Krusk snorted.

The wind and snow tapered off during the night but not before draping the city beneath a fresh blanket of white. The five companions moved down the empty streets of Newcoast under cover of the predawn darkness. The guards hardly gave the group a second glance as it passed between two tall, wooden towers and beneath the open portcullis of the city’s western gatehouse.

The road from the city wound through outlying fields and farms, homesteads that kept the city fed, and fueled much of the trade that occurred inside its walls. At the edge of the horizon to the west, the road disappeared into the forest of Deepwood and eventually made its way to the coast beyond.

They were on their way to meet the wizard Horace Wotherwill. Lidda had arranged the meeting through the guild even before returning to the inn the evening before, a bit of presumption that bothered Krusk more than anyone else. That, and the guild’s usual insistence on utter secrecy in this, as in all its dealings. Krusk was convinced that the whole affair would end in serious trouble.

Malthooz walked beside him. Sweat speckled his forehead and his breathing was quick and shallow though they had come only a few miles. Krusk exhaled, each breath a thick huff of steam. His brow was furrowed in disgust, though it wasn’t the frigid air that upset him.

“You carry too many books in your pack,” Krusk said. “You won’t get far with so much worthless paper weighing you down.”

Malthooz’s reply was flat and emotionless. “I made it as far as Newcoast, I’ll make it as far as I need. Why don’t you just admit that you don’t want me along because my presence reminds you of duties that you’d rather ignore?”

Krusk laughed. “Duties, you say? My only duty now is to protect you—as if looking out for the women was not enough. You shouldn’t have come with us.”

“Hey,” Mialee said, quickening her pace and coming alongside the half-orcs. “Don’t give yourself too much credit, Krusk. We ladies can care for ourselves, and I’m sure Malthooz can do the same.”

She shot Malthooz a quick wink.

Krusk grunted, “We’ll see.”

As the morning wore on, the terrain they passed through grew less populated. Family farms dotted the rolling hills. A few lonely souls gathered firewood or tended to pitiful herds, but most were either too busy or too weary to acknowledge the group’s passing.

Wotherwill’s hut sat on the far boundaries of the city. It was one of the last, scattered, tiny cottages marking the edge of Newcoast’s influence. Beyond lay the thick forest of Deepwood. The wizard’s shack stood out in odd contrast to the drifted snow piled almost to its windows. It was a squat, stout building made of logs from the nearby woods. A circular window sat on either side of the covered porch in front of the home. Thin curls of smoke rose from the chimney. Heat from the bricks melted snow from the roof, sending a trickle of water down the shingles to form icy spears on the eaves.

After the bustle of the city, Krusk appreciated the dwelling’s humble and unpretentious look.