Broadswords - 13. The Gatherer

Broadswords

Chapter Thirteen
The Gatherer

Birten awoke with a start. The snapping of twigs nearby told him that they were not alone in the forest. Sitting upright, he called Daegon's name in a loud whisper. The dragonslayer grunted and rolled onto his side, but did not wake up.

The sounds continued, including the rustling of leaves and what sounded like whistling. Birten brought himself into a crouching position and held the trunk of a nearby tree to steady himself.

After the bizarre reactions received in town, he was worried that they had been followed by one of the villagers. And because those bizarre reactions, the two of them also had no place to go. Normally they would have just found any flat patch of land to camp out, sleeping beneath the stars. But the rain prevented that. While still damp, they'd ridden down toward the mountains where the forest started. At least they'd have somewhat of a tree cover.

But a tree cover wouldn't hide them from an encroacher. "Daegon!" he said again, slightly louder but maintaining a hushed tone. Once again, the slayer let out a punctuated snore but otherwise remained asleep. If it weren't for the fact that Birten was a soft sleeper, whoever or whatever was nearing them could have attacked before Daegon would have even known what was going on. Birten knew that all the great dragonslayers had their weaknesses, but this one could prove fatal.

Fearing making any sound himself, he didn't want to make his way over to where Daegon was sleeping. Last thing he needed was to make a loud noise and announce their exact location. The same thing went for throwing something at Daegon to get his attention – with Birten's luck, that would make even more of a ruckus. Instead, he snaked his hand into his bag until he found his dagger. Once his fingers met the cool metal of the hilt, he wrapped them around the handle and pulled it out. He unsheathed it and remained at the ready, in case their campsite was disturbed.

The whistling was more distinctive at this point, and it was clear that it was a human. It seemed nonchalant, though, not like the whistling of someone who was specifically searching for them. This eased Birten's mind somewhat, but if there was anything he'd learned thus far on their journey, it was to not drop one's guard around the citizens of Dorre.

After more crackling and crunching, he finally saw some movement in the trees. A few of the lower branches were shaking from being pushed aside, and he knew they would be joined soon. Indeed, mere seconds later, the leaves gave way and a man appeared.

He was young, probably aged somewhere between Birten and Daegon. He was overwhelmingly average – average height, average weight, average looks. His hair was a mousy brown, with eyes to match, and his skin was slightly tanned. Standard-looking as he was, Birten was certain that he hadn't been in Dorre Inn & Eats the prior evening. That comforted him. Perhaps this man wouldn't accost them in the same manner they had experienced in the restaurant.

Their presence seemed to catch him off guard, as he immediately stopped whistling and a look of surprise crossed his face. "Oh!" he said simply, stopping where he was. He looked at Birten, then glanced over at the still snoring dragonslayer, and finally locked his gaze on the knife gripped in the squire's hand.

Seeing this, and no longer feeling quite as concerned, Birten sheathed his weapon and stood up. He slipped the dagger into his beltloop. He shouldn't have left it in his bag as they slept, anyway. It could be luck that this guy didn't seem to be a threat, but any of the angry villagers could have been the ones to have found them. And then who knows what would have happened?

Birten wasn't sure what to say. He might be a quicker thinker than his slayer, but he had a tendency to be awkward. "Sorry," he murmured.

The man's tenseness visibly lessened, but he still exuded an air of hesitancy. "It's no problem. You never know what might be lurking the forest," he said. "Campers?"

They were a decent distance away from the heart of the small village. But as they had seen upon their approach, there were randomly placed homes at various distances from the center. Considering there were no other towns in the general vicinity, it was more than likely that this man was from Dorre. Birten knew he had to keep up the same façade from the night before.

"We're from Jurrit Junction, on a roofing assignment," he said simply, deciding to keep it minimal.

The man shifted his weight and frowned. It seemed like he wasn't really buying the story. "There's not much to the nearby village, Dorre, but there is an inn. It would have been a more comfortable option for your lodgings."

Birten didn't have a good lie for that. He couldn't very well explain that the citizens had run them off. "Oh," he said lamely. It was probably smarter not to try to explain himself, or the lie could spiral out of control.

"Your companion over there has an awfully large broadsword for a roofer," the man added, nodding toward Daegon. Birten's eyes followed his nod, where sure enough Daegon's weapon was blatantly displayed. A cringe crept its way to Birten's face. While it was a smart move on Daegon's part, and the same protection he should have equipped himself with versus leaving his blade in his bag, it was getting harder and harder to keep his story believable.

At least if Daegon was awake, maybe there would be an intimidation factor that would stop the guy from asking so many questions. "Hey, Daegon," he said, able to be louder now that they had been found.

Daegon let out an indecipherable string of words, but finally did sit up. As he stretched away the sleep, he added, more clearly: "What is it, boy?" It was then that he noticed their company and was on his feet with his sword drawn faster than the blink of an eye. Birten might be the one quick of mind, but Daegon was quick to action. Things like that were what reminded Birten of how good of a team they truly were, regardless of if the slayer admitted it. "Who's this?"

Fear had once again entered the man, and he dropped a basket which Birten hadn't noticed until now. A few wild vegetables spilled out, including some carrots, turnips, and potatoes. Though the rain had stopped falling sometime during the night, the mud was still fresh and the contents of his basket were now in a puddle of it. Perhaps this poor fellow was simply gathering ingredients for his dinner, and here they were about to make him wet his trousers.

"I'm just a simple gatherer," he said nervously, holding up his hands. "Please, I'm no threat to you. I live just over there, toward the mountains. This is my daily routine, I assure you."

Birten watched Daegon. He could tell the slayer wasn't sure of the man's claim, but he lowered his weapon. "What's your name?" Though his sword was no longer aimed at the man, his tone was still aggressive.

"Elsior," the gatherer said. He made eye contact with Birten, presumably finding him to be his better bet in getting out of this interaction unscathed. "Please, talk to your friend."

"Elsior!" Birten and Daegon blurted at the same time.

The man's demeanor went from terrified to bewildered, and all three men stood there unmoving. They were all flummoxed, all confused, and none of them knew exactly what to do. It was then that Elsior's expression once again changed, this time to realization. "You… you're the slayer, from Jhirdyr?"

Daegon looked to Birten for reassurance, and Birten nodded. This was the man they had been advised to seek out, and he knew they were coming, so there was no point continuing the mystery.

"Yes," Daegon confirmed, his sword arm finally relaxing all the way.

With an audible sigh of relief, shoulders dropping as he relaxed, Elsior stepped over his spilled vegetables and approached the men. He reached out to shake their hands, and they measuredly obliged. "Thank the heavens. Harmon let me know he'd be sending you. He says you're one of the best slayers they've got in Jhirdyr, and that he's never seen a more dedicated squire."

Birten couldn't help but feel a pang of gratitude at the compliment from the prince. He, like most squires, didn't often receive praise. It was especially significant from someone like Harmon.

On the other hand, Daegon, who was used to hearing such things and didn't seem to take heed unless it came directly from someone as important as the prince, ignored Elsior's statement. "I feel like you might have some explaining to do. I've been a slayer for quite a while, and I have never received such a cold reception upon arriving to vanquish a dragon."

In fairness, the villagers technically didn't know that they were there regarding the dragon. At the same time, Birten was beyond curious to know why they had such an animosity toward this gatherer. He appeared relatively harmless. So Birten kept his mouth shut, wanting to hear what Elsior had to say.

"Yeah," he said, scratching his head. "The villagers have never been fond of me. It's a long story. Why don't you fellows come back to my place and I can fill you in?"

The distance to Elsior's cabin was indeed a short one; it took them perhaps ten minutes on foot to reach it. He had provided them a place to post their horses and welcomed them inside the one-room. As Elsior excused himself to separate his pickings, Birten took the chance to analyze the contents of the room. Perhaps it would give him some more insight on who they were dealing with.

The furniture itself was limited, consisting solely of a table, chair, and a mess of hay covered with linen to act as a bed. There were a few assorted baskets against one wall, where Elsior was currently dividing up the vegetables. The most notable thing, however, was the extensive set of shelves that lined the longest wall. They were packed with vials, none labeled, which were full of powders and liquids of various colors and consistencies.

When he finished his sorting, Elsior noticed where Birten's attention was focused. "Ah, you've found my spice collection!" he said, stepping over to join the squire. "As a gatherer, I'm always looking for new ways to season my food. I've always aspired to be a chef. In fact, when I was still living in Jhirdyr, I was part of the castle's kitchen staff. Unfortunately I wasn't employed there long enough to absorb much training from the royal chefs, but thankfully enough to give me an idea of how to mix flavors."

Birten was about to ask more about the spices, but Daegon spoke up. "You worked in Jhirdyr's castle?" Birten had been so intrigued by the vials that he hadn't even picked up on Elsior's revelation that he was from Jhirdyr. Daegon's question was certainly more important.

"Well, yes," Elsior said. "That's how Harmon and I know each other. Did he not tell you how we were acquainted?"

Birten and Daegon shared another look. They hadn't really asked that many questions of the prince, they were both realizing. They had accepted the quest without obtaining a whole lot of background information. There was a dragon, it needed to be slayed, it was the prince asking. That was about all they had needed at the time. In hindsight, gathering information such as how the prince knew his correspondent might have been useful.

"He did not," Daegon confirmed.

"Take a seat," Elsior said, gesturing toward the lumpy hay-bed in the corner. He himself sat in the single chair, facing them. "To explain the ambivalence the people of Dorre have toward me, it's probably best that I explain how I got here in the first place."

As he recounted the tale of his relationship with Harmon and its resulting banishment from the kingdom, Birten and Daegon remained silent. Birten was sure that Elsior was leaving out specifics of the depth of their intimacy, as he didn't go into much detail. That wasn't important of course, and in any event it was probably best that he didn't go around discussing his sex life with a member of the royal family. Personal details being leaked about a prince's bedroom activities could lead to a lot worse than banishment.

Once he'd gotten the explanation of how he had arrived in Dorre out of the way, Elsior clarified why the townsfolk were less than warm. "They don't take too kindly to outsiders, particularly ones that take up residence here. They're a very tight-knit community. Especially considering my arrival was due to being exiled from another place, regardless if they know why, well… let's just say that they don't trust me at all. I could have moved on elsewhere, sure. But I was moneyless, without transportation, and I certainly didn't know anybody in any other nearby towns that I could have reached out to. The king's guard brought me here, dumped me at the entrance of the village with nothing but a small bag of belongings that I had. And being that it was abundantly clear that the villagers wanted naught to do with me, I hiked out here and built myself this cabin. Been here ever since. I don't frequent the village unless I'm in desperate need of supplies, and even then it's hard to barter with the merchants."

"That's quite a tale," Birten said, feeling a bit of pity toward the man. But only a bit. He still felt something was awry.

Elsior smiled weakly. "It's been an experience. And now with this beast terrorizing the area, even if the people cannot stand me, I couldn't bear to see the damage continue. Even if I were vindictive, once it destroyed this village, what's to say it wouldn't move on to another, and another? They are destructive by nature."

"You made the right call," Daegon confirmed.

As Elsior began detailing some of the devastation caused by the dragon, Daegon listened while Birten got lost in his own thoughts. His gaze drifted toward the wall of vials, unsure that the exiled Jhirdyrian was giving them a full recounting of the events that had transpired in this place.