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    mcarss
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Deeds of Their Past - 17. Chapter Seventeen

Unable to take his mind off Brohm, the night passed slowly. Nathan finally managed to sleep in the early morning hours, yet upon waking, found himself alone. He heard Brohm and Morgana speaking quietly outside. Stretching his weary body, he rose and stepped out to find them sitting on a bench against the cottage.

“Good morning,” Morgana said. “Did you sleep well?”

“I’ve slept better,” Nathan said, offering Brohm a knowing look.

The big man tried to hide a smirk.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, dear,” she said, gesturing for Nathan to sit across from them on another bench. “I must say, your ox here is smarter than he looks.”

Brohm frowned. “Hey!”

“Oh, calm down,” she soothed.

“What are you guys talking about?” Nathan asked.

“I told her about our . . . situation.”

“Brohm, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea—”

“Not to worry, dear,” she said. “I’m not about to start judging folk now, after all this time. I’m no saint myself.”

“I appreciate that,” Nathan said.

“Your friend asked for assistance to aid in your plight. Specifically, to change your appearances, which would allow both of you to be free from your captors.”

Nathan let it sink in. It seemed too simple. “What’s the catch?”

“An excellent question. I wouldn’t offer my services for free, of course.”

“I wouldn’t trust it if you did offer freely,” Nathan said.

Brohm waved a hand to get her attention. “You never said anything about that.”

“You never asked,” she said, smiling. “In return for my services, I request that you retrieve an amulet from the ruins of Tornel.”

“Wait! Old Tornel Keep? Isn’t that place haunted?” Brohm asked.

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not familiar with these ruins,” Nathan said. “Where are they located?”

“A few days ride, maybe longer. The road through the forest will likely be grown over. You’ll find it north of Morringstone, along the jagged coast.”

“Curious. We were heading that way already,” Nathan mused. “Do you know where in these ruins we can find the amulet?”

“It’s said a natural cave was unearthed during construction of the deeper recesses of the dungeons. Instead of filling it in, they explored and found a labyrinth of passageways.

“The lord used these deep recesses to store untold riches, as well as a collection of magickal artifacts. I’ve good cause to believe that the amulet I’ve been searching for is kept in those depths.”

Nathan pondered her request. “What does the amulet do?”

“That’s for me to know,” she said in a serious tone. “It’s perfectly safe to hold and carry, if that’s your concern. The magick stored within isn’t easy to activate.”

“And what about this spell to change our appearance. Does it wear off over time, or cause any . . . unpleasant side-effects?”

“It’s harmless, and as long as you don’t mention it to anyone, it will last until your death, at which time your original appearance will return.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” Nathan said. “I’ve never fully trusted magick, and after the troubles caused by that blasted ring, you can understand my want to steer clear of magickal doings altogether.

“In saying that, I admit this offer is tempting. Brohm, you’re okay with going through with this?”

The big man was clearly in the opposite standing when it came to magick. His interest was obvious, and the novelty of changing his appearance seemed to excite him like a child. “Yuh, for sure. Besides, it’s not like it’d need to be forever. After five or ten years, I reckon we’d be forgotten and could change back if we wanted.”

She smiled. “You see? A smart ox.”

“Okay then, I guess we’ll do it.”

The decision was made despite his better judgement, but he reasoned with himself there was little chance of another proposition showing itself. Offering his hand, she took it firmly, shaking to their agreement. She turned and did the same with Brohm, his large hand comically dwarfing hers.

"How about some breakfast?” she asked, rising and entering the cottage before either man could reply.

Nathan moved to sit beside Brohm. “So you really ready for this, big guy?”

Brohm shrugged. “Sure, why do you ask?”

“We’ll be exploring deep caverns. You’re alright with that?”

A look of concern crossed his face. “Oh . . . right.”

“I’m convinced you’ll be okay. You’re fine once you get over your initial uneasiness.”

“Yuh, I-I guess. I was just thinking about changing our faces. That should be fun.”

“One thing at a time. We gotta find that amulet first.”

After breakfast, they decided to unpack and reorganize their gear before departing to their new destination. Morgana emerged from her cottage, offering a torch to Brohm.

“Once lit, this torch will last for nearly a fortnight. Something I’m sure you’ll find useful in those caves.”

“Wow, for sure. Thanks,” Brohm said.

Then she turned to Nathan, handing him a small pendant. “This will help you navigate the bog by dissolving fog from the area. Now I know how you feel about magick. There’s no need to wear this. It will still work perfectly fine if you store it in your pack.”

“Thank you, Morgana. Your hospitality has been very much appreciated,” Nathan said. “We hope to return soon enough.”

“As do I, my dear,” she said with a tender smile.

After saying their goodbyes, the two men mounted up and followed the short path back into the swamp, leaving the evergreens behind. The fetid smell and muggy air hit them hard.

Brohm gagged. “Ugh, I forgot about that.”

“At least we can see where we’re going now,” Nathan said, pointing northeast toward the mountains lining the side of the swamp.

Instead of attempting to navigate the marshy bog, the way north alongside the eastern mountains was mostly rock and broken up gravel, allowing them to travel significantly faster. Despite the knowledge of the curse, both men could feel its tendrils reach into them, its subtle anger and hatred bubbling under the surface. By late afternoon, the narrow way opened up to vast grasslands, leaving the mountains, bog, and its curse behind. A refreshing breeze greeted them, and both men took it in deeply, smiling in relief.

“Where’s the road to Morringstone?” Nathan asked.

“I reckon if we continue northeast, we’ll hit it sooner or later.”

The setting sun at their back, their shadows lengthened across the long swaying grass, reaching farther out until the sun sunk beneath the horizon. Once the stars emerged in the darkening sky, they set up camp by flattening out an area in the grass.

“Do you still want to meet your friend in Morringstone before we head on?” Brohm asked.

“I’ve been mulling that in my head all day,” Nathan said, tending to the horses. “I think it’s best we skip past Morringstone.”

“Oh . . . okay.”

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “I’m thirsty for some ale and missing a soft bed to sleep in. Just for one night, yuh?”

“I hear you, big guy. Me too. But travelling through that pass cut us off from the rest of the world. It’s been around ten days, and who knows how far word has spread in that time.”

“Can we at least peek into town?” Brohm pleaded.

The thought of a tankard in his hand bested Nathan, and he conceded. “Okay, okay fine. We’ll head into Morringstone and see my friend there. He should be able to tell us if it’s safe or not.”

Brohm nodded with a smile on his face.

Nathan held up a finger in warning. “But if it’s as bad as I fear, we skip town as soon as he tells us. No tavern, no bed. Like I said before, we can’t risk it.”

Brohm nodded again, dispirited this time. “Yuh, okay.”

Nathan couldn’t help but feel guilty to deny him those simple pleasures.

* * *

They rose with the sun, continuing northeast across the countryside. By midmorning, a wide treeline appeared on the eastern horizon with still no road in sight.

“I reckon we should head more north,” Brohm called out.

Nathan nodded and signalled to do so. Before long, the well-travelled road came into view.

“We’ll have to be wary of patrols,” Nathan said once they manoeuvred their horses out of the long grass, up the small ridge to the road.

Urging their mounts to a gallop, they advanced east, quickly swallowed by the vast deciduous forest. Nathan hadn’t travelled the road for many years, but much was as he remembered it. He also recalled it was a fair journey to reach Morringstone.

Thirty metres away, two men appeared from behind a tree, blocking the way and forcing them to stop. Highwaymen. Nathan checked his dagger in its sheath, and made sure his bow and quiver were within reach.

“I’ll take care of this,” Brohm said.

Dismounting, he made a show of checking his sword in its scabbard, and lumbered toward the two men with purpose. They were strangely opposite to each other. One man was tall and well dressed. The other was not unlike an animal, with unkempt jet-black hair, and a bushy beard hiding most of his face. Neither man brandished a weapon, but that didn’t mean they were unarmed.

“Ho there,” the tall man called out to Brohm.

The tone was friendly, however his face told their true intentions. Upon reaching them, Brohm spoke to the tall man while the other watched Nathan suspiciously. Then much to Nathan’s surprise, Brohm laughed. It was a good-hearted chuckle, and tall man joined in as well.

“It’s fine,” Brohm called out. “I know these two idiots.”

Nathan dismounted and jogged the short distance toward the group.

“Nathan, meet Wellor and Rypan," Brohm said.

Wellor, the tall man with a thin moustache nodded his hello. Rypan, still mistrustful, continued to stare at him with fierce eyes, mirroring Nathan’s observation of the men.

“You guys know each other?” Nathan asked.

“Yuh, we’ve met a bunch of times on jobs,” Brohm said.

“Alas, no jobs to be had right now. So we’ve had to rely on an old standby,” Wellor said.

He oozed charm, and his cadence seemed rehearsed, like that of a swindler. Nathan couldn’t decide if his manner was fake or not.

“Obviously, you two may pass unmolested,” he continued.

“I appreciate that,” Nathan said sourly, already tired of hearing him speak.

“Okay guys, we’ve got a long road ahead of us,” Brohm said. “We’ll have to catch up another time, yuh?”

“Oh? Where are you headed?” Wellor asked.

Brohm glanced over at Nathan, unsure what to say.

“It’s best you don’t know,” Nathan suggested.

Wellor pulled a scroll from his belt and offered it. “Does it have anything to do with this?”

Nathan pulled it open to reveal a frightening detailed likeness of Brohm and his own face. A wanted poster.

“Take a look at the bottom,” Wellor said. “That’s quite a sum they’re offering.”

Nathan did his best to hide his reaction.

“May I ask what you did to be worth so much coin?” Wellor asked.

“No,” Nathan said curtly, handing the scroll back. “C’mon Brohm. Let’s go.”

The big man, white as a sheet, silently followed Nathan back to their horses.

“You know,” Wellor drawled. “It’s a good thing Brohm is a friend of ours. Otherwise we would’ve had you all tied up by now.”

It was a thinly veiled threat that Nathan ignored. He grabbed the reins and mounted up. Brohm followed suit.

“Many others have seen this poster. They’re all over town. I’d be careful if I were you.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Nathan said.

Smugness painted Wellor’s face as they charged past. Nathan glanced back to see them rushing off the road, likely running for their horses hidden in the brush.

“Brohm! How well to do trust those guys?”

“I reckon I trust them as far as I can throw them.”

“I think they’re planning on selling us out.”

“Yuh, no doubt,” Brohm said with finality.

© 2013 Mike Carss
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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