Deeds of Their Past - 18. Chapter Eighteen

If Wellor and Rypan were tailing them, they were doing an excellent job. Nathan never caught sight of them once.

Well before dark, they decided to stop for the day, and ventured deep into the forest to search for a safe place to camp. Brohm, sullen after the discovery of the wanted poster, tugged at the reins impatiently as they led their mounts south off the road.

Nearly a hundred metres into the brush, they discovered a weather-worn mossy rock. It was gigantic, nearly the size of a one-storey house, and seemed out of place in its surroundings. Approaching it, they’d found the far side sheared off, creating a sudden drop from the top. It allowed them a little shelter, and hid them perfectly from the direction of the road. Nathan smiled in spite of their situation.

The thick forest quickly grew dark while Nathan tended to the horses. Insect chirps and whines replaced songbirds. Meanwhile, Brohm rummaged through one of the bags, and then sighed heavily, finally breaking his hours of silence.

“I know you don’t want to go into Morringstone—hells, even I don’t want to now—but we might have no choice.”

Finishing his work, Nathan joined him. “Why?”

“We’ve got two or three days left of supplies,” he said, showing the mostly empty saddlebag.

“Isn’t there another bag left?”

“I thought so too, but I’ve check twice. This is the last one.”

Nathan cursed under his breath.

“Yuh, my thoughts exactly,” Brohm mumbled, bringing the dwindling food supply to their camp.

Nathan started an adequate fire to provide warmth, yet small enough not to illuminate the canopy above to give away their location.

“Okay,” he said, thinking out loud. “Maybe once we get to Morringstone, we’ll wait until dark, meet up with my friend, ask him to get some supplies, and then we head out before sunrise.”

“What’s this guy’s name anyway? You never told me,” Brohm said.

“Haven’t I? It’s Nyle.”

“I reckon he’s gonna know what’s going on. You mentioned you didn’t trust him. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

He was correct. Nathan didn’t trust Nyle. And it was likely he’d use this request as a favour in the future. A big one.

“I don’t see much choice.”

Brohm rubbed his bald head in frustration. “You know, part of me was hoping things would just be normal when we got out of the pass. But this is worse than I imagined. One-hundred-thousand silver each? I’ve never seen a bounty that high before. Not even close.”

Nathan could do nothing to hide the intense guilt he carried. None of this was Brohm’s doing, yet for simply associating with Nathan, he’d likely be put through an agonizing death. Even though he’d been given a choice to leave, neither of them could’ve guessed that Helmsley would’ve been so desperate to put such a hefty bounty on their heads. Half the country would be looking for them. He glanced over at the big man, wondering if he was finally regretting his choice. If he was, he hid it well.

“I know I keep saying this,” Nathan said. “But I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”

Brohm’s demeanour changed, his face suddenly gentle and sincere. It wasn’t at all what Nathan expected.

“Stop saying you’re sorry. It was my choice,” Brohm said, wrapping an arm around him.

“I’m glad you’re with me,” Nathan said, sliding an arm across his belly and hugged him close.

They sat in silence, content in the simple pleasure of being held, watching the small flames lick at the darkness. Nathan hadn’t realized he’d nodded off until he found himself tucked into a blanket.

“You sleep, l’il buddy. I’ll take first watch,” Brohm whispered, holding a warm hand on his cheek.

“Thanks,” Nathan muttered.

The big man bent over and gently kissed him on the forehead before stepping off into the dark.

* * *

Nathan woke some time in the night. The fire had gone out, now only a few embers glowing a dull orange. The constant din of night insects buzzed in his ears.

“Brohm?”

“Yuh?” His voice came from above.

Confused, Nathan rose and glanced up, managing to make out the shadow of Brohm’s frame sitting on the top of the rock. Attempting to climb up to his position proved a difficult task.

“You can get up over there,” Brohm said, pointing off to the right.

Pulling up his hood in the cool air, Nathan stumbled over to a gentle incline, and joined Brohm’s side. “I’ll take over. You get some rest.”

Brohm yawned and stretched. “Yuh, I was gonna wake you up soon.”

“Anything of note?”

“Nah. I was expecting those two to come, but nothing yet.”

“The night’s not over. We’ll see what happens.”

Brohm nodded in the dark, rising to leave, and Nathan shuffled over to sit on the warmth he’d left behind. Once the big man had settled himself under the blankets, Nathan kept his ears perked. He cursed the insects and their persistent drone, but from his perch, he felt he’d be able to hear movement coming from any direction. As least he hoped he could.

Time dragged by. Into the morning hours, the insects’ intensity lessened, and very gradually, the dull blue of early morning light began to permeate through the gloom of the forest. Soft snoring below had Nathan spying over the edge to Brohm, yet his smile was interrupted by a loud snap of a dead branch coming from the west.

Instinctively flattening his body onto the rock, he scouted the area, looking for any sign of movement. All was still. He allowed himself one moment to peer over to the horses, noting where he’d left his bow, and scolded himself for not having it within reach.

Looking back, nothing had changed. Had it been an animal, he would’ve seen or heard something by now. There was no question in his mind Wellor and Rypan were attempting to claim their prize.

He carefully shimmied down the far side of the rock and crept over to his slumbering friend. Covering Brohm’s mouth with one hand, he gently shook his shoulder. The big man grunted and struggled for a moment before realizing Nathan’s intent.

“I think they’re here,” Nathan whispered in his ear. “Get your sword. I’ll cover you from above.”

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Brohm nodded and pulled the sword from his scabbard lying nearby. Nathan padded over to the horses, arming himself with bow and quiver, and by the time he’d clambered up the rock, Brohm had already stepped out where Nathan had indicated. After ten metres of crouching advancement, Brohm stood up.

“Alright you guys,” he bellowed impatiently into the dark forest. “We know you’re out there so come on out, yuh?”

Nathan couldn’t help but smile at Brohm’s lack of tact. It was obvious he wasn’t in the mood for games. Certainly not this early in the morning.

A moment passed, followed by another.

Nothing.

Brohm, giving up, turned to look up at Nathan crouched at the top of the rock.

“Nathan! Behind you!”

He dropped his bow and grasped for his dagger, but Rypan kicked him down from behind before he could get a grip on the handle. Without time to brace himself, his head smashed against the rock, and Rypan pounced atop him, his heavy weight holding him down.

Despite the deafening high-pitched ring in his ears, Nathan could make out Brohm’s panicked voice screaming his name. His senses slowly coming to, he found a knee on his neck holding him down, and his hands bound tight behind his back. Blood dripped from his head wound at a steady rate, pooling onto the stone and trailing over the edge.

With a rough yank, he pulled him up to unsteady feet, allowing him to see Brohm and Wellor arguing at the base of the rock. Brohm still brandished his sword, threatening the lanky man who held his hands out, knowing he was outmatched.

“Let him go!” Brohm hollered.

Nathan’s assailant pulled a wicked knife and held it firmly to his neck. “Ey!” he called out to Brohm. “Drop it, or your friend here gets it.”

“Nice try. You need him alive,” Brohm said.

“Are you willing to bet his life on that?” Wellor asked, his voice calm, smooth as silk.

Brohm glanced up toward Nathan in doubt.

“Slay me, and Rypan won’t hesitate to cut his throat,” Wellor continued with confidence.

Rypan twitched with anticipation, breathing hard on the back of Nathan’s neck. “Don’t test me. I’ll do it.”

After a moment of hesitation, Brohm dropped his blade. The steel clattered on the hard ground as if to punctuate his defeat. Nathan’s heart sunk. Part of him hoped Brohm would’ve simply killed Wellor. Even if it meant his own life, it would’ve allowed his friend to escape.

“Come on, let’s go,” Rypan said, walking him down the side of the rock with the blade still at his throat.

Meanwhile Wellor, eyeing Brohm the entire time, carefully retrieved the dropped sword and threw it farther out into the forest. The big man did nothing, his shoulders hunched forward in failure. Once they were off the rock, Rypan kicked Nathan down. From his low vantage point, he caught Brohm’s eyes shifting, taking everything in. Gaze locked, Brohm gave him a knowing look, and a subtle hint of a devious smile.

Rypan sheathed his blade and pulled another length of rope. “Alright Brohm, down on the ground and hands behind your back. No funny business.”

Wellor stood nearby with a dagger in hand, watching the proceedings. Brohm crouched to kneel, but instead used that crouch to power a tackle, taking Rypan to the ground. Wasting no time, he yanked the blade from Rypan’s belt and plunged it into his back.

Wellor momentarily stood stunned, but quickly gained his wits, dashing toward Nathan’s prone body, knowing a direct attack at Brohm would mean certain death. Brohm rose up deftly and charged the tall man, colliding and landing beside Nathan. The dagger, knocked from Wellor’s grip, fell harmlessly to the ground.

Brohm, red-faced and teeth bared, sat on Wellor’s chest, hands around his throat. “Really? You’d sell out one of your own? I know you’re an asshole, but this is low, even for you.”

“It was too much coin to pass up,” he croaked, trying to get a breath. “Come on, old pal. You understand, right?”

His attempt to turn on the charm, given his circumstances, was ridiculous, and only angered Brohm more. Standing up, he dragged Wellor by his collar farther out into the forest. All the while, the tall man pleaded his apologies, but Brohm was hearing none of it.

With a grunt, he hefted the man roughly into a large tree, smashing his face and dazing him. Searching through the undergrowth, he retrieved his tossed sword, and Wellor turned just in time to find the blade’s point against his throat.

“Come on, man,” he begged, the charm long gone now. “It doesn’t have to end like this. There’s gotta be something I can do for you.”

“You lost your chance of making it alive when you threatened my buddy there. Any last words?”

Wellor offered nervous laughter. “That wasn’t me, it’s was Rypan. You killed him for that. Everything’s square now.”

Brohm pushed the blade harder against his throat, the point cutting in. “You take me for an idiot? We both know he was your lackey. So, out with it. What do you want your last words to be?”

The tall man broke down, sobbing. “What am I supposed to say?”

Brohm’s face was stone, unflinching. “Nothing, I reckon.”

That said, he rammed the sword’s point home, puncturing Wellor’s neck. He crumpled to the ground making a horrible sound, grasping his neck while blood spilled between his fingers. Brohm watched a moment while he writhed, then wiped the blood from his blade onto Wellor’s clothes before sheathing it.

Face still stone and jaw set, Brohm lumbered toward Nathan’s prone body. He knelt behind him and pulled his dagger, using it to cut his bonds. As soon as he was free, Brohm turned him to inspect his head injury. The blood flow had stopped, but the wound throbbed. Worry crept onto Brohm’s face.

“I’ll be fine,” Nathan said.

“You’re sure?”

Nathan nodded. “Thanks, big guy.”

The dead men had hefty coinpurses tied to their belts, adding to Nathan and Brohm’s growing collection.

“Y’know, we’re not doing too bad here,” Brohm said, weighing the coins in his hands.

“Given we’ll need to stop at Morringstone, we can use some of it to grease a few wheels if need be,” Nathan said, wrapping a makeshift bandage around his head from cloth strips.

By the time they were back on the road east, the day had already begun to warm up. Regardless, Nathan kept his hood up to hide his face from nosy passersby.

Two hours later, a small clearing in the woods announced a roadside inn, acting as a waypoint for travellers heading to and from Morringstone. A few travellers stood outside, readying their horses and chatting, but none seemed interested or even acknowledged them as they passed.

It wasn’t until late afternoon when Brohm, who was leading, signalled to slow down. Standing from the stirrups of his saddle, he peeked over a small crest on the road.

“Patrol,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

They jumped from their mounts, and with reins in hand, quickly led them into the forest. The patrol moved relatively slowly, allowing enough time to hide fifty metres into the underbrush. It consisted of ten mounted troops, and while each man attentively scanned the area, none spotted them or the horses. As they fell out of sight, Brohm offered Nathan a look of relief, but they remained there a few minutes before making their way back to the road, continuing east.

Nightfall came, yet there was still no sign of the village.

“What you reckon we should do?” Brohm asked.

“I’m not sure. Morringstone must be close.”

They decided to push ahead, welcomed by fireflies in the deepening gloam. After nearly four hours of slow progression, Nathan caught a glimpse of torchlights and dimly lit windows ahead. They slowed to a trot and surveyed the entrance. Despite being a relatively large village, there was no surrounding walls or guards posted, and given the late hour, the roads were deserted. Regardless, Nathan led Brohm through the narrow streets and alleyways, away from the torchlight that might give them away, until they came to a featureless squat building.

Tying their mounts to a hitching post, they stepped up to what appeared to be the front door. Nathan knocked, yet no answer came. Lamplight emanated from a curtained window near the door, and they could hear men inside speaking. Brohm nudged Nathan aside impatiently and banged on the door with a fist. A raised voice came from inside, but they were unable to make out the words. The big man offered his crooked smile and a wink.

“Brohm, sometimes I think you like making trouble.”

A small hatch opened in the door to reveal an angry face, eyeing them up and down. “Who are you, and what in hells do you want at this late hour?”

“Tell Nyle that Nathan is here to see him.”

The man’s eyes narrowed in contempt, and then the hatch slammed shut. Both men briefly exchanged glances, listening carefully at the muffled voices within. More footsteps, followed by a heavy bolt sliding out from the lock. The door opened slightly, lamplight flooding out into the road, and an older man with greying hair peeked his head out. Upon recognizing Nathan, the man’s eyes grew wide, and he momentarily stood speechless.

“N-Nathan? Gods, what are you doing here?” he babbled. “Quickly! Come in, come in.”

He beckoned the two to enter, and quickly closed the door and latched the bolt lock. The outside appearance of the house would mislead anyone to assume the inside was bare and dirty, but it was quite the opposite. Lavish rugs and vibrant wall hangings filled the large room, along with various weapons and artifacts on display. It was an attempt to be cozy, but instead felt overbearing. The angry man eyed them from a chair at a table. It seemed they’d interrupted a game of cards.

“Give me a few moments,” Nyle said to his disgruntled friend.

Taking one of the lamps, he led Nathan and Brohm through a doorway on the far side of the room, shepherding them into a study. It was just as stuffy, lined with too many books and other curiosities.

Closing the door behind him, he turned to Nathan, astonished. “What in the hells are you doing here?”

“We’ve got a problem,” Nathan said sheepishly.

“No kidding. You and your friend’s face are plastered all over the village. The word is any settlement of note has the same poster.”

Brohm shook his head nervously, distressed by the news.

“I know,” Nathan said. “We’ve been waylaid once already. We’re working on a solution.”

“It’s simple. The solution is to get off this continent as quickly as you can.”

“We both know that’s a risky option. All the ports will be heavily guarded. We’ve got something else in mind. But we need supplies, specifically food that will travel well.”

“Where are you going?”

“I think it’s best you not know. But if our plan works, this’ll likely be the last time we meet.”

Nyle eyed them with suspicion. “That sounds . . . ominous.”

“How about it, Nyle. This needs to happen tonight so we can be out before dawn. Can you help us out?”

He tapped a finger to his lips as he thought, marvelling at the two of them. “I think I can help you.”

He offered for them to sit in plush velvet chairs, and opened the door to leave. “It’s best you stay here, out of sight. I’ll be back shortly.”

That said, he rushed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Brohm looked over to Nathan. “You reckon we can trust him?”

Nathan stood and walked over to the window, peeking through the thick curtains. After a few moments Nyle appeared, dashing down the road and into one of the narrow alleyways.

“I hope so.”