Strength of Fate - 4. Chapter Four

A few days later, Brohm acquired a pig for their second meeting with Ramsey, and managed to work a deal with the trader to borrow a small cart to carry it. Grey skies warned of rain as they rode north out of town, but they’d wasted enough time already, and decided to take their chances. The fields, teeming with workers just days earlier, stood bare now.

“Do you like autumn?” Nathan asked.

Brohm gave him a questioning glance. “Never thought about it. Why?”

Nathan shrugged. “There’s something I like about it. The change of scenery. The colours.”

“Yuh, but then everything looks dead. The days are darker.”

Nathan breathed in the earthy air. “Can’t explain it, but I find that strangely comforting.”

“Reckon the cooler weather’s always nice. Winter, too. Means I’m not sweaty all the time.”

“Winter’s are too cold for my liking.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll keep you warm,” Brohm said with a wink.

The idea of them cozying up in bed while a winter storm blew brought a smile to Nathan’s face. “I look forward to that.”

A gust of wind whipped by, bringing a few water drops with it. By the time they arrived at Ramsey’s shack, rain fell in violent sheets from strong winds. Brohm dismounted from his horse, splashing boots into mud, and hurried his way to the entrance.

“Ramsey,” he called out, knocking on the door. “It’s us again. We wanna chat about we talked about before.”

As Nathan drew closer, he peeked into one of the dirty windows and caught a glimpse of oil light inside. “He’s in there,” he said furtively.

They waited a moment before Brohm knocked again. It wasn’t aggressive, but he meant business. “We’ve brought a gift for you. We’re sorry about before.”

After a moment, the door opened a crack, and Ramsey’s face appeared. “I told you. I don’t want visitors.”

“Please, sir. Hear us out,” Nathan said. “We’ve got a pig for you.”

Ramsey glanced at the animal in the cart, then stared back at them. His mouth twitched as he considered what to do.

“You two look sorrier than a pile of wet manure,” he said, opening the door wider and curtly ushered them inside.

They nodded their thanks and hurried inside to escape the cold rain. Their sodden cloaks dripped onto the floor, but Ramsey appeared unconcerned.

“Go on and hang your cloaks by the stove. Warm yourselves,” he said.

While they did so, Ramsey grabbed a pipe from a nearby table and lit it. Tobacco smoke hung in the air of the small room.

“So, you two really want that land, eh?” he asked, casting a wary eye upon them.

“Yes. Name your price,” Nathan said.

“I have no need for your coin.”

It wasn’t an answer Nathan was expecting, and he found himself lost for words. Brohm took the reins of the conversation.

“Reckon there’s gotta be something we can give you in trade, yuh?”

“Actually, before I even agree to anything, tell me why you want the place so badly.”

As Brohm explained their intentions, Ramsey’s circumspect manner peeled away, layer by layer. Underneath revealed a man impressed by what he heard.

“Those adventurer folk were a loyal sort. Whenever they came through town, they always came to my inn. They had a rough edge to ’em, but still respectful, y’know?”

He pulled a long drag from his pipe, lost in thought.

“Fine. You can have it.”

“What can we give in return?” Brohm asked.

Ramsey waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing. Just take it.”

Nathan shook his head. “There must be something—”

“No. If you’re with the guild, let it be my token of thanks for the many years of steady patronage.”

“But you’ll still take the pig, right?” Nathan asked.

“Oh, definitely. A fine gift, to be sure,” Ramsey said before standing. “Let me find the deed to the property, and you can be on your way.”

While he shuffled through a box of papers, Nathan and Brohm stared at each other incredulously at their luck. He returned after a moment with a tattered scroll and offered it to them. Nathan unfurled it, revealing what he assumed was a deed. The cursive script was nearly illegible. Rolling it up again, he carefully slid the parchment into an inside pocket. The last thing he wanted was for it to get wet in the storm.

“I hate to ask, but I need to know,” Nathan said. “Why the change of heart? You wanted nothing to do with us last time we met.”

Ramsey puffed on his pipe and shrugged. “I realized after you’d left I might’ve overreacted. Even though I didn’t appreciate this big fellow in my home without my permission.”

Brohm scratched the back of his head. “Yuh. Sorry about that.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing else we can do for you?” Nathan asked.

“You can keep asking, and I’ll keep saying no. Knowing that place will be working again gives me a kind of solace . . .”

He trailed off, eyes unfocused. Nathan and Brohm took that as their cue to leave and donned their soggy cloaks.

“We’ll move the pig to the pen out back,” Brohm said.

Ramsey broke free of his reverie and waved goodbye. “Much obliged.”

Brohm opened the door, only to have rain spray across his face. “Reckon we can’t get any wetter,” he said with a chuckle and stepped into the storm.

They approached the cart, finding the pig squealing its displeasure about the downpour. Brohm led the horse hauling the cart to the pen behind the shack.

“Well, that was easy,” he said.

“Yeah. A little too easy. I’m waiting for something to go wrong.”

Brohm gave him a perturbed look. “Don’t say that.”

Using a stick as a prod, he managed to get the animal out of the cart and into the pen. It was partially covered, and the pig took refuge from the rain.

Nathan mounted up, his soaked trousers riding up uncomfortably. “I’ve come to realize there’s such a thing as too wet.”

Brohm glanced at the sky but found no break in the clouds. “I hear that. Let’s go.”

After a change of clothes, Nathan and Brohm spent the remaining afternoon celebrating their good fortune at the Green Barrel. By the time dinner rush had arrived, they were deep into discussions on what to do next. Shaw had told them to return to Croydon once the property had been settled, but the idea of travelling all that way was an unattractive prospect. Instead, they decided to write to him with an update, explaining they would be travelling to Croydon to accept the senator’s commendation. Both tasks could be dealt with in one trip.

As the night wore on, more patrons arrived, and soon the pub was filled with raucous songs and laughter. The two were mellow from hours of ale and food, and passively enjoyed the excitement from their dark corner.

One man, a burly fellow sitting at the bar, stood out from the crowd. He wallowed in his drink, completely oblivious to the festivities surrounding him. At first, a vague recollection passed over Nathan before returning as a wallop in the gut. It was Tarn.

“Brohm, look over there. The guy at the bar. Isn’t that the guard from Helmsley Keep?”

The big man gazed over his raised tankard, his eyes attempting to focus. “I dunno,” he mumbled.

Nathan continued to watch inconspicuously, waiting for the man to turn his head to catch a better view of his face.

“I don’t remember any guards from there,” Brohm continued, slurring his words.

“He’s the one I got the key from, remember?”

Nathan and Brohm had only just met at that point. Both were waiting to be hanged for crimes they committed, locked in opposite dungeon cells. Tarn, a guard Nathan had befriended, came to visit him. Nathan took advantage of the situation and attacked him through the bars of his cell, managing to grab the keys.

Once Nathan was free, Brohm pleaded to open his cell. Not wanting to have someone on his coattails, Nathan nearly decided against doing so. In hindsight, he would’ve been killed had he not freed Brohm. The big man had saved him from death more than once, and after everything they’d been through, the mere thought of not having him by his side felt alien to Nathan.

“Are you sure that’s him?” Brohm asked.

Nathan finally caught a glimpse of the man as he turned to look at the crowd for a moment. Misery stained his features.

“Yeah, it’s definitely him. We should go.”

“Why?”

“He’ll recognize us.”

Brohm gave him a puzzled glance. “No, he won’t.”

It took a few seconds for Nathan to understand what he was talking about. Of course Tarn wouldn’t recognize them. They were strangers to their own eyes.

He rubbed his face with tired hands. “Right. I forgot.”

Brohm, smiling, hit Nathan’s shoulder with a fist before returning to his drink. Nathan sipped from his own tankard, continuing to watch Tarn from the corner of his eye, but the man’s woe soured his stomach. Either that or he’d had his fill of ale for the night.

“I’m heading home, okay?”

“Aww, no. Don’t leave,” Brohm said, pawing at him playfully.

“Sorry, big guy. I’m done in.”

Brohm motioned toward Tarn. “Is it because of him?”

Nathan shrugged his shoulders.

“C’mon, I’ll take you home,” Brohm said.

“No, you stay.”

“Nah. It’s no fun without you.”

They paid their tab and stumbled outside. Brohm was still steady on his feet, allowing Nathan to use him for support. But after a few paces of Nathan tripping over his own feet, Brohm had other ideas. Without a word, he picked Nathan up and slung him over his wide shoulder. Nathan’s head swam, and he uttered an uneven moan.

“Don’t you puke on me,” Brohm said.

“I’ll be okay . . . I think.”

Brohm lumbered down the street with a hand conveniently on Nathan’s backside to hold him. He gave it a subtle squeeze along with a throaty chuckle, and Nathan grunted his approval.

 

 

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The following morning, Nathan and Brohm returned to the abandoned inn outside of town. They found the prospect that they now owned the property difficult to believe. Nathan cast a sidelong glance to Brohm, who returned a worried expression mirroring his own concern. Returning this inn to its stately presence would be a lot of work. Due to yesterday’s storm, the once colourful treeline stood bare. In its place, skeletal limbs and branches reached for the sky. It did nothing to aid the dismal scene.

With a crowbar in hand, Brohm climbed the veranda and pulled boards free from the windows. Nathan did the same with his own crowbar, starting at the opposite end. After completing the first storey, they returned to the nailed front door and pulled it free. It swung open, hinges squealing in discontent.

Disturbed by the movement, dust motes rose into the air, forming soft shafts from sunlight streaming in. Layers of cobwebs and dirt coated every surface. The wooden floor squeaked with each step. At two storeys high, the common room took up the front half of the building. The space was fully furnished with tables and chairs, appearing to be in good condition despite the grime. Along the far wall was the bar. Beyond that, a swinging door held the kitchen and an office.

A staircase to their left led to door-lined hallways—what would have been rented rooms. They were furnished, however the bedding reeked of mould and would need to be replaced. The third floor was laid out differently. An open hall surrounded the landing, providing access to the remaining rooms. One door, however, was set apart from the others against the rear wall, beckoning them to reveal its secret. Beyond lay grandiose quarters, with a large four-poster bed acting as the centre of attention.

“Reckon this room’ll be ours, yuh?” Brohm said.

Despite boards still covering the windows, peeking between the cracks granted the breathtaking view of the land and towering mountains beyond. Nathan’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of calling this home, living with Brohm by his side.

“It’s perfect.”

Brohm nodded. “Just imagine how nice it’ll be once we clean it up.”

“All things considered, it’s in better condition than I thought. The outside needs work, though.”

“Yuh. Reckon the roof and outer walls need replacing. You know anything about that?”

Nathan shrugged. “Not enough to do it right. Probably be best to hire someone.”

They returned to Millsfield in search of a carpenter. After a few enquiries, they were pointed to a workshop and a man named Gareth.

“The Fox and Hen, you say? Aye, I could have a couple o’ lads to fix it up for you,” Gareth said.

“How soon could they get started?” Nathan asked. “We’d like to have it finished before the cold weather arrives.”

The carpenter thought for a moment. “I’d say within a few days.”

Discussion of fees followed. Nathan had no idea what the cost of labour and materials would be, but was surprised to find it within their budget. The mass of coins in their possession—currently hidden under the floorboards of their apartment—would be considered ill-gotten gain by some, and fair play by others. The witch, Morgana, had a price for the illusionary spell she cast on them. Deep below the ruins of Tornel Keep held an amulet she desired. The maze-like caverns also held another secret: a cache of forgotten gold coins. Without that capital, the possibility of them opening a guildhouse would’ve been zero.

Gareth said to return the next day, and the plans to repair the building would be solidified. The two shook his hand, then headed to the Green Barrel for lunch. While they ate, they fell into deep conversation about their future together. The goal they strove for was truly within reach now, and despite the hard work ahead, neither man was dissuaded. Brohm’s excitement grew as their discussion continued, and Nathan found it infectious. The past few months had opened a world of possibilities to them, and the elation was foreign to him.

A heartbeat later, that excitement tumbled to the floor. The tavern door opened, and Tarn entered. Dark clouds followed the man, attracted by his sullen demeanour. Even though Brohm’s back was to the door, Nathan’s expression told him exactly what was happening. He cast a sidelong glance to find Tarn approaching. At first, it seemed he was heading straight for them, only to sit at a nearby table instead. Nathan and Brohm watched in silence as a server came to take his order. Just ale, of course. She returned with his drink and—to Nathan’s surprise—sat down at Tarn’s table.

“Everything okay, hon?” she asked Tarn. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen a smile on your face. What’s got you down?”

Tarn peered at her over the rim of his tankard with surprise—touched that anyone would ask about his problems. He set his drink on the table, considering how to start.

“I used to be a guard at Helmsley Keep. It was a good job. Good pay. I liked my commander and the other men I worked with.”

“What happened?” she asked.

He took another pull before continuing. “I let them down. I was a fool, taken advantage of by someone I thought was a dignitary. Turns out he was a criminal. He escaped from the cells, and it was my fault.”

The server reached out to touch his arm. “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault—”

“It absolutely was. I wasn’t even supposed to be down there, but I wanted to know why they’d locked him up. He attacked me, knocked me out, locked me in his own cell, and escaped. To make matters worse, he let another prisoner go. The madman killed five of ours to make it out.”

She waited patiently as he drank again.

“They discharged me immediately. My reputation is ruined. I’ll never be able to work as a guard again.”

“Oh, hon. I’m sorry.”

“It gets worse. Those two thugs teamed up once they got out. Helmsley was furious, and ordered search parties from a local garrison. Any trooper who came into contact with those men was always found dead. I don’t understand how those two could’ve done all that. You might’ve seen the wanted posters around town with a ridiculous bounty. That’s how badly he wanted them.”

Tarn finished his ale. “I made one stupid mistake, and look what happened.”

“Everyone makes mistakes.”

“This mistake killed so many people. Most of them were husbands and fathers. I’ve ruined so many lives . . .”

Tears threatened to fall, but he roughly wiped them away.

“You make it sound like you killed them yourself. You can’t think that.”

“I can, and I do.”

She took his empty tankard. “I’ll get you another. My treat, okay?”

As she stood up, Tarn touched her arm. It took a moment for him to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“I just wanted to thank you for listening. It feels good to just get it out, y’know?”

She offered a warm smile. “I’ll be back in a moment, hon.”

Nathan drew a deep breath. None of Tarn’s story was news to him, but hearing it spoken aloud from someone on the other side disturbed him.

“We really are the bad guys,” he said grimly.

Brohm shrugged. “Sure, we did some bad stuff, but it was self-defence. Well, mostly.”

“And what about before we met? How many people did you hurt or kill? I lost count a long time ago.”

“Isn’t that why we’re doing this now with the guild? Changing our ways?”

Nathan reconsidered whether their future actions could truly redeem their past. He wanted to believe they could, but after hearing Tarn, he found it difficult. The server returned to Tarn with a full tankard, and the man thanked her. After drawing another deep breath, Nathan stood up and approached him. Brohm looked on, perplexed.

“Uh, hi,” Nathan said. “Mind if I sit down a moment? I have a proposition for you.”

Tarn peered up from his drink to size Nathan up. He gave a wary nod, and Nathan took a seat.

“I apologize for eavesdropping, but my friend and I couldn’t help but hear your story.”

Nathan caught a glimpse of Brohm. The big man, wide-eyed, discreetly shook his head. Nathan ignored his warning.

“You look able-bodied, and we’re looking to hire someone to help us fix up The Fox and Hen.”

Tarn put down his drink. “I’m not familiar with it.”

“It was an old tavern and inn to the west, just outside town. We’re working to convert it to an Adventurer’s Guildhouse.”

Tarn appeared intrigued, nodding for him to continue.

“It sounded like you needed the work,” Nathan said. “We’d be glad to take you on. It’s simple work, really. Just helping us clean, and repair anything that needs it.”

Tarn chuckled. “I’d say I’m better at repair work than cleaning, but if you’ll have me, I’ll take it,” he said, extending his hand.

Nathan shook it. “Great. Come by the place in three days. We’ll be working on it by then. As I said, it’s just outside town, west of here. A three-storey rundown building. You can’t miss it.”

“I appreciate this. My name’s Tarn. What’s yours?”

Nathan faltered a moment. “Oh, I’m Wh-Whitter. We’ll see you then.”

Brohm, a shade too pale, rose from his seat and dropped some coins on the table.

“We should get going,” he said as he passed by.

Nathan joined him, and the big man wrapped an arm around his shoulder, guiding him out the door. As soon as they passed the threshold, his grip tightened, and he led Nathan into an alleyway.

“Where are we going?” Nathan asked.

Brohm smashed him against a wall and held him there. Nathan tried to gasp, but the wallop had knocked the wind from his lungs. As he regained focus, he found Brohm’s face filling his vision, eyes brimming with rage. He’d seen that look before, but only aimed at their enemies. Having it directed at him now was a terrifying experience.

“What in the hells are you doing?” Brohm roared.

Nathan could only blink in response.

“Of all the people you could hire, it had to be him? What if he finds out the truth about us?”

Nathan, recoiling from Brohm’s gaze, managed to find his voice. “How could he?”

“You really want to risk everything? Why did you do that?”

“It . . . it was a gut reaction.”

Brohm slammed him again. “That was a mistake. You’re gonna fix it by telling him he’s not part of the team.”

“No. I can’t do that.”

“You can, and you will!”

“Look at what I did to him. I ruined his life,” Nathan cried. “We’re trying to redeem ourselves, right? Trying to be good. Trying to do the right thing. If I can’t help him . . .”

Brohm let out a heavy sigh and took a step back, but his face was still red. Nathan withered under his stare.

“Just let me help him,” he pleaded. “Let him work for us, just to get the place fixed up. It’ll be a month at most.”

Brohm pointed a thick finger in Nathan’s face. “If this goes bad, I’ll be forced to fix it. So just remember whatever I do will be your fault.”

“What does that mean?”

Brohm eyed him with a furrowed brow. “Don’t be an idiot. You know exactly what it means.”

Before Nathan could respond, Brohm stormed away, leaving him slumped against the wall. Waves of conflicting emotions screamed through his mind. Despite the short time he’d known Tarn, he’d felt a connection. Had it been possible, they could’ve become fast friends. But the fact he’d taken advantage of Tarn’s good nature to escape the cell filled him with a guilt that shook him to the core.

Then, there was Brohm. Every day, his love for the man grew. It exceeded anything Nathan thought possible. Just to be with him filled him with such joy, and to be one with him was beyond words. Despair filled his belly knowing Brohm was angry with him now. He knew the anger would subside, but the pain was unbearable.

Why couldn’t he simply do as Brohm asked? Was his need to clear his conscious more important than their safety? Was it more important than Brohm’s life? Nathan fell to his knees in the dirty alleyway and wept. Either he didn’t know the answer, or was too afraid to accept the truth.

 

 

◆ ◆ ◆

 

 

Nathan spent long hours wandering the streets, aimless and lost in thought. He dreaded the prospect of returning to the apartment. As much as he wanted to do as Brohm asked, he couldn’t. The idea of turning Tarn away after offering him a hint of hope felt impossible.

The evening chill forced him home just after sunset. He stood outside the door of their apartment for a moment to steel his resolve, then reluctantly opened the door. Warmth, fuelled by a dying fire, escaped outside. Flickering light threw long, stark shadows across the room. Brohm sat on a large upholstered chair, snoring softly. Padding his way to the hearth, Nathan added a log and stoked it. The snoring stopped, and he glanced over to find Brohm watching him. Firelight reflected in his eyes, a reminder of their argument.

“Did you talk to him?” Brohm’s voice was calmer, yet still held an edge that cut through Nathan.

“No. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

The big man let out a laboured sigh. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“I have to help him.”

“Why? You say keep a low profile, and then you do this. It makes no sense.”

“I don’t expect you to understand.”

Brohm rose from his chair and sat at Nathan’s side by the fire. “Then help me understand.”

“I ruined the man’s life.”

“And you reckon a month’s pay is gonna make a difference?”

“It’s more than the coin. Maybe it gives him some hope. Maybe he joins the guild and finds new purpose in life.”

Brohm gave him a hard stare. “I wasn’t kidding about my warning.”

“I know, but please reconsider—”

“Fine. Have it your way. But if anyone threatens us? I end them. I don’t give a shit if it’s not the right thing to do.”

Nathan’s chest tightened at his words.

“Because you and me? That’s what’s important,” Brohm said.

Tears stung Nathan’s eyes, and he closed the distance between them for a hug. The big man stiffened at first, but soon returned the embrace.

“I love you, Brohm. I’m sorry.”

“I know, but why you gotta be so stupid?”

Nathan laughed, causing a tear to stream down his cheek. Brohm thumbed it away.

“Thanks for caring about this stupid fool,” Nathan said, his voice trembling.

“Somebody’s gotta. Reckon it’s me.”

They sat together in silence, watching the fire until it died down to embers.