Micky Carre
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Dragon Riders of Etrea—Chapter 11
🕑 Added 2024-07-11 12:02:32 +0000 UTCIt was the sound of angry shouting that tore Henrik from the depths of his slumber.
He snorted himself awake and was on his feet in an instant. Not even bothering with his boots, he rushed towards the door, beside which he had set his sword. But his sword wasn’t there, and it wasn’t just hiding in the darkness of the room. His sword belt was there, but the sword had been removed from the scabbard. Had he forgotten to lock the door last night? He grabbed his knife and pulled the door open.
The moment he stepped into the hallway he saw the problem. Rasud stood there, a flame burning above his open palm and anger on his face. Light from the magical fire made shadows dance along the walls and cast his face in a particularly villainous manner. In front of him stood a dozen drunken men that called for his head. One of them clutched Henrik’s sword in his grasp and held it high overhead.
“What is the meaning of this?” Henrik roared, loud enough that nearly everyone turned their heads towards him. He gripped the handle of his knife tightly and took a step towards the crowd.
“Him!” one of the men shouted as he pointed at Henrik. Half of the crowd turned to face him, although no one was particularly eager to get close to a man Henrik’s size.
“You brought that fucking monster here!” another man shouted.
“Orcs killed my daughter!
“Killed half of my flock two months ago!”
“For the last time, I’m only half orc!” Rasud growled, but no one cared to listen.
“Get out of here before we take your head!”
“He’s a witch-man, too! Confers with demons, I heard him!”
Several of the men facing Henrik turned back to Rasud and joined in the taunting. Henrik crossed the distance in two steps and grabbed the nearest man by the scruff of his neck, then slammed him face-first against the wall. The man crumpled to the floor, breath whistling through a thoroughly broken nose.
“Does anyone else want to threaten my friend?” Henrik asked, taking a step towards the next closest man, who just so happened to be the man that had taken his sword. “Looks like I forgot to lock my door when I went to sleep,” Henrik said quietly. “And you came into my room and stole from me.”
“I needed a sword to face down this orc, you big dumb son of a whore!” the man shouted. He raised the sword as if to swing it.
Henrik rushed it and grabbed the man’s wrist with a crushing grip, then slammed his forehead into the man’s face. He tore the sword from the man’s hand as he fell, breaking several fingers in the process.
Anger boiled in his gut. “Who’s next?” he shouted. He took a deep breath to try to calm his nerves. He didn’t need to lose his temper. Not here. These were just angry farmers with too much ale in their bellies.
Another door slammed open and Tobias stepped out, in his smallclothes but with sword and shield in hand. He entered the hallway behind Rasud.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded. “Rasud, you’ll burn the place down!”
“Good,” Rasud said. “All I did was go to the outhouse to take a piss. It was early in the morning so I was careless. Someone saw my face, and you can see what the result of that was.”
“Get that orc out of here!” a man shouted, although not with quite as much vitriol as before.
“He’s only half-orc, and he’s a good man!” Tobias said, shouldering past Rasud. Tobias towered over him, nearly a foot taller, and set his shield in front of his body as if he intended to slam it into the next man that opened his mouth. “We came here in peace and this is how you treat us?” He sounded nearly as angry as Henrik.
Henrik slipped his knife back in its sheath, then took a step closer to the nearest man. That man was focused on Rasud and Tobias, so he didn’t notice until it was too late. Henrik brought his hand down on the man’s shoulder, right at the base of his neck, and squeezed as hard as he could.
“Aahhh!” the man shouted, trying to peel away Henrik’s fingers. It was no use. There were few men alive that had a grip as strong as Henrik. Maybe that new king in Akranes, Owyn. Maybe. The man whimpered and fell to his knees.
“No, no, no!” Hamil shouted as he ran up the stairs to the second floor. A nightshirt covered him to his knees, and he held a bare candle in one hand and a brass-studded cudgel in the other. “All of you, out right now! I run a peaceful establishment!”
“They brought an orc in here!” one of the men shouted, although the fight had gone out of most of them.
“A what?” Hamil demanded. He turned to Henrik. “Put that sword down, right this instant!”
Henrik lowered his sword and turned to the fat man. “Our friend Rasud is half-orc,” he explained. “He is a peaceful man, and is here to help us, but was threatened and attacked by your patrons.” He took another deep breath. His anger rose just speaking those words aloud.
“How dare you,” Hamil said, glaring at the drunken men. “Out! All of you, right now, or I’ll let this giant chop you in half with his sword!”
“Take your friend with you,” Henrik said, pointing at the man with the broken nose, still wheezing on the floor.
One by one, the men staggered away and dragged their friends with them. Hamil waved his cudgel around and made several convincing threats, but Henrik didn’t think he was the type of man that could actually use it. To a drunk though, it didn’t matter.
“For the disturbance,” Henrik said, handing Hamil a silver coin. He looked down at the bloodstains on the wall and floor, then handed him a second coin. “And the mess.”
“I have nothing against you,” Hamil said, giving Rasud a hard look. “I can see now that you’re only half-orc, and you came in peace. But word will spread like wildfire. Speaking of which.” He gave Rasud a pointed look.
“Oh, yeah,” Rasud said. He chanted a few words and the flames above his hand went out.
“Just take your things and go,” Hamil said, sounding resigned to the whole situation. “I want no more violence in my inn. Those men had more ale than sense in them, which means there’s a chance they went home to gather their friends up and come back here. With the raids over the past year, people take orcs seriously. The sooner you’re gone, the safer you’ll be.”
“Can’t even get a full night’s sleep,” Rasud muttered, walking back into his room. He slammed the door behind him.
“I’ll meet you two at the stables in ten minutes,” Tobias said, loud enough that Rasud would be able to hear through the door.
Henrik thrust his sword into its scabbard and went back to his room. Glancing through the small window, he saw that it was still pitch black outside. Well, at least they would be sleeping outside for a while, so he wouldn’t have to worry about these sorts of things for some time. He grabbed his few possessions and went back into the hallway, the faint light from the sconces offering pitiful illumination.
A few minutes later he arrived at the stables. He shouted for the stable boy, who nearly fell out of the hayloft in surprise. The boy scrambled to him and Henrik passed him a coin.
“Get our horses ready immediately,” he ordered, trying not to be too firm with the boy. No sense in scaring him out of his mind in the middle of the night.
When the boy came back leading horses, Henrik pulled out another silver coin. At this rate, the boy was going to be one of the wealthiest people in the town. He handed the boy the coin as he accepted the reins to his horse.
“If anyone asks, we went that way,” Henrik said, pointing at the road that led towards Selfoss. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lord,” the boy said, sounding mildly terrified.
Henrik checked his horse and the saddle straps. Rasud showed up a moment later, still grumbling under his breath. At least his hood was pulled back up.
“The sooner we leave, the better,” he said, pulling a coin from his purse. He flicked it to the boy, who caught it in mid-hair. “You. Boy. If anyone asks about us, tell them we went in that direction,” he said as he pointed at the road that led back to Selfoss.
“Of course, my lord,” the boy said, bowing.
“I already paid him for that,” Henrik said.
Rasud shrugged. “Not like we can’t afford it. And he’s less likely to double cross us if we pay him well.” His voice sounded sour.
Tobias arrived a few minutes later, his sword belted around his waist but his mail armor in a bundle beneath his arm. He grumbled as he approached the other two men.
“Well, we’re off to a good start,” he said, accepting the reins from the stable boy. He pulled a coin from his purse and handed it to the boy. “Hey, if anyone asks, tell them we went back to Selfoss.”
“Yes, my lord,” the boy said. Henrik and Rasud laughed.
“Best to be safe,” Henrik said at the look on Tobias’s face.
Together, the three of them swung into their saddles. Both men and horses were tired, but they guided the animals onto the road. Henrik took a moment to orient himself, then started north. The other two men followed.
Henrik glanced over his shoulder and saw faint dots of light in the distance. “Torches,” he said, his voice grim. “Hamil was right, they’re in a panic over orcs here. We left just in time.”
“Now what?” Rasud asked, his voice grumpy. He stifled a yawn behind a fist.
“We ride!” Henrik said, spurring his horse forward.
