Death Or Fortune Read Free Page A

was
still holding me down.  The old woman admonished me for being impatient,
that much I remember threw the haze.
         I had
three meals of broth and bread in me before I felt fit to move.  All the
while, she kept telling me how close I came to leaving the world.   "You
were a ghost and I brought you back." Later her husband waved off her
bragging but they agreed that I should have died.  For close to a week I
laid in that bed, under her care before I woke up.  Once I was able to
bathe myself I looked over the pink scar across my stomach.  It looked
ages old and there was no pain from it at all. The old couple’s words kept
coming back to me.  I could have died, I should have died and no matter
how hard I scrubbed myself I could not wash that feeling away.  I knew I
wasn't ready; I should have never left home.  I was no more a man that day
than the day I left.  No more a warrior than I was the first day I lifted
up a sword.
         I would
like to tell you that after a good night’s sleep and a hearty meal I shook off
this feeling and continued my travels.  If I did that, I would be lying to
you and to myself.  The next morning I took the coin pouch from the bottom
of my bags.  Every coin was there, every single one and I gave them all to
the old couple whose door I darkened with my broken body.  They tried to
protest but I insisted.  You see, I wanted them to pay me. For over a year
I worked for the old couple, John and Marta.  I wasn't ready and I stayed
there until I felt I was.  I helped with the Inn, cleaned the stables or
any other number of things they needed done that they could not do for their
selves.  At night I would take my sword into the stables and practice my
forms.  I would practice until I couldn’t stand to hold the blade any
longer and then I would push on a bit more.
         For over a
year I washed tables and shoveled up muck.  For over a year I punished
myself for my first failure, my first defeat.  Yes, I was still alive but
I was not ready to continue on.  I knew if I continued on down the road
the moment I was able, I would not be here to write this tale. Fear of death
kept me in place more than anything.  When I at last set out my mind and
body was whole.  I thanked John and Marta for I owed them my life.  I
have since returned to them and paid them for all that I owed.  They have
since closed the inn and retired to a little home in the capital city of
Arcadia, one that I own.  It was an easy move for them.  As you see,
for over a year I was only three days away from the heart of Arcadia.
 Three days away from the place I now call home.

5.  Fate
     
         My first
days in Arcadia are still hard for me to remember.  Things happened so
fast and before I could wash the road dust out of my hair it seemed I was back
on it again.  I came to town with a plan.  Offer my sword to the highest
bidder and make a name for myself.  I quickly found out that I wasn't the
only one looking to do just that.  Mercenary companies were picking up men
left and right.  There was talk of war in the north countries and others
were going to work for different lords to protect land and home.  While I
had an offer or two, I didn’t come all that way just to march off again, not
for what they were going to pay me.  Then at the end of my first day in
town, I was approached by a strange pair of men.  It immediately made me
think of something I had seen at home; a man in black robes and a man in white
robes.
         I had just
settled down to the first hot meal I had since leaving John and Marta
behind.  The pair sat down at my table and looked at me.  Had I not
been in such a good mood, things may have gone differently.  Hans of North
Hembers, cleric of Solarth was the first to speak to me.  ‘ Please
pardon us but we were hoping to talk to you if you do not mind.’   The
black robed man had a face of stone, no expression at all other than disinterest. 
He reminded