horses into a flat gallop across the clearing towards the sound of the hail. The man sat calmly astride his mount and waited for them to reach him. The leader dragged his horse to a standstill, rearing up on its hind legs while his companion galloped past to check the trail behind him.
Neither man spoke until the giant returned down the trail and took position behind the man. “He's alone”.
The leader nodded. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“I'm just a traveller. Been on these back trails for days without seeing a soul. Saw your campfire from the ridge up there.”
“And...”
“Felt like some company. Thought I could maybe share your fire, share some talk. I've a couple of rabbits I can add to your pot.”
“We got food.” This from the giant.
“So I can smell. But in my experience, a little more never comes amiss.”
“What are you doing on the back trails?” the leader asked.
“In my profession, I prefer to travel the quiet roads until I get where I'm going.”
“And where's that?”
“Truth to tell, I haven't rightly made my mind up on that. So I just travel until something turns up.”
“And your profession?”
“Little bit of this, little bit of that. Generally seems to end up with a little bit of fighting.”
The giant stirred behind him. “He's a common sell-sword.”
“A sell-sword, yes,” the man agreed amiably. “But I take exception to common.”
“You rate yourself then,” the leader asked.
“There's more than a few men who could testify to my skill.... If only they were still able to speak.”
“Let me kill him now,” the giant growled. “Then we'll see how good he is.”
“Wait,” the leader commanded. “He has asked for our hospitality. We should not refuse him. There will be time enough in the morning for a trial of arms... If you agree?”
“I will be delighted.”
“You will be dead,” the giant commented.
“Then I should obviously make best use of my remaining time on this earth. And the smell from your campfire is really becoming most enticing. Shall we?”
He urged his horse into a walk, forcing the leader to turn and trot after him.
“I didn't catch your name.”
“I didn't offer it. But it's Held.”
“Held. That's not a common name.”
“It's Gernian . Apparently it means something in Gernish.”
“You from Gernia then?”
“Nope. But my father travelled quite widely.”
“And your mother?”
“Followed him.”
“I'm Manfred Redblade but everybody calls me Manny. This is my camp. And the ox behind you is Torsten.”
They reached the circle of wagons and the crowd of men parted to let them through. At a sign from Manny, the swords disappeared back into scabbards and the bows were unstrung.
“Drop your gear over by the wagons and come to the fire.”
Held unsaddled his horse and rubbed him down with a couple of handfuls of grass before turning him loose with a slap on the rump.
“Ain't ya gonna 'obble 'im then?”
He turned to face the speaker, a fresh faced youth of no more than 16 or 17 summers. “No need. He'll still be here in the morning.”
“But wot if somebody steals 'im?”
“Then I'll kill the sentry who fell asleep.”
“Oh. I'm Jaks by the way. Manny sent me to fetch you to the fire.”
“Thought I'd get lost, did he?”
“Er no,” Jaks flustered. “I.... I don't think it was that.”
“Only kidding,” he smiled. “But the smell of that food is causing my stomach to make some serious complaining noises. Let's go eat.”
The slaves had dragged some logs into a rough circle around the fire and Jaks found room for them on the far side opposite Manny. As befitted the leader, Manny sat in a proper chair and spoke now, without getting up but in a voice loud enough to command attention.
“This is Held, not from Gernia despite the name. He is going to be our guest for tonight and tomorrow has offered to give Torsten a demonstration of his sword fighting skills.”
There was a chorus of
Neither man spoke until the giant returned down the trail and took position behind the man. “He's alone”.
The leader nodded. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“I'm just a traveller. Been on these back trails for days without seeing a soul. Saw your campfire from the ridge up there.”
“And...”
“Felt like some company. Thought I could maybe share your fire, share some talk. I've a couple of rabbits I can add to your pot.”
“We got food.” This from the giant.
“So I can smell. But in my experience, a little more never comes amiss.”
“What are you doing on the back trails?” the leader asked.
“In my profession, I prefer to travel the quiet roads until I get where I'm going.”
“And where's that?”
“Truth to tell, I haven't rightly made my mind up on that. So I just travel until something turns up.”
“And your profession?”
“Little bit of this, little bit of that. Generally seems to end up with a little bit of fighting.”
The giant stirred behind him. “He's a common sell-sword.”
“A sell-sword, yes,” the man agreed amiably. “But I take exception to common.”
“You rate yourself then,” the leader asked.
“There's more than a few men who could testify to my skill.... If only they were still able to speak.”
“Let me kill him now,” the giant growled. “Then we'll see how good he is.”
“Wait,” the leader commanded. “He has asked for our hospitality. We should not refuse him. There will be time enough in the morning for a trial of arms... If you agree?”
“I will be delighted.”
“You will be dead,” the giant commented.
“Then I should obviously make best use of my remaining time on this earth. And the smell from your campfire is really becoming most enticing. Shall we?”
He urged his horse into a walk, forcing the leader to turn and trot after him.
“I didn't catch your name.”
“I didn't offer it. But it's Held.”
“Held. That's not a common name.”
“It's Gernian . Apparently it means something in Gernish.”
“You from Gernia then?”
“Nope. But my father travelled quite widely.”
“And your mother?”
“Followed him.”
“I'm Manfred Redblade but everybody calls me Manny. This is my camp. And the ox behind you is Torsten.”
They reached the circle of wagons and the crowd of men parted to let them through. At a sign from Manny, the swords disappeared back into scabbards and the bows were unstrung.
“Drop your gear over by the wagons and come to the fire.”
Held unsaddled his horse and rubbed him down with a couple of handfuls of grass before turning him loose with a slap on the rump.
“Ain't ya gonna 'obble 'im then?”
He turned to face the speaker, a fresh faced youth of no more than 16 or 17 summers. “No need. He'll still be here in the morning.”
“But wot if somebody steals 'im?”
“Then I'll kill the sentry who fell asleep.”
“Oh. I'm Jaks by the way. Manny sent me to fetch you to the fire.”
“Thought I'd get lost, did he?”
“Er no,” Jaks flustered. “I.... I don't think it was that.”
“Only kidding,” he smiled. “But the smell of that food is causing my stomach to make some serious complaining noises. Let's go eat.”
The slaves had dragged some logs into a rough circle around the fire and Jaks found room for them on the far side opposite Manny. As befitted the leader, Manny sat in a proper chair and spoke now, without getting up but in a voice loud enough to command attention.
“This is Held, not from Gernia despite the name. He is going to be our guest for tonight and tomorrow has offered to give Torsten a demonstration of his sword fighting skills.”
There was a chorus of
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