Chapter 03

Horsemen interrupted our journey.

We had met a polite couple who raised sheep for a living. They had been pleased to find we’d taken up the quest and made us feel right at home. Or rather—right at barn.

Bron and I had slept upon hay bales with homemade cushions of wool filled cotton. The next morning, they’d given us a few boiled eggs with a pair of sausage links, and we’d set off.

We walked beside the mule that pulled a wagon heaped with tied down sacks of wool. It was substantially colder today and I mentioned to Bron that the season might have officially changed.

“Yeap. Sounds about right,” he said, delicately prying bits of shell off his egg. For all the time he spent peeling the egg away, he stuffed the whole thing into his mouth. Like a happy dog, his egg simply disappeared.

I was less careful with shelling my egg, and I enjoyed it in a few bites. Bron had used his dagger to slice up the sausage, and we spent much of our early morning simply eating, waking up, and warming up. We had a bucket of water and one of apples for our mule friend. He was thrilled to eat with us.

The road wound away from Klayvale and we were soon leaving rural farms and navigating through a long stretched plateau. Tall grass swayed and the last of autumn’s insects buzzed about. Great trees offered leafless shade and hid horsemen in their shades. For as we passed by a pair of massive trees, two horsemen veered suddenly onto the trail behind us. They came out of the shadows with purpose. Their unspoken intentions made my spine tingle.

“Bron, we’ve got company,” I said.

We regarded the two horsemen who slowly guided their horses at a steady gait behind us.

“Tosin, in front of us,” Bron said, having returned his attention to the road still laid before us.

Veering onto the road from where tall grass was split, and from the deep shadows of trees, were another pair of horsemen. We were surrounded without much of a chance to process what was going on. Those behind us cantered up to the back of the wagon. The two before us formed a blockade that brought us and our mule to a stop. With a close enough look now, I understood.

These were the highwaymen.

Without conference, Bron and I both equipped our weapons.

Only one of the highwaymen had a beard. HIs nostril was pierced with a gold ring. He spoke first.

“We’ll take what you got from here. Everything you got.”

Behind us, one of the highwaymen was missing a tooth. The only tooth that could tame S’s and Sh’s now let them whistle with abandon.

“Do ash he saysh boysh. Empty your pocketsh and drop your weaponsh. Wouldn’t want shou to get hurt now.”

They alternated who spoke and Bron and I had to whip our heads around to follow the speakers line by line. Their tactic was disorienting and I could feel our duo fight a panic.

The highwayman with a beard chortled and said, “run along now. Your work is done.”

The other said, “Off you go. What’sh a matter? Have problemsh hearing?”

I flowed my mana into a ring, large enough that I could step through it. In the next moment, I had my flagstaff equipped. Bron’s mana ring grew wide beside me and he flipped his dagger in one hand with flair.

“Wind Tunnel!” he said, and a howling wind rose from over our heads to cascade around the elementalist. Leaves and debris were caught up in the wind, and gave it form.

“Ooooo, shcary,” the toothless highwayman said.

Our enemies brandished short swords and their horses reared and whinied. The beast's great nostrils flared and plumed columns of hot breath. Their front legs kicked in the air. The highwaymen laughed and glee filled their eyes.

“Fist of Wind!” I said. I lifted my flagstaff up. The ribbon and flag trailed after its movement and waved in the small pause before I slammed it down to the earth. 5 points of my mana whipped out from my mana bar and struck with the shape of a snake, the bottom of my flagstaff. A blue glow was pinched beneath the flagstaff rune and the ground in a burst of light. A shockwave traveled up the flagstaff and the gold Life-steal veins glowed with a moving gold sheen.

A tumble of wind came together like a ball of yarn. Shadow, light, and wind mixed and folded together until a fist thrice the size of my head was formed in mid-air. I leaned my flagstaff toward the highwayman with the beard and the Fist of Wind hurled toward him.

A great whoosh sounded on impact. His sword was knocked from his hand. He was blown off his horse. His horse was blown off its feet.

I stepped forward and stabbed my flagstaff toward the second highwayman. He parried the leaf shaped spear head and we tangled in a battle of steel.

Bron dropped his dagger in his Wind Tunnel. The dagger floated in the turbulence. He brought his hands up, and up came the Wind Tunnel. The dagger followed and with deft movements of his hands, he controlled the Wind Tunnel in defense against the highwaymen flanking us.

The torrent of leaves and debris startled the horses and neither approached him. Instead they taunted him and goaded him on. Bron guided the Wind Tunnel and dagger to swoop around the toothless man’s head.

“You mished fool,” he said and tried to drive his horse forward.

The Wind Tunnel curved behind him, throwing leaves and debris everywhere. The dagger swooped with the wind, and both curved to return to the highwayman.

The back of his head was bashed with the force of the Wind Tunnel. His short hair splayed forward. Then Bron’s dagger tip burst through the center of his forehead and he collapsed off his horse.

The horse was nearly pulled to the ground from the uneven weight and turned to follow the tumbling man. The beast bucked and neighed, panicking and sending a hoof into the arm of the second highwayman.

Bron recentered himself and cast another spell. He said, “Compact Bat,” and another chunk of his mana bar depleted clockwise.

He held his hands out in a double handed grip. Wind, dirt, leaves, and debris sucked up into the form of a bat with the handle fittingly snuggly in his grasp. The bat was massive. It trembled violently from the trapped tornado that held its form. The bat was maybe twice the length of my flagstaff and seemed to be not even a quarter of the weight.

I faced off with my opponent and kept him at bay. His horse skittered about and snorted with vehemence. For some time we danced until I noticed the bearded highwayman return to the skirmish. He came at me swinging wildly, then struck downward and I was forced to parry.

The other leapt from his horse and the two now advanced against me. From their shifting eyes, I could tell their strategy was to pin me against my companion, so I turned away, expecting them to follow me.

Instead they ignored me and charged towards Bron whose back was to them. I’d made a huge mistake and left my companion vulnerable to attack.

“Fist of Wind!” I said and slammed the flagstaff down. Another yarn ball made of wind and shadow careened after the advancing highwaymen. “Bron, duck!”

After a quick glance he dropped to a small crouch. Fist of Wind knocked both highwaymen over the elementalist and they tumbled into their partner, then rolled over the body of their dead companion.

Life-Steal activated and the Fist of Wind rune appeared above Bron’s head. I checked his heath bar at the bottom left of my mana ring. I didn’t notice that he’d taken damage, but after Life-steal, the damage was nearly restored.

I ran to his side and we charged the highwaymen struggling to their feet. Bron and I fought abreast with fury.

Bron was leaping forth, his bat made of wind in hand and swinging it down with all his might. He was smashing in the head of one highwayman with vengeance. The elementalist's muscles were bulging with effort. The bat of contained wind was slamming again and again upon the next man.

I was running fast, entering the fray and plunging my flagstaff spearhead into the belly of the bearded man. He was screaming in agony, dropping his sword and following the dropping arc of my flagstaff as I was flingin him to the ground. He was crumbling in a ball while he was bleeding out from his punctured stomach.

I yanked back the length of my flagstaff. The articles trailed in streaks of colors as I swept it up and slammed it down for a third time.

“Fist of Wind,” I said and cast the spell towards the last highwayman who turned to flee. The tumbling fist of violent wind knocked him forward onto his face. His legs scorpioned over his back and he skidded on his face. Bron sprinted to the man and bashed him to a pulp with his now dwindling Compact Bat.

Our battle was successful. I hoped no other traveler would be harassed traveling these roads. If we ran into no other ambush, this journey would be clear of ruffians.

To accomplish that, we dragged the bodies into the tall grasses of the plateau. We looted their weapons, and left the bodies to be disposed of by beasts and reptiles and nature.

Our mule had wandered on without us and Bron had been the first to catch the frightened animal. Before continuing on, we calmed him down, fed him some nice glossy apples, and had him drink plenty.

It wasn’t until dusk that the mule stopped shaking and our efforts had made him comfortable again. Though tired, we journeyed onward on foot beside the mule to keep him company.

Bron and I drifted in and out of conversation over the night, and stopped once to let our mule friend rest. The fellow was happy it seemed, and began to nudge us affectionately from time to time. Soon we were out of apples.

The morning sun lit our destination ahead of us as we finished crossing the plateau and climbed a small hill. The slate roof of a long building held a grey sheen. With the sun came warmth and we were eager to warm our cold bones.

The mule, the wagon, and the wool were delivered in exchange for a signature on our quest contract. We were offered a simple breakfast, and with a full belly, we waddled back through the plateau and down the road to Klayvale. We arrived on an overcast morning. A cold morning and I knew I would have to prepare for the coming winter.

A tall frizzle-haired woman helped us at the recruiter’s post. In a matter of seconds, she located the quest, inspected our signed scroll, and handed over 50 silver each.

“Congratulations elementalist Bron, and healer Tosin,” she said with a jack-o-lantern wide smile. “You have served the Klayvale trading post well! Bron, your reputation has increased to 16, and Tosin, your reputation has entered our records at 1.”

“Reputation?” I said.

“Of course. With reputation comes access to better quests that require an established trust between the trading post and the adventurer. Building your reputation will allow you to take on an increasing number of more difficult quests, as well as potential party members. You can also begin to charge more for your services, and well—there’s a lot more to it. If you don’t mind, I’ve got some adventurers to help. Good luck Tosin! Good luck Bron!”

Bron and I celebrated over a massive garden salad and sweet-root tea. We marveled at some of the more experienced adventures that came in. We eavesdropped on stories and rumors.

Since we were each renting a room upstairs, we retired to our respective quarters. Bron would be gone before I woke up, since I planned on sleeping in. We bid our farewells, and parted ways. At least for the meantime.