Broken Rule | Chapter 7

This post is chapter seven of my not-previously-published epic fantasy novel Broken Rule. I'm serializing the first few chapters here on Steemit to see if there's an audience for serializing the complete story. If you like it and would like to see more, please upvote and/or comment to let me know.

The story so far:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapters 3 & 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6

---

Lorne had never traveled by sea before, but now he was experienced enough to know that he hated it with a passion. Storms had come up on them mere hours after he boarded the ship in Old Harbor, and dogged them all the way up the coast to Trebbenham, a small port town in the southwest of Tarkannan. He would be able to travel over land from here, but while he could trust the earth not to buck and sway under his feet, he still needed to deal with the rain. A driving downpour was soaking through Lorne's cloak and making him feel miserable, and he was reminded of how little he had eaten recently, or rather how little of it had stayed down. He made his way to one of the dockside taverns to get out of the rain, but as he walked through the door he saw that the place was packed with others who had a similar idea, many of them sailors from the Torzani merchant ships Lorne had noticed at the docks. Torzani had reputations as hotheaded troublemakers, and it was well known that Torzano and Old Harbor were bitter rivals. Hopefully there wouldn't be any trouble.

“Oy, stranger, over here!” shouted a big man, waving him over to an empty seat at his table. Lorne had hoped to sit alone, but figured that rejecting the invitation would call attention to himself, and the best way to avoid detection during a mission was to be unmemorable. The man who had called him over was both tall and wide, with a generous layer of fat over top of large, thick muscles. He had a huge, unruly black beard and hair to match. Lorne suspected that he was the sort of man that would start a brawl to entertain himself when he'd run out of coin for ale. “I'm Petro, and this here is Trapper,” the man said, slapping the back of the short, slender, clean-shaven man next to him. Trapper was older than Petro, and quieter, but his nose had clearly been broken several times, and Lorne suspected he enjoyed brawls as well, even if he didn't start them.

“I'm Lorne,” he said as he sat down and signaled the serving girl to bring him a drink.

Trapper squinted at him and asked “you're not from around here, are you lad?”

“No, I hail from Old Harbor.”

“Old Harbor? Never been there myself,” Petro said. “Hey, Trapper, isn't Old Harbor where big Billy Burke lost his eye?”

“Yes,” Trapper answered, “Billy felt he deserved a free horse, but the Black Circle didn't agree.”

“Ha! Old Billy was always trying to nick anything that wasn't nailed down.”

“Theft is taken very seriously in Old Harbor,” Lorne said.

The serving girl brought Lorne a tankard of ale, and Petro leered at her as she approached. Lorne pulled out his coin bag and put it on the table in front of him with a jangly thump. He opened it up and withdrew a copper coin for the ale. The girl took it, pointedly ignoring Petro, and bustled off to attend to someone else. Lorne took a sip, noticing that Petro's gaze was now fixed on his coin bag, more intently than it had been on the girl.

Trapper nodded toward the bag. “A man with that much coin should be more careful showing it in a place like this. They don't take theft as seriously here as in Old Harbor.”

Lorne was surprised. “I knew there were supposed to be highwaymen on the roads, but even here in town?”

“For that much coin,” Petro said, “an honest man might be tempted to become a highwayman on the spot.” He tore his gaze away from the bag with an effort and downed the rest of his ale.

“Perhaps you're in need of some bodyguards,” Trapper said, “to take care of highwaymen, and the other unsavory sorts you might meet.”

“Aye,” Petro added. “We're experienced. We're war heroes! Though that doesn't go as far as it ought to with some people,” he said with a scowl directed toward the tavern keeper behind the bar.

“War heroes?” asked Lorne.

“Oh, aye!” Petro said, a big smile on his face. “We fought in the War in the South. We were at White Ford! We marched two days through the muck and then went through those barbarian bastards like butchers among the hogs. Everyone was saying how those sons of bitches would loot and burn the whole of the kingdom, but we stopped them.” He slammed the table with his fist as a sort of ending punctuation for his tale.

“I'm afraid I'd prefer not to hire your services,” Lorne told him. They seemed genuine enough in their desire to earn the money rather than steal it from him, but he still hoped he'd be able to disentangle himself without making a lasting impression.

“Suit yourself, lad, suit yourself,” Petro answered, as he waved for another ale. “So what brings you so far from home?”

Lorne had carefully prepared his cover story while he'd been on the ship and recited it. “I am a messenger for my employer, Proctor Sandborn of the Old Harbor shipping guild, and I'm bringing a business proposition to Duke Gavril at Thornwood Castle.” He grimaced slightly after he was done, fearing it sounded too practiced.

“Ha!” Petro shouted, punching Trapper lightly on the arm. “Providence! You'll not have to hire us after all, for we were heading to Thornwood ourselves! We can split the cost of a cart!”

“Uh, you're going to Thornwood?” Lorne asked.

“Yes,” Trapper answered. “The rumor is that the duke is putting together a new army, and we plan to join up. Duke Gavril always pays his men well.”

“Aye, that he does,” Petro said. “Crafty as a fox and always comes through on payday, that's Gavril. It was true even back when he was just a baron, and maybe it's even more true now that he's a duke.” From his expression, Lorne guessed that Petro enjoyed dispensing wisdom like that.

“I see,” Lorne said.

---

Lorne thought long and hard about ways he could separate himself from the two men, but they were very persistent, and they would be sure to remember him if he turned down their offer. They were going to the same place, after all, and if the roads in Tarkannan were as dangerous as it was rumored it couldn't hurt to have two experienced soldiers with him. They bought some supplies for the journey, a mule, and a cart, having no desire to tromp through the mud created by all the rain. Lorne felt that the stash they'd put together was very light on preserved meats, but Petro assured him that Trapper had things covered.

Trapper turned out to be a brilliant woodsman. Every night he would set out his traps and snares, and they'd have something to eat in the morning. Lorne didn't know the names of most of the things he ate, but he had never been rich and learned long ago not to ask too many questions as long as the meat was fresh. Once Trapper disappeared for two days, but caught up with them with a small deer over his shoulders. Lorne found venison to be very much to his liking.

Petro was a boisterous man and appeared to like the sound of his own voice. He had a never-ending supply of war stories, and didn't seem to care whether the stories were funny, grisly, or long and boring. Lorne didn't say much, which Petro seemed to interpret as keen interest and a desire to hear more. Petro also made his large axe conspicuous at all times. Lorne had to wonder whether the rumors of highwaymen were exaggerated, or whether they all had sharper eyes than Lorne and decided to wait for easier pickings after they saw Petro and his axe.

Lorne had never been comfortable around people. He never had any stories of his own that he wanted to tell, and he certainly couldn't tell them about his actions in the Black Circle, even if he wanted to. Secrecy was the primary rule of the Black Circle and Lorne couldn't even dream of what the punishment would be for breaking it. Still, once he got used to their quirks, Lorne didn't find travelling with Petro and Trapper as unpleasant as he expected. He had never been outside a city before and had imagined it would involve trackless wastes and being assaulted by wild beasts at every turn. Instead, they rolled slowly down the road in their mule cart with the promise of Trapper's hearty breakfasts each morning and Petro's stories to pass the time.