“But aren’t there Byrdlon patrols?” asked Chyfe. He still remembered what the couple had said about Duke Knor’s soldiers, how they never seemed to be where the Raiders were.
The captain glanced at him. “It’s a large area son,” he said. “It would be impossible for us to be everywhere at once.”
Chyfe’s face turned grim. That wasn’t what he had wanted to hear.
Turning his attention back to Riyan, the captain said, “Just be careful. We wouldn’t want to find your bodies rotting on the side of the road.”
“Don’t worry,” Bart said. “I’m sure we can hold our own if it were to come to that, which I’m sure it won’t.”
The captain sat there a moment in thought. Then he said, “Good luck to you then. I hope your dealings go well for you.” Turning about, he signaled for his men to follow as he started riding off toward the east.
“Cheerful fellow,” commented Chad.
“Dead bodies indeed,” snorted Seth. “What does he think we are? Helpless?”
“Most traders are,” Soth replied. “Of course, we are not your run of the mill traders either.”
Seth laughed. “You got that right.”
They resumed their trek south. For the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon, they were the only ones on the road. Keeping to a leisurely pace, they didn’t come to Marl Crest until the sun was nearing the horizon. Before the buildings of Marl Crest came into view, farmsteads began dotting the landscape. The occasional local could be seen out in the fields doing what they could to prepare their fields for the coming of spring.
The actual village of Marl Crest wasn’t all that big. A chandler’s shop, tavern, inn, and half a dozen auxiliary buildings were it. The locals were of Byrdlon stock. None had the darker skin of tribesmen.
“Kind of small don’t you think?” asked Riyan as he took in the village.
Bart nodded. Then he pointed off to their right. “That could be the reason,” he said.
A graveyard sat ringed by a wooden rail fence. From the markers in the ground, there were several score buried there. Quite a few of the markers looked relatively new.
“Think Raiders hit this place every once in a while?” asked Riyan.
“It’s possible,” answered Bart.
“Then why stay?” asked Chad.
“It’s their home,” replied Bart. “Most people would rather stay in a bad situation than face the unknown. And who’s to say if they moved their lot would be any better?”
“At least here they have the opportunity to gain coins from travelers like us,” Soth said.
Riyan cast another glance toward the graveyard just before they rode into Marl Crest and wondered about that. The first building they came to was the inn which had been kept up nicely despite the charred sections that spoke of a fire sometime in its past. “No sense pushing on further tonight,” he said.
“No,” agreed Bart. “Who knows when we’ll see another inn before reaching Hylith?” Dismounting, he and Riyan entered the inn to see about rooms. Inside, they found an elderly woman speaking with a much younger one. Actually, yelling would be a more accurate term.
“…is this boy?” the elderly lady yelled.
“He cares for me!” shouted the girl. “Doesn’t that matter?”
“No, it doesn’t” replied the elderly lady. A stern look got on her face. “If you don’t tell me who this boy is, I’ll…”
“Ahem.” Riyan cleared his throat to announce their presence. The lady and the girl both turned in their direction.
When the elder of the two saw they had visitors, she said to the younger, “Get off to your room now.”
Sobbing, the younger raced for the door leading into the back and quickly disappeared.
Sighing a tired sigh, the elderly woman crossed over to where Bart and Riyan waited. There was very little energy in her step, almost as if she was about to collapse.
“Problems?” asked Riyan. Riyan could see that the poor old lady was tired, both physically and emotionally
“Nothing that a good swift kick in the rump wouldn’t fix,” she replied with a glance through which the girl had gone. “Can I help you sirs?”. “We are in need of rooms,” he said.
“And stalls for our horses,” added Bart.
The old lady nodded. “Welcome to The Crest,” she said. “It’s three coppers a room plus another for each horse.”
Riyan was surprised it was so cheap. “We’ll take seven rooms and an equal number of stalls,” he said. Digging out the coins he handed them over to her.
“Very well,” she said as the coins disappeared into a pocket. “Dinner will be served shortly after sundown,” she explained.
“That will be fine,” replied Riyan. “Thank you.”
The old lady again nodded before turning about. Her shoulders almost seemed to sag as she crossed the room toward the door through which the younger girl had passed.
Riyan and Bart headed back outside. “Feel sorry for her,” commented Riyan.
“The old lady or the younger?” Bart asked.
“The older of course,” clarified Riyan. “She seemed so tired and sad.”
“Wait until you have kids,” Bart said and gave him a wink.
“I suppose,” replied Riyan. But if that’s the way of it, he hoped that day would be long in coming.
Outside, they rejoined the others and took their horses around back to the stable. While they were getting their horses settled in, quiet sobbing could be heard coming from the back.
Riyan glanced at Bart who shook his head fervently and silently mouthed, ‘no’. But despite Bart’s input, Riyan set his saddle on the shelf in the back of the stall then went to see about the girl. The others had heard her sobbing as well, but he was the only one who felt the need to see about it.
He went to the doorway leading into the room at the back of the stable and paused a moment as another round of sobbing commenced. Glancing through the doorway, he saw the girl lying face down on the cot with her forehead lying on her crossed arms. Her back was vibrating from the force of the sobs coming from her.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
At the sound of his voice, she immediately sat up and turned red rimmed eyes toward him. “What?” she asked.
“Are you alright?” he repeated in a caring manner.
“Yes,” she replied. But the tears that continued welling in her eyes belied that statement.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked.
She shook her head. Getting up from the cot, she hurried over to the rear door and was gone.
Riyan turned about and found Bart was standing directly behind him.
“Leave it alone,” Bart told him. “It’s none of our concern.”
“Perhaps,” Riyan agreed.
“Come on,” Bart said as he laid a hand on Riyan’s shoulder, “we still have time to get settled in before dinner.”
Riyan nodded. The tears of the girl had struck a chord. For some reason, she reminded him in many ways of Freya. Realizing Bart was right, he went with him and the others back to the inn where they relaxed in their rooms until dinnertime.
Dinner as it turned out was a basic stew of meat and assorted vegetables that had seen better days. Very few people beside themselves were in attendance for the evening meal. The elderly lady whom they had initially spoken with was minding the bar and still looked as fatigued as she had earlier. The girl who had been sobbing in the stable moved among the tables and saw to the needs of the guests. She supplied them with ale, and when it was ready, their dinner. Both of them looked distracted and unhappy. Riyan’s heart went out to them, but after a talking to from Bart just before they came down, kept his nose out of their problems.
Not long after their dinner had been brought to their table, a couple entered the inn and sat at a table near the front. When the elderly lady came from the back and saw them, her eyes perked up. Moving across to their table, she greeted them and sat down.
Just then, the girl who had to be either the old lady’s daughter or granddaughter, as the family resemblance
