The cart bounced from a rut on the path, a moan escaping the prone form in the rear of the cart lying under a tarp.
“Are you awake?” Wes said.
Harm had regained consciousness, the jolt from the cart bringing him to. His body ached, but the pain from his injuries was gone. He lifted the tarp off his face.
“Where are we?” Harm asked, propping himself up on his elbow and looking over the cart’s side. It was still dark, but the first signs of daylight were beginning to brighten the distant horizon.
“The edge of the plains,” Wes said. “There is no way you could stay at the church. I own a small property not far from here. Where you can stay for now.”
“What happened?” Harm asked, his last memory vaguely remembering seeing an angelic face.
“I think the more important question is, what happened to you?” Wes said, glancing back.
“Dasir and Sinclair are what happened.”
“What?” Wes said in surprise.
Harm explained to Wes what had occurred to him. He didn’t go into graphic detail about his actions but did confirm he had killed seven beings, not mentioning that he had also killed Satil’s son.
“I didn’t know that Dasir and Satil were related,” Wes said after the initial shock of Harm’s recollection had passed.
“Yeah, the fucker has been scheming with him ever since he arrived in the area. That warehouse was full of so much cargo; way more than you would expect in the town. Even more than Hillnot would ever need as well.”
“I wonder what he was doing?”
“No idea, but whatever it was, he ain’t doing it no more.”
Wes paused before replying. “When Satil finds out, he’ll come looking for you.”
“I hope he does. I'll kill that fucker as well,” Harm said; there was no emotion in his reply; it was just a fact.
“You can’t ever think you could take Satil on. He has the whole town guard on his side and probably many others.”
“I don’t care how many come looking for me. Any that do will die.”
“He is likely to raise a bounty.”
“And?”
“And? You can’t possibly keep yourself safe with a bounty on your head.”
“I ain’t running away. That bastard needs to die. He is as tied into what happened to my family as that fucker Dasir was and that bastard child of his.”
“I’m guessing his son was one of the seven?” Wes said.
Harm didn’t respond.
Wes let out a slow breath. “Fuck Harm, he was a boy.”
“No, he was a man. He had passed his coming of age.”
“But still... Fuck. Satil will be more than looking for you.”
“I don’t care how many come after me.”
Silence fell between them. Wes steered the cart down a small track that led to a small wood. Once within its canopy, they didn’t travel much further before the cart came to a stop.
“We are here,” Wes said, climbing down, as Harm climbed from the back.
“What do you use this place for?” Harm asked, looking at the shack, which looked well kept.
“I sometimes come here to work on my skills,” Wes said, as a crow cawed and flew down from the canopy above. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said as it landed on his shoulder.
Harm blinked. “I didn’t know you had a familiar?”
Wes chuckled. “I am a druid.”
“Yeah, I know, but I have never seen you with one before.”
Wes stroked the crow’s head. “I have three. Jessie, here is my oldest. William will still be out hunting at this time of day, and well, you already have met Ossie.”
“Who’s Ossie? And William, for that matter?”
“Ossie is the farlick. She lives with me in town. William is a badger.”
Although Harm had met several druids in the past and knew they had familiars, he knew little about their class.
Wes walked to the shack door and unlocked it.
“It’s not much, but there is a bed and a small stove. Firewood is around the side, and there is a stream thirty feet to the rear where you can get water. I didn’t bring any food, but I will get some either today or tomorrow. In the meantime, there are some dry rations in the cupboard,” Wes said as he lit a lantern.
The room was homely, with a wide single bed with thick blankets, a small table and chair, and basic utensils.
“It’s nice,” Harm said appreciatively.
“It’s my man shack, as Tan calls it,” Wes chuckled.
“You know I can never repay you for all you have done for me.”
Wes turned and looked at Harm.
“I have only done what I would have done for any other in your position.”
“But still,” Harm went to speak, and Wes stopped him.
“But nothing. Anyway, I need to get back. Tan will be worried about where I am. I will come back this afternoon or tomorrow. I will see what happens today in town.”
Harm watched Wes climb back into his cart. “Oh, and one last thing. William can be a little grumpy.” Wes dug into his pocket and removed a small blue ball. “Throw this for him a few times, and you will be his best friend.” He chuckled as he flicked the reins, and the cart moved off.
Harm watched Wes go. The man had done so much for him, and he knew it was driven by guilt. It wasn’t Wes’s fault, and Harm’s anger brewed as he considered the effect Satil and his family had had on all their lives.
Sometime later, Harm was heating a pot of water on the stove to make tea when a squeaking sound followed a long, low-pitched growl. The caw of a blackbird closely followed this. The shack had no windows, and Harm had closed the door. He walked to it cautiously, pulling it open. Jessie, the blackbird, sat perched on a stand near the entrance, looking down at the largest badger Harm had ever seen.
The badger turned and looked at Harm, letting out another low growl. Jessie again cawed in response, and the badger looked back at the crow and squeaked. The ball Wes had given him was on the table, and he walked over to pick it up. As he moved back to the door, he saw the snout of the badger’s nose appear, twitching as it sniffed the air of the shack.
“Hello,” Harm said, moving back to the entrance, holding the ball out.
William’s eyes saw the ball and widened.
“You must be William. Wes said that you like playing with this?” He said, holding it in his fingers. The badger had stepped back and was padding its front paws excitedly. Harm threw the ball across the small clearing. It ricocheted off a tree and bounced into the underbrush. William gave chase.
Harm had witnessed people playing with dogs but never imagined playing fetch with a badger. A couple of minutes passed before William returned with the small ball in his jaws. He walked straight to Harm and dropped it at his feet, backing away again.
“Again? Okay?” Harm said, picking the ball up and, this time, throwing it further into the trees. William again gave chase, and Harm could hear it snuffling in the underbrush, looking for its toy. The water on the stove started to boil, and Harm made tea and returned to the outside, sitting on a small bench, drinking as he waited for William to return. It didn’t take him much longer, and Harm spent his first couple of hours at the shack playing fetch with a badger.
William eventually curled up in the shack, the ball still between his teeth. The distraction had been good for Harm, keeping him occupied, but once he was left alone with his thoughts, the voices spoke.
Satil must die!
Harm ignored the voice. He knew that Satil had to die for his involvement in his family’s death.
Tonight, do it tonight!
No, I need rest. He thought. Sister Carol had healed Harm’s injuries, but they had still left him sore. He moved from the bench and began stretching. His limbs complained, and there was still a dull ache in his face, shoulder and thigh, although his health was full once more and the wounds were fully healed.
The clothes Harm wore were still bloodied and sweat-stained. He removed the leather jacket he had taken, dropping it to the ground, the hole from the bolt clear and the dark patch of brown from his blood. Stripping down to his undergarments and replacing his boots, he carried the clothing to the stream, where he had collected water and scrubbed them as best as he could, the traces of blood being forced from the materials as he rubbed them against a flat stone.
They weren’t perfect, but they were better than they had been by far. After hanging the clothes on some low-hanging branches in the sun that was now high in the sky, casting its warmth into the clearing, he sat back on the bench. If he was going to attack Satil, he needed a plan and, ideally, armour. Triggering his Bash skill had been instinctual, and he didn’t want to make the same mistake again. Even a chain or ring mail shirt would protect him, but where could he get one? As he thought about what he needed, he stood and brought Florence to his hand. Her blade was tainted with the blood of her most recent victims, and inside the shack, he found some rags cleaning her. Caressing the steel gently, he checked her edge. Florence was by no means the best sword; he had owned her for years and knew that he should really have traded her years ago to upgrade her for something better, but he never had. He loved his sword almost as much as he loved his family. She had saved him so many times in his past.
He stood again, holding her out in a fighting stance before starting sword drills. Harm hadn’t trained almost as much as he should have since he had changed to farming, and all his fighting skills had lessened. It was a natural process that if skills weren’t used over time; they faded and weakened. Harm hadn’t looked at his skill tree in years. He had never needed to with his new life. He opened his character sheet and looked. They really had dropped from their heights when he was an adventurer. He had a lot to do.
Train! Get stronger and return to your former glory! The voice said, calling to him.
Harm couldn’t disagree, and with those words, he started performing weapon drills. Florence sang as he did, the drills and moves coming naturally to him. Thrust, guard, slash, over and over, he repeated the actions. His breathing was laboured, and sweat creased his brow, but he continued. His actions had disturbed William from his place of rest, and he had dropped the ball before disappearing into the trees. Obviously, he was discontented at being woken.
Harm’s muscles screamed in protest, his breathing now in gasps and his teeth clenched as he stopped and stood looking at Florence in his hand.
“You enjoyed that, didn’t you, girl?” he said before moving her back to his inventory. The dull ache from his recently healed injuries now throbbed, and he grimaced, stretching off again before returning to the stream and washing himself down. The salty taste of sweat in his mouth was much more pleasant than the copper of blood. He was still in his undergarments and checked his clothes; only the jacket was still damp. The sun was now at its zenith, and Harm realised he must have been training for some time. He pulled the clothes back on, leaving the jacket to continue drying, and returned to the shack.
His stomach growled, and he moved to the cupboard, found the dry rations, collected a portion and placed them on the table. The stove had gone out, so he lit it to boil the water again as he ate. He sat and chewed through the food. Dry rations were never flavoursome, but they were an adventurer’s friend and provided you with the sustenance you needed. Once he had eaten and made another tea, he again sat outside leaning back on the bench, against the shack's wall. His body ached, and he felt tired, but also good. It was the best he had felt in a long time.
Eventually, Harm moved inside and lay down on the bed to rest. Hopefully, Wes would be back today, he thought as he drifted to sleep.
