TST (51 page)

“Looks like you have your first convert in Borne’s Landing, Malek,” Borik teased the cleric.

“I’m afraid some are simply too lost to the darkness to be saved by Solarian’s light,” Malek replied.

“Yeah, you would definitely want to keep that in the dark,” the dwarf quipped.

 The cleric ignored Borik and asked, “So where do we go from here, Maude?”

“The bartender pointed me in the direction of a trading post where we can load up on provisions. We’ll ask around a bit about what to expect in the jungles and if anyone has any knowledge about the ruins we’re looking for before we charge blindly off on our expedition.”

Maude’s Marauders set out the next morning in search of the trading post the innkeeper had spoken of. People already packed the streets even this early in the morning. Street vendors hawked their wares at every corner, old men, women, and cripples held out their hands begging for coin or a scrap of food from everyone that passed by. Small children ran about without shoes and barely clothed, if at all, alternately begging and trying to cut purse strings. Hard-eyed desperate men watched the streets for weak or tempting targets to take what they would not or could not earn with their own labors.

The trading post was near the docks, but thanks in part to the unplanned maze of streets, it took them a good portion of the morning to find it. As there were no sidewalks in over ninety percent of the city, Maude and her small party stepped directly from the street into the ramshackle building. Although from the outside the building looked about to fall over with the next good wind, the interior showed it to be made of stout timbers, the door heavily banded and reinforced by iron.

Merchandise of all sorts were stacked seemingly at random among shelves that lined the walls from floor to ceiling. Shorter shelving units that allowed the proprietor to see everything in the store occupied much of the floor space. Other items filled open-topped shipping crates while even more was simply stacked into piles. Borik noticed a rope strung along the ceiling that ran from behind the tall counter where a grizzled, heavyset balding man stood with a crossbow cocked and within easy reach, to the front door.

As Maude and the others looked around the store for things they would need, Borik examined the spring mechanism attached to the door that the rope was connected to. The dwarf nodded appreciatively to himself at the clever design. With a simple tug on the rope, the door would swing violently closed, trapping any would-be thieves inside with the crossbow-wielding proprietor.

Maude and the others looked up as the man behind the counter addressed them in a coarse voice. “What d’ya folks be lookin for?”

Maude strode towards the counter behind which the storeowner stood. “We need rope, two light tents, and supplies for two weeks.”

The man looked Maude up and down then glanced at her three unlikely companions. “You goin’ out into the jungle?”

Maude’s first reaction was to tell the gruff merchant that it was none of his damned business but quickly thought better of it. None of them had ever been into the jungle and knew next to nothing about what supplies might be needed beyond or in place of what they were accustomed to.

“Yes we are and any advice on what we can use to make a more successful or comfortable trek would be most appreciated,” Maude replied in her most polite voice.

Borik and Malek were so unaccustomed to hearing such a pleasant tone come out of Maude that both looked around the store to see who else had entered and answered the question for her. When they saw that they were still the only customers here, they simply looked at each other and shrugged.

“Who be your guide?” the raspy voiced merchant asked.

“We don’t have one,” Maude asked, “how necessary do you think one is? We’re an experienced adventuring group not a bunch of tourists.”

“How bad ya want to get back with all your parts? If ya can afford a good guide you got near fifty-fifty chance o’ comin’ back alive.”

“And without one?”

“Not sure, don’t know what number is less than zero. Since ya be an
experienced
group I guess bout whatever a third o’ zero is,” the brusque storeowner replied seriously.

“I suppose you just happen to know a good guide right? One that might just happen to work for you?” Maude countered, growing more and more distrustful of the man.

He shook his head at Maude’s veiled accusation. “Nope, I happen ta know the
best
guide but he works for hisself and by hisself. He throws me a few coins for sendin’ good payin’ customers his way but it be up ta you. Use him or not makes no difference ta me, but ya got about twice a good o’ chance o’ comin back a-tall if he be yer guide as opposed to most any other.”

The proprietor hopped down off a box or stool that had made him appear taller than he was. Maude and the others were surprised to see that when he came around the counter he was not more than a head taller than Borik was but he was obviously human and not a dwarf.

“If ya got good coin I’ll show ya what ya might want to think o’ bout takin’,” he told Maude as he started pulling out various items and stacking them in a pile on a clear space of floor.

“Gold is no problem; give us the best of what you have. If it passes my inspection, I’ll pay you well. You can also give us the name of your guide. If his price is reasonable we’ll think about hiring him.”

The man shook his head once more. “Ya won’t find him les he knows yer lookin’ for him and wants ya ta find him. Tell me where ya be stayin’ and I’ll send him to ya.”

“We’re staying at the Murder Hole. We’ll be in the common room most of the night waiting for him, but we won’t be staying long so if he wants a job he better not take long to find us,” Maude warned the short man.

“He’ll see ya tonight don’t ya worry.”

“How will we recognize him or him us?” Maude asked.

The squat merchant looked from Maude to the exceedingly handsome cleric, the dwarf wiggling his finger in the eye socket of a skull on the shelf, and the brightly colored elf staring into the eyes of a stuffed seven-foot carnosaur trying to match its ferocious snarl.

“It ain’t gonna be a problem on either counts.”

Later that evening the group sat at a table near the wall where they could watch the front door of The Murder Hole. They sat sipping ale and watching customers enter and leave for the past three hours. Not one for patience, Borik soon found himself staring into his mug more than the door. Malek scanned the room, unsuccessfully, for attractive women, only managing to get a wink from the buxom serving wench and one huge sailor that had introduced himself as Buck.

Just as it looked as though their guide was going to be a no show, Maude hissed to get everyone’s attention. Standing just inside the doorway was an elf like none of them had ever seen, not that many people have seen many elves for a very long time. If Tarth was anything of an example of his race, this creature was the polar opposite. He was tall like Tarth but that is where any similarity ended.

He was more muscular than any elf they had heard of and his face was set in a steely no-nonsense grimace. He wore a vest made from the scaled hide of some massive reptile and boots made of a similar material with soft leather leggings pulled over the tops. His open sleeveless vest revealed a montage of elaborate tattoos covering nearly every square inch of bare flesh. Even his face was adorned with mystical-looking patterns. His long dark hair was pulled tightly back in a ponytail revealing his well-pronounced pointed ears for all to see. Maude quickly realized that this elf must be the guide they were waiting for.

Maude whispered to her companions. “Hey, this must be our guy.”

Tarth looked up from his game of cat’s cradle and his eyes went wide. With unusual focus, he hissed, “wildling, they’re savages!”

There was a sudden lull in the general din of the common room as the strange elf glanced about the room, although Maude was certain he had identified her and her band as the ones who were looking to employ him. The elf was taking in everything and everyone around him, looking for possible traps, danger, and exits. If he was looking for trouble he found it, or it found him.

“Hey, elf, what happened, you lose a fight with a bunch of scribes? Looks like they marked you up pretty good!” a large, burly sailor, obviously not a local, taunted.

The elf ignored the jibe and began walking towards Maude’s table but the drunken sailor was not going to be ignored. He stood up and put himself directly in the elf’s path.

“I’m talking to you, ya pointy-eared bastard!” the sailor snarled, poking the elf in the chest.

A hush fell over the entire crowd; the only noise was from the table of sailors new in to port as they cheered their friend on. The locals all picked up their drinks and scooted back, ready to dodge out of the way of the impending brawl.

The sailor stood more than a head taller and outweighed the elf by well over a hundred pounds. In the blink of an eye, the elf’s hand flew up and grabbed the wrist of the burly sailor. Even from where Maude sat, she could hear the sound of the sailor’s bones grinding together. The tattooed elf’s other hand grabbed a fistful of the rowdy sailor’s shirt and chest hair, lifted him several inches off the ground, carried him back to his seat with one hand, and dropped him heavily into it.

The manhandled sailor’s mouth gaped open and shut like a landed fish. Throughout the brief episode the elf never spoke, never threatened, and never even changed the expression on his face. As soon as he deposited his aggressor back into his seat, the elf turned back towards Maude and her party and stepped up to their table.

“You are looking for a guide,” The elf said as a statement not a question.

“Yes we are. If you are available we would like to hire you to take us into and back out of the jungle,” Maude answered.”

“I am Kar’Rok,” he told them then looked at Tarth. “Hello, cousin.”

Tarth gave a tiny nervous wave but stared at the tabletop, refusing to look Kar’Rok in his feral golden eyes.

The jungle elf took a chair from the table behind him and sat down. “I am available for the right price. How long do you plan to be out?”

“As short a time as possible,” Maude replied then pulled out the crude map that the king’s advisor had provided. “We need to go here; it’s an old temple of some kind.”

“Ah, treasure seekers. You wish to risk your lives to plunder the riches of forgotten ghosts.”

“Actually, we are after a particular artifact, not random looting,” Maude replied darkly, not liking the elf’s judgmental tone.

Kar’Rok shrugged his wide shoulders in dismissal. “It makes no difference to me, other than the amusement I get from watching people risk their lives and come closer to death than they have ever been for glittering trinkets.”

“We can handle ourselves. We have been close to death many times before.”

“Not this close,” the elf stated ominously. “Very well, I will take you if you can afford me. There are others who may take you for a better price but you will better your chances of survival hiring me. It all boils down to how much your lives are worth.”

Maude haggled the cost with the wildling and soon came to an agreement. Borik spit a mouthful of ale out on the table at the elf’s exorbitant fee, but a nod from Tarth indicated that it was worth it.

“Very well, when do you want to leave?” Kar’Rok asked.

“As soon as possible,” replied Maude.

“Meet me on the southern road at sunrise the day after tomorrow,” Kar’Rok told them.

Maude told him they would be there and he left them alone without further word.

“It looks like we have one more day here so take advantage of it while you can. Get whatever you think you may need and be ready to go morning after next,” Maude ordered.

“Great, another day in this cesspit,” Malek groaned.

“Look on the bright side, cleric, now you can convert that serving wench that has an eye for ya!” Borik laughed, elbowing Malek in the side.