Chapter 9 - Part 2

Lyle waited high up in the branches of a pine tree, watching the trails that ran in from the west towards Merylsward. The seventeen year-old human was some four miles west of the first picket, which was currently unmanned, and six miles west of Crahks’ farm, a nice, fertile piece of land that didn’t even see itself as part of Merylsward proper. Crahks was the most recent landholder in a long line of shifters that had worked the land since they had fled the Inquisition from Thrane.

Lyle squinted, trying to look for the first sign of the rider. The mayor had sent him here to deliver a message for the druidess that had come to Merylsward last week. It was she that told him to expect the famous Delegado. The Tharashk bounty hunter was so good in the wilderness that many in the Reaches who had heard of the half-orc swore that both of his family trees had roots to the north of the Shadow Marches, here in the most verdant place on Khorvaire.

The young man (and he was a man in the Reaches, even if other countries picked such things by an arbitrary age rather than ability) stroked the longsword sheathed at his hip. The sword had been his father’s, and his father had taught him how to use it. His father had been killed by an Aundarian wizard two years ago, and so little was left to bury that only his sword had been brought back.

Lyle hated the Aundairians. Some swore at the Brelish, the monsters of Droaam, the walking dead of Karrnath, the war machines of Cyre, or whatever other wretch appeared to them to be the worst of the world. As far as Lyle was concerned, the pompous, over-fancy, spell-using Aundairians were behind the entire war, and all of its ills. Lyle was one of the few people who regularly went to hear the Ashbound preachers come and talk about arcane deviltry, so great was the young man’s hatred for the Aundairians.

This was a bit of a source of friction for many, as plenty of folk in Merylsward did not like the Ashbound, especially the House Vadalis folk who employed a large portion of the town. Others couldn’t give the Ashbound any good eyes, either. The druidess whose message he was carrying was a Gatekeeper, for instance, and they were rivals or something. The long of the short of it was the mayor had told Lyle to shush up around her about all that stuff, or anyone else. Of course the mayor was a shifter who was considered by many to be too dense to have a proper job, but his approval was necessary for Lyle to be accepted into the Wardens of the Wood, so Lyle did as he was told.

There. Something was moving. Lyle squinted. A man on a horse, with heavy saddlebags. Lyle leaned forward…

A hawk screeched and buzzed his head, and Lyle fell off of the branch, falling heavily onto another branch below, badly scratching his back. The hawk screamed again and scratched his arm.

A whistle was heard from below, and the hawk quit its attack on Lyle’s person, instead slashing at his belt. Lyle yelled as his sword and scabbard fell down to the forest floor far beneath him. The young man began to climb down the pine to get his weapon, but then the hawk came back at him, feinting with its claws and beak as if it would attack him again. Lyle threw a piece of wood at it to no effect, swore at it to even less effect, and then finally got down the tree and grabbed his sword.
As he stood up, he saw that hidden in between two trees, not ten feet from him, was a tied horse and a tall half-orc holding the biggest longbow Lyle had ever seen. An arrow was drawn on the thick, taut string, and pointed directly at Lyle’s heart. The young man worked his mouth but could say nothing.

Finally the half-orc spoke, flexing his greenish-graying cheek around his lower canines that sprouted tusk-like out of his jaw. “Boy,” the half-orc said. “There had better be a real good reason why you were waiting to ambush me.”

Lyle finally noticed the House Tharashk dragonne on the man’s belt buckle and sword hilt. The young human carefully stood up, letting his sword drop back onto the leafy ground, and keeping his hands in plain sight. The half-orc loosened the arrow slightly, but only slightly. “Um, are you Delegado d’Tharashk, sir?” Lyle asked very, very politely.

“No, I’m Jaela Daran in disguise,” the half-orc said sarcastically. “Were you waiting for me?”

Lyle nodded. “Yes sir, the Gatekeepers have a visiting druidess here, high in their order. The mayor gave me a sealed scroll from her to you, and you are to bring the thing you were sent to find directly to her.” At mention of the half-orc’s reason for being in the Reaches, Lyle’s eyes darted to one saddlebag that was heavily laden.

Delegado put his arrow back and his bow up. Lyle visibly exhaled. The half-orc grinned, and then whistled, and the hawk that had attacked Lyle flew down and settled on Delegado’s shoulder, its powerful claws pressing into the half-orc’s mithril armor. “You really had best not try to hide when you’re supposed to greet someone,” the half-orc advised him, taking his horse’s reins from the tree branch that they had been resting around. “I thought you were another one of those idiot Ashbound that are always trying to give me trouble.”

Lyle’s cheeks flushed, and he took the sealed scroll out of his shirt, near-throwing it at Delegado. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill your stupid chicken,” Lyle snapped. “And the Ashbound have a point, or don’t you ever get attacked by Aundairians?”

“You couldn’t kill Feather if he was asleep,” Delegado said casually, easily catching the scroll. “And I’ve killed my share of wizards without falling for some lunatic’s suggestion that I live without basic magical supplies. You want to get into a philosophical argument, do it with someone else, I don’t care.” He broke open the scroll and began to read it.

Flushing more, Lyle picked up his sword belt and got himself together. He fantasized about hacking this ‘Feather’ to pieces while the half-orc read.

Lyle flinched as Delegado laughed aloud. “What?” the human asked, in spite of himself.

“Pienna is here!” Delegado snorted. “That woman can’t say hello without using twenty more words that a Brelish barrister!” He shook his head and tossed the scroll into a saddlebag. “All right then, lead on hawk-bait, let’s not keep the Gatekeepers waiting!”

Lyle seethed, but walked ahead of the arrogant half-orc.