TITON

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So where exactly are we headed?”

It had been several days since their scuffle at the inn, and Titon had noticed a marked improvement in his friend’s demeanor. Keethro seemed more eager to get in a few gibes of his own on Titon, and they were gladly received.

“South.” Titon’s response coincided with his march.

The terrain had changed as they headed out of foothills and into rolling plains. The ground was so flat and dry it was unnatural, and the path they walked was straight enough to see for miles down its barren length. On either side of them the vegetation varied between patches of thick spruce forest and open stretches of nothing but tall grass.

“Do you perhaps have a particular kingdom you would wish to see along the way?” Keethro asked in good humor.

Together they knew about the lands to the south what every Galatai knew, which was very little. They knew they shared the continent with at least two great kingdoms, one that was said to be of the rivers and the other of a great delta at the foot of the Eos.

“I would hope to find the kingdom of the delta, but I will settle for the kingdom of the rivers if we come across it first. It makes no difference to me where we find the proper elixirs, so long as we find them.”

“Would it be too soon to ask for help finding such places?” Titon did not need to look at Keethro to know he’d posed the question with a jovial expression.

They had their reasons for not yet seeking aid in direction. The farther north they were, the more likely the people were to be frightened of Northmen, yet toward the south, Titon’s appearance would be more of an oddity than an immediate threat. They also simply did not wish to look foolish. More specifically, Titon did not wish to look foolish. Keethro had wanted to ask someone for guidance for some time now, not that they’d had many such opportunities.

“No, I suppose not. We will ask the next traveler we see.”

“Ha,” replied Keethro. “Fair enough.”

Since having left Phylan they had seen only one other pair of travelers. It looked to be a man and a child, but they did not get close enough to see. Titon and Keethro had separated from the trail by several miles while the two went past. Better to have fewer people see where they were headed in case word got out about a handsome man and a giant having killed some thugs in a dirty inn.

He would not let Keethro see, but Titon himself was growing impatient. Capable though they were at hunting and foraging for food, Titon would have preferred the expedience of simply buying some. Their coin purses, heavy-laden from years of raiding Dogmen, were of little use in these lifeless plains. Titon estimated the near three hundred and fifty marks they had started with would keep them fed for a few months, if not years. Some reassurance that they were headed toward an inhabited location would have been welcome, as the path they traveled gave no such indication.

Hours later, the Dawnstar’s glow turned the plains of tall grass to a sea of gold.

“Our goats would grow fat in such a place,” said Keethro.

“Hmph…” Titon stopped to look around. “So would we. Winter is taking root, yet there is snow only on the fingers of the pines.”

Keethro continued down the path a ways but stopped as well, turning to face him. “Perhaps a fourth god exists in these lands, a god of fire who warms the very ground.”

Titon scowled with honest anger. Keethro was never one to show much respect for the Mighty Three, and Titon was no fan of his blasphemy. You’ll condemn us both with such speech.

Keethro apologized quickly. “A foolish thing to say and said in jest. There are surely only three, and we will need their support if we are to brave this path without dying of boredom.”

Having received no response, Keethro dropped all jocularity and raised his hands in innocence, but Titon’s attention had been drawn elsewhere. “I meant no disres—”

“Do you see that?” Titon pointed past Keethro into the distance.

“What kind of beast is that?” asked Keethro.

The two men stared down the road at silhouettes they could not identify. There were no animals in the North that would give a pair of armed Galatai warriors cause to run and hide, but these were larger than a full-grown elk, and there were several of them. By the time they realized the silhouettes were those of men upon beasts it was obvious they too had been spotted.

“We should hide in the grass. These are not men I would seek direction from,” said Keethro.

“It is too late for that. If they mean us harm they will pursue us.” Titon resumed moving forward to meet them, hoping for the best.

“Halt.” The man atop his horse spoke with authority. Though there were none in the Northluns, Titon knew of horses and had realized what they were upon getting close enough to see their manes.

Keethro and Titon obeyed. Perhaps halt is a common greeting in the South, but I do not like this man’s tone, thought Titon.

“Hello, men,” said Titon, his voice making the horses uneasy. There were three riders, armed with spears. Their horses were adorned with fabric bearing an identical scene of the Dawnstar rising above grassy plains, its rays emanating in all directions.

“Who goes there?” asked the same man.

Titon looked at Keethro who shrugged.

“We are headed to the kingdom of the delta.” Titon hoped his response would answer the man’s question.

“I don’t have time for games. Who the feck are you?”

“I am Titon son of Small Gryn—who the feck are you?” Titon roared back. He was not used to being treated like an impotent fool, nor did he intend to start getting used to it.

“I’m the law out here, you common shit. Now throw down your arms or I’ll stick you like the giant boar you are.” The man raised his spear as if ready to strike, and his two companions did the same.

Titon suddenly wished he had brought his axes. Both he and Keethro had left them behind for fear of attracting too much unwanted attention. A hunting bow and knives were all the weaponry they had, but Titon figured they would have some spears soon enough the way this was headed. He was more concerned about the horses than the men. I wonder if they bite.

Titon yelled and charged, driving his shoulder into the chest of the lead man’s horse. Rather than biting a chunk out of Titon’s neck, the horse reared, sending the rider crashing to the ground with such violence that he was not like to be of any threat for the moment.

The second man, a boy no older than Titon’s sons, moved forward on his horse, shouting something about the light. Titon retrieved the fallen man’s spear in time to parry the boy’s attack, at which point his senseless yelling turned into girlish shrieks. An arrow had sprouted from his eye, and Titon wasted no time finishing him with a spear through his soft leathern tunic.

The third man was already galloping away from them on his horse. Titon stumbled for his bow but had lost his arrows in the commotion. Keethro looked to be gauging the wind as he took his time aiming at the fast-riding man, finally loosing an arrow. The metal of the sharpened tip flickered as it spun, catching the Dawnstar’s low rays. The arrow arced downward, finding a home far to the right of its intended target in some distant grass. Keethro shrugged as Titon stared at him in disbelief.

“You know I’m better with axes,” said Keethro.

“You shot that one right in the eye.”

“I was aiming for his chest,” said Keethro with enough candor to be believed.

Watching the man gallop into the setting Dawnstar, no doubt going to raise a small army, Titon had to laugh.

The man who was thrown off the horse, the mouthy one, was still alive, wheezing noisily. Titon approached him and put the spearpoint to his neck as he lay on his back.

“Who is your king?” Titon demanded.

The man looked confused. “You are?”

Keethro chuckled, but Titon was already losing patience. “What kingdom are you from, and who rules it?”

“I am from Castle Strahl…” Titon pushed the spear hard against his neck to get him to hurry. “We are part of Kingdom Rivervale where Duke Veront sits. But King Lyell rules both kingdoms from the Adeltian Throne. He is king.”

It sounded a bit too complicated to be believable, and Titon was afraid the man was trying to make a fool of him.

“Where will I find elixirs?” Titon asked him.

“Elixirs?”

Titon was at his wit’s end and plunged his spear through the man’s bowels. He screamed out in pain and pleaded for Titon not to kill him.

“Where would I go if I wanted to have you healed?” he asked the man.

“A mender, please, take me to a mender!”

“Where, you damn fool?” Titon cried in anger.

“Strahl!”

“What direction?” Titon asked, eager to finally be getting some useful information.

The man pointed toward where he and his friends had come, the same way Titon and Keethro had already been traveling.

Titon drove the spear through the man’s skull with a crunch. “We go to Strahl.”