KEETHRO

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Titon’s actions reminded Keethro why he had originally planned to murder the man. After killing the two riders who claimed to be lawmen, Titon had insisted on continuing on their path directly to Strahl.

“Titon, let’s be rational.” Keethro did not think Titon a fool, but his friend certainly had it in him at times to be foolish.

“He said there were menders in Strahl. Do you think he was lying?”

“No, I am quite sure he was being honest,” said Keethro, recalling the agony of the man screaming with the spear in his guts.

“Then we go to Strahl.” Titon was not being argumentative; he simply stated what he believed to be the obvious course of action. The man is blinded by focus.

“And what do you expect we will see in Strahl, other than the inside of a dungeon?”

Titon took some time to think about what Keethro had asked, seeming at last to grasp his meaning. “Aye, we may have to fight more of these weakling bastards, but what of it? We will cut them down as they ride these tame beasts.” Titon slapped the shoulder of the horse they had captured, and it whinnied and shied.

“That is the problem. You know no fear. We have been made soft and overconfident by years of fighting the impotent Dogmen.” Titon scowled at him as he spoke, but Keethro did not allow it to derail him. “You know it to be true. Do not expect these people to be dumb enough to continue to send groups of only three men with spears to attack us. If they are wise enough to make the elixirs we seek, they will be capable of killing two men, no matter how strong. They will send archers, and we will be skewered with arrows from afar. What good will it do Elise when we die on this road?”

His words must have resonated. Titon’s pace slowed, and he had a thoughtful look on his face. Truth be told, Titon was one of the smarter men Keethro had known, but he could become so engrossed with a task that it was difficult to make him see anything but a straight line toward its achievement. “What would you have us do then?”

Keethro had already determined what they should do but took some time to best choose his words. The men continued their slowed pace and took in their surroundings. These fields and forests must have teemed with life, all of which was shrewd enough to remain well and clear of the path. The parched sands under their feet, still impressed with the prints of the horses from the very men they had slain, seemed to thirst for blood. The only sounds came from the wind in the grass and the angry calls of the circling birds, annoyed by Keethro and Titon’s endurance. I will not have this barren path be the place in which my bones are left to bake in the rays of the Dawnstar, flesh eaten by foul vultures.

“I say we break from this trail of certain death and head west. We bring the horse with us and eat it when we grow hungry. We could have enough meat to reach the Frozen Sea if need be. Once we hit mountains or coast, we head south again, and we do it in such a way as to kill as few people as possible. We are supposed to be Southmen now, and we need to play the part.” Keethro observed Titon’s frown of thought.

“Hrmph,” was Titon’s eventual response.

“We will hopefully miss Strahl and end up in the kingdom of the river or the delta, both of which are more likely to have the elixirs we need. Neither of us had even heard of this Strahl. It may be no more than a Dogman village in comparison to the mighty kingdoms—a village with horses instead of dogs and many men with spears.”

Titon stopped where he stood and looked to the west. The birds, noticing his lack of motion, began to caw more loudly in anticipation of Titon’s response, as if they knew his decision would affect them in kind.

“Very well,” he agreed as relief flooded Keethro. “We head west, but for no more than seven days. Then we go south until we find the kingdom of the delta.”

Two days later the men were many miles west of the trail Keethro would just as soon have forgotten. Travel in the plains was little different than walking a path, and Keethro was thankful of the short stretches through forest for the shade it gave from the Dawnstar’s blinding rays.

“Venison,” said Titon, then he sniffed at the horse’s side again. “They do not smell as bad as I would have imagined, and they certainly do not inspire fear. They must be good for something. Probably delicious.”

For the entire duration Titon had speculated as to what the horse might taste like, alternating between beef, venison, and mutton. It did not bother Keethro; he too was rather curious, and it had kept his friend’s spirits high despite not marching straight for their destination.

The torment of not knowing finally became too much for Titon, and they slaughtered and butchered the animal in a way to best preserve its meat. It took two more days to smoke the horse’s hocks, and Titon agreed that the time spent doing so would not count toward the seven days of westerly travel.

“What do you think?” Keethro asked him.

Titon was chewing on some of the more tender meat from along the horse’s back. They had seasoned it with salt and quickly seared it over the wood fire. “Beef,” he said. “I can hardly tell the difference.” He sounded a little disappointed the horse did not have a more exotic flavor.

For several more days they traveled due west. They had had little trouble finding water. Every day now they had come to a new river they were forced to wade across—each larger in size than the last—until finally they found themselves on the eastern bank of a truly large, deep river. Wading across would be impossible, and swimming would soak their horsemeat, making it go rancid.

“Another boat?” Keethro asked.

“It must be the only way,” said Titon. “I never thought I would see a river so large. Even a raft would scrape the bottom of our brooks and go nowhere, but you could fit five boats with sails and rudders across the breadth of this giant.” The two men took a moment to stare in amazement.

“It would not make sense to build a boat upon every river we hit, and it will be too heavy to bring with us after crossing. Perhaps we should simply let it take us south.” Keethro spoke the words hoping they were far enough west to be clear of Strahl. This river could be the mighty Eos they had heard legends about. The mightiest kingdoms must surely be on its banks if so.

“Agreed. We’ll head south, stopping only to piss among the trees. It would be foolish, indeed, to anger the God of the River upon so mighty a stretch.” Titon was a rather superstitious man, but Keethro did not fault him for this precaution. Even though he had no belief in the Mighty Three, dangling one’s member over the deep, dark waters of this river would be frightening enough, simply not knowing what might jump out and try to remove it.

“Aye. Let us make a craft worthy of this godly river.”