The Wanderer Assailed

[avevale_intelligencer]

As Master Shadman walked, the tree-mantled walls of rock closed in on either hand, occluding the firmament, and the descending path grew rougher and thick with needles. He was a city dweller by birth and inclination, and had never experienced any environment less congenial than Sir Tempest Convulsion's estate near the village of Avevale. There were woods there, certainly, but they tended to be on a level, and his lordship's groundskeepers tended them sedulously. These were wild woods, untouched by the hand of man, and Master Shadman could scarce restrain the thought that they were poised to rush upon him and engulf him alive in their clamorous shadows. He schooled himself to calm and walked on, while the sun appeared in the sliver of sky above him, passed its zenith and disappeared again.

Eventually the declivity he was pursuing opened into a broader valley, at the foot of which a river took its imperturbable way towards some unguessable sea. The trees kept their distance from the water's edge, and Master Shadman found his path easier. He had utterly lost his bearings, and the directions of the innkeeper seemed more and more capable of multiple interpretations; still he walked, with a kind of blind faith that sooner or later he would encounter some unequivocal landmark, or some other human soul of whom he might enquire.

The sun was low on the horizon when he at last emerged from the trees, and the western sky was a subtle shade of pink, a few wispy clouds shaded in mauve. Ahead of him the path met a fairly well-tended road, which curved away to the left on one side, and crossed the river by means of an ancient stone bridge on the other. This detail had been utterly omitted from Master Shadman's directions, and he might have despaired utterly of reaching his goal, had he not seen a group of men in frayed and stained cloaks of some homespun fabric wrestling an overloaded cart over the steep slope of the bridge. As he watched, an altercation broke out between the ones behind the cart who were pushing and the ones before who were endeavouring to support the empty shafts.

Master Shadman waited politely till the disagreement had been after some fashion resolved, and then advanced on the company, smiling in what he hoped was a placatory way and assembling in his head the words of the local language he would require. The nearest of the group turned to him, causing an outcry from the others as the cart lurched dangerously backwards, and listened attentively to his halting inquiry; then he broke into a broad smile, revealing at least three good teeth, and began to give directions, pointing down the road to the left and placing a friendly hand on Master Shadman's shoulder. Immediately several of the other men took issue with his information, and clustered round the two of them arguing volubly in what seemed like several languages. It was not until Master Shadman had been made aware of three or four sharp-pointed objects impinging upon his flesh through his clothing that he realised that the cart, though no longer supported at either end, was moving neither one way nor the other, and indeed had probably not moved since it was placed there to block the road.

There was nothing for it. Had he attempted to reach for a weapon he would have been gutted instantly. He submitted with reasonable grace to his hands and feet being bound and to the rough search of his person which followed, and was relieved to note that three of his small caches of money went unnoticed by the searchers. They puzzled over his personal documents and the sealed envelope in his inside pocket, but could find no use for them; and eventually, when they propped him up against the wall of the bridge, they dumped them in his lap. One of them led two well-kept chestnut horses out of the trees and hitched them to the cart, and the band of robbers, having garnered enough from their prey for at least two nights of drunken revelry in some nearby town, went on their way down the road to the right, with a cheery wave to Master Shadman as they departed.

Comments

[alyramoondancer.livejournal.com]

I love the way you describe things, Zander. It's a pleasure to read.