Chapter 18
The Bridge
"Buzzards," Nezzer said, pointing to the sky ahead.
"I see them," Alexander replied. "It seems they have found their next meal."
"It looks like they are circling directly above the road," Nezzer pointed out. "I wonder what it is? A deer perhaps?"
"Perhaps," Alexander replied. But I do not think so. "We shall see momentarily."
Alexander Gorman and Nezzer Trock hadn't traveled very far along the road toward Dead Marsh when they came to a covered bridge crossing a river. An old wooden wagon sat abandoned in front of the bridge. Six men lay motionless on the ground, buzzards feasting on their remains.
"What do you think happened to them?" Nezzer asked, curling his nose at the stench.
"I am not sure, but I have a feeling that our mysterious friends are involved," Alexander replied.
They dismounted their horses to take a closer look. Alexander covered his nose with the palm of his hand, but little good it did him. The afternoon sun was just warm enough to begin the decomposition process. He could taste the smell of the swollen, bloated, flesh.
Whoever killed these men must have caught them unawares. "They did not even put up a fight," Nezzer stated. "Their swords are still sheathed."
Alexander knelt beside one of the men. He examined the body and gave the others a quick glance. "If I had my guess, these men were blocking the bridge, more than likely trying to collect a toll for people to pass," Alexander said as he stood and wiped the dirt from his hands. They tried to collect a toll from the wrong person on this day.
"Raptilian," Nezzer said.
"Excuse me?" Alexander asked.
"This is the track of a Raptilian," Nezzer said, pointing at the dirt in front of his foot.
"That it is," Alexander said. Who are you, and what business do you have with the king? Alexander looked around at the surrounding forest, scanning it carefully. "I am almost certain this is the work of the ones who seek Thaddeus. We must get going. I fear time is short."
As they turned to get back on their horses, a voice called out to them from the darkness of the covered bridge.
"Well, well, well. Where do you two murderers think you are going?" asked a middle aged man with gray hair, a stubbly beard, and a thick scar that ran the length of his face.
"Let's kill em right now, Lester," said the man built more like a bear than a man.
Lester replied, "First we find out why they killed our friends." Then we kill them, slowly.
Alexander and Nezzer turned to find fifteen or more men crossing the bridge with their steel in hand.
"I fear you are mistaken. We are not murderers. I am Alexander Gorman, General of Nallenwood and Commander of Galdarath. This is Nezzer Trock, he is a royal guard to the Sestian of Lasticall. We were on our way-"
"Enough!" roared Lester. "Do you think that rambling off titles will clear you of your crimes? If so, you are sadly mistaken."
A young man with a bow in his hands and arrow notched on its string said, "The King of Galdarath killed my father. What makes one of his generals any better?"
"The King of Galdarath killed my brother," another man said.
"The Sestian of Lasticall is a tyrant. He slaves his own people!" cried another.
Alexander looked at Nezzer. Nezzer's face was expressionless and unshaken. This will not end well, Alexander thought.
Nezzer whispered, "I am with you."
"Who are you men?" Alexander asked.
"Not that it is any of your concern," Lester replied. "We are the Dead Suns. Soon to be the most notorious band of organized outlaws that this land has ever known."
"You do not seem so organized," said Nezzer.
"You shut your mouth!" the boy with the bow called out.
Nezzer grinned.
"Listen," Alexander said, taking a step forward.
"That is far enough," Lester said, holding his claymore out in front of him.
Alexander held his hands up and said, "I just want to talk."
"Then talk," Lester snarled.
Alexander lowered his hands and said, "We did not murder your friends. We came across them only moments ago. These men have been dead for at least a day. There is no way we could have murdered them."
"Perhaps," Lester replied. "But clearing your hands of one crime does not clear you of others. Do you know who my father was?"
Alexander did not like the tone of Lester's voice. Although his voice was soft, a sinister tone lurked below the surface.
"Perhaps," Alexander replied. "What was his name?"
Lester's eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened. He let the tip of his claymore touch the ground.
"His name was Jape Fawtik," Lester answered.
Alexander's eyes grew wide and his hand, with what seemed like a will of its own, found the hilt of his sword. I hope Nezzer is prepared for combat.
"His name sounds familiar," Alexander replied.
"It should. Your wonderful king murdered him in cold blood," Lester growled.
"Who is Jape Fawtik?" Nezzer asked, oblivious to the happenings of the world outside of Lasticall.
"Jape Fawtik was the leader of the Black Suns, and Thaddeus Graystone cut him down . . . like a dog!" Lester answered.
"That turn of events has nothing to do with the present circumstances," Alexander replied.
"Oh but it does," Lester replied. "Did you not ride with King Graystone on his march against my father?"
"I did," Alexander said. "That still does not change today's circumstances. We had no hand in the deaths of your friends. What happened between Galdarath and the Black Suns happened in open fielded combat with two willing factions."
"Justice must be served." Lester's eyes narrowed and went wild. He growled, "Seize them!"
Lester's men advanced toward them, but stopped to hear what the, up to this point, mostly silent High Engenium had to say.
"I warn you, I do not plan on being taken captive," Nezzer said.
"Good!" Lester replied. "I do not plan on taking the two of you captive. . . I plan on taking the beating hearts from your chests and frying them with onions and lard."
"Listen," Alexander Gorman said. "I do not wish to end this meeting with violence. We have more important matters at hand. This is your last chance to stand down."
The look on Lester's face could have turned any person into stone. "I thought I told you to seize them!" Lester screamed.
His men charged forward and surrounded Nezzer and Alexander. Even though the outlaws had to have heard of Alexander Gorman and Nezzer Trock's accolades, they showed no signs of intimidation. The circular prison of men feigned attacks, trying to illicit a reaction from Gorman and Trock. The Commander of Galdarath and the Royal Guard of Lasticall kept their footing solid. They showed not even the slightest signs of fear or concern. After a few moments of cat and mouse like antics, two of the men rushed forward intent on incapacitating Alexander and Nezzer. Alexander drove his black shield into the chest of one man, sending him flying through the air. Nezzer's golden shield struck the face of the other man, crumpling him to the ground as blood flew from his mouth. Alexander and Nezzer regrouped in a back to back formation.
Immediately, the other men charged at them. Nezzer and Alexander worked well together. Either man did not leave the others back unprotected. They made quick work of the Dead Suns, blocking their strikes and countering with a slash or lunge of their own. Alexander and Nezzer's strikes were much more calculated and much more deadly. Within a matter of moments, a heap of bodies lay at their feet. The only person that landed a blow against them was the young boy with the bow. His arrow struck Alexander's chest plate, shattering the wooden shaft into an explosion of splinters. Alexander dashed forward and smashed the hilt of his sword into the side of the young lads head, rendering him unconscious.
Lester Fawtik looked at his fallen comrades and reconsidered rushing the two warriors. He sheathed his claymore to his back and tore off toward the bridge
.
"He is getting away!" Nezzer cried.
They sped after him. To Lester's dismay, he saw they were closing the gap between them as he looked over his shoulder. Fearing capture, or worse, Lester took the only out available to him. He undid the straps of his chest plate, letting it fall to the ground, and plunged himself into the roaring river.
Both of them watched as Lester flailed and splashed about as the river swept him downstream.
"I do not think he will survive. The rest of his armor is weighing him down," Nezzer stated.
"I hope the river swallows him. A man such as him will cause a great deal of trouble down the road. Men like him are very unpredictable, very dangerous," Alexander replied.
"We need not worry about him now. Shall we take leave?" Nezzer asked.
Alexander looked around at the body strewn ground. So many dead. And for what? He walked over to the unconscious boy. He laid a sword by his side and placed a few gold pieces in the boy's hand.
"Hopefully this lad will see his folly. With this gold he can begin to start a new life for himself," Alexander said.
"I fear that once you head down a path such as this, there is no return," Nezzer replied.
"I am a living testament to the incorrectness of that mindset," Alexander said.
"Count yourself lucky," Nezzer said. "I wish we had the ability to look in on this boy's life five years from now. I fear we would only see pain and wickedness."
Alexander looked at the youth, and his heart became heavy. Do not throw away your life, boy. "Let us leave," Alexander said, mounting his horse. "We have to make up for lost time."
Nezzer climbed upon his horse, and they headed west once more.