The trio crawled out of the culvert and dusted themselves off, relieved that the hunting party had passed them by. However, Harpyn had an inkling that this would not be the last they heard of them. And now he knew that there was more to Brugo’s travel than a simple holiday abroad.
Drawing a deep breath, Harpyn checked the bundle that contained the ancient sword before straightening and marching up to Brugo.
“Who were they?”
Brugo frowned, shaking his head sadly. “I thought they were friends.” He gave a low huff of disappointment from between his tusks and turned to look in the direction that the hunting party had gone.
“And now? What do you plan to do?”
Brugo shrugged this time. “Whatever it takes, I suppose. First, to Yaal to find my friends. And then, who knows? Wherever we might find safety in these lands. Or perhaps, we will continue to the lands beyond.”
Brugo’s words were full of worry, an expression Harpyn never expected to see from the giant man wielding the massive axe. Just a few days back, he’d have thought nothing could shake the man.
“Well, the road to Yaal isn’t getting any shorter, and it’s probably best we get there before that lot has a chance to set up a bounty in the capital. When we get there, Anaya and I will look around first and let you know if its safe.”
Brugo humored him with a gentle smile. “All right. If it isn’t safe, you can send word to my friends and have them meet me outside the city.”
Grinning, Harpyn held out a hand to Brugo, eager to shake on the deal. For the first time since they’d been on the road together, he was starting to feel like the three of them were more than just traveling together by coincidence. Now, they’d seen some things and they’d placed their trust in one another. That had to mean something.
Anaya joined the two of them, her new dress, already reduced to rags, was tied up above her knees into makeshift leggings for easier travel. She looked from Harpyn to Brugo and gave a nod.
“Glad to see you two are getting along. Now, shall we?”
Together, the three of them padded along at the edge of the road, keeping a wary eye out for anyone who might be spying on them. Already they’d dispatched one group of would-be attackers, and now a second group was running ahead of them, likely to circle back when they realized they’d lost their way. Sooner or later, Harpyn was sure they’d have to face the hunting party, and from the sounds of it, some of Brugo’s giant friends.
“Tell me about your people,” Harpyn said, glad to keep pace with Brugo now that they were moving on rough ground. “Do they all look like you?”
Brugo snorted, shaking his head. “Of course not. Does all of Andrysfal look like you?”
“Well, no… but…” Harpyn trailed off thoughtfully.
“Sariza is made up of four primary races. My people, the Titania, are the largest of the four. Of course, over the years, the races have mixed and much of Sariza shares ancestry. It is not something we take so seriously these days.”
Harpyn nodded along, happy to be learning something new for the first time in days. Honestly, he had begun to miss his quiet tower room and Geor’s dusty old tomes.
“What about your family?”
Brugo frowned, his brows forming a deep crease down the center of his forehead, making him look quite fearsome. Still, he walked on, thinking for some time before answering.
“I do not know my mother or father. But when you say family, I think of my men. The men of my guild. They were my family in the end, the ones I cared most about. We were as brothers, all of us.”
As Harpyn watched, he noticed Brugo’s expression softening, and he felt sorry for the man. What it must be like to start out an orphan and then be betrayed by the family you have chosen in the end. He could scarcely imagine it.
They continued walking, listening for the return of the hunting party, until they reached the outskirts of yet another small town, a few dozen buildings mashed together in a long row to form a main street.
They stopped, Brugo taking the time to conceal himself as best he could with the hooded cloak and the armor, and Anaya letting down her dress to avoid questions. Harpyn, at least, had little to do but hold the bundle with the sword and keep an eye on the road, waiting for any sign of the hunting party.
Harpyn looked around curiously at the buildings on either side of the dusty road. To one side, a wooden sign read “Welcome to Honeybarrow: Home of the Sweetest Honey in Andrysfal!”
Curiosity piqued, he licked his lips. Honey was a rare treat, and it just so happened that Geor had left him a bit of coin before the tower collapsed. Surely the old man couldn’t fault him for spending a silver or two on a taste of the sweetest honey in all the land. And… maybe he’d buy some for his friends as well.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
For the most part, Honeybarrow was much like any other town along their route. Laundry hung out to dry on lines, flapping lazily in the warm summer breeze. Kids ran and squabbled. And, of course, townsfolk popped their heads out of windows curiously to observe the strangers before ducking back inside and returning to whatever duties were left undone.
The trio came to the town’s square, really not much more than a small patch of grass surrounded on all sides by worn, dusty roads. There stood a singular market stand, tattered red clothes hung in broad scallops. They probably looked festive once. Now, they just made Harpyn feel a little bad for the old vendor standing beneath them.
“Honey! Get yer honey!”
The old man swept his arms out in a broad arc, showcasing dozens of glass jars lined up neatly on his table. However, as the three of them drew closer, the old man’s smile faltered.
He took a step back, glancing sideways before staring hard at Brugo.
“I-I’m sorry. I was just about to close up shop,” he stammered, dropping his eyes to the jars of honey and quickly scooping them up in a big armful.
“Wait,” Harpyn said, his voice tinged with the whine of disappointment. “We have coin. Here.” He rummaged around in his robe and pulled out the little cloth pouch Geor had left him, rattling it a little for the old man’s benefit.
The man paused, glancing around furtively once more before gently placing the jars back down on the counter and clearing his throat.
“I apologize. It’s just… Well…” he leaned forward, lowering his voice to barely a whisper. “Did ya know yer travelin’ with a wanted killer?” he asked.
Harpyn’s eyes went wide and he turned to look between Anaya and Brugo.
“Them?” he asked with a laugh. “Oh, no. They’re no killers. They’re just helping me get to Yaal.”
Brugo cleared his throat loudly, catching Harpyn’s eye. Harpyn fell silent a moment later, suddenly aware that he might have said too much already.
“Anyway,” he recovered, putting on a big grin, “I’d take a jar of that honey, and then we’ll be on our way.”
The old man slid one jar away from the rest and then bent down beneath the counter to search for something, murmuring to herself.
As he ducked down, Harpyn looked over his head, his eye catching on a piece of paper lying on the old man’s cart. He startled a little at the image, a near perfect likeness of Brugo, beneath the word WANTED in jet black ink. He froze, wondering if Brugo or Anaya had noticed the paper. But they were both looking around the town, ignoring the old man entirely.
The old man stood up, dusting smiling apologetically as he shook out a rag and wiped down the jar of honey before wrapping it up and tying the little bundle closed with a bit of twine.
“Here ya go. Make sure you come back on yer way home.”
Harpyn accepted the jar gratefully and then quickly turned to his companions.
“Let’s go,” he muttered, walking swiftly toward the opposite side of town.
Behind him, he heard Anaya and Brugo following, but he didn’t take the time to look back. He had a particularly bad feeling that the moment they were out of view, the old man was going to run and tell someone about his latest customers. Harpyn didn’t want to be there when that happened.
Anaya caught up to him and put a hand on his sleeve.
“Hey, wait up,” she said, her voice full of concern. “Why the sudden hurry?”
Harpyn let his eyes slide sideways to meet hers, but then they shot right back to the road ahead as he quickened his steps once more.
“Those hunters are close. I saw a poster with Brugo’s face on it.”
Anaya’s expression turned grim, but her eyes glittered with defiance. “So what? He hasn’t done anything wrong!”
Harpyn stopped and turned to her. “How certain are you of that? Remember when I asked him about the hunters? He never said why they were looking for him. What if he’s killed someone?”
Anaya crossed her arms over her chest and cocked an eyebrow at him. “I don’t believe it. Look, Brugo is one of us, and he’s never been anything but kind to me. I’m not just going to turn my back on him, and you shouldn’t either.”
Harpyn frowned, taking a step back. “I don’t mean to turn my back on him,” he hissed. “But I still think we should be careful. Now come on.”
He tugged Anaya along before Brugo caught up to them, afraid he might overhear their conversation.
Just before they reached the northern edge of town, the sound of voices reached Harpyn’s ears. He paused, listening for a moment before realizing that the voices were coming from the window of a small thatch-roofed home sitting right along the path.
“We can capture him!” one man insisted loudly. “He’s a butcher, not a warrior. The six of us are more than enough to bring him back. And when we do, the Emperor will have to listen to us.”
Instantly, Harpyn recognized the voices from the hunting party, shouting over one another inside the house. Anaya must have recognized them too, because she went to Brugo’s side and immediately the two of them hurried past, heading for a shadowy bit of woods far outside of town. Harpyn, however, found himself creeping closer to the window of the home, moving around the side of the building to hide in the shadows directly beneath another window.
As the voices continued to rise and fall, he lifted his head only enough to count the number of bodies inside. There were, indeed, six soldiers in shiny armor around the small table, but there were also several other men who rivaled Brugo in size, and they wore little more than breeches and weapons’ belts. And, of course, the old honey vendor sat at the table, clearly frightened by the men shouting and arguing all around him.
“The snake must’ve crawled straight here as soon as we left his cart. But how did he beat us?”
Taking a steadying breath, he lowered himself back down and listened some more. Although the soldiers seemed intent on capturing Brugo, he heard little enough about how they intended to do so. However, just sighting the big man was enough to send them into a frenzy. Apparently they’d been searching for days, and this was the first time they’d come close. Judging by the things they said they’d do once they had him in custody, they’d been much too close for Harpyn’s comfort. Still, he really wanted to know what Brugo had done to deserve such treatment. Anaya was right. A murder seemed so unlikely.
“Hey! Who’s there?”
A head popped out of the window above Harpyn’s head and looked down, straight into Harpyn’s terrified eyes.
Yelping with surprise, Harpyn jumped to his feet and then said the words to teleport himself out of the shadowy space between the houses and onto the main road.
Brugo performed two more short magical hops, gaining distance each time, but the soldiers were piling out of the house, fighting to get through the door two at a time, and he knew he couldn’t run for the woods. He couldn’t lead them straight toward Brugo. He was just going to have to figure this out on his own.