Lohmen didn’t move. He stood at the base of the porch, and put his hand on the dagger at his hip.
“You sold my wife that bag, Rowan,” Lohmen said through gritted teeth.
“Aye, and I’m rightly sorry for that. Like I said, you can kill me after. If you’ve made it this far, you should have some questions.” He turned and entered his house, but Lohmen didn’t follow. “I’m an unarmed old man. Take that dagger out and keep it in hand. If you feel the need to kill me, I won’t stop you.”
Lohmen followed the man inside cautiosly, dagger in hand, and the horseman gestured to one of 4 chairs around a solid oak table near the kitchen. It may have been a kitchen at one time, but was more a mess of junk now. Cupboard doors had fallen, or been yanked off their hinges. There was no wash basin or any semblance of food. The floors were dirty and in one spot between the kitchen and the parlour the chestnut-coloured wood was a few shades darker in an uneven blotch.
Lohmen took a seat and rested the dagger on the table, his knuckles white around the handle. Rowan left Lohmen and went to the corner of the room and pulled two copper cups from a pile, examined them with one eye closed then blew some dust out of the inside. He grabbed a half-full bottle of translucent-brown liquid and pulled the cork out with his teeth then poured. He handed one to Lohmen as he sat.
Uneasy with the man’s hospitality, he didn’t take the drink. Rowan threw his back in one gulp and gave his guest a quizzical look.
“Fuck’s sake, Lohmen. Stand up a second.” Lohmen reluctantly obeyed but thought standing might give him an advantage over the sitting horseman if it came to combat.
“Move a little to the side please.” Lohmen followed that too. The horseman reached under the table with both hands and then there were two clicks almost simultaneous, but not quite. The next sounds Lohmen heard were two bolts lodging themselves into the wooden walls across the room.
“Apologies for the dramatics, but if I were going to kill you, I’d have done it six or seven times already.” He said gesturing to the table concealing the two cross-bows. “Used to have quite a few unhappy people come to pay a visit, way back when. Lotta people don’t care for my type.” Lohmen sat tentatively.
“What do you mean? Why didn’t you kill me?” He asked, trying to sound commanding but knowing he was in an inferior position in Rowan’s house. He took his seat again, tentatively.
“My killin’ days are done and by the look of you, you’ll get yourself killed soon enough anyway.” He glared at the scar on Lohmen’s cheek. The stitches had just come out, but it was still a gruesome thing to look at.
“You probably aren’t too happy with that bag I sold to your wife. My guess is she’s gone, if you are here.” The horseman cupped his chin with a rough hand.
Lohmen jumped up from the table and pushed the dagger into Rowan’s bare chest. A trickle of blood dripped from the point. Rowan made no move to protect himself and leaned into the blade to reach his cup before taking a drink.
“She left me. How do you know that?” That caused the horseman’s eyes to light up.
“She’s alive? That’s good!” He laughed with surprise and relief. “It’s been almost fifteen years since I sold her the standard travel gear. Yer lucky.”
“My son ran away and was captured, too. What is that standard travel gear?” Lohmen pressed the the tip of the dagger again.
“Yes! Now you are asking the right questions, lad.”
Lohmen stepped back a few paces, but kept the dagger pointed in front of him.
“What is it? Why did you sell it my wife?” Lohmen demanded, his eyes flitting with rage. The horseman stood and walked to the kitchen window, where just 2 of the 6 panes remained un-shattered.
“That is the question, isn’t it. Are you a good man Lohmen?”
“I don’t know.I drove my son away. And then my wife.” Lohmen lowered the dagger and Rowan stood and walked to the kitchen window.
“I was a good man. Not a great man. But a good man. I ran an honest business. I treated people with respect. Never cheated anyone. If I’d gone on with life, no one woulda remembered my name, but my kids. And that was just fine with me.” He sat and rejoined Lohmen at the table.
“I was a decent horseman, too. Had a divine- eye for young talented steeds. I’d buy em up, train em and sell em for ten-fold what I paid for them. I loved it. Bought me this ranch.” He gestured widely to the interior of his home. “Ain’t much to look at now, but twenty years ago…” he trailed off.
“I’d travel the continent, across the Dommian, down to the sand-lands, you name it. I could spot a prize horse anywhere. One night, I was in Stonstin in Tatspoot and headed to the Inn of the Titans. Me and some of the horsefolk were all in town looking at a pack of painted horses collected by an Ancient house. Horsin is a busy thing by day, but come night you don’t have much to do so we started playing a game of cards. Phyer was my game.
“I was pretty good at that too. Could spot a winning hand a mile away. We’re getting to the end of a game, and I’ve nearly bled this lass dry. Didn’t have enough to call the bet but she puts this bag on the table. Stuff looks plain enough, but the bag is alright. Was probably worth double what the bet required, so I let her call.
“She lays down a set of twins, and lay down a set of dragons.” He mimes the action but with no celebratory embellishment.
“Wasn’t even close. She had some wry smile on her face, but it didn’t occur to me then. I’d probably had one too many whiskies by that point. But I pull the pot in and that fucking bag was mine.”
“I didn’t even look at the stuff till I got back some two months later. Sat in the corner of the house for a while too. Finally, had a moment. Kids were off doing something with Jess so I pulled it open, tried the things on. Everything fit like it was made just for me. That was my first clue…what was a little sprite of a woman doing with a bag of men’s clothes?”
“They fit me perfectly too.” Lohmen interjected.
“Exactly!” Rowan slapped the table. “And you’re a good three hands taller than I am. So yeah, that was the first thing. Wouldn’t have mattered though, It was mine.
“I started wearing some of the stuff around. A horseman chews through boots pretty quick so I put those on first. Wouldn’t ya know it…fucking things didn’t wear out. It was a good year before I noticed…” He trailed off.
“I gave the ring to Haakon, he was the more fashionable of us two. We were already married, but he liked it just the same.
“It wasn’t until a couple years after that I started noticing the changes. I’d get angry at things I’d never got angry at before. I wasn’t able to spot horses the same, like my vision was clouded. One day I threw a bottle through the window, just past Haakon’s head. He turned and punched me right in the nose.”
Lohmen looked at the man deeply. He was disgusted at first then, a surprise to himself, empathetic. He had much in common with the horseman who’d off-loaded the bag on Kahriah.
“I did the same thing. I yelled at my son and he ran-away.”
The horseman nodded with parse lips.
“That’s it. That’s the bag.” He said knowingly.
“What do you mean?”
“A year after the…the bottle,” he stumbled on his words a bit, “I rode into (realm) and saw a mage. I knew the bag was something strange. I could fucking feel it. Mage takes one look at it, and tells me it’s Loot. Whatever that meant. Says Its dripping in darkness. Anger, Rage, Fury all these things. Tells me whoever owns it will succumb in time. Would take someone years of mental training, even with the right disposition to wield it. I snapped on him. Start pummeling him right there in his chambers. He pulled off some vanishing spell or something or else I’d have killed him. I know it.” The look in his eyes suggested that the last part was entirely true. He turned back to the window and Lohmen bolted toward him. He locked one of Rowans arm against his back and held the dagger at his throat. Lohmen had drawn his second blood from the man, when the blade grazed his jugular.
“WHY DID YOU TRICK MY WIFE!?” Lohmen screamed in his ear. The horseman grabbed Lohmen’s dagger arm and dropped his body. His shoulder pushed up into Lohmen’s elbow. A few moves and only a second later, Rowan held the dagger to Lohmen’s chest.
“Take a breath, boy. That’s the rage and fury talking.”
“Demon’s hearts,” Lohmen said, clear minded again. “It was the bag. That’s why I snapped. I thought it was the reason for another thing, but it was the start of it. That’s why I yelled at Thesdon.”
“Listen to me,” Rowan said, gesturing with the dagger. “You are lucky. You are lucky he ran and your wife left you. Means they are alive somewhere.” He stabbed at the air in front of Lohmen. “And Lohmen, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I did this to you. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, but I didn’t have a choice.
“That bag is a fucking curse. I had to get rid of it. Do you know what it’s like to be a good man, and feel these tendrils pulling you to into darkness? Yeah, of course you do. That’s probably why you haven’t killed me yet. Or you’re just smart enough to know you probably wouldn’t win a fight at this juncture.” He tossed the dagger back on the table, and Lohmen clamoured to pick it back up. “That’s good. Keep that part of your mind going, Lohmen.You need to stay sharp. Notice things.” He instructed. Lohmen followed the instruction and decided to provide more detail, hoping it might unearth more details about the bag.
“I yelled at my son and he left. Then I couldn’t leave. I had left one of the items in my house when I tried to search for him. The necklace. It wouldn’t let me leave.” Lohmen explained his own story.
“Is that right? I never left…had no reason to…” The horseman slumped back in his chair, his eyes still locked on Lohmen.
“I got this job. It’d take me from home for months. Years likely. So I took everything I owned with me. I left the paintings, but It was dumb luck that I broke the…tether, I guess you’d call it.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Paintings?”
“Yeah, after Thesdon and Kahriah were gone I painted the same thing over and over again. It was the same painting that Thesdon had painted over. The one I screamed at him for ruining. I couldn’t stop doing it. Until I left that day on the job. I only took the job because I thought I could find him but figured I’d get stopped like I had before…but no. Rode ride through the boundary.”
The horseman sat forward in his chair, sudden understanding in his eyes.
“No shit. Do you still paint it? The same painting?”
“No, haven’t painted it since a couple of days before I left.”
“Huh. Ain’t that something. Lohmen. Good for you.” He smiled empathetically, and with just a hint of personal relief.
“What do you mean?” Lohmen asked.
“When I threw the bottle at Haakon’s head, he was razzing me about the fence posts I was digging not being in the right spots or something. He was just taking the piss, we were like that…before the bag. But I snapped in anger. Threw the bottle at his head and he popped me for it. Like he should have. Why my nose looks like this…” he trailed off pointing a finger at his face.
“You had mentioned the bottle,” Lohmen said, but followed it up. “But what happened next?”
“I walked back out to the porch, grabbed the shovel I was using and…” he licked his lips and swallowed. “I came back in and called his name. When he turned around and I swung the shovel right into his face. Then again when he was on the floor, and then again and again.” He eyes glossed over looking somewhere just beyond Lohmen. Following his gaze, Lohmen saw it land in the general vicinity of the dark blotchy area on the floor.
“Wasn’t much of his face left when our kids came in. That’s when I snapped out of it. They screamed…imagine hearing ‘Daddy…what did you do to daddy?” coming from your children. They were almost adults at that point, wouldn’t think they’d say ‘daddy’. But horror has a weird way of warping time. I haven’t seen them since. Won’t look for them either. I don’t deserve to see them, and they have done nothing to deserve seeing me.”
“I’m sorry, Rowan.” Lohmen said, unsure what else to say. The horseman sniffed and brought eyes back to the present.
“I’m ashamed that I sold your wife that bag. But I’d do it again. Wish I’d known about it sooner like you. All that’s left for me now is the digs.”
Lohmen gave him a puzzling look.
“I took Jess’s body out back and buried it. I’ve been digging a grave every week or so going on twenty years now. I’ve tried to stop, but I can’t. I grab the same shovel and dig a new hole and then just fill it right back in.”
“The lumps on the yard…” Lohmen said softly to which the Horseman nodded.
“Funny thing though, I’ve had to replace the handle and the blade of the shovel a bunch of times, hardly the same shovel anymore, but sure enough, it’s the only one I use.
“I haven’t got any hope Lohmen. That’s why I can’t stop. You do. Use that to find your son.”
“But how do I get rid of the bag? I’m a cataclysm waiting to happen…I have to get rid of it, or even if I do find him it will happen again.” Lohmen asked, excitedly.
“That I don’t know. I tried everything I could think of to get rid of it. I tried throwing it off a cliff, but my fingers wouldn’t let go. I tried burying it, but it didn’t change the cloud over me. I tried to give it away but no one would take it. The last idea I had was to bury it in a horsedeal. I paid a thousand lords for that horse and another three hundred for the saddle. Just to sell it under the cantle. The day after Kahriah bought it was the first day I’d felt clear in years. I am truly sorry though…” he trailed off, then snapped.
“Wait!” Rowan had a spark of of an idea. “If your son was ran away he probably got caught up in some child labour rings. You might need that bag yet if you’re going to get him back.”
Lohmen stood abruptly.
“What? What child labour rings. Tell me.” He pounded his fists on the table, the astute horseman saw what might be coming next and began explaining promptly.
“Child labour rings. They pick up orphans, run-a-ways, sometimes snatch em right in their towns if they have a mage crew working at the time. The kids get taken to a market and purchased by all manner of low-lifes. Field work, Textile work, and…” He looked at Lohmen and knew he didn’t need to finish the list.
“Jess and I…can’t… have kids of our own you know. We were in (realm) on a horse-trip. What I wouldn’t give to go back to horse-trippin with Haakon again.” He shook his head and resumed his point. “We were at a tavern and overheard this rat faced piece of shit going on about being in town to pick up 10-12 heads for his fields back in (realm). Jess and I looked at each other and just nodded. We followed the guy back to his Inn, cornered him and found out where the market was to happen and when. We broke his ankles and told him if he ever enslaved children again we’d come for him and break every other bone in his body. Jess was a fighter and specimen of man, gentle if he wanted to be but merciless if he felt someone had done something wrong. Needless to say, the man believed Jess about the rest of his bones.
“We went to the Iron Bank and took out ten thousand lords, all we had at that point. We went to the market and bought two kids. That was all we could afford. Didn’t buy any horses on that trip, clearly, but for the next fifteen years or so we gave those kids a life far better than they could have expected otherwise. We helped other couples…like us, do the same. We’ve put about hundred fifty kids into homes. Haven’t put a dent in the industry though.”
Lohmen stared in disbelief and pity at the good man before him. The one he had cursed and maybe even deep down thought he might kill. The horseman continued.
“It kills me that we were supporting those bastards though. Paying for kids. They were better off sure, but we could never make in-roads. There’s no threads to pull, they change locations, leaders, protocols all the time. Never figured out how they coordinated with buyers and sellers though. Jess and I would just go to taverns on horse trips until one piece of shit or another would let it slip. Then we’d break some bones and help a coupla dads, get a kid.
“Some people weren’t too fond of what we were doing, though. People who don’t like the idea of two fathers. That’s why I have the cross bows under the table. And about six or seven other things you haven’t seen and don’t need to be concerned with.”
“Show me.”
“Show you what?”
“The six or seven other things. If I’m going to get Thesdon back, I’m going to need to learn. I got lucky last time.” He pointed to the scar on his cheek with his pale, disfigured hand.
“Alright…Haakon was the fighter, but I picked up a few things over the years.” The horseman stood, and began to walk Lohmen through the house showing him his lethal traps and techniques. He showed him where to kick man with the greatest chance of breaking his leg in one strike. He showed him how to use hold a rope when choking someone. Even moved Lohmen’s dagger to the left side of his body and gave him a hunting knife and sheath to go inside his boot.
“Always have a weapon on your person Lohmen.”
The horseman walked Lohmen through things for the rest of the day and when night fell, he lit lanterns and continued his class. He offered Lohmen and place to sleep in a spare room upstairs. It smelled musty, but thankfully wasn’t the room with the hole in the roof. The next morning, the horseman had fixed him breakfast but where the ingredients came from Lohmen had no idea. They talked some more and Lohmen gave him the brief history of his travels since from the day the letters came.
“Where will you go now, Lohmen?” The horseman asked between bites.
“I’m not far from home, so I think I’ll go back to Kinney. Say hi to Tolo and then I need to to leave I think.”
“The ports on the east coast are fine, but if you’re leaving, find a ship in Onny. It’ll cost you a little less and the captains there are a little more cautious.”
As they finished, Rowan gave whatever other tidbits of information he could think of to Lohmen but eventually they both fell quiet.
“What will you do now?” Lohmen asked. Rowan leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh.
“I suppose the same thing I do everyday. And hope that eventually one of those holes is for me.”
Lohmen nodded in understanding. As faint as it might be, Lohmen was fueled by a flickering hope that Thesdon was out there. He suddenly felt ashamed for feeling so much self-pity all those years, for when compared with Rowan, Lohmen had something to live for. The horseman had nothing.
As he was readying his horse, Lohmen watched the Horseman inspect her.
“This is a fine, if not strange, horse, Lohmen. The ranger gave this to you you said?” Lohmen nodded.
“Well what’s her name?” He asked rubbing her mane and looking in her eyes.
“She doesn’t have one…at least not that I gave her. The ranger was mute so he didn’t call her anything.”
“Bad luck to ride a horse with no name.”
“Well I certainly need it,” Lohmen thought for a moment, and took a step toward Rowan. “When I was venturing across the north shore, I came across a people. We didn’t understand each other, but we’d point and say this or that. They’d point at the horse and say Mitempraw, Mitempraw. So maybe that?”
“Mitempraw…i like that,” the horseman chuckled. “If not a little boring to call a horse, horse. Call her Mite for short.”
Lohmen mounted Mite, gave her pat and began the journey home to Kinney.