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Tasha At Talon's Nook -- Chapter Four |
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| Written by J. Brown | |
| Sunday, 13 April 2008 | |
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Share it:      They arrived back at town around mid-afternoon, Tasha and Eld riding side-by-side, with Buddy right behind them leading the train of horses that they had roped together. Tasha had, in spite of herself and some early misgivings come to like Eld. He was genuine and funny, and he seemed quite relieved that she had taken him from Fat Murrah's camp. He had told her his story on the ride back to town, and sensing no deceptions she believed every word of it. He had come to rest in the bandit camp out of desperation after wandering for months. His wife had died of the Fever two years past, and his land had been seized for taxes by the regional Earl just last year. He'd simply been desperate in choosing a bandit's life while trying to survive, and as she looked into his heart she saw a ready willingness to change. That was damn well good enough for her. He also radiated a certain amount of grit, which she admired and had a use for in the upcoming fight. In hindsight, she was glad that she had spared him at the camp.
She stopped the procession as they exited the woods on the Southerly road, studying the town of Talon's Nook across the fields that ringed the town. It was a bright, sunny day, the temperature was warm in the springtime air, and the smell of freshly harvested hay filled her nostrils like the scent of Mother Earth herself. In town, she could see people roaming the streets, more than were there when she had passed through before on her way through town. Still, she had hoped for more people yet. She had to make a spectacle today, and the more people that witnessed it, the easier it would make it for her later.
And, she had to admit to herself, she was something of a ham for audiences. After twelve years of learning to use her powers, she wanted to do just a wee bit of justified showing off. The thought put an impish smile on her face for a moment, which Eld's sharp eyes picked up on.
"Something amuses you, Milady?" he asked, a comfortable smile across his face as he reached down and stroked the neck of his horse, a grey mare with a suitably agreeable disposition.
"Just thinking about Peavey, is all." she replied, keeping her eyes on the town as she took it all in with a careful, practiced eye. Only the tight grip she had on her reigns gave away any sign of anxiety.
Eld's smile withered just a bit, and he gave a slight nod, turning his attention back to town as well. "Have you decided what you're going to do about him?"
"Yes. I'm going to kick his fat ass, is what I'm going to do about him." She kept her tone conversational, and her smile never wavered, but her eyes hardened and narrowed as she said it, and Eld felt a chill run down his back when he turned again to face her and looked into them.
"When we get there, we're going to palaver with Tookey then I'm going to stash you in my room at Tookey's and stable the horses with Buddy. Keep out of sight until we send for you and make our move on Peavey." she told him, and he simply nodded his agreement. They spurred their horses and rode down the road into town, Buddy trailing along behind them humming softly in the warm air of the afternoon as he looked around happily.
Tookey the Keep was just getting done cleaning up after the lunch crowd, which had consisted of four people, when the door to the bar opened and Tasha and Buddy walked in, Eld coming in last and closing the door behind him. Tookey lit up, a bright smile spreading across his large, friendly face as he tossed his rag onto the bar and wiped his grimy hands on his pants before extending his right hand towards her.
"I'm so happy to see you again" he blurted out. "I was afraid you might have run into bandits and come to grief."
Tasha reached up and took Tookey's massive hand in hers with a genuine smile of her own. "Did I not tell you, Friend Tookey, that any man who drew swords against me would die where they stood? And so it was. The bandit problem on the Southerly road has been handled, to a point."
"What point would that be, M'lady?" he asked with sudden unease. Tasha smiled at finding that Tookey missed little.
"To the point that they're going to ride into town in three or maybe four days and try to kill us all and burn us out. We raided the camp, but there was only a holding force there. The main body was out on a raid. So you see, we have a lot to do, and very little time. We have to organize the town, immediately."
"You intend to fight them, then?" asked Tookey, his grin frozen onto his face by shock.
Tasha, still holding his suddenly rigid right hand in hers, reached up and laid her left hand gently on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. "I intend to kill them to a man, Friend Tookey. Every Gods-blasted one of them. Can I count on your help?"
Tookey looked her deep in the eyes for a moment, and sighed, a resigned smile replacing the sick one that shock had placed there a moment before. He released Tasha's hand and stepped around behind the bar, reaching down and coming up with a massive war hammer that he placed atop the thick oaken bar with a quiet but solid thud. "Aye, M'lady." he replied to her as his hand trailed the weapon's hilt as gently as a lover's caress, his eyes looking at it with a horrible fierceness. "I'll stand with you for the Nook. So long as my legs will hold me, we'll stand."
Tasha gave him a crooked grin, and a single nod of acknowledgment. "I'll be glad to have you guarding my back, Friend Tookey. Now, bring us some ale and bar the doors. We have much to plan in a short time, and I don't wish to be disturbed until we're done."
They held palaver in Tookey's bar for three hours, then they split up, Buddy leading the horses out of town to the farm that Tookey had hired to stable them, while Tookey and Tasha walked through town, Tasha taking it all in slowly and thoughtfully while Eld waited at Tookey's.
Fat Murrah sat astride his beleaguered horse like royalty, nose high, chin up, seemingly unconcerned that there might be anything, anywhere in the universe, that could harm him. His riding tunic, which looked more as though it contained enough fabric to comfortably hang on the mast of a small fishing boat, was stretched taut across his girth, making him look like an impending explosion instead of a bandit chieftain with eighty men trailed out behind him. The tunic was a disturbing hodge-podge of green and scarlet, seeming more like a mistake by a crazed tailor than something that one would choose, but Fat Murrah felt absolutely resplendent wearing it at the head of his procession. Part of the reason why was that it was new to him, it was part of the booty they had secured from their raid of the village they'd just ridden from in the Scurloc Province, and his old tunic had been much the worse for wear. This one had been found in the home of a rich lord of the kingdom. Not one with a great amount of influence, to be sure, for Fat Murrah had no urge to severely cross the regional Earl, but one pissed off lord wouldn't be enough to get the King's troops sent in on them. And he felt splendid, he truly did. They had secured enough food and loot to see them through for two months, and enough slaves to sell to the Carpattans to double that figure. It had been a good haul, and he'd suffered no casualties among his men. The town had put up an initial token resistance, which had fallen apart after he'd had three of the families executed in the town square as a show of force. As a show of gratitude for their reluctant cooperation, he'd not burned the town as he left. Burned towns couldn't be re-raided later on, anyway, but they hadn't thought of that in their panic. Murrah had.
But his good mood was cascading down through his troops as they rode, the men roughhousing with each other and comparing recently looted treasures to pass the time. The whole procession was in a jovial state, which is one of the reasons that no one saw the robed man until it was too late to stop him. He exploded out of the thick underbrush along the road in front of Murrah, his dark brown robe flapping loosely about him as he staggered, almost falling in front of Murrah's beleaguered horse. His hood was tossed back, exposing a great plume of matted and tangled white hair to the afternoon sun that peeked through the canopy. His face was pox-marked, his teeth gone, and his left eye was clouded over with a cataract, all of which lent him a slightly mad appearance. He was dirty and covered in leaves, as though he had been sleeping on the ground for a period of time, and he was clasping an empty wineskin tightly in his left hand, while his right was thrown up in Murrah's general direction for emphasis. Murrah reigned in his horse as the man appeared, and then the man locked eyes with him and ran up, grabbing hold of Murrah's reigns and looking at him earnestly.
"Turn away! Turn back and flee for your lives! There is naught but devilment and suffering ahead, flee now, flee now!" His voice was a high-pitched squeal, and it instantly began to grate on Murrah's nerves. He reached down with a foot and shoved the beggar back from his horse with a stout kick to the upturned face.
"Mind your manners, cur. Of what ‘devilment' do you speak?" growled Fat Murrah, still irritated by the man's sudden appearance.
"Witchery, Lord. The valley of Talon's Nook is beset with sorcery and witchcraft. There is even talk of a Valkyrie coming into the valley." His voice rose even higher as he preached, now clasping the empty wineskin to his chest with both hands. His eyes were wide and feverish, and Murrah noted the rank smell of too much wine as it rolled off the man in fetid waves. Still, Murrah had a good laugh, shared by the few of the now-stalled procession that were close enough to observe the beggarly man.
"Witchery, say you? Sorcery? And even a Valkyrie come to save us all, say you? Say you true?" He rolled his head back and had a massive belly-laugh, which caused his horse to shift nervously under him. His men began to sheath the weapons they had drawn when the man appeared, casting eyes at each other and shaking their heads.
"Begone, fool!" roared Murrah, turning his horse as though to run down the beggar. The man scampered back out of the way, cowering. "I fear no witches nor sorcerers. And we've not seen a Valkyrie in five lifetimes, so I can't bring myself to be timid about them, either. Carry your wineskin back into the shrubbery from whence you came, and be glad I've spared your life, you drunken filth." With that, Murrah spurred his horse past the man, the rest of the procession following suit. One of the bandits tossed a chewed apple core at the man as he went past, but no one else even gave him a second glance as they continued down the hardpack road. He soon shuffled back into the bushes he'd emerged from.
Which was where he paused, just out of sight, his face contorting momentarily. The pox-marks flowed back into the skin, leaving it pink and smooth. The cataract withered and vanished, leaving two clear blue eyes in it's wake. The smell of wine around the man evaporated, and with a gentle shake of his robes, the leaves and assorted clutter fell from him as though it had never been stuck there to begin with. He turned his attention back to the bandit caravan as he flipped his hood up over his head, and in that moment, his eyes flashed a bright silver color that quickly lost it's luminescence and faded. He stepped back onto the road, looking after the caravan still. He now wore the thin but healthy face of a twenty-something human covered in a short, dark beard, and a sincere but tight grin framed a full complement of perfect white teeth.
"‘I fear no witchcraft nor sorcery'" he mimicked petulantly, then laughed at his own childishness. "That is something I'll soon be able to change for you, you fat bastard." He dropped to a knee in the road, closing his eyes in a short prayer, then faded away into nothingness. The only things there to see the disappearance were two squirrels and a sparrow, and since they cared nothing for the events of humans to begin with they paid no notice.
Buddy was delighted, to tell the truth. Not only was he in the company of a legitimate Valkyrie Defender, but he was rapidly becoming a trusted associate, as well. He followed her down the main street of Talon's Nook, loving the attention from the townsfolk that she generated as she walked purposefully towards the center of town, where the jail was. She seemed not to notice, but Buddy wasn't fooled. He almost skipped down the street beside her, whistling a jaunty tune he remembered from his youth as she strode purposefully towards her rendevous with Sheriff Peavey. As they reached the petite town square, she turned and looked at him, speaking softly.
"There's enough people around, I guess, and it's too late to gather more. We do this now."
Buddy shrugged. "We can gather more people, if you want. I can wait for a few more minutes."
Tasha flashed him a quick grin. "Still writing your epic?"
Buddy reply was a returned grin and a nod. Tasha took a quick look around, then pointed him towards a large bell that hung on the front of the Sheriff's office. "Run up there and ring the hells out of that to get everyone's attention, then. When it draws Peavey out, come and watch my back."
"Are you expecting trouble?" asked Buddy, looking around at the townspeople. Most of them were giving them curious glances and maintaining their distance. A few were stopped and studying them intently, but none of them seemed malicious. Yet.
"Always." replied Tasha, and gathered her cloak around her, putting her serious expression back on her face as she took her stand in the middle of the street, facing the jail. Buddy walked over to the bell, whistling while he took a good look at the building. Like the rest of Talon's Nook, it was rough-cut wood without benefit of paint or whitewash, and while it was showing some weathering, it still looked quite sturdy from the outside. There was only one horse tied to the rail outside the building, and an old man was sitting on a rough pine bench outside of it, calmly smoking a pipe. Buddy tossed him a wave as he approached the bell rope.
"Good day to you, old Sir." Said Buddy, to which the old man simply replied with a slow nod and a draw off his pipe. "Might you know if the Sheriff is in?"
The old man looked past Buddy for a moment, then pointed with the stem of his pipe as smoke rolled out of his mouth. "That there be ‘is horse. I reckon he's too damned sorry to walk anywheres, so I'd think him in there fetched on his keister, yar."
"Thank you, then, old Sir." said Buddy with a slight bow, and grabbed the rope and began to ring the hells out of it, just as he was told to do. The old man jumped in surprise, and Buddy laughed at his startled expression. The bell's tone echoed through the town, and quickly everyone within earshot was filing into the street to see what was so important that the calamity bell had to be rung. Every eye went from Buddy at the rope to Tasha, standing in her blood red robe in the street, hands folded in front of her, hood drawn up over her head, looking nowhere but the door to the jailhouse.
In short order, a loud cursing erupted from inside the building, and as Buddy heard footsteps approaching the door, he let go the bell rope and trotted back to stand by Tasha. Behind him, the door to the jail slammed open, and Sheriff Peavey emerged onto the street, wiping sleep from his eyes.
"Who the blazes went and rung the damned bell like the town was afire?" he asked, anger rising in his voice. "I was right inside the damned... door..." His voice fell off as he saw the woman in her red robes standing there as though she was waiting for him, head down. He suddenly became aware of the crowd that was assembling to see what was going on, and the fact that everyone was falling silent. ‘What the hells?' he had time to think,, then she was speaking to him in a quiet, clear voice that carried well in the now silent town square.
"Sheriff Peavey, I have come to you on behalf of the innocents murdered along the Southerly road." she said, then paused as if waiting for a reply.
"What of ‘em?" he asked, a good bit less anger in his voice now. "Southerly road's out of my jurisdiction."
"Something so simple as jurisdiction would have you turn a blind eye to the death of innocents?" she asked in a slightly louder voice, cocking her head to the side as though to better hear his answer, and Sheriff Peavey suddenly felt nervous. There were a good fifty people gathered around the two of them now, looking back and forth and waiting for his answer. Nervously, his mind ran through all the people that those assembled had lost, and might hold a grudge against him for.
"Well, uh... there's a whole damned gang of them out there, I can't rout them all by myself. It'd be suicide."
"Suicide." she said with a thoughtful nod. "Yes, I see. But wait!" She reached up and lowered her hood, exposing her blond hair and sculptured face for the first time in town. Her blue eyes locked with Peavey's brown ones. "I'm not so sure that it would actually be suicide for you, would it?"
"I'm not quite solid that I'm taking your meaning, missy." said Peavey, his voice gone cold and sour. His eyes had narrowed, and his sword hand found itself hanging on his scabbard buckle, closer to the hilt of his blade.
"Oh, my meaning is clear, dear Sheriff. What I'm saying is that you would be welcomed into the camp. Like a chum, or a buddy. Like a clansman come to his home hearth, in fact."
"Who the **** are you?" Peavey growled, his hand finishing the trip to his sword hilt. His eyes blazed fire, but his blood was running ice-cold in his veins, and his heart was beating like a war drum in his chest. Everyone in town was looking and listening to the girl's cool, calm words, and not a few of them were casting doubting glances in his direction, as well. "Why would you say that of me?"
"Would you deny it? Do you dare?" she replied, a slight smile creeping across her face as she stood there, her eyes remaining locked with his. A slight breeze tussled her hair briefly.
"Yes, I deny it!" he cried, looking about the crowd for a friend and finding none. "I'd be strung up, just like the last sheriff and his deputies were strung up. Right outside of town in that big oak, matter of fact."
"You're a liar, Sheriff Peavey. A gods-blasted liar." She held his gaze for a moment, eyes narrowed and predatory. "You've been selling out travelers to Fat Murrah's group for the last two years, and the gold that lines your pockets from it is like spending the very blood of the innocent that you've helped to spill." She turned to the crowd with a flourish.
"Hear me, Talon's Nook! This man has sold your very lives for the gold in his pocket. I have a witness from Fat Murrah's gang who will attest to such." With that, she motioned down the street towards Tookey's, and as one the crowd turned and saw Tookey and Eld walking up the street in their direction. Tookey had changed clothes from his tavern keep tunic and breeches into a rough set of leather armor, a huge belt about his girth and a hand upon Eld's shoulder as though to steady him. In his other hand, carried as though it weighed almost nothing, was his war hammer. The crowd parted before them with hushed and quiet comments all around, and they approached Tasha as she remained in the center of the crowd in the street. They took up positions to either side of her, Eld glancing at her nervously for support, and she nodded for him to start.
"I'm, ah, Eld Bradlet, from the Scurloc province originally, but not for a while now. I was in Fat Murrah's gang for a while until miss Tasha here taught me better." He paused, swallowing nervously. "Fat Murrah himself is the one what told me that Sheriff Peavey kept him notified about things here. For a price."
"This is complete bullshit!" yelled Peavey, glowering at the crowd. "Are you going to listen to a self-proclaimed bandit, a thief and a cut-throat, tell you who your friends are?" He stomped down off the porch of the jailhouse a couple of steps, pointing at Eld. "There's the only bandit in this town, and I say we string him up, right now!" He made another step down.
Tookey the Keep rose to his full and massive height, clutching his hammer in both hands so hard that his knuckles popped loudly. He stepped forward and stood between Peavey and his friends, face pinched into a look of rage, hammer at the ready. "Just you try it, you yellow chickenshit bastard. Just you come down here and try it yourself."
Peavey stopped short, looking with astonishment at the barkeep, taking in the easy way he wore his armor and handled his hammer. ‘Tookey?' he thought restlessly. "Now Took, you know you were never that bright, don't you think that maybe this girl here..."
"I'm plenty bright enough to see a back-stabbin' pompous ass when I see one. And my offer stands strong. If you think he's needing his neck popped, then come and try it." Tookey took another step forward towards Peavey, having forgotten the crowd, having forgotten even that Tasha was there. "How many of us have you sold to Fat?" he asked. "How about my dear sweet sister, did you sell her too? Or was she just one of the unlucky ones that drew the short straw on the road, you bastard?" He took another step forward, pointing out a woman in the front of the crowd. "How about Madge's husband Erlton? Was he sold as well? Erlton was my best friend when we were growing up, and I'll be happy to have my revenge for him if I can get it. What say you to that, Sheriff?" He spat out the last word, his fury increasing.
"Tookey, put that hammer down or I'll lock you up. You and all your friends who came into this town to start trouble..."
"Trouble?" exclaimed Tookey, and suddenly rolled his head back in laughter. Everyone remained frozen, most of them scared that their good-natured giant of a barkeep had finally lost his simple mind. He contained himself after a moment, fastening his glare back on Peavey. "‘Trouble' say you? Say you true?" He gathered his breath, turning his attention to the crowd around them. "This ‘girl', this ‘trouble', is a Valkyrie Defender, sent in response to our prayers for salvation. She has single-handedly faced Fat Murrah's camp and lived to tell the tale." Buddy raised his hand at the mention of ‘single handedly', but Tasha motioned for him to be silent. "She is here to help us, and so is Eld. And we need help, we surely do. Fat Murrah is going to ride into town soon to burn us out. We have to fight! We have no choice, and we must, so I say!"
There were gasps and murmurs from the crowd as he spoke, both in response to his revelation that Tasha was a Valkyrie, and to the fact that Fat Murrah was going to burn the town. Sheriff Peavey realized his goose was cooked, and sprinted for his horse, hopping atop it the same time as Tookey bolted forward, dropping his hammer in the middle of the street and seizing the reigns before the sheriff could get his hands on them. Tookey looked up at Peavey with a grimace of revulsion. "Going somewhere, Sheriff?"
"Tookey, drag him down. Disarm him." interceded Tasha, and Tookey was only too happy to oblige. Tasha walked over to where Tookey had slammed Peavey to the ground, laying there gasping as Tookey stripped him of his sword belt. "Now, let him up."
Tookey gave her a confused, hurt look. "He deserves to be punished, he oughta get strung up."
"Friend Tookey, I know how you feel about this, but to kill one so cowardly makes you the same as what you stand against. For now, we let him go."
"Let him go?" said Tookey, his face registering his lack of understanding.
"Yes, Friend Tookey. We let him go. Mostly." With that, she turned to Peavey, eyes falling on the badge that was pinned to his chest. She gave him a calculating look, then reached up and tore it off his chest, along with a jagged patch of tunic that came with it.
"Peavey, you stand among good folk, guilty of betraying them all to benefit yourself. You are exiled from this town, forever. You are exiled from this kingdom, forever. Should I ever hear of you, or see you, then know that I will hunt you down like the wild dog that you've proven yourself to be. Now take off your ******* clothes."
"What?" he said, the entire turn of events was taking him quite by surprise, and he wasn't sure that he'd heard the last part right.
"I said to take off your ******* clothes. You leave with nothing except your head, and you should be grateful that I've decided to leave you that. The world would be a better place with your head chopped and laying in the street, but the Decorums of Decency are clear. Should you like to protest, I'll give you back your sword and we can work it out, right now." She reached down and scooped up the swordbelt and offered him the hilt of his weapon, glaring at him. He hung his head. "No?" she said, then dropped the sword back into the dusty street. "Tookey, strip him down to the ***** meat of him, bind his hands, and escort him out of town, if you please."
"Aye, M'lady, it pleases me greatly, so it does." said Tookey with a grin, seizing the ex-sheriff again. Tasha turned away from the sight as ripping sounds commenced again, along with the sheriff's half-hearted protestations. She looked momentarily at the badge in her hand, then turned her attention back to the crowd.
"And now, as for the rest of you..." Copyright 2008 J. Brown |
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