The Improbable Adventures of Scar and Potbelly: Ice Terraces of Crystal Crag (16 page)

He snatched the coin, gave it a good scrutiny, then did the same to his two guests. “Breakfast is served an hour after dawn.

“Thank you,” Potbelly said.

The man yawned yet again, waved and turned to head back to his bed.

They took their horses around back to the stable and settled them in. Judging by the number of steeds staying in the stable, the inn must be fairly full. Returning to the inn, they found their room.

Next to the door sat a tall cabinet. Scar threw the bolt then pulled the cabinet over to in front of the door. This would provide some security for the night. As an added security, he laid the pack containing the map beneath his pillow.

“A bit cautious aren’t you?”

Scar shook his head. “After all we’ve been through to get this map, I’ll be damned if I’ll let a thief simply come in and steal it while I sleep.”

His swords he leaned against the wall next to his bed for ready access. “See you in the morning.”

“That won’t be long in coming,” groaned Potbelly. Sometimes a little sleep was worse than none at all.

A few hours later, sunlight streaming in through their window brought them awake. Either Scar’s precautions proved effective or there had been no need to fear in the first place for their belongings remained undisturbed.

“Let’s eat and get going.”

Potbelly’s stomach growled. “I’m with you there.”

The common room was already nearly filled to capacity. All tables held at least one person. They spied one near the middle of the room that had a few extra seats and made their way to it.

A man and wife with newborn babe eyed them warily as they approached.

“It’s a bit full,” Potbelly said. “Mind if we join you?”

“Not at all,” the woman replied. Her wariness subsided in face of their politeness.

A serving girl came and took their order.

“Nice baby,” Potbelly said.

She beamed. “Why thank you. Her name is Elora.”

“Elora?” he replied. “We met a lady by that name not more than one day ago.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “She was nice.”

“We named her after her great-aunt,” she explained. “We are on our way to Cara to visit her.”

“Cara?” When she nodded, he asked “She wouldn’t happen to enjoy tea would she?” He glanced knowingly to Scar.

She thought about it a moment. “Why, I do believe she does.”

“Well then, isn’t this a small world. My friend and I may have had tea with her last evening.”

She beamed. Her husband rolled his eyes but otherwise remained silent, content to focus on his meal. “How is she doing?”

“Very well. Tell her Potbelly and Scar send their regards.”

“I’ll do that.”

Their meal came and conversation dwindled as the two pit fighters set to with gusto. While they ate, they kept an eye out for those taking any undo interest in them. There were a couple prospects that may be casting glances their way, but nothing too obtrusive. Around them, conversations ran the gambit of mundane to border interesting.

“…keeping the kettle on until it starts to boil…”

“…add to that two parts flour and it should come out…”

“…your parents. Haven’t we got enough troubles of our own…?”

“…think you’re sad now, wait until I get you home…”

“…hour ago, just before dawn. I tell you, it scared me. Nearly a score of riders came through armed to the teeth…

That last brought Scar to full alert. He glanced about trying to pinpoint who spoke only to discover it was one of three men sitting at the table just behind him.

“Did they accost you?” asked one of his tablemates.

“No. They just rode past at a frenzied pace.”

Scar turned in his chair toward those speaking. “Did I hear you right?” he asked. “A band of armed men passed through?”

“That’s right, stranger. Nigh on an hour ago.”

“Bandits?”

The man shrugged. “I don’t know, but I did not like the looks of them. Rough, you know?”

Scar nodded. “Heard about a band of bandits in the area, preying on travelers. The man I talked to said the leader carried a double-headed battle axe across his back.”

The man’s eye’s widened. “The lead rider had one.”

“Then we best be careful when we take to the road,” Scar suggested. “Which way did they go?”

“West.”

“You might want to alert the local guard about this,” Scar said. “Give them a description and so forth.”

“Closest one is in Cara, I believe.”

“Heading that way?”

The man nodded. “I’ll let them know the moment I get there.”

“Good man.” Scar bobbed his head then said, “Safe travels.”

“You too, friend.”

When Scar turned back to their table, Potbelly leaned close and asked, “What was that all about?”

“Garrock’s ahead of us,” he whispered.

“How would he know which way we went?”

Scar shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Is there a problem?” the mother asked.

“Seems bandits were sighted on the road,” he explained.

“No!” she said.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “They were seen heading west, away from Cara so you and your family should be safe.”

“Well,” Scar said as he stood. “We must be going.”

“Yes,” Potbelly said as he stuffed the last of his meal in his mouth and grabbed his pack. “Good speaking with you.”

“And to you as well. Be safe.”

“Always.”

Once out of the inn, they mounted and headed down the road.

“I just don’t get it,” Potbelly said.

“Neither do I,” Scar agreed. “But this is going to make things dicey.”

“Are they even after us?”

“I would assume that they are until we learn otherwise.”

“If they know we’re going west, they may also know we are heading for
The Rested Traveler
.”

“Matlin, like Tork, could have set them on our heels.”

“I don’t know,” Scar said. “Matlin didn’t seem the sort to go out of his way for anyone, good or bad.”

“We need to avoid that inn.”

Scar glanced to his friend. “Agreed.”

It was two hours later when the first person coming from the west appeared on the horizon. A pair of riders, man and woman, they rode along at a good clip. When they drew near, Potbelly held up his hand.

“Pardon us,” he said.

The couple slowed and the man’s hand went to the hilt of a long sword.

“We were hoping you could tell us how far to an inn called
The Rested Traveler
? We understand it to be on a crossroads?”

The man eyed them suspiciously while the woman grew reflective. “I believe it is a little over a day away,” she said. “Nice inn. We stayed there night before last.”

Potbelly gave her a nod then nudged his horse into motion. “Thank you. Safe travels.”

“It’s a safe bet Garrock will be there.”

“Or his men,” Scar added.

“If we set a brisk pace,” Potbelly began, “we could cut northwestward cross country before nightfall and meet up with the road heading north from the Inn with no one the wiser.”

“Good idea.”

Nudging their horses to a faster pace, they raced down the road throughout the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. Periodically, they would question travelers as to how far yet to the inn. It wasn’t until the sun hung midway in the sky on its descent to nightfall did a fat merchant with two guards and a heavily laden wagon said it was less than an hour away. They left the road.

The forest in this area was much sparser than around Cara. They easily forged their way through and after a short time reached cultivated land. They skirted fields that looked freshly plowed and planted to avoid drawing attention.

By sundown, they had yet to encounter the road heading north to the Gorge of Waterfalls. Scar spied a barn with a small herd of cattle off away from the nearest farmhouse. With the sun fading fast, it was their best bet for shelter until morning. They made for it.

Quite aromatic but not nearly as bad as some inns they’d had the misfortune to stay in. The barn was enclosed on three sides and boasted a small loft where the farmer stored bales of hay and miscellaneous farming equipment.

Potbelly climbed the ladder to the loft. He broke open several bales and laid them out for bedding. An old blanket that had seen better days lay draped over a crossbeam and he pulled it down to spread over the hay. Then lying down atop the makeshift bedding, he sighed. “Better than some inns.”

Down below Scar secured their horses. They left them saddled in the event of a quick getaway. He climbed up and joined Potbelly on the hay.

“Not bad,” he agreed. “Though I would wish for more appropriate company.”

Potbelly laughed. “Who wouldn’t?”

The night deepened and then passed uneventfully. Then up before the dawn and they left the barn behind. Two hours later, they reached the road heading north.

Dotted with the occasional farm or orchard, the road meandered its way through rolling hills. Far to the north rose the peaks within which they would find Crystal Crag and the treasure.

Not long after they gained the road did the first village appear.

A score or more small dwellings sat huddled close together on either side of the road. Two were larger than the rest. One being a tavern with a few rooms off to the side; the other looked to be a general mercantile. They stopped at the mercantile to see about acquiring warmer clothing for the higher elevations.

Three people stood in the back of the shop. One was a younger woman wearing an apron, the other two were boys of roughly her age; all three were laughing.

She broke off from the boys and greeted them after they entered.

“Something I can help you find?” she asked.

Scar glanced around the shop and spied a stack of thick leather jackets with fur-lined interiors. “Those?” he said, pointing to them.

“Oh yes,” she said. “With colder weather on the way, these will certainly keep the cold at bay.”

Nearby were fur hats, mitts and thick blankets. “We’ll take two sets of all this.”

Her eyes widened and she grinned. “Fantastic. Please try them on and let me know when you are done.”

The two lads who had been speaking with her made their way to the door and left the shop.

Fully dressed in the winter clothing, Potbelly turned to Scar and asked, “How do I look?”

“Like a tick about to pop,” he joked.

“At least this tick will be warm.”

The sound of horses whinnying out front drew their attention. Scar raced for the door.

“Damn! They’re stealing our horses.”

Potbelly shot for the door, fur-lined clothes flying as he flung them off.

Scar had sword in hand as he burst outside just in time to watch the two lads that had been in the shop when they entered head south out of town with their horses.” Tethered in front of the shop across the road were four horses. Several men stood in and around them.

“There!” Scar yelled as he pointed across the street. He and Potbelly raced to the horses.

The man standing beside the one Scar ran for turned at his approach. “Here, now…” he began but Scar connected a right cross to his jaw and sent him sailing. Then untying the reins from the post, he vaulted into the saddle.

Potbelly bowled another man over as he went for the reins of another. “Sorry,” he said. Reins in hand, he swung into the saddle. As he kicked the horse’s flanks, he said, “We’ll return them shortly!”

A flurry of activity erupted as they tore out of town in hot pursuit of the horse thieves.

Scar had a couple lengths lead on Potbelly. The boys had an even greater lead; but not so much that Scar couldn’t catch intermittent glimpses of them through the trees along the winding road. From the boys, Scar heard laughter and was ready for murder when he caught them.

The road entered a series of turns cut through the hills. Glimpses of the boys kept Scar on track, but then he came to a straightaway and the boys were gone. He pulled back on the reins and stopped.

“What happened?” Potbelly said when he arrived a second later.

“Lost them.”

Turning about, Scar returned along the road through the hills, keeping careful watch on the ground. A hundred feet back, where a nearly invisible trail led off between two sides of the hill, hoof prints broke from the road and followed the new trail.

“Got you,” he said. Kicking his horse into motion, he followed.

The trail was narrow and difficult to maintain any great speed. Scar pushed the horse as fast as he dared. They splashed through a small stream created by a cascade of water down one side of the hill, then the brush grew dense and the trail narrowed even further.