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Womtham was a bustling trade center, and both Gord and Evaleigh enjoyed the three days they spent there after taking their leave of the disbanding caravan. A rest from their traveling refreshed them both, and Gord in particular found the place interesting both in form and in populace. Womtham was a typical old Oeridian town, with its architecture and construction showing a great deal of dwarven and gnomish influence. There were, in fact, fair numbers of these sorts of folk, as well as many halflings, going about their business in the town. Evaleigh had seen the place before, but Gord was quite unused to such surroundings, and he greatly enjoyed sightseeing and mingling with the residents.
During their travels about the town, Gord and Evaleigh made the acquaintance of a group of traders and pilgrims who were bound for the town of I
A rutted road led in the general direction they desired, and the two had been told that Finton was no more than half a day’s ride. Although it proved to be somewhat more, they came to the pretty little cluster of buildings before darkness fell, and spent a comfortable night at a small i
A few days more of riding along a rough easterly road brought them to a far wilder area, the worn-down portion of the southern Rakers known as the Flinty Hills. There was no possibility of avoiding the foothills without going far out of their way and through even worse terrain than the Flinty Hills. A path to the north, if such were feasible or necessary, would force them to try to negotiate the jagged peaks of the Raker Mountains, which were set like a wall between the western lands of the Oeridians and the Fla
The road, such as it was, bent sharply southward and ran along the edge of the steep uplands, quite the opposite of what Gord had hoped for. If it eventually led to I
The going was slow, even following the trail, for the rough ground and steep ascents and descents made any pace above a walk very dangerous for their horses. In many places, both riders were forced to dismount and lead their animals. Gord wished that he had had sufficient foresight to bring mules along. The trail did at least show evidence of human use, and from the signs of sheep and goats, there was hope that small communities would be encountered along the way. While they had food and water with them, Gord did not desire to spend nights camped in the open in such a wild area. A more immediate problem soon arose, however: the path they were following split into two forks, one leading nearly straight east, the other in a more northerly direction. Both showed signs of use.
“Evaleigh, have you any sense as to which we should take?” Gord asked his companion. “I am unable to detect any difference in the twain.”
“Left or right, it makes no difference as far as I can see,” she replied after pondering both paths for a minute. “Neither seems to direct us straight toward our goal, so I must ask you to choose.”
Eventually Gord opted to follow the northern branch, for it looked somewhat less rough and it showed evidence of more recent usage. They followed it for several hours, and then it divided into three. Gord followed the center trail, for it curved east. This track led them into the very heart of the Flinty Hills, where the steep-sided mounds were highest. The afternoon shadows were lengthening by now, and Gord began to feel concerned about where they would find safety for themselves during the dark hours to come.
All too soon twilight was upon them, and still no sign of habitation was to be seen. A ravine ahead offered the most promise, so the pair rode in that direction, following a narrow path between two steep mounds. Suddenly, a small boulder came rolling and bounding down the rocky wall to their right, throwing off splinters of stone as it fell and then coming to rest with a crash just ahead of them. Both horses spooked at this, and Gord and Evaleigh had all they could manage to control their mounts as the animals bucked and did their best in the somewhat cramped quarters to turn and gallop in the opposite direction. By the time they succeeded in bringing the frightened creatures under control, the trap had been sprung.
“Surrender or die!” The booming voice came from behind them. Gord pulled his shortsword out in one swift motion as he wheeled his gelding around to face the challenger. His gaze fell upon not one, but a dozen men standing some fifty or sixty feet away. They were variously clad in studded jacks, sarks of iron rings, and leather coats and skins. Most bore long spears and short-hafted axes. One large fellow who stood slightly ahead of the others leaned on a huge, double-bitted battle-axe. This one again bellowed in a stentorian voice.
“Cast down that toothpick, fool! Look to your flanks and rear!”
Without dropping his blade, Gord quickly glanced left and right. On the rim of the cut they were in stood another dozen or so men, similar to those he had first seen but holding crossbows, rocks, javelins, and the like. A rapid look over his shoulder revealed yet more of the hillmen-spearmen and slingers this time, the latter with slings whirling slowly.
“Why ambush two wayfarers?” Gord called to the head man. “We are peaceful and threaten you not!”
“True, you pose us no threat,” said the tall leader as he strode toward the trapped couple. “It is we who are the danger, and if you do not now surrender, you will be dead shortly.” The men behind him followed closely on his heels as he continued to advance.
Seeing no other course, Gord tossed his sword to the ground and dismounted. He voiced a brief instruction to the terrified Evaleigh to stay where she was. Nearly frozen with fear, she managed to nod her head in compliance. Then, rather than waiting for the hillman to come to him, the young thief walked boldly toward his would-be captor, allowing a bit of swagger to be apparent. As the two closed the distance between them, Gord was surprised to discern that the hillman was fully head and shoulders taller than he was. The leader must have been nearly seven feet tall, and the warriors behind him all easily topped six feet. Gord kept walking, intending to meet his adversary before he and his fellows could get too close to Evaleigh. The hillman cooperated by halting his advance, and Gord strolled up to within a couple of paces of where the leader stood, leaning on his great axe. Determined not to allow his fear to show, Gord spoke just as he came to a halt.
“Well, you’re big enough…. But I had always heard that you hill folk were courageous, not cowards.”