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Turning the snorting, curvetting stallion, Gord lightly pressed his heels against Blue Murder's sleek flanks, and the horse shot ahead, its hooves throwing up clumps of manure and mud in a spray that couldn't help but strike the fallen stable owner. "A fortnight, then," Gord called gleefully over his shoulder.
Threats and curses followed the receding form of horse and rider as they galloped away along Harbor Road, oblivious to the wrath being called down upon them.
When the heat of High Summer grew too oppressive to bear, or at those times when the crowded, odiferous city became too wearisome for his liberated spirit, Gord would venture into the countryside roundabout Greyhawk. Sometimes these expeditions were shared with his gigantic companion. Chert, but ofttimes the barbarian preferred to be left to his own devices, and then the young adventurer explored alone. Such was the case at this time. Gord was on his own, and he was delighted. He needed to be away from the hillman, for the barbarian's likes and dislikes often seemed to be absolutely contrary to Gord's, and Chert's ma
Actually, the hillman had decided to abandon the city more than a week ago, a couple of days prior to the seven-day midsummer holiday of Richfest. Muttering something and tossing a pack over one of his ledgelike shoulders, Chert had clumped out of the building he and Gord had used as their lodging.
"See you," he had shouted at Gord as the young man came downstairs to try to discover what all the racket was about. "I'm getting on a boat going all the way to Hardby on Woolly Bay — they tell me the women there are bold and beautiful!" With that the huge hillman stepped out and went his way. Shouting in Gord's general direction through the front door he had carelessly left wide open. Chert added, "If I'm not back in a month or so, start the party without me!"
"You'll find the women of Hardby to be something indeed!" Gord had shouted back before simply banging the door shut without proper farewell. But once it was shut he collapsed behind it roaring with pleasure in anticipation of the rude awakening his friend was going to get upon his arrival in Hardby. The young thief had been to that region once, and he knew exactly what Chert would find. Women were the rulers there; they were quite bold, often beautiful, and regarded men as only a little lower than the least of females. This was an oddity, for in general the women everywhere in the eastern Flanaess were held as men's equals in all aspects except brute force. But in Hardby the amazonian soldiers and guards to the Despotrix were as burly and muscular as dockworkers. and even someone as large as the gigantic barbarian would have a hard time overpowering one of them, let alone a whole city of such warriors. Gord wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes, got to his feet, and then set about pla
As a lad, Gord had known of little outside the territory of the worst slums of Old City. Even when his world had been expanded by his apprenticeship to Theobald the Beggarmaster. Gord had been confined to the precincts of Greyhawk's least desirable portions in general. The young thlefs exposure to freedom, his time with the Rhe
Gord was now headed for the village of Gawkes Mere, on the shore of Mere Gawke. He had no intention of exchanging one, summer-hot city for another and. since he'd been to this peaceful little hamlet before and knew many of the members of its population, he was looking forward to a quiet, fun-filled reunion with old friends.
As he rode along, Gord couldn't help but wonder what kind of vacation Chert was having in Hardby. The image of his massive pal being bounced around by a woman kept ru
The great stallion finally worked off most of its pent-up energy and then simply cantered along effortlessly, its long legs eating up the miles at a speed that was more typical of a fleet courser than a stallion of such size and weight. Riding easily, Gord had time to reflect on Chert's parting shot. Again, uncontrollable fits of laughter overcame him. "You won't last one night, let alone a 'month or so,' old friend!" Gord shouted to the wind. "I'll see you ere Richfest has long faded into Goodmonth — that is, if have returned by then!" A vigilant jay cocked its head to watch as the solitary young thief passed on the big stallion, shouting merrily to no one at all. The flutter of the bird's wings and the shake of its blue-crested head seemed to say, "That man is odder than most humans I’ve seen!"
"Hoy! Hold that barge!" Gord thundered up the dusty road that led from the village of Nea
The master of the barge scratched his cheek and shook his head at such outlandish talk and behavior, but the coin tendered was a fine silver noble — ten times the cost of passage. He and the crew gave the wicked-looking stallion and the crazy man who rode it wide berth, but ferry the pair across the Selintan they did. "If you ever pass this way again, fellow," the barfieinaster shouted as horse and man left his vessel, "don't you be jumpin' so on my good boat!"
The hot sun was still at Gord's back on this last day of Richfest. He was already across the river and heading west before the great ball of flre neared its zenith. A fine forenoon. Gord whistled as he rode along the highway to Dyvers. Soon enough he'd be leaving this well-traveled road with its lines of carts and wagons, pack animals and herders with flocks of kine, sheep, goats, and swine. Drovers and caravans, teamsters and travelers plied this artery between the two great free cities of Greyhawk and Dyvers. The distance was some hundred or more miles between the two, and that trade that didn't use the roundabout way of the Nyr Dyv's waters followed this highway to conduct its intercourse. The road dipped southward to the edge of the Gnarley Forest where herdsmen and foresters dwelled. Then it swung northward again to run near the wave-pounded verge of the beaklike, westernmost arm of the Lake of Unknown Depths. There, where the Nyr Dyv received the mighty tribute of the Velverdyva's flood, stood the great free city on the lake's shore, Dyvers, merchant prince of the lake.
South of this busy, commercial artery, the countryside was far different Gentle hills and long valleys lay there, and the huge old trees of the Gnarley thi