Please forgive the delay in releasing this blog. I recently had a medical procedure performed and it took longer than I expected to bounce back. The fun of aging…
The following excerpt is from a rather long chapter I wrote for Kingdom Rules when it was in its infancy. It added nothing to the story—it was a standalone chapter, if you could call it that. Later, I thought it would make for a great short story and, well, later is upon us. I will release parts of it until I finish it. I will offer it as a completed work on the website at some point.
Without further adieus, I present Isgaut Monster II.
Isi was bound to walk into Ashul at some point during his time traversing Flace and he did so at the end of the Fire Months, when cooler temperatures began to settle in. Yet, there was still enough warmth in the night air making living conditions in the wild at least tolerable.
Ashul was a busy harbor town with shops, taverns and thriving ship building enterprises along its coastline. One of the ship building businesses was owned by Aeehrl Skuti Ingimund, a powerful warrior turned Aeehrl, who had taken over his Father’s once thriving trade. Ashul was a high functioning and organized city, and was intolerant of misdeeds, let alone crimes of a more serious measure.
One afternoon when the moon began its chase of Vesceron to the horizon, Isi stumbled into the Iron Spear, a tavern nestled between an apothecary shop and a bakery. The Iron Spear was small, quiet and dark, the best place for a man on the run to hide. Isi stepped inside the door and immediately scanned the room for a familiar face. Convinced no one knew him, he stepped to the bar.
“Ale, my friend,” said Isi.
“An ale you shall have, but a friend call me not,” said Ansell the owner. “You don’t know me.”
Truly spoken—I have no friends.
Shifting his posture, Isi flashed a smile. “Then what may I call you?”
“More importantly, what is your name and why are you here?”
You, friend, are an arse’s hole.
“My name is Askel Orest of Iziadrock. I’ve come to Ashul to conduct business.”
Ansell shook his head and stepped away to fetch Isi’s ale. When he returned with the cool liquid the inquiry started anew.
“That’s quite a scar on your face,” said Ansell.
“That it is,” said Isi.
“Some jealous husband not like your eyes on what is his?”
You think I don’t know what you’re doing? I’ve seen far better. You’re about as subtle as a hammer.
“I don’t know what you’re on about. Are you insinuating I would make a woman unchaste?”
“Ansell,” said the rough female voice echoing off the stone walls inside the tavern. “Send yer’ nephew Drystan out here to help me with the ale barrels.”
“Let me help you with those,” said Isi turning away from Ansell.
The woman placed her hands on her wide hips and gave Isi the once over. “You don’t look the part. You’re too clean, except for that cut on your face.”
Skeggi you bastard.
“Trust me, m’lady,” said Skeggi. “I’ve done my fair share of hard labor.”
“You can’t be any worse than Drystan. He’s a scobberlotcher at best.”
“Mind your tongue, Edelina,” said Ansell. “You’re not much more than a muck-sprout on most days.”
Izi followed Edelina outside where she led him over to her horse cart loaded with about ten barrels of ale. He chuckled and fetched the hand cart nearby and the two offloaded the barrels and dragged them down to the cellar beneath the Iron Spear.
***
In his prime Isi wouldn’t have given a second thought to such a woman. But he was getting beyond desperate and so he settled on Edelina. Two hours after assisting the brewster with her delivery, Isi had his way with Edelina behind a couple of trees out of sight. She squealed like a stuck pig with delight, enjoying the ways of a man well versed in the art of pleasing a woman.
Where is the nearest stream? I feel the need to wash myself and I don’t care how foul the water is. It’s a good thing I still have strong memories of the women I bedded on the Pebble Islands. I’m a long way away from those days here in some harbor town in Flace. For the love of the gods the women are just as big and strong as the men and about the same in appearance! But she has the coinage from her successful ale producing business and I need access to it. What else am I going to do?
Isi’s new ruse was that of an investor and as he did in Iziadrock he “picked out” a ship being built in the harbor as their investment. He even went so far as to talk to the workers gleaning inside information only someone connected would have. It was never a clever idea to start with, even if for some coinage to survive the upcoming cold, which would inevitably come when he would have to hie.
Two weeks later, Isi found himself sharing the bed of Edelina, one of the best brewsters in Ashul. Despite her status as an alewife, she was gullible and lonely, two traits Isi found easy to manipulate. Oversized breasts went with her wide hips and her dirty blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail on most days. When she was a child, her long and pointed nose drew the ire of the other children who called her by every bird name they could think of until settling on Crow, figuring it made young Edelina cry the most.
Isi continued to bed Edelina, which was becoming more and more difficult for him to do. Not only was she unattractive, but she was also not a clean woman, and the smell of her body was unpleasant at best. She was nowhere near the pretty perfumed women he was bedding when he first began his life as a conman. He did, however, gain her confidence enough for Edelina to tell him where the coinage was hidden in the small, dark and smelly house.
Isi, desiring rest against a daunting and harsh life of his own choosing, stayed too long. The stories of his past began to get muddled. There were lies upon lies, until he spun himself into a web of his own creation. In more ways than one, his luck was running out in the bustling harbor city of Ashul like the sands in an hourglass.
As was his afternoon custom, Isi rode one of Edelina’s horses over to the Iron Spear for an ale. Four men, sat at another table close to the bar, but further from the door, where they engaged in conversation, most of it light hearted. It was obvious to Isi from the start they were regulars by the way they interacted with Ansell and how they teased Drystan.
The leather tankard he drank from belonged to Edelina’s husband. It was as if Isi decided to rub the man’s nose in what he was doing to his widow. Isi made it his point to sit behind an old wood table and unbalanced oak chair closest to the door with his back to the wall. Isi closed his eyes, envisioning his escape route one last time.
I’ve stayed here a mite too long. This distasteful woman has been asking far too many questions and I, in my oft drunken states have tripped myself up. I believe Edelina, whom is not an educated woman still has caught me in my own web of deceit. Tonight, I will make my last play before leaving the less than fine city of Ashul for pastures a tad greener in color, which should not take much effort.
Isi sat in a world of his own thinking, and while having conversations in his head three men walked into the Iron Spear. All three were big men with large beards, muscular arms and ruddy complexions. The men did not notice Isi propped up on a chair leaning against the wall next to the door. They sat down at a table like the one Isi occupied, it too with mismatching chairs, near the middle of the room, yet close to the door. One of the men raised his tankard, motioning the owner over to the table.
“Men,” said Ansell, “three tankards of ale?”
“Yes, if you would be so kind,” said Skeggi, “and some information.”
Skeggi took three silver coins out of a pouch he tied to his belt and put them on the table, pushing them toward Ansell, who motioned for Drystan. He collected the men’s tankards and went about filling them with Edelina’s ale. After returning with the ales, the men seated at the other table called Drystan over. Whatever they said grabbed Drystan’s attention and he shuffled away from the table and exited through the same door Isi and Edelina used to deliver the kegs of ale several fortnights ago.
“What kind of information would you be looking for?” said Ansell.
“We are looking for a man who might have come to Ashul,” said Skeggi.
“Many men come to Ashul. This is a busy town with men of the seas coming and going.”
“This man would’ve come by land. He has a large scar on his cheek. Goes by Isi, Isgaut, Thormar, maybe something else.”
“I may be able to help. But I prefer gold to silver.”
Skeggi reached into his pouch and retrieved a single gold coin and tossed it on the table.
“The man you are looking goes by the name of Askel Orest. He’s been staying with a woman by the name of Edelina.”
“Where does she live?”
Ansell remained silent, looked down at the coins and then back at Skeggi.
“May Vihesis the god of judgement deal with you most severely,” said Osvald, one of Skeggi’s friends, as he placed a gold coin on the table. “You are bleeding your own countrymen to death.”
“Like I said, men come and go,” said Ansell. “You men mean to harm this man, and I suspect you plan to kill him outright, putting me in the middle of a murderous scheme. But I am aware of this man’s type and Ashul is better off without such men.”
“You charge a steep price for your information. It better be good.”
“Of course, it’s good. Men come and go, but I know who stays. This man, if I’m correct—and I am, has stayed too long. But I fear he may have stolen—”
Osvald cut off Ansell with a sneer on his face. “We didn’t pay you for your words. Where can we find Edelina?”
Ansell lowered his eyebrows and looked at each man. “Edelina lives out in the village, five miles or so from here. It’s just off the main road. Tell anyone you see you’re looking for the alewife.”
“You sure you got the right man?” asked Skeggi.
“He was sitting right by the door when you walked in.”
“You’re a bastard my friend. We should burn this place to the ground.”
“Watch your words. Threats don’t go over well in Ashul. You must know the owner of a tavern who sells good ale at a fair price is well respected. I have friends who protect my interests.”
“There is nothing fair about you or this tavern,” said Hakon, the third man of the group and younger brother of Osvald. “I don’t give a shit about your friends. My sword and axe will do my talking.”
The four men at the table nearby stood and made their way over to Ansell.
“They won’t do any talking, unless you want them silenced for eternity,” said one of Ansell’s friends, “I suggest the three of you move on.”
Hakon stood up drawing his 36” double-bladed sword, sharp on both sides and pointed it in the direction of the four men. “You’re a bastard too,” he said. “This man overcharges for what he sells.”
“Hakon,” hissed Skeggi, “put the sword down. We don’t need this trouble. We got our information. Let’s go and do what we came here to do.”
“Did you three dalcops walk here?” said one of Ansell’s friends, laughing. “When I went for a piss I didn’t see any horses outside.”
“Shit,” said Skeggi.
Skeggi, Osvald and Hakon stood as one and attempted to make their way for the door only to be cut off by Ansell’s friends.
“It’s best if you don’t come back this way,” said the man who confronted Hakon. “If you do, you’ll find yourselves in front of our Aeehrl. There are laws against threats of violence in this kingdom.”
Skeggi eyed the men who blocked the door. “Understood.”
The four men moved out of the way allowing the three interlopers seeking revenge out the door with their tails between their proverbial legs. Once outside, it was as the man said. The horses were gone.
“Damn these people,” said Skeggi. “We’ve been played as fools.”
“Surely, we have been cursed by the gods,” said Hakon, “we should have had seen the seer for his blessing.”
Skeggi drew in a large breath in through his nostril and spit on the ground. “May this land be cursed in the name of Diheyar, god of the Land.”
“Let’s go. We don’t have time to call on the gods to curse this land,” said Osvald, laughing. “We need to find ourselves three horses.”