The Sword and the Flame: The Forging

Chapter 12

From his vantage point, Berek watched Renard as he left Gilliam's tent and strode, rather smug, towards his own pavilion. The fighter kept himself busy sharpening his sword, watching the man with a sardonic smile. Renard would most likely be trying to learn what Berek's plans were, or to turn his uncle against him, or both. Such a shame his master wasn't as adept at manipulation as he believed. Berek knew his uncle well enough that he was certain he'd try to save the young man's soul. Too bad, he thought, that Renard couldn't understand the importance of such things in people's lives.

Berek's own beliefs were strengthened when Gilliam left his tent shortly afterwards. With a smile, the young fighter sheathed his sword and inspected the knife he kept in his boot for emergencies. Satisfied both were sharp enough, he put the dagger back and slid from his perch in a tree just above the stalls along Main Street. He left the tent city an hour earlier so he and Gilliam wouldn't be seen leaving together, though he was sure it was a useless precaution as Renard's pet Fech had to be somewhere watching them. At least, he saw the Nursk Brothers leave twenty minutes earlier to set up their ambush. He toyed with the idea of ambushing them instead, but quickly dismissed it. Even at his best, and with surprise on his side, he wouldn't survive. At least this way, he knew they were out there waiting for him, allowing him to prepare for what was to come. Those thoughts finished working through his mind as he landed, with perfect timing, in front of his uncle. A second's hesitation and they would've collided.

Berek's sudden appearance was nearly his last as Gilliam's mace missed his head by inches, and that was only due to Gilliam recognizing his nephew in time. "Damn it! What in blazes do you think you're doing?

Gilliam's agitation was apparent while he reshouldered his mace and smoothed his robes, but his red face only deepened. In response, Berek shrugged, "Just wanted to make sure you're not distracted."

"Not distracted?" Gilliam eyed his nephew with a look capable of killing. "Cause me to have a heart attack and I'll show you a distraction!" After a moment, he realized there had to be a reason for his nephew's action. It could only be two things: either he wasn't ready or he hoped Gilliam's strike would've... No, he refused to finish his thought, deciding instead on the alternative. "You know something."

The only hint he was right came as a subtle nod from Berek, a motion causing the cleric to thank Fallor for his reflexes. "I saw the Nursk Brothers leave a while back. They'll have an ambush in place for me once we're beyond the market place."

Without a wasted motion or hint of what he was doing, Berek started walking towards the market place. Gilliam hurried to catch up, his robes proving to be a hindrance to speed or stealth. "Wouldn't it be wiser to remain here, then?" As soon as he asked, Gilliam feared the answer.

"Renard came to see you. What do you think?" Berek spoke without a pause in his step.

Gilliam's heart fell into a bottomless pit. "It'd be safe for the night."

Berek nodded. "But tomorrow, their weapons will be coated in poison or some other scheme of his. Better to meet my fate than wait for it."

Gilliam remained silent as they continued on their way. It wasn't until a voice hailed them towards the end of the market place that they paused. "Nice night for an ambush." The cleric tried to see the voice's owner, but all he could make out was the occasional red glowing ember.

"Nice and cool tonight. Been out long, Galin?" Berek recognized the Dwarven smith's voice. On more than a few occasions, the fighter brought his damaged armor or weapons to him to be repaired or traded. Over the years, the two had developed a friendship.

The Dwarf chuckled, sitting forward and allowing the light from the moon to light his face, more for the cleric's benefit than Berek's. "Not too long. Nice night for a smoke."