Two men stood staring at a slim figure dancing to rhythmic drums. The evil glow from the bonfire behind them illuminated the sky. The pair watched the performance until its end, when the man sat down, drenched in sweat. A crowd of men and women watched from the fringe of the group as the man removed his leather vest, throwing it to the side.
The skinny swordsman, who barely reached six feet in height and weighing at least ninety pounds, bellowed. His sword, a longsword the length of his arm, lay on the ground. The weapon smacked the road, a few inches away from his hand.
A few women clapped as he stood, pinching himself. From the crowd, a hulking warrior with a feline face grabbed the swordsman's hand and brought the sword up on the warrior's shoulder. With a howl of rage, he pushed the blade back and forth, flipping it in midair before driving it into the ground. The impact made a gash in the raw earth, like a longsword striking armor plate. The women from the crowd cheered.
I knew you'd return someday, the swordsman said, breathing hard. I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see it myself.
"I told you I would, the warrior replied. The two men grasped each other's arm and shook. The swordsman winced from the contact and then said, You look like hell.
"You too. You could always get a better tailor, you know," the warrior said, grinning. I trained with some of the most skilled warriors in the realm.
"Yeah, I know. He grinned at the throngs of people staring at them. A woman stepped forward and asked, What's going on?
"These men saved my life. They stopped me from being burnt at the stake by some peasants, the swordsman said. He waved a finger at the crowd, which sparked a few more cheers.
"That's a crock, the warrior said. I rescued you off the stake, too.
"I believe you're both correct,a man said as he landed on a nearby table. I tried to tell them, but they wouldn't listen.
"Who are you? the swordsman asked, picking his sword up. Some women in the crowd exclaimed, That is Prince Dunu, the sorcerer prince!
"Really? the warrior asked. The sorcerer stepped off the table and crossed the road with a passegier, who greeted him with a hug. Behind him, women fought with each other for a chance to thank him.
"Yes, really, Prince Dunu replied, grinning and picking his sword back up. Are you the swordsman you contacted me about?
"Yes, yes, I am, he replied. "I'm Itharr, and I'm so, so grateful that you saved me.
The sorcerer, whom the crowd had called an old man, but the warriors said looked younger than thirty in both the old ways and by his own people, suddenly clutched his chest and fell down on his face. At the same time, the flames beneath the group lit up, and a faint smell of burning flesh filled the air. The spectators backed away from the bonfire as Prince Dunu said, A curse, I am cursed.
A transport line opened in front of him, and the flames shot up, nearly reaching the fighter's kneecaps. He shooed at the flames, snatching Prince Dunu's arms and dragging him away. Itharr bellowed at the crowd, Go, get out of here, help him! As if thrown by a strong wind, the crowd parted, and the warriors stood over Prince Dunu, who breathed hard with his eyes closed. The crowd surrounded the sorcerers, and Itharr grabbed the prince's hand. Come, you want to retrieve your weapon, right?
"It's in the fire, he said, grimacing. He opened his eyes, and Itharr saw the look of despair in the man's blue gaze. I'll never see it again. It's gone.
Don't be so sure. It's not that far from here, Itharr said, helping the prince stand up. A few men in the crowd asked whether he was hurt, but Itharr saw that most women had turned to run away.
"No, I'm fine. The sorcerer rubbed his eyes and frowned. I haven't been this tired in a long time.
Prince Dunu led the trio through the town and through the western field. The road led into the woods and deep into the forest. The smell of burning wood permeated the air, and the temperature dropped considerably. As they ventured deeper into the forest, birds and other animals flew out of the way. Itharr asked, What's burning? I smell smoke.
"Nothing, the prince replied. The vermin overran this land and were putting it to the torches.
"They were burning the forest? Itharr asked, incredulous.
"You have to burn wood to fight wood, the prince said with a sigh. Each person held an axe and was fighting back the tide. A few trees had fallen, and a local woodcutter was trying to cut some logs.
A short way into the forest, they found the woodcutter surrounded by logs and swinging an axe. Large brown patches of bark covered the edges of the tree stumps. "They are coming.
I cut down some of the logs to use as barricades. I hope that I can hold them off until the others arrive." He stared at the prince, who staggered in the periphery of his vision.
Itharr's hand rested on the prince's shoulder as whispers from the crowd around them rose. He whispered to his companion, Where are your men?
"They don't know about this. We only just left our camp this morning.
"They are coming, the woodcutter said. The prince's gaze jerked to the woodcutter, and he trembled. They are coming.
I think that I should let you two find your own way out, the woodcutter said to the two men. I can hold them off as I see them and will see to the prince when they got here. I hope that he'll be here when I return.
We will be here, Itharr said. He glanced past the woodcutter, and the campfire illuminated one of the trees. The beast towered over the woodcutter, its overscaled form and long red tail broken from the aftermath of its death.
The flames that haloed the creature's head caused the fire to dance across its horns and headed toward the forest. Itharr felt a pang in his stomach as he realized that he would probably never see Prince Dunu again. Let's get out of here, he whispered.
They ran into the night.