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They looked like he needed to grow into them, which was probably the case as he appeared to be about twelve years old. That explained why the spear was shaking so profoundly. And why an old man—or an old fey, I supposed—came running out of the woods a moment later.
He had a spear, too, and his did not shake, despite the age spots on his hands. There were also wrinkles on the weathered old face, and gray hair protruding like a scarecrow’s from under a wide brimmed straw hat. He looked about eighty, although what that meant here, I had no idea.
There was a spluttering of words in a tongue that I didn’t understand, and which, apparently, Ray didn’t, either. The old man was gesturing at my tunic, or perhaps at the blood on it, I wasn’t sure. It had been in water for much of the last day, but it still had a large stain on the side and several smaller ones that I had added to it.
The discolorations were brown now, the water having washed the red out, but I didn’t think it fooled him. And I had no way to explain, or any clue as to whether I should. If they were vassals of the Svarestri, wearing a blood stained, obviously stolen tunic might mark me as an enemy.
Perhaps I should have stayed naked, after all.
“Okay, so what?” Ray asked. “We just sit here like idiots?”
I glanced at him. “As opposed to?”
He waved a hand. “Take care of them.”
I just looked at him.
“Not like that! I mean . . . we knock them out or something.”
“And then what?”
“What?”
The old creature said something else. It did not sound friendly. “I don’t think he likes us talking,” I told Ray.
“And I give a shit because?”
“We are lost,” I reminded him. “Perhaps they can help us find a portal.”
?
?Yeah, or perhaps they can ransom us to the damned Svarestri and then we’re really—”
But Ray never got a chance to finish his sentence. Because we had finally said a word that the old man knew. He scrunched up his face and spat on the sand, while thrusting the spear at us menacingly. “Svarestri!”
Ray and I looked at each other.
Then Ray did something that validated Dory’s belief in him. He horked up a huge wad of spit, blood and phlegm, and spat it on the ground with enough force to make a divot in the sand. “Svarestri!”
The old man blinked, and regarded us narrowly for a moment. “Svarestri?”
Ray spat again. “Fuck the Svarestri!”
The old man thought some more, and eyed the large stain on my tunic again.
“Fuck the Svarestri,” he finally agreed, pronouncing the words carefully, as if he liked the sound of them. “Fuck the Svarestri!”
He looked at me.
“Fuck the Svarestri,” I agreed, and for the first time, he smiled.
He put his spear over his shoulder and clapped me on the shoulder. Then he decided it deserved more and grinned at me with a mouthful of gray and broken teeth. It appeared that we had made a friend.
“Fuck the Svarestri,” he repeated, and led the way into the forest, beckoning us to follow.
Ray and I looked at each other again. “What the hell,” Ray said.
I nodded.
