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I packed up the camp and readied the horses, thinking all the while.
When I went back to Draven the second time, I wasn’t gentle. I shook him as hard as I could, yelled in his face, cursed, threatened.
And then I did the only other thing I could think of. I doused him with a pail of cold water.
He sat up, shaking droplets from his dark hair, his face a mask of fury.
“What the fuck...” He was still trembling. I felt a wave of pity for him but shrugged it off. He wouldn’t want my sympathy. He probably wouldn’t have even wanted my help. But too damn bad. He was getting it.
“Get on the horse, Captain Draven,” I barked, trying to sound like Sir Ector. “Get on the horse now, before you pass out again. That’s an order.”
He stared at me, for a moment looking at me as if he had no idea who I was.
Then slowly, he pushed himself to his feet.
The pain had returned to his face and his eyes were bleary with fatigue. “Which horse?”
“Which horse?” I repeated. I looked at the horses. I had saddled the piebald, but I needn’t have bothered. There was no way Draven could ride it alone.
“Get on Haya. I’ll sit behind you,” I instructed. Quickly, I tied the piebald behind the pack horse.
Draven clambered up, his large frame taking up most of the saddle. It was a good thing Haya was such a sizable mare.
I pulled myself up behind him, wedged in against his back, and grabbed the reins, wrapping my arms around him. It wouldn’t be a particularly comfortable ride, but if I let him sit behind me, he might fall off and then how would I get him back up? At least his way I might be able to catch him if he started to tilt.
Draven’s back was wet and clammy with sweat, and he was shaking uncontrollably. I pulled a second cloak from my saddle bag and wrapped it around him as best I could, then leaned against him.
“Do you remember the way to the village you told me about last night?”
A slight nod.
“Do you think you can get us there?”
Another nod. “Follow...the road.” He broke into a hacking cough.
“That sounds easy enough,” I muttered, and urged Haya into a trot.
Dusk was falling bythe time we reached the village of Nethervale.
Very quickly I realized this was no ordinary town. Nestled in the thick woods, the village had been constructed amongst the forest rather than apart from it. As we approached, the trees thinned a little, revealing a collection of dilapidated shacks and tents, cobbled together from scraps of wood, metal, and fabric.
Passing the border of the village, larger buildings loomed over us along a long stretch of street. Ramshackle taverns and brothels stood along the main street, alongside more prosperous-looking structures with fresh paint and colorful signs advertising weapons and armor for sale. A number of blacksmith shops were still open, their furnaces roaring, their hammers ringing out a familiar beat.
Shops selling potions and poisons stood alongside them and seemed to be full of customers. Evidently in Nethervale, weapons and poisons made for thriving business.
Despite the growing darkness, the village was bustling with activity. The majority of those we passed seemed to be engaging in enterprises of the nefarious sort. The streets were populated with all manner of unsavory-looking characters. I watched as a towering brute in tattered leather armor carrying a massive battle-ax staggered drunkenly out of a tavern, while across the street a thin, haggard woman with a scarred face clutched a sharp knife in her hand, eagerly eyeing passerby. Urchins and beggars huddled together in darkened alleys, glaring suspiciously up at us as we passed.
“What sort of a place is this?” I hissed at Draven who sat hunched over in front of me. “You’ve brought us to a thieves’ den!”
I wasn’t really expecting an answer. He had been silent most of the day. But at least he had managed to stay in the saddle.
But to my surprise, Draven lifted his head a little. “Head for that inn over there.” His voice was raspy and cracked. “We’ll be staying the night.”
My heart leaped. We might be robbed in our sleep but at least we’d have a chance of a hot bath. I wasn’t about to tell him so, but Draven desperately needed one.
I wondered if I’d have to help him in, then wished I had wondered no such thing as I tried to push out the vision which immediately intruded into my mind.
I looked doubtfully over at the building Draven had pointed at. A nondescript structure that blended in with the buildings around it, like any inn in any small town out in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Or in the midst of a primeval and probably fae-haunted ancient forest.
