Embers in the Dawn (Ongoing)

Chapter 1: The Stallion and his Groom

                                    The nickering of the stallion stirred Verick from his restless sleep. As he sat up, pushing his wispy silver hair from his eyes, he blinked the last remaining bits of sleep away. His sinewy arms creaked under his weight, the arms that so many years ago could have lifted the bastard sword he carried with ease, now shrunken with age, struggled to lift such a weapon without pain.
He sat back onto his bedroll, his bony old ass somehow always finding a stone or root just to remind him of the old man he had become. The Stallion's silhouette was almost lost in the deep blue of dawn's first light, and all that could be made out was the bright white star, set right in the middle of his watchful eyes. The horse who owned those eyes had been his only companion these past few weeks. Vaelon, Verick had called him, so that when he introduced himself and the steed the sound of the names would ring together like a well plucked chord. He had always had a soft spot for horses.
"Less likely to betray you" he would say. "Give a horse love and food, he'll do the same. So much can't always be said of people." In his long and eventful life Verick had known many people. Many faces filled his restless dreams, many had been friends, and some had been enemies. This night had been no different. Voices from distant memories calling to him from his sleep, the sight of the woman lying in bed, the crimson sash across her chest, her bare breast cold and pale. Scratching at his beard he shook the dream from his thought.

"Well...seems only fair if you're not getting any sleep that I should be either. You're the one hauling this junk around" the old man smiled patting Vaelon's cheek as he reached down to nibble at the small patches of grass. "Suppose you don't want some oats then?" he laughed as he slowly creaked to his feet. Reaching into the pack he had used as a pillow, retrieving a portion of the oats he had bought for the journey, he frowned down at the now dwindling supply.
Traveling through the mountains was no short trip, and for a man his age, an easy one it was not.

The task had seemed simple in the beginning. A short trip across the mountain pass to deliver a bounty back to the Lake Lord who paid him half in advance for the service.

"A thief he is, and a traitor at that!" The portly lord had yelled, waving his grease dipped fingers. "I trusted this boy, treated him as a son! This is my payment, oh yes!" he said punctuating with lick of his thumb. "To be expected...raising common folk to such status is something only those damned Elves would do!" The table had been laid with a truly wondrous feast. Roasted swan stuffed with garlic and wild onions, Baked fruits bathed in honey, Wild boar roasted with wine and garlic oil. Had he been a younger man this would have been a day for Ale and feasting, but as he had aged Verick learned that drinking with lords was only sure to result in trouble.
A passing laugh, a small misplaced chuckle, a misheard phrase. That was all it took for nobility to feel a need to exercise their power. A trip to stock, or the gallows was soon to follow.
So there he sat, silent, listening to the Lord recant the story in between mouthfuls of greasy swan.
"He was a farm boy to start with, simple boy as he was, only good for shoeing horses and cleaning shit! Well as it so happens his family had died in service to me, defending the keep from some damned raiders. The father had asked one thing of me on his death bed, and that was the take his son into the Keep, make sure he didn't want for much.
Reluctantly I accepted these terms, to his credit the boy was quick to learn, and even quicker to please" He paused a minute, staring into his Ale. His voice becoming less boastful, and a tad more somber. "He was a favorite of mine to be sure. No doubt part of why he expected to escape so freely was he knew my love for him, but what good is my word as lord if I don't punish those who steal from me? Hm!? What kind of lord would that make me then? Surely one of your stature and renown can understand my predicament. Surely as a man of law you know better than anyone Sir Veri -"
"Just Verick is fine My Lord" The old man's voice was like stone, cold and hard. He had no love for nobility, even less so for those who lived in such lavish comfort while their common folk slept in huts beyond their walls. Years of kneeling to higher and better men had worn his knees, and his patience.
"I'm no longer a Knight, and have not been for some time. I don't presume any titles that don't befit me" he cast a cold glance up to the head of the table. "I only ask we discuss compensation, my services are grim, and as such don't come cheap, no matter how one may flatter, no matter how one tries to butter my ass, you'll find I don't take much joy in this trade, but it's all I know, and I won't do it for empty words and praise"
"Ah... well of course" the lord sighed, dabbing his lips with an embroidered cloth.
"Half now, to insure you understand what this means to me, and half upon the deliverance of the boy, ALIVE...to be sure"
"To be sure" Verick repeated flatly.