The Shattered Path

Chapter 8 - The Farmhouse

Aerham opened his eyes and flung himself upright. He stared in confusion at the eastern horizon alive with fiery light, the top edge of the sun flaring beyond the snow-capped mountains. His cold fingers clawed at the dusty ground at his side, finally closing around the hilt of his sword. At first, he didn't recognize the small cottage or the weathered barn behind it, and then he remembered the events of the previous night.

His life was dung. What was he going to do?

Aerham had fallen asleep while sitting there. He still wore his chain hauberk and tunic, which was now dampened by dew. The smell of smoke and fried sausage clung to the air. His stomach groaned, reminding him that he hadn't eaten dinner on the previous night.

The stone chimney, seeming to lean outward in defiance of gravity, released black tendrils of smoke into the sky. The door of the house was closed, but visible through an open window to the right of the door, a woman moved back and forth across a room, pans and skillets on the wall behind her.

Aerham stood, stretching his back. He had grasped a handful of dirt when he had grabbed his sword. After returning the weapon to his scabbard, he raised a leg and rubbed his hand against the top of his leather boot.

Had they come while he had slept and taken the girl? It was unlikely. They wouldn't have allowed him to sleep. He had succeeded in thwarting Uth Garenthil's filthy desires, or at least done all that he could to prevent them. They may have found another family to terrorize, but he doubted it. They had wanted to join the festive activities at the inn, activities for which the Brotherhood had paid.

The door to the farmhouse creaked open.

"M'lord," the farmer said. "Perhaps ye'd like to join us for breakfast?"

"Aye, good sir." Aerham was hungry enough to eat the leather from his scabbard. Also, he needed time to consider his next meeting with Uth Garenthil. Killing the man would go against the Light of the Blessed Lady. If Aerham learned that Gendis had returned and taken the girl while he had slept, then it was likely that he would try to kill both the Brother and the Initiate. The Light find him afterward. "Breakfast would be just the thing."

The front room of the farmhouse was small. A fire crackled in a stone hearth on the left wall. Two closed doors stood on the right wall. The shutters on the windows were open and orange light from the rising sun spilled onto the table, illuminating an array of wooden dishes. Places had been set for five.

A plump woman, wearing a brown blouse and skirt, stood by the hearth. Her back was to Aerham, but the edge of her black skillet was visible. The delicious aroma and sizzle of sausages were unmistakable.

Aerham followed the father across the room, floorboards creaking beneath both of their feet. The father gestured for him to sit, so he sat in a chair at the table. At first he had welcomed the warmth of the fire, wearing damp clothing, but he quickly began to feel overdressed, wiping at perspiration on his forehead.

The father was in his middle years with a leathery face and sunken eyes, though his ponytail remained solid black, making him appear younger. His hands were rough from farm work and he seemed like a good man, reminding Aerham of some of the kinder tenants who worked his father's orchards. His brown shirt was stained and patched in many places and he had not bothered to shave which intensified his haggard appearance. He did not look like a man who had slept well.

The father smiled weakly across the uneven table, then looked away, eyes darting over the different dishes as if seeing them for the first time. The man's wife had forced him to offer breakfast, more than likely.

"My lord," the farmer began. "May I ask by what name are you known?"

"I am Aerham Hathaen."

"I am Jenkin and this is my wife, Laeda," said the father, bowing slightly. His wife turned from the hearth offering a friendly smile.