Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 32461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Heavy footfalls sounded along the forest road, catching the two thieves’ attention.
The merchant looked as well, waiting for the man to get closer, hoping he knew him and he could help him avoid being robbed, possibly killed.
A lone warrior approached at an easy pace, seemingly unconcerned by the sight of two armed men blocking the road.
A smile broke out on the merchant's face. Surely, the gods were favoring him today.
“Torden! A fortunate meeting,” the merchant called out.
Torden continued toward them.
He was taller than the average man and powerfully built, his broad shoulders made more imposing by the massive claymore strapped across his back. Dark hair fell past his broad shoulders, and strong features gave him a face worth a second glance, though there was nothing welcoming in his expression as his gaze moved from the merchant to the two men.
The shorter thief looked at his companion. “You know him?”
“Does it matter?” The taller man's interest shifted immediately to Torden. “There’s two of us and one of him.”
The merchant laughed.
Both thieves looked at him.
“You find something amusing?” the taller one demanded.
“Nay.” The merchant tucked his coin pouch safely back beneath his cloak and waited for the amusement to begin.
The man turned toward the warrior and demanded, “Your coins.”
Torden remained where he was.
“I said your coins,” the thief snarled as if it would make a difference.
It didn’t. Torden still didn’t move.
The merchant chuckled.
The thief swung around. “What's so damned funny?”
“You'll find out.”
The man's sword shifted back toward the warrior. “Hand over your coins or I’ll take them off your dead body.”
Torden’s eyes settled on the man with the mild annoyance one might give a fly that refused to be swatted away.
The thief held out his hand. “Your coins. Now.”
Torden ignored his demand.
The thief stepped closer. “Are you deaf?”
“Nay,” Torden said.
The thief barely had time to blink. One large hand shot out and caught him by the neck. His sword fell from suddenly useless fingers as his feet left the ground.
The merchant grinned.
The second thief stumbled backward, his eyes wide with fright.
For one suspended moment, the thief dangled helplessly from the warrior's grasp. Then, without warning, he tossed him. Not a shove, but a toss, and a powerful one.
The man sailed past his companion, struck the trunk of a tree with a solid thud and collapsed unconscious beneath it.
The remaining robber stared at his fallen companion. Then at the warrior. Then at the considerable distance between the two.
He dropped his sword…. and ran.
The merchant burst into laughter.
Torden watched the thief disappear into the trees before turning his gaze to the unconscious man sprawled beneath the oak.
“He'll wake.”
“A pity.” The merchant grinned and gave him a respectful nod. “My thanks, Torden. I knew I could count on you.”
Torden nodded and continued on his way. The village not far ahead had a decent inn, a tankard of ale, and a favorite dark corner where no one would bother him. Though, he wasn't counting on it. There was always someone who needed something from him. A dispute settled. A wrong righted. A sword wielded when words failed.
He had fought more men than he cared to remember and settled more quarrels than he cared to hear. Both had left him equally weary.
All he wanted was peace. Not the peace others summoned him to make for them… his own.
Torden spotted the first cottage through the trees and continued toward the village.
Hopefully, tonight he will find it. If only for a few hours.
The village came into view as Torden rounded a bend in the road, cottages scattered along either side and people going about their day. A cart loaded with sacks rattled past him, the driver sending him a wave.
Torden spotted the familiar inn near the center of the village and headed for it.
Noise greeted him the moment he opened the door. Laughter. Conversation. Tankards striking tables. Exactly what he expected.
He paused just inside, his gaze sweeping the room out of habit. Two doors beside the one behind him. A narrow passage leading to the kitchen. A staircase at the far end. A dozen or more men scattered among the tables, only a few armed. No one paying him more attention than a stranger his size warranted.
No threat.
It might be a peaceful meal after all.
He made his way to an empty table in the far corner where the wall protected his back, and he had a clear view of the room. He removed the claymore and rested it within easy reach.
A serving lass appeared almost immediately. “What can I bring you, Torden?”
“Ale.”
“Anything to eat?” she asked with a smile and swing of her hips.
“Whatever is tasty.”
Her smile broadened and she lingered. “Passing on home or staying the night?”
“Going home.”
She leaned closer, bending just enough for him to take a gander at her breasts that were nearly falling out of her blouse. “Sure, I can't tempt you with anything else?”