A Quick Escape

Alf picked at the spot on his bar with his fingernail, unsure if it was something long since spilled or a tiny knot in the wood. Sighing, he gave up and ran his cloth quickly over it, leaving it for another day. His inn, The Traveller’s Hearth, was always quiet at this time of year. Not many people made the journey along the mountain road during the winter moons. Still, he desperately hoped when the sun went down, he’d have more custom than just the old man nearly asleep in the corner and the hooded youth staring into the fire.

His daughter, Elisabeth, came out from the kitchen carrying a bowl of stew and a hunk of bread for the youngster. ‘Here you go love, enjoy.’ She flashed him a smile as she set it down on his table. The slight stiffness to her left arm told Alf that she had her cudgel hidden up her sleeve, dealing with some of the vagrants that passed this way often called for a firm hand.

The door banged open, and the bitterly cold northern wind entered, depositing snow onto the wooden floorboards. This far north the thaw wouldn’t come for another two moons. The old man stirred briefly at the sound of the newcomer before grunting and raising his mug to Elisabeth.

A man walked in from the frosty outdoors, worn and weather beaten, yet strong and stern. He wore a longsword on his belt, leather and chainmail under his cloak. Removing his hood, he shook a few flakes of snow from his iron-grey ponytail and beard. He approached the bar, eyes fixed firmly on Alf, some men may have been intimidated, but not Alf, for this man was a dear friend.

‘Jacob! How many moons has it been?’

‘Too many since I’ve tasted your beef stew.’ Jacob extended a calloused, strong hand over the bar to Alf. Alf grasped it as tight as he could, this had become their ritual to find the stronger of them. A life of carrying sword and shield had made Jacob strong, but Alf had hauled barrels of ale since he was ten, and ale was heavier than swords.

Alf couldn’t help his laughter, he may have been approaching fifty, but in his heart, he was still a child. His laughter was returned double from Jacob, it felt good to be together again.

‘How fares the guild?’ he asked his old friend.

‘Aye, better now, we grow in numbers every week. Took on a new page a few moons back, answers to the name Luthar. Let me tell you, first time he picked up a training sword he was knocking lads twice his age round the head with it, but they couldn’t touch him! Chadwick’s going to get him promoted soon and take him out I reckon, show him the world. I think he’ll be something, that lad.’

‘Not fancy training him yourself?’

‘Honestly, I wouldn’t’ve minded taking him under me wing for a piece. Leyton said he wanted a younger man with him though, guide him proper, you know? Anyway, I got young Thom now. Smart lad, think he’ll do ok too.’

Elisabeth set a mug of ale for each of them on the bar and gave Jacob a kiss on his cheek on her way to the old man’s corner. She’d known him her whole life, she and Alf saw him as family.

‘Where are you headed? Have you got work up this way?’

Jacob took a great mouthful of ale from his mug. ‘That’s better! Got some escort work to do further up in the mountains near Haln, some of the miners want to shift a load of stuff early. Coin’s not so bad up there, just this bloody cold that gets me now. Closer I get to sixty, the more it gets into me bones.’

‘I wouldn’t know about that.’

‘You’ll be old one day.’ Replied Jacob with a grin. ‘You’ll see how shit it is.’

The pair of them shared another bout of laughter as the door opened again, much more gently this time. In stepped Thom, almost covered head to toe from the blizzard. Alf reckoned he was of early teenage years, yet to shave his face.

‘Alf, Thom. Thom, Alf.’ Said Jacob by way of introduction, gesturing to each of them.

‘I’ll get you an ale, warm you up.’ Said Alf, turning away from them and walking over to the barrel.

‘Another one here aswell.’ Added Jacob after he’d drained his mug.

Alf held a fresh mug under the barrel’s tap but got little more than a brown trickle. He rocked it gently, but the lack of a sloshing sound told him it was empty. He picked it up off its stand and hoisted it to his shoulder.

‘It’s out, give me a minute gents.’ He explained, then turned towards the cellar steps. Carefully, he picked his way downwards to his storeroom in the gloom, one hand on the empty barrel, the other on the rough stone wall to steady himself. At the bottom of the steps, he discarded the spent barrel and picked up a full one to take back upstairs.

A loud crash made Alf jump and bang his head on a low wooden beam. ‘Bugger it!’ he cursed, rubbing his bald crown. No blood, at least. A second sound brought him back to his senses, this time smashing glass. Someone’s tried it on with Jacob he thought grimly, that won’t end well for them. With a shake of his head, he began the ascent of his stairs, much slower this time.

His eyes fell on a bizarre and bloody sight when his head surfaced from the trap door. Three enormous men with long shaggy hair and grey grizzled beards were tangling with Jacob. Jacob had his sword drawn but was coming off the worst. Thom lay on the ground, clutching his guts but failing to stop the flow of blood pouring out onto Alf’s floor. A fourth man was holding the hooded youth by his hair and lowering his face into the fire. He was laughing a cruel and merciless cackle. In the far corner the old man was slumped at his table, motionless, covered in blood.

Jacob caught sight of Alf out the corner of his eye. ‘Get Liz and go! I’ll give you as long as I can.’

Alf set down the heavy barrel, and as quick as he could, grabbed the knife he kept under his bar and made for the kitchen. He wagered Elisabeth would be hiding in there as she often did when things got hairy. Barging through the door, he came to a sudden halt. Another one of the grizzled men had hold of his daughter around her neck, knife held firmly at her throat. She kicked and struggled, but the man was much too strong for her.

‘Hehehe she’s a pretty one.’ Laughed the man, voice slow and deep. He took a long sniff at Elisabeth’s hair, with apparent relish. ‘She smells like a virgin; I do love little virgins.’

Elisabeth sensed her opportunity and as he moved, she sank her teeth deep into his hand, drawing blood. He yelped like a wounded puppy and as he flinched, Elisabeth broke free. Alf was in a frenzy, he stole forward and plunged his dagger into the man’s chest, again and again. Blood flew over his hands, his face and into his eyes, blurring his vision a deep red.

A hand grabbed his arm, cooling his rage. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ Elisabeth was weeping, the first time Alf had seen her cry openly for years. She pulled him through the kitchen to the back door, leaving the man to make his peace with the gods. As soon as they reached the door, it burst open and another invader stood there, this one with black hair and missing an eye. Alf caught his arm with the dagger, again drawing blood and, as he jumped back, he slammed the door and slid the bolt into place, praying it would delay him a while.

As they reached the top of the stairs, they could hear him banging frantically at the back door. It wouldn’t withstand that kind of onslaught for long. They ran down the corridor and turned right at the end, entering Alf’s room. They shut the door behind them and together they dragged his chest of drawers against it, hoping desperately it would stop them.

‘Who are they dad?’ Elisabeth said, face glistening with tears and shuddering with every breath.

‘The mountain folk, I’ve never seen them venture this close to the pass though.’ He wrapped his arms around her, gently rubbing her back. They’d need to be calm to get out of this mess. He held her close for a moment until her shaking stopped and she seemed steady. ‘Come on love, let’s get out of here.’

Alf opened his wardrobe, an ugly old piece of wooden furniture he’d picked up in Alargoth some years back. He picked out the two thickest cloaks he could find, both lined with fur, and wrapped one around each of them. Next, he reached down the side of the wardrobe and pulled out a bow and quiver with a dozen arrows, he was a poor shot but better to have it than not. Lastly, he headed to his drawers and pulled out a silver necklace he had hidden and slipped it over his head. This was his most treasured possession, his late wife’s ashes. Giving her a kiss for luck, he opened the window.

He looked below into the space next to the join of the inn and stable building. The snow piled up in the corner under his window, it should make for a soft landing.

He helped Elisabeth climb on to the sill, holding her hand tight. ‘See them rocks just beyond the trees?’ He said, pointing with his bow. ‘As soon as you land, run like hell to them. I’ll be right behind you in case any of them follow.’

She nodded in response, then slid forward and dropped. Alf was thankful there were no windows directly below his own, they should be able to slip away unnoticed. When Elisabeth landed, she hardly made a sound, Alf waited with bated breath, terrified she’d broken something. She stirred, and made for the rocks, wading slowly through the thick snowdrift that had piled up against their home.

Alf put his bow and quiver on his back, gave his wife another kiss for luck and let go of the ledge. The ground flew up to meet him quicker than he expected, and he fell awkwardly, rolling onto his side. Air left his lungs; pure white filled his eyes and freezing teeth bit into his every muscle. Remembering his daughter was out here alone, he fought himself and the freezing alpine weather to stand upright and draw his bow. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the last fold of Elisabeth’s cloak disappear behind the outcrop.

Pausing for a moment, he listened carefully, nothing but the gentle breeze through the trees and the occasional starving bird’s tweet. It had all gone oddly quiet in the building behind him. When he was satisfied they were unseen, he trudged through the snow as quick as he could manage. He was not a tall man, so the snow reached his thighs and before he’d gone ten paces his legs were soaked to the skin. He had to keep moving, if he was not careful, he would freeze to death very quickly.

He was out in the open now, very exposed, and easily visible from the inn’s windows. He paused for a second to catch his breath, every time he inhaled it felt like he was being stabbed in the throat with an icy spear. Turning back to the inn, he nocked an arrow, ready to defend Elisabeth to his last drop of blood. Again, silence. Perhaps they’d found his store of ale and passed out on the floor already drunk? He turned away from his home and business not knowing if he’d see it again.

Elisabeth was leaning on the opposite side of the rock, trying to gather herself. She jumped at the sight of Alf approaching. ‘It’s me, it’s me.’ He stammered, still exhausted.

‘What do we do now?’ She asked, looking like the sweet innocent girl he’d sat on his knee many years ago, not the strong young woman who defended herself every night in his common room.

‘We make for the guild and tell them about Jacob. They’ll help us.’ As he spoke his old friend’s name a lump rose in his throat, choking him.

‘And then what?’

Alf swallowed, trying to stay strong. ‘We’ll see love, we’ll see.’