Toll Road

* = Winter’s Breaking is capitalised as it is the name of the second month in the calendar of The Three Kingdoms, equivalent to February in the Gregorian calendar.

***

Gerrod wrapped his cloak tightly around him and pulled up his hood to shield his face. Turning his back to the wind he blew gently on the kindling, willing the fire to take the dry wood he’d spent the last few minutes carefully arranging. This really was a far cry from the comfort of the King Edward inn just a week past. At last, orange flames rose in his little pit, dancing merrily. He scooped up a couple of large handfuls of snow and dropped them into his small kettle he’d bought at Whitestar market, then carefully hung it on the stake he’d driven into the ground above his makeshift stove.

Whilst he waited for the water to boil, he looked around at the ragtag bunch of enforcers he’d brought with him. He didn’t know any of their names and he didn’t want to know. Given the trouble he’d already had it was likely as not some of them wouldn’t be seeing many more days. The one who seemed to be their leader was a giant of a man, standing nearly six and a half feet and built like a bull, now and again he’d tug on his great ginger beard as if deep in thought. Next to him stood a grey man, nothing Gerrod could particularly remark about him, other than maybe his tight curls of brown hair. Sat on the floor, collar up and blowing into his hands was the smallest of the crew, not even close to Gerrod in height, maybe five and a half feet at most, but stocky and powerful looking. With his long brown hair and beard, he could easily be confused with a dwarf if they still existed in this world. Lastly, there was a young lad who looked no more than twenty years old, lean, and wiry. His black hair was neatly cut short, and he was clean shaven, revealing the scars of recent acne. He spoke in a lordly manner, could mean he was highborn or some such, but what he was doing with this bunch Gerrod had no clue.

The water began to boil, so Gerrod put a pinch of tea leaves in his small metal infuser and dropped it in his mug, followed by the boiling water. Whilst in Whitestar he couldn’t find his favourite green tea leaves, they’d only got the rough brown stuff. Still, it was better than nothing.

‘Brews up chief?’ Asked Giant, approaching with his own mug in hand.

By way of reply Gerrod gestured to the kettle with a nod of his head, he clasped his mug firmly in his hands, trying to steal its warmth.

‘Brew Micah?’ Called Giant, and with that, Dwarf grunted and walked over to them, to fill his own mug.

Gerrod wasn’t in the mood for small talk so kept his gaze fixed on the fire, attempting to avoid their attention. Giant missed Gerrod’s intent and spoke directly to him.

‘What’s the play in Dalanor chief?’

Gerrod had deliberately kept them in the dark up until now, leaks happened at times, and with this job a leak could be disastrous. Also, he’d never worked with this crew before, so he needed to guard against them turning on him if they knew how much the job was worth. Since they were now only a day’s ride from Dalanor he figured there was no harm in sharing the details now.

‘Meeting place is the Hall of Trade. I’ll go in and meet the contact, you lot make yourselves invisible outside. When I come out, keep your distance, and follow me. We’ll meet back up at the inn, you sit in the common room for an hour and deal with anyone who follows us. After that, come up to our rooms and I’ll have us packed and ready to go. Then we make straight for home, no fuss. With any luck we’ll be back before Winter’s Breaking.’*

‘You make it sound easy.’ Said Giant with a tug of his beard. 

‘Any questions?’ Asked Gerrod.

‘Seems proper to me, Micah?’

Dwarf didn’t speak, just shook his head, then took another mouthful of tea. Behind them, inside the mountain pass, the horses whinnied and stamped at the floor. Lord stood up and went to see to them, he seemed comfortable managing their mounts since they’d met at Whitestar stables. 

Gerrod pulled some salted beef out of his pack and chewed gratefully; they were low on supplies, so he’d been rationing his food. He cursed himself for not bringing more provisions from Whitestar’s inn, their chef was a master in Gerrod’s his eyes. 

That night, as they camped inside a large crevice in the wall of the pass, Gerrod’s dreams were full of evil. An unseen enemy chased him through a labyrinth of tunnels, each turn taking him further from daylight and safety. Shadowy figures were clawing at him, threatening to drag him down into the underworld. He awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright and startling Grey Man who was on watch.

‘Everything ok boss?’ He asked. His voice was rough and had a gravelly edge about it, like a century old pipe smoker.

‘Fine. Just don’t agree with this kind of accommodation.’

The sky was just bleeding out from purple to steel grey, so Gerrod figured it was time to get a move on and make an early start to get this business over with. He let Grey Man wake the others while he gathered his things together and went to his horse, saddle bags slung over his shoulder.

In no time at all the small band of ruffians were mounted and setting a brisk pace down the Merchant’s Path leading into Dalanor. The day steadily became brighter as the road wound downwards from the mountain side, Gerrod hadn’t been to this part of the world for many years, but now he remembered there was a kind of beauty to it that he couldn’t explain. It lacked the grandeur and striking dwarven architecture of Threftall and couldn’t boast the sheer size of the city states, but still it had its own fresh charm that he was pleased to look upon again.

As they made their way through the foothills, they rounded a corner and spied Dalanor sprawled out below them. It was a large city by the standards of the Three Kingdoms, Gerrod figured nearly a quarter of a million people lived behind it’s high stone walls. It perched on the north bank of the river Undar, some hundred and thirty miles upriver from the port of Stonebrooke. Prominent even from this distance was the Temple of the Gods, reaching to the sky from the God’s Forum. Home to the twelve paladins of the faith, reckoned by most to be the mightiest and most noble warriors in the Kingdom of Teraditha.

Before they reached the city, they had to pass Mountain Pass Keep, a once mighty tower defending Teraditha’s border, now a shell of its former self. Since the current border was re-established some three hundred years ago, it only hosted a company of guardsmen to watch the pass and protect travellers from griffin attacks or the occasional brigands that made their way south from Korvastor. As their band approached, the gate lowered, revealing half a dozen armed and mounted men bearing the red tower, the symbol of House Dayton.

‘Let me do the talking, a few coins should sort this out.’ Gerrod was used to working his way around greedy guards like this. ‘Guardsmen never want any trouble, just a few extra coins in their purse for the pleasure houses on their day off.’

Gerrod trotted ahead of the group to meet the captain; best smile plastered across his face.

‘Fair morning to you sirs! I trust all is well in the grand city of Dalanor?’ Said Gerrod, exercising his best manners.

‘All is fine here sir; may I ask your business here?’ Replied the Captain bringing his men to a stop across the road, blocking the way to the city.

‘We come in the hunt for work. We worked for a merchant in Whitestar, but he’s fallen on hard times and had to let us go. I administered his overseas trade affairs; these gentlemen were caravan guards. Thought it was safer to share the road and see how we fare in Dalanor. If there’s no luck to be had there, we’ll head for Stonebrooke, and then Alargoth.’

‘Seen scores of men telling the same story these last few weeks. Plus, I seem to recognise your face, not good to be recognised by a watchman, is it?’

‘Forgive me, I don’t seem to recall you, have we met?’

‘I don’t want no cleverness from you. In my district you do what I say!’ The captain dismounted and walked to Gerrod’s side; hand planted on his sword. His beady eyes working over his horse, taking in every detail of his saddle bags, moving up to Gerrod himself. Close up he was short and squat, surcoat tight over his protruding stomach. ‘If all you say is true you won’t mind me searching your belongings, will you?’

‘Of course not, I have nothing to hide.’ Gerrod smiled at the captain and dismounted as smoothly as he could, eager not to show his nerves. He held the reins of his horse and patted her neck, walking around the front to join the captain. He leaned in close, desperately hoping that the other guardsmen couldn’t hear him. ‘There used to be a price agreed for this, I presume it still stands at five gold?’

‘Five? Times are hard these days, it’s twenty-five now.’ The captain’s voice was barely a whisper, he was so close Gerrod could smell the wine on his breath. 

‘Very well, twenty-five. We all go free?’ This was extortion of the highest order, but Gerrod had no choice but to agree. He couldn’t fight, or run, so he was left feeling thankful he had a full purse. Regretfully, he handed over the coin as discreetly as possible, hoping the rest of the patrol didn’t see their transaction.

The captain slipped the gold into his purse and turned away without a word of thanks, heading back towards the guardsmen. He mounted his horse again and turned back to his men, pausing. ‘This man just offered me a bribe in broad daylight! A guard, sworn to the house of Dayton and he offers to bribe me. We’ll see how he likes a night in the cells.’

With that, the patrol advanced on Gerrod, spreading out to cut off any chance of escape. He could feel the colour draining from his face, this couldn’t be it, he’d come so far to get this job done. He searched desperately for an escape route, if he went down the hillside his horse would probably break a leg and he’d be left to the guards, that was if he survived the fall. He couldn’t escape back through the pass, their horses were fresher than his own, they’d soon run him down and unseat him. Fighting wasn’t an option, they were outnumbered and even if they managed to best these men, there was probably another 200 at the keep.

The guards were little more than 20 paces from him when Lord brought his horse to a stop between them, shielding him from their advance. Standing high in his stirrups he addressed the squad of guards with all the air of authority of a General commanding his troops.

‘At ease men! You now speak to Sir George Dayton, son of your Lord John.’ 

The men slowed to a stop and the captain rode straight up to Lord, as if inspecting a horse he meant to buy. Circling him, the captain frowned at Lord for a moment longer before speaking.

‘How do I know you’re George Dayton? Anyone could spin me that tale.’

Lord, or maybe George, said nothing. He calmly reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it to the captain.

The captain stopped his horse and read the paper; brow furrowed as if he were concentrating hard. After a few seconds he summoned a sergeant over to confer, out of the earshot of Gerrod and the rest of the crew.

This seemed to go on for an age, Gerrod could hear his blood pumping in his ears and his mouth turning dry. He couldn’t make out what was going on or how he could have ended up with George bloody Dayton in his enforcer crew. 

Finally, the Captain and the Sergeant broke their little huddle and turned to Lord, or George, bowing deeply.

‘Sir, please accept our sincerest apologies, these are strange times that we live in, and we thought best to be cautious. Dragon sightings in Myllyria, men breaking into official’s offices in Shavan, and all the talk of riots over in Calladia. Orders from above were sent to question anyone headed for the city.’ The captain’s demeanour had changed completely, his voice was now soft and subservient, and he kept his eyes low, avoiding contact.

‘Apologies are quite unnecessary Captain. However, me and my men must be on our way as time is of the essence. Please see your men have an extra ration of ale tonight, courtesy of my friend here.’ He turned and smiled at Gerrod, a knowing look in his eyes.

‘Thank you, Sir, you’re too kind. I wish you safe travels.’ And with that, the captain saluted Sir George before rounding up his men and making for the keep with some urgency.

George turned to the enforcers, all of whom stood there in silence, mouths hanging open. ‘Gentlemen, shall we proceed?’

One by one they fell in line, Gerrod riding at the tail of George’s horse. A million questions racing through his mind, but none seemed to make it to his lips.