“Who in the Seven Kingdoms is Pratchert?” asked Mikahl.
Excitedly, Hyden goosed the elf.
“Go on, tell him the tale,” he urged. “I’d love to hear it again myself.”
“Yes Vaegon, tell us,” Loudin encouraged. “I’d be happy to get to listen for a change.”
“All right,” Vaegon conceded, “but after we’ve eaten.”
As Vaegon was telling the story, Mikahl often glanced at Hyden. He caught Hyden sneaking glances his way as well. Both of them were feeling a strange connection. Could Hyden be like the great wizard Dahg Mahn? Could Mikahl be the King who would someday need his aid to fight off the dark ones and unite the human kingdoms? On the surface, the idea of it was silly. There was no great evil loose upon the land for them to battle. King Glendar might be a horrible person, but Mikahl did not think he was a servant of evil. Likewise, Hyden couldn’t see himself leading an army of wild animals from the forest to save Mikahl and his kingdom men. Still, there was a bond forming and it couldn’t be denied.
Earlier, when they had pranked Loudin through Talon, it had been like they were reading each other’s minds. Everything Mikahl had intended, but didn’t say aloud, Hyden had understood clearly. Mikahl had known that Hyden would get the hint. It was strange, and even now as their eyes met, and each of them felt the odd connection gaining strength, they chose to say nothing about it.
By the time Vaegon had finished the story of Pratchert, Loudin was snoring softly by the fire. Not long after, the others were asleep as well.
Sometime in the early morning, the fire died out. The cavern was freezing when Loudin stirred awake. After he sat up, and bundled himself in his fur coat, he noticed that Hyden wasn’t in his bedroll. The hawkling and the man’s cold weather gear were gone as well, so he didn’t think much of it. He grunted his stiff, sore body into a standing position, and gave Mikahl’s sleeping form an angry scowl.
It was as if the boy’s constant joking about his age and condition was the reason he felt the pain and ache of every inch of his body. He liked the boy though, and was glad he hadn’t abandoned him back in the Reyhall Forest. Loudin found that he saw himself in the younger man. He wished he were still as young as these lads. He could tell that their future held many great adventures, but he didn’t know how much longer he would be traveling with them.
Once Borg paid him for the skin, and he gave Mikahl his share, he had a mind to build himself a little cabin and retire. He would clear a spot in the Reyhall; maybe just use that clearing by the pond where they had killed the big lizard. He would grow a garden and make a trip into Locar a few times a year to buy supplies. He could hunt for his meat. Maybe he would get lucky and find himself a woman that hadn’t had the dowry to get herself married off in her younger years. With his half of what Borg was bringing back, he would want for nothing. He might even get a place in one of the smaller towns, open a trading post, or something. He wouldn’t need to turn a profit; it would just be something for him to do with his time. The possibilities were endless.
The only thing he knew for certain was that Mikahl was right. He was getting too old to traipse around the woods all the time, and he was forgetting little things here and there. How long would it be before he forgot something important, something that put him in harm’s way?
Something Loudin had heard while playing a high stakes game of Rune Discs on the Isle of Salazar, kept coming back to him. A Harthgarian Sail Master had just won half the markers at the table, and was counting it up to cash out. One of his mates asked him why he didn’t stay and try to win more. The man chuckled, and shook his head. “If you don’t leave the table while you’re winning, then you don’t win.”
Loudin was winning now and he knew it. He would follow those words of wisdom, and with his prize, he would be able to live to a ripe old age in relative comfort.
“If I don’t freeze my fargin arse off first,” he grumbled under his breath.
He had to laugh then. He knew he would’ve never said those words aloud had Mikahl been awake to hear them. He would never hear the end of it. He leaned against the cavern wall for support as he pulled on his boots, then went to see if he could find some wood for the fire pit. He didn’t want to hear the spoiled castle born lump whining about the cold he told himself, but deep down he knew the truth was that he really wanted the boy to wake up warm.