The Written by Ben Galley Read Free Book Online

reason to get violent here. It’s silver, have
no fear mate.’ The smith flashed an uneasy and disarming smile and
held up both empty hands.
    ‘How ‘bout a special price of
twenny five silver? Between you and me?’ he offered. Farden didn’t
trust him at all, but he needed something shiny and silver, and he
had forgotten to find one before he left. The mage nodded, and the
smith rushed to fetch the mirror from amongst the other trinkets at
the back of the oak table.
    Farden looked about him once
again. The nevermar was still numbing his magick ability and now a
fresh throbbing had taken up residence in his head. Assured that
nobody had seen his little demonstration Farden counted out the
overpriced sum of twenty five silver coins to the fidgety little
man. He put the mirror in his travel bag and let the smith scurry
back to the safety of his smouldering forge.
    The mage stepped back into the
pouring rain and went to look for a few food supplies for the last
part of his journey. After purchasing some dried meat, tough
biscuits and apples, he headed down the hill towards the south gate
of the muddy town.
     
    A while later Farden was
wandering slowly through a quiet road near the south wall. Night
was slowly approaching and lamps were being lit all over Beinnh,
the twinkling lights hiding behind curtains and doorways and iron
sconces. It was still raining hard and the downpour was now driven
by the approaching wind, sending the thick blanket of clouds
sprinting across the dim sky above him. In the distance white
lightning ripped through the darkness. The flashes tore the horizon
and shook the hills with rumbling cracks and deep booms.
    Farden watched his own boots
tread through the mud, sending little brown rivers flying through
the air with every step. It was foul Albion weather as always but
his cloak was warm and was keeping him nicely away from the
elements. This new sword was heavier, he thought, but it felt good
to have a decent sword for once. Through his musings he heard a
muffled cough from behind him and turned to see a burly figure
following him. Turning back, Farden looked around at the silent
dripping houses and tiny alleyways. Another man, skinny and
bedraggled, was leaning against a wall smoking a pipe. To the front
yet another thug was coming up the road towards him. The rain
pattered noisily on the puddles and the sounds of splashing strides
were ominously loud. Farden clicked his neck and mentally tensed
his wiry muscles, summoning the magick from the base of his skull.
A wave of hangover washed over him, dimming his magick and sending
throbbing waves of pain ricocheting behind his eyes. Farden would
have to wait to use his bigger spells.
    The thug in front suddenly
brandished a knife in his right hand, the thin blade glinting from
a far off glow of the town. It was the bald man from earlier at the
forge, and in the half light of dusk Farden could see the rain
bouncing off his shiny head and running down the scar on his brow.
He grinned and waved his dagger at the smoker and the man behind
Farden.
    ‘Jus’ give us yer silver and
we’ll be on our way,’ warned the lout in a low voice. ‘Let’s not
‘ave any trouble ‘ere mate.’
    ‘If you and your men know
what’s best for you then you’d be on your way now. I don’t want to
hurt you,’ said Farden as the men surrounded him, keeping their
distance and brandishing cheap weapons. He took a wider stance and
stood firm.
    ‘I don’t know if yer noticed
but there‘s three of us, an‘ one of you, so it ain’t looking too
good for yer mate. Like I said, give us the silver and the gold an’
we won’t ‘ave to leave yer for the guards to find dead in an
alleyway.’ The bald man made little cutting motions in the air with
his kitchen knife. He was a brute of a man. His small bald head sat
atop a thick grubby neck and his cloak hung from wide hunched
shoulders.
    Farden sighed. He should have
known better than to splash his coins around in the