phywriter.com|Prone to occasional grandiloquence

Written in July, 2003, and published as a Writing Challenge in Deep Magic, the online e-zine, in August, 2003

Clearing The Counter
by Johne Cook

They found him at what used to be a popular local watering shack on the edge of the great plains. It had two levels, waxed windows, and (from the looks of the horses at the rail) only one customer.

“He’s sitting there at Flemming’s Counter”, Mik said, nodding at the drinking hut.

The top half of the door was open to the drinking hut to admit the breeze and discharge the smoke.

Rim wasted no time. His saddle creaked loudly as he leaned forward, preparing to dismount.

Mik moved fast for a big man, quickly reaching over and touching Rim’s shoulder, stopping him short.

“You don’t want to go in there just yet,” he said, quietly.

Rim restrained himself with an exaggerated flourish and looked around at the little group: Brindy, on the mare, Flaerich on the Arrabean (complete with flashy red silks), Mik on the big plowhorse, and Kish, on the stallion.

“Why not?”, he asked loudly. “This is just one man. What does he have that we don’t?”

Flaerich fielded that one with his droll, “this is boring me” tone while giving his best appearance of examining his dandified riding crop.

“Thorten is something of a local legend, infamous for having a long blade and a short temper. The word is that Flemming is afraid to deny him entry or bid him leave, so Thorten has the run of the place for now. Where we are concerned, he won’t talk, he won’t leave, and there’s not enough room in there for all of us and Thornton’s sword as well.”

Flaerich fixed Rim with his sharp gaze. “In short, Mik just saved your life. Again.”

Rim ignored that. His horse moved forward, nervously, and had to be reined in. “So what do we do now?”, he demanded, as restless as his mount.

Kish started to move but Brindy was faster. She was out of her saddle and halfway to the door before he knew it, flashing her honey-sweet smile to let them know it was ok, she turned as she walked and gave them a gesture that clearly meant “stay put” and “Boys, leave this to me”. She turned smoothly, opened the bottom door, and drew both halves closed after her, holding Kish’s gaze until she was inside.

The men exchanged nervous glances (except for Flaerich, who returned his attention to his crop).

Rim was never one to let silence gather too thick. “Why did we let her come along,” he asked no-one in particular.

“Because she would have beaten each of us roundly if we didn’t”, mused Mik. Kish grinned.

In the hut, there was sudden muffled sound of quickly moving drinking stools followed by a loud scratching at the doors. A man with long, greasy hair finally flung open the doors and stumbled out into the light, one arm shielding his eyes from the sun and the back hand of his other covering his nose and mouth. He tripped and went down on a knee, coughing.

Brindy breezed out of the hut, plucking the man’s sword from its sheath with one smooth motion, and presented it to Kish hilt first. “For you,” she said as she passed by. Wordless, he watched her stride around and remount.

Kish looked up to see Rim’s face. It was hard to tell who was more astonished. Mik was looking down at his saddle, but he was grinning like a fool. Flaerich was watching Thorten and seemed oblivious what had just happened.

“Ach, what *was* that?” demanded the man, drawing in huge, wracking breaths of air. “What died in there?”

Kish broke the group’s silence. “Master Thornten, I presume?”, he said, holding the long sword sideways over his saddle.

Thorten looked up at him and saw the silhouette of man and horse. “Who wants to know?”, he gasped, struggling to stand, not noticing Flaerich quietly reaching into the small sheath behind his neck.

“My name is Kish, and these are my friends”, he said. “I believe you’ve already met Brindy,” he said dryly.

Kish urged his horse a couple of steps forward. “Let’s talk about the Plains Pirates,�? he said, extending the hilt of the sword and a small bag of coin.

Thorten looked at the offering for a moment and then rose to his feet, taking the bag and the sword. Flaerich relaxed his posture.

“Inside,” Thornten said after a moment, “assuming it’s safe to breathe.”

“I’m sure it’s fine now,” Brindy said, steadily.

“How’s that,” asked Kish as they dismounted together.

“As we went out the front door, Master Flemming went out the back window,” she told him. “There’s a good breeze going through there now, I expect.”

Thornten led the way as they trudged inside. “What do you feed her,” he groused.

Rim walked to the door sporting a huge grin. He clapped Thornten on the shoulder. “You don’t want to know,” he mock-whispered as he strode inside.