The Realm Maker's Deal

Lex Fore and Mason Venya are bounty hunters with their eyes on a sorcerer, but their luck has just run out when they stumble across the wrong bounty.

                Rain fell down heavily across the travelers’ cloaks, drenching their horse’s fur with moisture. The hooves of the mares sunk into the muddy road. The sky was dark and the only light breaking its blanket was the full moon above and the lit torches at the gates of the upcoming town. The gate stood twenty feet high and the top of each wooden pillar was shaved sharply into a pike. On the inner side of the fence were attached platforms for soldiers to patrol the entire structure encircling the land. The two men on their horses squinted past the falling rain, evaluating what they were approaching.

 

"Is this it?" the taller traveler asked, his voice only slightly louder than the beating rain pouring down on his back. It soaked his bear skin cloaked, but did not reach his tunic and long coat beneath, though the layers of clothing did not stop the chill creeping up his forearms and past the hood of his cloak along his cheeks and exposed neck.

                The smaller traveler pulled on the reins of his horse and the other followed suit. They were still lengths away from the village, the flames small flickers in the distance. "Mason is this it?" the traveler asked again. His comrade's face was covered by the hood of his cloak as he turned to get off his horse. His boots thudded against the ground. Beneath the shadows of the forest, he could nearly be invisible if not for Lex's trained eyes. He could see nearly as well at night as he could during the day.

 

"Give me a minute," the man said, his voice mature, yet boyish at the same time. The medium-height man edged ahead of his companion and the two horses, before crouching to one knee. He removed the leather glove of his right hand, revealing a pale tattooed hand. A smaller ring encircled by two larger circles with spikes along the rims, connecting at the center. Mason reached for a handful of mud. Mason closed his eyes and whispered words foreign to the common folk, but a natural mantra that came from within him. The words slipped off his tongue and met his friend's ears, though even he did not understand what they meant. The horses shuffled on their feet in discomfort and the taller traveler reached for the other horse's reins to settle its nerves. From his horse's saddle, he could see Mason's fist, a slight shine escaped the gaps of his finger, like he was holding a star in his hand. He shielded his eyes with his sleeve, blocking his vision from the bright glare of the orb forming in his companion's hand. The breeze picked up, rustling the branches of the trees around them, leaves floating down from high above to skid across the dark forest floor.

                A sensation ran down Mason's spine as he gripped the wet dirt in his palm. He focused all his energy on gates ahead and the soil in his hands. He gripped the hilt of the sword at his hip with his opposite hand; the material bit into is skin through his glove. The palm of his tattooed hand shot with pain as flashes of the outside an inn, its exterior worn and dirty and need of a fresh painting, the inside lit brightly by a dangling chandelier, candles lit, the wax threatening to drop on the customers below. He saw small shacks, homes of the town's citizens, their curtains drawn to keep strangers from peering inside at night. Beside a few shacks were stalls for cattle, and there were fresh water wells on either side of the town, torches lighting dimly spots of the square plaza. The final images that entered Mason's mind were several soldiers lazily pacing the square, their twin spears perched against their shoulders and bobbing whenever they took a step.                 The images faded hazily, as though he had been knocked harshly against his temple and his vision was blurred; objects overlapped their mirror images. Eventually, there was a bright flash of white before his inner eye dimmed to pitch black. A sense of relief ran down his spine as Mason let the mud slip from his grip and fall to the ground. He opened his hand to reveal the glowing bulls eye that was his initial tattoo, while a slight throb ached from the tips of his fingers to the corner of his elbow. His hand was now completely black, the ink of his tattoo seemingly spread from the inside of his palm to the outside, all the way to his wrist. It could be worse, he thought, recalling one instant his entire forearm had rapidly blackened and the madness within him had almost gained control. Mason returned his leather glove to his uncovered hand, shaking the memory from his mind.

 

"This is it; the inn and everything," he said finally standing to his feet. He reached for the rim of his hood and pulled it back, allowing the now settled rain falling lightly on his pale face. His short brown hair was damp and his neck felt cold in the chilly air. He turned to nod at his friend before straddling his horse again. "I think we've reached our destination, Lex."

                Lex smirked, his white teeth shining beneath the moonlight. "Well, it's about time." The two snapped their reins and their steeds trotted forward, rustling to and fro to rid themselves of the thick layer of perspiration that coated their bodies. Moments later the two men finally approached the gates, the torches shined brightly against the metallic collars which bound the structure together. Above was a balcony made of planks of wood and a canopy covering what seemed to be cloaked soldiers pacing back and forth. Rain collected and spilled over the canopy edge, falling in heavy drops to the ground below. Lex peered up and gestured for the men's attention.

 

"Who is it?" mumbled a gruff voice. The cloaked figure removed his hood to reveal an older man with a trimmed beard and moustache. At his hip was attached a long sword, gleaming slightly from the torch light below his feet and on his right arm was a thin iron shield. Mason assessed that if need be he could easily disarm this man and have him yield to his will. Only if necessary, Mason thought.

 

"We're travelers looking for a place to eat and stay. Have you an inn with empty rooms?" he asked the guard. The man glanced at his partner above the two travelers.

 

"Is that yer only business? We don't like strangers here," the other soldier inquired.

                Lex grinned, "Well, you're in luck. My friend here and I are no strangers to Hurling. Our family moved when the dry season hit and our crops died out." The bearded man ingested Lex's words before turning to his partner. The two soldiers consented and waved to someone on the other side to open the gate. Mason shook his head but smiled a little bit. Lex stepped back from spreading gates, approaching his horse's muzzle. From either side of the gate could be heard the cranking of thick chain and the creaking of the gates opening slowly. Lex pulled himself back onto his horse again. The double doors opened to reveal a dim passage to a stone town square.  As the two passed, the wind picked up so heavily, the two exterior flames extinguished. It unsettled Mason; perhaps they shouldn’t have come to Hurling after all. But they were immediately relit by one of the soldiers.

                The rain had finally decreased to a light drizzle by the time the two tied their reins to the post in front of the inn. Beyond the doors, there were voices speaking over voices. Upon entering, Mason and Lex were presented with clusters of men talking, eating, and drinking ale at multiple tables. On the farthest wall was a fireplace, flames licked at the brick mantle. A few heads turned upon the new visitors, eyeing the men from head to toe. Lex shrugged off his cloak and Mason followed suit before the two of them began crossing the threshold. The customers returned to their meals and conversations.

 

"Come this way, loves. We'll get ya some food and liquor to warm yer bellies!" A thick woman behind the bar counter waved them over before tending to the other customers at the bar. Mason and Lex made their way to an empty table at the farthest wall to the east side of the room.

 

"Who do you say we speak to first?" Mason asked scanning the crowd for a possible client. An attractive waitress, with cherry red hair and freckles across the bridge of her nose, passed by with a platter of jugs of ale; she occasionally glanced at the newcomers, a small smile peeking at the corners of her lips. Lex flagged her down and she hustled forward, settling a jug and mugs on their table. She poured them two cups of ale, all the while glancing at Lex. He sent her a smile and she blushed under his gaze before pacing to the other tables.

 

"I say we talk to her," Lex smirked at Mason. Mason restrained himself from rolling his eyes.

 

"Alright, chaps. What shall I get you two to eat tonight? We've roasted chicken, some tomato soup, and fresh bread should be comin' from the local baker soon. It's his last batch tonight before he goes home to the missus," the large woman from bar said as she approached their table. She was tall, with thick arms that were more skin than muscle, and her apron was stained here and there. Beneath her eyes were heavy bags of skin and Mason evaluated that she was exhausted but her voice was all the while friendly. Lex patted his breaches for the pocket containing their money. He found a small pull string pouch.

 

"Bring us one chicken to split, a jug of barley water for this one, wine or beer for me, and two bowls of that tomato soup and bread, please," Lex said reaching for some of the larger coins in his pouch before placing them in the woman's hands. Before she could take them away, he gripped her digits and pulled her close, managing to not top her over. She was close enough that he could whisper in her ear, "Sit down with us when you have a moment. We’ve business to discuss.” The woman wretched herself away from Lex, scowling at him as she made her way back to the bar in a huff. Minutes later, their food was served, though the bartender woman did not make eye contact with either of the travelers.

 

Mason merely began eating, dipping his bread into the soup, “Did you have to be so sudden about it? What if you scared her off?”

 

Lex smiled and reached for his own meal. “She’s only irritated, and she had best come otherwise those Nugs I gave her was a waste.” He patted the coin pouch in his breeches pocket. Luckily the two had enough money to last them a month or so. They continued to eat until the room was almost void of customers. Mason stood from the table to peer outside the front door. The moon, he noted, was the highest it could be. Soon it would be too late to be serving anyone and the bartender would have to approach them eventually.

“What are you looking at?” a sweet voice said beside him. Turning towards the woman, Mason was short of breath. She was petite with pale skin and hair red as strawberries. Her smirk was mischevious but friendly.

 

“Ch-checking the time,” Mason muttered feeling his face turn pink. He gave the girl a slight nod before brushing past her, eager to get the night’s work over and done with. Lex sat at the table, still sipping his wine. He glanced up at Mason before looking away and then looking closer at Mason’s face.

 

“Why are you so flustered?” Lex asked, furrowing his brows.

 

“It’s nothing, “ Mason quickly replied, “Where’s the bartender? We need to get this done with. I fear I won’t be awake much longer.

 

As though on queue, the lady bartender arrived at their table. 

Author's Note

This is just the first part. I guess what I'd like to ask for is if it's simple to visualize what is happening and if it's intriguing enough to want to continue reading? Also, is the dialogue realistic? Should I add anything to help make it better?