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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/762259-Chapter-Eight
Rated: ASR · Book · Fantasy · #1896210
Rough-draft of a high-fantasy novel I will be editing for submission to publishers.
#762259 added October 7, 2012 at 12:32pm
Restrictions: None
Chapter Eight
Though the market streets were busy at midday, Farkom’s Tavern was all but destitute. The business and drinking of those who trod down that dark alley were better suited for the evening hours. The barkeep took advantage of this slow period and Bargal’s strength, employing the dwarf’s aid in restocking the liquor cabinets. He grumbled about the work, but enjoyed moving boxes and crates around the cellar probably even more than he enjoyed moving bodies and tables around the tavern. The goods were much more compliant than people, and- Bargal popped the cap off an old bottle he’d stashed away and took a deep swig to clear his senses- more satisfactory. With a deep and content sigh, the dwarf recapped the bottle and set about the business of moving things around.

The sound of the door opening reached Bargal’s ears through the floor, and he cocked his head to the side in curiosity. It was rare for someone to enter Farkom’s this early… Perhaps it was just someone leaving the inn? But no, Bargal specifically remembered that nobody had booked a room that night. Their latest patrons had been the druid and the Farvel girl the night before. The dwarf briefly contemplated investigating, but then he shrugged his shoulders. It wasn’t any of his business who was here unless the barkeep wanted him to throw them out.

Bargal went about his work, moving and shifting things around, enjoying the mundane pleasure and quiet of the task. The smell of spirits and darkness of the cellar almost made him feel as if he was back home, and he was able to lose himself in the thoughtless motion and strain, the challenge of muscle against innate object. He didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel. He could just do. It was exactly what he needed to keep himself going, exactly why he stayed here.

The cellar door cracked open moments before Bargal had his cart ready to ramp up the stairs, and the barkeep grunted down to him, “Someone here for you.” Bargal offered his own wordless grunt and loaded the last of the beverages onto the cart. “Keep the door open, will ye?” he called up, and a stream of light answered him.
A pair of worn boards rested against the wall, and it was clear from the lack of dust that this was no permanent home. Bargal knocked them onto the steps with a clatter, and the groove of wheels became evident as he scooted them into position. It was a familiar and repetitive routine that both had honed to perfection, but that nobody would have even noticed. The wood fell easily into place, with little-to-no struggle on Bargal’s part, and within seconds he was rolling the cart up the stairs and out the cellar door. The dwarf didn’t even glance toward the silhouetted form sitting at the counter. He would get to him once the drinks were shelved.

The man did not seem to mind being ignored. As Bargal lifted bottles and emptied boxes, he spied a bottle of fire ale touching the man’s lips out of the corner of his eye, and he just about dropped the case in his hands. Nobody just downed a fire ale like that. Nobody except…

“Bob?” Bargal spoke before he realized the name had even exited his mouth, and he saw the man raise a brow as he set the bottle down. Bargal cleared his throat. “Erm, Officer Longbourne.” There was another long pause as the man took another deep drink from the bottle. “What are ye doin ‘ere?”

Finally, there was vocalization as the man let out a deep sigh, and Bargal could have sworn he saw smoke listing out of his nostrils. “It’s Agent now,” he said. “I’m here on a mission.” His eyes met Bargal’s meaningfully and the dwarf balked defensively.

“I told ye I ain’t goin back. You of all people…”

The Agent shook his head. “Not here for you. Even if I was, I’d just tell you to get lost. Pretend I never found you. You know that.”

“Then who…”

“I’m looking for a druid.”

This sparked Bargal’s interest. “Oh?”

“Whole military’s on high alert, Bargal. It’s nothing short of a war out there…” his voice dropped conspiratorially. “Or more like a slaughter.”

“You mean…”

The Agent’s eyes narrowed. “I know he’s been here, my friend. And I know you don’t want to get involved, but for the Order… I need to find him first. Before HE does.”
© Copyright 2012 April Dawn (UN: strigiformes at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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