User blog:Leea/The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 49

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4th Era 135, 10th of Rain's Hand, Pyandonea
The saddlebag had cost him 8 gold. It was as low as he could get it. Although it wasn't nearly as cheap as he would have liked it, it at least spared him the torture of having his groin pinched the whole route. Already in an irritable mood, the purchase prevented him from taking out his frustrations in public, which would likely have led to a stay in the prison dungeons...which could lead to undesired effects - other than the simple displeasure of sitting behind bars - such as being sacrificed to Orgnum. No way was he going to let that happen. He tossed his head angrily. The horse beneath him picked up on his primary emotion, tossing its own head and rolling an eye back to glare at him.

He patted the horse's bay neck reasuringly. "I'm sorry. Just having a bad day. Nothing wrong with you."

As if he understood him, the horse shook his head again, though this one seemed to convey a shrug.

Pelano held onto the hope that Orgnum couldn't control (or influence) horses, because this one seemed really smart.

* * *

It was midday when he reached the alchemist's home. Thankfully, the man was at home; there were many times when recipients were not home - or where he had been told they would be - and he had to search for them or wait around at their houses for them to show up. Those incidents, especially waiting around for someone to come around, are a courier's nightmare, because taking too long to deliver one package or letter prevents them from obtaining and completing other deliveries, resulting in less money he or she gets to take home at the end of the day. He wished people would be more considerate to those who made correspondence flow smoother.

* * *

As he rode back to the stable to return the horse, he was suddenly aware that he was being followed. He didn't like the feeling at all, and prefered to appear as if his skin wasn't suddenly crawling. Besides, looking over each shoulder would do nothing: this (unfortunately long) section of the road was lined with closely-placed trees and thick shrubbery. It wouldn't take someone skilled in sneaking to creep around undetected in the stuff. It also wouldn't do any good if he were to start to gallop: he didn't know if there were one or two or more people following him, but if there was at least six, they could block off the road in both directions easily, trapping him in the process. If they were armed it would be even worse. They could kill the horse with a sword thrust, arrow, or spell as he tried to gallop past, and such a thing could very well severely injure or outright kill him as he was thrown from the tumbling animal. No, better to just keep the horse walking.

Unfortunately, along with occasional rude customer, couriers had to deal with thieves. They were a good target because they carried all the gold they made during the day, which usually was a good haul. What the cretins didn't know was that this had been his only delivery so far today. If whoever was stalking him wanted his money, they'd only come away with 32 gold, not much for all for the trouble. However, they likely didn't know that, and pointing it out if - or when - they held him up would likely be taken as a lie and result in a forceful rifling of his pockets...or worse.

As he continued to carefully lead the horse down the road, he found himself thanking the alchemist in more than one way. Yes, he was thankfull that he was home so he didn't have to wait around, but now he was even more thankfull he had been home. Riding in the dark on a long, winding trail with unknowns stalking you would have been infinitely worse than the daylight, like now. He--

The thought broke off cleanly as he heard crashes in the bushes ahead of him. Three nasty-looking fellows emerged from the brush, barring his way, and he whirled the horse to try to run in the other direction. Three more crashes now, and bandits just as mean-looking as the first blocked off his escape. Damn! he thought vehemently, angrily eyeing the wicked weaponry the thieves carried, both in scabbards and in their hands. He realized, with a heavy sinking feeling, that he was trapped.