Rumblings

Abrie slurped the soup from his spoon. He sat in a small moving café, overlooking the shop fronts surrounding him. Here one could find the most information if they knew what to listen for. Not everyone knew everything, but a group of people may know a single thing together. Bits and pieces could be gathered from several sources then sewn together to form one complete idea. One would have to know how to listen for it. One would need the patience to wait it out. 

Abrie brought the spoon up to his mouth again, sucking at the red, hot soup from his bowl. Already, Abrie had gathered great information from several groups. It was easier knowing what Mollie had told Malik the night before. 

Abrie listened to Mollie’s story from the recesses of his tent. The story of the Tempre was a popular tale with Malik. At the mention of their name, Malik’s ears perked up. Malik thought Abrie was unaware of his readings and history searches, but Abrie knew all about them. 

Abrie pushed his bowl away, grabbing the small earthen cup filled with tea. A group sat behind him, talking over their meal. 

“All the mercenaries are traveling,” a man said. 

Abrie heard this story several times now. He heard it from men, women, and even children who played at knowing the sword. The story went that all the mercenaries were traveling east toward Bently’s castle. There they hoped for glory by impressing the Tempre Warriors. Abrie could not imagine why the Tempre held tryouts for their ranks. The group was not keen on outsiders. 

Abrie waited, drinking his tea with a slow purpose. There was something he missed from all this. Mollie’s village had been an entire village of mercenaries, were the Tempre recruiting there as well? Mollie swore that some in her village had taken up the sword against their own. Were the Tempre recruiting across the country? 

“I hear they want the king to join them,” said the other man behind him. 

Abrie paused, the cup touching his lips. He dared not sip too loud, missing any of the conversation. 

“Well, that just sounds crazy,” the other man replied. 

Abrie could imagine the speaking man giving a shrug of his shoulder, but he dared not check if he were correct. 

“Well, be that as it may, that is the rumor going around the Red Top rumor chains. Something about being able to control the king, while swelling their ranks. Supposedly the Tempre are looking for something.” 

Abrie tipped the cup back, swallowing the amber liquid down his throat. He placed the empty cup back up onto the table. The Tempre went after the king’s hand. They swelled their ranks across the country. The two men were dead on. The Tempre looked for something. 

Abrie scooted out from the table. He had promised to meet Malik at the Red Top after he got what he had come for. He had gathered their supplies. He had gathered all the information he would need to know. Nodding to the cook on his way out, Abrie took off toward the Red Top. 

***

Abrie came under the tents of the Red Top as the sun dipped behind the horizon. They had spent much longer inside the Green Markets than he had hoped. A waitress filed in next to him, offering him a drink menu. Abrie took the menu, shaking a small coin purse in front of the woman. “Start a tab for me, I will have a friend joining me soon.”

 The woman nodded her understanding. “What can I start you off with?” 

Abrie pointed to a random drink selection. It mattered little to him what item came off this menu. He would force himself to like any of them. 

The woman nodded again. “Do you need to keep the menu?” 

Abrie handed the menu back. “Just keep these coming.” 

“Will do, sweetie.” The woman moved off toward the bar. 

Abrie pushed through the crowd, trying to find a table that Malik could join him at when he arrived. Abrie hoped Malik could navigate without getting himself into trouble. He hated separating, but there were some things that were best left unsaid between Malik and him. 

Abrie was about to sit at an empty table when he noticed the fiery hair of Mollie sitting alone at an adjacent table. Abrie scooted off his seat, moving toward her. 

“Anyone here with you, ma’am?” he asked. 

Mollie looked up; she gave a small smile back at him. 

“Take a seat, grandpa.” 

Abrie took the joke kindly, sliding into the seat across from her. 

“Where did you lose Malik to?” 

Mollie pointed over her shoulder toward the stage. Sure enough, Malik played the lyre, surrounded by a flock of youthful girls. Abrie laughed. Malik always found a way to surround himself with women, but he did not understand what to do with them once he got them. 

“Were you able to find what it was you were looking for?” Abrie asked. 

Mollie looked dejected. Abrie could already tell the answer, but he kept his thoughts to himself. 

“There wasn’t a single mercenary worth a hoot,” Mollie replied. 

Abrie knew there were no mercenaries in the markets. He had heard it enough from the small groups along the way, but he still tried to look concerned. 

“Where were they?” 

Mollie shrugged. “Idiots at the wagons said they were off in Bently’s castle. Something about a tournament to be part of the Tempre Warriors.” 

Abrie glanced up toward the stage. Malik played another song, earning his keep for the night. Abrie watched the young barmaid saunter up, depositing his drink onto the table. 

“Do you want anything, Mollie?” he asked before the waitress left through the crowd. 

“I don’t think so.” 

Abrie knew a dejected youth when he saw one. He fished a coin from his pocket, sending the waitress back on her way. 

“Life is a hard road,” Abrie said, taking a sip of his drink. 

Mollie chuckled. “Malik told me you would try to seduce me with your philosophy.”

Abrie nodded. “Malik hates speeches. He hates being told what he knows deep down is the truth.” 

Mollie looked over her shoulder toward Malik. “Or maybe he hates not feeling like he is doing anything.” 

Abrie paused. He knew the boy hurt every day. He knew it better than most why he hurt so much. 

“Doing something and dying for something are two different things,” Abrie replied. 

“You are right. Anything worth doing is worth doing right, and sometimes that means being willing to die. If you are not willing to die for family, then what are you even living for?” 

Abrie knew she was right, but it was much more difficult than that. He knew Mollie or Malik would die if they chased these fantasies. 

“You don’t know the first thing about fighting men like the Tempre Warriors. You can swing a sword, possibly shoot a bow, but they live for the very act of killing other people. You can have killed, you could be comfortable killing, but the Tempre enjoy it. They live for it. Strive for it. See it as a badge of honor.” Abrie took another drink. 

The silence hung between them like a fog. Abrie figured Mollie would ignore him. She would get up and walk away. 

“You could teach us how to fight them.” 

Abrie spit some of his drink. He had seen a lot of different ways this could have gone. Mollie storming off was the major one. However, he had not thought she would petition him for training. 

“I can’t do that,” Abrie said. 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

Abrie was about to reply when Malik pulled up a chair, sitting beside them. 

“He could, but he will try to dodge it,” Malik said, taking Abrie’s drink. 

Abrie watched Malik suck down the last drops. 

“I hope you enjoyed that,” Abrie said. 

“Not as much as I would enjoy a chance to avenge my family. Abrie, you could help me do that. If you cared, you could help me. You could help us both.” 

Abrie felt the sting of Malik’s words. There were a lot of reason’s Abrie avoided these conversations with him. Abrie took a deep breath. What avenue did he have to get out of this? He looked around the tavern. There had to be something to distract the two youth. 

“You can help, or I am going with Mollie with no training,” Malik said. 

“What makes you think I can even swing a sword?” Abrie asked. 

He had never admitted to being able to hold a sword. He may trip them up on this point. 

“Maybe you don’t but you know fighting,” Mollie said. 

She sidestepped the sword question, bringing it back to his mastery of the bow. Maybe he was a fool for saving her. The alternative was her death, though. He could not have that hanging over his head. 

“To what end do you think this will lead?” 

Malik drummed his fingers against the table. Mollie stared into his eyes. Abrie tried to hold her stare, but it was Malik who replied. 

“I want to feel whole again.” 

Abrie blinked first. Malik hit him where only the boy could. He turned to him. Malik looked down, thrumming his fingertips off the wood. 

“What would you do if I offered to train you?” 

Malik cut his eyes. “I would dedicate myself to making sure I became the best I could.” 

“I would learn what it is to take care of myself and those I care about,” Mollie said. 

Abrie took a deep breath, waving to the waitress to bring him three more drinks. 

“I will think about it.” 

Malik laughed, tears streaming down his cheeks. Mollie smiled with him. 

Abrie sat back in his chair. After all these years of running, he would jump right back in. He just hoped that not everyone at this table was dead before he could live to regret it.