"Please, Berrodin, I know what you mean, but we need your help," Verrel said. He gestured towards the boar. "We were hoping you could bring this to Galeden with you, and bring it before Lord Jallen. You know the people there better. They'd listen to you."
Berrodin held up his hand. "Hold on. You're asking a lot of me. I still have the remainder of my wares to sell, and even if it's me, I might not be able to meet anyone."
"I know, but we don't expect you to do it for free," Verrel said. "First, I plan to purchase the remainder of your wares, at double the price. Second, we'll provide you with all the supplies you need to reach Galeden, and return, free of cost. Lastly, you'll never need to pay in Morlen's tavern again. I'll cover your tab myself."
"Is that so?" Berrodin asked. He pursed his lips, taking a moment. "I suppose that makes it worthwhile then. Very well, load the beast into my wagon."
Verrel smiled in relief, and spun on his heel. "Quinn, Ferin, I want you to wrap the boar in a tarp, and bound it tightly. Make certain not an inch of it shows. I'll get Berrodin's wagon."
The two men nodded, and Verrel turned back to the crowd. "The rest of you. I want you to return to your homes, and board your windows. We may have captured one beast, but there were more tracks in the forest. I want us to be prepared, understand?"
The crowd dispersed, hurrying back to their homes. A few headed in the direction of the lumber mill, while others left in the direction of the granaries. Once they had all gone, Verrel glanced at Berrodin.
"Where did you leave your wagon?"
"It's by my stall. I'll go with you to get it," Berrodin said. He swiveled to Cyrus. "Will you ready Starvhost? I wish to leave as soon as possible."
Cyrus nodded, and Berrodin slipped out of the stables with Verrel. Starvhost stomped his hooves as Cyrus neared the stall, his ears flattened against his head, and his bristles raised. Cyrus raised a steadying hand, trying to calm the old donkey.
"Easy there, easy. Nothing's going to hurt you," Cyrus said. He pulled the reins down from a hook, and fastened them around Starvhost's head. He gave a slight tug, but the donkey brayed, and dug its hooves into the ground, refusing to budge.
"What's gotten into, huh?" Cyrus asked. He glanced over his shoulder as the two men grabbed a tarp from the back of the stables, and laid it over the boar. As they tightened the leather, Starvhost eased up, allowing Cyrus to guide him towards the door.
Outside, Berrodin and Verrel dragged the empty wagon through the mud, and left it outside the doors. As they went to help the other two with the boar, Cyrus harnessed Starvhost to the wagon, and scratched behind his ear.
The four grunted as they hoisted the heavy beast into the wagon, causing its wheels to groan beneath the weight. When they stepped back, Cyrus noticed a trail of black blood dripping from Ferin's arm, and soaking the dirt.
Cyrus grabbed a rag from the wagon, and walked over to the boy. "Here. It looks like your wound opened back up."
"What's that?" Ferin asked, frowning.
Cyrus gestured towards his arm. "You're bleeding again."
Ferin lifted his arm in surprise. "Oh, I hadn't noticed. Thanks."
"Don't mention it," Cyrus said, handing him the rag. He narrowed his eyes as Ferin took it, noticing a spider web of dark veins protruding beneath the boy's finger nails. "Hey, are you feeling alright?"
"A bit tired, but that's all," Ferin said, grinning. "Truth be told, I don't even feel the wound anymore. Thank the gods. When the boar first tore through my shoulder, it hurt worse than a fire poker after it's been forgotten in the embers. Now it's just a bit numb and stiff."
"That's good, I suppose," Cyrus said. "Just keep an eye on it. The last thing you want is for it to get infected."
"I'll keep that in mind," Ferin said. He returned to the table as Berrodin approached, checking the straps.
"How does everything look?" Cyrus asked.
"As well as it can, considering the situation I suppose," Berrodin said. He rubbed the back of his head. "Now then, my question is will you be joining me on my trip to Galeden, or do you plan on heading out on your own? You'd be able to reach Faldersel from here, and there are other villages nearby, if you wished to visit them."
Cyrus pondered it for a moment, then shook his head. "I think I'll stick with you for now. I fear I'm still too unfamiliar with this land to try traveling by myself just yet."
Berrodin's shoulders relaxed as he grinned. "So you are. Well then, are you ready to set off?"
"You're not going to make me sit in the back with that thing, are you?"
Verrel approached before Berrodin could respond, and patted the side of the wagon.
"Alright, it's ready to go. When you reach Galeden, could you deliver this letter to the captain of the knights?" Verrel pulled a yellow scroll from his pocket, and handed it to Berrodin. "His name is Gregor, and he's an old friend of mine. He'll understand the severity of the situation."
"I will," Berrodin said. He climbed into the wagon's seat, and grabbed the reins. "I'll try to be back before the end of the week. Stay safe until then."
"No need to worry," Verrel said, crossing his arms. "Our village can handle a few wild beasts."
"Good to hear," Berrodin said. He waved farewell as Cyrus jumped into the back of the wagon, and carefully made his way around the dead boar. Once he sat, Berrodin flicked the reins, and the wagon jolted forward. As it left the stables, Cyrus noticed Ferin hunched over the table, his back heaving with each breath.
A shiver ran down Cyrus's spine, and he pulled his tunic tighter. Soon, the village faded in the rain, and the wagon rattled onto the main road. The dark clouds swirled overhead as they slipped into the forest, leaving behind the safety of numbers.
….
By the time evening came, Cyrus was sick of the rain. It poured all day, drenching the entire forest, without a break. Berrodin clung to the reins, staring blankly ahead. Neither of them spoke very much, drained of their energy by the rough weather, and constant scanning of the surrounding trees.
"Where do you plan on stopping for the night?" Cyrus finally asked.
"There's a cave not far ahead, which most travelers use," Berrodin replied. He leaned back, and studied the darkening sky. "We've made better time than I thought we would. We should reach it within the hour."
"That's good," Cyrus said. He slumped against the back of the wagon, and surveyed the mountain's. Their high peaks towered above the forest, tipped with white caps. "Say… How far does the mountain range go? It looked like it faded into the horizon when I first saw it."