Kapitel 50: A Bit of Trickery
Days came and went while the tournament drew close. Only a few weeks away, and still no sign of the one they called the Ace.
Hrok stood against the barn watching the sun descend to the west, turning the sky purple while the western horizon bled of reds and oranges; the sun flared like dying flames burning through brush.
He swore, "I can't take this much longers …" The once new and vast scenery felt dull and bland. "If he won't come to me I'll go to him—"
The barn door squeaked. E'krek appeared, wearing his dark long coat and trousers while his long, braided hair hung like a tail down his back. When his eyes found Hrok he sighed, rolling a lip. They hadn't spoken, still brooding over the Hroks decision.
When he turned to go back Hrok called after him, "you don't have to leave," He lifted a canteen and gave it a shake, "got some Numbwillow I kept hidden from the other. Drink?"
"I working to quit…" E'krek walked over and removed it from, taking a sizable sip. "Just don't know when."
The men laughed and passed the canteen.
Once their guts felt rotted, their tongues fell loose and Hrok spoke freely, "You understand why I'm doing this, right?"
"Not at all…" E'krek admitted with a slur to his words. "We go into that tournament and every Yurk could see us fail…"
"I don't plan on failing," Hrok said, "and if I do, death will do me good."
"Bonejaq won't make it any easier on us. He'll know we've tried to pin the train attack on his people. And inside the tournament hismen will target us—"
"Let them!" There was a smile in his voice. "That'll play to our favor when we slay them in front of our own. Yurks don't follow the frail or the feeble; they follow the brave and the bold." He chuckled. "And once the Yurk lords arrive in Sundown City the Mayor will have them apprehend for their crimes."
E'kreks eyes twinkled with each drink, looking more and more like his even-tempered self. Only a shell of himself without the gut rot, it'd taken control of him like a puppeteer bringing out his best and worst sides. Today he was suprisingly mellow.
"If this plan doesn't go as you foresee we could be the walking to our deaths."
"Then so be it!" He snatched the canteen and drank, no fear in his eyes. He wiped the wet from his lips then belched. "As I said, if we fail I'd rather be dead…"
"And what of your men? Do you want the same ill fate for them?"
Hrok hesitated before pressing the canteen to his lips. "Their sacrifice will be rewarded in the afterlife; The Gods know my will…"
E'krek looked across the plain. The sands had turned black with a hint of reddish-orange from the melting sun. "You speak of the Gods too freely … their will is not certain as well as our fates … I've prayed many moons without a single answer from even the ancestors … What if we've been forsaken?"
"Then I'll have choice words with the Gods on my arrival to their plains."
The wind came with the night followed by a chill that left them cold, even after the numbwillow had emptied and left their bodies numb. Their bums finding the dirt while the sky bright with stars and black as a cloak.
'I'm glad you're here," Hrok said, touching the man's shoulder. "I can't do this without you."
"And I you," E'krek said, rubbing the mans coarse cheek.
The men embraced, patting each others back. And once they were certain no eyes were watching their lips touched. Not for the first time; their secret that they held for themselves and from everybody else. For if fallen into the wrong ears that would be there certain end.
E'krek looked up to the sky, "maybe our union has made the gods and our ancestors turned their backs."
Hrok calloused hand wrapped around the boys. "And if true, then they can fuck themselves with a blunt arrowed sideways."
"Hold your tongue!" E'krek said sharply. "If they hadn't than they certainly have now."
"I'd prefer you to hold it." Hrok said, his voice harsh even when spoken softly.
He smiled then they embraced once more, and fought with their tongues, allowing only the moon to watch them.
Night turned to day, and the springs heat made it hard to breathe even in the morning.
Hrok woke when the fly roaming the rim of his mouth took flight and buzzed by his ear. He swiped a hand and it jetted left, doding by a wing. Hrok yawn as he sat up, stretching his arms, allowing his muscles expand while his joints popped and bones fell into place.
He tapped the roof of his mouth, drier than a turd in the sun, and his breath smelling as bad. "What time is it?" He yawned yanking hay from his hair.
"Just after noon," Warfork grumbled, smoking a pipe with a glowing cherry that could set the who barn ablaze. "Slept so deep thought you were dead."
Hrok rubbed his head, "really?"
"You don't remember?" Warfrok's voice spoke with concern. His Kallri shook his head. "Neither do the other … only bits and pieces."
"What's that smell?" It lingered on their noses and the walls like charred wood and burnt hops. He choked with each breath. "Was there a fire."
"They did it while we were asleep, my Kallri." Quam reported, looking sweaty and fat.
"Who?" Looking to his men, some rubbing their head while others stumbled to their feet. Each as dizzy as he was. "The children..."
Froak walked up to him, trembling. His old head hardly able to handle the ache. He rubbed his temples, "this was a strong alchemy spell … the children were only a tool used by the alchemist."
Hroks eyes widened, The old one…
The barn door slammed opened as the men funneled outside, squinting, theirs hands shielding their faces. The sun was bright … a blinding brightness that made their eyes burn and heads pound like beating drums.
Hrok withdrew his revolvers, waddling from one foot to the other. Once he reached the porch his eyes adjusted to the bright blur. He blinked several times, the rocking chairs empty.
"Sweep the farmhouse … and do it quick!"
The Yurks busted through the door and swept around the house, their guns locked into their shoulders. Eyes down rifle barrels. Trigger fingers twitching. Only two carried bows with lightning-green arrowheads attached to their arrows.
"Haki'una!" Their roars echoed.
"Why would they flee?" Hrok yelled, unaware the youngest Yurk stood behind him.
"My Kallri … Just as I feared … The old one has made the young ones a better offer."
These were the last words he wanted to her yet knew them to be the truth. He blinked once more and his eyes dilated, the farmhouse no longer bright and gold, but white as it was once before.
Warfrok walked on the porch. "They've gone, my Kallri."
"Damn it!" He spoke to E'krek, "What are we to do?"
The young Yurk was pleasantly surprised by this. "Now you want my council."
"I have wronged you and have wronged my men … help me right this wrong, my friend."
E'krek blinked, trying to rid his own spell. He glanced down at two trails carved into the earth, both headed southward.
"The carriage…" He pointed. "With the old one Ill they will not carry on with haste … We will catch them by sun down."
Hrok agreed. "Warfrok! Take the men and fetch the bison. Go!" The man nodded and was off. Hroks head was spinning, unable to create a sensible thought."What could the old one say to persuade such children?"
E'krek spoke wise beyond his years. "He is ill and the city has Stir Doctors … what bargain would you make for your life?"
One I couldn't pay …
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein