Chronicles of The Life-Taker, pt 3!

Beware the ferryman...

July 30, 2023

There's really not much news this week. I'm still a-workin' on the second Life-Taker book, so that is still in the works.

For those who have finished the novel and want a little bit more you could always check out the short story "The Raiders" which can be found here ($0.99 U.S.):

or even the original Life-Taker comics which can be found here (free):

While all of these stories take place before the events of The Life-Taker novel, the events of the comic continue to reverberate through the novel and beyond...

ADVENTURE REDUX

For those of you who want to know a little bit more about me, you can hear my thoughtful blatherings as I play one of my favorite video games, Uncharted: Drake's Fortune!

I love video games, although I'm the first to admit I'm not great at them. Still, the Uncharted series is one of my favorites and I can't get enough of it. I posted the first episode of my walkthrough of the first game in an earlier email, and in this one I'll post the second chapter:

If you're looking for the whole thing, the playlist is here:

Now for the main event of this newsletter, Part 3, the continuation of Kurzhon's non-novelized adventures (part 2 seen here).

CHAPTER 3

“To anger a Vultaikan is to forfeit your right to live.”

~ Kurzhon the Life-Taker

* * *

After killing the useless rabble, Kurzhon and Horse continued up the sparsely traveled road for the rest of the day. He walked beside the animal at a brisk pace as the day wore on.

He passed no other travelers, which suited him fine. The road, open sky and surrounding forest were best enjoyed without the annoyance of men interfering with his peace.

As it began to grow dark, Kurzhon turned north at a fork in the road. He knew this would lead him to Lake Whynnag, a fair-sized lake. On the other side of that lake was his destination for the night, the town of Whudhold.

Whudhold was a small fort town known for it’s mediocrity. Kurzhon could not think of a single commodity, pastime or service provided in Whudhold that was not done better somewhere else.

The only thing it was good for was it’s location. It was smack in the middle of the road to better places. It was the place you went when you needed to cross the lake, thus shaving off a good day or more from your journey by sparing you from traveling around overland.

Kurzhon picked up his pace, as he meant to board the last ferry of the night and cross into Whudhold. There, he would spend the night in a room and have Horse looked after.

His true destination was further north yet, but he would strike out on that leg of his journey in the morning.

Before him, the trees began to thin out and the road widened. He saw the signs indicating the Whynnag Ferry Dock was ahead.

Pleased that he had made good time, Kurzhon quickened his pace. As the trees dropped away and the lake came into view, he heard voices. Agitated voices.

“Surely there is room for one more, my friend?” asked one of the voices, in a tone of disbelief.

A different voice answered, this one gruff and harsh.

“I’m not your friend! And you are hard of hearing, fool?! I said no more boarders! Especially not known thieves!”

Kurzhon walked closer with Horse in tow. He saw two men facing each other. One was on the ferry, and the other on the dock.

The man still on the dock was tall and thin, and dressed in bright, gaudy colors. His fair skin seemed to blend into the mashing of colors that made up his clothing.

To Kurzhon’s eyes the man looked no more than thirty seasons. He wore a short sword, but had no armor to speak of. Kurzhon marked a spear fastened to the man’s white horse, which was waiting on the dock beside him.

The ferryman, by contrast, was an older man who was short and squat. He wore the dark blue and brown colors that indicated service to Whudhold, and he wore both a longsword and whip. The man looked as if he knew how to handle himself.

“But, good sir, there is more than enough room! Perhaps we can come to an arrangement?” The brightly dressed man spoke with a suggestive tone.

As Kurzhon drew close he saw the tall man withdraw a small pouch from inside his cloak. The familiar clink of coins carried through the air as the man handed it to the ferryman.

“In this purse is a fair sum that I think will—”

The rest was never heard, because the ferryman’s hand shot out, snatching the purse from the man on the dock. In the same motion, he threw it over his shoulder and into the lake, where it sank from view.

“Toss your paltry tin coins, you fool DUCK!” the ferryman shouted. “You were already told to piss off! The Lady Monidale and her retinue ride the ferry now, and they don’t want to be bothered with your stench, you filthy thief!”

The man in the bright clothes cried out in shock and threw his hands up in the air as his coins sank into the lake water.

A burst of rich, raucous laughter erupted from the ferry, and Kurzhon turned his attention to it.

On the other end of the ferry were six people. Two women and four men. Kurzhon saw that three were of high standing, and guessed that the other three served them, based on their postures. Two were guards, and the last man appeared to be an assistant of some sort.

They all laughed heartily at the misfortune of the man on the dock. The loudest one was a woman who Kurzhon assumed was Lady Monidale, as the rest seemed to take their cues from her.

They wore green and gold, and diamond shaped crest was available. He did not immediately recognize it.

Kurzhon saw the ferryman snatch up the large pole he would use to push the ferry off into the deeper waters.

Realizing his time to board was short, he stepped forward.

“Ferryman,” he called, his deep voice commanding attention from all, “hold a moment. I would ride over to Whudhold.”

The ferryman did not wait. Instead, having seen Kurzhon, he pushed even harder with his pole, forcing the ferry farther away from the shore.

“Be here in the morn’!” he called, “Plenty of room then!”

Kurzhon dropped Horse’s reins and began stalking toward the receding ferry.

“I do not care to wait until morning. I will ride NOW!”

Then a nasaly, high-pitched voice sounded out from the back of the ferry.

“My Lady, from the looks of him I bet he smells of ripe old cainder fruit!” shouted one of the men.

The laughter that erupted this time was double the intensity of the last outburst.

Enraged, Kurzhon surged out into the water, meaning to catch up to the ferry before it got too far out into the lake.

He did not reach his goal. Instead, he caught the end of the ferry pole as the ferryman expertly jabbed him in the chest with it, knocking him backwards into the water.

An exponentially louder cacophony of laughter exploded into the dusk air. It washed over Kurzhon as he spluttered comically in the water, trying to regain his footing.

As the ferry workers began rowing, the ferryman called out to Kurzhon.

“This’ll teach you! Nobles first, then common trash like you! Next time be mindful of your betters!”

Kurzhon, now standing waist-deep in the water, chest heaving in fury, stared balefully after the ferry.

More laughter wafted over the lake to his ears.

“It really is a shame, friend. I would have come across some choice items if they had let me on that ferry. Did you see the jewels on that Lady?”

Snapping his head to the side, Kurzhon saw the tall man. He was still on the dock and staring wistfully after the ferry.

Instead of responding, Kurzhon turned and stalked back through the water toward the shore.

The man matched his pace and began walking with him, he on the dock and Kurzhon in the water, pulling his horse behind him.

“If you’re thinking of waiting here and accosting the good ferryman on the morrow, I’d think again. They usually bring a few strong arms for the next week or so after trouble. Trust me, I know.”

By now Kurzhon had reached the edge of the water, and he continued stalking up onto the shore, heading straight for his own horse.

“I’ll not be waiting here,” Kurzhon growled, not looking at the other man. He took off his boots and wrung them out, then put them back on, stomping angrily on the ground with each foot.

“Well then—” the man, who had walked to within a few paces of Kurzhon, was not allowed to finish.

“I’m going to Whudhold to kill everyone on that ferry!” Kurzhon growled again, the words erupting out into the night air.

The man shook his head.

“Sorry, friend. Those people will be long gone by the time you get to Whudhold. And the ferryman will be under protection.”

“There is no protection from me,” said Kurzhon, his voice flat. He began adjusting Horse’s saddle and arranging some of the saddlebags.

As Kurzhon swung himself into his saddle, the man stepped closer.

“Wait, allow me to introduce myself, I am—”

“To the Hells with your name, thief!” Kurzhon shouted.

The man looked as if he was going to protest, but Kurzhon continued.

“I care more about a squirt of my piss than who you are, but if you would have spoils from those Nobles, then come! We ride this night!”

The man appeared shocked.

“Ride? At night? It takes a full day and then some to ride around the lake. No one stays in Whudhold that long. They’ll be long gone by the time we arrive.”

Kurzhon laughed.

“Not the way I ride!”

Then he spurred Horse into motion.

“Come or not, thief, but decide now!” And with that, Kurzhon and Horse surged forward into the night.

The man, now left alone by the lake shore, decided he could do worse than follow the big man.

He quickly mounted his horse and charged after the dark-skinned stranger, hoping he hadn’t just made a huge mistake.

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK

Thanks for reading and make sure to let me know what you thought, I read all responses!