8 - Logan's Help

Brock Logan was a simple innkeeper in the town of Muint. His life was quiet but it was about to get more exciting when two young women and a grubby boy step into his life.

Brock Logan woke up sweating and panting before the sun rose above the hills, same as he did every morning. He looked behind and saw his pillow wet and sighed, shaking his head. Brock had the same nightmare every night. His dead mother appears before him dripping in blood, whispers 'run' to the baby in her arms, looks at Brock staring at her and just screams. The dream has been petrifying him ever since he lost his father to insanity. His father went insane at the age of 57 and they never figured out why, eventually he hung himself in his bedroom. Brock's mother was the one to find him and she never forgave her self, dying of a swift illness when Brock was 23.
Now Brock was the ripe old age of 55 and suffered from agateophobia, the fear of insanity. As he approached 57, he feared that he would become like his father so much that it haunted him and he couldn't even escape it in his sleep.
Brock was a lonely man, he was once married for a short time but his wife left him for a traveller who passed through town one day. He had heard a rumour that their group had been raided by bandits, leaving no survivors. He had mourned for his wife, sad at her passing. He did not feel any revenge or justice for her death. Brock was now totally alone, a short portly innkeeper in the town of Muint. His inn was popular, it bore the name 'Lost Bronze'. Brock had always been a very business like and calculating man, always counted his money before going to his bed in a small room above his own inn.
Brock was not a rich man, there weren't enough people in the town to make him rich, just enough drunks to keep his head above the water. He always seemed out of breath, he carried every barrel of dark ale up and down the stairs to and from the cellar. He thought about hiring help but he didn't want anyone invading the privacy of his own little sanctuary.
Brock was a very blunt, gluttonous individual who enjoyed his food, always took care over his preparation of every meal. Unfortunately his pale pasty skin and small squinty brown eyes did not attract any of the local ladies to his bed. His burnt blonde hair was short and receding. Brock did not take very good care of himself. His clothes were old and tattered, anything cheap from the market that took his fancy. He was a brave soul, not a bad person but never took any crap from anyone. He didn't gossip or slander people behind their back, just casually got on with his day.
That morning he put his feet on the wooden floor and scrunched his toes, they felt stiff from old age. He rose from his bed and put on a grey pair of pants and a dark green shirt and walked over to the window that looked out over the street. The window was murky and unclear, it hadn't been cleaned in weeks, the wet damp had began to grow mould round its edges. The panes weren't fitted properly and the wind came through the gaps in a storm. Brock could see people trotting about their business, going to work, meeting with friends and he wondered if their lives were as dull as his. He could feel that he wanted more excitement in his life and little did he know that day adventure would find him.

He stepped out of his house, after grabbing his black scratchy coat, onto the cobbled streets. He walked slowly up the street, looking round at the people of Muint. He could overhear their conversations, some talked of money, some talked of their dreams, others were just drunken slurs from the people who were still celebrating from the night before. He reached the top of the long sloping road on which his inn lay. There was the market that Muint was famous for, people would come from the big cities as far as Cathair and Paciadan to get their hands on the goods from Muint. This town was a huge trade route between cities and would be wealthy if the inhabitants didn't just spend their money on drink.
Brock stepped from side to side to avoid the crowds of people. He pulled up his hood after having to avoid a few hellos from people he knew. He exchanged a few coins from a new pocket telescope, he enjoyed watching the stars late at night when the wind and the rains were peaceful. He purchased a few new flagons for the inn from a very nice gentleman who sold ironwork and steelwork out of the back of a cart.
He was about to turn back for home when he heard a girl scream down an alleyway off to the west. He paid no attention and kept walking another couple of steps before the scream rang out again. He looked round and nobody seemed to bat an eyelid. He shook his head and took it upon himself to check it out. He turned down the alleyway to see a young grubby boy on the floor being kicked by a young man. Two older girls were being held up against the building on the right side of the alley by shorter not so nice gentleman. One had a knife to the one of the girls throat and a hand across her mouth. The older girl bite the other guys fingers and screamed. She turned her head to see Brock and she shouted for him.
"Please help us!" Sophia's words were filled with desperation.
The three men quickly turned to examine Brock.
"Get lost old man, no need for you to get hurt here, go back to your business" the adolescent boy who had been hurting Tommy had stopped and stepped into the path of Brock.
Brock began to walk away but Sophia shouted again.
"Please, please, don't walk away!"
Brock stopped at the entrance to the alley and sighed. He moved the side and dropped his newly bought items onto a dry patch of concrete. The boys were now focusing their attention on Brock.
"You've made the worst mistake you'll make all season mate"
The biggest one struck first, a fist came from his right. Brock ducked under and reacted with an uppercut with his left, catching the young man in the ribs. He fell backward, clutching his stomach. The other two stepped forward together. Brock moved to avoid the vicious kick from one and grabbed his leg, twisting it round and delivering his own kick to the guys groin. He yelped in agony as he dropped to the floor. The third one hit Brock square in the jaw with a blow, causing him to stagger into a wall. He didn't give Brock a chance to recover. Running at Brock he slammed his foe into the wall with force. Brock was now winded but managed to keep his feet. Brock needed this to be over quickly or he might be in trouble then help came. Sophia had picked up a nearby rock and clattered it against the back of Brock's attacker. The man winched and turned round to face Sophia, now was Brock's chance and he wasn't going to waste it. Brock grabbed the man's arm, twisting it into an uncomfortable position, pulling it violently downwards, it snapped and the man let out a sharp scream as he dropped to his knees. Two of the men ran past Brock, trying to escape but he wasn't going to let them go that easy, he stuck out a leg and tripped them up one after the other. Laughing as they scramble to flee into the market.
He turned to the three now freed victims and smiled, nodded his head and began to walk out of the alley before a voice stopped him.
"Please sir, don't go. We have no friends here and we have travelled for five days through woodland and rivers to get here" Sophia's sweet voice was like a song to Brock's ears. She thought she sounded like a begging child.
"Why would you want to come here?" Brock asked, not turning his back from them.
Nadia stepped forward, Tommy was holding her hand tightly, his stomach hurt and he was scared.
"Our village was burnt and our mother killed. We were going to buy passage to Paciadan but we got attacked by those thugs. We haven't eaten in days and are so thirsty. Can you help us please sir." Nadia replied.
Brock turned quickly "Don't call me sir...." He sighed as he always does "Follow me, I can give you a hot meal and a place to sleep for the night"
The four broken souls walked back to the Lost Bronze in silence, it was awkward but no one wanted to break it. Nadia, Sophia and Tommy sat down at a table in the centre of the room as a few drunks stared at them. As they settled properly for the first time in days Brock brought out three bowls of steaming boar soup. It didn't look appetising but the three of them do not care, they tucked in quickly like lions on a carcass. They finished quickly, satisfying the rumble in their empty stomachs.
"Come on, follow me upstairs" Brock beckoned them up into his little loft.
He opened the door and showed them his singled bed and tiny room.
"I am sorry it isn't much but it is all I have"
"It is great and much appreciated" Sophia shook Brock's hand in thanks.
"I have warm water downstairs if you would like to wash yourselves. I can go out to the market this afternoon and get you some new clothes if you would like"
All three of them lit up as Brock offered his generosity, they couldn't believe someone in this town was being so nice to them.
"We thank you very much...... What has we call you?" Nadia asked.
"The name is Brock Logan but you can call me Brock. Listen I have people downstairs at the moment but I will give you a few hours to get washed and some sleep and I will feed you dinner later and give you your new clothes then"
They bid Brock farewell for the afternoon and got some rest. Tommy slept under the bed in the shadows as Nadia and Sophia cuddled together on the softest place they had slept in days. Brock felt rather proud of himself but didn't show it on his face, he was emotionless as ever.
He continued to serve his regulars and a few passers-by before shutting up early. He left the inn later that afternoon and made the trip to the market once more, it was a much quieter place in the early evening. Shoppers had gotten tired and returned to their homes or inns, most of the salesmen had packed up their goods and gone home as well. Brock knew that Stace Lowdon always worked late on her stall and had some nice clothes for cheap prices. He picked up a couple of dresses from her and a shirt and a pair of pants for Tommy. He managed to bargain for a few winter coats as well, thinking that the three wanderers now staying in his attic would be rather cold. He was about to walk home when he saw the alleyway he found them in, he walked down it slowly, it was now deserted and black, the blocked out, low sun behind some tall buildings. He noticed a book on the ground and bent down to pick it up, it's raised golden lettering read 'The Legend Of The Seven Crystals', thinking one of the three wanderers might have dropped it he pocketed it to give it to them later. He also spotted his own things he dropped from the fight earlier, he smiled ever so lightly and picked up his things and walked home.
He arrived to find the three of them walking down the stairs, their faces and arms weren't grubby anymore but their clothes were still dirty. Tommy was clean for the first time in months.
"Here take these" Brock said, passing over the dresses, shirt and pants to the three of them "Go get changed and I will start cooking the four of us some dinner"
The three didn't say anything and just followed his instructions but did give him a little smile as they turned to walk back upstairs. Brock walked into the kitchen behind the bar and put his stuff away, hanging his jacket up on a rocky, unstable coat hanger in the corner. He began work on their dinner, he cooked a lamb joint he picked up at the market the day before with potatoes and fresh vegetables he picked himself from the fields on the outskirts of town. The farms owner was one of Brock's regulars and let him take any produce he wanted for exchange for the free beer that Brock gave him at the start of his night, of course the farmer didn't realise that it helped Brock as well, with the farmer the more he drank, the more he bought and he usually drank until he passed out on the Lost Bronze's floor.
Dinner time come round swiftly and Brock called the three of them down to the table that he had set up for the four of them. It was a dark wood table covered in a red thin table cloth. Everything was in its rightful place, fork, knife and spoon all ready to picked up and used. Nadia, Sophia and Tommy sat down and Brock took the last remaining seat. Nadia was the first to speak.
"Thank you so much Mr Logan, this look lovely"
"Brock please. I don't believe I caught your names" Brock gestured with an open hand for them to start eating.
Sophia tucked in as she replied "I am Sophia, this is my sister Nadia and our friend Tommy. We are from the Boarwood family"
"Boarwood you say, I knew an Augustus Boarwood a long time ago" Brock said as he ate a cut bit of juicy lamb shoulder.
"That was our father" Sophia looked down as she spoke.
"I heard he died at Fort Goran, I'm sorry, he was a good man from what I can remember" Brock commented sympathetically.
Silence ensued for a few minutes after that before Brock broke it.
"Why are the three of you travelling to Paciadan?" Brock inquired.
"We were hoping to talk to the Emperor and tell him what happened to our village but now we think we might go to the city of Cathair, we have an aunt there who runs the Lords port on the outskirts of the city" Sophia answered.
"I would advise going to Cathair, the journey is two hundred miles shorter and none of the routes have wagons heading to Paciadan for another three days" Brock interjected.
"I would like to see aunt Shayla again" Nadia's voice came from the quiet end of the table "I would feel safer around family"
Sophia reached out and held her sisters hand "Ok, we will go to Cathair then, I would feel safer around family too. I feel like we are running out of family at the moment"
Tommy nodded as he swallowed his last bite of potato. All four of them had wiped their plates clean, Brock was the last to finish, something that hadn't happened to him in a long time. He cleared the plates and offered them dessert. Sophia looked at the other two and they all turned it down, they didn't want to take too much from this kind man who had already been so generous. They said good night and parted ways, the three went upstairs to sleep well and Brock lay under a thin blanket on the sofa that lay by a wall downstairs in the bar. He couldn't settle, he kept tossing and turning, mulling over a memory in his head.