Davin’s Humble Abode

I awaken from violently shaking. I have no recollection of what happened after I let the arrow loose. I can hardly even think with my head throbbing the way it is. Daylight has gone, and stillness of night has taken its place. It has been at least a few hours since the incident. After all Ben and I-...

“Ben!” I stand, despite the frailty of my body at the moment. “Ben! Where are you?!” I hear groans coming from where the rebels were conspiring, and begin to make my way towards the noise. Alas, I find it was the low-life I shot with my arrow. Seems I missed his head. 

“What the hell happened?” I ask, turning him to face me. 

“Curse you.” The man spits blood in my face and passes at that moment, as if he were waiting to make this statement before death brought him to the Afterplane. I wipe away the remnants of blood with my sleeve.

“Ben!” My crippled cries become more desperate as I notice the pain in my chest. I collapse next to the low-life, coughing uncontrollably. It had completely slipped my mind, but kneeling next to the man, the roll of parchment catches my attention. I swipe the parchment from the thief’s pocket and stuff it into my own. Despite my body telling me to stop, I stand and begin to walk towards the northern ridge where I last remember seeing Ben. My steps are clumsy, and my breathing is raspy and heavy. What the hell happened to me? What is this? Finally making it over the ridge, there’s no trace of Ben to be found. I collapse, and breathing once again becomes a chore.

Laying on the ground, my breathing starts to stabilize. In the stillness of the mountain air, I hear the rustling of footsteps. I reach down my side to unsheathe my blade, and turn to face the noise. “Who might this be?” I inquire aloud in a raspy voice, holding my dagger up in self defense as I lay, vulnerable.

“Harm is not my goal. At ease, friend,” responds a voice from the darkness.

“Words are wind. I do not know you and therefore am no friend of yours,” I retort.

The silhouette of a man comes into view as he approaches me from the cover of trees. He is dressed in grey, stain ridden clothes that look as if moths has been feasting on it for ages. The man has scraggly grey hair with an unkempt beard to match. Beyond this, the old man, perhaps in his 60’s, is in remarkable shape for his age. I can see much wisdom in his eyes as he proceeds closer toward me. “I would be not so quick to judge, no? I know what happened here. Yea, I witnessed it as I was picking berries from the forest just beyond.” The man sits down next to me and pulls out his knapsack. I ready my blade in response. “Even if I were a threat to you, do you earnestly believe you have the strength to even penetrate skin with that blade?” The man has a point, and seems knowledgable regarding my condition. He pulls out a pestle and mortar, along with green, yellow and purple herbs. “Now, the man you were after, that is Bertrand, yes?” He asks, while creating some sort of concoction.

“What’s it to you, then?” I quickly deflect.

“Now, no need to be on the defense. ‘Tis obvious I am here to help, no? Bertrand used a poison powderbomb to escape from you and the lad you were with. He-”

“Did you happen to see where that lad went off to?” I interrupt.

“The boy, he is fine, yes. He is resting at my cabin. Big boy, he is. Hard to move. He was in a lot worse condition than you, yea, so I tended to him first. You understand.” 

A sigh of relief washes over my body. “Who exactly might you be?” I bring my tone down and speak softer than before.

“Name’s Davin. I used to work in the city as an apothecary, yes? But made my way to live off the land in these ‘ere woods. Many oddities to be seen out ‘ere, I say.” I begin coughing uncontrollably, yet again. “The mix is just about created. Bear with me, yes?”

In between coughs, I manage to say in a raspy voice, “Name’s Isaac”, and hold out a hand to shake his. He accepts as he grins with missing teeth.

Davin pulls out tinctures from his knapsack and proceeds to mash the herbs whilst adding oils. He hands me the serum in a bowl. “Now, take this. These toxins can be quite deadly if not treated by serum, oh yes. The effects of the serum will be apparent once the toxins are expelled through the pores of your body. The process should take no more than couple hours, no?”

“Thanks, Davin. Why are you helping me? I must assume you know I’m a sellsword, one who kills for money.” Those who do mercenary work are generally seen as greedy and ruthless, willing to do anything for cash. “Do you not share the general consensus on our kind?”

“Aye, that I know. I’m sure you have your reasons. The Maker sent me this deep into the forest to find and save you and that big boy, yea? I could not allow any to die needlessly under my watch.”

Davin leans down to prop me to my feet. Though my sickness persists, my body begins to regain strength from the assurance of Ben’s safety, my mind along with it. I recall the remark Davin made regarding Bertrand, and inquire, “You mentioned recognizing Bertrand. Of what ties do you hold to him?”

“None, lad. Living ‘ere in these parts you stumble across things like thieve’s hideouts. All in a day’s work, aye? At times, I would listen in on conversation held between Bertrand and the others, yes, much like you when you were snoopin’ about. Seems their cause is righteous, though the methods not be.”

“He called this faction the Light Brigade?”

“Aye, that be them.”

“What exactly do the Light Brigade fight against?”

He points me in the direction of his cabin. “Let us walk towards my abode, no? I’ll tell you what I know along the way.”

We begin traversing wild animal tracks en route to Davin’s cabin. At this point, my strength has been restored almost completely, and I begin scaling the rocky cliffs as I would when hunting game. Davin gracefully treads between rocks and branches at such a fast pace. Despite his age, I find myself having trouble keeping up with him.  

Once we arrive on somewhat flat ground, he slows his pace to allow me to catch up. “So this Light Brigade, yes? They are of a meager crowd living life in subservience. Most of these individuals are brought up in the slums, no? Given little education, sparse foodstuffs, and treated as if expendable. They fight for equality with that of royalty, though their actions are condemning, oh yes.”

“You suggest the crown is oppressing the people?”

“Aye, that be so in my mind. Do you think it differently?”

I avoid the question. “The crown wishes not for tireless fighting with rebels. Would they not seek to treat with King Herald before starting a war?” Ben and I were born in a small village called Vale, however had been brought up under Count Ardula within the walled fortress city of Yevelle in the monastery. In case Davin be some enemy of mine, I prefer him not know this about me.

“Haven’t had much dealings with those of royalty, no? They heed little of what concerns citizens. Peasants, too. Definitely. Odd, however. Your task to kill Bertrand must have been issued by someone of royalty, no?”

I feel uncomfortable and once again dodge the question. “The contract states the man was wanted for murder and theft. Men like that deserve to die.”

“Aye, perhaps that rings true. Consider, however, if I held that belief about you and your big friend.” The man may be a kook, but he’s witty. “Alas, Bertrand is ruthless. He seems to be one hellbent on ambitions of power, oh yes. Slippery slope that one is. You consider, though, those of the crown are likewise the same as Bertrand. Only thing is, those of the crown already wield that power yet strive to accumulate more, no?”

My response delays. All that sets on my mind as of now are Davin’s words. “Surely you do not think all that support the crown act according to your words?”

“Surely not. On the contrary, those who follow their allegiance blindly mayhap be misinformed, no? Simply acting their part in a play, whether they know of their wrongdoings or not. Most from whom I have met hold themselves in higher regard than those below them, suggesting destiny or fate gives them the right to be treated better than the rest, aye? Through my years as an apothecary, I served men of all classes.”

The path becomes more prominent as we get closer to Davin’s cabin. Torches light up a small bridge to cross the creek flowing beside the man’s lush garden. The plants bear fruits larger than any I have ever seen. As we walk the path around the garden, I see a room alit with candlelight, Ben resting in the bed within it. With no regard to courtesy, I barge into the man’s house and immediately rush to Ben’s side. Seems that the poison wasn’t the only thing to bring harm to him.

Davin walks up behind me, “It seems he got sliced on his shoulder, no? The boy is young, but fights like a champion. The slice on his shoulder is benign, and a lucky hit on Bertrand’s part, oh yes.”

I can not help but chuckle a bit at Davin’s remark. “How long do you propose it will take for him to recover?”

“He is quite fine already, just resting, yes. I have cleaned and bandaged the wound and provided him with serums for both pain and the poison you had, though the lad caused quite a ruckus upon waking up here. Now, you surely must eat! I reckon you ‘adn’t eaten for a long time given you were out for a couple hours.” With uncanny speed, the old man leaps from my side and is out of the room in a flash. He yells from the next room, “I ‘spose you wouldn’t mind venison stew, no?”

Though Davin does not know, meals like this are commonplace for Ben and myself. The royal court has private land for hunting with much docile, large game. I had not considered that many of those outside royal walls do not have luxuries such as hunting and private gardens. Most land surrounding the fortress has been restructured to produce large amounts of crop. “Venison stew is a delicacy. That would be great.” 

I start to stand, removing my bow and quiver so that I may feel more at ease. Looking around Davin’s cabin, I hold firm to my disposition regarding him upon seeing the house. The man’s odd. On the walls hang many strange, seemingly useless trinkets. Rugs are torn, clothes are strewn about the floor, and I swear there was a pig next to the fireplace when I barged in. I join Davin in the next room where, surprisingly, he manages to find everything he needs in his organized mess of a kitchen. I turn to look around. ‘Tis humble, that much for sure. The living area was much different than the bedroom. Clean, in comparison to the bedroom and the man himself, and had interesting items of decor in cabinets and display cases. Seems this man was not just some ordinary apothecary. Unless, of course, he were some sort of collector. “So these arms and armor you have on display... Have you-”

BWAAWK!

The noise startles me as I turn to face Davin with impeccable timing. Not a blink later, a chicken flies toward my face, flapping frantically.

“Isaac! Pardon! I forgot I put the chicken in the cabinet earlier, yes?” 

Recovering from shock, I inquire, “Dare I ask, why you would have a chicken in the cabinet?”

“Oh, yes, quite. You see, this chicken is at the end of the pecking order. The others will pluck her feathers if I leave her unattended. I wish not to see anything bad happen to her.”

Now that I have a chance to see the chicken without it propelling towards me, the feathers seem patchy, and the chicken looks weak. “Yes.. the pecking order.” 

Through all the commotion, Ben stumbles into the doorway from the bedroom. I can’t stop myself from smiling, as he reciprocates weakly.