Spoiler Fanfiction
And this one is a little longer than I thought it would be 😅
But we get StRaNdErS!!!
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: THE WEAVERS
“Oy, Dugtown has a sharp smell,” Donovan said, fanning his hand in front of his face as the wagon entered the town.
“You say that about this town but not about Symia?” Artham said, glancing up from his book laughingly.
“Lads, stay sharp. I want you to be safe,” Darian said, looking around sharply.
Donovan smiled at Artham. “Father, we will be just fine!”
“I know. But since your mother…wasn’t cautious the one time…”
Darian coughed, to rid himself of the emotion and Donovan sighed. Artham looked down.
“My mom died here, because she missed a key hint,” Donovan said.
A silence followed.
“Hey Donovan,” Artham muttered.
“Yeah?”
“If you ever need to talk. I’m here.”
Donovan smiled. “We rely on each other, as brothers.”
“Aye.”
“We stay here for the night!” Darian announced, and he pulled up the wagon to a place called ‘The Roundish Widow’.
They climbed out of the wagon, and Artham was relieved to be able to stretch his legs.
“This looks like the only place with warmth in this whole town,” Donovan said.
Artham smiled. “Be grateful we stay here.”
As soon as they entered, Artham could sense the drastic change of this place in comparison to the dreariness of the outside world.
Darian looked tired this day, and Artham felt bad for his two guides. But then, with a crushing remembrance, he recalled his wife and unborn child, his family, and suddenly he felt like he couldn’t breathe. His throat constricted, and a he felt a sob in his throat.
“Hello there, can I get you some food y’all?”
Artham was ripped out of his musings, and he looked up and saw a pleasant faced woman that reminded him of Wendolyn.
“Um, yes,” Artham stammered, quickly wiping his eyes, “whatever you suggest.”
Donovan saw the strange change over his friend’s face, and Darian noticed it as well.
Artham looked down, not wanting to have to explain his sudden change of emotion.
“We’ll have what he has,” Darian said, a smile on his face.
“Of course. And my name is Doma McHiggins, so if you need anything, just tell me.”
She took her order to the kitchen, and Artham was able to relax for a few moments. Until Donovan asked, “Are you alright Artham?”
Artham looked shocked for a moment. “I’m fine,” he said, putting his elbows on the table and resting his head in his hands. “I am just fine.”
Was he?
That evening, quite late, the three went outside to get all of their bags.
“I sure am tired,” Donovan said.
“Me too,” Artham replied.
Darian smiled. “Well, my lads, we just have to get these bags inside and then off to bed we get. It was very nice of the owners to let us stay here.”
Artham smiled. “Aye, especially since it’s not an inn.”
“Will you get the last bag?”
“Sure.”
Artham walked to the other side of the wagon and pulled out the last bag, quite ready to go upstairs and sleep.
“Alright, I got it, are you ready?” Artham asked, coming around the wagon.
But there was no one there. Darian and Donovan had seemingly vanished, and their luggage was still there. Artham’s brow furrowed, and concern appeared on his face.
“Don? Darian? Hello?”
He walked around, feeling for the dagger he had shoved in the folds of his cloak. Thank the Maker that was there. He was just about to grab it, when he felt something hard hit the back of his head and it all went black.
Artham felt his head pounding and he forced his eye open. He could tell he was laying on his back, and before his eyes he could see a bright, roaring fire.
“Artham,” a voice whispered.
He turned his head and saw Donovan, arms tied up behind him, and a bloody lip.
“Don, where are we?”
Donovan shook his head, and a little bit of terror filled his eyes. “The Strander camp.”
Artham’s eyes widened, and he pushed himself up with his elbows, realizing that his arms were also tied behind his back.
He was relieved when he saw Darian a few yards off. But a cold dread filled his heart when he saw the leader of the Stranders. He was tall, perhaps Artham’s height, with a brown beard, greasy brown hair, and a smug grin on his face. Plus, Artham was sure he saw one or two things crawl around in that beard of his.
“Well, wakey wakey, my good sar. Was wonderin’ if ya would grace us with your presence.”
Artham stiffened. He did not like this man talking to him at all.
“Who might you be? And what will you be doing with us?” Artham asked, every muscle in his body tensing up.
“My name is Claxton Weaver. And what do I plan to do to you? Throw ya in the Blapp!”
Claxton pointed his finger back and Artham heard the rushing of water at once.
Claxton grinned. “Maybe we’ll let ya eat first. But, then again, maybe not.”
Claxton stood over Artham. Artham didn’t like that. When Claxton was in his view, he saw Nibbick. And Artham had promised himself he would never let anyone bully him anymore. Not as the Throne Warden. He now had something to stand for and represent.
Claxton looked like he was gloating, looked like he was winning. Artham leaned back from his stench, and in that moment, he felt something pricking him. His dagger. Now he knew what he needed to do.
He slowly stood up, and Claxton instantly backed down, as most bullies will.
“What gives you any right to do this to us?” Artham asked.
“You were loaded with treasures,” Claxton answered, pulling out his large misshapen dagger. “And I answer to no one.”
Artham looked to the side and saw all of their valuable belongings thrown about. Plus, some of their cloaks.
“We knew you were comin’ as soon as you came in on that little carriage o’ yours.”
Darian moaned. “A fool I am.”
Artham played with his dagger behind his back, under his cloak, and then, with a couple misses and a couple nicks on his wrists, the bond was free. He could slug Claxton as soon as he wanted to. But he needed to do it tactfully.
“We should be going, I think,” Artham said.
Claxton laughed, and his clan did as well. Claxton pointed his dagger at Artham.
Okay, tactful is not going to work.
Artham pulled out his dagger and knocked Claxton’s out of his hand. He then shoved Claxton back, and not one Strander around him tried to help their leader.
“I think, we’ll be going,” Artham hissed. Claxton tried to get up, put Artham pinned him down.
But Claxton kicked Artham off of him, scrambled to get his dagger, but Artham was faster and tripped him. Then, with a quick move, he grabbed both of Claxton’s arms and held him in place.
“Ha! Finally!” a voice cried.
An old woman stood up, leaning on her cane, and she went to Donovan and Darian and untied them. Artham looked shocked, and he was momentarily distracted. But then Claxton stomped on Artham’s foot, and he tumbled to the ground. Both of them were dagger less, except…Claxton had another dagger.
Artham looked a little concerned, but he dodged as Claxton threw it.
He then pinned him quickly, and, after tussling for a few more moments, was able to knock him out. Someone, he assumed that old woman, brought him a rope. Donovan rushed behind him and helped tie up an unconscious Claxton, just in case. The wicked man started to wake up, and he started to shout. Then, he was quickly gagged, and everyone was stunned.
The old woman was behind Artham.
“That should hold ‘im fer awhile.”
Artham was panting and he looked at this woman in shock. “Who-who are you?”
“Nurgabog Weaver. This…person is my son. Who are you?”
“No one important,” Darian interjected.
“Right,” Artham assured.
Nurgabog raised her brows.
“You—you wouldn’t ‘appen to know where a Podo Helmer is? I ‘eard you came across the sea?”
Artham’s brow furrowed, and he started backing away from the woman. “Maybe.”
“Would you be his runaway son?”
“No.”
Artham felt that pang of concern in his heart. How did she know Podo?
Nurgabog seemed disappointed. “We need our things, and we need to get out of here,” Artham said, taking charge, knowing that would not hold Claxton forever.
The woman nodded. “Yes. You do. Skreean boys not from Dugtown have no right to be in here.”
She hobbled over to their bags, and Artham noticed the other Stranders watching. Donovan soon came to his side. “I think you stunned them with defeating their leader,” he whispered.
“It was really both of us,” Artham said with a smile.
“Too humble.”
“You get out of here, but do not go back in the town. Get out. ‘ere’s your things, as much as I got ‘ere. Go.”
Artham nodded, helping Darian to walk, because he was hurt.
“Go,” Nurgabog encouraged. “Before my son gets loose.”
All three of them got their weapons and supplies, and then they ran off as best they could into the night, ready to get to their next stop: Torrborro.
Woo! More characters joining in!!! Let me know if anything seemed weird or wonky 😀
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