The wind whistled its way in and out of the tents, taking a good look at each man that lay within every one.
Most were curled up under blankets in a desperate attempt to keep warm and repel the evil forces of the night; evil forces that were determined to prevent the weary soldiers from entering the land of slumber. The occasional few were smoking illegally inside their temporary housing whilst drinking uncontrollably and cursing under their breaths.
Like the wind, Baramus was also winding his way through the never ending rows of tents, in search of a particular man, to discuss the loan of a certain horse.
Shielding his eyes from the plummeting rain, he used the posts to force himself forward until he reached a tent that was quite set back from its companions. The tent was scrawny looking, holes appearing in more than one place and poles sticking out the ground, not quite doing their job. Baramus smiled; he’d found the one he’d been looking for.
He pulled back the two flaps and stepped slowly inside. The tent was empty bar a rug and an unlit pipe. Baramus let the flaps of fabric fall back into place and knelt down beside the rug. He used it to dry his face before wrapping it around his body. He shivered in silence for some time, listening to the wind still howling around the campsite.
It was a long time before Faragar returned to his tent to find an unshaven Baramus wrapped in his rug and smoking his only remaining pipe. Baramus threw him the rug and his friend used it to soak up the water that was trickling down his neck and face. Faragar approached Baramus and took the pipe from between his lips and pressed it against his own. He inhaled deeply and then released a ball of smoke that found its way out the tent entrance. After several puffs, the man spoke:
“I went to the very top of the hill and looked out over the moonlit turf; as of yet the enemy is not in sight but who’s to say they will even come from that area? No, I suspect an attack from the south.”
“From Farmear you mean?”
Faragar nodded and knelt down beside his companion.
“There has been no word from the East or West concerning trouble and they seldom travel north.”
“Even so, Farmear have sent no word to us.”
Faragar nodded and took another puff of his pipe. Loosening his belt, he brought out several weapons that had obviously been kept there for a rather absurd attempt at keeping them out of view. With them he brought out a scroll. Unrolling it, Baramus could see the same map he himself had been studying for the past three days. Faragar pointed to Farmear.
“Farmear is in the most awkward of places; surrounded by wilderness and very remote to other parts of Tarvanhay. A quick slip past would be easy for even the least experienced people so these guys could get past with no problem at all.”
Baramus watched his friend with great curiosity. It had been a long time since he had spoken with Faragar and they had never spoken of the fall of man before.
The wind ruffled the tent and the rain began to fall even more heavily. Bits of rope and debris flew about the campsite. The two men saw the shadows of leaves and sticks hit the side of the tent.
“Faragar, I need to borrow Midnight.”
To Baramus’ surprise his friend started to laugh. He actually felt rather offended.
“What duty has been handed to you that requests the use of my stallion?”
“No duty, but a decision that I have personally made.”
Faragar looked at Baramus, quite surprised at the serious side of his friend that was starting to come through.
“I ride North tonight Faragar,” announced Baramus in a rush of sudden confidence, “I plan to seek aid from the northern folk.”
“Northern rangers you speak of? The same men that…”
“Slaughtered Gomorra’s uncle, yes.”
There was a moment where Baramus thought Faragar was going to laugh again but he didn’t. In fact he got a very different reaction to the one he had been expecting…
“It is a wise decision Baramus; the northern rangers are fine warriors and they can provide the final spark of hope that we so desperately need. I would be honoured to lend you my horse for such a valiant deed my good friend. I would offer to accompany you if it weren’t for my sentence. Gomorra wishes to keep me here indefinitely and it seems as though I have no other alternative. I do, however, offer you the greatest of luck!”
Baramus nodded sympathetically trying not to relive what Faragar had recently committed. If he were to rely on honesty in this situation, he was very disappointed not to have company, or someone to protect him!
He then nodded his thanks to Faragar and stood up, bending slightly to avoid his head coming in contact with the metal pole above.
“Where can I find him? I do not wish to delay any longer.”
“He is stationed next to Gomorra’s horse Phoenix. You can’t miss him. I wish you luck Baramus; the future of Tarvanhay rests on your shoulders.”
Baramus muttered a word of thanks to Faragar before turning one last time to his friend.
“Now you say it like that, I think I need some reassurance from that pipe of yours.”
Faragar laughed and handed the pipe over. After taking a deep puff, Baramus strode out the tent only to be confronted by the rain.
