4

River Pirates

Granthurg

Granthurg stepped forward, to the edge of the platform, and squinted out into the dark rain. The oculus lamps shone, but revealed nothing but river and more rain.

What were those lights? They looked like they were gleaming from the shore... He ducked under the edge of the tarp and hopped off the platform. Instantly, he felt the chill of the rain falling on his face and bald head, and running onto his shoulders, soaking his shirt. He hefted his hammer and strode toward the bow of the boat. Maybe he could see better from there.

As he took the last steps to the bow, to stand next to the lights, he strained to see beyond the glow of the oculi. All he could hear was the torrential rain falling around him, on him.

He shrugged and shook off the wet as much as he could and turned around, to return to the steering at the stern.

Halfway back, along the side of the barge, he saw two men climbing over the railing from a small boat now alongside the barge. One jumped onto the walkway between the railing and the tarped cargo and drew a shortsword. He shouted and rushed toward Granthurg.

The giant's instinct was to defend himself, so he hefted the handle of his hammer between his two hands and used it to block the initial slashes of the sword. His attacker was significantly shorter than Granthurg, by at least a head and a half, and wearing a dark cloak. Behind him, another one stood, in an attacking posture, but unable to reach around past his cohort.

Granthurg continued blocking, and began pressing forward. He shifted his left hand, near the head of the hammer, then, after a block, lunged forward and used his leverage to swing the massive hammer in a side sweeping counter-attack. The boarder saw it coming and jumped back, but lost his footing on the rain-soaked deck and fell backward.

As he rolled over and struggled to stand, Granthurg raised the hammer up above his shoulder and swung down, narrowly missing the wriggling man's legs and cracking the planks of the deck.

Both men scrambled toward the stern, slipping on the wood.

Granthurg suddenly realized his friend and boss was there, sleeping. "RINKMORR!" he shouted, and hoped he could wake him before the river pirates got to him. He lunged forward, taking huge strides, and threw himself at the men. His hammer clattered to the deck as he wrapped his bulky arms around the nearest man's torso. They collapsed with a crash, and the impact of Granthurg's huge body swayed the boat back and forth.

"RINKMORR!" He called again, "GET UP! GET UP!"

5

Of Course!

Granthurg

The barge deck heaved up and down, and the rain made it slippery and hard to stand steady. The forward pirate grabbed the railing, trying to hold his balance. Granthurg punched the downed man under him, hitting him twice. The barge stabilized a bit, as did the pirate, and Granthurg lifted up to see him lunge. A sharp, cold pain stabbed into the giant's shoulder and he lost his balance, falling backward. He smashed onto the deck and the cargo crates, and struggled against the assault, knocking bags and barrels loose.

He looked up into the angry determined face of his assailant as the pirate pulled back on his sword and raised it for a second strike. Even though the man was smaller, he was positioned so as to make it difficult for Granthurg to move. He lifted his arms to shield himself, in spite of the pain.

At that moment, a deep splash of slimy river water rushed over him, down his throat, in his nose, and washed him further down the length of the barge. He rolled over as the water flowed past him, and coughed and gagged, gasping for breath. Finally, as his lungs and his head cleared, he knelt and looked up. Down the walkway, he saw Rinkmorr standing with his hands still forming the follow-through of a watershaping spell. The rest of the riverwater flowed off the barge, and Granthurg saw that the two pirates had been washed off with it.

Suddenly the awareness of the pain in his shoulder returned. He winced as he stood. The clean rain was gradually rinsing off the muddy river water, as well as the blood flowing from his wound. He grabbed the railing for balance, and raised his gaze to his friend.

"I could have handled them."

"Yeah. Of course." His boss smiled, with more than a hint of sarcasm. "I'll bet you could've."

6

The Problem With Chickens

DeFrantis

DeFrantis slipped under the window and continued creeping along the street to the back of the inn. As she went, she began to smell the aromas of cooking meats and stews wafting through another open window. It made her empty stomach beg. This was not the distraction she needed. She kept moving.

Soon the building ended and with it, the overhang. The wall she was leaning on changed to a fence. On the other side of it, she could hear a pig grunting. The smells had also changed. As she continued, the fence turned a corner, and the street branched to the right into an alleyway behind the inn. The rainwater flowed out of the alley and into the street. She hurried across and into the alley, with the splashes rushing over her feet.

Feeling along in the rain and the darkness, she found a gate. She tried it, and it was locked. She looked to the top of the fence, leapt up and grabbed for it. One of her hands slipped, and she shifted and reached again. She swung her body side to side, then pulled herself up and over. She landed, feet-first, in a pile of straw. Her footing slipped in the wet straw and she fell back against the fence.

A light shone into the stockyard from an open door in the back of the inn. She could hear someone inside along with clanging pots. That must be the kitchen. To her right was a lower fence and through its sparse slats, she thought she could make out a pig. Further away, on the left was a chicken coop. Most of the chickens were huddling inside, but a few were pecking around the straw, dung, and mud under an overhanging roof of the coop.

She leaned forward, crouching on her heels and began creeping toward one of the chickens.

"C'mere!" she hissed, trying to both whisper and be a bit louder than the rain. She tried making clucking noises. "Get over here!" She moved forward, reaching for the chicken. It stood and stared at her as she got closer. She set herself for the spring, and threw herself at the chicken. It dodged away in a flurry of flapping and she landed in the muck.

The foul smell hit her immediately and she pulled herself up to her hands and knees. The clucking of the chickens sounded more like laughter to her. She scrambled to her feet and lunged at the nearest one, hissing, "You hold still!" She grabbed the chicken and stood with a surprised expression and questionable balance. She raised her eyes to look up at the angry innkeeper standing in the light of the doorway.