Escape from Valn

 

Part 4

Cyan

          Cyan Krieger eyed the steaming bread-bowl, heaped with piping hot stew, hungrily as the barmaid leaned over, setting the wooden tray that bore his meal before him. The rich aroma of spiced venison, vegetables, and herbs tantalized his nostrils and made his mouth water with anticipation as he regarded the young lass with a look of gratitude and handed her a small fistful of coins. Tucking the change into a pocket, she smiled warmly and then turned to retrieve the pitcher that she had managed to hoist along with the serving tray. Without missing a beat, she filled the warrior’s mug up to a graciously foaming head of thick brown ale.

          “Thank ye, milady” he said in a voice that reflected the fatigue that showed in his eyes. With a nod of her head and a polite smile she was off, scurrying to the call of a band of travelers who hailed to her for a decanter of ale to fill their empty tankards. Cyan regarded the group with a grudging respect as he fingered the turned, wrought iron spoon by his bowl. They laughed and carried on, after whatever their day had brought them; though Cyan doubted for a minute that they had traveled the long hard road that he had since the sun rose behind the leaden-hued sky this morning. With a weary smile he spooned a heaping mound of stew into his mouth, savoring the thick hearty broth as it delivered a myriad of flavors to his senses.

          The grueling trek from Gaxmoor in the driving wind and bitter cold had left him little more than frozen, starved, and altogether physically drained. Despite the urge he had to wolf the entire bowl of stew down as fast as he could swallow it, Cyan ate slowly and patiently, allowing the warmth of his meal to spread throughout his body as he washed it all down with a swig of a thick brown porter that hailed from somewhere in The Massif. Tearing off a chunk of the bread-bowl’s lid and gnawing on it, he took a moment to look around and survey his surroundings. A tavern boy tended the hearth, stoking the coals and adding another log to the flame when it was needed. His efforts sent a shower of sparks up the flue that seemed to dance and swirl with the rhythm of the bard’s music as they sailed ever upward into oblivion. The tavern’s patrons seemed to revel in each other’s company- even the cutpurse who had been slinking along through the crowd, pilfering various odds and ends as she went, had found a welcome place next to a wandering knight only a few tables away. Cyan drew a deep breath and relaxed- the warm welcoming environment of The Oaken Tankard was exactly what the warrior needed after more than a week on the blustery, frigid, open road. He took another heaping bite of stew while surveying his fellow travelers- enjoying the warmth and flavor of the spiced meal that warmed him inside and out, and gave a silent huzzah to fine food, fine folk, and even finer drink. Without further consideration of the long road that had brought him to Valn and The Oaken Tankard, Cyan allowed the serene atmosphere of the tavern to wash over him; sweeping away his troubles as the graceful ebb and flow of the bard’s pleasant melody trilled over the crowd.

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