Chapter Seven: The Spirit Warriors

The walled town of Cahaigul stood proudly butting up against the sea, its great gates open to the landward side. The townsfolk had been early up and about their daily business, some going to work and some to the Town Square to conduct whatever transactions they needed to make. From the town gates, trumpets heralded the arrival of strangers and those townsfolk who were calmly going about their business in the streets halted their actions to look up as five armed riders, each astride a magnificent stallion, rode through the gates and into the town hurrying through the streets with townsfolk giving way to allow passage on to the Town Square.

The riders' mounts whinnied as each rider drew on the reins to bring the beasts to a halt. The townsfolk in the square fell silent and watched as each rider removed their cloaks to reveal that two among their number were women, the remainder being men. All were warriors and each bore a weapon most suited to his or her temperament and personal preference.

They looked around them at the town's inhabitants who had stopped whatever they were doing to see the warriors as they rode into the square. Warily watching, they remained silent under the penetrating gaze of the riders.

"Who among you knows of Captain Bardford?" boomed one of the male riders.

The townsfolk remained silent, as though dumbstruck by the riders' sudden entry into their town. Many were uneasy by this interference into their daily lives and more than a few felt their spines chill under the warrior-riders' watchful gaze.

Nobody dared speak but all stared, in awe, at the warrior-riders. Growing impatient, one of the male warriors drew his sort and dug his heels lightly into his mount's sides. The horse moved forward and the warrior pointed his sword at a cowering old man.

"You there," said the rider, "you know of Captain Bardford?"

Visibly trembling, the man replied, "At the Falchion Hops, Sire."

The old man pointed toward an alleyway and told his inquisitor that the Falchion Hops was an inn and that it could be found a short way down the alley from the Town Square.

Another of the warrior-riders, the youngest looking among them, then rode slowly up to the old man and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Here," he said, "we are grateful for your help and this is a token of that gratitude." Smiling at him, he gave the man a couple of gold coins before turning to face his companions. Together, they rode slowly toward the alleyway to find the inn watched by the townsfolk in the square and, especially, the old man who, upon looking back down at the coins in his hand, thought happily about how easy it had been to earn the equivalent of two weeks' wages at his work; one simple answer to one simple question!

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Following the old man's directions, the warrior-riders quickly found the inn. They listened as the sound of cheering and music came from within and looked at the sign hanging above the door, old and worn with paintwork which was cracked and dry.

A female warrior dismounted and motioned for one of her companions to join her. The two of them entered the inn and sat at a table near the door. They looked about them and saw barmaids hurrying to and fro, bringing ale and food and clearing the floor of mess produced by over-drinking customers. The place reeked sweat, stale beer and vomit! One of the warriors grabbed a barmaid, as she was passing, to order two mugs of ale and a small plate of highland legumes.

They sat looking around them. There were people at the bar laughing and teasing the barmaids, people at tables deep in conversation, still more people standing around heatedly arguing. In one corner of the bar, dimly lit by a small flickering lamp, sat a lone figure. The figure sitting was in the shadows but the warriors could make out that the person was wearing armour.

A few minutes passed and their order was brought to them. Two of the men involved in a heated argument through insults at each other and one threw a punch. The two warriors watched as the fight broke out. One of the drunken fighters, his face red with anger, took a dagger from his belt and hurled it at his opponent. It flew towards the corner where the shadowed stranger sat and the people in the bar fell silent. All eyes shifted to the armed warrior sitting in the shadows. The two warriors calmly supped their ale and watched, quietly waiting for what would follow.

A chair creaked as the warrior rose from the table and started walking towards the group who had been fighting. The sound of clanking armor followed the stranger across the bar.

"Who threw the dagger?" said a loud female voice.

One of the drunken fighters looked at the woman. "Who the hell are you to question us?" he said dismissively.

"Aye," said another, a bearded fellow, "just who the hell are you?"

Some of the customers laughed with the two fighters and one other laughing loudest.

Without warning, the lone female warrior quickly advanced upon the three laughing men and there were three loud thuds on the bar-room floor as each of the men was sent flying.

Seeing what she had done to the three men, how she's punched and kicked them, given them a thorough beating, many of the other customers ran through the door and out into the alleyway.

Yet, the leader of the troupe and her subordinate remained on their seats. Looking at the ruckus that the warrior made.