“We head for Blucester,” stated the elf, waiting for everyone to gather.
“Far be it for me to tell you where or where not we should go, but Blucester doesn’t work for me.”
“Do you hear that?”
The four of them stopped momentarily and strained their ears for any out of the ordinary sounds, but the burning of the surrounding buildings was all that could be heard.
“What do you hear, elf?” blasted Tumbor impatiently.
“Hooves, possibly a dozen riders headed this way from Droxburg.”
“Then we should leave,” suggested Rohlen. “I’m not sure we could talk our way out of this one.”
Flexing his muscles and grinding his knuckles, Tumbor looked excited. “We could fight!”
“You want to fight a mounted detachment of Droxburg guard? The same guard that serve to protect the Princess for whom we are employed?” Rohlen suggested for Yulien to follow the elf. “Sometimes the battles you see, if looked at from a different perspective, are not battles at all.”
Jax pulled his rimmed hat down, masking his face from full view, and concealed his sword by pulling his ragged duster around his shoulders. “I shall follow, for now.”
Witnessing the others disappear into the darkness, the dwarf sighed heavily consigned to the fact he was going to have to follow.
“What must you do to get a decent scrap these days?”
The dwarf broke into a brisk walk, that turned into a run as he tried to keep pace.