“Well met fellow traveller!” boomed and elderly, friendly voice from the approaching caravan. “Such wonderful weather to be pounding up and down the highways.” He looked upwards wiping the rain from his face as he did so.
“Well met,” replied Rohlen pulling the blanket a little closer. “I wish we were coupled to horses like yourselves,” he added admiring the two brown muscular looking steads.
The old man chuckled, he admiring the oxen on the opposing caravan. “The speed is great when we’re moving, but we’ve spent more time digging ourselves out of the mud for it to be an advantage.”
Rohlen nodded in thought. “Well I suppose that’s one thing they have going for them. They just keep going, even if it is slowly.”
The old man cocks his head in interest. “Are you in a hurry my friend?”
“Only to be out of this infernal rain, and get our passengers to their destination.”
“Well the rain has been a curse on this land for too long,” he replied philosophically. “Where would your destination be? If you are not offended by my asking.” His tone changed with the asking of the question.
Rohlen smiled unfazed. “As the saying goes. All roads lead eventually to Breakwater.”
“That’s an awfully long way! Where have you travelled from?” The old man asked leaning forward, listening intently.
“The ill fated city of Tasgard. If you’re headed there, then you’ll find not much left. Oh, perhaps some armoured horsemen who passed us a moon ago, but I fear they may have met their demise at the hands of some goblin wolf riders.” Rohlen paused, suddenly aware that he had parted more information than he would have done normally.
The wizard glanced a simple jeweled ring upon his off hand third finger. A dull hue glowed from it telling Rohlen all he needed to know. The old man sensed he had been found out too.
“Speak Truth?” asked Rohlen a heavy degree of seriousness to his tone as he waved his hand slowly through the air.
Now sitting back, the old man scrabbled over his words, “These are, erm, dangerous times, being on the road more so.”
“Oh I agree. Perhaps I should cast a spell of my own.”
The old man’s face suddenly flashed with intense horror as he raised both hands outstretched seeking forgiveness.
“You could let me introduce his neck to my axe,” said Tumbor returning to leaning out the window, whilst voices behind him demanded to know what was going on.