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We broke camp early, which didn’t take long, and Nigel saddled his mule while Sige and I got our packs readied. Nigel offered to let me ride with him on account of my shorter legs, but I declined and away we went, Sige and myself on foot, and Nigel on his mule.

I wasn’t overly talkative, but Nigel and Sige seemed to be getting on. I like ranchers, generally. It takes grit to live on the frontier and carve out a living, and ranchers are pragmatic optimists, hopeful for the future while constantly dealing with grim reality. But this morning I was focused. I wasn’t sure what my end goal was to be. It seemed that Joad, our driver, was dead, but I didn’t like him that much and wasn’t sure if it was revenge I sought or something else. Joad the Toad was from the country north of us, Valorion. We had been at war not that long ago but lost, and now Sumadea was a vassal of the high and mighty Valorians. Valorians seemed to think that we down here in Sumadea were a little backward and poor because we focused on farming and ranching, while they had the mages, the guilds, and the temples. I’ve never met a humble Valorian, and Joad the Toad was no different. I had no idea why he would dein to be a driver down here for the East Anvril Shipping Company, him with his fancy tastes in ugly hats and all. But some folk are just odd.

So if it weren’t revenge, then what? I didn’t care that much about the stolen goods either, whatever they were. I wasn’t even sure something was stolen. I figured we’d be in trouble with the shipping company for possibly losing their merchandise, but that’s hardly my fault. I did want the horses back though. Maybe it was just the general principle of it. Someone shot at me and I wanted to make sure they couldn’t do that again. Ever.

The terrain had opened up, but we were headed towards a low mountain range and it began to get rocky again. All the sudden Nigel’s mule began to snort and bob its head. It refused to be led any further, despite Nigel’s gentle protests tugging on the reins.

‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

Nigel was focused on trying to calm the mule down and didn’t look at me, He said, ‘Not sure. But mules are smart as hell so I reckon something’s wrong.’

That set me on alert. ‘Eyes out, Sige,’ I said and we turned our attention to our surroundings in case trouble was coming, and sure enough, it did.

Hissing from over rock edges and around the corner came three big centipedes, each 8 feet long. They were coming in hot and angry, so fast that we had no time to get a shot off at them.

Sige pulled his dagger while I dropped my crossbow, letting it hang across my front by the sling, and drew my saber. Nigel was still attempting to keep his mule in check and had both hands occupied.

Together the half-elf and I went two-on-three with the worms. I hoped we had the upper hand because, in theory, we have brains larger than the size of walnuts. However, they had the reach, the armor scales, and the poisonous bites. So maybe it was a toss-up.

One lunged at me and I jumped back, blocking it with my saber. Another came in and bit at Sige, but he, to my complete astonishment, drew first blood and sliced a chunk out of the centipede with a swish of his dagger.

The third one tried to flank us and get to Nigel and the mule, but we blocked it off and kept swinging with our blades, making occasional contact with it. The trick to any melee combat is to keep moving. It’s a fatal dance, but a dance nonetheless, and being a halfling, I was more nimble than taller folk. I weaved in and out, sometimes ducking low, sometimes jumping to the side, taunting the centipedes before slashing at one or the other with my cavalry saber. Sige turned the knife around so he was able to pierce rather than slash and was jabbing at one, poking through its carapace with short thrusts. Each thrust weakened it, but it also made it madder.

Then a bolt twanged past us and stuck into the thorax of one that was rearing up to take a bite out of Sige. Then another arrow missed, before a third found its mark in the centipede’s mouth, right between the mandibles. It curled up in a violent ball like the infant had, and wiggled in a mass of legs. I managed to slice mine enough to have it scared of me and it backed off, allowing me to strike at the one fighting with Sige. Together I slashed and Sige stabbed until it finally had enough of us and slithered away. Green ooze was everywhere, and not too little on us.

Catching our breath, I gave Nigel a smile and a nod. ‘Good shooting,’ I said. Then I looked at Sige. ‘I saw you quick with your dagger there. Good work.’ Sige smiled.

‘I guess we weren’t far enough from that centipede nest after all,’ I added. They had followed the scent of the dead infant’s pheromones and found us. ‘We need a bath.’

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This is part five of “Love’s Sendero.” Click here to read the next part. If you like these free stories, please subscribe. If you REALLY liked them, please consider leaving me a tip by purchasing it on Kindle for .99 (the cost for 1/3 of a cup of coffee).