Wagon Master

Black cap mushroom powder will kill you now, your heart will stop and all will think it is just age. For I am a peaceful elf now, with customers even in Harrhein. It would not do for them to think I had killed a Harrheinian Fat Man would it? Bad for business."

  The elf smiled. He watched Chad as the pain rose in his chest, and his pulse started to race out of control.

  "Eighteen years I have waited, Fat Man. Eighteen years I have followed you. I could have killed you before, but it was too obvious and I wanted you to know who killed you. But I thank you, Fat Man. You have made me a great Shaman. For seeking my revenge has given me great purpose. You are a brave man, a resourceful man, Fat Man. I am proud to finally kill you."

  He watched as the pulse sped up and the seizure gripped the heart, watched the blood suffuse Chad's face, watched his eyes pop out and his sphincters release. Then he bent forward and touched his lips to Chad's forehead.

  "Good bye, my Enemy, my Friend, my Maker. I shall sing your Benediction Song on the high hills overlooking the Western Trace, and I shall sacrifice your horse to you there." He spoke now in sibilant Elvish, turned and walked away.

  Paul sat in the front row of the church, kicking his heels. Why did his stupid uncle have to drop dead like that? Now he was trapped in this damn church for the next hour and his mother wouldn't let him get off afterwards. He wanted to see the girl who was serving at the village inn, the only girl around this boring shithole of a village. The priest was droning on about Chad, clearly knowing nothing about him.

  A noise at the back of the church made him look round. Soldiers were filing into the church, escorting a bishop. The bishop strode up the nave and looked at the priest whose mouth was dropped open like a mirror carp out of water.

  "I am the Archbishop of Praesidium. If you please, good Vicar, I shall take over the service, for the memory of Wagonmaster Chad rings eternally in the Empress' hearing." The Archbishop looked at Paul's mother, Chad's sister. "The Empress shares your sorrow. She bids me to say that Chad has never been forgotten."

  A large man in an indeterminate uniform strode forward. "Ma'am, there are not many outsiders remembered by the Pathfinders, but Chad was always there for us and we do not forget."

  Another man stepped forward, a young man beautifully uniformed in shining blues and gold. "Ma'am, I am Lord Young, Captain of the Young Boys company of the North Hallows Frontier Regiment, the Shield of the King. Chad was our Shield when I was but a boy. The North Hallows is honoured to be his pall bearers, as he bore us when my father and uncle died."

  --ooOoo--