The two stumbled out of town,
Erkulys still drunk from a night of feasting, ribaldry, wenching, and
wrestling. Uryon tried to shoulder some of Erkulys’ weight to help him walk
straight. The large wrestler out-weighed Uryon by a few dozen pounds, but Uryon
was taller.
Uryon wore a belt of
leather, studded with precious gems. Many of them were dragon stones he had
removed from the belly of the great beasts. On his hip, hung his twice-forged
sword. It was forged first by the Master Maker in the Deep Forge hidden in the
bowels of the earth. The second time it was shaped by the First craftsman, Tubal-cain.
while his apprentice smiths, Bezalel and Oholiab, pumped the bellows in the
sacred citadel of Hor. The sword was a perfectly crafted weapon, unbreakable,
and never lost its edge. It could cleave through any armor and slice body and
soul alike. Uryon wore it with pride and humility. It was a weapon of Champions
and he was First Champion of the Nations.
Erkulys preferred using his hands
to crush, smash and rip apart his prey. He was a master in over a dozen
fighting and wrestling arts. He was also proficient in most weapons, as a true
Hero should be. Erkulys was the foremost Hero of the day, although other
younger heroes tried to challenge him to the title. None could defeat this
brave Hero.
This was the time of Heroes and
Champions, and also of monsters and things unspeakable. These two ventured off
to encounter just such a thing.
“Erk, I think you have put on
weight since last we walked together.” Uryon grunted as he struggled to keep
Erk moving.
“Ey, I most surly did. I spent the
last year eating and wenching in the far lands, beyond the Mount,” Erk belched
and continued, “They have the best cream pies and ales one could wish for.” He
stumbled in his step and then straightened up, burping a few more times. “Ey,
ale and wine and drink from a root that would blind lesser men. And all of it
more tasty than that swill they served us last night at the inn.” He staggered
further along.
“Ha ha, that swill was enough
to do you in. I told you we had many leagues to go today, to not drink so
heavy.” Uryon chastised him.
“Just a moment.” Erk leaned over a
short stone wall that sheltered a garden from the way. He vomited a stream so
putrid it made Uryon, standing a dozen steps away, turn away in disgust. Erk
then opened his leather breeches and let out a piss that ran like a river.
“I think you just killed that poor
garden.” Uryon waved a hand in front of his nose.
“Nonsense. I only watered it and
enriched the soil with liquids from the gods.” Erk bellowed and laughed. He
tucked himself back into his breeches and staggered back to the way. “Now I can
walk, almost.”
Uryon shouldered a leather bag and
goaded Erk along. The sun was just breaking the horizon. “Let’s move slow. I
don’t want you killing any more gardens and having the townsfolk cursing our
names.”
“Seems like last night you had a
few wenches screaming your name in delight.” Erk laughed again. Mirth came easy
to this Hero.
Uryon laughed as well. “Yes they
were. But today, I fear, they will be walking funny and cursing me none the
less.”
The two laughed and stumbled toward
the rising sun.
Now Available on the Kindle: Erkulys & Uryon
Copyright David Corbet 2011
Now Available on the Kindle: Erkulys & Uryon
Copyright David Corbet 2011
