Page 12 - Mad Shadows II

bench outside the tavern. I knew them by sight and reputation,
though I’d never had anything to do with them before. They
were the Khodo brothers, and each was deep in his cups,
cursing loudly as they argued amongst themselves.

It was then that an old Muthologian, a one-legged satyr
leaning on a wooden crutch, turned the corner and headed in my
direction. He wore a clean white jerkin, held his head high with
dignity and looked older than the trees.

As the satyr hobbled past the drunken Khodo brothers,
Ludius, the oldest of the three, pointed and said, “Look, boys.
It’s the good doctor! Stinkin’ halfling! Thinks he’s good
enough t’walk on the same side of the street as us, does he?”

“If you asks me, I’d say the whole filthy lot of them mekizio
buggers should be skinned alive,” said Pahg. He was the plump,
youngest brother.

Muthologians don’t take offense at being called “halflings,”
but the word mekizio — someone whose mother had mated
with an animal — is the gravest of insults. The satyr, however,
chose the better part of valor and walked quietly past the Khodo
boys, looking straight ahead. Murek, the skinny middle brother,
then stretched out a leg and tripped the halfing, who stumbled
and fell to the cobblestones. The inebriated trio laughed and
leapt to their feet.

“Crawl back to your sink hole in Khanya-Toth,” Ludius
said.

Murek scowled and spat on the satyr’s hooves. “You’ve no
right to live among us decent folk, you foreign trash!”

“It’s mekizio animals like you what’s causing all these
murders!” Pahg said, kicking the old Muthologian in the side of
the ribs.

The satyr cried out, and before the Khodos could add
further injuries to their insults, my temper took over and I
charged in to help the disabled halfling.

I grabbed Murek’s shoulder, spun him around and threw a
fist that landed squarely on the bridge of his nose. He screamed.

11