Friends (2013) - Adams, Robert

And then we opened the bottle of tequila and took a swig apiece, toasting ourselves, and stepped outside.

It was the next part that I don’t understand. I mean, there was a lot of it I didn’t understand at the time and still don’t. But what happened next has always been a mystery to me. I mean, how could we be so stupid and naive not to . . .

Anyway, we stepped outside into the darkness and headed toward the campfire and the rest of the party. They were singing ovdr there and laughing and sparks were climbing up llickering above them and they all seemed to be having a great time, and suddenly we didn’t want any part of it. We turned without a word and stepped into the woods to get drunk on our own.

We sure did that—get drunk, I mean. Just Lanny and me and the branches up against the stars and the tequila bottle. And our voices, of course. Because we were having our same old conversation in no time at all. About the Horseclans world and how we wanted to be there. Hell, by now we were so drunk it was how we deserved to be there and ought to be there and other things so terrifyingly stupid that even now when I think about it I cringe.

But at the time it all made perfect sense. I mean that: perfect sense. There was something especially strident and clear about that night with Lanny and me all alone in those woods with our dreams and tequila. More than those things should’ve added up to. And we felt it.

We didn’t say we felt it. We never acknowledged it out loud. We didn’t have to. It was there. I could see it in his grin.

We ended up sacrificing the last third of the tequila to the Horseclans God, which is just as well, seeing as how we were already so drunk we couldn’t hardly move. But we made it a real solemn deal, praising His vision of glory and honor and combat. We ended it by making a formal request to be allowed to go there.

Then we sat down.

Then we passed out.

And when we woke up, we were there.

And, for the life of me, I still don’t understand why we weren’t scared! God knows we should have been.

Soon, very soon, we were. But not soon enough.

The man astride the horse was a very serious piece of work. It wasn’t so much what he was wearing as how he was wearing it. Everything from the broadsword to the piercing stare was real. Real!

“I said, ‘Stand aside!’ Must I assist you?” boomed out through his graying goatee, and only then did I realize he had spoken before. It had been his voice that had waked me up.

Us up, I mean. Lanny was there a few feet away, sprawled as I was on the dusty thing that passed for a road.

I looked at him. “I don’t believe this is happening!”

Lanny’s eyes were as fierce and blazing as his red hair in the sun. “Sure you do!” he replied. And grinned.

He was right, of course. I did believe it. And, God help all fools, loved it.

“Lads!” boomed out from the same place as the rider spurred his horse forward between us. We scrambled out of the way.

Lanny was a lot quicker than me, as usual.

“Beg pardon, m’lord. We did not mean to impede your journey. We were momentarily dazed by—”

“By drink, from the look of you,” snarled the rider. But he pulled his horse up and turned it about to face us. I noticed then how foamy it was. He must have had quite a trip himself.

“Nay, good sir. Bewitched!”

The rider’s gaze narrowed even further, if that were possible. Lanny chose to ignore it. He stepped forward and started to babble a tale about how we were both good men and true and fine swordsmen from good families, clans, he said, and had been waylaid by a wicked sorceress who had taken offense at our nobly attempting to rescue a fair damsel from her clutches—which we had managed to do despite a fearsome struggle and great personal loss to ourselves. But then the witch was so offended by our interference that she loosed upon us one demon after another, which we barely managed to escape each time, so then the Witch cast a spell which flung us from our homelands (after first robbing us of all our coins) to this very spot where he found us just now, alone, penniless, lost, but without a single regret at having done the right thing—nay, the only thing a true gentleman and swordsman could have done.

It was great shit.

Even better, it looked like it was going to be effective shit. The rider sat silently throughout the entire tirade, seeming to eat it up. And I figured it was going to work. “It” being whatever the hell it was Lanny was trying to scam.

Then the man started laughing. He laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. He laughed so hard tears flowed down his cheeks and his great belly rolled like a waterbed. He laughed so hard it wasn’t even embarrassing after a while. Well, not completely.

When he finally got control of himself, he spoke.

“What are your names, lads?”

“Lanny Weaver, m’lord.”

“Brad Felix, m’lord.”

“Odd names you have.”

Lanny just smiled. “Did I not just tel! you of our having been whisked away from our native lands? In our world, our names are— ”

The man held up a hand in a firm gesture. “Aye, lad. I did hear your tale. And enjoy it much.” He smiled. And then the smile went away in a flash. “But I do not wish to hear it anew.”

It was not a request. Lanny and I looked at each other, nodded, said: “Yes, m’lord,” in unison.

The man leaned back in his saddle and rested a hand lightly on the hilt of his broadsword. It was not necessarily a threatening gesture. It was just to get our attention.

“You lads are indeed far from home. Young men seeking your fortune. Seeking adventure and amusement. Lost and poor, no doubt, due to some foolish trusting of a clever wench. I know not how you came to be fast asleep on the road, and care not.” He paused, looked pained. Then he smiled rather paternally. “Indeed, 1 know not why I should care about you at all, such as you are. But I was young once. And foolish.” Then he peered right at us as he added: “And a liar.”

We knew better than to take offense. Lanny even knew enough to smile.

The man nodded, satisfied, and went on. “So I shall offer you employment. It so happens I am in temporary need of a few extra swords in my personal guard. Have you horses?” “Nay, m’lord,” Lanny replied.

The man sighed. “I thought not.” He paused for a moment. An idea seemed to occur to him. “It matters not. Several of my riders shall be along on this road. They have been lagging behind due to laziness and sloth. Tell them you are of my personal guard and are to take two of their freshest mounts. Then I shall expect you to catch up to me on this same road by sundown.” He leaned down toward us and his voice got hard. “By sundown, lads. I’ll be damned if I shall put two wastrels afoot just to horse two more. Is that clear?” “Aye, m’lord.”

“Aye, m’lord.”

“For your sakes 1 hope it is.”

“M’lord?” Lanny asked next. “Could we not have you name as well?”

“Trebor Smada.”

“Trevor Smada,” I mispronounced.

“That is Trebor, lad! Not . . . whatever it was you said. You would do well not to get my name backward.”

1 was thinking that missing only one letter hardly consisted of getting it backward when suddenly two coins were spinning into the air, one toward each of us. Lanny caught his in the air with one hand. It took me two hands and some

juggling, but at least I didn’t disgrace myself by dropping it.

And then, of course, I did drop it. I bent down, red-faced, and picked it up.

Smada was already on his way down the road. “That’s to seal our contract. Perform well and faithfully and there will be more. Much more.” He started cantering away. Lanny shouted after him.

“Lord Smada! How will we know these men with the

horses?”

Without even slowing down, Smada boomed back over his shoulder: “Take the first two horses from anyone seeking Trebor Smada!” he shouted and then was gone around the bend.

Lanny and 1 were the ones really around the damned bend. We had bought the whole thing. We spent the next houi congratulating ourselves for having conned a job right off. Idiots! Stupid, trusting, numskulled idiots!

Oh, there had been a con, all right. But we hadn’t even seen it. We just stood there on that road, like the dumb shits we were, waiting to die.

It was a couple of hours before anybody showed up on the road. Somehow Lanny and I managed to spend that time getting deeper into trouble. It started off innocently enough, though. We were just sitting there grinning at each other and noticing how pretty everything was.

Because it really was. I mean, gorgeous. The sky was so blue, the trees so green and pretty. Everything. The woods, the smell of the air. Even the dust of the road was somehow just right. 1

Us, too. I felt terrific. I felt healthy and . . . pure. I had even lost my desire for cigarettes. Well, my craving, anyway. After a while we noticed our clothes were different than they had been. The same, too. That is, they looked the same. But different. More realistic. Zippers, for example, had been replaced by buttons somehow.

It was neat.

In fact, I realized I felt as good as I ever had. I felt like I belonged. Oh, we had no excuses.

A thought occurred to me after the first half hour.

“Lanny?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think this is the Horseclans world.”

Lanny laughed. “Of course it is. It’s perfect.”

“I know. That’s the trouble.”

Lanny laughed again. “What do you think it is?”

“I dunno. A movie.”

“Huh?”

“That’s what it feels like.”

It did. It was too perfect. And I should have started to get scared right then with that thought. And maybe I did feel a little something, but then I got sidetracked when Lanny started talking again. This time it was about how we had to establish ourselves right away with these “peon types coming up the road.” The idea, according to Lanny (and, to be fair, I liked it, too), was that we had to set these dudes straight. These and all the rest we met. Two kinds of people in this kinda place: the nobles and the gophers. And we were in no mood to gopher anything. Therefore we had to let everybody know right away that we expected to be treated like the upper-crust types we were.

“And,” Lanny added, “what’s the best way to get treated with respect?”