70
Paido kicks open the side door and rushes out into the storm with you close on his heels. A grimy-faced farmer blocks the passage beyond, a pitchfork wobbling in his clumsy hands. Paido emits a shout far louder than you ever imagined could be made by a human voice. The force of the shout hits the man in the chest and slams him to the muddy ground like a limp rag doll.
‘Vakeros power-word,’ explains Paido, in answer to your unspoken question. ‘Someday I’ll teach you the technique, Kai Lord.’
A handful of plains folk, clutching rakes and hoes, are waiting for you at the stable door. But, after seeing the fate that befell their leader, they throw down their improvised weapons and melt into the storm.
Swiftly you saddle your mounts and gallop away from the tavern at full speed.
