The Troll Slayers
by Trevor Kroger
Chapter 1
When the winds blow cold and the earth hardens with the coming of winter, I always
prefer to journey south. I have neither the stomach nor inclination for this bleak season and as
I am fortunately not beholden to any particular lords or households, I see no reason not to
pursue warmer climes.
Before setting out, I load what I can still call mine on to the trusty Vig. He's old as
donkeys go but still has a strong back and an eagerness for travel to match my own - though
it likely helps that my possessions are all on the lighter side. Surgical tools such as forceps,
suture hooks, precise and rather delicate knives - the much more indelicate iron knife I wore
on my belt... cauteries in three sizes, a pair of scissors or three - I know enough of the
barbering to make some spare coin, though it is not my primary vocation. More commonly I
just see to myself, keeping my own hair cropped short so as to more easily avoid vermin...
Clean bits of linen for dressing wounds, with always a few tucked into my belt as I sometimes
can't turn to Vig first before seeing to a patient...
I always carry at least one jar of lye - the most important, in my expert opinion, as it
may prevent the need for all the others! And preferably two bone saws though I'm often
restricted to just the one due to economics. They must be sturdy enough to whether the force
needed in amputation, but with fine enough a blade to cut smooth. They're hard to come by,
even with an excess of coin, but I have a certain standard I like to maintain. I'm a physician by
trade - not a healer as bumpkins think. None of that pseudo-religious blather - I work
exclusively in the known anatomy of man!
I have no leeches, for one thing. Bleeding does nothing but cause weakness, as
anyone who has soldiered can tell you straight away. No incantations or candles, though
certain balms and salves are useful. What can be preserved I store in little bottles along with
the lye atop Vig. For more perishable formulas, I have a mortar and pestle. That comes with
it's own problems - sometimes I'll be in need of, say, an anais concoction to dull the pain of a
necessary treatment and that plant does not grow in every one of the Five Kingdoms. In the
high northern watch of Colonium, just off the mighty river Rhin, hardly anything grows at all.
Even in summer! Well, rough grass and fir trees and such, but nothing useful to civilized
men... Though plants like aunee - horse-heal if you're vulgar - persist everywhere, from the
warm port of Arelat to the much colder shores of reaches of Duacum. I'd thank Jove Bona for
that if I thought He listened anymore and I'm not about to go mentioning it to Fortuna. She
takes any expression of thanks as an invitation to visit more misery on one's head... Aunee is
good for the digestion, you see. And in my line of work, digestion is what most often has
people doubled-over, teeth clenched, and staggering up and down the dusty common roads
to find me all day long.
Because I'm cheap. I have to be. Lords and Ladies and their oh so noble little brats
have their own private physicians. Third sons of better families accustomed to big, fluffy beds
and hot meals every night. So they don't know how good they've got it, treating the pampered
and non-explosive bowels of the nobility - along with, I understand, a whole menagerie of
venereal warts and dysfunctions. The higher one's birth, the more one presumes to be above
such vagaries...
As I understand it, of course. My patients are on the whole common plebs - farmers
and tradesmen and tramps. They don't have much more than a few coppers or a silver to their
name. That's incidentally how I got the knife, from a fisherman with nothing else of value to
spare. I daresay it's proved its worth ten times over since... I've even had some try to pay me
with potatoes! Not even a proper cabbage or two, but the starchy roots they pull from the dirt!
Not that I won't accept it, though. A man needs to eat and I for one can't eat coppers.
Though the one payment I won't accept is meat. The wretches only ever bring me the worst of
their stock - the hen or pheasant that's been hanging outside for a month, its flesh long since
turned gray and swimming with impurities... and wriggling maggots.
I naturally decline and they naturally take it as some personal affront - "It's good birds I
got, it is!" they protest "I eats it all the time!"
"And that's why you've come to me with your aching bowels and messed trousers!" I
say right back. "I should turn you away!"
Not that I ever would. Deny a man aide for some high-minded reason, like teaching him
a lesson, and he never goes home to reconsider his life and choices like you want. He just
goes looking for whoever will give him what he wants, whether it works or not! And in my
profession, that usually means some mad fool out in the woods with more beard than proper
clothing, who will pray to magic rocks to put the suffering man's bowels right. In the worst
case, he'll think it worked and happily return to his village - or town in the worst case - and his
bowels keep up their thundering and whatever sickness is causing it will then just spread and
spread and spread...
So I treat them. I take what payment they can spare. And as the seasons change, I find
myself with a nice little holiday fund. I'd had such a good summer this particular year - owing
to a new well some fools had dug downstream of the local butcher - that I even had two shiny
gold pieces! I stored those carefully, stitched into a secret pocket within my purse. I could
have bought passage across the great Southern Sea, to any one of the sparkling Seven City
States! If I'd cared to. And if old Vig had any sea legs.
Though south for the winter is always good enough and I felt I had enough in my little
purse to make it past the Borderlands to the famous Meridian. A port city on the peninsula of
Rasna, always flooded with hundreds of travelers from across the known world. Exotic spices
from the South, fine silks from the East, buckets worth of finely worked gold and gleaming
black stones from across the Western Ocean... And, naturally, a whole menagerie of whores!
Of course, I would need to count every copper along the way to fully enjoy Meridian's
charms. If the journey proved a lucky one, I might not even need to practice any thought the
whole winter! And I certainly felt lucky - the old Imperial Highway beginning a gradual
downhill, the sky overhead softening from that iron gray of deep winter to a softer and warmer
blue as Vig and I progressed - he with his pack and bridle and I with my old cloak thrown back
and my sword held in my off hand as wearing it at the hip always chafes me. I even had a
small bottle of real Parthian oil! Won in a dice game while crossing the border from my native
Siagria - I'd stopped to resupply the food in Vig's pack - mostly hard bread, good for long
marching - and refill the water skin I hung from my belt along with the old iron knife in some
little village too poor for a name.
It had a tavern, though. Populated exclusively by fellow travelers - myself and three
others. Mangy fellows likely on the run from one warden or another. I'd won much more than
just the oil from them, adding to my purse and earning accusations of cheating. Why is it
when men loose they always call me a cheat?
Not that they were about to start anything over it. Wine is good for peacekeeping and
the following day my winnings clinked along with the lye and what few medicines I still carried.
Should the cold try to catch up with me while trekking across Lugdunen to the Borderlands, I'd
have no trouble making a hot camp fire.
Some wouldn't be so eager to announce themselves thus, of course. The old roads are
not as safe as when the Imperium still stood and an unwary - or unarmed - traveler may easily
find himself robbed or worse. So I carry my sword openly on the road. Discourages such
banditry. Usually. And if not, it's within easy reach. I can handle myself in a fight, if I must, and
while I certainly don't go out of my way to find it I will do the odd sword-work here and there, if
the price is right.
Not that I planned on doing so on this particular journey. I was on vacation after all...
And the highway uncharacteristically obliged! Vig and I met neither brigand nor beast
on the first few days of our march through Lugdunen. We met scarcely anyone in fact, the
annual harvest likely having drawn them all off. We did pass by one old woman, kneeling by
the side of the road and shoveling dirt with her bare hands.
"Dear lady, are you searching for the mother-load?" I asked jokingly.
"I'm digging for fire!" she said back, voice as cracked as her mind.
Though a harmless sort of cracked - I thought - so I didn't hurry our pace until some
more miles down the road when a great gout of flame erupted back where we'd left her, to the
joyous cries of, "I found it! I found it!"
Damned pyromancers are all mad as jackrabbits...
Though our journey was otherwise uneventful and after a few days of easy travel, we
came to rest at a roadside tavern, falling just under the shadow of distant Mount Loresa, that
great eastern peak of the Alba Mountains. A sloping, cluttered little building, with the wine
casks kept outside to make room. Prominent and poorly spelled signs declared that they took
boarders - in a tight loft deep in the corner. Even with a chill still in the air, I would have
preferred to sleep outside...
I had the cheese and Vig had the grain. While gnawing at the much too hard wedge
they presented me, the proprietor's eyes kept drifting to the old weapon I'd carried in with me
and leaned against his uneven table. "You a sellsword?" he asked.
"Physician," I said around a mouthful of cheese. Patting the hilt of the sword, I added,
"For, uh, amputations."
A bad joke. I should know. As I said, I tried to keep at least two proper bone saws for
such operations. When a limb must go, it must go clean. Once a hearty woodsman argued
this point - his wife had a malignant sepsis in her arm and to save the rest it would need to
come off. Before I could draw out my bone saw, he drew out his axe and with a great thwack!
took it off at the elbow. As she bled out screaming, I let him have it - "You see what you've
done, you silly bastard!? No, don't touch that blood! It's putrid and will take your fool arm too!"
Ungrateful brute refused to pay...
Still, better they think me a damned fool or fraud. Too often when strangers stared at
my sword they assumed I was looking for a job. Or looking for trouble. I hid it in the fold of
Vig's bags when I passed through more proper towns. Guards and the like didn't care for men
to wear steel openly and I don't blame them. A man walking armed in a civilized place is
looking to prove himself with someone else's blood. Bricons...
My artless host kept staring at the old blade though, with that look of a man who wants
something but hasn't the balls to say it. Vig and I would certainly be sleeping out under the
stars that night...
"There's been word down 'round Gabalum," he continued. "They lookin' for a sellsword
or two. Been havin' a rough one."
I nodded politely while trying to stuff more of the cheese into my mouth.
"They even petitioned the King," he went on, oblivious to my disinterest. "Sent a a rider
all the way up to Divion! But he say there's no soldiers to spare -"
"Well, it's not really their responsibility, is it?" I interjected, hoping to shut him up fast
and not really considering my words.
Instead, he just took offense. "How not, I'd like to know? My boy was levied just last
summer and if he aren't suppose to be protectin' his people, well..."
The good man looked sufficiently annoyed to leave me alone - but also like he'd throw
me out before I could finish my cheese and Vig his oats. I don't care to eat and walk usually,
as it feels rude to Vig. "Don't misunderstand me," I said in my best diplomatic tone. "I mean,
it's in the purview of the Lord-Warden or the Lord-Marshal or the Lord-Whatever, is it not?"
Lords are ever making up new and more complicated titles for themselves... "You can't expect
the King Himself to come riding out to settle every little scuffle."
This unfortunately did little to mollify my host. He said stiffly, "Lord Allobroges is tryin',
he is..."
"I should think so," I said sharply, growing weary of the debate. "It takes great effort to
pester a King."
That did it - "Lord Allobroges is a good man! A decent man! He cares about the people
he does!"
And on and on. I tried though, "I'm sure he is - I just mean - generally, I don't -"
"Who are you to judge the Lord anyway!? You, a mangy vagabond!"
I didn't rise to it. Wouldn't solve anything. "Well, you see, I'm not judging him
specifically. As a general rule -"
"Damned sellswords are all alike! All out for themselves! No respect for they betters!"
I thought it best to take my leave. "Well, many thanks for your hospitality but I must be
off!" I wrapped the last of the cheese in a clean dressing rag and showed myself out as the
good man continued to storm. Vig looked quite disappointed to give up his oats and the
company of the other stabled animals - a pair of goats who likely provided the cheese.
Down the road a ways, we came upon an intersection with a sign leaning in the uneven
ground. I'd have to bear east across the open lands Lugdunen, towards Genavum, and on
into the Borderlands beyond the Five Kingdoms and could just make out in the waning
daylight the arrows indicating I had still some leagues to go before I reached warm and
welcoming Meridian. I'd spend half my silvers just getting there...
And, as indicated by a small rushed sign seemingly placed by some imp only to vex
me, directly in my path stood this thrice-blighted Gabalum. Damnation, that insidious Imperial
Highway was taking us right through! And the sign refused to offer any byways or detours,
least not without heaping another month on to our journey.
No choice but to grit our teeth and march straight on! "Keep your head down, Vig," I
said. "Can't let any of these buggers think we're for hire."
The old donkey gave an affirmative snort.
We made camp off the road, not too far from that intersection. Vig found himself a soft
bed of weeds and I took my old cloak as a makeshift bedroll, as usual. I would have preferred
a warm bed - I always prefer a warm bed, especially with a warm woman. But the open road
doesn't allow many options, especially with my poor luck with people as demonstrated at the
tavern. Should we be stopped in Gabalum, I just knew I'd find myself dragged into others'
problems...
After another two and a half days of travel, the little cheese I'd saved had dwindled to a
few dry and moldy crumbs I was forced to pinch out between the hard bread.... The old sword
slung over my shoulder weighed heavier as the climate grew warmer, not to mention the
waterskin which dragged at my belt no matter how much I drank... And Vig kept pulling
insolently at his reigns to go munching the weeds at the side of the road.
We would need to stop. Damn...
Passing the outer marker in late afternoon, I noted that the hastily constructed
watchtower of wood stood curiously empty. So maybe the local levies were out and doing
their jobs after all. Later, as dusk set in, we reached Gabalum proper - a squat settlement
nestled behind wooden walls recently reinforced with unshaped and rather unshapely stones.
A skeleton crew of a town watch patrolled the makeshift battlements, only identifiable by their
red soldiers' cloaks as few carried proper swords or armor. At the city gates, I met one with
only the cloak and the cruel axe of a headsman leaning with him against the wall. As I
approached, he asked without even looking up, "Business?"
"Passing through, good sir," I replied, the exhaustion of my travel showing more than I
expected in my voice.
Lifting his head to glance at me - By Jove he was an old one - "What's that sword for?"
"Self-defense only, I assure you," I said. "I am too tired and too craven to start any
trouble."
He gave a snort of a laugh. "Toll's two coppers," he said, indicating a bucket by the
gate.
I went over and dropped the coins in - they clattered on the bottom, Gabalum receiving
few visitors it seemed - while the guardsman beat thrice on the heavy doors in a distinct
rhythm. The gate wheezed open and I lead Vig inside the city, where we were greeted by that
familiar crush of civilization. Smiths and coopers and other tradesmen sharing front space
with farmers wandering in from their fields to hawk produce. The powerful smell of a butcher
wafted from far down our right side and a high-peaked temple dominated the town center, its
great statue of Jove Augustus visible beyond the altar and the pillared portico, His painted
face peeling with age and neglect.
In fact, save for a squirt of bird shit on the corner of the altar, this temple to Our Most
High Lord was barren as the Ice Wastes beyond the Northern Steppe. Instead, far across the
street from the official house of worship, rested a squat cairn of the Old Gods. The piled
stones were heavily decorated in the melted remains of candles and bowls that even from a
distance held the distinct odor of burned hair - an offering of common folk who cannot afford
to spend food or drink on their prayers. This Gabalum had to be in bad straights, as men will
kneel to Imperial Jove to win favor among one another but will return to the Old Gods when
they really need something. Or they're scared witless.
And not too far from this curious and illuminating sight, a sturdy inn with an old and
faded sign hanging above its door. As good a place to stop as any, since I didn't expect this
backwater burg to have any brothels. None advertised as such anyway...
Out front, a ragged old nag was leashed to the post and beside her sat a boy who
poked at the well-trodden ground with a stick. The nag, I noticed, had a skittish air, as one
that's been whipped repeatedly for no reason. She shuffled nervously as I approached,
though the boy didn't react. I could see a cruel smile at the corner of his lips...
"Good afternoon, young sir!" I said as amicably as I good muster.
He continued to probe the ground between his feet.
"I have a proposition," I said leaning down. "I'll give you a shiny copper to keep an eye
on my good friend Vig here and see to it he receives the good oats," nodding back to the
donkey. "...And not to harry him with your stick."
The boy did look up at that, with the shock of being found out.
I smiled. "We have a deal?"
"Uh, yeah?" He accepted the copper, still in shock.
Leashing Vig to the outside - not because he's prone to wandering but some people
take issue with an unsecured donkey - I added, "Not that I doubt your word but I should warn
you he's a kicker."
Vig snorted at the boy for emphasis.
Then, leaving the boy to continue gaping at old Vig, I marched into the inn with my
sword over my shoulder and my hand on my purse And found the whole place more dead and despondent than the roadside tavern I'd
been forced to vacate just recently. A bony woman with her hair tied back in a tight, functional
bun tended the fire while a stout balding man - her husband, I assumed - delivered a bottle of
wine to the single occupied table. Three men sat there, jaws and shoulders squared in that
manner so common to young toughs with something to prove. They wore their swords openly,
the same as I, but on their hips and at the ready. They even wore true armor under their
traveling cloaks - two wore sturdy leather tabards while the third had donned a genuine chain
mail hauberk that shimmered with newness in the low light of the inn.
So I took the table furthest from them. I've had too many young idiots spot my own
weapon and think I would help them along in their martial fantasies...
The stout man came trundling by. "How may we help you, sir?"
Holding out a few coppers, I said, "Bread and wine, please. I've had a long journey."
He scurried to fetch another bottle - a small one, smaller than he'd delivered to the
young toughs - and a hunk of black bread. I know most turn their noses up at it but there's
really nothing better for the bowels.
I'd not even had a chance to pop the cork though when this stocky innkeeper began
pestering me - "I see your sword, friend. Have you heard of our troubles?"
"I'm just passing through," I said hastily. "Going out to Meridian for the winter -"
"We've had such a rough go of it," he continued, not listening to me in the least. "The
summer was too rough on the local farms - so very hot and dry - and now... Well, I'm sure
you've heard..."
"Can't help you," I said simply, taking a swig of the wine. Gods Below, it was practically
vinegar! If he expected help for his little township, he wasn't about to bribe his own customers
with his better stock. And this, second disappointing draught in so many days - where was all
that "fine Lugdunen wine" I'd always heard about?
"Those men there," he continued, dropping to a whisper. "They say they have
experience with this. But I don't know. It's just we've never had trolls before -"
I nearly spat out the wine all over his bald head. "Trolls!?"
The outburst drew the attention of the three toughs. Seeing their faces, I guessed they
were even younger than I'd originally thought. Despite the grime and all too familiar violent
glint to the eyes, their faces still held the smoothness of childhood.
Like the innkeeper's wife by the fire. No, not wife - definitely daughter! She looked too
young to be a wife and shared the innkeeper's small nose and weak jaw, so much more
becoming on a woman...
Composing myself, I drawled, "Trolls, you say?"
"Aye, trolls," he continued gravely, oblivious as the last one. "I don't pretend to know
such things for sure, but I always heard they stayed up in the mountains."
"Well, that is their natural climate. That's true," I pontificated. "But it's not unheard of
them to migrate during irregular seasons."
The innkeeper looked quite confused. "...How's that?"
"If, say, the summer is rather cool," I explained, trying to keep and eye on the daughter,
gauge her interest - and correcting myself, not so much bony as slender. "Or if the winter is
rather warm."
"So you're an expert or some such, eh?" demanded one of the three young toughs.
Their leader, judging by his height and confidence of speaking. And because of he was the
one who rated the proper chain mail.
"I'm a physician," I said with a firm pride. "I've seen my share of troll attacks." I'd seen
two, well after the fact. And that proved more than enough for me...
But now the innkeeper looked considerably less interested in me. And more
importantly, so did his daughter! "A physician... I see..." he said with a palpable
disappointment.
"Mostly," I hurried to explain. "Physician is my usual trade but I've done my share of
soldiering, for levy and for coin."
"So you have heard of our troubles?" the innkeeper asked, his interest returned. His
daughter returned to tending the fire. Damnation...
"As I said, I'm just passing through -"
"He's scared, he is!" piped up another of the toughs. The smallest, with that rat-look of
a submissive jokster.
Mind you I'm certainly scared of trolls but I couldn't very well admit it there... "Just not in
the market. For now."
But those three kept up their chortling. "He's a scared one, alright. He'd shake too
much to even hold that sword if it were really needed!"
Now another man - a less mindful man - would hear those as fighting words. Might
even challenge all three of the little scrappers to the field of honor right outside the inn. I am
not such a man but I am still a man.
And the daughter was showing a bit more interest for the three loud boys across the
room. I love women but I don't care for their fickle fancies. Especially the younger ones they'll hurl themselves at these sort who boast of risking their necks and only ever accomplish
leaving a very young widow.
"Am I to assume you boys are here to help then?" I asked, with sharp emphasis on
"boys."
"We are troll slayers," the leader said haughtily "We've come to root out these beasts!"
"And earn a tidy profit? Or do you do this out of the goodness of your hearts?" These
sort always get preciously indignant when their motives are questioned.
The leader sized me up with a well-practiced superiority, taking me for a common pleb
with my old woolen tunic, my patched breeches, my cracked boots, and my ragged traveling
cloak slung off on my chair. He scoffed, "You probably took that sword from its rightful owner
after he fell in battle."
"Now that's just absurd!" I said in mock indignation. "A dead man's sword is awfully bad
luck, otherwise it wouldn't belong to a dead man."
I heard the innkeeper's daughter giggle at that. Her father interjected, "There is quite
the reward, sir. Our Lord-Mayor has promised ten silvers for every troll put down. Not to
mention what the Pellans be offering."
"That's what Jodoc's come for," added the jokster, indicating their leader. "He don't care
for the coin so much as the girl!"
"Girl?" I asked. Maybe there'd be more than just the innkeeper's daughter to keep me
occupied...
"Aye, Old August Pellan's sweet girl Amarante," the innkeeper said with exaggerated
melancholy
"Sweet, he says," I heard his daughter mutter. So this Amarante was the prettier...
"Just two nights ago, them trolls carried off with her! Old August's offering fifty silvers
and he says he'll marry Amarante off to the hero straight away!"
"No sons, then?" I asked.
"Er, no..." replied the innkeeper, a little confused.
Jodoc understood well enough though. "Not that I'm looking to prosper," he insisted
with what struck me as overly-conspicuous virtue.
"Maybe not, mate, but me and Erwan got expenses," added the third and so far least
talkative of the three. A stolid fellow with a growing beard and, in addition to his sword, a
quiver and short bow hung from the back of his chair. "You take the girl, we'll take the coin
and the land."
I couldn't resist the dig - "That doesn't sound like a fair splitting of rewards. Why don't
you share the land, if not the girl?"
"You louse!" Jodoc burst up from his seat and stormed towards me.
From long experience, I've come to recognize the look of a man who intends me bodily
harm. And did Jodoc ever have that look... Though I didn't wish to cause a scene, the
innkeeper so far having been a good enough host and having a daughter I might content
myself with while these young fools go chasing after a girl who's surely come to a bad end
already.
So as Jodoc came close enough, I bounced up and jabbed him swiftly in the throat with
my thumb. Of all the curious pressure points I like this one the best - it takes little effort but will
lay a man out without causing serious damage. As it did to Jodoc - who gave a very surprised
"Hrk!" as he crumpled backwards, his chain mail making a satisfying crash as he hit the floor.
The inn was very silent for a moment, all eyes on me. Erwan, the jokster, was the first
to speak - or at least make a sound, delivering a shocked little "Hah!" He and the quiet one
scurried to help their comrade up off the floor.
"N-now this is no brawling house," the innkeeper stammered. "We're nice and civilized
in here, right?"
"Certainly," I said. "I am ever so sorry for the trouble, my good man."
Jodoc snorted dismissively, leading the other two out of the little inn with as much
incensed dignity as he could muster. They hadn't even finished their wine...
Though I stayed to finish my own. The innkeeper didn't pay me much mind after that.
Probably sore I'd chased off those young heroes. I could live with that - I'd had more than
enough excitement on a well-deserved vacation and, however much these Pellans were
offering for their sweet daughter's remains, it wouldn't be enough to budge me from my goal
of the coast!
And I really believed that. Until the innkeeper's daughter began giving me some much
closer attention...
"Have you done much sword-work, then?" she asked with that conscious air of
disinterest only ever put out by the very very interested.
Not expecting I'd have to prove myself again anytime soon, I indulged - "My sweet girl,
I dare wager I've seen just as much blood in that vocation as in my chosen profession! Why,
I've marched with the Grand Army of Clovius against the savage Northmen clans! I've stood
with the wardens of the Borderlands against hosts of Kurgan brigands! Not to mention all
manner of brutes and beasts I've hunted down for bounty!"
She stopped her puttering about so as to better focus on my boasting. "My goodness,
what a hero!"
Oh she was a sly one, this girl. She even brought me another bottle of wine - free of
charge! - to keep my tongue wagging and my wits dulled. Had I been sharper at the time, I
might have been able to tell she wasn't about to offer up anything and saved myself a mess of
troubles...
"May I ask you something, Master... ?"
"Fernand!" I slurred out happily. "Fernand Mullber... Ask away, dear girl. Ask anything
you like!"
She sat at the table with me now, leaning forward at just the right angle to confound my
senses with her bosom. "The men who were in here earlier, they're not the only ones out to
rescue Amarante. The Pellans have a large estate and many of their own fieldhands. Men and
women and... well, one boy in particular who's gotten the notion to play the hero..."
So what? - I wanted to ask, finding it ever more difficult to stop my gaze from drooping.
"Paol works out in their fields and sees Amarante every day. He thinks if he saves her
from the trolls, Old August will give her to him! As if he's more than an orphaned pleb!"
"Boys aren't the sharpest spoon in the pudding, my dear Neska -"
"Just Neska," she said dismissively. "What I'm asking, Master Fernand, since you're
such a brave and experienced swordsman..." And here she turned on all her girl's charm, her
eyes widening in supplication, "Could you please - even if you can't dissuade him - oh
wouldn't you watch after Paol? I fear he'll hurt himself or worse trying to find Amarante!"
"My dear Neska," I said slowly, not so much out of attempting to soften the blow as
simply so much wine. "If this Paol has already set off on his quest, I don't -"
"He hasn't left yet," she said quickly. "Old August insists he tend to his duties first. But I
fear he'll flout the old man. I spoke to him just yesterday and he said he had a spear and
everything!"
Reaching out to grasp my wrist with her small hand, she pleaded, "Please, Master
Fernand! If not for Paol's sake then for mine? Wouldn't you do this for me?"
Oh she was a crafty one alright! With a great sigh, I consented. "I'll have a word with
the boy. That should be all it takes. I don't suspect I'll need to be quite as... persuasive as I
was with, uh, whatever his name was here."
She all but leapt across the table to crush me in a hug - my consolation prize. "Oh
thank you, sir! Thank you!"
Outside, I heard the distinct sound of a donkey kicking something small and
mischievous. So much for a shiny copper...
Chapter 2
How do I get myself into these predicaments? I certainly don't go looking for them.
Well, not that much...
I took a bed in that old inn for the night. Though Neska didn't join me, it felt good to
sleep someplace warm and soft for a change and I had to be roused quite violently by the
innkeeper in the morning. He was till polite about it though - "Good morning to you, sir," he
said agreeably while lifting up the straw bed and rolling me onto the floor. As I said, stout. Or
maybe that little urchin had been his son.
As I collected Vig from his own bed of hay at the back of the inn, I reflected that I could
set back on the southern road then and there with no repercussion. Might have reached
Meridian before the real chill of winter came! But a man's word is something sacrosanct,
particularly when given to a pretty girl. And I hoped this Paol she cared so much about would
be long gone on his doomed errand by the time I reached the Pellan estate...
I wasn't to be so lucky, of course. As I quickly learned upon arriving that morning. The
Pellans' land stood not too far out of town, wide open fields centered on what must have been
a true rustic villa in Imperial times, now built over roughly with more stonework - including
servants quarters and guards barracks. I recognized the latter straight away from long
experience.
The guards themselves - and why weren't they out looking for the girl? - met me as
soon as I was in sight of the main house. Two of them, both massive and mean with broad
shoulders and even broader mustaches, wearing the unmarked tabards of hired soldiers
rather than the colors of sworn Guardsmen. One even sported a shiny new crossbow, resting
casually on his shoulder - Really! Why in the name of Jove weren't they out looking for the
blasted girl!? She was their mistress after all!
I still put on a friendly face. "Good day to you, friends! As you can see -" I gestured to
the old sword slung over my shoulder, "I am a soldier come to seek fortune and to benefit
your dear old master. Might I be permitted to speak with him?"
They didn't say a word. Didn't even break from their glowering as the one with the
crossbow continued looking straight ahead and the other, lesser armed goon turned about
and began taking long strides into the villa, stopping once to look back and silently wave for
me to follow.
"Much obliged!" I said as I hurried after him, Vig in tow.
I really did think it best to ingratiate myself with this Old August first. These petty
landowners, with their cultivated airs of proper aristocracy, have an obnoxious habit if
standing on such ceremony. And they often employ enough goons - like the two big lummoxes
I had already encountered - to ensure any unwary visitor plays along...
Once in the courtyard, the villa lost some of its luster. The walls, once a gleaming
white, had yellowed and cracked like an old beggar's teeth. The roof, from where I could see,
had lost a good number of its shingles to many years of hard weather and likely leaked inside
from even the mildest of rains. The great oaken doors had turned green in places and brittle
in others. And, judging by the smell wafting over the roof, they hadn't cleaned out their
kitchens properly in a very long time.
The one aspect of the Pellan villa that showed any sign of regular upkeep was a small
temple - really just an altar with an awning to keep off the rough weather and bird droppings. It
held a tall, black marble statue of the oriental goddess Eset, patroness of magic and
motherhood. And a favorite of wealthy provincials desperate to look cosmopolitan - as anyone
with any dealings with them could tell you, Parthians have only the two genderless gods
anymore. And they don't even pray to them, at least not in any recognizable way. I suspect
they're on to something...
My helpful guide went up to a blocked window next to the door - a recent addition,
judging by the rough seams. Knocking twice, a less craggy face appeared and they
whispered to each other while casting suspicious glances towards me. I smiled back and
scratched Vig behind one of his floppy ears.
After a moment, the doors wheezed open and out walked first the man who had
answered the guard. "Presenting his honor, Captain Augustus Pellanus," the man recited in
an unenthusiastic drone. "Vassal of Lord Allobroges, Second Cousin Twice Removed of His
Majesty King Theodosius, Master of these most fertile lands..." and he sort of trailed off into
mumbling the rest as his master came trundling out.
Old August certainly looked the part of an honorable vassal, draped in a silk robe of
classically Imperial design with gold trim - a little frayed and faded at the edges. And it really
had to be draped, as he had the frame and fullness of what would have been a barrel-chested
man in youth, though now bent forward with age and reliant on a walking stick, his thick white
beard nearly planted in his own chest. Even still, he retained some hoary dignity. A Captain
after all - even the poorest pleb may attain respectability and wealth after a good thirty years
of soldiering. Though never a noble title to go with the noble trappings.
Still, I waited for him to speak first...
"I am to understand you are a sellsword, mister...?"
"Fernand Mullber, good sir! A sellsword at times, a physician at others." I bowed low,
these sorts always go in for bowing. "Word reached me of your little troll problem and I came
to offer my services."
"It is far from little," Old August said gravely, though thankfully without taking any
offense. That would have ended things then and there. "Those monsters have ransacked my
stores, driven away my workers and now..." He looked even more bent at having to say it,
"Now they have taken my sweet little girl. My darling Amarante -"
"And what good fortune I should happen to be passing through!" I needed to move this
along.
"- They stole into the villa itself!" he continued, pointing to the rough barrier over the
window. "And carried her away! Oh, why didn't her cries wake me sooner! Am I now too old
and feeble to protect my own family!?"
I thought it best not to answer...
"And my own men! Hard men of the North - they call themselves - but useless!" and he
cast a disparaging glance at the back of the crossbow-man, who obediently didn't respond.
"All I pay them and they couldn't stop the trolls when they were in the villa! They couldn't stop
them when Amarante was being carried off into the forest, crying and screaming..."
He looked ready to cry himself. I truly hoped he didn't, as tears and snot have a nasty
habit of matting great beards such as his and it makes things rather awkward.
"And now my plebs... My plebs have all run off! All but the weakest and most
worthless... How can I bring in the harvest with old women and orphans?"
I assumed it to be a rhetorical question.
"I have had to resort to sellswords such as yourself, Mister... Whatever your name was.
I even contracted a trio of professional troll slayers just last night," he continued. "They left
this morning, heading northeast towards the mountains. I'm sure you can reach them by noon
if you care to throw in with them."
"I'm sure I can too," I said hastily, trying hard not to laugh at "professional." "But first with your permission, of course - might I question your fieldhands? It's possible they may
have witnessed something... Well, something."
He nodded his great, shaggy head. "Certainly, though don't expect much. I asked them
myself and there was little they could tell."
Or would tell. Not that it mattered - I only needed the pretext for hunting down this Paol
and discouraging him from doing something exceptionally stupid. "Of course. Still, best to be
thorough in these cases."
He eyed me shrewdly. "Quite right. I like you, sellsword. You understand how things are
done."
Always good to get on a wealthy man's good side!
I showed myself to the fields, Vig loping along behind me and drawing a few curious
stares from those not used to seeing an unleashed donkey. The fields proved more
impressive than the house itself, if only because there's not much to be done with a flat open
space other than tilling. I found Paol there, alongside several women and one man too old
and ragged to be out playing hero with the fools from yesterday.
Neska had impressed upon me the previous night - I think, she kept bringing me wine
so I wouldn't back out - that Paol was some tall and fair fellow with wiry muscles and the
sharp eyes of a hawk. Tending that field, I found a scrawny boy with his pimples hidden
beneath the scraggly strands of his yellow hair. And even with one giant of an ox helping, he
seemed to be having a little too much trouble just moving that plow.
"Paol, I presume?" I asked, extending a friendly hand while Vig went to commiserate
with the ox.
His head jolting up, I found myself fixed by a pair of sharp blue eyes that I had to admit
Neska described accurately. The boy wiped the sweat from his pimply scalp but didn't take the
offer. "What?" he demanded in that surly tone so particular to children.
Withdrawing my hand, rather awkwardly, I said, "Its come to my attention that you're
planning a little adventure?" Dropping my voice, "Going to try and bring back the daughter of
your master?"
He looked wary. "Maybe... So what if I am?"
"Well, my boy -" I put a hand on his shoulder and he promptly shrugged it off. "Er, I
wanted to speak with you about that - whether or not you plan to, of course."
He scowled but didn't tell me off - though he looked ready to any moment.
"You see, I've been on a few troll hunts myself," I lied. "And It's not all triumph and
boasting. It's harsh and brutal and quite a long time just finding the blasted things can be
enough to wear out the stoutest man. And when you do... well, their reputation is welldeserved."
"I'm not afraid!" he insisted. "I've got my papa's spear and I've been practicing with it
and I'm not afraid!"
I held up my hands to get him to calm down - or at least be less conspicuous. The
other fieldhands were staring. "I believe you, Paol. I'm sure you're very brave. But... Well..."
This would take some creativity. "It's not enough just to be brave. Or even armed. You have to
know you're way through the wilderness... A-and even if you do, you also have to know how
to track a band of trolls. What to look for. You can't just tromp into the woods and expect one
to pop out for you!"
"I don't care how long it takes," he said testily, giving another good shove to the
stubborn plow. "I don't care about the silver either, if that's what you're worried about. Those
three this morning thought I was so I lied told 'em I saw the trolls carry her off to the
northeast."
Well, at least he had some wits about him...
"So you're committed, then?" I asked.
His voice dropped low to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm committing tonight, soon as
we've done for the day!"
That simplified things. "Can't say I didn't try," I said, mostly to myself. I doubted he'd
allow me to accompany him, as Neska wished and, to be perfectly honest, I didn't now see
any reason trying to convince him. I felt I'd kept my word well enough. Again extending my
hand, "Then I wish you the best of luck, young man."
This time he did take it, with a grudging "Thanks..."
If the boy was lucky, he'd wander about for a day then get homesick and return. If
unlucky, he'd wander for a week. And If I kept a good pace, I'd be at the coast in no time!
Taking my leave of the willful boy, I lead Vig back across the field - but who should be
coming directly out to meet us but a lovely red-haired creature with a slender, graceful figure
and piercing blue eyes! Maybe this brief layover wouldn't be a total waste afterall...
Coming to stop in front of me, and fixing me with those eyes, she asked in the stern
tone of those accustomed to being obeyed, "Mister Mullber, is it?"
Not something I expected from what I presumed to be the housekeeper, pretty as she
was. Still, I bowed low and replied, "At your service, miss!"
She held out her hand - properly, like I hadn't seen since the court at Lucinium.
"Mariana Pellan. I heard you speaking to my father just a few moments ago. He contracted
you to return my sister, did he not?"
How awkward... "Er, yes he did. But my dear lady, I wouldn't hold to hope -"
"I don't." She said it with the such finality I barely noticed the little pang of sadness.
"But I have a proposition for you nonetheless. If you would care to come inside?" And she
turned about without waiting for an answer.
I let Vig return to his fellow animals in the field - maybe he could encourage the ox and followed this Mariana Pellan. Though she wore a functional woolen gown, stained at the
hem with field dirt, she certainly carried herself with the high dignity one finds in noble families
- even as her rough-spun shoes squelched through the tilled earth.
I followed her into the main house of the villa. Inside, the old tile-work on the floor
showed as much wear and abandonment as the outside walls. Pieces were smudged,
chipped off, and stained from years of wine and privilege. I couldn't even discern what pattern
they had once held, all having muddled into a general brown melange.
The walls hadn't fared much better over the years. Even in the meager light allowed to
slip through the unwashed windows, I could see they were just as yellowed and cracked as
the walls on the outside. I was surprised the trolls hadn't simply crashed through them! They
looked more brittle than a sick old man's bones.
Mariana invited me into a small chamber just off these narrow halls. Nothing exciting,
I'm sad to say - just a room with a table, a few chairs, and a Parthian oil lamp that probably
cost a good year's worth of upkeep from the rest of the house. Scattered around it were books
of account and what I recognized from long familiarity as angry letters from creditors.
"Please, be seated," she said, pulling a chair out for herself. "Would you care for a
drink?"
"No thank you," I said. This stiff formality unnerved me some...
"As I told you, I have little hope for my sister's safe return," she said, hands folded
together atop her table, eyes cast down in seriousness. "But my father..." and she glanced at
the books and bills.
"Spending too much, is he?" I asked.
She shot me a cold glance, those eyes all but burrowing through me. "Our problems
are our problems, sir. I'll thank you to not be so presumptuous"
I nodded and looked away.
She said, with less of her stern coldness, "My concern, the reason I've asked you in, is
the boy Paol."
"Who?" I feigned ignorance.
"The one I saw you speaking to in my fields," she said, with special emphasis on the
"my." "Am I to assume that Neska girl from town put you up to it?"
I said nothing but the surprise must have shown on my face.
Mariana continued. "She's snuck out here to see him before. I've looked the other way
but I won't have her filling his head with fool ideas about being a hero."
"Oh no, you misunderstand!" I protested. "I did speak on behalf of Neska, that's true,
but to discourage the boy!" I assured her. "Which I did... Or tried to do at least."
Some warmth came into those hard eyes. "His mind is set, isn't it?" she asked softly.
I nodded grimly. "I'm afraid so."
Mariana took a deep breath. "It's not surprising," she said. "Paol's always been
stubborn, like his father. And he's had... an infatuation with Amarante going on two years
now." Her lip curled sourly at that.
After a moment's silence, she looked me in the eye and said, "Shall you hear my
proposition, Mister Mullber?"
Though likely not the one I had hoped for. "I am at your disposal, madame."
"I would like you to go with Paol on this little adventure of his," she said, hastily
explaining, "Not to actually find the trolls, mind you. But just to escort him through the woods
around here and off the road, give him the impression of a hunt. And return him to my house
safely, of course."
A reasonable request. But also time consuming. "My dear lady, I would love to be of
help... But I really am pressed for time -"
"I'll pay you fifty silvers," she said. "That's more than anyone's offering to actually find
the trolls... Or my sister."
"Well, for fifty silvers I'm sure I can spare a day or two to safeguard the young man."
Damn but she was a good negotiator... "If I may ask, why such concern for one of your field
hands?"
I expected her to take offense, but she instead assumed a very thoughtful expression.
"Paol's father worked for us a long time. He died, right out there, plowing the same field as
Paol. He served us faithfully, Mister Mullber, and I consider it a duty as his... As mistress of
these lands to take care of his only son until the boy comes of proper age."
She wasn't telling me everything - naturally - but she had told me enough. Fifty silvers
to safeguard some orphaned whelp so he could finish the plowing? There are harder ways to
earn coin, I know. I've done most of them...
Although she had sought out my services, Mariana would not have me in the house
proper for the night. Not that she said as much, but these vassals have a thousand ways of
saying with just their bodies, "Get lost!" She did, however, gift me with a loaf of black bread
from the Pellan kitchen so that I might feed myself - and Paol, of course - during this little
assignment.
Once back outside, Vig obediently trotted back to me, eager for us to be on our way.
"Not just yet, old man," I said, tousling the wiry hairs atop his head.
Vig cocked a floppy ear - his manner of expressing confusion.
"We have a job to do first," I said, casting a glance back out to the field. And the gangly
whelp still wrestling with his plow. I couldn't see why this Mariana Pellan would care to hold on
to such a creature...
Chapter 3
Vig and I rested under an old oak tree that afternoon, wanting to conserve our energies
for the evening. If Paol proved as good as his word - and I held to the vain hope that he didn't
- he'd try to slip away that evening in some clumsy fashion he assumed to be stealthy. I would
catch up to him then and claim to be joining him.
Even far to the south, the air still held a chill crispness. Especially as evening set in Vig snorted and twitched his ears, quite clearly asking me why we didn't get a move on.
"Fifty silvers could last us until the spring thaws," I explained, but he wouldn't hear it.
You know donkeys...
I expected we'd have to wait out in those fields until midnight before Paol made his
move. I gave him too much credit - not an hour after the supper in the servants' quarters - a
bright and jocular affair from what I could see - I spotted the little fool scampering across the
fields. Across his shoulder hung a sack of what I hoped were provisions and in both hands he
carried a spear twice as long as him!
I left Vig under the tree and snuck after the boy. Not that I really needed to - I must've
hit every dry leaf between me and him and he didn't once look around. Just kept moving
forward, pausing every now and then to crouch and not really look around, like a child trying
to steal a cooling pie.
Growing tired of the charade, I stood up - though a good ways out of spear range if he
had any reflexes worth mentioning - and called out to the boy not too loudly, "And where
might you be off to?"
To his credit, the boy wheeled around with his spear at the ready. Clumsily, though I
wager from the amount of rust on the point it would take no more than a scratch to kill by
blood poisoning. In the dark, it took him a moment to recognize me. "What do you want!?" he
hissed.
Both hands raised - one close by the sword hilt over my shoulder - I tried to be
reassuring, "Peace, my good man! Peace! I have a business proposition for you -"
"Piss off!" and he lunged forward with the spear - clearly not really intending me harm
but too sloppy for any guarantees.
Sidestepping easily, I continued my pitch. "It's just I see how motivated you are and I
though I could help. And collect some coin, to be perfectly honest."
He looked ready to try another lunge. A sincere one.
"The girl would be yours, of course," I added hastily. "Your, uh, rightful due and all that.
I would only be along to assist and collect on the lesser bounties."
He softened almost instantly. "Oh yeah?"
Damned thick one, he was... "Certainly! Now would you kindly lower that weapon?"
He did, though he took his time. I lead him back to the tree with Vig, hunching my back
and scurrying across the field to play along. "So you did see which directions the trolls went
with the girl, yes?" I asked, remembering our previous conversation.
He nodded, hands tightening around the spear. "Like I told you, to the northeast.
Probably back towards the mountain."
"Aha! Then we'll be looking to the southwest!" I said with well-acted enthusiasm.
"What?"
"Trolls are cunning beasts, my boy!" I explained. "They'll run one way when they now
you're looking then, when out of sight, they'll run the opposite way to confuse you!"
"Really?" He sounded suspicious - still - but at least willing to listen to someone who
might know more on the subject than him. Which could really be anybody.
"Really. All that grunting and growling and smashing, that's just for show," I said. I
confess, I take a certain pride in my acting. "Cunning as foxes, trolls are."
He put great effort into furrowing his brow thoughtfully at that - so taking me completely
at my word, but trying not to let on. A sharper lad would have taken more convincing but
thankfully Paol wasn't one of them. I don't mind thick when it's to my benefit...
Though it took more convincing to get him to lay low for the night. Though visibly tired
from his day trying to push that plow, he still resisted like any obstinate child. "I'm not tired!
Really!"
"Then stand on your foot and count backward from a hundred."
That was good for a laugh - even steadying himself with the spear, he kept falling - but
it still did little to slow him down. I had to concede to walking all the way out to the Imperial
Highway with him, Vig stamping along behind. He gets grumpy if he's kept up too late.
Though we couldn't have gone a dozen yards on the old road before Paol slowed and
agreed to sleep the rest of the night. As consolation, I gave him my cloak to sleep on and
leaned myself back in the drainage ditch, arms wrapped tight around myself to guard against
the mild chill and hoping it didn't start to rain...
Paol was up again with the too soon morning. Obnoxiously early too, prodding me with
the blunt end of his spear, the rude little bastard.
"Gerroff," I muttered through my sleep-haze. Pulling myself into a sitting position, I
cautioned him, "Just don't do that to Vig. He bites."
And we were again walking in a southerly direction quick enough, Paol setting a swift
pace for Vig and I down that road surrounded by verdant fields - once verdant forests, put to
the torch by the Imperium for much needed farmland. He'd mostly gotten over his suspicions
of the day before - loaning him the cloak helped, I'm sure - and yammered excitedly - "I been
practicing with the spear every night, after the other fieldhands go to bed. I sneak out and do
it under the moon," and he gave a few demonstrative waggles that would have laid a
seasoned soldier out. In laughter.
"I was doing it long before the trolls came, mind you. 'Cause I wanted to go off and
adventure, some, get some coin... Amarante, she's a real proper girl and all. She wouldn't
have just some pleb, she'd need a real man with property and all... So I figured I'd soldier or
something for a few years and come back... She's a real beauty, you'll see. You'll regret that
deal we made, you will..."
And he still kept a swift pace, the kind my old Sergeant would have been proud of. It
helped fight off the creeping winter chill that had caught up with us last night. At least he
realized that more time passing meant less likelihood of finding the girl. No likelihood at all
really, but hope is one of the failings of the young...
Persistence is too - as I found out close to noon when I tried to get us to stop and have
a breather. "What are we stopping for?" Paol asked, grip tightening again on his spear. Which
he still wasn't holding properly.
"Just a bit of rest," I said, Vig already trotting into some tasty grass.
"No! We need to keep moving," he insisted. "Amarante -"
"Will be fine," I lied. "But not if we're tired by the time we find her. Fighting men is hard
enough but trolls... Well, I'm sure I don't have to tell you."
Judging by his blank look, I did.
"I assume you haven't been levied yet?" I asked.
Looking away, he muttered, "Lord Allobroges sent his captains around but... but they
didn't want me..."
"Right. Well, uh... A fight, a real fight, takes a good deal out of you." I pulled off a hunk
of the black bread Mariana gave me and gnawed at it some. "A few moments will feel like a
whole day of moving that plow," and I waved the scrap of bread around for emphasis.
He still looked puzzled at that. "I always heard battles lasted for days. Weeks even."
"A battle of many little fights," I said. "Men hacking and screaming and running one way
then the other..."
"I know the Ballad of Balian," he persisted, though with less confidence. "I know it took
him thirty days and thirty nights to fight the Stoneman."
"Was that before or after he rode the magic fish to the Kingdom of the Moon?" I asked.
"It's been so long since I read it..."
Paol fixed me with a sullen look but still sat down beside me. "I can handle it... We can
stop and all but I can still handle it."
"We'll see, we'll see..." We certainly would not, if I could help it. I'd been contracted to
keep the little fool out of trouble and that's exactly what I intended.
I shared my black bread with the boy, as he had not brought any kind of food in his
pack but rather a small crudely chiseled statuette of a maid - at least it seemed, roughly - and
a fine woman's comb. Amarante's comb.
"She gave it to me last summer," he explained excitedly. "I'd been pushing the plow for
the first time and I was tired and sweating and she saw my hair was all in my face so she
came out with this," and he reverently held up the comb. "She did my hair all proper and let
me keep it 'cause she's got so many herself."
He smiled with love-sickness while telling the story. The girl likely ran out to play the
noble patron, but at Paol's age any attention from the fairer sex is clearly an invitation to some
fanciful wedding bed.
Holding up the crude idol with all the reverence one would expect of a rustic, "I been
making this for her. Suppose to be that goddess she an' her father kneel to. Iz-et or some
such."
"Not a believer yourself, then?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Don't get to chapel much. The old women taught me how to talk to them
Old Gods but it's not like they talk back." Again fondling the little idol. "But Amarante, she
believes. Believes enough, at least."
I confess, I was heartened by his apathy on the whole subject...
We resumed our course after not enough of a break, Vig snorting in protest as I tugged
him back into step. We both took a draught of my waterskin before beginning - Paol declined
but I insisted. Dehydration has a nasty habit of sneaking up on men.
The boy consented, though grimaced as he drank. "Blech! It tastes like sweat!"
"That it does," I agreed. "I should probably exchange it for a fresher skin..."
I let Paol take the lead again, thinking it would give the boy a sense of
accomplishment. He stalked forward, spear held at what he thought to be at the ready, back
so rigidly straight I wasn't surprised when some hours later he began to slouch with fatigue.
I kept his willful mind busy by reciting as much as I knew about trolls - and some things
I didn't - "Now there are two categories of troll: mountain and forest... The mountain troll is a
tower of a monster, all gangly with sometimes tree moss growing up and down its limbs. It
grows taller every year and can live as long as the mountains it calls home... Fortunately, its a
solitary creature. Only ever goes looking for company to mate, which I'm told can be heard for
miles around..."
Paol looked ready to laugh and cry at the image. "Well, that's not what we're looking
for? Right?"
"Right you are, my boy! But don't get too confident - forest trolls are pack animals and
stand a whole head over the biggest bear you've ever seen! We'll need to see them before
they see us, take them by surprise..."
He adjusted his spear, which he carried slung improperly across his shoulder. Half the
reason it wore him down... "When we do find them, how do we kill them?"
"We stick the pointy ends in," I said, indicating first my sword, then his spear.
He chuckled, much warmer with me now than the night before. "Yeah, I figured that.
But, I mean, anything else we got? Any tricks?"
And that gave me an idea.
Bringing us to a halt, I rummaged through Vig's satchel and produced - "Parthian oil!
One drop of this, my boy, and we'll set the dirty brutes ablaze!"
That certainly impressed him - and for once, I wasn't just pulling things out of my arse.
That one slain troll I'd ever seen, the local guard captain had ever so lightly brushed it with his
torch, and the foul thing had gone up in a blazing inferno!
"We have the edge, then?" Paol asked, his shoulders lifting with his spirits.
"Indeed!" And we resumed our march...
"Shouldn't we go off the road, then?" he asked me. "I mean, trolls wouldn't keep to the
road. Would they?"
"Cunning brutes, my boy! Cunning!" We were most certainly staying on the damned
road.
"I know this road... There's another manor not too far that way," and he pointed off into
the horizon where not a blasted thing was visible. "If trolls came through here, she could
probably help us find them."
And I thought, looking at the now sinking sun, give us some hot food and a bed for the
night - not to mention my usual interest in any "She" there may be... "Sharp thinking, Paol!
Sharp thinking indeed. Lead on!"
We traipsed across fields not nearly as well maintained as the Pellans'. Shocks of
weeds entangled with not yet harvested fonio tripped up both Paol and me, though Vig didn't
have much trouble and actually began to clop ahead of us for a moment. We reached a
tumescent hovel as the setting sun turned the sky a dim umber - and made it impossible to
see the crudely misshapen and quite irate woman with the cudgel until she was bearing down
on us.
"Ye basterd won't be havin' me fony!" she snarled, the cudgel held at the ready in one
meaty arm.
"It's alright, Madame Jardins!" Paol called out, waving but still holding that damned
spear of his out. "It's Paol from the Pellan lands. I'm with a friend and his mule."
Vig hawed in indignation. "Donkey, actually," I said to the boy and the still agitated
woman.
"Yeh been sent by that August, then?" she shouted back, still looking for a reason to
wallop us. "He expectin' dues again, he is? Still thinkin' he got a lordship or somethin'!? He
don't own all the pissin' land!"
"Master Pellan didn't send us," Paol explained, hurriedly "He doesn't even know we're
here! We're out looking for the trolls -"
"Trolls!?" she shrieked, halting her approach so as to double-hand the cudgel.
"Where!?"
"It's alright," I ventured. "They're not here. At least I suspect they're not... The boy was
wondering if you may have seen them and I was wondering if you might have a little food and
shelter for two weary travelers"
Vig nudged my arm with his big nose.
"Three weary travelers"
Her initial rage faded quickly. "A-aye... Aye, come on in..."
I parked Vig in what passed for her stable just outside while Paol followed this Jardins
woman into the hovel. Joining them shortly, I found the insides of the place place certainly
reflected the outside - a single, solitary room with a straw mat in one corner and a squat
hearth at the other, a rusty pot of something like overcooked cabbage hung above the
dwindling fire. I felt like we'd crawled inside the bowels of a fat old man with very bad gas
"Lovely home you have, Madame."
"Eh, thank ye," she said absently, waddling across over to stir the pot. In the wane
light of her cooking fire, her skin looked to be made of boiled tallow. "What's all this about
trolls?" she asked Paol.
"They've been running roughshod over the whole countryside!" the boy exclaimed.
"Tearing up the fields and livestock and just three days ago they made off with Amar - I mean,
Master Pellan's youngest daughter!"
"Hmph," she grunted. She looked like the sort to grunt quite a lot. "Well I got no love for
them Pellans, but trolls is somethin' I wouldn't go wishin' on no one..." Casting a sharp look at
me, "An' who's this you with?"
"Master Fernand," Paol spoke for me. "He's a troll slayer!"
"Ho now!" I cut him off. "I do sword work on occasion, true, and I know my way around
a troll but it's hardly my vocation."
"Eh?" Jardins asked.
"Well," I patted the sword and explained, "I take the odd job here and there - trolls and
bandits and such - but I'm a physician by trade."
"That like a healer or somethin'?"
Damned yokels... "Something like that... Though, ah, more precise. And effective." And
not a damned charlatan
Jardins hobbled over to me, saying, "I gots this growth on me big toe. Been botherin'
me for weeks now," and she unceremoniously kicked off her clog and planted her bare,
gnarled foot on my knee."What you can do for it?"
People always expect a free consult on every little ache or spot... Though hers wasn't
just a spot and it wasn't by any standard little. "Uh, I hate to demand payment as you're
already hosting us. But if you can spare some of your delicious-smelling food and allow us to
stay the night, I can see -"
"Hah!" she spat. Literally spat - I felt phlegm graze my cheek. "If you be wantin' to stay
the night, you best have more 'a give me."
I didn't appreciate the new hungry look in her eyes... "Um, w-what did you have in
mind?" I asked, cursing the nervousness in my voice that leaked through.
"Well, I could alway use me a mule," she said. "If it can' till the field, I could still do wit'
the meat."
"Vig is a donkey and not for trade," I said sharply.
"Nah, I didn't think you'd part wit' it," she replied with a twisted, scheming smile. "Leas'
not yet!"
"Madame Jardins," Paol broke in. "We won't trouble you any further if you could just tell
us if you've seen any trolls? Please, it's important."
"I seen no trolls 'round here," she said. "But I seen somethin' alright. Nasty little
buggers been gettin' all in me fony, absolute spoilin' it."
"You have pests?" I asked, not in the least surprised.
"Pests, he says!" she cackled. "You's right I do. I got me pissin' goblins!"
I recoiled from her, "Eeew!" Trolls were bad enough - and damned scary - but goblins!
Those things are just annoying...
"They're bad this time of year," agreed Paol. "We had some two winters ago. They tore
a whole bale before we could string up some strangleweed to keep them out."
"I ain't got no strangleweeds," said Jardins. "But I knows where they at. Yeh root 'em
out fer me an' you can stay the night."
"A fair proposition I said. "But sadly, it's getting late and after a long day of travel even
goblins could prove more than we can handle."
Paol began to say, "I'm sure we could still -"
"Shut it," I hissed.
"I don' 'spect yeh to do 'em tonight!" Jardins exclaimed. "Yeh stay the night an' in return
yeh go gut the lil' basterds."
"Ah... That's perfectly reasonable." I gave this Jardins my best fake smile. "At sunrise,
young Paol and I will rid you of this infestation," I lied.
So we could stay and even share in her watery soup - not even cabbage, but the rough
fonio she grew, with some unidentifiable meat. With a few small bones still stuck in the
chunks...
I was still expected to see to her foot, of course. While nothing was said, I gathered her
not bashing in my head while I slept and adding Vig to her gruesome soup was all the
payment I could expect. She even tried making small talk - "Them goblins is out towards the
sunset, they is. Pass the ol' blackroot tree in the wood, what got split by Mighty Jove not three
summers back. They got some burrow out there or somethin'..."
"So in a cave to the west and passed a dead tree," I said, examining her foot. She had
an in-grown nail that would be septic in another week or so. "How very descriptive..."
She cackled. Though I couldn't tell if she really got the joke as she cackled quite a lot. I
excused myself to step outside and fetch a few ingredients from my satchel. Herbs and oils
that could be ground into a cleansing salve. Vig gave me a deeply annoyed look as I rooted
around, having been following the conversation through the hovel's thin walls.
"Don't worry so," I whispered to him. "We won't be doing any damn goblin hunting
either."
The look in his eyes said he didn't believe me...
Chapter 4
I awoke fully intending to take my leave of this Jardins and go right back to keeping
Paol out of trouble. I'd given her a strong mixture of my dwindling poppy milk and an acai
chaser the night before - "To ease the aching!" I assured her - and hoped it would keep her
nice and knocked out through morning.
She had a constitution that a charger's to shame though. I awoke on the hard earthen
floor of that hovel to Jardins looming over me, cudgel again gripped in her mannish hands
and slung with that curious ease of the savage across her knobby shoulder. "Yeh do sleep
so!" she said with transparently false amiability. "I thought yeh weren't never gettin' up!"
"Long travel yesterday," I sighed, sitting up slowly. Casting a quick glance around Paol still slept soundly and my sword was within easy reach. Not that I intended to use it just
yet, Jardins having the drop on me. Not to mention Paol's reaction - I'd never see the silvers
from Mariana if he ran screaming into the wilderness! "Go wake the boy and we'll be on our
way."
"Yeh, about that, I be thinkin'..." Her beady eyes held a cunning I hadn't seen the night
before. This didn't bode well... "I should hold on ta that mule ya got out there. As collateral."
She looked eminently pleased with her own cleverness.
I wanted to say, "Then you won't mind if I take my donkey," but it's never smart to
antagonize an armed imbecile. Instead, I put on a fake smile and replied, "Yes, that's quite
reasonable."
She gave a wheezing, barking laugh that sounded like a cow breaking wind. "’Quite
reasonable’ he says! I likes that!"
Paol awoke easily enough - good old farmer habit - and we were on our way to goblins.
"Jus' to the west, passed the ol' blackroot," Jardins reminded us merrily, keeping well out of
sword distance the whole time. "Can't miss 'em!" Still leashed to the paltry excuse of a stable,
Vig watched us leave with a mix of sadness and stolid resignation. Donkeys are nothing if not
pragmatists.
If Jardins ate him while we were out, I'd burn the whole blasted hovel down around
her...
Setting off on this very real mission, I found I couldn't put it off any longer - "Do you
know how to use that?" I asked Paol, pointing to his spear. "I mean really use it?"
"Of course I do!" he said so defensively it was clear he didn't. "I told you, I've been
practicing"
"Practicing what?" I asked.
He didn't have anything to say to that...
A good distance from the hovel - good enough that Jardins couldn't see us at least - I
brought him to a halt. "Alright, my boy. Show me what you do know."
"Um, alright..." He didn't do much of anything at first except look at the shaft in his
hands. Then, tentatively, he held the spear couched in his armpit, hands griped close together
in the middle, and lunged his whole body forward! Next, he grabbed it by the far, blunt end like
an overly long sword and tried to swing it about.
"Stop!" I snapped, ducking so the old wooden shaft didn't split my head as he let the
momentum carry him every which way. "That's... That's alright but, uh, if I may..."
He held still as I positioned him. "First, you put the foot of your off-hand forward, your
other this far apart so you're square..." He allowed me to nudge his feet into the proper
stance. "You grasp it lightly, like so, wide and steadied in the middle with your offhand..." He
had to stretch a bit to get the hold right. "You grip it back here so you can charge it, like so..."
Not far at first, but he figured out on his own to let the shaft slide through his off-hand. I admit,
he had a firm thrust. "For defense, you sweep. Move your shoulders like..." Back and forth,
slowly. He wobbled some. "An overhand hold may be steadier, and you can step with it too..."
He did, sweeping a little smoother. "Yes, that's good..." Good enough. We set off into the
western woods.
Paol hefted the spear over his shoulder with a new confidence as he trotted along
beside me. "I know I said we didn't have time for this last night," he said. The boy had that
grating habit of trying to fill the air with words when he was nervous. "But it's just goblins,
right? And Madame Jardins is all alone out here. I feel sorry for her."
I just shrugged in response, still thinking of how I'd have time to avenge Vig and make
the long journey to Meridian carrying my own satchel before the snow set in.
He added, seeming to notice my distraction but oblivious to the cause, "Awfully kind of
her to watch after your mule."
I didn't bother correcting him.
"And, uh, the trolls we need to find first," he persisted, though at least vaguely aware
his conversation wasn't wanted. "Madame Jardins knows exactly where the goblins are hiding
out, so that's half the work done for us, right?"
"I'll give her that..." I grumbled.
Jardins knew where to find the goblins alright, as evidenced by the scattered and crude
totems we encountered as we plunged deeper into the western woods. Knobby things possibly in the likeness of whatever goblins bother to worship when not being a nuisance sticking this way and that out of the ground as if sprouted by some some invasive fungus.
Goblins have a rudimentary intelligence, just enough to put on airs of society and civilization
which are all quickly forgotten if there's anything nearby they can get their wide jaws around.
Which is all the time as the rotten things will gobble up whatever feels and smells like meat,
even if it means each other...
I explained as much to Paol during our march - "Maybe we'll be lucky and they'll have
gobbled each other up!" he said hopefully.
"Don't be daft," I scolded him. "There's been nothing lucky about this journey so far.
Why start now?"
He was sullenly quiet after that.
The thickness of the leaves overhead grew so great that it could very well have been
bright noon above out heads but everything remained in menacing shadow as pressed
forward, soon coming to the dead tree she spoke of in a clearing. I'd seen a blackroot here
and there before - the sap had magnificent if irregular medicinal properties - but this one...
Split by lightning, like she said, and warped into some horridly jagged claw reaching up to the
sky. An ill omen, if I put any stock in ill omens. Which, looking at that black tangle of madness,
I had to remind myself of quite a bit.
Paol took it in stride though, optimistic little shit - "We're on the right track now! We'll
have those goblins by noon."
Noon came and went and we were still hiking in that wood. I worried we'd gotten
ourselves turned around, worried that we'd go round and round until we starved - thrice
damned idiot that I am, I'd left what remained of the black bread in the satchel. Jardins was
probably using it to garnish her Vig stew...
The cold and the growing hunger bit into my joints, causing me to drop behind Paol as
we continued our pointless march. I didn't expect we'd ever leave that blighted woods, let
alone find these goblins, when what should happen but our finally drawing upon what the old
woman had described as a cave - but I saw right away it was instead an old barrow!
The earth rose up over the carved entrance, smooth and rounded stone with its great
moss-crusted seal rolled aside. The kind of tomb built by the Tuathagh people, long before
the coming of the Imperium, dug deep into the soil so that in death they could sleep with their
Old Gods of earth and stone. What meager light penetrated the the forest canopy above us
didn't go more than ten feet inside the ancient crypt - though the rank and fetid air wafting
over us gave me some idea of how deep the crypt went.
And I wasn't the only one to notice. "Blargh!" Paol groaned, slapping a hand over his
nose and mouth so his words came out a little muffled. "Is thad whad gohlins smell like!?"
"Goblins and embalming, my boy!" I said, approaching the yawning maw of the barrow.
"It seems I spoke too soon. Jove really has deigned to smile on us this one time!" And I went
to the side of that great stone seal. Leaning my sword against the outer earthen wall of the
barrow, I set to pushing the seal over the entrance. All my efforts only managed to nudge it
the barest foot. I shouted to Paol, "Quit retching and help me roll this back into place!"
Dropping his spear like the green boy he was, Paol scurried over with one hand still
covering his face and tried to pull the seal with just one hand. "Put your back into it!" I
grunted, my feet sliding a little in the cool wet earth. He did, with more vigor than he'd ever
driven a plow - I assumed, as we made real progress. It still took tremendous effort on both
our parts, huffing and grunting and slipping and Paol nearly cracking a tooth when he lost his
footing. But we were rewarded for our troubles as the stone seal very gradually, very slowly
rolled back over opening to the barrow, sinking into its old place just as I'd hoped.
I gave the boy both a moment to breath as I checked the seams. Running my fingers
across the points where stone met stone, I found to my great satisfaction that not any sliver of
draft could be detected. "Right then!" I declared, picking up the sword from where I'd set it.
"Follow me!" and I clambered up the sloping side to stand atop the barrow. Drawing the
sword, I began slowly and methodically probing the ground. I lightly jabbed, just enough to
judge its firmness. How deep and solid it ran.
"Wh..." Paol wheezed as he followed. "What are you doing?"
"Checking for... Aha! Got one!" Turning about, I pointed to a loose and large enough
looking stone not too far from Paol. "Bring that here. Right here!" and I tapped the ground with
the sword point.
Paol, ever dutiful, hopped to it. Or rather stumbled to it, still a little worn from sealing
the barrow. Bringing the stone over, he let it thud down into place. "What's this for?" he asked,
getting more exasperated.
"Weaknesses in the roof of the barrow," I explained while stamping the stone down with
the heel of my boot. "We need to find any little fissure or fracture where air can escape."
This utterly bewildered the boy. "Why?"
"Well we can't very well suffocate them if there are any air holes up here, now can
we?"
I smiled when I said it and I suppose that just added to Paol's shock. "What!? B-but we
can't... I mean... They could have someone down there! Couldn't they?"
"No one living," I said, already probing again with the sword point. "Goblins aren't
exactly known for keeping prisoners... Ah! Quick, fetch another stone!"
He did, though with reservation clearly etched in his face...
We kept this up for close to an hour - I methodically poking the earth, he sullenly
fetching stones. When we began, a silence had dominated all around but as we progressed I
could hear - and feel - a great swelling and gnashing of activity just underfoot. The goblins
were panicking, no doubt. Likely lashing out at each other in desperation, those trappings of
civilization thrown aside. That animal drive for survival at all costs that even manifests in men,
but with more cannibalism. Nasty, savage beasts - they put the Northmen to shame on that
account!
"There," I sighed with satisfaction as we reached the far end of the barrow - the slope
down that connected with hard and unmolested dirt. "That old hag shouldn't have any more
goblin troubles."
Paol was absolutely scandalized. "That's it!? But we don't know if they're all dead! We
don't know if they're all really there! We -"
"Paol, my boy," I interrupted, not appreciating his souring of this little victory. "...Put
your ear to the ground there." I pointed to a spot atop the barrow with my sword.
He looked suspicious at first. Smiling, I assured him, "Go on."
Hesitantly, he clambered back up the barrow. Kneeling down, he placed his ear to the
ground - and twice as fast pulled it back, the color absolutely gone from his face.
"There you go," I said firmly, sheathing my sword with conscious flourish and slinging it
back across my shoulder. "Now, if you really want to open it back up in another hour or so, be
absolutely sure -"
"No!" Paol yelped. "No, uh, th-that's alright..."
We circled back around the barrow so Paol could collect his spear. The light had
diminished so much under the heavy growth of leaves that it felt like twilight, even though I
knew it still had to be sometime in the afternoon. Without proper sunlight to judge these
things, one's head gets all fuzzy...
As we made our way out of the woods - sometime later, but feeling much faster as we
returned on a now known path - I began to see why the woods had grown so dark so fast. The
sky had gone overcast while we were at the barrow, turning an ugly steel-gray. I could smell
rain coming in the air, maybe even snow... "Maybe Jardins will put us up for another day too,"
I said, mostly to myself.
Paol just sulked.
"And what's the matter with you?" I asked.
"It's just so... So vulgar, what we did back there," he said. "We... we killed them and we
never even saw them..."
Rolling my eyes, I said testily, "Oh I'm so very sorry. Would you rather have the blasted
things coming at you in waves? That's what they do, you know. They come in thick as bile,
with iron knives and iron fangs. How many of them do you think you could sweep with that
spear? As many as were down there?"
Paol shook his head but didn't relent, "There was nothing... I don't know... Honorable
about what we did. Nothing fair."
"Well, if I didn't already know you hadn't soldiered..." I scoffed. "Boy, what you just
witnessed - what you find so vulgar - is how you want a fight to go! You always - always! want a fight to be unfair in your favor."
"And that's how you fight, is it?" he asked, a newfound venom in his voice. "Hardly
breaking a sweat? Not even getting blood on that sword of yours?"
"When I can, absolutely," I said, completely without shame.
He glared at me. "You're a coward."
I couldn't help a mirthless smile tugging the edge of my mouth. "I can live with that."
He may have had more to say to me but we both fell silent as we came within sight of
the Jardins woman's land. A heavy black cloud streamed up in the distance from where the
hovel stood. Or used to. I unslung the sword from my shoulder, holding it by the scabbard in
my left hand for a fast cross-draw if necessary. "Stay behind me to the right, just a step or
two," I said softly as we crossed the ragged field of fonio.
From the smoking hovel came two large men in rough-spun raiments and furs leading
a donkey. Very large men, one even carrying over his shoulder the sort of long handled
battleaxe so favored by headsmen and raiders from the North. And with a fresh spattering of
red across its wide blade.
I could feel - more than see - Paol tighten his grip on the spear. "Keep calm!" I hissed
over my shoulder. At least the little idiot was holding it properly for once...
"Salutations!" I called, right hand held up in greeting - and to show we weren't looking
for a fight.
They hesitated, not quite knowing what to make of us. Had I come across a little too
friendly? But no - they continued on their way, the one leading the donkey - my Vig - saying,
"Uh, hullo... We's just, uh... Just had a bit of an accident with the ol' homestead."
"I can see," I said, stepping closer. "Anything we can do?"
"No. No, I don't think so." He cast a glance to his companion, the one with the axe.
"You out for a walk or somethin'? You don't look like no hunters?"
"Something, yes." I again stepped closer. The big one with the axe flinched, just around
the eyes, but held his ground. "Actually, it's fortunate we should come across you because we
happen to be in need of a good donkey."
Vig simply flicked an ear in acknowledgment. He'd always been a good actor. The man
leading him seemed to drop all suspicion - "Oh yeah? Well that's a stroke of luck then, in't it?"
and he tugged happily on Vig's reigns, eliciting a haw of protest.
I winced... "Uh, yes... Anyway, my good men, I'm prepared to offer you -" Nothing. I'd
left the purse with all my savings in the same pack with my tools and medicines. All still
mounted on Vig!
"...Yeah? Offer what?" the bigger man with the axe finally spoke, his voice rumbling like
distant thunder.
I'd been hesitating. Damn damn damn... "To be perfectly honest, we've been looking for
my donkey," I said. "Who happens to be that donkey right there. And if you good men would
just hand him over I'd be happy to reward -"
"No, no, no," said the one with Vig's reigns. "That ain't how this works. See, we likes
the donkey. And we thinkin' we likes what you carryin' too." His eyes narrowed, "'Specially that
sword, which you best lay down on he ground!"
I heard Paol's feet scraping behind me as he assumed a fighting stance. The big man
gripped his axe with both hands and did likewise.
I again raised my right hand, my left holding the sword out to the side as if to show I
intended to put it down. "Now please, everyone just calm down. There's no need for violence
or threats and - what in the world could that be!?"
Vig dutifully reared in pretend terror, giving me just that much more of a distraction. Not
one to waste time, I drew my sword while advancing on the huge axe-man first. In one fluid,
familiar motion, I let the momentum of my draw carry the blade up into his stomach at an
angle that carried the stroke through his chest, splitting open his ribcage in a sudden burst of
blood! He crumbled to the ground without ever having swung his weapon.
I let the scabbard drop, taking the now high raised sword in both hands. The other man
had just enough time to see, to gape in final realization. He might have even begged for
mercy... I brought the sword down in a swift, hard slash where his neck met his shoulder,
splitting him open like his fellow and getting a another face-full of blood for my trouble.
It was all over in an instant, Paol only having just positioned himself for a proper charge
as the second man fell dead in a heap at my feet. Kneeling to clean my sword against the
grass and Jardins fonio - I didn't expect she'd mind - I called to the boy, "I'll search this one.
You get the big one."
He promptly threw up.
Chapter 5
The two brigands didn't have much of value beyond their clothes - common and crusty
with sweat - their old and filthy furs and that great big axe not one of use - not even Vig cared to heft around the countryside. They did have a rolled up hunk of stale black bread, the
very same I'd left behind that morning. And which showed a few new bite marks, either from
them or Jardins. I searched for her alone, leaving Paol under the watchful eye of my donkey.
The hovel was a smoking ruin. The two men must've set upon it not too long before we
returned though, judging by some still mouldering embers and the intense stink of burned...
Well, before my sojourn with the Grand Army I would have thought it was pork.
I didn't find any other sign of old Madame Jardins.
Returning to my fellow travelers, I found Paol frantically jabbing the smaller of the
brigands with his spear. He stopped when he spotted me, stammering, "H-he was twitching,
s-sir!"
"Is that all?" I asked, tromping over to the boy.
Paol looked back at the body. It did switch some, surprising seeing as I'd nearly
cleaved the man in twain. "J-just kept on t-twitching..."
I grasped his shoulder. "They do that," I said. For all the grief the boy and his idiot
quest had caused me, I wouldn't wish that sight on anyone else...
Back to the road, I lead us some ways before stopping to let Paol shake off his recent
blooding. We walked for a time under that gray sky threatening rain. The boy had a stiff
disinterested gait that I recognized. Trying to take his mind off it all, I said, "So I expect we'll
find us some trolls before too long. Right?"
He didn't respond. Didn't even look at me. So I didn't press it... Some things just need
to be walked off.
I did, however, pull us to the side of the road for a proper rest and some of the black
bread. Vig just shuffled about, probably having eaten his fill of fonio while we were off
exterminating goblins.
I sat down and set to my hardened bread. I would have liked some water to moisten it
in - after just trying to crack off a good snack-sized piece for myself, I nearly chipped a tooth
just trying to bite through it! I also would have liked some water just to have it, the three of us
now having walked vigorously for nearly two days straight and my little waterskin having run
out sometime before the goblins...
"Care to tack a whack at it?" I asked Paol, offering him the stale bread.
He looked ready to throw up again. "N-no... No thank you, sir."
He kept calling me that. Not what one would expect since he'd so recently dismissed
me as a coward. Apparently, my sword-work had made an impression...
Maybe enough of an impression that I might finally be able to talk to him! To persuade
him to give up this fool's errand, to settle down with that scheming Neska back at the inn. A
scheming wife is the right sort to have. She'll always take care of things, leave you to a life of
leisure. Much like the leisure I could have been enjoying in Meridian by know if not for Paol's
sake...
The sky had been overcast all day and, perhaps as punishment for my treatment of the
goblins, began to pour a chilling rain on us towards evening. We ducked off the road, hurrying
into the darkening woods to find shelter. I must give credit to Paol for finding us a sturdy tree
hollow so fast. I credited him so much I let him go first, hanging back in the cold rain with my
waterskin held out to fill with rain. I collected more water in the sleeve of my tunic.
Vig tried to join us, first by trying to jam his head into the hollow - which was growing
cramped with just the two of us - then backing his great arse in. I admit to being indulgent with
him at times but this was unacceptable! Fortunately, we came to a compromise - his head and
just passed his shoulders would fit in, nestled between me and Paol, at the expense of his
hooves getting wet. His ears twitched in indignation but he settled soon enough. Pragmatic
and all...
Paol leaned against the inside of the hollow, vigorously rubbing his arms. "It's s-so
cold!" he chattered.
"Rub your chest," I told him. "That's where you want the heat."
He nodded and went right to it. Damn this little idiot for ruining my vacation... And damn
me more for playing along instead of just laying him out back at the Pellan's farm. A good fall
always teaches the fastest...
But we were here now, in a tree hollow with the ass of an ass still trying to force its way
in. I worked off a hunk of the stale bread and handed it to Paol, saying, "You need to eat.
Keep your strength up."
He nodded - again dutifully - taking the scrap of bread in one hand while still rubbing
heat into his chest with the other. Nibbling at it, he said, "I'll need my strength, won't I? Trolls
must be, uh, much worse than those... those..."
"You held your ground well," I tried to reassure him, though it sounded like a stretch as
soon as I'd said it.
"Sure, sure," he said. "Thank you... For, uh," waggling the scrap of hard bread. "For
everything."
We stayed in that tree hollow through the night. He slept heavily, even propping himself
against the hard wood like that. I slept more fitfully, shaking awake every now and then.
Sometime after midnight the rain stopped. Paol still shivered, though deeply asleep. I
undid my old cloak, wringing it out first as it was still dampened from our brief dash through
the rain, and draped it over him. The look Vig gave me said it was the wrong thing to do which I knew well, being a physician. Sleeping in wet rags is always a sure way to fever.
Or maybe he was just annoyed at how I had to jostle him so to make the little gesture...
I thought I could even feel the beginnings of a fever myself when the gray and soggy
morning came but we didn't have time for that. I'd resolved while drifting in and out of sleep to
be more proactive in our quest - meaning giving Paol a better show than just trudging down
the road.
I heaved Vig's great head out of our hollow, earning a very perturbed snort as he was
likely having good dreams about apples. "Time to get a move on, my boy!" I declared, shaking
him Paol of my old cloak and hastily putting it back on. "We have trolls to track!"
He came to all groggy. None of his usual pep, not yet at least. I pressed him to eat
some of the stale bread, which I drizzled with a little of the rain water I'd collected.
"Tastes like old wool!" he said.
"It does not!" I said right back. "Wool has a much different texture. Don't ask."
While we split the meager provisions, Vig went to have some of the grass that
managed to sprout just inside the woods - and washed it down with a puddle. I tell you,
donkeys and their iron stomachs...
Paol followed me all morning with... Not really excitement. The day before had taken a
toll on his youthful enthusiasm but he still rushed over diligently when, finding some mud
puddle just inside the tree-line, I shouted - "Aha! A troll stepped here... And another beside it!"
"Any sign of Amarante?" he asked.
"I can't be sure," I said, getting into the role. "They'd carry her, naturally. Though the
depression here looks deeper."
That certainly lifted his spirits. He followed obediently as I lead us through the woods,
just parallel to the road. So parallel it was visible through the trees. "We'll take them by
surprise!" I assured Paol.
He didn't question me in that. Didn't question me at all - besides the constant, nagging
refrain of "Amarante?" but that was to be expected. He had a determined energy I found
strangely infectious...
We covered so much ground so much quicker than the day before. Even damp from
the weather and haggard from the previous days travel, I found renewed vigor in my theater
for the poor boy. "Aha! A troll leaned against this tree!" and "Aha! more troll prints!" and, when
coming upon one of those foul-smelling growths so common after a good rain, "Aha! Troll
shit!"
It was sometime after noon before we stopped to catch our breath - mostly due to Vig
sitting down on his haunches and obstinately refusing to move. I was actually a little miffed at
that, having taken great heart from Paol's eagerness and my own performance.
Then I sat down... And appreciated my trusty companion's wisdom in getting off one's
aching feet.
"How much further do you think they are?" Paol asked while we shared the last of the
stale, woolly bread.
"Hard to guess," I said, envying Vig and his grass as I gnawed at the scrap that
couldn't very well be called bread anymore. "But it could be a day. Maybe two." I hoped to
connive some way to turn us about by then.
Paol looked away, those sharp eyes of his clouding over in thought. "If we find them
and Amarante and she's already -"
"Best not to think about," I said quickly. Then, seeing the conflict in his face, "Though it
is a possibility. So, best to get a move on!"
I let us drift in and out of the woods some more through this mock search, but never
took us out of sight of the road. It proved enough for young Paol - by nightfall he was
exhausted but uplifted. "I think we're getting close," he said as I tried to get a fire going with
the damp wood available. "I really think we are!"
"Sure we are," I agreed absently, cursing my dulled and scraped flint. It couldn't even
ignite after a generous drizzle of my good Parthian oil! The most I managed were a few
glowing embers before finally giving up. Looked like I'd be loaning my cloak to the boy for
another night...
"Do you smell that?" he suddenly asked, head cocked towards the forest.
I sniffed the air and my mouth began to water - the unmistakable greasy sizzle of
cooking fish! After two days of crunchy bread with a dash of lentils, it smelled sweeter than a
roasting ham! "Oh that is very nice!" I couldn't help blurting out.
"It's coming from deep in the wood," Paol said, fresh excitement growing in his voice.
"It's so dark, though -"
"Rot it!" I said, drawing my sword with a fury. "Some things are worth the risk!" And, my
blade thrust forward, I boldly lead the three of us deeper into the night-shrouded woods.
Paol marched close behind me in the middle - his spear point drifting uncomfortably
close to my head a few times - and Vig bringing up the rear with an annoyed snort. We
crashed through brush and branches, alerting whatever nearby predators might have been
listening for their evening meals. But the sweet-grease aroma of fish was not to be ignored!
Just up ahead, I could see the glow of a campfire. Likely more brigands, the way our
luck had been running. I crouched low, sword held back in my arm, cocked and ready to
cleave through any danger, stepping slowly and lightly And tumbling down as my heel sunk through a short slopping ledge made fragile and
muddy by the rain. I fell forward, the sword clanging off a nearby tree trunk and out of my
hand and I face-planted into the one spot of earth not softened by the rain.
Kept a hold of the scabbard though...
"Jove's balls!" I heard someone shout ahead of me. "Hey! Uh, who goes there!?"
Hoisting myself up and trying to ignore the wringing between my ears, I recognized the
two young men by the campfire. And by their palpable change from panicked action to
confusion, they recognized me as well.
"Weren't you back at the inn?" asked the smaller of the two - Erwan if I remembered
correctly. He'd lowered his sword, though his companion still held his own at the ready... With
great and noticeable strain.
"Well, uh, I was just -" I began but Paol quickly arrived behind me, spear held properly
at the ready and inspiring these two familiar faces to again stand on guard.
"Hold!" I called, raising my empty right hand as I sign of peace to both sides. "No
enemies here. Just, uh, saw you from the road is all." Casting a glance at the fish sizzling
over their fire. "Wondered if you'd care to share a little of your dinner?"
Erwan again lowered his sword, but not to welcome us. He looked hesitant and the
other still looked on guard. And a little sickly... Having a better view of him with my face off the
ground, I noticed the sallow cheeks and hooded eyes and cracked lips of illness.
"What you say, Den'?" Erwan asked his friend. "We can spare a few bites, aye?"
"We -" and Den coughed wetly. "We're to guard the camp 'till Jodoc returns!"
"Yeah but he should be back soon," said Erwan. I liked Erwan. "He just ran off into the
woods not a moment ago!"
"He did not run off!" Den protested sharply - triggering a brutal fit of coughing, ending in
some thick glob working its way out of his throat.
"How long's he been like that?" I asked Erwan, not expecting Den to be very
conversational with strangers.
"Huh? You mean coughing and all? I don't know, must've been -"
"None of his damned business!" Den hissed.
"It's alright," I said in as soothing a voice I could muster. "I'm a physician. I'd gladly see
to you for a bit of that fish."
Both of them looked at me blankly.
"Like a healer," Paol said helpfully from behind me.
"A healer, Den!" Erwan said excitedly. "You could use one of them! You been looking
ready to kick off all afternoon."
"I'm fi -" Den began to protest before suffering another coughing fit. "Oh alright..."
I sent Paol to recover my sword - and Vig - while I gave Den a cursory examination.
"You haven't been bitten by anything interesting, have you?" I asked while checking first his
eyes then placing a hand to his forehead - burning hot!
"Nah. Just started -"
"Open your mouth." He had a ghastly white coating to his tongue but nothing too
exotic. "Been feeling tired? Any aches in your joints or muscles?"
"Of course! We've been traveling all day!"
I pressed under his jaw, to check for swelling. Flicked hard on his shoulders, his
elbows, his knees.
"Aye! What are you on about!?"
"My good man, you have what some call the sweating sickness," I explained. Seeing
the fear enter his eyes, I hastily added, "Quite common. Comes from too much damp and
cold. A few days rest, plenty of wholesome water, and you won't know you were ever ill!"
"Well, can he rest after we finish out here?" asked Erwan. Rather thickly, I might add.
"You'd best take your friend back to Gabalum," I said to him. "Or the Pellan land.
Whichever is closest and has a bed to spare." Looking over Den again, "That soreness in
your bones will get worse if you don't. Not to mention all the phlegm you'll be spitting
everywhere -" hastily to Erwan, "That's how it spreads too. Get so much as spat on from
someone like Den right now and you're likely to be laid up yourself soon enough."
Erwan shot a glance at Den before jumping back a step.
"You rotter," said Den, though not with any real malice.
"...So can we eat with you now?" asked Paol.
"Huh?" responded Erwan. "Oh! Yeah, yeah..."
Paol and I sat near the fire with our new friends, happily slurping up the strips of
sizzling fish they granted us. "I don't think we've had nothing but bread for two days!" Paol
said around a greasy mouthful "Where'd you even find this?"
"B-been following a s-stream," Den explained. "Well, little b-bigger than a s-stream out
here. Must b-be their s-season, they were s-swimming in thick s-schools against the current."
He was shivering something awful. "You'll want to keep warm, much as you can out
here," I advised, licking some fish grease form off my thumb before adding, "And I can give
you something to thin out the phlegm. If you like."
Den nodded, pulling his cloak tighter around his body.
As I was getting up, Paol chimed in - "Rub your chest, not your arms. It helps," and he
cast a small smile at me.
I returned it as I went over to where Vig had parked himself and started rooting through
my medicines. I always saw so many cases of this particular sickness at the start of winter
that I'd gotten into the habit of stocking up on a particular leaf. Hard to come by though, hoped
I had a little left for poor Den...
"Aha!" I plucked a jar with two long, thin leaves left. "When you finish your supper," I
explained to Den as I approached him, "You'll want to chew one of these for a while."
"What is it?" he asked as he accepted the jar.
"I think the proper name is mentha," I said. "Sharp flaver but good for clearing out
phlegm. Thins it, so you'll probably find yourself coughing more but that's good. Means it's
working."
Den hadn't completely dropped his guard, still regarding me and my leaves with some
suspicion, but he didn't expect I would poison him. "Thank you," he said.
"My pleasure!" I replied as I went to cut myself another piece of fish. "And be sure to
chew it, don't swallow. You swallow and it won't work properly." I sat back down, catching a bit
of the conversation Paol and Erwan were having "Don't I know you from someplace?" Erwan was asking.
"I work the Pellan fields," said Paol. "You lot came by asking where the trolls had
gone."
"Right, right..."
"But I told you north, didn't I? What are you doing this far south?"
"I been asking that for the past three days!" laughed Erwan.
We joined in, of course. Always chuckle along with your armed hosts.
"You didn't come out to find us, did you?" Erwan asked.
Paol hesitated. The boy was learning... "Well, uh, we're looking for them too."
"Oh, good job!" and Erwan raised a scrap of fish in salute. "Can use all the help we can
get if you ask me."
"They didn't ask you," interjected Den. "They can't! When Jodoc gets back -"
"If Jodoc gets back," Erwan corrected. "He's been gone a good while now." Then,
turning to me, "Listen, no hard feelings about that scuffle in the inn, right? Jodoc can be a
might touchy."
I shrugged. "I've no quarrel if you don't."
Erwan shook his head, "Nah..."
"Wait, what happened at the inn?" Paol asked.
"I had a bit of a disagreement with their now absent friend," I explained, eliciting a
smirk from Erwan and a scowl from Den.
This only confused Paol further. "A disagreement? That's all?"
"Well, it's a matter of degree, I suppose..." And I began to explain but who should
choose then to return to the little camp but my erstwhile antagonist himself!
Chapter 6
Jodoc came riding into the light of the campfire. If the past few days had left his
companions haggard, he looked even worse - his face pale and pimpled, his hair stiff with
grease, and his chain mail that had shined so freshly last I'd seen showed signs of rust
around the collar and armpits. He rode atop that whithered old nag I'd last seen tied up
outside the inn of Gabalum. I felt so sorry for the poor beast, having to pack around such a
great big blowhard. "Worry not, friends!" he declared, "I have returned from my patrol and rest
assure - " He caught a glimpse of me and his eyes went wide as saucers. His voice edging
towards hysterics, he sputtered, "Wh-what in Jove's name are you doing here!?"
"Good evening, friend Jodoc!" I said merrily. "My young charge and I were just enjoying
the hospitality of your camp."
"Hospi...!? No! Stand and deliver, you dog!" And he tried to unsheathe his sword while
also unseating himself from the old nag, nearly landing on his head in the process.
Paol was up and ready first. Out of all of us. His spear grasped firmly and his feet
planted square. Den followed suit, sword out and mouth screwed shut to contain the
coughing. Erwan looked absolutely lost.
I held up both hands, speaking soothingly, "Calm, my good Jodoc. Calm. I mean you
now harm this time." And I hastily added, "Not that I really did last time. In fact, I was just
seeing to your man."
"Aye, he was!" Erwan agreed helpfully, much to the annoyance of Jodoc. "Tell him,
Den!"
His sword still raised, Den hesitantly confirmed, "He, uh, he did give me something for
this cough..."
That only made Jodoc's glare all the more furious, but he spoke through gritted teeth,
"You're just here out of the goodness of your heart, then?"
"Not in the least," I said amicably. "We were following the smell of your dinner - Paol,
stand down."
I could see Jodoc wasn't about to take any real action against us - his shoulders had
relaxed and his sword now pointed more towards the earth than the air. Still, he couldn't lose
face by actually being civil to us - "Well eat our fish then! And you can be gone after!"
"But it's awfully late," Erwan said in protest, rather oblivious to his comrade's
consternation. "And what about Den? This stranger here, he's like a healer."
It took so very much of my willpower not to laugh at Jodoc's sour expression...
The three of us - Paol, Erwan, and myself - sat back around the fire, Den still keeping
his distance but dutifully chewing the mentha. Jodoc hung as far back as he could while
staying in the light, arms crossed and face set in a scowl - which grew more pronounced
when Den said, "Aye! This stuff really works!"
A hard man I would not have trusted near my sleeping body that night. But whatever
else he was, Jodoc was not a hard man and I had a very pleasant sleep with the afterglow of
the fire to keep me warm for a change. Though I was rudely awakened by a finely crafted boot
prodding my ribs.
"Right! Off with you!" barked Jodoc. I wondered if he'd even slept or had been kept up
all night by his hate for me.
"Gladly..." I grumbled, pulling myself up from the ground with great effort. I was quite
surprised to see Paol already awake and feeding some weeds he'd collected to Vig. Erwan
too had awoken and was busying himself with smothering the remains of the campfire. Den
still lay on the ground, chest rising and falling with a ragged irregularity.
Damn, he was getting worse...
"You never answered me question last night," Erwan said to Paol, though clearly
including me. "What are you both doing way out here anyway?"
Paol didn't answer at first. The boy was smartening up.
"Strange as it is, we're here for the same reason as you good men," I answered,
casting glance at Paol to let him know we could trust these three. Or these two, at least.
"Though I fear we've not been quite as successful."
Erwan looked confused. Jodoc looked suspicious and asked sharply, "And just what
might that be?"
"Troll hunting of course!" I replied. "Rather poor troll hunting as it were. Paol, didn't you
say they'd gone off to the northeast?"
Paol nodded.
Turning to Jodoc I said with congenial self-deprecation "And here we are in the
southwest. Completely turned around! As I said, we're not very good at this."
"Clearly not," said Jodoc, comfortable now that he could speak down to someone. "Or
you'd know trolls always double-back when they've been spotted and travel in the opposite
direction."
Somewhere, that capricious bitch Fortuna was having a laugh at me. I vowed to Her
and Almighty Jove that when next I should happen across any shrine or temple, I would stop
and piss... "Fascinating! As I said, you good men clearly are the professionals."
"I don't know," interjected Erwan. "I been wondering about that whole trolls double-back
thing. We been beating down these woods for days and haven't seen no more than squirrels"
"And I told you to have patience!" snapped Jodoc. Then, his venomous gaze falling on
Den's still sleeping form, "Why isn't he up yet!?"
"He's sick he is," Erwan said defensively.
Wheeling on me - so much nasty energy so early in the morning - Jodoc said "Weren't
you supposed to be healing him? Isn't that why we tolerated you for the night?"
"And I told you very plainly he'd need a few days," I said evenly, not liking this Jodoc's
tone but not really wanting to antagonize anyone before breakfast. "Sweating sickness works
itself out but only with rest. He should be moved someplace dry though."
"I'll move him alright!" And Jodoc, good as his word, snatched up a long twig from off
the ground and went over to the sleeping Den. Striking him sharply across the head, he
shouted, "Wake up you cur!"
Den bolted awake from the pain and commenced coughing again.
"Aye, there's no need for that!" protested Erwan.
Jodoc didn't listen - though thankfully didn't continue to abuse Den. "Get a move on!
We've still got trolls to find!" Looking sharply at me, "You don't want to be around for that."
"Yes we do," said Paol with firm defiance.
I wondered where my sword had gotten to...
"Aye Jodoc, I had a thought," Erwan said, eager to diffuse the situation. "With Den
down from this sweat sick stuff, we could use another sword-hand or two. Right?"
Jodoc glared by way of answer.
"And I figured we might bring on these two, seeing as they're on the same quest,"
continued Erwan, though his voice weakened under his "friend's" whithering look.
"A boy and a charlatan?" Jodoc sneered. "You think they'd be of use to us?"
"Master Fernand is an experienced swordsman," Paol said with steely certainty.
Jodoc laughed - or rather just delivered a sharp "Ha!" Adding, "And I suppose you are
too!?"
Paol lifted his spear - prompting Jodoc and Erwan to both tense up - but rather held it
in a proper soldierly fashion and snapped to attention. "I can handle myself."
Jodoc looked unnerved. I had to look away so I wouldn't set him off again with my
smirk...
"We aught to take 'em," Den said, breaking the silence. He sounded more weary than
the night before and looked a damn sight worse. "I'm no use, friends. This sickness has my
head all... Swimming..."
"We should load him up on the nag," I advised. "He's in no shape to go marching
through the wilderness."
Jodoc looked offended. "But it's my horse."
"Oh for pity's sake, Jodoc!" Erwan pleaded.
Under the eyes of the four of us, he relented. "Fine! Put Den on the horse! He's
useless now anyway..."
I assisted Den up off his bedroll - which I wrapped about him to keep as much warmth
as possible. Paol and Erwan went to fill our waterskins, I hefted Den up onto the old nag, and
Jodoc stood off looking sour. "He'd best be paying you well for all this," I whispered.
Den frowned. "He expects we'll collect the bounty on the trolls."
I can't say I found that surprising. Jodoc, for all his swagger, didn't look to be all that
well off. A common sword can still look expensive if it's never used. "And you don't?" I asked.
Den gave a rueful smirk. "I don't suppose I will now, no."
Casting a glance at Jodoc, who still sulked like some little lordling, I can't say I found
that surprising either...
As I fitted Den into the stirrups, I said, "Be sure to chew that other leaf. It won't cure
you right away but it should make the traveling more bearable."
"I, uh, kind of did already some time last night," Den replied sheepishly. "I don't
suppose you have anymore?"
"I'm afraid not..." He really looked worse, his skin more sallow than the night before though it may have just been the better light of the morning, as gray as it was. He sweat
more, though. Never a good sign.
"Alright, men! Hop to it!" Jodoc belted out, like he thought himself a Sergeant at Arms.
Paol ducked in low towards me, whispering, "Do we really want him to lead?"
"Think of it as a courtesy," I whispered back. "Let him think he's helping.
Paol gave a snorting laugh that caught Den's attention, though he shrugged it off. "I'll
keep close to you if that's alright," said Paol.
And we were off. Jodoc in the lead - noisily, with his chain mail and great oafish
crashing through the brush - Erwan close behind, and Paol keeping me company as I lead
Den on the old nag while Vig clopped along casually at the rear. We plunged deep into the
woods, off any discernible trail, occasionally getting tangled in gnarled roots that jutted up
from the earth to snare our feet - especially the old nag. Before noon, I had to draw my sword
to cut her loose three times!
"Quickly! Quickly, now!" Jodoc always called from his place at the head of our motley
column.
My back aching from being bent over at pulling the ancient roots, I said to Paol in a low
whisper, "If the trolls don't get him, I just may..."
We both had a good conspiratorial chuckle at that, Den not caring to pay attention
anymore. I don't suppose he could pay any attention to anything at that moment, his eyes
heavy and a wet wheezing coming from his nose as he breathed. Had I any intention of really
hunting, I would have objected to him giving away our position.
To what, though, I couldn't say. I'd never walked through such an empty and unliving
wood - not even birdsong greeted us as we plunged deeper and deeper. I worried we were
fast losing our way and tried to discern some track we might be leaving which we could follow
back out again. The cold mud underfoot depressed a little as we advanced but, looking back,
I could see nothing that particularly stood out...
"Paol, do you have a knife?" I asked.
The boy shook his head.
So I gave him mine. "Here," I plucked the old iron knife from its sheath on my belt and
handed it to him. "Cut a big clear 'X' on every fifth tree we pass, in as best a line as you can."
The boy nodded and at the very next tree began the marking. I liked this new dynamic
of ours. It certainly made our haggard march more pleasant, as he and I could exchange
private mocking words as Jodoc nattered on "We'll find those vile creatures, friends! We'll find them soon, I tell you, and make short
work of them!"
"Fleeing makes for short work," I muttered, to Paol's amusement.
Ahead of us, Erwan posed a question - "About that... You an' me an' Den know how to
handle ourselves together. But," and he cast a glance back to Paol and I, "how those two
gonna fit in? I mean," addressing the two of us, "I trust you lot to hold your own and all but
wasn't the whole plan to take 'em down together formation like?"
"Worry not, friend Erwan," Jodoc said without breaking his awkward, unbalanced
stride. "I have already - hrfh - been devising new tactics since our, uh, additions."
And he'd been letting the poor old nag carry his heavy arse the whole time. I
recognized the walk of a man who'd never had to march in chain mail before...
"Well, you'll share it with us, right?" Erwan asked.
Jodoc halted for a moment so that he could turn and glare at his friend. "Of - hrfh course! But not now!" And he reared about to resume his march.
But even as he did, Erwan persisted - "You been saying trolls is crafty an' all. I don't
want to go gettin' outsmarted by 'em. That'd be worse then dying on the privy!"
I heard even Den snicker at that.
But Jodoc took it all in stride. A staggering turtle's stride. "Trolls - hrhf - are crafty beasts
indeed. But brutal! - hrfh - So brutal that - hrhf - we can - hrfh - hrfh..."
Marching in that heavy chain mail shirt didn't sit well with him.
"Think he'll have any fight in him when we find them?" I asked Paol.
The boy shook his head, either in response or at Jodoc's huffing and puffing.
"Crafty and brutal!" our fearless leader continued, sounding a little mixed up. "Else hrfh - we surely would - hrfh - have seen them by - hrfh - now! Surely - hrfh - they know we
pursue them and - hrfh - have gone down some - hrfh - secret path of their own con- hrfh struction."
"You did say they were cunning," Paol commented quietly to me.
"I didn't say they were that cunning," I grumbled back. "A dog can be cunning but will
still fall over trying to lick its own balls."
Paol gave a sharp laugh, drawing a quick glare from Jodoc - his face all red and
glistening with sweat, though we couldn't have gone more than a mile already - and confused
looks from the other two.
"As - hrfh - I was - hrfh - saying," Jodoc continued, in a huffy tone to go with all his
huffing from having to walk, "I suspect we'll find a sign of them any moment now! Whether it
be track or -"
"Yeh been sayin' that for three days!" Erwan exclaimed. "Yeh do know what to look for,
right?"
Jodoc only huffed in response.
"Master Fernand can follow tracks!" Paol called from our position in the back, bringing
the chain to a sudden halt. "We were following some just the other day, weren't we?"
"Uh, I thought we were," I rushed to say. "But that was a good ways back and, uh, I
haven't seen any since..."
Jodoc had a cruel, pleased-with-himself expression. "Then I - hrfh - don't suppose
you'd - hrfh - want to come up - hrfh - to the front- hrfh - aye? Try - hrfh - your - hrfh - luck at it
for - hrfh - a while?"
"I know a thing or two about trolls," I said. "But surely not as much as you, what did you
say you were back at the inn? Oh yes - 'professional troll slayers.'" I found it hard not to hide
the amusement in my voice at that. "I wouldn't presume to know more than 'professionals.'"
That proved good enough for the huffing fool. "Indeed - hrfh - we - hrfh - are!" he
spouted as we resumed our march. "My brave - hrfh - men and I - hrfh - have lain low many a
- hrfh - troll!"
Paol was about to ask for specifics but I shook my head. It would only complicate
matters. Besides, Erwan looked back at us, giving an apologetic wave of his hand as if to say,
"Not really..."
"Many a - hrfh - troll... Rotten beasts... We'll - hrfh - show - hrfh - them..." Jodoc
continued, more to himself than any of us. His mumbling continued like that for a while,
occasionally drifting into incoherence and I was beginning to wonder if I shouldn't check that
he hadn't gone delirious when he declared excitedly, "A - hrfh - ha! A - hrfh - sign! A troll - hrfh
- sign, I'm sure - hrfh - of it!"
We all came rushing up to see - well, we wandered over to see with Vig and the nag
holding back with that confident disinterest of clever animals. Jodoc pointed proudly to ragged
"X" carved into a tree. "Only a - hrfh - troll marks its terr - hrfh - itory thus! I'm - hrfh - certain
we're on the - hrfh - right track - hrfh - now!"
I felt a great pounding in my head and had to look down, pinching the bridge of my
nose to keep from screaming.
Paol had no such self-control - "I've been making those marks, you bootless bricon!
You've been taking us in circles!"
Jodoc looked... Well, too haggard to be shocked but close enough. Erwan, for his part,
appeared disappointed and discouraged but hardly surprised. Den took to giggling stupidly.
"Well, uh..." Jodoc muttered impotently. "Well then we know there are no trolls this
way..." And he commenced marching us the other way, as best we could discern. All kept a
sharp eye out for any more "Xs" in tree trunks, as one more blow against his ego might have
lead Jodoc to start weeping like a little girl. Or implode on the spot, if we were lucky...
Den's giggling didn't abate though and I grew concerned. Watching him some as we
moved, I noticed his cheeks were looking unpleasantly red and the sweating from before had
grown into a downpour shimmering all across his face!
"We should stop for a moment," I called ahead to Jodoc. "I'd like to take another look at
your man Den."
Wheezing now, and sweating almost as much as Den, Jodoc reared about - "We are
not - hrrf - stopping! I know - hrrf - the way and - hrrf - I will - hrrf - not -hrrf - be contradicted! hrrf - By a - hrrf - a -"
"Your man looks about ready to keel over," I said, a bit more sharply than intended.
"Not - hrfh - you - hrfh - buh - "
"But you said he'd get better," protested Erwan.
"With bed rest," I said. "A saddle is no bed."
"Hrfh - grrf - "
"I think I found a track!" Paol shouted over the wheezed rant.
All of us - well, those of us still on foot - forgot our discussion of the sick man rushed
over to where the boy had pointed to with the blunt end of his spear. It was a track of
something alright - big and wide and whatever it was had been heavy enough to press more
than half a finger into that cold, wet ground.
"Is it a troll?" Paol asked with hushed excitement. "It's a troll, isn't it?"
"Dunno," Erwan answered honestly. "Don't think I ever seen tracks like this myself How
about you, Jodoc?"
Our fearless leader stared down at the track from a safe distance, his ruddy
complexion having quickly turned sheet-white. "It, urrf... It looks like it... Could - hrrf - be..." he
whimper-wheezed.
And that was the moment Den chose to slide heavily off the nag, landing in a heap on
the ground.
Chapter 7
Erwan was up first, shouting "Den!" in a panic like a true friend. I followed shortly after,
as did Paol. Jodoc continued gaping at the possible troll-track and fearing for his own skin.
Erwan rolled his comrade over, worryingly saying "Den! Be alright, Den! Please be
alright!" over and over. Den certainly didn't look alright - he'd gone a ghastly gray-green under
all the sweat.
Paol and I reached them and I set to work. Though it was obvious from the start there
wasn't much to be done - as I said, sweating sickness has to run its course and the only thing
close to a remedy is rest. Something that can't be had riding atop the bony back of an old nag
all day. With rest he very well might have been on the way to recovery. Laying there on the
ground, he shook horribly from chills and his cheeks felt like they were on fire. "We need to
get him to bed," I said to Erwan.
The young man nodded, not about to argue. Jodoc however - "B-but we can't stop
now... We've found... found..."
"He can't go any farther," I said, not caring to patronize all these questing fools any
longer. "If we don't get him someplace warm and dry where he can rest properly, he could
likely die."
Erwan made a whimpering sound. Paol leaned down to assist me in picking Den up.
But Jodoc continued to protest. Weakly at first - "No... We can't... So close, finally..."
progressing into a much louder, sharper, "No! Absolutely not! We've come too far and now
we're in sight of our - our query!"
"But Jodoc, Den could die!" Erwan protested.
Apparently the prospect of death while out hunting ten foot tall flesh-eating brutes had
never occurred to any of them...
I would've been content to let them both argue it out right there in the woods. A good
distraction while Paol and I tried to abscond with Den before he sweat himself into an early
grave. But Jodoc had regained his nerve - for lack of a better word - and would not have any
defection. "Den knew the risks. We're close now and it'll all be for naught if we don't persist!"
Assuming an aspect of excessive seriousness, he said to Erwan more than us, "Den's death
could be for nothing if we turn back now."
I'd heard that excuse bandied about before, enough to have no respect for it or the
self-important fools who say it to convince others to pursue one doomed course or another.
But it had a noticeable effect on Erwan - and even Paol! They looked at Jodoc, then at Den,
then back to Jodoc. And I got the sinking feeling we wouldn't be leaving that woods anytime
soon...
"We can't take him with us though," said Erwan softly. "Can we?"
"No, I'm forced to agree with the... healer," said Jodoc. What little pleasure I took in his
reluctance was tempered by again being addressed as one of those barking mad woodwhisperers. "We can make him comfortable until we're done. Give him all our cloaks and
such."
Erwan nodded and began undoing his. Even Paol pulled off my ratty old cloak and
went to drape it around the shivering man. Jodoc took his sweet time though, the cold air on
his chain mail and sweat being too much chill for such tender hide as his.
"I'll look for a dry spot to set him," I said, believing Den would be quite dead whenever
we found him again. "Jodoc, you look too. A tree hollow would be best."
It surprised me how fast we found one. I silently cursed the accommodating woods as I
helped slide poor Den into the hollow and swaddled him in cloaks. He was unconscious and
couldn't thank us - not that he should have, leaving him to his death and all. Especially after I
relieved him of his hard leather tabard. "You'll be needing this more than he will," I said,
handing it off to Paol.
Erwan stood by shivering while Jodoc mounted the nag - much too proudly for my
tastes..."Do not despair, good Den," he said with pronounced haughtiness, as if the poor
wretch could hear him at all. "When we have slain these beasts, we shall return to collect you.
And rest assured you shall receive compensation for your bravery."
Den could only sit there in silence. He looked dead already.
"Right, then..." Jodoc said awkwardly, rearing around the nag. "What direction does
that track point?"
"East, uh, I think," answered Erwan.
Jodoc nodded. "So, uh, onwards..."
He left Erwan to lead the way, trotting the nag a safe distance behind. Paol and I - with
a most reluctant Vig - brought up the rear. I had to help Paol into Den's tabard. "Damned too
big," I muttered, trying to pull the ties tighter than they'd ever been intended for. I undid my
own belt and wrapped it - twice! - around Paol. The leather still bloomed out around the
shoulders, making the boy's arms look all the more scrawny.
"Did it really look like a troll's print?" Paol asked after I'd double and triple knotted the
belt - and it still hung too loose.
"It was certainly something big and mean," I admitted. Blast but I'd hoped to avoid this!
Those two brigands had been more than enough excitement for me and for all his heart - a
little sobered now - I didn't expect Paol to exactly distinguish himself should we find ourselves
engaged by real battle. As Erwan lead us down a slope between bending trees, I hoped
against the savage whims of all the Gods that we'd only go in circles again for a while. Go
back to collect a still lingering Den in the best case and end the evening drinking and blaming
each other for our failure at the inn where this all started...
There's good reason I don't bother with temples. Erwan lead us down a trail made by
more of those great, ghastly tracks until we came upon a wide cave, hidden somewhat under
an overhang of stone and a few scrawny trees. It was by then late afternoon and the soggy
day had retreated to a grim gray sky - though at least visible for a change through the molted
branches above our heads.
"Jove Pater preserve us..." I heard Jodoc whimper.
Erwan whispered to us all - in excitement or terror, it sounds very much the same at
times - "Are they in the cave? Do trolls live in caves!?"
"You don't know!?" Paol whispered back. "You said you were professionals!"
"Well, you know, there are professionals and there are professionals..." Erwan tried to
explain weakly. "Jodoc says his ol' man taught him. That's what we been goin' from."
"His father?" Paol asked.
"Aye," said Jodoc. "A captain 'round Burdigalum."
"And have you ever heard of many trolls 'round Burdigalum?" I asked bitterly, knowing
the answer.
"N-no..." replied Erwan, the truth dawning on him for the first time.
Leaving Paol to scowl at the young man I approached Jodoc slowly, keeping my eyes
on the cave. "What do you say, oh captain?" I asked him softly. Pointing towards the cave,
"Think 'thar be trolls?'"
I could hear Jodoc swallow heavily. "I... I suppose so..."
I waited for him to suggest a course of action. I waited quite a long while... "Maybe
someone should scout it out?" I said. "See if there's any more sign of trolls?"
Jodoc nodded, his voice abandoning him.
"...Think I should scout it?" I didn't particularly want to, but I wasn't about to let Paol get
himself mauled by trolls or other sundry beasts at this point. Or Erwan for that matter - being a
poor judge of character is no capitol offense.
Jodoc found his voice again - "Yes! Er, yes I think, uh, you'd best..."
"Right," I muttered. "You hold back with the others. Be ready with this... 'charger' of
years."
The old nag looked at me. If it could speak, it would have asked, "You taking the piss?"
I gave her a shrug and went to coach the other two - "Erwan, I want you on the left
flank," I said, pointing out the spot to the left of the cave with a good deal of grown brush.
"And keep your head down! Surprise will help us. Paol - you stay to the right. Keep that spear
at the ready, like I showed you, and don't move unless called." Casting a look back at Jodoc, I
hastily added, "Called by me."
The two nodded hurriedly. I drew my sword and let the scabbard fall to the ground
there, wishing one of us had thought to bring Den's bow. "Let's get to it..."
Erwan scurried to his post, head down and sword still sheathed. Paol took up position,
braced and ready.
And distant. Good.
Jodoc, some of his composure regained, had drawn his old nag into a ready stance
aimed directly for the cave. And for me as well, the daft dolt...
I advanced cautiously on the cave, it's foul wet air wafting across my face. Stepping
slowly, my sword down but forward at the ready, I felt suddenly naked in only my old woolen
tunic - especially with the hard leather and chain chain mail being worn behind me. I
comforted myself - somewhat - by thinking at least I could run away the fastest if need be.
Peering into the cave, I couldn't make out much past the first few feet. It plunged deep
into darkness, a darkness full of that foul smell... A smell like blood and bowels, long since
spread about... A smell I knew from the blighted fields and the cold, dark forests of the North
some twenty years ago...
The bear was a change though. First I heard the low, ragged growling - "A troll!" I just
about screamed - then the great brown beast came thundering up out of the cave's depths.
Directly at me.
"Bear!" I managed to shout as I dove out of the way, momentum carrying the animal
right passed me, it's ravening maw missing my boot by a hair. Erwan sprang from his hiding
place, sword drawn and readied in two hands despite the fear contorting his face.
Jodoc made a terrified shriek, desperately trying to draw his sword as the bear closed
the distance. The old nag, smarter than her master, reared about and fled at the speed of an
energetic colt.
Paol stood his ground.
As the nag receded between the trees, the bear shuddered to a halt and began pacing,
sizing up the rest of us. Perhaps recognizing me as the one who disturbed its sleep, it came
again though not as fast.
Erwan hollered - "Yeeargh!" A battle cry more panic than anything else but enough to
draw the bear's attention if not divert its second charge. Seizing the opportunity, I again
dodged to the side but this time, two-handing for a more powerful swing, I cleaved off one of
its great paws with my sword.
It again slowed and came about but showed no sign of distress - even with walking
with a fresh, bloody stump! It was then I saw the foaming around its mighty jaws.
"Mange!" I called out. "It's got mange!"
The bear reared on Erwan. He swung wide with his sword, bashing more than slashing
it across the snout. The bear staggered back from that.
I got an idea - "Keep it off balance!" I shouted. "Fast and sharp blows only!" And I
lunged past, slicing at its haunch with my own sword. I only grazed it, but enough to draw its
attention away from Erwan - who obediently swung again, the edge finding the bear's back
this time and sinking deeper than my own swing, splattering blood across the ground.
"What should I do!?" called Paol, his body trembling but his spear held firm.
"Hold where you are!" I shouted back. "Just hold!"
The boy thankfully stayed put rather than trying at any foolish glory.
I thought if we could keep the great beast off balance, a fresh wound every second, we
could wear it down. Get it to stagger to a stop and then Paol could come in and skewer it from
a safe distance with that spear. Or maybe Fortuna would smile on us like she did at the
barrow and all this aggravation would raise the bear's heartbeat so that it bled out. The stump
alone would have done that for any sane animal! If we could open it more, let it spill all its
corrupted blood on the ground through its own efforts I swung again, connecting at the shoulder. My blade sank in deep, striking bone and
nearly throttling the sword right out of my hands. The bear gave a great hoot of pain, lurching
past me with such terrible force I was knocked off my feet as it made a fresh and final charge
at "Paol!" I cried.
The bear, staggered as it was from both Erwan and I, still all but flew at Paol. It's
foaming maw hinged open with a snarl. It reared up, blocking Paol from view, ready to deliver
a killing blow... And stopped. It just hung in the air, suddenly limp and silent.
Scrambling to my feet, I rushed with Erwan to see what had happened. The bear had
hidden it from us, but Paol had stood his ground firm. Still stood his ground in fact, feet
planted square as I'd taught him, though having been pushed back more than a foot.
And his hands still gripping his spear at the ready, the point of which had been buried
up to the wooden shaft in the bear's neck.
A bit of the mange foam had run from its slack mouth onto the spear and its eyes, once
bright with madness, had gone dark and empty. As Erwan and I gaped, I heard Paol whisper
faintly, "I didn't throw up this time..."
Erwan was panting from the brief fight. Finally, he caught his breath enough for a
wooping, "Wow!" He staggered over to Paol, "Well done... Well done indeed!" and gave the
boy a congratulatory slap on the back.
That brief contact gave Paol a jolt and he let the spear and its skewered bear fall, the
shaft of scraping across the ground from the tremendous weight of the dead animal. "Is... Is it
dead?" he asked, voice stronger but still in shacking with the rush of battle.
I approached the bear. I usually have a certain sympathy for beasts, particularly when
they're in the grips of mange. A cruel disease that devours the wits until they're gnawing off
their own hides... Raising my sword, I drove it over-hand down through the bear's shoulder,
piercing its great heart.
It didn't stir in the slightest. "Dead as dead gets," I said.
Paol gave a great heaving sigh and dropped to one knee - I hadn't realized he'd been
holding his breath all this time. Erwan gave a great hooting laugh of triumph, chattering
excitedly, "Damn, we did it! I mean, we really did! I ain't never fought no bear! Never fought
nothin' and we won!"
I had to brace against the bear with my boot to pull my sword back out. "Whatever you
do, don't touch the blood," I cautioned them. "That's where the mange is... I should have
some spare rags for cleaning our weapons in -"
Looking around finally, I realized Vig had gone missing. As had our fearless leader.
"Damnation..."
I left Erwan, still over-excited from the brief battle, to watch over Paol while I went
looking for my errant donkey.
"We did it. We ruddy well did it!" Erwan continued to blather.
"Can you help me pull out my spear?" Paol asked him.
I didn't have far to look for poor old Vig. As soon as the bear came charging out, he'd
sprinted away and up a fallen tree, finding himself a sturdy perch from which to watch us flail
about. "Would you come down from there!" I called to him, not wanting to go clambering up
the somewhat slick wood to fetch him.
Vig hawed in protest but gingerly made his way back down to earth. I caught him by
the lead and marched him back to our two comrades. Paol looked to have his senses back
about him while Erwan had joyfully taken leave of his, prancing about and going "Wahoo!
Jove Invictus! By Jove's Almighty Balls, we did it!" And he kicked the dead bear for emphasis,
which set him hopping about on the other foot wincing.
"I've got the dressings in this pouch here." Eying them, "No one's injured, are they?"
Erwan laughed at that, continuing to hop on his good foot. "I, uh, I think something's
wrong with my ankle," Paol offered.
"Well, that's a relief," I sighed. Then, due to their confused looks, I explained, "Same
principle as the bear's blood. Mange travels from one victim to the next through any blood. If
either of you were cut..." I waved my hand at the blood we'd spilled from the bear, spattered
all across the ground. "No cure and all."
I passed them some of the dressings, hoping to conserve most of them. This sort of
fresh linen was hard to come by... Erwan cleaned off his sword with the practiced ease and
huge grin of a man who'd long waited to do it for real. Paol took his time, gingerly scrubbing
the bear's dangerous blood from his old spear. As he was finishing, I placed a hand on his
shoulder and leaned in to whisper, "Good work, today. Truly."
He smiled faintly at that. "Um, thanks..."
"When you finish," I said, this time to them both, "just drop them in a pile. We'll dig a pit
and burn them."
"Is just the blood really that dangerous?" asked Erwan.
I shrugged. "It's insidious. Best not to take any chances." Turning to Paol, "And when
you finish, pop your foot up on that stump there. I'll have a look at it..."
Our weapons cleaned and Paol's foot seen to - not even a sprain, he'd just had it at a
funny angle when the bear landed - I dug a quick bit and a drop of oil and spark of flint later,
our bloodied rags went up in a much welcomed flame. It even stung the eyes, the weak light
of the day having faded quickly as the sun set. I would have liked to dispose of the bear's
carcass properly, mange being an insidious sickness that travels fast. Worms and crows could
have made an epidemic! But I couldn't spare the oil for the whole bear even if I had enough everything in that woods still too damp to burn without help - and the three of us, coming off
the battle high, found it more than enough effort to just match Vig's leisurely pace as we
began the march back to a hopefully still living Den.
We backtracked along the trail we'd followed, the bear's prints still visible though
evening was setting in. Erwan, despite the weariness having caught up with him, still couldn't
help blathering - "And the bear's like 'Phwaor!' and you just cleave off its big claw and I'm like
'Have at you!' and wham across the face and you're like and I'm like..."
No harm in a little revisionism after a victory. Least not in this case. I had to shush him
though as we came upon Den's hollow. I recognized the outlines from earlier when the sun
still shone - somewhat - and I was pretty sure I recognized the figure rooting around in the
hollow, especially with that old nag standing nearby.
"Good evening, friend Jodoc!" I called with mock cheer. "We return victorious!"
Jodoc banged his head as he jumped away from the hollow with his friend. "E-Erwan?
You two? Why, uh, that is... So good to see you!" And he held out his arms in welcome though I noticed not too far out. A little defensive...
"We got it, Jodoc! We got it!" Erwan said excitedly.
"Oh? Uh, good. Splendid! We can, uh, go collect the bounty," Jodoc replied.
"You think so?" I asked. "I hadn't heard of any bear bounties in these lands recently." I
couldn't resist the shot at Jodoc, adding in a whisper, "Not that you would've earned it
anyway..."
Paol chuckled dryly.
Jodoc either didn't hear or chose to ignore me - as Erwan clearly hadn't heard. "Is Den
alright?" he asked Jodoc, the joy finally ebbing from his voice.
Jodoc did a great job of acting choked up as he explained, "I fear we were too late. Our
dear Den has gone to his grave."
Erwan rushed to his friend's body - as did I, though at a slower pace. I had to gently
push him aside so I could check, just to be certain as by then I wouldn't have trusted Jodoc to
point out the sky... "Not dead, exactly. But you'll want to get him someplace warm and dry.
Immediately."
"He's alive!?" both Erwan and Jodoc asked at once.
"A-are you sure?" continued Jodoc. "I mean, he seemed rather... seemed rather..."
It was then that I noticed the small purse Jodoc had clutched in his hand. And tried to
keep inconspicuous... "You're already not paying him," I said, exasperated with the craven
cur. "Must you rob him too?"
Stiffening with rage Jodoc protested, "I was doing no such thing! I was - I was - I
thought he was dead!"
"Did you think we were dead?" I demanded. "Were you about to come back and cut our
purses too? If the bear didn't send you scurrying off a second time, of course."
"How dare you!" Jodoc erupted "You - you artless, base pig's prick!"
"Your mother takes my prick up her arse!" I spat back.
"Hey now," Erwan said, trying to get between us. "Let's just worry about Den, right? I
mean, he, uh..."
"He's got a few cloaks on him too," I said. Glaring at Jodoc, "Why don't you collect
those so you can swaddle yourself, you tit-clinging infant?"
I was impressed how fast Jodoc closed the distance, his voice cracking and high "Piss on your grave!" and he struck me across the face. Surprisingly hard, I might add. I felt
the blood begin to run from my nose.
This surprised Erwan too. He gripped his sword, eyes wide and darting back and forth
from me to his master. I may have stood with him against the bear but I was still more
stranger to him than Jodoc. Seeing Paol out of the corner of my eye tense up and ready his
spear, I motioned for him to remain at ease.
An expectant silence settled over the four of us. Mail or no, I knew could cleave Jodoc
from balls to brains with just the draw of my sword. I could strike down Erwan before he knew
what had happened. Den, still senseless with fever, would offer no resistance. Paol might
even prove useful again with that spear of his...
"Look," Erwan said at last, in a voice strangled tight by tension. "Uh, it's been a long
day, right?" Hand slowly relaxing from around his sword, "And, uh, we appreciate all you done
but we, um, we probably best be parting ways, aye?"
Not taking my eyes off Jodoc - who looked more likely to fight than run for once - I
nodded. "We'll help secure Den to the nag," I said. "Then we'll part."
Erwan and I managed to extricate Den from the hollow. He'd slept through everything
quite soundly. I didn't even claim my old cloak from him as he was lashed atop the nag for a
second time that day.
Through it all, Jodoc stood by shaking with impotent fury. He didn't lend a hand and I
wasn't about to ask him to.
"You know, it's gotten awful late," Erwan said once Den was properly loaded. "If you
want to camp together one last time..." casting an imploring look at Jodoc.
"No," I said. "Best to part now." And I gave Erwan my hand. "Remember, get him in a
bed for a few days and he should bounce back all on his own."
Erwan nodded, muttering his thanks - for everything. Jodoc took his leave of us silently.
As they vanished into the surrounding darkness, I turned back to Paol. "Well, at least
we got this hollow for the night!"
Vig snorted in satisfaction.
I gathered up what little dry kindling the woods afforded us and set to making an
adequate fire. Paol sat as far away as he could, sulking.
"I suppose you think I should have unsheathed on him?" I asked, working the old flint
to get our fire going. Didn't want to have to pull out the oil yet again...
When the boy didn't respond, I explained, "Then I'd have been forced to cut down
Erwan too. He wasn't about to turn on his master - and to say nothing of Den. I don't expect
he'd have been willing to look the other way when he woke up. If he ever wakes up..."
Paol muttered a concession, "I guess."
As the fire sputtered to life, I added sharply, "I'd have one dead half-wit along with two
men who never did me any wrong."
"But he hit you!" protested Paol. "He insulted you in front of all of us! Aren't you
supposed to -"
"Supposed to what?" I asked evenly. "Kill him? If I went around killing every bricon who
disrespected me... Well, Oriensa for one would be much less populated."
Paol hung his head. "Just isn't right," he muttered.
"Not much is..." I held my hands over the fire. The warmth was so wonderfully alien it
stung! "Come here. I'll not have you getting sweat-sick too."
Paol shuffled over to join me at the fire. I could see the tension in him, built up over our
long and arduous day of again not finding any trolls. Next to the little fire though, he began to
relax. "So you think we're any closer?" he asked.
Leaning back on an elbow, I sighed, "I fear the trail has gone cold. And we'll have
enough trouble finding our way back out of these woods."
Paol nodded. "I marked plenty of trees for us," he said proudly.
"Well done," I said, genuinely pleased. "And again, well done today. I didn't expect - "
The dart hissed by my cheek, embedding itself in the ground not too far from the fire. I
sprang to my feet and drew my sword in the same motion, Paol jumping up to grab his spear.
"What is it?" he asked breathlessly.
"Goblins!" I couldn't see them in the gloom of evening but damned if I couldn't hear
them - scurrying over each other, gnashing their jagged teeth... And that terrible keening of
theirs! Like some hissing, mocking snicker!
And they came in waves. A rush of greasy, green-black forms sweeping out of the
darkness, rusty daggers in their gnarled claws "Sweep! With the spear!" I barked, bringing my own sword across, cleaving through the
first rank and spraying their vile black blood everywhere. I couldn't see for sure - damn but the
little monsters were thick! - but Paol must have been doing as I said. I could hear the earpiercing shrieks of the goblins as the spear-shaft struck, flinging them about. The scrawny boy
was much stronger than he looked.
And more darts flew at us, fired wild but en mass. One sailed just under my nose as I
was using a fresh carcass as a shield - "Poison! Paol, watch the darts!"
He levered another bunch of goblins through the air in response. One fell into our fire and hoped up, shrieking like rusted nails across glass as he rushed about in flames. The
extra light gave me a better look at our attackers - not many by typical goblin standards but a
solid little horde.
And closing in for another rush.
"Follow my lead!" I yelled, and charged at the little beasts head on. I swung my sword
back and forth, loosing some force to the blows back making up for it in rapid sweeps. Paol
came close on my heels, giving an impressive if shrill war cry and sending the burning goblin
flying back into the woods with one determined kick.
Savage and dangerous as they are, goblins have no stomach for a real fight and as
fast as they'd appeared they began to retreat. I split two, maybe three more heads with my
sword while Paol impaled a pair of the ugly things on his spear... And all was quiet again.
"Did... Did we win!?" Paol panted.
"Close enough," I panted back. "Must've been the cousins of those wretches in the
barrow."
Paol chuckled at that. A chuckle that soon grew into hearty guffaws as the strenuous
day caught up with him.
I couldn't help it - I joined in the laughter! Goblins and bears and we still had trolls to
not find! I was about to ask Paol's thoughts on that last one when I realized I had a sharp pain
in the side of my leg. Looking down, I saw one of those darts. Black with poison.
"Oh shi..." I managed to slur out as my legs gave way beneath me and I plunged into
darkness...
Chapter 8
I ran through the blood-streaked grass, trying to flee the hew and crash of battle I still
heard close behind. I passed men I'd come to know so well in the long march to war - young
and old, rich and poor, sanguine and surly - now laying dead or dying on that blighted foreign
field. A few reached out for me, seeking aid or at least a little companionship as the cold
hands of death closed around them. I only ran faster...
My legs ached up and down, even with the vigor of youth. But that was to be expected
- a month of fast marching, sunrise to sunset, followed by a whole day of blood and steel...
And then the fury of the Northmen. Growing up, I'd heard all the stories - that they weren't
men but beasts or bastards of the frost giants of legend. They certainly looked the part, a
head taller than any man I'd ever seen and pale as winter beneath their coarse furs and
coarser beards...
First, we'd met them on the open field. They'd charged us on foot, on horse, howling
mad and swinging their great axes and cleavers. And they'd broken on our wall of tall shields
like waves on the rocks. I didn't even have to thrust my spear, the savage berserkers impaling
themselves three deep with their own mad rush.
Outnumbered, most green as the spring leaves - especially in my case - and we held
our ground. Drilled and armed as proper soldiers, we let the Northmen expend their energies
on our much larger shields, skewering through their crude and cobbled armor with our spears.
Padrig - a fellow burgher, unused to hard country and harder labor until a month ago, same as
me - had his spear broken by one huge and heavy screamer and had to pull his long soldier's
knife - much like the one I and every other man carried at the hip. I bloodied my own spear on
a great mad warrior, naked but for a fur skirt and blue body paint meant to serve as some
mystical protection by their hoary All-Father.
And so it played out up and down our ranks. Man for man, we were weaker than the
Northmen but we fought as one. Old and young, raw and veteran, we had drilled and
marched until we knew each other's smallest movements as we knew our own and our King
Clovius had seen to it we were all fitted in proper shirts of mail with strong steel helmets.
And we weren't alone. All the Lords and their noble lads from across two Kingdoms
formed hosts of cavalry, striking deep through the barbarian gangs and scattering them. Or
swarming about the much fewer mounted Northmen, cutting them down with lance and sword
and flail. And ahead of our battle line, where our enemies had to cross for their charge,
thousands of archers loosed millions of arrows until they crowded the ground like tall grass.
On that bloody field, we re-enacted the great conquests of the original Imperium! As the
Northmen wore themselves out, their great blows slackening, we found killing them came
easier and ground them back across the field until we'd driven the savages back into their
deep woods.
And that small victory doomed us...
That fool Clovius, who Fortuna had seen fit to plant on the thrones of both Siagria and
Oriensa, saw this slow and bloody success as proof of Jove's favor. So, with the same folly
that drove him to annex the cold northern forests full of barbarian clans in the first place, he
ordered all thirty thousand of us to pursue our enemies in between the trees - splitting our
formations and breaking the power that had repelled the Northmen's charge. So we had no
shield wall when the air filled with arrows.
Correntin off to my left, a potter from Namnetum with a son who never shut up about,
died first. A long ash wood arrow thunking wetly through his skull. We tried to form ranks,
regain the strength and familiar formation that had served us so well, but His Royal Idiocy had
let the Grand Army scatter too much. Too busy dashing straight ahead on his horse to claim
all the glory. He came dashing back soon enough, his elaborate battle crown knocked off his
bruised and bloodied scalp.
Seeing or King in retreat convinced a good deal of us to throw down our spears and
seek safety. I held fast, in my broken rank, and as I did, the Northmen made their second
charge of that day. The great barbarians came storming out from the misty depths of the
woods, thrice as wild as when we'd first met, their faces contorted in blood lust
We met their great howling charge with our spears raised and our heels dug in, in the
best formation we could muster with our broken ranks - and they pushed us back. Padrig cut
one from shoulder to stomach before two others fell on him with swinging axes and he
disappeared in a shower of blood. Old Loic, a veteran of a dozen campaigns against raiders
on the eastern borders of Oriensa, who'd marched with us seeking plunder and glory, had his
spear split in half by one swing of a Northman's sword. Old Loic quickly split in half himself
with the next swing of that sword.
So I ran.
I threw down my spear and my shield, taking to my heels as fast as I could. I ran
passed my screaming, dying comrades to catch up with those who still lived, who'd let reason
win out over honor first. How far they'd gone already...
I ran wild, seeking the edge of the trees. I worried I'd become turned around during the
floundering melee, that I was running deeper and deeper and I'd soon run straight into a host
of thousands of Northmen, lead by their grim and terrible Allfather. When I did clear the forest,
out into the late afternoon sun, I felt a joy that carried me with renewed vigor through the
corpse-strewn field - both of the Northmen we'd left behind and of fellow deserters run down
by mounted Lords who were deserting themselves.
But the marching and the battle and the month of hefting my heavy shield took its toll.
My legs wanted to quick before I'd even cleared the last rank of wounded. Behind me, the
Northmen had driven the rest of the Grand Army into retreat and were cutting down those who
weren't fast enough. I heard the sickening crush of men struck down from behind growing
closer and my legs growing weaker...
I wouldn't make it. I knew, even before my legs gave out under me. They gave out or I
tripped, I can never remember... But I did tumble down into the grass, dashing my head on a
stone but managing to stay conscious.
The Northmen continued to advance, drawing closer to me with the steady inevitability
of death itself. I heard the strangled screams of the wounded being finished off - Northmen
thinking it a great joy to die at the end of a sword and like any people assume all others must
think likewise.
I certainly didn't but assumed they wouldn't allow debate...
In final desperation, I clutched at a dead man closest to me. Some highborn Lord with
sparkling chain mail, now rusted from his own blood. I thought I remembered him from a dice
game some nights ago when we made camp, slumming with common soldiers and losing a
gold ring with uncommonly good humor. Though dead, he let out a foul wheeze as I rolled him
over top of me.
From behind the dead man's shoulder, I glimpsed the terrible advance of the
Northmen. They didn't even bother to charge anymore, instead striding leisurely across the
battlefield, killing retreating soldiers at their ease. I saw one great mountain that walked, his
great sword cleaving through horses, his helm decorated in the mighty antlers of some stag.
He looked for all the world like the Old God of the Wood, who ruled before the Imperium
brought the more civilized Jove. He absently jabbed his great sword into anything in a man's
shape.
Even the dead.
My dead man twitched some as that sword plunged through the side of his belly narrowly missing my own! Gripping the dead man's sword, clinging to the desperate hope that
I might cut my way to safety yet, I chanced another look up at the barbarian and met his cold
eyes. He said "I think he's coming around..."
In a boy's voice!?
Chapter 9
"Master Fernand? Sir? Can you hear me?"
I made out Paol's stringy yellow hair at first, followed by his now travel-worn face. As
the cloud of sleep lifted from my eyes, I could also see we weren't out in the woods anymore
but some new hovel. Not the Jardins woman - no, this was far older but at least thatched
properly. And filled with a powerful odor.
I tried to find my voice. "Paol... Where..." I rasped.
"It's alright, sir!" he reassured me. "You're safe - we're all safe. Vig's just outside. I
brought you here!"
"Here?" I barely croaked out.
"I almost didn't find it," he continued. "I never knew it was here but it was so close by
when we needed it." Pointing deeper into the hovel at something I couldn't see - "She's
helping us."
I rolled my head to see our host. It took such effort! Like I'd slept for a hundred years
straight! Through the haze of whatever made that odor, I could see a bent old woman busying
herself with what I took to be remedies - a bubbling pot surrounded by jars and clumps of
herbs and little stone carvings I couldn't make out with certainty. She muttered to herself in
some old dialect, maybe Old Euskanze.
"She's a healer!" Paol declared happily.
I grumbled back, "I'm doomed..."
She soon brought me a bubbling concoction intended as medicine. Damn but the smell
of it was foul! Had I the strength, I would have resisted as she - and Paol! - poured the
scouring stuff down my throat. As much as I knew the boy meant well, I wanted to smack him.
"She's been giving you that since last night," Paol explained as the old woman returned
to her uninteligible mutterings. "I wouldn't pretend to know what it is but it's working, isn't it?"
"I'm alive, I suppose," I conceded.
"Your arm's not black anymore," Paol continued. "It was when I got you here. It looked
about ready to fall off, like what happened to the cows that one year... And you've been talking
in your sleep."
I tried to laugh it off but a sudden sharpness in my throat prevented it. "Nothing too
embarrassing I hope?"
"I wouldn't rightly know," he said. "Just something about 'march' and 'north' and
someone named 'Clovis.'"
"Hah!" I laughed - and immediately winced. "Clovius. At least that's what he liked to be
called..." Looking up at Paol's confused look. "Haven't heard of him, I gather?"
The boy shook his head.
Well, since I expected the ancient charlatan to hurry me into the next world soon
enough... "King Chlodovech of Siagria. And Oriensa, after a fashion... He lead one of those
campaigns into the North, trying to expand the realm... Didn't go too well..."
"You were a soldier?" Paol asked.
"Sort of..." I chuckled and it hurt. "I was a student in Lucinium. At the old Imperial
Academy, studying medicine. One day, the Grand Army paraded a few companies of levies
through the city. I was outside a tavern with some friends and I thought it would be good for a
laugh to jump in behind and march along with them."
I chuckled at the memory. It stung a little less. "I put on a good show, if I say so
myself... I didn't let up until we'd marched outside the city walls and into their camp! But when
I turned to go, well, all the Lords and their captains had seen me marching so clearly I
belonged in one company or the other... And I was in such trouble for losing my spear!"
Paol laughed along with me, if a little nervously.
"So I was levied, more or less. And Chlodovech marched us into those Northern forests
where everything went wrong..." I couldn't explain it to him. Or maybe I just didn't want to,
having so recently had to relive it myself. "I survived. Not many did... After, I joined up with this
traveling barber-surgeon to finish my education. Mostly in Aquitania, sometimes down around
Massilium in Narbo. Lots of travelers bringing new medicines and new theories... We parted
ways some years ago, around the same time I acquired Vig -"
A sudden fit of coughing seized me. Paol fetched a clay mug of lukewarm water and
forced it down my throat. "Better?"
I grunted in the affirmative.
"She says it's the humours working themselves out."
"That's not how it works..." I groaned.
I lay there for... I don't rightly know how long. I must have drifted back to sleep at some
point, as the murky light in the hovel changed... First dimmer, and then much brighter... And
dimmer again, only to be blinded by much more brightness as the dreary weather of our quest
likely passed... And through it all, the stink and keening of our host.
She lit candles, burned clumps of weeds just above my head, laid those damned magic
rocks down my bare chest, and who knows what else when I slept. The irony of coming to my
end under such a fool was not lost on me... Though I soon found - to my great astonishment! the strength returning to my body and the rasping in my throat all but disappearing. By some
happy accident, the old Euskanze woman had learned real medicine!
Sitting up slowly, I got a better look at my surroundings. Though the fumes of her
formulas had made the air thick at first, they'd then dissipated enough for me to see the tangle
of odds and ends that comes with very long habitation. The jars remained around her
cauldron - and really littered every spare inch of the hovel - and shared space on her work
table with what I now recognized as alembics and other trappings of the chemist's trade.
And those stone figures... I could see now they were crude likenesses of old bearded
men with curiously bestial features - except for one that looked to have branches of a tree for
hair and another that was quite clearly a crow...
Paol slept nearby, curled against the wall like a faithful pet. The old woman shuffled
over to us, her hands thankfully free of any more of her remedies. Fixing me with her eyes one smoky, one black as midnight - she asked, "Zir on-patu, gzonkez?"
"I have no idea what you're saying," I replied.
"You well now?"
I hated to admit it... "Yes. Yes, I am." Adding after an awkward silence. "Thank you."
She patted me on the shoulder with her cold, bony hand. "You go when ready," and
shuffled back to her lab. "Donkey good," she added.
I slid my legs off the old straw bed - thankfully I still had on my breeches. I left Paol to
sleep, pulling my tunic and boots back on and stepping outside the hovel to find our bearings.
The mid-morning sun shone down through the naked trees, delivering a rare ans
unseasonable bit of warmth to the land. I couldn't begin to guess which direction might be the
road though, the hovel being so deep in the woods.
Vig ambled happily over from a trough of oats he'd been enjoying, nudging my onceinjured arm with his snout. "You're a real palton, you know that?" I said, not that it hurt at all
anymore.
Vig just snorted merrily.
Again looking around at the woods, still grim even in the fresh sunlight, I said, "I don't
suppose we should keep at this much longer? Anymore 'hunting' and we might as well take
the boy with us all the way to Meridian."
Vig bowed his head in agreement.
"Well, we should at least let him sleep some before we're off..."
Not that we had long to wait. Paol awoke close to noon, at once flustered that he'd lost
us precious time. "I'm so sorry! We should be going!" he babbled, staggering to his feet from
sleep-stiffness.
"Don't worry yourself," I reassured him.
But he wouldn't listen - "It's been five days already! Amarante's been gone a week
now!" He looked desperate and scared and like a boy. "She could be... She could..."
I expected it would be difficult. I didn't expect this would trouble me so... "Paol, I don't
think we'll be finding her."
Still staggering a little, Paol protested weakly, "But we're close, aren't we? We've been
close for... for..."
But he didn't believe it anymore. Probably not for the past day or so, not really. Just
went through the motions, much as any faithless priest. It made the job of convincing him
easier, if not exactly pleasant. "Trolls really aren't known for keeping prisoners. If no one
found her within the first day... Well, no one found her."
I could see the resignation slumping his shoulders, even though he tried to protest.
"But we can do it, can't we? You and me?"
I smiled apologetically. "I'm sure we could have, if we'd had better luck. And maybe a
little more provisions."
Paol nodded. "My stomach's been aching something awful," he confessed.
The old woman muttered some more to herself in that strange tongue. I for one didn't
care to impose on her any further. "We really should be going. If we can find the road..."
We gathered up our belongings - I with my sword and Paol with his spear, which he'd
left resting outside the hovel. The old woman watched us, her irregular eyes inscrutable.
Turning to her as we were about to take our leave, I said awkwardly, "Well, uh, thank
you again for your care and hospitality. Uh, if there's any way we can repay - "
And she spat in my face. "Etzan egazi, petzan iblizi," she pronounced solemnly.
As a glob of phlegm dripped from my cheek, Paol whispered helpfully, "I think she's
wishing us good luck."
I offered a strained smile. "Let's never meet again," I said pleasantly and hurried both
Paol and Vig away from the hovel.
Fortunately it had been near where I'd fallen to the goblins - Paol's marked trees stood
nearby and we followed them quite swiftly back to first the stream where we'd met Jodoc's
little band, then soon back out to the road by following our own rough tracks across the
ground.
"If we keep a sharp pace, we could be back at the Pellan land by tomorrow evening!" I
said, gripped by a rare joy. Whatever true skill that "healer" picked up, it was fantastic. I hadn't
felt so invigorated in I know not how long! "By Jove, maybe even tonight!"
Paol nodded, not exactly sharing my excitement but having resigned himself to this
fruitless end. "I'll have a lot to answer for," he said. "Disappearing in the middle of harvest and
all."
That he would. The law has no compassion for plebs... "Leave that to me, my boy," I
assured him. "I'll just tell them I abducted you as my guide." Raising the old weapon, "Lead
you off at sword-point in the middle of the night!"
We both had a good laugh at that - even Vig, in his own peculiar way.
"You dragged me around in circles for days!" Paol added, still laughing. "Then we
found a bear -"
"A bear cub!" I corrected. "And I screamed like woman and rode away on my donkey!"
And we all had another good round of laughter.
"B-but wait!" Paol managed through guffaws. "Won't they be mad at you for that? Old
Master Pellan is a gentle sort but if you go in saying you stole me away..."
"I've escaped from worse situations, my boy!" I replied happily. "Why just this one time,
I took a surgeon's billet on a merchant galley out of Karkhedon -"
Vig snorted grumpily.
"See? He remembers this!" I said, casting a look back at my stalwart companion. "We
weren't out of port two days before we were set upon by Parthians! They had these great,
flame-spewing contraptions that tore huge holes through our old galley."
"Sounds like that fire magic you hear about," Paol said, with excitement and just a little
fear.
"Dis take the fire-speakers," I said. "Those flames game with great iron balls!"
The boy laughed so hard his voice broke.
"Our captain wouldn't heave-to though," I continued. "Wanted us all to go down
fighting! For his hold of bread and carpets! Now I have no quarrel with them but I was with
those Southrons of the City States and the orientals are forever at each other's throats. So I -"
Another snort from Vig.
"We," I corrected, "had to jump ship! Swam all the way to Massilium! Took a good few
days, that. Lucky we had a chunk of broken galley to use as a raft. Or someone did, at least,"
and I cast a withering glance back at Vig, who returned it in better humor. "Lost a good
number of my surgeon's tools in the process and those are not easily replaced, I tell you..."
Paol liked to hear my stories. I certainly had no shortage of them! It kept his spirits up
on that long march back to the Pellan farm, a march made longer as we'd had such a late
start. Still, as the sun was beginning its comfortable slouch into the horizon, I couldn't help
exclaiming excitedly, "I bet we'll be there in time for supper!"
And perhaps we would have... But as the sun set, I caught a whiff of something in the
air. A musky, bloody scent - one I'd known before on another doomed expedition. I kept it to
myself, not wanting to worry Paol but it grew stronger as we walked and I couldn't help
casting furtive glances all about.
As night set in, only the stars lighting our way, the stink became overpowering! Even
Paol could smell it - covering his face with a free hand, he declared, "Jove's backside, what is
that!?"
I said nothing, not even an amusing quip to distract him. Only by being very close could
its scent be so profound. And soon, I saw it slouching its way through the woods...
I grabbed Paol, throwing the both of us off the road and behind a sturdy tree.
"What are you -" he tried to protest but I shushed him. Vig cantered over to join us,
understanding how these things work from long experience.
From behind our tree, I could make out the great lumbering brute as it crossed the road
not twenty yards ahead of us, from one side of the woods to the other. It loped along on its
stocky legs, great heaving arms swinging about - one of which dragged a mangled lump that
may have once been a deer. It's heavy, shaggy head drooped forward... Then, to my terror, it
reared back to sniff the air with its long, bulbous nose. Had the brief warmth of the day
persisted, I'm sure it would have made us out.
Thankfully, the swift chill of the night weakened the smell of everything. Except the
monster itself, now giving off an overpowering musk and what I recognized as that particular
stink of fresh gore, whether from the carcass it dragged or whatever had caked in its tangled
and greasy fur.
Giving up the scent, it lowered its head and continued to shamble back into the woods.
As it crashed ponderously through the underbrush, Paol and I looked at each other. We said it
at the same time, in a hissing whisper - "Troll!"
Chapter 10
As the troll made its way deeper into the woods, blithely smashing through anything in
its way, I felt Paol coiled tight beside me, ready to charge.
I grabbed him firmly round the arm. "Don't!" I hissed.
"But it's a troll!" he hissed right back. "What we've been looking for!" and tried to pull
himself free of my grasp. "Dammit, why not!? We finally found them, why not -"
"Paol, please..." I begged him. "Leave it be..." Begged him! He'd succeeded against
the bear on pure luck and even a goblin raid had nearly done us in. Trolls would be the end of
us - especially now! Especially when we were bereft of all provisions but my old waterskin!
But he had the vigor and vainglorious drive of youth. With a great heave, he freed
himself from my grasp and dove into the woods after the terrible beast. I sat back for a
moment, sharing a stunned look with Vig. Then, gripping my sword in a ready position at my
side, I plunged after him. Little thrice-damned idiot...
"Stay low!" I whispered at his back, as loudly as I dared.
He thankfully did as he was told. Glancing back at me over his shoulder, "You think we
can take it by surprise?"
I caught up with him - and Vig caught up with me, head almost to the ground and legs
bent low in a manner that had to be uncomfortable for donkeys. "I'm thinking we follow it back
to its hole, see if the girl is still alive."
"She must be!" Paol said, groping for certainty. "You see it - the troll! She must be
alive..." It was a weak justification, even for him.
I could just let him go. Let him run off and get himself killed, Dis take the thirty silvers. If
I valued my life so much more than that of anyone else... "We'll see," I said, by way of
compromise. With strong nerve and stronger stomach, we might just scrape through this with
our lives...
Keeping low, we followed the troll as it made its way noisily through the woods. It
moved in an irregular direction, not so much to hide its tracks but quite clearly because it was
easily distracted. A hooting owl drew it through a rough hewn path for a good while - thistles
collecting streams of its greasy hair that then clung to us - before it remembered its true
destination and turned about.
And that almost proved the end for us right there! Before he could react on his own, I
again snatched up Paol and flung us both into hiding. Vig saw to himself, shimmying under a
fallen tree with a cascade of branches serving to obscure him more. The troll lumbered right
between us without the slightest notion it was being stalked.
I gave it a good few moments before I allowed Paol out to resume our pursuit. He
bounded out too eagerly when I did, though Vig looked content under his tree when I tried to
wave him along.
"You can't stay here all night!"
Vig flicked his big floppy ears, his way of saying, "I damned well can!"
I didn't have the time or mind to argue. "At least go back to the road where it's safe," I
said, quickly pulling what supplies I expected we would need from his pack. Bandages,
splints, the Parthian oil - I half-remembered some story of trolls being particularly put out by
fire and if we got into a tight one Paol came scurrying over to whisper furiously, "It's getting away!"
I gave one last look at Vig. We nodded to each other and then I fell in behind Paol,
again keeping pace with the errant troll...
How it beat its way through the wilderness! If a branch hung to low, it was promptly
smacked down. If a tree stood in the way, it was thrashed at until it gave way. If a tangle of
thistles or brambles should block the way, the troll marched through them anyway - and then
made the most horrific grunts and growls of pain. And possibly confusion, protesting the
injustice of thorns in his foul smelling hide.
All this constant racket made our stealthy task much easier than expected. Not once
did the troll take any notice, not even when at one point we came too close - at least I thought
it too close - and my boot caught on a stone. I fell forward with a great thud! I worried I'd again
bloodied my nose - even if the troll couldn't hear us it would certainly smell the blood.
But no reaction from the great brute. It just kept to its appointed path. More or less...
And soon, it lead us to another cave - so many caves in this blighted country! like Dis had
come hiking through with a shovel and the most vile intent. And this one ran deepest of all,
judging by the strong gust of air we felt even before reaching its mouth. Air that reeked of troll
and other sundry things...
As we watched the troll lumber into its home, Paol asked softly, "Could Amarante be in
there? With them?"
"If she is, she'd be glad to be dead." He didn't care for my assessment but we were
well passed the time to spare feelings. "Listen, we can probably sneak in for a few moments.
Just enough to determine... Well, if she's not, then we sneak right back out and find Vig on the
road."
"And if she is, do we fight our way out?" Paol asked, a little too excitedly.
"You really want to fight that one?" I asked pointedly. "Or three more?"
Even through the darkness, I could see the boy turn a deathly pallor.
"The girl's what matters, right?" I said. "We get her, then we leave."
Paol nodded.
We moved cautiously towards this new cave. It yawned before us, like the mouth of
those great fish sailors always got on about when they've had too much to drink. As we
approached, the foul smells became so strong as to exert a physical force, demanding that
much more effort to push forward. Paol turned from pale to green, ready to wretch at the
horrible stench.
It only grew worse as we descended - and into pitch blackness no less! I stretched out
my own arm and it all but vanished from the elbow on - and I couldn't make out much up until
that point in the first place. How the troll found its way around the cave was anyone's guess.
Certainly not by smell, unless living with stink so long gave it a much more discerning nose...
Damn but that would make our task harder. I stepped as lightly as I could through the
darkness of the cave but everywhere something lay ready to snap or crunch the moment my
boot came down. I recognized the feel of a few of them, I'm awfully sad to say. Shapes I'd
learned in long lectures by the Academy physicians on the structure of the skeleton... I didn't
share this little revelation with Paol.
I did, however, take his hand so we didn't lose each other in the dark of the blighted
cave. Even then we nearly did - butting up against a cave wall that came out of nowhere, one
of us accidentally passing through an opening too small for both of us at once, and I'm sure
we got turned around once or twice.
And all the while, deep in the chambers we didn't dare go, I could hear the lumbering
and wheezing and grunting of trolls. How many of the huge monsters, just a stone's throw
from us and our comparatively fragile bodies? By the choking stench of them, you'd think they
were already right on top of us!
I was ready to give up the search before we'd even started, but I could feel through his
grip that Paol was quickly coming to the same conclusion. Then my boot landed in something
moist. Something not long dead and, from what I felt myself being tangled in, wearing a fine
silk dress...
"What's the matter?" Paol whispered so softly I more felt than heard him. "Are the
trolls..."
"No," I whispered back. "We should go. We can't... We should just go." But as I turned
to leave, my tangled boot sickly squelched in the remains - a sound that in the desperate
silence we'd been maintaining might as well have been a thunderbolt.
"What was that!" and Paol released my hand, dropping to a low guard.
And himself landing in what I'd hoped to keep from him. I heard his breath catch, and a
pitiful squeak like a child's cry cut off before it could even begin.
"I'm sorry, Paol," I said, not nearly as quietly as would have been wise. "But we have to
go. Now."
From the deep chambers of that cave, a terrible thunder rose. First just a distant,
dreadful murmuring... Then a steady thud of great lumbering monsters... Then finally the
deep, hungry growls of the trolls as they caught our scent, already here in their blighted
home.
I couldn't tear Paol from sobbing over his lost girl, not even as the first troll came at us,
the ground shaking with each step. In the utter blackness, I couldn't hope to time a strike with
my sword so instead I snatched up Paol's forgotten spear and dug my heels in.
Great and terrible as they are, trolls are profoundly stupid creatures and this one's own
momentum propelled it onto the old spear, just about knocking me backwards off my feet with
the force!
The troll howled as the spear sank in, more in rage than pain. Ears ringing, I nearly let
go of the shaft as the horrible beast thrashed about. I could hear more coming, a great
crashing and growling up from the lightless depths. More than I could ever hope to fend off by
myself.
"Paol, take the spear!" I ordered, my voice no longer kept to a whisper. No point
anymore! We were as good as dead, might as well get the boy to go down fighting.
Though I was surprised at his burst of enthusiasm - no sooner did I give the order than
I felt his young hands wrench the spear from my own and, with a strangled cry of fury, he
actually began to push the troll back!
Not wasting time being impressed, I set to the important task of making us some light.
Gripping a long sturdy bone from the wide collection on the cave floor, I wrapped one end with
scraps of the gown clinging to Amarante's remains and my boot. Dousing it with the last of my
precious Parthian oil, I struck the flint so hard over it I cut myself.
The hurriedly assembled torch blazed to life. Blinding after such long darkness! Raising
it forward as I drew my sword, I saw the enraged troll still pinned by Paol's spear in its
shoulder. Hardly a fatal wound, especially for such a thunderous monster. Damnation... It
recoiled as the light assaulted its bulbous black eyes but showed no sign of retreat, especially
not with two of its fellows arriving at its back.
"Keep them bunched up!" I commanded, lashing out quick and low, catching the pinned
troll in its knee. It let out another growl of anger but I feared from the way my sword wobbled
across the knee that I'd hardly done it any real damage. Torch held in front of me, I dove in
with a thrust at its hairy belly.
That did the trick! The troll's latest cries were certainly from pain as my sword sank in
deep, spilling hot blood and bowels onto the cave floor.
But the troll remained standing. And its fellows were squeezing past. I waved the torch
at them, desperate to buy us the space and time to maneuver or at the very least beat a hasty
retreat.
The torch caught our pinned and injured troll, igniting its filthy hide. Its yowls of pain
turned shrill as its long fur ignited into a sudden conflagration! Great, bludgeoning arms
waved about, knocking back one of the others!
But that left still one troll fresh and ready to charge. As its burning companion fell back,
finally releasing Paol's spear, it made for us with its already grotesque face contorted into a
horrid mask of rage and vengeance.
Paol, to his credit, didn't need me to tell him what to do. With skill learned from rapid
necessity, he dropped into a coiled stance any proper soldier would envy. And, with admirable
form, thrust his trusty into this new opponent! And that trusty spear, having stoutly weathered
so much already, splintered and broke as it struck the creature harmlessly across the
shoulder.
The troll pressed its attack, undaunted.
Chapter 11
Frantically, I waved the torch at the advancing troll. But even the most savage and
stupid monsters can show courage - it threw me aside with one mighty blow of its arm and
reached for Paol.
I thudded into the cave wall, the wind rushing out of me, my sword and torch both
having dropped from my hands. The torch rolled, turning our doomed struggle into a
kaleidoscope of horrors - I saw flashes of the troll lifting Paol in one meaty hand, like a child
with a doll. The leather tabard did a good job of keeping its claws off the boy, not that the troll
couldn't simply squeeze him into a jelly... I saw Paol valiantly, and fruitlessly, strike at the troll
with the splintered shaft that had once been his father's spear. It cracked and clattered pitifully
against that great hairy hide, not fazing the troll in the least... And then I saw the troll open its
gaping maw, ready to swallow the boy whole.
Heaving myself up onto my hands and knees, I groped in the shadows for my sword.
Paol kicked at the troll, at its massive nose and now low hanging jaw, buying himself precious
seconds as my hands closed on the hilt of my weapon in the dark. No time for the torch - I
leapt up and took a charging, two-handed swing directly into the troll's side. I cleaved through,
spilling its foul blood and fouler insides across the cave floor and myself But too late. While its huge mouth wouldn't fit all of him, the troll did manage to get a
hold of Paol's flailing left hand and with a great wet crunch bit it off halfway to the elbow!
Paol's scream was ear-splitting. And even with its guts spilling out, the troll showed no
sign of yet going down. Rather it prepared to take another and likely final bite out of the poor
boy. I could maybe avenge his death but the third troll, having put its flaming comrade out of
its misery with an enormously heavy rock, had turned its cruel attentions to us.
Readying my sword for a deep thrust, I turned to Paol. Devoured by a troll is horrific
enough, no need to be alive when it happens. Through his pain and anguish, he could see
what I was doing and understood. Paol nodded to me, I raised my sword And with a great war cry of "Haww!" Vig flew between us, battering the troll with his
sturdy head!
The troll staggered under the surprising force, dropping Paol. Vig staggered too, having
dazed himself in the process. Never one to overlook Fortuna's ever rare boons, I lunged
forward and thrust my sword deep into whatever black heart propelled the troll. It died with a
skin-crawlingly wet wheeze - and pulled my sword from my hands as it fell over.
The third and final troll, now furious, raised its great rock to flatten all three of us in one
blow. But with such great size comes a great slowness - before it could heave the stone, I
snatched up the torch from the cave floor and flung it into the beast's tangled mass of greasy
hair. Like the first troll, it ignited spectacularly! It howled in terror, releasing its grip on that
great stone - right above its own head. The stone thudded down, the screaming stopped, and
the last troll crumpled into a flaming heap as black blood spurted from its nose.
We had won...
I couldn't believe it! I thought it some comforting hallucination, a small gift from Jove as
he reaved us and cast us down to Dis. But the stink of burning troll, their foul-smelling blood
splattered across me - we really did it! I was in such shock it took me a moment to realize that
a distant cacophony I heard rising all around was my own manic laughter!
But Paol was dying.
It took Vig vigorously biting me in the arse to restore my senses and then I realized
Paol had collapsed. Rushing to him, I could see he was so near death as to already be
assuming its likeness - his pink youth's skin had turned gray and clammy and even his sharp
blue eyes were fading under that all too familiar shroud. His ravaged arm, bits of bone poking
out amidst tendrils of flesh, continued to furiously pump out blood, despite it all going straight
to bone-strewn floor of that wretched cave.
"Damnation, Paol!" I cried as I set to work, hysteria creeping into my voice. "Don't die
on me! Not now!" I hastily stripped my old belt from around the boy, trying to make a
tourniquet out of it to stem the fast flow of blood. Belts are typically good for such work, but I
found my hands slipping too much as I wrestled it into place. And every time I tried to pull it
tight, it just twisted round the savaged arm.
And he continued to bleed. Not good...
Having fewer and fewer seconds, I rushed over to where the last troll still smoldered stopping only to wrench my sword from the heart of the other. The torch lay tangled in the
burning black fur but I didn't hesitate to plunge my hand into the flames. My good woolen tunic
provided some protection to my arm but the flames bit deep into my already injured hand. I'd
have blisters by the next day but knew a moment's hesitation and Paol wouldn't have any
days.
Returning to the boy, my arm smoking and my hand smelling like bacon, I again
snatched up his shorn arm. "This will hurt, a lot..." I said, not expecting a response. How
overjoyed I was to hear him scream out - the boy had some fight in him yet! - as I jammed the
head of the torch into his raw and sopping stump. The fire did its work quickly, searing closed
the wound.
"Stay with me, Paol," I muttered as I lifted him up - how horribly light he felt! As though
he'd lost weight just from the bleeding! To Vig I said, "You'll have to sacrifice your dignity, old
friend. He can't walk in this state and we've still a ways to go."
Vig, proud though he is, understands necessity. He sank down on his forelegs,
agreeing to take Paol on his back. I placed him atop Vig's packs, lashing him tight in place
with my blood-slicked belt and all the rags and bandages I could salvage.
"It hurts," groaned Paol as I tied him in place.
"Hurting is good!" I told him. "Means you're not dead!"
He continued to mewl, "Hurts so much..."
I couldn't do anything for him. Even if I still carried any of my usual pain-dulling
remedies, they would weaken him too much and he'd likely slide into death without any of us
noticing. "Be strong, Paol," I said, gripping his shoulder. "Be strong just a little longer..."
Sword sheathed and slung over my shoulder, I held the torch aloft to find us a way out
of that cave, casting shadows that for a brief and terrible moment convinced me the trolls had
risen from the dead. For all I knew they could do that...
The cave ceiling rose so high as to be beyond my meager light, but I could make out
the walls well enough. The sloped down beyond the dead trolls. Down and down, likely to the
very mouth of Dis itself... But bothers seemed to wind upwards. I held the torch near these,
watching the flame, and was rewarded as it flickered from a gust of fresh air. I snatched Vig
by the reins and was about to lead us up and out at a fast clip when Paol interrupted with a
strangled "Amarante?"
I'd forgotten about the mortified corpse. I had to search about some, as her remains
had been... spread about some during our fight with the trolls. How I would carry it all... I
wrapped what I could in the scraps of her gown and, I regret to say, left the rest...
Placing what I could of Amarante behind Paol - Vig holding firm, grim pride in his big
dark eyes - I finally lead us from that pit of horrors. Staggering out into the cold night air, I took
a great breathe, cleansing myself of the fetid stink we'd all nearly died in. How good it is to be
alive!
And how I had to hurry. With each step, I heard Paol moan or hiss from his wounds.
Pain can kill as surely as bleeding and if we didn't reach a clean bed with at least some wine
by morning... I wasn't about to bury the boy out there in those damned woods!
I drove harder, crashing loudly through the woods like Jodoc - or even the troll! Though
I at first held Vig's reins out of habit - and not to lose him in the dark - I found myself needing
to pull him more and more as the added weight slowed him down.
"Push, Vig!" I admonished him. "Come on, old man!" But even Vig's big heart could not
carry so much at the pace we needed. And as he lumbered along, Paol swayed atop as my
makeshift bindings slackened around him. By the time we reached the much welcomed road,
he was ready to topple off the panting and wheezing Vig.
Untying Paol, I let him slide to the ground much to Vig's relief. "You did well, old man!" I
said to Vig while I lashed Amarante's remains atop him. They were lighter afterall... "I know
this must smell all wrong but I only have so many arms. Think you can keep pace still?"
He wheezed with exhaustion but bowed his head in the affirmative, as was his custom.
I lifted Paol up off the ground and threw him across my shoulders. He caught on the hilt
of my sword, his body held that heavy slackness of a life fading fast. I took to my heels, fastmarching across the old road stones. My back ached, my legs burned, but the weakening
breathing of Paol drove me onwards.
Sweat began to pour from my scalp, stinging at my eyes. Even in that cold night. I
could hardly see that far and nearly passed the sign for the Pellan farm. Turning up the footworn path, Vig at my heals but distant. More distant every moment. How I hoped I hated
asked too much of the old man... Then Paol gave a rattling breath. A horrid sound like rusted
metal trying to stand on its own! I quickened my pace...
In the distance, I could see a faint light. The Pellan house! Even with Paol on my back,
making every step an arduous task, I broke into a run! My breathe came in sharp stabs, my
boots thundered on the path, and Paol slackened.
Only ten yards from the house and my legs rebelled. I felt my knees buckle beneath
me, my pace stopped almost dead- then started again as I scrambled with the last of my
strength. "Help!" I cried hoarsely into the night. With each struggling step I feared no one had
heard me. I'd come this far and now my young charge was going to die on the doorstep! And
no one the wiser!
I tried to call out again but only managed a "Hel - " before sinking to my knees, my
treacherous bastard of a body quitting on my spirit. Paol slid limply from my shoulders, falling
to the ground beside me with the faintest of sounds...
And then light. So much light it burned my eyes! It washed over me as the door flew
open people rushing out - those hoary guards first, the one with his crossbow trained on me,
quickly followed by Mariana in a hastily donned dressing robe. She waved off the guards and
rushed out to us. "Is he...?" she asked, staring down at Paol.
"Barely," I panted. "Get him inside."
"Mael! Yann!" she barked over her shoulder. The guards obediently rushed to collect
the boy.
"What's all this!?" demanded a voice from the house. "At this hour! On my property!"
Out of the light staggered Old August, quite clearly having just been roused from a deep
sleep. "It's those trolls again, isn't it? Well I'll show them, I will! Yann, fetch me my sword! My
armor! This old soldier has one last fight..."
He saw us there, panting and broken. It calmed his storming somewhat - "Is that the
pleb who ran away?" he said. Then looking at me, "And who's this?"
Mariana was about to explain when Vig came trotting up behind me. And everyone
immediately recognized the bloody bundle on his back.
Chapter 12
At the sight of his desecrated daughter, Old August took to screaming and didn't let up
until well after sunrise. I left Mariana to deal with her father as, battered as I was, I still needed
to see to Paol. The Pellan's own physician Emeric - a noodley and stuttering fourth son from
my own Siagria with no inheritance - was called to the old man first, then directed by Mariana
to assist me. I appreciated it, though the man had more experience seeing to the old man's
rheumatism than anything approaching war wounds.
Still, he proved himself capable of following my instruction - "Bring me clean linens! And
a wash basin!" And this kept physician hopped to quite admirably. As Mariana staid behind to
help Old August wail over Amarante's remains, the two guardsmen carried Paol into the main
house, Emeric showing us the way in the dark with a candle. I had the unpleasant feeling of
again sinking into caves - and Sons of Dis did my legs scream out in protest! I thought I heard
my very joints grinding like a rusted cart axle!
But the boy came first... Emeric settled us in a small chamber and ran to fetch the
linens. "And the lye!" I called after him. "A jar! In the donkey's pack!"
I examined Paol's arm in the flickering light, the both of us wincing - he still in pain, I in
sympathy and horror. The flame had stopped the bleeding, of course, but it had left a raw and
tender stump open to all the impurities we'd just hiked through. A festered wound, even just a
scratch, can lay low even the mightiest of men. And this fragile boy had lost so much blood in
the cave, his pulse still only a flutter though he still moaned...
Eemeric soon returned with the wash basin and lye, Mariana following him with a pile
of clean linens in her arms. Bless her... "Over here," I said to Emeric.
As he set the basin down, I snatched up the jar of lye and through a good clump into
the water. I swirled it together with my hand, stirring up a froth, and then soaked some of the
clean linen and went to scrubbing clean Paol's stump. He sucked in a hissing breathe and I
felt him stiffen in pain. I placed a hand on his chest to steady him, gentle as I could, and he
cried out!
Quickly untying my knelt from around the boy, I shucked off Den's tabard - earning
another cry of pain - and delicately lifted Paol's tunic. I should have known... Black and purple
bruises discolored his chest and abdomen from when the troll had snatched him up.
"We need something to dull his senses," I said without looking away.
Mariana said to her man, "Emeric, the poppy milk."
"B-but mistress, it belongs to your father," Emeric protested.
Turning from Paol, I unslung my sword from my shoulder and and gripped it ready to
draw, my eyes fixed on Emeric. "You heard the lady."
As he scurried to fetch medicine, Mariana mumbled with amusement, "Never been
called a proper lady before..."
I'd already finished cleaning and dressing Paol's arm by the time Emeric returned, a
small vial in hand. "I-it's not much," he said weakly. "Only a drop can be spared."
"More then a drop will kill him anyway," I said, snatching the vial from his hands.
Leaning over Paol again, I had to force his mouth open. He'd shuddered all through the
dressing of his arm, his mouth and eyes squeezed shut tightly, and now that I'd opened his
mouth he let out a strangled wail that nearly drown out the distant cries of Old August. I let a
drop of the poppy milk fall onto his tongue and he was soon quiet. Must've been the good
stuff...
Sun rising and the wailing of Old August fading to a horse keening, I fell asleep in the
chair beside Paol's bed and didn't stir until the evening. I awoke slowly to find one of the
housemaids had removed my boots and was delicately washing my blistered feet. She had
the fine and delicate features of an Aquitanian and hands far softer than would be expected of
a working girl. "How much did I pay for you?" I asked groggily, before remembering where I
was.
Fortunately for me, she had a sense of humor. She giggled as she finished her work
and left me with a fresh tunic and trousers, delicately folded and placed atop the table that not
a day ago had been piled with bloody bandages and surgical tools.
On the way out, she turned briefly to say in a sweet voice, "Mistress Mariana will have
you join her at supper."
I'd slept awfully long...
Alone except for the sleeping Paol, I stood up - damnation did every one of my bones
ache! Changing out of my filthy, blood-crusted clothes was an ordeal of forcing every tired
joint to bend once again. I swear my knees actually screamed at me in protest!
But Mariana would see me. Not wished to, as I'd noticed the housemaid had made
clear in her disarmingly coquettish voice. Would. I expected it to be a sour meeting...
Staggering out of the bedchamber where I'd stayed with Paol, I found another
housemaid - more appropriately middle aged and surly - who lead me to the same room
where I'd had my first meeting with Mariana. It only drove home the point that I'd returned with
a charge near death and the grotesque pile that had once been her younger sister. I
wondered how the rustics of Lugdunen rewarded such failure?
Mariana wasn't waiting for me, but a table was. Not some long, fine feast table filled
with meats and wine, but a simple thing of sturdy oak with a single bottle of wine, some loafs
of bread, strips of cured meat, and a huge wedge of cheese. I was sat down and informed,
"The Mistress will be along in due course. She invites you to eat."
Mariana didn't seem like the sort to poison a guest but I still couldn't bring myself to
touch the food. I wanted to, of course. I don't think I'd eaten since before the goblin attack and
my stomach turned in on itself with hunger, sending shudders all through my body. But guilt
exerts an even greater influence, so I just sat there dumbly...
"I appreciate you waiting," I heard Mariana say as she entered the room sometime
later. "But you didn't have to."
"Mistress Mariana," I said in greeting, a little surprised. I tried to rise courteously to my
feet - and regretted every slow second of it.
"Please sit," she said - kind but with a haggardness to her voice. "And eat something.
You look like a league's worth of bad road."
I let out a horse laugh at that and reached for the bread. It couldn't have been anything
than what they'd baked in their own old ovens that day but it was still one of the sweetest
things I'd ever tasted. I quickly shoveled a whole loaf down my throat, then ripped a hunk of
the big cheese wedge with my bare hand. Mariana ate as well, though with much less vigor
and much more refinement.
"I owe you a great deal," she said after we'd been eating for a while - or rather after I'd
eaten half of what she'd provided.
"Oh?" I was genuinely perplexed. And clumsily slopping wine into the mug she'd
provided. "I mean... I'm sorry, Mistress, but you asked me to keep the boy out of trouble -"
"And return him safely," she said. "Which you did. And I must say he's only still alive
because of you."
Looking down at my wine, which I again felt I had no right to, I muttered, "He almost
died because of me..."
Mariana gave a wane smile. "I expect he dragged you into it. He's quite headstrong,
like his father."
"You knew his father well, then?" I asked, looking up - and again seeing those hard
blue eyes of hers.
"Oh yes," she said in that inscrutable manner unique to women.
After a pause, I ventured, "...And what about his mother? Did you know here well?"
She kept me fixed with the same hard blue eyes I'd been seeing for the past several
days. "After a fashion."
I nodded. Who's to judge what goes on in the harsh country? "He's a good boy," I
assured her. "Brave and upright, even when it's smarter not to be."
She laughed at that. The tired, melancholy laugh of a woman who's buried so many...
"Father will be holding funeral rites all of tomorrow. Probably all of the next week too, though
by then things should be calmer here. If he were younger, he'd keep at it through the winter!"
I gulped. "I am so sorry for your sister, Mistress - "
"Please, just Mariana," she said. "And don't be. You did bring her back, after all. And I'll
see you're rewarded."
"But Mis - Mariana! The reward was for returning her safely. I only brought... Well, what
I brought... "
"You brought my sister back for a proper funeral," she said resolutely. "Or what passes
for such with father and that idol of his... And you kept Paol alive and I daresay have returned
him a little wiser than when he left." She smiled with what I took to be a rare warmth. "You are
a good man, Master Mullber."
"Please, just Fernand," I said, finally allowing myself a wane smile...
I stayed on at the Pellan estate for a few days, sleeping in a fine bed and eating better
than I had for some time, not to mention finally having a proper bath. Mariana had insisted
and I didn't blame her in the least. As many days on the road as I'd had and a man starts to
smell fouler than death itself.
Paol recovered with startling speed - the blessings of youth and all. After that first
gruesome night, the pain lessoned and he declined anymore of the offered poppy milk. Or his
stubborn pride wouldn't allow it as he still winced at the slightest movement... Though less so.
And another exam satisfied me that none of his ribs had broken in the grip of the troll.
His arm, while it certainly wouldn't get any better, thankfully showed no sign of
festering. On the second day after our return, I removed the linens so the wound might
breathe some. Though brown and crusted, it had no smell or discharge. An excellent sign, all
things considered...
And my trusty friend Vig received a hero's treatment. For a donkey. By command of
Mariana - her father too preoccupied with his curious and cobbled together ritual to take
notice of anything else - Vig was groomed to a healthy shine and fed from the same wide
trough as the Pellan's own horses.
Mariana asked me to stay through the winter, it already having grown so cold. But I
declined... With much reluctance. I had a a goal to reach, the coastal city of Meridian and a
well-deserved vacation! She couldn't help but agree to this, and presented me with a fine new
green cloak - along with all the silvers she'd promised, despite my continued protests - to
keep me warm on my journey.
Before leaving, I sought out Paol. He'd insisted on going straight back to work, as soon
as his injuries would allow him on his feet again. There was still a crop to get in before the
winter froze the soil and the field hands needed all the help they could get. He even looked to
have improved his plowing when I found him. How he managed that with only the one arm
and all those bruises I couldn't begin to guess...
"Sir!" he exclaimed as I approached. Seeing the new green cloak, he grinned. "You
look like one of the family!"
If he only knew why that made me smile so... "I was on my way off and wanted to
speak with you," I said. Looking at his shortened left arm, "Is it alright? Or as much as it can
be, considering?"
He nodded. "Yeah. I sometimes think it's there still. I try to move my fingers but..." He
looked back at me, clearly pained by the loss but made too hard by our adventure to let it
depress him any. "It was my off-hand anyway. And Mistress Mariana says there's this
woodcarver in town who can make me up a new one. Not that it would move and all, but for
appearances and the like."
"You've a good mistress there," I told him.
"I know," he said. "She hired you to keep an eye on me."
I chuckled. "Word travels fast on a farm."
He was silent for a moment. I expected him to be a bit sore on that point. Instead,
"Sir... Thank you. For everything. I wouldn't have made it back... Well, I wouldn't have made it
at all if not for you."
I gave the boy a discerning look. Though still just as scrawny and pimply as when we'd
set out, he had a new maturity. A somberness... Reaching into my now bulging coin purse, I
pulled one of the two gold pieces from their secret pocket. Snatching up Paol's remaining
hand, I placed the gold in his palm so as not to be seen by anyone. "You hold on to this," I told
him. "In a couple of years, you use it to buy yourself a good plot of land - pay attention now,
so you know what to look for. Then you get yourself a wife, a family, and don't go looking for
anymore adventures."
He gaped at the shiny gold piece. Likely more than he'd ever seen. More than he ever
expected to see. "Yes sir!" he said, nodding vigorously. "Absolutely! Thank you, sir!" And he
leapt to hug me - awkwardly with the stump of his left arm patting my back.
I returned his embrace of course. And soon took my leave, after also advising him how
to keep the gold piece hidden. I returned to the courtyard and my associate, who still milled
about the horse troughs. "Come along, Vig!" I said. "We've still got a long march ahead of
us..."
Epilogue
It took us another month of hard travel to clear the eastern borders of the Five
Kingdoms... A whole month of ambling down the road, stopping at what inns would take us always preferable to sleeping out under stars, especially as our adventuring had allowed
winter to close in. The new cloak proved a welcome addition...
Once into the Borderlands, the roads grew uneven.
Loose stones with weeds growing thick as fir trees between them - when there were stones at
all! Long stretches of just dirt, long packed down into some semblance of a path by frequent
foot traffic. Except the parts turned to everlasting mud by seasonal rains. Free peoples just
can't be arsed to maintain the commons it would seem.
Not that I would ever begrudge a man for preferring comfort to toil, but the inns also
became infrequent, forcing us to bed down a few nights on that broken road. Vig huffed in
indignation but mostly for show.
As small consolation, we were out-pacing winter. And because Fortuna would be
remiss in her duties if she allowed that to go unpunished, she cursed us with bravos at every
inn - few though they were - who took one look at my sword and assumed I was looking to
prove my worth or something. Most could be dissuaded if I just played the coward but others
were damned pushy. I had to set one bragging bastard's trousers on fire before he would
leave me alone. Ah, the many uses of a strong plum wine...
But all the minor annoyances proved worth it. As we crested a hill on the weaving road
through Rasna on the thirty-third day, I finally saw our ultimate goal gleaming on the horizon
as if forged just then by Jove's mighty thunderbolts - Meridian! Even some miles off, it stood
out starkly against the Southern Sea as a crush and tangle of high towers, foreign temples,
and buildings of every shape and size conceived by man. For many years, travelers from the
four corners of the world had passed through - or even settled! - and left their own mark upon
the city.
And how it showed within the walls! That very day, in the dulling warmth of afternoon,
Vig and I came tromping through he city's North Gate directly into a crush of people,
languages, and powerful smells ranging from savory to soured.
I saw other travelers from the Five Kingdoms, some come to trade and hauling carts
loaded down with the summer harvest. Others had the furtive demeanor of the fugitive and,
seeing me approach with a sword over my shoulder, hurried the other way as inconspicuously
as they could.
I saw tall and fair Northmen, come by caravan or longship. They wore their swords
openly too, likely come to soldier for coin. Northmen really don't do much else with
themselves, besides reciting old songs with no rhythm. Or sense.
I saw noblemen of the Seven City States and their silk-clothed wives perusing stalls up
and down the streets. The clever merchants, seeing these walking coin purses, had gathered
the leavings of the butchers and sprinkled it with cheap spices and garnish. "Pig testicles are
a great delicacy in Narbo!" one of them said to his credulous customer.
Passing deeper into the city, the sights grew even more exotic - Parthian traders and
sellswords now mingled with the rest, standing out with their swarthy complexions and oriental
styles. And since they wouldn't be alien enough, the bustling streets of Meridian presented me
with a few of the curious men from the Lands Beyond Sunset. Broad of shoulders and nose,
their black hair decorated with more gold than even a Lord might have pass through his
fingers. From what I understood, gold flowed so freely in their homeland that they reserved
much greater avarice for their curious and curiously sharp black stones.
I passed temples to every God that had ever gained the worship of men, alongside
modest and immodest shrines hastily erected by whatever cult enjoyed prominence at the
time. I saw mummers and puppeteers and even a genuine pyromancer! He made flames
dance about like maenads with his charred fingers to the fascination of a good number of
gawkers and a few nervous looking men who wore the blue sashes of the City Watch.
And the brothels! A whole district of working girls from across the known world! Some
with painted nails, most with painted faces, all open and welcoming to weary travelers
But too deep in the city... And that first night I wanted to spend close to the water where
I could see the sun shining on the great Southern Sea, smell the salty air, and meet girls fresh
off the boat.
So I kept delving until I reached the waterfront, where the ostentatious and skyward
reaching part of the city gave away to lower houses of merchants and sailors. And out into the
bay, framing the mighty galleys at port, the lonely remaining spires of the Old City, swallowed
by the sea centuries ago in the Sundering. Now it served as port for transient boat people,
eking out thin and meager livings on fish and whatever artifacts they might dredge up when
Fortuna was feeling particularly generous.
And there certainly was the salty air I craved. And salty people to go with it. Absolutely
thick with salt, the whole lot! I sought out the nicest inn I could find - technically a taverna,
being run by a whole busy clan of City State expatriates - mothers and brothers and cousins who had arrived from Sidon across the Sea not too long ago. I sought out the nicest inn I
could find - technically a taverna, being run by a whole busy clan of City State expatriates mothers and brothers and cousins - who had arrived from Sidon across the Sea not too long
ago. A cracked and worn building but sturdy enough and attracting a crowd that showed signs
of being more casual than the stiff nobles uptown but not so loose as to make their living
through cutting purses. If I remembered correctly, that crowd was three blocks southeast
anyway...
I strode in and demanded their best room for myself - with a bath! - and their finest
stable for Vig. Innkeepers from around the world will typically turn up their noses at donkeys
but my heavy purse was all the convincing these Southron sorts required.
Once settled, I withdrew the last gold piece from its secret pocket and asked for their
finest bottle of wine and the finest woman they could find to share it with me. They forthwith
produced a bottle of strong red that they claimed had sailed all the way with them and a lovely
girl named Pherenike who claimed to have done the same. Sitting in the wide window of my
room, we watched the sun set beyond the sea, turning it a shimmering turquoise.
We drank long into the night and I found all the tensions of my ordeal in Gabalum
loosen and slide away. Pherenike, lounging back with me, said, "You know, you look like an
adventurer?"
"That I am, my dear," I replied, my voice happily slurring. "Why, let me tell you about
the time I fought off three trolls single-handed..."