by Troy Osgood
“Ewor,” the Ranger muttered.
Hall knew the creatures. They had lived around the shores of Graymalkin Lake in the old game. Never this far south and east. What had driven them away from their home territories?
Small creatures, standing four feet high, they resembled humanoid bears. Covered in thick fur, colors ranging from grays and blacks to browns and tans. Small ears on top of rounded heads, small snouts. Arms that ended in claws and short but powerful legs. They looked small but were as strong as the bears they resembled. Ewor fought like pack animals, using their small size and numbers to swarm their enemies. But unlike animals, the Ewor fought with stone-made weapons.
And bows apparently.
Hall didn’t remember them using bows before.
He looked down the line of his people, seeing that none were hurt. Sharra and Leigh were moving their hands in complicated gestures, the words of spells on their lips, just waiting for the moment to strike.
Hall shifted his feet, changing his grip on the spear. When the flight of arrows stopped, when he saw a small shadowed form of an Ewor, he’d activate Leap and attack. Turning his body, he heard a snap from the woods behind them.
Skill Gain!
Increased Perception Rank 2 +.2
Another snap. A stick on the ground or a branch breaking as something pushed against it.
Hall dropped the spear, pulling a throwing knife from the bracer on his wrist. He turned, launching the small weapon. It turned from steel to blue-white energy. A crackling bolt that sailed into the trees. Hall didn’t have time to see where it struck, just heard the surprised yelp of pain.
“Behind us,” he yelled, activating Leap.
He kept his arc low, using the ability to cross the distance over the road and into the woods. His eyes tracked the forms just now stepping out from behind trees. Their ambush ruined, the Ewor rushed out into the road.
Using Leaping Stab, he caught a gray-furred Ewor in the shoulder. The momentum knocked the smaller creature off its feet. Pulling the spear out, Hall landed in front of a startled brown-furred Ewor. The creature held a wooden club, more of a thick branch from a tree. Its round eyes widened in shock, the Ewor trying to get its club up to block. It wasn’t fast enough. Hall’s spear flew out, catching the creature in the chest; the tip burst out the Ewor’s back. The dying creature fell back, Hall ripped the spear out of it, shifting his grip as two of the small bear-like creatures charged at him. One with a club, the other with a sword made of chiseled stone.
Twisting his body, Hall caught the club on the shaft of the spear, pushing it out of the way. He slid the weapon through his hands, slamming the butt end into the chest of the sword-wielder. He hated fighting small creatures. It was awkward enough for a human, or Half-Elf, to swing a sword at something half his size, but with a spear it was harder. The weapon’s reach was normally an advantage, but not against smaller creatures. The length gave them more opportunity to slide under the weapon.
Luckily these Ewor didn’t act like they’d ever fought a spear-wielder before.
Hall kicked out, slamming his boot into the chest of the Ewor with the sword. The blow pushed the creature back. They were strong, but not heavy. Swiping the end of the spear to the side, he caught the club holder in the side. The creature yelped, dropping the club, rotating the spear around his body, driving the tip into the Ewor’s exposed side. He yanked it out, shifting his grip and stabbing the spear into the other Ewor, catching it by surprise.
Stepping back from the dead and dying creatures, Hall looked through the woods, trying to see if there were more. He knew some had passed, but had to trust his companions would deal with those. He heard breaking branches to the side, a rough growling war cry.
The Ewor charged at him, club raised high, the brown-furred creature yelling. Hall set his feet, ready to take the charge, lowering his spear. The Ewor was sent flying, crashing through the woods, slamming into a tree. Angus stood where the Ewor had been, the highland cow stomping the ground.
Hall stood up, lowering his spear, chuckling. A quick scan of the woods showed no more threats. Turning back to the road, he saw his companions standing in a rough circle, the bodies of almost a dozen Ewor around them. Only Dain was in the circle, no sign of the other Rangers.
Skill Gain!
Polearms Rank Three +.3
Skill Gain!
Thrown Rank Two +.2
SLAIN: Graymalkin Hills Rover +35 Experience
SLAIN: Graymalkin Hills Rover +20 Experience
SLAIN: Graymalkin Hills Rover +10 Experience
Dain stepped away from the Irregulars, watching the side of the woods his Rangers had disappeared into. It was a couple of minutes later that they returned. They all looked fine except for Lessie, who held a hand tight to a bandage on her left arm. Her leather armor was torn, dried blood down the sleeve.
Leigh rushed forward, her hands already glowing a soft blue.
“Eight of the Ewor,” Avril explained, replacing her bow across her back. “There were tracks of a larger group heading more west.”
Hall stood next to Dain, looking down at a black-furred Ewor. The creature lay on its back, a slash across its chest, bright blood starting to dry.
“What are Ewor doing this far south?” he asked.
“The corruption and demons must be pushing them out,” Dain answered. “The tracks must belong to the larger clan. These were scouts.”
Hall shook his head. “Rear defenders,” he said sadly. “If the corruption drove them out of their homes, that large group will have the families, elderly and children. These were just protecting the rest of the clan from the attackers.”
Dain nodded. “One human looks just like another to them,” he said sadly.
The Ewor hadn’t known that Hall and the others were not the Expedition Lumber Company. They had been driven from their homes by the Expedition Company and its new demon allies. To the Ewor, all humans were the same. Hall sighed. The whole fight could have been avoided.
The Rangers didn’t need to ask, Hall and his friends immediately started helping them bury the bodies of the Ewor. It didn’t feel right leaving them to scavengers. Maybe the clan would send runners back to check, find the graves. Maybe not.
It set them back most of the day. They didn’t make much more progress, but pushed ahead, wanting to get a mile or more between them and the site of the fight. Double watches were set during the night, but nothing disturbed their camp.
More days passed, all of it under the canopy of the forest. There were no more attacks or sightings, the rest of the trip peaceful.
It was midday when the trees broke and the waters of Loch Hedn could be seen. The land sloped down to the shores of the water.
The lake was long, stretching across most of the Northern Territories. It widened in the middle, thinning into long channels at the north and south. At the southern edge sat Hednshore. The village consisted of dozens of one- and two-story log homes, all modest sized, each with their own little garden plots. The path they were following became a real dirt road once past the edge of the trees, which stopped a mile from the village, forming a ring around the cluster of homes and small fields. There was no reason to the layout of the homes. Some faced each other across narrow streets, others were cornered, while others just looked out to the forest away from the rest. There was some organization in the middle of the village along the sides of the road where it ended in a large circular area; the road met another coming from the east. Wider, better maintained, that road paralleled a wide river, running to Corral on the coast of Edin. Docks jutted out into the calm waters of the lake. Small fishing boats were offshore, hugging the western side of the channel.
Logs flowed down the eastern side, a series of wide docks set on piers forming a barrier, men walking along its length and guiding large oxen-like animals that pulled the logs down the water. More oxen moved along the shore. Huts were set along the shore at intervals, staggered with more on the wooden walk.
At the mouth of the river, the logs jammed together; more oxen were used to push and prod them into the water, where they flowed downstream toward the mills along both sides. There were a half dozen, three to a side. The wheels spun constantly as men and animals pulled logs out of the water. Around the mills were stacked planks and smaller logs in neat rows and ordered piles. Wagons moved from mill to mill, crossing from the northern side by a large bridge a hundred feet or more past the last mill. Once over the bridge, they turned onto the road, either heading back to Millford or making the daylong trek to Corral.
He could see trails off to the west, smoke rising from within the forest, evidence of the logging camps. Another road ran off to the west, passing by most of the homes in the main village but curving around a few scattered homes before disappearing into the trees. It disappeared into the canopy, eventually leading to the other villages and lumber camps around the two lakes.
Hall was impressed. The operation was huge. He remembered the old Millford, and it had been nothing like this. Only five or six buildings, a single mill. No walk out into the water to guide the logs to the river. Just a small village of lumberjacks.
“The Grove is to the west,” Dain said, standing next to Hall. “Maybe three hours’ walk.”
Hall looked up at the sun. They could make the walk, but it would be dark by the time they arrived. Better to go in the morning. He looked down at Millford, still a mile away.
“How big is the inn?”
Dain chuckled.
The path out of the forest became a road much like on the other side. Deep ruts where nothing grew, grass in the raised section between. They passed fields along the gentle slope, small farmsteads. The main home, a couple of outbuildings. All with dirt paths that led to the road. Low stone walls paralleled the paths. Clumps of trees and shrubs were spaced randomly along the road and in the fields. Before them, the water of the lake shone in the sun, smoke rising from the chimneys of the town. Hall could see people moving among the buildings. More further out near the mills and along the walk out into the water.
Millford existed for one purpose, to funnel the logs cut in the forests of the Northern Territories down to Corral, where they would be sent elsewhere in the many islands. If a person didn’t work in the mills, they worked in the village to support the ones working in the mills.
Details of the homes emerged as they got closer. Logs set tight together. No stone used in any of the construction. The townspeople had gone to great lengths to make their individual log homes stand out from their neighbors’ log homes. No two were alike. Some had the logs sticking out at random lengths past the walls, others in a step pattern from the lowest to the highest. Steep roofs, low roofs. Two stories on the front and only one on the back with a steep sloping shingle roof. Long rafter beams sticking out, carved into a variety of animals. Hall was amazed at how different each building was. Dark or light logs. Thin logs. Thicker logs cut in half. Some with the sides squared off. One home had a mix of styles. Thin logs laid on top of thicker. Another had most laid horizontal with a couple vertical.
And all of it new.
None of it had existed in the pre-Glitch game.
Why had the developers gone to such trouble to make this? There had been no need. Much like Silverpeak Keep, or even Auld or Land’s Edge Port, the developers had increased the size of the villages, added to the already immense complexity. All for immersion and realism?
All to make the trapped players feel like it was a real world and not a game world?
It was working.
The townsfolk mostly ignored them as they passed the first groups of homes, entering the town proper. They were used to visitors in Millford, and the sight of the Greencloak Rangers was nothing new.
Dain led them to the inn, the largest structure in the town. Four stories tall, almost fifty feet wide. Windows lined the first floor, smaller ones the floors above. Steps led up to a covered deck, double doors leading in. Men, and a couple of women, leaned against the railing with mugs in hand. All turned to look at Hall and the others. All were rough-looking men. Strong, muscular. They saw Dain’s green cloak, turning back to their own business.
The Ranger led them inside the busy inn.
It was loud, a group of musicians in the far corner, a hearth in each of the front corners, fires burning within. Tables filled the space, a set of stairs against the back wall near doors that led into the kitchen. A bar ran most of the length along the far wall, turning to head up the side. Hall could barely hear the music over the sounds of the people inside talking. Barmaids weaved their way around the tables. Dain led them to the bar.
Hall was surprised at how busy the place was for just past midafternoon. It wasn’t that close to the dinner hour yet, when all the workers from the mills would be off work. Was this the second shift, getting their meal in before going to work? Teamsters waiting for their wagons to be loaded? He noticed quite a few were armed, wearing leather armor and some chain under cloaks and tunics. Guards for merchants?
Very few turned to look at the newcomers, most concerned only with their food and drink.
At least until someone noticed Leigh’s antlers.
She had pulled the hood of her traveling cloak up high, hiding most of the antlers under its shadows, but enough poked out. Hall could hear the murmuring starting, feel the eyes turning toward them.
Leigh moved closer to him. He reached an arm out over her shoulders, holding her tight. He was tall enough that he looked over her head, making eye contact with the people in the inn. Slowly the eyes started to turn away.
“I’ve only ever felt self-conscious about them once before,” Leigh said, reaching a hand up to touch the tip of one of the antlers growing out of her forehead.
They were in their room. Not private. There hadn’t been enough empty rooms in the inn for that. Hall and Leigh were sharing with Caryn and Sharra. Both of the other women were downstairs in the common room with the Wardens and Rangers, having a late meal. Leigh hadn’t wanted to go down, so meals for them had been sent up.
“That was when you first returned from Huntley,” she continued, looking at Hall with a smile.
The room was small for what it contained. A double bed along a side wall, two single beds on the other. Barely enough room between the foots of the beds to walk. Nightstands between the two singles and on either side of the double. There were hooks along the wall to hang clothing, no closet or wardrobe. Their meal eaten, the trays on the nightstands, the couple sat against the head of the bed, pillows piled behind their backs.
“I was worried about what you would think, but it didn’t seem to bother you,” Leigh finished with a smile.
Hall turned to her, taking her hand. “It was a little shocking at first,” he admitted. “But I had been missing you so much that it just didn’t matter. After that, I got used to them. We live in a world of magic. Why should antlers be shocking?”
Leigh laughed.
Hall smiled.
This was nice, he thought, just sitting with Leigh and no distractions. Skara Brae and the Grove were days away to the south. Not out of mind, but there was nothing either could do about the village or the Grove. When home, they both could feel the weight of their responsibilities. When gone, Hall felt that weight as well. But here and now, they could set the weight aside for a night. There would be new weight added when they visited the Druids in the morning.
For now though, it was just the two of them.
Leigh leaned in closer, resting her head against his shoulder.
“I don’t know why their stares hit me like that,” she said with a sigh.
“You haven’t been out of Breakridge since they started growing,” Hall said, gripping her hand. “It’s understandable.”
She made a quiet sound that he took to be acceptance.
Neither had expected her to grow the antlers. Vertoyi, the corrupted Custodian, had had a pair with one side broken off. Hall knew he should have made the connection then, but Leigh had never
mentioned any of the other Custodians having antlers.
“When I accepted the Custodianship of the Grove,” she said quietly, “I should have expected it to happen, but with the rush of the fighting, barely surviving… It just happened so fast, and then I got caught up in cleansing the corruption.”
Hall nodded, twisting his head to give a soft kiss to the top of Leigh’s. She nestled in deeper against him.
“Things have been nonstop since the fight with Vertoyi,” Hall said.
“This is not where I thought I’d be,” Leigh said a couple of minutes of silence later. “I’m happy with you and the Grove,” she continued, looking up at Hall. “But when I was a child in Cliff Fields, this is so far from where I thought I’d be.”
“Where did you think you’d be?”
“As I got older, I thought I’d end up like my parents. Assumed I’d apprentice with the village seamstress or baker. Stay in Cliff Fields and eventually marry one of the farmhands. Raise kids who would do the same.”
“But when you were a kid yourself?”
“A Witch,” she said with a laugh. “Out adventuring in the wilds of the world.”
“You got part of it. You’re a Druid who can cast magic, and you’ve had your share of adventures.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Leigh replied. “But you’re right. What about you? What did you want to be when you were a child?”
Hall thought about it. He couldn’t tell her about wanting to be a professional football player as a kid, then growing up and realizing that wouldn’t happen. Wanting to be an architect, but life had other plans. He couldn’t tell her how he had wound up working as an office drone. None of it would make sense to her, and it really didn’t make sense to him. Not anymore. It felt like so long ago, so far away. Concepts that didn’t fit into his life and world anymore.