Endless Flight

by A. C. Cobble

  Corinne glared at the rogue, obviously unsure what to make of him.

  Ben turned and walked to the fire to make breakfast. He was exasperated with the lack of trust in the group. They needed something to bond them together. Back in Farview, that would be a night of serious drinking at the Buckhorn. Out here, he wasn’t sure what they could do to gain each other’s confidence.

  After eating breakfast, Grunt cut his quarrel out of the demon’s body in a sickening demonstration of butchery and demon anatomy. Amelie looked on in disgust while he sawed his dagger through the heavy muscle in the demon’s back and cut down to the head of the quarrel. Setting a foot on the body, he yanked the rest of the bolt through the corpse and pulled it out. It came loose with an unpleasant squelch.

  “That is disgusting,” stated Amelie, trying to not gag.

  Ben chuckled.

  Grunt turned to face her with a hurt expression.

  “I only have so many of these things,” he explained, shaking the gore-covered crossbow bolt. Tiny streamers of purple blood sailed through the air.

  Corinne jumped backward and shouted, “Hey!”

  Ben couldn’t hold in his laughter. Soon Amelie, Corinne, and Rhys joined him. Towaal looked on, bemused. Grunt sighed and rinsed off the quarrel with his water skin. “Save the entire party from an attacking demon and this is the thanks I get,” he muttered under his breath.

  “We appreciate you killing the demon,” Corinne said to mollify him, “but then you followed it up by spraying demon blood on me. And, well, I think Amelie said it best, that is disgusting.”

  “Sorry about that,” muttered Grunt before kneeling again and digging his dagger into the demon’s scalp to remove the small, stubby horns.

  From camp, they followed a faint path through the field and toward the tree line. The fog burned off quickly and it was a clear, bright day. The air was chill, but with the thick, winter clothing, Ben found it quite pleasant.

  The forest was filled with soaring birch trees. Their white trucks extended as far as Ben could see ahead of them. A narrow path wound its way through the thick trunks. Leaves crunched underfoot as they left the field. Ben pulled a strip of peeling bark from a nearby trunk when they passed and toyed with it as they walked.

  Amelie, walking beside him, looked down at the thin sheet of tree bark and asked, “Is there something wrong with it to peel off like that?”

  Ben shook his head. “No, that’s just what some trees do. I’m not familiar with this variety, but,” he shrugged. “I don’t think anything is wrong with it.”

  Amelie continued walking and looked like she was going to ask another question but then stopped.

  Ben smiled and added, “That seems like something a mage should know.”

  She chortled then shot a look at Grunt and Corinne ahead of them to see if they overheard. “Don’t say that out loud,” she whispered. “And, yes, I am sure many of the tree-focused mages know a lot about the fascinating subject of bark. I haven’t gotten into that specialty yet.”

  Ben flipped the papery bark at her face and she swatted it away with a playful growl.

  Their banter and the steady crunch of walking feet were the only sounds in the forest. Before long, it started to feel a bit creepy.

  Ben spoke out to the group. “There are no animal sounds. Is that normal?”

  Grunt shook his head. “It’s normal deeper into the Wilds. A bit unusual this far south. Generally, that is a sign that a demon has been nearby. They feast on animals, just like they do people.”

  Ben reached for his sword.

  Grunt waved his hand down.

  “It doesn’t mean there is a demon right here,” he continued. “It just means one has been in the area. It could have been the one I killed this morning.”

  “How do we know when one is close? Should we be worried about a swarm of demons?” asked Ben.

  “You’ll hear it attack,” responded Rhys.

  Grunt agreed. “Aye, when you’re hunting, how do you know a deer or rabbit is nearby? You don’t really know until you see them. Demons are easy, they will let you know when they charge.”

  Ben frowned. “When I’m hunting a deer or rabbit, I am the one who’s trying to catch dinner.”

  Throughout the day, they continued down the faint path in the direction Ben saw smoke earlier in the morning.

  “Who would live out here?” asked Amelie.

  Corinne shrugged. “No one did last I passed through.”

  “It could be a campsite for hunters,” added Grunt. “Not too many other people out here these days. Not too many hunters either, now that I think about it.”

  Faintly, Ben started to hear a new noise—chopping wood.

  “Whoever it is,” he remarked. “They sound like they are busy.”

  Half a bell later, they saw an opening through the trees and found the source of both the smoke and the chopping.

  A log enclosure rose twice Ben’s height in a field that was dotted with tree stumps. Fresh wood chips were scattered everywhere and they could see teams of men working at the far side bringing in more logs.

  “This is awfully strange,” muttered Grunt.

  Rhys, pausing at the edge of the clearing, looked to Towaal. He asked, “Do we avoid it or go in?”

  She adjusted her pack, scanning the enclosure then started forward. “One more night indoors and behind walls shouldn’t hurt. We’ll have plenty of time to rough it later. Keep your eyes open though. Something doesn’t feel right about this.”

  As they approached the log structure, a small boy poked his head above the wall and watched them draw close. Ben guessed he’d seen no more than twelve summers.

  “Ho the camp,” called Grunt.

  “Who are you?” asked the boy abruptly.

  “Hunters passing through,” answered Grunt. “I don’t recall seeing this here last time I passed by. We figured we’d investigate and see if we can find a place to stay this evening.”

  “Stay there,” instructed the boy before disappearing behind the wall.

  “Helpful fellow,” grumbled Grunt.

  They stood outside for several minutes that grew tense as the time passed. Finally, there was a bang on the other side of the wall and the gate cracked opened.

  A rough-looking man stepped out and addressed them. “We haven’t had a lot of visitors here, hardly any, really. How can we help you folks?”

  Grunt and Corinne looked at each other. Then Grunt spoke up. “I passed through maybe four months ago. I don’t recall there being anything to visit.”

  The man smirked and then jovially answered, “Right you are. And what were you doing here four months ago?”

  Grunt frowned but went along. “I’m a hunter. I was returning from a trip north with a bag of demon horns to cash in at Northport.”

  The man set his hands on his hips and challenged, “We heard there would be hunters in this area, but I haven’t seen any. Can you prove you’re a hunter?”

  Grunt dug the pair of demon horns he’d taken earlier out of his belt pouch and showed the man wordlessly.

  “Very well,” the man said, nodding. “We can shelter you for the night in exchange for those horns.”

  A pained look crossed Grunt’s face but he handed them over.

  “Welcome to Free State,” said the man.

  Ben blinked.

  “Free State?” he asked their host, who was turning to reenter the compound.

  “Aye,” replied the man. “We’re a community of people sick of living under the rule of lords and ladies.” He gestured around the stump-filled clearing. “As you can see, there aren’t any of those types around here.”

  Amelie harrumphed but Ben ignored her. They walked through the gates following the man.

  Ben asked, “I’m guessing you have no official government here. It is all run by the community?”

  The man looked out of the side of his eye at Ben. “Aye,” he responded slowly.

  “I’ve been to another place
called Free State,” expanded Ben. “Down near the City.”

  “The City.” The man snorted incredulously. “That place is make believe, son. You might as well be talking about fairies and wyverns. Don’t go saying things like that in front of people or they’ll think you’re kooky.”

  They walked past newly constructed buildings and stacks of fresh timber. On top of one, they saw a man perched high up, straddling one of the logs. He was shirtless, face turned upwards with closed eyes. A small stream of smoke was drifting out of a pipe he held in his hand.

  “Of course,” admitted the man, “maybe if they think you’re kooky, you’ll fit right in.”

  A woman and two children passed, leading a fat pig and litter of piglets. The pigs had stripes of orange mud hand-painted down their sides. The children stared unabashedly at the strangers.

  “This place is weird,” mumbled Grunt under his breath. Ben saw their host smile faintly but otherwise ignore the hunter.

  Amelie looped a hand under Ben’s arm and whispered, “What do you think about this?”

  Ben replied, “I’m not sure what to think yet. Looking around, the place definitely reminds me of the first, but our host apparently doesn’t know about that one.”

  They were being led to a large building near the center of the compound, well, not large compared to anything in the City or Northport. Relative to the rest of Free State, it was substantial.

  “As Towaal said before we walked in,” finished Ben, “let’s keep our eyes open.”

  The large building was home to an older but still strong-looking woman named Mistress Albie. She greeted them warmly and showed them to several empty rooms in the back. The place smelled like freshly cut wood.

  She apologized. “Sorry, sweeties. They just put the roof up a week ago and no one’s had time to build me proper furniture.”

  “It’s no concern. We’ll be sleeping rough the next few weeks, so a roof over our heads is a luxury,” reassured Towaal. “What is this place?”

  “It’s a hospital, dear,” replied the woman.

  “A hospital?” asked Corinne, confused.

  “A concept from down south.” The woman smiled congenially. “I will care for the sick and injured. Everyone here has to do something to earn their keep. That is how I will earn mine. I was a bit of a healer before,” the woman paused. “Before I moved to Free State.”

  “And,” Ben hesitated before asking, “why did you move to Free State?”

  The woman smiled again, this time with a bitter twist in her lips. “That is a long story, young man. Maybe later we can talk about it.”

  They stored their gear in the rooms the woman provided and agreed to an offer of food later that night in exchange for work around the new hospital. The men moved a few heavy objects around for her and sealed up gaps in the log walls using a mortar she had mixed. The women helped her sort out an extensive-looking supply closet. With six of them helping, the work was done quickly. The woman seemed excited to have things straightened out.

  “Now out of the kitchen,” she called, “I’ll have stew ready in a bell.”

  The six of them stepped out of the building and, after a quick conference, decided to split into two groups and explore Free State. Before they parted, Rhys looked at Ben and asked, “I’ve never heard of a place like this. Has anyone else?”

  Ben met his eyes and nodded. Lady Towaal picked up on the exchange and motioned for them to keep it quiet. They’d shared very little of their backgrounds with the hunters, and on this, Ben agreed. Any more discussion about the Free State near the City would only lead to questions on why they were fleeing the City and hiking through the middle of nowhere in the first place.

  Ben, Amelie, and Rhys went one way. The others went in the opposite direction. Quickly, Ben was reminded of the Free State they saw before. The people were moving about their daily tasks and eyeing the strangers out of the corner of their eyes. No one was unfriendly, but they were clearly not expecting company.

  The difference in this place was that everything was new in the compound. The other Free State, despite being entirely mud and logs, was well established. Many of those structures looked to have been in place for years.

  “There must be two hundred of them living here,” muttered Rhys.

  Ben nodded. It was a bit smaller than Farview, but not by a lot.

  “What are they all doing here?” asked Amelie.

  Rhys shrugged then suggested, “Let’s ask them.”

  The first man they saw just happened to be struggling to roll a freshly bound barrel behind a hastily built wooden shed.

  “Ho there,” called Rhys.

  The man paused and acknowledged them with a nod.

  “That looks like a mighty heavy barrel,” said Rhys.

  The man stood and stretched. “You offering to help me with it?”

  “We can help in exchange for,” Rhys made a show of thinking. “For a little bit of what’s inside of it?”

  The man grinned. “I’ve got two more of these that I need to get onto racks. You get all three of them on the rack and there’s a fourth inside I can open up for you.”

  Rhys slung an arm around Ben’s shoulder. “Well, let’s help the man out.”

  Half a bell later, dripping sweat and panting, Ben and Rhys followed the man inside where he tapped a small barrel a tenth the size of the huge ones they had just moved for him. The man produced four plain earthenware mugs and filled them to the top with a foamy, dark ale.

  He raised his mug. “Thanks. I couldn’t have done that myself. I’m going to ask the cooper for smaller barrels next time.”

  “You didn’t brew this here,” remarked Ben after taking a sip. It was a more pleasant draught than he expected. “Aged about two months in a fresh oak barrel?” he asked.

  The man grinned. “You know your ale, boy.”

  “I’ve brewed a few myself,” agreed Ben.

  “Aye, me as well,” responded the man. He stuck out a hand and introduced himself. “Peckins.”

  “Ben,” replied Ben. The rest of the party introduced themselves. Ben asked, “Peckins, where did you brew this? Northport?”

  “That I did,” said the man amiably. “Had a little shop down there and made decent coin putting kegs on the guard houses’ tap. That was before the changes started happening, of course.”

  “Changes?” asked Ben. Seeing the man’s expression grow guarded, Ben added, “I’m not from around here. We just passed through Northport but only stayed two nights. It seemed like it was, ah, well armed when we were there.”

  Peckins spit on the freshly churned dirt floor and took a sip of his dark ale. “It’s armed all right. If you ask me, they’re preparing for war with the Coalition. Fat Lord Rhymer says it’s demons, but I grew up in Northport, and let me tell you, there have always been demons.”

  “You don’t believe there is a demon build up in the Wilds?” asked Rhys.

  “Nah, they come and go,” answered the man. “You think I’d move out here if I believed that load of crap they’re telling people? You live here a few winters and you realize that some are worse than others. You get used to it. Be careful, don’t go out alone at night, and don’t go into the Wilds without proper protection. Don’t get me wrong, you have to be smart, but it’s nothing to raise an army over. Listen to me, that army is for the Coalition. Rhymer sees a war coming, and he means to get himself a piece of land further south. Sineook’s charging more year after year, and Rhymer’s always wanted farmland of his own that he doesn’t have to protect from demons.”

  “And that’s why you moved to Free State? Because you don’t support a war?” asked Amelie.

  “That’s right, little lady,” responded Peckins. “Lords and ladies try to force their system on you. They think you don’t got any options. Believe me, you got one. You get up and you leave.”

  “Hmm,” answered Amelie, glancing at Ben.

  After finishing his mug and refilling it, Peckins continued, “About four
months back, a group of folks from somewhere in the east came through Northport. They were talking about staking their own claim and getting out from under the boot of the lords. Sounded interesting to me. Well, Rhymer’s men start looking at these folk hard, following them around and the like. Wasn’t too long before the group decided they needed to go and offered to take some of us with them. Me and a couple score more took them up on it and here we are.”

  “And,” Rhys inquired, “you’re happy you left?”

  Peckins gestured, sloshing the ale in his mug. “Aye, soon as that wall is finished, I think it’ll be just fine here. We had a few encounters with demons, but nothing worse than they get in Skarston. They do okay.”

  Rhys, without asking, refilled his mug as well. Peckins didn’t comment on it. The man was caught up in his story and kept talking, “I don’t have anyone bothering me about taxes, no one telling me what I can or can’t say, and no one acting like they are better than me just because their blood is high. Yeah, I think this place is going to be good for me.”

  When Ben and Amelie finished their mugs, and Peckins and Rhys finished two more, they left to continue exploring the compound. Like Peckins said, they saw the wall was almost completed, two man- heights tall and guarded with towers spaced at regular intervals. Ben hoped it would be enough to protect these people.

  Shortly after, they returned to the hospital without speaking to anyone else. Aside from the wall, it all seemed domesticated and normal, what Ben would expect to see with a few hundred people starting a new community.

  Towaal asked them what they found on their return. They related the story Peckins told them along with their other observations.

  “We found the same,” she stated. “We spoke to some of them about the demons, but they all seem more concerned with Rhymer’s build up. They’re afraid of war and oblivious to the dangers out here.”

  Grunt angrily stalked around the room. “These people are going to get killed,” he muttered.

  “We tried to warn them,” said Corinne, placing a hand on his arm.

  “That flimsy wooden wall won’t do shit if a swarm comes,” growled Grunt.