by A. C. Cobble
“As Corinne said,” replied Towaal, “We tried to warn them. It is their decision to make.”
That evening, Mistress Albie served them healthy portions of a thick vegetable stew. Noting some of the men’s looks, she apologized. “Sorry. There isn’t much meat. Until we get our walls up and breeding programs established, we’ll all be on a tight ration around here.”
“Have you had problems with demons taking the animals?” inquired Grunt.
Tight-lipped, Albie responded, “Some problems, but you have to expect that out in the Wilds. Unlike some of the folks around here, I came from the north and am fully aware of why this land is unoccupied.”
“Aren’t you worried about people being injured or taken by the demons? How will you earn a living if there are worse attacks?” pressed the hunter.
Albie smiled sadly and whispered, “That’s why I chose to build a hospital.”
“Oh,” answered Grunt uncomfortably.
***
As the sun crested the horizon, the companions stepped out of the narrow opening of the gate and continued their journey north. None of them were eager to spend any longer than necessary in Free State.
“It’s just so…” started Corinne.
“They don’t understand the risk they are putting themselves into,” finished Amelie.
“Exactly,” agreed Corinne.
“Should we send word to Northport and see if they can somehow protect these people?” asked Grunt.
Towaal shook her head. “We don’t have time to go back. Any delay would make our quest more difficult. Besides, they’ve been told about the risk, they just don’t believe it. Armored soldiers showing up at the gate and evicting them won’t make these people feel any better about living within Northport’s walls. We just have to hope they see reason on their own. Before it’s too late,” she finished grimly.
Ben shuddered and tried not to think about the people in Free State. Their desire to flee from the coming conflict between the Alliance and the Coalition was too close to his own thoughts to be comfortable. As for choosing to locate at the edge of the Wilds, well, he wished them the best. That was all he could do.
They kept walking through the eerily quiet birch forest, making slow time through the untamed woods. In the distance, Ben could see snowcapped mountains peeking through the bare tree branches.
“Do we have to go all the way up there?” he asked, gesturing to the white-topped peaks.
“I don’t think so,” replied Towaal. “Based on what we learned from Long Axe, the richest hunting, as he called it, is near the base of that mountain range.”
She slowed and pointed ahead. “Do you see that rounded peak?”
Ben nodded.
“Below there is a wide valley. In that valley is where Long Axe claims we should go,” she stated. “It could be the place drawn on the map, two ridges branching out like arms. That is the same topography Long Axe drew from what he remembered.”
“What he remembered?” interrupted Amelie. “I thought he was supposed to be the most knowledgeable hunter alive.”
“He is,” argued Corinne, defending him. “He’s just, well, it’s been a few years since he’s been near that area, and he never actually went in, just looked down from the mountains above. Too dangerous to go into the valley, he told us.”
“How many years?” asked Amelie flatly.
“A lot,” responded Towaal, holding up a hand to silence Corinne. “He stopped going even within a few leagues of the place because it got too dangerous. Too many demons, and swarms he was getting too old to face, even with a company.”
“Too many demons sounds like our place,” remarked Rhys.
“Remind me again,” objected Grunt, “why are we going to a place that is described as having ‘too many demons’? It’s the damned Wilds, there are demons everywhere.”
“The Rift,” reminded Towaal, “is likely the center of the highest concentration of demons in the Wilds. To narrow our search, we will follow the demons.”
“Oh, right,” groaned the hunter. “That sounds like a great plan.”
***
Three days of marching up a steady slope and Ben was tiring. They had pushed harder during the flight from the Sanctuary, but they had fear to motivate them to move faster then. Now, fear was making it more difficult. The further they went the more likely demon encounters would be.
The terrain was getting difficult as well. Low ridges started cropping up and it was a decision each time to either walk around it or expend the energy to climb over.
After one particularly strenuous hump over a rocky ridge, Ben and Corinne dropped off a short ledge to level ground.
Ben puffed to Corinne, “So is this is what it’s like being a hunter?”
She winked at him. “Not to your liking?”
“Walking around in endless woods, climbing over rocks, waiting for a demon to pounce on me,” he moaned. “No, not my favorite so far.”
“Hunting demons, like any hunting, is basically setting a trap and waiting for your prey to approach so you can attack,” she replied. “We are waiting to attack them, think of it that way. It’s better than waiting on them to attack us.”
“If we’re setting a trap,” he responded, “what is the bait?”
Ben paused when he saw her sly smile. “Never mind,” he said glumly. “I’m not sure how thinking about that is supposed to help.”
Corinne grinned back at him.
Amelie slid down off the rocks and fell into the dirt beside them with an unladylike curse. Corinne laid down her bow and bent to help Amelie to her feet. While Corinne was pulling her up, a wild cry burst out from the woods. Ben spun to see a black shape charging through the white-barked birch trees.
Rhys had left to scout ahead and Towaal and Grunt were still descending the steep slope of the ridge. Ben yanked his longsword from his scabbard and he set his feet. Behind him, he heard Corinne scrambling for her bow and Amelie struggling to draw her rapier. He knew he would be the first to face the charge.
The demon crashed through a thin wall of undergrowth and was five paces from Ben, flying at him like one of Grunt’s crossbow quarrels. Ben lunged forward, stabbing with his sword and twisting at the last second to duck under a powerful claw-tipped arm. It passed a hand length away from ripping across his throat. He felt the air swoosh by his head as the demon’s swipe whistled by, catching nothing but air. His longsword was nearly jarred from his grip when the point impacted the demon’s neck.
Hot, purple blood showered onto his hands and a heavy shoulder crashed into his chest, knocking Ben to his knees. He stumbled back to his feet as the demon collapsed and slid past him.
Corinne stepped up with an arrow drawn back to her ear, waiting for the creature to move. It twitched once then remained motionless.
Grunt jumped down from a rocky outcropping with his bastard sword drawn. He squatted, prepared to fight.
Rhys appeared as if out of nowhere, breathing heavily in the only sign that betrayed how rushed he was to get back.
Lady Towaal stood calmly above them on the outcropping and declared, “Nice work, Ben.”
He stood still, stunned and surprised that the beast wasn’t rising to continue the attack. His mind flashed back to his first encounter with a demon, back in Farview. He’d struck that one with his staff and it tore into Arthur. This time, his aim and his sword struck true. The demon was dead.
Corinne relaxed the tension on her bowstring and clapped him on the back. “Apparently you do know a thing or two.”
Ben rubbed his chest where the demon’s shoulder hammered him and murmured, “Like I said, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen one of these things.”
“You just got demon blood all over your tunic,” remarked Rhys.
Ben looked down, saw the bloody purple smear his hand left, and groaned. “How do I clean that off?” he wondered.
Grunt, sheathed his heavy sword, and responded, “That my friend, is a question for someone el
se.”
The rest of the party started moving again. Amelie paused to wait for Ben. “I’ve heard vinegar is good for bloodstains,” she offered.
Ben looked at her. “Do you have any vinegar?” he asked.
She shrugged.
“Let’s go.” He sighed. They followed the others deeper into the forest.
***
Several more individual demons attacked them during the next week, but all were quickly dispatched. It turned out Corinne had not exaggerated her skill with a bow. When given the opportunity, she peppered the creatures with arrows before they got close to any of the companions. When they did, the slow and weakened creatures were easily cut down by Rhys or Grunt.
Grunt seemed to relish hacking deeply into the beasts with his massive bastard sword. The huge blade cleaved big chunks out of them. On the third demon, Grunt nearly chopped the entire thing in two.
Ben and Rhys watched on as the hunter knelt to cut loose the horns.
“The stupid man is going to get himself killed,” complained Rhys.
“What do you mean?” asked Ben curiously. From what he saw, the hunter knew what he was doing. It wasn’t his first time in the Wilds, either.
“He’s cutting too deep,” explained Rhys. “These things are almost solid bone and muscle. While we’re making it look easy so far, they don’t go down easy. If he cuts one of them and doesn’t kill it, he’s going to have his blade stuck and a very angry demon at close proximity.”
“Should we say something?”
Rhys shook his head no. “When a man carries a big sword like that, well, he’s going to want to swing it in a certain way. No use talking to him. You’d probably just piss him off.”
“Why does it matter what size sword he has?” asked Ben. “He’s a professional hunter. I’m sure he’s always looking to improve. You give me feedback on swordsmanship all of the time.”
“You don’t think it matters what size sword he has?” asked Rhys with a raised eyebrow.
Ben frowned.
“The man’s traveling with a pretty girl half his age, he’s named after a sound he makes, and he carries a sword nearly as tall as you…” Rhys shrugged. “Talk to him if you like, but I’m not going to bring that kind of thing up with a guy.”
“Are we,” Ben hesitated, “still talking about his sword?”
***
Before dawn the next morning, while Ben was standing watch, snow began to fall. Light flakes barely visible in the low firelight drifted down around his face. He kept walking through the swirling crystals. By first light, a dusting of white covered the surrounding forest and his sleeping companions. A narrow circle of clear ground showed where Ben was walking around the campsite to stay awake and keep warm.
Grunt sat up and brushed the snow out of his hair. “I need some kaf,” he mumbled sleepily.
Rhys rose and stretched. He worked through a quick sequence of Ohms poses while Corrine stared at him strangely. Rhys smiled back at her. “It warms you up,” he said.
“Really?” yawned Amelie from across the fire.
“Try it,” suggested Rhys, and she did.
Corinne and Grunt both watched on, bemused. Ben silently noted that maybe he should be using the Ohms as well. The chill was stiffening his body and the Ohms would be a good way to loosen up.
Lady Towaal rose and shook out her bedroll, sending a cascade of half-melted snowflakes onto the ground. “Can you make two of those pots of kaf today?” she asked Grunt.
The man grunted and stuck two more branches into the fire. He blew gently at the embers. Ben watched as the flames flared up. Grunt settled his pot of water near the heat and then stacked a pile of wood they’d gathered last night just outside of the fire pit.
Ben moved to stand near him and held out his hands to the growing heat. “What is that for?” he asked, gesturing to the woodpile.
“I’m drying 'em out,” replied Grunt. He dug a finger into the slushy snow next to him. “From now on, we’ll have trouble finding dry wood. Best to set it by the fire the night before to cook out the moisture then pack it with you. It makes for a heavy load, but it’s better than sleeping in the snow with no fire.”
“We should also start setting up the tarps,” said Rhys, who was hovering near the kaf pot. “Any more than this dusting and we’ll wake up soaking wet and freezing.”
The hunter nodded and dug through his pack to pull out a sack of oats. “Oatmeal?” he asked.
Rhys shrugged. “Why not.”
Ben was eager to try out the snow shoes he had been carrying for the last week but he felt silly using them on the almost non-existent dusting of snow. After a bell, the sun had melted it all away anyway.
They found a trickle of water babbling through a wide and dry creek bed. They started following it north. It wound through the rocky hills and ridges they had been climbing. Even though it wasn’t straight, it made for quicker travel. Ben guessed the creek bed would fill up in the spring when the snowmelt began to run off. In autumn, it was dry except for a little stream half a pace wide.
“How are we doing on direction?” asked Corinne as they looped in a wide arc around a prominent rock-studded hill.
“Good,” answered Towaal. She looked like she would leave it at that but then continued, “At this rate of speed, we should have two more weeks of hiking to get there. Whether we can maintain our pace, we shall see.”
Three weeks walk from the nearest civilization, thought Ben. That was a long way from home.
“And when we get there,” asked the bow woman, “how long will it take to destroy this Rift?”
“That should be rather quick if we can get close enough,” replied Towaal. She looked to Amelie. “We should be able to place the device and activate it in a few minutes.”
“How do you, ah, activate it?” asked Corinne. “I’m not very familiar with magical devices. Have you used one of these before?”
“I do have some familiarity with magical devices,” answered Towaal dryly.
Corinne glanced at her and frowned suspiciously.
Amelie caught up to the other women and asked Towaal, “Once the disc is activated, how far away do we need to be?”
Corinne’s frown deepened.
Towaal’s lips pursed. Then she replied, “Three or four hundred paces. Anything closer will carry a significant risk.”
“Hold on,” said Corinne. “What exactly does this thing do? I thought it would just shatter the stone. I’ve heard they use those in the mines.”
“It will be a little bit more than that,” responded Towaal.
“More?” asked Corinne.
“A bigger boom,” explained Rhys.
They kept trudging up the creek bed. Corinne wore a pensive look. Over the last week, she had come to terms with the idea that the skills in the group might run deeper than they appeared on the surface. Ben suspected she finally accepted there was more to it than she understood.
Ahead in the creek bed, Ben noticed something sticking out of the dirt. He walked ahead to investigate.
Corinne joined him and they both peered down at a short stick with feather fletching sticking up at an angle. The feathers still looked fresh. Ben guessed it had been left outside for less than a day.
The rest of the party stopped with them. They all thought the same thing. Someone had recently fired this arrow.
Rhys pointed behind them at the rock-studded hill the creek looped around. “There.”
They looked back and saw the angle and distance made sense.
“We don’t have time to investigate every odd thing we come across,” stated Towaal.
Rhys shook his head and argued, “We haven’t come across much. This is recent. It’s worth seeing if there is anything we can learn.”
Towaal sighed. “Go ahead. Quickly. I will wait down here.”
Rhys shook his head again. “I don’t think we should split up.”
Towaal grumbled and slung her pack down. “Well, I’m not climbing that thin
g with this pack on.”
They all followed her lead and laid down their supplies. They headed toward the hill with only their weapons and a few water skins.
When they drew closer, Ben realized this was not just a simple hill. The rocks sticking out had a square shape, and the entire formation was a suspiciously perfect cylinder.
“Must be an old keep,” remarked Grunt. “You find things like this from time to time in the Wilds. Ancient fortifications and signs of past civilization. Occasionally, you can even find old artifacts that are worth some coin.”
“How old?” asked Amelie, trailing her hand across a waist-high block at the base of the structure. The stone was worn smooth around the edges and dirt and sediment had formed around it to incorporate it back into the landscape.
“This could be two or three thousand years old?” guessed Rhys. “There’s no telling.”
“So, possibly before the Rift was created,” murmured Towaal. She was suddenly interested. She led the way, climbing up the steep, nearly vertical side.
From a distance, the climb looked intimidating, but once they started on it, Ben found plentiful handholds. The tumbled blocks provided high but easy steps to ascend to the top.
When they reached the top, they discovered where the arrow came from. Three men were lying sprawled in a grisly heap. Pale, they had been drained. The demons that killed them had consumed all of the life-blood in their bodies.
Crimson and purple splatters painted a space the width of a medium-sized house in Farview. A fierce battle had taken place. The men’s weapons were stained from use, but there weren’t any demon corpses to show their work.
A broken bow lay in the hand of one of the corpses. He must have tried to hit a demon with it, thought Ben. The man’s sword was still in his scabbard, untouched.
Grunt knelt by the bodies and rolled them all to be facing up.
“Nong,” he said to Corinne, pointing to a short man whose chest had been torn open.
Corinne gasped and moved over to see. Confirming Grunt’s assessment, she turned to the group. “Nong was one of the most experienced hunters in Northport. The man used his scimitar on demons like a butcher on a pig. He’s fought and killed scores of demons. There was rumor he could be a blademaster if he chose to make a challenge.