by AC Cobble
“You said you were in the guards. Did you know Master Brinn?” asked Ben.
Grunt glanced at Ben in surprise. “You know Brinn?”
Ben nodded. “I passed through Whitehall early this year and spent about a week practicing with the guardsmen. I got to spar with Brinn one morning.”
“How’d you do?” asked Grunt curiously.
“I got a couple of strikes in. Then he knocked me down and spent the next bell pounding on me.” Ben jokingly rubbed his back side and Grunt chuckled at him.
“Aye,” agreed Grunt. “He has a mean swing with that two-hander.”
Grunt reached out a hand to Ben and they clasped forearms. “Good to meet you, Ben.”
The single gate of Northport stood open and the six companions made their way through. Ben felt a sense of trepidation as they turned north and started down a worn road. The hard-packed dirt was softened by the light drizzling rain, but it had not yet turned to mud.
We’re likely to die out here thought Ben as he stomped through a shallow puddle, but the fear of death strangely held no power over him. He’d committed to this mission and committed fully, meaning that no amount of danger would turn him back. If they were killed attempting to destroy the Rift, it would be worth it. Even though this wasn’t necessarily his problem, and not his fight, he refused to be the kind of man who would turn his back on people who needed him. The citizens of Northport and the rest of the world would be protected as best as he was able. As they continued marching, his resolve grew and grim determination spread across his face.
“You’re a serious chap, aren’t you?” asked Corinne.
Ben jumped when she spoke. He hadn’t noticed she was walking beside him.
“A bit jumpy though,” she continued. “Let me guess, you were some sort of government functionary before you fell in with this crew? You have the look of someone who thinks deeply about stuff no one else does.”
Ben frowned at her, unsure how to take that. “No, I was a brewer when they found me,” he finally responded.
The girl blinked, uncertain if he was joking with her. “You were a brewer? You made ale?”
Ben nodded.
Grunt called from behind them, “I knew I’d like you!”
“What about you?” Ben asked Corinne. “How did you end up a hunter?”
Corinne grimaced. “Like a lot of people up here, I just didn’t have anything better to do.”
“Tell ‘em the truth, girl,” barked Grunt. “We’re gonna be with these folks a long time, hopefully. We may as well be friendly.”
Corinne sighed. “It’s a long story, but very well. I think I told you yesterday I grew up in Skarston. It’s a little town about twenty leagues north of here. We’ll pass through it actually.”
They kept walking. Ben noticed Amelie had moved closer and was listening.
Corinne continued, “Well, up there, you’ve got to learn to defend yourself, whether you’re a hunter or a baker. It wasn’t uncommon for people to get picked off by demons when they were out alone. Every few years, we’d get a swarm attacking the village itself.” She shrugged. “You get used to it after a while.”
Ben winced. The demon attack in Farview had shaken the entire village for weeks. He couldn’t imagine living life with that as a constant threat.
“Anyway,” she kept going, “my da is a bit of a nervous type and didn’t want his girl going off and getting eaten in the Wilds, so he trained me with this.” She tapped the bow hanging on her shoulder. “And he trained me well. By the time I was full grown, I could shoot better than any of the women in town and all but two or three men. That kind of thing makes you a valuable resource in a place like Skarston. I got plenty of attention from the boys, of course,” she said with a wink.
Ben played along and replied, “I bet you did.” He tried to ignore the feel of Amelie’s eyes boring into the back of his head.
“My da was as serious about protecting me from the boys as he was the demons. He was a big man back then, before he got old. He was just as good with a bow as me and no slouch with a broadsword. Most of the boys started paying attention to the other girls once we got old enough for things to get interesting.” She sighed. “I felt like I was missing out.”
Ben listened intently. It was like talking to one of the older girls back in Farview. He knew plenty whose story would match Corinne’s. A girl’s father was the same where ever you went.
“As these things go, I started to get a little rebellious.” She smirked. “I made some choices that, looking back, I shouldn’t have. I ended up falling hard for one of the few boys who was brave enough to sneak around behind my da’s back. He convinced me to come with him into the Wilds. We had a big plan, me with my bow and him with his spear and sword. We thought we’d make a perfect team–hunters and lovers. Well, here is where it turns sad. My da was away when I left. He’d been given an important position in Northport and wasn’t around in Skarston much anymore. He was still connected enough that he heard about it though. He couldn’t come after me, so he sent my brother. My brother was a good man, but he didn’t have the skills that Da and I have.”
She sighed heavily. “I didn’t even know my brother was coming after me. Didn’t know until I found him two weeks later. Dead. He didn’t get more than a day north of Skarston when a demon surprised him.”
Ben cringed. “That is awful.”
Corinne nodded. “Aye, it was. Losing my brother hurt too much. I didn’t know how to cope.”
“I can’t imagine,” said Ben consolingly.
Walking along the dirt road, she kept talking, “I found out the boy I was with was only interested in what was between my legs, not comforting a girl about her brother’s death. He up and left a few days later. I was mad at him, I was mad at my da and brother, but mostly, I was mad at myself. I went pretty hard for a couple of years, not really caring about anything. Drank too much, spent a lot of time with the boys.” She shook her head ruefully. “Not my proudest moments. One day, three years ago, I finally woke up,” she said with a grim expression. “Skarston got attacked by the biggest swarm we’d seen in decades. I was drunk as a goat, but I ran out into the streets like everyone else and tried to defend the town. I put arrows in half a dozen demons. I think may have killed one or two. It was the first thing that made me feel good in a long time. I realized I was wasting time being mad at everything. It was a demon that killed my brother. I sobered up the next day and I’ve been killing demons since then.”
“Tell them the rest,” demanded Grunt.
“Oh, right. He always wants me to mention this part. I put an arrow in him too,” she said unapologetically, hooking her thumb to point at Grunt. “I flew one right into his back. I wish I could say it was a great shot, but it was an accident. I felt pretty bad about it at the time, but he’s fine now. Tough man. You wouldn’t know it though, if you heard how much he bitched about being shot.”
“You shot him with an arrow?” exclaimed Amelie incredulously. She looked back at Grunt and the hunter nodded confirmation.
“Like I said,” answered Corinne. “I was drunk as a goat.”
“If you put an arrow in a man, I think you should take some responsibility for it,” claimed Grunt. “Drunk or not. We’ve been traveling together now for three years. I’m still waiting for an apology.”
Corinne shrugged. “I don’t lie and I’m not that sorry. I’ll buy you an ale.”
The first night on the road, they stayed at a small inn in a town call Kapinpak. The inn wasn’t nice, but it was getting cold at night. Not even Towaal was eager to rush into that when they would be facing the Wilds soon.
“Why is it called the Wilds?” asked Ben over a steaming joint of mutton and a mug of poor quality ale.
“It’s untamed,” answered Rhys. “No one lives there, and for as long as anyone can remember, no one ever has.”
“Is it,” Ben paused, unsure what he wanted to ask. “Is it different?”
Rhys shook his head.
/>
Grunt spoke up. “It’s further north. You start getting up in the mountains, so it’s cold, and of course, you’ve got the demons. Other than that, it’s not too different from the forests near Northport. Same trees, same dirt.” The big man sipped the slightly sour ale and made a face. “I’m not sure this should count as my free ale.”
“You always say that,” grumbled Corinne.
“This stuff tastes like horse piss!” complained Grunt.
“Then why have you had four of them?” argued Corinne.
Their banter reminded Ben of the way Rhys acted—always putting up a front and always trying to make a joke out of everything. He supposed that once you’d seen enough hard times, you force yourself to enjoy the good ones.
Ben leaned forward with his elbows on the table and, hiding behind his hands, made a face at Amelie. She stuck her tongue out at him then rolled her eyes at the hunters.
“Brewer,” asked Corinne suddenly. “Where did you get those scars?”
She was looking at his arms. Ben followed her gaze down. With his hands held up, his sleeves had fallen to show part of his forearms. On one arm, he had the three parallel cuts from the demon at Snowmar. The other had deep punctures from climbing over the glass-studded wall the first night after fleeing the Sanctuary.
“Which ones?” he replied.
“Either, I guess.”
He tapped his right arm and explained, “I got this climbing over a wall one night. I found out too late the owner didn’t want people doing that.”
Corinne snorted.
Ben continued, ignoring the snort. “And this arm, I got this from a demon.”
The red-haired girl suddenly sat forward and looked at him hard. “You’ve fought a demon?”
Ben grinned and shrugged casually. “A few times.”
Corinne and Grunt shared a look. Ben sensed a growing appreciation on their part for the company they were with. He wasn’t sure why, but so far, Lady Towaal and Rhys had been circumspect about their abilities. The lack of trust wasn’t healthy for a company embarking on a quest like they were, but it was their story to tell, not his.
Lady Towaal cleared her throat and interrupted.
“Let’s talk about where we are going to go,” she suggested.
They all leaned forward, scooting empty platters and half full ale mugs aside for Lady Towaal to lay out one of the volumes she had borrowed from the Librarian.
“I think he may charge you if you don’t return that,” remarked Rhys.
“We needed it more than he did,” replied Towaal sharply.
She flipped quickly through to a page showing a rough map which Ben took to be the Wilds. Jagged upside down Vs looked to depict mountains, and there were wavy lines he thought could be rivers. In the center was a small symbol, which Towaal placed her finger on.
“This is the Rift,” she explained.
Frowning, Corinne and Grunt leaned in close. They had experience in the Wilds, and were trying to match the squiggles on the map to what they knew of the actual terrain.
“I’ll be honest,” remarked Grunt. “I don’t know where that is.”
Towaal nodded. “I suspected it wouldn’t look familiar. Since the Rift’s creation, it’s likely the terrain has changed significantly. Even if it hasn’t, the Wilds are a vast territory and this could be anywhere. What we need to do is narrow the search.”
“How do we do that?” asked the hunter.
“We know the Rift is where the demons are coming from. Where the demons are thickest is intuitively where we should expect to find the Rift. If we can trace the highest concentration of demons, then we have narrowed our search, and hopefully can make some sense of this map.”
“You’re saying you want to know where the most demons are, and then actually go there?” demanded Corinne. Everyone ignored her.
After a pause, Ben asked, “How do we know where the highest, uh, concentration of demons is located?”
Rhys answered, “I think I know.”
They all turned to him.
“How do you know where all of the fish are in a lake?” he asked, grinning. When no one responded, he answered his own question. “You ask the oldest fisherman.”
After Rhys said that, Corinne and Grunt both immediately thought of the same person. The ‘oldest fisherman’ when it came to demons was a retired hunter named Long Axe who lived in Corinne’s hometown of Skarston.
It was one day north of Kapinpak and the last bastion of civilization before the Wilds began. They left just after dawn and arrived midafternoon.
“That’s a bit dramatic and silly, isn’t it? Long Axe,” remarked Ben derisively.
“I am called Grunt,” said Grunt.
“Right,” acknowledged Ben. “That is a good point.”
The hunter muttered under his breath and they kept walking down the street.
They were restocking their supplies in Skarston while Lady Towaal and Corinne tracked down Long Axe. Corinne knew the man from when she was a girl. They hoped the personal connection would open the door for Towaal to ask what they wanted to know. Like many old people, Long Axe had a reputation for telling a good story, just not always the one you wanted to hear.
“Rice, beans, kaf…what else did we need?” asked Grunt. Ben hoped the man wasn’t changing the subject because he was offended about the name thing.
“Rice and beans? Is that a good idea?” inquired Ben. “I wouldn’t think a fire in the Wilds is wise.”
Grunt shook his head. “Demons don’t care much about fire. People do. Trust me, if we’re out there long enough and winter hits, we’ll want that fire. And if we have fire, we might as well cook some rice and beans.”
“Demons aren’t attracted to fire?” wondered Ben. “You mean, they can’t see it or even smell it?”
“I have no idea what a demon sees or smells,” responded Grunt. “I just know that fire doesn’t seem to attract them. I’ve had hundreds of fires in the Wilds and never had a problem with it. Demons are attracted to life-blood, I know that. And they hate water,” he finished.
“I knew that about water,” agreed Ben. “We should keep that in mind, it’s saved me before. I don’t think they like daylight either. I’ve always heard they are more active at night.”
Grunt snorted. “Son, there ain’t no real water in the Wilds during winter. It’s frozen. And daylight, well, we go up north, the days get shorter and shorter. You worry about darkness, and you’re going to be doing a lot of worrying before we make it back to Northport.”
“Oh,” replied Ben. He had a lot to learn.
They ducked into a shop front where Grunt said they would be able to find everything they needed. With a quick look, Ben saw the place carried merchandise geared toward adventurers and hunters. Perfect.
When they exited the store, Ben saw a long plume of dark black smoke rising into the air. He grabbed Grunt’s arm and pointed toward it. “What is that? An attack?”
Grunt shook Ben off and replied, “Nah, probably was an attack. That smoke is clean up.”
“What do you mean?” asked Ben.
“Burning demon corpses,” explained Grunt. “The things are noxious and burning ‘em makes that thick black smoke. Worst thing you’ve ever smelled. That’s why they’re doing it out of town. You don’t want that smoke getting around your house. My advice when you see a burn pile, do not get down wind of it. You’ll be sick for a week.”
“Why do they burn them if it’s so bad?” queried Ben.
“Well, unburned dead demons don’t exactly smell good,” replied Grunt seriously.
Back at the inn, with supplies in hand, they passed a table of three men who were discussing the burn pile. Ben loitered nearby while Grunt went to speak to the innkeeper.
“‘Bout eight or nine of 'em, small ones,” muttered one man. “Not good, a swarm that size coming at the town. They’re getting run outta somewhere.”
“You’d rather it be a bigger swarm?” snorted another man.
“And why do I give a pig’s filth about demons not being able to find something to eat?” The second man laughed.
“Because if that swarm couldn’t find anything to eat, it’s because someone already ate it all,” explained the first man patiently. “It means there are bigger swarms, and it’s just a matter of time before they come here. I think that’s why old Rhymer in Northport is encouraging everyone to leave.”
The second man barked, “Rhymer wants us to leave so he can get all the land. I heard the mines are running thin this season and prices are edging up for produce out of Sineook. I’m telling you, it’s a ploy to get our farmland.”
“I don’t think so.” The first man paused dramatically. “I’m thinking about moving the family down south.”
“What!” shouted the third man, finally joining the conversation. “You can’t leave here! Your business will be ruined, for one. And that father-in-law of yours is going to go nuts if you try and take his daughter and grandchildren away. He’ll straight up kill you! Didn’t he say that at your wedding?”
The first man sighed heavily. “He and I spoke about it. He thinks maybe it’s not such a bad idea.”
The three men sat back in silence, contemplating the mugs of ale sitting in front of them.
Ben edged quietly away from the table and went to find the rest of his companions.
The next morning, they were back on the road, heading north from Skarston. Ben glanced behind them and watched as men patrolled along the walls. The walls reached three-man heights but had nowhere near the thickness of Northport’s.
At one of the corners, workmen were busy adding another story to the watchtower. Ben could see other newly built towers rising behind the walls in town. The signs were obvious, but these people didn’t want to see them.