by AC Cobble
“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.
“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 asked Corinne, “So is this what it is 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.