by J R Marshall
There was no chance of leaving the horse unattended for wild animals would attack unprotected creatures. Strange animal abounded, creatures Wisp didn’t know how to describe, all within a mile of anywhere I stopped, and this cave was no exception.
The horse had cost me sixty silver pieces, and I was wroth to abandon the animal, yet passing through the mountains I would need to use craft and the animal was becoming a burden.
In the end I decide to approach one of the wildmen’s camps, and see if I could barter the animal’s sale, so removing most of my provisions I headed off to where I had seen smoke rising the previous day, leaving equipment but not my silver or scrolls in the backpack stored in the cave.
To say they were wildmen, was perhaps a misnomer, yet they were certainly free of any laws, save the ones they made themselves, and their camp was better described as a small burh; little fortresses, earth embankments with wooden palisades, or ditches surrounding small piled stone walls, yet these defences sufficed at keeping animals at bay, and offered difficult terrain for any would-be attacker to overcome.
During the day the women and men would hunt deer, fell trees, collect wild plants for food, and they would keep sheep, initially stolen, or goats, geese with clipped wings, and wild pigs, now semi-domesticated.
Approaching just such a place, I walked along a path cleared in the trees, and stopped at the inner treeline, looking across basic smallholdings and allotments, cleared land, for anyone approaching would been seen crossing the clearing, thus giving time for any enemy to be countered. Indeed I had already been spotted, for someone followed me, just out of sight, hiding behind trees.
I rode a further thirty yards forward, and called out, announcing my presence and asking if I might approach. I wore my chainmail, sword hung at my side, axe over one shoulder, and Git at my side. I had long since given up cleaning my mail, yet the light oil sheen had kept most of the rust at bay.
“What do you want, stranger?” Two men stood on a small plank bridge that spanned an earthen ditch.
“I want to sell my horse, for I’m crossing the mountains, and I’ll have trouble in the high passes,” and instantly regretted saying it, for it would weaken my bargaining position.
“A horse, eh?” And he walked forwards, at the same time as three men, a child and two women exited the wood to my left.
“Is it the animal you are riding now?”
“The same, and the saddle and tack is included.” And dismounting, I allowed the nearest man to inspect the horse.
“Why don’t I just take it from you?” he said, spitting out something he had been chewing.
“If you’re not interested I ride on, but if you think there are enough of you, you could try and take it.” I wondered if I should have remained seated in the saddle.
“Just a joke, no offence, how much do you want?”
And it was a bad joke, and I needed to take control of the situation, for this was just one man talking, and others might be interested.
“I’ll let it go for sixty silver, which is less than I bought it for, and the tack and saddle are thrown in for free, a bloody fine bargain in these parts.”
“Sixty silver? Where do you think I’ll get that from?”
“I’ll take gems, anything small, I’m not fussed.” I stepped back as he lifted a leg, checking the shoes, and examining the fetlock, before moving down the side and rubbing his hand along the shoulder, checking the bone structure on the horse’s chest.
“Looks a little unloved, how about twenty?” He didn’t look at me, but just worked his way around the animal, pulling on the saddle strap and checking the leather work.
“Sixty is a fair price, perhaps your fellows have a better offer.” I didn’t like the number of men approaching, this was getting potentially dangerous, yet I relaxed as a woman called her husband over, and said she could do with acquiring the animal if the price could be negotiated.
“Careful!” I said as a dirty bearded man started circling me, looking at my weapons and armour.
“Check the animal if you want,” and staring at him, my hand resting on my dagger, “but don’t walk behind my back.”
After twenty minutes, the woman came back with six pieces of amber, and two small gold coins. “Tis worth your sixty,” she said, trying to place the items in my hand.
It wasn’t anywhere near sixty silver in value for the gold had been clipped excessively and the amber pieces were small. I hadn’t a clue what amber was worth yet reckoned she offered me close to forty silver pieces, and we agreed on the sale, although I asked for four eggs as well.
I had no intension of departing the way I had arrived, for whilst she went to fetch the eggs I had seen men disappearing before the deal was finalised, heading into the wood, no doubt intending to ambush me, and reclaim the amber and gold.
Crouching down, storing my eggs, I held Git by the scruff of his neck and muttered words quietly, transporting myself and hound four miles towards the cave, some three miles short of the distance needed.
I ate the eggs raw, whilst Git leaped ahead running through the undergrowth, startling grouse, who clucked rapidly and noisily as they bore themselves aloft, warning all other creatures of my presence.
*
With the fire established at the entrance, and Wisp warning that there were no men within five miles of the cave, I fell asleep, Wisp leaving my dreams and checking the location of Krun.
The following day, having meditated and prepared my camp, and placing a ward at the entrance, I studied the cave in great detail, picturing each crevice in my mind, so that I could visualise the location and thus return by craft.
The Grey Mountains were less majestic at this location, but looking south I could see they grew in height and splendour and I had a plan in mind for Krun, but fist I needed to capture him.
Git didn’t like being grasped by the scruff of his neck, for he knew what was coming, so he whined a little as I spoke the words, visualising the room at the Haggard Hen, and moments later feeling slightly disorientated I sat down on a three-legged stool waiting for Wisp to catch up.
It would be too easy to simply kill Krun; a dart fashioned by craft might stun him, and then a knife in the neck, but I had a cruelty especially prepared that was more worthy.
Wisp took about three minutes to flit across my consciousness, and he told me that Krun was recovering from beer, resting on the floor of a whore house. Wisp didn’t understand the concept of drunkenness, but knew the state a drunken mind felt like when he visited the dreams of people inebriated.
And allowing Wisp to guide my travels I appeared in the rear room of a brothel. Separated from the corridor by a curtain, not quite closed, Krun lay face down on a pile of straw oblivious to my presence.
As I stood over him, I could hear the raucous laughter of men and women in different cubicles and wondered if I would ever humiliate myself by paying for sex, and looking at this dirty bastard of a bully, I smiled, for he would be begging for my mercy, yet my revenge would be slow, and he would cry before he died.
Drawing my sword, and reversing the blade, I swang the haft with violent ferocity, clubbing him unconscious with one stroke.
Now bound and gagged, Krun had been transported back to the Haggard Hen. He lay staring at me, wriggling on the ground, for clubbing him violently I had worried that I struck too hard, thinking that the blow may have been fatal, yet there he was alive and wondering what his fate was.
“On guard.” I clicked my fingers so Git knew he was to protect, and making sure Krun had absolutely no chance of escape, nor of alerting the landlord, I fell down into meditation, for my powers were nigh exhausted.
Wisp raced ahead pointing out and finding the strands of energy I needed for my craft and whilst there was the usual exalted feeling of wonderment, this time we both knew I could not tarry and racing back across the sea of altered perceptions I awoke, not certain how long I had been absent, yet Wisp confirmed that little time had elapsed.
It
was still morning, and the inn would not be full and I so wanted to wash and eat but that would have defeated the whole point of my subterfuge. No one was to see me, so crouching down, one hand grabbing Git by the neck, and the other touching Krun’s leg, just above the heel, I closed my eyes and carefully visualised the cave, recalling to mind the fissures, the fire, my backpack and the dirt on the ground, the water dripping down the sides at the far end, gaining an accurate image. Muttering words, convoluted and strange, the words of my craft, and moments later, scarcely a blink of an eye, we returned to the foothills of the Grey Mountains, yet I didn’t release my grip on the hound, commanding Git to sit, stay.
I could sense the dweomer across the entrance, we had been undisturbed, and waving a stick across the invisible lines of the ward, I discharged the magic protection. A slight bang, a minor flash of discharge, and I could smell the energy dissipating, it smelt like air during a thunderstorm, yet Git was now free to roam, and I sent him out.
Krun could see, yet the gag prevented him from speaking, and I searched his clothes, looking for silver, and finding none, I started tormenting him, removing the gag, watching and listening to his curses.
I drew my dagger and threatened to blind him, but I needed him to see, for that was part of my torture yet to come. Not knowing any of this he revealed where he had concealed four silver pieces and a small gem. The gem was stolen, and not worth very much, but he wouldn’t be needing it.
Krun’s feet were loosed, yet his hands were tied behind his back, and I was confident he could if left to his own devices and given an hour or so, manage to untie himself, yet my plan only required a few minutes and Krun to his credit didn’t beg, I was marginally impressed.
He would beg shortly, he would cry, but I was not going to kill him, he would kill himself.
With my sword drawn, point thrust lightly into his back, we walked to the bottom of a towering sheer cliff, rising some five hundred feet, and scrambling over rocks that lay strewn at the base, I smiled and told Krun to kneel.
“You stinking bastard!” said Krun, certain that I was about to kill him.
“I’ll not kill you, I’ll release you if you like?”
Turning his head he called me a liar, but I looked at him with sincerity, and reinforced my comment, that I would release him.
Placing a blindfold over his eyes, I looked up, and taking hold of Krun’s arm, muttering words that he had heard before, yet each action of craft is subtly different, and I stood upon a ledge six feet wide and eight feet long, Krun kneeling before me, I told him to lie face down so I could cut his bonds. He complied, swearing retribution.
“You shouldn’t release me, you orc turd. Kill me for I’ll get my revenge.” He snarled worse obscenities at me. Yet I kept my word, and his arms became free, and as he reached to remove his blindfold, I uttered words, my last application of craft, and he was alone. Three hundred feet on a ledge, a precipice, and he screamed in terror.
Sitting one hundred feet away from the bottom of the cliff face, I watched Krun shaking. He pled, cried, cursed and looked desperately for a way he might climb down, or up, for he considered both options of escape. There were none, he was buggered, for my view was better than his, and I watched enjoying the spectacle, relishing Krun’s misery.
My revenge was seldom this enjoyable, and the more Krun begged the nastier my delight, but as midday approached I decided to return to the cave and stoke the fire. Git needed feeding, and I would meditate, spend a few hours enjoying the earth song, and later I would hunt for wild boar, or whatever Wisp said was nearby.
I didn’t want to tarry too long, wishing to set out across the low mountains and reach the other side as quickly as possible, but I felt Krun might yet entertain me a little longer, and whilst I could use craft to transport my hound and I, the terrain was difficult and not knowing my destination, I was severely restricted in where I could transport myself magically, a limit of four miles at a time, not enough; the mountains were at least twelve miles across, possibly more.
As night fell, the light of the waxing moon cast shadows across the cliff face, for I had wandered back, wondering if Krun had fallen, but he was still there, and I tormented him some more.
“It’s getting cold, your hands won’t hold if you try to climb down now, I suggest you try tomorrow, for I’m heading off across the mountains.”
“Help me get down, don’t leave me here!” he cried, weeping tears.
“Sorry, I’m far too busy, but your best option is to climb down on your right-hand side… Pass on my regards to Cragtor?”
There was no advantage to his right side, but it appeared there were hand grips that could be useful, I just knew they petered out, a futile option.
During the night Wisp enhanced my dreams, and I recalled the lessons Tam had taught me, yet I awoke in the early hours before dawn. Git was growling at something outside. The flames from the fire impaired my night vision, yet I could faintly make out a shape moving beyond the edge of fire light, and Wisp told me it was a bear and that Krun was still on the ledge, so I fell back to sleep.
Krun fell to his death just before midday. I hadn’t been present, but he died cursing, for trying the right-hand option, he had become stuck, neither able to ascend nor descend, and shaking like a leaf, his strength finally failing, he fell. His ruined body lay broken, dashed on rocks, to be eaten by carrion and other creatures.
The mountains were lower in height the farther north, yet still formed a difficult barrier, and I had stored three portals and an exploding flame spell, and setting off, headed into the mountains. I was confident that there was an old drovers’ trail, a mountain pathway used many years before by cattle herders and merchants. But finding the path would be difficult and once found, staying on it would likewise not be easy.
Gathering my cloak tight around me, I walked onwards, concerned by how cold it was becoming, for the wind blew down from snow-capped slopes, and it had begun raining, not sleet, yet still bitterly cold.
“Bloody hell! This isn’t fun.” Yet my cloak was waxed and I guessed the mountain range wasn’t too wide.
All the paraphernalia that was so easily slung across the horse was now piled on my shoulders, and I stank of smoke and cooked boar, for slaughtering a wild boar the night before, Git and I had fed well, yet the excess cooked meat was storing inside my folded tarpaulin. My tent would stink for weeks to come.
It would be a miserable night tonight, for there were few trees, and as we walked on, these sparse sources of firewood disappeared altogether – no fire to keep me warm – and as I thought these thoughts, a boulder came tumbling down a mountainside, rolling and crashing into other rocks so that as I looked for the source I could see a line of wolves traversing the side of the mountain, some half a mile away to my right, no doubt following me. Bugger! A sleepless night ahead.
I used two portal spells to transport Git and I some six miles, less than I hoped as the mountains were precipitous, and there was no advantage in arriving halfway up a slope, unable to see ahead. So preserving the last application of craft in case of emergency, we walked two or three miles on foot, hoping we would only need to spend one night in the freezing cold.
As the light failed I came upon the ruins of a drover’s hut, falling down, lichen growing in between dry stone walls, yet I eschewed this option, for there was little protection from wild animals who could sneak up unannounced. The tiny building was in such a dilapidated state it offered little in the way of security, so taking stones from the decaying walls, I pitched my tarpaulin on a rocky outcrop, some fifteen feet wide and about the same in length, yet accessible only from the scree-covered mountainside.
It took me an hour to construct sides, for the rocks were piled about three feet high, the tarpaulin stretched across. No room to stand, yet enough to lie down, perfect for Git, or a wolf for that matter.
I fed the hound, encouraging it to eat as much as possible, and likewise myself. The smell of day-old roasted boar would attract eve
ry wolf within miles, perhaps I shouldn’t have stopped, or better still not have brought the meat.
*
Git was a coward, and he lay at the back of the tent whilst I sat freezing cold, slicing and cutting at every wolf in all creation, the starved and emaciated animals circling below whilst occasionally a bolder wolf would seek to attack, trying to access across the scree.
These wretched creatures, malnourished, riddled with worms, hunted across the unforgiving mountain, normally sought grouse or lapwing, goats and rabbit. Attacking me was their worst option, but they seemed oblivious to the fact and I was doing my best to educate them; several lay dead or dying.
“Sod off and attack a goat or something!” I bellowed aloud, their threat not desperate, but I wanted to sleep, and it wasn’t going to happen. “Oh look, it’s bloody snowing, can’t you just fuck off?”
And whilst I was dry for my cloak protected me from the sleet, the wind was fierce, sliding down the mountainside, gaining access to every fold of my cloak, as though having a map to the warmth of my body.
Sod this! It was too cold, and after slaughtering ten wolves, I was wondering how I could drive them away, convince them of their error.
I loosed an explosive flame, and the light of the blast lit the surrounding area, my vision impaired, and whilst I couldn’t be certain, I think three wolves died, and the animals fled, yet thinking myself free of their malicious attacks they returned half an hour later, less bold but still persistent.
This was becoming a potential problem, for whilst I didn’t worry for my safety there was a chance that attrition could wear me down, the cold and sleet were certainly a factor.
I couldn’t rest, I had but one act of craft left, and no means to learn more. My ignorance of travelling across wilderness and mountain ranges was so profound, I’d made too many mistakes. I thought my time on Joe’s farm mill had taught me about animals and living a hard life, that I could sleep in hedgerows, gleaning an existence from the land, but no, my lack of experience had led me to this rocky outcrop, in the middle of a mountain range. I’d be damned if these wolves would gain my hound.