Thank you, she sent, looking up at the tall tree she knew he was perched in and received a mental grunt in response.
“What? We’re supposed to survive on that?” Charz complained, then swore as another dead raccoon fell from the tree above, bouncing off the back of his head. Deathclaw had only just started gutting this one and its entrails decorated the giant’s shoulder.
“Thank him next time,” Beth said. “He would have handed it to you.”
Charz grumbled, but he got the fire going.
By the time Hilt arrived, the sky was brightening. The sun would rise over the eastern mountains soon. The warrior had a badger tossed over one shoulder and was happy to see Beth seasoning the rest of their meal. With Mellinda’s troops in the area, there was no big game to be found and their options were limited.
“It’s good not to be the only hunter around,” he said. “Though I must say, I sure am tired of rodent. Almost as tired as I am of these,” he said, pulling a thin black snake out of his jacket pocket. “Deathclaw, I’ve got your favorite.”
The raptoid made very little sound as he slid down the tree and approached. From the smear of the blood on his jaw, he had already eaten, but he readily snatched the snake out of the air when Hilt tossed it.
“Thank you,” Deathclaw said and bit off its head.
Beth cooked their meal and smiled contentedly as they ate. She leaned her head on Hilt’s shoulder. They didn’t have it so bad, really. Conditions weren’t the best, and they were under constant threat, but she knew deep down that as long as they stayed together, the four of them would survive.
These feelings or impressions had started when she had first met Hilt, but they had increased in frequency over the last year, ever since she communed with Yntri’s Jharro tree. Sometimes the feelings came with a specific vision, sometimes not. The prophet had called them, ‘the Creator’s blessing’. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she had learned to trust them anyway.
By the time the sunlight touched their camp, they had bedded down for the day. Charz fell asleep right away while Deathclaw kept watch from the tree above them. The raptoid didn’t tend to sleep for long hours at a time, instead taking several small naps during the day when he wasn’t needed.
Beth snuggled up next to Hilt under his pink elven blanket. It was thin, but somehow on cool nights it kept them warm and on warm nights it kept them cool. She found it difficult to sleep, though. Charz’s memories continued to run through her head. She tried for a while, but finally nudged her husband.
“Hmm?” he said.
“I need to talk to you.” she whispered.
“Can it wait?” he asked with a grumble.
“Would I bother you if it wasn’t important?”
“Yes,” he responded. “But fine.” He yawned and turned over to face her. “What is it, Beth?”
“Shh, don’t wake Charz,” she said. “I can tell you with bonding magic if you want.”
“You know I don’t like that,” Hilt replied. “Just talk quietly.”
He didn’t like the feeling of someone else’s voice in his head. Beth found this particular dislike quite annoying. Mental communication was so much easier. “Fine. It’s about Charz.”
“That’s what I assumed when you told me you didn’t want him to hear,” Hilt replied.
She scowled at him, “I finally got him to speak about his past today.”
“You do tend to pry.”
“Just shut up and listen,” she said. “I’ve . . . been wrong about him. At least somewhat. He’s not a regular rock giant. Did you know that?”
“I assumed. I’ve fought rock giants before and though many of them were bigger, none of them had skin that hard, or healed that fast,” Hilt said.
“Charz wasn’t always like this,” she said. “He was taken as a child and sold to wizards in Khalpany. They made him like this. They raised him to fight in the arena.
“These wizards used their magic to make his skin harder and make his reactions faster. Then they put these gemstones inside his body that made him heal very fast,” she said. “They would send him into the arena for champions to challenge and as long as his head was attached, he would heal afterwards. There was no way he could escape. They had his gemstones linked to that crystal pendant that he wears. They kept it in a strongbox and if he strayed too far from the crystal, he collapsed.”
“That’s a sad existence,” Hilt said. He glanced over at the sleeping giant. “It could drive someone mad.”
“That’s just it. He had seen others go crazy and become little more than rabid animals. All of them ended up dying sooner or later. Charz chose to enjoy the battle instead. He saw each fight as a challenge.”
“How long was he in there?” Hilt asked.
“Nearly a hundred years. He was the reigning champion. No one could beat him. He was popular for a while, but eventually the people tired of him. They wanted him to lose. The owners even stacked the events against Charz, hoping that a gladiator would finally be able to beat him, but Charz never lost.” Beth said. “Eventually they started letting popular gladiators fight their way through the competition without facing him.
“Then one day, a named wizard called Master Oslo visited Khalpany. He watched Charz fight a horrific battle and they bonded. Oslo was outraged by the way Charz had been treated. With Alfred’s help, he stole the crystal and let Charz free. But he didn’t understand what Charz really was. It wasn’t long before Charz thirsted for a challenge. He went on a rampage, stirring up the countryside against them. When Oslo finally sealed Charz up in that cave, it was because he had no other choice.”
“I see,” Hilt said. He kissed her lips gently and stroked her hair. “He’s changed, Beth. Don’t worry that he is going to lose control again. You’d know if that was going to happen.”
“It’s not that,” Beth said. “I know he’s sincere. I felt it when I listened to him the first time. He had a true change of heart. The problem is me. Ever since I first listened to Charz and felt the weight of his hundreds of years of bloody fighting on his shoulders . . .” She sighed. “Even though I knew he’d changed, I couldn’t forgive him for what he’d done. I put up with him being around because I knew it was necessary, but I haven’t been kind to him.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Hilt said with just enough sarcasm that Beth had to resist the urge to knee him in the stomach.
“What I realized today,” she said with clenched teeth. “Is that it’s not my place to judge him. He has enough doubters, himself and his bonding wizard included. We need to support him and just maybe we should look for ways to make him feel like a more needed part of our group.”
“I agree. You know, Beth,” Hilt said, stroking her jawline. “I fell in love with you because of your courage and determination and, quite frankly, because you gave me no other choice.” He chuckled. “But I stay in love with you because you always try so earnestly to make the right decision. And because you always let me sleep.”
“Alright, go to sleep then,” she said and turned over, putting her back to him.
“And?” He reached around her and pulled her close against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat against her back.
“And I love you, too,” she said.
“Good. I am asleep now,” he said and that was true just minutes later.
Did you hear what we said? Beth asked Deathclaw through the Jharro wood, knowing that he had. His hearing was that good. Even from way up in the tree, he would have heard.
That you two love each other? the raptoid asked. It is to be expected among you humans, I suppose.
No. What I said about Charz, she clarified.
Yes.
When he didn’t elaborate, she added, And doesn’t it strike you how similar his story is with-.
We were both changed by wizards and bonded to a human, yes, Deathclaw interrupted, sounding somewhat offended by the comparison. But that is all we have in common.
I wasn’t comparing him to you, Beth
said. I was comparing him to your sister.
Deathclaw was silent in thought for a few moments. How?
He was once broken, just like she is, Beth sent.
He was never like she is, Deathclaw said.
Beth frowned. Charz eventually changed, is the point I am trying to make.
Deathclaw snorted. I cannot wait a hundred years for her to change.
But-.
Have you foreseen this? Deathclaw demanded. Have you had a vision of a change in her?
No, she admitted.
Then as with Charz you must learn that it is not your place to judge her, the raptoid said. I am her broodmate. I am her Deathclaw. I have judged Talon.
Beth blinked, surprised at being reprimanded. I am sorry. You are right. It wasn’t my place to say.
Sleep, Beth, Deathclaw said.
Her mind churned in embarrassment, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. Sleep was difficult for Beth to find. Deathclaw’s reprimand sat sourly in her stomach and it was some time before she drifted off.
When Hilt woke her it was well past noon. The sun was at its Zenith and the heat of the day was on them. Beth hated sleeping during the day. She always woke with a headache, feeling like her brain had been stuffed with cotton.
“Beth,” Hilt said, shaking her gently.
“Oh, what is it, damn you!” she snapped.
“We need to get moving,” Hilt replied. He handed her a tin cup filled with water. “Charz has spoken with Alfred and it seems that their spy among Ewzad Vriil’s people has some new information.”
“What is it?” she asked sitting up. She drank and found that the water was cool and had been flavored with waking herbs. Hilt knew her so well. Her mind had begun to clear by the time she finished it.
“Their informant says that the mother of the moonrats has established a troll farm somewhere to the east of us. She told Ewzad Vriil that she expects to have a sizeable army by summer’s end. It’s probably where the orcs we’ve been running into were headed. The council is worried that she may be making more of those modified trolls there.”
“Then I guess our decision has been made for us,” Beth said. She stood and began folding the gauzy blanket.
“Yes. We head east. But the question I have is even if we do find this farm, what do we do then? Regular trolls we could set on fire, but if she has a large number of modified trolls, we won’t be able to handle them.”
“We need pepper,” Beth said.
“I ate the rest of the peppered beef,” Charz said.
“No we need a lot of pepper,” she said.
“I know there used to be some farms to the northeast,” Hilt said. “I don’t know if there’s anything left of them now, but they could have some.”
“No,” Beth said as a flash of intuition hit her. “I know where we could find a whole barrel.”
“Where?” Deathclaw asked.
“Pinewood,” Beth said.
“That’s almost a week’s travel to the north, through moonrat-infested land. That’s the opposite direction from where we want to go,” Hilt said.
“I know, but I have a feeling.”
Hilt gave her a wary look. “Are you sure you want to go there, love? It would be a dangerous trip and we have no idea what we’ll find when we get there.”
“I understand that,” Beth dreaded it herself. She had lived in Pinewood for a decade and left many friends behind. No one she had spoken to knew what happened to the town, but most of the refugees in the dwarf caverns assumed it had been wiped out. “But Pinewood is where we need to go.”
Chapter Fourteen
Talon crouched on the roof of what had once been the mayor’s house, wondering just how many of the humans had gotten away alive.
Pinewood had once been a proud town full of hardy forest folk. They were situated perfectly at the edge of the Tinny Woods right next to the main road from Sampo to the academy. Fear of the growing moonrat menace led them to wall the town, but that hadn’t prepared them for Mellinda’s purge. When the academy was surrounded and the protective wards covering the forest roads had been broken, Pinewood was one of the first casualties. Moonrats had swarmed over the walls, taking them by surprise.
Talon had spent some time searching for survivors when she first arrived. The gates had been flung open at some point and human tracks led away in all directions. But most of the tracks she had followed disappeared suddenly or led only to inedible remains.
Talon grinned at the thought of all the humans running and screaming. She felt a twinge in her jaw and reached up to caress the spot where the ogre had struck her. No trace of the injury remained, but she felt it still. Sometimes she dreamed of that blow. She had never been struck so hard, not even by that rock giant. She wanted to face that ogre again. She would let it strike her again, just to feel the power of it, feel her bones break and her muscles burst. But then she would kill it. Then she would taste its blood, mingled with her own.
She was hungry. Trolls and moonrats had taken anything edible in the town weeks ago. Talon had found a few homes or shops with glass jars full of vegetables or preserves that the moonrats hadn’t known what to do with. She had broken them open and ate them, but even though she enjoyed the way the glass cut her mouth and throat, these meals were meager and unsatisfying.
This town had sustained her for the time since the great battle, but there was little left to eat anymore. Most wildlife around Pinewood had been hunted clean long before she arrived. This was likely why the moonrats and trolls had left. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have become Talon’s refuge. Here, she was able to stay unmolested by the moonrat mother until she decided what to do.
Talon knew that she had failed Ewwie’s orders. She had only killed one of the wizards. Her brother’s wizard still lived. If she returned to Ewwie now, he would put another moonrat eye in her and the moonrat mother would make her numb again; make her obey again. Talon couldn’t bear the thought of that.
She had spent the last few days tearing up the floorboards of houses. She had discovered that humans liked to hide things there. Unfortunately not much of it was food. Talon had found trinkets, weapons, armor, and strange potions that tasted intriguingly bitter, but did nothing to assuage her hunger.
The house she stood on was the only place she had yet to search. She wasn’t sure why she had stayed away thus far. It should have been her first target. It was bigger than the others and it even smelled of food, but still she had stayed away. Even now as she sat on the pinnacle of the roof, she felt a strong compulsion to go elsewhere. The feeling confused her. She listened to it; rolled the feeling over in her mind.
Why should she leave? She did not know. Talon pushed the feeling away and slid down the wooden shingles. She hung by one hand for a moment then dropped twenty feet to the muddy road below. Again, she felt the compulsion to turn around and leave, perhaps check some of the other houses again.
She went around to the back of the house instead. There was a rear door. She really didn’t want to open it, but she lifted the latch anyway. She pushed on the door. It wouldn’t move. She put her eye to the crack between the door and the jam. The door was barred from the inside. There was a small window in the door, but surely the glass was too strong to break. Talon’s fist burst through the glass and she reached down for the bar. The bar was going to be too heavy for her to lift, though. She lifted it anyway, and pulled the door open. The smell that wafted out caused her mouth to water. There was meat inside, and something else. Something living.
It was time to leave. Her hunger left. She was sleepy. She was too sad to go inside. Talon ignored all the feelings and crept inside, ready to kill whatever lived there.
She was in some sort of small hallway. Muddy boots lined the floor and coats were hung on hooks that protruded from the walls. She rounded the corner into a room with long counters and various metal instruments, but she didn’t stay to investigate it further. She heard a yelp from the room beyond and heard the thudding of footsteps.<
br />
Talon was buffeted by thoughts and emotions. The sound was nothing. It was a mouse, no, a dragon. Ignore it. It would be best to leave.
She chased after the sounds and entered a room with a long wooden table surrounded by many polished chairs. At the head of the table, a chair was pulled back. A plate was set there, with a half eaten jar of red lumps of sweet smelling vegetables. Talon heard a creak and darted forward through another doorway, focusing her senses and ignoring her emotions.
In the next room, cowering in the corner, was the living creature she had sensed. Its eyes were wide and black, its teeth sharp. It held a long kitchen knife.
“Stay back!” it said, it’s voice shaking.
Talon’s instincts told her to run and never look back. This was the most terrifying creature she had ever encountered. Talon’s eyes, however, told her that this was merely a gorc. A female. It had mottled leathery greenish skin and for some reason was wearing some kind of fancy human dress, the material red and shiny with lace at the edges.
Talon stalked forward, her teeth bared.
It squealed and dropped the knife and all the conflicting emotions left Talon’s mind. “I’m sorry! P-please tell the mistress I’m sorry!”
“Misstress?” Talon hissed and leaned forward, sniffing at the gorc. It smelled like flowers and human things and stale gorc sweat.
“Yes! Please! Tell the mistress I weren’t hidin’. I was just . . . scoutin’ this place.”
“I do not sserve your misstress,” Talon said and licked the gorc’s neck. The acrid taste of human perfume filled her mouth. She whispered in its ear, “I sserve only Ewwie.”
“D-don’t know no Ewwie, lizard lady,” the gorc female replied with a shudder.
Talon flexed her fingers, feeling the urge to tear its throat out and play in its innards. “He iss the barldag’ss messenger.”
“Oh him,” the gorc said in relief. “I never heard him in my head. Just heard the mistress.”
Talon stepped closer, tracing a claw lightly down its face. “You hearss her?”
The Bowl of Souls: Book 05 - Mother of the Moonrat Page 19