by C. Mahood
“I took the liberty of preparing a breakfast for you. I have been cleaning for a while now and feared you had left already, so apologies if it is a bit cold.”
“I’m sure it will be great! I would east grass at this point. I am starving Shaw.” I made my way over to the bar and pulled up a stool. What my eyes saw next almost moved me to tears. Ok, maybe a few drops came from my eyes, but that was just from the sleep dust, I swear.
In front of me Shaw set a large wooden plate. On it was the finest breakfast I have ever seen. 4 large, thick rashers of smoked bacon, the fat just starting to crisp and brown. Two thick pork and leek sausages sat on top of two perfectly fried eggs. There were two slices of `fadge,' or potato bread as some call it. A Soda bread farl was cut in half with black pudding on top of each half. Some fried mushrooms sat on the side of the plate. They had been fried and grilled in the fat from the sausages and bacon so they tasted amazing. I must have been very hungry because I didn’t cut the fat off the bacon or leave some mushrooms. Beside my plate there was a small ramekin with a brown thick sauce in it. I knew it couldn’t have been HP but it was a fruity brown sauce and tasted just as good. Sharp, fruity and tangy. In true Northland fashion I washed down the breakfast with some thick brown heavy brewed tea. Just a little drop of fresh milk. Today was shaping up pretty well but I knew I had a long trek with lots miles to cover in a short amount of time. I finished the plate and pushed it aside after draining my mug of tea. I patted my belly and looked down at Tessa who had cleared her plate of the scraps and a few sausages too. My t-shirt was stinking. The Soundgarden logo itself was hidden behind a layer or dirt, my jeans were ridged from the caked on mud and my hoodie looked like a gillie suit with straw and grass coming from every newly cut hole on it. I felt like a homeless scarecrow. And most likely smelt like one too.
She must have seen me inspecting myself, flaking dirt off from my clothes because Bonnie approached me with an arm full of folded garments. “Here, take these. I can wash those for you, you can collect them next time you are passing.”
“Oh really? Well I will keep the t-shirt, it just needs a rub down with a cloth but thank you for the rest of these.” I said as I took the pile from her and handed her the hoodie I was wearing. I made my way back upstairs after thanking Shaw for the amazing breakfast and began to change into the clothes she had left for me. To my surprise she had left me a kilt. Now I have to admit my emotions were all over the show at this point. Firstly. A skirt? Really? No way I was going to wear that. Then I thought about having to blend in, the Soundgarden t-shirt was a bit of a give away, but when I reluctantly put the kilt on the grey and black tartan went well with the black t-shirt and the black boots I was wearing. I felt like Jonathan Davis from Korn! Well….if he was cast in Braveheart. I also figured that since this isn’t Scotland I don’t have to go `full Scotsman’ so I kept my Calvin Kleins on underneath. It was a security thing. Not to mention the fact that Northland’s weather was much like the north coast of Ireland, so pretty cold.
I made my adjustments and wrapped the sort of shawl, cloak tartan around me. It acted like a jacket with a hood and also a body warmer. I knew now that my legs would be freezing but it wasn’t my main concern. I descended back down the wooden staircase into the main pub, it was still too early for anyone to have arrived but it felt about mid day now. Tessa was outside, I could see her through the door sniffing around the bushes, the horse posts and cattle troths. She then proceeded to squat and leave a gift for an unobservant wonderer. I didn’t feel guilty. We weren’t in Belfast now, there were no £50 charges for dog fowling here, I hoped.
Shaw walked me to the door and handed me what looked to be a large stick. It was tipped with iron coverings at either end. I unscrewed one of the ends to find a point. A bladed spear head to be precise. Shaw winked at me.
“You can never be to careful lad, I haven’t needed to use it myself but again, you are headed to Renir. You know the stories now. Just hope there are no more to tell when you arrive!”
I made my leave with Tessa at my side, her tail wagging uncontrollably, she jumped up in front of me, kicking off my chest with excitement. Her mouth wide and tongue hanging out. We headed back onto the path we had been walking the day before. Shaw had told me a few last things about Renir before we left, such as, Renir is the second largest city in Northland. It is mainly a trading town, and is known for its strange goods from the goblin isles and passing ships, often pirated while lost on the Troll gap coast.
A large River brings rich deposits of silt and gold dust from Battle lake down to the town, where it is extracted, sifted, cleaned and stored in the large, armoured warehouses by the river side. All of which run by the several competing merchants’ guilds. From there, the gold is exported all over Northland.
The problem is however, that all that Gold has its drawbacks. Crime and theft are still rife in the city. The guards fight to gain control over the people but so many of them are often called away on crusades by king Dertrid of Sáann. The classes are very divided in Renir. Many who work with the guilds live lavish lifestyles of indulgence, and every pleasure imaginable. Often at the expense of the lower classes who scavenge for scraps but feel safer in the walk of Renir than outside. Theft and black market trade of fencing stolen goods is a second industry conducted under the streets of Renir. Most criminal activity from Northland is conducted, contracted, started and finished in Renir’s underworld.
The river is so full of sulphur that it is virtually useless as a source of food or of drinking water. Trade from outside of Northland is paramount to Renir’s survival. The farmland nearby is barren and yields little crops. Unlike Sáann, a self-sufficient metropolis of abundance.
Renir houses the only prison in Northland. Executions are not common but are still served for the vilest of crimes. The prison is well known to be overpopulated and many criminals are able to escape with out notice for days because staying on top of the numbers is so difficult for such a small force.
The road to Renir was not the most scenic of roads. The forests were behind us and mostly flat gravel and hard dirt fields engulfed us as we made our way toward to buildings growing from the horizon. It wasn’t all bad, Tessa had large open spaces for me to throw the collection of sticks she brought me. It always amazed me, no matter how barren, desolate or flat the land was, this dog could always manage to find sticks the perfect size for throwing. Clean sticks too, the bark chewed of so they were smooth to touch and sailed better through the air. At least one of us was enjoying the trek we were making. I kept my staff close to my right leg as I walked, trying to get into a rhythm. It is a lot most hassle that you would think carrying a large stick with you. It didn’t help me as I walked. I was able bodied and fit enough. Maybe an old man would need one but not me. It was more of a safety thing for me now. Maybe once I reach Renir I could fashion a strap to put this on my back and free up my hands. It was a pain having to set the staff down to throw the stick for Tessa every five minutes. The path was widening as we made our way closer. More gravel and harder ground. Must have been from the many that travelled this way. It felt like we were now walking the right road. Our cross country expedition had ended. The Rebels rest inn was but a speck behind us now. All that was visible was a tiny whiff of smoke coming from the chimney.
My heart was splitting as we made our way closer to the city. We had walked for hours and the walls seemed higher with ever step we took in their direction. My heart split in two because I was torn with separate hopes. Firstly I hoped Sarah was in Renir. I wanted more than anything to hold her again, smell her hair, feel her skin, I could even hear her banter-full insults about the clothes I wore and would welcome them more than ever. My second thought was that I hoped she was not here and had headed east. With all I had heard about Renir I hoped to god that she did not step foot inside and that she was safe. I cursed myself for not elaborating about Renir when I wrote Dertrid’s Deed.
If I had only described the city it would have looked better a
nd been safer. I wanted Northland to be everything Ireland should be. Peaceful, kind beautiful and most importantly, without civil war. I had known enough hatred in my life caused by religion and politics being mixed together in a viral, disgusting way. The closer we got to the city the more I hoped for the second option. Bad thought entered my head of my wife being here lost and alone in this dangerous city.
I thought back to a time we had been on holiday in Valencia in Spain. We visited the massive indoor markets there and for only a split seconds our hands were separated as a group walked between us pushing us to either side of the stalls. In that short moment I lost sight of her and the accumulation of us being abroad, not speaking the language, knowing no one else, not knowing our surroundings and waling in separate directions to find each other, scared me half to death. I hated feeling like that again.
Missing her so much it hurt.
Tessa must have felt my worry and heartache because she had run back to me and clung close to my legs as we walked towards the large looking and ominous gates. There was a portcullis and a tar pit overhead as we walked under the archway. The portcullis half raised a few feet above my head but still lower than half of the archway.
The city was so much larger once we passed the threshold. It had the feel of a place still under construction. Some stone some wood, lots of tightly packed scaffolding, logs of many different shaped zig-zaged up and out to be strong enough to hold several men. There were what looked like guard towers around the city. High thin buildings with no lower doors only ladder that had been bolted into the stone. They stood alone with no walkways between. Only connected by a thin but large wall, created entirely of thin pine tree trunks. All cut to the same height with sharpened, pointed tips. Most likely to stop anyone climbing in, or out. The streets were in no recognisable or visible order. You could see clearly the age of the buildings by the rot on the walls and exterior support beams. Over the years building must have been built wherever the land was flat. No site planning was in order in this city. Just buildings and houses erected wherever there was room. The streets were wider in places and narrower. Only at first glance from the distance of buildings. On closer inspection every larger section was made narrow by stalls. Most of which protruded from the buildings, Shop fronts that were the downstairs to the traders homes most likely. Awnings reached out into the middle of the walkways. Most touching the opposite. Casting a shade on the entire mud heavy path ways. Traders shouted over one another with offers and trying to entice customers with continuing competitive prices. The streets were all on a hill of different degrees of incline. All streets led up to the largest building in the centre of the city. A Large stone structure that put me in the mind of Dundrum castle in County Down, back home. A Norman Keep that has stood the test of time and still stads strong and powerful now. In fact, it looked EXACTLY the same. Only not ruined but the way Dundrum castle once was. This must have been an escaped and fleeting thought I had while I was creating this place? If Dundrum castle was in Northland, what else could be here?
The banners that hung from it were coats of arms of some sort. Like a county flags. There was a long blue banner with with black trimming. On the blue base was a silver fish and a white horse. I guessed that this represented the Stallion from fish haven. The one Kain-finn had brought from the hag to save the thane. I was enjoying the fact that I had learnt some history from a land I created, that I did not write. There is a power and a magic in the uncontrollable I believe.
We made our way through the streets. Passing traders selling all forms of goods. Most had gold in them somewhere. The clothes and garments had gold lacing, the pottery and crockery had inset gold designs, even the cutlery was gold. The people of Renir seemed varied however. Some of the people shopping had escorts or guards walking along with them. You could tell by the way they held themselves. One that I had spotted in particular was a large man with a long moustache curled with wax. He wore a long velvet garment, like a dressing gown or house coat. This again had gold trim the whole way round. His hat was like a night cap that sat over to one side of his head. Made of the same red material as his house coat. Under that he had a suit made of the most beautiful material. Shining and glistening with jewels in the failing sunlight. His hands were clad with rings, and his wrists with golden bracelets. Around his neck was a large golden chain. It hung over his shoulders and rested on his large belly. It was made of five or so large coins, connected by a thinner chain. The coins had images on them. Engraved into the silver and gold metal. I could not see clearly the images but I recognised one of the symbols from above a door of a warehouse just behind him. I thought then, that he must have been someone important.
His two escorts stood shoulder to shoulder with their backs turned to him as he was talking with the shop keeper. They were facing the streets and watching every person walking by, shoving anyone that got to close. I had never seen anything like these men before. They stood tall. I mean I am six foot and two inches and these guys towered over me. They must have been about seven foot at least and built like wrestling body builders. No superficial defined muscle, just pure mass and power. They wore black trousers stained with light dirt and sawdust, tucked into black, scuffed and worn boots. What looked like the steel toe-capped ones. They wore similar shirts that barely buttoned over their chests. The arms had been torn neatly from the shirts. I didn’t know if it was for a practical reason or for intimidation. Their arms were thicker than my abdomen, and that’s saying something as I am a pretty big guy. My wife is an expert baker, forgive me for volunteering for the tasting committee.
They had tattoos from head to fingers. Black swirling designs, mostly symbolic tattoos I’m sure although the one I could see clearly on the right had a tally on his inner forearm. I did not want to find out what it was counting. I have not told you the most disturbing thing however about these men. Everything seemed human apart from the faces. They had noses that would be better described as snouts. Like, proper pig snouts on their face where the nose should be. The one on the left had his pierced in the middle like a bull! Their eyes narrowed in and the snouts moved while they sniffed or spoke. I could do nothing but stare as I walked closer. So much so that I began to walk slower as I approached. My staff was dragging on the ground behind me as I walked. Tessa staying tight to my legs and growling softly. I was both fascinated and terrified at the same time. Like waiting for the jump scare in a movie. You try not to watch it but the moment it appears on the screen your eyes were drawn to it. That’s what it felt like looking at these pig men.
I almost came to a standstill in front of them until my staff was caught in between two traders stall tables. I tried to yank it out but it seemed wedged in. I looked up and saw one of the pig men starting strait at me. I was frozen with fear as his eyes narrowed. He must have seen me as some kind of threat because he cracked his knuckles, shoulders and neck and began walking towards me. I kept trying to pull the staff free, Tessa stood in front of me, full of false courage, growling deeply and loudly now and the mad approached through the street. I got down on one knee and tried to jiggle my staff loose from where it was wedged. As I looked up I noticed a small hooded figure jumping from one rooftop to the other. A long green hooded cloak began to quickly climb down the outer struts of the building opposite me. The figure wore brown thin shoes, like climbing shoes covered in dirt and chalk. It wore fingerless gloves and a mack over the face. It was like a green bandanna with two holed cut in it for eyes. I could not see and weapons but just a brown satchel like a messenger bag hung down from under the cloak. Sliding with such finesse, like one of those parkour or free running videos you have most likely seen on You tube, It slid down until it was just above the shop front.
Standing on a ledge just above the awning He or she balanced themselves on both feet tight together. From the Satchel it pulled a thin silver rope. Throwing it overhead, it was slung over a beam sticking out from the joint of the building’s roof. The figure caught the other end of the rope and began
to tie a knot in it. This was all happening so fast. The pig faced bodyguard was still walking through the crowd, pushing shoppers out of the way with clean sweeps of his arms. He moved slowly, assessing his surroundings and the situation but he moved like a strong heavy ship through frozen seas. Slow but precise. I tried still to loosen my staff but it still would not budge.
I looked up at the figure once more, It was lowering the hoop he had made down towards the shop. Moving slowly like a fisherman dropping bait he lowered the rope down lower and lower. Suddenly he had seen his prize and dropped the rope like playing horseshoes. The loop landed over the head of the second guard. Suddenly the figure dropped to the ground holding the other end of the rope. The loop tightened around the neck of the guard and lifted his feet from the ground as the caped figure landed. With a quick wrap of the rope around the shop front pillar, the guard was being hung. The commotion was deafening as screams came up from the crowd as they saw this giant man being hung. All attention was on him and a group started to gather. The first bodyguard had just reached me and had his hand out to grab me when the mosh arose. He turned his head away from me, to witness the sight of his comrade and colleague struggling with a rope, hanging several feet above the ground. The cloaked figure had already moved so quickly. He had dropped to the ground, rolled towards the well-dressed man in the red satin gown, cut a small money bag from his belt and begun to run away while the confusion and fuss was so high.
During all of this hustle and bustle the bodyguard that still had his feet on the ground reached out his tree branch like arm and managed to curl his fingers around the straggly fringes of the thief’s cloak, stopping him in his tracks. He curled the material in his fingers until he could get a full handful. I chocking cream went out from the thief. The sudden stop and pulling motion of the cloak connected around his neck, rightly took his breath away.