by David Greer
Chapter 18
A stutter caught his eye. Senses blared with alarm but there was nothing. No movement in the tall grass in front of him. No movement in the treeline behind. No sounds were out of place and no foreign aromas were in the air. But the stutter was obvious. Something had made Grimey hesitate and Leo couldn't figure out why.
“This is it lads. My next step will be the farthest away from Quarry I've been.” Or at least for as long as Grimey had lived there. Leo gave a smile. Kane simply shrugged and held his palms up presenting the road ahead. Grimey got the message: that's great, keep going.
For the past few days the three hunters had been traveling north through the Woodlawns. It was easy going. Grimey hacked away at the occasional deadling. Leo picked off the occasional banshee. Kane spoke not a word the whole time. Every night Leo would find a patch of sky through the canopy of the oaks and ironwoods to gaze skyward. For the most part it was easy traveling but with each step Grimey grew a little more anxious with the growing distance between he and his home. Leo noticed this and helped spot any deadlings for the burly hunter to go after. It kept him from dwelling on home while Leo led the way through the woods.
The trio had since traveled north-west beyond the Woodlawns. Their road then headed north alongside the base of the Ursa Mountains. On occasion Grimey had spotted the mountain range in the distance when cutting rock from Quarry Mountain but he never thought too much about it. The Ursas loomed in a haze across the horizon like any mountains would. But now that he was close to them he saw what kind of behemoths the Ursas really were. Frost covered the lower regions while snow blanketed everything above. That is, everything that was visible. The mountains reached so far up the peaks were lost above a permanent blanket of clouds. Undoubtedly the peaks were frost-bitten as well. The behemoth mountains brought the cold air from high up down to their level and chilled the surrounding air. Grimey could see his own breath every time he exhaled.
Their camp that night was chilly, to say the least. Grimey had never experienced such cold. It permeated his skin and worked its way to the bone. It's not that the bearded hunter had never experienced snow or frost. Quarry reached freezing temperatures in the winter and the town would often be covered in a powdery white blanket. But this cold was a chill like none other. The air didn't necessarily feel cold but the chill in the breeze passed right through to his core. It was an odd sensation to feel cold from the inside.
“It's the Ursa Mountains.” Leo said. He had noticed Grimey rubbing his hands together to no avail. “Their peaks reach higher than all other mountains. The air up high is different. It's called the chill. Sometimes the air moves just so that a wind will carry the chill from above down here. It's the only time you feel cold come from within. No coat or fur will help. The only thing you can do is get near a fire and hope the flames are benevolent enough to give you warmth.”
“And if that doesn't work?” Grimey asked.
“Deal with it.” Kane said. The muscular hunter was striking a flint. Sparks leaped onto a small pile of leaves and twigs, which caught fire after being showered with a few waves of sparks. Grimey noticed that as he shivered the two islanders seemed fine.
With a fire burning and a hot meal served, the three settled in for the night. Luckily for Grimey, the breeze from the Ursas had died down and the hunters enjoyed the warmth of the meal and the flames. Grimey had prepared a stew. Kane had grown quite fond of the herbs and spices the bearded hunter added for flavor. McGrady had provided Grimey with plenty of aromatics, dried meat and vegetables perfect for travel.
“So Grimey.” Leo said. Grimey was too busy chomping on a piece of meat to look up so he responded with a grunt. “I remember you thought our tattoos were fake scars. It's had me wondering about the real one across your eye. How did you get it?”
“Theresa.” Grimey said it automatically. A reaction without forethought. His eyes cast downward and his shoulders slumped. Something about that name had triggered a memory, Leo figured, and it must have been a painful memory. A heavy silence followed broken only by the slop of Grimey's chewing. Lines appeared across his brow as he scowled inwardly at whatever thoughts ran through his mind.
“Who is Theresa?” Leo asked kindly.
“She's gone.” Grimey said after another moment of silence. The bearded hunter didn't raise his head and continued eating his supper. He didn't want to talk about it any further. Leo got the hint.
The breeze returned that night, much to Grimey's dismay, and it was the first night he spent feeling cold from within. The air felt crisp, cool, and seemed deceptively comfortable but yet he shivered and his teeth chattered. The inside of the hunter's chest felt frozen as shock waves of cold coursed through his body with every breath. Warm thoughts didn't help either. Summertime, hot soups and stews, piping hot cider. Nothing did the trick. Even the crackling fire did nothing. He was frozen from within. Benevolent fire, he thought, what a joke.
The other two slept soundly near the fire. It made no sense how comfortable they looked. Couldn't they tell how cold it was? Grimey squirmed his way a few inches closer to the flames. Their orange arms waved and flung sparks in the air like confetti. Even the fire mocked the chilled hunter. All he could do was gaze into those tormenting flames as they danced. Maybe if he didn't think about anything he'd forget the cold and be able to rest. Grimey rolled over and cleared his mind.
Theresa.
Like a thunderclap the thought of her burst into his conscious. He tossed and turned but no matter how much he tried to clear his mind the thought of her remained. For years that particular memory rested dormant in the back of the hunter's mind but for the first time in a long while he saw her image, heard her laugh, and remembered. She's the reason why he committed his life to hunting. The reason why he swore to keep those he cared for safe. Why he vowed to keep Quarry safe.
Quarry.
The thought of home entered the hunter's mind as he rolled over and stared at the campfire. The orange light grew brighter and soon it was all the hunter could see. Everything else left his vision. Those dancing flames was all he knew. It reminded him of his forge. The hot coals heating steel until it glowed yellow and became malleable. The ringing of hammer strikes rhythmically shaping and strengthening the metal. Dripping sweat for hours on end in the hot workshop crafting his weapons just the way he wanted them. Custom designs, sharpened edges, weapons perfectly balanced for the bearded hunter's hands. The tools of his trade. The weapons used to protect and defend his people from the beasts that would disrupt their livelihood.
Memories glided through Grimey's head as he gazed into the flames. A small smile formed beneath his beard. Without realizing it, the hunter had grown warm. His head rested softly on the ground and his eyes closed easily. The hunter's breathing became steady and rhythmic.
Even as he dozed a steady clang continued to echo deep within Grimey's mind. The sound was mesmerizing, rhythmically piercing through the black abyss of sleep. Then a faint orange glow emerged from the darkness. It quickly brightened and in moments all was a bright orange. Then just as suddenly all was black. Clang! Then bright orange once again rushed in only to crash back to black. Clang!
The clanging sound became less of an echo and grew more focused. Grimey found himself back in his workshop hammering a heated bar of metal. The orange glow was fading to a dull red. The hunter shoved the metal into his forge. In a few moments the bar would heat back up to a bright yellow-orange and turn malleable enough to be shaped by his hammer. The process would have to be repeated several times. Hours of hard labor would pass until the blade would be shaped and ready to be sharpened. But it would be worth it. The final axe would be sharp, polished, balanced, and perfect. It would cut down many a beast before going dull. The hunter smiled.
All went black again. An image of a green field emerged. A small single-room cabin stood about one hundred meters away from the treeline in the background. A half-built wall protruded from the back of the cabin. Saws, hammers, and lumber s
cattered the ground. A little way across the field was a barn surrounded by a small farm and a fenced area to keep in a livestock of pigs, sheep, and cows. A man was working in the farm. He wore dirt-stained overalls and sweat dripped from his brow. He looked up and waved with a smile. It was McGrady, but a much younger McGrady.
“Ouch!” A boy stepped out from from behind the half-built wall. He looked to be in his early teens, tall and broad shouldered the boy was built like a grown man with stubble shadowing his youthful face. He held a hammer and was sucking his thumb. The boy looked up and quickly took the thumb away from his mouth and grinned. “Sorry sis. Was driving a nail and missed.”
“Are you okay?” The voice was soft, gentle, and clear as a blue sky. There was nobody else there but the boy, who simply smiled and went back to work chopping lumber with a small hand-axe.
The scene blurred and morphed into another. It was the same field near the same cabin. More of the wall was built but the ground was just as cluttered. A shadow passed over him and he looked up to see a swarm of banshees overhead. A larger banshee swooped down for him. Grimey tried to run but his legs felt short and they didn't move quickly. He cried for help and the voice of a young girl came out. The same young boy from before, his stubble a little thicker, ran out from the back of the cabin but it was too late.
Grimey felt the banshee's claws tear into him. They scratched and tore at him until they found their grip. He cried out and a shrill scream of a little girl came out. The banshee flapped its wings wildly and began lifting him into the air. Grimey struggled to get free and managed to break away from the banshee's claws. But he didn't fall to the ground. The banshee caught him by the ankles and he dangled helplessly upside down. He felt something grab at his arm. The stubbly boy was trying to pull Grimey back to the ground but he couldn't get a good grip. The banshee flew sporadically shaking wildly. He felt the boy's hand close around his wrist but then slip away. Grimey desperately flailed his arms to grab hold of something. He felt his fingernail catch on something just before the banshee broke free. Grimey rose away from the ground helpless to get free. Below he saw the stubbly boy chasing after him holding a hand-axe.
Everything faded black once again. When an image formed Grimey found himself rushing through a thick wood with a small axe in hand. Instantly he realized his beard had been replaced with stubble and his body was that of a young teen. A trickle of blood blurred the vision in his right eye and he felt the warm liquid run down the side of his face.
The sound of flapping wings came from behind. He glanced back and saw a swarm of banshees chasing after him but they couldn't keep up while having to weave around the trees. A scream rang out from up ahead spurring Grimey to double his efforts. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him leaving the swarm behind.
He chased after the scream, darting around trees and leaping over logs to find where the sound came from. He entered a clearing. A small girl laid at the center bleeding from lacerations in her back and ankles. She laid on her belly, her curly brown hair hid her face. Standing above the small girl was a large banshee with bright green eyes, its talons and fangs stained red. The beast looked up and saw Grimey. It flared its wings showing off its massive wingspan and let out an ear shattering shriek. Grimey instantly filled with rage. An uncontrollable surge of anger coursed through the hunter. With all his might he hurled the small axe at the monster, catching it in the neck. The force of the throw sent the large banshee hurling backward. It fell to the ground dead.
Grimey rushed to the girl, falling to his knees beside her. He went to pick her up but stopped as soon as he touched her. The girl was still. Her skin was pale. He didn't need to turn her over. She was lifeless and he couldn't bare to see her eyes that way. Tears welled up in Grimey's eyes, mixing with the blood in his right eye. Overwhelmed and exhausted, he collapsed.
When he came to Grimey was in the same clearing but it was empty. The large banshee and the small girl were gone. Grimey also had his full beard again and was his normal self. It was nighttime. Was this still a dream? He wasn't sure. The full moon shone overhead and something red glowed in the trees. The hunter tried to move closer but vines lunged from the ground and wrapped around his legs. The hunter kicked and struggled but couldn't move at all. He was stuck.
The red glow grew brighter until a fiery red eye emerged from the trees floating above the ground. It burned a hot crimson heating the clearing and looked down at the hunter. It grew hotter and hotter until Grimey began to suffocate from the heat. The eye didn't blink or move. It just hovered in the air glaring at Grimey. Then he sensed something. He didn't hear it but rather felt it resonate from within like a vibration in his bones. A single word formulate in his mind: Arkadius.
Then all went black.
Grimey felt cool air caress his face and opened his eyes to morning. He found himself back at the campsite near the Ursa Mountains. The air was crisp and still, much more welcoming than the chilling breeze from the night before. He opened his eyes feeling remarkably refreshed although deeply disturbed. Leo and Kane sat across from him tending to a pot over a flame.
“I'm surprised you slept.” Leo said. “Tea?”
Grimey accepted it with a forced smile. The cup warmed his hands and the aroma was rejuvenating like he was inhaling a sunrise. A sunrise? Did he really think that? Grimey couldn't believe he actually did. Sleeping in the chill must have really done a number on him.
“Most succumb to the chill and shiver awake all night long.” Leo explained.
“Oh I was cold all right. Wasn't a thing I could do about it. That chill froze my bones. But then, I don't know. I just fell asleep.” Grimey shrugged and went to sip his tea but paused. A real smile formed behind his beard. The hunter remembered how Smythe had spiked his tea and fumbled around for his sword only to send a column of flame high into the air. To think, that was only days ago and now Grimey was further away from Quarry than he'd been in ages. How quickly things can change. He eyed his tea and could only hope it was spiked the same way Smythe's had been. He took a sip. Only herbal tea but still satisfying.
“You were looking into the fire weren't you? Remembered something, didn't you?” Leo gave a furtive smile and turned away to pack up for the day's journey. Grimey recalled his thoughts from the previous night. Glowing orange metal and a clanging hammer. He fell asleep thinking about working in his forge. Was there something else on his mind too? How did Leo know he was recalling a memory? The bearded hunter shrugged and drank the rest of his tea with the rising sun but couldn't help shake the feeling that there was something else he was thinking about last night. Then he remembered the dream with the burning red eye. There was also the flashback of Theresa and the day he got the scar across his eye. The same day he lost his sister.
His mood had grown dark. The scar across his eye burned as he remembered the day he failed to save Theresa and a deep pool of anger welled up within his chest. A scowl formed behind the thick beard and once again and with great effort, just as he had done all those years ago, Grimey pushed the memory to the back of his mind and forced himself not to think about it.
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