“These little buggers will get the fish biting nicely.” Satisfied with his haul, Stiger stood back up. Bag in hand, he shook it slightly for emphasis. “Nothing better than worms for bait.”
“If you say so.” Theo looked unconvinced. “You dragged me all the way up here. Tell me why you think this is fun again?”
“Dwarves don’t fish?” Stiger looked at Theo with mild surprise. “I find that hard to believe.”
“I don’t fish,” Theo said and gestured at the bag in Stiger’s hand. “Some of my people do this sort of thing. However, I am a warrior, not a fisherman. I have dedicated my life to protecting my people. I gain much legend.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the simpler things in life from time to time,” Stiger said. “Does it?”
“I enjoy plenty of the simpler things in life,” Theo said.
“Like what?”
“Drinking with my mates,” Theo said, “for one.”
“I might have guessed that one,” Stiger said. “It seems soldiers in all armies love to drink when given the opportunity. It helps to pass the time and soften the edge of a hard life.”
“That it does,” Theo agreed. “What do you legionaries drink?”
“Wine,” Stiger replied, “and cheap beer. When in camp, legionaries get issued a daily wine ration.”
“No spirits?” Theo said.
“No, the hard stuff is rare and too expensive for the average legionary.”
“I see,” Theo said. “Do they fish, too?”
“Some do. When time permits and a fresh body of water is available. It helps to supplement rations and creates a little variety.”
“I have never seen the need”—a sour look crossed Theo’s face—“to, ah, fish. But as you say, a little variety may be worth something now and again.” Theo paused. “Those of my people who do fish for food use nets. You get more fish that way with less work.” Theo’s sour look returned, and then he suddenly cocked his head to the side, a curious expression crossing his face. “Have you done this sort of thing often?”
“No.” Stiger began walking over to where he left the fishing rod. “Sadly, I’m not very good at it, but I’ve learned to enjoy it.”
“Who taught you to fish?” Theo followed after him. “Your father?”
Stiger paused and glanced back at Theo for a moment. He dropped the bag softly to the ground, and then reached for the rod. “No, my father did not teach me to fish. He never had the time for such things.”
“Who, then?”
“A friend of mine,” Stiger said, half turning back to Theo. “An elf, actually.”
“An elf?” Theo laughed loudly, drawing the attention of several of the nearby guards. “You can’t be serious? Elves have not been seen in centuries.”
“Yes, I am,” Stiger said, removing the string and hook from a pack he been carrying. He quickly fished the string through the small metal loops on the homemade rod and tied it off. He secured the hook to the other end of the line. Carefully looped, he held the extra line in his hand. “He is a good friend.”
Theo regarded Stiger for silent moment. It was clear that the dwarf was wondering if he was being toyed with.
“I even lived amongst the elves,” Stiger said, with a quick look at Theo.
“I see.” Theo’s tone still held a trace of doubt. “Elves are not highly thought of by my people.”
“I know.”
“When my people came to this world,” Theo continued, “along with yours, the elves betrayed us.”
“How so?”
“For a time,” Theo explained, “they fought with us, but when it mattered most, they stood apart. They went their separate way, turned their backs upon both our peoples. In the eyes of mine, they lost much legend.”
Stiger read real anger in Theo’s expression. Though Theo had likely never met an elf, he clearly harbored hard feelings that had been passed down from his father and likely his grandfather before him. Stiger had never known Eli to be anything but honorable. However, the other elves that Stiger had become acquainted with were far from predictable in their behavior. Eli had explained that his people looked at things differently, a result of their longevity. Stiger reminded himself there were always two sides to a story. He wondered for a moment what the elven side was. Then decided it didn’t really matter to him. His time of concerning himself with such events was over. Stiger gave a slight shrug of his shoulders and turned away, moving toward the water. He had tired of the conversation. It was time to begin fishing.
The pond was good sized and ringed almost completely around by young trees. Thick, low-lying brush grew almost right up to the edge of the water. A few yards into the brush, on the far bank, were the stone ruins of an old house and barn. Stiger had explored these the last time he was here. They had been abandoned long ago and there had been nothing of value left. Time and the elements had claimed nearly everything.
The roof of the barn had collapsed, along with part of the stone wall facing the pond. The stones from this wall had fallen in a large pile, over which grass had begun to grow. Of the one-room farmhouse, the entire roof was gone and all that remained was a mere shell. The chimney was intact, but it looked far from solid. A strong wind might take it down.
What had once likely been cultivated fields and pastures was now overgrown forest filled with young trees, choked by low-lying brush. The pond, Stiger suspected, was probably artificial and had been for watering animals.
Giving Stiger and the dwarves plenty of space, several ducks drifted across the placid surface. He considered the ducks, wondering how he could trap them. The opportunity to present a duck to Sarai was very tempting. It would be a welcome addition to their fare. Had he a bow, the ducks would have been easy targets. Unfortunately, Sarai didn’t own one. At the very least, he would need to construct a trap of some kind. He resolved to think on how he wanted to do it over the next few days, for he enjoyed roast duck immensely.
The pond and surrounding forest was a peaceful enough setting. It was isolated and very quiet. Several weeks ago, when he had been restless, Sarai had suggested he take a hike and catch her a fish. After negotiating with Captain Aleric, Stiger had set out with a small guard for an afternoon of fishing.
It was a good hike and even better exercise, as it took some effort to get to Bowman’s Pond. It wasn’t the distance that made the hike challenging, as it was only around four miles from Sarai’s farm, but the elevation. The grade was very steep, at some points even requiring a bit of scrambling, as parts of the path had washed away with the spring rains.
The pond was located on a small mountain ledge. The ledge was several miles in length and, as near as Stiger could tell, at least one mile in width. The last quarter mile of the hike, though over flat ground, was through young forest that was quite thick with brush, making even the flat portion of the hike a challenge.
Emerging from the trees, Stiger paused for a moment, surveying the peaceful setting. Bright afternoon sunlight reflected off of the surface in a dazzling show. A series of large stones spread out from the edge into the water. Stiger made his way over to the spot. He stepped from the bank to the first stone and then from one to another, until he was on the last one, around seven feet from shore.
He sat down on the rock, which had been warmed by the midday sun. The chill air had retreated, and it was almost uncomfortably warm. Stiger understood that feeling was partly the result of the exertions from the hike up.
The water looked refreshing and he contemplated jumping in for a swim. At the farm, he had been cleaning himself using a bucket of cold well-drawn water. Hiking up, he had worked up a sweat. A dip was not a terribly bad idea, he thought as he hooked a worm. It might even be enjoyable, but would have to wait until he was finished. He did not want to scare the fish. Satisfied the worm was secure, he cast the line out into the water and sat back to wait for the inevitable bite.
After some hesitation, Theo followed him out onto the rocks, sitting down on a lar
ge, smooth one to his right. Stiger glanced over at the dwarf, who looked uncomfortable being so close to the water. Theo returned the look with one of mild irritation.
“I don’t much like water,” Theo said, without a hint of embarrassment. “Not one bit.”
“For bathing?” Stiger cracked a grin at the dwarf, who shot a scowl back at him.
“I like bathing well enough,” Theo said, adjusting his tunic as he leaned back using a hand to prop himself up.
“You could have fooled me.”
“Ha, ha,” Theo said and then gestured out at the pond. “It’s large bodies of water like this that I do not much care for.”
“You can’t swim,” Stiger said, contemplating his friend, “can you?”
“No,” Theo admitted. “I’ve spent most of my life under the mountain. Any underground lakes or ponds like this one here are bitingly cold and usually very deep. Sometimes the water is even poisonous and can give you painful burns.” Theo paused to swat a fly away. “Don’t get me wrong, there are places where the waters run warm from the blood of the mountain. Those pools are usually very shallow and worth taking a dip in. It helps one to relax. Now that I heartedly approve of.”
Stiger had never heard of such pools and wondered what they would be like. Perhaps akin to a bathhouse, where the waters were heated? It had been a good long while since he had seen the sight of an imperial bathhouse. He looked back at the pond and then over to Theo.
“This pond isn’t that deep,” Stiger said, gesturing out at the placid water. “I could teach you easily enough to swim, if you wish. Who knows, you might even one day teach your son.”
“My son?” Theo whispered, his expression turning inscrutable as he studied the water for prolonged moment, before turning his gaze around to his fellow dwarves. Ten of Stiger’s guard were spread out along the bank and in the trees, several of which were watching them closely. Wearing their heavy armor, they looked hot and uncomfortable. Stiger almost felt sorry for them—almost. He was, after all, their prisoner.
“Perhaps another time,” Theo said.
“In the legions,” Stiger said, “it is a requirement that every recruit learn to swim. I myself have had need of that skill more than once, and when it mattered, too.”
“By nature, my people are not the best swimmers,” Theo said. “We are too heavy, you see, big boned, and tend to sink. It takes a lot of effort to swim a short distance.”
It was Stiger’s turn to bark out a laugh.
“I don’t find that very funny,” Theo said, which only caused Stiger to laugh even harder.
“It is not funny.” Theo went red in the face.
“No, I suppose it is not,” Stiger said, reining in his amusement and holding up a hand. “My apologies. Still, I would be willing to teach you. Swimming is a valuable skill to learn. You never know when you might need it.”
“I have no doubt about that and . . . I may take you up on that offer,” Theo said, lowering his voice. He looked meaningfully at the nearest of his comrades. “But not today. I don’t wish to make a fool out of myself.”
Stiger understood and the two fell silent for a time as he waited for the fish to bite.
Basking in the warmth of the sun and tugging occasionally at the pole to attract the fish, Stiger did his best to enjoy the peaceful setting. He felt a lessening of the heat as a light breeze worked its way by. He gave the pole another soft tug.
There was a scuffing sound behind them that caused Stiger to turn.
“Your dog has followed us,” Theo said.
“Yes, he has,” Stiger said, “hasn’t he?”
At the edge of the pond, the dog sat down on his haunches next to a dwarf and stared straight at Stiger. The dwarf patted the dog’s head, eliciting vigorous tail wagging. This was followed by a scratching of the animal’s neck. The dog craned his neck, clearly enjoying the attention.
“Have you given him a name yet?”
“Dog,” Stiger said, giving the pole a slight tug. No bites yet.
“Yes, it is a dog,” Theo replied and then it hit him. “Wait . . . you named your dog Dog?”
“It seemed fitting.”
“You could have been a little more original, don’t you think?”
“Fishing requires a semblance of quiet.” Stiger spared the dwarf an unhappy look before returning to his fishing. He grew silent and over the next hour refused to be baited into further conversation by Theo.
Dog eventually made his way out onto the rocks. He laid down on the nearest one, just behind him, and promptly went to sleep. Stiger eyed the dog for a bit, which was lying on its side, soaking up the sun and snoring softly.
Stiger closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the forest around him, something that Eli had taught him to do. He breathed slowly in and then out, calming his mind, centering his being. He took another series of breaths.
There were a number of birds calling out, some of which he could identify, others not. He could hear the insects. Somewhere nearby, a deer rubbed its antlers against a tree, close enough that he could hear it clearly. A breeze worked its way through the trees, causing limbs to sway and creak. The leaves rustled with its passing.
Stiger opened his eyes. For a moment he recalled his time living amongst Eli’s people. The peace and tranquility of the land that they had shaped to their will was not only beautiful, but as near perfect as one could imagine.
In a way, that was why Stiger had repeatedly returned to Bowman’s Pond. It reminded him of another happy time in his past . . . well, really his future. He gazed around at the guards spread out along this side of the lake. Eventually, the dwarves would come to the conclusion that he did not need guarding, and with a little fortune they would leave him to live with Sarai. At least he hoped so. He couldn’t imagine being watched for the remainder of his days.
Stiger returned to his fishing, giving the line another gentle tug. Nothing was biting. He dreaded returning to Sarai empty-handed. He cocked his head to the side.
Something wasn’t quite right.
It was more a feeling than anything else. At first, he could not put his finger on exactly what was bothering him, but then it hit him. Had it not been for Eli’s training in the ways of the forest, he might have missed it. The sound of nature on the other side of the pond had gone unnaturally silent.
The birds on his side of the pond, having become accustomed to the intrusion upon their domain, still called to one another. The breeze was still there, periodically coming and going with soft gusts. However, the birds no longer called to each other from the far side of the pond. Even more telling, the insects had fallen silent as well.
Stiger chewed his lip as he thought it over. After several moments, he decided they were being watched. Of that, he was sure.
A low guttural growl from behind set his hair on end. There was danger afoot. Stiger gave the fishing pole another gentle tug, as if nothing were amiss, and glanced casually over at Theo, who had turned slightly to look back at the dog. Their eyes met when the dwarf looked back.
“Theo, don’t make a show of it, but we are being observed,” Stiger said in a near whisper. He gave the pole another tug. “Someone’s on the other side of the pond.”
Theo said nothing, but his eyes flicked in the direction indicated.
As casually as he could, Stiger studied the far bank, but could see nothing amongst the overgrown brush along its edge. There was enough of it that anyone with a little skill could easily conceal themselves. The sunlight reflecting off of the surface of the pond from this angle made seeing anyone along the opposite bank only that much more difficult. He wondered who was watching them, and why.
Dog’s growl became deeper, louder, meaner. Stiger sensed the dog standing up.
“Dog,” Stiger snapped quietly, looking back at it. “Down.”
The dog immediately ceased his growling and lay back down.
Our enemy comes . . .
The voice he had not heard in some time hissed in his mi
nd. Stiger froze, feeling the uncomfortable sensation of ice running slowly down his back. His hair stood on end.
The fire of their black souls calls out to me. Do not deny me . . . Wield me . . .
Stiger swallowed. He had left the sword back amongst the trees. Without it, he suddenly felt terribly naked. He scanned the far bank, wondering again who it was. The sword had named them the enemy. Stiger silently cursed. He had become complacent. He had thought himself done with killing. His anger began to swell at himself and those who wished him ill. All he now wanted from life was to be left alone. And yet, here he was . . . once again facing a grave danger.
“When I say”—Stiger gave the pole another gentle tug—“we make a break for the shelter of the trees. Got me?”
“Are you serious?” Theo’s tone was low and Stiger heard the skepticism. “All because your dog growled?”
“There is danger out there,” Stiger said. “I am certain of it.”
The dwarf gave a low, disbelieving grunt and glanced back at his fellow dwarves, most of whom appeared bored, though a few were diligently looking their way. “Bah.”
Before Stiger could make a suitable reply, he heard the not-so-distant twang of a bow. Instinctually, he rolled to his left and plunged half into the water of the pond. A sharp crack sounded from where he had just been, followed by the immediate clatter of an arrow as it skittered across the rocks behind him.
The water was ice cold, but the suddenness of the attack was even more shocking and sobering.
Incredibly angry at himself for letting his guard down, for becoming complacent, Stiger dragged himself back up onto the rock and set off at a run, half crouched across the rocks toward the safety of the trees. An arrow hissed by his head. There was another crack just behind him, and ahead an arrow buried itself into a tree with a hard thud, quivering with spent energy.
Theo called out an oath, scrambled, slipped, and splashed into the shallow water behind him. Dog began barking madly. Shouts rang out from his guards as they reacted to the unexpected attack.
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