by Travis Peck
“No need. Just neighbors looking out for each other. I’m just happy Crallick was able to get you here in time.”
“I wish he had come a little sooner,” Rogair said with a weak grin.
“But then you would have missed your other escort!”
The farmer’s grin turned sickly. The soldier’s humor was too much for him.
“I’m glad you and your family are safe. Help yourself to the feed,” Garet told the man. “They’ve certainly earned it.” He gave the nearest mount a reassuring pat on the rump and moved on toward the house.
The day was warm but Garet could sense the coming change in weather as fall approached. A light afternoon breeze from the east blew the noxious smoke from the pyre away from the house. Some geese flew overhead, heading to the south ahead of the cold; another sign that their sunny, warm days were numbered. Garet had never grown used to the fact that the world went on about its business regardless of what its inhabitants were going through. They were all at the mercy of the Giver and the Taker; no matter how much they railed against that fact.
Crallick caught up with him before he walked inside. “Water won’t be a problem. We have plenty for all of us with our deep well—and for as long as we need it. Enough for the mastiffs, horses, and the livestock, too. We have to be more careful with the feed once Rogair’s horses get some needed nourishment. In a pinch, the horses could be taken outside the walls for grazing while under guard, but as it stands now, we have three or four days of normal feeding. As for our food: the root cellar is nearly empty—before the harvest as it is—and we have meat for a week if we ration it a little. Same with the cheese. And of course, the livestock could be butchered if we have to,” Crallick said, finishing his report.
Harvest time was only a few weeks away at best. Garet cursed the timing of all this trouble. With the root cellar fully stocked and plenty of cured meats on hand, they could have held out for some time. As it was, it looked like they had a week of supplies without sacrificing nourishment. After that, they would be forced to tighten their belts.
At some point in the near future, they would all have to discuss what to do. A patrol would have to be sent out to reconnoiter the surrounding area. Perhaps I will do that. A second coven in the area did not bode well for them. He was torn by his decision to light the pyre now. The balance between the danger of the smoke drawing more ravinors to them, versus the danger of having bloating corpses stewing and bursting in the sun, weighed heavily on him. He would rather take his chances attracting more of the creatures here than fighting against something he couldn’t see that could kill him just as surely.
“I think I’ll go scout around the area. See if I can find any signs of this other coven,” Garet said to his old sergeant.
He could tell that Crallick wanted to accompany him, just as Crallick knew that Garet would never risk leaving his family without at least one of them there to watch over them. His old sergeant did not protest.
Now that he had a plan in mind, Garet was impatient to get started. Mounting up on his fresh horse, he elected to bring as little gear as possible, even forgoing his bow. He figured the arrows would be better spent defending the home if it came to that—where each shot would be much more likely to find its target. He chose to go without armor as well. This was a scouting trip, and if he came across any ravinors, his horse could easily outrun them; especially if he kept his kit as light as possible. He was ready quickly and was soon trotting his mount onto the path that passed beneath the sentinel trees.
Garet called for Amalia; he would have Aelpheus and Tyrant continue keeping watch. The war mastiff was there in moments. The female mastiff had a keener nose than the two males, making her a much better tracker. If ravinors caught the scent of the pyre, Amalia’s sensitive nose would not give them any advantage at detecting them more than a few moments earlier. A ravinor coven made plenty of noise for the two males to hear from a great distance away.
With Amalia keeping pace, he made his way to the south. He intended to put a league or so between him and the house, then he would make a circuit around it while keeping that same distance as he swung around. He had just enough time to do this before it started to get dark. The former captain did not want to encounter a coven after sunset, or before, for that matter. Garet offered a silent prayer to the Giver that the ravinors had decided to move out of the area to find better hunting grounds.
There was no sign of any ravinors about as he made his way to the northernmost point of his circuit. Amalia stopped to sniff intently here and there as they made their way farther west, but she moved quickly along each time—likely just scenting some small game. She gave no indication that there was anything of interest to her master.
Garet didn’t see any footprints in the grass; all the blades were straight and true, undisturbed. He hadn’t really expected to find any sign for the entire eastern half of his circuit. If he and Amalia found something, it would most likely be to the northwest, west or possibly to the southwest, coming from the direction of Haelle. That would be a bad omen for all of them.
Garet let his horse and Amalia refresh themselves when they came across a small stream. He took a large swig from his waterskin while still mounted. He was becoming anxious now. The terrain toward the west was generally more heavily wooded and much more likely to accommodate ravinors. One candle after they resumed their search, Garet saw the signs of the ravinor coven that had attacked them.
Ravinors were not terribly bright, but they could track scent as well as most creatures, and a coven’s worth of scents were leading right to his home. Garet beseeched the Giver that Crallick was mistaken about the presence of a second coven in the area, but he did not hold out much hope on that front. Crallick had been in the Third Ravinor War right alongside him and could pick out the sign of a coven as easily as breathing. He backtracked the ravinor trail leading toward his house for a half-league. He could see the stand of forest begin where Shiya had first spotted them.
Garet snapped the reins, and his mount took off at a faster gait with Amalia running abreast of them. The war mastiff’s ears were up and pointed, and her tail was stiff. Her hair stood up on her back right above her shoulders, and another patch stood up at the base of her tail. She was on alert now—so was he.
He risked getting closer to the woods. The grass was trampled down all around here, so it was impossible to tell if this was one coven or two. He doubted the likelihood that two covens had seen Shiya, but only one of them had carried out the hunt. Of course, the two groups of ravinors could have been sheltering in the woods for a few days when the other took off in a different direction before they had seen his daughter.
He skirted the woods, staying within a stone’s throw of the dense forest. Amalia placed herself between the woods and his horse; her head remained tilted in that direction as she kept pace. Garet cursed as she suddenly bolted ahead. He could see some trampled grass a dozen yards in front of him that led out of the woods and headed right toward Haelle. Amalia barked once and ran back to him, confirming his suspicions. His horse was loathe to follow, but with a little cajoling, the mount began to follow the second coven’s tracks. Garet followed them for two candles, and the beaten down grass formed a path directly toward the village. He didn’t know of any other settlement, or even a single farmstead, in that direction other than Haelle.
Studying the sun’s position in the sky, Garet knew he did not have time to see how the inhabitants had fared—it was too late to warn them in any case—and he had to head back immediately if he wanted to reach home by sunset. Nor did he want to give any more enticement for the second coven to follow the obvious trail back to his loved ones. As he swung his mount around to head home, Amalia howled.
Garet felt an icy chill run along his spine. War mastiffs howled when they saw an enemy. Turning back to the southwest, he swore. Then the blood drained from his face. Three separate dust plumes could be seen in the distance. Taker be damned! There were three covens. And they were get
ting closer.
He knew that they had not spotted him yet, because he heard none of the excited vocalizations they made upon detecting prey. He kicked his horse to a gallop and Amalia bounded off ahead. Garet gave the forest an even wider berth this time and went directly to the east, hoping to lure them away for a time. He figured the ravinors would head back to the woods before they noticed the sign of the first coven heading off to his home. If he could get them to follow him, then they would fail to see that trail. Garet prayed to the Giver that this would be so.
He slowed down his horse and whistled for Amalia to heel. Garet stood up in his saddle and turned to look down his back-trail. The three covens were still on a course for the woods. He yelled. He could see some heads turn, but they inexplicably ignored him. Garet was dumbfounded. These ravinors were behaving strangely. Now that he thought about it, even the first coven had shown remarkable restraint when they had allowed his daughter and son to run home without giving chase. The ravinors preferred darkness but could now obviously brave the rays of sunlight if a meal was close at hand. Here it was now, with darkness only a few short candles away, and they were ignoring him. Garet bellowed again at the creatures but to no effect. Giving up trying to get their attention, he swung back to the northeast and set his horse off at a gallop. Logically he knew that he would make it back to the safety of his home in time. But how long would it remain safe?
As he raced home, his mind was churning over all of his experiences dealing with ravinors in the past. The Third Ravinor War had lasted for four years. It was on a much smaller scale than the two preceding wars, when humans had sought to eradicate the ravinors completely. In the Third, they had attempted to make a concerted effort to eliminate as many of the creatures as possible while not venturing too deep into their forests and caves and other bolt holes. For all of their cautious approach and limited goals, those four years had been more terrifying than all the other action he had seen.
The First Ravinor War had been over three hundred years ago—around one hundred years after the first ravinors had been discovered. In those days, Styr had not yet solidified its hegemony over the continent, and so the humans had to embark upon a cooperative effort. Each of the five kingdoms had decided to combine forces to deal with their shared threat. Overall, the forces that were mustered had been great. Unfortunately, the armies raised in each kingdom were too scattered and composed of erstwhile enemies who did not fight cohesively. Also at the time, little was known about how the infection spread or how to properly dispose of the ravinor dead. They did not possess even a rudimentary understanding of the creatures’ behavior. This caused human casualties to be devastatingly high, which then swelled the ranks of the very foe they were trying to eradicate.
The Second Ravinor War was more successful for the humans. It had taken place one hundred and fifty years ago. For a few years, Styr believed that it had taken care of its ravinor infestation once and for all. The continent was now united under Styr and twice as many soldiers had been trained—nearly one million strong. There had been no discord amongst the ranks or between the officers leading them this time around. Every soldier was sworn to defend the empire. The combatants were now well acquainted with their enemies and united in their desire to eliminate them. But, of course, they failed to destroy all of the ravinors. It only took a handful of the creatures to survive for them to begin to slowly increase their numbers once more.
It seemed that the ravinor population was on the rise again and that a fourth effort would be needed to at least winnow their numbers down for the safety of the empire. In the first two wars, Garet had not heard of any strategy being employed by their simple-minded foes. But in his current situation, he was starting to wonder. If it were humans who Garet was observing, he would have guessed that the forces had divided into four companies. One company had been sent to eliminate outlying farmsteads while the three others dealt with Haelle, the lone population center for the area. He had to assume that the village was doomed. Ravinors—even considering this new behavior—would not go so close to Haelle only to return empty-handed to a safe forest where there were so few humans about. Something was terribly wrong here, beyond even his most immediate concerns with his family’s safety.
Aelpheus’s greeting bark came suddenly, bringing Garet back from his musings. Dusk had arrived as he slowed his mount down to a canter to pass underneath the welcoming branches of the sentinel trees. With a look from her master, Amalia greeted Aelpheus as if sharing the details of their scouting mission. Garet didn’t doubt that was the case. The female war mastiff then shot off back to the guarding position she had been in before she and Garet had gone. Crallick was the first to greet him when he rode through the gate and dismounted.
“There are three left,” Garet said without preamble as he led his horse into the barn.
“Three?” Crallick could not keep the incredulity from his voice. He looked around quickly and saw that no one had overheard his reaction. He wisely stayed quiet until they could converse more discreetly.
Once they were in the barn and could speak freely, Garet filled his sergeant in on the new development. The shock was as clear on Crallick’s face as it must have been on his own when he had first laid eyes on the three additional covens.
“Tonight, do you think?”
“Maybe, but I don’t know any more,” Garet said. “The first coven waited for darkness before it attacked, which was somewhat understandable in case they had to go a long distance to find shelter. But I’m still surprised they didn’t immediately chase after the children.”
Crallick nodded. “I had wondered about that. Are we staying here?”
Garet did not answer right away. If they stayed behind the walls, they would likely find themselves under siege by nightfall. He knew that they could hold out for a while; the ravinors could not get over the walls, but their supplies would only last a week without rationing. With rationing, they could survive for a month, maybe two, but Garet didn’t want to subject his and the Ayerson children to that.
With Crallick’s and the Ayersons’ mounts still exhausted from yesterday’s exertion—and now his own horse wouldn’t be able to go far without some rest after racing back home—Garet knew they could not outrun them in their current state. The nearest large town that could provide safety was thirty leagues beyond Haelle to the southwest. The same direction the ravinors would be coming from. They might be able to swing wide around them, but once the ravinors made it to the house, they would be able to follow them readily enough.
All three war mastiffs started to howl.
The decision was made for them. They would have to stay. Quickly taking off the saddle, Garet rushed the horse into its stall where it had food and water. No time to rub him down properly.
He and Crallick ran for the gate. They knew that the war mastiffs would have given them enough warning to secure the perimeter, but instinctively, the sooner they secured the home, the better. Garet gave a sharp whistle, and the howling cut off as the mastiffs came to answer his call. He could tell that the sudden commotion—and his and Crallick’s sudden rush from the barn—had alarmed the others. The Ayerson children started to cry, and everyone rushed out of the house to see what was the matter.
As soon as the mastiffs were safely inside, they shut the gate and barred it. Barsus and Rogair were already heaving the cart back into position to bolster the entrance. Garet and Crallick started further reinforcing the gate with more heavy objects from the barn. Three covens had more mass than just one, and he wanted to make sure that the gate had as much weight behind it as possible.
Garet, Crallick, and Barsus all grabbed their bows and split up the remaining arrows that had been salvaged and cleansed earlier. Each bowman had twenty arrows. Over one hundred and fifty ravinors were coming up the path to the house. Three covens’ worth. From atop the wall, the three men stood silent as they observed the creatures drawing closer. Like a river coursing around rocks along its path, the ravinors spilled past the
sentinel trees; some bent around them, others went straight between. But no matter the course, they all marched unerringly up the path toward them.
“Don’t shoot even once they get here,” Garet ordered the other defenders. No sense using arrows now while we are still relatively safe, he thought.
The three covens were now indistinguishable from one another. One big mass approached the gate. A few of the creatures peeled off from the group to investigate the pyre. It was mostly burned down now, and the curious ravinors were visibly disappointed that there was no meat accompanying the smell of burnt flesh.
Garet was surprised by how calm they were. The first coven had been quite agitated by the time they made it to the wall. Of course, they had been chasing the Ayersons then. But the three men were all standing in plain sight, and not one of them seemed to give their customary call that they had spotted a potential meal. What the ravinors did next was even more astounding. Instead of milling toward the gate and impotently voicing their hunger—the ravinors began to encircle the entire wall.
Garet knew his mouth was agape in astonishment. He looked over and saw Crallick with a similar expression on his face. They had never seen behavior like this during the Third. The retired captain could tell that Barsus knew something strange was happening, beyond being besieged by three covens of ravinors, but he did not know what had the two veterans so discomfited.
“They don’t normally behave like this,” Crallick said to his son. “Ravinors don’t use much in the way of strategy or tactics—as you saw during the attack yesterday and how vulnerable they were to us this morning. The gate attracts them because that’s where the scent leads them, but never before have I, or your father, seen them behave like this.”
Barsus took it all in and his face paled. Garet had come to the same conclusion and at once felt despair creeping into his mind. If the ravinors had displayed such intelligence during the previous wars, the humans would not have come out on top. It begged the question, though: Why now? What’s changed?