Drissdie laughed and tapped his skull again and again, but Jjarnee Kruu could see the tears in his eyes.
Chapter 31
Our fate we carve from the mountain stone and the fertile soil. Strength is our fate. A strong shield and a well-ground spear is our fate. Fate is as we forge it.
-- From The Endeavours, Book I of Lojenwyne’s Words
The screams from downriver roused Murrogar from his fury. He ran back toward the nobles, remembering his sword, the finest weapon he’d ever known. It was still wedged in the bridge. He considered going back for it, but he knew his duty at that moment was to the Cobblethries. He ran back to the river, hearing faint tortured cries behind him. Refusing to think about what the Beast was doing to Hul.
Most of the nobility had pulled themselves onto the bank and gathered in a group to shiver and sob and wait for death. Murrogar wondered, as he approached, how people like this could rule a kingdom. He recalled the stories of the old dukes and counts of Laraytia. The warlords of Lae Duerna and Nuldryn. Men who had led the first charge of every battle. Men who would have raced one another for the honor of taking first strike at a Beast like this.
Sir Wyann had made it out of the river and was sitting in a wet heap upon a rock, mud caking his armor. Murrogar could just make him out in the dim light. A group of fat birds, not unlike pheasants, walked along the riverbank. They seemed unconcerned about the humans in their midst.
At least we have a last meal.
Murrogar let the nobles sit on the riverbank as he considered the best way for all of them to die. He entertained the thought of simply slitting their throats here on the riverbank. He wondered how many of the travelers he could put down before they stampeded away from him.
There was a splash from upriver as the maple log rolled off the rocks and drifted back down the river. Murrogar waded in and, with Thantos’ help, dragged the tree back to shore. Murrogar’s chain mail and shield were still strapped to a branch. As were Thantos’. But Hul’s mail had been lost in the attack. The belt that once held Hul’s armor was still attached to a limb and Thantos touched it with his fingers. He looked to Murrogar, his eyes asking a question that he didn’t want answered and Murrogar didn’t answer it.
The Beast howled in the distance and Murrogar considered entering the river again. Maybe the water would get deep again. Maybe he’d get another look at the monster’s belly. But even if the Beast allowed him another stab, he wasn’t certain another stomach wound would kill it. And he doubted the monster would give him that chance, anyway. He would have to face this creature from a position of advantage. Something defensible. Caves or an isolated hill or a narrow gulch. Something. He would have to jam something sharp into the creature’s eyes. Or slash the thing’s throat. Or take its massive head off. Something incontrovertibly lethal.
Murrogar took his mail and shield from the maple, allowing Thantos to do the same, then shoved the tree back into the currents. He watched it for only an instant before realizing that the Eridian was still strapped to the trunk. It wouldn’t have been worth noting except that the man, the one who’s throat Thantos had slit, was flailing and moaning on the trunk now.
They pulled the log back and untied the man then dragged him halfway up the riverbank. The plump birds on the shore didn’t seem to like the Eridian’s flailing. When the man was dragged on shore they made loud coos and squawks and ran into the forest.
So much for our meal.
The Eridian was quite lively for a someone who’d died several times. Murrogar had to hold him down while Thantos stabbed the man through the heart to put him out of his misery. Again.
They stared at the dead man and exchanged glances. Murrogar shrugged then inventoried his party. In all, there were thirteen of them left. Ten nobles, including Ulrean. Thantos. Murrogar. And then there was Sir Wyann. The knight raised his voice and insisted that they should bury the Eridian. “It’s a matter of honor!” he shouted.
“And who’ll bury the other spearmen?” asked Murrogar. The knight took a back step at Murrogar’s fury. “Who’ll bury Sir Bederant? Or the servants and squires? Who’ll bury them?” He stopped inches from Wyann, his eyes slitted, and spat out the next words, “Who’ll bury Hul?”
He let his gaze burn the knight, then walked away, deeper into Maug Maurai. The remaining nobles looked to Wyann, then followed Black Murrogar into the darkness of the forest.
Chapter 32
Walk alone in the fading light
When Maug Maurai has dimmed to night
Something black from the forest comes
Get thee home, ‘fore day is done
Walk alone in the fading light
When Maug Maurai has dimmed to night
Get thee home, my little one
Get thee home, oh, run run run
-- from “The Black Beast of the Forest,” writer unknown
Late afternoon brought the rain that had been threatening for days. A smothering, misty drizzle that shortened the world, took the life and color from it. The bells of the Maeris moonhaven tolled thirteen times for mid-day as the squad trudged into the town proper. Grae noted the three scorched husks on the outskirts of town; reminders of the uprising that had crippled Maeris. Half the town had been razed by the Duke’s janissaries. The people of Maeris had rebuilt most of the inner structures but the overgrown, blackened ruins on the perimeter were whispers of a darker time.
They ate at a pub in the village center. Jastyn offered to treat but the owners of the establishment refused to take money from the squad. Word had leaked out that Grae and his men were heading into Maug Maurai.
“We don’t make ‘eroes pay fer food ‘round ‘ere,” said the proprietor. He was a slender, dry-leaf of a man with thinning hair. His wife, twice his size, hovered behind him, smiling.
“’es right,” she said. “We don’t.”
It was a gracious gesture that paid off. As townsfolk heard that a troop of Laraytian Standards was hunting the Beast they ventured from their homes and farms. Most took chairs and drank quietly, whispering among themselves, smiling when the soldiers met their gaze. Some approached the men directly and shook their hands, offered words of encouragement and gratitude.
“They’ll make ya primes, all a ya,” said a tearful old woman in a shapeless dress. She left an almond cake on the table and was led away. “Blythwynn adore you!” she called.
Another man left a polished dagger on the table. “It belonged ta me brother,” he told Grae. “’e was taken by tha Beast oon three yers agoo. Would do me ‘eart sterlin’ if ya were ta use it ta kill that munster.”
Grae tried to give the dagger back; The man looked as if he’d worn the same trousers for a year straight, his hands stained and calloused from years scrubbing the land. He could have sold the dagger for a few hawks, fed his family on Nuldryn beef for two weeks. But the scrubber would not have it back. He wanted the blade lodged in the Beast’s skull. Grae promised to return the dagger when the Beast was dead and gave it to Hammer for safekeeping.
By the time the meal was finished, the squad had been given two cakes, a dagger, a bone-handled knife, three pies, five pounds of cooked antelope meat, two perfumed kerchiefs from young women, a knitted hat, two wineskins filled with a local vintage of red, and a collection of four hawks. Grae was uncomfortable with the attention, and he tried to return every gift that was offered, but the people were unswerving. Grae and his squad were risking their lives to destroy the single greatest threat to Maeris. Trinkets and foodstuffs were a pale offering in light of this, but it was all they had.
The soldiers looked to one another and nodded thanks to the villagers as each gift was left. They seemed puzzled by the attention, pleased but uncertain how to respond. They were worshipped as heroes here in Maeris, as primes. Women threw themselves at them. There were four women to every man in this town and the soldiers were too good to pass up. Even Hammer couldn’t keep the maidens from the squad.
After a full-bell there was barely room to m
ove in the pub, but a flutist and two thryndoliers squeezed in anyway and began to play. Maribrae wanted to join them, but it became too loud, too chaotic, too difficult to move in that pub. The flutist knew only three songs, so the men played the songs again and again. No one seemed to care. There wasn’t a face in the tavern without smile. Even Grae found himself unable to clear his half-smile. These were good people. Grae had grown up around people like this in Maentrass Barony, not far from here. He knew how hard they worked. Harder than anyone should.
Aramaesia, their new archer, pointed to three wooden hoops on the pub walls. They were wrapped in dangling red ribbons. Small bones and feathers hung from the bottom of the hoops.
“What are those?” she asked Hammer.
Hammer drank from a stained wooden mug and stared at the hoops. “Trith-alms,” he said. “Old Turae death ‘oops. Offerings to the Andraen gods. When someone dies and their body ain’t recovered, one a’ those gets made.”
The locals nearest the squad grew quiet at the mention of the trith-alms. A man with a crooked nose nodded. “Cook got taken. And owner’s two sons.”
Grae felt his jaw tighten. He wondered how many of these poor people had disappeared in the night. Something is finally being done for them. He thought. And all it took was the death of a few nobles.
After another half-bell, Grae snuck into the kitchen with Lord Aeren and pored over the leather-bound tome that the scholar had shown him. It turned out to be a bestiary of sorts. The two of them spent another half-bell scouring the eleven pages dealing with the Beast of Maug Maurai.
There were accounts from seven survivors. These men offered a range of reports, from raving testimonials of demons, walking dead and earthquakes to more sober, thoughtful commentaries. Grae did his best to filter out the truly outlandish from the simply improbable. He concentrated only on useful facts, ignoring comments like “…It was the rotting shape of Mundaaith before me, with burning eyes and smoke drifting from its nostrils. It had come to claim my very soul,” or, “It has more in common with the Dark Place than with our world. Its only friends are the dead.” Instead, he focused on straightforward observations. Observations that could not be disputed.
The Beast was always preceded by a horrible stench. That seemed common to most of the testimonials. Survivors also spoke of the Beast’s unnatural speed, which made the first point much more salient. If the creature was as fast as the survivors claimed, then it would help to have warning of its approach.
The creature was said to have large eyes with rectangular pupils, like goats, and large, jutting brow ridges. Grae dismissed this as irrelevant, but Aeren objected.
“Goats are hard to sneak up on,” he said. “The rectangular pupils give them a broader arc of vision. So our Beast may prove difficult to surprise.”
Grae thought about this, then gave the young nobleman a nod. They stared at one another silently before moving on.
There were other common observations. Survivors spoke of great black claws and a forest of teeth. Teeth so black and so flawless that “ .. you could see yourself in them,” as one trapper had noted. Grae wondered on the accuracy of the observation; would a man stand and stare into the teeth of this Beast long enough to make this observation? Would he remember this detail? Maybe the moment had been so terrible that it branded itself onto his brain with every intricate detail intact, to be reviewed eternally for the remainder of his life. Or maybe he just had a flare for storytelling. This was the problem with the survivor accounts; It was too difficult to separate the embellishments from reality.
Perhaps the most important piece of information was that the beast carried a great stinger at the end of its tail. And that this massive weapon was venomous. Witnesses described the cries of agony from those that were stung, how the bodies convulsed and the mouths foamed green.
There were other observations. More dubious ones. One man claimed that the claws could shred steel like eggshells. That the creature could leap one hundred feet into the sky. That it could grip a sword. That it breathed fire. Each witness added a new wrinkle. Each muddied the picture a little more, until Grae almost wished he hadn’t read the accounts.
The soldiers left the tavern reluctantly. Shanks argued that they should spend the night in Maeris and leave in the morning, but Grae would have nothing of it. They were already far behind schedule.
He couldn’t blame the men for their frustrations; They were adored here. Fed and aled. They were serenaded and cheered and pointed out to children. It must have seemed like Eleyria. But soldiers aren’t allowed in Eleyria until they’ve died in battle, and Laraytian Standards aren’t allowed freedom until their mission is complete. He ordered them out of the tavern.
The squad was followed out by a crush of villagers. Hordes of other villagers waited patiently outside in the rain. The throngs formed up along both sides of the northern road to Maug Maurai. Muddy children held out their hands to touch the soldiers’ mail and shields. Sun-withered men clapped the squad mates on the shoulders or shook their hands. Women dashed out and kissed their favorites.
Grae Barragns gazed at the gathered villagers of Maeris, at the smiles and extended hands. The people held out gifts and flowers, cheered for the squad as if they were the Forgotten Heroes of Galadance. He strapped his sword belt tight and squared his shoulders as he walked.
The squad marched northward on the Maurian Road, and when they turned a curve their steps faltered, then stopped altogether. Lined in fluttering, bone-jangling splendor, visible on nearly every tree along the road as far as they could see, were trith-alms. The ribbons waved toward them like outstretched arms. The dangling bones clattered hollowly and the soldiers felt for the comfort of sword hilts and spear shafts. There were hundreds of the trith-alms.
The bells of the Maeris Moonhaven tolled three times as the squad mates marched between the death hoops toward Maug Maurai. Grae’s face turned cruel as he considered the task that lay before him. To march into that forest. To search out the creature that had haunted the people of Western Nuldryn. To hunt it down and to kill it.
And, if they found any Cobblethries, if any of that ill-fortuned family or their servants had escaped the horrors of that forest, to hunt them down as well. And to kill them too.
Glossary
Aerys Laray
A Galadane priestess whose quiet protest against the Galadane Empire led to the twelve year War of Despair, a war which led to the signing of the Lalyrian Charter and the granting of lands to Laraytia. Aerys Laray led thousands south into lands which would become Laraytia and became the first queen of the new kingdom. Also known as Stainless Laray.
Andraens
A civilization conquered by the Laray.
Annecia
An empire in the southwest of Celusia.
Arms, The
The second sacred tome of Lojenwyne
Arryn
A duchy in the mid-west of Laraytia.
Barony
A fief owned by a solitary liege lord. The lord, under the Laraytian Unification Proclamation, does not answer to the nobles of the duchy where the barony resides, but must pay taxes to the Duke.
Barrestian Revolt
A revolution in Laraytia in which House Darmurian and its allies warred against the king. The rebel armies won the war and the Darmurian family replaced the House Laray as the ruling family of Laraytia.
Blythhallow
A monastery devoted to Blythwynn.
Blythlojean
The religion of Laraytia. Its basic doctrine revolves around forgiveness and justice, and its two deities are Blythwynn and Lojenwyne. The two gods watch over Celusia, Blythwynn by night, Lojenwyne by day.
Blythwynn
One of two deities in the Blythlojean religion. She is the Mother of Life, the Lady of Forgiveness and the Lady of Light. She is always tolerant of, but at odds with, Lojenwyne, God of Justice, Death and War.
Blythwynn's Eye
The moon. Blythlojeans believe that Blythwynn watches Ce
lusia in the darkness, when her followers need her most.
Brasomeurs
Massive lizards used in Annecia as mounts. Sometimes used as guardians.
Brig
The second air rank in the Laraytian Standards. An officer.
Brig-Down
The third air rank in the Laraytian Standards. When an officer achieves Brig-Down, he is considered to be a trudge again and sent into the earth ranks to live as an enlisted man for one year. This allows them to understand their men better before being promoted to underlord.
Chantress
An assistant to the High Chime of a Moonhaven.
Chemics
Materials needed by a magician to cast spells.
Chime
A priestess of Blythwynn.
Cinder
A disciple of Lojenwyne who lives at a Lojenhall.
Clergist
An assistant to the Enforcer at a Lojenfirth.
CWNCR
An ancient village of the Margils found in the forest of Maug Maurai. The village was the last to be destroyed by the Andraens and is believed to be cursed. A source of countless terror tales told to children.
Daeryn
Andraen word for someone who is not a warrior.
Dark Place, The
An abyss that men and women go to after death if they have not followed the virtues of Blythwynn or Lojenwyne.
Darmurian, House
The royal family of Laraytia. The Darmurians conquered the Kingdom from the Larays, who founded Laraytia.
The Beast of Maug Maurai, Part One: The Culling Page 15