Chapter 16
“Kalo! Come here,” the gava called out. “Come here, lad. It’s all right,” he called again, and this last assuring call drew the young Riverman out from his place of hiding. When Hasdel saw him coming, he called back, “He was right where you said. I just went in the direction you pointed. You have a good sense of smell, lad.”
Kalo thought all he had done was point to where the odor of the beast was coming from. That did not seem particularly momentous to him, but he was discovering he enjoyed any compliment from the king’s messenger.
Kalo found Hasdel with sword drawn, standing over a badly mutilated gnoll with a bone protruding from his side. “His hip is shattered. Must have fallen,” said the gava.
The beast was the size of a small man, heavily muscled, with a boar-like face and a brownish hide of coarse fur. Protected with crude straps of leather and gear likely scavenged, it lay among the gravel beneath a large boulder with its mangled leg drenched in blood, its large black eyes staring up at the two men. The gnoll’s entire body shook rapidly. Kalo looked away.
“Riverman,” said the gava, “crawl to the top of the rock and pour some of your water over its face.” He added, “And do not slip.”
Kalo reached the top of the rock and crawled out to the edge, peering down at the gnoll to judge his position. He then inched himself away from the brim and extended his arm. His hand trembled as he slowly tilted the container above the gnoll’s dry lips. The water splashed down on the beast’s head, and it stirred so that Hasdel stepped back.
“Good aim, lad!” cheered Hasdel. The gnoll turned its head and inched its torn body toward the falling source to slurp up even the water that had spilled to the ground. Kalo slid down the back of the rock and moved quickly behind the gava to watch the gnoll.
The gava spoke loudly, as if he were giving a demonstration to a crowd. “They leave their injured to die just as any other animal. Only man cares for his wounded.” The gava added, “We kill our injured animals, though, in the thought that we spare them suffering.” He then thrust his long blade into the gnoll’s throat clear to the base of the skull. It was over as quickly as the word suffering lifted from the gava’s voice.
Kalo stood a safe distance away. Hasdel wiped his blade vigorously on a patch of dried grass nearby. As the gava cleaned his blade, Kalo spoke. “Hasdel, what of the men who came upon us at the boat crossing? What did you do to them?”
Hasdel looked over at the boy; his face was somber. “They were Mallivar’s men, lad, and we did to them what they would have gleefully done to us, given the opportunity.” He looked away and sheathed his sword.
The young Riverman pressed on. “Suppose they had been royal guards from the Compound?” he asked.
Hasdel looked off into the distance, then turned back to face his inquisitor. “I don’t know. I hope I never find out.” He swung his hand in front of his face to displace the flies, turned, and quickly distanced himself from the boy and the body of the gnoll. Kalo stood for a time staring at the crumpled remains of the beast. The blood that had trickled from an open leg wound only moments before had ceased to flow now that the heart had stopped. The young Riverman took one final look at the dead creature, brushed the flies from about his eyes and mouth in a gentle wave, and hurried after the gava.
Hasdel and Kalo continued according to Quillen’s directions. The ground was dry, and while their footing improved, it still took concentration to avoid slipping on the loose gravel that covered the hard ground. The two walked in a single line, the boy following the man. They did not speak.
Kalo’s mind was full of thoughts. He had never seen a gnoll before, but now he had seen one and then watched it die. He had seen the gnoll lap up every speck of moisture. He wished his aim had been better when he poured the water. At the time, he’d only wanted to do the deed as he was told and be done with it. He saw how easily Hasdel killed. It looked easy. He thought about how it would be for him when his time came. Would he be as resolute as the gava? He wondered, and deep within, he heard himself respond as the gava had: I hope I never find out.
Just as the sun rose to its highest, Quillen and Ty appeared in the distance before them, a welcome sight for all the company. Hasdel greeted them with a raised arm and Ty returned the greeting to Kalo, who gestured back, as he now had his own tale to tell.
Quillen spoke directly to Hasdel. “There are gnolls all about us.”
Kalo felt an immediate emptiness in his stomach just hearing the hunter speak. Whatever pleasure he could garner from this adventure was forever lost to him. He looked at Ty. His friend seemed so much older now.
Quillen continued. “A dwarven trading train was ambushed a few miles from here.”
“They were probably carrying armaments, headed for Cayleon. The trains are usually escorted by a troop of ten or so dwarven guards,” replied Hasdel.
“They were attacked by a full company of gnolls. Over a hundred.”
“Ten dwarves against one hundred gnolls?” Hasdel shook his head. “That had to be a battle. They were probably Frontier Guards, the best fighters in all the land. Raxell respects them greatly.”
“The gnolls had been following them for hours.”
“How long ago?”
“Late yesterday.”
“No survivors, I assume.”
“One,” said Quillen. “The gnolls took one of the dwarven guards prisoner. A huge warrior. That’s why we came back for you.”
“That is curious. It is a game they are playing, hunter,” mused Hasdel.
“Well, they paid for their amusement,” added Quillen.
Ty spoke up for the first time. “There’s a mound of them, nine gnoll bodies, where they took the dwarf captive.”
Quillen then said, “The gnolls split up after the massacre. The main body of the company is heading south.”
“South? They’ll have to cross the river. How can you explain that?” said Hasdel.
Quillen shook his head. “About twenty marched directly west after the attack. They are carrying the seized armaments west. The dwarf is being forced to march at the rear of their column.” He went on. “By the size and the depth of his footprint, he’s a huge dwarf. He’s healthy too, judging by the evenness of his stride.” Kalo was impressed by the detail and certainty of the hunter’s account.
“This is a bad sign, hunter, gnolls that are organized. Would you not agree?” asked Hasdel.
“I would,” answered Quillen slowly, not wasting words.
The messenger continued. “And I would have expected them to attack as soon as they came upon the dwarves, not to follow them. I have never known them to work so hard to take one captive. They usually divide the spoils among themselves, rather than haul the loot away in whole,” he said. “And you say they then split their company under two leaders.” Hasdel paused. “It is good that you returned, my friend. Lead on.”
The old hunter pushed off from the wall of stone he was leaning on and strode west without another word. The others followed him, three abreast.
Hasdel looked at Ty and then at Kalo. “What do you make of this, my young friends?”
“They sound pretty smart,” said Kalo.
“Have you ever met a gnoll before?” He glanced over at Kalo. “I mean a healthy one.”
Kalo turned to Ty. “We found one on the way. Hasdel slew him.”
Hasdel ignored Kalo’s commentary to Ty and continued. “You will find that gnolls are not very smart.” He stopped speaking, but continued walking. “How, then?” He looked at both Ty and Kalo as they walked. “What does this tell you?”
The two Rivermen said nothing and looked down so as not to catch the eye of the teacher.
“Quillen suspects that someone or something else is directing them, and I agree,” said Hasdel, nodding toward Quillen, who was now several paces ahead of them.
The two boys said nothing.
“That is why we are returning to the site of the massacre. We have to decide whether to co
ntinue the trek to the Ruins of Melda to find Lamus or go after the captive dwarf,” said the gava. They marched on in silence, moving in single file, first Quillen, then Ty, Kalo, and lastly Hasdel.
Kalo thought about the conversation that the gava had tried to have with them and how they had not responded to his questions. He felt embarrassed for the gava, who had failed as a teacher to stimulate his pupils to respond. Eventually the teacher gave up. But as the march went on, he felt a greater sadness for himself and Ty. No one had ever talked to them in this way. No one had ever cared what they thought.
Suddenly Kalo stopped. “Over there! The gnolls are over there.” He pointed slightly to the left of the direction the hunter was leading them. The three now stopped in their tracks. Quillen looked back.
“He’s right,” said the tall hunter, a faint smile in his eyes.
“He’s got a nose for dead gnolls,” called Hasdel from the rear.
Chapter 17
Quillen moved in the direction signaled by Kalo, and the party followed without words. Within moments, a stench reached them all. First to react was Kalo. He stopped suddenly and his hands went up to his face. Hasdel came up from the rear, placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder, and nudged him forward. When the odor struck Hasdel, he turned and smiled at his young companion at his side, who was now walking with his hands over his face. The messenger pulled his scarf up over his mouth. Ty had stopped too, and when Hasdel reached him, he put his arm out as he had with Kalo. The tall youth tucked his face down into his tunic and walked along with the other two.
As the three travelers passed between two large boulders, they came upon the hunter. He was hunched over a small tinderbox, striking a flame. A brown-colored roll protruded from his mouth. No one spoke to him. When he had coaxed a small flame to life, he lifted it up to the tightly rolled leaf the size of a man’s finger in his mouth and lit it on fire. He inhaled and exhaled steadily until the leaf roll began to burn slowly on its own. He then drew three leaf rolls from his pouch and handed them without a word to each of his three standing companions. He handed his lit roll to Hasdel, who used it to start his own. The messenger handed the lit one to Ty and took Ty’s in exchange, lit it and exchanged it with Kalo’s, then lit his own. As they puffed on the brown leaf rolls, Quillen said, “Rum-soaked weed. Make it last—I don’t have any more.”
The smell of the dead and the sound of the swarming flies were making Kalo ill. He puffed on the rolled leaf the hunter had given him. The smell of leaf overpowered the stench of death.
Quillen did not move. He watched the other three companions build their own clouds of smoke. He then pointed to the ground a few feet way. There lay the twisted remains of a gnoll. Kalo and Ty both stared at the body, which now resembled a living anthill. The hunter moved both hands behind his back, slowly pushed himself away from the boulder that had supported him, and proceeded to lead the party through the site of the massacre.
Hasdel and the hunter silently moved about the scene, occasionally pointing out items to one another. Ty followed them but was still. He neither spoke nor asked questions. He just listened. He anticipated their moves as he stepped out of their way often, so he went entirely unnoticed. Kalo was left on his own. Before him lay bodies all about. The landscape was torn. The hard, thin, sunbaked crust that covered the earth where no heavy animal had walked was now churned up like a plowed field. Large growths of brush had been crushed in the course of an apparent battle. Kalo puffed frantically on the rum-soaked brown leaf, and a cloud of smoke engulfed his head. The young Riverman wandered slowly among the dead bodies of dwarves, gnolls, and ponies still harnessed to an overturned wagon. The greatest fear that filled his thoughts was not that he was among the dead but that one of them might still be alive. He kept a safe distance from the corpses.
Until earlier that day, he had never seen a gnoll. Now, they lay all about. The bodies had lain in the sun all day and had swelled so that their fluids leaked from their wounds and body openings. The foul smell of rotting flesh was overwhelming. It was hard for Kalo to look at them, particularly the gnolls. But he did, and they were just as hideous as the one he had watched Hasdel slay. He stepped over one of the beasts, careful to avoid the lifeless hand that still grasped its broken sword. Another gnoll lay in a twisted mass with its head nearly severed.
Kalo had seen a dwarf only from a distance. They were infrequent visitors to Riverlok. He knew absolutely nothing about them other than that they were miners who worked underground. And now he was looking down at the remains of what Hasdel had said were the greatest fighters in the south. They looked very much like men to Kalo. The ones he saw in Riverlok he thought were very small. These lying in the field didn’t seem quite as small as he remembered. They were shorter in height than a man, shorter than him, about the size of a boy. But they were much broader. Their shoulders looked almost twice as broad as a man’s. Their heads, hands, and feet seemed larger, and their fingers were not longer but were thicker than a man’s. Only their legs seemed short.
As he walked among the remains, the decision to go after the captured dwarf concerned him more. He felt the two men had already decided to go after the dwarf. There had been no real discussion. He had not voiced an objection, so perhaps they thought he agreed. No one had asked him. Besides, he thought, how did they know if the dwarf was still alive? And what would they do if they found him? And what of their original mission to find the old monk as they had promised Prince Andre? Were they not contemplating abandoning that purpose too hastily?
Quillen had called Hasdel to a spot some distance from where the bodies lay. He said nothing but pointed to the ground. It was scarred with repeated pockmarks the size of a man’s fist.
“It looks like a mount of some sort to me. See the patterns of its steps? It moves like a horse. What do you make of it, hunter?” said Hasdel.
“It’s not a horse,” said Quillen. “You know as well as I, a horse in battle will leave a discharge. I found no markings of a horse over the entire area, beyond the slain wagon ponies of the dwarves.”
“But it answers one question and raises many. First, it tells us that someone or something was here with the gnolls, which explains their organized behavior. Someone or something is directing them,” said Hasdel.
Quillen walked across the churned ground, studying the signs.
Hasdel continued. “But what is it? Is this their mark, or is it mounted upon another beast?” Hasdel was now kneeling to get a closer look.
“Not any mount you or I have ever seen,” said the hunter finally. “The carcasses of the dwarves’ wagon ponies are beyond that rise,” he said, pointing to a small knoll. “This is not their mark.”
Kalo had kept close to the two men, but now he stepped away from the others. With new strength from the smoking brown leaf, he moved about the carnage. The dwarven trader train had been two wagons. Both wagons were overturned and emptied. Crude knives and unrefined short swords were scattered all about. Kalo picked them up, then dropped them back to the ground after a brief inspection revealed their aged condition and poor quality.
Then he saw it—a gleaming blade that had fallen in a patch of prairie grass at a corner of the overturned wagon. He reached into the twisted grass and pulled it out. It was the most beautiful small knife he had ever seen. It was smooth to the touch, with a shining edge and dark bone handle.
Hasdel passed behind Kalo. “That is a dwarven knife, lad. That is what these maggots were after. They must have missed that one.” He kicked one of the many coarse knives lying about. “This litter is what they traded in,” said the gava sarcastically.
Quillen called to Ty. With little instruction, he handed Ty a shovel from the abandoned traders’ wagon and pointed to an area off the trail on top of the small knoll. “We have decided to lay the dwarves there,” he said flatly. “Dig two shallow, long, narrow pits: one for the traders and one for the guards. There are ten guards and, it appears, four traders.”
Ty immediately went up the
knoll and began to dig. He lifted a few shovel loads of earth but paused often to look about, usually in Kalo’s direction, for his Riverlok companion had overheard the hunter’s orders. Kalo suspected Ty did not know how deep was “shallow” and how long was “long,” and he did not want to ask. Without a word spoken, Quillen returned to where Ty stood, dug out one end of the pit, and paced off a distance by marking the length of the shovel handle ten times. He then rejoined Hasdel, leaving his shovel planted in the ground. There was now little doubt about how deep and how long the grave pits were to be. Kalo had been watching Ty at a distance. When the hunter left, he joined his friend and picked up the task.
As Ty and Kalo dug the grave pits, Quillen and Hasdel carried the bodies to their burial site. Once Ty and Kalo started, they never looked up; they worked hard and steady. As much as they disliked digging the graves, they much preferred it to Quillen and Hasdel’s duty.
When the graves were done, Quillen carefully laid the bodies in the ground. Hasdel stood by, directing Quillen with hand motions. Quillen placed the bodies of the traders in the small pit and arranged them carefully. He positioned the bodies of the ten dwarven guards in the long pit with a precision that fascinated Kalo. The dwarves lay side by side, shoulder to shoulder, with their arms crossed in front of them, holding sticks provided by Hasdel like swords. Quillen took special care to make the mutilated bodies look whole in their final resting place.
When the bodies of the dwarves were properly arrayed, they covered them with earth, creating two mounds. It was late in the day. The gnolls had not been buried, and the smell of their rotting flesh grew so intense that the two men moved several hundred yards upwind. The two young thieves of Riverlok, however, still wandered about the site of the massacre in hopes of finding more treasures, smoking the brown leaf the hunter had given them.
The Ruins of Melda Page 10