“Do these woods have a name?” asked Luras.
“I believe they are the Greenling Woods, but I’m not certain.”
“The Greenling Woods … it is a fitting name.”
“There should be a main road just north of these woods. I will go east from there.”
“You will not continue north?”
“Luras, go north if you must. I plan to go east and board a ship from there.”
“You’re truly leaving?”
“There is nothing here. Let gods and kings fight against themselves. I will take no hand in it.”
“But a hand has already taken you. You have been selected by the Creator of the world. Where will you go where you do not have the eyes of an Acolyte?” asked Luras.
“I am no Acolyte,” Matthias spoke, incredulously.
“Matthias, I don’t know you. I do not presume to. But what has made you so hungry for death and isolation? Others would find this to be a great honor.”
“You were a cursed beast until only days ago. Your curse was removed and your honor restored,” Matthias had a mocking tone. “You are happy with things. I understand. But we do not share the same life. We are not brothers in war. So continue to pick your berries and feel honored to have a curse removed from you … that was bestowed upon you for reasons that weren’t even your own. It’s convenient how some Creator can curse you and then remove it whenever it befits him.”
“You do not know me,” Luras replied. He continued to walk in a somber mood as he gathered his thoughts. “You are not the only one with hardships. I was cursed. I saw dark beasts claw their way through my village … pulling children from their beds … killing their parents. I watched many children go to school, learn to read … to write. I made them toys. These beasts slaughtered the village.”
“Your village?” asked Matthias. “They knew you lived there? I doubt it. Why, I always thought a Nighteye an ill omen for any village. A village was destroyed. Lots of villages burn. It is tragic, but it happens.”
“Well, at least I know my life was lost protecting them. I did not run away into the snow to hide or run to the sea.”
“You mistake my morality. I would gladly burn every village in the four realms to their very foundations to have back what I lost,” said Matthias. His face turned red with anger.
“Is this what deadens you?” asked Luras.
“You will not speak of this,” answered Matthias. He had violence in his eyes.
“I’ll speak of it no more. Know this though, many men like you are losing their families and their homes. They are losing the same things that could deaden any man inside. It is true that I’ve never had a wife or a family, but that does not mean that I have not wished it so. When we reach the road, feel free to go wherever you like. I am certainly not keeping you.”
The two men walked in silence. The wind blew through the forest causing the moss to slowly swell like a sea of green. Luras picked berries when he saw them. They grew mostly on vines that coiled around fallen trees. He wrapped them in a cloth that he kept in his bag. He offered some to Matthias who accepted each time. The forest had a life to it that was calming. It was not long until the two were speaking again. This time it was about the forest or the food they liked to eat.
“You’ve never had ale?” asked Matthias.
“No. I have seen them make it … filling up barrels with wheat and such.”
“Well, it is decided. Before we part company, we will have a drink.”
“I am not sure a village is ready to see a Bourne quite yet.”
“They will sooner or later. More so, you’ll be the center of some drunkard’s story. He will swear to the four realms that a Bourne entered a tavern and had a mug of ale … right there beside him.”
They laughed at the thought.
“No one will believe him,” laughed Matthias.
“Well then,” laughed Luras, “we will give it a try.”
“Yes, indeed. No one will believe the poor fool.”
Matthias continued to laugh. He laughed so hard that he almost began to cry. The sounds of laughter filled the forest.
They made camp by two fallen trees. One had most likely fallen and hit the other causing it to fall as well. They were both rotten but were covered in moss, which made them soft to lean back against. They also blocked out the breeze and allowed the fire to stay healthy. Luras and Matthias had cleared a spot for the fire by pulling back the moss from the ground. The fire gave off smells of pine and evergreen. It made a comfortable spot for them to sleep. Luras had prepared a dinner of berries, apples, and some dried meat from the bird they ate in the mountains. It wasn’t much, but it calmed their bellies.
“I haven’t had ale but I did find a Boar root. Have you ever had that? It’s quite good warm with berries, which I have in abundance at the moment,” said Luras.
“There’s a first time for all things.”
Luras took a mangled black root from his bag. He began to cut it with his dagger and crush berries over it. He added some dried leaves he had found and tossed them in a metal cup. He added water and put it beside the fire to warm.
“Your weapons there … where did you find them?” asked Matthias.
“I passed through a village on the way to Kor. It had been burned. The villagers had been skinned and thrown into piles. I found these in a jail,” replied Luras.
“Let me look.”
Luras gave Matthias the two swords he had found.
“They are very old and quite dirty,” Matthias said, as he felt the blade of the sword. “But, I suppose it will still cut through skin and muscle. It might break on the way out though … if it lodges in bone.”
“These were all I could find.”
“It was good to look. The villagers were skinned you said?”
“Yes. Their skin was taken. I did not see it happen, but it seemed like the occult.”
“Skin Slavers. I didn’t think they were real. People call them by so many names and have so many different stories about them that it all seems like fireside tales.”
“I haven’t seen them either, but I too heard stories. I look at the stories differently though. Nighteyes and Bournes … they are fireside stories as well. Yet, here I am. If I am real …why not them?”
“After all that has happened in the past few days, I would wager they are real too.”
“Yes. They are also horribly cruel judging from the village.”
“Cruelness is commonplace in the four realms. You will find this out quickly.”
Luras took the metal cup from the fire with his cloth. He smelled it and took a sip.
“It is ready. Here,” Luras said, as he handed over the cup.
“To the mighty Boar root,” Matthias said, as he took a drink.
Matthias puckered his face and coughed. He hacked once and spit.
“God and kings!”
“Is it not to your liking?” asked Luras.
“I’ve had nothing like it before. It tastes sweet and harsh all at once.”
Matthias drank more. This time he his face was only half as puckered.
“I think I like it. It’s not ale, but it’s not bad. Here.”
Luras drank slowly. He spit some out into the fire. Small green flames quickly burst and disappeared.
“Now, I like it even better,” laughed Matthias.
The two drank into the night. The Boar root slowly overtook them. Matthias yawned and stretched out against one of the fallen trees. Luras continued to look at the fire.
“One thing, Luras. This is my first time in this forest … but I have heard tales of wisps. I doubted their existence as well. But now, who knows?”
“Wisps? Wood fairies?”
“Wisps, tiny creatures that can’t keep their dirty grubby hands off travelers’ things. I would hate to wake tomorrow and find all your rusty swords gone,” said Matthias.
“What would a wisp do with a sword?”
“Hoard it away … sell it. I’m no
t a wisp.”
Luras pulled his bag and swords closer to the fire. He leaned back against the other log and closed his eyes. It was not long until sleep crept over them both.
___________
The embers of the fire slowly pulsed with a sedated glow. They were all that remained awake. Matthias and Luras had long been asleep. If they were awake, they would have seen tiny lumps of moss moving cautiously to their campsite. There was a noise coming from it that sounded almost like complaining. The moving stopped and the complaining grew louder. Then, a small line of smoke began to slowly trail upward from the complaining lump of moss. The grumbling would start and stop in tandem with the smoke.
It was not long until two more lumps approached the smoking lump of moss. The two new moss lumps began to shake. It was then that two tiny heads popped out and looked around. They pulled the moss down beside them like stepping out of a net or like a child taking off his shirt by pulling the collar down over his arms and leggings. The two little men were plump, bearded, and wore tiny leather tunics and pants that were stitched with twine. Their clothes had plants and moss attached to help them blend into the forest. Their skin was very pale and their beards were very long. They were both no larger than a hand. The first lump stayed in the moss. It was still smoking and still complaining.
“Come out of there, Watsy … and put your blimey pipe away,” whispered Locke. He was slightly taller than the other and wore round glasses made from glass, twine, and wood.
“Knock it off, Watsy. You'll wake them,” said Hermie, who was particularly plumper than Locke.
The smoke continued. However, the moss was pulled down revealing a testy little man. He was bearded, as well, and held a wooden pipe between his teeth.
“Ah, you've arrived I see,” said Watsy.
“We're here,” said Hermie.
“Yes. So, I sent word of travelers with no response. I followed them. I hung around in the dark watching them eat and drink. I sent word again. Now, you're here. Thank you for your expedience,” said Watsy, as he took another deep toke from his pipe. “Further, I don't care anymore. I will smoke my pipe and worry of thick and thin some other day.”
“We're sorry, Watsy,” said Hermie.
“Poor Nickel was snatched up by an eagle. It took the greater part of the day to sort that out,” said Locke.
“It weren't easy getting him back neither,” said Hermie.
Watsy stared at them puffing away.
“We said our apologies. It's done. Let's see what we've got here, Hermie,” said Locke, as he moved closer to the camp.
“Very well, let's see,” said Watsy.
The three little men began to sneak around Luras and Matthias. They appeared like sleeping giants to the little men. Watsy and Locke looked in Luras' bag. Hermie gracefully pulled Luras' dagger, in one fluid motion, right from his belt … sheath and all.
“I've some berries here … oh, and Boar root,” said Watsy.
“God and kings!” said Locke.
“Something good?” asked Hermie.
“Tell me I'm wrong … but blimey if I ain't looking at a Bourne,” said Locke.
“A Bourne?” said Watsy. He dropped the berries and went to the have a better look.
“Is that truly a Bourne?” asked Hermie.
“I ain't seen a Bourne before, but I'd wager a thimble of rice ale that it is,” said Watsy.
“It is a Bourne,” said Locke. “I seen drawings in the mapper's books.”
“Well, what do we do?” asked Hermie.
“That muscled one there is as human as any, but this one ain't. I agree with Locke,” said Watsy.
“There weren't nothing nice in their bags. Wouldn't a Bourne have treasure or something?” asked Hermie.
“Yes, Bournes carry chests of diamonds and gold with them. Wake up, Hermie,” mocked Watsy.
“Do you see their eyes?” asked Locke.
“What about them,” asked Hermie.
“No, I see it too,” said Watsy.
“There's some light under them … like their eyes are glowing behind their lids,” said Locke.
“This is a queer bunch,” said Watsy.
“We should go tell Weyton,” said Locke.
“They could be gone before we got back,” said Watsy. “One of us should stay … or one of us should go.”
“Hermie, go tell Weyton about all this. Watsy and I will stay here and keep an eye on them.”
“I'll be back in a thumper,” said Hermie.
Hermie disappeared under the moss. He was again a lump of moss running through the forest floor. Watsy and Locke sat down by a tree. They watched the two sleeping travelers. Watsy lit up his pipe once again. He took a deep drag. He stretched out with his back to the tree making himself comfortable. Smoke slowly twirled and danced from his pipe.
“Again, Watsy? Your pipe will give us away.”
“Give us away? Ah, poppycock. They are sleeping by a smoldering fire and you're worried about a tiny bit of smoke from me?”
“Always for yourself.”
“For myself? I'll have you know that myself would rather be sleeping in my own bed … so, don't you go on about what myself wants.”
“Pipe-down, you angry bugger.”
“Pipe-up!”
“Ssh, you'll wake them,” said Locke.
“You're the one going on talking and making nonsense.”
Luras woke suddenly. He did not know if he had been dreaming, but he woke with the feeling of not being alone. He looked around seeing that their belongings were strewn about the camp. His berries were spilled on the mossy ground. Some of them looked as if a bite had been taken like a half-eaten apple.
“Matthias, wake up. Someone was here.”
Luras stood to his feet.
“What?” asked Matthias, half asleep.
“Someone was here. Look at our things.”
Matthias slowly left sleep behind, as he rolled to one side and sat up. He rubbed his eyes.
“I thought I heard something. Now this,” said Luras.
“It does look like someone or something was here.”
“Wisps perhaps?”
“Perhaps. I'm sure you scared them off. I doubt they return.”
Matthias leaned back against the fallen tree. He was still tired and his eyes burned from sleep.
“I'm not so sure. I heard something right before I woke. No, I think they are still here … hiding.”
Luras walked around the fire peering into the darkness and the mossy ground below. He saw a small light on the moss. It was faint but it stood out in the darkness.
“There … do you see it?”
“Ha. I do,” said Matthias.
Luras walked to the small patch of light. He bent down and grinned, as he picked up a tiny sliver of wood.
“It's a pipe.”
“A small one to say the least,” said Matthias, who was now standing beside Luras.
“It's still burning. They are hiding.”
“From the size of that pipe, I don't think we’ll see them unless it’s their choice. I'm going to rekindle the fire,” said Matthias.
Luras and Matthias began to walk back to the fire.
“Alrighty then, hand over my pipe!” said Watsy.
“I said to stay down!” Locke yelled to Watsy.
“They already know we're here. My grandfather give me that pipe and I'm not about to lose it over your fear of giants,” retorted Watsy.
“And who are you?” asked Matthias.
“I'm the bloody owner of that pipe,” said Watsy.
“Come here,” said Luras. “No one is going to hurt you.”
“There will be some hurt, if you don't release my pipe this moment. And, don’t speak to me like I’m some frightened child. I’m fully grown. I might be small but I fight like a badger. A wild badger too … not some tamed fat badger that fetches fish.”
“Watsy, stop it. You are going to anger them,” said Locke.
“Watsy is it?�
�� asked Matthias.
“Come here. I'll give you your pipe. I have no cause to keep it,” said Luras.
“Although, you both seem freely open to rummage through our possessions,” said Matthais.
“Very sorry. We do apologize for that,” said Locke.
Locke slowly walked to the camp. Watsy followed behind him. Luras tried not to stare but he was amazed at their tiny stature.
“These is our woods. We have the right to inspect whichever travelers we want,” said Watsy.
“Your woods? This is a big forest for such a small man,” said Matthias.
“Did your grandfather make this pipe,” asked Luras. “The craftsmanship is quite nice,” said Luras.
“Why do you want to know? Gonna sell it? You’ll get nothing outta me,” retorted Watsy.
“He is being gracious, you bloody nitwit,” said Locke.
“He smoked it. I know that,” said Watsy.
“Well, it is fine craftsmanship. Here, take it. I did not plan on leaving with it,” said Luras.
Watsy walked to Luras, who had bent down to hand over the pipe. Watsy snatched the pipe from his hands. He looked over the pipe begrudgingly.
“You didn't smoke from it did you? You can't smoke from another's pipe … just tell me if you did so I can burn it in your fire … here and now.”
“No one smoked from your damn pipe,” said Matthias. “Take it and leave us alone. We have no cause with you and, frankly, I am sick of hearing you moan like an old woman.”
“I beg your pardon!” said Watsy.
“Enough, Watsy. These men are being gracious and you're making a damned fool of yourself … again,” said another voice from behind him.
Two more little men appeared behind Watsy. It was Hermie and he had brought with him a much older man with soft blue eyes, gray hair, and a long gray beard that was twisted and tied at the end. He did not wear a leather tunic like the rest. Instead, he wore a cloth robe that was a deep faded green and a pair of worn-in leather breeches.
“Weyton,” said Locke.
“I brought him back just like you said,” spoke Hermie with a smile on his face.
A Dark Tyranny Page 11