Elias raised an eyebrow. “Redwood?“
Jonas chuckled. “It's what the men have nicknamed you. Rather than call you Bushwalker, they named you after the giant trees around here.“
Elias frowned. “I was raised in Silva Aestas for a century. I know what redwood trees are.“
Jonas leaned back, regarding Elias. “Prickly bastard, aren't you? It's not meant in malice. Trust me, there are many a nickname one could get that aren't nearly so flattering.“
Elias shrugged. “Maybe so. What would I be doing?“
“Escort. There's a man who needs to travel from Jetty to Pine River. Normally not a hard trip, but a few unarmed men in a carriage are easy picking for less scrupulous folks. They want fifteen men. That's about what we've got. They'll pay thirty gold lions per man, half up front, half when we get to Pine River.”
Thirty gold coins was more money than Elias had ever had at one time in his life. “Thirty? Why so much?“
Jonas shrugged. “No catch. Looks pretty straight forward. Rich men like to throw money at problems, especially when their own safety is involved. All you have to do is be there to catch it.“
Elias sat, staring into the fire for a moment. “I'll need a new sword.“
“What's wrong with the one you've got?”
The memory of fighting the armored man on the trail was quite fresh with Elias. “This one is far too short, far too light. I need a greatsword.“
Jonas made a face. “Giant anchors, those are. Far too slow. A man who knows how can get inside their range, and make 'em worthless.“ He held up a hand, ticking off his points on his fingers. “You can't fight indoors, you can't fight next to your comrades, you can't be sneaky with them, and you can't draw them fast.“
He gestured at the surrounding men. “Not one of these men have a greatsword.“
Elias shrugged. “Nevertheless. I think I will keep my eye out for a larger blade.“
Jonas scoffed. “Well, it's your money to waste if you join up. Just keep in mind you need to bring enough food to feed yourself.“
“I'll keep that in mind.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of the camp dying down as the men bedded down for the night.
“So does that mean you're in?”
Elias nodded with a half smile. “I'm in.“
Jonas settled on the ground, leaning against the log that they were sitting on. “Good. There's strength in numbers, and you're big enough to count for two.“ He tossed a blanket over his lap and closed his eyes. “There's a blacksmith in Jetty. See what he has to offer if you must.“
~ ~ ~
Even though it was midsummer, the morning dawned cold. The mist from the evening before had thickened overnight, and looked like an extension of the sea running on to land. It flowed around the low areas, making islands of the hills that led up to the mountains on the east side of the bay. It was nearly noon by the time the fog burned off, and they had reached the stretch of beach leading up to Jetty's gates on the narrow peninsula.
A wall of timbers and earth had been constructed from the bay to the sea, cutting off the southern end of the peninsula from the rest of the world. Near the middle of the wall, the timbers rose higher, supporting a massive log that had been sawn in half, acting as the top of the entryway. The gates, made of thick planks bolted to massive crossbeams, stood half open, several guards standing watch. One of them approached Jonas, shaking his hand warmly.
“Hello, my friend. Jetty has been quieter since you last left.”
Jonas laughed, clapping the man on the shoulder. “You mean they don't still whisper my name in hushed tones behind every corner? I must be getting old!”
“Oh, your name was mentioned, but with less whispering and more snickering. Not every day a man gets thrown out through this gate.”
Jonas rubbed the back of his head. “Aye... that was one hell of a night. I'm surprised you had enough wits about you to follow an order.”
The guardsman laughed as well, releasing Jonas's hand. “I only matched you drink for drink for an hour or two. You didn't leave enough ale for me to keep.“ He chuckled, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “So tell me. Why have you come back to Jetty?“
Jonas gestured at the gate. “Meeting a client here. A rich man needs an escort to Pine River. Set to meet his man here in four days, and if all goes well, we leave with him.“
The guard shook his head. “You know that's not allowed.”
Jonas spread his arms. “What am I to do? Wait outside the gate like a dog? My men have gold, and they want to spend it. You can't tell me that business has been good this past season.”
The guard sighed. “I can't let you in. You cause more damage than can be repaired by the coin you spend... but you do spend coin. I will have to ask the mayor.”
Jonas cringed, and turned away. The guardsman shook his head, chuckling, and walked into the town behind the gate. Elias raised a brow as Jonas returned to the group.
“What was that all about?”
Jonas rubbed the back of his head, running his fingers through his dark hair. “I... we may have gotten a little rowdy last time we were in town. A few windows were broken, a few teeth, maybe a few jaws...”
Martin chuckled. “We tore up the greater part of the hotel district that night. We'd just come off of a long job, and we all had some, uh, steam to blow off.”
Elias was shocked. “You tore up the entire town by blowing off some steam?”
Jonas dropped his pack on the ground and sat down on it. “You obviously haven't seen what twenty men can do when they've been away from wine, women, and song for a season.”
Elias shook his head. “No, no I haven't seen that.”
Jonas chuckled. “I swear, I'm pretty sure that was the night Geoff got his first woman.”
Martin clapped the younger man on the back. “To hear him tell it, it was the first night he had three!”
The men laughed as they settled in for the wait, the hot sun held at bay by the steady, cool breeze off of the ocean. An hour went by before the guardsman came back, accompanied by several other men at arms. A tall, clean-shaven man led the way, his neatly clipped gray hair thinning slightly on top. Jonas stood as he saw them approaching, but the man waved him down.
“No. No, you stay down. This will be brief.”
Jonas paused, looking the man directly in the eye, before rising to his feet anyways. The rest of the men, Elias included, joined him.
The man drew up, ten guards at his back. “You still don't like following directions, do you, Jonas?”
Jonas smiled a half smile, bowing slightly. “You have me dead to rights, sir. How can I be of assistance to you today?”
The mayor crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You want entry into my town. I don't want to let you in. I offer you a deal.”
Jonas spread his arms, smiling broadly. “I am extremely fond of deals! What have you in mind?”
The mayor held up a single finger. “One. If I allow you back into my town, you leave it in the same state you entered it. No broken windows, no brawling, no shenanigans.”
Jonas nodded. “I think I can agree to that.”
The mayor held up a second finger. “Two. When your business here is concluded, you leave. No extended stays. No longer than a week.”
Jonas thumped Geoff on the chest. “I don't think the women could handle us for longer than a week, eh boys?”
The mercenaries laughed for a moment, but it was short lived.
“Three. There is a band of scouts from the Felle Army that have been spotted in the hills across the bay. I want them gone before I let you in the gates.”
Jonas stood a little straighter. “You want us to hunt a band of scouts. From the Felle Army.” He took a step forward, and the guards behind the mayor stepped forward as well. Undeterred, Jonas spoke again.
“I just want to be completely clear on this. You want me and my men to do the work of regular army, and... go to war?”
<
br /> The mayor shook his head. “No, I want you to do the work of sellswords and deal with a problem.” He inclined his head towards Jonas slightly, raising an eyebrow. “You are still mercenaries, right? Not glorified babysitters? Or am I mistaken, and you're ready to retire now?”
Jonas scowled. “This sort of job is not what I normally do. It's not what my men normally do. This sort of job gets men killed.” he looked up, and smirked, his eyes narrowing. “It doesn't come cheap.”
The mayor smiled slightly. “I would imagine not. I am prepared to offer you thirty gold lions per scout.”
“Make it seventy, and you've got a deal.”
The mayor shook his head. “You're out of your mind with that price, and you know it. Let's just cut to the chase. You'll take fifty, or you won't get past these gates. You need this town and the business it provides.”
Jonas paused, considering the offer. He looked around to his men, and was met with subtle nods. He turned back to the mayor and held out his hand. “We have a deal then.”
The mayor turned away without shaking Jonas's hand. “I expect to see proof. You know the customary proof for a bounty. Right ears, no left. Reports say that there were between ten and fifteen scouts.” He started towards the gates. “I will accept ten. No less.”
With that, the mayor and his guards walked back through the gates, which were then drawn shut behind them, leaving Elias, Jonas and his men standing alone outside of it. He turned to them, rubbing the back of his neck, wincing a little as he faced the sun. “Well... it looks like we're going hunting. Anyone who doesn't want to go, well, you know how it works. You can cut out now, and anyone who's game can come with us and earn some lions. Consider it a bonus as to what we were going to do before.” He gestured at the gate. “It beats sitting here waiting for them to open the doors, in my humble opinion.”
Martin sighed. “You know me. I'm always good for it.”
Geoff nodded. “And you'll need to be patched up after. I'm game.”
One by one, the men gathered in front of the gate murmured their assent, Elias among them. After the last man agreed, Jonas clapped his hands once. “Alright! We've got four days to find these sons of pig-whores, kill them, get back, get paid, and let this town lick our wounds. I say we get started now. We should be able to make it to the other side of the bay by nightfall.”
Jonas lifted his pack. “Let's move out!”
Chapter Four
10th Waning Flower Moon, Year 4368
As they made their way around the bay, they questioned some of the residents at the farms and houses they passed. A road ran along the bay; first going north along the peninsula, then east past the marshes on the north side, then south along the eastern shore, between the bay and the fields leading up to the mountains. Nobody had seen the scouts themselves, but several farms had lost some livestock, mostly young cattle or adult goats in the last week or two.
The tracks always led back to the hills, and were always cleated boots. Most of the time, they were roughly the size of a man, just a bit deeper, as if they were significantly heavier. However, at two of the farms, ones that were closer to the edge of the forest that crept down from the mountains, the tracks were different.
It was Geoff and Timothy who found the first set of tracks, at a small goat farm near the hills. Elias looked them over, analyzing them and comparing them to the previous tracks. They were smaller in area, but deeply depressed into the ground, as if the one walking had been up on its toes, and enormously heavy. The tips of the tracks were split into four separate toes, each with a cleated indentation at the tip, like a claw. Jonas identified them as troll prints.
Elias had seen tracks made by trolls before, though he had never seen a troll in person. The tracks he had seen were all barefoot, and he had assumed that trolls were simply very dangerous animals, like bears. He had heard that they were cunning, but not intelligent, and the men of the north occasionally hunted them. They never brought the bodies back, though, not even for trophies; the smell was far too foul. Even the spears used to kill them were burned afterward.
Martin found the second set of tracks in a cattle pasture closer to the hills. They were hard to miss, as they made a trail of scuffed dirt that made a straight line through several shattered split rail fences. He called out to the rest of the men, gathering them in from their ranged out search line.
Jonas and Geoff were examining the tracks when Elias approached. They were deep in the soft soil of the pasture, and resembled large hand prints. The main part of the track was round, and deep at the heel, almost like a palm had been pressed into the ground, with short, stumpy toes leaving shallower indentations into the ground. Martin looked down at the holes in the soil, and shuddered. “Ogres.”
Jonas, crouching in front of the tracks, put his face in his hands and cursed under his breath. After a moment, he looked up. “Are you sure?”
Martin nodded. “Completely. There were a few groups, herds, tribes, whatever they have, down in the southern end of the valley, south of the capitol. We couldn't leave livestock out at pasture overnight or the ogres would kill them with rocks and eat them raw right there. Sometimes, they would break into the barn and slaughter the whole herd, just to kill them. They wouldn't even eat them.” He shuddered again. “I still remember the sound of the calves...”
“That's enough!” Jonas snapped. “I've never fought an ogre before. How did you kill them?”
Martin scoffed. “Kill them? We didn't kill them. Not ourselves. We burned them out. They retreated farther south, they'd come back after a few years, and we would burn them out again. It kept their numbers in check, but it never got rid of them.”
Elias stood. “So. We have orcs, trolls, and ogres.”
Jonas groaned. “I should have stuck with seventy lions a head.”
The tracks led straight through the pastures and into the hills. Once the ground started to climb, the ogre's tracks were joined by the trolls and the booted tracks from earlier. The trees grew larger, casting a deep shade over the ground, while the soil itself gave way to harder, rockier ground. It was harder to track their quarry in these conditions, but the telltale scuffed stone, broken branch, or twisted fern led them deeper into the rising hills until the sun sank below the sea.
Jonas threw down his pack and swore. “There's no sense in fumbling about in the dark. We'll camp here. No fire tonight, and keep your voices down. Orcs and trolls can smell fire for miles, and they can hear a fly fart on a windy day. Let's hope we find them tomorrow.”
~ ~ ~
The trees towered above Elias, the tops silhouettes against the clear night sky. The waning moon was dark this night, but the stars shone brightly. A light breeze blew in from the sea to the hills, bearing a slightly salty scent.
He leaned back against an enormous tree, unable to sleep. He had volunteered for the first watch for this reason. He and another man sat silently, listening to the sounds of the forest, wary for any signs that might signal an ambush. Elias's night vision was superb; he couldn't see in the dark as well as, say, a dwarf, but elves were known for being able to hunt accurately at night. For him, the starlight was all he needed, and if there had been a full moon out, everything would have been as clear as day.
He shifted uncomfortably against the rocky ground. This was far more tension than he was used to. Even amongst the men of the north, he had never gone on raids, as he was a ward of the clan, not a member. He had spent many days and months and years training with the young men and women, but he had never actually been in a fight in the sixty-four years he had spent in the Northern Mountains.
His mind turned back to his time there, and he started to have second thoughts as to why he had left. There were no ogres in the fortified city at the foot of Mount Stromgard. No orcs, no trolls, and no armored knights with cryptic messages trying to kill him. The only threats there were ones he knew about, ones he could see.
He sighed. Whatever had happened, here he was now. Older than anyone prese
nt, yet still the youngest member of the party. Everything he owned in this world was with him in his haversack, and the sword he had been left with when the elves delivered him to the Northmen strapped to his hip, hunting orcs for gold.
The hours wore on with Elias lost in his own thoughts. His eyelids grew heavy, and he leaned his head back against the tree, fighting sleep. The last two hours of his watch went by slowly, but eventually, the bright star in the west touched the horizon, and he was able to wake Geoff for his watch. Though the night was cold and the ground was hard, it was not long before Elias fell asleep.
~ ~ ~
The men walked single file down the road, the trees looming over them like monoliths, their tops lost in the morning mist. The forest floor was relatively clear, save for the bed of fallen needles and occasional thickets of ferns and underbrush. Though he had lived under these trees for the first century of his life, they felt foreign, judgmental, like ancient elders standing over him, looking down with disapproval.
A sound behind him made him turn. As he watched, the shadows around him coalesced, drawing up into a large humanoid form in front of him. It was the dark knight that he had met on the road to the coast, forming from the darkness of the forest. He tried to backpedal, to call out, but his legs and voice seemed frozen, unable to obey his bidding.
The shadow knight reached an arm out towards Elias, and without touching him, lifted him off the ground. A black, shadowy blade appeared in his hand, and he brought it back to strike. Elias cried out as the blade flashed forward.
~ ~ ~
Elias startled awake when Jonas kicked him lightly in the backside. “It is dawn. We move in ten minutes.” He looked down at the large elf. “You sleep fitfully, for a giant.”
Elias sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “My dreams were not pleasant.” His head throbbed, and his face felt heavy. Indeed, he had not rested well at all.
Jonas tossed him a dark waterskin. “Take a drink of this. It'll help you wake up, but drink it sparingly, else it will lose its potency for you. It's not hard to build up a resistance.“
Rising Thunder (Dynasty of Storms Book 1) Page 4