The Bok of Syr Folk

by Russ L. Howard

  Yellow Horse dropped the tentacle. “Well, maybe I’ll carry it back with me so I can give Long Swan a large smacking kiss on the neck. I hope I don’t have to wait as long as he has for a kiss.”

  “You wouldn’t have to wait if you weren’t so shy,” Ary said. “I could have got you a date with Eirfae if you hadn’t said she smelled like grilled bone. What’s it going to take to get you married off, smart ass? And I hope you know you don’t have to say something just because you think it.”

  Yellow Horse stuck out his tongue. “I’m not in a hurry to find a wife. You’ve already got four fish on a stringer and can’t decide which one to eat first.”

  “Enough boys! You’re making me lose count.” Elf Beard demanded as he walked off the length of the squid. Shook his head and said, “It is seventy-two feet in length, Jackie Doo. Have you ever seen one this big before?”

  “To think, that thing was swimming under our ship when we sailed here,” Jackie Doo exclaimed. “It gives me the creeps. One of those tentacles could wipe off a whole deck of men.” Jackie Doo gave the carcass a kick, sending the flies and lice swarming and filling the air with an awful stench. “One thing is for sure, I’ll stay a landsman from now on.”

  Ev-Rhett held his nose, “Pee-ew! That thing stinks like a diaper pail.”

  Brekka was fascinated by the squid. Elf Beard considered that living in Namen Jewell all of her life, she had never seen many sea creature.

  “Can we take one of the tentacles back to Godeselle, Master Elf Beard? They’ll never believe we saw a sea monster this size.”

  “No, my little lady, it’s way too big for that.”

  The sun had climbed above them a fortel before two when suddenly they got a strike from the hounds. Elf Beard was the first to rise, tuned his ears in, and shouted, “Oz has a strike. Let Daisy loose! She’s got a cold nose and’ll lead us right to them.”

  When he saw her pick up the trail, he gave the command, “Let’m all go boys. See to it! Let slip the hounds!”

  A smoking race followed. It looked like someone had poured the hounds out of a bucket as they raced like a school of fish through the marshes on the heavy scent of the grass beast.

  “Ya-hoo!” Aelfy shouted as he grabbed his spear, gave Elf Beard a smile and raced after the other young bloods. “Let’s give this man eating troll the hell it deserves.”

  The hounds headed into a small canyon with the young bloods in hot pursuit while Elf Beard attempted to keep pace. Looking back at the abandoned supply carts he decided they could return for whatever they needed later. He started taking stock in his mind of what they would need, noticing that Rollo and Oskar had grabbed the harpoons. He had his atlatl, and he remembered both Ary and Alfy had taken their spears while all the archers were already equipped. They were ready. He hurried to catch up to the young bloods, occasionally grunting and growling whenever Ev’Rhett, Russell, Degataga, or Brekka attempted to pass him. A roar of the troll echoed throughout the marsh and he stopped dead in his tracks, placed his arm in front of the four youngsters, and listened.

  Jackie Doo yelled from the tall grasses, “It’s the grass beast, boys. Draw your weapons.”

  It was a narrow marsh with a small stream into which the beast fled. Another roar echoed and the dogs tore off in a streaking pursuit, zigzagging through the reeds until all of them were baying in full cry. Everyone’s focus was now on following the baying hounds through the cattails, sedges, and snake grass as the beast circled back around to them.

  Elf Beard ran back to the cart with the four rascals in tow, ordered the kids to grab as many of the torches as they could. Together they handed them to the young bloods for distribution. “They’ve got him boys! The dogs are keeping him from leaving the marshes. Light your torches! They’ll stop the beast soon enough.”

  The young men’s hearts were pumping, as was Elf Beard’s. They could not distinguish if it was fear or excitement. Elf Beard remembered his first grizzly hunt and even now he felt that same rush return in full measure.

  He turned to Brekka and the three boys, “You kids stay at hand now. I don’t want you wandering off.”

  From somewhere ahead, Ary shouted. “Torchbearers to the front! The rest stand ready with spears and atlatls. Stay in your packs the way you’ve been trained. We don’t want you wounding each other.”

  The dogs were chopping which meant they had the beast pinned down to one place. Once Elf Beard reached the marshes, Ary took his spear in hand and race ahead of the torchbearers, toward the sound of the baying hounds. The flames of their torches clapped as waves of wind whipped over the tall marsh grasses. It was as if the spirit of the grass beast had stirred the winds.

  Elf Beard made sure the four youngsters were safely running about ten feet behind him. They were easily keeping pace with him. He envied the stamina of youth as his knees ached and his breaths became progressively more labored. In a twinkling, the tangle of grasses parted before them like the curtain on a giant stage to reveal a monster of blood and horror the size of which even made him gasp. He halted, making sure the youngsters halted as well. He took a deep breath and let slip the word, “Never!” This beast was the worst he had ever encountered. Rage burned in this mountain of flesh. This would not be an easy kill.

  Brekka exclaimed, “By the Nine Glory Twigs, Fa was right. This is three times bigger than that grizzly.”

  For once in their life, the twins were speechless and clung to one another. Degataga inched close to Elf Beard’s side, hand on knife.

  When the beast caught sight of the torches, it ripped through the grasses, tossing aside the harassing dogs with ease and racing through the marsh at a speed a race horse would envy. Ever toward the south it ran. Elf Beard calculated it was heading for the waterfall in the distance, the only visible way up to the deep wood.

  Ary shouted, “Keep pursuit. Torchbearers move to the fore. Let the hounds wear it down.”

  Guided only by hounds barking relentlessly, and with Ary and Aelfy in the lead, the young bloods ran in pursuit for what seemed like seven plough lengths, the tall sharp grasses tearing at any exposed skin. Elf Beard took up the rear with his four tagalongs. Hordes of marsh flies had a difficult time pursuing them, but followed in irritating wisps, sometimes pelting their faces and forcing them to close their mouths and blow out their nostrils to keep from inhaling any of the pesky midges.

  Straightaway the troll came into view, seemingly exhausted from its long run. It turned in fury, rising to its full height before them, nearly twenty feet tall. It was huge, shaggy-maned, roaring, and slavering like a rabid dog full of absolute fury that anyone would dare assail him in his territory.

  “Halt, and fall back!” Ary shouted. “Let the dogs do their work first.”

  As the young bloods fell back, Rollo Shanks exclaimed, “By Almighty Gott, what sort of demon is this?”

  Brekka stared at it. “My Fa Mo Mo, said it is half-lion, half ancient bear.”

  Aelfy added with marvel in his voice, “This isn’t just a grass beast, this is a muckle mark stepper. It’s the Grendel.”

  Elf Beard swatted at the swarms of marsh flies around his face. “But it can be defeated. You’ve all seen the hide and there were only eight of us with no dogs and no torches.”

  Rollo, still in a state of awe and shock said in a mournful tone. “I hate to think of the horror the Knighton family must have undergone. With Gott as my witness, we will avenge their blood this day.”

  The hounds methodically struck, first from one angle then another, from aft and then fore as they worked the troll-monster for some time, wearing it down minute by minute. Occasionally, it would rise up roaring then go down to all fours to fight the hounds with slashing claws and teeth. Its breathing was becoming labored and it began showing signs of failing strength, even collapsing to the ground after a swing with its massive paw. The grass beasts raking claws split and tore the earth like a harrow.

  Falling back to consult with Elf Beard, Ary asked, “Should we stri
ke now, Hunt Master?”

  “Not yet. Just hold up here. T’aint no use in getting anyone killed. Let the troll wear itself down some more. The dogs will do the work. That’s why we call it hound hunting. We hunt the hounds, but the hounds hunt the beast.”

  Russell tugged on his sleeve. “Couldn’t we just get closer so we can see better?”

  “You’ll be able to see it soon enough, my boy. Hold your horses and be patient. The dogs have him right where we want him. If we go rushing in there too soon, it’ll take off up those falls and then it’s liable to be nightfall before we overtake it again. Worse, it could turn on us, and we are no match for that monster just yet. It’s still got too much steam in those veins. We will let the hounds wear it down, that’s their job. It makes our work a lot easier and far less dangerous.”

  Ev’Rhett whined, “But we can’t see.”

  “Then climb up on that boulder yonder.” Elf Beard directed.

  “I should have brought my shepherd’s staff.” Brekka said glumly. “It helped to repel the grizzly.”

  “Little hope that would be. You should have seen the harpoons it chewed up. I don’t mind telling ya, lass, that troll would snap that staff like a toothpick.”

  As they stood looking on, the grass beast whipped all the way around. The hounds hit its flanks then back to the forelegs. Hounds would rush in from the back for bites and nips. In the heat of battle, Bodie, one of Old Grokk’s favorite hounds, was covered in blood where she had been clawed, but stayed in the fray which went on for a good half hour longer. The beast paid the men no attention at all. The troll could only focus on the immediate hound attacks.

  Ary shouted to Elf Beard. “Now?”

  Elf Beard signed by drawing his fists together and showing a ripping motion meaning, “Go in for the kill.”

  Ary signaled for Redelfis and the young archers to launch a volley of arrows which did little damage other than infuriating the beast into a frothing, clawing rage. Vicious roars came from the twisting troll as it responded first right, and then left. It whipped to the rear, came back with a forward charge, swatted at arrows in the air, and snapped with its teeth at the ones in its shoulders and neck. While the troll was thus preoccupied, Ary darted in and hurled a spear to the throat. Blood spewed out of its nostrils. Gurgling sounds escaped mixed with its roars from the blood welling up in its throat.

  Jumping up and down on the large boulder, Brekka and the boys cheered. “Did you see that? Way to go, Ary,” Brekka shouted

  The smell of blood and urine filled the air. The hounds sensed the kill was near and increased their chopping, barking, and biting that worked the beast into an exhausting frenzy. Elf Beard could tell the young men’s blood was up as well. He saw them poised for the strike. They were shouting words that their mothers would have been shocked they even knew. It was a savage moment and the youth embraced it as second nature. He thought with satisfaction, This generation of warriors will be unequaled in battle. Even though they are raw, they have the potential to be the best bred fighters I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  Sensing the moment was right, Elf Beard signed, “whaling spears.”

  Rollo and Oskar surged forward to pass their harpoons to Arundel and Aelfheah. Just in case, Elf Beard prepared his atlatl. He was frustrated that he could not participate as fully as he would have liked, but refused to take a chance with the children being there. Besides, the glory of the kill needed to be the young blood’s. Something he repeatedly had to remind himself of.

  The grass beast now stood to its full height to menace its attackers. Then it came crashing down on its forelegs with a roaring charge. Arundel and Alfheah met it with harpoons. The youngest and most aggressive of the hounds, Dart, lunged at the beast, its bare teeth clamping on to its ear. The harpoons plunged all the way in from the impact of the charge which only infuriated the beast all the more. With one swipe he hurled Alfy some thirty feet into a peat bog where the boy was completely dazed. No doubt bruised, he still staggered to his feet, regained his center and returned to the fray.

  The slavering troll’s movements grew slower and blood coated its thick mat of fur from its many wounds. However the beast still managed to scrape Dart off its head as though swatting off a hat, hurling the dog three man lengths away. The other hound, Bodie came over to Elf Beard and collapsed from the blood she was rapidly losing. As Elf Beard put his weapons down and bent to tend the dog’s wounds, Brekka leaped down from the rock, grabbed the atlatl, and hurled its razor sharp projectile into the beast’s heart. The beast fell forward and collapsed to the ground with a ground shaking thud.

  There followed a silence from the young bloods as they stared with dropped jaws in mingled disbelief and awe at Brekka’s well placed missile.

  The hounds were now in frenzy at the collapsed beast, biting at its still limbs and shoulders, chomping and shaking their heads. The beast could only muster enough strength to hurl exhausted swats at the dogs. The troll was fast bleeding out as it struggled to lift itself from the ground one last time, but its pierced heart could no longer pump sufficient blood. It gave out one last shuddering breath and collapsed in a moaning heap.

  The young men were shouting and dancing around the beast and yelling out, “Do you believe its size?” “Did you see how it whipped about?” “Did you see how I shot it?” “It was holy terror itself.” “Holy shit that was fun!”

  Old Grokking grabbed Brekka by the shoulders and restrained her while he cursed, “You little fart, I ought to spank your ass.” He paused for moment, sighed, and then grudgingly admitted, “But damn, as Mother Earth as my witness, you will be a great warrior someday, that is, if your lack of discipline doesn’t get you killed first. Young as you are, I see the stamp of the Idisi on you.” For a moment he paused in grief. Even as he saw a satisfied grin come over her face, he knew, all too well, what sacrifices the gods would likely demand of her. Crooked Jack shot him an approving look.

  Turning to Degataga, whose mouth was still open with awe, he asked, “What do you think of this hunting business, boy?”

  Degataga suddenly grinned. “It’s more exciting even than a shark hunt. Please, Master Elf Beard, can I come with you on your next hunt?”

  Elf Beard patted his shoulder. “We’ll see lad. We’ll see.”

  Alfheah was still struggling to regain his breath, but staggered over to touch the troll on the eye with his kukri. When it showed no reaction, he declared, “It is dead as a drowned kitten.”

  Brekka asked, “Can we touch it now?”

  “Go ahead,” Elf Beard said. The four youngsters raced for the pile of blood soaked fur, vying to see who reached it first. They joined the excited circle of boys racing around the carcass in a victory dance. As their circle wound down, Brekka climbed upon the beast’s enormous back riding atop its muscled neck and thick mane while the twins attempted to lift the paws of the troll. Degataga examined the bloody six inch fangs.

  Elf Beard let the young bloods have their victory dance and hoot and holler until they spent the last of their excitement. He remembered his own initiation as a young man into grizzly hunting in the high mount called the Spirit Shasta, but he was still angry at himself that Brekka could not be restrained and knew he would have some ‘splainin’ to do when he got back because nobody would be quiet about this hunt. Sure as Brekka’s mother lives, there will be hell to pay.

  * * *

  It was late afternoon on the edge of evening as the young blood hunters approached Godeselle with much song and fanfare. On one of the carts they carried the meat and hide of the slain grass beast. Before they had skinned the troll they had measured it at eighteen feet and one hand breadth from head to toe. Its head alone was two and a half feet across.

  They marched four by four with Elf Beard and Jackie Doo leading. The young blood fyrds marched smartly behind their leaders. Brekka and the twin boys rode atop the supply cart. As they passed a group of young friends running alongside shouting questions, the young bloods lauded Arundel’s warl
ike thrust and Alfheah’s brotherly trust, and told of Brekka’s remarkable death-dealing throw. Once they passed through the Gorse Gate they broke into a song based on an Old Sharaka ditty that Degataga composed.

  “Go hunt the grass beast that roams in the marshlands.

  Great mighty grass troll that’s bigger than three bears.

  The Muckle Mark Stepper will no longer be there.

  May we always be hunters, hunting like we hunted here!”

  The song fizzled out as the boys noticed everyone cheering them. Mothers ran up to make sure there were no injuries or reports of casualties. Although some had adamantly opposed their sons going on such a dangerous hunt, they now were cheering and proud of their triumphant return.

  Lana strode with an agitated pace toward the marchers. Elf Beard cringed and braced himself for the chewing out that Lana was about to deliver.

  She planted herself firmly in front of the supply cart, forcing the two burly young bloods to a halt. Lana vented first at her daughter, “Miss Brazen-Faced Copper Locks! Thou art in a heap of trouble. Thou hast no idea of the horrors thou didst visit upon my heart, child. I will deal with thee later. And as for you, you two pesky little rascals, ye may have laborious chores coming when your mother finds you.”

  The twins giggled mischievously.

  Elf Beard winced as Lana directed that same fire back at him. He tried to duck behind the cart, “Old Grokking! Come out here where I can fix mine eyes on thee! How in Gott’s name couldst thou have let my daughter go on this hunt with thee after her father had expressly forbade it? Thou shouldst be horse whipped!”

  Elf Beard puffed himself up, “What can I do if you can’t even control the little savages?” he bluffed. “It’s obvious this girl is a born warrior and a huntress. You can’t keep her in your silk cages any longer. She’ll break out every time. Honestly, Lana, isn’t that obvious by now?”

  Practically weeping with anger, Lana demanded, “What art thou talking about? What is obvious is that she’s rebellious and thoughtless of my motherly feelings.”