Hollow Road

by Dan Fitzgerald

  Carl grinned, slapped Finn on the shoulder. “I’m good for maybe two or three foot soldiers, depending on how skilled they are. So between me, and you, and Sinnie, I figure we can reasonably expect to do well against a half-dozen or so, if we are ready and things go well.”

  “And if things don’t?” asked Sinnie, working hard to keep her voice steady. Her left leg was beginning to twitch, and she hoped her hands would not follow.

  “That’s why we need a plan,” Carl answered, gathering several stones and pine cones from the side of the road, squatting down and pulling out a long knife. He put the stones in a pile, drew two lines in the dirt with his knife, and put three pine cones opposite the stones. “This is the landslide.” He pointed his knife at the stones. “This is the road. And this is us,” he added, touching the pine cones.

  Sinnie and Finn leaned in close, and Carl looked up at them with a gleam in his eye like Sinnie hadn’t seen since their days playing Seeker of the South back in Brocland.

  Chapter Six

  Finn gripped his staff tightly, focusing on his breathing, which was too shallow, and his heartbeat, which was too fast. He brought them under control, got his body in sync, and began to visualize how he would manipulate his energy for his role in Carl’s plan, assuming things didn’t blow up in the first ten seconds. Sinnie stared coolly ahead, watching the rocks, fiddling with the fletching on the arrow she held ready against the bowstring. Ten minutes, they waited, twenty. They were starting to fidget when they saw Carl emerge from the brush, his face dark.

  “There are at least five of them,” he said, his voice wavering slightly as he shimmied back into his mail shirt, which he’d removed for greater stealth. “Two in the forest and at least three behind the rocks. Did you see any movement up on the cliff?”

  Finn looked at Sinnie and they both shook their heads. Something was wrong. Finn could see it in Carl’s face.

  “What is it?” Finn spoke in a low voice, stepping toward Carl, who shrank back slightly. “What did you see?”

  Carl looked down, pulling his mail pants up and buckling them, and when he looked back up, his eyes were distant, his voice hoarse.

  “They are not men,” he said. “They are Maer.”

  Sinnie grasped Finn’s arm, held out the other toward Carl. “Are you—are you sure?”

  Carl closed his eyes and nodded. “Their faces,” he said, making a circular gesture with his hand over his face, “are covered in hair. Not just a beard, but all the way, even around the eyes.”

  Finn felt his heart racing, but this time he could not easily bring it under control. Sinnie’s hand was clammy on his wrist, which she held with a relentless grip. Carl finished strapping his shield back on, stepped toward them, and made a circle by taking each of them by the arm.

  “I have heard of them, from soldiers who have traveled through the mountains. They say Maer are just like men. They bleed like men, they die like men, they can be frightened or intimidated like men.” He locked eyes with each of them, his gaze firm and cool. “We don’t want to go hand to hand against five of them, but from what I saw, we have the advantage. They wear nothing but skins to protect them, and I saw but one sword among them. The others wield spears, I think. I did not see any bows. So from a distance, they have one shot, and not a very accurate one at that. Sinnie, you can pick them off as soon as they show their heads above the rock. And up close, unless they are highly trained, I should be able to use my shield to get past their spears and make short work of them with my sword. And once they see what Finn can do, they will be rattled, and the fight will be over before they even know what is happening. They think they are going to ambush us, but I’m here to say that it’s the other way around.”

  Finn jumped as he heard the distinct hiss and thunk of an arrow hitting the cart, and a metallic thud as another one slammed into Carl’s leg. Carl grunted and swayed for a second, then ran for the cart, pulling Sinnie and Finn’s arms in that direction for a moment before he let go. They had just gotten behind it when two more arrows came their way, one whistling over their heads and the other clattering off the cart wheel and skidding out by their feet.

  “Oh gods, are you okay?” Sinnie moved to check Carl’s wound, but he brushed her hand away.

  “It’s nothing,” he said, grimacing. “The mail slowed it down a bit. Now, get ready; after the next round or two I’m going to rush at them, and I need you to give me cover. Get a good look at where they’re firing from.” Carl pointed about twenty yards ahead, peeking over the cart edge to point them out, just as they fired again. Carl and Sinnie ducked as arrows flew just overhead and crashed into the cliff wall. Sinnie nodded, crouching with an arrow nocked.

  “Finn, cover Sinnie, and keep an eye out. This might be a distraction.”

  Finn nodded, took a moment to find his center, held his staff straight up, and prepared to push out a force shell, which should deflect anything but the heaviest blows. Carl stepped to the edge of the cart, crouched and ready to run, his shield up and his sword held tightly. Sinnie raised her head just above the cart edge, then peered around the coffin. Two more arrows came in rapid succession, both hitting the coffin this time, and Sinnie fired back almost instantaneously. Carl sprang forward and charged, hiding his head behind his shield as he ran. Sinnie fired again as two arrows came flying at Carl, one hitting his shield and one skidding harmlessly down the road. Finn thought he heard a cry from where the arrows were being fired, and he craned his neck around the coffin for a better look. An arrow shot out, again missing Carl, and again Sinnie returned fire, her arrow arcing just over Carl, who was nearing the forest edge. Finn was so focused on the action that he almost didn’t notice that the sound of footsteps on gravel he was hearing were at a different cadence than Carl’s, and he suddenly realized they were coming from the opposite direction.

  He swiveled in time to see four figures moving quickly across the road, about ten yards behind them. One carried a sword, and the rest carried spears. They wore some kind of animal skins, which combined with the hair covering their faces made them look half-beast, half-man. The lead figure let out a shout that sounded almost human, but with a depth and timbre unlike any human sound Finn had ever heard.

  “Sinnie, quick! Over here!” Finn shouted, standing still long enough to release the energy he had pulled inside into a force shell. It flowed smoothly outward, stopping at his skin, which stiffened instantly, though his joints remained flexible. He leaped around the corner of the cart just as the group approached, and took a wild sweep at the leader with his staff, which missed but forced them to slow up just enough. The leader raised his sword, which had an oddly golden hue, but stopped short and fell as an arrow plunged into his chest. One ran and leaped up onto the cart, while the other two rushed Finn, jabbing with their spears. He managed to deflect one, but the other caught him square in the stomach and drove him back into the cart, which he hit with a heavy thud. He lost his breath for a moment, but the force shell had kept the spear point at bay. He swept his staff upwards, catching the creature by surprise as the tip of his staff whacked its chin, snapping its head back. It dropped its spear and tumbled backward onto the ground.

  As Finn squared up with the other one, he heard a thud behind him, followed by a groan and a body hitting the ground. A monstrous scream erupted from the woods down the road, and Finn hoped to the gods it wasn’t Carl who had made that sound. Finn fell for a feint, opening himself up to a hard jab to the shoulder, which hurt like hell but didn’t feel like it had broken through. He could feel the energy in his skin begin to wane, and he doubted it would hold up to another shot. He heard Sinnie climb up onto the cart, and he tried to push the creature back, but it kept close, jabbing him again, in the chest this time. It felt like he’d been punched in the sternum, and he stumbled back, just keeping his feet. The creature jumped to the side as Sinnie fired a shot into the road where it had been standing. The creature Finn had whacked on the chin had finally stood back up, and it spoke a few gruff
syllables to its companion, who reared back to throw its spear at Sinnie.

  Without a thought, Finn held out a fist toward the creature and released the last of his power, pushing out an invisible burst that knocked it off its feet and sent its spear twirling backward through the air. Finn slumped, then fell sideways on his face and saw the world spin, dim, and go dark.

  Chapter Seven

  Carl returned to the archers and cut each of their throats. He already knew they were dead, but he did not want to take any chances. The Maer were legendary for their ferocity and toughness, and who knew what other attributes they might possess? He checked again by the rockslide, listening carefully for any unusual sounds, but the air was unnaturally quiet, as if the birds and insects themselves feared another attack by the Maer.

  Behind the rocks he found a makeshift fire pit the Maer had dug on the side of the road, a number of animal bones, and an old shovel that appeared to have been used as a skillet of sorts. He also found a rusted pick with a broken handle, the point of which was shiny with recent use. Looking up at the cliff face, he guessed they had used the pick to chip away at the rock at the top of the cliff until enough of it tumbled into the road to block passage. After a few minutes, he concluded the rocks had been arranged into a pile to provide a hiding place and defensive position. Everything he saw confirmed his suspicions that the Maer were just like people, except for the extra hair on their faces and bodies.

  The furs they wore had been cut into panels and sewn together with some kind of animal tendons, and attention had been paid to appearance as well as functionality. The chest pieces were made of a double layer, with fur on both the outside and the inside, and the outer parts of the fur were well maintained. Each one was decorated with the scales of some large fish, arranged in patterns that differed for each Maer; one looked like a star within a circle, another a circle within a square, and the rest bore similar geometric shapes. On their feet were simple hide sandals.

  As he examined the bodies further, he noticed something about the face of one of them that was different, a less pronounced jaw and chin, and as he looked down at the body he realized it was a female. He went back to check the others, which all appeared to be male. Whoever, or whatever, the Maer were, they clearly had a different view of gender roles than the Realm; he had never met a female soldier in his time in the service. He stripped one of the males of all its furs for a full inspection and found its body was identical to a human, besides the hair on its face and neck, which was like a soft beard that went from its chest to its forehead. Its body was hairy, at least twice as much as the hairiest man, and its privates were no different than any man’s.

  Their weaponry was either primitive or scavenged—the spears, bows, and arrows were all made of natural materials, which would explain why the arrow had barely pierced his mail. But one of them had a golden-hued sword that looked to be ancient, though the grip had been rewrapped with strips of animal hide, which had also been used to hold the crossguard in place.

  The one with the sword also wore a gold-colored amulet around its neck, which looked ancient but had been polished to a fair shine, hanging from a newish strap made from twisted animal hide. The amulet was a disc with a worn shape in the middle that appeared to be some kind of animal, perhaps a boar; it was impossible to tell. Carl wondered if this, too, had been scavenged, along with the sword, the shovel, and the pick, and if so, from where? The shovel and the pick looked similar to the ones he’d seen hanging in his father’s workshop, relics of the mining era, but the sword and the amulet were of another vintage altogether. As he examined the heavy sword, which was dark with age, he noticed faint markings on the blade, some kind of flowing script, though he did not recognize the language. The blade edges, which had been freshly stone-sharpened, had a yellowish hue. He realized with surprise that the sword was neither steel nor iron, but something else, perhaps bronze. He swung it a couple of times; it was solid and well-balanced, heavier than normal, but it swung lighter than its weight. He had never heard of bronze being used to make weapons; it was far too expensive, and not nearly as strong as steel. Maybe in ancient times they did not know how to make steel and made weapons out of bronze instead. It was just another piece of the puzzle their encounter with the Maer had brought.

  When he got back to the cart, Carl saw Sinnie and Finn sitting on a rock, leaning against the cliff wall and having a drink from a wineskin. Sinnie was laughing weakly at something Finn had said. Carl let them have their time, giving them a tight smile as he set about dragging the bodies of the Maer and lining them up at the valley’s edge alongside the road, just out of sight. He hadn’t yet decided what to do with the bodies; his instinct was to burn them, but if there were any others around that would draw too much attention. He also felt there were a few people in Brocland who would need to see the Maer with their own eyes, assuming the village hadn’t already been attacked.

  If this group of Maer had been acting alone, they might have just preyed upon anyone coming or going on the road, until people in Brocland realized what was happening and stopped traveling down it. He imagined they would have struggled to find anyone in the village willing to face the Maer, or to try to sneak past them down in the valley or up into the hills. Sinnie’s father, maybe, since he was used to being out solo for weeks at a time, or one of the older boys from the Village Guard who was almost ready to set out on his own, perhaps. But most folks left Brocland once they came of age, and very few returned, other than to visit. Carl could hardly imagine the villagers’ state of mind, which was already depressing on a good day.

  He also had to consider the possibility that there were significantly more Maer, that they had attacked Brocland and had destroyed it or were holding the village hostage. The group he and his friends had just killed could have been the guards, in which case they most likely would have sent one of their number back to the larger group once the fight began. Unless perhaps they had been confident of victory, given their superior numbers and the element of surprise, in which case their compatriots might not realize what had happened, though they would figure it out soon enough.

  One thing that argued against the theory they had already taken Brocland was the fact that they were so ill-equipped. If they had attacked the village, they surely would have met little resistance, and they would have had access to some weapons, some equipment, and some food. This group appeared to have nothing that could have come from Brocland, except maybe the mining tools, but they were in such poor shape it was more likely they were scavenged from the mine themselves.

  Carl rested against a tree, watching Sinnie and Finn, who were now standing. Sinnie was tending to a wound in Finn’s shoulder, which didn’t look too serious. Carl wished he could have seen what Finn had done; though all of those Sinnie and Finn had faced were killed by Sinnie’s arrows, several of them had serious contusions. And Sinnie wouldn’t have been able to shoot them all without Finn engaging at least two or three of them hand to hand, with only his staff and whatever magic he could conjure against their spears. He was beginning to accept that Finn could more than hold his own in a fight. And Sinnie had put arrows in every Maer except one; she had even hit one of the archers, who had been shooting from heavy cover on the valley side of the road. Her prowess under fire was impressive, but the real test would be how she handled the fact that she had ended four lives.

  “Need a little help?” asked Sinnie, walking across the road with more bounce in her step than Carl would have anticipated.

  “Sure, I want to see if we can move enough of those rocks to get through. Finn looks to be feeling better.” Carl watched Finn stretch his arms out wide, facing the cliff, move them up toward the sky in one fluid motion, then lower them to his sides.

  “Yeah, he’s got some nasty bruises, but nothing broke the skin.” She stood, shaking her head. “It’s...unbelievable.” She raised her eyes, and Carl saw she did believe.

  “He seems to have quite the gift,” Carl said, ignoring the twang in his
stomach whenever he heard or spoke the word. It was hard, but he was trying. “What else did he do? Besides the armor thing?” Carl was fishing, but he figured Finn hadn’t gotten out of that scrape with just a flimsy armor spell.

  Sinnie’s mouth twisted into a smile. “I forget how clever you are sometimes,” she said. “Yeah, he did this other thing, I...I’m not sure what it was, but this one was about to throw his spear at me, and I was fumbling with an arrow, and I was about to jump down from the cart, which would have been really bad, you know? Anyway, he just sticks out his fist—” Sinnie demonstrated as she continued. “And like, the Maer just...flies backward, like he’s been run over by an invisible bull.” She looked back at Finn, shook her head. “It was wild. And he saved my life, which is a bonus. But then he collapsed, just dropped like a bag of sand, but it was enough. It was just enough.”

  Carl nodded, stopped himself from spitting. In the military, men spat at will, and it was a damned hard habit to break. “Good. Good.” He gestured toward the rocks. “Let’s see what we can do about these, let him have a little rest.”

  “But maybe we should bring him with us.” Sinnie chewed on a fingernail. “I don’t think we want anyone alone right now.”

  “Yes, yes, absolutely, good thinking,” Carl agreed, kicking himself for not having thought of it himself. “Hey Finn!” he called, beckoning Finn when he turned to look, then pointing toward the rock pile. Finn nodded and walked toward them, with nothing in his gait showing he was suffering from his wounds. Carl shook his head and waited for Finn, then surprised all of them, most of all himself, by wrapping Finn in a big, gentle hug. “Good to see you’re okay,” he said into Finn’s ear, not wanting to pull back and show his wet eyes.