Legend of Ecta Mastrino Box Set 2

by BJ Hanlon

  Being in charge really was a pain. Edin missed the days of following Grent and Horston through the woods and plains.

  He slipped outside without another word. The town was quiet. In the morning sun, he saw the homes were mostly white stucco with brown crossbeams on the front and extending out the sides.

  He jogged west down the wooden boardwalk that connected the buildings to each other. It was the way Henny and Berka had gone.

  A stiff breeze blew in from the north and Edin pulled the cloak closer covering his sword. His hands grew cold as he trudged through the city. As he glanced back east, he saw more smoke rising. Someone was setting the city on fire.

  Urgency forced him to begin calling out their names.

  He reached the westerly gate. The doors were on the ground. They appeared to have been ripped off and the mud street was littered with claw footprints. How many had flooded inside.

  The slow-moving river was to his right and to the left were rows of homes, some tall other’s short. Did Henny and Berka stray from the river? They weren’t supposed to.

  He called their names again. Nothing. Edin began jogging the perimeter of the wall. His nerves were rising. What happened to them?

  As he neared the southern wall, he saw Henny standing in the doorway of a long house.

  “Henny,” Edin called.

  The big man spun around; he carried a large mace now with wicked looking spikes sticking out. “Edin!” He was almost shocked. Then he thumbed inside. “We found more survivors.”

  He followed Henny inside the long wooden building, easily four times as long as any of the cottages. “Berka?”

  “He’s in the cellar.” Henny pointed him to a door at the rear. It was a tavern. A very long one, probably frequented by locals.

  Edin found the stairs and below, a small lamp was burning and the firelight poured out beneath the shadows of the floor.

  “Berka?” Edin asked and headed down.

  The stairs creaked and the cellar smelled of urine, feces, and mold. A rat darted behind a pair of large casks in the corner.

  “It’s the owner and his wife,” Berka said. “They don’t look well.”

  “Gods,” Edin said.

  “The city’s on fire,” Henny called from above. “We need to move.”

  “I know.” Edin let out an exasperated groan. “We’re going upriver. We can’t take them…”

  “We can’t leave them… you say you’re not an abomination, prove it,” Berka spat. “Be a man for once.”

  “I am a man, you dumb oaf. Or don’t you remember me standing between you and that crillio!”

  “Quiet!” Henny yelled.

  “You condemned me after I saved your life. That crillio should’ve eviscerated you. They’d have found only wee bones and ginger hair in the poo. Maybe a toe but the rest of you would’ve been inside the beast’s stomach or in a tree. If he didn’t get his fill, your eyes would be pecked out by carrions, bugs would be feasting on your insides.”

  Berka glared.

  The old couple looked back and forth between the two with wide, fearful eyes.

  “You were my best friend and you dedicated yourself to slaying me and people you never met because we have a gift from the gods and you’re jealous.”

  “I protect people.”

  “The Por Fen do not, if you only see that you’re blind. They kill people who get in the way of their mission. They’re the abominations…”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Henny called from up top then his footsteps thudded across the floor above.

  “So, what do we do?”

  “I think I see dematians,” Henny yelled. “The fire is spreading.”

  “Damn it….” Edin muttered. “How’s your arm, you’re gonna have to row.”

  “It’s been better,” said Henny.

  Edin turned toward the elderly couple. “The city is burning and we’re headed upriver. You can come with us or try to flee on your own.”

  The old man and woman both seemed startled as if they thought the two young men forgot about them.

  “I’d rather not die,” the old man said. “But this is my tavern, my life. I want to defend it.”

  “You’ll lose that life,” Edin said.

  “You’re a mage, aren’t you, can’t you stop them?”

  “We fought three patrols in the last twelve hours,” Berka said. “We aren’t in top shape.”

  The old man nodded and stood before helping his wife. Edin scrambled out of the tavern and back onto the boardwalk. He glanced down the street and saw the black smoke of the fire growing nearer. It rose above the homes nearly blotting out the sun. He began to smell it too.

  There was no sign of the dematians… but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

  Edin stepped back inside. “Henny run, tell them to get another boat,” Edin said. The laborer nodded and ran off.

  “We need to go quickly. Berka you lead, I’ll take the rear.”

  Berka began limping down the wooden boardwalk. They moved as quietly as they could with their footsteps thumping the boards beneath their feet. His heartbeat pounded in his ears.

  From somewhere behind him, he heard a loud crash of a collapsing building.

  They neared the riverside avenue and stopped at the corner cottage. Berka stopped and peered down the avenue.

  “How’d you find them?” Edin whispered moving next to the Por Fen monk. Across the way sat a large two-story warehouse.

  “I wanted ale then heard something down below.”

  “Did you get any?”

  Berka reached in his cloak and handed him a brown bottle. “Just some whiskey.”

  Edin popped the cork and took a drink. It was far from smooth and Edin winced and shook his head. “Rough.”

  “It’s strong and keeps you warm,” the tavern owner huffed between breaths. “Needed here in winter.”

  Glancing down the road he saw it was clear. “Let’s go,” Edin said and stepped out into the street. He looked back the way they’d came. No demons.

  Wafts of the wood smoke came on the wind. It covered much of the town in a haze.

  Edin waved them to follow and ran behind the warehouse across the road. They jogged through the tall shadows and came out on the rocky beach. The ground angled toward the river and large wooden planks were set up like pathways to short piers.

  Nearly two-hundred yards south, was the boathouse. “This way,” Edin whispered and started running. He saw the three boats on the edge of the beach, but no people.

  Arianne… Panic rose in him and he started sprinting. He didn’t care about the old folks anymore only her. Sweat poured down his brow. He was about to call her name when he saw her head pop out of the boathouse.

  It took a moment to realize it was her and he began to slow. He was huffing when he reached her. “I couldn’t see you…” he said as he took her in his arms.

  The rest of the group moved out and suddenly El screamed. It was loud, too loud. Edin turned to her as the girl began to run to the old folk.

  “Elsiba,” the woman called, tears were running down her eyes.

  “No time for reunions,” Edin said and looked at Dorset and Henny, “can we push off?”

  “We’re ready.”

  “Then get these in the water.”

  They all started moving, carrying the three to the water’s edge and in. The water was cold and sent shivers up his body.

  “Get in,” Edin said. “I’ve got the first boat. Berka take two and Henny…” he saw Henny’s right arm was hanging limp. “Yechill take the last one. Dorset heal Henny.” They looked at him for a long moment. Too long. “Now!” he nearly shouted.

  The group broke up as they scrambled into the boats. Berka took El and the older folks and was the first to shove off.

  Edin and Arianne got in the first with Fokill while the remaining three moved to the last.

  There wasn’t much room. It took a few minutes to get the boat pointed in the right direction. T
he gear weighed the small boats down and they moved slower through the water.

  Edin faced rear and started at the rows.

  “Edin…” Arianne said from the rudder. He glanced at her and saw she was looking back down river at black shapes. Black humanoid shapes.

  “Damn. He looked over his shoulder. Yechill was moving fast and Berka was behind him. Edin was trailing.

  “You use the oars to propel you,” Berka called out but Edin wasn’t sure if he was mocking or trying to be helpful.

  “Dematians,” Edin called back fighting the water. Edin closed his eyes and felt the current beneath him. After a moment of catching it, he reversed it but only just beneath his boat. He felt the weight of the water and the boat. It was like he was being forced to carry a boulder upstream.

  Then they began to speed through the water passing the other two boats as if they were snails and he was a galloping horse.

  After only a minute, he was a couple hundred yards ahead of the other two and sweating. They reached the city wall that ran a few yards into the water like a breaker. Edin felt woozy for a moment and Arianne had to reach out and catch him.

  “Need me to take over?” Fokill said.

  The weariness was growing and he rocked slightly in the boat. “Alright, now time to sleep,” Arianne said. “You’ve nearly exhausted yourself today.”

  Hands began pulling him to the bow and Edin closed his eyes and let the warm sun tickle his face.

  Edin woke as the boat bumped into something that banged the hull. Above him, the soft glow of the evening sun twinkled through swaying evergreens. Edin sat, his neck was stiff. He saw Arianne still at the rudder and asked what was happening.

  “We’re stopping for the night,” she said quietly.

  A few yards behind them were the other two boats tied up to trees and pulled partially on a small stone beach.

  Edin got out and helped Fokill pull their boat up and out of the water. The beach was barely two yards wide before an escarpment rose into dark woods.

  They took out much of their gear and climbed the shelf. Above, the forest floor was littered with pine needles and cracked brown leaves that crunched underfoot.

  Yechill again disappeared into the woods.

  A few minutes later, a small fire was going beneath a break in the trees. After eating meat and some jarred fruits, they spread out. Edin set out their bedroll and sat next to Arianne.

  She leaned into him. “I could sleep for days.” She laid down and patted the cloth next to her.

  “How about we train?” Dorset said interrupting him and Arianne. “I want to get some movement in my limbs.”

  “I was going to sleep,” Edin said.

  “You’ll sleep when you’re dead,” Dorset said a bit loud.

  A soft wail came from where Berka, El, and the old folks were.

  “Dorset…” Arianne hissed. “They just lost their village…”

  “Sorry,” he said and brushed his blond hair from his eyes.

  “Just go,” Arianne said.

  Edin kissed her then they moved a few yards away and lit another pair of small fires. They began with the Oret Nakosu and moved slowly through the movements. Edin was wide awake. Halfway through the set, Berka moved over and began watching them.

  Edin moved slowly and steadily, his muscles straining as they fought against each other. He sweated profusely but it felt great in the cool breeze.

  After a half hour, they were done.

  “What was that?” Berka asked. “Looked like you were having a seizure.”

  Dorset sat on a fallen log to catch his breath.

  Edin spoke with his hands clasped above his head. He’d found that it opened the lungs and let more air in. “Oret Nakosu.”

  “Granite Manhood,” Dorset gasped out.

  Berka raised a bushy red eyebrow. He was beginning to look like his old self again, a little thicker though as if he’d been hauling goods from ships all day.

  “It increases strength and speed,” Edin said.

  “Is it some magi thing?”

  “A Grent thing,” Edin said. He wondered if the terrin made it back to Calerrat and found his wife. Edin missed him, and Dephina and especially Master Horston.

  It’d been what, six months since he left the plains alone and climbed into the mountains? A different life.

  “Can you show me?” Berka asked. His voice a little wistful, though it seemed to be resigned to Edin saying no.

  Edin knew Berka thought of them as enemies, but today, they allied against the dematians.

  “I suppose,” Edin said. He began to run Berka through the first three movements.

  Dorset stood off to the side, practicing his sword forms. Every now and again, Edin would call out a correction to one or both of them.

  “Angle the foot at a forty-five,” Edin said as Dorset thrust his sword, “not straight.”

  Dorset made the correction.

  To Berka he said, “Put more effort in, clench your gut like you’re holding back a large poop.”

  After a while they stopped and went down to the river for a drink. No use in wasting waterskins if they didn’t have to.

  On the bank they sat on a downed tree and looked out toward the opposite bank though he couldn’t see it. There were no clouds but the moon was dark. A new moon.

  The slow stream trickled and the wind cooed through the trees. Soon, the snows would come. Edin didn’t want to be stuck on the river if it froze.

  “We have at least five more days to the swamp,” Dorset said. “I think, it’s hard to understand Yechill.”

  Edin groaned. “I’m already exhausted.”

  “You at least got to sleep,” Berka huffed. “I had to go all day. I feel like I’ve pushed an ox cart up a mountain using just my arms. I’ve got blisters the size of walnuts.”

  “We’ll try and switch it up a bit tomorrow,” Edin appeased. “How is El?”

  “Okay, those are her grandparents. I guess she was visiting them when the dematians attacked. She’d left to find her parents the night we came into town. I don’t think they made it.”

  “Did any?” Edin asked rhetorically.

  “Maybe some escaped down river or through the forest,” Dorset said hopefully.

  “Maybe,” Berka said quietly.

  “Wished we had one of those aleskins,” Edin said.

  “Me too,” the other two chorused. They sat quietly for a while listening to the sounds of the river. A plop sounded. In the dark, Edin saw Berka’s hand out as if he’d just thrown something.

  Back at camp, the group was spread out, the grandmother and El shared a bedroll with the grandfather lying next to them. Henny and Yechill were snoring, while Fokill sat staring at the fire a few feet from Arianne.

  Edin didn’t look at him. He snuck in the bedroll with Arianne. She took his hand in hers and pulled it into her bosom.

  Dorset grabbed his bedroll and Berka laid on the dirt on the far side of Arianne.

  “Where’s your bedroll?” Edin whispered to Berka.

  He nodded toward the two women. “They needed it more than me.” He curled up close to the fire and tucked an elbow beneath his head.

  Edin turned to Fokill, “I’ll take next watch,” he whispered.

  Fokill nodded but didn’t look at Edin.

  “Quiet, I’m trying to sleep,” Arianne said.

  The next two days were quiet and it grew colder. The earth rose on either side of the river in forested mounds or jagged cliffs.

  On the slow river they were exposed. The wind was brutal and at the end of the second day, their breath looked as if they were smoking Horston’s pipe.

  Luckily, there hadn’t been any sign of dematians. Few birds fluttered in and out of the trees. Black birds with red and white stripes, sometimes geese with long black necks, powerful wings, and annoying honks.

  Edin watched as a hawk dove straight down into the river, shocking him into silence for a moment. Then it popped up with a thick fish in its bea
k.

  To pass the time, Yechill crafted hooks for people not rowing. They baited them with a fruit Edin had never seen before and it somehow worked.

  That night they feasted on cooked fish. Everyone but Berka who hated fish.

  Yechill was an expert hunter and fisher and Edin felt hollow. He thought he should provide for the expedition… but he couldn’t. This was Yechill’s world.

  When Edin wasn’t rowing, he looked sullenly over the gunnel and watched gray and pink fish dart around. It seemed like they were sniffing the bait. If fish could smell, Edin didn’t know. He caught one. A small one barely the distance from his thumb to his little finger.

  Fokill told him to toss it back.

  At the end of the second night, it began to stink. There was a hint of someone letting out a large and putrid cloud of gas from their rear.

  “The swamp,” Fokill told him, “it’s up a way.”

  “How long is it?”

  He shrugged. “Yechill says two days.”

  “How long did it take you to get through?”

  “Eight days and many lives.” He looked down. “Including my second mother’s.”

  Edin was at the rudder and Fokill was rowing. Arianne placed a hand on his shoulder and he glanced up. Fokill reached up with his right hand as if to put it on hers. A moment later, the oar began to slip through the eyehole.

  Edin jumped for it and grasped it. The boat rocked and Arianne shrieked. He pulled it back in and handed it to the white Foci tribesman.

  “Watch yourself,” Edin said. The man was starting to get on his nerves. He’d found Fokill staring at Arianne, trying to speak with her, especially if Edin was asleep. He’d offer her food he cooked and try to exaggerate Edin’s fishing deficiency.

  Tomorrow, he’d go in a different boat, Edin pledged.

  That didn’t work and for two more days they rowed and the smell grew worse as the water grew murkier.

  They stopped on a small island just before the swamp. It’d been four days, not five and the riverbank simply disappeared. Trees and grasses protruded from the swamp like tiny islands.