by T.P. Grish
A sharp-nosed elderly woman carrying a fruit basket approached and whispered to them discreetly, ‘’Tis is wrong what happened. Balthern was a good man, he was not involved in any ‘dark arts’, as if there were such a thing. He sold herbs to people, he did naught but good. The local people here are ignorant and prone to violence, take the word of an old lady who has lived here her whole life. Be careful here strangers, and don’t tell anybody that I told you this’. The woman quickly strode away.
It was a reality that they could have guessed. There was nothing that could be done now and there were other evils to deal with, so reluctantly the trio continued on to the mill; minds troubled. The grain mill was a large wooden building, which had a windmill attached to the roof. The crank of large gears and the muffled yelling of workers could be heard. Inside the mill, men worked alongside machines, gears grinding grain and men filling up the refined product into sacks which they hefted deftly over their shoulders. A wiry, pleasant-faced man with the dirt of a day’s work, approached them and greeted them. ‘It’s three silvers per kilo of grain today, strangers’ he announced.
‘We are not here for that… we are here on behalf of the town guard, sir’, Elaina informed him. Remus added ‘We are here looking for Thom, the father of the girl that claimed to have been attacked by a ‘monster’, remembering the name Quintus had given them. The man’s face showed recognition, but also suspicion. ‘Before I can help you, I need proof that you work with the guard. No disrespect, but you have the clothing of travelers, not guardsmen. You are welcome to patronize the mill as customers, but…’
‘That is fine, good sir’ Perfidian said graciously, ‘what may I call you?’
‘Willem’, the mill foreman stated.
‘Willem, we will return presently with a guardsman in tow, who will verify our identity, and the fact that we are cooperating with the guards’.
‘That would be appreciated’ said Willem, nodding and returning to his business.
They had little trouble finding a patrolling guardsman. The guard gave them an appraising look, but had been informed about them, and was willing to go down to the mill to vouch for them. Willem was cooperative, and walked to the workshop floor, yelling for Thom. A large, dusky-skinned man approached, wiping flour from his face with his hand, which was covered with even more flour.
The guardsmen took over, informing Thom of the situation, and that the three strangers were there to help- with the approval of the guard. The guard returned to his patrols, informing Remus that the guard squadron being assembled to hunt the beast would meet them at Thom’s house that night. Thom approached the trio. His eyes were bloodshot and had bags under them, speaking of the toll the recent events had taken on him.
‘You ‘ere to help my little girl?’ he asked weakly.
‘Yes, we are trained… to hunt beasts that prey on people, and have been commissioned to assist the guards with this matter’ said Remus, lying. The guard had been vague about the specifics of their arrangement, and the lie barred any need for further explanation. Thom seemed to take some heart in the proffered help, and led them back to his house. Willem was annoyed at his departure during working hours, but acquiesced and permitted him to leave.
Thom’s humble house was quite near to the mill, and had small lawns on either side of the rough stone steps leading to the front door, sporting some potatoes and a few flowers. Inside the house a woman, evidently his wife, stirred clothes inside a large bucket with a sizable wooden stick, soapy water spilling down the edges. She was surprised to see her husband home from work so early, and, even more so; to see three strangers in tow. Thom walked over to his wife, and they had a whispered conversation, glancing over at the three strangers now and then. His wife put down her wooden stick, and turned towards the crude wooden loft that graced the right side of the single-room house. ‘Winnie!’ she shouted. ‘Winnie, honey, come down now!’
The patter of feet could be heard as a small child ran down the stairs to the main room. She had wide, staring eyes and blond pig-tails. She clung tightly to a stuffed animal toy as she gawked at the three strangers. Her parents explained the situation to her, stressing that the three people in the house were friends. Finally they got her sitting down and at ease. ‘We would just like to know what happened the other night. What did the monster look like, where did you encounter it, and any other information that can help us find it’, Remus said.
The girl explained the chain of events to them, with her parents supplying additional information and encouragement. Apparently the incident occurred three days ago, when Winnie was playing in the fields near the house at night. The guards had already interviewed them that night, and had been searching for the monster since. The girl was unhurt from the encounter with the monster, managing to escape in time. Remus guessed that a handful of guards were properly investigating the incident in their spare time, but now that they were taking the matter more seriously there would be entire patrols dedicated to the matter.
Winnie repeated the details of the incident for Remus, for some reason she felt most comfortable talking to the taciturn man. The monster that she saw was like an ‘ugly little man’ but with stretched-out arms, deformed features, claws and teeth. She was out playing by herself at night, her playmates having had gone home already. There were few people out at night, Thom explained, most people would be inside their houses resting and completing household chores during the waning hours. The monster attacked her, trying to grab her with its claws and bite her. She mentioned that it had dried blood on its jaws and on its dirty fur clothes. It grabbed her dress and tore a piece off, and her mother was gracious enough to retrieve the dress she had worn on that day, showing the large scrap that been torn off it.
Winnie had screamed and run away as fast as she could. Some locals who were still out at night had heard the scream and came running, but by then the monster was gone; as none of them remembered seeing anything. Winnie had run straight home and told her parents that night, who in turn told the guards. Her mother stated that they never thought their daughter would be in danger playing in the fields so close to the settlement. She added that the girl was no longer allowed to play without supervision, and Thom nodded firmly in agreement. Elaina affectionately pinched the girl on her cheek, and Perfidian graciously thanked the family for their time. Remus offered a thank you, and they left the house; declining the offer to stay for the beef stew the family was having for dinner.
They sat on the steps outside the house, discussing what they had heard, as they waited for the guards to arrive. ‘So, the rogue dwarf is the monster that attacked the girl. At least we are getting somewhere’, Elaina commented.
Remus gazed at his boots, seemingly oblivious. ‘They hung an innocent man. These peasants are just as worthless as the ones back home, Elaina’, Remus muttered darkly. ‘We are not here to help them, in any case. Let’s capture or kill this dwarf and return the corpse home, and see if we can prevent this war’.
Elaina replied crossly, ‘Just because some of them have done wrong, it does not mean we should let more evil happen to innocents’.
‘Bah, who is to say the dwarves are even wrong? Humans spread like a plague across the whole land, and destroy anything that does not fit into their preconceptions’, Remus retorted. He caught Elaina’s horrified glare and continued, ‘That man was a herbologist, Elaina. It could’ve been you. Or me’.
A profound silence fell upon the group, each lost in their own contemplation. Perfidian broke the silence; ‘People only do these things when they get crazy’ he began, collecting his thoughts. ‘Pe
ople are generally good, if you show them the right way. Things tend to get better over time’.
Remus wasn’t sure who Perfidian was trying to convince.
CHAPTER 7
Larian swung his cutlass ferociously, attempting to deflect the impossibly fast attacks of the bloodthirsty dwarves. The forest snapped with fire and smoke around him, the archers limiting the directions that dwarven reinforcements could come from. He could see several of his comrades nearby, others were engaged in battle a short distance away, illuminated by their yells and the clash of steel. A javelin bolt soared overhead, whistling into a dwarf’s shoulder, almost severing the limb and pinning the Fey to the ground. A war dog clamped its jaws around a nearby dwarf, not letting go. Larian silently praised the loyal canine and moved in, delivering a coup de grace.
The tide of battle seemed to be slowly pushing in the humans’ favour, but that only exacerbated the rage of the dwarves. Who knew how the other war bands were faring? Reports came infrequently. Where were those damned reinforcements from Vitter Falls? The Mayor had decided not to petition any city for aid, as their help always came slowly and expensively. A city might blame High Peaks for instigating a dangerous war and try to annex it post-war as payment for their help. And, the folk of High Peaks valued their independence. However, scouts had been sent to the nearby town of Vitter Falls to request aid days ago. They should have arrived.
A stentorian roar seemed to freeze the scene for a second, distant, but not so distant. Larian could swear he saw smiles on the faces of some of the dwarves. What fresh horror was this? He clasped the St. Lusite necklace he wore around his neck and kissed it, beseeching the holy Lord for strength and courage.
* * *
Three guard patrols were exclusively patrolling for the rogue dwarf this night, and Remus, Elaina and Perfidian formed a fourth; with the addition of a guard scout named Markham who was embedded into their group. Overall supervision of the effort was led by Captain Delrin, who led one of the patrols. Two patrols were assigned to the hinterlands of Yondern, with the remaining two delving into the forest. Although Yondern was surrounded by flat terrain, there was a forest several miles from town, the same forest Remus and his companions had travelled through while on the main road from High Peaks to Yondern. Their patrol group was one of the two assigned to the forest. Delrin’s patrol was one of the two that stayed in the farming community in the city’s hinterland.
The trio, with the addition of Markham, made their way towards the edge of the forest. Yondern lay to the left of the main road, and the decision was made to search the edge of the forest closest to town. The other patrol was approaching the forest, three hundred metres to their right. The canopy of trees loomed closer and closer as they walked through the farming settlement. It was a clear, blue night and one could see for miles in each direction; with the exception of the forest, whose trees cloaked their domain in dark and mystery.
They plunged into the forest, sweeping past the outlying trees and making progress into the deep wilderness. Markham was an expert woodsman, and they made slow but sure progress into the forest as he scanned for footprints and signs of their quarry. Remus and Elaina contributed their rapidly improving perception, with the more urbane Perfidian focused on merely keeping up. There were no signs of anything other than forest critters. Moment after tense moment passed. Markham announced ‘We are getting deeper into the forest, I am picking up more tracks’. The wiry, hawk-nosed man crouched down, his fine armour of leather and chain making no noise as it creased. ‘These tracks are unusual, but are weak and hard to identify. They are large though. Notice that the birds have stopped singing, this would be unusual if this was merely a bear, or wolf. Be on your guard’.
Remus had not noticed that the birdsong has stopped until Markham had disclosed the fact. Glancing at the spot of ground the scout was observing, Remus did notice faint, sizable footprints. Clawed prints. Markham stood and beckoned them to follow, which they did silently. He seemed to be leading them towards the source, occasionally stopping to peruse the ground. The scout looked at them over his shoulder and nodded somberly, indicating battle could be near. Remus and Elaina drew their weapons, with Perfidian nocking his bow. Elaina seemed disturbed, and peered intently all around her. Markham soon walked back towards them and said, ‘Judging by the tracks, we are near the den of a four-legged beast, most probably Fey. It is not what we are looking for. Let us quietly leave. Now’.
They complied, swiftly walking away from the area, the deep silence belying the hidden threat. When they had put some distance between them and the hidden lair, they continued to make headway into the forest. They lost track of time as the expedition became a tense monotony, the group becoming numbed and fatigued by constant wariness. That was interrupted when Markham stopped again. ‘There are very clear tracks, humanoid and disjointed. This could be it’. He slowly guided them onto the new trail, taking forward point again.
Eventually a cave came into view, formed out of a single humungous boulder, the cave formed by erosion. The cave was pitch black, the perfect conduit for their fears. Each member of the patrol swallowed in fear, careful not to show it to their comrades in arms. Markham swiftly pulled out a torch and lit it with flint and steel, offering to be the first to enter.
‘No’, Remus said, his tactical sense overriding his fear, and perhaps his common sense as well. ‘You would be better suited to attack the creature when it is distracted. Everyone take positions’. Markham nodded and handed Remus the torch, stepping aside. Elaina stood in front of the entrance and to the right, brandishing her staff. Perfidian aimed his bow at the entrance from the forest cover to the left. Markham laid his short swords on the forest floor, carefully poured black liquid from a vial onto their tips, and sealed the bottle precisely; returning it to his belt-pouch. Remus threw caltrops near the entrance, taking care to leave enough space for him to enter the cave.
It was up to him, and he slowly walked towards the mouth of darkness. He drew a deep breath, and reminded himself he had fought worse adversaries than a single, albeit insane, dwarf. The survival and cautionary instincts entrenched in the human brain could not be quelled, however, and it took everything he had not to turn and run from the pitch black cave entrance. He was very close to the entrance, and the torch lit up the edges of the cave, revealing nothing. He took the plunge into the cave itself, hefting the torch to and fro. It was not very deep, and the orange flames illuminated the dirty interior. Then he noticed the bones. Bits of bones and blood, from animals. He knew then that it was too late to run, that something foul resided inside the cave. That did not make it less horrifying when he took one more step and saw it, hunched against the back of the cave and staring at him. A deformed, feral thing. It was a dwarf, but even more bestial, lacking any humanoid symmetry. Remus’ courage failed and he screamed, turning and sprinting out of the cave.
As he reached sunlight he reflexively turned and held up his axe defensively, as the pursuing creature slammed into it and recoiled. The beast was in the open for all to see. Hard, angular, freakishly long face and disjointed nose. Impossibly spindly and muscular arms for a dwarf, the creature stood a foot above dwarves; still shorter than humans but tremendously frightening. Scraps of dirty fur clung to the almost naked creature, blood lined its sharp fangs and claws. The demented dwarf charged, stumbling on the cruel caltrops and falling. Perfidian’s arrow slammed into its back, but Markham was nowhere to be seen.
The beast charged again, but a magick gust of wind blew it backwards, gashing its back on the caltrops again. Enraged, the creature swung with both claws at Remus, who blocked one, but was savagely
slashed with the other across his right arm and chest. The dwarf ran straight for Perfidian, whose second arrow thudded into its belly but did not slow it. Elaina impaled it with a bolt of ice, severely injuring it. Still, it continued its reckless charge at the bard, who barely drew a longsword in time to block its relentless assault.
The spry figure of Markham charged out of the foliage, jumping at the thing’s back and impaling both short swords in its back, drawing deep lines of blood and torn flesh. The dwarf emitted a bloodcurdling scream and sprung at Markham, raking with arms and feet; drool spraying from its maw. The scout’s short swords worked in a flurry to defend himself, teeth clenched in desperate focus.
Elaina cast the spell the elf had taught her, going through the precise motions. It did not work, the translucent purple bubble fizzing out. It caught Remus’ eye, but there was no time for questions. He continued attacking the beast with his axe. The beast’s savage strikes with all four limbs made it difficult to strike his body. The limbs were coated in unnaturally thick skin that resembled a carapace. Markham somersaulted back and hastily reached under his armour, drawing a conch shell and blowing on it. A cacophonous, high-pitched sound echoed through the forest.
The dwarf slowed as poison seeped from the gaping gashes on its back, Remus scoring several chops on the thing’s body. Perfidian slashed and thrust with his longsword clumsily, but landed solid hits. As the beast crumpled, Markham impaled it with the short sword in his right hand, ensuring it did not get up. Perfidian stabbed it through the throat, leaning on the blade and twisting it. He repeated this once, to make sure the thing was dead.
Markham was bleeding, apparently one of the monster’s swipes had penetrated his defenses and scored on his chest. He gritted his teeth and assured them that he would survive. Remus’ injuries were worse, the large cut extended from arm to chest, and he was losing blood rapidly. He slumped, immediately supported by Markham. Perfidian hastily drew a roll of bandage gauze, and Elaina started healing chants. ‘He may not make it’, Markham said grimly, ‘he is losing too much blood’. The brutal words rang in Elaina’s ears.