He took in a hesitant breath. The air smelled of blood and dog shit. “What’s happening?” he asked.
Evetner knelt beside him. Without his father’s armor on he was nothing but skin and bone, and the first hint of a beard added turns to his once youthful face. “How do you feel?”
Haliden slowly pushed aside the sweat soaked fur and sat up. His muscles ached, especially his legs. “Like shit,” he replied. “Where are we?”
“A pit house. We carried you here.”
Haliden took another slow, deep breath and coughed. A thousand thorns twisted and turned within his lungs as he clutched his chest.
“You nearly killed yourself,” Evetner said.
Haliden leaned back and closed his eyes. “How far away are we from the Block?”
Evetner opened his mouth to answer, but an unfamiliar voice cut him off.
“Ten leagues… at most.”
Haliden turned. A brute of a man stood in a doorway a few footfalls behind him. An enormous beard masked most of his face and he had a great barrel of a chest bulging beneath a hunter’s worn fur jacket.
“And who are you?” Haliden asked.
“Your salvation,” the man replied. He took a long, deep drag on a corn husk and casually exhaled.
“We need to move,” Evetner said. “Can you walk?”
“Yes,” Haliden replied, “but how long have I been out?”
“Just a few calls,” Evetner replied.
Haliden rubbed his aching legs. Icy pain rocketed throughout his muscles as they stretched and spasmed. “Gods damn!” he groaned.
The large man crouched before him and extended his smoke. “It’ll take the edge off.”
Haliden looked at Evetner. The boy nodded.
“Smoke it up good and deep,” the bearded man said. “That coxil weed ate up most of your muscle tissue. This’ll stop it from eating more.”
Haliden accepted the husk and took a small pull. To his surprise, it was adreena weed. And pure! Probably the purest I’ve ever tasted. The pain immediately subsided. “Thanks,” he said as he handed it back.
The man stubbed the husk out on the floor and pocketed it. “Name’s Gremin.”
Haliden nodded. “Haliden Stroke.”
“Your friend says you’re runners headed for the Block. Lost your mare to shit luck and now you got these whelps to care for.” He pointed at Jonathan and Brandon.
Haliden looked at the boys and forced a smile.
“They’re safe here,” Gremin said. “My furry friend has already taken to your oldest.” Gremin gestured to an enormous dog lounging in front of the brothers.
Haliden’s eyes widened. Punchers, he thought, shocked. Their breed was beyond priceless.
“How far off is it?” Haliden asked.
“Ten… maybe twelve calls,” Evetner said.
Haliden shook his head. “All this way… to end here?” Anger washed over him. He wanted to hit something, anything.
Find me, Haliden… at world’s end, come find me.
“So what now?” he asked.
“Now we see if these canines can pull a sled,” Gremin said. He stood and clapped his hands. A dozen dogs flooded into the room, their paws clattering and scraping atop the floor as they circled him.
Haliden looked at Evetner, but the boy only shrugged.
“What other choice do we have?” he said.
Haliden shook his head. “Won’t this be a sight. A fucking gaggle of dregs pulled on a sled by a handful of punchers.”
Evetner smiled. “Not exactly how I saw it, either.”
Gremin clapped again. “All right, all right, you mangy fuckers. Time to show me what you got.” The trapper withdrew a bloody rag from his jacket pocket. “Here!” he shouted, shaking the rag in front of their snouts.
The dogs sniffed and barked, lapping at the rag with their ribbon-like tongues.
“What in the hells are you doing?” Haliden asked.
“You’ll see,” the trapper replied. When he was done, he stuffed the rag into a leather satchel slung over his shoulder. “I think our furry friends are finally ready.”
“You think they’ll be able to pull both wagons?” Evetner asked.
Gremin huffed. “If they’re motivated enough.” He turned back to the dogs and shouted. “Kaftune!”
The dogs instantly fell silent.
Haliden sat up. “How in the hells did you do that?”
Gremin laughed. “Didn’t you notice the mark on each of their bellies?”
Haliden looked at the closest puncher. The trapper was right; behind its right hind leg was a black scar in the shape of a trident. “I’ll be damned,” he breathed.
“They’re Brenewen trained,” the trapper said. “All of ’em. The brand’s clear as day.”
Haliden petted the dog’s head. Just one Brenewen trained pup was worth a small fortune. Once bonded to a master, their loyalty was absolute.
“What in the hells are they doing here?” Haliden asked.
Gremin shrugged. “Some lord or lady probably sent ’em here with bounty hunters, searching for a lost son or daughter.”
Evetner knelt down and petted one of the smaller dogs. “I heard just one of these is worth upwards of ten thousand coinage.”
“A lame one perhaps,” Gremin said. “Or a female whelp. A fully trained male fetches more than thirty thousand on most markets. I hear Prince Pryln himself has over a hundred in the Isle kennels.”
“So what’s with the rag?” Haliden asked.
Gremin smiled. “Kept me a little souvenir from them bastards that were running this place. Still have more if you want to see.”
Haliden shrugged. “That depends.”
Gremin smiled. “Come with me… I think you’ll both appreciate what I got stowed in the back.”
Behind the lodge, trash lay heaped in a fly infested pit.
The punchers circled the area, snarling and snapping at the ground as Gremin and the others approached.
The trapper halted beside the pit and stomped on a steel plate jutting half an inch from the ground. “In here we have the owner of this fine establishment,” he said as muffled screams erupted beneath his feet. “Figured I’d save him for last.” He gestured to another plate positioned a few footfalls away. “And there I got the prick who sold out our furry friends here.” He knelt down beside it and pried the lid open.
“You fucker!” a man cried. He was wedged into a three by six hole, spattered in mud and his own filth. “I’ll cut your fucking balls off!”
Gremin pressed his finger to his lips and shushed him. “Don’t you know who graces your presence?”
“Piss off, you backwater scag!”
Gremin turned to Haliden and shrugged. “So, how would your servants deal with this one, artist?”
Haliden tensed. “What?”
“Come, come man. I can see lord’s blood from a thousand leagues away. Your type paid this fucker to come here. Your type paid for these dogs.”
“I’m no lord. Nor do I own lands or ladies,” Haliden replied. “Was a time I had coinage, but I earned my gold. And not by head hunting or sucking lordlings’ cocks.”
Gremin reached down and dragged the man from the hole. The lout was naked, save for a shit-stained loincloth, and as he tried to crawl onto his feet, the trapper kicked him in the gut.
“Okay, here’s what’s gonna happen, fella,” the trapper said. “You’re gonna to run, and we’re gonna see if these dogs can chase you. Simple as that.”
The prisoner rolled onto his stomach, moaning as the punchers snarled and snapped inches from his face.
“They catch you, they eat you. They don’t, you got a chance at the Block. Either way, the gods’ll judge you soon enough.”
The man clutched his ribs, sobbing. “I meant nothing selling ’em. I needed the coinage. Besides, the fop was already dead.”
“Come, come, fella. You had your laughs in there, tossing coinage at those poor bastards.”
�
��I just sold the dogs to the pitmaster,” the man pleaded. “I ain’t no gambling murderer.”
“Oh, you are,” Gremin said. “And your life was the gamble.”
The man glanced at Haliden and Evetner, his eyes trembling. “Please! Don’t let him do this! I ain’t deserve to die like this!”
Haliden shook his head. “This is fucking madness.”
Gremin slapped the man in the rear and tore off his loincloth. “Come on fella! Show me what these boys got!”
“Just let him go,” Haliden said. “The fire will take him soon enough.”
“And how do you expect to get them wagons to the Block?” the trapper asked.
The punchers snarled at the naked man, their yellow, chipped teeth gleaming in the firelight.
“You do this, what does that make us?” Haliden shouted.
“Alive,” the trapper replied as he kicked the man in the back. “Get going, fool!”
Sobbing, the man stood and turned to the north.
“Go!” Gremin cried.
As the man vanished into the distance, Gremin spun the loincloth back and forth around his finger. “I’ll give him a twenty turn lead. Maybe thirty, and then we’ll see if the dogs can find ’im.”
“And if they don’t?” Haliden asked.
“They will. These pups got better noses than Culver draba or krill put together.”
Haliden shook his head. “What about the other one?”
Gremin walked over to the lid and crouched down. “Oh, he’ll run. I’ll see to it. And then they best look out at that Block, ’cause I’ll shit on anyone who tries to get in our way.”
They rigged harnesses and rope to the excited dogs as gusts of superheated air melted the surrounding snow.
When they were done, Haliden stepped back and laughed. “Now this would make for a masterpiece. Oil perhaps. On the finest Algian papyrus.”
Gremin huffed. “The time for your little pictures has come and gone, artist. Best just focus on the run from here on out.”
Haliden glanced over his shoulder at the horizon. The sky was completely masked behind the massive, ten thousand footfall wall of curling red fire. The color drained from his face. “I fear you may be right.”
When the dogs were ready, Gremin walked down the line with the man’s loincloth outstretched beneath their noses. “Take it in, fellas,” he said as the punchers worked themselves into a frenzy. “That’s your mark.”
When the trapper was done, he approached the other metal lid and tore it open.
“Piss on you you, fucker!” a voice cried.
The trapper reached into the hole and dragged the man out by his hair.
“Stop! Stop!” the prisoner screamed as Gremin dumped him in front of the excited punchers. He was young, mid twenties at best, his fine-tailored clothing whispering of status.
“Now listen close and listen good, fuck face,” Gremin said, “because this just might be your lucky day.”
The man winced as the punchers snapped and growled inches from his face. “Call them off! For the sake of the gods, call them off!” he screamed. “Do you even know who I am?”
Gremin stepped on the man’s back and pushed him face to face with the alpha puncher.
The beast snarled as drool dripped between its incisors.
“This is heresy! Heresy!”
the man cried.
Gremin smiled then whistled at the dog.
The alpha lunged forward and tore the man’s ear off.
“AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”
Haliden flushed with anger as blood soaked the man’s face. We’re no better than them now, he thought.
“Leave him be, for fuck’s sake!” he shouted.
Gremin rounded on him. “Is there a problem, artist?”
“He’s no trouble to us anymore.”
“You’ve a soft heart, artist. Like a woman. But that won’t help us here. You either kill or be killed now. Got it?”
“No, I don’t ‘got it,’ ” Haliden replied. “Now let him up.”
The mutilated man nodded. “Yes! Mercy! Please… by the gods…” He tried to rise, but Gremin kicked him in the stomach.
“Just do it then!” the man gasped. “Kill me now! Oh gods, just kill me now and get it over with!”
Gremin laughed. “No, no, no, friend. That would be a waste.”
Another puncher lunged forward, its breath blowing back the man’s hair.
“Oh, they don’t like you!” Gremin laughed. “Bet they’d love a go at that plump throat of yours. Maybe even that little sausage I wager you got curled up between those legs.”
“Stop it!” Haliden said.
The trapper’s smile quickly vanished as he rounded on Haliden.
“You think to tell me what to do, artist?”
Evetner stood up, his hand on the pommel of his sword. “Enough, mountain man. You had your fun.”
Gremin turned back to the wagon and spat at Evetner’s feet. “What is this, a clergy or something? You all gone and chopped off your balls?”
Evetner jumped down and approached him. “He’ll run. But we won’t toy with him. We have young eyes watching us.”
Gremin glanced at the wagon. The brothers sat pale and horrified, staring at the bloodied man.
“Please! I’ll do anything!” the man begged. “Just don’t give me to the dogs.”
Gremin laughed. “Very well. If it’s mercy you want, it’s mercy you’ll get.” He raised a hand above the dogs and shouted: “Netume!”
The beasts fell silent.
Gremin removed a coil of rope from the wagon and pulled the man onto his feet. “But you walk.”
“Thank you!” the man sobbed as Gremin bound his hands together and tied him to the rear cart. “Thank you!”
When the trapper was done, he turned back to the dogs and shouted “Jakwani!”
The punchers quickly stood and took up their respective positions before the wagons.
Gremin grinned. “Ah! Our friends were trained well. Very well indeed. Even my piss poor Algian gets through to them.”
Evetner sat back down and sighed. “Shall we be off then?”
Gremin nodded. “They gots the scent now. Lets just pray that fool runs toward the Block and not the fire.” He turned back to the prisoner. “As for you, best keep up. Lot of leagues to go before we get to the Block. Lot of hard, dark leagues, friend.”
23
The punchers thundered across the snow-covered plain, their footfalls drowning out the wind’s ghostly moan.
Haliden gripped his seat. They were moving fast now, the terrain a wild blur as branches scraped and slapped the sides of the wagons.
In the distance, an abandoned farmstead stood at the edge of a burned out village. Behind it, reaching skyward like a great fang, stood a large hill topped with a stone tower, its clean, granite block exterior glowing in the muted daylight.
Haliden nudged the trapper, who sat dozing beside him.
“What is it?” Gremin yawned.
“There’s something on that hill.”
Gremin looked up and laughed. “That, my friend, is what a million coinage buys you.”
“I don’t follow.”
“A charger tower, artist. Some wealthy lord probably hired him to lay down this snow hoping it would slow the blaze.”
“For us?”
Gremin laughed. “Fuck no! Probably a rich relative of some fop who got stuck here. Maybe even our little friend in the rear.”
Haliden glanced over his shoulder at the prisoner. The man stumbled behind the wagon, wheezing and gasping as he struggled to keep up.
“Will the charger run too?” Haliden asked.
Gremin shook his head. “Doubtfully. That tower is probably meridium wrought. That’s why it’s so costly to hire the fuckers. He’ll sit there even as the fire bears down on him. He might even survive, too, if the Tritan builders didn’t cut any corners.”
Haliden stared at the tower as it shrunk into the distan
ce. A million coinage! Enough to buy a dozen large farmsteads. “I suppose we should be grateful.”
Gremin laughed again. “Grateful? It wasn’t for us, you fool. And I’ll wager he’ll go silent soon enough.”
Evetner sat in the rear with the boys, his sword resting across his lap. He’d been quiet since they left the dog pit, harder. But it didn’t bother the brothers. Both were huddled beside him, indifferent to the enormous blade resting only inches away.
Gremin cleared his throat, spitting a green wad of phlegm into the night. “We should be on him by now.”
Haliden picked up the Tritan bow and pressed the scope to his eye. The complex optics quickly locked into place, giving him a stable, magnified view of the horizon.
An enormous gray cloud stretched east to west. Beneath it, far beyond the hills and snow-covered trees, was a vast stretch of blackened mountains. No trees, no brush or grass, just charred nothingness.
“By the gods,” Haliden breathed.
Gremin snatched the bow from his hands and pressed the scope to his eye. He smiled. “Not the gods, friend, the Guards of the Stretch.”
The punchers snarled as they bore down on a fresh lump in the road.
Gremin thrust the bow into Haliden’s arms and shouted for the dogs to stop.
“Wait here,” the trapper said as he jumped down. “If he moves, put one in his back.”
Haliden nocked an arrow and pressed the scope to his eye. The body lay face down in the snow, its legs and bare feet bloody ruins.
The dogs barked wildly as the trapper approached it.
“Hmmm…” Gremin mumbled as he crouched beside it. “I believe we have a fly in our ointment, boys.” He rolled the body onto its back.
Haliden’s stomach lurched. The man’s face and chest were completely torn open, his intestines sprawled beside him in a steaming, red tangle.
“Get back here!” Haliden shouted.
Gremin slowly backed away. “Won’t argue with you there.”
Evetner stood and raised his sword. “What is it?”
“He’s dead,” Haliden replied.
The blond lordling began sobbing. “Please… don’t send me out there!”
“Shut up!” Evetner hissed.
Gremin climbed into the wagon. “We’ve an interesting problem.”
Haliden's Fire Page 21