Enter the Lamb's Head (The Adventures of Ranthos Book 1)

by Jasper B. Hammer

  Bell couldn’t see them. She peeked around to look, but the wagon and the tall grass obscured her view. She sniffed the air and caught a whiff of blood.

  “Come, Bell,” he said, “No use in staying here.”

  She wanted to see the bodies. But also didn’t. She was very nervous and didn’t know why she was so curious. The unknown was the most frightening thing Bell had ever faced—or hadn’t faced.

  “Bell!” he growled.

  She turned her back on the scene and scampered after him.

  Night crawled over the blue sky, but Vhurgus showed no sign of stopping. Bell was hopping on one foot a few paces behind him as she shook out one of her shoes, now almost fully ripped through at the toes.

  “Don’t fall behind,” he said. In their entire journey thus far, Vhurgus said very little than variations of that phrase.

  Bell’s feet felt raw at the soles and swollen all over, not to mention the smell. She hoped very dearly to the One that Vhurgus did not smell her sweaty feet. She grumbled some reply, slipped her wrecked shoe back over her foot and hurried beside him.

  “How much further is it?” Bell asked.

  Vhurgus smelled weary. “Long way.”

  Not a day ago, Vhurgus was more than kind to her. She couldn’t believe the complete shift. He was so distant. When she smelled his emotions, it felt like she was looking at him through a murky window. Everything he felt was so buried and contained that Bell couldn’t imagine how he’d smell without his walls.

  It made her feel guilty too. She knew that she shouldn’t have, but she blamed herself for Sarky. Vhurgus certainly seemed to anyway.

  She didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t know what she should’ve said this entire time. She almost wished that she was out here alone. That would be preferable to being out here unwanted.

  “If you don’t want me here so badly,” Bell said, looking up at him with a scowl, “Then why did you agree to go with me.”

  “Alrys told me to.”

  “His wife was bleeding out before him, I doubt that he was in his right mind.” Bell asked. She was exhausted, and even more angry, but at this point, unsure about what, “And you’d just listen to him no matter what?”

  “I would.”

  Bell paused. Her anger quickly died away as she looked at him. His heavy brows were knit and his face became somber, though he wouldn’t look at her. “Why?” she asked gently.

  “I will do whatever he asks of me.”

  “What’s so special about Alrys?”

  “I don’t want to talk to you about it.”

  “… Sorry,” said Bell.

  Vhurgus said nothing.

  Bell didn’t either, and just walked along behind him.

  Her shoe had peeled almost all the way apart now. It looked like a duck's bill. Her legs were also getting stiff, and she was still sore from all the days of running back at camp. She imagined lying down on the grass for the night, and though that was sure to be horribly uncomfortable, she was sure that she would have no problem sleeping in the slightest.

  Though, they didn’t have that sort of time to waste. Everyone was depending on them. Ranthos, Sarky, Nosgrim, Alrys…

  Bell’s breathing quickened. It felt like someone was stepping on her lungs. If she messed this up, they could all die.

  Good Heavens, she had better not mess this up.

  She tried to put aside those thoughts but only found herself spiraling further down into them.

  “Bell!” shouted Vhurgus, he was angry, and drew up his sword over his head defensively.

  “What is it?”

  “Flockers,” he said, cleaving into a dark figure that emerged in front of him.

  Bell’s eyes went wide, and she fumbled at her belt to draw her sword. How did she not hear them earlier? What was wrong with her?

  A heavy, dirty hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her round.

  She was staring up at the dark silhouette of a four horned man. He held a rusty knife in his hand. He pulled it back to thrust it into her.

  She drew the sword and clattered it uselessly against the flocker’s armor. She was able to escape his grasp and took a few steps backward, but her back hit Vhurgus and she tripped over his leg as he did battle with another.

  The flocker with the knife lurched forward like a creeping shadow over Bell. He descended on her with the knife and started cutting through her legs, and dragging the knife up her hips, and over her abdomen.

  Bell roused herself back into reality. There were no flockers. Everything was fine. Her breathing was more shallow than before. She seemed to be keeping it under control and hoped that Vhurgus didn’t hear her panting for breath. She didn’t know how he could, she wasn’t breathing that hard, and knew that Vhurgus couldn’t hear very well, but was sure that there was some way he could sense her unease.

  She couldn’t imagine what she would say to him if he saw that she was falling apart. But at the same time, she wanted him to notice. She wanted to talk to someone. She was so afraid. She wished Vhurgus could smell her. She wished Vhurgus didn’t hate her.

  Perhaps that was extreme.

  No, it wasn’t. He had been nothing but mean to her since the flocker attack. She thought that she was being brave by volunteering to go after the healer. She thought she was helping. She was.

  Anger started brimming in Bell’s gut, but it died away almost immediately.

  She shouldn’t be so annoying.

  She dried her eyes.

  Good Heavens, anything could make her cry. Little baby Bell. Can’t do anything.

  Whine. Whine. Whine.

  Thum. Thum. Thum.

  What? Bell heard faint footsteps in the distance ahead of them. They were markedly heavy, heavier than she had ever heard. Like a house was stomping on the dirt. She heard heavy breathing and bestial grunts and snorts. Something big was approaching.

  17

  A Scarred Face

  “Vh—Vhurgus!” she said frantically.

  “What?” he grumbled.

  “I hear something.”

  He stopped walking, and she bumped into his back—again.

  Idiot. Stupid Bell.

  “What is it?”

  “Footste—”

  A loud trumpet sounded. It undulated in an odd way that Bell had never heard an instrument do before, and it was loud. Loud enough that Vhurgus surely heard it too.

  “Did you—”

  “Yes, I’m human, not deaf,” said Vhurgus.

  Same thing.

  That’s rude.

  “Sorry.”

  Vhurgus kept walking cautiously. “Where are the footsteps coming from?”

  “Over there,” Bell pointed West down the trail.

  She actually didn’t know any of those map directions. She just thought West to make herself feel smarter.

  “How far?”

  “Uhm…” she thought for a moment. “Far but not too far?”

  Vhurgus sighed.

  Bell didn’t know what else to tell him. So she asked, “What is it?”

  “Barrus,” he said, “How many?”

  Bell listened, “More than one. What is a barrus?”

  “An animal,” Vhurgus said, “They have four legs, are you actually hearing more than one?”

  Bell listened. “Yes.” As the creatures drew nearer, she was able to distinguish their numbers more clearly. There were certainly more than three large creatures, but there were also smaller, faster footsteps.

  “Shouldn’t be much of a problem,” said Vhurgus, “Are they headed toward us?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nevermind.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Vhurgus quickly abandoned the trail and started through the grass to clear the way.

  Bell followed quickly, “What’s wrong?” she asked, “Are we in danger?”

  The barruses were getting closer. Bell could smell their musky scent now, they were absolutely huge, by the thickness of their scent.

 
Well, they were either huge or skunks. Bell imagined huge skunks.

  “Not if we play nice,” said Vhurgus. He crouched in the grass and peered down the trail trying to spot them. The moonlight was covered by clouds, they were blind.

  If only hodges could see better too. Could they? Bell wasn’t sure. “What do you mean?” she asked, snapping herself back into focus. She crouched behind him and looked in their direction. She saw nothing, but they both heard another trumpet.

  And Bell saw a dark shape rise up from the horizon against the sky, and another, and another after that.

  “These trails are theirs, not ours,” Vhurgus said, “They don’t mind if we use them, so long as we’re no threat, and we don’t have any small animals. They hate small animals.”

  “Why? How small?”

  “No clue. Dogs, Remy, the like.”

  “What are they?”

  “Elephants, almost.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Forget it.”

  Thum. Thum. The nearest shadow neared them. It was terrifying, and could’ve been fifteen feet tall. She saw the beast’s massive body, its four long legs, and a heavy head set on a robust neck. Its face was long, and horizontally set, and tipped with a short, wide trunk. She also saw thick toothy spikes protruding downward from its chin.

  The moon peeking through the clouds illuminated the creature’s hairy, wrinkled skin. The animal looked wizened and ancient. The moon must have also revealed Bell and Vhurgus, if the barrus hadn’t already smelled them, because that massive head on the massive neck swung slowly toward them, trunk raised in their direction. Bell could hear the beast’s heavy heartbeat quicken, and could hear it sniffing them with its strange nose.

  Vhurgus bowed his head respectfully, and Bell did the same.

  The barrus snorted and huffed. More footsteps followed it.

  Bell peeked up for half a moment to see more behind the first marching in a line along the trail. There were small creatures who hadn’t quite grown into their huge ears yet, and older animals with scars carved over their thick hides. She couldn’t imagine—or didn’t want to imagine—what sort of creature preyed upon the barruses.

  If their visage alone hadn’t intimidated Bell enough, their smell was overpowering. They weren’t unpleasant, but their odor demanded attention. More than their natural musk, they smelled sad, all of them.

  Bell picked her head up fully now to see them. They marched with their heads down and their ears drooping. The small children in their number didn’t scamper about playfully and only marched in line with the others. They smelled more unsure than the rest, but still the rims of their scent had the faint tinge of sadness, more empathic than felt.

  A heavily scarred barrus looked in Bell’s direction.

  She dropped her eyes once again immediately.

  Vhurgus didn’t move.

  The scarred barrus trumpeted, and a couple others snorted in reply. A child fired off a loud and high-pitched trumpet. Bell heard one of them snort and kick the child—likely its mother. The herd stopped marching.

  Vhurgus smelled nervous.

  The scarred barrus took a step near them, and another.

  Bell didn’t dare look up at it.

  But she stole a glance.

  The barrus moaned a low grumble as she did, its face disappearing into little more than a shadow as the clouds covered the moon again. Its heartbeat was faster than the first one, and it smelled more sad than the rest. It took another step toward Bell, its heavy head lowering to look at her with dark eyes.

  She should really look away.

  Vhurgus’ eyes darted towards her. “Bell!” he hissed.

  She dropped her eyes immediately. Good Heavens. What had she done? Had she just gotten them killed? Her heart was hammering in her chest, but it sounded like a needle tapping a table compared to the thunderous pounding of the scarred barrus’.

  It grumbled a rolling snarl once Bell looked away.

  Bell didn’t move, she didn’t dare.

  The scarred barrus took a step closer and its growl became louder. Bell could hear the beast’s weight shift against the ground as it walked. It was terrifying. It could trample her and not even notice. It trumpeted again, and it was deafening. The imposing image of the beast beset her eyes, while her nose was met with an elderly musk, and her ears were assaulted and encapsulated by the sounds of the scarred barrus’ heart, breathing, and footsteps.

  Bell felt like she’d turned to stone. She couldn’t move; she could hardly breathe.

  The scarred barrus stepped closer.

  Vhurgus’ head moved slightly to see the beast’s feet.

  It was so close that they could reach out and touch its toes.

  Vhurgus also smelled afraid now. There was no chance that he could fight off even one of these creatures if they decided to start a fight.

  Or if Bell had already started a fight on accident by looking at it. She prayed that the barruses could smell that she didn’t mean to offend them and smell how scared and pathetic she was.

  A trunk touched Bell’s shoulder. She could hear it breathing and feel the hot air from it waft over her face as it snaked around and touched her back. The scarred barrus’ grumble was now directly in Bell’s ear, and its head hanging inches from Bell.

  Bell didn’t move, but she saw the tusks on its bottom jaw. Each was as thick as her thigh and longer too. They protruded from the beast’s chin and curved backwards.

  The moon pulled out from behind the clouds again, but Bell was still in shadow.

  “Bell…” whispered Vhurgus.

  A different barrus from the herd trumpeted at him angrily.

  Vhurgus shut his mouth.

  The barrus put her trunk against Bell’s face.

  This was it. She was dead.

  The scarred barrus grasped Bell’s chin and lifted her face to look at her. The moonlight cast deep shadows on the beast’s head in its wrinkles and scars. The smell of sadness on the scarred barrus was slowly replaced with relief, and something like nostalgia.

  Bell was frightened, she could feel cold sweat running down her face as she breathed through her teeth.

  The trunk stroked Bell’s cheek softly, and then the other one. Then it grabbed her hair and tugged up.

  “Heavens!” yelped Bell as she was yanked to her feet. That hurt.

  The scarred barrus snorted.

  Bell hadn’t a clue what to do.

  The scarred barrus reached for Bell’s sword at her hip.

  Bell didn’t move.

  It grabbed the hilt and shook it about a little.

  A child trotted up beside Bell curiously. It was adorable. And also roughly Bell’s height, which was terrifying. The scarred barrus glanced over at it and huffed. The child’s mother grabbed it and pulled it away by its tail.

  Bell smiled.

  The scarred barrus seemed to smell Bell’s delight, and its heartbeat slowed. It jangled the sword once more and lifted its face back to full height, its enormity once again overshadowing Bell. It looked West and despaired.

  The others in the herd did the same—except for that child, who was picking its ear. Their scent washed over Bell like a wave as the scarred barrus seemed to recall to the herd some tragedy. Bell’s heart broke.

  Such massive creatures, such strange animals, feeling so like she could. It was astonishing. She glanced down at her sword and then back up to the scarred barrus.

  Its trunk hung low near Bell and breathed heavily. Bell, hands trembling, reached out to the scarred barrus. Her legs felt as if they’d turned to pudding, and she felt on the verge of collapse, but she was so overcome by pity for this poor creature that she couldn’t help herself but reach out. It was instinctual.

  For everything she wasn’t, Bell knew that she cared, and that part of her ran deep into her core.

  Bell’s hands travelled half the distance, while the scarred barrus’ trunk met her halfway, and coiled around her little hand and purred. Though it sounded more li
ke a rumbling volcano than Remy’s purrs.

  Bell ran her hand over the scars on its trunk and felt the beast’s rough skin. She stroked the trunk up and down as the scarred barrus slowly tightened its grip on her hand. Bell looked up and met its eye and breathed in her scent.

  The scarred barrus was a mother, and ancient, likely the leader of this herd. Bell could sense as much anyway; she didn’t know how. The scarred barrus was a tad smelly and dirty, but Bell could smell her sorrow slowly wash away to hope.

  Vhurgus shuffled in the brush behind her. His heart raced, and he smelled confused.

  The herd didn’t mind him and actually resumed their migration along the trail. But the scarred barrus stayed behind with Bell as they marched.

  The scars along the barrus’ face were thinner than the spikes on her bottom jaw, or those on any of the others’ of the herd. And they certainly weren’t caused by the claws of an animal, as most of the scars were singular lines. Like weapons.

  She had been wounded many times by wicked people, which made it all the more strange that she now embraced Bell so.

  The thought brimmed her eyes with tears.

  For so long, Bell had shut herself away; she’d lived her whole life hiding behind her brother out of fear of the folk she didn’t know. She was afraid that they didn’t want her, that they hated her, that they would hurt her. So she closed the door and cooked a nice meal. She closed the door and potted flowers. She closed the door and sewed a dress, patched some socks, practiced her letters, splashed some paint on the walls. It was comfortable inside; it was quiet, and she liked it there.

  But that wasn’t where she belonged. Whatever lay before her now was her adventure; it was time that, for once in her little life, she opened the door and braved the unknown.

  She pressed her face to the creature as a pang of uncertainty pulsed inside her. She could feel the scarred barrus’ breaths rumble through her trunk, and could hear the beast’s heartbeat slow as Bell became more familiar with her.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked softly. Too soft to be heard.

  But the scarred barrus heard her, and perhaps didn’t understand what she said, but certainly understood something from her scent. She looked down at Bell in her shadow. She obviously hadn’t the capacity to communicate like Bell could, but it was unmistakable that her soul ran deep through her body. The scarred barrus affectionately nuzzled Bell’s face and pointed her West. She uncoiled her trunk and took Bell’s hand, guiding it to rest atop her sword.