Chapter Fifteen: The Cabin in the Woods
Smiling Jeremiah stepped down from the cart and approached the stricken Goblin Leader, who lay still twitching and shivering in the dust of the road. Spreading his hands, Jeremiah began to chant, power ebbing and flowing between his palms. Slowly the Goblin Leader's tremors ceased and he stood up, carefully feeling around the site of the wound, which was now nothing more than a ruckled white patch on his shoulder.
Jeremiah peered closely at him as the goblin's eyes stretched wide. There appeared to be absolutely nothing wrong with the goblin at all but deep in its dark eyes something stirred like the flick of a fin in dark water.
"Now you are blessed by the Goddess and are bound to her service," Jeremiah intoned.
"Oh shut up," Kaelin muttered, stroking Haggis on reflex.
"Give thanks to She-of-the-Thunder-Voice," Jeremiah proclaimed, "Praise the Goddess-of-the-Thunder-Voice!" He couldn't help but grin as the goblins bobbed up and down to Kaelin, squeaking to her in their rusty sounding voices. Gobliniods had been stupid ever since they existed. They did have their own legends about this, claiming that the God of the Pointy Ears (elves to everyone else) had permanently injured their God, destroying his ability to create anything, thus his children couldn't create, only take. Even orc-crossbreeds tended that way, even though, if they put what minds they had to it, they could be creative. Orc-crossbreeds were also usually healthier than their full orc cousins, hence why they had green skin instead of the grey mess their full orc cousins had.
Granted... Jeremiah peered closer at the goblins as they chorused their thanks to Kaelin. They were more of a greenish-grey than a full on grey so maybe their belief in this Goddess-of-the-Thunder-Voice was founded in some sort of truth, which would mean...
Jeremiah grinned until it felt as if his face would crack.
It meant that Kaelin was suffering from a case of mistaken identity! It was all Jeremiah could do to not roar with laughter and let the silly little pip squeaks know that they had the wrong person.
"All hail to the Goddess-of-the-Thunder-Voice!" he bellowed, beaming like a light house.
"I said shut up!" Kaelin snapped, "And as for you lot - push off!"
The goblins hesitated, possibly unsure if Kaelin was displeased with their worship or with they themselves.
"That's right," Jeremiah grinned, "Obey the bidding of the Goddess-of-the-Thunder-Voice! Go forth and spread the good word of her name!"
"Yes, yes! We hear, we do!" the goblins chorused and scattered into the under brush. Kaelin gave Jeremiah a long flat look.
"Seriously?" she asked flatly.
"Just spreading the good word of your existence," Jeremiah smiled oily at her.
"What good word?" Kaelin snapped, "I'm no Goddess and making them think so is just plain..." She trailed off as the penny dropped, "Oh that is just so you, isn't it just?" Jeremiah said nothing at all, just smiled and bowed.
Ulrich sighed and rolled his eyes as he watched them, before turning and lifting Thorian. Or at least, he tried to lift Thorian. That had been his intention but instead he found himself discovering why Thorian had wound up on the King's Special simply for falling on someone.
Kaelin and Jeremiah turned round at the muffled scream of "Get him off of me!"
Jeremiah took one look at Ulrich's legs kicking from under Thorian's bulk and doubled over in helpless laughter, slapping his legs as the tears ran down his face. Kaelin looked, considered and turned to the woodsman.
"Would you mind being an dear and helping us get him up?" she tried smiling appealingly. Jeremiah took one look at what Kaelin thought was a winning smile and doubled up again. Kaelin and beseeching just did not go together. However, the woodsman smiled under his shaggy beard and knuckled his forehead.
"For you little lady, I'll gladly help," he said, "If you'll just hold Winky here."
"Um, that might not be..." Kaelin started to protest and found herself handed the reigns anyway. Then she had the weirdest experience she'd ever had with a horse. Instead of immediately screaming in terror and trying to bolt, the dappled grey horse turned his head and gave her a very strong sniff as he looked at her out of one eye. Kaelin found herself gazing into an eye the color of a hand polished horse chestnut and was lost in its utter depths. Some how she found herself believing that this horse saw her and knew exactly what she was and was somehow not afraid. He sniffed her again and tried to nuzzle at her. Without thought, she put her hand up to his nose and he didn't balk at her touch, his hot breath warming her palm.
"Just what are you?" Kaelin whispered. Winky turned his head slightly so he looked at the woodsman and then looked back at her. Kaelin frowned, understanding that it was all the answer she was going to get but also sure that she had missed the message she was supposed to receive.
"Up you come," the woodsman said, taking hold of Thorian's shoulders and lifting him half way up so Ulrich could roll and scramble out from under the orc crossbreeds dead weight.
"Thank... Thank you," Ulrich panted as he scrambled to his feet and stood panting, "I was beginning to think that I was going to die under there. I now know what a fly feels when you squat it."
"That maybe, Sir," the woodsman noted, "But if you don't help me get this one into the back of the cart, he isn't going any where. Can't do it by myself, see?"
"Of course, of course," Ulrich tugged his clothes straight and stepped forward to take one side of Thorian, "Happy to oblige." By main strength and more than a little grunting, they managed to shift Thorian up and into the cart bed, wedging him in among the boxes of supplies, both their own and the woodsman's.
"Thank you, little Lady," the woodsman nodded as he took back the reigns.
"I'm no Lady," she muttered as she climbed back into the cart but he didn't seem to hear her.
"I say friend," Ulrich asked as the woodsman shook the reigns and clicked his teeth to set the cart rolling again, "I'm afraid I didn't quite catch your name back there. Seems very churlish of me, particularly as I rather owe you my life. Would you mind telling us what it is?"
The woodsman was silent for a while and Kaelin almost thought he wasn't going to answer.
"Black Randle," the woodsman spoke at last, "Nearly didn't remember it myself. A man doesn't have much need for a name up in the mountains. Now how about you read some more of that book out to us, Sir. Haven't heard a really good reading in years and I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed it."
"So you used to live closer to society then," Ulrich noted as he fished out the book and flicked though the pages to find his place.
"Used to go to the preacher's place up the mountain away," Black Randle admitted, "That was when it was the old guy but he's been gone for many a year and the youngster who took his place has a poisoned religion. I weren't going to hang about to be black marked and hunted out. I know a witch hunter when I see it and I don't believe in staying where you are just going to get yourself in trouble with folks."
"Are you not afraid of eternal damnation?" Jeremiah asked with a smile.
"No more than you are," Black Randle replied shortly, "Read on, Sir. If nothing else I'd like to know about the folks I'm likely to have as neighbors for a while."
"Okay," Ulrich agreed, clearing his throat, "Here's something of interest. 'The reason for the Ash society being so heavily matriarchal is buried not only within the demands of the Underworld environment but also in the history of deep time. Though many younger races have forgotten the root cause of their instinctive distrust of all elves, the elves themselves have not forgotten that they once had a higher calling than their shorter lived neighbors. It appears, from the collection of legends and dare it be said, folk tales that have circulated among the elves since time out of mind that there was once an even older species upon Hestia. Known simply as the Begetters, the elves speak of these beings having a hand in the creation of all races as the craftsmen of the Gods and it seems from the oldest legends that the Begetters shared the world for a very long time with the races they had created, ordering and guiding them. In this it seems that the Begetters favored the elves above all others for their greater life spans and higher intelligence, choosing from among their number ones who would honored to join the ranks of the Begetters and share in their great work. However, the Begetters where careful tenders to the younger races, and always respected that it was only through the abilities of woman folk that new life was brought into the world. Therefore, woman were never chosen to join the ranks of the Begetters, not for lack of ability but because they had the equal responsibility of ensuring that their race would continue on through time. Also, once an elf was chosen to join the Begetters their abilities, strength and knowledge would no longer be available to the clan, gone as it had done to serve a higher purpose. Therefore it was practical that women, as they could not be called to this higher purpose, should hold the highest position within the clans, ensuring that their knowledge, strength and abilities would not be lost in the future when the Begetters called for their rightful due in the future.
What criteria the Begetters used in their selection process is now unknown but it seems that once again they husbanded their charges carefully, taking not the strongest or most intelligent but those just below them, leaving the best to sire the next generation, thus improving the breed. This still holds true in Ash Elf society today, with the strongest, most intelligent males fairly secure in their positions within the clan once they have gained the patronage of a strong female, while those directly below them are locked in a constant, often deadly struggle to prove their worth.' "
"It seems that these Ash Elves have a rather interesting outlook on the world," Jeremiah grinned.
"Interesting is not the word for it," Ulrich shook his head, "They are cruel in the extreme from the details given here about how they 'prove their worth'. As I said earlier, death is considered a perfectly acceptable result of the training process, for males at least. For the females, well they don't kill each other but they can fall from grace hard and fast and being the bottom of the heap is not a good place to be in Ash Elf society. They can inflict pain just as readily as they inflict death. I'm talking cursed objects, pain rituals and public humiliation. An Ash Elf woman might not wind up dead but she can wind up seriously scarred or, shall we say, changed."
"Oh tell me more," Jeremiah crooned.
"They have a very nasty transformation magic available to them," Ulrich admitted, "Apparently females that are subjected to that have no way of coming back up the ranks, they are permanently stuck at the bottom of the heap and it seems to sterilize them as well, so they don't even have that to their name to gain some form of respect."
"How often do the women folk take on risky missions?" Kaelin asked.
"According to this, not often," Ulrich tapped the book.
"So meeting that one in the Dead Swamp is another sign of how much trouble their society is in," Kaelin noted.
"From what I'm learning here, you are right on the money," Ulrich agreed, "A high ranking Ash Elf women would not have to come up to the surface and a lower ranked on would not have been allowed, in case she gets the idea of using the surface as a safe house to start another clan to rival the matriarchs of her family."
"So Governor Risgath was not fooling around when he said that something has seriously messed things up down there for them to be coming up to the surface like this," Kaelin observed and then pocked Thorian with her foot. He snorted and rolled over, snoring more quietly although he did not stop all together.
"Something must have," Ulrich agreed, "You all most have to feel sorry for them. They must be desperate to survive to be trying a move like this but considering their attitude to every other living race on this planet we'd be damn fools to let them up so we have to beat them back and every time we win they come that little bit closer to extinction."
"Some how, knowing how they would view as nothing more than an interesting toy, I cannot bring myself to regret that," Jeremiah smiled.
"It's the same with the wolves," Kaelin admitted, "Men keep pushing into their land but when the wolves fight back, it is the wolves that men brand as evil and hunt down. They never look at themselves in the mirror and realize that it was the men who started this war."
"That is a fascinating observation, my dear Kaelin, but I fail to see how it connects to the problem we have here," Jeremiah admitted.
"The Ash Elves are the men and the wolves are every other races," Kaelin explained, "Only we know what is at stake and can band together to win this fight, so we might have a better chance than the wolves of the woods have."
"They don't seem to see us as evil," Ulrich observed, tapping the book, "More like entertaining pets and beasts of burden who don't know that they belong to a strong and controlling master. They almost seem to pity us for our weak minded insistence that they are the cruel ones. The way they see it, we are the ones in error for having turned our backs of the Begetters."
"I have to say that it is rather interesting," Jeremiah said, "It sounds rather as if these Ash Elves are recalling a distorted version of the war in heaven, although they seem to be casting the wrong side as the wronged side."
"I'm not sure," Ulrich admitted, "Who ever these Begetters are they seem to be something incredibly old, from what I'm reading here, the Ash Elves believe that the Begetters had a hand in even the beginnings of the draconic races but at the seem time they appear to be fallible so not divine. Indeed there are some hints that it was the dragons that initiated the lesser races rising up against the Begetters. From what it is saying here the Ash Elves believe themselves to be the only true Elves as the other elvish races were either duped or corrupted into joining in with the rebellion against the Begetters."
"Hence why they were driven out even from other elves," Jeremiah nodded, "They are to other elves what elves are to the rest of us."
"Arrogant jerks," Kaelin muttered.
"Why Kaelin my dear," Jeremiah beamed, "I do believe you just actually agreed with me on something."
"Don't get used to it," Kaelin rebuffed him.
"Seems they chose it," Ulrich corrected, "They chose to leave their kin and the surface, rather than remind in a world corrupted by the dragon's ingratitude."
"Ingratitude for what?" Black Randle asked, taking the black root stick out of his mouth for a moment.
"Ingratitude for being created," Ulrich said, "As I said, this is saying that the Begetters had a hand in the creation of the dragons and their kin, which, when you think about it, makes a perfect kind of sense. If dragons who are polymorphed can have children with the race they are pretending to be, it would suggest a certain common...." he trailed off, trying to find the word he meant.
"Base material?" Jeremiah suggested.
"Common clay," Black Randle said, "That's what the old preacher used to say. He said that we all come from the dust and we'll go back to the dust in the end and that everything that thinks bleeds red, even orcs, so we shouldn't go picking fights with those that were created from the same place."
"An interesting view point," Jeremiah noted, "But I doubt it made him popular."
"Oh he weren't saying that we shouldn't defend what was ours from those that would just take," Black Randle corrected, "He was just saying that if they should come asking to trade then we should give them that chance. He knew that in the mountains a man has to make his own law, he was just against picking fights we don't need to. Come as a friend or don't come at all. That was the way he worded it. Come as a friend or don't come at all." Having said his piece Black Randle pushed his piece of black root back between his lips and chewed on it.
As the sun sank towards the horizon they crested a rise and saw the cart track turn up the foot hills towards the logging camp. Black Randle however did not turn the cart, letting the horse step off the gravel road on to a rutted by way, where the weeds grew up between the cart wheel to brush the underside of the cart. Jeremiah started wincing as the cart jolted and lurched over the humps and hollows of the way but he wisely kept his mouth shut, remembering Black Randle's suggestion the day before that he get out and walk if he didn't like the ride. Even Ulrich put the book away as the trees started reaching down to pat him on the head. Though that was just because their branches grew that much lower to the ground, Ulrich looked at a few of them, unsure whether they really were moving to muss his hair deliberately. He frowned even more when Thorian woke, sat up with a yawn and waved a friendly greeting to someone he couldn't see among the trees.
At the end of the thread of the track Black Randle lead them in to a clearing that stretched a little way between the log cabin and the stout barn, a small out house away from the other buildings. Kaelin was unable to see any more than that because a small but fuzzy body bumbled into her face and the next second she yelped as a sharp and fiery pain blossomed at the end of her nose. Hand flying up to it, her fingers discovered a thick bodied bee, with a bright orange butt struggling to extract its sting from her skin. Before she could yank it away, a hand yanked hers away from it.
"Just hold still!" Black Randle commanded as Kaelin's eyes watered, "If yah hurt her she'll call all the others to her and they'll not be friendly."
"Best do as her says, my dear," Jeremiah observed as he clambered out of the cart, "Death by a thousand stings would be a pour way to go out."
"By puppose do tink dis is dunny," Kaelin muttered as the bee finally unscrewed her stinger and flew away.
"He might actually have a point, I'm sorry to say," Ulrich was looking round the clearing, "I did not peg you, sir, for a bee keeper."
The hives stood in a row down both sides of the cabin and there were herb plants and flowering bushes planted around the edge of the clearing, swarming with bees of every hue and size, from tiny wood bees that slipped into little holes in the walls of the cabin itself to the huge bumbles that buzzed and swarmed in and out of not only a few of the special shaped hives butt also not one, but two honey trees that stood in the edge of the forest.
"There's a lot yay don't know about me," Black Randle observed, helping Kaelin down and leading her inside to tend to her wounded nose. Ulrich paused and actually looked at the cabin. Its walls were well made, tightly cinch with moss and plumb-line straight, the windows glazed and clear, roof well made, chimney of river rock neatly pointed. The barn was stoat and strong, again cinch with moss and the doors straight. The gardens were fenced and neat, the hives clean. Looking again at their host, Ulrich realized that though his beard with thick and curly black, it was brushed and clean, his hair neatly trimmed, his clothes repaired with the care that made the mends nearly invisible, the buttons all sewn tightly on.
As he started lifting supplies from the back of the cart Black Randle noticed Ulrich looking and raised an eyebrow. No words seemed necessary so instead Ulrich inclined his head and moved to help lift down one of the boxes.
"It will be getting dark soon," Black Randle peered up through the branches, "And unless you folks can see in the dark, you'll be taking a stupid risk going to look in on the new neighbors tonight. Not much keen on visitors but you can stay here tonight. I've a bed and a trundle bed, if you don't mind doubling up, won't be the first time I've slept in the barn."
"That would be might kind of you," Thorian grinned from where he was holding on to Winky's reigns, stroking the horse with his free hand. The horse accepted Thorian's petting with stoic calmness.
"Though if yer could give a hand with bringing in the supplies that would be a help," Black Randle suggested.
"I um..." Thorian's ears drooped.
"I'm afraid our friend is some what clumsy," Jeremiah said and though his words were kind his tone was some how not, "He means well but handling such delicate things these would probably lead to some interesting explosions, if not the complete destruction of your house, my good sir." Jeremiah probed carefully at the glass globes he'd uncovered in one of the boxes the governor had given them. Lifting one he shook it carefully, watching the purplish smoke within swirl and churn. He put it back and replaced the wooden, lid noticing the words 'for bugs' stenciled on it.
"Won't be a problem with my supplies, cloth and store sugar doesn't much care about being bashed about," Black Randle said with a shrugged, "Salt's much the same. In fact, think the only other box in there that's mine is the powder box and I can handle that one. Oh that and the new metal work, but you'd care more about it if you drop the axe on yar foot."
"You didn't buy any flour," Ulrich asked in surprise.
"Nah, got me my stand of corn," Black Randle shock his head as he unlocked the door and elbowed it open, "Once that is dried I'll be able to grind it. Makes a heavier bread than that wheat stuff but you need something heavy to line yah stomach when you have the heavy lifting to do."
"You seem remarkably self sufficient," Ulrich noted as he lifted a box named 'lights-regular'.
"Never much got along with people," Black Randle admitted, "So I have to be. There's not much the forest doesn't provide for me. Had a good winter last year, fair hunting and the sow I bought last spring managed to have a litter of piglets that she mostly raised. I'll be working hard soon to fill the larder from the garden soon but the woods are good. You give nature her space to breath and she'll let you breath as well."
Hard work was only part of the description. Though Black Randle turned out to be a generous host, pulling out of various little cupboards all sorts of little treasures tucked away for a rainy day, he did not expect to wait on his guests hand and foot. By the time the dinner was on the table Jeremiah had had the disagreeable experience of learning to par sweet potatoes, Kaelin had found herself mixing bread dough, Thorian was fetching water from the well and Ulrich was using his skill as a hunts man to fillet down smoked venison. Black Randle backed the cart into the barn, unhitched Winky and rubbed the horse down before setting to making a decent stew, brewing a batch of tea that could paint the throat of its drinkers black and find various sweet treasures he'd squirreled away over the years. Anyone who had still hands found themselves being given a job, from helping to make the food to tidying away the stores that Black Randle had bought during his enforced stay in Nether Wallop.
Dinner was set on a table for hungrier guests than they had expected to be and a busy silence reigned as the knife and fork symphony played.
"That was excellent, my good sir," Jeremiah beamed as he pushed back from the table.
"We're not finished yet," Black Randle observed as he started stacking the wooden plates and bowls.
"My dear sir," Jeremiah smiled, "As much as I admire your generosity, I doubt I could eat another mouthful."
"Not what I meant," Black Randle replied.
"I am sorry but I fail to understand," Jeremiah frowned.
Kaelin and Ulrich looked at each other.
"I'll dry," Kaelin stated.
"I guess that leaves me with the washing," Ulrich sighed, "You Thorian?"
"I er...." Thorian looked around, more than a little lost then he saw that Black Randle was piling the plates up in the big sink, made out of a hollowed log, "Ah! I'll fetch water."
"Oh," Jeremiah said and then grinned, "Seems like every job is already taken..."
"Wood for the fire," Black Randle stated as he rolled out the trundle bed and started pulling out sheets and blankets, "As in we need you to fetch more."
"I'm beginning to see why you don't get along with people," Jeremiah huffed as he pulled himself to his feet.
"Idle hands are a devil's workshop," Black Randle replied as he started laying the bed.
After Black Randle had bidden them good night and had taken the lamp over to the barn, they went to turn in, Jeremiah claiming a spot on the bed before anyone else could speak.
"I'll take first watch," Kaelin stated.
"Do you really think that is necessary?" Jeremiah asked sleepily.
"Yes," she said flatly, "Black Randle may not be bothered about these Ash Elves but I think that we are behind enemy lines now and I don't like surprises."
"Could it be that you are more worried about you adoring followers, my dear?" Jeremiah pulled the covers up to his chin.
"More like I don't want to share a bed with you," Kaelin stated bluntly, having noted that Ulrich and Thorian had both chosen the trundle bed without a sound.
"Always later," Jeremiah grinned.
"Don't count on it," Kaelin resolutely turned her back on him, pulling a chair up to the light hole in the shutter. She relaxed as she heard Jeremiah's throaty snore start up. After a while she started to nod but Kaelin had long ago mastered the art of dozing with her ears wide open. As such she was instantly alert the moment she heard the snuffling.
Something very large and black was in the yard between the house and the barn. Eye to the light hole in the shutter Kaelin frowned as she tried to make out the details but all she really had was an impression of mass and shagginess and a huge bunt head the swung from side to side, huffing as it did so.
In the barn Winky whinnied. Kaelin winced, knowing that the horse had just signed its death warrant and then mentally slapped herself. Whatever was out there would have smelt the horse ages ago. The thing swung towards the barn and let out a rumbling snort. Winky whinnied again and Kaelin realized that it was not a frightened sound but the sound of a questioning greeting. Winky was making sure he knew what it was wandering in his barn yard. The thing rumbled its snort again and the horse quietened. Kaelin strained her head at the light hole as the black mass shambled off into the undergrowth around the edge of the clearing, heedless of the branches scrapping at its shoulders.
Kaelin sat back in her chair and wondered. She glanced over at the beds. There didn't seem to be any danger so... She turned back to watching until she judged that the stars said that midnight was near.
"Wake up," she pocked Jeremiah in the small of his back.
"Nerf buffer it," he mumbled.
"You turn for the watch," Kaelin was unsympathetic, pocking him again.
"Gah smar crud,"Jeremiah rolled over and sat up, "Wait what?"
"You turn for the watch," Kaelin repeated, "So aft out of that bed."
"Why does it always seem to be my turn to watch in the early hours of the morning?" Jeremiah grouched as he rubbed his eyes.
"Would you prefer Thorian doing it?" Kaelin folded her arms, "He'd probably sit there for the rest of the night sharpening that sword of his. Did you get much sleep last night?"
"Oh alright, alright," Jeremiah stood up, "Is there anything in the coffee...." Kaelin had already disappeared.
Jeremiah looked round with a frown as he felt the bed flex against the back of his knees.
Kaelin was already pulling the blankets up around her ears.
"Hope you nick my grave as quick," Jeremiah muttered and stumbled over the cinders of the fire. A handful of wood shavings and a few small sticks had it gradually growing up again. Jeremiah settled down on a chair in front of the fireplace and brooded. His sleep hadn't even been that good before Kaelin had woken him up, full of an odd light, a sense of oppressive presence that had pressed down on him and now there was a definite chill to the air. He hunched over as he fed more sticks into the fire and started adding larger pieces. At a loss of what else to do he pulled Michael Azrael's manuscript out of his cavernous pocket. There was a certain poetry to the words that began to make them run together if you read them long enough and there was a certain memorableness to their rhythm and rhyme. Jeremiah light a candle to hold it close to the book and read on. The story wasn't half bad in a way, at least it was easy reading as the wizard build his empire of shadows and puppet strings.
Jeremiah looked up from the book. He glanced about the room trying to place what had disturbed him. Kaelin slept with her nose tucked under the covers, making barely a sound. Ulrich was snuffling in his sleep but it wasn't noisy and Thorian lay rolled on his side, for once quiet as he slept. With a shrug, Jeremiah turned his attention back to the book, surprised the see just how many pages he'd already turned. He found were he'd left off and...
He looked up again. Something was definitely off, something... A chord of discord, a note of worry, sounded in the night, thrumming inside Jeremiah's head and humming in his bones. He put the book away and stood, trying to concentrate on the sound and suddenly it was like he was outside of the cabin, seeing it from multiply different angles all at once. The sensation made his eyes ache, his vision overly blue shaded and he was absolutely sure that whoever eyes he was looking through, they did not mean the occupiers of the cabin any good.
He flinched and his vision was back to being his own.
"Wake up!" he hissed, shaking Thorian's shoulder.
"Wait! What!" the big orc cross-breed sat up sharply, smacking Ulrich's ear and snapping him awake as well. Kaelin was already sitting up.
"What is it," she frowned.
"We have company and it is not the sort you want round for dinner," Jeremiah rooted through the boxes of supplies the Governor had given them. The globes... for bugs. Jeremiah shoved it aside. It was some sort of gas, not effective in an open space like a forest clearing. Bars... food.
"I don't see any one," Thorian rubbed his head.
"They're outside," Jeremiah snarled, shifting boxes. It had to be here, by Klu'gath-nath, it had to be here.
"Large, black and shaggy?" Kaelin yanked on her boots.
"No, lots of them," Jeremiah didn't have time to wonder at how detailed her question had been. He shifted another box and there it was. Pulling open the lid, Jeremiah lifted out one of the long tubes and smiled.
"Where are they? And how many?" Ulrich stood and drew his swords, hefting the fae given, elvish blade.
"All around the clearing and more of them than us," Jeremiah stood and turned to the door, "But we have a surprise for them. Now, as you have been reading that book so much, what do you reckon they would do if they saw a small group that they thought couldn't fight back?"
"They would want to play with them..." Ulrich trailed off, looking at the thing in Jeremiah's hand, "You sly dog." He actually smiled at the fat priest.
"I don't get it," Thorian admitted.
"We're going to surprise them," Ulrich explained, hiding his drawn swords under a blanket he pulled off the bed and draped around himself like a cloak, "Hide that big sword of yours and you'll have a lot of fun with them."
"But I would have fun with them any way," Thorian huffed.
"Trust us on this, old boy, this is going to be much more fun," Ulrich smiled, "Just cover your eyes when Jerrs fires off that thing and then we'll take them to the cleaners."
"I was going to take them to the grave," Thorian protested and then there was no more time as Jeremiah pulled the cabin door open. Stepping out in as close a huddle as they could, Thorian grumbling as they did so, the night appeared unoccupied.. for a minute. As Jeremiah stepped down off of the porch step the first crossbow bolt thudded into the dirt just by his foot. Another smacked into the post beside Kaelin's head.
Unfazed, Jeremiah stepped on, the others drawn up around him. More bolts slammed into the dirt around their feet. Kaelin hopped from one foot to the other, she couldn't help and Thorian looked round at the trees, cheeks puffing up, hand reaching....
"Not yet," Ulrich hissed, catching Thorian's wrist.
"I don't like them!" Thorian didn't bother to keep his voice down, "They are meanies!"
The laughter cackled and swirled around the clearing, like swooping avian things round the clearing, more crossbow bolts slamming into the dirt, making Kaelin hop and twitch, trying to avoid the wickedly sharp barbs while staying close to her friends. Then Jeremiah cried out, one hand clutching at his upper arm where a bolt had scored a deep and burning wound.
"Dance Monk-Key!" a mocking voice rang out from the dark.
A snarl twisted Jeremiah's lip as he turned to face the trees, then he took hold of the trigger string and yanked. With a pop something shot from the other end of the tube, traveling on a tongue of chemical light that winked out.
"Now!" hissed Ulrich, covering his eyes with his arm as he ducked his head.
"Their meanies!" Thorian was vibrating as he looked down at Ulrich.
Something exploded just below the level of the trees, so searingly bright that it left spots dancing on the vision even through closed lids. The dark vanished, the shadows fled and voices screamed out in pain and figures who had been hidden in the edge of the trees threw down their weapons, hands going to eyes suddenly streaming tears. They flinched back from the light, crying out.
"Shriek Monk-Keys!" Jeremiah laughed as the figures flapped, then something barreled through the white light, something huge, furry and growling. Something that reared on to its back legs and smashed one of the elves to the ground with a massive fore-paw.
"It's Thorian Time!" Thorian bellowed, sword crashing through another elf. Ulrich took the right flank, blades flickering in the light. Elves cried out as the gory fun they had planned for the night twisted back on them and bite with blade and claw and light.
"You dare steal from us!" one of them screeched as he saw, through his tears, Ulrich charging him, "You miserable worm! You..." The elf's head bounced under a bush and rolled down a badger hole, much to the delight of the badgers.
The huge thing smashed into a other elf. The elf cracked off a shot but the bolt logged in the things thick hide and shaggy fur as the thing's jaws closed with a very final crunch over the elf's head. The thing turned, shaking the body before it tossed it away into the bushes. It reared on to its hind legs again and roared.
"Oh my..." Jeremiah's jaw flapped open as the bear towered over the clearing. Its piecing dark eyes glared out from under heavy brow ridges and its huge claws raked through the air. It slammed down on to all fours and could have still looked Thorian full in the eye. Jeremiah squeaked and closed his eyes as it lumbered towards him. Jeremiah panted, every spell he knew running off and hiding some where in his head, then he spun on the spot as it brushed passed and crashed into the elves creeping up behind him. The elves flew like nine pins, those that weren't crunched to nothing beneath the bears immense weight. Several of them bounced off of the boughs of trees, various things going crack inside.
One, possibly luckier than the others, rolled to his feet and picked up a sword. Looking up he spotted Jeremiah and grinned. With a frenetic cry he lunged at the dumpy priest but then he threw down his sword, hands going once more to his face as the cloud of giggling embers and cinders spilled from Jeremiah's palm to enveloped him and stripped the skin off his skull. Screaming the elf spun on the spot, hands trying to beat away the things peeling him out of his skin, then Ulrich's blade ended his agony with one swift stab.
"Eight!" Ulrich yelled.
"Oneteen, twoteen," Thorian yelled, "Twenty four!"
"Wait what?" Ulrich asked, turning a puzzled frown to the big orc crossbreed and then having to duck and defend furiously as two of the elves attacked at once, their eyes still streaming in the blazing light but they ire only seeming to have increased. Ire or not they were no match as Haggis' battle cry shivered above the din of battle.
Thorian threw back his head and roared, the veins swelling on his face and neck and he wasn't the only one that bellowed. The massive bear thundered and smashed an elf into a tree so hard it cracked, the trunk toppling down into the clearing, knocking one elf into the turf like a nail into a plank. Haggis' skirling rose up and up, carrying a red rage into the hearts of two of the combatants.
Thorian was a whirling, smashing rage that now amount of cuts seemed to stop; the bear didn't seem to feel the number of crossbow bolts embedded in its shoulders, its paws smashing elves left and right, their broken forms snapping off of trunks and branches, its claws leaving as bloody a trail as Thorian's massive sword.
As the glaring ball of white light that hovered about the clearing finally started to burn itself out, the elves broke and ran, fleeing into the undergrowth, loosing members still as Thorian and the bear gave chase.
"Come on!" Thorian bellowed, "There's plenty more!" He crashed through the bushes and then tripped and fell, sprawling into the leaf litter. The three standing in the clearing stared as the white flame flared for one last brief instant and then went out.
"Do you think we should go and get him?" Ulrich asked as Kaelin let Haggis' blowstick fall from her lips.
"I do not think that will be necessary, my dear," Jeremiah smiled as the dark rushed back to reclaim the territory it had been evicted from.
"Why?" Kaelin asked and then a resounding snore echoed round the clearing.
"That's why," Jeremiah pointed, "I doubt that we could move him in his present state and as for the noise. I don't think any of us would get another moment of sleep if we have to share the cabin with that."
"Still," Kaelin stroked Haggis, "Do you think it is safe?"
"I think our unfortunate visitors will not becoming back any time tonight," Jeremiah reassured, "Now to bed." He stretched and turned to the cabin.
"I'll stay up and keep watch," Ulrich said quietly to Kaelin, "Especially if you give me a hand to tidy up a little."
"Tidy up..." Kaelin trailed off as she saw, in the dim natural light Ulrich seize a very ex-elf by the ankles and start dragging him away, "Ah, good point." After a moments thought she double checked the size of the boots. Once the easily discovered remains had been stacked up behind a couple of large lilac bushes and their effects piled up on the porch, Kaelin bid Ulrich good night and headed into the cabin to discover which bed was free. Ulrich followed her in but did not lay down on the trundle bed. Instead he settled himself in the chair by the window and cracked the shutter open slightly, preparing to take the last watch of the night.
The false dawn had started to stain the horizon when a hulking, shaggy black shape lumbered into the yard, dragging a prone orc crossbreed by one wrist. Ulrich leaned forward, watching it sway towards the barn. He heard the horse whiny a cheerful sounding greeting as it entered and he quietly crossed to the door and let himself out. He ghosted round the edge of the yard and carefully peered round the door of the barn into the gloomy interior.
Thorian lay in a pile of clean straw that had been particularly pulled down over him. Ulrich crouched and snaked to Thorian's side, keeping half an eye on the vast black shape that was in the back of the barn. Winky, turned his head, watching Ulrich as if Ulrich's concern was something rather interesting. Thorian seemed to be alright, at least he was breathing normally and his hand was still attached at the wrist, if rather slobbery.
A truly gruesome crack rang out from the back of the barn. Ulrich looked up to see the dire bear twitching and snuffling as if it was trying not to scream. The noise of gristle crunching and bones being ground against each other turned Ulrich's stomach and then his eyes widened as he saw the bear most distinctly begin to shrink, collapsing into itself as it lost the shaggy look. Ulrich scurried into an empty horse box, even though it took him closer to the now thoroughly distressed bear, counting on its cover to hide him. It was only after he was in the box that he looked up and saw the trousers and shirt draped over the side of the horse box as if waiting for someone. The noises out in the barn reached a peak and then fell silent.
After a moment, Ulrich heard someone shuffle into the last horsebox in the barn and then a hand reached out of the darkness and whisked the trousers out of sight. The sounds of someone getting dressed came quietly from the gloom and then Ulrich saw a very tired looking Black Randle shuffle passed the gate of the horse box. Winky whinnied in greeting.
"Oh yah want yah breakfast, don't yah?" Black Randle said gruffly, "Huh, you're not the one who's been up all night, keeping the monsters from the door." Winky whinnied again. "Alright, alright keep yah fur on." Black Randle clumped over to some sacks and dished out a bucket of oats. "Get yah insides round that lot, we'll have to do a fair bit of haulage today to clean up the mess that lot left last night. Can't bury them, not round here, no holy man to keep them buried. Can't burn them either, would take too much of the wood pile so it will have to be off to the glen with them, let Old Scar Face have them. I'm sure she'll find a use for them." Winky buried his nose in his trough and started munching his oats. "Yeah probably that." Black Randle observed and turned towards the house. "Breakfast for me too I think."
Ulrich listened to him leave the barn and then stirred from the shadows to watch Black Randle stride across the yard. He clumped up the steps to the porch and let himself into the cabin. With one last check on Thorian, Ulrich followed him. He opened the door carefully to find Black Randle putting a deep pot of water on the high bar and slotting the high bar on the jams over the fire. Black Randle swung round when he heard the door open. He gave Ulrich a long look.
"I was just checking our friend out in the barn," Ulrich broke the silence, "He seems find for one who's been dragged about so I'll say thank you for that."
Black Randle looked at him a while longer and then turned to put some more wood on the fire.
"This is why I don't much like having people about the place," he admitted, "They have a habit of seeing things you don't want them to see."
"Then the least said the soonest mended," Ulrich smiled as he sat down at the table. Black Randle glanced at him.
"Have to say you are taking it differently to how I would have expected," he admitted.
"Let's just say before our lass there discovered that noisy little toy of hers, she had some what blistering anger management issues," Ulrich nodded to where Kaelin lay on the trundle bed, arms wrapped around Haggis. Black Randle looked and looked again. Then he sniffed.
"Should have recognized a wolf bred when I saw it," he admitted, "Born with it or cursed?"
"Born with it as far as I can tell," Ulrich answered, "From what she's said her grandfather was not the sort of chap you wanted to meet on a dark night, or any other time of day for that matter."
"Heard tell of a pack like that up North a ways," Black Randle nodded his head, "Heard that someone led the hunters right to them. No loss as far as I'm concerned, that the sort that makes the lives of all of us puca born harder."
"Why don't you give the people of the town a chance?" Ulrich asked, "After all, they have an Ash Elf as a Governor so..."
"Risgath's not bad," Black Randle admitted, taking the pot of water off the fire and washing his hands and face, "Takes a lot for a man to leave his family, even if they don't want him but its not him I worry about, it's the people. It'll only take one trip up and they'll be out for my hide like fleas after a dog."
"Then how come we are not after your hide?" Ulrich asked, "After all as a King's Special we are tasked with dealing with any threats to the realm and we did see you at your full capabilities last night."
"Just said it yourself, you have puca born in your team," Black Randle grunted as he set another pot on the fire and added oats to it, "Be rather double standard of you to turn me in, especially as I was saving your afts. More to the point, I don't think you're even seriously considering it but as to what you are trying to get me to admit - a person can be smart, thoughtful and reasonable. People are dumb - dumb, panicky and aggressive."
"Can't really argue with that one," Ulrich admitted, "Especially as you forgot narrow minded, conservative and prejudiced. But that begs the question of why you keep going back to the town, if that is what you reckon you're going to get if you're outed? Why not just stay up in the woods?"
"Oh I can get me just about everything I need from the woods," Black Randle stirred a generous amount of honey into the porridge pot and dug out another jar of jam from a cupboard, "But there's a few things I can't do on my own, such as a new ax when the old one wears out and cloth."
"No luck keeping sheep?" Ulrich asked.
"Pah," Black Randle made a noise of disgust as he tipped a cup of beans into a grinder and started turning the handle, "Sheep are even worse than people. Winky out there? I raised him from a foal, he knows me and we know each other's foibles. Sheep however, sheep; people are dumb, panicky and aggressive, sheep are dumb, panicky and stupid to boot."
"No doubts there," Ulrich smiled, "Alright I take your point but you might want to consider the fact that if you help out against the Ash Elves like you did last night then you might find that the people are more willing to accept you. After all if you weather the storm out here and the town takes a battering, it is only going to take one loud mouth to ask 'well, where were you?' and you could be in a whole heap load of trouble. Whereas, if you welly in on the Ash Elves and help save the town then you could find yourself being accepted more easily, even if you live out here most of the time. At least you wouldn't have to worry about being found out any more."
Black Randle thought it over and grunted.
"May have a point," he admitted, "Alright, I'll think on it. Not promising nothing, mind you but I'll think on it. Now then if you'd like to slice that there lump of bacon into rashers for us..."
Kaelin twitch her nose as bacon rashers sizzled in the pan.
"What's up?" she blinked blurry eyes as she propped herself up on an elbow.
"Breakfast," Ulrich grinned.
"So if you'd like to scrub up in the pot there," Black Randle pointed at the pot of water that had been refreshed, heated and now sat in the sink. Kaelin rolled her eyes at the pointlessness of 'scrubbing up' but had to admit to herself that she did feel more awake after she'd splashed some water on her face.
Ulrich and Kaelin were tucking into honey porridge and bacon sandwiches when someone clumped up the porch steps and pushed open the door.
"Er, hello," Thorian blinked, picking bits of hay out of his hair, "Can anyone explain to me how I wound up in a pile of grass over in that funny building over there? It's just I can't remember how I got over there."
Black Randle looked at Ulrich.
"You rather wandered into there after our little tiff with the Ash Elves last night," Ulrich replied. Black Randle visibly relaxed. Kaelin raised her eyebrows a touch but didn't say anything.
"Oh did I?" Thorian frowned, trying to shake hay off of his rather sticky fingers. Black Randle put another pot of water on the fire. "I don't remember that."
"What a pity," Ulrich observed after another bite of his bacon, "You were really rather spectacular. Not quite as many as my tally but a respectable number."
"You sure about that?" Thorian looked at him with suspicion, " 'Cause I remember it being really rather close between us."
"Well if you don't remember the fight how can you be sure?" Ulrich asked.
"Oh I remember the fight well enough," Thorian said, "I just don't remember getting into that big old barn building thing."
"Raging like that can take it out of a man," Black Randle observed as he slapped several more pieces of bacon into the pan, "Now come get that gunk off your hands and have breakfast."
"Don't mind if I do!" Thorian grinned. While he was chasing his way down an extra big bowl of porridge, Ulrich and Kaelin looked to where Jeremiah still lay flat on his back.
"You know it really would be a shame to leave him asleep until we're all done," Ulrich observed, "It would totally be unmannerly of us."
"Have to admit I'm surprised that he's slept through all the bacon cooking," Kaelin observed, "You don't suppose that he's sickening with something?"
"Would something that joyful happen to our dear Jeremiah?" Ulrich asked.
"Probably not," Kaelin admitted.
"Oh well," Ulrich stood, "If we don't wake him up he'll only complain at us for the rest of the day and I don't know about you but I don't want to have to cope with that headache while I'm also trying to avoid whatever fun times the Ash Elves have lined up for us."
"Can't say it appeals," Kaelin also stood and fetched Haggis. Ulrich meanwhile fetched a bowl of water and crouching by the bed, dipped Jeremiah's hand in it.
Absolutely nothing happened.
"Have to admit, I didn't see that coming," Ulrich raised his eyebrows, "Alright then - Oh Jeremiah, there's a Hartseer in the bed."
Nothing happened.
Ulrich sat back on his heels.
"That's odd," he said, "That worked like a charm last time. I thought he'd be six feet out of the bed by now."
"Let me try," Kaelin pocked the blowstick into her mouth. Haggis woke up with a rousing, rollicking tune that bounced off the walls of the cabin, making the feet twitch and the blood sing. Even Black Randle started nodding along to the tune and Thorian's eyes light up like a star as he started to beat time with his spoon. Kaelin's colour rose as she blew and blew and blew, fingers running up and down the chanter reed as the tune went on, the music filling the cabin until it seemed that either the music or the walls would have to give way. Thankfully the music did. The tune reached its end and Kaelin let the blowstick drop, gasping for breath as she did so. With a final drone Haggis wound down and flopped.
Still nothing happened.
"Just how on Hestia do you sleep through that?" Ulrich exclaimed, apparently feeling worried about their companion for the first time ever. Black Randle came over and had a look.
"Well he's dreaming about something," he observed, "Look at his eyelids and his fingers. He's dreaming about something but I wouldn't like to say what."
Ulrich stood and leaned a little close.
"You could be right there," he nodded, "I wonder what else..."
Jeremiah was not having a good time of things.
He was... somewhere. Somewhere, he wasn't sure where, he couldn't see. He wasn't even sure if he was standing or floating, he couldn't tell if there was a surface beneath him or liquid about him. Up or down didn't seem to have any meaning and dizziness swept over him repeatedly as his body no longer understood where it was in space.
The only reference point was the... thing that towered over him.
It was huge and it was tiny. It was nothing and it was everything. It was shadow and it was light. It illuminated everything and he couldn't see anything. It was looking at him. He could tell that and that alone. Two massive purple tinted eyes looked at him, as he was a bug, as he was filth, as if he was nothing.
Dizzy, disorientated, bewildered, he reached for something, anything to anchor himself.
"Klu'gath-nath..." he began.
"You dare to call on my name, insect!" the voice alone shock his bones. The shadow moved and Jeremiah could see the silhouette of a massive reptilian head, the light flickering and billowing between its jaws, "You dare to call on my power! Tell me, insect, why I should not erase you from existence? Why I should not render you down to the merest strips of flesh and claim your soul? Answer me if you dare?"
"My Lord and my God..." Jeremiah spluttered.
"Am I? Am I your God?" the being thundered, "What have you given me recently? What souls have you pledged unto my greatness? What was it had you have offered unto me?"
"Was not the souls of the Ash Elves worthy of you?" Jeremiah asked.
"And which of them did you kill?" the being roared, "Which of them did you lay the knife to? Which of them did you spill the blood of and call upon my name? What in truth have you offered me?"
"I..." Jeremiah began.
"A goblin!" the words hammered on Jeremiah's skull, "A worthless, stinking goblin! The gutter scum of the world! I am beginning to think that the Hartseer creature is correct and I should shake you off like a dog shakes off a tick! Shake you off and step upon you!"
"But my Lord!" Jeremiah protested, "I have the books, I have been studying them, they have flourished under my care..."
"Not as much as the book of the creeping little half breed shadow, that Michael creature," the being flared what could have been wings, "In short, I am much displeased with you, Jeremiah Maat, much displeased. I begin to wonder if you truly are worth my time. Perhaps I should look to one of you companions. That Kaelin girl could be powerful after all. I know who she is descended from and if I awaken her spark, why, it would only need her grandfather's interference to mold her into my true creature. It would be most pleasing to collect one such as she."
"My Lord, I..." Jeremiah began.
Something suddenly seized him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him backwards.
"I am not done with you, insect!" the being roared, lunging forward but the force was irresistible and Jeremiah found himself crashing down on to the bed, with the discordant screeches of Ulrich's fiddle whining and caterwauling in his ears, loud enough to wake the dead.
"What do you think you are doing?" Jeremiah snapped upright.
"Well, well," Ulrich beamed, "Sleeping Beauty is awake. See, told you I could do it, Kaelin and without having to let Thorian give him a big, wet kiss."
"You wouldn't have dared!" Jeremiah turned an interesting color.
"Oh Thorian was all for waking Sleeping Beauty the traditional way but I suggested that we try my fiddling first," Ulrich beamed.
"Oh yuck!" Thorian yelled, "Why you lying like that?"
Jeremiah looked at him, looked at Thorian, looked at Kaelin trying not to laugh, looked back at Ulrich and started snarling a string of words that blistered and curdled in the air. Black Randle dived and caught the falling jar as several items leapt off the table in self defense.
The ulcerating words scorched through the air and...
Ulrich jabbed the end of the fiddle's bow between Jeremiah's teeth, cutting off the caustic words. They flared and died in a puff of ash and sparks that scoured the varnish off of the end of the bow and charred the wood. With a distressed twong one of the threads of the bow snapped back and lashed across Ulrich's hand, raising a line of red liquid beads. Ulrich jerked back with a curse and nearly dropped the bow. Jeremiah opened his mouth to begin again.
The bang of the jar slamming down on the table made them both jerk round.
"If there's been enough of that language in this house, and I mean both of you" Black Randle snapped, "Then I suggest that you get out of bed and you fix that instrument up before something gets out of hand. The pair of you ought to be ashamed, the whole kingdom's relying on you to save it and you are fighting like a pair of juveniles mucking about with yah father's swords, with no damn idea of how much damage you'll do to each other! Shame and disappointment on both of you! Now then."
He finished with a snort and turned away to a cupboard, dragging out a piece of sandpaper and pot of beeswax that he tossed to Ulrich.
"Sit down and sort that out!"
Ulrich sat and started to rub the char off of the end of the bow.
"You get out of that bed, wash yahself up and have your breakfast, you'll need it where you are going today."
Jeremiah climbed out of bed and had tugged the sheets straight before he realized that he was acting like a boy caught in the beam of his father's number two glare. He turned about to protest and caught a number one glare from Black Randle. He sat down at the table without another sound.
Thorian and Kaelin looked at one another and without a word started dividing up the supplies into four packs. Once he was sure he could take his eyes off of Jeremiah and Ulrich, Black Randle started fishing out extra supplies, bread and cheese and dried fruit pemmican, as well as some local medicine supplies.
By the time, he was working the beeswax into the bow, Ulrich felt he'd done enough penance.
"There's one thing that's still rolling around in my brain," he didn't look round from rubbing the beeswax in. Black Randle grunted.
"You mentioned someone who lives in the local area this morning and I think I'm curious," Ulrich continued. Black Randle grunted again but it was a more cautious grunt.
"Out of interest," Ulrich asked, "Who is Old Scar Face? And do we need something to give her?"
"Ah, her," Black Randle relaxed, "She's an old grey dragon who lives up in the deep forest where it starts getting really rocky. Has her lair up there. See her child drifting in and out on occasion. We nod to each other when we cross paths but other than that we have different lives."
"Grey?" Jeremiah asked, "Don't you mean silver?"
"Nah, grey. Same color as the ash there," Black Randle nodded at the fire place, "Mouthful of teeth. Would not want to be the ones who irritated her but she was crippled many a year ago."
"Crippled?" Kaelin asked, "What could cripple a dragon?"
"No idea," Black Randle admitted, "But one wing is a mangled mess. She couldn't fly even if she wanted to. Its a shame, no one should have to live as a half being but she gets along as good as she can. In that way, we're not that much different. Now then, I followed our unpleasant visitors last night and I've marked the trail back to were they came from."
"Wasn't that something of a risk, my good sir," Jeremiah oiled.
"More to them than to me," Black Randle replied, "Now, if your lassy can follow that trail you should get there fairly soon. Now you can go when ever you like but I'd say that those fellows are going to be sleeping it off today so you might want to call in before they wake up again."
"Fair advance," Ulrich stood up, looked over the repair job one more time and then wrapped the fiddle and bow back up again, "Shall we people?"
"Oh is there a rush?" Jeremiah asked.
"No time like the present," Ulrich smiled, "Wouldn't want breakfast to wear off before we get there and I think we have pressed upon our good host's patient and his larder, for quite long enough."
"Oh very well," Jeremiah huffed.
Stepping out on to the porch they slung their respective packs up on to their backs, Jeremiah staggering a little under the unaccustomed weight.
"Well, good luck to yah," Black Randle nodded to them, "That's the way you want to go." He gestured across the clearing. Kaelin turned her head and saw the tree that had a great pale patch torn through the bark to the whiter under layer. She walked up to it and sniffed.
"See anything strange this morning?" she asked Ulrich.
"Let's just say that it is a shame that you and Black Randle have such an age gap between you," Ulrich noted, "You could have got on very well other wise." Kaelin said nothing at all, just walked off into the forest, eyes looking for the next pale patch. "He said that he'd heard about a pack up north that were the sort you wouldn't want to meet them at any time of day." Kaelin walked faster. "He said didn't blame whoever it was who lead the hunters to them." Kaelin stopped, one foot raised. "He said that it was no lose, that those like that pack just make life harder for all the puca born."
Kaelin put the foot down and drew a long breath. Ulrich didn't move, letting her have her space and when Jeremiah and Thorian caught up Kaelin wiped her face and moved on, following the trail of slashed white wood.
As the sun climbed higher and the woods warmed up, they climbed higher into the forest, Jeremiah bringing up the rear but some how managing to not complain with every step. Or maybe he had just learnt that nobody would have any sympathy. It was towards mid morning when Kaelin stepped passed the last of the trees in a boggy, swampy area and crouched down.
"What's up?" Thorian asked as Ulrich joined her.
"Trail's end," Ulrich said standing back up.
"Well thank the God's for that," Jeremiah gasped, leaning on a rock.
"No, not really," Ulrich corrected. Jeremiah looked up and saw the dark cleft in the rock face, the driping mosses and lichens hanging over the edge.
"Many in," Kaelin counted the foot pints in the soft, black mud, "Few back."
"In there?" Jeremiah asked.
"In there," Kaelin straightened. The dark mouth of the earth looked back at them, breathing its scent of damp and chill.
