Posted by admin on April 22, 2011
Treebeard’s Lament
Treebeard’s waters tumble
Along Fangorn’s misted paths.
Sorrows fervently rumble,
A call to joys long past.
The entwives and gardens,
The entchildren and marvels.
Alone Treebeard stands,
Alone, Fangorn, king.
Heedless of mortal lands
And the passing One Ring.
Hobbits, dwarves and elves,
He alone in the forest dwells.
His stewardship diminishes,
The long labors forgotten,
The great gardens unfinished
Await the industry of men.
Posted by admin on April 24, 2010
Samwise, fat Samwise,
Good old Gamgee hobbit.
From solid stock,
Thick as rocks
And gentle as Spring snow.
Samwise, good Samwise,
Courageous Gamgee hobbit.
Steadfast as mountains,
Merry as fountains,
Watching your children grow.
Samwise, true, Samwise,
Sensible Gamgee hobbit.
With no use for kings
Or great golden things,
You’ve planted your garden now.
Posted by admin on April 22, 2010
Theoden King
Theoden King:
Lord of horses, lord of men.
His stallion drives before him
All fierce enemies of Rohan.
The golden heights of Edoras
Remember the golden past,
And honor bring in singleness
To Theoden King.
Theoden King
Cast down Sauruman,
Built up strongholds,
Drove out orc lords.
The kingdom forever prospers;
Fears no cunning marauders;
He protects our fair daughters;
Theoden King
Posted by admin on
Bilbo Baggins Remembered
Bilbo Baggins finding dragons,
In lakes and towns a long way down,
In lands far away.
He rides the ponies with his cronies,
A wizard and dwarves,
To lands far away.
But at his table, wait the staples
To cure his hunger, in his belly down under
At his home today.
Neither orc nor goblin, could ever rob him
Of cheery smile or cunning guile
No matter how far away.
Tho’ it hurt him and his heart churned inside,
He gave up the ring and his sword sting
To his nephew today.
Now he waits, idle, quiet and retired
To hear the news of other fools
Adventuring far away.
Until long last, he too must pass
With smile and frown, take the long ships down
To lands far away.
Posted by admin on
Helms Deep
Helms Deep, stolid in the rising mist,
Feels serenely cold in the morning.
The root-stone is icy after the fury-sweat
And black pitched battle.
Theoden here stood, his mighty blade
Harvesting enemies like grain
At summer’s long dreaded end.
Helms Deep, golden a century past,
Feels old to the young who play
Across the greenswards on the mounds
Where only memories of crones
And graybeards recall the shadow
Of Eomir’s name. And Theoden
Is the lord’s second horse-warden.
Posted by admin on August 19, 2009
Moira Hatfield twisted a shadow for the first time while watching television on her night off. She enjoyed working nights. Daylight offered so little for her imagination. Even as a child she never used the pink nightlight her parents gave her. Instead she preferred to let the subtle light of the stars and moon filter through her windows.
Moira pressed the mute on the remote and looked again at the corner of the table. No she wasn’t imagining it. The shadow actually lifted off the wood. Now that was cool, just the sort of thing her mother would warn her about.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s see if you can do anything else. How about a little twist?” The black fragment of nothing turned as she concentrated. Moira felt a rush of excitement. How long had she been reading about the shadow plane? Wow! She raced to the bookshelf to see if anything there could offer an explanation.
Moira spent the rest of the night alternately perusing for answers and trying to lift more shadows. By the time her roommate, Jill, got up she could cause a shadow to turn or lift at will but nothing more. Unfortunately no one seemed to have written a guide about how to control shadows, so she resolved to hit the library after class.
Jill and Moira shared two classes, and as usual she caught a nap during the American History lecture. The tests all came out of the book anyway. Almost all general courses today. Why did engineers have to take history again?
“You coming to class tonight?” asked Jill. Jill stood a stout five feet even of solid athleticism. Moira couldn’t help but be a little jealous of those baby blue eyes and the bouncy blonde hair. Her own hair never seemed to do anything right.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” said Moira.
“You really seem to be getting into it. Who knew martial arts would be your thing,” said Jill.
“It’s fun, but it’s a lot more interesting since Dane starting coming,” admitted Moira.
“You better get some sleep if you want to impress him,” said Jill. “You look like a zombie. Are you sure you can handle working nights? There’s an opening at the greenhouse, I’m sure I could get you in.”
“It’s no big deal. I got to get to the library before I catch my nap. See you later.”
Moira had no luck at the library, just a few vague references about the fourth dimension, but nothing about actually controlling shadows. Her personal collection of books centered more on fiction. At least they sparked her imagination, although they offered nothing more than possibilities. Eventually she gave up and drifted into sleep.
Hank’s Kenpo Clinic squished between a narrow side street and a condemned bookstore across the alley from The Pancake Emporium. On a good night two or three people could find decent parking. Tonight Moira decided to walk the ten blocks rather than fight the evening pancake crowd. Crime near the university generally tapered off during the cold months, and November offered plenty of shadows for her to play with along the way.
If only she could carry a shadow with her, it would save time and give her something to do during history. Of course she had a shadow. Everyone has a shadow. Why not? She stopped just at the edge of a streetlight and looked at her own shadow.
“Okay,” she mumbled, looking around to see if anyone was watching. She concentrated on the outline of her hair. A few wispy strands lifted off the concrete. A tingling sensation shot through her head. She caressed more of her shadow off the pavement. The tingling became an itch. When the tip of the shadow of her head finally slipped from the sidewalk she felt something slap the back of her head. Pain shot through her eyes and she staggered, losing control of the shadow.
She turned around as quickly as she could, but saw no one behind her. No footsteps. No sound of any kind. In the parking lot across the street a man held the door for his date. The pain in her eyes felt real enough. Either her mind had loosened a bit too much or something about playing with shadows could hurt her. No point holding back.
She held out her hand and concentrated on the shadow of her pinky. As soon as the shadow lifted from the ground a sharp pain shot through her finger. She immediately let the shadow return to normal, and massaged her pinky. Lesson learned; don’t mess with your own shadow.
The pain in her head subsided by the time she joined the class.
“You’re late,” said Jill when she came in. “I’m glad you made it. None of the other girls showed.”
Moira knew what a pain it could be sparring with some of the guys in the class. Most of them treated her nice. They went out of the way to be helpful. Tonight, though, Moira spotted a couple of the regular jerks. At just over six feet Matt had longer reach than anyone in the class, and he liked to spar hard. Neither he nor his friend Ty worked hard enough to develop the skills to handle more experienced opponents, so they preyed on the weaker and newer students whenever possible.
“I wish Hank would just kick those creeps out,” said Moira.
“They pay just like everyone else,” replied Jill.
“That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it,” said Moira.
“At least it’s practice in case we have to deal with some guy on the street.” Jill winked. She always had a way of finding something positive. “Let’s get warmed up.”
That night they practiced throws and close quarter defense against attackers trying to grab from different angles. Moira worked through the moves automatically, not really thinking about it. By no means had she become proficient and she knew she should be trying harder, but she couldn’t stop thinking about her discoveries.
“Sorry to break you up, ladies,” said Hank with less than ten minutes of time left. “Throwing around someone your own size is one thing, but if you want to be able to handle someone bigger than yourself you’re going to have to practice it. Are you up for it?”
At first she paired with Dane. He started coming to class less than a month ago but had already passed all of them.
“You sure learn this stuff fast,” she said. She couldn’t help looking him over. At five foot nine, he wasn’t overly tall, but he had a confident muscular build that he carried easily.
“I’ve trained in some other places,” he said. “There’s no wrestling team or boxing team at the college, so this is my way of working out the stress.”
He guided her through the motions of the moves they had been practicing. Somehow his touch seemed electric. Maybe she just imagined it.
“Time to trade up,” said Jill. She leaned over and lowered her voice to a bare whisper. “Your turn with the beast.”
Jill had been paired with Matt. Moira glanced over at the clock. She could handle two minutes, besides Jill was right, if she wanted to be able to deal with a creep on the street she needed to learn to deal with one here.
They practiced defending a basic grab from behind. The first time he groped her, it could have been an honest mistake, but nobody makes that mistake twice. Moira fumed. She opened her mouth to swear at him when she thought of a better idea.
As they clinched again she concentrated on the shadow near his foot. Angrily, she bent it off the floor. Matt gasped in pain and dropped to the ground. He rolled away grasping his foot and cursing.
“Foot cramp?” asked Moira innocently. “You should drink more water.”
Moira sipped some water as class wound down. If bending someone’s shadow off the floor could do that, what else could she do? Jill wandered over.
“You really are out of it,” said Jill. Moira realized she had been daydreaming again. “Want to get something to eat?”
“I got work,” said Moira, a lie, but she needed time to digest what just happened.
Moira waited for Jill to leave before picking up her backpack. The moon outside had risen full and pale, but bits of cloud covered it from time to time. The wind smelled of snow, the first warning of winter, but the air felt clear and cool. Moira cut through another alley behind a couple of small stores. Everything seemed a little more quiet than usual, but not much happened in this town.
“Interesting work,” said a voice in the darkness. Moira stopped. Her heart jumped. She didn’t recognize the voice. It rang out low and resonating. “Shadow bending is nearly a lost art in this world.”
Moira watched as Dane stepped from the shadows about ten feet ahead of her. She hardly recognized him. His vacant eyes stared past her, and his skin appeared pale. Perspiration clouded his face.
When in doubt, ply for time. “What are you talking about?” she asked, checking the distance to the end of the alley. It would be closer to turn around if she decided to run.
“No need to play games,” said Dane. No, not Dane. That was definitely not Dane’s voice. “We felt the energy shift and have come to negotiate.”
“We? Who are you? Where did you come from?” asked Moira. She shivered. “What is it you want?”
“I gather you have seen through the disguise, your powers must be greater than we thought.” Suddenly Dane opened his mouth and exhaled a thick gray mist for several seconds. The last of the mist escaped and Dale collapsed on the pavement. A misty, legless figure, almost the shape of a man with glowing eyes hovered before her in the alley.
Her mind raced. She choked back a scream. She glanced at Dane, but she couldn’t tell in the half-light if he was breathing or not. Whatever this thing was apparently it thought she knew more than she did.
“That’s better,” she said, trying to sound confident. “Now what exactly do you want?”
“We want you to join us, of course,” said the figure. “We seek allies in the shadow war. We are, of course, prepared to barter.”
“First of all, I don’t know who you are. Secondly, I don’t know anything about any war, and even if I did I don’t want any part of it. You have the wrong person.” Moira tried not to sound panicked, but her heart wouldn’t slow down. Instinctively she looked to the shadows in the alley. The creature had a faint shadow that shifted as the mist within its body billowed.
“My name is not important,” said the creature.
“It is to me,” replied Moira.
“Very well. Call me Kierzax. Enough games. Name your price.” Kierzax definitely sounded impatient now.
“Look Kierzax, I already told you, I don’t want any part of your war. I’m going home now, and you should to,” said Moira.
“I’m certain we can reach a bargain,” said Kierzax. He pointed a misty finger at Dane. “I can offer you him. I believe you find him appealing.”
Moira thought for a moment. Whatever was happening had gone beyond serious.
“Is there something else you would prefer? Perhaps some sort of influence here in your home world?” said Kierzax.
“Anything worth that is definitely something I don’t want to do,” said Moira. “For the last time, go home. Find someone else.”
“We cannot allow you to join the others,” said Kierzax. “I have been fair. If you cannot be persuaded, then you must be eliminated.” Kierzax’s eyes flared with a sudden inner flame, casting a dim red glow across the alley.
No point stalling now. Either fight or run. Moira hesitated only a second before ripping his shadow from the pavement in one swift thought. Kierzax groaned as his shadow now stood next to Moira, but seemed otherwise unharmed. He opened his mouth, and fire erupted towards Moira. She dodged behind Kierzax’s shadow, trying to find some cover. The flames hit the shadow and Kierzax wailed in agony. Smoke peeled off his shadow. The smell of sulfur and burning trash filled the alley.
Desperately Moira tried to think. Some good Hank’s self defense techniques did now. If an assailant breathes fire, do I try a wristlock or a hip toss?. One shadow stopped his fire, so maybe a lot of shadows could stop him. She pulled the massive shadows from the buildings together. All around, she quickly wove a semi translucent wall of darkness. For the moment it seemed to be working. The barrier stopped a second spout of fire.
Time could not be on her side. Kierzax started to rise into the air. She built her wall higher, but he just moved faster. Soon he would be over the buildings. She added a ceiling to her wall, and instinctively stretched the shadows to add three more walls, effectively sealing Kierzax in. What would happen if those walls suddenly collapsed in? Could she crush him, whatever he was?
Keeping the box together as she collapsed it proved to be more difficult than first imagined. Shadows by their very nature tend to move, and managing the complex geometry of a shrinking cube required skills she hadn’t yet mastered. At the last instant, just before the walls completely closed in Kierzax managed to thrust out one smoky claw and grab Moira’s shirt.
The shadows closed in on themselves and Moira found herself spinning, flattening, and lost to any reality she had ever known. She didn’t lose consciousness, the pain felt too intense. She closed her eyes and covered her ears against a powerful blinding wind that battered from all sides. Finally she dropped onto the cold hard pavement.
She opened her eyes. Kierzax had disappeared, but the faint scent of sulfur hung in the air. Dane was gone. The alley looked different, felt different. The buildings loomed black and flat, not just dark, but blacker than any night she could remember. No sounds came from the street behind her. Moira walked back towards the Kenpo Clinic.
Everything appeared washed of all color. All of the buildings, signs, even the litter varied from black to gray or darker gray. The streetlight switched from one gray dot to another, emitting no real light. Moira saw nobody else anywhere. The silence felt so complete she heard her heart beating and the soft rhythm of her breathing.
A chill wind broke the silence, making her shiver through her winter coat. Nothing moved with the wind. The few scattered autumn leaves, the dead grass, and the litter ignored the breeze. Even her hair seemed unaffected. The moon floated overhead a pale disk shedding no real light.
She ran to the Kenpo Clinic, then to the Pancake Emporium. Flat black and gray cars cluttered the parking lot, but no people filled the restaurant. Suddenly a car door opened. A dim shape, like an erased pencil drawing seemed to get into the car, or did she imagine it. The door closed silently. A few seconds later the car backed out of the stall, though the engine made no sound. The car pulled away and melted into an unseen fog. After only about fifty feet it completely disappeared. When she looked back, the car had returned to the parking stall.
With this many cars, people had to be eating in the restaurant. Moira went to the front door. Through the glass she saw nobody. She pulled on the handle, but it refused to move. It didn’t feel locked. The deadbolt would have at least wiggled a little. She simply couldn’t move it.
“I see you are new to my world,” said a voice behind her. Moira turned and saw a figure cloaked in blackness. It had a humanoid shape, but she couldn’t make out any distinct features. She half expected to see it carrying a scythe, but it had no real hands and held nothing. Two large black dogs with sleek bodies as if cut from pure obsidian waited only a few feet behind the figure.
“Where?” asked Moira, but she had a feeling she knew exactly where she was.
“The realm of shadows, of course,” replied the figure. “Odd that you would not know where you are. Most visitors come here with a purpose.”
“It was an accident,” said Moira. “I was fighting Kierzax and then I was here.”
“The legion is not welcome here,” said the figure. The dogs spread out from the figure, baring black teeth.
“Who? I don’t know anything about any legion,” said Moira.
“Unlikely,” replied the voice. “All who enter this realm know of our long hatred of your war.”
“I’m not fighting any war,” said Moira desperately. Realization of her situation seeped in slowly. Somehow Kierzax must have pulled her into the shadows. “I just want to go back.”
“You have brought your war here.” The voice rang sinister. “It will end here, for you.”
The dogs slowly circled into range to attack. Moira thought quickly, and saw that the dogs did not cast any shadow, nothing here cast a shadow. She grasped one of the dog’s legs with her mind. She focused so intently that she didn’t notice her hands come up to make a twisting motion, as if she held the leg in her hands. The shadow substance conformed to her will. The creature let out a hollow, haunting howl as its leg warped suddenly out of shape. The second dog leapt at her, but she pulled it out of the air with her mind and sent it painfully to the ground.
“A bender with some skill,” said the figure. “You could abandon your war and help me here.” The two dogs melted into nothing as it spoke.
“I don’t have a war,” said Moira. “I don’t want anything to do with your war. I’m going home.”
“If you intended to leave you would already have gone,” replied the voice. “If you aren’t here for the war, what is it you want?”
Before Moira could respond, the powerful odor of sulfur washed over them all. Kierzax seemed to appear out of nothing just a few feet from the figure.
“You can’t have her, Vorgos,” said Kierzax. “If she will not join me, then she will join no one.”
Kierzax opened his mouth. Moira expected fire to stream out. Instead he began coughing violently. Vorgos raised a hand and a sudden black shape slapped Kierzax in the head.
“You will find that fire requires elements we do not have,” said Vorgos as Kierzax wheeled backwards. “Your war is unwelcome here.”
Kierzax collapsed into a thick strand of smoke and dodged the blows of the nearly shapeless shadow weapon. Moira chose this moment of distraction to flee around the corner and back up the alley towards her apartment. If those two wanted to fight she wasn’t going to get in the way. Behind her a roar of rage and frustration rang out, but she couldn’t tell which of the two it came from. As the roar died down, Moira hit a full sprint.
Five blocks later she slowed to a jog, and eventually a walk, breathing heavily. “Starting tomorrow, I am definitely doing a cardio program,” she thought. She stopped and leaned against a building to catch her breath. What had Vorgos meant? Clearly he, or she or it, thought Moira could leave at any time.
Moira milled this thought over for a few seconds until a column of sulfurous smoke streamed up the street behind her. Moira caught the movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned to face Kierzax as he took shape. She didn’t have the energy to run anymore.
“You can still join us,” said Kierzax.
“Not interested,” replied Moira. She was starting to breathe a little easier now.
“You were a fool to bring us here. Vorgos will hunt both of us now. You’ve trapped both of us into a fight that neither of us needs.”
“So,” she said. “I can’t take it back now. What do you want?”
“A temporary alliance,” said Kierzax. “Together we might be able to escape Vorgos.”
“No thanks.”
Kierzax swung a smoky fist towards Moira’s face. Instinctively she dodged the blow, grateful she had at least learned that much in class. He tried again. This time she pulled the sign from a storefront, using her mind to make the shadow block the blow. Moira gathered substance from all around the street to defend the constant onslaught of sneaky attacks. Bit by bit she tore up the street as she backed her way up the block.
Suddenly a black shape took hold of Kierzax. Another of Vorgos’ dogs materialized behind him. Kierzax writhed in agony as the creature clamped down where his leg should have been. Then he pounded the dog’s head with a smoky fist, forcing it to release the hold.
Moira used the opportunity to think. Obviously Kierzax couldn’t escape or else he would have by now, which meant that her instincts were right. He was just trying to use her. That didn’t tell her how to get out, though these two seemed to think she should be able to. An idea finally came to her. Vorgos walked into view behind his dogs. The dogs kept Kierzax fully occupied, so once again Moira slipped away down a side street.
Thinking back to her first encounter with Kierzax, she thought how the process could be reversed. Starting with the ground, she pushed all of the shadows away, building an empty black cylinder around herself. Light broke through the bottom of the cylinder, nearly blinding her after the constant darkness of the shadow world.
Once again she felt herself falling, being pushed, and thrown into a new world. Intense pain shocked her again as she found herself sprawled on the sidewalk. A hundred different smells seemed to reach her at once, but not a hint of sulfur. Snowflakes glittered in the moonlight as they drifted down the lazy breeze. Moira stood up slowly and dusted off her pants and coat.
In a building’s shadow across the street, she thought she heard a muffled growl. Tired or not, she broke into a sprint back to her apartment. She slowed once to catch her breath, but didn’t stop until she reached the door. The door was locked. Moira fumbled for her key. Inside she found Jill watching television with the lights off.
Moira flipped the light switch, causing Jill to blink a little. “Who do I need to talk to about that job?” she asked. “I think I’m done working nights. I need a little more light in my life.”
THE END
Posted by admin on July 6, 2009
The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.
I had prepared to say my name, but my heart froze as I looked into the pale dead eyes that stared unflinching back at me. Once a fat priest, now the flesh had faded into nothing by thin gray whiteness and the wispy hair drifted into smoky etherealness from behind a once balding pate. The dead eyes had no pupils, only rolling cloudy orbs above a clear-white face. As I looked into those eyes I saw not only the depths of fear, anger, and pain, but also the walls and decorations of the temple. Weapon or not, this foe I could not destroy in battle. I could not speak for a long time for it held me transfixed in anguish with its stare. The creature appeared to be waiting, but for what I could not tell.
As if in response to my thoughts the temple door opened and slowly a procession of other smoky-white entities began to file into the large worship hall. Though many seemed still to be dressed in clear or white versions of their earthly clothes, most had torsos and legs that faded into wispy nothingness with only faces and arms bearing their human resemblance. Slowly I began to understand. The eyes of long dead nobility focused on me and the simple offering I had made to my goddess. Though they barely filled the hall a quarter of the way, the procession ended and the door closed behind them as suddenly as it had opened. I felt at once trapped, frightened and exhilarated.
I stood, a mere spectator, as events beyond my control unfolded. I suddenly felt the chill in my blood give way to warmth that encompassed my entire body. The bright, snowy light I had seen only once before suddenly surrounded the offering pit and began to fill the entire chamber. Against that brightness the angry spirits became nearly invisible. The threatening eyes recoiled in confusion and awe. The majestic, sublime and simple voice addressed them.
“Give way now, my loyal children for the time has come for the world to be healed again. Your vow to protect my holy place is fulfilled, come now and enter my rest.”
Just as suddenly as it had appeared the light began to fade, but behind me my little fire flared into life beyond its means. One by one the specters moved forward. I stepped aside though they now seemed oblivious of my presence. Each in turn entered my fire, and as they did it flared up until the last, the deadly priest that first addressed me vanished in its heat and the fire died suddenly into cold black ashes.
For the briefest moment I stared about into the encroaching darkness. I found that I was covered in sweat and grime from the day’s labors and from the intense heat of the fire. I could not separate the confusion swimming in my head. Clearly Tylos wanted me for something, but there, alone in a forsaken dead city I could not have guessed my future.
Much later, long after dark I reached our camp. I approached silently, for that had long become my habit and found them guarding a little fire. Dina jumped in surprise and fear when I stepped from the shadows but Pascalli merely smiled and quipped, “I see you’ve done well lad.”
“Is there any hot food,” I asked, for I felt my strength had all drained away. Something about those garish faces seemed to have stolen the life from my limbs.
“Not yet, though we got some meat today,” winked Pascalli. Dina will cook.” Dina glared at the wizard and clearly meant to refuse. I shrugged and went to find their kill, but Pascalli called me back. “Sit down, Scratch. By the look of you I’d say you’ve seen death, or worse. Now go one girl, I’m sure you can manage.”
I found a comfortable spot out of the smoke near our fire and waited. Dina retrieved a scrawny rabbit, which Pascalli helped her prepare. After they had it roasting she looked me over, and with some hesitation asked, “What happened?”
I didn’t mean to ignore her, but I couldn’t begin to describe anything. Pascalli gave her a disapproving look, but said nothing.
“Is there some secret?” she asked. I sensed the frustration in her voice. “I feel like I have a right to know what’s going on. I’m out here too, you know!”
I turned away from her, numbly staring into the flames, but I quickly found that too horrible as my mind kept conjuring images of the dead as they walked into a different fire.
“There are some questions, which cannot be answered,” said Pascalli. “There are some questions that should not be asked.”
Dina glared, rolled her eyes and sighed. “Did you at least open the gate?” she asked.
I did not answer, I was still lost in thought, but Pascalli brought me to my senses. “I believe the young woman asked a question,” he said.
I didn’t care for his tone, but then I didn’t much care for the conversation. “It’s open,” I said simply.
Pascalli forced me to eat before going to sleep. I ate mechanically, tasting nothing. Dina had never before cooked during our journey together, so it should have been a memorable moment, but it was lost to me. I saw the hurt in her eyes as I ignored them both, but lacked the strength of will to respond.
“Whatever evil remains we will have to face ourselves,” I mumbled. “The dead have gone, but they left their work behind.”
So many of my memories have been lost in the well of time, but I can never look at a fire without seeing the dead or recalling the night of nightmares that ensued. If Pascalli or Dina asked me more that night, I didn’t answer. I drifted into exhausted oblivion, chased by the images of the dead. For days and nights afterwards I slept only fitfully, and Pascalli did not let me stand watch alone.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Fourty Two
Back to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Fourty
Posted by admin on July 1, 2009
When a lanky seven-foot troll, albeit small and clad in mail, pushed open the door to the Bouncing Archer, Vera hardly gave him a second glance over her serving tray. In general, trolls in the nearby wastes had bluer skin and a stockier build than the deep green and warty complexion of this one.
The astounding woman with the deep green skin at his side caught more than a casual glance, not only because at nearly six feet she stood taller than the gentleman who followed her, but also because even beneath her well oiled armor the patrons could see that nature had endowed her magnificently. The gentleman, who was dressed in expensive, custom-tailored traveling clothes, led the group. His steel-blue eyes seemed to take in everything in the room. Vera knew every rogue and adventurer in the country, and hardly expected anything unusual from them.
The man waved at Vera, who politely smiled and called, “One moment.”
The troll stared nervously around the room. His yellow bloodshot eyes blinked in the smoky lantern light. After the autumn harvest, more locals than usual crowded into the room eager to catch a tale from some stranger. Dock workers and riverboat hands gambled and drank away their wages, filling the normally calm tavern with raucous, lively laughter.
“Do you have a back room?” asked the man when Vera finally managed to reach them. “Someplace a little more private and less exciting. My friend gets nervous easily.” He gestured to the troll.
“I’m Vera,” she replied. “Follow me.”
“Harbeard,” said the man. He pointed at the troll who appraised Vera as she expected a man would judge a steak. He glanced at the troll. “He’s Turogg, or just Rogg. This is Maritz.” Harbeard jerked a thumb towards the woman. “Just point, we’ll find it.”
Vera pointed across the room to a doorway atop a short set of steps. “In there.”
Harbeard handed her a gold coin. “We’ll have some special needs later. For now send in a barrel of ale, and some wine for me and the lady.”
“Anything to eat?” she asked.
“The best you have,” he replied. As they walked away, he called over his shoulder, “Don’t bother cooking Rogg’s.”
They found the back room both cold and empty, though tinder and kindling lay ready to light in the fireplace. They placed their packs along the back wall. Casually, out of long habit, Harbeard helped Maritz with her chair, though she seemed unused to the attention. Turogg sat with his back to the wall opposite the fireplace, looking suspiciously at the unlit logs. He had some difficulty managing the sword strapped across his back and finally removed it.
“So far so good,” said Maritz. A hint of music carried in her accent. She pushed a few strands of sea-green hair behind her delicately pointed ears after placing an elegant longbow in the corner. “I can’t believe you brought him here.”
“It’s not like we had anything else to do,” said Harbeard. He tossed a bag onto the table, and the coins inside clanked. He smiled back and relaxed with his elbows on the table. He kept his own sword within easy reach and sat where he could watch the doorway. “He was getting worse, and we need supplies anyway.”
“I thought you had a house in town. Why bring him here?” asked Maritz.
“I also have neighbors,” replied Harbeard. “Some would object to trolls, and some who would tell others that I am back.”
“Eat,” growled Turogg.
“You’ll eat soon enough,” said Harbeard.
Three young men wheeled a large barrel up to the steps and with the help of a dolly placed it next to Turogg’s chair. They placed three sturdy mugs on the table and Harbeard handed each of the men a coin as they left. Turogg sniffed the barrel. Before Harbeard or Maritz could stop him, he smashed an enormous fist through the top of the barrel.
“That comes out of your share,” said Harbeard with a chuckle.
The troll either didn’t understand or didn’t care. He eagerly dipped his mug and gulped the ale, casually spitting out the splinters. In the next room a table of dwarves with thick beards and bright clothes watched the action with envy. The Bouncing Archer always met the needs of its guests, and Harbeard noticed the shorter table and wider chairs fit the dwarves comfortably. For a moment Harbeard thought the nearest dwarf, a happy fellow with a finely combed blonde beard, might venture to fill his own mug at Rogg’s barrel, but after a second glance at the troll he turned back to his conversation.
“I see you managed to open it yourselves,” said Vera as she brought in the wine. She put a tray with two loaves of bread and a large cheese on the table. “I can bring some fruit if you like. We have harvest stew ready, or we can bring you steaks if you would prefer to wait.”
“Fruit please,” said Maritz.
Harbeard sniffed the wine, and carefully tasted it. “I believe I asked for your best,” he said. “This is second grade, and I happen to know that Tomlin keeps a much better vintage for those who can pay.” He placed another gold coin on the serving tray next to the wine. “A meal we don’t have to scrape together ourselves sounds wonderful. I see the harvest is in, do you have anything to serve with the meat?”
“Anything you like,” said Vera, smiling broadly.
“I can’t remember the last time I had a vegetable,” said Harbeard.
“Nor I,” agreed Maritz. “Anything you have, but no beans, and no soup. I’ve had enough of your road stews to last a lifetime.”
Suddenly Turogg reached a long arm out and groped Vera’s rump. “Goura,” he growled excitedly.
Instantly Harbeard’s sword flashed out of the scabbard. With precision born of long training and harsh experience he brought the blade down, severing Turogg’s arm just below the elbow. The troll howled in pain and anger as he picked his hand up from the floor. Harbeard’s sword burst into flame. “Try that again and I’ll make it permanent.” Turogg whimpered and shied back from the flames. He carefully held the twitching arm to the bleeding stump.
“Thank you,” said Vera. “I see you’re a gentleman.”
Maritz took the towel that Vera tucked into her apron and began to clean up the mess.
“Don’t bother miss, I can do it,” said Vera.
Maritz waved her away. “You’re working hard enough,” she said. “An expecting mother should take her rest.”
“Am I showing already?” A proud smile crept onto Vera’s face. “I knew it would sooner or later. Time flies, as they say.”
“Only if you know what to look for,” replied Maritz. “I’ve no children of my own, yet.”
“Time enough for that miss.” Vera winked. She bent in and whispered in Maritz ear, “He’s a nice looking gentleman you’ve got there.” Maritz blushed and giggled. “Now I am forgetting myself. Steaks all around. Will there be anything else?”
“You better get Rogg something sooner,” suggested Harbeard. “A pig’s leg or something.”
Vera excused herself and disappeared among the crowd in the main room. Harbeard watched her leave, and scanned the room for familiar faces.
“Anybody you recognize?” asked Maritz.
“Of course, but I’ve changed since I left.” Harbeard did not look at Maritz as he spoke. He noticed a man wearing fine black velvet toss dice with a group of riverboat workers in a far corner. Harbeard brought his attention back to the table, but looked out on the other patrons from time to time.
“I don’t believe that Rogg’s the only reason you didn’t want to go home,” said Maritz. She grinned. “Nobody with a clear conscious acts the way you are.”
“Purely habit, my dear,” he lied. She rolled her eyes in frustration. “Fine, I’ll tell you. There is a lady here, and I very much do not want her to know that I am here.”
“I didn’t know you had a woman,” said Maritz. Her eyes danced mischievously as she spoke.
“Only among the trolls do the women decide who marries whom,” said Harbeard. “We have more civilized ways.”
“Such as?” Maritz teased.
“Such as my parents choosing for me,” he replied.
Vera returned with another bottle of wine and a large rack of uncooked ribs, probably pork. “You must have been in the wild a long time to consider food here a change for the better,” she laughed. Turogg began chewing the ribs practically before they reached the table.
“I’ve been away for a few years.” Harbeard sighed. “There are some new warehouses near the docks. Trade must be good.”
“That it is,” replied Vera. She smiled a broad smile. “I myself only settled down about a year ago. I did some wandering before that.”
“Wandering can be lonely, can’t it Harbeard?” said Maritz. She half concealed a laugh. Turogg tossed a rib into the fireplace.
“Let him finish his dinner, at least,” said Harbeard.
“I’m sure he will be easier to handle with a full stomach,” said Maritz.
“Your dinners will be ready soon,” said Vera. “I am sorry, but we are much busier than usual.”
“No hurry,” said Harbeard, glancing at Turogg. “I’m sure we’ll enjoy them more after he has finished.” The troll appeared unaware of the conversation.
“You might as well make arrangements now,” said Maritz. “It won’t take him long to finish eating.”
Harbeard gave her a sideways glance and sighed. “Does Tilly still operate her business next door?” he asked Vera.
The waitress blushed in spite of herself. “I wouldn’t know about that, sir,” she replied.
“Nonsense, it’s no secret,” said Harbeard. “Just get her word that our friend here is lonely. We can’t very well take him through the font door of her place, he’d go wild.”
“A troll!” said Vera much louder than she intended. The shock clearly showed on her face.
Harbeard reached into the bag and took out five gold coins. “Just tell her. And bring him some more food.”
“Will there be anything else?” asked Vera. Maritz choked down her laughter. Turogg tossed another bone into the fireplace. The gentleman in the corner left his dice game. Harbeard thought he saw the man look his way as he stepped out the front door.
“I’m sorry to upset you,” he said, bringing his focus back to the table. “He’s been pining lately. Practically no use to us at all.”
“I’m not as shocked as Tilly will be. No girl in her right mind would. I can’t even think about it,” said Vera.
“I wouldn’t try,” said Maritz.
Vera slipped quietly away from the table. Maritz used Vera’s towel to push some of Turogg’s ribs away from her portion of the table. She noted that his arm had healed nicely.
“I think your friend at the dice game recognized you,” said Maritz.
“I didn’t know you were watching,” replied Harbeard.
“You hoped I wasn’t. You know better. Do you think she will cause trouble?”
“You’re assuming he went to tell her about me,” said Harbeard.
“Isn’t he?”
“Probably.”
“It’s my fault for talking you into this,” said Maritz. “We shouldn’t have brought him into a town, he’s not ready yet.”
“He’s doing fine,” said Harbeard. “My troubles have nothing to do with him. And yes, I think there will be trouble. The question is whether she will wait until morning to start it.”
“She must really hate you.” Maritz laughed. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing,” said Harbeard. He could tell by her look that she did not believe him. “Honestly, I haven’t done anything to her. I just haven’t married her.”
Maritz nearly choked on her wine with laughter. A few faces looked up at them from the next room. “You skipped your wedding? If you tried that with a troll she’d hunt you down and eat you alive. If you tried that with a troll she’d hunt you down and eat you alive.”
“I’m afraid it’s not much better with our women,” said Harbeard. A frown spread across his face. “I didn’t actually miss the wedding. I left right after it was arranged, long before we were to be married.”
“Of course that makes it all better,” said Maritz as she rolled her eyes again. In spite of himself Harbeard found her teasing attractive.
“She doesn’t want to marry me any more than I want to marry her. Our parents arranged it,” said Harbeard
“Then why not just break the arrangement?” asked Maritz.
“Because she can’t legally inherit my property unless we’re married or I’m dead,” said Harbeard. “From what I’ve heard, she moved into my estate as soon as I left town.”
“Strange customs you humans have,” said Maritz.
“I’m not entirely human, thank you,” said Harbeard. “I doubt anyone would notice. I’ve even managed to fool you, and you’re quite the expert on the mixed races.”
“Being half troll doesn’t make me an expert,” said Maritz.
“But being half elf should,” replied Harbeard. The wine tasted good, and he felt lighter in spite of the situation.
Vera returned followed by a plump dark haired woman with a motherly face. “Tilly sends her regards, Harbeard,” said the woman.
“I had no idea you were still in the business, Ann,” replied Harbeard with a smile.
“I help manage affairs now. I finally scraped enough together and bought a share of the place.” She smiled pleasantly. “You’ve not introduced me to your girl.”
“This is Maritz,” said Harbeard.
“And a handsome lass at that,” said Ann. She bent down and kissed Maritz on the cheek. “Keep your eye on that one, miss, or you’ll lose him. More than one girl has tried to tie him down.”
“I hope you aren’t being literal,” said Maritz. The women laughed while Harbeard fumed and turned red.
“Can you help my friend?” asked Harbeard, trying to steer the conversation.
“He’s a regular beast, isn’t he,” observed Ann. “Won’t be cheap. Ten gold will buy you an hour, if he’s civil.”
Harbeard drew the sack from the table and counted ten gold coins. Then he stacked ten more next to them. “He’ll finish when he finishes,” he said. Harbeard counted out ten more coins. “He knows eat, drink, and goura, which is troll for woman.” He counted out ten more coins. “Keep him fed, drunk, and away from any fires. When you think he’s done, you’ll be able to find me. Charge what he eats to my bill here.” He scooped the coins into Ann’s pouch and then added a few more.
“I see you’ve done well for yourself,” said Ann. “To bad you didn’t hit it off with Darla. I hear she’s been looking for you everywhere.”
“You’re too late to try and sell your silence,” said Maritz with a laugh. “But if you stay around you might be able to watch the fun.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Ann. She smiled and laughed a little. “It’s been good to see you again, Harbeard. I’ll keep an eye out for Darla just in case.”
“Tomlin won’t like it if you start trouble in his place,” said Vera.
“I won’t start anything,” replied Harbeard. Ann led Turogg through a side door. Vera knelt at the fireplace and replaced the tinder and kindling.
“You’ll want a fire,” she said. “Night is setting in to be cold.” She lit the fire with a candle. “Your dinner should be just about ready.”
Vera left them alone. The dwarf with the blonde beard approached with his empty mug. “Mind if I have a dip,” he asked, gesturing to the half-empty barrel.
“Help yourself,” said Maritz. “Take it all if you like.”
“Hey lads, give me a hand,” called the dwarf. A half doze of his companions jumped up and together they carted the barrel into the next room, sloshing ale into their beards. The dwarves broke into song as soon as they set the barrel down.
“What did you have to do that for?” asked Vera as she set down their meals. “All I need is a pile of drunken dwarves.”
“They’re helping celebrate Rogg’s birthday,” said Maritz. “It’s not often a troll remembers he has a birthday. He needs all the help he can get.”
They ate quietly, savoring the simple taste of good food they had not enjoyed for many months. Vera scooped the remaining ribs into the fire. The comforts of civilization did not dull Harbeard’s senses so much that he did not notice Vera lingering at the fire longer than expected. He caught Maritz’s eye but she had already noticed.
“Perhaps we should join the party,” suggested Maritz. Someone began piping a lively tune, and the free ale had spread beyond the dwarves’ table. Harbeard hesitated only a moment before catching Maritz’s hand and pulling her into an energetic dance. Though she did not know the steps, and had never heard the song before, loud cheers greeted their performance for the locals loved all things exotic and exuberant. Harbeard found himself carried into happier times when dancing and music marked the end of a hard week’s labor, and he fought only for recreation with the other wild youth in town.
“I never knew you could dance,” said Maritz when they caught their breath.
“Once my dancing was the talk of the town,” replied Harbeard. “You caught the tune quickly yourself. I had no idea the trolls had such entertainments.”
“They do not, as you well know,” said Maritz. She frowned at the thought of Turogg dancing. Then she winked. “Among the elves we have many dances for many occasions.”
“I had no idea you were with them for so long. When I found you I would hardly have guessed you could be so refined,” said Harbeard.
“I was born among the people of the moon, and I lived a gentle life until my cousins, the descendants of my father, raided the village.” Maritz spoke as one who had seen and done enough in life to accept its tragedies.
“And then I destroyed your cousins.” Harbeard did not know whether to be proud or sad. “All but Turogg of course.”
Maritz laughed out loud. “That lout better be having the time of his life, or we’ve wasted a lot of hard earned money.”
“If I know Tilly, he’s in good hands.” Harbeard winked. “Besides it’s all coming out of his share. Another round! We’re celebrating my good friend’s birthday!”
Nobody cared whose birthday they celebrated, only that someone else bought the drinks and that the music hadn’t stopped. The local music gave way to a resonating dwarfish melody when a pair of bearded merchants began playing long stringed instruments that neither Harbeard nor Maritz had seen before. They stopped to listen only long enough to catch the rhythm before joining the dwarves in their own strange dance. Local musicians competed with foreign singers and dwarfish players until Harbeard and Maritz found themselves sitting back at their table with Vera. One remaining dwarf attempted to out-drink Maritz. The other patrons had either left or fallen asleep on the floors.
“Tomlin will charge them a copper for staying the night,” laughed Vera. “Less expensive than going across the street to a real inn, but certainly not as comfortable.”
“Liquor doesn’t affect her the way it does you and me, my friend,” warned Harbeard uselessly.
The dwarf attempted a reply, but collapsed after managing to say, “Nobody drinksh.”
“What about you two?” asked Vera. “Shall I add a copper each to your bill, or will you cross the street?”
“Join us for some wine and conversation,” said Maritz. “Surely you aren’t in a hurry to find the straw pallet Tomlin lends you.”
Vera looked at her, but didn’t ask how she guessed. However Maritz found out her situation could not be changed. Instead she opened a bottle of the less expensive vintage and poured a glass for each of them.
“What happened to your husband?” asked Maritz. Though he generally preferred to avoid personal entanglements, Harbeard listened with interest.
“He died in a duel,” said Vera. “It seems so foolish. My old friends have returned to the adventuring life, but I can’t, not with my child.”
Harbeard noticed a strange shape, like a bony pig’s head, steadily forming inside the fire. Several of the discarded bones appeared to be slowly stretching and bending to create other sinister forms. A low growl erupted from the flaming pig’s head.
“Somehow I don’t think this is entirely healthy,” he said, pointing at the fire. Vera choked back a gasp.
“I had no idea this would happen,” said Vera.
“So this is what you were doing with the fire,” laughed Harbeard.
“I was just trying to get rid of the stuff. Brolas gave me a coin to put it in your wine,” replied Vera.
“Any idea what it was?” Harbeard directed the question as much to Maritz as to Vera.
“You’re the local,” said Maritz with a smirk. “None of the poisons I use would do that.”
A tiny skeletal pig with an oversize head jumped out of the fire and snapped its fangs at Harbeard. He pulled his sword and swatted the creature back into the fire. The bones shattered against the stones at the back of the fireplace, but immediately began to grow together again.
“Inconvenient,” said Maritz when she saw the bones reforming.
“I’ll say,” agreed Harbeard. “If I ever get my hands on Brolas I’ll …” Harbeard trailed off, unable to find a suitable solution.
“Hit him with a thick cheese?” suggested Maritz.
“Funny.” Harbeard scowled at her as he swatted another skeleton back into the fire.
“Why would Brolas want to hurt you?” asked Vera, lifting an axe from the sleeping dwarf so she could help bash skeletons.
“I’m engaged to his girlfriend,” answered Harbeard. He kicked one of the animated bones back into the fireplace.
“I thought he was just trying to get me into trouble,” said Vera. “He’s been harassing me since my husband challenged him.”
“He’s the one that killed your man?” asked Maritz.
“No, he isn’t man enough for that. He is good friends with Darvuth, the swordsman,” said Vera.
“Perhaps we should visit Brolas,” said Maritz. She smashed the last of the pig bones with a chair. “That was a very annoying trick.”
“I would like to get some of my own back,” agreed Vera.
“We shall need your largest sausages,” said Harbeard with a wink. “As I recall Tomlin cures his own hard summer blend.”
Vera gave Maritz a questioning glance, but the taller woman just shook her head in confusion.
“I’ll be sure to add it to your bill,” said Vera as she went to the kitchen.
Harbeard handed Maritz her pack and then shouldered his own. They waited for Vera in the common room. Before heading into the cool autumn night, Vera handed each of them a pair of enormous hard-cured sausages. Harbeard led them quietly through the dark streets. The occasional dog barked at them or the other passing scoundrels. Nobody gave them a second glance; the town seemed busy for such a late hour.
“Unless I am mistaken, Brolas will have joined my fiancé for the evening. I know a hidden way in the back,” said Harbeard.
“You seem to know a lot about the estate,” said Vera.
“I should, I grew up here, and unless the laws have changed I still own it,” replied Harbeard.
He led them through a hole in the hedge and down a hidden path behind the stables. Though the horses caught their scent, either the stable master did not notice, or more probably did not care about the noise the horses made. The door to the cellars creaked loudly when they forced it open, but nobody from the house came to investigate. Harbeard lit a candle, and Maritz and Vera followed him through the cobwebs and shadows to an old wooden staircase.
“Now for the tricky part,” he whispered. “Step where I step. These stairs can make a noise like a banshee.”
Carefully he placed one foot on the first stair. It made no sound, so he tried the next. Slowly they climbed to the top.
“I see you’ve done this before,” whispered Maritz to Vera.
“I haven’t always worked for Tomlin,” she replied softly.
The bolt on the door at the top of the stairs had rusted through and Harbeard opened it easily. Harbeard poked his head out and checked that none of the servants had heard anything. He waved them forward, and they quietly crept down the hall to the master bedroom. He signaled to Maritz to listen at the door. After a few seconds she placed her hands next to her head to indicate that the occupants were sleeping.
“Now to give them the drubbing of a lifetime,” said Harbeard as he raised his sausage.
Harbeard tore back the covers, and the women commenced hammering with their improvised weapons. They managed a few solid blows before Brolas disarmed Vera. He attempted to strike back, but Harbeard’s sausage caught him directly in the temple and he staggered to his knees. After a brief flurry the fight ended, saturating the room with the smell of cured meat.
“I believe you will find that infidelity breaks the contract,” said Harbeard to Darla, who was nursing a welt on her cheek where Maritz had connected. “This is my house, and you are unwelcome guests.” He menaced his sausage once before Brolas and Darla scrambled to the front door. Maritz and Vera broke into wild laughter as they watched.
“Now what?” asked Vera.
“Now I am going to bed,” said Harbeard. “Ah, look here, a nice feather bed conveniently empty.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Maritz gave Vera a wink.
THE END
Posted by admin on June 15, 2009
The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.
My first impression of Darnuth Keep remains forever implanted into my memory. The great towers, like icicles rise triumphant from the mountainside. True to the name, the towers are constructed of ancient clear-white crystal that shoots into the sky like diamond. A winding, narrow road that has remained undamaged cuts a path up the edge of Mount Hansfor. After hours of labor in thinning air we turned a final sharp corner and saw it rising both ominous and beautiful over the valley and pass bellow. The Hansfor River begins atop the mountain and runs swiftly down, cascading over steep falls before it fills the lake in the valley and races south and west towards the empire and the sea.
“Our destination,” said Pascalli thoughtfully as he scratched his beard. “Perhaps not a destination,” he contradicted almost immediately. “Perhaps a starting point.” He seemed to be lost in his own world for a long moment, until Dina began moving her horse forward. “You’re right, there’s no point standing outside. After all I’m sure we’re expected.” He winked and grinned viciously.
As though time did not exist in the valley or on that mountain, the gates stood tall and clean against the autumn sun. At least three times the height of a man, the polished white crystal of the main gate seemed impregnable at first.
“How do we get in,” asked Dina. I was glad she had asked the question, though it echoed my thought.
“By walking, child, of course,” replied the wizard. “Unless you have learned to fly, which I doubt.”
I managed to fake a cough in order to stifle my laugh, but Dina gave me an angry glare anyway. Pascalli lead us very close to the wall and over to a path, just wide enough for one horse to go at a time. The path ran directly beneath the battlements with the sheer face of the wall on one side and a steep slope up the mountain on the other. I observed that although an army might attempt to approach the fortress from behind, the steep edges sloped just enough that the best they could hope for would be to slide down to the path we now walked where they would be crushed by boulders or burned with oil from the parapets.
At the very back of the keep waits a door just large enough to admit a horse, if it is not a large horse and it is not carrying a great deal of bulk. Pascalli produced a key and opened the door and we began the time consuming task of unloading our horses to get them through the door. The door leads through a dark tunnel to another door, which opens into Darnuth Keep.
Many dozens of buildings without roofs lined the barren streets of the lowest level, bearing silent testament to the greatness of the city’s past. Small doors opened directly into small rooms within the outer city wall. I estimated that the wall spanned some thirty meters across at the top. The ancient city guard must have had their barracks either in the low buildings near the wall or in the small rooms inside. Not a single stair or ladder of any kind graced the sheer surface outside of the wall, the only way up or down came from the inside. Many pools and fountains still danced in the setting sun as we entered, and I felt as if the ghosts of an age long past laughed at us through the water.
“At last, a bath,” said Dina.
“Yes,” agreed Pascalli. “Though the water will likely be icy cold.”
“No fires then,” I suggested.
“Here in the lower city we probably haven’t been spotted yet, although to be perfectly honest I’m not sure what or who watches the surface these days.” Pascalli once again seemed distracted, as if calculating a difficult sum in his head.
“I would very much like a warm meal and a warm bath,” said Dina.
“At what cost,” I said sharply, though she had not been speaking to me.
She turned abruptly to face me. “I am not your charge,” she said. Needles seemed to pierce me as she spoke. “I do not need your counsel.”
“It seems, my dear boy, that the lady will not be denied her pleasantry,” said Pascalli. His tone neither mocked nor condoned, but simply stated a fact. “Go and fetch some water, Scratch, and dig up a pot for heating it. I should like some proper dinner as well, see what you can do about that, lad, if you don’t mind.”
I opened my mouth to disagree when I saw Dina’s look of triumph, but shut it again quickly. “Will you at least help with the fire,” I asked.
“Sorry Scratch,” he said. His voice was suddenly quite serious. “I’m off scouting for a bit. There are plenty of dry timbers around that should burn well enough. Seasoned wood burns the best.” I grabbed my spear and started towards the nearest building. “Find a place with half a roof if you can,” called Pascalli behind me. “Don’t get into trouble.”
By then I absolutely fumed inside. Dina proved to be a hindrance in every possible way. She outright demanded I build a separate fire for her in a separate building where she could heat water and bath herself properly. She did not move a single finger to help. I realize now that once again Pascalli was giving me a simple test of self-control. The danger of our situation was no less now than before, but I guarded the camp alone.
Rather than use two buildings, I waited until Dina seemed content and then built our cooking fire just in front of the abandoned house she had chosen. I stacked our gear just outside the door and began preparing a stew of dried meat and herbs. Dusk already began to drift over us as I began to light the fire, and the shadows seemed to bring with them a quiet that even stilled the tinkle of running water. Dina hummed an unfamiliar but content tune from within the house. My stew simmered very quietly. I heard the soft scrap of something on a stone.
I crept as quickly as I dared, making no noise and grabbed my bow. Finally, after what had seemed like ages of practice I could move almost silently when the need arose. I peered through the depths of darkness for the enemy that surely stalked either my fire or Dina. Dina would have no weapons, and even an unintelligent attacker would deem her the easier target. I went inside the house.
I heard Dina finish her humming and fumbling around for a buffalo hide. She saw me against the light of the fire and shouted. “Scratch, get out of here! I’m bathing.” When I didn’t move she became really angry, and I think she reached to find something to throw at me. Truthfully I couldn’t say what she did because at that moment I caught the movement in the shadows along the roof that I had been looking for. I loosed an arrow, and a piercing shriek, very similar to Dina’s, tore into the night. Something large and black fell into the building and growled in pain. I sent a second arrow past Dina and into the enormous black cat.
“Supper is ready,” I said, and turned and walked out.
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Thirty Nine
Back to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Thirty Seven
Posted by admin on June 8, 2009
The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep is a fantasy novel describing the adventures of Colter Halfspear as he becomes a man and an initiate of magical powers.
We lit no fires. Dina complained about this the first night, until I warned her that we were being watched. At first I think she wanted to argue the point until Pascalli nodded his agreement with my assessment. “Don’t be foolish,” he whispered. “He may be a farmer, lass, but he knows the wild.”
After we abandoned the wagon I did not see any signs for two more days. I thought that whatever was following us had lost interest.
We huddled together for warmth, our backs to each other taking turns nodding off in the night. I saw a flicker of luminous green in the dark. Then it disappeared. An eye most likely, reflecting the dim moonlight. I gently prodded Pascalli and Dina. Pascalli prodded back. He also had noticed something, a shadow perhaps. Dina breathed in sharply and jerked her bow up off her knees. It must have been her sudden move that drew the attention of our attackers because they concentrated on her.
The attack came sudden and precise with all the cunning of a master bandit. Four shapes blacker than the darkness came at us, their pale green eyes the only warning a split second before fangs and claws tore into us. Dina’s arrow caught one in the chest, while mine found a mark in the throat. Behind me I heard Pascalli crack his staff hard into a third. The fourth had caught Dina across the chest with a claw and she fell hard onto the stony earth.
I knocked and loosed a second arrow without hesitation, before it could either flee or attack someone else. The creatures were similar in body to the tigers of the east, with cat-like claws and long tails, but I did not understand the elongated bear-like faces and fangs. Neither bears nor cats hunted in packs, and certainly they would not take unknown prey like this.
“They are not entirely animal,” said Pascalli. “Look.”
Before my eyes the dead began to shed portions of their furry skin. The faces melted into something almost human, black like the monkeys of the south, but still with the pale green eyes.
“What evil is this?” asked Dina between painful breaths.
“A remnant from the breaking,” I answered. “This is why we have come, to make things right.”
Fortunately, Dina’s wound was not as serious as it could have been. The claws had cut cleanly enough, but I knew that I would not be able to see the source of infection and sickness until after it started. I found my bag of herbs and began cutting bandages.
She still did not trust me, and when I moved to help her she shied away. “I will be fine,” she said. “I am not hurt badly.”
“That is something for the healer to judge,” I said. The teeth or claws had rent her leathers and I could clearly see the wounded flesh beneath. “We do not know these creatures. There may be poison in the wound. It needs to be properly cleaned anyway to prevent sickness.”
“I wish we had a proper surgeon,” she said.
“Scratch has experience enough with mercenaries and outlaws,” said Pascalli. “I’m sure he can manage to stitch together a lady.”
I had never before laid eyes upon a woman’s breast, and I daresay that I was very glad for the dim, shadowy light of the one candle Pascalli allowed me to work by. I discovered that she was very beautiful, although I had never really thought about it much. I treated the wound with much more care and tenderness than I believe I had planned, and I am sure she was grateful for that care in the end. I had a bit of tyrnwood that I used to make a poultice to deaden the pain and soak any poison. I am sure that in the cold night air my indelicate fingers did not feel pleasant, and I regretted not having something better for the pain. Three cuts ran around the edge of her left breast, claw marks, and all three required stitches. Afterwards we bundled her in several blankets and sat back to back watching over her the rest of the night.
Once again the wonders of tyrnwood proved useful. By morning Dina practically bounced out of the blankets. Though her arm was still too weak from the torn chest muscles to properly manage a bow, she willingly helped with chores she had complained about only the day before.
After that incident Pascalli pushed us harder to reach Darnuth Keep. All thought of practice or training of any kind vanished. For the first time in what seemed forever I did not rise each day to be soundly beaten by a solid oak staff. Pascalli knew that we would need the protection of the battlements as well as a base from which to hunt and gather supplies for the coming winter. Dina had often hunted for sport with her father and brothers but was unused to surviving in the wilderness without the comforts of her station. She did not know how to cook, though most of our food at the time was cold. She did not find sleeping under the stars comfortable and did not understand that we would be easy prey inside of tents.
“I don’t think Dina is made for the wild,” I observed to Pascalli on evening. “I don’t know if she is strong enough to make it out here.”
“Don’t judge her too swiftly Scratch. There’s a strength there that you don’t see yet. Remember all that you’ve done and seen since leaving home. There were times I wondered about you,” he said.
“I’ll do my best,” I murmured.
Pascalli smiled at me. “A friend is a friend and a good friend even better. She’s a part to play yet. Give her time. Someday you may come to understand the sacrifice she has given to join us. She has freely left behind much that others would struggle their whole lives to gain. We’ll reach the keep in another day. I’ll be relying on your help when we get there. Make sure your head is clear.”
Copyright 2008 Kelly David Tolman
On to The Cleansing of Darnuth Keep Fantasy Novel Chapter Thirty Eight
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