A shelter from the storm

Previously: Down to her last few coins and running out of options, Esmiralda reluctantly joins a group of men on a vague mission near the City of Alt. Following a suspicious man (along with a colleague of Mira's) into the forest, they discovered an evil plot to sell humans to giants for some grim purpose. After a brief, brutal battle, Mira and her companions flee the site of the violence as a growing storm bears down on them...

The wind shrieked around us and the forest offered scant shelter from the rain that drove into our flesh with stinging force. The trees bent and pitched wildly, shaken by winds that pushed them down like blades of grass. I was nearly blind, with my elbow cocked in front of my eyes squinting to see through the gloom. I barely heard Merrick shouting behind me, although his hand on my shoulder was strong as he guided me along. He pointed, and I saw the slight figure of Broo-Fang Tane darting through the churning forest. I lowered my head and ran that way, hoping he would keep his path relatively straight.

I don't know how long we ran or in which direction, I only knew that my breath burned in my lungs and my head swam with fatigue. Finally, I had to slow and halted, bent over and wheezing with my palms on my knees. Merrick was right along side me, his face flushed with effort. He could not speak, either, but pointed a quivering finger ahead and to our left. I squinted again into the night. The rain had settled into a straight, driving downpour that felt like a river flowing down my back. The wind had eased and the forest was silent save for the patter of fat raindrops. Through the dim, waterlogged night I saw the remnants of a forgotten dwelling of some kind. It was merely a vague shape split open by the trees around it, but it looked like it would offer some form of shelter from the elements. Tane was already inside, peering out with a hand cupped over his eyes. I heard Seymuhr lumbering up behind us--it was either that or a drunken bear, from the sound of it.

I willed myself to move toward the decaying structure. Tane bowed as I ducked my head and entered. I sprawled out on my back, panting, and trying to recover my breath. I was drenched, as wet as a fish, and chilly. I pulled my hair away from my face and squeezed enough water from it to fill a small pond. No one spoke. Rain trickled inside somewhere, but the floor beneath me was relatively dry. After a moment I checked myself to see if my belongings were still intact. I felt my pouch with its few coins inside still attached to my belt. My knife was still in its sheath and, more importantly, my Traveling Stone still secured around my neck. Of all, that was my most prized possession, the one thing that could not be replaced. Relief flooded through me and I marveled at all I had been through that night.

Had it really only been a few hours since I had turned in my last assignment—a more accurate depiction of the geography surrounding the Village of Alt? And how accurate had that map been, if we had since blundered into a pair of giants? A pair of giants hinted at the presence of more because it didn't look like they were a couple out on a camping trip. I wondered, not for the first time, if there was such a thing as truth in the world.

Merrick settled beside me, his chest still heaving from our flight through the night. Broo-Fang Tane sat quietly nearby, his ankles tucked up onto their opposing knee. Eyes closed, he leaned against the back of the wooden structure and if his position caused him as much discomfort as looking at it caused me, he didn't show it. I heard steady footfalls outside and saw Seymuhr's squat shape pacing there, a mace in one hand. Still, the wind howled and the rain pelted the side of our makeshift shelter, sounding like stones being thrown against a barn. Reluctantly, I pushed myself off the damp ground and moved toward the opening. I couldn't forgive the way he had tossed me over his shoulder and carried me away from the only scrap of civilization I had seen in the past fortnight, but he had saved us after all, and there was no reason for him to stand out in the driving rain.

"Are you injured?"

He seemed startled by the question. After a quick check of his body, he shook his head. "They barely touched me."

"Maybe so. But they are fearsome creatures that can hurt or maim with little effort."

He smiled then, a mischievous, lop-sided grin that showed gaps in his teeth. "As am I."

"I know now that you are not referring to your poetry." I backed away from the rain, which showed a nearly hound-like ability to track and follow me. "Why don't you come inside? There's room enough for all under this leaky old place."

He looked out into the forest for a moment and then, apparently satisfied by what he did—or did not—see there, followed me through the hole in the wall and settled down on the far side of the structure. He leaned back and his chin drooped toward his chest.

Two words formed at the tip of my mouth, alien things considering that he had stolen me away and put my life in this danger. Still, I felt a bizarre connection to Merrick and his troupe and, for now anyway, I was safe. I said the words anyway:

"Thank you."

If he heard, he didn't reply. Then I realized he was already asleep.

 

The battle, joined

Previously: Following a band of odd adventurers into the wilderness, Esmiralda, a freelance historian down to her last few coins, stumbles upon a gut-churning discovery: humans are being sold to a pair of giants and sent to a horrible fate. Just as shocking, Mira discovers that an acquaintance—fellow Falcuhn Connell Malak—has knowledge of this evil and has willingly led her and her companions into the trap...

Thunder rumbled overhead and lightning split the sky. Above the cacophony of the coming storm, I heard Seymuhr's voice raised in his bizarre battle song. A mace in each hand, he approached the laughing giants.

The wounded man was already dead, his skull crushed by a gigantic hand. Gray slime leaked between the giant’s fingers from which his torso twitched like a dangling puppet. The monster tossed the ruined body aside and swiped a bloody fist at Seymuhr, who stopped short, dodged, then lunged at the towering form. Voice raised in song, he brought the two maces together on either side of the Hustyn's knee. I saw flesh rupture and heard a sickening crunch followed by an inhuman howl of pain. Wild eyed and enraged, the giant toppled as Seymurh leapt aside. The thing struggled momentarily, clutching at its ruined leg, before Seymuhr knocked it completely flat with two more terrible blows. He lifted his head and roared at the heavens, which began to spit rain. His maces dripped with gore.

The other giant swung wildly at the ground and growled with frustration. It took me a moment to realize Broo-Fang Tane had engaged it and had worked it into a state of frenzied fury. Where Seymuhr had been all brute strength and thunder, Tane was as lithe and graceful as a feather on the wind. He slipped out of the giant's grasp and dodged blows that would have knocked him senseless. Like a cat, he stayed beyond the Hustyn's reach—but only just beyond it.

The thing screeched again in rage and slammed its knotted club into the soft earth hard enough to lodge it there. Tane had leapt back in a somersault and landed deftly on his feet. The wind was churning the trees around us and throwing rain that smacked my skin like little stones. Seymuhr lowered his shoulder and jumped at the back of the giant's legs, buckling his knees and sending him tottering backward. It struggled to rise but he was on it in a heartbeat. He swung both maces as one and I heard the sound of bones shattering above the furious wind and rumbling sky.

"Go!" Merrick had appeared and with a wary glance over his shoulder, pointed in my direction. "Our work is done here! We must flee!"

Behind him I saw a mass of clouds darker even than the night around us. It flickered with energy and crashed with violence—some kind of freakish storm that had formed and shook the trees as if they were blades of grass. He ran toward me, and past. Seymurh was right behind him, jogging and breathing heavily. I saw Tane's sleek form ahead of us. Of Malak there was no sign.

I turned away from the dead giants and fled from the coming storm.

Whine, villains and song

Previously: Esmiralda and her companions have followed The Wounded Man--with help from Mira's nemesis, a fellow Falcuhn named Connell Malak--into the forest surrounding the village of Alt to get to the roots of a mystery involving missing farmers and villagers. Aghast at the size of the legendary giants known as Hustyn, Mira sees something even more grim and disturbing: a rolling, man-sized cage...
 

My gaze lingered on the prison cart and my stomach churned like a trampled snake. The warped poles were stained nearly black and scraps of cloth and other material were stuck to them, grisly flags torn free from their long-forgotten owners. I shuddered as I imagined the people thrashing against those poles until they broke their own bodies open, desperate to free themselves of the grim fate that awaited them. I no longer wanted to bring the lost majesty of the legendary Hustyn to life; I wanted to warn everyone that vast evil existed and walked the land, and to be careful where they tread--and who they followed into the forest.

For the wounded man knew these brutes. He had a purpose here, a purpose yet to be fulfilled.

Malak had gone silent, his body rigid next to mine. I would have inched away, crept back into the forest like a fox slinking away from a guard hound, if I had been capable of movement—or if he had fled the clearing, as well. Instead I watched in growing horror as the first giant scratched its filthy head, glanced around the clearing, bent toward the man in front of him and spoke.

"You Are AloNge," it said, clearly struggling with human speech. Each word started with a harsh bark. Its voice was thick with mucus and rumbled like thunder.

"For the moment, oh Great One," the man said. "They are close."

The giant leaned in, its face inches away from the wounded man's. I could see the effort it took for him not to recoil from its fetid breath. I looked again at the rolling cage. Is that what this was, then? Was that horrible thing meant to whisk its prisoners off to some horrendous kitchen or human-stained pot? Were these things...shopping? A new wave of sickness washed over me and I nearly gagged aloud.

"Not Closh EnouGH," it rumbled. "WhaTT Trickery is thiSH?"

The man raised his trembling hands. "No trickery, your greatness, I assure you." His voice wavered with fear. "Only. These are special ones, oh strong one. They will  more than suit your needs—for now and henceforth. But the danger to me has increased and my costs have gone up. I grant you this latest group, if you have sufficient additional gold, and wash my hands of it. You'll have no need of me or..."

The words came out in a rush and then were cut short as the giant covered the man's head with a single gnarled hand. Its lip curled upward in rage and the wounded man squealed, the horrified sound muffled by the fingers digging into his flesh. Then Malak stood and stepped into the clearing.

"Stop!" He yelled. "Here! They are here! I have them!"

For a moment, the giant relaxed its grip and the wounded man slouched, limp but breathing heavily. He might have been sobbing. Then the full impact of Malak's words hit me and I was filled with fresh terror and disgust.

"Here? You..." I could not complete the sentence. Malak had a hand in this villainy? And we had followed him willingly...! He turned from my shocked expression and took a few steps forward, pulling off his hat and holding it in front of him. I didn't know what to do. My legs were frozen, my heart beating hard and fast, like a horse at full gallop.

Then another shape broke free of the trees. Short and squat, moving quickly, head lowered and a mace in either hand: Seymuhr, rushing headlong toward the giant. A strange, off-key noise split the night as well and after a bemused instant, I realized what it was.

He was singing.

 

The Rolling Cage

Previously: Mira and her new companions follow The Wounded Man into the night to discover his secret. Hunched hidden in the darkness, they watch as the forest near them shakes as something vast and powerful approaches...

I stared, transfixed at the scene developing in the clearing. The ground shook and rumbled beneath us like an unsettled stomach and the trees groaned and cracked as they swayed beyond their natural bounds. The air had gone silent, still with the oppressive weight of doom, and filled with the earthy stench of grimy bodies--a smell so pervasive I was relatively sure that Seymuhr could not be the sole source of it.

Then came the sound of hoarse breathing, like a wounded bear winded at the end of a long hunt ready to circle round and make a final stand against the hounds that pursued it. Wet with determined menace, it grew louder and louder as the trees across the clearing snapped and wiggled like wheat torn free from a field.

I bit down on Malak's hand, which was still over my mouth. "Did you just call me stupid?" I hissed. "At least I take the time to get all of my facts straight--no matter how little their apparent worth." He and I were Falcuhn, storytellers and historians dispatched by order of Queen Phedera to record the ways of the land and its people in order to preserve them in advance of the growing darkness in the world. We were both Falcuhn--named for the majestic birds that soared high over the land and, swift of wing and sharp of mind, were sometimes used as messengers among the kingdoms--but of varying skill. I took the charge seriously. Malak used the quill mainly to score coins, gain free meals and warm the sheets of easily impressed tavern wenches.

"Not a word, now," he whispered into my ear. Somehow, his breath smelled of mint. Mine tasted like a rusted sword. I trembled with fear and indignation at his rebuke, while he was as steady as a Samorgian fishing board on a glassy sea. "Be still, or we will all perish before the sun rises."

I wrenched free of his grasp and crept closer to the tree line. The wounded man fidgeted, his fingers tickling the hilt of his sword. His gaze was leveled not at the place where the approaching behemoths were likely to appear, but all around him--as if he expected danger from any and all direction. I could see nothing of my other companions, although a short wide shape about 30 yards to my right could have been Seymuhr. Or a rock.

Then the trees on the other side of the clearing bent away from each other, levered by fingers as wide as branches and the first of the Hustyn stepped forth. I inhaled sharply, at once fascinated and repelled by the sight of the thing, and pushed aside my shock and fear and forced myself to focus on it, to memorize every detail so that my depiction of it would be accurate. I could not trust my fingers to even hold a quill right then, let alone write anything that could be read afterward.

Unless it was a small specimen, their size had been greatly exaggerated. In some tales, Hustyn were as tall as mountains, wading through old growth forests and trampling trees under their heels like grass on a prairie. Others had them taller than trees. This one was might have been twice the size of a man, but only just. Leather sandals wrapped its feet and climbed up its shaggy calves, but left its taloned toes open to the air. A garment woven from stinking pelts hung from its shoulder, cinched by a wide strip of some kind of black material that strained against its round belly. Patches of hair stood out in random spots on its bare arms and shoulders. Its face, pinched and squinting in the gloom, was nearly concealed in bristling hair the color of mud. What looked like a twisted, knotted branch hung from its belt.

There was more movement behind it. Another appeared, about the same size as the first, with darker hair and a porcine nose and a flat, yellow tooth jutting up from a lip that was cracked with oozing sores. It pulled some form of wagon behind it, a plain cart that limped along on wobbling wheels, topped with thin wooden spires bound together and capped with a flat roof.

A rolling cage.

Something stirs

Previously: Mira, her concerns and distrust of their 'guide' voiced, reluctantly follows her companions into what she believes will be certain danger...

My legs, watery as they were, propelled me forward. Hustyn. Great, shaggy, man-beasts as ill-tempered as a wounded bear--and about as intelligent. Their reeking kind were not as common as they once were (probably because male and female Hustyn had no stomach for each other) and rarely seen in most civilized lands. In some, they were thought to be mere myths or villains in stories meant to scare children into doing their chores. I knew they yet lived, for I had encountered plenty of strange, dangerous creatures in the course of my travels, but I was be surprised to learn of a settlement so close to an established human town. Surprised and frightened: I had no qualms with admitting that. Hustyn were fearsome creatures, prodigious in strength and driven to acts of unprovoked, unspeakable violence.

And, from the looks of Seymuhr's posture—he moved stealthily, with a mace in each hand—we meant to provoke them.

I had time to think of an escape. We were still among the trees that bordered the town of Alt. Tall and straight with thick branches beyond the reach of any but the tallest man, the trees provided few obstacles but plenty of cover, should we have need of it. We moved with relative ease, although the occasional low-lying twig slapped painfully against my skin. A blanket of last year's leaves softened our footfalls. Soon the trees would grow wider apart and the land would slope up, giving way to the grassy hills where, apparently, our quarry...nested? Lived? What did a Hustyn settlement look like, anyway? Well, now, that would certainly provide for an interesting detail. Perhaps if I survived this mad quest, I could gather enough information to earn a few coins for my trouble. If I made it out alive.

The easiest way to make a hasty retreat was to use my Traveling Stone, a magickal trinket given to me long ago by the priests of Tooman, but I was loathe to use that device for I knew not how long it would last. Surely, the energies infused into it would run out at some point. Besides, it was a better idea to rely on one's own abilities rather than some supernatural artifact. It kept you from getting careless.

Should I abandon my new companions, then? I owed them nothing—less than that, even, for I was brought to them unwillingly. Still, the idea of leaving a man (however repugnant) to face such a horrid fate merely to save my own hide didn't sit well with me. Some type of diversion, then, would be in order. Hustyn weren't known for their intelligence—there was a reason that the phrase 'as gullible as a giant' was heard in so many marketplaces. I would have to take careful note of our surroundings when we arrived to develop an appropriate plan. Still, I felt the familiar, smooth shape that hung from a plain strand of leather looped around my neck. It was good to know that my Traveling Stone was still an option.

We moved silently through the forest for what seemed like hours. It could not have been so long, for the night was still unblemished by any gray trace of dawn and the trees above us were still live with the sounds of night creatures stirring or hissing at our sudden passage. This wounded man must have been deaf as a turtle not to hear the commotion our presence caused—that or he knew that he was not alone in the forest and didn't care. That was a chilling thought, because that meant...

I swore silently and looked around for Merrick, Broo-Fang—even Seymuhr—but didn't see any of them. Then I noticed that the forest had gone silent, at last, and I was the only person moving in the twilight. I paused, holding my breath as my heart pounded in my ears like a drummer on a marching line. Had I somehow veered from our course? Fallen behind? Or had they stopped and allowed me to stumble on into certain danger?

I knew better than to call out and my throat was too tight to try, anyway. I decided that I could manage a hoarse whisper and was about to give it voice when a cold hand grasped my chin and I was pulled roughly to the ground. I struggled, my voice muffled by the strong fingers clamped over my mouth. I kicked and felt my heel bite into a hard surface—a shin, judging from the grunt of pain that followed, and was about to start throwing elbows when I was turned quickly over and found myself staring up into the face of Connell Malak. He held a finger over his lips—which were, in fact, squeezed in an expression of pain—and nodded to see if I understood.

I stopped struggling, and he released me. I rolled away from and spat to rid myself of the taste of his flesh. It didn't quite work. "You keep your lice-ridden paws off me," I hissed.

He rubbed his shin with one hand, an irritated expression on his face and pointed beyond the trees with the other.

"Just be quiet, you stupid woman," he snarled. "And look."

The trees fell away, revealing a clearing that was shaped roughly like a gigantic egg. The grass there was well-trampled and still. A figure cautiously detached himself from the trees on the up and to our right and moved slowly into the center of the glade. He looked about wildly, jumping at sounds I suspect only he heard, and kept his hand on his sword. I could see the bandage even in the wane light of the moon. It was the wounded man from the tavern.

And beyond him, where the trees gathered together once more at the base of a gentle slope, something was stirring. Something big.

 

Silence shrouds the forest

Previously: Bracing for an attack, Mira instead is confronted by her old familiar nemesis, Connell Malak, and is surprised to find that her new companions not only know the man but are willing to follow him into the darkness. Where? She's about to find out...

I couldn't help but recall that frenzied trip up the hillside so long ago. This was nearly the same: the pounding fear, the uncertainty, the snap of thorny twigs sent hurling toward my flesh by an uncaring leader. The forest sped by in a blur. I stumbled, my foot caught in a root and nearly fell. Nobody else seemed to be having this much difficulty. Was I truly that clumsy? As clumsy as my father always told me I was?

I thought about stopping and letting whatever mad mission this was continue without me, but I faced two fears: first, I didn't want to be left alone in the forest--even this close to the city. I was not exactly helpless, but the darkness is always embraced by all manner of creatures that cannot stand the light of day. I would rather not test my short blade against them. Second, Malak was now leading this exhibition. I recalled the woefully inaccurate map and his signature, with proud loops and artistic curls at the bottom of it. No matter who these men were, they deserved a better fate than to follow one such as he.

Cursing, I rubbed another fresh welt and ducked under a different, thicker branch. My eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom and I saw three of my companions moving with stealthy haste in the same direction. Merrick's bulk was easy to pick out, as was Seymuhr's squat form. Malak would be the one directly ahead and between those two, picking his steps as carefully as could be under the circumstances.

I caught up with Merrick first.

"I don't like this," I hissed. "We should not be following this man into anything. He's not only shown a remarkable propensity for providing false information...he's signed his name to it!"

He shot me a quizzical look. I didn't care to expound. "I'll tell you later. Trust me when I say that is reputation among my circle is suspect at best. His reputation among any outside his own mind is suspect, now that I puzzle over it."

Merrick grunted, nodded and surprised me. "I know," he said. "I have my reasons. For now, you ask me to trust you. I ask you to trust me. I'll explain myself when we reach our objective."

"Our objective?" I pointed toward the fading shapes of Malak and Seymuhr. "If we follow him into the night, there's no tell where we'll end up—or if we'll be able to find our way back!" I felt under my shirt, where my traveling stone hung protected in its soft pouch. I, at least, could escape, and perhaps take two companions with me. I had never tried to summon anything so large—because I never had the need. I was usually alone.

"Of that, you need not fear," he said. "Our stout companions will protect us, and I am adept at finding my way in the wilderness—as you must be, yourself. Surely, you didn't find your way into the city by accident?"

It had been nearly an accident, but Merrick was right. I had more than a rudimentary knowledge of the area surrounding the town, because I had spent some time recently mapping it out. In fact, now that I had a better sense of my surroundings and at least a fair idea of the direction we were heading, I had a pretty good guess at where we were going--and why Merrick thought it prudent to mention the words 'stout' and 'protect' in the same sentence.

"Hold!" I hissed again. "We're moving north, toward the hills? I've heard tales of Hustyn settlements..." Hustyn. Others called them giants, but none called them friend. They barely tolerated their own kind.

"Aye," Merrick agreed. "That tale has been told, but none have verified it. I fear another, deeper evil at work, as well. That is my objective. Our objective—and if you tarry any longer, we'll be late to the slaughter!"

He pushed me away and hurried off. I hesitated, then followed. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else and were attached to yet another's feet. If I was clumsy before, I lurched like a drunken cripple now. Five of us, heading toward a settlement of giants? That was a slaughter I wanted to be late to.

 

The Wounded Man's Gold, Part 10

Previously: after joining an oddly-mixed band of adventurers, Mira settles in to get more acquainted with her new companions. She is startled--and soon dismayed--when she learns of the ambitions of Seymuhr, the brute who abducted her. He considers himself a poet, and subjects her to some really, really bad poetry. Just as she's shaking off this latest experience, the company hears strange noises in the forest. Expecting an attack, Mira finds herself alone to face down this new foe...

There was little enough time to react, but I was frozen anyway. I barely had time to curse my misfortune when the figure burst from the trees, panting and with a wild look in his eyes. He yelped when he saw me and his eyes widened in shocked recognition--as mine must have, as well.

"Malak?" I asked at the same time he shouted my name. "What are you doing here?"

Connell Malak had, in a way, introduced me to this tale, but had abruptly left when things started to get uncomfortable. I assumed that he was well on his way to some safer location--or a nearby bed with a warm, willing companion. He was about the last person I expected to see. Was there was someone or something chasing him? That seemed more likely.

He looked past me and made eye contact with Merrick. "It is time," he said. "He moves now, with speed and stealth. We will have to hurry to catch him."

Merrick nodded, grunted, and sheathed his sword. Seymuhr kicked dirt over the fire. Broo-Fang Tane dropped silently out of a nearby tree, landing like a cat. I knew he was nearby, but even so his quiet appearance startled me. He flashed me a shy smile.

"You know these men?" I asked Malak. "Are you a member of this company?"

They ignored me and I hissed in exasperation. "Who is moving? Moving where?"

"I will explain later, if there is time," Merrick said. "Right now, if we're to accomplish our objective, we must make haste."

Malak nodded and started back into the woods. "It's this way," he said over his shoulder, a hoarse, tense whisper. "He was heading north, toward the hills."

Seymuhr slipped into the forest behind him, with Broo-Fang on his heels. Merrick took one last look around the clearing, nodded and motioned for me to follow.

"Come," he said. "We have a task tonight, after all. If you would have a hand in this tale--or the telling of it--hold your questions and take flight. We are in pursuit of of an elusive quarry: the wounded man you spoke to earlier, and his gold."

He turned and followed the others into the forest, leaving me stunned, a pool of ice spreading throughout my stomach.

"Thieves? Do you mean to tell me you are nothing but thieves...?"

"Just come, Esmiralda. I promise you we are not. We are interested not in the weight of his riches, but the mystery and, I suspect, treachery behind it."

Alone in the forest or following blindly a group of men toward an uncertain goal. My own lack of coin had brought hard choices to me these past few days. I stepped out of the clearing, into the darkness, where the sounds of pursuit led me I knew not where.