The next morning, they continued their discussions over a light meal of oatmeal porridge, using water from their goat-skin water bags.
‘My memory is still hazy,’ Lauterbur admitted. ‘Thank goodness you are here.’
Kvältax went to his saddlebag and took out a piece of parchment and a stick of charcoal.
‘Write down who you are and why you’ve lost your memory. It’ll save confusion in the future in case you’re killed when there’s no one around.’
Lauterbur jotted down on the parchment everything he could recall about who and what he was. He looked to be straining to remember some of the information.
Kvältax stared at Lauterbur, as he was writing, and sorrow crept into his heart at seeing him in such turmoil. He found himself sizing the younger man up, noting how his skin was pale and unblemished, and how he looked like a heavy shower of rain would knock him off his feet. Dressed in a jerkin, breeches and cape, Lauterbur’s attire looked more akin to someone attending an evening ball than travelling through some of the most unforgiving terrain of the Northern Realms.
Why the hell did Amrodan insist that I bring him with me? Kvältax wondered. Sure, he can rise from the dead, but is that it? What am I meant to do, use him as a meat shield? He can’t swing a sword or fire a bow, and he requires more looking after than a child. At least the children that I know can ride a horse properly.
Kvältax had gone on many quests for Amrodan, but usually alone or with men from his tribe, never with someone without a shadow. And yet Amrodan had insisted on it this time. He had told Kvältax that Lauterbur’s involvement was crucial to the success of the task. But yet refused to say why. This made Kvältax highly suspicious of what the future held.
After they packed up their tents and doused the fire, the two rode up the mountain trail. The terrain was rough and broken, granite boulders strewn all about. What little vegetation there was grew in the nooks and crannies of the mountainside, safe from exposure to the storms that plagued the Verínwrath Mountains.
Lauterbur shifted his weight from one buttock to the other, grumbling about how the saddle was digging into legs.
Kvältax was pensive. The previous night he had told Lauterbur stories about the creatures that lived on the peaks of the Verínwrath and how dangerous they made traversing the mountain tracks and passes, which were the perfect places for an ambush. Avalanches and landslides were also a common occurrence.
‘The rocks on that ledge would be an excellent hiding place,’ Kvältax muttered. ‘They look precarious enough to be used for—’
His words were disturbed by whistling. He stopped his horse immediately. Turning and riding up alongside Lauterbur, he leaned close to him.
‘Lauterbur, you’ve been through a traumatic experience. One which has resulted in you losing your memory, and although we’ve already had this conversation I’m willing to cut you some slack. I’m going to repeat myself, yet again, and tell you that we’re travelling through unknown and possibly hostile territory and that if you whistle again I will rip your tongue from your mouth and shove it up your arse.’
Lauterbur stopped whistling. The men resumed their journey.
For the next four days, they rode up the winding tracks and paths of the Verínwrath Mountains. Higher and higher they went, wondering what lay in store for them at the top.
It was approaching midday, and in between deluges of rain, Kvältax and Lauterbur decided to stop for a meal. They had been travelling since early morning, and even Kvältax was starting to get saddle sore.
‘How much further do we have to go?’ Lauterbur wrung rainwater from his sleeves.
‘Amrodan said that it’s about a week’s travel from the edge of Greywolf Forest, and it’s been six days.’
‘I am so tired,’ Lauterbur said. ‘Sleeping on this hard ground has my body aching all over. What I wouldn’t give for a soft bed and a—’
‘Shush,’ Kvältax barked. ‘I see something – wisps of smoke between the peaks over the ridge. Come on.’
‘Can I just finish my food first?’ Lauterbur asked.
Kvältax mounted his horse and shook the reins, digging his heels into the horse’s midriff and spurring it on up the track towards the smoke. Lauterbur’s horse took off too as he climbed on board, jolting him back and almost unseating him with its speed.
Ascending the mountain, the horses galloped along the trail until the path began to level. Through the heavy rain and mist the grey roofs of houses were visible.
At the top of the ridge, Kvältax jumped from his horse and walked to the wooden signpost that stood on the outskirts of the village. Using his hand, he wiped the grime from its surface. Apparently, this was the village of Barrenstone. He could see around fifty granite dwellings with one, bigger than the others, sitting at the end of the main street. Each had its door and shutters closed. The only sound was from the rain falling onto the slate roofs and stony ground.
Lauterbur dismounted too. ‘Where is everyone?’ he said loudly, struggling to be heard over the sound of the downpour.
‘It’s time we found that out.’
Taking his horse’s reins, Kvältax went past the signpost. Lauterbur followed, picking his way through the rocks and stones strewn all over the ground, carefully leading his horse through the debris. Chunks of masonry had fallen from several of the buildings and many of them had shattered slates.
Kvältax pointed at the cliff-face, which had several openings containing mining carts on tracks. ‘Someone’s home.’
‘How do you know?’
‘The metal tracks and wheel rims on the mining carts are shiny. If Barrenstone was abandoned, they’d be covered in rust. By the looks of things, they’re used on a regular basis.’
The men stopped beside a well at what seemed to be the centre of the village and looked around for signs of life.
‘Are you sure this place is not deserted?’
‘I just saw a face at the window of that large building at the end of the street. If we’re going to ask about Tabitha’s location then that would be a good place to start.’
The men led their horses through the rain to the building. Stone-walled with a grey slate roof, and one of the few dwellings with an upper floor, the building stood hard against the cliff. Built on to the side was what looked like a small makeshift stable.
Kvältax knocked on the door. No response.
‘We know you’re in there. We saw you spying on us,’ Kvältax called.
There was no reply. The two men looked at each other.
‘Listen, we’ve travelled for over a month to get here. If you think we’re going to turn and leave then think again. Now open this door before I kick it open,’ Kvältax shouted.
A shuffling could be heard, followed by the grinding of a bolt. The door creaked open and a woman with a wrinkled face appeared.
‘What do you want?’
‘To speak to you,’ Lauterbur said. ‘Please let us in.’
‘Leave this place at once,’ the woman said. ‘Both of you.’
‘We’re going nowhere,’ Kvältax snapped. ‘We’re not leaving until we’ve spoken to Tabitha Treegle. Do you know where she is?’
The expression on the old woman’s face turned from a scowl to horror and she went to slam the door. Kvältax moved one boot into the gap and the door banged against it. He flung himself forward, throwing his considerable bulk at the door, shoulder-first. Crashing against it, Kvältax bashed the door open and staggered into the dwelling, the old woman getting knocked to the side.
The room was dimly lit and spacious. It had a bar, staffed by a barmaid, with bottles on a shelf behind it, and tables and stools with around a dozen women drinking at them, all of whom got to their feet looking scared at seeing Kvältax.
‘What is this place? A tavern?’ Kvältax asked the elderly woman.
‘They ha
ve got no shadows,’ the woman who had opened the door shouted.
‘They are here to hurt us,’ another said.
Kvältax walked to the bar as Lauterbur tried to calm down the old woman. ‘I’m not here to hurt anyone,’ he soothed. ‘My friend and I need to find Tabitha Treegle.’
‘Are you here to kill her?’ the barmaid asked.
‘Our intention wasn’t to—’
‘Yes,’ Lauterbur interrupted. ‘That is what we are here to do.’
The women in the room all looked at each other wide eyed. They ran to Kvältax and Lauterbur, hugging them and ushering them to a table in the corner. Food and ale was brought to them and their wet clothes hung beside the open fire.
As the women were busying themselves, catering for their new hosts, Lauterbur leaned over to Kvältax and whispered, ‘Why are there no men here? Did Tabitha kill them all?’
Kvältax shrugged. He was intent on devouring the roast chicken that had been given to him. Lauterbur picked up a mug of ale, examining it before sipping it.
As the two ate, the women, one by one, pulled up a stool near to their guests. They stared at the men, seemingly fascinated.
‘Are you all right, ladies?’ Lauterbur asked, with a laugh.
The women nodded, grinning manically.
‘You will have to excuse them; they do not see many men. At least, not ones such as yourselves.’
A man leaning on a walking stick stood in the doorway. He made his way across the room to Kvältax and Lauterbur.
‘What’s different about us?’ Kvältax asked.
‘You’re both alive,’ he said. ‘The name is Borthan Dryce. Can I ask why you have come to Barrenstone?’
‘We are here to kill Tabitha,’ Lauterbur stated.
‘How exactly are you going to do that?’
‘With your help,’ Kvältax said. ‘Can you supply us with anything that will aid us in defeating this woman?’
‘We are a mining community; we do not have weapons or magic. We do not have warriors or fighters either; we do not even have any young men. Not that it would matter if we did: Tabitha could crush an army.’
‘Can you tell us anything that could help us, then?’ Lauterbur asked.
The old man called for a tankard of ale, which was quickly brought to him.
‘I can have someone show you where her temple is.’
‘Temple?’ Kvältax asked. ‘To whom?’
‘To herself. Tabitha believes that she’s a god.’
‘Amrodan didn’t tell me that,’ Kvältax said to Lauterbur. ‘That must be why she refused to help fight them: she thinks that she’ll be killing one of her own kind.’
‘Does anyone know where she lives?’ Lauterbur asked.
‘She used to live in a cave, on the pass itself, but after a failed attack on her by the god Flaxius she moved to higher ground. There is very little I can tell you, in truth, but every so often she demands treatment for her bunions so we send the village healer up. The weekly provisions get taken up to her by cart, and when they get transferred onto the stone slab the healer goes up with them.’
‘Wait,’ Kvältax interrupted. ‘Why does she have the provisions placed on a slab? Why not just lift the cart up?’
‘Tabitha can only move objects made of stone, everything else is safe from her magic.’
‘But she throws people off cliffs and ledges,’ Lauterbur pointed out.
‘No she does not,’ Borthan corrected. ‘She knocks them off by hurling boulders.’
Really? thought Kvältax. That’s interesting. I wonder what else we got wrong.
‘You seem reluctant to leave your homes,’ Kvältax said. ‘And as you said, there’s a distinct lack of men in Barrenstone. Why?’
‘Most men flee the village in their late teens. The ones who stay are made to live in the mines, in case she comes down from the mountain. Men are a valuable commodity in this village. Those of us who live above ground tend to stay indoors. She occasionally likes to bombard the village with stones, you see, just to let us know she is still there. People travel through the streets at their peril during daylight hours; that is when her attacks are most frequent. Whatever jobs that require our attention outdoors, we try to do at night.’
‘This village looks like it’s falling apart,’ Lauterbur said. ‘No offence.’
‘Tabitha has bled this community dry for as long as I can remember. She takes our food, our medicines, our men. We get punished depending on which way her fickle mood swings and it has been so bad recently that people have stopped clearing away the rubble and repairing their homes. If this goes on much longer then I fear Barrenstone will be no more.’
‘When’s the next delivery of provisions due?’ Kvältax asked.
‘Tomorrow morning.’
‘Lauterbur and I will go up to Tabitha’s temple with the villagers who deliver her food. When that slab goes up, she’ll be getting more than just her weekly provisions,’ Kvältax said, one hand on the handle of his axe.
The two men woke early. They stocked up with fresh rations and bedrolls, transferring most of their equipment from their saddlebags to rucksacks provided by Borthan. Wearing clothes freshly cleaned for them, they left the tavern to collect their horses from the adjoining stables.
Outside the tavern, Lauterbur was astonished to see that a crowd, comprised almost entirely of women, had formed a guard of honour from the tavern to the well. Upon spotting them, the crowd began to clap and cheer loudly.
‘They all must believe that we’re here to kill Tabitha,’ Lauterbur muttered.
The two men led their horses towards the well where they and their horses were adorned with garlands of wild flowers.
Giving the crowd a salute, Kvältax and Lauterbur mounted their steeds and trotted to the edge of the village, followed by their enthusiastic admirers. They were met by four women standing behind a wooden litter piled with an assortment of food, wine and clothing. Dressed in drab grey tunics and fawn goatskin cloaks the women took one end of a pole each and lifted the litter onto their shoulders.
‘What are they going to do when they find out that we have not got rid of Tabitha?’ Lauterbur asked quietly.
‘Who says we won’t? Amrodan told us to try to get the weapon without killing her, but if she tries to stop us from taking the sword then we’re going to put her down.’
The pass was covered in scree and boulders. Over three-hundred feet above them, a ledge sat overlooking the slopes, its jagged side jutting out menacingly.
‘What are those white things at the bottom?’ Lauterbur asked, squinting.
‘The bones of the men and boys who have been rejected by Tabitha. She has instructed that they be left as a warning,’ one of the women replied.
The men stared at the bleached bones. There were at least a hundred skulls there.
The women made their way across the loose rocks to the cliff. They unpacked their litter onto a ten-foot-square stone slab. Beside this, a large horn sat, propped on a wooden frame.
‘Now the items are on the slab, we blow the horn. Tabitha will then raise the slab,’ one of the women said. ‘To get up the mountain, you will both need to stand on the slab.’
‘Blow the horn. We’ll make our own way up,’ Kvältax said.
‘That ledge has an overhang. You will not be able to climb over it.’
‘We don’t intend to,’ Kvältax said. ‘Thanks for showing us where Tabitha lives, we’ll take it from here.’
The woman who had spoken shrugged. The low bellowing of the horn filled the pass and reverberated against the cliff. When the noise had died away, the women lifted the empty litter and began the trek back down the mountainside.
Kvältax and Lauterbur watched as the villagers disappeared down the pass before climbing from their horses.
‘What do we do now?’
asked Lauterbur. ‘Maybe we should poison her food.’
‘If we can get the sword without killing her, we will.’
‘Look,’ Lauterbur said, pointing at the rising slab.
‘We’re going to follow it,’ Kvältax said. ‘Stand on my feet, hold on and no matter what happens, don’t let go.’
Lauterbur hopped onto Kvältax’s boots and gripped him round his chest.
Kvältax raised his arms. Yellow energy crackled around his body and the wind span around his feet. With his hands outstretched he clutched the air and, as though pulling himself upwards, brought them sharply down by his side. At once he and Lauterbur lifted off the ground. Floating, he followed the slab, staying just beside it, careful not to drift under it.
Lauterbur’s stomach began to churn as he held on for dear life. He moved his arms to around his colleague’s neck and then closed his eyes.
Kvältax and Lauterbur ascended the cliff face, stopping just under the edge. The slab cleared the overhang and disappeared over the top. They slowly drifted upwards until Kvältax could see over.
‘I can see a building that must be the temple. The slab is gliding towards it,’ Kvältax whispered, as Lauterbur still had his eyes closed. ‘No sign of Tabitha.’
They floated to the top of the cliff and onto the edge of a small valley, which had steep slopes on either side.
‘Let go, Lauterbur.’
Lauterbur opened his eyes and saw a large granite temple at the far end of the valley, around ninety-feet high and twice as wide. The ground in between was littered with large rocks and the bones of more unfortunate victims: a reminder, if one were needed, of the violent nature of the temple’s inhabitant. The slab was floating steadily towards the temple.
‘Let’s keep following the slab.’ Kvältax set off in pursuit.
Negotiating their way across the boulder-field, they ran after the slab of stone as it glided a yard off the ground. Crouching behind it, they used it for cover, peering over it intermittently.
‘There are caves at each side of the valley,’ Lauterbur said.
Shadowless Page 52
