by Anton Le Roy
I chuckled. “Your father’s going to kill me if he finds out about us.”
There, that naughty little smile of hers that always got me into trouble. “We have done well enough so far, haven’t we?”
“Even if he does find out, it’ll take the entire Army of the Six to keep me from seeing you.”
Her dark eyes sparkled. “Fight them all for me, will you?”
I feigned nonchalance. “If I have to.”
A raised eyebrow. “Even Gregor?”
“Bah! He’s a big puppy. I’ll just have to tickle his belly,” as I then showed to her.
Giggles as her luscious body squirmed beneath me. “And what of Satipo?” she asked when I stopped.
An arrogant shrug. “I could best him in a fight.”
Her smile faded. “He’s a good friend…”
“My brother,” I interjected.
“Your brother, yes, but…”
“What?”
“Please just be wary of him.”
“What do you mean? I know he can be a bit pushy sometimes… a bit of a wildcard in battle…”
“It’s not that,” she muttered seriously as she gathered the soft furs about herself, “There is something else there inside of him. I can see it. He’s forever on a precipice and if he slips he will fall into madness.”
My smile faded too. Even though I’d seen the crazy look in his eyes plenty of times I didn’t believe I needed to worry. Heck, that whole army was full of lunatics and I betted, after all the shit the more experienced had seen, it would be pretty hard for some of them not to be on the brink of madness. I was sure she was just over worrying about me.
She scowled with disappointment and snapped, “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“Course I do, but I ain’t worried,” I soothed.
“Why?” she huffed.
“Because I know you’ve got my back,” then I gathered her up tight and kissed her and we began our steady plummet back into our own little world once more.
Now.
I don’t know why I find myself thinking of Wetlock again. Maybe this whole quest and these cold lands makes me wish I was back there, happy and naked with her in front of that warm hearth. She’d been right of course. It wasn’t just clever insight. She was always able to see things that normal people could not and just as she claimed, Satipo had fallen from that precipice into madness, only he hadn’t slipped of his own accord, oh no. It was me who gave him a firm kick. Or maybe I’m just thinking of her because it’s been too damned long since I was happy and naked with anyone.
We’re currently travelling on a quiet road, in an entirely different kingdom called Rein. Crossing through Ellen had been a fairly uneventful trip and a short one too. The northernmost point of Ellen is as thin as a shard of glass and we traversed it in a couple of days. There’s no sign of war in this kingdom of Rein: war has not bruised its borders or strangled the settlements into poverty and the kingdom seems at peace with its neighbours. Makes me wonder how Blackwater Company is getting on back in Eiseggar. While in Haer I overhead people talking of a resurgence by the Eissegar forces who have already won a couple more small skirmishes on the Ellen borders. Sounds like Eiseggar are finally taking the fight back to Ellen. Hopefully the Blackwater crew survive the battles ahead.
The eastern road, the one we follow on our map, is a long flat track, taking us across the chest of a mighty treeless plateau of low hills and grasslands, which seemingly stretch for all eternity in three directions. The other direction to our immediate left holds the majestic spine of the Sanpelle Mountain Range, jutting upwards like a sudden wall. These towers of rock are laden with heavy snow, unlike down here.
Finally our travels have brought us further down from those mountains and into warmer territories where the ice is in the process of melting and turning into slush. Although it’s still chilly, it feels damned good not to be constantly freezing cold. We were even able to pack away our thickest fur cloaks and the extra layers of clothing we’d been wearing for the harshest of winter conditions.
Scatterings of melting banks of snow reveal rich wild grasses and great blooms of flowers such as snowdrops. Spring is finally here. There’s little sound apart from the wind in the grasses and heathers while in the distance we can hear the call of eagles and the thrum of a river.
A majestic sunset straddles the view of the plains. Deep reds and oranges and yellows all bleeding into a wash of dazzling colour across a few scattered clouds. The moon is out early, a vague shape in the darkest part of the sky where the newest stars to be born this night twinkle. Animal movement all around: rabbits and rodents; birds and bats; deer and fox. Don’t need to hunt them because we’ve got plenty of supplies already.
Gregor glugs at a little water from a pouch. “I still don’t get those Vamonkeys,” he muses after a deep mouthful. “Like they were alive and undead at the same time.”
I shrug. There’s still plenty of weird in this world we don’t know about. The important thing is that we need not worry about Vamonkeys anymore.
He continues. “Anyway, is there anywhere to stop on that map, Vet? It’ll be dark soon. Need to stretch my legs, rest my back and warm up in front of a fire.” I know what you mean, old friend. He cocks an arse cheek and lets rip with a blast of wind. “Need a big shit too,” he says before sniffing the air and scrunching his nose up in humorous distaste.
Dirty sod. “Aye,” I agree with a chuckle, “By the smell of it, maybe we need to stop sooner than later.”
He smirks like a kid.
Don’t need to check the map again. There’s nothing and no one out here for miles yet.
“Another night out under the stars, then,” says Gregor indifferently.
We continue on for a little while longer.
The road snakes a little and then hugs the edge of a long river cliff where, about a hundred feet below, runs a churning river, maybe swollen by melting snow higher up in the mountains. Not sure if this is the same river that ran from the lake at Haer. Rapid currents urgently tumble over rocks or angle past them in angry white froth and slapping splashes. There is a little ice and snow on the stone banks and where the currents are slower and plodding. Our route hugs this river cliff.
Gregor speaks. “Maybe a saner man would just push you over the cliff and head back to the whorehouses in Haer.”
“True, but guilt would stop you being able to get it up and then you’d have wasted your coin.”
Gregor’s laughter booms and then a Vamonkey appears from nowhere to slam Gregor from his horse, sending the three of them crashing to the ground right near the river cliff. I’m already dismounting to help when another one hits me from behind and I sprawl into a mixture of snow, grass and earth. Hooves pound right by me as our horses bolt. Howls all around and then Gregor’s resilient roar cuts through it. My head in a spin I look up to see a Vamonkey hugging onto him from behind, jaws clamped onto his neck, its eyes bulged with greed as his blood spills. With another roar Gregor swings his axe up over his shoulder and the blade thuds deep into the Vamonkey’s head with a sickening crunch and an explosion of toxic blood that covers his furious face. The Vamonkey wrenches its head back in surprise and Gregor’s neck rips wide open. Fuck! In a bloody mess the pair stagger backwards and I’m too far away to stop the inevitable: they pitch backwards and disappear over the edge. No! Dammit to hell, no! Not Gregor!
I clamber to my feet at last. Claws rake into me from behind and I arc in pain, desperate to get to the edge, then another slash and I’m taken down. A great weight hammers the back of my head and the world tumbles until my face hits dirt again. I’m crawling to the edge now, heaving my body along to look over it. Just need to check if Gregor is okay. Just need to see if he’s standing there triumphant over the body of a Vamonkey. An awful feeling in my gut tells me he isn’t, that he isn’t okay, that a terrible thing has just happened to my old friend. The wound to his neck was mortal and a hundred feet is a long way to fall…
M
ore howls. I think there are two of them. All of a sudden claws rake into me yet again when I’m picked up at the ankle and hung upside down. An open mouth of fangs right in my face as it howls at me. Spittle decorates my skin.
“Put me down, you fucker!” I scream.
It complies and the ground eagerly pounds into me. I lay there dazed. That’s nothing, you wimp, Gregor would have smashed onto the cold rocks a lot harder than that. Realising my arm is hanging over the cliff I drag myself a tiny bit more to look down at the river and despite the growing gloom of dusk I can still see it. Waters swell and foam surges around big boulders while two bodies (face down in the water and surrounded by red) ride the quickening currents and then disappear in the blink of an eye.
“Gregor…” I moan, uselessly reaching out as if I can save him with the power of my mind, which I can’t. Obviously.
Gregor is gone and I’m finally alone! The sudden shock of it pins any grief deep within and all that boils to the surface is rage.
“Where it?” growls an awkward voice from behind, as if the thing that spoke was never meant to speak. As if the words were not meant for its tongue.
“Where is it? Right here you bastards!” I get to my feet, fumble for my swords with shaking hands and turn to face two massive Vamonkeys striding towards me. They look pissed. Well I’ll show them pissed!
Hunkering down I wait for them to get closer and then swing both blades. They open up a couple of decent wounds and I step forward to strike a second time. Don’t get the chance after a great paw swats me to the floor. Spitting blood I roll onto my back, my dropped swords just in reach. What stops me from retrieving them is a Vamonkey stepping onto my chest – damn it’s heavy! Feels as if my innards are going to burst out through my skin and I hear something snap. A rib or two maybe?
“Where it?” shouts the beast.
“Give back!” barks the second.
“Don’t have it…” I manage to say. “Got this… instead!”
The stupid beast standing on me just watches as I snatch Fussby’s sword and swing it through his thigh. With a pained wail it stumbles off me, holding onto its injured leg, and in the process wrenches the sword from my hand. Crap! The other beast immediately comes at me before I can get my swords again or even get up.
Oh shit.
All I can do now is await death and it arrives in the form of a snarling Coyote. Teeth rending flesh. Blood gushing. In seconds the Vamonkey lays prone, torn to shreds. Dead.
Well I’ll be…
The Coyote stands over its victim, blood dripping from its maw, staring at me with bared teeth.
“I owe you now… is that it?” I stammer. “What do… you want?”
A growl and then it disappears. Fuck you, then!
It hurts getting up, a deep pain searing through my torso, and I realise blood is pissing from my head, soaking my collar. Brain is spinning so much that I can barely pick up my swords without tumbling over. Wouldn’t the monk in Haer be hacked off to see all his good healing talents gone to shit in a matter of days!
The final Vamonkey faces me, big and looking nasty as hell. “Where it?”
“Why don’t you go ask Satipo?” I reply angrily. “Because we didn’t take that fucking thing!”
It mulls this over before looking down at its injured leg. “Man die.”
I thought that was coming. It’s going to suck me dry to heal the wounds.
Instead of waiting for the Vamonkey to make the first move I charge it and because it can’t move too well on that gammy leg I get a couple of decent sword swings in before two paws hit me, claws tearing my skin open. I’m spun to one side, swords wrenched from my grip again. What follows is a crushing bear hug hoisting me into the air and a big fanged mouth biting down at me. Don’t know what Vamonkey saliva will do to me, it ain’t a normal vampire, so I manage to wedge an elbow into its neck to stop it just in time. My other hand fumbles at my side, searching.
Claws dig deep into me while the beast squeezes, its jaws chomping as it tries to wiggle free of my impeding elbow. I’m screaming in pain and then my free hand finds a knife and without thinking I stab at the creature, and then again, and then again and again. Stabbing and stabbing and stabbing. No longer do I scream in pain; instead I scream in fury. Because of this blind ferocity overwhelming me it takes me a while to realise the beast is long dead and we’re lying on the ground.
Rolling over to one side I haul myself out from under the dead weight and finding my swords again I stumble back to survey the river. No Gregor. He’s gone.
I stand there for a while before I notice the huffing of a horse beside me. They’re both there actually, waiting patiently, so I tie Gregor’s horse to mine and then painfully haul myself into the saddle. Got a load of wounds to tend to but I gotta get out of here in case any more Vamonkeys show up. Besides, I gotta follow the eastern road downstream to see if I can find Gregor while there’s enough light.
Gregor…
Onwards I travel, only this time I travel alone.
I gaze up at the darkening sky, half expecting to see that proverbial comet bearing down on me from over the horizon. Can feel its weighty presence. The day Tolvik mentioned is fast approaching: the day of my final judgement. My future. It’s impending and I cannot ever stop it. Too great a thing to prevent. Impossible. Don’t want to stop it anyway. And somehow I know that on that day the Coyote will be howling and the ghosts will be converging and my world will be toppling.
Fuck, I feel old.
Chapter 18
It’s the next morning. Early. Eventually I had to stop last night when it was too dark to see. I’d fought the pain riddling my body to build a camp fire and then, after tending to my wounds as best I could, I sat there in agony while chewing a big lump of Redleaf and staring into the flames, miserably thinking of what once was. Thinking of the day it all changed, when Red Dog brothers and sisters were lost to me, when other good friends in the Six perished.
I could still hear Satipo’s screams: they were screams of pain and of anguish. I could still see the hatred in his eyes: a hatred that may never go away. I could still see Whistle, Link and Blunt disappearing within the dragon fire. I could still see the look in Whistle’s eyes when he realised he was about to die. There, in the campfire, I could see them too and in the flickering shadows all around stood hundreds more apparitions watching me. Persistent bastards. In the end I finally drifted off into a feverish sleep that brought me no respite.
Now I’ve woken up, the fever remains while my skin is hot to the touch. Unable to do anything about it I continue on my journey, hugging the farthest side of the road to see the river far below. Still no sign of him anywhere and still I continue while the river cliff falls away until road and river run side by side on the same level. The thrum of the rapids is louder and the air is colder. On a stony bank I let the horses stop for a quick drink.
I’m without my friend. I’m alone. Think the last time I was truly alone happened before I found the Army of the Six, when I was a lost kid, and now I’m like that kid again. I ride on in a daze, the second horse behind me empty in the saddle. That empty spot is a massive hole and so too does the world suddenly seem bigger. The world suddenly seems lonelier. There’s an organ lodged deep inside my chest and its name is grief. At first I try to ignore it and then, the further I travel, the more I succumb to it and it drags me down into its cold pit until I can ignore it no longer, until I’m consumed by it.
He’s gone. Taken far too easily and in such a useless manner! It had happened so quickly and pathetically. One moment there and the next... dead! Just like other friends killed in battle, their deaths sudden and unexpected, their bodies nothing more than lifeless lumps of meat and blood.
Think of the countless times I’ve been with Gregor in the midst of deadly battles, of horrific wars and treacherous quests and this is how he goes! Damn it I thought he was invincible, I thought he was a constant! He never wanted to be on this quest, had never wanted to keep going,
had never wanted to find an old friend who didn’t want to be found. He still trusted me and my judgement. Now Gregor’s dead and it’s all my fault! Guilt drowns my brain and merely fuels my fury. With nowhere for it to go that fury smoulders deep, residing next to the sorrow. If only I could find him and send him off properly.
That whole day I travel alone without seeing a soul. Not a traveller, nor a settlement of any kind. It’s as if I travel through limbo, lost in the nothing. Takes a while for me to realise we have long since left the road – maybe that’s why I’ve not seen anyone! Doesn’t matter – I need to keep following the river. My horse keeps plodding on, its gait slow as if sensing my melancholy. When I do stop that night it’s to rest by a small fire in a sheltered hollow on the bank of the river. The currents have calmed and now it’s a fat lazy waterway, which hopefully means there’s more chance of finding him now.
My sleep is troubled that night and when I awake the hot fever still has hold of me despite my cold clammy skin. I feel dreadful. Wounds are on fire. Just getting up and getting ready to ride makes me dizzy and sick. Feel weak. Nauseous. Got no choice though, I have to keep going. Maybe more Redleaf will help.
I ride continuously for a second day, gradually getting worse. Head spinning and body burning. Too tired to do anything except ride, eyes still glued to the empty waters. Finding myself drifting in and out of consciousness. Something’s wrong, that much is obvious. Could be blood poisoning, or maybe my wounds have gangrene setting in. Maybe something on the Vamonkey claws has infected me. Could be life threatening. Can’t do anything about it. Just have to keep going and hope this river reaches a settlement soon. I’m not sure how far off course I am from finding Broken Naile.
My mind starts to tumble. My vision starts to swim. I know I’m hallucinating because the things I’m starting to see can’t possibly be genuine – maybe it’s the infection or maybe it’s all the Redleaf. When I look over my shoulder, beyond Gregor’s horse, there walks an army of the dead in plain view. Solid looking. Half decayed. Many are known to many and many more are not. Soldiers. Women and men not in uniform. Children. And at the head walk Whistle and many more of my old comrades. All of them in a daze. Can hear their murmurings and the sound of shuffling boots of these lost souls follow me like spiritual pilgrims. Hundreds and hundreds of them. Thousands, even? I shout at them to go away until my throat is sore. They don’t listen.
