Kinik beamed, and Edrea took pleasure at having guessed the outcome, even if she hadn’t expected Pendrake to apply his knowledge of ogrun culture so effectively.
Edrea stirred the coals and laid additional fuel near the fire for the night’s watches as Pendrake, Horgash, and Lynus settled themselves into their bedrolls. Then she stepped quietly over to Kinik, who was already facing away from the campsite, adjusting her eyes.
“Kinik, may I beg a favor?”
Kinik bowed. “It honors me.”
“Wake me for the second watch. Lynus needs the sleep.”
“I will.”
“Thank you.” Edrea slipped back to the rest of the group and into her bedroll.
The night had a damp chill to it, but there was no wind. Kinik had gone back to bed several minutes ago, and her breathing had now settled into that deep almost-snore common to ogrun.
Edrea squatted at the edge of the bluff, feet flat, knees wide—a pose she could hold for hours. She scanned the ring of dark shadow surrounding this clearing. The fire was quite low, embers only, and no starlight could hope to pierce the blackness of these woods. The mists below the bluff had thickened during the night, and even with the glow of the lantern the creek was lost under a river of fog.
She breathed deeply and slowly, and felt for the weave of energy above, below, behind. She closed her eyes to clear her mind of the illusion that her eyes were of any real use in this darkness.
She opened her eyes to the weave and inhaled breath and power. She traced vossyl. The sigil glowed brightly but gave no useful light. She exhaled, and the runes scattered into bits of glowing script, which Edrea twisted about her wrist with a tracing of liumyn.
The deep blackness that had been all her natural sight could discern of the Widower’s Wood resolved into trees, clearly outlined in shades of grey. The creek was visible too, the obscuring mists transparent.
Countless small, glowing forms appeared amid the undergrowth, in the trees, and high above in the canopy, their silhouettes easily identified. Hawk. Vole. Snake. Owl. She turned slowly, scanning the bluff they were camped on, the creek bed below, and the trees on the other side. The three mounts stood asleep. Her companions were safe in their bedrolls, each outlined in a steady amber glow. Lynus was not a short man, but he was slender, and compared to the others he looked almost like a child as he slept curled in his bag.
Edrea relaxed into the spell. After a few minutes the sensation was similar to that of her eyes having adjusted to a change in the light, and she was able to maintain it with no more effort than continued breathing, with no repeat of the headaches from this morning. It helped that she was sitting on her heels, not running or swinging a rifle like a club. Or trying to do both at the same time. That had been harrowing.
The movements in the forest fascinated her. Some creatures foraged or scavenged amid the duff and scrub, stealthily scurrying or sliding from cover to cover. Others hunted, typically perched in branches just below the thick braid of the canopy proper. Occasionally, there was a flurry of movement, a collision of the glowing forms, usually followed by the extinguishing of one of the amber silhouettes.
These patterns were comforting. If something large and dangerous should approach from beyond the range of this sight, these smaller creatures would scatter or freeze. Their dance of predation was a sure sign that, for now at least, all was well.
At long last, Edrea heard Professor Pendrake stirring. She was seeing the woods in a way he never could. She consulted her pocket watch, an elegant yet durable Ordic piece. Two hours until dawn. She had maintained this sight for nearly 140 minutes.
She looked over to Pendrake and watched him wake himself. His army service, decades past, had provided him with some internal bugler to sound the changing of the night watch, rousing him in time for his shift.
Pendrake sat up and looked to the bedroll where Lynus soundlessly slept. He then scanned the camp, and, squinting, looked over to where Edrea still squatted, flat on her feet.
“I asked Kinik to wake me instead of Lynus,” she said softly, anticipating his question.
“Ah.” Pendrake rubbed his eyes, and then with the precision of a long-practiced ritual, removed his glasses from their case on his knapsack and perched them on his nose. “A kindness the lad merits, and which speaks well of you.”
“The forest is calm, if not exactly peaceful,” she said with a wave of her arm that Pendrake probably could not see. “Small creatures hiding, hunting, eating, or being eaten. To my sight, nothing stalks us.”
“Acting on my counsel to practice that spell, then?” The professor smiled.
Pendrake’s tone frustrated her. Especially since he was right.
“I have maintained it for the duration of my watch, Professor. And yes, after our midday misadventures it seemed prudent to build a bit more endurance.”
“A capital accomplishment. I’ve fought alongside arcanists before and found their help invaluable. Indispensable, in point of fact.” He stood and stretched. “But only the most practiced among them were as dependable as, say, a properly maintained firearm. So keep up that practice.”
Edrea bit her tongue. Properly maintained firearm, indeed. A bit of mud in the wrong place and Lynus’ rifle had exploded. She had maintained vossyl liumyn for two and a half hours now, and was quite tired, but there was no risk whatsoever of her eyes exploding and wounding someone.
She pushed her hair behind her ear, took a deep breath, and brushed her anger aside. It helped nothing, and couldn’t be helped. Besides, moments like this, where ignorance manifested, were part of her private studies, a secret she kept all to herself. Humans did not lead particularly long lives but had nevertheless forged vibrant civilizations and acquired huge bodies of knowledge. Professor Viktor Pendrake was one of the most accomplished learners and teachers among living humans, yet he was almost a century younger than those of comparable merit among the great Iosan houses.
How did he do it with so little time in which to work?
Maintaining the sight, she stood and walked a bit to the east, her legs only now complaining about two hours of squatting. She was suddenly quite tired, and the ache was distracting. She rubbed her temple as the beginnings of a new headache formed. She regretted thinking about how absurd it would be for her eyes to explode.
And then the patterns in the forest shifted. Creatures ducked into burrows. Birds took wing. Something big was coming this way.
“Professor?” she said. “Throw something on the fire and wake the others.”
“What do you see?” asked Pendrake. Edrea could feel a flash of heat as he kindled the flames high for light.
“Nothing yet, but the little things are making way for something lar . . . oh my.”
The outline was, to Edrea’s sight, similar in size to a dire troll, but this shape was different, like a giant bipedal boar, with hooves on its hind legs and fingered hands on its forelegs. It wore armor, too—spiked bracers and pauldrons, and a half helmet. Like a big farrow.
A dire farrow?
After a moment, another figure came into view, a hundred paces or so behind the first. This was a farrow of the usual scale, clearly following the first. The big one rooted hungrily every so often. Hunting.
“I’m up,” Lynus said. “What is it?”
“Shhh,” said Pendrake. “Edrea’s still trying to make that out for us.”
“Two farrow, Professor.”
“We’re getting close to Groth’s home, and the village he serves.”
“Mmm-hmmm,” Edrea said. “One of these is really big. I’ve never seen a farrow this big. Are there dire farrow?”
“Morrow, I hope not,” said Lynus.
“There will need to be another book,” said Kinik.
“They’re following the creek. They can’t miss us, and the big one is hungry.”
“I’ll teach it a thing or two about hungry,” Horgash rasped wearily. “I was dreaming of bacon.”
The big farrow paused and
snorted heavily. It turned from the creek and looked directly up at Edrea and the others. Their scent or their firelight had finally penetrated the mist. The beast chuffed and stamped, as if preparing to charge. Then it whimpered and looked back over its shoulder at the smaller farrow.
“I think the little farrow is controlling the big one,” she said.
“Similar, perhaps, to the bonds among trollkin and the full trolls?” said Pendrake.
“Hrrmph,” Horgash grunted.
“We should make ourselves look bigger?” Kinik said. “Open coats, arms wide, stand tall?”
“Bigger might not help,” Edrea said. “The big one is half again the size of Greta.”
“We’re not bigger, but we do have numbers,” said Pendrake. She heard the creak as he strung his bow, followed closely by the snap-clank of Horgash’s Vislovski, readied for firing. She thought to reach for her own rifle and felt foolish when she remembered it was leaning against a tree, far out of reach.
“Here you go,” Lynus said, tapping her on the shoulder. He was holding her rifle, offering it to her.
She flashed him a smile. “Thank you.”
The big farrow stopped next to the creek. The smaller one walked past it toward the bluff.
“Make that twice the size of Horgash’s bison,” she said. “It’s standing down there in the mist. The little one is coming to us. Hands are empty, raised a little bit.”
“Weapons ready, but low,” said Pendrake.
The farrow who stepped into the firelight was about as tall as Professor Pendrake, but easily as broad as Horgash. Not exactly “little” after all. Edrea revised her estimate of the bigger farrow’s size yet again.
This one wore a heavy coat and had several bandoliers of ammunition draped across its chest—no, ammunition and cigars. A large-bored lever-action carbine hung at its side, the barrel cut short. A crime, really. The action and barrel appeared Llaelese, perhaps from a Dunmont, but was now cut down and restocked to look like a common pig iron.
Edrea decided not to say that aloud.
“I’m Rorsh,” he said with a grunt. He thumbed back over his shoulder. “That’s Brine.”
“Victor Pendrake.” The professor nodded, un-nocking the arrow he had ready.
Rorsh grunted again and scratched his jowl. “Pendrake? Really?”
“You’ve heard of me?”
“Hearing Groth tell it, I thought you’d be bigger. But you do have the coat.”
Pendrake laughed. “I do indeed. We’re on our way to see him. How is my old friend doing?”
“Well enough. Just saw him this morning. Got breakfast.”
Rorsh looked around at the others, and Edrea wondered why his gaze lingered on her. Oh . . . she still had a bracelet of runes spinning around her wrist. Rorsh would have no way of knowing whether she was readying a blast of arcane fire or just warming a bedroll. She released the spell. Rorsh gave her a very subtle nod and then turned back to Pendrake.
“Speaking of which, it’s almost breakfast time again.”
“We’d be happy to offer you a meal,” said Pendrake, “but I’m afraid we didn’t bring provisions enough for your friend Brine.”
“Oh,” he grunted. “Well, then. How much for a horse?”
Edrea blanched.
“They’re not for sale,” Pendrake said.
“Neither is the bison,” said Horgash.
Rorsh grunted wordlessly, sounding almost exactly like a large pig. He withdrew a cigar from his bandolier and lit it with a match struck across his chin.
“Brine’ll just have to keep truffling. Me, I smell bacon.”
The farrow’s sense of smell must be acute, since they hadn’t had bacon since yesterday. Then it occurred to Edrea that bacon might be terribly offensive to farrow.
Lynus apparently had that same thought.
“Oh, Morrow take me,” he said. “I’m so sorry. It’s . . . it’s just a thing we eat.”
Rorsh laughed. “A very tasty thing,” he said, running his tongue along his upper teeth and across his snout for emphasis.
Pendrake and Horgash laughed along with him, then. Edrea relaxed, and Lynus sat heavily on a camp stool.
“Breakfast is usually at dawn,” Pendrake said, “but since we’re all awake and the fire is hot again, I suppose we can have an early start on the very tasty bacon.”
Horgash and Lynus both groaned, simultaneously, and then looked at each other. Edrea stifled a laugh. She then remembered exactly how tired she was. Two hours of sleep was not going to be enough.
“Professor,” she said, “if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll take a nap while you breakfast.” She turned to Rorsh. “Well met, Rorsh.”
Pendrake began talking, his voice a comforting sound that Edrea had dozed off to numerous times during the winter of 602, when she’d attempted to audit eleven classes. But she would never tell Pendrake that. She fell asleep pondering the provisioning necessary for giant farrow.
Edrea snapped awake. The sky was still dark. The fire had died down a bit but still crackled. Everything else was silent. Nobody was talking.
She sat up. Everyone was looking to the east. The grizzled farrow’s ears twitched, and Edrea heard footfalls. Running hard, and coming fast. Pendrake drew his sword, and Horgash had both of his blades out and ready. Taking a cue from them, Edrea slipped out of her bedroll and grabbed her rifle.
“Rorsh, are you expecting someone? Because we are not,” Pendrake said.
“No.” The farrow gestured in the direction of the footfalls with his pistol. “But those are farrow feet.”
The footfalls grew heavier and closer, and Edrea heard hard breathing along with them. A young farrow burst into the firelight, chest heaving and tongue lolling, his shirtless, furry flanks glistening with sweat. He stopped just two steps into the camp and doubled over, struggling for breath. A spear and two arrows protruded from the thick, hairy ridge of his back.
“He’s injured!” Edrea said.
“Those are Tharn arrows,” said Lynus.
“Shhh,” said Pendrake.
Rorsh grunted at the newcomer in the farrow tongue.
The young farrow responded in squeals and grunts, punctuated with pained gasps.
Rorsh shook his head and grunted again, holding out a hand as if for coin.
The young farrow squealed weakly, tears in its eyes.
“Shhhh,” Pendrake said again, finger to his lips. “Something followed him.”
Edrea drew in a deep breath and wove for sight. She was still exhausted, but the runes spun to life about her wrist easily. The forest resolved into sharp, tin-grey detail. Amber silhouettes again outlined each of her companions, their mounts, the two farrow, and the huge farrow beast, Brine.
Five more silhouettes glowed deep in the woods, each the size of a bear, yet spiked like thistle blossoms. They moved as a group, like wolves, only far larger. The pack fanned out, flanking the camp.
“Spine rippers,” Edrea announced. “Five of them. They’ve got the bluff circled on three sides.”
“Morrow preserve us,” said Lynus, drawing his sword. Kinik picked up her polearm from where it leaned against a tree.
“Gonna lose a couple of horses,” said Rorsh. He drew deeply on his cigar and blew out a thick cloud of smoke. “Or Brine can guard ’em, and you only lose one.” Edrea heard the giant farrow stamp and snort down by the creek, near the mounts. Oh, Aeshnyrr, that monster sounded hungry. Edrea opened her mouth to speak.
“We need them both,” said Pendrake. “I’ll pay eighty crowns.”
“Crowns don’t feed Brine. Four hundred.”
“Five times my offer? Please. One sixty.”
“A horse is worth at least that in these woods,” Rorsh said. He drew on his cigar. “Two fifty.”
“Two twenty cleans me out.”
“Two twenty and a pound of that bacon.”
Pendrake tossed a bag of coins at Rorsh. “Money down. Bacon on delivery.”
“Done,�
�� Rorsh said, catching the bag and dropping it into a coat pocket already bulging with other things. Cylindrical things. Edrea thought she saw fuses.
“Lynus,” Pendrake said, “what can you tell us about spine rippers?”
“Spines everywhere, thumb claw is poisonous, belly is like a long, shallow mouth edged with spines. Food works its way up that track to the true mouth. If they pounce on you, you’re food.”
“Arterial placement? With these odds we need quick kills.”
“On it.” Lynus speared his sword into the ground, grabbed his satchel, and began digging through it.
“I bet it’s not in your trollkin songbook.”
“Stow that, Horgash,” Pendrake snapped. “Circle up while Lynus finds us the best place to cut. You take the south side, Kinik on the north, I’ll take the east, Edrea and Lynus in the middle. Rorsh, you take the west, where you can see Brine and the horses.”
“Don’t need to see ’em,” Rorsh said, tapping his head and waggling his heavy brows. “Magic.”
Edrea wondered at this. Vossyl liumyn let her see things clearly through brush or fog, but she couldn’t actually see through the bluff.
The young farrow wheezed and collapsed. Its amber outline flickered once, then vanished.
“Ran his dumb self to death,” muttered Rorsh.
“Those are big and very ugly,” Kinik said.
Lynus looked up and his eyes went wide. Edrea realized the spine rippers were now close enough to the fire’s light that everyone else could see them too. She blew out a breath and released the spell, conserving strength for the fight to come.
“Quickly please, Lynus,” said Pendrake. “I remember that false maw being tender, but that’s the extent of it.”
Lynus flipped furiously through a stack of papers loosely held inside a makeshift cover of worked leather. “I’ve got dissection notes in here somewhere.”
The spine rippers prowled the edge of the firelight, their eyes flashing in reflected yellow as they glared at the group. A pack of wolves would have been intimidated by six bipeds with weapons drawn, but these beasts were too big and too hungry for that. And their prey, the poor farrow who had run himself to death to deliver a message to Rorsh, lay in plain sight. They grew bolder, moving farther into the circle of firelight.
Extraordinary Zoology Page 8
