by Dave Skinner
“Then we should go.” He led Ran away.
Chapter 32
The Far Derrig elder was sitting in a small chair outside her home when Ran and Kerrycon arrived. The chair was positioned to catch the spring sunshine and the elderly woman appeared to be appreciating the warmth. Her eyes were closed and her head rested on the chair back. Ran had the impression of an elderly person catching a nap until she opened her eyes. Her wrinkles and darkly-tanned skin suggested age, but the sparkle in her eyes belayed that impression. The wisdom blazing forth from them destroyed all thoughts of age, as did her smile when she stood to greet them.
“Kerrycon, how is Tamican this morning?”
“Much better, Airis. Thank you for your ministrations.”
“Think nothing of it.” She turned her gaze on Ran. “This must be the kind Traveller who brought him home to us. Hello, young man, my name is Airis.”
“Hello, Airis, I am named T’Ran. My friends call me Ran. I hope we are friends.”
“Yes, Ran, we are friends. You saved one from our village, and we are grateful, but how did you come to be in our mountains? We see few of your kind around here.”
“While travelling north last fall, I was stranded by the weather. I spent the winter in a cave.”
“You must have been lonely.”
“I prefer alone, but it is nice to talk with others from time to time.”
“Do you have a destination in mind?”
“Eventually I want to follow the high road to the top of the world, but I think I will look for work and companionship in one of the cities on North Lake—Nadia perhaps. I have a friend there.”
“Travellers are not welcome in Nadia at this time. They search for an assassin who killed the king’s son, the Crown Prince. His appearance suggested a Traveller or a pirate.”
“When did that happen?”
“It must be two years past now.”
“Thank you for the warning.”
“I want to give you a present for returning Tamican to us.”
“There is no need for that.”
“Perhaps not,” she admitted, “but I will still do it, and if you are going to the top of the world I have just the thing. If you will wait a moment, I will be right back.” Her steps, as she vanished into the house, had a surprising bounce to them. She was back in moments carrying a pendent suspended from a rawhide thong. “Wear this around your neck,” she told him as she showed him an oblong stone. “Our riders wear them to keep them warm when they fly. It gets cold up high, and it will be cold at the top of the world. I will also have a rider’s outfit made to your size. It will keep you warm in winter and cool in summer.”
“Thank you again, but this is not necessary. I was—”
“Actually, according to the Mother, it is necessary, and we never argue with feelings that come from her.” Airis held out the gift. “Now, take this and let her wishes be done.”
Ran held out his hand and she placed the gift in his palm. As her hand grazed his he felt a jolt of ... something.
Airis’s eyes opened large and then she smiled. “How interesting, T’Ran of the Tawshe, I see you riding in the sky. In the future we will meet again.”
***
Ran’s axe bit into the tree again and again until the top section fell away. With most of the branches and the top removed, the tree was almost ready to be muscled over to the trough for its ride to the shoreline far below. After being carried to the shore of North Lake by four sky riders and their birds, he had come across this mast cutting venture. The ride by the sky riders had been disappointing, not at all what he had envisioned. Four of them had lifted a net containing him and carried it to the lake. The flight had not been bad, but the landing was bumpy. Hovering is not a teratorn characteristic and the landing had been less than elegant, but it had saved him from a long walk, and eliminated his dreams of riding the sky. He had found this tree cutting camp the next day and had signed on to earn some silver. He was headed for Bernadice and would need cash to pay for passage from Riverrun North, the closest city to his current location. He had planned to work here for a few months, but now he doubted he would stay. The work was fine, but the overseers were not to his liking, and one loved to exercise his whip too much. He had not laid the lash to Ran, but Ran had watched him with the other men and concluded it would happen unless he left.
“Why do you let him whip you, Erin?” he had asked one of the other workers. “This is a paid job. We are employees, not slaves.”
“It makes no difference. One of my friends went to the foreman about the use of the whips. The foreman promised to talk to the overseers, but nothing changed, and my friend was beaten a few nights later in his cot,” Erin had said. Ran figured he would leave before the trouble started. He was sure it would come.
The overseer and the rest of the men from Ran’s crew arrived at the cut tree. “We need to roll it slightly so I can get at the last few branches,” Ran told them.
Three gaffs were positioned and the men managed to rock the tree enough to allow Ran to chop off the few remaining branches from the underside. The tree would roll now, and the men positioned themselves along its length to start the process. The side of the mountain was covered with large rocks half buried in the ground which the tree had to be muscled over. They had managed half the distance to the trough before they ran into difficulties.
“Put your backs into it,” the overseer yelled. Ran heard the whip crack once, twice, and then a third time. The last was accompanied by a stinging lash across his bare back. Ran was already turning as the whip struck. His left arms snaked around the end of the whip, grabbed, and pulled the overseer forward. The man went to his knees.
“You goona pay for that,” the overseer yelled just as Ran came up to him. “My whip will shred—” Ran grabbed him by the hair, pulled him up to his feet, grabbed his neck and his pants, lifted him overhead, and threw him down the mountain. It was a good throw. It was a poor landing. Ran gathered up the man’s whip, as other overseers made their way towards him and their fallen comrade. “He’s dead,” reported the man who reached the unfortunate overseer first. “Looks like a broken neck.”
The three other overseers watched Ran. He stood with whip in hand, showing no concern about their approach,.
“What we do with him?”
“We kill him.”
“No, boss says no killing unless he says so. We take everything to the boss.” This overseer stepped forward. “Leave the timber. Gather up the dead, and off to see the foreman.”
No one moved.
“I think not,” said Ran as he moved forward.
Two of the overseers stepped back. One held his ground. “There are three of—” the man started. Ran was getting closer.
“Off the tree!” Ran yelled.
All three overseers glanced at the tree, from which the workers were now scrambling away. Ran’s whip snapped out, followed by a scream, as one side of the forward overseer’s face shredded, leaving an eye hanging amidst the ruined flesh. The other two overseers turned to flee. Ran reached the injured man. Dropping the whip he placing his hands on both side of the man’s head and gave it a twist. The man stopped screaming. Ran let his body fall and raced forward. Within a few strides he had grabbed the two fleeing men, one hand on each and, with a spin, threw them into the tree trunk. The force was enough to push the timber into a roll towards the trough. Ran and the workers watched. The trunk bounced, twisted, bounced, and twisted as it rolled forward gathering speed. By the time the ramp was reached, there was no stopping it. Hitting the ramp sideways, it sped down the incline, teeter-tottering back and forth until one end caught a stump at the edge of the clear-cut, causing the tree to leave the ramp and bounce, end over end, towards the camp below. It was almost through the clear cut area before catching an obstruction that left it on an angle to extreme to survive in an upright position. The path it plowed through the camp left two tents standing at each end.
“Well, that was more than I e
xpected,” Ran stated.
“What do we do now?” Erin asked.
“I am going to the camp to retrieve my pack and my pay and head out,” Ran said as he lifted the whip and coiled it around one shoulder. “Suit yourselves.”
The path of devastation through the camp had destroyed all the tents along its route, but left much of the tent’s contents in place. Those lucky or quick enough to survive started to pop their heads up as Ran moved past. He found the contents of his shared tent undisturbed, and he was happy to note that the foreman’s office tent still stood. He gathered his pack and strapped on his weapons. Now my pay, he thought.
The foreman and his bodyguard where gaping at the damage to the camp, when Ran approached.
“I will take my pay now,” he announced to get their attention.
“Payday is tomorrow for everyone.”
“Make an exception,” Ran said.
The foreman nodded to his bodyguard. The man stepped forward. Ran’s arm swept back and forth, his whip cracked, and the enforcer grabbed at his opened throat. The foreman screamed and tried to pull his sword. Ran’s whip lashed across his chest. The man fell writhing to the ground.
“You should not have people lashed and beaten,” Ran told him. “Perhaps you will understand this better when the pain of this whipping sinks in.” The whip sang out again and again, as Ran released his frustration. Eventually the man stopped screaming. Ran entered the tent, smashed open the strongbox and counted out his pay before stepping back outside. He shouldered his pack and made his way down to the edge of the lake before turning towards Riverrun North. As he walked he blew his anger out through pursed lips until it was gone, then he could consider his actions. People seemed to bring out the worst in him. Alone, and with the Skyriders, he had felt at peace, but being with men always seemed to end badly. He concluded that he should stay aloof from the follies of others. Ignoring them and remaining alone would be better.
Chapter 33
“You want to bring all your people here, to this world, to live?” Manda asked.
“Yes,” Mearisdeana told her. “We are fighting a war that we cannot win. Our enemy is too strong. For almost two years now we have been beating them at every battle, but they keep coming.”
“No matter how many we leave on the battlefield, there are more of them the next time they push forward,” Nailmoe added. “The man-sized Ogre creatures make up the bulk of their army, but the number of larger ones increases also, and they are harder to kill. Our casualties are less than theirs after each battle, but our numbers are also less. Our army is half the size it was two years ago when this started, despite our recruiting efforts. Leaving is the wisest course, maybe our only course.” His voice trailed off, as he let his gaze fall to the floor.
They were seated in Manda’s cabin aboard the Red Witch—Manda, Tyhan, Mearisdeana, and Nailmoe. After the crew had pulled them out of the water, Manda had found a small harbour and anchored the ship before bringing this group together. Now, she sat considering what she had heard. There were so many questions flapping about in her head. Where to begin?
“I am sure we will be able to help your people, but I have no idea where to start. I am a simple merchant. Tyhan, do you have any ideas?” The first mate shook his head.
“If we were at home,” Mearisdeana offered, “I would expect this to be taken to the king for consideration. He is the person who decides issues of this magnitude. Is there anyone here like that?”
“Some of our larger cities are ruled by kings, others are managed by councils, but none can make decisions for the others.”
“Captain,” Tyhan said, “would any of the cities have to be involved if the KaAn people settled in an area that was not claimed by any others? Who would complain?” He turned to Mearisdeana. “What kind of land would you want?”
“We need land that we can grow food on. Something that is flat and easy to clear would be best,” she said.
Tyhan smiled. “Like that?” he asked as he pointed behind her.
The ship had swung on its anchor chain. The open balcony doors of Manda’s cabin pointed towards land now, instead of towards the lake. Manda joined Tyhan in his smile. The shoreline she could see rose gradually from the water. From their low position within the cabin they could see a distance of perhaps half a bow shot before the land disappeared at the horizon.
“Let’s go up on deck,” she suggested. “What Tyhan is saying will make more sense from up there.” She led them up to the wheel deck. The added height made a difference. The grassland of the south lay spread out before them for as far as their eyes could see. A gentle breeze was causing the grasses to sway wavelike.
“We are on the southeast coast of South Lake. About a day’s sail in that direction is Bakerstown. In the other direction you find Southgate, Little Point, and The Point. There are no other cities along this coast. In fact you can sail for seven days without finding a settlement. For the first four or five days the shore would look exactly like this. After that there are foothills and mountains which die out just past Pointer Island where Waysley is located. For the first four days, there are no cities because there are no people. It is land open for the taking.”
“Why?” Mearisdeana asked. “Why does no one live there?
“It is not required. Most farming of grain takes place along the Big Muddy which starts at Southgate and runs south. Farming has been expanding in that direction for a few generations now, and then there are the cats.”
“The cats?”
“Sabertooth tigers. Very ferocious. Anyone who wants to settle on this land will need protection from them.”
“So we can simply move onto the land and live there?” Nailmoe asked.
“It sounds too simple, I agree, but as I said I am a merchant. We should ask someone with authority. Our next port is Bakerstown. We can ask the council there for some direction, if you wish and, at the same time, you can talk to people who farm the grasslands.”
***
Jeroc, the lead hunter, approached Nailmoe and Mearisdeana carrying two long poles. “Have you ever used a lance before?” he asked.
Nailmoe smiled. “I have some experience with a similar weapon,” he told him, “although it had a metal tip and was a bit shorter. He held out his hand and accepted the weapon. “What I am used to is heavier, but I can handle this. I was wondering what this boot in front of the stirrup is for,” he added as his hand stroked the horse. “Now I know.”
“And you, Dragon Lady, are you also familiar with it?”
“No, but I will be happy to carry one.”
Jeroc handed her the lance. “Lean it against the saddle until you are up. We leave shortly,” he said before moving off. He stopped a few paces away and turned back. “Remember what I said. The grasslands are full of gullies and coulees that are dangerous to a horse in flight. Keep your animal under rein.”
Nailmoe was looking forward to this outing. Travelling on water in a ship was safe enough. He did not share Mearisdeana’s discomfort with water, although sinking into it on their arrival here was not one of his favorite memories. He preferred remembering learning to float with Tyrese back in Waysley. Travelling by horse was more natural, even if the horses were not the chargers he was familiar with. Yesterday both he and Mearisdeana had ridden their chosen beast around the paddock at the stable in order to get the feel. It was almost identical to riding a charger, something both he and Mearisdeana were comfortable doing.
“Saddle up,” Jeroc called from the front of the assembled hunters. Nailmoe and Mearisdeana swung themselves into the saddle and hoisted the lances to their boots. Nailmoe watched Mearisdeana, ready to lend a hand if necessary, but she settled the lance like an experienced trooper. She noticed him watching and smiled.
“I have watched the Prince’s Lancers ride to battle many times in the last years,” she told him.
“Adamtay would be proud of you,” he commented. Her scaled dayskin did not allow concern to show on her face, but it was app
arent in her voice.
“I hope he is safe, Nailmoe. I worry about him.”
“Adamtay is the best commander in the army. He always considers the safety of his men and himself. You have nothing to worry about,” he told her as the procession of hunters started up. “Be concerned with our safety. I hear these cats we hunt are powerful creatures and not easy to kill. Stay by my side. Adamtay will never forgive me if you are hurt.”
They were speaking the common language used by everyone in this area. Mearisdeana had learned it on her first trip here when she was pulled through the rift by a wizard. She had been teaching Nailmoe since this trip was planned. Although not proficient, he understood general conversation and could answer with little difficulty most of the time. Some words, like sabretooth tiger and grasslands, ideas not familiar in his own life or world, gave him pause.
The area they were leaving was on the outskirts of the city, so they did not have to ride through the streets. Rather, a gated tunnel opened directly onto the road that encircled Bakerstown. The walls of the city were earthen structures and thick enough that all sixteen hunters, riding two abreast, were within the tunnel before Jeroc, in the lead, rode out into sunshine. They followed the road around Bakerstown for only a short distance before striking off into the grasslands on another dirt track. The horses were spirited and indicated they would like to stretch their legs, but Jeroc held the group to a steady distance-eating pace. When they stopped for a noon meal, they were well into a rural area of few farms.
“This is where the farmers having the problems are located,” Jeroc explained when the group was settled and eating. “We must keep a lookout for the cats from now on. The horses will smell them first, so pay attention to what your mount is doing. They tend to shake their heads and prance when they catch the scent.”
“We passed many farms this morning, and they all looked to be about the same size. Is there a limit on the area a single farm can occupy?” Mearisdeana asked.
