by David Hodges
Hazel recognized the gaze. She looked the same way through Ollie’s eyes when she had unintentionally used Éirí with him.
Fergus waved his hand in front of her face; she took no notice.
A few moments later, the woman broke her focus and her eyes regained their normal appearance. She smiled at her spectators as she bent down closer to the sculpture. The blanket of termites descended to the table, revealing a wooden statue that looked very much like the man and his ferret, though some of the details of their features were not yet apparent. She picked up a bowl of clear liquid and a brush, then spread the liquid over the sculpture with quick strokes until the entire sculpture was a darker, wetter shade.
“What’s that she’s brushing on there?” asked Hazel.
“Just water, the termites work quicker with wet wood.”
The woman said, “Just another minute or two.” She focused on him, and her eyes changed. The sheet of termites ascended the sculpture and devoured the wet wood.
A short while later, the vendor rose from her chair and said, “All done!” The termites crawled down and unveiled the completed, dry sculpture. The details of the customer’s face, and his ferret’s, were spot on. It was as fine a sculpture as Hazel had ever seen. The vendor exchanged the sculpture for a few coins, then looked toward Hazel who was still staring in awe.
“Would you like one miss?”
Hazel replied, “Oh, no thank you. It’s marvelous work, though.” Hazel looked to Fergus. “Why don’t you get one done, Fergus?”
He replied, “I’d love to. Don’t have any coin on me though.”
Hazel pulled her coin purse from her jacket and threw it to Fergus.
“If you insist,” he said with a smile before walking over toward the table of termites.
The sculptor positioned Fergus in a dramatic contrapposto and proceeded to command the termites to begin their work on a wet block of wood.
“How long should it be?” asked Hazel.
“About half an hour,” replied the sculptor.
“You don’t mind if we look at some of the other stands, do you?” Hazel asked Fergus.
“Nah, go ahead.”
Hazel continued on with Elisedd through the vendors.
“There are some games up ahead, follow me.” Elisedd took Hazel’s hand and towed her behind him, holding her hand as he navigated the stream of people flowing between the stands.
They stopped at a large mound of dirt where a group of onlookers were shouting and pointing at a dozen different holes in the dirt. A little girl sitting on a man’s shoulders was focusing intently on them with a hand on her chin.
A pair of young women were in front of them. Hazel recognized one of them as the girl who worked in the library, Bede.
Elisedd said, “Those holes are dug by marmots. You get three chances to guess which hole a tagged marmot will come out of.”
“Is there a trick to it?”
“People like to think so, think they can figure out some pattern by their third try. I think it’s blind luck. I reckon each hole is connected to the rest.”
“Last guess, little lass. Make it count!” said Bede.
The girl pointed at one of the holes at the top of the mound to the dissatisfaction of all but a few of the onlookers.
Hazel was startled when a set of brown, furry heads appeared from each of the holes in unison. One of them was wearing a muddied, light blue scarf. It sat in the very hole the girl had pointed to. The girl triumphantly raised her arms in the air and shrieked in excitement as the crowd cheered.
Hazel heard a scoff behind her, then an unmistakably pretentious voice.
“It’s as if she’s won a tourney.” She turned to see Ulric and Tod smirking. Next to them, Bjarke and Uschi were clapping with the crowd. “C’mon, let’s go see something worthwhile,” said Ulric.
Just as the two of them began to depart, Uschi spotted Hazel. “Hazel!”
“Hi, Uschi,” said Hazel with a smile.
Ulric stopped and waited impatiently.
Bjarke and Elisedd exchanged pleasantries and Bjarke said, “We’re planning on going to see the aurochs’ pull some blokes around, my dad included. Would you like to join us?”
Hazel looked to Elisedd. “What do you think?”
“Aye, it’s definitely worth seeing. I was going to take you there next,” said Elisedd.
The group of them departed and navigated their way to a rectangular plot that was larger than the other vendors. It was surrounded by the largest crowd she had seen yet.
Hazel squeezed her way toward the roped off area to get a better look.
Inside, a pair of burly men were grasping onto a rope that was attached to an enormous aurochs bull. The men were straining to pull on the rope, their faces red and muscles tense, but the aurochs seemed to be making little effort to stay put.
“If they can pull the aurochs back past that line, they win twice what they bet,” said Bjorn.
“Why aren’t they changed? Wouldn’t that help?” asked Hazel
“If they have to change, and they manage to pull him back, they’ll just get their money back.”
After another thirty seconds of straining, the pair relaxed and shook their heads, defeated.
“Going for the refund then?” asked a young man with a deep voice.
He was the only other person Hazel had seen in the village who was comparable in size to Bjarke and Bjorn.
The two men at the rope nodded as they grasped it once again while kicking off their shoes. One of them took a deep breath as he adjusted his grip on the rope.
Hazel first recognized the familiar retreat of the whites of his eyes. His ears then grew into points. Thick gray hair began to cover his head and neck as well. His face was still distinctly human, but his features took on a wolfish appearance that was recognizable even from a distance. His arms and legs were covered with fur as well. His feet extended to take on the appearance of agile hind legs. The man behind him took on a similar appearance.
“Amazing,” gasped Hazel. “I didn’t know changing could be so... extensive.”
Elisedd smiled. “It’s not done often. They intend to give it everything they’ve got,” said Elisedd.
The two changed men yanked the rope back forcefully. The aurochs was forced to take a few steps back before bracing himself, then he charged forward with a bellow. The men took a few quick steps forward, barely staying upright before the aurochs lurched forward again, forcing the rope to slide from their hands. They shouted and grimaced, shaking their hands. They changed back to their normal appearances as they walked away from the rope.
“Good effort, lads! Who’s next?!” shouted the young man as he handed the bull a treat.
A man shouted, “Bjarke! Where are you? Let’s show ‘em how it’s done!” He entered the ring, and Hazel recognized him as one of the Laochra who had been at the campsite her first night on the estate. In the daylight, she could see that he looked like Bjarke, though he wore a bushy beard.
As Bjarke stepped over the rope and into the ring, Uschi said, “Don’t hurt yourself.”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” said Bjarke. He approached his father who was paying their bet.
With a pat of Bjarke’s back, Bjorn said, “Alright, son, we’re not letting go of that rope, got it?” Bjarke nodded and the two of them grasped the rope.
The vendor gave his bull a pat on the shoulder, then backed away as he counted down, “three, two, one... go!”
Bjarke and Bjorn strained and pulled with all their might. The bull could not stand casually in place as it had with the prior contestants. His shoulders and thighs were flexed as he leaned forward, digging his hooves into the dirt.
The crowd around the ring erupted.
As the bull continued to lean forward, he took a step. He pushed forward again farther than before. He was gaining momentum. Bjorn and Bjarke were forced to take a few short steps forward as they clutched the taught rope.
The crowd che
ered them on. Everyone doing their best to transfer their energy to the contestants.
The bull continued forward, gaining more speed until Bjorn and Bjarke neared the line on the ground. They dug their heels in when they were a foot in front of it and leaned back, both of them yelling as they gave it their all in the final moments. The bull took no notice as it took a final step forward, dragging their heels across the line to defeat.
The crowd booed.
Bjarke shook his head and muttered something to his son.
“Another go?” said the vendor.
Bjarke replied, “We’ll change this time around!”
“There’s no way they lose,” said Ulric.
Uschi shouted, “C’mon, lads!”
As father and son assumed their positions, Hazel grew excited and cheered at the anticipation of seeing the pair of them changed.
They picked up the rope and changed. Their eyes darkened, and thick brown fur grew over at least half their bodies. Thick claws grew on their hands and feet and their already robust limbs thickened. They looked even more wild then the pair that preceded them. It seemed impossible that they would lose to the aurochs.
They gripped the rope, and when the round began, the behemoths pulled backward on it with all their might. “C’mon!” roared Bjorn with an inhuman voice.
Immediately, the bull appeared to lose its footing, and it slid back a few feet before gaining traction. Then, as quickly as the pair had gained a step, they lost two as the bull charged forward with a bellow.
The two of them were grimacing, and Bjorn roared, “Pull!”
The bull charged hard, sending Bjarke and Bjorn through the air as they held on to the rope. They landed hard, and the bull dragged them across the line in the dirt.
The crowds’ cheers faded to sighs of disappointment mixed with laughter.
Bjorn laid chuckling as he changed back to his normal appearance. He patted his son on the chest and said loudly, “Well... we didn’t let go!”
“That ought to discourage anyone else from trying,” said Ulric with his typical pomp.
“I think I’ll have a go,” said Elisedd, making sure Ulric heard.
Hazel was surprised by his confidence. He was in shape, but much thinner than the bears that had just failed. She tried not to express her doubts. “Who’ll you go with?” she asked.
“I’ll see if Leland is up for pulling his own bull. Reckon the crowd would like to see him take a sip of his own medicine.”
He leaned close to Hazel’s ear and nodded toward Ulric as he whispered, “Your new friend needs to be humbled.” He took off his jacket and handed it to Hazel. “Do you mind holding this for me?”
She took the jacket and watched him as he rolled up his sleeves and entered the ring.
He spoke with Leland, who after brief contemplation gave a shrug that suggested he had agreed to Elisedd’s request. He put his hand to the auroch’s neck and concentrated for a moment before heading toward Elisedd and the rope. The two young men picked up the rope, but instead of facing the bull and leaning back, they faced the opposite direction with the rope over their shoulders.
Leland gave his own countdown while the crowd muttered in anticipation. “Three... two... one... go!”
They leaned forward at a sharp angle and were immediately able to pull the rope forward a step. The auroch’s front end was lifted a few feet into the air as its harness was pulled backward.
The crowd grew silent as did Hazel in awe and anticipation.
A moment later, the bull’s hind legs slid backward a bit, then its front legs fell back to the ground. The bull tensed and grunted, his nostrils flaring as he dug into the ground, struggling to find his footing.
The crowd began cheering at what looked to be the beginning of the auroch’s demise.
Elisedd and Leland continued moving forward, slowly but steadily. The bull tried to charge several times, but each time they managed to maintained their ground, bracing themselves firmly as they leaned hard before stepping forward again in unison.
“Just a bit more!” shouted Leland. With a final, labored step forward, the bull’s hind legs were dragged across the line.
The crowd cheered wildly.
Elisedd dropped the rope and gave Leland a tired pat on the back before leading him toward Hazel. “Hazel! Let me introduce you to...”
Ulric cut him off, shouting, “You expect us to believe you didn’t tell that overgrown cow to let up?”
Coinín replied, embarrassed by his brother’s criticism, “C’mon, the bull was straining, Ulric.”
Ulric continued, “Theatrics. Is that how all the winners triumph? You strike up a deal and let ’em win to keep the competitors coming.”
Leland stood tall and approached Ulric until he was looking down at him, inches away. “You calling me a cheat?”
Ulric took a quick step back and drew his sword to Leland’s throat. “Aye, I am.”
“Stop!” shouted Bjorn as he marched toward Ulric. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The crowd’s attention had turned to the altercation.
“These two need to be taught a lesson,” Ulric growled, keeping his blade against Leland’s throat.
“No, you do,” said Bjorn as he snatched Ulric’s sword away. “I’ll be having a word with Aatu.”
“Good. He should be informed of their insolence, bloody Creiche,” spat Ulric before stomping away.
Leland started to chase after Ulric. “You cocky son of a...”
“Don’t!” said Elisedd as he held him back. “He’s already made an arse of himself, that’s punishment enough... c’mon take a breather.”
Coinín said, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why he gets like that.” He shook his head before resting it in his palm.
Hazel new Ulric was conceited, now she knew he was violent.
Uschi said, “That was a bit much for even for him.”
After the tension assuaged, Elisedd rejoined Hazel and introduced her to Leland. He asked playfully, “Not bad, huh?”
“No, quite the contrary!” replied Hazel. She paused, wondering whether there might be any truth in Ulric’s accusation.
Elisedd noticed and asked, “You’re curious if it was an act?”
Hazel shrugged. “Leland was telling the aurochs something before you started.”
Leland replied earnestly, “Aye, I was. I was telling him to pull like I was anyone else. I’ve trained him not to resist me.”
Hazel felt foolish for questioning them. “Of course... seems obvious now. Sorry I doubted you.”
“Apology accepted,” said Leland with a smile.
Elisedd said, “I’m the one who should feel foolish. I meant to teach Ulric a lesson and it got a sword drawn on my mate.”
“Some people refuse to learn,” said Leland.
Elisedd gave him a pat on the back. “I’ll remember next time.”
Leland went to his bull.
Hazel asked, “Elisedd, what does Creiche mean?”
He looked down for a moment and his cheerful expression faded. “It mean’s prey.”
A voice called out from behind, “What did I miss?”
Hazel turned around to see Fergus holding a wood sculpture of himself under his armpit.
23
CAMERON
Cameron gazed upon the lifeless body in front of him.
Alviva’s father was surrounded by candles that had burned their wax low to the wooden table. All but his head was shrouded by a fine cloth. A thick line of purple was still visible around his neck.
His wake had lasted three days. Several trays around the room had been filled with gifts for Alviva and her mother by those who had paid their last respects.
Cameron could detect the stench of death in the air. He did his best to mask his aversion to the scent. Beside him, Daniel held Alviva’s hand.
Faron and three Laochra walked into the room. They were carrying a simple wooden casket with rope handles, the top was uncovered.
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Alviva’s mother wore a look of revulsion at Faron’s arrival, just as she had when he tried to comfort her the day her husband’s body was found.
Faron approached Otus’s body, picked him up gently, and moved him over the candles.
Cameron tensed for a moment as he saw the Eslene cloth pass over the open flames, but Faron exhibited the graceful movement Cameron had come to recognize in him.
Faron swiftly moved Otus over to the casket, then set him down carefully. The three other Laochra approached the casket and each of them took a handle, then carried the it out of the room.
Alviva leaned over the table and blew out the remaining candles that had not yet burned themselves down. Cameron followed the others in the room outside. It was an exceptionally crisp morning; the sky as blue as ever. The procession was beginning to line up. There were at least a dozen more Laochra outside mounted on horseback.
At least they had the decency to pay their final respects.
After the casket was placed on a fine wagon, the procession started forward. During the long walk north toward the quarry, Cameron began to make out the sounds of cheers, laughter, and strings playing jovial tunes. There were passersby on the road whose jaunty behavior quickly turned solemn when they realized what it was they were passing. Although some of the younger villagers failed to register the procession at all and carried out laughing and dancing their way by.
Cameron clenched his reins in frustration.
“They don’t know any better,” said Daniel.
“They ought to,” replied Cameron.
When they finally cleared the crowds and rode upon the vacant plains, Cameron could make out a mound in the distance and several horses and men standing near it. As they drew closer, Cameron recognized Ayalon and Ollamh standing with several Laochra. The mound that they stood next to was in fact a pile of thatch and wood, flattened at the top. Several torches were planted in the ground around it; they were already lit.
Ollamh shared quiet condolences with Alviva and her mother, everyone else remained silent. Faron dismounted his horse near Ayalon, and without greeting his father, he proceeded to helping unload the casket onto the bed of thatch.
