Shepherd’s Awakening (Books 1-3)

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  The cave vibrated with that flow of emotions. Outside, the moon shone through a blanket of clouds. They fell silent, solemn. Mérdmerén had never told of his fall in one go before, even less accepted that he missed his wife so much. I must be getting old, he said to himself. But I’ll have my revenge. If only my wife’s still waiting for me. If only my daughter can remember me. She was just a baby when they took her from me. My little Ajedrea of the Recesses.

  The night went quietly for neither Mérdmerén nor Ságamas. Both of them tossed and turned in their leather coats, inadequate in the face of the icy wind. However close they got to the fire, they could not get warm. Behind them, several tunnels extended into the depths of the rock, and from there came noises and exhalations as cold as the night.

  Mérdmerén was sleeping—if that catnap could be called sleep—with his sword in his hand. Twice he woke up with a start. Something was lurking, but what?

  In the small hours, while Mérdmerén dozed, exhausted, Ságamas busied himself with preparations for leaving. Then the neighing of the horses alerted both of them. They looked at one another and ran outside. A pack of flying reptiles of formidable size with long deadly claws and teeth like human fingers was cornering their horses and, tethered as they were, they could not escape. There were five red wyverns!

  “Holy God of Light!” Mérdmerén cried. There was nothing they could do but watch the banquet the reptiles were preparing to enjoy.

  One of the wyverns got ready to spit acid. Its nostrils widened to discharge the lethal dose. An arrow pierced its throat. The acid spilled down its skin and burned it. What could have happened? The four remaining wyverns roared with fury as they looked around for the attacker. The seconds went by, and they could not see the threat. They were getting nervous. They took flight, but one of them grabbed Mérdmerén’s horse and took off with it.

  The animal, with the claws piercing its ribs, moaned in its death-agony as it flew through the sky. Another smaller wyvern tried the same with Ságamas’ horse, but at that exact moment, a mastiff leaped out of nowhere and seized the reptile’s tail. The wyvern lost its balance. It started to flap to free itself from the bite, trying to gain height, but that dog was no ordinary mutt.

  The size of a pony and as heavy as two men, it was tearing the reptile’s flesh with the powerful shaking of its neck. The wyvern fell amid howls, but it was not defeated. It rose to attack with the dog still hanging on to its tail, which it did not let go of until it finally tore it off. The beast screamed. It turned rapidly, ready to spill acid when a second mastiff joined the fray. The second dog grabbed the wyvern by the neck and shook it mercilessly.

  The wyvern snorted in frustration. At that moment, they heard something tearing and then the crackle of burnt flesh. The mastiff had burst the acid glands, and now the winged beast was cooking in its poison.

  The dogs celebrated their victory with barks of furious pride. Mérdmerén and Ságamas were paralyzed, unable to believe what they had just seen. They began to tremble when the huge dogs came up to them, showing their sharp teeth. Ságamas’ horse was neighing desperately.

  “Don’t you move,” Mérdmerén said.

  “No way. Let them sniff you.”

  Those noses, as big as apples, were sniffing their bodies. The animals were so big they reached the travelers’ chests. They seemed to lose interest, and Mérdmerén was relieved when they ran away, barking. In that direction, from behind the underbrush, a figure appeared carrying a bow in one hand with an arrow nocked in readiness. The hips of the figure were sinuous, its waist small, and its full breasts moved freely under a suede tunic.

  The deserter wriggled with pleasure. He took delight in the woman’s face: a mask of curiosity and terror with dark, silky hair that swayed when she walked. Her golden skin and muscular body were awe-inspiring.

  “Who… you?” she said when she reached them, pointing her knocked arrow at them.

  The accent and her looks gave her away as a woman of the land of Devnóngaron. Mérdmerén, inevitably, remembered Balthazar.

  Now that she was so close, he was able to admire the woman’s face, her beautiful features, deep green eyes, sensual lips, and golden skin. She was as tall as Mérdmerén in his shoes, and under her skin was a suggestion of strongly defined muscles.

  The tunic covered the bare minimum, revealing a shapely body of seductive curves. Mérdmerén forgot the arrow which was aimed at his chest. Ságamas, on the other hand, showed a better grip on his instincts. The harshness of the sea and what he had learned from the harpies in the seaports kept him alert.

  “I’m Ságamas, a sailor. He’s Mérdmerén, the boss.”

  Mérdmerén was still lost in the woman’s breasts.

  “You… kill me? Kill… me?” the woman demanded, very seriously.

  “We don’t want to kill anybody. We’re just traveling. We’re heading north.”

  “No want kill me?”

  “No, we don’t want to kill you. Mérdmerén, wake up, man!”

  Ságamas kicked him in the shin, which brought him back instantly to reality.

  “Son of a bitch!” he cried, rubbing his leg.

  The shout alarmed the Wild Woman’s mastiffs.

  “Apologies, huh?” muttered Mérdmerén. “What’s your name?”

  The woman did not answer.

  “Apologies, my lady,” the man repeated, spellbound. “We’re heading north, and if you wish, we can be your escort and share a bed.”

  Ságamas rolled his eyes. He could not believe that the boss was trying to seduce the woman.

  The Wild Woman lowered the bow. “Danger here.” With a wave of her hand, she swept the west. “Danger here. Bad. Bad people here. No safe anymore. No safe anymore. Ruthyia, bad man look for ruthyia for war. Ruthyia,” she repeated, pointing at the dead reptile. “I Usuma, protector of land. Sometimes ruthyia kill my animals. I kill ruthyia. Today kill bad ruthyia. Bad. Ruthyia of the south.”

  Ságamas and Mérdmerén understood almost nothing.

  “You say there are bad people around here?”

  “Yes.”

  “People who hunt ruthyia?”

  “Yes. Very bad. Of the south.”

  “What is there to the south?” Ságamas asked.

  Mérdmerén’s eyes opened wide. “Némaldon! There’s no region more macabre than that, full of evil men, sorcerers, and necromancers. That land has always sought to destroy the Empire. Didn’t you hear talk of a village that was devastated some years ago? A village of beautiful farms, the QuepeK’Baj complex? Némaldon’s magic had something to do with it, although it’s not been proven.”

  The woman watched with interest but without understanding.

  “Now, are there bad men from the south around here?” Mérdmerén asked her.

  “No. Sometimes seek Ruthyia. Bad, very bad. Two times dead come back to life. Two times. Dead…” The Wild Woman lost herself in some tormenting memory.

  “Dead back to life?” Ságamas repeated mockingly.

  “Necromancers, sailor. They’re foes of the cursed land who wield the Dark Arts. You would hear it from the mouth of soldiers who have fought at the borders, of cadavers that are manipulated by the darkness. It looks as though killing the dead is one of the most difficult things to do.” He turned back to the woman. “You killed the dead?”

  She pointed at her mastiffs, which were panting in the sun. “My devonicus kill dead. Good bitches. Kill ruthyia.” She pointed at the wyvern which had been brought down by her mastiffs.

  “Do you live around here?”

  “I alpha woman of Devnóngaron. Here for bad ruthyia. Mother say ruthyia bad no with men of the South. Bad men. My land is Mother. Nobody against Mother!” The Wild Woman lifted her bow to the sky in a warlike gesture.

  “If anybody thinks of invading Devnóngaron, it would have to be some poor fool who hasn’t seen these women, men, and mastiffs,” Mérdmerén murmured, remembering Innonimatus’ strength and intelligence.

  “I’ve n
ever seen a Wild Man or Woman this close,” Ságamas said. “They’re a beautiful race. You can tell they live in close contact with nature, just like me and the sea. What is Mother?”

  The question caught the woman’s attention, which awoke jealousy in Mérdmerén.

  “Mother, everything. Mother, love, food. Mother in everything, Mother in me,” she said, pointing at her breast. “In you, in all. If respect, Mother takes to Nogard Taerg,” she said, looking up at the sky.

  “One day, I’d like to visit Devnóngaron; I’d like to meet Mother,” Ságamas burst out.

  “Mother good. No want bad man. No like. You—” She shrugged. “Man of things forget soul. No forget soul, ever. Soul more important than things. Mother no want man who forget.”

  “It’s like the sea,” Ságamas nodded, lost in Usuma’s eyes. “The sea is like Mother: vast, infinite. It woos you; it envelops you. The sea gives life; the sea contains the mysteries of the universe.”

  “Sea?” the woman asked, blankly. “I, Mother. Love Mother.”

  Mérdmerén looked up. From the sun’s position, he calculated that it must be about eight in the morning. If we don’t leave now, we’ll be badly delayed, and that’s not counting what we might find further on. Besides, we’re one horse short, he lamented to himself.

  “Go back,” Usuma said, pointing to the bushes she had come out of. “Mother waits. Take head and heart of ruthyia. Eat, celebrate.”

  She went to the two reptiles and, with her ax, began to dismember the beasts. The men watched her work with those tense muscles, the shining skin, the round feminine shapes which escaped from the tunic. The mastiffs ate the innards their mistress offered them.

  “Let’s go on, sailor,” Mérdmerén sighed. “She’s pretty, but there’s nothing for us to do here, and we can’t waste any more time. We’ve only got one horse.”

  “Sure, the North awaits us.”

  “We need to stop at the next village and see if we can get another horse.”

  “What will we pay with?”

  Mérdmerén moved away from the sailor and went over to a decapitated wyvern. He held up a wing and looked at the woman. She gave her consent with a nod, and he cut off a claw with the fingers and nails intact. He also took a couple of fangs. “These’ll be our coins.”

  “Who’d want that?”

  “A witch, a sorcerer, or a shaman. There are plenty of them in the Empire.”

  They both got on to the horse, which complained at the weight, and set off at a trot toward the North.

  Chapter IX – When the Shadows Erode

  They traveled day and night and camped near the road when they had finished crossing the forest. They took cover from the north wind behind rocks. To the east was an open plain which allowed them to spot enemies in plenty of time if they approached.

  To Mérdmerén, it was clear that whoever was following them had persisted despite the distance they had covered. His years as the deserter had taught him to trust his hunches. He was not a man able to survive on his own in the wild, as Innonimatus had shown him, but he was superstitious and wary, and a wary man is worth two who are not.

  “Those sons of bitches are sniffing our backsides,” Mérdmerén said. “They must be either the owners of the horses or a band of bounty hunters after my head. Can’t be Jerd; at least I don’t think so. He was too half-witted to follow us for this long. What they don’t know is that killing me is a harder thing to do than killing a cornered wyvern.”

  “I can believe it,” the sailor replied. The man of the sea sat down on a rock near the fire. The horse, meanwhile, was enjoying the abundant grazing.

  “You still have some cured meat? I’m tired of the forest fruits. After two days of marching, I need meat. Can I have some?”

  “I’ve none left, but I killed this on the way.” From a fold in his clothes, the sailor took out a dead lizard. “I thought you’d never ask. Hand me that stick over there. Hey, boss, I know we don’t know each other very well, but if we’re going to be traveling and spending so much time together, you’d better get used to asking me for things without fear. The time’ll come when it’ll be me that has to ask you. Now then, lizard meat on the grill.”

  The sailor skewered the lizard on the stick and smiled. He had a tooth missing and two metal ones. He held the animal to the fire.

  “Aren’t you going to skin it?” Mérdmerén asked.

  “Better toast the skin first, boss, so you can peel it off like a banana. The heat loosens the skin. And besides, this way, the fatty juices that give the meat flavor are kept inside. It comes out tastier. The sad thing is that this little creature has very little fat. Ah, those were the times. So many fish and shellfish…”

  “What’s that?” the deserter asked. The sailor had taken a small pouch out of his pocket.

  “Sea salt, boss. Nothing like sea salt. It’s a great preservative and adds taste, though it can also kill it if you use too much. Sea salt, boss. Sea salt.”

  The sailor passed him a salt crystal the size of an olive. “Keep this crystal close to you, boss. When the food is unhealthy, you add a pinch and that’s that.”

  Mérdmerén studied the offering and felt very grateful. He smiled weakly and put it away within the leather of his armor. He looked at the sky again, intoxicated with the nocturnal spectacle.

  “The stars fascinate me,” he said.

  “I understand you. They’re great company for a sailor.” The smell of roast lizard was beginning to awaken the former nobleman’s senses.

  “I’ve never understood how you could steer by them.”

  “It’s not simple, but after seeing the same skies for so many nights, the stars become your loyal companions. I’m no astronomer, but I know that over there is D’Lily, the flower that weeps—a classic constellation. Over there is Morrón, the Furious Boar. To guide yourself during the night, it’s enough to look for that star over there, the one that often hides behind clouds. It’s called Belforte, beautiful and strong. It’s polar; that means it always points north.”

  Ságamas took the lizard off the fire, peeled the skin off as easily as he had predicted, and offered it to Mérdmerén. Contrary to what he had imagined, the meat was not bad at all. After their frugal meal, the travelers settled down and were soon asleep.

  ***

  The early morning was tenderly awakening them when they were startled by an unusual noise.

  “What was that?” the sailor asked. He got to his feet with difficulty.

  “I think that was our horse.” The deserter ordered silence with a finger to his lips, and Ságamas nodded. Mérdmerén drew his sword and went into the bushes and low branches. Meanwhile, the sailor packed as fast as he could: an old frying-pan, a wooden spatula, and a sack of crowns.

  As souvenirs, he also carried a fishing hook and a harpoon-tip that had broken when he had killed a giant squid that had almost sunk his ship.

  “Sons of the biggest bitch! They’ve stolen our horse, reins and stirrups and all! Those miserable wretches don’t dare attack directly, but they want to weaken us.”

  “With this bloody wooden leg, I won’t be able to go fast, Mérdmerén. I fear I’ll be more of a burden than company.” The old man’s face shadowed. “I won’t be able to put up with the rigors of the journey.”

  “Don’t be stupid!” said Mérdmerén angrily. “I’m the boss, and I’m not going to leave you behind. I don’t give a damn if you have to go on all fours, but we’ll do it together. Now, sailor, we have to think about what to do. It occurs to me that we might hunt down the bastards who are chasing us, but they might outnumber us. And besides, you’re not in such good shape. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.”

  “I never imagined how much we’d miss a horse. They have us by the balls, my friend. It makes me furious! Without any kind of transport, they’ll end up catching us. We ought to make it for the road. We might meet someone who’ll take pity on us.”

  “You’re a fool, sailor. Alone, without a horse, we’d be t
he perfect target for every kind of bandit. They’d beat us to death and then throw us into any old ditch. No, we’ll go on parallel to the road, following the Belforte star, as you said. It’s our only option.”

  They put out the fire and set out. Although dawn had broken, the forest seemed darker.

  Chapter X – Sorrow

  The journey through the forest was torture for the sailor. His wooden leg got stuck in the ground, caught in roots, and trapped in holes. In any case, the man was too old for a journey like this.

  Mérdmerén, on the other hand, seemed to be in his element. His time as a bandit had left him in good training. The sailor was panting. His face was pale, and he was in a cold sweat. He clutched his chest.

  “You damn deserter. You’re going to kill me. And you say the going’ll get worse? I won’t survive. By all the squid and octopuses, I’m going to die and my body’s going to rot on land. This is hell!”

  “And what do you want me to do?” Mérdmerén cried.

  “Shit, boss! I told you I want to die at sea!”

  Mérdmerén stopped for a moment and turned to look at his comrade. He was doubled up, hands on his knees, gasping like a horse on the brink of death.

  “Boss.” Ságamas was finding it harder and harder all the time, even to speak. “We need a horse right away. There must be a settlement nearby. I can’t go on any more…”

  Mérdmerén scratched his chin. I can’t let him die. It’d be a lot easier to go on alone, but he’s my partner, and I’ve got to look after him. “Very well,” he said at last. “We’ll make a brief stop. I’ll go and see if I can find a settlement.”

  He went nimbly into the woods. Very soon, he found what looked like a well-trodden path. It was marked with many footprints. He bent to study them and realized a discouraging fact: the freshest tracks were headed south. This meant that either the village was in that direction, opposite to their destination, or that the inhabitants had abandoned the settlement, perhaps fleeing.