by M. M. Perry
“I wouldn’t want that job,” Nat said, able to hear some of the men grunting as a barge approached nearer their bank than most. It was heading upriver and only had a few people on it. A man in the boat hailed them.
“Going to Chulpe?” he asked.
“We are,” Cass responded.
“Two gold pieces a head. Eight for each of the mounts,” the man called.
Cass waved her hand indicating they were fine. Callan watched the barge pull away incredulously.
“Why’d you turn them away?” he asked. “My hind end could use a rest.”
“They can barely go faster than us as it is. Add all our horses and gear, and we’d be better off walking on foot. Also, when they stop, which they must do to let their paddlers rest occasionally, you have to stop with them. Just watch, we’ll pass them again before the day is over,” Cass said.
And pass them they did. As the day darkened into dusky evening, Callan saw the barge banked on the other side of the river, the tired pedalers visible around the small fire.
“They will keep going, if you insist,” Cass said noticing Callan’s gaze, “but only if you do the pedaling yourself.”
She turned to Viola.
“We’re getting close enough to the city that we’ll need to keep an eye out for bandits. Tonight, and from now on until we get to Chulpe, we’ll want the campsite protected.”
Viola nodded.
“Not a problem. No one will get near us without our knowing it well in advance.”
While the rest of the group set up their tents and built up a fire, Gunnarr accompanied Viola into the woods. Viola produced two vials from somewhere within the many pockets on her vest. One contained a dry, red, sandy looking substance, the other a blue liquid. Viola took a flat bronze dish out of another pocket and poured some of the contents from each of the vials into it. Gunnarr watched curiously as she stirred the two elements together, making a thick gritty paste.
Then Viola held the dish in one hand while placing her other hand over it. She closed her eyes and concentrated on imbuing the substance with energy. A haze formed over the dish, like the heat shimmer that surrounds a flame. Then, gradually, the substance began to change. Instead of a dull purple paste, the substance began to clear and became smoother. Viola pulled her hand away and looked down at the bronze dish, pleased with herself.
“I guess I still have it,” she said softly.
She walked to a large tree and dipped her finger into the now clear, viscous solution. She dabbed her finger three places on the tree then walked to another about ten feet away. She dabbed three more places on that tree, and as Gunnarr followed her he could just barely discern delicate gossamer strands of something stretching between the trees, almost like a spider web. Each time Viola touched a tree a pulse of light would travel back along the path they’d taken, leaving a strand of gossamer visible between them for a moment before it faded to near invisibility. Gunnarr followed Viola around as she ringed the campsite, dabbing at trees along the perimeter. When Viola was done she poured what was left of the mixture into an empty bottle and rinsed the little bronze plate in a spring. The camp was now completely surrounded by an almost invisible barrier.
“That should do it,” she said. “If anyone passes through one of those strands, we’ll know it.”
“I have seen many enchanters protect camps,” Gunnarr said, “but this is new.”
“If you know many enchanters, you know that they can never all seem to agree on what’s the best way to do anything. There’s a saying in my village, ‘If one man lights a torch, one hundred enchanters will explain to him how he did it wrong,’” Viola said.
They walked back to camp. Nat was still setting up tents. Currently, he was working on Callan’s. Callan stood nearby, overseeing Nat’s work and offering the occasional suggestion, while he nibbled at some jerky he’d retrieved from his private stash. Cass was keeping watch. The other three smaller tents had already been pitched. Inez was already ensconced in the wagon, its tarpaulin completely covering it.
“He’s putting up a tent for us?” Gunnarr asked Cass. His eyebrows arched and a smile twitched the corner of his mouth up.
“Alas, although the boy isn’t done yet, I don’t think any of these tents, save the royal one, would accommodate two frisky warriors,” Cass said touching Gunnarr’s cheek, “and I don’t suspect the king could be persuaded to trade his tent for one of ours.”
Gunnarr sighed and hooked his thumbs into his belt. He looked around the campsite and then turned back to Cass, an impish grin on his face.
“If everyone goes into their tents, that means the fireside will be very private tonight,” he suggested as he wiggled his eyebrows.
Cass laughed.
“Nice try, but again, no.”
Cass pointed up to the sky where the waning moon should have been clearly visible. Dark clouds blotted the night sky, and there wasn’t a star to be seen. As if on cue, a vein of lightning stretched over the cloud’s surface, crawling across the sky.
“Swina meinfretr!” Gunnarr cursed heavily as the peal of thunder reached them.
Cass leaned against a tree and chewed on a piece of jerky she’d liberated from Callan’s supplies earlier. She smiled at Gunnarr’s frustrations.
“I’ll make it up to you,” she said coyly, “Chulpe is only a day’s ride away now. Plenty of big beds in Chulpe. And tables, barstools, bars, wagons, back alleys…”
Cass was cut off abruptly as Gunnarr wrapped his arms around her and pulled her body to his, kissing her with all the passion that had been building in him over the last few days. As he let the kiss linger, Gunnarr thought perhaps it had been building for even longer, since that time a year ago when he’d first seen Cass. After what could have been seconds or minutes, the huge man was too enraptured to notice, Cass pulled away from him gently. He stooped a little to lean his forehead softly against hers, his finger tracing the delicate blue tattoo on her ear.
“Maybe,” Cass said, her voice husky, “I wouldn’t mind a little rain.”
As if in answer, the thunder cracked again, this time very near and violently loud, startling them both. Moments behind, the first droplets of rain started to fall around them, hissing as they hit the fire. They laughed, still embracing, as everyone else scrambled into their tents to avoid the cold rain. Callan finally set his meal aside and rushed to help Nat secure the last of his tent’s supports.
“Well, frigg. The gods say no,” Gunnarr sighed, then leaned in closer to whisper against Cass’ neck, “Tomorrow then.”
With one last quick parting kiss on her neck, Gunnarr stepped back from Cass. He stomped off towards his tent, disappointed but excited and hopeful at the same time. Cass felt the tempo of the cold drops hitting her face pick up. She took one last look out into the woods before heading back to her tent and climbing inside. Something, or more likely someone, was out there. She could feel it in her bones. She hoped the wet and cold would send whatever it was packing back to their home or den. In case they didn’t, she made sure to have her weapons nearby and readied before she tried to get some sleep.
Cass was awake, again, for the dozenth time that night. She was staring at the heavy cloth of her tent in the dark. The rain had put the fire out long ago, so she could barely make out the roof of the tent. The heavily oiled top sagged, having been partially caved in under the torrential rain that had beaten down on it earlier in the evening. She had managed to get a few hours of sleep overall, in ten or twenty minute bits, even with the storm raging outside the tent and whatever it was still lurking outside, she was sure, waiting for its chance. Now the rain had slowed to a soft tapping sound. The drops drummed against the top of her tent in an irregular pattern, making it easier for Cass to pick out the sounds coming from outside her tent. She heard the consistent chirping of frogs and insects, as well as the occasional hooting of an owl somewhere close by.
But Cass wasn’t listening for these sounds, but rather for the absence of them. Where sh
e found silence in the woods, she knew someone, or something, was making its way through. She had heard them first when they’d gotten too close to a peeping tree frog, which had stopped its song suddenly. A few minutes later, they’d scared away several crickets that had been playing uninterrupted for the last hour. She knew any minute whatever was out their lurking would soon pass the barrier Viola had put up around the camp.
Cass double checked her dagger and flexed the fingers of her sword hand. She was wondering just how Viola’s barrier would alert them to the presence of intruders when a loud cry interrupted her thoughts.
“Get it off me, get it off me!” someone screamed from out in the woods.
Another voice shouted back, “I can’t! They’re everywhere!”
Cass scrambled out of her tent and instantly scanned the campsite. The adrenaline rush and her years of training stilled everything for a crystalized, frozen moment. The remnants of the fire, long since extinguished by the rain, poked out of the pool that had formed in the fire pit, but the smell of burnt wood and ash still filled the air. The moon cast a dim glow on the camp, its form indistinct yet veiled by the thin shreds of rain clouds that still trailed across the sky. Viola and Gunnarr were emerging from their tents. But there were no strangers in sight. The moment passed, and the world sped up again for Cass.
Viola stumbled over to her, shivering in the night air. The rain brought much cooler weather with it.
“That would be the barrier being broken,” Viola said through chattering teeth.
Inarticulate screeches bounced through the trees.
“How exactly does your barrier work?” Cass asked, peering out into the trees.
“The strands stick to them and then the solution is absorbed through the skin. It makes them start to see things that aren’t there within seconds. What they think they are seeing scares and disorients them.” Viola said.
“I see,” Cass said.
“For about ten minutes at least,” Viola finished.
Cass turned to Gunnarr, who had already drawn his blade.
“I’ll wake the others,” Cass said as she turned to Nat’s tent.
“I can’t believe they aren’t awake already, with all that racket,” Viola said, rubbing her arms and stomping to generate some warmth.
Cass poked her head inside Nat’s tent to find him curled up in a fetal position. She tapped his foot with her boot and he jerked awake.
“What? Is it morning already?” he asked drowsily.
“There are bandits about. I suggest you get ready,” Cass said.
She moved away from Nat’s tent before the boy could even respond. She stepped inside Callan’s tent next. He was tucked tightly into his thick feather blanket, only his head visible. A tuft of cotton stuck out of his exposed ear and he wore a silky looking mask over his eyes. Cass knelt down beside his bed. She tapped on his shoulder firmly to be felt through the blanket. He grumbled sleepily, wiped his face, and then rolled over, squeezing his pillow to his face. Cass sighed and reached out to pluck the cotton from Callan’s ear.
“Your majesty,” she said softly.
Callan did not respond.
“Your majesty,” she said a little louder.
Callan still didn’t respond.
“Spiders!” Cass shouted.
Callan bolted upright. He looked left and right quickly, before realizing he needed to remove his mask. He pulled it off, blinked a few times, then focused on Cass.
“I was having the most wonderful dream. I was back home, I’d just been woken up by Barley, my manservant, and was trying to decide if I’d rather have him bring me crumpets or scones.”
“You’d be better off with the crumpets,” Cass said jokingly. “You’re starting to gain a little around the middle.”
“I don’t remember asking you,” he snapped as he took the other cotton ball out of his ear. “What are you doing in my tent, anyway?”
“You may want to make yourself ready. Someone’s hit Viola’s webs. I’m fairly certain they’re bandits. I suspect they may wish us some harm,” Cass said standing.
“Ugh,” Callan said climbing out of his blanket. He slid his feet into a pair of slippers that were sitting near the foot of his mattress. “I tell you, if I had known this adventure was going to be so treacherous, I would have hired ten warriors, not two. Then I could have just slept through all the drama.”
Cass was shaking her head as she left Callan’s tent to find Inez already up, climbing out of her wagon, glaring about angrily.
“What’s all the hollering?” Inez asked as she skulked over to Viola and Gunnarr.
“Someone hit my barrier a few minutes ago. We need to go deal with them now. They’ll be getting their bearings back any minute. And they’ll probably be more than a little irate,” Viola said.
Callan, improbably, had managed to get mostly dressed, and was lacing up his tunic as he lumbered over to the group sleepily. Nat popped out of his tent a moment later, his sword strapped to his hip. Cass gestured for Nat to come over. Nat trotted over and stopped right before her, standing rigidly at attention, a soldier awaiting orders.
“Nat, it’s time to put your practice to the test. You need to stay here and protect the others. Do you think you can manage that?” Cass asked.
Nat nodded enthusiastically.
“What? No!” Callan sputtered. “You can’t leave me with just this boy for protection!”
“We can’t wait for them to get to the camp. We have to go to them, now, while they’re still confused. If you’re worried, go get the horse saddled and be ready to ride away if there’s trouble,” Cass said with authority.
“I’ve got a little something else I can work up, too,” Viola said trying to calm Callan. “Come on, I can do it while you start with the horses.”
Callan was led off by Viola, who tugged him along behind her by his elbow.
Gunnarr put a meaty hand on Nat’s shoulder.
“Remember what I’ve taught you. Let the sword be a natural extension of your arm. Fight defensively. Let them make the mistake, then you respond. And don’t be afraid to call for help if things get bad. If we can get to you, we will,” Gunnarr said.
Nat gripped the hilt of his sword and gritted his teeth.
“I can do this,” he said confidently.
Cass clapped him on the back encouragingly. Then she and Gunnarr set off, running into the woods. Nat hurried to catch up with the others near the horses.
Viola was rolling something between her thumb and forefinger. When she finished, she set it down, adding it to a short row of pea sized spheres on the edge of the wagon. They looked like they were made of clay to Nat.
“Let them try to get us!” she said with anticipation.
“No, really, let them not,” Callan said.
“Coward,” Inez sneered.
Out in the woods, Cass and Gunnarr had already circled out and behind the noisy interlopers. Cass drew her sword and slowed their pace. The intruders were becoming quieter as they regained their senses, but Cass and Gunnarr had already pinpointed their location in the wood. The two warriors parted as they closed on the stalkers, automatically taking flanking positions. As the cool night air blew across her damp shoulders, Cass shivered. She took a moment to listen to the quiet conversation of the intruders she was now close enough to pick out. The bandits seemed to be arguing about something. As Cass crept closer, she heard at least five distinct voices. She was shocked that they were all female. It wasn’t unheard of to find a tough woman among a band of cutthroats, but it was the exception, not the rule.
“They know we’re here now,” one hissed.
“It doesn’t matter, we stick to the plan. Kill the big one and take the women,” another said.
“Even the old woman?”
“No, you idiot. You think she’s got what we need?”
“I just thought…”
“Shh! Do you hear something?”
Cass still wasn’t close enough to see the women, bu
t she could hear them clearly now.
“Maybe we should change now?” one asked.
“Good idea.”
The air surrounding the women suddenly became very warm, and then Cass heard the unmistakable sound of flesh shifting and breaking and reknitting. Next she caught the overpowering odor of wild boar. Cass took a few steps back.
“Damn,” she cursed under her breath.
She hefted her sword and silently wished she hadn’t left Gunnarr’s side, since he’d have the best weapon against these beasts. Cass circled around the intruders, trying to get downwind of them. If she could keep them from scenting her, she might take a couple down before they knew what hit them. Just then one of the things stopped and sniffed the air rapidly in her direction.
“Damn, damn,” Cass muttered again, as the rest of the creatures turned their heads to follow her scent.
Knowing they were moments away from pinpointing her location in any case, she took the chance to warn the rest of the party.
“Five aswang,” Cass shouted loudly, “and they are angry.”
Back at the camp, Viola heard the shout loud and clear.
“Oh! I can help with this, give me a moment,” she said to Callan.
Viola began to make a pile of dirt and damp leaves on the ground.
Callan looked confused.
“Aswang?” Callan asked as he watched Viola work. “What’s an aswang?”
“Nasty bloodsucking creatures. Abominations. Daughters of Lireal. Victims of Adone’s curse. But don’t worry, they aren’t here for you little boy,” Inez said.
“What do you mean?” Callan asked, “And what is she doing?” he said gesturing to Viola.
Cass turned back to face the approaching aswang, her sword steady. As they moved into view Cass tried not to flinch. The women were all naked. Their lower halves were covered in fur and ended in cloven feet. The fur faded out as it rose up their bellies revealing the human skin underneath. By the time it got to their breasts, slick with sweat and grime, it was nearly invisible. The fur began again around their shoulders, quickly becoming a coarse coat before reaching their heads—that of massive boars. Their tusks gleamed in the moonlight, drool dripping in thick glops from their snarling lips. Their small eyes were focused on Cass, and the sword waving from left and right, keeping them from coming closer.
