The stranger pointed at Ballorn’s leg, “Is it broken?” he asked.
“Yeah,” grunted Ballorn, reaching out to retrieve the branches that lay a short distance from him. “But I’ve got these and a couple of leather belts, it’ll be fine once I’ve strapped it up.”
“Your courage is admirable,” snorted the stranger. “It almost outshines your stupidity!”
“Keep it up, skinny,” grunted Ballorn, unfastening the belts. “See if you still want to insult me when I’m on my feet.”
“Why, what will you do?” laughed the stranger. “Call me names, hurl abuse at me whilst you try to hobble after me?”
“You’ll see,” warned Ballorn, “I’ll put you on you’re ar…”
“What are you trying to do?” interrupted the stranger as he watched Ballorn’s pathetic attempt to construct a splint. “You’re doing it all wrong! Here, let me do it for you.”
He knelt beside Ballorn, who immediately grabbed him by the collar with both hands. “Now insult me if you dare,” he hissed. He felt a rhythmic tapping against his chest and slowly looked down to see the tip of a large hunting knife resting against it.
“I have saved your life this night, nemilar,” smiled the stranger. “Are you really that keen for your stay of execution to be so short?”
Ballorn released his grip and held his hands up. “My apologies,” he said quietly.
“Oh, I wouldn’t apologise just yet,” advised the stranger. “Trust me, this is going to hurt me far less than it will you.”
A short while later, not without much yelling, groaning and foul language, the stranger had expertly braced Ballorn’s broken leg.
“You weren’t bloody kidding when you said it was going to hurt!” gasped Ballorn.
“Ah but the good news is, I never felt a thing,” smiled the stranger.
Ballorn frowned, “What’s your name?”
“People just call me Hunter,” replied the stranger.
“Why?” asked Ballorn as he rubbed his leg. “Haven’t you got a proper name?”
“Of course I have.”
“So, why do people call you Hunter?”
“Because it’s what I do, in fact, it’s what I am.”
Ballorn studied the stranger. He could tell that he was a nemilar who was unused to a comfortable bed or soft living. His bare arms were slender, but the muscles were sinewy and strong. Perhaps he was indeed a hunter. “Alright, so you’re a hunter, but what’s your name?”
“Why?” asked the stranger, confused as to why it was so important to the nemilar he had rescued.
“Just wondering. I’m Ballorn, by the way. Sorry about earlier, it’s just that, well, with the pain and those…”
“Malgruth,” said the hunter, raising his voice and cutting short Ballorn’s attempt at an apology.
“Oh!” said Ballorn with surprise, “I thought it was a pack o’ gemnars!”
“My name is Malgruth… and it’s gemnar, not gemnars.”
“Oh… right, sorry, I just thought that…”
“Are you always like this?” asked the hunter, seeming agitated.
Ballorn looked puzzled, “Like what?”
“Blathering on and apologising all the time. Do you realise how annoying it is?”
“Of course not!” exclaimed Ballorn. “I don’t usually do anything that warrants an apology! And, I don’t ‘blather on’! Then again, it’s not an everyday occurrence for me to be indebted to someone for saving my life either!”
“What happened to you?” asked Hunter. “How did you manage to break your leg?”
“I didn’t!” snorted Ballorn. “Something else did!”
“Something?” asked Hunter, intrigued by his answer.
“Yeah, something,” repeated Ballorn. “But I didn’t get a good look at it before I was knocked clean off my feet. Next thing I knew, I woke up in the hollow of this here tree.”
“How big?” asked Hunter. “As big as a glamoch, perhaps?”
“Hah, a glamoch! Trust me, a glamoch would only be the size of a florrip compared to this thing.”
“So, you have no idea where it went, I mean, in what direction it was headed?”
“Not a clue,” replied Ballorn. “All I know is that I woke up with a broken leg and a lump on my head you could build a house on.”
Hunter suddenly seemed alarmed, “We should leave this place,” he urged.
“Easy for you to say,” replied Ballorn, his eyebrows raising as he looked at his leg.
“Don’t worry,” Hunter assured him, “I’m not about to abandon you. Here, take my arm. The sooner we leave, the better.”
“But it’s still dark, let’s hang on a couple of hours. We’ll make better progress once it’s light.”
“No,” replied Hunter, adamantly. “We’re leaving now.”
CHAPTER 3
Hauling Ballorn to his feet, the two of them set off. Hunter had done an excellent job with the splint and Ballorn felt hardly any pain as he limped along with his arm around Hunter’s shoulder. As daybreak came, and despite Ballorn’s disability and the rough terrain of the forest, they had covered roughly five miles. Although Ballorn had never met Hunter before, he was surprised that he knew the way to his home village of Krevick.
“How do you know where it is?” he asked.
“I have conducted business many times in your village, Ballorn. I have also seen you many times. However, in my line of work, I have very little need for a blacksmith.”
“So how come I’ve never seen you?”
“I am a hunter, Ballorn. My business is conducted mainly with the fletcher and the butcher, and I only deal with them if there is no other option.”
“I get it, they’re both on the other side of the village. That’s why I never saw you.”
Hunter laughed, “Do you ever see anything when you’re at your forge, Ballorn? Every time I saw you your head was down and you practically ignored anyone who spoke to you.”
“That’s what you’d do if you had ‘em around you all day. They’re just so damned annoying!”
Hunter sighed, “Yes… I’m beginning to understand that.”
Ballorn shook himself free of Hunter’s grasp. “If you think I’m annoying, just sod off!” he snapped, “Go on, I’ll manage on my own!”
“Stop moaning, you stupid nemilar. I’m staying with you whether you like it or not. Come on, put your arm back around my shoulder and let’s get moving.”
Ballorn scowled at Hunter and held his tongue for a while, but he had questions. Small doubts about Hunter niggled at him. “That trick with the fire…” he asked, “Do you use that a lot?”
“Very rarely,” Hunter replied. “I only use pomlay sap to light a campfire usually, but it can be used as a coating for my arrows should the need arise.”
“It was very good of you to protect me like that, I am truly grateful.”
“I wasn’t protecting you,” laughed Hunter, “I was trying to protect the gemnar.”
Ballorn laughed with him, but his laughter was cut short as he realised what Hunter had just said, “Good grief, you’re serious!” he exclaimed.
“Of course,” replied Hunter, “I told you before, they belong there, you don’t.”
Ballorn pouted, “Anyway,” he continued, “have you had to use it recently? I mean before you rescued me, say, in the last few days?”
Hunter frowned, “I haven’t had to use it for years, it’s not often one finds a clumsy blacksmith with a broken leg dragging himself around in the forest.”
Ballorn felt deeply offended and made no attempt to hide those feelings, “I am not clumsy!” he said, tipping his head closer to Hunter.
“Why are you so interested in the pomlay sap?” asked Hunter with a smile.
“Oh, no reason,” replied Ballorn. “Just thought it was quite impressive, that’s all.” He paused, “I suppose you could make a far bigger blaze with it if you needed to?”
“What are you getting at, Ballorn? Th
ere’s something rattling around in that thick skull of yours, so why not just get to the point?”
Ballorn let out a deep sigh, “Well…” he began, “… the reason I’m so far away from Krevick is because I came out to make a delivery to a farm not far from where you found me.”
“You mean Lonny’s farm?”
“Yes,” replied Ballorn with surprise. “Why, do you know him?”
“I’ve known him and his family for over a decade, but I’ve not seen them for close on two years now.”
Ballorn suddenly felt very uncomfortable, “So, he’s a friend of yours then?” he asked tentatively.
“Not as such,” replied Hunter. “More a business acquaintance… but one of the nicer ones,” he added with a smile.
“Oh,” said Ballorn, quietly. He was unsure of how to tell him that the farm no longer existed. “I need to rest for a moment, if that’s okay with you.”
Hunter lowered him to the soft grass and stood with a concerned look on his face. “Something’s bothering you, Ballorn. Come on, out with it.”
“The farm,” began Ballorn, “it’s gone. Nothing left but piles of rubble and a few scorched timbers sticking out of the ground.”
“And you think I may have had something to do with it?”
Ballorn held up his hand, “I just needed to be sure. You do understand that, don’t you?”
Hunter stared at him, his lower lip firmly between his teeth, “Yes,” he said slowly. “But what could raze an entire farm to the ground?” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “This delivery…” he asked, “… what was it?”
Ballorn cleared his throat nervously, “Ah, yes… the delivery. Now before I go any further just let me say, I thought he was a bit cracked! You know, long hours out in the hot sun baking his brain. So, of course when he came to me and asked…”
“What… were you… delivering…, blacksmith?” growled Hunter.
“An axe,” replied Ballorn, his voice tailing off almost to a whisper.
“An axe? Surely a farmer would already have an axe of his own? Why would you come all the way out here simply to deliver an axe?”
Ballorn looked up sheepishly, “Because he commissioned me to forge it especially.”
“There are plenty of merchants around who could have sold him an axe. What was so special about the one he had you make for him?”
“Well, the one I made him was not a mere wood-cutters axe, it was a broadaxe. One that could be used in battle.”
“In battle!” exclaimed Hunter, “Against who?”
“Not who, what. And it’s whom, by the way. You should say, against whom!”
“Ballorn, what was Lonny afraid of?”
“He said he’d seen it! I didn’t think for a minute that he had, but he was adamant! He paid up front and was supposed to collect the following week. Of course, when he never showed up, I thought it only fair…” Hunter glared at him. “… Lonny said he’d seen a dragon!”
Hunter dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged in front of Ballorn. “So, the rumours are true,” he whispered staring deep into the ground.
“What!” breathed Ballorn, “You think there really is a dragon?”
Hunter leaned forward and grabbed Ballorn’s arm, “Think about it! An entire farm destroyed; scorched timbers from an inexplicable fire; you, hunted down and lucky to be alive after being thrown through the air by a colossal beast. It’s the only explanation. The dragons have awoken.”
“What do you mean, awoken? They’re all dead, and have been for an age.”
“Tell me, Ballorn, have you ever heard any stories of anyone finding the remains of a dragon? If they were extinct, surely the bones of at least one would have been discovered by now.”
“Stone me!” Ballorn replied, wild-eyed. “You’re right! The old tales and drawings show them to be forty feet tall, some even bigger. But no trace of them has ever been found.”
“We need to get back to Krevick and warn them,” said Hunter, dragging Ballorn to his feet.
“They won’t believe you. They’ll think you’re a loony…” Ballorn’s voice became quieter, “… same as I thought about Lonny.”
“I’ll have a better chance of being believed than any other, Ballorn. After all, who would know what lives in the wilds better than I.”
“Right, let’s go then. But leave me behind if you must. Get to the village and warn them. You can come back for me later.” Ballorn grinned, “Not that I’d want to inconvenience you.”
“I have a better idea,” Hunter rummaged through his many pockets. “Chew these,” he said handing Ballorn some pale-green seed pods. “Do not swallow them whatever you do, just keep chewing them. They’ll help ease the pain.”
Ballorn winced at the smell of them. “What are they?” he asked.
“They’re pollum pods,” Hunter informed him. “Normally we only use the leaves, but this is an emergency and we don’t have time to boil them anyway.”
“What happens if I swallow them by accident?”
Hunter shrugged, “I’ll hide you under a bush and come back for you next week,” he said, thoughtfully. “You might have woken up by then.”
“Nice,” replied Ballorn as he popped them into his mouth and started chewing. “Ooh, they’re quite tasty aren’t they!” He wobbled his head, “Ooh look…” he said giggling, “… the trees have gone all wibbly wobbly.”
Hunter groaned. He knew all too well how Ballorn would react to the pollum pods. Oh well, he thought, at least he’ll be in a good mood for the rest of their journey… and possibly the next few days as well.
Hunter tried his best to hurry Ballorn along. His leg was no longer a problem. However, his fascination with everything around him, was.
“Look, Hunter, a purple tree! I’ve never seen a purple tree before. Have you, Hunter, have you ever seen a purple tree? I suppose you have, you’ve been out here for years wandering the forests… oooohh look, there’s a bear over there… a green one… and it’s dancing! Why’s it wearing a dress?”
“Ballorn, that’s a bush, not a bear! Come on, you’re doing fine, just keep following me.”
Further along the trail, Hunter was actually glad that Ballorn was… confused, by the pollum pods. With luck, the blacksmith would be oblivious to the sight of huge boughs that had been sheared from the mighty trees around them. Many had been torn from the ground, their withering, scorched roots bared to the daylight. The ground in which they had proudly stood was nothing but ash, dust rising from it with each step they took. Hunter began to fear the worst as they eventually neared the outskirts of Krevick. His heart sank at what he saw. It was late, and sunset would soon arrive, but what lay ahead would make anyone believe that it was already the dead of night. Plumes of black smoke billowed into the air, it could be coming from nowhere else but the village. They were too late, the dragons had already attacked Krevick.
They entered the ravaged village that had been home to Ballorn and his fellow nemilar for many generations. The few buildings that remained were now charred and ugly, their thatched roofs gone. It was silent save for the crackling of timbers that still glowed red. Unrecognisable corpses lay strewn in every direction, the flesh seared from their bones. Hunter shuffled forward in disbelief. He turned to Ballorn, wrapping his fingers gently around his jaw and looked deep into his eyes. “Swallow the pods, Ballorn,” he whispered. “Swallow the pods… you should get some rest.”
CHAPTER 4
Settling Ballorn into one of the lesser damaged buildings, Hunter prepared himself. He began by scouring the village, hoping to find anything that may help with his gruesome task. Finding a broken handcart he repaired it and, after wrapping a scarf about his mouth and nose, began the removal of the corpses from the village streets. It would have been impossible for him to bury them all singlehandedly and he chose to lay the bodies out in one of the larger buildings. It took almost the entire day, but eventually, three of the derelict structures in Krevick were now occupied by the dead. Hun
ter gathered beams and planks and sealed the doorways, it was all he could do to protect their remains from scavengers.
Occasionally he would check on Ballorn, who slept peacefully thanks to the pollum pods. Hunter sat beside him on the ground wondering whether it would be best to load him onto the cart and wheel him far away from Krevick, or wait until he awoke and allow him to witness the horror that had befallen his home. For two days Hunter toiled, making sure to check beneath the rubble for any victims. He had no friends or family here, but it was the decent thing to do. Not even Ballorn was truly a friend. After all, they had only just met. But something stirred within him. He felt that the blacksmith was somehow different, somehow… important.
Hunter frowned as he watched Ballorn. He himself was exhausted, but he was sure he had seen Ballorn’s eyes open briefly. He leaned forward. No, that would be impossible, he thought. The nemilar had swallowed three pods! There was no way he would awaken for at least another three days and even then it would take another two for him to shake off the effects of the pollum.
But he was wrong. Ballorn suddenly sat bolt upright and immediately grabbed his leg. “Soddin’ buggery and blast it all!” he roared.
Hunter jumped to his feet. “Take it easy, Ballorn,” he urged. “Give yourself a minute.”
“Get stuffed!” bellowed Ballorn. “Give yourself a minute! Stuffin’ ‘eck… me leg.”
Hunter frantically searched his pockets, “I’ll give you something for the pain, Ballorn. Just give me a second.”
“You can shove your pods and crap! Where am I? How long have I been out?”
“Just relax, my friend, you’re safe.”
“Up yours!” shouted Ballorn. “I’ll decide whether I’m safe or not, and I ain’t your friend. Tell me where I am!”
“You’re home, you’re in Krevick,” Hunter said, trying to calm him.
“Krevick ain’t my home, you idiot!” Ballorn ranted. “It’s where my forge is! My home’s over a mile away. What did you bring me here for?”
“You were in pain. The pollum made you… drowsy and I thought this would be the safest place for you.”
Mark of The Nibrilsiem: Set before The Ascension of Karrak (The Karrak Trilogy Book 4) Page 3
