"As many of you know my great grand-mother is Old Hildwylla. She gave me these fine threads, taken from the forest, sacred to our people and most sacred to her. She weaved from leaf and bark and twig and web and bone and fur and hide and mud these fine threads and gave them to me to weave with. I have weaved a way for the men who fight to protect us all to travel the forest as Old Hildwylla and remain unseen. In these cloaks is the Way of Old Mother." Before anyone could say anything or question her she flipped one of the cloaks over her arm and went and stood by the fire. She pulled the cloak over her shoulders and seemed to nearly disappear in the flaming light. Gasps of surprise could be heard as the men wondered what they had just seen. And just as quickly as her form had disappeared she reappeared again after slipping the cloak off. Then she took it and swirled it gracefully through the air. In the fire light the cloak seemed to shimmer and disappear from view.
"But how can this be?" Asked one.
"You heard the woman. Her kin is the Great Mother." Said one of the eldest men gathered. His name was Alar. His eyes twinkled as he stared at Idwil. "Uwain. You have a prized jewel there. I think she, along with Omun's new sword-craft may save the whole land." They were in joyous uproar now. Idwil passed out these cloaks to all of the fighting men among them. On the inside was stitched the kingberry flower. Uwain simply sat back, a slight smile on his face.
"Our meeting with the king was fruitless. Yet, we may have a fighting chance now," he said.
It came sooner than expected but they were ready. Early one morning Moraven had once again gone spying and came back with several arrows stuck into the leather armor in his back to warn that the giants were stirring. He and a few other spies had seen them creeping around the villages near Grunhold. The horns were raised to warn all of the danger in the woods. The men immediately set to looking over all of the information they had on the whereabouts and the layout of the caves where the Ohdrufrid resided. They finally had gathered enough information to strike. Rapheth and his men were also armed with swords, ordered to have them by Uwain.
"No fighting man should be without a sword," he said. Injol, who had managed to keep himself well covered with his heavy long cloak most of the time revealed to Uwain his four arms which at first shocked Idwil. Uwain, who had seen such men before in Egi was not and after studying him gave him four finely made steel swords. A very costly gift but Uwain perceived that here was one who would put them to strikingly effective use.
That evening Idwil tended Moraven's wounds. Baudolino asked to take a look. Moraven was weak and very ill. Uwain had given him an iron and raw hide armor vest to wear under his clothing in case the very thing should happen. Moraven had complained that it would slow him down but he was not so sorry he wore the armor now. Most of the arrows lodged in his vest did not penetrate through the leather, except one, poisoned-tipped. It only just barely broke the skin but it was enough to cause him pain and sickness. He was now vomiting and sweating.
"I have not seen this poison before," said Idwil as she examined the arrowhead with a pair of wooden tongs, placing it carefully in a bowl of water at the foot of the long-table. Moraven was stretched out on a quilt on the table in the hall. Idwil proceeded to wash his wounds. A pot of water with special herbs was boiling on the fire and a woman servant stood by, stirring it.
"Let me see it," said Baudolino. Idwil motioned toward the bowl and Baudolino sniffed at the arrow heads floating in it.
"Mmm. Stone arrowheads. Perfect material for this sort of poison." He looked up at her and then to Moraven whose face was wracked with pain. "It is actually venom from the Red Maiden spider."
"The ones that live in the Lady Red trees?" Asked Moraven weakly.
"Yes. Hold still and conserve your energy, Moraven," chided Idwil. Baudolino went out to the granary and then came back with a wooden box.
"Let's have a cup of the boiling herb water, please," he said. The servant handed him some of the water. "What herbs did you put in this?"
"Nansy leaf and black needle. For cleansing the body out," said the serving woman. “Mistress thought those best to use.”
"I shall add one more thing to it. Also, I need a cup of beer or, ah, mead, for him."
“What would you add?” asked Idwil. Baudolino held up a finger, then he opened his box. There were four rows of small glass vials filled with liquids or powders. But he did not touch these. He pulled out a small piece of thin parchment paper folded into an envelope. He took out a capsule filled with pinkish white powder. A cup of mead was set before him. Both Idwil and Moraven watched with great interest. Baudolino held up the capsule, about the size of the tip of his small end finger, and he gave it to Moraven.
"This is an antidote to that particular venom."
"Antidote?"
"Like a cure. It is very bitter, however, so swallow it whole and quickly drink down the honey mead." Moraven glanced at Idwil. She shrugged.
“If my herbs do not work you will be paralyze in a few hours, Moraven. He is a White Healer and we cannot get to Old Mother right now." Moraven swallowed the parchment capsule and then drank down the mead. He made a sound of disgust.
"Uhgg!"
"Good! Now, take the tea and drink it down fully." Moraven obeyed. He lay back upon the quilt and they waited. After an hour black and white matter oozed from the small wound in his back. Idwil took clean linen rags and washed his back with hot water again.
"Good, good. The venom is coming out. Not much has entered, which is a good thing."
"What was in the antidote?" Asked Idwil.
"Part of the antidote is made from the very venom he was attacked with."
"What? By the stars! Would not that poison him?"
"No, not in very small amounts, no. I distilled and cooked down many other herbs along with it." The antidote was successful for after a few more hours Moraven was given brottrunk which renewed his strength.
"We need White Alchemists in this land to counter the influence of the Black Alchemists. Men In White."
"What you need are strong chieftains and people like yourself to resist corruption and evil. Do not let it seep in and become entrenched like we have allowed in Pallinona. All is not lost there but we will have a mighty fight on our hands to get them out. Do not ignore them. Resist them and their influence and ideas for they are poisonous! My friend Injol is a prime example. That is what they do to poor people and those without power to fight them once they make inroads. They must be fought in every way." Idwil's expression was somber.
"My Uwain is strong. He has the. . .steel. . .in him. He will fight them and the people will support him. They revere and respect him after all he has been through."
"I would think they love and respect his lady as well. Said Baudolino.
. . .
That night Uwain tried on his battle cloak. Idwil sat upon the bed, watching him with pride and yet feeling nervous. She rubbed her large belly as the babe stirred again inside. She watched as his own body flickered in and out of shadow and light. The fires in the house had just been put out but the stones and embers there still kept their bedchamber warm. She began braiding her hair to one side.
"By the gods, Idwil! Another advantage!"
"There are some drawbacks. Cold days are upon us and these will not keep you warm."
"The heat of battle will take care of that." Then he made a start.
"What?"
"I knew there was a reason I married you. You are wise. Like Great Mother," he said. She smiled.
"Old Alar says to strike them immediately, especially after the latest news from Moraven and the other scouts. We shall seek them out. We will not wait for them to come to us and siege the towns."
. . .
The southern hosts were gathered at the gate of Grunhold. All this time on foot, they followed the thanes and chieftains who themselves followed the Great Thane as he led his own men out of the gate and down toward the fearsome caves of the Ohdrufrid. It was the fourth hour in the morning and still dark. It too
k them hours of travel but they could soon feel the oily, black presence of the giants' lairs.
Mount Blacry. It was small as mountains go and like its sister mountains, Rain Mist and Fog Head, covered in forests. The foothills just beneath rose up from a murky, swampy plateau. Long the home of the giants, they had tunneled far and wide in Blacry and its surrounding foothills even beneath the plateau, where the muddy deep sat. It was long since considered a foul place and foolish for anyone to go wandering off to. Mount Rain Mist sat beside it, covered in perpetual rains and mists even more than the entire land surrounding it. On the far side was Mount Fog Head, even more mysterious and unknown than its sisters. Every seven years a red fog could be seen rising up from it, usually in the morning. Sometimes at night. The rare man brave enough to go there never returned. Not even the Ohdrufrid, nor their cousins the Wodrufrid dared to tarry in the woods of the Fog Head at night.
Uwain's men of Grunhold wore their cloaks but it would not be until the sun came up that they would give them cover. At some point Moraven came up beside Uwain.
"My lord, I marked the place when last time I came. It is right here." He pointed to a large stone by a kingberry bush painted white. Uwain grunted in acknowledgment and gave a hand signal for the companies to halt. Daylight was coming.
"Moraven," he whispered, "you and the other young men set the fires. My company will all be waiting around the second entrance." He turned to the chieftain on his right, Vondar. "Take your men down this way, where that footpath leads. My scout tells me it leads to the pit. Also, take all archers to the northern perimeter of the mud pit and tell them to hide in the brush. Moraven will build the fires so that they will smoke. He turned to Rapheth.
"Rapheth, take your men and go to the mud pits as well. Stay on the west side. They will try to rise out of them. One of my spies caught them doing so once. It is a third way in and out of their dreaded caves. As soon as you see anything coming out, kill it. The archers will do the rest."
"I shall." Rhajit, Injol, Shukala, Ephron and Luz come!" Rapheth and his men followed the band of archers toward the mud pits. The fog was rising and becoming thicker and it was already hard to see. Rapheth felt the sword under his gloved hand. It was so long since he had a sword - a true, well made sword and in this case what seemed a magical one. He felt like a true man. Thane Uwain had marched with nine hundred men in all; most were now swordsman instead of only the wealthier ones, one hundred among them were archers.
The mud pits bubbled softly in the cool air. The rain had left off for the morning. Rapheth was glad of it. It seemed they stood waiting forever. He looked down and saw his own crouched body shifting in and out of sight. Then he heard feet rustling through the bush coming toward them. The air became tense. It was Moraven and a few of the younger Dyrlanders.
"The smoke fires are set. Now we wait." He said and drew out a long steel dagger tipped with a black substance - poison Rapheth surmised. Moraven shrugged.
"They tried to inject me with venom-tipped arrows. I will return the favor." He whispered. He pulled his cloak fast about him and disappeared into the fog the way they all did, shifting in and out of view.
Rapheth crouched down getting closer to the mud pit. His thighs no longer chafed or rubbed sores into his skin from horseback riding. He felt more limber and he was stronger than he'd ever been. He was silently proud but he did not have much time to think on it. They heard the dreadful screams and beastly roars from inside Mount Blacry.
The smoking fire was a fire made with a special, dangerous material, made into an incense of sorts. When burned in large quantities it set off black smoke so voluminous and foul that it could choke a man in moments who had no other escape. The first giant, a hulking beast-like man came running out, naked with a great stone ax in his hand and a skull swinging round his neck. His head was bald, tattooed with his tribal sigils and he was painted in mud and glastum. He howled in fury at the desecration of the cave opening and began cursing in his gutteral tongue. He looked around in confusion, as there was no one there that he could see. The smoke became so thick it was suffocating and out of the smoke flew the nightmarish Ohdrufrid, ready to fight.
Uwain's men were ready for them. Suddenly Uwain's voice roared the charge and the first wave of giants were assaulted on all sides. Uwain took on the first one, flying at him, running him through in the groin. The giant's heavy ax came down on his shield nearly cracking it but he plunged his sword into the giant again, this time in the belly. The giant fell like a dead tree and did not get up. His eyes were blacker than black, full of hate even as he died. The other Dyrlanders were screaming battle cries nearly as fierce as the call of the Ohdrufrid. Vondar came out of the mist and took off the head of one of the Ohdrufrid who had staggered and fallen to one knee. Vondar threw the head aside and fell upon the next giant in front of him. The giant bellowed and uttered a curse bringing his sword down upon the warrior, who blocked the blow with his own, kicked him and disappeared. He came again at his back as the giant swung around to face him. They clashed words again but this time the giant's iron blade broke. Vondar disemboweled him.
Uwain, his shield cracked, threw it down and took up the stone ax and slammed it into the back of a giant who was gaining ground on another chieftain, rending through the flesh and bone. He howled in pain and fury. Uwain, not taking a moment's time, beheaded him. The warriors wasted no time and with their new cloaks and swords. Powerful as the iron axes and iron swords of the giants were they were no match for the steel swords of the Dyrlanders and their cloaks kept them near invisible from the eyes of the Ohdrufrid. Hacking, slashing and cutting, even the very mists became reddened with blood. In a brief moment Uwain saw Vondar picking up an ax, breathing heavily. Uwain shouted to him, his heart pumping, the battle joy in him surging.
"It looks as if we will make all the wood like Fog Head yet!" He shouted. Vondar laughed and they flew into the battle again.
While the battle near the cave had already begun Rapheth was torn between watching for anyone coming at their back and watching the pit when he nearly did not see a great arm slither out of the mud. It pulled him nearly in. He hacked at the arm, leaving vicious gashes in the flesh. The arm loosened its grip and sank back down into the steaming mud. Escaped from death out of the muddy deep! Soon after he saw another figure rise up slowly as if like a walking corpse. Rapheth rolled himself onto the banks around the pit and watched as the giant rose from the pit. He was staring straight at him, black eyes cold and full of hatred. Rapheth swung his sword before the giant could react or move his arms and cut him down. A flock of arrows let loose into the rising muddy forms as many giants tried to sneak their way onto the plateau from their mud pit. Rapheth drew his cloak close, peering around in the mists and saw at some distance Rhajit leaping through the air like a desert ram to avoid a mighty swing from an iron sword and coming down upon his opponent like a hawk. Ephron, some distance away was running his own sword through a giant.
"Rapheth look! Behind you!" He screamed. Rapheth turned and ducked with lightening speed as an ax was swung just missing his head. Rapheth raised his sword just in time to block the giant's iron strong swing and their weapons clashed. The giant's strength sent Rapheth to his knees. This one was unusually big. The giant roared in glee and he grinned, thinking to finish him off. As the giant lifted his ax to kill him Rapheth took the blindingly sharp blade and slit a long cut through the giant's belly. The giant screamed, an unsettling sound, and the intestines spilled out, reminding him of unwashed tripe. The stench from the giant's open, steaming wound was unbearable. Steam rose up from the ground where they puddled. Several arrows lodged into his back and neck. This slowed the giant down considerably and gave Rapheth time to react. He swung the ax again, too slowly and Rapheth ducked out of the way. He staggered wildly but was still on his feet. He brought the ax down again upon him and Rapheth kicked him hard in the gut, his shoe coming up full of effluvia and blood. He swung his sword again making a deep gash across the giant's chest
. He swung around and disappeared confusing him.
"Wicked magic! Evil dunbaigh!" The giant growled. Rapheth plunged his sword into his back and he screamed in defiance and then in agony, falling, trying to grab at the air. Rapheth came in again and again until the giant collapsed and grew still. Thick flurries of arrows came in, piercing and poisoning the Ohdrufrid trying to struggle against their dead brethren in the pit steaming, sinking down against the other corpses and screaming their unnerving screams before dying.
Injol, armed with four swords was a deadly blur of motion and he himself had felled fifty-seven giants alone. He was only a foot shorter than they. He roared in battle rage every bit as fiercely as the giant in front of him and with a bounding dash he came up against him and clashed swords and took one of the swords in his right lower hand and stabbed him through then he did the same with his left lower hand until the giant's gut and chest was a heaving bloody mass of torn flesh. Another tried to bear down on him and Injol swung his swords in his upper hands both, shattering the giant's sword and with a mighty heave of his right arm he slashed his throat and chest and then disappeared into the mists.
"Injol the bear!" Cried some of the Dyrlanders.
When the battle was over, ten Dyrlander warriors were badly injured but none lay dead. A great number of the giants were dead. One thousand seven hundred.
Rapheth, having felled at least twelve giants - he was not sure as he had lost count - leaned against a tree in exhaustion but he felt more alive than he ever had in his life. It was what Rhajit had called "battle rage". Or something like it. Men did not feel pain when the rage was upon them. He saw something in the gleaming mists, running under the trees. It was a man in black clothing, so black it was nearly as if he had stepped out of night. He did not look like one of his own or a Dyrlander at all. Still nervy and spirited from battle, Rapheth followed after the figure. Doggedly he chased him under the trees and through thorny bushes, sliding down a small hill of kingberry bushes. Finally, he stopped and turned and stared at Rapheth. The man had an unsettling air about him. Rapheth did not know why but he was ready to kill him. The man, looking fearful at first slowly took on a sly look and pointed at him. Rapheth's chest began to hurt. He felt that growing sharp pain again, as if he were being stabbed but his soul was on fire. He ignored it and charged the man. The man laughed derisively and started toward him, pulling out a long, thin dagger from beneath his cloak but suddenly he looked up and around as if surprised by someone and then fled into the shrouding mists.
Red World Trilogy Page 94
