“Lost them!?” The clerk stuttered, his voice now as jerky as his gestures. “That’s even worse. I have to keep a strict inventory. People get lashings for misplacing a few sacks of grain!”
“Really? I had no idea discipline was so strict in this city. I wish there was something I could do.” Sam turned to Shin. “Are these ones really dead? I mean, is it possible to save any of them?”
Shin bit his lip, deep in thought. His bared, elongated canines were still a little unnerving for Sam. “Maybe. If we slowly raise the temperature and apply just the right mix of diluted pheromones. We might be able to save some of them.”
Sam patted Shin on the shoulder. “He’s unusually skilled with domesticated insects.”
“Just some of them?”
“Some is better than none, isn’t it?” said Sam. “I wish we could help you out more. My brother-in-law is a quartermaster. It’s a tough job. But we’ll be back in a week or so. Too bad we didn’t arrive the day before that shortage notice, otherwise we could have taken them off your hands.”
A glint of hope flashed in the quartermaster’s eyes. “Your warrant. It was dated prior to the shortage notice, wasn’t it? So theoretically…”
Sam cocked his head. “Interesting. You’re right. And that would solve your problem. Of course it’s still better for us to fetch the paperwork and come back when there are healthy ones.”
“Isn’t it a dangerous trip? I mean why risk a week in the wilderness if you don’t have to. You could get eaten by a troll!”
“When you put it that way, I suppose you’re right.” Sam turned to Shin. “Think you can save them?”
“I’ll do my best.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Ominous storm clouds west of Irondale forced a change of route and an uncomfortable pace that morning. The road on this side of the mountain was steeper and narrower than the one they had taken entering Irondale, with frequent switchbacks so tight the party had to dismount and bring the cart to a virtual halt to make the turns.
“Just how accurate is this weather observatory?” said Sam.
“If they say there’s an early winter storm comin’, there’s an early winter storm comin’,” said Gnebnik. “Say what ya will about the empire, but something doesn’t work, it gets the axe.”
“I would have liked to have a closer look at the observatory,” said Sam. “From the outside they looked to have a pretty impressive telescope.”
“Outsiders are not allowed in,” said Gnebnik.
Lee shifted his stance for the third time in a minute. The angle of descent put him and Sam in an uncomfortable position on the cart’s diminutive running boards. “I never thought going downhill would be trickier than going up.”
“With a little luck the storm will stay on the other side of the mountains,” said Gnebnik. “This route is longer than the way we came, but—” He raised a hand over his head, the signal for Shin to halt.
“Brake overheating again?” asked Sam.
“Yup.” Gnebnik glared at a wisp of blue smoke trailing from the lever-controlled band brake. Block the wheels an’ take five.”
Lee shoved a wheel chock under the left wheel. “You got the other side?”
“Got it.”
He scanned the woods along the road. The only motion: a pair of eagle-sized birds with jet-black feathers fighting over a snake. Lee twisted at the trunk, stretched his aching calves, and finally readjusted his armor.
Sally padded softly up to the cart, Shin dismounting, hitting the ground like a coiled spring. “All quiet so far. Brakes again?”
“Aye.” He glanced at Sam. “I don’ suppose your world has any fancy system fer brakes?”
Sam bit his lip, scrutinizing the brake. “There’s a new system for trains that uses air pressure. But it wouldn’t help here. Maybe if the drum were a little wider.”
One of the birds squawked, ruffled a patch of crimson feathers on its chest in an apparent display of dominance, and snatched the squirming, arm-length serpent from the other.
“Don’t you have magic on this world?” said Lee.
“Magic won’t stop a cart plungin’ off a cliff,” said Gnebnik. He turned to Sam. “I don’ have a lathe big enough to turn a new brake drum. No matter. Fer most roads around Hazelhearth it works just fine.”
A sharp squawk from the birds drew Lee’s attention. He caught motion of one of the two flying off. “Guess they settled their little dispute. I wonder which one got the…” He squinted at the tree. A row of feathers twitched, seemingly caught within the tree bark. The tail of the serpent squirmed, also stuck in the bark. “What the…”
Shin glanced at the tree. Or more specifically, a suspicious lump on the tree with protruding feathers.
The lump blinked an eye and slurped the rest of the bird and snake into its mouth.
“Arboreal mimic,” said Shin. “A type of tree frog.”
“Frogs that eat eagles.” Lee shook his head. “Just when I think I’m used to this world.”
“A childhood friend had one as a pet,” said Shin, with a little smile. “Drove her parents crazy—kept escaping. It would turn up hours later on a shelf camouflaged as a sack of flour, or a dozen other places. Of course we thought it was hilarious.”
Gnebnik patted the brake drum. “Cooled off. Let’s go.”
Gray skies turned dark, accompanied by low rumbles from the mountains behind them. The terrain flattened from sheer cliffs and treacherous switchbacks to rolling hills and groves of trees. The group maintained a brisk pace throughout the afternoon, reaching a rest stop by nightfall: a crude stone structure with three walls and a shed roof. Shin confirmed the structure was indeed empty, and they set camp, the darkening sky punctuated by faint flashes in the mountains.
“What happens if the storm does cross over the mountain?” said Sam.
“We hole up here for another day,” said Gnebnik. “Most beasties’ll hunt in any weather. Bad visibility’s bad fer yer health.”
They were joined at nightfall by a trade caravan: a pair of heavy wagons pulled by draft horses. The party numbered five: three humans and a pair of what appeared to be canine folk with fluffy tails and wolf-like ears. Lee managed to suppress several questions involving stick fetching and/or tail chasing.
While both parties combined pushed the limits of the shelter’s capacity, the extra manpower on watch and stories shared around the campfire balanced out the tight quarters. Damp firewood produced more smoke than actual warmth as it hissed and sizzled, yet huddled bodies kept things cozy.
Lee scrawled in his notebook, pausing a moment to chew the end of his pencil. “This leveling up thing takes far too long,” he mumbled.
“Yer makin’ progress, don’t worry, lad,” said Gnebnik.
“Oh!” said Lee. “I meant for my game. It makes perfect sense here on Arvia, but if leveling up was a part of my game, the whole thing would drag out far too long.”
Gnebnik snorted and shook his head.
“Look, I know it’s not important to you, but it… gives me something to think about. Takes the edge off. I dunno. Like a hobby.”
“This world is no game,” said Gnebnik.
Sam shot Lee a little grin. “What if your players could keep their pieces for more than one game?”
“Ohh… now there’s an idea.” Lee scribbled a few more notes before setting out his bedroll.
The party shared watch with the trade caravan, giving Sam and Shin a full night’s rest.
By second shift, when Gnebnik woke Lee to take over, a heavy rain was falling and formerly distant rumbles were now all around them.
The morning sun unveiled a muddy mess around the campsite, yet the road itself, packed stone and gravel, was still traversable.
“Could be worse,” said Gnebnik. “Visibility’s still fine.” He pointed to the base of a distant mountain. “The other side’ll be snow.”
The group was sopping wet before they’d even broken camp.
For a brief moment, Lee
caught himself pining for his warm, dry telegraph office. “No. No such thing as a hero telegrapher,” he muttered.
Chapter 14
That day was a grueling slog through the rain. The only comfortable members of the party were the snugly bundled dragonfly larvae, and it was unclear if they were aware of their good fortune. It was above freezing, but rain-soaked layers of cloth, leather and metal hung heavy on already miserable bodies. The group encountered no predators; the day’s only excitement was Sam and Lee being schooled in both neko and gnomish curse words when Shin discovered Sally had gotten into the party’s rations. Said words are paraphrased as follows to avoid shocking sensitive readers.
Sally, I am very disappointed in you. That leather satchel you chewed through cost me seventy-five silver oaks in Arania. Furthermore, the party is displeased about having to live off of half eaten rations covered in reptilian slobber for the next three days. You should consider yourself fortunate that Gnebnik or myself do not attempt to shove you back into your egg.
The morning thereafter started overcast, finally breaking into patches of brilliant blue that afternoon. Gnebnik halted the cart at a hand signal from Shin, a hundred paces ahead. A twitchy hand on the hilt of the gnome’s sword conveyed more than words could to Sam and Lee as he scanned the terrain ahead of them.
Lee’s eyes darted from tree to shrub to stone. The terrain was innocuous: hilly, with small clusters of trees no higher than three-story buildings scattered here and there. Numerous stones poked out of the soil, some small as bricks, some barrel sized. Exposed rocks and stones were dry, though the ground was still damp, water pooled here and there in depressions in the soil from the prior day’s rain. Yet nothing dangerous caught his attention.
Shin and Sally padded up to them, Shin nodded and spoke in a low whisper. “Set of tracks leading off the main road. Wide tracks.”
Gnebnik’s gaze narrowed. “How fresh?”
“Well before the rain. Shall I investigate?”
Gnebnik nodded.
Shin and Sally turned, darting down the road in their customary silent gait, Gnebnik tapping the donkey with his staff a few moments later. He stopped the cart, hopped off and glanced at Sam and Lee. “Sam, you’re with me, Lee, watch the cart.”
Sam readied his crossbow and followed Gnebnik’s footsteps as the gnome crept along the opposite side of the road where Shin had gone.
Lee drew his sword, glancing around the immediate area. Nothing seemed out of place. Road was in decent shape. Drainage channels on either side with scattered puddles of water. He scrutinized a few eroded spots at the edge of the road. A cart might have turned off. Perhaps more than one.
He caught motion out of the corner of his eye. Shin was back. The neko’s ears were upright, alert. Lee couldn’t quite read Shin’s body language, but the fact that his crossbow was back in its saddle holster told him enough.
A rustling behind him. He turned. Gnebnik and Sam had returned.
“You gonna tell us what’s going on?”
Shin nodded to Gnebnik.
“No. Yer gonna tell us what’s going on. Area’s clear. We can take a few minutes. Call it a test.”
“Me? Err… What about Sam? He’s the…” Lee shook his head. “No, you’re right.”
Lee sheathed his sword and took a deep breath. He paced to the eroded section of road. Grass had sprung back up leaving the tracks very faint. He squinted at them. Wide tracks. What did that mean? He gazed back at the cart, measured the wheel width between his fingers.
Sam isn’t the only one here with a brain: think!
“I’ve already gotten it,” said Sam.
“Great, thanks.”
A cart with wider wheels and a wider track. What did it mean?
“Wider wheels will bear more weight.”
Gnebnik and Sam nodded.
Sam you big jerk, you have no right to be so smug, thought Lee.
Lee squeezed his eyes shut, thinking back to his uncle’s farm. Wagon wheels in mud.
Wider wheels don’t sink in.
Tracks come in standard widths.
Standard width?
Roads are built around a standard width!
“Does the empire have a standard size track for road wagons?”
“Aye. That they do.”
Lee stepped off the road, placed a foot in the faint, right side track, and measured the width by footsteps.
“The track is too wide for the road. I mean, it’ll fit on the road, but not two across. So it’s either for off-road use, or they don’t care about annoying travelers going the opposite direction.”
Shin nodded. Gnebnik nodded. Lee didn’t look at Sam, but could guess what his expression was.
Shin spoke up, voice soft and calm. “Relax. Think about not just what you see, but what you do not see.”
Lee glanced at the tracks, then back at the cart.
The donkey!
“There are no hoof prints!”
“We may make a proper adventurer out of you yet,” said Gnebnik.
Lee paced between the cart and the tracks. “A big, heavy cart with no apparent draft animals. Owner doesn’t give a damn about other travelers. Oh, no.”
“Oh yes,” said Gnebnik.
“Ogres?”
“Yep.”
He recalled an entry in the bestiary tome. “They’re huge. Must be as heavy as an elephant. How is it that they don’t leave footprints?”
“They do,” said Shin. “Just not very deep. They have enormous feet.”
“And I suppose you can see the tracks?”
Shin nodded.
“Ogres.” Lee recounted the tome in his head. “They’re twenty-feet tall, tough, strong, ill-tempered, smart enough to use tools and weapons, and have a taste for human flesh.”
Shin nodded again.
“What the fuck are we standing around for?”
“Don’ get yer tunic in a twist. They’re long gone,” said Gnebnik.
“But it would be prudent to determine where they’ve gone to,” said Shin.
They pulled the cart off the road, the same direction as the ogres’ tracks, hiding it and the donkey out of sight behind a bush. The tracks led to a small clearing with more flattened grass, a pair of fire rings, and a pile of bones, some of which looked to have belonged to something the size of a brontosaurus. The clearing overlooked a rocky embankment, below it gurgled a small river.
“An excellent vantage point,” said Shin. “You can see for miles. I’m surprised they left this spot.”
Sam gazed at the river, surging from the recent rainfall, a hundred yards below. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” said Lee.
“That. Looks like a basket. Or a cage.”
Lee squinted at the canyon, picking out an angular shape between a pair of twisted trees clinging to the canyon walls. “Yeah. It does.”
Shin bit his lip. “Good eye, Sam. Maybe one of their wagons slid off the cliff? Ogres are not known for diligence in such things.”
“Maybe,” said Gnebnik. He glanced at the sun and pulled out his map. “Next shelter isn’t too far. An’ we’ve got a couple hours of daylight. Either of you any good at climbing?”
“Us?” said Sam. “Shin’s the born acrobat here.”
“Aye! An’ he’s also got the keenest senses. I need him up here,” said Gnebnik. “There’s not likely to be any big critters down there. So. Either of you two any good at climbing?”
“Yes.” Sam and Lee responded simultaneously, and then shot each other an incredulous glare.
“It doesn’t look that bad,” said Sam, biting his lip. The cliff face was steep, though not vertical, with numerous fractures and small ledges for handholds. “I can free climb it, but better to use a safety line just in case. And maybe you can pull me up.”
Lee secured the line around his waist, playing out slack as Sam descended, determined not to create a replay of the incident that had dragged Sam here in the first place.
Sam des
cended to the ledge with the mystery cage, testing the footing of the uneven surface before untying the rope. He unstrapped the javelin from his knapsack and inspected the ledge. It was a good twenty paces long, though only four wide at the widest spot, and tilted uncomfortably downward. The surface was crisscrossed with tiny fissures and scattered with loose rubble stones. Three trees and a dozen waist-high shrubs sprouted from fissures in the rock, and from this angle the object they had seen from above was clearly visible. It was a rectangular mesh cage of timber and iron bands, a bit larger than an average carriage. Several of the timbers had splintered and a few bands were bent. It was empty, save for a few bones in the far corner, one of which might have been a hip bone. Of human size and proportion.
He called to the rest of the group atop the cliff, “Looks like a cage. Big one: about half the size of a freight car. It’s damaged, but in one piece. A miracle it didn’t fall all the way to the bottom of the canyon.”
Shin turned to Gnebnik. “Prisoner cage?”
“Prolly.” Gnebnik uttered a grumble, disgust carrying clearly in his non-words.
Shin called down to Sam. “Any clue what was in it?”
“There are some bones in the far corner. They’re out of reach. One of them might be human, but I can’t tell for certain.”
“Is there a skull?” said Shin. “That would be the easiest to recognize.”
“Not that I can see from here. Let me have a closer look.”
“Need a hand?” said Lee.
“Think I’m OK,” said Sam. “Just don’t forget about me down here.”
“You’re not easily forgettable,” said Lee.
“Thanks.”
“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.”
Sam inspected the two sides of the cage which he could access from the ledge. Though the sides were flat, the ledge was not, so it rested precariously, with a good third of the cage hanging over the edge. The cage door faced the cliff: simple but sturdy hinges, a hasp held shut by an iron padlock—a simple three lever design. The lock could have been opened with a bent wire.
Which he didn’t have.
Hazelhearth Hires Heroes Page 12
