by S A Maus
“Fine, fine, but let me get my boots at least,” Omer said. He hurried over to the bed and began to dress as fast as he could. Tahr stood in the doorway, tapping his foot impatiently, his gaze falling often on the innkeeper. There was worry in his eyes.
“Did something happen?” Omer asked.
“By seeds, it did!” the innkeeper suddenly shouted in a gruff, wheezing voice. “You done stirred the nest, right gone it!”
Omer frowned. He had long been away from country folk and their odd twang, but he believed he was being accused, though of what he could only imagine. Tahr, however, was more privy the night’s contents and placed a hand on Helwits’ shoulder to calm him.
“Master Helwits has been accosted at his home,” Tahr said. “The ruffians claimed it was for,” he looked sidelong at Helwits, “harboring the unnatural, if I am correct.” Helwits nodded. “I believe they meant us, and I am quite offended.”
“What sort of madness would have ruffians confronting Hunters?” Omer wondered. “Hard soldiers would not be so foolish. Who would even know we are here? We only arrived last evening and even the cleverest bandits are not watching the Crack. We have done nothing to offend anyone, as far as I know.”
“I am at a loss as well,” Tahr shrugged. “I have seen the damage at the house, though. He’s not lying.”
Helwits stomped his foot and shook his fist at the air. “Hooded rats! Dun’ knocked my door and scared Essa down fearful.”
Omer frowned and looked to Tahr. “His wife,” Tahr said.
“Did you get a look at these ruffians?” Omer asked.
Helwits stomped his foot again. “Red cloaks and white breakers!”
Omer looked to Tahr. “Small shields, I think,” Tahr shrugged.
“Ai, ai! Breakers. Black and silver and a wolf on them!”
That got Omer’s attention. “A wolf?” he said. “In what form?”
“Form?” Helwits said. “Who be caring about form, boy? Face right broke on that wood. Ya’ll hunted by the crazies.”
“I… okay,” Omer said with a sigh. Obviously Helwits was beyond rationality right now. He was shaking, and behind his fat scowl were wide eyes that betrayed a deep fear. “What are we doing, then?” Omer asked Tahr.
“Well, I offered to search the area, but -,” Tahr was cut off as Helwits slammed his fist on the door frame.
“Out!” he shouted. “Out of town! Out of ‘Dor! Away wit’ ya.”
Tahr sighed and bowed his head. “But Master Helwits has… kindly… asked us to leave for the time being.”
“Very well,” Omer said. He had taken the opportunity to dress completely and was standing now in full gear. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins from their bag within. “For your trouble,” he said and handed the coins to Helwits.
That seemed to calm the innkeeper a bit. He gulped, steadying himself with a hand on the door. “Thank ya,” he said lowly. “Ya’ll a fine bunch. I dun’ mean to be cross wit’ ya. Tis a dark eve and my heart be beatin’ too fast. I dun’ wish ya ill.”
“I take none from you,” Omer answered. “I am sorry for any evil we have brought, unwitting though it is. If we have an opportunity to find these bandits, we will see them repaid.”
“I thank ya,” Helwits bowed.
The Hunters left the inn immediately. Omer looked up to find the sky was dark and clouded, but the storm that had threatened the night was now passed westward and raining over Neled, leaving behind a warmer breeze that was pleasant, if heavy and wet. They went north along the road out of Appledor for a short way. The streets were still empty but there were a few houses whose windows were lit red and yellow by early risers. A couple wondering faces peered out from behind curtains as they passed, having been woken by a shouting innkeeper some time earlier and worrying about what might have upset the peace of their little village.
The continued north, leaving the edge of the town and coming to the place where the pleasant lawns gave way to untamed wilderness. Appledor nestled right up to a forest on its north side. The forest had no true name, being too small to be of notice to the map makers and the scholars of the country, but it was often called the Red Forest by the Appleins in honor of the apple trees that had crept beyond the orchards and now dotted the hedges. The road through was made of dirt and settled stones, lined by steep banks that fell off into low hedges before the trees started their dominion. Old and noble roots wound their way across the path, sometimes rising without warning and at others coiling about like bowls at the edge of the hedge.
They went along the road under the shroud of a gloomy morning, leaving behind the sweet smells and inviting fences of Appledor. They had walked nearly an hour beneath the shadow of restless trees when the dirt road ended and joined the North-South road, a proper highway of paved stone. The North-South was not truly bound by the points of the compass, as the name implied, but instead wound back and forth across Hyrotha, beginning and ending at its most extreme points. It was wide enough for six Men to walk astride and well-kept by highwaymen, though the upkeep was not as consistent so far from Thrimm, sometimes marred by broken patches where the earth had risen through.
The Hunters kept north on the highway, or, more accurately, north-east, as the road wound up through the forest and towards the cities of Nun and Thrimm. Here the trees faded back from the stone and lie across deep ditches on either side, still thick and blocking out the light of the far horizon, but no longer creeping their roots across the way.
“What do you think of those bandits Helwits spoke of?” Omer asked when they were well along the highway and far from any Appleins who might have followed their trail.
“They are a strange omen, but I am not sure what to make of them,” Tahr said “Bandits are rare in the North, but not so rare that poor Appledor could hope to be entirely free of them. Could just be chance. What do you make of it?”
“I think it is not chance,” Omer said.
“Oh?” Tahr said.
“Too many chances leave for none at all, that’s what Master Taillus would often say,” Omer said. “Alone, I would think nothing of them. Yet, we are here on a contract for a Hunter ghost, which should not be possible. The first thing we find upon reaching Gaul’s station is his secret fiancé, a strange chance itself. She claims to have not seen him for a long while, but I know for fact that Gaul never reported any strange happenings in the year prior to his death. If Appledor was at peace and he was not out on contract, why would Benahia not see him regularly? And now bandits are knocking down homes the same night we arrive. It is a mystery, but I do not think it is chance.”
“Ah, that is why I trust you, friend. You are connecting strings while I stare straight ahead,” Tahr chuckled. “That leaves us to wonder what sort of roughshod we are dealing with. Most bandits are wise enough to steer clear of Hunters. They might chase you down. You are small. But surely they saw me and thought better of it.”
“I don’t know how it all connects,” Omer said, ignoring Tahr’s jabs. “Helwits said their case was harboring the unnatural, but even if they find us distasteful… only a fool would risk a Hunter’s ire. They clearly knew we belonged to Shalim. It would be death to force themselves on our path.”
“Especially mine,” Tahr said with a nod. “They did not come for us, though, they bothered the poor innkeep. Afraid, maybe?”
“Perhaps,” Omer said. “It is very odd, and I cannot help but think it is tied to Gaul in some way. I could be seeing shapes where there are only shadows, though.”
“Perhaps Gaul encountered them in a younger day and got on their bad side,” Tahr offered. “Still a bunch of dimwits to be poking Hunters, but maybe they have a cause. Even the stupid must be given room for grievance.”
“Maybe,” Omer said. “We will have to put it aside for now. I see little to be gained by going back and investigating. It is not our task to clear out bandits.”
“That is truth,” Tahr said.
They went on into the risin
g light of morning. A bridge was ahead, made of stone and high gray walls. It crossed over the Right River and on its other side the trees stopped and were left behind, opening into a wide field of high grass and wildflowers that was draped in a thin mist that rose off the waters. The quacking of a family of ducks floated down the western bank, breaking through the chirp of night insects that were singing their last song before the dawn. The smell of rainwater still lingered from the storm last night.
The road bent north and then northwest from there, following the river on the left and the forest on the right. The mist began to glow as sunlight broke the tree and lit the world in fire. The clouds of night were far in the west now, contrasting sharply with the early orange sky, like a blanket thrown over the land.
Day came and went. By mid-afternoon the forest was a distant shadow behind them and they were amidst the wider land of Mann, a farmland of hills and high meadows covered in wheat and corn. This was a rustic place with old families, nearly all of them farmers or herdsmen, with farms that had been in their possession for generations. Rarely was a house sold in those hills. The land was guarded fiercely.
That is not to say the citizens of Mann were a sour people. They were very friendly, and if any saw the Hunters walking along the winding road they would call out a ‘Good evening!’ or ‘Good afternoon!’ or some other time of day depending on where the sun was. Children playing in the field would run up to fence lines to stare, though none dared cross over. The stood at the edge and would wave their dirt-covered hands, and Tahr, ever joyful, waved back to each and every one of them, much to their giggling delight.
For three days they walked amidst the Mann fields. They were nearing Lake Nun, which was named for the great city of Hyrotha despite being nowhere particularly close to the city itself. Soon the road would bend east and away, rounding about the lake before it would turn west again, a long delay Omer wished to avoid. They jumped off the road as evening fell and passed into a long farmland that was filled with corn, doing their best not to disturb the farmer’s crop.
The farmland ended on a rising slope, marked off by a high wooden fence that stopped just before the land leveled out into a meadow of wildflowers and weeds. They hopped the fence and braved the weeds until they came to another rise in the land, this time a true hill. At its top they stopped and looked out. They were high above Hyrotha now and the world fell away before them in a long descent until it became flat, markless earth, dotted by copses of trees and great stretches of high grass. The river Frim was far away to the north, it glittered in the evening sun like a long stretch of orange ribbon, disappearing here and there where the land turned or the trees rose up. They had come to the Wilder, the untamed place where Hyrotha had not yet felt the need to civilize the earth and make their stone homes and long roads.
The Wilder took them almost two weeks to cross, which they did heading northwest towards the Frim until they crossed over at a shallow. The journey was not unpleasant, though it was quite boring, with little in the way of sight or sound besides the high green grass and the buzzing insects. Every now and then larger animals, such as deer or foxes, would cross their path, but these were rare. They strolled without worry or rush and enjoyed the cool winds that blew ever across the plains.
Finally, as the sixteenth day of their journey ended and the sun was dwindling in the west, they reached new farmland that tempered the high grass and wildflowers. They were near the East-West road, which some called the Silver Road for reasons even Hunters were not entirely sure of, as there was no silver in Hyrotha. Here the steady weight of Men living daily lives kept the grass low and the fields clear. It was cattle country, with sheep and cows making up the greater part of the ranches that dominated the wide-open plains. There were still vegetable farms to be found, and even fruit farms nearer the city of Nun to the east, but they were few and far between.
After a night of walking through sheep-eaten fields, they came to a horse farm. Morning was breaking the eastern sky and casting long shadows before them. Illuminated by the light was a farmhouse and a stable, and outside the stable a family of four, no doubt the owners, going about the morning chores. The man Omer assumed to be the father was riding a horse out of the stable. He looked out from under a wide-brimmed hat and saw them. He rode out carefully, as any good husband would when meeting strangers on his land, but when he saw the emblem of the Star his face brightened.
“Ho there, Hunters, what brings you to my land on this fine morning?” the man called out.
“A long journey not yet ended,” Omer replied.
“Not Hunting out here, I hope,” the man said nervously.
“No, you have nothing to worry about,” Omer said.
“Fine, fine,” the man nodded. “Name’s Gerry. Gerry Lomm. Back there is my wife, Ewonia, and my daughters, Halli and Mirahia.”
“A fine family,” Tahr said, putting on his best smile.
“I like to think so,” Gerry replied.
“I am Omer, and this is Tahr,” Omer said, waving his hand towards the huge Hunter. “We will not trouble you or your family. We are merely passing through.”
“Without a proper meal?” Gerry said. “I reckon I know less about Hunter food than most, but we have farm fare aplenty, if you got the time.”
Omer was just about to thank him for the offer and politely decline when the youngest daughter, Halli, a girl of barely eight years with a crown of golden hair and a gap-filled smile, came running out from behind her father and stopped just before Tahr.
“Are you a statue?” she asked in a singsong voice.
“A statue?” Tahr laughed. “Now what would make you ask that, lass?”
“You look like stone,” she said. She reached out with a finger and shyly poked the Hunter’s musclebound arm. She giggled when her finger bounced off.
“Halli, stop bothering the fine Hunter,” Gerry said.
“Ah, she is not bothering,” Tahr said. Then he leaned down, looked about once, and whispered, “I am not a statue, but I might be made of stone.” Then he winked, which sent the young girl giggling back to her mother.
“She is a treasure,” Tahr said. He stood and looked to Omer. “What do you say? Breakfast with the Lomm seems a fine start to the day.”
“We really should not,” Omer said. “There is still a long way to go and we have not reached the East-West yet.”
“The Silver Road?” Gerry said. “Why, that’s just a step off the porch. You’re welcome to the kitchen if you want a rest, but at least you’ll have the road if you’re going on.”
“The road will be enough,” Omer said. “We do not wish to impose and there are matters to attend to.”
“I understand,” Gerry said. “Hunter business. Not for us regular folk. Where you all going, if you don’t mind my question?”
“Timmelan,” Omer answered.
“Timmelan?” Gerry peered back with a raised brow. “Don’t know why anyone would want to go there. Downright mean folk, the Hill. But your business is yours. Hope it’s nothing dangerous.”
“I don’t believe it is,” Omer said. “Just checking up on some things. Nothing you ought to worry over.”
The farmer seemed to relax his shoulders at that. “Well, that is fine,” he said. “Keep an eye, though. Strange folks been running about in the woods last couple weeks. Some callin’ them bandits, but I ain’t seen nothing to give that impression. They are odd though. Keep their faces covered all the time, even in the heat, like they’re scared of being seen.”
Omer frowned. “Do they share colors?” he asked.
“Indeed, red and black. Maybe more, but I ain’t seen ‘em close enough to know. I steer clear. Got a family to watch and horses that need training. Can’t be taking chances with strangers. Ain’t from Nun though, that I reckon.”
Omer frowned at that. It sounded far too near to the description Helwits had given them during his fit in Appledor. He said nothing of it, though, for it was not the farmer's concern. Instead, he smi
led. “Well, I’m sure they are of no concern. The highway watch of Hyrotha is well respected in Shalim.”
“Bah, they ain’t so grand,” Gerry said. “Haven’t seen light or boot of ‘em in weeks. Always busy out east. Ain’t worried though. Always quiet out here. No brutes wasting days robbing farms.”
“Then we will not trouble you either,” Omer declared. “You have a farm to tend and we have a long road still.”
“Long and boring,” Tahr sighed.
***
The Hunters left the farmstead with a wave and thank you, and some fresh bread that had been made the night before, which they accepted gratefully. As they were leaving, Halli rushed out from behind the barn, shouting for them to wait. They paused at the edge of the lawn, looking back, wondering if something had happened in the brief moment since they left; but Halli only ran up to Tahr and wrapped herself tightly about his leg, calling him ‘Giant’ and hoping he would come again. After a few pats on the head and assurance that he would return one day, Halli let go and disappeared slowly back into the farm, hand outstretched in a wild wave until she could no longer be seen.
“What is your appeal to children?” Omer wondered when they had gone a ways down the road.
“Hmm?” Tahr said. “Oh, I’ve always had a spirit for them. They take to me well. I smile a lot and children like that. You should try it sometime.”
Omer shook his head. They walked a little further down the road and had just turned a corner when another thought occurred to him. “Do you ever regret that you’ll not have your own?” he asked.
“What do you mean? I could have my own. My Cost was not sterility,” Tahr said.
“You know what I mean,” Omer said.
Tahr stopped walking. His eyes fell down. “I do,” he said softly.
“I’m sorry, I did not mean to scratch an old wound,” Omer said. “I see how the children take to you, and you to them, and I cannot help but wonder. It was rude of me to ask.”
Tahr waved away his apology. “No, friend, do not worry. I have been En’shen for so long now. I am well beyond the days where I would sit by the fire and long to hold a child of my own, but the ache never quite goes away. My Cost was the loss of pain, but I think my true Cost was to be always absent that love. You cannot find it anywhere else but the eyes of a child.”
