Umaryn suddenly stood up straight, and adjusted the armor roughly on her brother, smiling, “There. Much better. Both holes are fixed too. Best repair spell so far.”
Malwynn looked at the armor where the second arrow hole had been. There was absolutely no sign of there ever having been damage, “Wow sister. That’s incredible. I will never understand how you do what you do… I am in awe of The Way.”
“You and me both. Let’s get what we can gather and get moving. The longer we take, the further away they people who did this get.”
Despite hours scouring the ruins for food, there was none worth bringing. No morsels of meat, no slices of bread, and certainly nothing sweet to take the bitter taste of ash and death out of their mouths. The twin’s bellies cramped and ached from hunger, and once they’d abandoned hope of finding anything to satisfy their need for food, they committed themselves to returning to the hills where they’d left behind the berries.
As Tinder and Bramwell bore them north to the fruit-bearing hills the brother and sister lamented their loss. Umaryn spun her horse about at a rise in the earth and stopped, looking back on the grey waste of New Picknell. What remained of the village at the bottom of the hill looked more like a smudge of memory than a town. Tiny curls of delicate white smoke escaped from underneath massive piles of rubble, heading towards a strange grave far up in the sky.
Malwynn turned his massive Gvorn about and brought it to a rest standing beside his sister. They sat quietly, reins in trembling hands, both watching the smoke rise.
“I wonder what happens to our souls when we die, and don’t become undead and aren’t set free by the apostles? Is it oblivion? Is it hell? Is it painful?” She asked him, emotionless, seeking some kind of solace.
Malwynn sighed deeply, “I don’t know. I hope it’s better than the fate of those who die and become undead. We all know that’s torment, pure and simple.”
“I think dying and not coming back as an undead is almost as good as being blessed and becoming an ancestor spirit. I think it’s just restful.”
The brother shrugged. “I wish I knew. If it’ll help you sleep at night, then I suppose it’s like restful nothingness. Like when you wake up and can’t quite remember your dreams. Although there’s no waking up. No burden of eternal existence as an ancestor, and no rage of the undead. I guess it could be worse.”
Umaryn seemed satisfied by that line of logic. She nodded slowly, letting it sway her back to a better mood, “I want everyone who did this to us to die Malwynn. And I don’t want a single one of them to be blessed. I don’t care if they become undead, but I do not want them to poison the world being spirits. These kind of people can’t be allowed to influence the world anymore. They must be removed from existence entirely.”
“Erased.”
She nodded, “Like New Picknell was.”
Oddly enough, no animals had touched the berries. They remained untouched in the finely woven wicker baskets their mother had fashioned when they were children. Both were thankful for the return to the hill not only for the dark blue berries but also for the mementos.
They had precious little evidence now that their family had ever existed. Fleeting memories pulled to and fro in their cluttered and vengeance-clouded minds. Small peeks at blue sky through dark clouds. Holding onto the baskets brought them back to their childhood and back to clear memories that were still untouched by the events they’d just experienced.
They ate a full belly of the rich spoils from the day prior, careful not to eat too much, picked a full bag more, and left heading west towards the rails where they could hopefully find a way north after their prey.
They found tracks about ten miles from the north hill. The hard ground had hoof shaped pockmarks ten paces wide heading northwest, almost the same direction as they were heading initially. Malwynn was not an expert tracker by any means, but he could read the way the dirt was thrown, and could approximately tell their direction, number, and relative speed. Whoever had ridden away from New Picknell had done so at a comfortable pace. The arrogance of might made them feel safe. Malwynn wanted badly to prove their arrogance wrong.
“I think there were about ten of them. No more than twenty. The ground isn’t that torn up. Whoever it was moved far north, away from the direct line of the rail from town. I’d bet they rode northwest, and picked up a chartered train. Who has the wealth to charter a train Umaryn?”
“The Purple Queen,” she replied.
“Exactly. Makes perfect sense. Charter a small train with an empty freight car, disgorge your mounted warriors, send them south away from the rail so we don’t see them get off the train at the rail stop near town, and that’s it, the end of New Picknell. They escape the way they came, and reverse the train back to Graben. It’s simple. Not even fancy, or hard to accomplish if you bring enough warriors, and necromancers.”
“Bastards.” Umaryn spat the word.
“What’s the name of the last town on the tracks before the border? How far away is it?” Malwynn asked, looking up to his sister from the hard ground. She still sat on Tinder’s back.
Her eyes scanned the low rolling hills in every direction, looking for something that might be watching them. She replied, distracted. “Um, I believe it’s called… something Fringe.”
“Ockham’s Fringe. That’s it. Dad said it was about a two-day ride away. We are about four hours into that trip. We can head north to there, and use what money we have left to buy a ticket to head north into the Empire. Maybe someone there will have seen the force head north, or know something.”
“Perfect. Get on your damn Gvorn and let’s get moving. Right now I want to get somewhere I can take a hot bath, that has a hot meal I can enjoy.” Umaryn felt her stomach rumble. The berries might have been nutritious, but they were not particularly filling.
“Ancestors bless us, maybe we’ll find an elk or deer on the way. Would be a wonderful gift to show we’re on the right path.”
The two pointed their mounts on a path closely following the trail left behind by the people who murdered their family.
Sense told them to rest their mounts after pushing hard that first day. Malywnn had more experience with horses than his sister, but his determination to move north caused him to forget that despite their size and strength, the creatures they rode needed a break. He persuaded Umaryn to stop at a cluster of fledgling trees in the elbow of a tiny stream to rest that night. It was the only cover in the flat expanse of plains they crossed. The horse was brushed, the Gvorn was brushed, and his thick wool freed of the many tangles under the saddle pad. Malwynn could tell Bramwell and Tinder were happy to be stopped, and they put their long necks low to the ground and ate the sweet green grasses gratefully. He took some satisfaction in his empathy with creatures. It might not be the mystical power that his sister shared with the things created, but it was still something to be proud of.
Umaryn went on at length about how they needed to sleep lightly, and wake with the rising of the sun, but she was blacked out asleep nearly the moment her head was flat on the blanket on the ground. Malwynn watched the rise and fall of her chest and the simple innocence on her face. He’d known her since birth, and he was incredibly thankful he still had her.
As the two moons of Elmoryn, one white, and one red, crept their way up into the dark blue night sky, Malwynn walked away from the shelter his sister slumbered in. He took with him his bow, and the sheaf of arrows he carried for hunting. Hanging from the thickest branch at chest height he’d slung a cotton bag filled with gathered grass and earth. As the night’s chill set in, he drew the string of his bow and sent arrow after arrow into the makeshift target. He let the projectiles fly until both moons had disappeared; his fingers were raw, and nearly bleeding. He reminded himself to ask Umaryn to cast her spell of repair on the arrows the next day. He’d dulled their tips.
Like his sister, he was asleep the moment he closed his eyes.
“There you go, all better,” Umaryn said, handing Malwyn
n the quiver filled with freshly sharpened arrows. It’d only taken her half an hour to accomplish the feat with The Way.
“Thank you.”
“You know you should’ve gone to sleep when I did. You’re going to be exhausted all day today. It was silly to stay up late shooting arrows in the dark. What if you’d shot Tinder, or Bramwell? What then?” Umaryn asked. Malwynn was taken slightly aback by how much she sounded like their mother. Something about her tone, and her body language.
“I put the target well away from them, as well as you. There was no danger. Besides, we both need to be practicing our fighting skills. I’m good with the bow, but I need to be better.”
Umaryn conceded his logic. “I guess if you need to rest we can tie Bramwell on to Tinder and you can flop forward in your saddle. I’ll cross my fingers you don’t fall off the saddle though. Now that would be funny.” She grinned. Malwynn nodded, smiling in return.
After getting their mounts ready to move, filling their water skins, and eating the last of the blueberries, the two left the pleasant little camp and wandered back to the trail they had followed the day before.
Their suspicions were proven quite correct by noon. Under the oppression of the hottest sun they’d felt in days the twins examined the spot at the rails where the tracks became very cluttered and complex, and simply terminated. The prints approached one side of the train rails, and then never appeared on the other side. Whoever had done this had left with all their mounts loaded on a train.
“I guess that solves that mystery,” Umaryn said bitterly.
“Indeed. If we push, we can reach Ockham’s Fringe by nightfall. Maybe a bit after. Hopefully we can find a few answers there.”
The two agreed, and they turned parallel to the rail tracks, and started to head almost directly north in the direction of Ockham’s Fringe, and the Amaranth Empire, home of the Purple Queen.
“Stop,” Malwynn said out of the blue. Only an hour had passed since they turned north at the tracks, and the heat of the day was wearing them to the bone. Skin was angry and red, and covered in salty sweat. He peered north towards the horizon, his eyes squinting against the brightness of the yellow sunlight.
Umaryn halted Tinder, “What? What do you see?”
“There’s something large ahead, down near that stream. Can you see it? It’s big, maybe another Gvorn or something? A wild horse? Any chances the ancestors are smiling on us and sent us an elk?” Malwynn could see a quadripedal creature near the edge of a small stream. Likely the same stream they’d camped at the night prior. The creature was frozen with its head down, like it had just taken a drink from the slow moving water and heard the twins coming. Just upstream from the creature he could see a small wooden bridge for the rails crossing over the water as well.
“It’s far too large to be a horse or elk. Oh dear. I think that’s a Plains Walker. Look at the front of it. It’s got horns, not antlers.” Umaryn was surprised.
Malwynn squinted a bit more and shifted where his hand was, better shielding his eyes. Suddenly the creature’s form drew into focus. It was huge as his sister said. It was much larger than Tinder, and even bigger than Bramwell. At the shoulder it stood as tall as the twins, just shy of six feet, but its girth was immense. The creature had no head, having only four thick tree trunk sized legs at each corner of its body. From piggish hoof to piggish hoof running the length of its body, the creature was nearly twice the length of Tinder, and probably more. At each end instead of a head or tail, the creature wore two strange natural body parts. A pair of curving horns as large as an Ebonvale warrior’s scimitar sprouted forth in a strangely threatening manner. Malwynn was reminded of the wild hogs he and his father hunted several summers back and their brutish tusks. Opposite the pair of tusks were two thick and tough appearing appendages, somewhat resembling a pair of tails, though they moved more like limbs might. From this distance, it was hard to gauge which end was supposed to pass for the head.
“What do we do?” Malwynn asked, suddenly trying to keep his voice low.
“I think they are dangerous. Maybe we should cross to the other side of the tracks and pass that way, far to the west so it can’t see us. Best to avoid a fight with a creature twice the size of us and our horses,” Umaryn offered.
“I have a Gvorn, you have a horse.”
“Fuck you Malwynn you know what I meant. That thing could run us over as surely as the trains that run on these here tracks. Little reason to anger it. Let’s just give it a wide berth, okay?” Umaryn said snippily.
“You’re right. Let’s go.”
Changing course due west instead of north, the brother and sister gingerly headed towards the twin rails to cross them. The straightest route had them move slightly closer to the Plains Walker far away at the stream. Umaryn crossed the rails first, guiding Tinder over the minor obstacle with impressive confidence and skill. Malwynn felt it took her no effort at all with the animal.
He did not perform the same task with the same grace. Bramwell and Malwynn had not yet fully bonded, and mount and rider still had many subtle nuances to learn of one another before something even that simple could be managed perfectly. As Bramwell crossed the tracks the very bottom of a hoof struck the iron rail, setting free a resounding metallic ping. Both brother and sister spun their heads back to the Plains Walker, wincing.
The creature’s posture had changed. It swayed back and forth, allowing its massive shoulders to feel out the air around it. The creature twisted, pivoted in place, using all four of its legs in a manner neither had seen a creature move in. The legs appeared able to move forward, backward, and side to side with equal ease. Suddenly the creature oriented itself with the two massive curved spikes aimed directly at the top of the ridge where they had frozen.
“Do you think it sees us? Where are its eyes?” Malwynn whispered over a warm and gentle breeze.
The creature answered by lurching forward at them, charging across the grassy terrain directly in their direction.
“Shit! Go! GO!” Malwynn hollered, the ruse of stealth now abandoned fully.
The two kicked hard and sent their creatures bolting forward. Umaryn, already having crossed the rails, was over the loose stone the heavy timbers sat on and was down the ridge and heading as far away as fast as Tinder could carry her. Malwynn’s thunderous Gvorn was only a few lengths behind her but his beast wasn’t built for speed, simply power. The two sped their animals straight out from the rail as fast as they could, and Malwynn stole a glance over his shoulder to see if the Plains Walker had reached the top of the raised land where the rails were. His stomach reached his feet when he saw all four of its ungainly appearing legs pumping strongly straight down the hill directly on their heels. The Walker had covered the entire distance in only a few breaths of time.
“It’s almost upon us! Faster!” Malwynn screamed, this time louder than the first. He watched as his sister’s heels dug into Tinder’s side and the resulting increase in the creature’s speed. He attempted the same on Bramwell, but the creature was already breathing as hard and running as fast as it could. He stole another glance a second later just in time to watch as the creature’s massive tusks rammed lengthwise into Bramwell’s hind quarter, sending rider and mount sprawling violently into the earth. Malwynn let loose a terrified scream as he fell sideways into the ground, his legs, hips, ribs and shoulders crumpling with horrifying force. Tumbling sideways directly in the air above him he watched as Bramwell utter a whinny and snort, itself spinning end over end, doing a wildly raucous version of what he’d just done himself. Through the stars in his vision and the spinning in his head he watched his brand new mount collide with the earth as he did.
The Plains Walker took several moments to slow itself down to a stop, its incredibly thick muscles working as breaks. Malwynn couldn’t force the air into his bruised lungs fast enough to beg his sister for help, so he reached around his body painfully, searching for his bow, and praying to the spirits of all his deceased family members
that it wasn’t broken by the fall.
The creature took a wide circle to turn back on Bramwell and Malwynn, but when it straightened itself out, it pointed the massive horns menacingly at the nearly senseless pair.
“Mal!” He heard his sister yell panicked from some ways away. He could feel the earth tremble with each of the Plains Walker’s steps, as if a tree trunk was being dropped into the ground by one of the legendary Mountain Spirits. The pounding increased in severity as the animal came closer and picked up speed. His sister’s scream caused the juggernaut to halt and twist its strange body slightly to the side. It had heard her.
Malwynn was to his knees by then, having gotten the bow off his back. Littered on the ground all around him in the yellowing grass he saw his spilled quiver, over half the arrows broken by the collision with the ground. He saw a single arrow in arm’s reach and as quick as his bruised arm could, he drew it, and sent it flying directly between the two horns on the creature. The arrow plunged into the thick hide of the monster far smoother and deeper than Malwynn imagined it would. The skin of the beast looked grey, and was pebbled like stone. He thought it would be tough, but apparently that was not the case. As the creature flinched at the sting of the arrow, he snatched up a second arrow, and let it fly at the same area of its body.
At Least He's Not On Fire: A Tour of the Things That Escape My Head Page 15
