Pathfinder Tales: The Crusader Road
Page 25
"Everyone here is quite fond of Ranall, my lord."
"I know. Time once was when I would have been envious of him, but age tends to strip one of vanity. The fact is that he's asked me to let him winter here. I think, unless your daughter were to chase him with arrows all the way across the river, he would never leave Silverlake. I have to say, this does not displease me. In fact, it makes my heart soar."
"I don't understand, my lord."
"I would have thought that if anyone would, it would be you." The baron opened his hands. "As we have just discussed, Ustalav is a land of many political intrigues. Such intrigues killed your brother. Had mine not died, he doubtless would have preceded your brother to the gallows. Were you to look at the generation of noble scions which includes my son, I believe Ranall would stand out as being inspirational, or at least sufficient for some to pin their aspirations to. I don't want him caught up in webs of deceit. I'd rather him here, taking his chances in a land with goblins and ogres and petty tyrants with whips, than in a truly dangerous place like the prince's court.»
"I see." Tyressa shuffled some papers, then looked up. "You know that there will be those who claim we've taken your son as hostage against you giving me what I want."
"I'm certain that's true. In fact, I considered asking you to entrust Jerrad to my care, to take back to Ustalav for the winter, to counter such a claim. I would see to it he had the best tutors, of course—and they would come back here next spring to continue his education. But I won't ask for your son to accompany me."
"It would break my heart to let him go."
"And his to be sent away." The baron nodded. "So, I shall just entrust my son to you. If there were an announcement next spring or summer of troth being pledged—preferably to your daughter—it would put the lie to those rumors and make Silverlake that much more of a fanciful place."
"That would please me, my lord."
"Me, as well. It would give me an agent I could trust here in Silverlake." He half-bowed. "Ever the pragmatist, I am."
Tyressa shook her head. "I don't believe that of you, my lord. I wondered why you came when you did, but I've watched you here. Even were the night of the whip forgotten, you would truly be seen as one of us. You've sweated and toiled by our sides. Your hard work has benefited Silverlake greatly. It saddens me that you will not be here to join us in celebrating all we have done."
"I wish I could remain." He straightened up. "But I return to our home to make preparations, so next year I can return and, perhaps—just perhaps—I'll never have to leave again."
paizo.com #3236236, Corry Douglas
Chapter Thirty
The Interloper
I didn't realize you didn't like him." Jerrad reached deep into the shadeberry bush to pluck the purple berries. "Should I have noticed you didn't like him?"
"Not particularly." Nelsa shrugged. "Something 'bout Baron Creelisk weren't right. I like his son fine. Now don't you get pouty, I don't like him like that."
"That wasn't me pouting, that's me disappointed in myself." He pulled his hand out of the bush, dumped a handful of berries in his basket, then held his hand out toward her. A small droplet of blood welled up near the base of his thumb. "Leaves still on the bushes and I don't find a thorn. Bushes bare but for berries and I get stuck."
"Shadeberry bushes are tricker than blackberry bushes." She leaned over and kissed the tip of his thumb. "There. Better?"
"Yes, thank you." He wiped the blood off on his trousers. The weather had turned cold, and a frost had settled over Echo Wood for the two nights before the harvest feast. The berry bushes stood on the north side of hills, so never really warmed up. With the frost, the berries went from a bright red to a deep violet. Nelsa insisted that meant they'd be sweeter than ever and that her father made a wonderful berry wine out of them.
"Will we get enough for your father?"
"More than last year. No real frost." She smiled. "May make only a bottle or two, but that will be enough."
Jerrad thought for a moment. "Next spring, if we came back here, chopped out some terraces and planted more bushes, we'd..."
"...attract plenty of bears." Nelsa laughed, and Jerrad liked the sound. "We'll get a lot more roast-weed, too."
"Maybe roast-weed will be useful." Jerrad shrugged and started gathering more of the pea-sized berries. "What was it you didn't like about the baron?"
"Didn't see him that much, but he reminded me of a wild dog. My pa says that once a dog gets out away from men, he sheds polite and becomes more wolf. Any dog is three generations from having a curled tail and a quick bite." She emptied her hands into her basket, save for one berry she tossed toward Jerrad.
He snapped it out of the air. The berry burst between teeth, tart as ever, but with the sour definitely cut by sweet. He fished the seed out of the pulp with his tongue, then spat it off to the west. It bounced off a broad roast-weed leaf and disappeared amid the patch.
"It still tastes pretty sharp."
"Pa ferments it in an old oak barrel."
"That must help." Jerrad nodded. "I don't know that I see the baron as going feral all that easy, but maybe I'm judging him by Ranall. Doesn't seem that a man like Ranall could have sprung from a bad man's loins.»
"Don't folks say doesn't seem like you could have sprung from Garath Sharpax's loins?"
"Ouch."
Nelsa set her basket down and took his hands in hers. "You never heard me say that. I hain't never even thinked it. Fact is, I look at you and reckon your pa had to be pert-near the greatest hero ever to have got you on your ma. And to have kept up with your ma, too. Truth be told, you Vishovs give us Murdoons a run for our money."
Jerrad squeezed her fingers. "I know you don't see me the way others do. I guess it's just that I've been thinking about my father lately. I don't remember him, not at all. And, well, I see the Broken Men filtering south for the winter. I see how torn up they are. I keep wondering if what happened to them happened to my father. You see the ones that aren't looking at anything... I guess that wanting to help them out was hoping maybe someone would have done that for my father."
"And that's a noble sentiment, Jerrad. I reckon your ma was right in deciding not to bring them in to the harvest feast. They're wild dogs, too, and you see that. Remember, though, she said Silverlake will do more for them if the winter is bad. My pa allowed as how we'd do the same."
"I know. Not like they're not doing good." Freeing a hand from hers, he pointed back toward the north. "I haven't seen nearly as much goblin sign on this side of Silverlake as I have south."
"South is closer to Bonedancer land."
"But down there I see tracks going north and back south. Here they just go north and don't come back."
"Better wild dogs than no dogs at all." Nelsa glanced down in his basket, then up toward the sky. "I reckon we can almost fill that basket by the time we have to head to Silverlake."
"We have plenty of time before the sun goes down. Folks won't be eating until the moon's full up."
Nelsa sighed. "My ma and aunts and all said I have to wear a dress for the feast. Your sister's lending me one of hers. They want me there early so they can make me beautiful."
"Huh? How?"
She fixed him with a sharp glance. "I ain't sure how you meant that, but I know how I heard it."
"No, no, I just meant you're always beautiful.» Jerrad's cheeks felt like they were on fire. "That first day, there in Thornkeep, with you thrashing goblins. I've never seen anyone prettier. I don't think I ever will."
Nelsa watched him closely, then slowly smiled. "Iffen you was a summer or two older, I'd be thinking you were snaketonguing out them words. But, being as how you're redder than a ripe shadeberry, I'm taking you at your word." She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."
"It's the truth." He smiled and wanted to go for a kiss on her lips, but heard sounds from the north. He crouched, pulling her down with him.
Four of the Broken Men had spread out in a line heading southwest. There could have been more—Jerrad could see two clearly, and caught flashes of color deeper in the wood marking two more. The closest appeared to be the one-eyed man from the previous day. He wore mail belted at the waist, with the coif up over his head. He carried a battleaxe, and a short sword hung from his belt.
"I don't think they saw us," Jerrad whispered.
Nelsa slowly dragged her basket to her. "More wild dogs, and with sharp teeth. Probably turn bandit for winter."
"They wouldn't if they had another way to survive."
She frowned. "They're soldiers. They live by the sword."
"But they were crusaders. They held the demons back. That has to count for something, doesn't it?" He sighed. "I bet if we try to talk with them, we'd agree on..."
Nelsa squeezed his forearm and pointed. "Isn't that..."
The second man wasn't a man. Kiiryth, arrow nocked in his bow, raised a fist. The one-eyed man stopped, then whistled low. The other men stopped. Kiiryth darted forward, staying low, then rose up and shot.
A low rumbling roar came from the west. A loud crashing sound accompanied it. The men shouted and started running toward the bushes.
The ogre, a warty brute with pink scar tissue where half her scalp should have been, burst through the underbrush. Her two eyes were both big as saucers, though one sat high on the left and the other low. Pendulous breasts and thick rolls of fat quivered and swayed as she raced away from her pursuit—and right at Jerrad and Nelsa.
The arrow had taken the ogre through the neck, but little enough black blood had flowed from the wound. It hadn't slowed her down. Nor had it dampened the fury in her eyes.
"Nelsa, run!" Jerrad stood and stepped forward, putting himself between her and the galloping behemoth.
"Jerrad, no!"
"Run!" No place for a mouse here. He met the ogre's hateful gaze, then curled his lip in a sneer. He forced away the fear as the monster roared a challenge. She didn't even bother to snap a tree off to use as a club. She balled fists as big as his chest and came straight at him. Her footfalls shook the ground.
Jerrad let the mosaic flow together, reaching out with a bare hand. He magically stripped a roast-weed stalk of leaves and swiped them across the ogre's eyes. As the monster rose above him, fists poised to smash him, Jerrad stuffed the leaves up the ogre's nose.
A hand on his collar yanked him out of the way. The ogre's pounded the ground, cratering the dirt where he'd been standing. Her momentum carried her past, and she stumbled, then pitched headlong into the shadeberry bushes. Thorns tore at her flesh. She rolled over, her eyes already swollen. Pus ran as tears and the eyelids crusted. Gallons of mucus squirted from her nose despite the nostrils being almost swollen shut. Blood tinged the glistening fluid and oozed from countless scratches.
Nelsa dragged him back up the hill. "Are you hurt?"
"No. Thank you." He got his feet under him and kissed her. "You saved me."
"I prefer hauling you from mud."
Kiiryth appeared, cast a glance at the ogre, then pointed up the hill at the youths. "Go! You need to get to Silverlake. Warn them."
Jerrad stared at him. "You're with them. You're one of the Broken Men."
"That's not important right now. Get going!"
The archer moved with them, urging them along. By the time they reached the top of the hill, four other men had reached the ogre. She still thrashed, but hadn't gotten up again. Led by the one-eyed man, they started cutting their way through the berry bushes to hack the ogre to death.
"Kiiryth, tell me what's happening."
"Something has the ogres riled."
"Was it my going to Mosswater?"
Kiiryth smiled. "Not hardly. That was months ago. Ogres are a bit more impulsive. We've been picking off goblins who were scouting for them. It would appear the ogres are heading out in force to raid, and Silverlake has to be a prize. Even if none of the goblins mentioned an ogre dying there before, they've certainly talked about the place. Faster."
The trio raced through the wood. Jerrad hoped the wood would be kind and open one of the shortcuts, but they had to speed over every hill and through every hollow they'd traversed on their way north. No roots tripped them, no branches lashed them, but Jerrad wasn't moving as fast as he wished.
"Why didn't you tell us you knew those men? You were a crusader like them, right?" Jerrad glanced over his shoulder at the half-elf. "If you had vouched for them, we could have helped them."
"Not everyone sees themselves as deserving help, Jerrad."
"But they're heroes. They saved us from demons."
"You think they're heroes. They only see themselves as survivors." The half-elf's eyes tightened. "For them, the heroes are the comrades who died so they could live. They owe them, and it's a debt that can't ever be repaid."
They're in a prison of their own making. Jerrad shivered. I wonder if Silverlake will become something like that for my mother?
They sprinted out of the woods and toward the settlement. Torches lit the walls. The Whip Banner flew flanked by streamers and ribbons of orange and yellow, teased by the wind coming off the lake. A line of people and two wagons were wending their way toward the front gates.
"That's my family." Nelsa started waving her arms. "Ogres! Ogres!"
The three of them redoubled their speed. Jerrad kept looking back and then toward the west and Mosswater. He didn't see any ogres, and the way the Murdoons waved back at them hinted at nothing even approaching alarm. Even the guards on the walls waved happily.
They reached the gates near collapse. Jerrad grabbed Captain Ellic's arm. "Ogres! Ogres are coming."
"Where? How many?"
"I don't know." Jerrad looked at Kiiryth. "How many?"
The archer shook his head. "We've killed one, a scout, to the north. The others will be coming up from Mosswater. Probably a dozen, maybe more. And given what a single one did here last time, chances are it isn't going to be humans feasting here tonight."
paizo.com #3236236, Corry Douglas
Chapter Thirty-One
Cruel Steel
The alarm bell's frenzied tolling brought Tyressa at a run. She gathered her skirts in her hands and cut through the gathering crowd. She reached the front gate as the Murdoon caravan cleared it. Tunk and Moll stood with their daughter. Both Nelsa and Jerrad dripped with sweat and were breathing hard.
"What is it?"
Captain Ellic nodded at Kiiryth. "He knows."
"Ogres are heading this way. We've been finding signs of goblins up north as well, and killing quite a few of them."
"We?"
Jerrad nodded toward Kiiryth. "He's one of the Broken Men."
"I have comrades in a camp to the north.
"‘Not your own master' makes sense now." Tyressa folded her arms over her chest. "We've seen signs of goblin activity south of here, but nothing overtly hostile."
"Ogres are bad enough. If they bring goblins, that will just make it worse." Kiiryth jerked a thumb toward the north. "We found one ogre. I put an arrow in it. Jerrad incapacitated it."
She grabbed Jerrad's shoulder. "Are you hurt?"
"No, Mother. Nelsa saved me."
The girl snorted. "Only after he faced it off and told me to run."
Tunk patted Jerrad on the back.
"What makes you think they're headed this way?"
Kiiryth dropped to a knee and drew a map in the dirt. "No reason to find the one we did where we found it if they aren't. She was scouting along the northern flank. If they'd hit the Murdoon place, she wouldn't have come that far east, and the Murdoons wouldn't have gotten this far."
Tunk shook his head. "We didn't see anything on the way but a Thornkeep patrol. They kept their distance."
Tyressa glanced at the ground. "And no scout would be this far north if they were headed for Thornkeep. Could be the one you saw was just that, a scout confirming goblin reports before
they go after the crusader camps. I'd love to believe it's nothing more, but we have to act."
The Murdoon patriarch nodded. "Best if we Murdoons come in here and help defend. If that scout just got lost and they are hitting our place, we'll see the fire from here."
"Your help will be greatly appreciated." Tyressa turned and saw the crowd that had gathered near the gate. She stepped over to one of the Murdoon wagons and climbed up on the seat. "There are signs that ogres may be raiding in the area. Silverlake might be a target. Everyone should arm themselves and report to your militia captains. The captains will report to me. The other thing I need—and I will ask you, Oreena, to take charge of this—is for the captains and crews of our fishing boats to take on board the children and get them out of here. Head south, and stay on the water until morning, when you can get a better look here. We'll fly the Ustalav banner to let you know it's safe to return. Go."
People scattered. She climbed off the wagon and returned to the gate. "Jerrad, you listen to everything Oreena says. I'm counting on you to help with the children."
The look he gave her sank a dagger into her heart. "I'm not leaving."
"Jerrad."
"No." He pulled himself up to his full height. "I'm not a child. I may not be big and strong like Ranall, and I may not shoot like Serrana, but I can run arrows to those who need them. I can help folks who are wounded. I can do a lot of things that will need doing. I may not be a hero, but I can do the things a hero needs done so he can be one."
She reached toward him with her left hand, but held back, balling her fist. "Jerrad, I need you to listen to me...."
Tunk Murdoon gave her son a nod. "Jerrad, I'd be obliged if you'd look after Nelsa for me."
The girl spitted her father with a fiery glance. "I ain't going."
"You'll go if I tell you to, young lady."
"I ain't going."
Tunk looked at his wife. "Talk sense to your daughter."
"She's my daughter now, is she?" Moll dropped to a knee. "Remember dear, ogres are hard to kill, but easy to confuse."