Tears of the Ancient and Other Stories

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Tears of the Ancient and Other Stories Page 2

by Jason R. Koivu

Marshal Rames flipped over the last piece of parchment to make sure nothing else was written on the other side. He finished the notes he’d been scribbling as he read and sketched out a few rough maps of what he could glean from Grag’s descriptions of the goblin lair. Then he called Captain Bellard back in.

  “Where did you find these papers? Exactly where?”

  “By the mouth of the cave of those Green Beasts, sir,” said the captain looking with more interest at the pieces of parchment than he ever had.

  “They were just sitting on the ground and you picked them up like daisies?” The marshal’s lack of patience was getting the better of him.

  “No sir, one of those savages had the roll tucked in his trousers.”

  “What else can you tell me about this savage?”

  “I don’t know, sir, it was quite ordinary. Ill-fitting clothes.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well sir, I don’t normally take much notice of them individually, but I did note that this one had been beaten about a good deal. It had this great lump on the back of its head and it was well behind the others, so I don’t think it was even in the fight.”

  “Was there a woman about?”

  “A woman, sir?”

  “Yes, a human woman.”

  “Why, yes, sir. As a matter of fact, we did find a woman there abouts.”

  “Describe her.”

  “She was nothing more than a peasant girl. Another one of those unfortunates from the outer villages that falls into the beasts’ claws.” The captain’s straight-ahead gaze fell upon the marshal’s fingers tapping rapidly upon the desk and he spat out a more thorough description as quickly as he could. “I believe she was wearing a tattered old robe and carrying a club. Oh, and she had on an old helmet, dented all to hell, sir. It does strike me as odd now that I think back on it, but in the heat of battle strange things happen, as you know sir. Anyhow, I recall she was out of sorts, but she answered all our questions smart as any peasant girl I’ve known.”

  “Retrieve the helmet.”

  “Sir?”

  “I want that helmet brought back to me. Now.”

  “Yes, sir.” The captain’s eyes darted about as he searched his mind for the helmet’s significance.

  “Thank you, Bellard. That is all.” The captain nodded and strode out. When the door closed, the Marshal gathered up the roll of parchment and threw it on the fire.

  THE LAST SIREN

 

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