by TJ Reynolds
The enfield glanced at me, a spark of joy in her eyes. At last, the breath of winter comes again. Don’t you love it, Hana? The wind has fangs again.
I responded with as little sarcasm as possible. I wasn’t very successful. Yes, Pachi. I love my wind with fangs. Can’t get enough of it.
Is this a joke? I am pleased, but now that I see your face, you look angry. You wear the skin of a beast on your back. Is it not enough?
The enfield had stopped and was examining me, her head turned sideways like a parrot. I took pity on her and explained. I am freezing, my friend. My lips are going to chap, and my hands are already half numb. I hope these rangers have a fire. I’m okay, though, don’t worry.
The rocky trail we had been following cut into a smoother path, one that had been worked into the mountainside. Our pace increased somewhat, though the incline remained suicidal.
After another fifteen minutes of me listening to the rasp and whine of Madi’s lungs, the path came to the base of spiraling stone stairs. Each step was over two feet tall, and I found myself pushing down on my knees to continue climbing. The stairs wound around the tip of the mountain twice before we crested its crown.
Madi and I stood panting as we gaped at the skyline. Purpling night was slowly smothering the orange of the distant sunset, and on all sides, valleys, hilltops, and forests sprawled away. Never in my life had I seen anything so beautiful.
A man interrupted us, his voice kind but deep, “I am glad you like the view. But it is getting windy and cold. Come, take shelter with us.”
I turned to see the speaker and was shocked to be facing a man even taller than Corell. His face was blocky and rough-hewn like a dryad’s. He wore the same muted and pragmatic traveling clothes that Selna did. This was another of the Doondane, the rangers.
“Hardel!” Alysand said. “I have not seen you in ages, my good man! Please tell me, how fares your feathered companion?” He shook the man’s hand and followed him to the top of the mountain. I had no idea where they were going until I saw a hole in scree-strewn rock, and more stairs descending into the peak of the mountain.
“More stairs,” Madi said. “You can keep the view. I think I hate this place.”
When I looked at her, I noticed her eyes were filled with the same sense of wonder that I was feeling.
As I stepped down the stairs, wide enough for even Tejón’s bulk to descend without trouble, I was surprised that the air coming up was warm, not the stone-chilled wind I’d expected. A delightful smell came with it.
Sure enough, as we wound down the stairs two times, the sound of popping and hissing meat came along with an orange glow.
A large chamber greeted us, something the size of a convenience store, with a large firepit in the center, and a long, uninterrupted stone bench ringing the room.
Hardel led us to a group of rangers who were standing near the fire. Liam, who had found us the other night and invited us here, was turning the crank of a large spit, an already-crispy deer hanging above the fire.
He smiled and shook our hands, then turned and introduced a woman to us. “And this is my sister, Lilian. Do you remember her, Alysand?”
“How could I forget? Though the little girl with a bow in her hands in the hills above Port Vaya was a lot shorter than you are now. Well met again, Lilian. You look as fierce as your mother and as lovely as your father.”
The woman beamed at him, no doubt remembering when she’d met Alysand long ago. Madi and I introduced ourselves, and I had to admit, Lilian was beautiful. She had creamy skin and raven-black hair. Her eyes glittered brightly in the firelight.
“Hail, gunsinger,” she said. “I’ve missed your stories. Perhaps we could have one tonight. We brought dinner, after all.” She gestured to the deer.
As Hardel walked over to Pachi and Tejón, he added, “Aye, and two for the powerful beasts that accompany us. My lord, you two are magnificent. A vardeen maiden and the son of a stone bear? Well met.” He bowed to each of the creatures.
Pachi bestowed her blessing on him by bowing back and pushing the top of her head against him, and Tejón simply sniffed him.
“Son of Marduk the Mighty,” Alysand added in a whisper.
A few of Hardel’s breaths caught. He looked at our party again, a veneer of pain and rage held back. “Why does he travel with you, then?”
Alysand made to speak, but I felt compelled. It was my sword that had ended her, after all. “We never would have wanted to slay her, let alone be foolish enough to try. But we found her in a cave above Benham, where she’d killed many sheep and threatened the town. When she fell, we found this woven into her pelt, powering a spell of binding.” I showed him the Ito braid from my sword.
He inspected it, then handed it back. “I see. And as to the general topic of our convocation, I might guess as to who was responsible for binding her.”
“Your suspicion is correct,” Alysand said. “The letters RK were carved in one of her bone plates, the monster too proud not to claim this witchcraft as his own.” He patted the tall man on the shoulder. “That is not the only ancient being we have slain of late. The second hurt me even more.”
Hardel’s expression was drawn as he spoke, “Perhaps we should wait, then, until the rest arrive. Only a handful of us will be present this evening.” We sat on the benches nearby and Liam cut away slices of the venison for us to eat.
I quickly ate my fill and was marveling at how efficiently the room had been warmed by a single fire when footsteps came from the stairs.
Selna came into view, her face more gaunt than the last time I’d seen her, but she was alive and healthy nonetheless.
I stood, my heart beating in my chest, as she grinned at me. “Hana! I am so happy to see you again. Sorry I couldn’t meet you at Judas’ hut. He is a pleasant enough fellow, though, am I right?” She hugged me tightly, and I marveled at how good it felt.
“He is, and he had much to say about you as well,” I said with a smirk on my face.
Selna laughed, a bright and mirthful thing, and shook her head. “Yes, I am sure he did. Now, tell me who your stalwart friend is.”
“My name is Madi. Nice to meet you. Hana says you’re a badass in a fight.” She spoke the latter phrase awkwardly.
“I’m not the best among us, but I am skilled enough,” Selna admitted.
“Ha!” Liam said, thumping Selna on the back. “Selna could spit a pack of wargs with a single arrow on a moonless night. Too damn modest.”
Another voice came from the stairwell, this one harsh and torn like a rockfall. “And don’t forget who taught her the bow and the sword. That would be a grave mistake indeed.”
An older man strode to the fire, his face all leather and burlap. He wore a scowl, and my stomach leapt when he turned on me. Then, thankfully, the edges of his mouth pulled into a half-smile.
Selna bowed, not deep and courtly, but with a simple yet dignified bow of the head. The other rangers did as well. Then she spoke. “Hana, Madi, this is the leader of the Sirrushi Doondane, Ashtel Vindari. And no, I would never forget who taught me my craft.” She had a twinkle in her eyes as she regarded the old man.
Ashtel looked around at everyone present and nodded. “Good, so it seems we are all here. Bastral met me outside and sent for those of us with fur or feather and stomach enough for venison.” He smiled at Pachi and Tejón. “Then one of you will need to tell me how a stone bear and one of the vardeen are among us.”
I am being summoned to dine? Pachi asked me.
Yes, apparently someone named Bastral wants to give you a deer to eat. Might want to hurry.
Pachi’s eyes were bright as she clacked her teeth and darted up the stairs, Tejón’s bulky form behind her.
“The mage Judas is meant to come, but I am not sure if we can count on his attendance,” Ashtel said. “Let us begin.” He sat on a wooden stump around the bonfire and gestured toward the empty ones around him. As we took seats there, I couldn’t help but notice how few rangers had
shown up and how many could be housed here.
There were twelve stumps surrounding the fire, and as I sat down on one, I noted it was far from an ordinary piece of wood. It was polished and smooth, the wood so old it felt almost like stone. And around it, intricate whirls of design danced through the wood. The stone bench behind spoke of a vast number of lesser rangers meant to attend such gatherings. How many were left, I could not say.
Ashtel stood and gave a start to the night’s discussion. “Thank you all for coming. I wanted more of us here, but there are skirmishes abroad that needed attention. Hardel, let us hear from you first. What is the news from the North?”
Hardel nodded gravely several times, his tall face looking more somber with his proximity to the fire. “I have visited with the orcish clans along the coast and in the hills north of the Sirrushi Mountains. They have been approached and have attempted to deny this Rat King any fealty. Some of their villages were razed, and they are retreating into their most sacred valleys. Still, some of them were overwhelmed and bent knee. The Cragskull clan, at the least, has already travelled south and given their service. They are small in number, only a few hundred, but the rat has been reshaping his minions. There are reports of ratkin that stand over seven feet tall. I have no idea where this perversion has come from!”
Then Selna spoke, lending credibility to the man’s claims. “Hana and I fought against one, a ratkin commander named Gascar, who was nearly so tall. His strength was formidable.” It was obvious that all present were well-trusted, but Ashtel’s look of doubt was plain to see.
The leader shook his head slowly, then gestured for Hardel to continue. “Please go on. What of the Naiads or the horse lords of the Cabyll Skerries?”
“Good luck there, at least. The Naiads have all fled their streams and rivers, and they are hiding in the depths of Korin’s Firth. Still, they cannot retreat farther. The salt of the ocean grows too strong beyond. And the Cabyll Ushte, the mighty horse lords themselves, have refused all attempts at subjugation. I spoke with Mendonn himself, and he swore they pulled nearly a hundred of the foul beasts into their waters. They remain strong.”
“Could they lend us aid?” Liam asked hopefully.
“Nay—not unless we have the fortune of battling this foe near the sea,” Hardel responded.
Lilian spoke up then, her face filled with sudden hope. “That may be to our benefit. Liam and I scouted along the western coast, and the whole area is swarming with the Rat King’s influence. Gilsby alone remains unconquered, and even there, news of subterfuge has reached us. Yet many say that his stronghold is in the South, near the ocean.”
A man behind us, near the stairs, said, “It is true, friends, and please excuse my truancy.”
Selna stood, her eyes betraying a spark of joy as she called out, “Judas! Well timed as usual.”
The herbalist laughed nervously and crossed to sit next to her.
Ashtel demanded, “Well, don’t keep us waiting to indulge your need to be mysterious. What do you know, Judas?”
The fledgling wizard cleared his throat and peered at the faces around the fire. He nodded to Madi and I, then told his story. “I have been far to the South. The spirits in the Broga Ruins are frightful but, they are attached to the world through deep ley lines. When I went to ask what they knew, I was nearly killed on the spot. The enemy had been there already. The Rat King took the crown of Vistaine.”
A collective gasp came from the rangers, and Madi and I were left blinking. I threw her a glance, but she only shrugged.
Judas noted our confusion and explained, “Ancient jewelry. The kind that ghosts don’t like to let go of. And powerful.” Then he returned his focus to Ashtel. “They were taken, and the spirits demanded blood. I managed to convince them that if they let me go, I could return their treasure. Then they told me where the jewels were taken.”
Everyone leaned forward an inch as Judas delivered the crucial piece of information. “Drok Shapol has been occupied by the Rat King. He is using its depths to fortify his armies and bend the rules of nature. So although I would prefer another place to wage war, nearly any other place, it is within a mile of the coast. The horse lords may yet be able to help us.”
“Some good news at least, but Drok Shapol is an evil place,” Ashtel said with gravity. “I would not be surprised if it is also a source of this fallen king’s power.”
Then Selna asked Judas a question, cutting through the silence. “What do you think are his motives? Are our suspicions well-founded?”
The wizard’s eyes met Selna’s. “I fear they may be.”
“Speak openly, you two, “Ashtel chided. “What do you know?”
“We feared that the ratkin were searching for something, perhaps even someone,” Selna explained. “Their attentions near Taelman’s Pond were most concerning.”
“Wait, I’m sorry to interrupt, but what does Taelman’s Pond have to do with anything?” I asked, getting frustrated with knowing so little.
Ashtel sighed and asked me, with worry in his tone, “Did you happen to meet with the old man that calls himself Quinn?”
“Of course; he’s my friend,” I answered honestly.
“That shows much character on your part to call him thus. Quinn is more than an old man in a small town. He is of the line of Tael, the last remaining thread of the line of Lem. There is much about this world’s lore you do not know. To say it briefly, Quinn is a creature of vast power. And power, regardless of its form, can be taken or used by another.”
I stared in shock at Madi. Quinn was a tiny, wrinkly, sweet man. How could he be a source of ancient magic?
Hardel stood, his face resolute. “I think we should marshal all the support we can and cut out the beast’s heart in Drok Shapol. And soon. What say you, Ashtel? I gave a speaking stone to Mendonn. If the horse men agree to aid us, we might be strong enough.”
Ashtel shook his head doubtfully. “I am not so sure, Hardel. Though I share your desire, I fear we are too few. Only three dozen of the Doondane are left, and the horse lords can summon perhaps a hundred warriors. And some reports of this Rat King’s forces number them in the hundreds, if not thousands.”
Alysand stood then and raised one hand formally. “I have more ill news. Hana and Madi can bear witness. We cleared out Benham’s iron mines from the ratkin that had taken it some months ago. They have been deporting the iron ore, which would explain the high quality of some of their weapons and armor. More concerning is the additional ally the Rat King has acquired. I killed the once great Anwar Flamestar of the Fafniri clan. He told me before his death that the wyverns would fight with the enemy. They are not so numerous, but even if a few dozen of them stand beside him, it will be imposing.”
“The fire wyverns?” Ashtel’s face had contorted in fear and surprise.
“Even so. The only way we can oppose such might is with more allies of our own. The Sirrushi wyverns would be a good place to start.” Alysand took a seat again.
Selna spoke next. “They have tasloi in their army as well, though I do not know how many.”
“And trow goblins,” Madi added, pointing to Hardel. “Most are workers, but I had to fight a few monsters called twisted trow. They were taller than you.”
Hardel lifted up his hands. “Trow bigger than me? For all that is unholy, okay, I yield. We need to consolidate our strength. I can go to the mountain trolls and see if they might help as well.”
The conversation bore on for some time, ideas being handed about like tangible fragments of hope. Eventually, tasks were given, and a relative plan was formed. Everyone was to be sent off in different directions, with Madi, Alysand, and I heading toward Gilsby on the coast. Then the formality of the meeting melted away.
Hardel produced some mead, and Liam brought out a tiny lute that he began to pluck. I listened to the rangers’ banter, enjoying the warmth of the fire.
At last, I grew curious about my feathered friend and asked, “Who is Bastral? And where have they
taken my Pachi?”
Hardel laughed, and he stood up and gestured for me to follow him. We walked back up the stairs and found three beasts of legend lounging near a pile of bones.
Pachi and Tejón looked fully sated for the first time in a few days, and they were basking in the attention of a glorious beast.
Oh Hana, it is about time, Pachi said. Bastral is magnificent, isn’t he? His beak is so sharp, and you should see his claws. Oh, and his wings must be nearly forty feet wide!
I couldn’t help but gape myself. Bastral was a gryphon. I can see that. Please tell him hello and thanks for feeding you so well.
An unfamiliar voice, deep as a mountain lake, resounded in my head. You can tell me yourself, small one.
My jaw dropped as I looked in the sharp eagle eyes of the gryphon. I tried to Mind Speak back tentatively. You can hear me?
Of course. Pachi and Tejón will be able to converse with whoever they please as well, once they grow strong enough. I can see you have a good heart. It is fitting. Pachi is no base creature, after all.
No, she is not, I agreed. I have grown to love her as much as I depend on her skill and strength in battle.
Hardel caressed the side of Bastral’s beak. “He is really something, eh? Most powerful flyer in this part of the world, I’d wager. At least in my opinion. And soooo beautiful.” The ranger’s words were directed at me, but I could see he was drawing them out to flatter his gryphon. It seemed to be working.
A bone-vibrating purr emanated from Bastral’s chest.
“You two,” Hardel said to Madi and I, “it is time you’ve had a brief history lesson on this world, and there are few more suited to the task than Bastral Lionheart.” He sat in the crook of his gryphon’s front legs. The huge man looked like a boy, the sheer size of the gryphon dwarfing him comically.
Madi sat next to Tejón’s bulky form and leaned against his haunch. The bear was sitting up and crunching on a bone with lazy satisfaction.
I sat next to Pachi and she repositioned, so she could lay down facing the gryphon and extend a wing over me at the same time. The bitter cold and blustering wind abated immediately.
