Alrys acted jealous, but she cackled and marched off.
The six of them marched through the canyon Northwards. The cool of the morning had not quite faded, and the birds were bickering in the trees on the rocks above them. The red walls looked like they were painted to look like water, with ribbons of harder stone rolling through the grainy soil.
Alrys and Sarky, holding a map which they looked at from a hundred different angles, and arguing about which was the correct one, took point. Ranthos hobbled forward on his crutch and swatted away Bell’s final attempt at fixing his hair.
“Fine, fine,” she said, “Be alone forever then!”
Ranthos sneered without a clever answer.
She smiled and started skipping beside him.
Nosgrim, with his heavy jangling pack, trotted up beside Bell. “Bell!” Nosgrim asked, flattening his hairs over his head, “If we did run into a maiden, how do I—Uhm… How do I look?”
Ranthos chortled.
Bell poked Ranthos’ side.
He made a similar sound as before, but was much less happy about it.
“I think…” Bell looked him over, “You should start shaving your head, like Vhurgus!”
His eyes widened, “Why? I have—”
Bell shook her head kindly, patting his shoulder.
“Alright,” Nosgrim said, downcast.
“He probably has the same concern as you, Nossy,” Bell said, “And I think he looks…” she lowered her voice to a furtive whisper, “… rather handsome… In a rugged, warrior sort of way.”
Alrys, able to hear her from a distance, looked over his shoulder with an amused smirk.
Bell turned a shade redder and shrugged.
Nosgrim looked over at Vhurgus, with his mighty beard and broad shoulders. Nosgrim straightened himself and nodded, “Sure… I’ll start shaving my head. Should I grow the beard too?”
Bell took a deep breath and composed herself. “Can you?" she asked, almost forgetting her embarrassment. She began inspecting his chin. There was a light stubble. “Ranthos tried for a while, but good Heavens, he cannot.”
“Alright, I haven’t tried in a while,” Ranthos said, immediately defensive. “I could if I wanted to, I just—”
They were both shaking their heads at him. He shut his mouth and scowled.
“I’ll try it out,” said Nosgrim.
“That’d look nice!” shouted Bell.
“Do you really think we’ll meet a maiden on the road?”
“Maybe!” she said, resuming her skip.
“What should I say to her?”
Ranthos answered before Bell could, “Nossy, I don’t think you’re in any shape to be talking to any maidens.”
“And you are?”
“Boys, be civil,” Bell said, smelling their bruised egos.
“If we find a maiden,” Bell said, “I’ll introduce her to you two, and she can deny both your advances at once.”
Ranthos and Nosgrim both grimaced.
“You look like a skinned cat,” said Nosgrim.
Remy hissed from atop Nosgrim’s pack.
“I may not be healthy, but at least I’ve got hair.”
Vhurgus cleared his throat from behind them. How long had he been there? For a massive, armored hulk, he caught them all by surprise. “What maiden are you talking about?” This was the first time any of them had heard Vhurgus take interest in their idle talk. He was usually too busy looking over maps or making Bell and Nosgrim run.
“Uhm,” Nosgrim was timid, and a bit red, “Just a young maiden out on the road…?” It was almost a question.
Ranthos was only minimally involved in that conversation, so felt no need to be the one to explain.
“What would a young maiden be doing out on the road by her lonesome?” asked Vhurgus, scratching his beard. He walked beside Nosgrim, keeping Ranthos’ slower pace with them.
“She could be picking flowers!” offered Bell, “Or perhaps drawing water. Maybe she’s a warrior like Sarky!”
Nosgrim nodded, “Yes, yes.”
“A true warrior would take no interest in either of you,” said Vhurgus.
“What if she was drawing water?” asked Nosgrim.
“Drawing water from where? Why?”
“A well?”
Vhurgus shook his head. Ranthos could tell how very clear it was to Vhurgus that they had never ventured out of Tatzelton. Ranthos was similarly ignorant, but was glad to not be the one answering questions.
Bell’s little voice piped up. “Do you have a maiden, Vhurgus?” she asked. Ranthos could smell how thrilled she was to be talking about these things herself for once. She had spent so long listening to ladies in Tatzelton gossip, advise, and chatter about love, but she could never join them.
Now, these scrappy boys she found herself with were certainly not ideal, but she seemed to enjoy them all the same.
Vhurgus sighed as he considered the question.
Ranthos found his ears perking up as he leaned towards him, curious for an answer, and smelled Nosgrim feeling similarly. More than anything, he wanted to know if this man felt love at all.
“Once,” said Vhurgus. He smelled troubled, longing, and suddenly lomesome, but he immediately shut away those feelings when he saw Bell’s eyes filling with tears.
“Did you love her?” asked Bell, clasping her hands together.
“You don’t need to answer—” said Ranthos to Vhurgus, apologizing for Bell.
He furrowed his thick brows, and his heartbeat quickened; he was unsure. “I… I don’t know.” He looked away and started fiddling with his armor.
The three of them all looked away from him as well and nodded slowly. Ranthos had no clue what to say. It had become rather awkward, to say the least. He wanted to run away.
“I hope I do,” Vhurgus said, picking his head up, “… Did.” He corrected himself. But it was obvious that he still felt something for his maiden, and judging from the intrigued glance Bell shot Ranthos, she heard it too.
“I am sure that you did love her,” said Bell kindly. “Where did you meet her?”
“You wouldn’t know it.”
Nosgrim said, “I would. I’ve seen lots of maps.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” scoffed Ranthos.
Vhurgus chuckled, “I met her in Vallenholder.”
“What?” asked Nosgrim.
“I said you wouldn’t know it,” said Vhurgus.
“Oh,” he said, “That was the town’s name! See, I just thought I misheard you. I’ve seen it on a map before.”
Liar. “No, you didn’t,” sneered Ranthos.
“It’s in the Kelds,” said Vhurgus.
“In the Kelds!” said Nosgrim a moment later.
“Oh!” Bell said before Ranthos could start another fight.
“Nosgrim is lying… He doesn’t know scut,” Ranthos mumbled.
“Where are the Kelds?” Bell asked Vhurgus.
“Nosgrim could tell you,” Vhurgus said, patting Nosgrim on the back.
Gotcha.
Nosgrim stammered, obviously unsure.
“North,” said Vhurgus, flicking Nosgrim’s nose.
Ranthos was markedly pleased. So pleased that he upset Bell, and she poked his side.
“Enough of that!” said Nosgrim and Vhurgus at the same time.
“If you two knew what I put up with taking care of this child, you’d be poking him too.”
Vhurgus shrugged.
“I put up with him too,” said Nosgrim.
“Not how I’d put it,” Ranthos scoffed.
“You weren’t much kinder,” said Nosgrim.
“You’re both incredibly rude,” said Bell, holding her palms out, “I think we can agree that both of you have it worse than the other.”
Vhurgus smelled like he was enjoying their interaction. He looked over at Bell after Ranthos and Nosgrim had calmed down, and said with a raised eyebrow, “The caravan will be heading to Vallenholder, eventually.”
Bell smirked, “Ooooooh,” she ran beside him and poked his side with her elbow, “Will you meet her again?”
Vhurgus shrugged, “I don’t think so.”
“You must,” said Bell, “True love demands it!”
“Do you know if she still feels the same for you?” asked Nosgrim.
“She doesn’t,” he said, “But I may be wrong.”
“And why is that?!” Bell asked, too-excitedly.
“Too complicated to explain,” he said, scratching his beard nervously.
Bell nodded and asked, “What’s her name?”
“I don’t remember,” he said with a smile, knowing that she could hear he was lying. He obviously didn’t want to share much more.
Bell realized this, but took no issue with prying further, “What color are her eyes?" she asked dreamily.
He furrowed his brow, “I don’t remember.” He was not lying.
“What?!” Bell was furious, “You monster!”
“What?” he was confused, “It’s been a long while…”
She furrowed her brows, “You ought to remember! If you’re a man at all!”
None of the three males quite understood what travesty Vhurgus had committed, but they all understood from Bell’s reaction that it was extremely egregious. They listened to Bell rant on and on about it for a whole century, flailing her arms and gasping and wailing in sadness for Vhurgus’ maiden’s sake. ‘If you love her so much this, then her eyes that.’
Vhurgus took it all with a laugh, though. Nosgrim and Ranthos whispered that they couldn’t remember the eye colors of the beautiful Tatzelton ladies; comments which Bell heard. She tossed them into the same lot as Vhurgus, berating them as well as him.
“You three should be ashamed of yourselves. A woman’s eyes are so important! Have you never gazed into them longingly, you brute?”
“‘Course I have.”
“Evidently not!” she shouted, fists clenched at her side.
Ranthos caught Alrys taking a few coins from his bag and dropping them in a purse with some that Sarky gave him, saying, “That tree round the bend.”
Sarky pointed out a different stone outcropping along the road.
Vhurgus saw what they were doing too, and held up seven fingers and shouted in the brief pause that Bell took to breathe, “The river!” and then counted out seven coins of his own and had Nosgrim run it up to them.
Upon his return, Nosgrim whispered to Ranthos as quietly as he could—so that Bell couldn’t hear. “They’re betting on how long she’ll keep ranting. They all chose a point on the trail.”
Ranthos smiled and nodded, glancing over to Bell to see if she was listening. She was distracted enough that Ranthos thought they were in the clear.
“If she’s still ranting when they pass your point, you win, unless she keeps ranting until she passes another person’s point. Sarky’s point is coming up,” he said, “and Vhurgus is after that. Alrys picked the furthest.”
They passed under Sarky’s outcropping. She started watching Bell anxiously as they walked, hoping that she would calm down before reaching Vhurgus’ river.
“… You oaf, you know nothing of love! You’re despicable,” Bell said.
They hopped across stones on a slow-moving river; Nosgrim helped Ranthos across, and Alrys laughed at Sarky for the whole while.
“… Her eyes Vhurgus!”
They were nearing Alrys’ tree, when Ranthos fished Nosgrim’s gold coin from his bag. “Run this up to Alrys for me, Nosgrim.”
He smiled and took it in his hand.
“Tell him I say that she won’t stop until we’re out of the Shortcut.”
Nosgrim raised an eyebrow, “Impossible. You’re wasting my money.”
“If its your money, then give me my rock back.”
Nosgrim rushed up to Alrys, who laughed and said that it was impossible.
They passed under Alrys’ tree. Vhurgus punched it angrily.
“Good Heavens, Vhurgus, you’re lucky you didn’t tell me her name because if I told her this, she’d reject you, I promise.”
“I’m very sorry, Bell,” offered Vhurgus, clenching his teeth.
“I very much doubt that! I’m going to tell her, I will!”
Eventually, as high noon arrived, they reached an upward slope, and above the flowing sandstone walls were the hints of grasses and bushes, and large trees with yellowing leaves. They were almost out. Ranthos hobbled smugly out of the Shortcut while Bell marched alongside Vhurgus in the back of the group, demanding him to remember.
He could not.
All eyes turned to watch Bell and Vhurgus as they slowly emerged out of the canyon.
Vhurgus saw that Ranthos was about to win and slowed his pace. Bell slowed as well.
Alrys, the winner if she stopped before crossing the threshold, asked Vhurgus to look behind him for a thing he dropped. He failed to specify, but Bell wasn’t listening to him and everyone else knew what he was up to.
Vhurgus nodded and started looking behind him, crouching down to look under stones and around shrubs. Bell followed him though, wagging her finger and scolding him, “You’ll be alone forever.”
Ranthos was about to be a very rich cub and was perhaps too confident. He asked Vhurgus, “Vhurgus, are you tired? We’ve been walking a while.”
“Sure,” he said, “Feet are a tad sore.”
“Take a seat,” he said, “Have a rest.”
Sarky buried her face in her palms, “This cub is an idiot…”
Alrys smirked and watched on.
Vhurgus gingerly dusted off a portion of a fallen log, and sat down, crossing his legs.
Bell looked over to see everyone watching her, “Oh please. You all know I’m right!”
They all stood silently, unsure of what to say.
“Sarky!” called Bell, “How would you feel if Alrys forgot what color your eyes were?”
She didn’t answer for a moment. She smelled confused. She was probably thinking of how to diffuse Bell best without being obvious. “I would be mad. And I think you have perfectly demonstrated how terrible it is to forget your maiden’s eye color. Thank you. We all agree.”
Bell raised her eyebrows, “Unlikely!” and kept ranting. “The fact that you not only couldn’t remember the color when I asked you, but also chose to forget it this whole time is a crime against love.” Perhaps she had gone a little mad. But nonetheless, she showed no sign of stopping.
“Alright, cub,” Alrys said through his teeth, “I cede.” He beckoned Vhurgus out of the Shortcut.
Sarky punched Ranthos’ arm lightly.
Vhurgus bit his thumb.
As Bell passed the threshold onto the grass of the surrounding plain, the entire company burst into applause and cheers. Ranthos was tossed a weighty bag of coin. “Bell, come here for a moment. What color are your eyes?” he asked, squinting his.
She opened her mouth to reply before the distinct tang of fear wafted off her body. Her tirade was ended and replaced with immediate fright. She yelped and covered her mouth as Vhurgus was hit over the helmet with a jagged double-flail, the heavy heads ringing like a gong against the thick carapace.
More figures emerged from the brush wielding wrought iron weapons. They howled and shrieked like animals. Each of their helmets were adorned with four curved horns, and their faces were dark beneath them. Strings of hollow bones which chirped like macabre chimes dangled from their armor. Each wore a sheepskin over their shoulder.
15
Lost Sheep
Nosgrim was almost run through with a spear, but Vhurgus—still staggering from the first strike—shoved him to the ground and deflected the spear with his breastplate. It ground against the chitin and made Ranthos wince.
Alrys dropped his heavy pack onto the ground and scrambled for Ranthos’ bow and quiver.
Sarky bolted toward Ranthos with blades drawn and parried the strike of an attacker which had crept up behind him.
Ranthos could barely hear anyth
ing over the sudden uproar of steel clashing on steel while he hobbled towards Bell as more figures descended upon the party, each ringing hollow chimes.
Ranthos and his crutch rushed forward, shouting Bell’s name. She looked too stunned to move. A flocker—as Alrys had called them—whirled his flail as he marched toward Bell. He smelled hungry.
“Bell!” Ranthos shouted again. He mis-stepped and fell flat on his blackening wounds. “Scut!” That hurt like Hell. Ranthos whimpered as he tried to regain his footing.
Thump, crash, fell the body of the hungry flocker before Ranthos, one of Alrys’ arrows protruding from his throat. He choked and gurgled before falling limp.
“Run, boy!” screamed Vhurgus as he cleft the arm from another flocker which had slashed Nosgrim’s thigh with a blade, dropping him to the ground.
Bell ran toward Ranthos. They were both frantically calling each other’s names, communicating nothing. Ranthos could smell every single one of his friends’ fear, and something much more sadistic from the flockers.
Nosgrim limped behind Bell and took her shoulder and tried to tell her to run.
She was weeping. She resisted.
“Go!” Ranthos suddenly had the focus to demand.
She wasn’t listening.
Ranthos gave a desperate look to Nosgrim.
They all screamed when another flocker fell prone atop the other between them, chest riddled with arrows.
Nosgrim finally took matters into his own hands. He snatched up Bell by the waist and bolted off, ignoring the wound on his leg. Bell shouted and struggled against him, reaching back for Ranthos, who dropped his dizzy face into the dirt, and almost passed out from the twisting of his wounds. He regained consciousness when his face was suddenly drenched in the blood of a man whose gut was slashed open by Sarky’s blade. She stood above him now. She parried the blades of two separate flockers looming near her. They smelled starved.
“You do not touch him,” she said.
Vhurgus’ voice called out, “Pulse!”
Sarky shot a glance of recognition to him.
“Now!” called Vhurgus.
Sarky immediately dropped her sword and closed her hand into a certain position. She sucked in a tense breath. As she exhaled, a thin spike of what looked like green glass grew from her elaborate gesture.
Enter the Lamb's Head (The Adventures of Ranthos Book 1) Page 18
