Here's the second chapter: I've got two more chapters after this already written but I'm struggling on the last three chapters so it may be a while still.

Anyway, enjoy. :)


Chapter Two: Slender Man and the Mount

Some would ask him.

Others would avoid him.

Many would stare at him.

A rare and stupid few would point and ask, "What the hell is wrong with your eye?"

But all who have encountered Ilosovic Stayne were curious about the crisscross scar and dead, milky eye in his left socket. He wouldn't tell them, though. He would never tell them. The street cred he'd gain from having that badass scar would completely disappear if they knew what had really happen. As he would say to those who asked:

"It's a long, disturbing story."

"Did you get it while hunting?" some young boys and men would ask. "Did a stag get you in the eye?"

Ilosovic would shake his head. "I wouldn't want to disgust you with the truth."

"Were you defending your herds?" some young girls and women would ask. "Was there a land snark or rabid tove?"

"I couldn't tell you the gory details," he would respond. "Much too graphic."

The mystery that surrounded his eye made him quite popular. Without his eye, he would have never been asked to hunt with the elder men of his village; he would have never become the attention of the women (and some men) folk; and he would never have gotten his job protecting the delivery wagon that went to and from the kingdom.

Ilosovic sat, legs crossed, near the goods on the cart, his old, dull, notched iron sword drawn in his hands, scanning the bushes and trees for any robbers or animals that would raid the supply of cheeses and fermenting curds. While the bounty he protected didn't sound valuable, you must factor in the quality: the village's cheese was not just praised to be the best in the shire or kingdom but rather Underland in its entirety. Happy, fat cows, sweet grasses and mountains of attention to the small herds were credited towards the creation. Plus they were molded into the shapes of cats, rabbits and fishes! Who would want to eat plain rounded cheese when they could eat a halibut of Gouda?

Honestly.

Ilosovic shined his sword with his breath and tattered sleeve. "Are you done yet?" he shouted over his shoulder.

The bushes shook before a thin, sickly-looking man emerged. He muttered something under his breath before he climbed into the cart and grabbed the horse's reins.

"You should get that checked out," the horse replied to the man's mutterings. "I had a cousin who started to piss blood when that happened."

"Shurt up yer mickle scut an driv!" He shook the reins so quick and hard they sounded like whips.

The horse began to trot. "Geesh, just trying to help. I'll try to do less of it if you don't like it."

Ilosovic snorted. It could quite entertaining guarding the cheesemonger's wagon when the horse started in. The creature had a blatant way of saying things; sure, he could be more subtle sometimes ("Nice scar," the horse said when he first saw Ilosovic. "Did a ferret get at your face?") but it was rather refreshing how he didn't dance around things like most are wont to do.

The cart was rickety, hitting several bumps and divots along the path. If hard wood and splinters in your ass was fun, they were having the time of their lives.

The cart stopped. "Hold et. Be back." The driver hopped from his seat.

The horse stomped his hoof. "The cheese won't arrive by next Wednesday if he stops every twenty paces!" He shook his mane with indigent patience.

Ilosovic silently agreed looking to the sky's dusky purples and blues. He stretched out his leg out, letting them dangle—well, not dangle, but lay on the ground. He wiggled his bare toes and scratched his naked calves. (Unable to pay for the fabric and materials needed for proper shoes and pants, he had to make due with bare feet and his late-father's let out pants.) Maybe one day he'd be able to get some brogues…or a pair of boots. He flicked a rock with his large toe. A pair of boots would be extravagant but how he would love a pair.

Behind on his left, leaves rustled in the trees. His grip tightened on the sword. The driver went to the bushes on his right.

"Raiders!" the horse cried. "Robbers! Vandals! Yobbos!" He reared and stomped, neighing as he went.

A rather nasty looking group of ruffians stalked out of the woods, short wavy blades drawn. All were so ragged and dirty, if the height distance weren't so great, you wouldn't be able to distinguish cat from rat from human.

The rabbit, a ragamuffin at best with his shortness, pointed his trembling tarnished knife at the horse. It managed to squeak, "Don' ye make a sown! Or Y'll gut yer from head t'hoof!"

The horse whinnied from fright. "Nevin! You cauda! Do something!"

Ilosovic stood, towering over the cart and all around it. (An exception was the trees and horse, of course.)

The rabbit shook in its tattered clothes before leaving a large, dark puddle around its feet and a trail as it ran, screaming all the while, "Erlking! Erlking!" In fact, all the hooligans but a dirty sneering rat left screaming bloody murder.

The greasy creature was quite intimidating for its size, dark brown fur with a slimy sheen, black, bottomless eyes and a half-eaten ear. It snarled in a venom-filled (if shrill) voice, "I ain't afraid of no Erlking! Commere so I can poke ya eyes out!"

Ilosovic took two steps stopping above the rat. He bent himself far enough to growl into the face of the rodent, baring his teeth with a wolfish roar. His eyes, one full of vicious, dark light and the other white and spiritless, bore down upon the creature with evil intent. The rat promptly fell backwards, fainting from fright.

"Good work!" The horse shook his shoulders. "Now where the hell is Nevin?"

Ilosovic walked to the bushes, using his sword to poke through them. He looked deep along the right side of the road before switching to the left. "The hell? He's gone!"

"Pfff, figures. We need to go. It'll be our head if the cheeses are delayed. The cowardly twit would probably still get paid, too." He began to pull the cart at a steady pace. Ilosovic reduced his stride to keep pace. "The only thing I regret is not getting to see his face once he finds the cart gone."

The human laughed. "Agreed!" He turned to the horse: he was a great steed, with shinning coal fur. He was handsomely proportioned for his height, around twenty hands high (just a head taller than himself), head erect, and strong muscled. A finer horse Ilosovic had yet to see. "What is your name?"

The horse shook his head slightly. "My name is Vache Pullian. Yours?"

"Ilosovic Stayne."

"Er…I'll just call you Stayne. Illososovac is a mouthful."

"Yes…I find that for the better."


LAND SNARK: From The Hunting of the Snark by Lewis Carroll; American McGee's Alice portrayed snarks as fishes, thus "land snark" (presumably, Stayne grew up in a land-locked town)

TOVE: Humpty Dumpty in Through the Looking and What Alice Found There by Lewis Carroll states it is a sort of "green pig" (and this is the version in the movie); Lewis Carroll himself notes, however "a species of badger, with smooth, white hair, long hind legs, and short stag-like horns; they live chiefly on cheese" (to paraphrase) ()

MICKLE: "heavy", Scottish for "much, abundant" (Ye Fattale Cheyse by Lewis Carroll, Encarta Dictionary)

SCUT: TB Outlandish for "buttocks" (AiW Wiki)

YOBBOS: also "yob"; hooligans (Encarta Dictionary)

NEVIN: Irish surname transferred to forename use, from an Anglicized form of either Gaelic Cnámhín, a byname for a skinny man meaning "little bone," or from Gaelic Naomhán, meaning "little saint." ()

CAUDA: The origin of "coward", meaning "tail"; probably being the same as in "to turn tail" or "run away with your tail between your legs." (Encarta Dictionary)

ERLKING: German legend, the "Alder King", haunts the forest and steals travelers at night and kills them (it was either this or Slender Man, which Stayne reminds me a lot of) (Wikipedia)

HANDS: Hands is the measurement of horse height, one hand equaling four inches or 10.2 centimeters. Vache is twenty hands, approximately 6.6 ft or 2.011 meters, making Stayne 6 feet or 1.83 meters tall. Considering the average height of a man in the century this chapter is in is 5.5 feet or 1.68 meters and that Stayne is not fully-grown, he's a big boy. (Encarta Dictionary)

VACHE: Armenian name derived from a word for "a cart used by Nomads." ()

PULLIAN: Old English meaning "to pluck"; origin of "pull." (Encarta Dictionary)