Chapter 7 - The Merchant and his Caravan


Dawn crept over the Eastern peaks of the mountains. Pokke was lit with warm sunlight that lifted the freezing cold from the highest houses. Spires of smoke still streak upwards into the lightening sky as smouldering fires from the night smoked the last of their wood. The steps up were already with workers shifting the stream water through the village, and many of the woodcutters were already on their way to surrounding forest.

From the smithy the coal forge was already lit a blistering orange and with each pump of the bellows found the fire roaring with waves of heat. At the anvil Echos worked, hammering the length of iron he worked with. His blows hit with more vivacity than usual, and his brow was creased in a frown. He had begun work early, still furious over his encounter with Saevin the night just passed. But he was equally angry with himself.

He had let the drink go to his head, he knew, and had now a feud with another family. "Drunken old fool," he said, thrusting the iron back into the forge to wait for it glow yellow once more. His melynx agreed, and Echos snarled. "Get that fire going again, you little curse." The little creature chuckled merrily, unperturbed by his master's foul mood and began unhurriedly working the bellows.

The bell rung at the counter, and with a wipe of his brow on his apron, Echos went to the shop front. He was met by the boy hunter Rion, the source of his problem. But he could not begrudge the boy, and understood his friendship with the bastard.

"Master Rion," said Echos, his voice rumbling out from his thick beard. "I suppose you are here to collect your beast?"

"Uh, yes, I am," said Rion, averting his gaze to the counter, "although I also wanted to speak to you."

"Of course you did. Come inside, lad, and sit with me as I work and we can talk."

The workshop was surprisingly large, Rion thought as he stepped into the room. Slits along the roof let in the morning light and the forge fires kept the cold out. On one side a rack of fine weapons stood, long swords as tall as a man to bows made of horns. The blacksmith Echos had pulled the iron rod from the fire with his tongs and was busily hammering blows into its glowing yellow surface.

"See that sack to your right?" said Echos, and Rion turned to find large canvas bag slumped against the wall. "In there is what I could harvest from that creature you felled. Scales and bones and the like. Anything that was valuable."

Rion opened the bag ties and pulled out a scale, watching the orange fires of the forge glisten on its white surface. "How much do I owe you for this?"

"It was your first hunt; I shall not charge you this. There will be a price for further beats you bring to my workshop, though."

"And what do I do with these?"

"Keep them a prize or, better, give them to me and I will work them into something you can use, for a price."

"But we can talk of that later," said the blacksmith, thrusting the rod into the forge. "Now we discuss the accounts of the night just passed."

"I had best thank you," said Rion, with an incline of his head. "I do not expect you to stand in defence of Idias, thought, and I beg of you to end this disagreement with Wyvernclaw. I do not want to be the source of your family feuds."

"Pah," spat Echos. "Hardly a family feud. We were both in drink and I should wait for a while and it will be forgotten. Still, the man is a snake, and I care little for his barbarous traditions. I have never liked him or his council, and I hold more sway in this village than you perhaps think."

Rion remained silent for a moment, and then said, "But why is he so hated? Idias, I talk of. Like you said yourself, he had no control over his birth."

"Man will always seek to find reason to hate and belittle others," said Echos. "The tradition Saevin speaks of was one created to denounce lovers outside the boundaries of official unity. It serves only to injure those children of wedlock, however. Ut-ven, they are called. Spoken in the old tongue, it heralds 'out of indulgence.'"

"What of his mother? Did you know of her?"

"Aye," said Echos, turning back to the forge. "She was a fair woman. She kept to herself, mostly, and I only ever spoke to her once or twice in my long years in this village. More, I cannot say. Now, if you require nothing else, I must request your absence for I need to work."

Rion left the smith and made his way to his home to find a place for his sack of harvested parts, deep in thought.

Rion had skipped the morning drill due to his injured shoulder, but his eyes were fine, and he put them to good use pouring over tomes in the schools study. His mind continued to wander, however, and soon he was back in that forest, sword in hand, battling his foe. He danced with the creature in a rain of red.

He was brought from his reverie by distant cries outside. He listened for a moment to be sure that something was afoot, and then left the study quickly. When he reached the village square he saw what was the cause of the commotion. A band of men, ragged and bloody, were being directed and assisted towards the infirmary, and they soon disappeared inside.

Rion spotted Idias among the crowd and hailed him. "What is going on?" he asked, when they found each other. "Who were they?"

"Merchants," Idias said, looking towards the infirmary. "They claim to have been attacked on their path to Pokke by pack of tusked beast: bullfango. Come; as village hunter you will have permission to speak to them."

The two boys made their way through the crowd who were beginning to disband, no doubt to inform the rest of the village of the mornings happenings. Inside the infirmary they were met by the village elder and number of felynes attending to the wounds of the men. The captain of the guard was also there, with a number of his men by his side.

"These two spotted them making their way up the path," said the captain, gesturing at his men. "We rushed to their aid as quickly as we could."

"Very well," said the elder, with a nod. "You have done well, captain, and your men are to be commended for their quick action." She turned to face the two boys who were making their way towards the beds. "Ah, there you are Sur Rion. I was expecting your hasty presence. It would seem your skills may be needed once again. And Idias Ut-ven, too. Perhaps you would like to see to these men's wounds?"

Idias said nothing but nodded and approached one of the beds, pulling from the satchel at his waist a small vial of liquid.

"Idias explained that this was an attack by some creatures." said Rion, facing the elder.

"Foul beasts!"

Rion looked down to see one of the trying to sit on the bed. Straining, the man was helped by two felyne nurse, it took him a moment before he began to tell his story.

"We come from Arrlorm, seeking to sell you our wares and buy from you your mountain herbs. The path was long and hard, and we were eased to see the peaks of the Pokke mountains on the horizon, beckoning to us.

"With haste we drove our aptonoth along the road towards those sentinels. We knew something was amiss when we did not pass another traveller for many days; those roads are always busy during these summer months when the pass is open. And yet we saw only one man on his great saddled bird, and he did not stop when we hailed him.

"We continued, on through the pass and into the valley. Then, on the fourth night travelling the pass to your village, we heard sounds in the trees, of terrible grunting and snorting. We hastened our pace and our caravan guards brought out their weapons as we hurried the last while of our journey.

"But we were ambushed by the creatures soon after. One of the horned beast broke from the tree line and soon after the rest of the herd followed. They charged the caravan, screaming and grunting in rage. We fought for a while, holding them back, but then one father of these beasts appeared, twice as tall as a man with vast and terrible tusks the length of the carriage. It thundered down upon us and smashed our caravan to pieces, killing many of those who came with us."

The man looked down at his bandaged arm and hands, his voice quivering with emotion.

"You need not continue, good sur" said Rion, his heart heavy from the story. But the man continued. "The creatures felled my wife. She had insisted upon companionship with me, speaking of her wonder of seeing the great white mountains. I should have refused!" He cried in a wailing voice, his body shaking with sobs. "She did not desrve such a death, smite upon the tusks of some wild thing! Her blood split the snow at my feet, I remember, and I did not have the will to stay with her body. She lies now still in her own blood, likely mutilated by the wild and hungry daemons. Oh, why do I endure this pain? What god have I offended to see this wretchedness!"

The maerchant began to cough and gasp for air and he slid back into a sleep quickly, his body and mind exhausted.

Rion watched the man's broken body shudder with each breath. He looked over at the other men of the caravan, equally bloody and pained. He found Idias's weary eyes and between them they shared a moment of knowing. He turned to find he elder looking intently upon him, and with an incline of his head, he left the infirmary.