THE SAGA OF BOY: BOOK ONE
Chapter 5: Fire in the Fall
His quarry was kneeling with a defeatist slump to his shoulders amongst the burned out ruins of what might have once been a cottage. He stepped quietly forward and asked the question that had plagued him through a thousand miles of hunting.
"Why, father?"
The rogue patriarch of the Evenflow family continued to trail his fingers through the soil, still mixed with traces of ash.
"That isn't a fair question to ask, Son. Why does anyone give up everything but for something more important than life itself?"
"But a human, father? What's the point? Your time with her will be so short, and you'll outlive her by hundreds of years! How can that be worth giving up what you had?"
"Their short lives give them a power to love like none other. Fifty years with her is worth five hundred under the thumb of a Summer Court female. But the real question here and now is son, are you going to do your duty?"
The half-breed frowned in irritation and re-sheathed his twin longswords.
"I cannot understand you, but I have no intention of killing you. Where is this human woman who's apparently worth so much? We should find her a safe place."
"She's far beyond any protection we could offer her now. She died in this fire many years ago. The child lived to die in another."
The son's head snapped around and his eyes blazed.
"Child!? You had children with this woman? Have you any idea the consequences!?"
"A child, called Nathanial. He would have been fifteen years old when he died. In his lifespan that makes him the same age as you, although I have not laid eyes on him since he was three weeks born. The townsfolk tell me he set fire to a tavern and died in the blaze only two years ago."
He grabbed his father by the tunic and spoke through clenched teeth.
"Are you telling me I had a brother, and you chose to only tell me about him after it was too late to do anything to protect him?"
"I could not be sure he wasn't in danger from you son. After all, you have your duty..."
The man's head rocked back on his neck as his son's fist impacted with his jaw. Impassive, he watched the younger man mount his horse and gallop wildly down the path towards the small village of Franklin. He thought briefly about calling out, or giving chase, but only watched the dust trail disappear around the bend. He finished his prayers for the beloved dead, lay one hand briefly on the cold remains of the last home he'd ever known, and rode east away from Franklin.
He had nothing left, and nothing left to defend. He would satisfy himself with obscurity for a little while.
The road wound like a red ribbon through the iron-rich foothills east of Whitefall. The full moon had already struggled to the top of the sky by the time they set out, and soon began its lazy downward roll to the opposite horizon. They were just over a mile from the town when Whisper stopped her horse and looked around critically.
"So tell me, gentlemen, were we going to travel all night, or did you plan to stop at some point to camp?"
"Yoowannastoopahlrehdy? Cor! Whotapaynzee!"
"We might as well stop," Ramses agreed quickly, before Whisper could filter Sir's words and become offended, "once the moon is down the horses won't be able to see where they step. We're at least out of sight of Whitefall!"
"outta sight, outta mind," added Leto, "but we might want to post a watch anyhow."
"I'll take a watch," Nathanial called from the far side of his horse. He had slid wearily from the saddle at the first call to halt and began removing his horse's gear. The others followed suit and Nathanial ran a tether between two trees so the horses could graze without wandering.
"Now," proclaimed Whisper in an authoritative voice, "Sir and I will try and hunt something to eat, the rest of you work on building a fire."
Nathanial gave her a puzzled look and nearly bit his tongue in two trying not to snap back at her high handed tone.
"Why hunt, don't we all have rations?"
She smirked, and the condescending look in her eye made Nathanial grit his teeth.
"Because, Boy, we don't know how long we'll be on the road. We should save the rations for when we need them."
She turned pointedly away as Nathanial opened his mouth to respond, and strode away from the camp. He closed his mouth with a resentful snap and muttered angrily under his breath as he unpacked and laid out his bedroll and blankets. He earned a sympathetic chuckle from Leto, who was already lounging against a rock with his eyes closed. Ramses ignored them both in the interest of sanding a minute burr from the otherwise perfect edge of his sword.
Nathanial began to gather firewood around the camp, following the trail they'd just traveled until his arms were full. He trudged back to the camp, resentful that Whisper might take his effort as following her orders instead of a simple desire for the warmth and calming influence of a fire. When he arrived and dropped his armload near the center of the camp, he glanced over and saw that Leto had not only gathered more branches, but he didn't look as if he'd stirred from his seat against the rock. Nathanial kept one eye on the odd man while he worked to lay the tinder, and was rewarded with an explanation when Hooch came bolting up the hill carrying a large, well-chewed stick. The dog dropped his find neatly by Leto's side and barked expectantly, earning a friendly pat on the head.
"Good boy, Hooch."
He tossed the stick lazily over to the large pile and appeared to fall asleep. Hooch whined anxiously and his tail beat a halfhearted staccato on the ground. Leto quirked an eyebrow and stared at the dog, who grew more and more excited in anticipation. When the animal was worked into a frenzy of jumping and barking without so much as a word or movement from his master, Leto finally relented.
"Hooch, Fetch!"
The dog streaked off up a nearby deer trail and soon returned with another hefty stick, dropping it at Leto's feet. He patted Hooch and the drama played itself out again, until the dog was once again in yapping frenzy.
"Hooch, Fetch!"
It was less than an hour until they had enough firewood to last several days. Leto spent the last twenty minutes in meditation, but Hooch had learned the trick by then and continued to and from camp barking his own praise with each piece of wood retrieved. Nathanial sat comfortably and watched the game with amusement, poking occasionally at the fire and keeping the flames high.
They were settling into good cooking coals when Sir William returned triumphantly with an entire deer slung across his shoulders like a bloody shawl. The deer's head was split neatly in two from the nose to the skullcap. Nathanial stared, impressed regardless of whether Sir killed the deer by skill or luck, and when he finally shook his head and looked away he caught both Ramses and Leto wearing similar expressions.
Sir set to skinning the carcass, throwing some pieces of venison into the pot and spitting others to roast in the coals. Nathanial threw part of his supply of cooking herbs from Monk's kitchen into the boiling stew just as Whisper stormed into the middle of the camp with a brace of squirrels and an air of harried, defensive pride. When she saw the roasting venison a spasm crossed her face akin to indignation. Sir barely looked up from his roasting meat before he began to snicker.
"Aboottimeyeshewdup…wotchoogot,bunch'arodints?"
Whisper puzzled the mangled words into the intended insult and threw the squirrels down in a huff. She stubbornly set to gutting and skinning her kill, but as much as she tried to ignore the others, they weren't ready to forgive her earlier attitude.
"So, Whisper," started Leto, "just how many arrows did you waste to bring down those fearsome beasts?"
She gritted her teeth and refused to acknowledge the question with anything but a quick, defiant shake of her head. Sir laughed and joined in the fun.
"Oifeersumbeas'sa'wright! Thathings'sdeadly!"
Nathanial began to feel sorry for Whisper, enough at least to feel some empathy. But she seemed the type that would resent any assistance, and Nathanial was too wary yet to draw attention to himself by taking sides.
"Leave her be," said Ramses in an eerie echo of Nathanial's own thoughts. "At least," he said with a pointed look at Leto and Nathanial, "she's trying."
Nathanial bit back the indignant comment that jumped to the tip of his tongue, and stared sullenly into the fire. The others quieted down as well, but Whisper resolutely roasted and ate the squirrels, scorning the fresh roasted venison and thick, meaty stew. When everyone was full and picking at the remains, Nathanial grew tired of the uneasy silence that had cropped up between them. Several short stabs at conversation only earned him haughty stares, disinterested silence, and one outburst from Sir where he roughly translated
"Bouy!Sheeutde'elloop!"
As an order to be silent. Frustrated, he finally gave up on encouraging everyone to get along and decided to at least get himself rested for the long ride in the morning.
"Fine then," he announced into the thick silence, causing at least some of them to jump in surprise, "you deal with each other. I'm going to sleep. Wake me to take watch whenever you need to."
He flopped onto his bedroll and adjusted his hat to cover his eyes. He missed the bemused looks the others exchanged, but in a brief flash of bitter optimism he realized that at least there would be no chit-chat to keep him awake that night.
Nathanial was shaken rudely to consciousness in such an eerie memory of the night he'd left the orphan farm that he shot upright with a choked gasp before he took in his surroundings. It was dark and the fire had dwindled to orange-red coals that cast a demonic light on Sir's face as he leaned over his bedroll.
"Wha..." Nathanial yawned, "is it my watch?"
"Nooyedoombahstid, s'tamtewaykoop! Tamtegoo!"
The others were stirring awake and looking around.
"Time to go, are you crazy?" snapped Whisper, "it's the middle of the night!"
"Nos'notyadoombeetch,Ahseenthasoono'erthaway."
He pointed one arm back towards the town, and the party all took a moment to filter through his accent and look for the sun rising where he pointed. Nathanial looked up at the still-starry sky and frowned.
"But Sir," he said … that's impossible; you're saying the sun's rising in the west?"
Ramses flopped back down on his bedroll and Nathanial heard him muttering under his breath, "Crazy bastard, probably sleepwalking….". Whisper was glaring at Sir with her arms crossed, having finally caught on to the fact Sir had insulted her again, and Leto seemed to be settling back down to sleep. Nathanial gave Sir a long look of appraisal, searching his face for any sign of trickery. With a sigh, he scrambled up onto a rock to give himself a better sight range and looked again towards the west. There was indeed a soft red glow lighting the sky behind the chain of hills, but it was too close to be the sun.
"Fire!" Nathanial shouted, "Whitefall's on fire!"
He half scrambled, half slid down the rock face and ran to saddle his horse, startling it out of a light doze. He dove into his leather armor and assembled his weapons. When he turned back, he saw that only Ramses and Leto had followed suit and prepared to move out. Whisper and Sir sat watching from their bedrolls.
"WeryoogooindenBuoy?"
"Why aren't you coming!?" Nathanial asked with some exasperation. They gave him a look as if he were missing the obvious. "Are you just going to sit here and let the town burn to the ground? We could be helping!"
Whisper cleared her throat and spoke in a slow patient voice that grated Nathanial's nerves.
"We're not supposed to go back there, remember Boy? We're supposed to keep the items away from the town, not go charging into it. For all we know, this is an attack by Khezrial and we'd be walking into a trap."
Nathanial climbed back to the top of the rock and looked back impatiently. If he didn't try to help, and someone was hurt, he knew he'd feel responsible. After a moment of internal debate he jumped down from the rock and walked purposefully towards Whisper. He pulled the leather pouch from his belt that held the items he was supposed to guard, and handed it to her.
"As long as the items aren't in town, we're still following orders. I have to see if I can help."
Whisper shrugged and accepted the bag, along with those Ramses and Leto held out to her a moment later. The three rode and ran towards Whitefall as fast as possible, watching the red glow fill the sky above the hills.
When they topped the last hill the wave of heat and smoke rolled over them in a suffocating cloud. They could see a full third of Whitefall ablaze beneath them. Nathanial paused a moment in awe at the living mass of fire consuming the town, and the tiny trail of humans waging battle against it. After a brief survey of the rescue efforts he galloped the horse to the river, where a large force of men and women passed buckets back and forth from the river to houses that could still be saved. Nathanial grabbed two of the buckets waiting at the shore and spurred his horse up the line. The beast charged through without protest and stood still while Nathanial wetted the smoldering thatch roof. The other two began the same work, and slowly the three helped the townsfolk create a circle of wet earth and wood to trap the fire and keep it from spreading to the rest of the village.
Countless trips later, Nathanial looked up from his work to the sound of a distant, inhuman shriek. He looked down the main throughway of the village to the doors of the temple, through which stumbled a neophyte priest with blood streaking his face and robes. Nathanial abandoned the water brigade and galloped towards the priest, who was wandering numbly down the street. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Leto and Ramses break away as well and move in the same direction.
He was no more than halfway to the temple when his horse suddenly reared and leaped over something in the road, nearly unseating him. He groped for the reins and looked down to one side where a strange, legless beast groped at his horse's legs with its blackened arms. Its skin was the color of tar and glistened in the light of the fire. Nathanial swung wide with his morningstar from a loss of balance, but his horse reared again and crushed the creature's skull with its hooves. Nathanial managed to hold on to his weapon as he took a firmer grip on the saddle, and tried to re-orient himself. When his horse shied he looked down and spotted another creature making its way along the wall of the nearest house. The creature gave the wooden wall a loving caress and an odd cooing noise came from what passed for its mouth. Flame blackened the wood where it had touched it, and the fire began to crawl its way hungrily up the wall. Nathanial finally shook off his disorientation and swung his morningstar with a shout of rage. This time he connected and the creature crumpled under the blow.
A piercing shriek came from the direction of the temple, and Nathanial looked up to see fire lick its way towards the entryway doors. He held out one hand when he reached the dazed neophyte and helped the young priest climb onto the horse behind him. He saw Leto and Ramses both stop to kill more of the black creatures, but they were soon finished and passed him by. When Nathanial reached the temple, Ramses was already charging through the burning doors without the barest hesitation. Nathanial passed the reins back to the priest with a shout to stay put, then followed Ramses more cautiously into the temple.
The interior was dark and cool compared to the heat outside, but the glow from the burning buildings shed a shifting orange light through the windows. It was enough for him to pick out shapes and shadows.
"Boy!" called Ramses from somewhere ahead of him, "Do you have a torch?"
Nathanial pulled out an alchemical light and twisted the end to activate it. It flared brightly for a moment and he had to blink to clear the spots from his vision. He tossed it into the center of the room to light their search and jumped at the alien shriek of protest from above. Instinct alone made him duck as a winged creature out of a nightmare dove past him. The creature passed just over his head, and Nathanial choked on the breeze that followed, thick with the scent of rotting eggs. A more human cry made him look up, and through watering eyes he saw the thing swoop and rake a taloned claw across the chest of a young priest, throwing him to the ground. An older priest lay behind the assistant in a crumpled heap, either dead or close to it.
Ramses charged towards the creature without hesitation, making it squawk in outrage as it dodged his sword. It turned its attention fully to this new threat and Ramses drove it steadily away from the two fallen figures. Nathanial ran to the younger priest's side and hauled him to his feet. He swayed slightly and leaned on Nathanial, but when he tried to guide him towards the open door the man balked, refusing to leave without the other Priest. Nathanial gave him a shove towards the door and strained to pull the unconscious man across his shoulders. He barely managed it, and half-stumbled under his burden on his way outside.
He emerged through the choking smoke to see Leto finishing off the last of a swarm of the legless monsters that had circled the temple. The Neophyte had dismounted at the sight of the injured priest, and between them they lifted the body of their elder from Nathanial's shoulders and supported it between them. At a shout from Nathanial they half-ran towards the safety of the fire brigade, where men and women were already treating the injured. Nathanial turned to charge back into the temple, but Ramses had just emerged, wiping black blood from his sword. They mounted up and galloped back towards the brigade with Leto on foot outpacing the horses.
They saw the brigade's reaction to the creatures crawling towards the Inn before they were close enough to see the monsters themselves. A swarm was moving with single-minded purpose towards Monk's, and Nathanial shouted for his horse to charge. The animal's ears twitched eagerly and it grabbed the bit in its teeth, nearly tearing the reins from Nathanial's grip. When they reached the mass of creatures the horse snorted and began lashing out with its hooves, killing several of them before Nathanial found an opportunity to swing. When the Morningstar connected his exhausted muscles nearly gave out at the force of impact. He knew he wouldn't last much longer. Ramses and Leto were holding their own, mowing through the mass with well-placed blows.
He caught movement from the corner of his eye and looked up at Monk, standing on the edge of the fracas tapping a stout cudgel against one palm. He had a look of annoyance on his face, but it didn't seem directed at the creatures they were fighting. Nathanial gathered his breath and shouted at the man.
"Monk! Are you going to help, or just stand there?"
Monk gave him a level stare, and then shrugged. He swung his cudgel and waded into the melee. By the time Nathanial had finished off the next creature, Monk had dispatched every other remaining with humbling ease.
It took him two attempts to re-sheath his Morningstar before Nathanial slid gracelessly from the horse and leaned against it with closed eyes. He could feel sweat mixing with soot and nameless grit on his face and arms, and his legs trembled with exhaustion. When he opened his eyes he saw Monk standing before him with arms crossed. Nathanial was somewhat irritated that Monk hadn't even broken a sweat, and weariness left him without much caution.
"It took you long enough to help," he snapped sarcastically.
Monk raised one eyebrow, and his scathing tone was strong enough to silence anyone.
"I figured that even YOU could handle these little things."
Nathanial flushed at the implication, as well as the truth of the statement. The creatures had died quickly, it was their number that made the task seem more difficult than it was. Monk continued, in an icy voice dripping with suppressed violence.
"I would like to know what in hell possessed you to ride back into Whitefall while it was under attack by Khezrial. Please, explain this to me, because I can't think of a single explanation that doesn't involve you being an idiot."
Nathanial had been expecting at least some acknowledgement of their assistance, and was somewhat flustered by this attack. When he finally found his voice he cringed at his own meek tone.
"We thought they needed help...that maybe we could help..."
Monk shook his head.
"Maybe I didn't explain things clearly enough," he said sarcastically, "maybe I should have been more specific when I told you to keep those things as far away from Whitefall as possible!"
"They are!" Nathanial protested in a stronger tone of voice. "Sir William and Whisper have them."
Monk simply put his head in one hand and sighed. Nathanial could almost see the rage building in him, and quickly looked for an escape route. Finally Monk looked up and pointed towards the eastern road the group had originally left town on.
"GO AWAY."
None of the three wanted to push their luck, and left town quickly and quietly, with only some disgruntlement at the lack of thanks. They made it back up to the campsite where Nathanial simply sat and glared at the campfire, covered with sweat, soot and smoke. The others drifted off to sleep when Leto conveyed the story, and Nathanial was left to take the next watch. Restless, he piled more wood on the fire, taking satisfaction in the size and fury of the flames. Before dawn, most of the firewood was gone, and Nathanial's frustration had eased.