038 - Sky Beyond Sky

Kujata handed Magnus a pouch heavy with copper and silver coins and a shiny green pebble saying "Don't lose the rune stone, you won't be able to get back in here without it. There is a town south of here, you know how to hunt right? Get the booze and the boar, be back before night." Kujata hesitated, "you do know how to hunt, yeah?"

"Yes! Me and Rol -"

"Good. It has to be alive, uninjured if possible. Get going." Kujata sat back down at the window.

Magnus hurried out through the filth of the shrine room. Outside the sun had just about risen over the near mountain peaks, the area around the shrine buildings was alive with the sounds of birds chirping in the tall trees. There was a long series of steep stone stairs leading down from the shrine through a forest down to a mountain stream.

He followed the path out, hurrying down the stairs and along the the stream. Rejuvenated. That's the word, like the breath of a goddess had entered his lungs, Magnus took a deep gulp of air and laughed.

His clothes, what was left of them, ah hell - not clothes, more like rags barely tied to his body. He'd been drowned, launched through the air and chewed up by Sif. Beneath, the skin had healed somewhat, there were still black veins visible, and several blisters of foul pus.

South, south . . Magnus followed the path to the south, the rising sun on his left. After half a day at an easy jog he came to an open field beyond the hills and a wider valley with several streams. Over beyond the valley rose several high grey peaks topped with snow.

A dirt track wound through the valley following the river, by a stone bridge there were several wood and stone houses with thatched roofs. Spread throughout the valley were several farmstead, the various fields separated by low stone walls. Civilization. Just like Kloster, just like home.

Magnus entered a farmstead on the outskirts calling out "Good-day!" A heavy set woman appeared with a washbasin in hand and shrieked, almost fainting dead away at Magnus bedraggled appearance. Magnus cheerfully called out again, showing her a handful of coppers and asking if she'd any clothes to spare, as he'd been attacked by wild dogs. The woman, quite recovered at the sight of the coppers, offered him several shirts and well worn articles.

"Is there a goods store in town? Anywhere I might buy some booze?" Magnus pulled a flat cap over his ears looking to hide his face. There was a nasty pus filled blister on his nose and several more along his forehead.

"Oh no Mr, nothing like that. We've only got the Goat's Beard in town, where the hunters meet. Matilda runs the Beard, she can draw a right good draught of ale, local made you know, fine stuff."

"Thanks, thanks. I suppose that will do."

"You here for the hunt? They all come here for the hunt, you too I suppose?" She asked, curious.

"Hunt? Oh, I guess so. Yes, here for the hunt."

"Well, good luck to you Mr." The woman smiled warmly, offering Magnus a cut of dried meat.

Magnus changed and chatted with her for a while, taking several more sets of clothes tied in a bundle and paying for them with a fistful of coppers.

Matilda in the Goat's Beard greeted Magnus with a hearty "hullo!" The long hall had a single well scrubbed long table and a fire pit, Matilda stood behind in front of a bar industriously scrubbing the hardwood floor.

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The Goat's Beard was all but empty, a few village children ran in and out through the open doors and an old farmer in a straw hat sat haunched over at the end of the bar. The farmer turned to face Magnus with a sullen expression, snorting and turning away.

"Here for the hunt?" Matilda looked Magnus up and down. "Looking for work?"

Magnus slapped three silver coins on the bar. "I'm looking for ale. Plenty of it."

At the sight of silver Matilda brightened up considerably, swiftly pushing the mop to a side and hustling behind the bar. "What'll it be lad?"

"I need . . a cask, no, two casks of ale. And a couple of gourds, and those green bottles on the shelf, give me a dozen of 'em."

"Ooof. Having a right celebration, hey?" Matilda assembled Magnus order, scribbling a tally. "Five bits, three crowns . . call it thruppence."

Magnus counted out the coins, "Have you a cart for sale? A barrow would do."

"Oh aye, I've an old one. No nag though, you'll have to make do pulling it yourself."

Matilda smiled warmly, counting the metal coins and helping Magnus load up the cart. She'd seen a lot of hunters come in for the hunt. "So, where's your camp? You lads parked up by the Horn?"

"The what now?"

"The Horn," Matilda pointed at a grey snowy peak rising above the treetops. "Thats where Pete and the others said the hunt was at."

"Oh no, my camp is, is somewhere else." Magnus stacked the last cask of ale and hurried over to the front of the wagon. It was an old farmer's barrow, normally a horse or ox would be strapped to the front a farmer might walk alongside whipping it along. He took up the rope and started down the road, waving off to Matilda.

Matilda watched him go down the dirt street and over the bridge. "Strange lad," She shook her head. "Lots of strange folks coming round these days."

"Too right Matti." The old farmer snorted, finishing his drink. "A place like this don't be needing more trouble. Not with the three great beasts and all them hunters coming in chasing 'em."

Magnus found that pulling the cart was easy, no chore at all. His strength, his endurance . . they were far from what they had been before he'd . . . Magnus gulped, his breath suddenly ragged. Festus . . Rolf . . Pa . . Uncle . . Ah hells. Focus, now, focus on the now Magnus, come on.

He pulled the cart to the bottom of the long stone stairs, lifted it above his head and jogged up without slowing. The only thing he noticed was in his arms and legs, the black veins pulsed, appearing dark against his skin, a slight itch, like a mosquito bite.

Right. The boar. Easy. There were plenty of times Magnus had hunted for wild game - boars, deer, rabbits, even little birds and squirrels. Not much meat on those, but nice enough in a stew or roasted on an open flame. A boar was harder, dangerous.

There was always the trouble of being gored by a tusk, or trampled by their hooves. Best thing was to dig a pit and lay a trap, then stab it with a spear. Hmm. But it would be hard to get out of the hole, and if it were alive . . yeah, getting the carcass out was hard enough, if it were struggling.

Is that really a problem for me? Hells! I could probably just wrestle a boar into submission with my bare arms! One punch, one hit and I could knock it's lights out! Ha! Magnus jumped up and ran off into the woods, not bothering to prepare a single weapon or trap.