Ch: 120 Shady Grove
Hunter Vreek woke late, feeling unrested. At that strangely welcoming and disquieting inn, some darkling figure in a green hood spent the whole evening lurking on the periphery, watching and observing the activities.
He had tried a number of times to investigate, sensing an aura stranger than the rest… which was already pretty out there. The figure had somehow eluded him again and again, only to reappear in his dreams.
Warm, welcoming beds of earth surrounded by fairy rings of skull shaped mushrooms dotted his dreamscape. In a vast, untended graveyard of new turned earth and slow, gentle decay he wandered. The small hooded form in green was always just over the next low rise, or around that copse of trees. Throughout the night, he tossed and turned, restlessly dreaming of endings and beginnings.
Cherie was just as muzzy headed and groggy, he took her out into the foggy morning with huge yawns, from both sleepy felines. He pulled and tugged his mate along, cheerfully insistent.
“Breakfast with Jelek and Audrey is what’s called for, shall we visit those stalls again?”
#
Gary and Shai slipped away while the nugget stand was opening, sailing out on Seahorse in utter silence. They motored up the misty waterways, following the navigation marker stones set every few hundred yards.
In the misty dimness under the mangroves and willow, Seahorse was just a patch of mist among many others, drifting along, except for the soft music.
They were cuddled on the steersman’s bench under a blanket, singing to each other. Gary led off in his deeper register;
I’ll give to you,
My needles and pins,
For that’s the way
That love begins…
If you’ll marry,
Marry, marry, marry me!
Shai’s sweet, warm, velvety alto sang back.
I nae want
yer-needles an-pins
An that’s the way,
Yer love be-gins!
I’ll nae marry,
Marry, marry, marry thee!
She tossed the song back in his face, with a radiant smile and tons of sass. He lobbed it right back over the net, still soft and quiet.
I’ll give to you,
A golden ball,
For to bounce-
From the kitchen to the hall!
If you’ll marry,
Marry, marry, marry me!
I don’ need
Yer golden ball
I’ll nae bounce it
in yer kitchen,
Nae yer hall!
I’ll nae marry,
Marry, marry, marry thee!
They traded gentle rounds until the song came to its sweet, logical conclusion: The anchor dropped beneath a mangrove tree and a giggling couple, rolling around on the liberally cushioned deck.
#
Gary had a cunningly jointed gangplank stowed in pieces all over the boat, all the bench parts came together, along with the strips of deck beneath them, extending it enough to reach shore from most anchorages.
The happy duo tied off to a gnarled root, ran their long plank out and skipped ashore to roam the wet forest and search for new and interesting things.
Wandering the beaver folk’s managed forest was a pleasant and exciting adventure. Bog cypress, stone fig, golden mangrove and white swamp oak were all standing tall and straight, waiting for harvest all around. The forest’s next two generations were patiently waiting in the understory to take over; alder, poplar, gum trees and rubber plants grew among the ferns and bracken.
They docked back home, laden with baskets of herbs, barks, berries and fungus, collected from the waterside and game trails. Fourth bell was just about to ring by the time they got all the stuff put away and had a bath.
Gary slipped out with Dannyl and Liam to go shopping at the local woodcutter’s lodge. The managed forest filled him with hopes for some exciting finds… exciting for those in the lumber trade that is.
Liam was more interested in chatting with the arborists and herbalists that shared the lodge. Dannyl was just hoping to see more of the town and its fascinating people.
He sat on a stump, strumming his guitar while the two nerds did whatever. Liam was in the plant nursery, chatting away and having a grand time, while Gary slowly stacked up a small mound of semi processed lumber and unpeeled logs.
Gary negotiated with the beaver miller for a few minutes, until they shook and exchanged some coins. The fellow got right to work, directing his small team in a careful and coordinated process, resulting in a steady growing pile of sawn boards.
Throughout the dealings, the beaver folk did their best to avoid being in close quarters, or alone with him. They were always in trios or pairs when speaking with the musician.
Their tools were simple, a water powered bandsaw, a few pry bars and wedges… and tons of ropes and pulleys. They all worked to pull each log into position and slice it to order.
The furry and highly competent crew had been at it a while, leaving Gary to wander the back of the yard unattended.
“Ohh! Ironwood and a biggun too! I gotta have it! How much and how much to get it quarter sawn in ten foot lengths?”
“Half a gold mark for the log entire, but we will not be able to cut it. We can’t even float it down to a bigger mill, sucker won’t float.” Harrl the lumber master seemed to glare at the log as though it were a personal insult. “We’ve just been waiting for a barge with space to spare for it.”
The strange fellow strolled over to the band saw, slowly idling, as more water built up in the millpond. He pulled a notebook out and took some eyeball measurements of the slow moving blade and waterwheel. He measured the pulleys and idlers, sketched the blade tensioner and smiled madly.
“How about you hold that log for me. When I come back you trade me that thing, custom sawn in ten foot lengths, I’ll give you my specs.” He said with confidence.
Harrl grumbled in his throat and slapped his tail on the lawn in irritation with the odd human.
“Never mind cutting it, how? Trade you for what? Hard coin is what’s wanted here.”
“Trade me for a new saw blade for your rig. My team makes you a band saw blade that can cut that ironwood, we trade steel for lumber.” He grinned again cheerfully deranged.
Liam swept in, pulling his brother away. “You’re getting creepy, let me talk to him.” The young warrior sat the big man on a log and put a guitar in his hand. “Sit, stay, play.” He ordered firmly.
The competent young warrior smiled at the annoyed sawmiller. “My brother made an offer, mad as it may sound, we can fulfill it, never fear… perhaps a demonstration…”
He called out to the slim young man jamming along with the big weirdo. “Dannyl, I’m gonna be cultivating some mushrooms, I need this log cut into one foot sections, think you can do that?” Liam asked loudly, for the benefit of the onlooking woodcutters and lumbermen.
“You just do your thing, just like in training...” He whispered.
The small, slender young man uncased his odd weapon, grinned so wide it must have hurt and began annihilating a two foot thick pine log in a very controlled fashion.
With a flick of his wrist, the weapon went from a spiked steel bar, to a supple chain of interlocking, thorny links. He flicked the length of it around a section of log and pulled gently, as a terrible, throaty rumble sounded in the onlookers’ tummies.
A moment later, a cylinder of pine thunked to the earth, neatly cut. The young man flicked his weapon again, still emitting that terrible, omnipresent thrum, another slice of log leapt off with almost no effort.
“Nice, very nice…” Liam crooned, picking up his lumber and stashing it… in the big sullen musician’s Pockets! somehow.
“Now how about this white ash? Peel the bark for me please? I know you’ve been practicing that down in the woodcutters guild at home.”
“You’re a sneak Liam, that was supposed to be a surprise.” He flicked his chain out to its full length of nearly twelve feet and looped it around the target log, braced up for peeling.
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
He smiled at the woodcutters, mostly beaver folk, men and women, proud crafters and skilled traders all. Without any obvious effort, that terrible thrum resumed. He gently pulled the coiled length of chain up the log, as the tough bark slipped off the log in shattered remnants. He tipped the log, raising the other end for peeling and repeated the process, just as mysteriously.
Liam sat back, while Dannyl cleaned and oiled his weapon. Gary was still in a funk, playing something brooding and dark in minor keys.
With Gary out of the way, they became much more gregarious, chatting and asking questions eagerly.
“...almost as though the teeth on that chain are chewing through the wood…” The sawmiller was insistent but Dannyl stonewalled hard.
“This is not up for trade. You have to talk to Gary if you want details.” That shut them down hard, even the foreman backed down with a discontented huff.
“He’s not dangerous, just a little weird…” The young man mumbled to the gathered woodworkers, gesturing to the musician.
“Your friend… he’s really badly haunted you know… like really bad. Is he possessed?” Julie the arborist whispered. “My fur tries to stand straight up when he comes near…”
“Yeah, that’s normal for him, he’s really ok though, poor guy is all messed up inside. He’s kinda sensitive about it.” Dannyl shrugged and went back to collect his big brother.
“Cheer up, Liam bargained them into a pretty good deal. They’re throwing in one of those stone fig trees and a big golden mangrove, if your saw plan works out.”
“Yeah… I guess…” He sulked along the whole walk back to the island in the rising fog. His sour mood made things seem to writhe and crawl through the mist. Grasping winding, tentacles of almost tangible damp stretched from his shadow, clinging to passers by.
Liam gripped his sulky brother’s shoulder in consolation. “Some people will be sensitive to your aura Gary. Nara says most Beastfolk will feel at least a little discomfort around you, because of…” Liam waved in his general area.
“They are sensitive to undead auras, to a greater or lesser extent. Most of the others we’ve met are clergy or Adventurers, people who have trained to handle… adversity.”
“Stop talking Liam. Dannyl, nice work.” He stomped along in the gathering mist still brooding. “Liam, thanks for helping. We’ll tidy up this mess and go home.” He said in calm even tones.
The stands were shutting down as they walked up, the last few slow moving, sleepy customers stumbling over to the village inn for beer to go with their food.
Becky looked tired but deeply happy. “Hey, one of you big strong men, carry this barrel of coins for me.”
Gary didn’t even sass her, he just scooped the barrel up and tucked it away. “I’ll change it out for bigger coins for you Becks.” He mumbled as he disappeared into the workshop.
“What’s his deal?” Becky asked, staring at the shop door as though it would answer her.
“All the villagers are frightened or disturbed by his aura. He got his feelings hurt, they did try to be polite, but you know how it is… he takes some getting used to.” Liam said softly.
“Nara made him promise not to conjure any ghosts in the village… It's taboo. He was already feeling… gods, who knows with him.”
“I’ll talk to Thirp tonight…” Becky whispered.
“The spider demigoddess currently haunting him, may not be an unbiased source…” Liam muttered.
“You’ll understand when you meet her. I’ma go set Shai on him now.” She said, with a mouth full of smoked and grilled leech. “We gotta get more of those critters…”
Things were quiet inside, the townsfolk retreated to the village inn and its beer license started paying its way, keeping the otter couple busy.
A constant stream of folks visiting the baths and then hitting the inn across the green kept up all afternoon and into the evening. The garden and yard were busy as can be, while the house sat as quiet as it ever was.
“Nae, leave him tae work fer a time, I’ll come get him when tis meet. Not all feelings must be palavered an debated around, some be worked through wi tools an crafts.” Shai took her sister by the hand and joined the kids in a little light dancing.
#
Gary was down in the shop, sketching on a chalkboard when Shai found him. “Hey love, I have this bandsaw project…”
“Nae, tis off tae bed wi thee an me. We shall talk wi Ducky an Thirp… talk of things ye hae heard but nae understood.” She said gently, but firmly.
“Becky hae the little ones off tae sleep soon, we join them anon.” She lovingly grabbed his ear and towed him upstairs. “I’ll be helpin wi yer project in the morning, we hae other work tonight.”
She tucked him in and sprawled herself over the top as was her way. “Ye hae meditation skill enough tae sleep an ye will it. Will it boy, lest Tawny come send ye off wi her willow switch.”
#
Gary sat entirely too still, hanging out on the sofa by the fireplace and trying to pretend nothing was wrong. Thirp and Ducky listened quietly while Shai complained about nothing.
“...sullen an foul mood could curdle milk. The baths be hardly more than tepid, while shadows linger and twitch all around.”
“Yes, we’ve reviewed today’s sensory information… We were interested in the village already and things were pretty obviously not going well.”
Ducky just came right out with it. Thirp rolled all eight eyes in exasperation, while Gary got even more defensive and prickly.
“Gary…” Thirp began gently. “Do you remember when lord Marduk discussed with you how you remained ‘alive’ after your accident?”
He nodded slowly. “He said I almost died… and the void kept me alive until it could suck me through.”
“Not exactly, my friend… it kept you nearly alive, but still undead. That is why your gifts behave the way they do, and why you upset and distress sensitive individuals.” Thirp put a limb on his knee and smiled, flexing her mandibles and fangs in a comforting way.
“Think back, after your accident, other people had difficulty interacting with you. Many simply could not remember you, while others reacted negatively, seemingly without provocation.”
“Uhh…” He mumbled in distracted confusion.
“For a number of years, you were a free roaming undead creature, subsisting mainly on the energies of the void. You were almost certainly the most potent source of energy on your distressing, magically barren world.” Thirp sang softly. “That is bound to screw with things.”
“I did see this in yer memories an dreams, many folk could nae meet yer eyes, nor linger under yer gaze, some did become belligerent… like Braden, an Theo…” Shai hugged close to her sulking man, resting her head on his chest.
“Ye do like this village an its people… As do I, mayhap they will come tae accept thee, mayhap not. In any case we are come tae solve a problem, ye hae never shirked at honest labor.”
“I’m doing the job, a few people have asked me to help with it, besides Reegil. I just really dig this town’s vibe… it hurts a little, that they don’t dig me.” He rose and stepped out into the garden, took a long stretch and sprawled out on the lawn.
“I’m gonna lay here and just think about stuff for a bit.”
Before long, Wilford was pillowed against his shoulder, watching the sky. Amy and Rio joined in soon after. They watched the bubbles and ribbons float by in their eternal orbit. It was still a nearly impossible tangle, but one that had glimmers of organization now.
Slowly, the spheres and their connecting ribbons were coalescing into half recognizable almost shapes.
“Crafts.” Wilford announced softly, in his serious man voice, pointing to one of the brightest patches of tangled sky.
“That’s Crafts.” He said calmly, pointing at that section of the firmament.
“Yeah buddy, that’s where most of my crafty skills are starting to line up…” Gary stopped halfway through his patronizing nonsense. “Crap, you’re right. You can almost see the shape of the anvil and shears…” He marveled quietly.
“That’s Joy, She’s still tangled up with your memories from your old home…” Amy nudged his ribs with an elbow and pointed off to another section of the sky. “See? All your musical skills and the things that make you happy are stacking up there.”
“Wow! So constellations… Now I recognize Beast and Healer too… All right, getting organized!” Just like that, her gadfly musician’s mood shifted. Shadows lightened, the breeze blew fresher and the shining starlight from his soul brightened back to its usual mid morning sunshine.
#
Morning found the whole family down in the shop. The kids were in a conjured daybed in a quiet room, still fast asleep, while Becky played her harp as they worked.
“...kinnae be done, a saw blade be a simple working, but none could cut that log. Tis a matter of a small watermill an a weak millrace. Naught could cut an ironwood log, save it be turning faster.”
“Tallum already has the answer to that problem, we just need to make the blade.” He clapped his hands together with glee. “I think we even have most of the parts in the shop already.”
Becky tuned them out and concentrated on the tricky piece of sheet music Gary had summoned for her. This Vince Guraldi guy was surprisingly complex; ‘Linus and Lucy’ was one of Amy’s and Wilford’s favorites, but it still eluded her.
“So close…” She muttered softly.
Without warning, Rio’s bongos started up behind her, holding up the backbeat… and that was it. Becky’s fingers danced over her strings, ringing the deceptively simple piece off the workshop walls.
“That’s it! Keep that rolling, we’re on to something here!” Gary sang as his weird grinding machine spun up and started to squeal.
#
Vreek showed up at the foot of the bridge at dawn, a few minutes after first bell began to chime. He lingered there, feeling mildly awkward about crossing over. After a minute or two, he pushed through the creepy sensation of watching, judgmental and unwelcoming eyes.
Once on the island and in the strange garden that oppressive cloud blew away. The giant hillwoman waved to him from an open doorway, calling his name.
“Come Vreek, we finish breakfast an we fly on our way.”
The mad little group was even more entertaining all together. The three human kits seemed to be everywhere at once, pursued by the small skinny girl and that strange green cloaked figure, only slightly taller than the confused jaguar man.
“Amy, that baton is not a toy! Rio! Not in town! Yes I know but we have to keep them all buttoned up until we leave the village…” Becky called, while Axio wrangled the musician’s bamboo rod away from them. “Get dressed, we’re adventuring in a half hour!”
“Dinnae mind us, one of our number is in a mood an feeling… constrained. Did ye hae trouble crossin o’er the bridge?”
The giantess was as welcoming as ever, pressing a bowl of that steaming grilled leech, topped with thin shavings of some dried fish and that tangy, salty, sweet sauce.
She folded him into her little crew just as neatly as you please, getting her whole pride in motion with gentle pressure and the occasional disapproving stare.
Dannyl, the slim young guitarist, took Vreek in hand and helped guide him through the madness.
“Your leader is much like my mate, as alike as sisters I think.” The hunter purred happily, enjoying his meal and the chaos all around. “I like your busy home, but now we should summon your warband and ride out.”
“Warband… yeah! We should be ready to get moving in a minute. I’ma go check the stables, come along and help.” The young man smiled happily and led him outside.
The small stable and the activity there, settled his mind greatly. Horses and ponies were saddled and ready, waiting patiently, kitted out for light travel.
A small, blue cart and pony rig stood by waiting for passengers and baggage. The giant smith man and a number of smaller humans were armored and ready, standing by their mounts.
“Excellent! I should like to be able to hunt in the hills again. The cheerful madhouse is charming, but does not inspire confidence.”
He gazed in approval on the small band of mounted and armored warriors. A light mounted archer, one light and two heavy lancers… and the club wielding giant mounted on the enormous brown war horse were a fine band of warriors.
A quick look around revealed a number of empty saddles and seats. “How many are coming on this task?” He asked nervously.
“Essential personnel only my friend.” The giant smith rumbled happily as the chaos from the house boiled out into the stable and yard...
#
Vreek’s mount was hobbled on the greensward, quietly nibbling at a patch of early blooming clover. The solid and steady paint pony snuffled happily, when the herd thundered across the bridge.
Lulubelle slipped right into the herd, taking short mincing steps and waited for that lazy cat to unhobble her.
“I know it’s the law, but these things are silly and annoying…” She complained while trotting and frisking in place.
“Never you mind dear, one of my humans is already on the task.” Annie nuzzled her ear comfortingly, while Gary unbuckled her restraints.
“He’s very well trained. Can you help me with mine? Sometimes I fear he’s hopeless.” Lulu muttered softly, around a slice of juicy and sweet grenadier pear. The darling human slipped her another wedge of the fruit as soon as that one was gone. “Yours are so well behaved…”
“We will try and shape yours up on our trip together.” Annie sounded confident and pleased with the outlook, as they rode out into the wildlands.
#
Three tiny, armored kids rode the dog cart, on plush benches in the back. Nara the cat woman sat on the driver’s bench, without reins.
The rest were mounted on a mix of fine horses and ponies… then there was Gary.
Dannyl the young guitarist shook his head and smiled when Vreek asked about it.
“We call it his ‘stick horse’, don’t ask about it unless you want to be really confused. No, I don’t know how he doesn't fall over, it’s some dark magic no doubt.” The sensible young warrior said. “Just let things happen and trust that you are safe with us.”
The jaguar man took his time riding to the front of the party, getting to know the mad family as he made his way through.
The three kits were more fun than a basket of yarn, while Nara was a steady and very competent woman, who’s aura of restrained danger was palpable. No kitten this one.
Luna and Khan were also veterans and a mated pair. Humans were so often weird about that, it was nice to see. A quick bit of observation and social accounting revealed a number of pairbonds in this mix. A potentially volatile situation in other circumstances.
He was deeply pleased by this band of weirdos, until he got to the smith woman’s pet mooncalf. Somehow he was balanced on that contraption, cranking his way along the road with just a soft, mechanical whirr.
In a basket at the front, rode the cloaked green figure. It was surprisingly small, little bigger than the children; just a hooded robe with a fleshy skull mask peeking out. The strange garment wrapped around an ill-defined body that bent in strange ways… definitely not a human, nor anything close.
Lulu snorted and became a bit restless as he rode closer to the pair and greeted them.
“Garree human, who is this… we did not meet last night…” He asked, from as much distance as could be considered polite.
“This is Axio, he’s a specialist in mortal remains and decomposition. Axio, this is Vreek, our guide to the keep we are supposed to tidy up.” The man smiled wanly and nodded to his passenger.
“Hello friend… I may alarm your mount… and yourself at first. Trust that I mean you no harm, friend Vreek.” The creature’s voice was pleasant, but he sent shivers through the hunter’s body like a chill wind. “We shall be great friends before long I think.”
The cheerful nightmare creature smiled up at his friend and pleaded. “Gary, let’s play another tambourine song, like last time!”
#