Krosa woke the next day while the false dawn still turned the sky gray with the promise of blue to come. She was surprised to see Gost striding up to the property a short time later, not looking at all like a man who had fallen asleep with a table for a pillow the night before. He had his bow and quiver slung casually across his back, short sword hanging from his left hip, and a provisions bag on the opposite side. In his hands he held a spear. She went out to greet him and they met by the garden gate.
“I brought you a present!” His voice boomed enthusiastically, causing the vines that covered the garden fence to shift to defensive positions. He handed the spear to her, and she examined it as she took it. The shaft was made of mountain hardwood, stained a dark brown. The point was 8 inches long, with a leaf-shaped blade and a cross-guard at the base. A maker’s mark stamped on the socket told her that it had been made by Master Zalinz, the village blacksmith. A moment of sadness passed over her as she looked at the mark, wondering if it may have been made by Skyrik. Her friend had helped to make many of the simpler items in the blacksmith’s inventory before he had disappeared, so it was possible. Given the years that had passed since then she doubted the spear had been sitting there the entire time. But she decided that she would carry it in his memory, and if it was the curse that had taken him then perhaps there was still hope that she could ascertain his fate, and bring some small amount of comfort to herself and her family.
The weapon felt heavy in her hand, but balanced well as she shifted it experimentally. She looked at the grinning man in front of her and nodded. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, we haven’t started lessons yet. We’ll see if you’re still grateful when you have blisters on skin you didn’t even know existed. Now, if you would be so kind as to make me one similar out of that pumpkin over there?”
She shook her head “pumpkin’s no good, too pithy. Here.” She reached out a hand and one of the vines that still hovered suspiciously over the fence grew into a pointed rod about the same length as her spear, hardening before it detached and fell to the ground at their feet. He kicked it into the air with the toe of his boot, catching it with one hand and twirling it casually. “This should do for now, although something a bit longer next time perhaps, and the balance is off. Now, to work!”
***
Weeks later, Krosa stalked behind Gost along a faint game trail, deep in the forest. At least, she attempted to stalk. As he was happy to remind her every chance he got, she made too much noise and left too much of a trail. She held her spear low on her right side, ready to bring it up if needed. They had spent several days on teaching her more advanced woodcraft than what she already had. Most of her time in the woods previously had been spent on gathering edible plants, so Gost ws filling in gaps in her education. Once he had determined that she had a decent grasp of the fundamentals, they had packed supplies and gone deep into the forest.
The crisp fall air was beginning to turn to a wintery bite, many of the trees rapidly transitioning to the golds and browns that made the mountains a wonder to behold when the seasons turned. The snow had not yet come to the highest passes and valleys, but it was not far away. Rumors of animals acting strangely were once again being brought into the common room at the Lodge, and it was apparent that their fight on the road and the subsequent peace had been but a short respite from whatever fresh evil the curse might be brewing. With the winter fast approaching, their time to act was limited.
Gost had explained that the purpose of the journey was two-fold. First, was to continue her training by immersing her in a more challenging environment. Second, was to scout the situation surrounding the curse. So the route they had mapped out with Dyrik’s help set them up to make a wide circle around the area the castle had been, with the intention of conducting inward probes to try to detect the boundaries of the curse. Gost also intended to check in with some more remote hunting and logging camps that he was familiar with, to make sure they were properly warned of the danger. Word had been spreading since the attack on the wagon but it had not reached many of the more remote corners of the wilderness, and Gost had many friends there that he would have already warned personally if not for the time needed to train Krosa.
They had encountered nothing out of the ordinary by the time they reached the camp furthest away from the town. They walked up to the rough collection of cabins that made up the small hunting and logging outpost, and found the men and women there armed and on-edge. Rough barricades had been put up between some of the sturdier houses, dried blood was visible spattered on the cabin walls, and there were freshly dug graves near the tree line. Gost hailed a man standing on the barricade with a sturdy axe held in rugged, bloodstained hands. “Pepehi! Good to see you still in one piece!” The burly mountain man shouted back, “Gost! It’s good to see you makuahine’aka. We could have used you around these last few days.” The big man hopped down from the barricade and came to greet them. The two clasped arms and slammed into each other in a manner that Krosa would describe as aggressively friendly. A few vigorous shoulder thumps followed, before they separated and turned to her. “Krosa, this is Pepehi Hae. If the woodsman had a leader he’d be it, but since they don’t he’s just the biggest and toughest person in the mountains. Which there isn’t a title for. Pepehi, this is Krosa, she’s apprenticing to take your title that you don’t have.”
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He grinned as the fur-clad giant offered his hand to the girl. “Well met, Krosa, I look forward to not being not in charge of all these wild woodsmen anymore.” They shook hands, and she was pleased that his grasp was firm, but not crushing. Gost had expounded at length one night in the Lodge about how you could tell a lot about a man by his handshake. The ones that tried to crush down on you were either unaware of their own strength, which made them fools, or aware of it but insecure and attempting to intimidate. He thought little of either, and told her that any man who tried to grind her knuckles together upon first meeting her was best avoided if possible. Dyrik had laughingly suggested that any such should be killed immediately, but he had been deep in his cups that night and they had mostly ignored him.
Pepehi glanced over to Gost as he asked, “Apprentice you say, to you or to that friend of yours?” Gost’s grin widened as he answered. “Both.”
The giant man’s gaze reassessed Krosa, the courteous respect he had shown her as a matter of manners now replaced by one of genuine admiration. “Well, you probably will be able to take over as the strongest in the mountains before too long, if you can survive following those two around. But come, let's get behind the barricade and I’ll tell you what’s happened.”
Once inside, they met the other residents of the small camp. Eight men and three women, all wearing rough leather and furs, and all looking ready to commit violence at a moment's notice. They kept their weapons close and their eyes darted frequently to the surrounding forest. All of them had dried blood on them, and most of them sported crude bandages. They gathered around, greeting Gost with varying degrees of familiarity, while casting curious glances at Krosa. Once introductions were made, the hunters dispersed back to rest or to watching the forest, while the trio settled at the fire with cups of steaming herbal tea.
Pepehi sipped from his cup and sighed in appreciation. “Nothing like fresh mountain tea, eh lass?” Krosa drank from her own mug and nodded in appreciation. “Now, I suppose I’ll have to be telling you our tale of woe, and how we came to be in such a state. From your look, I’m guessing you already know more than you’ve let on, so I’ll go first and you can fill me in on what’s missing. The last few months there’s been a lot of restlessness in the wilds. Animals have been moving more than they should, agitated, aggressive. Like they’re trying to run from a wild fire but can’t see where the flames are. Then folks started disappearing. I’d go to a cabin and see furs and skins laid out for curing, but untended for days or weeks. Tried to track some, but would lose the trail even when it was fresh. Sometimes, there were other tracks. Tracks I recognize but somehow…different. Sometimes, there was blood.”
The large man took another swallow of tea, the soothing liquid soothing the lines on his forehead that had furrowed as he spoke. “So I got everyone together that I could, brought them all here, and built this little fort you see. Still working, but going out in pairs, keeping watch, the usual. It worked for a while, but a few days ago a pair went out and didn’t come back. We thought about heading back to Provints or Shelbivil, but before we could head out they attacked.”
His brow was fully furrow now, bushy eyebrows drawn together in pained recollection. “They came at night, creatures from nightmares. The same deer and bears and lions and wolves that we’ve trapped and hunted for all our lives, but changed. Monstrous. Like stories you hear from the War. Simple animals twisted and forged to dark purposes. Stronger, faster, harder to kill.” More tea went down Pepehi’s throat to quench the dryness that came from the recollection. “Our lookouts were able to raise the alarm before they were overcome. We were able to hold the barrier, but only just. We were able to kill a few of the creatures, and drove the rest off with fire. We put the bodies in a ravine, west of camp if you want to look.”
He paused again, looking at Gost, then Krosa, seeing that they clearly believed what he was telling them. “There was something else. We drove them off, and they haven’t been back. But I’ve pictured that night, seen it in my head over and over. I can’t stop seeing it. I don’t think the fire is what drove them away. I think it was something else. Something…big.” His eyes glazed over slightly as he continued. “I heard a sound in the forest. A roar. I thought it was just another beast at the time, but looking back, when whatever it was out there made that sound, was when the monsters stopped their attack. I thought they had fled, but now, now I think they just changed their target. Whatever is out there, it was either controlling them, or challenging them, and I don’t know what terrifies me more.”
The rugged mountain man allowed his words to rest in air between them, pouring out the dregs of his tea and making another cup. Once he had settled again, Gost explained what they knew. Of the curse, the attacks, the reason they had come out to the forest. Gost express regret that they had not come sooner, but his apology was waved off by the mountain man. “We heard rumors, stories that had come up along the game trails, but we dismissed them. Then we knew something was wrong and still lingered. We’re a fiercely independent bunch, as you well know. No, don’t fault yourself. I’m just glad you’re here now. We’ll likely need your help to get out of this mess we’re in.” Gost nodded acknowledgement, eyes glinting in the fading light of the afternoon sun. Drinking the last of their tea, they went to relieve the hunters guarding the wall.
*****