The pale, cold morning saw the party travelling further through the forest, following the path that took advantage of the valleys between the foothills. The weather had taken a turn for the bleak and unpleasant. There was a low fog and if that were not bad enough, a light drizzle had set in which caused even the most amiable of them to become terse and sullen. Caste walked with his head down, grouching about the unfair turn his life had taken. Verne was even more quiet, only grunting when spoken to and that was only when a nod or shake would not suffice. Aalis clutched at her cloak, the hood up over her dreadlocks, the hem becoming unavoidably filthy. Judd shivered, his light tunic and leather coat not much defence against the chill. He debated about donning his armour as some kind of defence then reasoned that walking briskly would simply have to suffice.
Only Giordi seemed to enjoy the soft misty touch on his face, his radiant golden curls toning down to a silvery hue in the diffused light. He was almost always humming to himself and could even walk with his lute and play at the same time. However, on this somewhat dank morning, he had strapped it securely on the back of Zeke and even tucked it in for good measure beneath an oiled, waterproof cover.
Judd listened to him sing softly to himself. Had it been another bright and glorious morning, Caste might have started up a debate about any and all of the lyrics Giordi was uttering but not even the cleric wanted to waste energy on the endless argument.
“Constructing your masterpiece of my ascension to knighthood?” Judd asked.
“I have already scribed some interesting lyrics about your accomplishments so far,” Giordi smiled, “I use times like these to sing all the songs I know so that I never forget the words.”
“You don’t have any of them written down?”
“Some…but certainly not most.”
Judd shook his head. “I’m not sure I’ve heard you sing the same song twice…you must know dozens.”
“Hundreds, almost undoubtedly,” Judd’s mind boggled at the sheer capacity of Giordi’s mind, “however, I cannot reasonably take credit for being able to remember all the lyrics.”
“I think you can.” Judd insisted.
“It is the nature of the human mind to remember things more accurately and with greater longevity when put to music.” Giordi smiled and lifted his face, enjoying the light misty spray. “Music…it has the means to lift us up or bring us down…oh joyous melodies with the power to enthral or rebuke.”
Judd chuckled. “Did you always want to be a minstrel?”
“It was either that or continue as a stable hand, rising in condescending steps to the ultimate pinnacle of achievement…stable steward.” He snorted, a normally unpleasant sound but somehow Giordi made it seem delightful. “Imagine that, stinking of horse day by day, shovelling manure, helping a knight clad in heavy armour or a fat lord into a saddle…” He shuddered. “When my father told me he’d secured me a position as a stable hand…I knew that was the day I had to leave.”
“I’m guessing he wasn’t too impressed.”
“I think, deep down, he understood…I was never one for manual labour or ‘self sacrifice’ in service to another. I could never keep my mind on my chores, chasing butterflies and counting the colours in the clouds…” Giordi smiled. “I always enjoyed singing and my uncle, a dreamer much like myself, gave me his lute and showed me how to play. I strapped it on my back and headed out into the wide world…that was three years ago.”
They walked in silence, the moisture in the air getting beneath Judd’s collar. The sound of the forest seemed dulled and bleak, absorbed by the mist that didn’t want to lift.
“Have you ever been back?”
“No.”
Judd blinked. “Not once?”
Giordi gave a small shrug. “I wasn’t exaggerating when I said the world was wide. I’ve been travelling for some time now.”
“On your own?”
“Usually with other entertainers. That’s how I learned so many songs.”
Judd nodded. “Must be hard, though…not having a home.”
“I’ve never been one to settle down.” For a moment, Judd thought Giordi’s eyes alighted on Aalis who was speaking with Verne.
“I guess,” Judd cleared his throat, “to coin a fishing phrase, there are many fish in the sea?”
Giordi laughed softly and shook his head. “You have no idea…” His eyes slid to the side and he gave Judd a knowing glance. “So…about Aalis…”
“What about her?” Judd heard himself bark then moaned as Giordi laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
“What do you know? I went fishing and caught you on the first line.”
“You’re teasing me now, aren’t you?”
“A little.” A brisk breeze struck the trees, showering all the drops of mist that had accumulated on the leaves onto their shoulders. There was a round of curses and complaints as they flicked their cloaks. “Are you in love with our resident sorceress?”
“No,” Judd shook his head, “no…not in love…I mean…I like her.”
“That much is plain.”
“It is?” Judd was aghast. Giordi nodded. “Does…does everyone know?”
“I can’t imagine the cleric figured it out yet. For all his knowledge, he really is monumentally ignorant. Verne probably has but from what I have observed about the stoic archer, he will not betray your confidence.”
The weather was becoming more and more miserable as the mist had stopped hovering and was starting to fall, drizzling upon them, not enough to soak but certainly enough to chill.
“What about Aalis?” Judd asked quietly.
“To be honest, I am not sure.” Giordi admitted.
Judd’s chest felt tight. He cleared his throat. “Are you…I mean…do you…think…she likes anyone else?”
“From what I have observed, Aalis is equally kind to all yet perhaps a little more defensive of you.”
Judd looked at Giordi. “What about you?”
“Me?” Giordi looked genuinely surprised.
“You practically wooed her last night with your…words…” Judd blundered.
Giordi chuckled and shook his head. “They were just words, elegantly spoken and eloquently phrased. I am a master at the gushingly sincere and subtle flattery.”
Judd wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse. He opened his mouth but wasn’t sure what he was going to say when the light drizzle turned into proper rain.
“Judd!” Verne stopped and turned to them. “The weather is going from bad to worse! We’ve got to find shelter before we’re soaked through!”
“And become very ill.” Aalis added.
“Any thoughts?”
“Several!” Caste ground out miserably, a pair of eyes peeking out from his hood as he clutched his cape around his body, shivering violently.
“We need to go into the forest and find a place to camp, clearing or no!”
They found a place where the trees were thicker and their leaves stretched overhead, providing a natural canopy for them. They had some oiled sheets that they used to construct basic shelter, under which Caste immediately dashed, terrified his precious books would become soaked and ruined. Verne built a fire and all but Caste stood around it, fanning their clothes, trying to dry off. Steam rose from the campfire, the air becoming humid and sticky.
“And now we’ll all smell like smoke.” Giordi lamented.
“Boots off, socks off,” Aalis ordered, tying string to the branch of a tree, making a clothesline, “having cold and wet feet is the best way to become ill.”
They all hung their cloaks from the trees that were close around them and Aalis set her cooking pot over the fire. The air had been filled with the sound of rain striking the leaves, hundreds of drops pattering every second…until they suddenly stopped.
The silence was surprising and they all looked up.
“Now it stops…” Caste grumbled.
“You act as though you wanted it to keep raining.” Judd muttered, wiggling his cold toes, stretching out his legs as close as he dared to the fire. Verne and Giordi did the same while Caste rubbed his hair vigorously with a square of rough towel then turned the same attention to his feet.
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“The further south we go, the colder it will become.” Giordi warned. “This chill is nothing compared to the icy spray from the strait in Fort Callain or the way your breath freezes in your lungs in Fort Verion.”
“Perhaps we should purchase better travelling gear…” Judd sighed.
Aalis looked at him in alarm. “We will not be going to any of those forts…will we?”
He could see her recoiling at the thought of going somewhere with a greater population than the tiny village he’d found her in. The only reason she had suffered Fort Bastil was because she could reside in the farming province.
“There’s no reason to think we ever need to.” Judd insisted.
Aalis nodded but he could see she was not as at ease as he would have liked her to be. Before he could reassure her again, she lifted the lid of her pot and peered in.
“Thankfully I had the presence of mind to keep the turkey carcass and make stock. In an hour we should have a fine stew once I add some vegetables.”
“Quell and Zeke could use a drink.” Verne announced.
“There is a stream just that way but its banks are overgrown with poison ivy,” Aalis pointed, “however, if you follow it upstream you will come across a pool of clean water.”
Verne gave her a salute of thanks, took up Quell and Zeke’s reins and began to wind his way through the forest towards the stream. Aalis gave her stew a stir then sat on her cloak and rubbed her toes, trying to keep her legs hidden. Judd felt an adolescent thrill any time a peek of ankle appeared. Giordi smacked him on the arm and jerked his head backwards.
“Caste,” Giordi announced, “come for a walk with us.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Caste glowered at them from the safety of his nest.
“Just as well,” Giordi shrugged, standing, gesturing for Judd to pick up his sword, “Judd said you wouldn’t be able to confirm whether or not he’s using the correct grip on his sword…”
Giordi grabbed Judd’s arm and started walking him away. Judd opened his mouth but Giordi put three fingers to his lips then removed one so that there were two…and just as they reached the edge of the circle of light of the campfire, there came a rustling behind them.
“You think because I can’t physically pick up a sword, that I can’t tell when you’re using the wrong wrist grip?” Caste’s voice was shrill. “I haven’t been carrying around ‘The Fundamental Basics of Swordplay’ for weeks for nothing!” He opened the volume and, trying desperately to read it in the dying light, held it up at all manner of strange angles. “When using a double edged blade, first you must ensure that you are wearing a chainmail…”
“Caste,” Judd stopped him, “I don’t need help on my grip.”
Caste huffed furiously. “You’re going to ignore centuries of recorded swordplay techniques by the masters of Astaril but you’ll listen to a random farmer and fluke a win in a tournament just to spite me?”
“Oh dear little clerical Caste,” Giordi said and with heavy condescension, “we have not drawn you from your mobile library on a matter of instruction…but on a matter of modesty.”
Caste blinked. “Modesty?”
Giordi nodded. Judd frowned. “You mean…Aalis?”
“Travelling with men makes it difficult for a young woman to remain both clean and modest. We are not ashamed of our bare feet and exposed ankles…but ladies are.”
Judd sighed and shook his head. “I guess…yeah, you’re right. Ladies don’t show off much skin…”
“Well,” Giordi chuckled, “they do if it presses their advantage…” He swept his hand over the top of his chest and Caste groaned.
“You mean to tell me I’m out here in a forest which is probably riddled with monsters in the company of two idiots and with no shoes on?”
They all paused and looked at their feet. Each of them wiggled their toes.
“Yet another verse that will never be sung.” Giordi chuckled.
“I’m going back!”
“Wait, Caste,” Judd grabbed his arm, “come on, give her a minute. Aalis hasn’t had any privacy when we’ve travelled. She might enjoy a few minutes to herself.”
Though unimpressed, Caste gave up on pulling away and the three of them stood awkwardly, not saying anything, all of them rather aware that they were without shoes. Thankfully the ground was blanketed with leaves and because of the density of the canopy above, it was almost completely dry. As the clouds began to dissipate, shafts of dying sunlight began to filter through.
Giordi took in a slight breath and grabbed Judd’s arm. “Did you hear that?” He whispered.
Judd and Caste held their breaths, listening intently.
“Monster?” Caste breathed before his lungs could burst.
Giordi shook his head. “I think that greedy flock of turkeys followed us.” He paused, his eyes closed then he pointed. “They’re that way.”
He and Judd began to walk towards the sound, or at least where Giordi insisted the sound was. Caste folded his arms. “You really expect me to follow you?”
“You can have your pick of the roasted turkey if you come and don’t complain.”
Caste faltered then followed. The turkeys were only a stone’s throw away, and that would have been thrown by Caste so it wasn’t far at all. The three of them hid behind trees and peered into the tiny clearing at the plump birds.
“No Verne and no barley,” Judd breathed, “how do you want to do this?”
“Bushes are pretty thick on either side,” Giordi replied softly, “what if we crawl up on them and just grab one each?”
“Good idea.” Judd handed Caste his sword, expecting him to take it. Caste didn’t. The sword fell onto the soft ground with a dull thud that barely triggered any attention in the turkeys. Judd looked at Caste in disbelief.
Caste shrugged and mouthed, ‘what?’.
Judd shook his head. He and Giordi took up position on opposite sides of the clearing, inching forward as they crawled, reaching through the brush. One turkey was particularly close. Judd’s fingers could close around its legs with ease but he waited, knowing that once he grabbed one, all Maul would break loose. He couldn’t see Giordi through the wall of black feathers but counted down from ten before grabbing the turkey’s legs.
It immediately began to sqwark and carry on, the other turkeys scattering, unable to see what was attacking them. Judd held on tight, his body half pulled through the bushes as he wrestled with the terrified fowl, finally getting his other hand around its wings to stop the mad flapping that blinded him so badly.
“Judd…”
“I got mine, Giordi…what about…” Judd’s words faded into horror when he saw that Giordi was hanging onto his own bird…
…but it wasn’t a turkey.
Its head was that of a turkey, its legs as well and it had feathered wings…but its body was long and scaled, rippling with a sinister motion.
Giordi, the blatant over achiever, had managed to grab a cockatrice.
A monster of Maul.
Giordi was cowering on the ground, the cockatrice pulling out of his grasp, a snake hiss coming from its beak, its body slithering through the leaves as it eyed Giordi.
Judd willed him to stay down, to not inflame the cockatrice anymore than he had already done so. A cockatrice’s claws were deadly. It withered humans, turning them into blistered, dehydrated corpses in a matter of seconds.
One peck and Giordi would be dead.
One scratch and this clearing would become his grave.
It hissed and taunted, its back to Judd. He went to grab his sword, his hand grasping nothing but air on his belt then looked over at where Caste was hiding. He waved at him to toss the sword. Caste shook his head, or possibly he was simply shaking all over but he was clutching the book against his chest as though it was a shield. Judd’s gesturing became almost violent. Caste stepped backwards, deeper into the shadows but as he did so, he tripped over a rock and managed to make quite the noise as he did so.
The cockatrice’s head snapped up and around, its entire body writhing and turning, its eyes fixed on Caste’s location. It hissed, raising itself to its full height, flapping its wings, its foreclaws striking the air just before it darted towards him.
“Caste!” Judd yelled but Caste was already a blur of clerical fear induced speed. Judd grasped Giordi and hauled him to his feet. Giordi screamed and batted at his hands before he realised that it was not the cockatrice that had grabbed him but rather, his muse. The cherub minstrel was grubby, pale and in shock.
“Where did it go?”
“It’s chasing Caste,” Judd picked up his sword and sprinted after Caste, “he’s gone back to the campsite!”
They crashed through the bushes, scratched and scraped, heading towards the golden glow of the campsite. But before they could reach the edge, a scream filled the air.
“Aalis!” Judd roared, storming into the campsite, seeing Aalis curled up on the ground, the cockatrice standing over her. “Hey!”
It turned and hissed at him, darting away from the edge of his blade, scrambling through the coals, flinging itself into the air, its claws swiping at Judd who threw himself to the side and brought his blade down. There were a few horrible seconds as both portions of cockatrice writhed and hissed before they finally became silent and still.
Judd wrestled his eyes from the revolting corpse, running over to Aalis who hadn’t risen and grabbed her shoulder. She gasped in horror, her eyes as pale as mist, rimmed with black and she tried to pull away.
“Aalis, it’s me!” Judd knelt. “Did it hurt you? Are you alright?” Her arms were clutched into her robes, her entire body shaking violently. “Aalis!”
“I am fine.” She blurted, broken from her terror stupor.
“Are you sure?” Judd put down his sword and cupped her face. “It was standing over you!”
“It did not strike me…” Aalis whispered. “It was going to…but you killed it.”
Judd closed his eyes and lowered his head. “I…I thought…” He heard the snap of a twig and looked up, anger firing in his eyes at Caste who was on the other side of the campsite. “You…” His tone darkened and he stood up. “You had my sword and refused to throw it to me!”
“I have no upper body strength, you know that!” Caste protested, trying to keep the fire between himself and Judd.
“Then you abandoned us to the cockatrice yet managed to lead that monster back here!”
“I didn’t know where else to run!” Caste squeaked as Judd grabbed his scuff, pushing the cleric into a tree.
“Judd!” Aalis cried, trying to stand up.
Judd was beyond hearing their words and only when a tight grip latched around his wrist did he pause. Verne’s strong fingers were like a vice. While Judd was not in pain, he also could not move.
“Judd, please,” Aalis insisted, finally able to get to her feet, “do not blame Caste. I am well. Please, let him go…”
“Before you do something you regret.” Verne said in a dark voice.
Judd followed his gaze to his wrist and then to where he was holding Caste by his tunic, the slight build of the cleric barely about to scrape the ground with his toes. Judd blinked, the red haze of rage dissipating and he let go, stepping back.
“Sorry…” He gasped, ashamed of the violence that had coursed through his body.
Caste didn’t move.
“Caste, go back to your nest.” Verne ordered and the cleric hastened to do so. “Judd, pick up your sword and clean the monster blood from it.” Judd did as he was ordered. “Giordi, deal with the cockatrice.”
“I am not really one too…”
“Just do it.” Verne said with no room for argument.
Judd sat down on his spot, his cheeks flooded with shame and put his hand to his face.
Aalis swallowed. “I…I will go to the pool and just…” She left the sentence unfinished. No one questioned her leaving. No one had the capacity to do so. They were all consumed with self.
Aalis found the stream then followed it to the pool where she had instructed Verne to take the horses. She avoided the poison ivy as she knelt at the water’s edge then drew her left arm out of hiding from within her right sleeve. She couldn’t contain her whimper, her right arm perfectly smooth while her left was shrivelled, the sinews able to be seen and her fingers bony and unable to move. Tears ran down her face as she touched her ruined arm then dove both into the water, caring not that she was soaking her dress. She had to breathe through the panic that flooded her, that tried to make her pant and weep. Aalis closed her eyes to concentrate then opened them, rippled of blue shimmering in her irises, as though they were two tiny pools of water themselves.
“Aalis?” She froze at Verne’s soft greeting. “Judd didn’t want to seem cloying so he asked if I would check on you.”
“I am fine.” Aalis reiterated but couldn’t keep the waver out of her voice.
“You keep saying that…” Verne came closer and Aalis recoiled from his gaze. “But you…wait…what…what is it? Are you hurt? What happened?” He grasped her left elbow and drew her up, forcing her to turn around, her arms stretched out in front of her. “But…”
Aalis braved a look down.
Her right arm was smooth and clean…
…as was her left.
If Verne had possessed the presence of mind to realise it, Aalis was as shocked as he. “Sorry,” he said, stepping back, “it’s just…I thought…” He shook his head. “Must have been a trick of the distortions in the water.”
“Pay it no mind.” Aalis said weakly. “I just need a moment.”
“Of course.” Verne’s forehead indicated doubt but he took her at her word and retreated. “Just…yell if you need anything.”
“Thank you.”
Aalis waited until he disappeared into the shadows before sinking to the ground, her arms clutched around her body, shaking.