Chapter 2
When life gives you mushrooms - part two
Mercy cleaned the blood, spit and mud from herself in the pond. She did this in silence whilst her father quickly and efficiently skinned the lo-bear, gutted it and cut the meat from its carcass.
“You got sloppy,” he barked out at her as he worked, breaking the silence.
“I watched the whole thing, you noticed the tracks and then you heard the first branch break and didn’t even look to see what had caused it.
What’s more you only shot regular powered arrows at it.” He practically spat the last part out, disgusted.
Mercy felt her cheeks redden, in the heat of the moment she hadn’t thought of using the Scapes on her bow, he’d only just shown her how to write and weave them a few days earlier for her twentieth birthday. The final Scapes he would teach her now that she was an adult in his eyes.
“I didn’t go through the trouble of teaching you Weapon Scapes just for you to forget them in a life or death situation. You could have blown a hole through its thick skull with one shot if you had.” He admonished, scowling at her, and not with pride.
Mercy said nothing, she knew he was right, she nodded meekly at him. “Yes da.”
His face softened, as much as it could anyway with it being so crossed with scars. It looked like a grey butcher's block, but she could tell.
He rubbed the clasp on his right ear between finger and thumb touching the blue gem faceted there and smiled revealing his sharp teeth.
“Come help me, I imagine that fool will pay handsomely for this.”
He was referring to their current employer, a man from overseas. A great man by all accounts, most of those accounts being his own.
They had come across him as they travelled south to Heraldforn a couple of months back. He was travelling with a huge retinue of brightly coloured dandies, hanger ons, and mummers.
They all rode on magnificent horses that made her and her fathers horses look like sheep by comparison. But what had really made Mercy gawp was the creature he travelled on.
A huge grey skinned thing with a long snake-like snout, it had tusks —like the lo-bear but much longer— and great big ears. Her father had glanced at it unimpressed, “an elephant” he had said in the same way he might have said - “a turd”.
The elephant had a grand red blanket draped over it, stitched with golden patterns and a basket on top which her father called a Howdah. Another man sat in front of this steering the great beast.
The silk sheets of the howdah had parted on their sides to reveal a handsome man who looked to be in his thirties, brightly dressed in satin with long blonde hair, looking down at them, a woman either side of him.
“Why hello down there Master Orak and Lady Aeth, an excellent afternoon for some wine ey?” He’d said smiling and waving a glass at them. Mercy had smiled back.
“It’s morning.” her father had grunted back at him curtly without looking in his direction. The man had laughed as if her father had made a joke and the women at his sides tittered along with him.
“Yes.. well” he’d said slurping down a mouthful. “would you and your…errm.. daughter? Care for a glass each?”
Her father had opened his mouth to refuse but she’d gotten in there quicker.
“Oh we’d love a bottle” Mercy had shouted back up to him brightly. Her father hissed at her “Mercy!”. The man laughed again. He had a deep rich laugh that made you want to laugh with him. He’d tossed her a bottle. They drank and talked more, and her father relaxed.
The man had hopped down from his carriage to walk alongside them and talk business in hushed tones. His name was Zanzo De La Cruz and was apparently a famous hero heading south for a wedding.
He was amazed she’d never heard of him and his many great deeds or seen an elephant before as they were common as ants where he was from.
He told her his elephant was a special lady and that her name was Roxanne. She doubted they were that common and put that comment down to exaggeration. He’d gathered that her and her father were hunters on account of all the furs they had packed on their horses to sell at Heraldforn.
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He’d hired them to bring in fresh meat on the road south, he’d actually said they’d just be helping him hunt but he did little more than get drunk with his boys and wait with their horses while they did the hunting.
Mercy stopped her reverie and helped her father strip the bear down. She cooled its meat in the pond which was now red with blood, then she wrapped it and packed it into her backpack. It was heavy but better than carrying the pelt and skull that her father carried.
She also took the opportunity to gather the mushrooms and shove them in her pack. Her father seen this and smiled his sharp toothed grin, “there’s not mushroom in that pack.” She groaned at the joke but was glad his humour, such as it was, had returned.
“Why’d you take the skull?” She asked.
He snorted, “Zanzo thinks a lot of himself, he’ll want it as a trophy, same with the pelt. He’ll make up some grand story about slaying it, you’ll see.” Mercy laughed and it felt good to laugh after the shock of nearly being lo-bear food.
“I can’t wait to hear how he killed the beast with nothing but his wits and a pocket full of dreams.” She said. Her father let out a jagged laugh and replied, “oh, he beat it to death with nothing but his manly fists, punched the pelt right off it I heard” they both laughed.
It wasn’t long before they came upon the clearing where they had left Zanzo. He was sat leaning against a tree singing to himself with a bottle in his hands and a pipe in his mouth. He jumped up when he saw them approach.
“Ah my fearless hunters! What have you brought for me today Master Greeves? Is that a lo-bear skull? He asked her father. “It is,” he replied and tossed the skull to him.
Zanzo snatched it from the air deftly and twirled around with it in happy circles like a man reunited with a long lost lover.
“Oh this is something special, you’re both getting a bonus! That pelt will make a great cloak as well, probably not the best thing to wear in this climate but I’ll be damned if I let a bit of sunshine stop me looking great… well, greater!” He corrected with that last part.
It was true though, it was getting hotter by the minute.
They were in the last dense part of woods bordering the desert lands. It had been hugely unlucky to encounter a lo-bear this far south, especially on the last hunt before they reached Heraldforn.
“Greeves, we’ll have to see if there’s a tanner to make a cloak of that pelt among the dregs of the retinue. ” Zanzo said, implying her father would have to find someone.
“Well let us not dally in these bear saturated woods any longer than needs be. There’s a few miles to go and people have came from all over the world to see me at this wedding.”
“No doubt,” her father added dryly. They all mounted their horses and started a slow trot back towards the main road where the rest of the group would be waiting.
“Is it true the people of the south are savages and wear bones as armour?” Mercy asked.
“Yes.” her father replied. Mercy waited for more but didn’t expect there would be any.
Zanzo jumped in positively delighted at the chance to talk more.
“The people of the south are a romantic and simple kind of folk young Mercy,” he said wagging a finger at her and taking a long suck of his pipe. He puffed out the smoke and looked off into the middle distance as if recalling a memory of his time in the south which she was pretty sure was non-existent.
“Yes, a romantic people… but also a most cunning and tenacious people,” he continued.
Mercy glanced sidelong at her father giving him a sly smile, he arched an eyebrow back at her and showed his teeth.
Zanzo missed this exchange entirely as he mused to himself further on the southerners.
“They roam the planes on their giant tortoises that are as big as Roxanne, some even bigger than her. It’s said they wear the bones of their kills to appease their savage god —the skeleton god— who blesses them with strong bones and rich singing voices of course.”
Mercy laughed at that “Hey da why don’t you put that bear skull on and sing us a song?” He snorted unenthusiastically at that.
Zanzo let out one of his great laughs, grabbing his macabre trophy from behind himself and holding it up before them. He began moving its jaw up and down and singing. A grotesque site to be sure but Mercy found it oddly charming nonetheless.
“Ooooh there was an orak who could talk and talk, but no manners he had he’d just stand and gawk, at a pretty girl, he’d like to give a twirl, he’d toss her like a rag all he wanted was a—“
“—The retinue is up ahead” her father interrupted. The rest of Zanzo’s people had set up by the roadside in what looked like a small fair. People drinking, women dancing. Children running under foot chasing dogs. Roxanne being cleaned and cooled with water to stop her spraying herself with spit.
Zanzo stopped waving the Gory skull around.
“Ah indeed it is, let us rejoin our friends. I have to get things ready for my big entrance. Trumpets and so forth” he waved his hat at them and galloped off towards the rest, raising the lo-bears skull above himself triumphantly. A great cheer went up among the retinue.
Her father sighed. “At least he pays well” then he spat. Mercy smiled, “oh, he’s not so bad. He’s very cheerful and he sings a good song about Oraks.” Her father grimaced, “the less songs about my kind the better.” he looked away and Mercy felt sad for him.
Even though he’d raised her from a baby she had no idea how it would feel to be an orak. Mercy being an aeth and a girl aeth at that, was widely met with pleasant curiosity. Whereas her father was widely met with scorn and ignorance.
“We best prepare our things as well” he said, shaking her from her thoughts.
“Here,“ he pushed the heavy bear pelt on to her lap “find the tanner.” They of course knew there was a tanner amongst the retinue.
He trotted off on his horse leaving her with the chore. “But I wanted to get a wash before we arrived!” She shouted after him indignantly.
“You had one at the pond already” he called back. She scoffed at the injustice of it all, but when life gives you mushrooms, you eat them she supposed.