Omar squinted to see through the blinding light of the sun glaring above the hills, but he still could not tell if there was anyone coming down the road. He grabbed the reins of his horse with his right hand and lifted his left palm to shade his eyes from the sun.
“Two! Two riders!”
“Are they armed?” said Hashid, reaching for his scimitar.
“They’re just two.” said Omar, still struggling to make out the two moving dots.
“They might be scouts, checking our wares while their friends are waiting nearby, ready to strike,” said Hashid
“Even without friends, there’s two of them and four of us. Good enough odds for them to draw blood and maybe run off with one of our horses. We should have hired men in Balatov. Damn you, Hashid and your greediness,” said Dummar.
“We have arms and weapons. We can fight. I trust my steel better than those sellswords in Balatov.” said Hashid, gripping the hilt of his blade.
Karan began to lead the packed mules between the pine trees, covering them from prying eyes.
“We can’t hope to outrun them through the woods. Not without risking losing our baggage. If they attack, we fight here,” said Karan as he was tying down the animals.
“One of them is waving us,” said Omar.
“Do not draw steel. Let’s not provoke them without reason.”
One of the strangers was now clearly visible to Omar. A short skinny rider, making the horse underneath him appear uncomfortably large. He was not clad in leather and iron like a warrior, nor did he wear the fine clothes of a merchant. His apparel included a tattered yellow shirt that might have once been white and a pair of coarse green pants tucked in boots barely fit for riding, nevertheless walking.
“State your intentions!” shouted Omar.
But the man kept riding and waving his hands. Behind him rode his companion, a giant that looked like someone tied a tree trunk to a saddle.
“State your intentions! shouted Omar again.
Hashid and Dummar gripped the reins of their horses with their left hands and the hilts of their blades with their right hands, ready to draw.
The rider stopped in front of the four merchants at a distance that he measured far enough for them to keep their blades in sheaths, but close enough to be heard. He waited until his companion joined and then with gentle movements, he slowly placed his right hand on his heart and took a respectful bow.
“My name is Ytir and I am the voice of Han.”
He pointed with both hands towards the giant on the other horse.
The giant stood silently in his saddle, measuring the four merchants but allowing no expression to form on his face.
His clothes were no richer that those of his companion, apart from maybe a fur collar, poorly sewn together from what appeared to be several rabbit skins. A large curved blade hanging from his saddle proved however that the giant was no simpleton or beggar.
“We saw you riding across the hills and we assumed you are heading towards Melkapur?” said Ytir.
He observed the mules tied behind the pine trees and smiled.
“Perhaps merchants?”
“Perhaps. And what manner of men are you?” said Hashid.
“You are not soldiers, yet you carry weapons. You are dressed as beggars, yet you ride good horses. Are you runaways or perhaps thieves?”
“We are none of that, good man. We crave none of your riches, nor do we seek bloodshed. But we are heading the same way and Han offers to join your caravan as far as Melkapur.”
“We don’t need your company, nor do we want it,” said Dummar.
“We don’t trust you, so you be on your way and we’ll be on our way,” added Hashid.
“But our ways are the same. If you don’t trust us, do you trust us travelling on the same road with you, but out of your sight, where our actions are hidden?” smiled Ytir.
Hashid open his mouth to reply but could not find a good answer.
Dummar inspected their saddles - a large scimitar on the giant man’s saddle, a short bow and a quiver on the skinny man saddle and a couple of water pouches and furs.
“You don’t look like you have food on you.”
“You look like you have. You will share your bread and wine with us, and we will share meat with you.”
“You have no meat.”
Ytir raised his bow proudly.
“Ooo, but we do. We have plenty.”
The six men sat in a circle around the fire, gazing satisfied at the improvised spit roast. Earlier, three fat rabbits sizzled above the flames. Now there were only greasy marks smeared on a stick and little piles of bones scattered through the grass. A flask of bitter dark wine was being passed from hand to hand in a ceremonial manner.
“Are you men from the mountains of Eretan?” asked Omar.
“Do you think boots like that could climb mountains?” laughed Karan snatching the wine flask from Omar’s hand.
Ytir looked down on his boots and raised his shoulders.
“We are from here and there. We have traveled from the plains of Gon to the shores of Lekti. We have seen many cities and villages. We’ve met many people.”
“What is your business in Melkapur?” said Hashid.
“Same as everywhere. A city like Melkapur has many people, and people pay good coin for a sword and an arm that wields it,”
“So, you’re sellswords, mercenaries.” said Dummar.
“Men kill men all the time, but men with gold don’t like blood on their hands. Is it a bad thing to take the gold and perform the deed cleaner and faster?” said Ytir.
Hashid laid on his side and pulled the wine flask to his mouth.
“You don’t look like a warrior to me.”
“Han fights with the strength of ten men and I serve him.”
“As his voice?”
“As his voice.” said Ytir and spread his hand to receive the wine flask.
“Your master doesn’t talk then? Is he mute?” said Omar.
The giant turned his face to Omar and chewed the words between his jaws.
“Talk… is… Cheap!”
“Han does not put any value on idle conversations. A word from him comes only when necessary. It is a virtue many would not understand or mistake it for an offense. That is why I, Ytir, talk for Han.”
Karan laughed loudly and let himself fall on his back in the cool grass holding his protruding belly.
“I don’t know if your friend fights like ten men, but you sure babble like ten men.”
“You are traders. Have you ever made the road to Melkapur?”
“Not to Melkapur but we made good business in Gulla last spring,” said Omar.
“There were many beautiful women in Gulla,” said Karan, letting his heavy eyelids cover his eyes.
“Beautiful women make good business for silk traders,” said Omar.
“Do you trade only silk?” asked Ytir.
Omar opened his mouth, but Hashid answered briefly.
“We trade in what’s profitable!”
Hashid cleared his throat and in a softer tone he added:
“I don’t know the custom in these parts, but it’s generally seen as bad luck to discuss openly the content of one’s purse on the road.”
Ytir raised his hands up, surrendering to the argument. He then smiled, revealing a rough set of teeth.
“The purse, the purse, the jiggle jiggle of the purse.”
“What’s that? Said Omar.
“The jiggle jiggle of the purse.”
Dummar began rubbing his beard as he would do when confused, while Hashid frowned and fixated the weird singing man with his gaze. Even Karan opened his eyes and stood up on his side to make sense of what happened.
Han mouth dragged to the sides of his face, spreading his lips over his wide teeth.
Ytir shook his palms like he was trying to scatter the cloud of confusion he created.
“I’m sorry. What you said about the purse made me remember a song I heard in a tavern once. Do you know the song about the nobleman and the nurse?”
“A song?” said Karan. “Let’s hear it,”.
Ytir cleared his throat and took a straight up position. He raised an arm to his listeners and one to his chest like he saw the bards do and began:
“The nobleman wife shouted loud
She shouted once and shouted twice
Do you not hear your child cry?
He cries for milk, and he will starve
Go fetch your purse and get the nurse
The child goes hungry and I go angry
Go jiggle jiggle your fat purse!
A wave of laughter erupted from the traders and they started tapping their boots on the ground to the rhythm as the song continued.
And so, the noble got his horse
He rode and rode to get the nurse
The plump and young big titted nurse
That he would pay with his fat purse
The purse, the purse, the jiggle jiggle of the purse
He rode his horse and found the nurse
And jiggle jiggled his fat purse
He rode his horse and then the nurse
He rode her for a night or two
And when the cock sang cock-a-doo
She turned around and rode him too
The laughs turned into roars that filled the whole forest. Karan’s shoulders were shaking as he held his belly.
She rode him hard; she rode him fine
She rode him till his purse was dry
And when the jiggle was no more
She shoved him right out the door
The nobleman remembered then
He had a wife waiting for him.
You foul devil, where’s your purse?
You spent it all with the wet nurse
I waited here year after year
And now your child is all grown up
He sits around and cries for beer.
The traders rubbed the tears of laughter from their eyes and awarded the bard with what was left of the wine. Ytir took the flask, drained it down his throat and then wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
Still grinning, Hashid pointed to the fire.
“We should smolder the fire. It’s late and we have a long road ahead tomorrow if we are to leave this forest. Dummar, you’re first on watch. Wake Karan up in a couple of hours.”
Dummar bowed his head and stood up. He went and checked the horses and the mules, then he opened a bottle of water from his saddle and poured some in his palm. He rubbed his face and neck, a well-known method to sober up.
Omar, Hashid and Karan spread their blankets on the grass and were soon asleep in front of the fire pit. Han and Ytir followed their example, spreading the tattered furs they carried.
Dummar gazed at the moonlight penetrating the roof of branches and leaves and grinned.
“The jiggle jiggle of the purse.”
He took out his knife and began carving in a piece of wood, humming the song. He could remember most of it and imagined what laughter it might bring in the taverns of Melkapur.
“The purse, the purse.”
“Karan!”
Karan moaned and turned over from his right side to his left side, all curled up in his blanket.
“Karan! Wake up!”
The kick of a boot was more convincing than the shout, but still could not get Karan up. He just opened one of his eyes and began mumbling, annoyed at the man ruining his sleep.
“Karan! You dog!
Hashid kicked him harder and Karan rose up, instinctively reaching for his dagger.
“You fell asleep on your watch. Why didn’t you at least wake me or Omar up?”
Karan looked at Hashid with blood-red eyes and then looked around as if searching for an answer.
“Dummar was supposed to wake me up. He didn’t wake me up.”
Hashid inspected their little camp. The horses were in their place, so were the mules and the baggage. The fire pit was there, and the rabbit bones they threw last night. Omar was still getting up. Han and Ytir were tending to their horses.
“Dummar! Dummar!”
“Maybe he went pissing,” said Karan, rubbing his eyes.
Hashid put his hand on the hilt of his scimitar and ran away, searching for Dummar behind the trees and bushes.
“Dummar!”
Han tapped Ytir on the shoulder and pointed towards the traders, raising his brows. Ytir wiped his hands on his shirt and approached Karan.
“Did something happen?”
“Dummar is gone. He didn’t wake me up last night for my watch.”
“His horse is here.” said Omar. “His mule, too. He can’t be far. Did you see anything?”
“No.” said Ytir. “We slept”
“Neither of you kept watch?”
“For what? There’s nothing one could steal from us.”
“Dummar!” shouted Karan
No answer came from Dummar. Only the far away call of Hashid who was lost through the pine trees came back in the camp like an echo.
“Dummar!”
Hashid’s voice faded in the soft wind blowing through the pines and the birch trees, and then there was silence. The four travelers looked at each other. Karan and Omar pulled their scimitars close, Han grabbed the scabbard of his sword, ready to unsheathe. Ytir’s bow climbed down from his shoulder. The blades felt heavy and restless.
A terrible guttural noise scattered a flock of birds from the direction where Hashid disappeared, and the sound of heavy boots stomping and crushing dried leaves grew louder and louder.
“Murderers! Highwaymen!”
Hashid’s eyes were popping out of their sockets. His muscles were tensed like a bow string and his steel drawn. The sight of their companion made the four men draw their weapons and divided them in two sides, each pointing metal at each other.
“They killed Dummar!”
Ytir pointed his bow at Hashid, then at Omar and Karan. One of them would fall, and the other two would undoubtedly attack and face Han’s giant blade. He’d seen Han strike down more than two men in a single swing, and he knew the advantage was theirs. The terror was drawn on the faces of their adversaries, their swords were hanging heavy in their hands, their feet were too close or too far apart to keep proper balance, their heart beats could be heard from where he stood. These were not warriors. These were men accustomed to soft beds and full bellies. The arrow began to struggle between his fingers like a dog pulling its leash. Spread your fingers and three men will fall, whispered a thought in his head.
Ytir lowered his bow slowly.
“We did no harm to your friend!”
“You lie! His body lies in the woods, torn to pieces! You killed him and tried to hide your deed.”
Ytir stepped forward and touched Han’s blade with his fingers.
“This blade cuts. It does not tear. If we wished harm to you, then why didn’t we kill you all last night while you were sleeping?”
Omar and Karan looked at Hashid, waiting for his command to strike or yield.
“If we killed Dummar and then hid his body, why is there no blood here?”
Hashid’s eyes scouted the surrounding ground in a quick move, while his arm was still holding the sword directed at the two suspects.
“This is a forest, my friend. A wild animal might have killed your companion. Let us see the body.”
Omar and Karan lowered their blades, seeing the truth in Ytir’s arguments, but Hashid was unmovable.
“Let us see the body or let us strike swords and see who will follow Dummar in death.”
Hashid measured his companions. He measured Han’s immovable stance and the reach of his curved blade. He measured Ytir from head to toes. He could cut him down in one swing, and then three of them would face the giant. Would there be three standing once the giant is down?
“Fine! Ask the silent one to sheathe his blade and I’ll lead you to what’s left of Dummar.”
Not far from where they camped lay a small patch of land uncovered by bushes and trunks from where one could look up and see a round opening in the foliage revealing the blue sky. It was a similar sight one would have if he looked up from the bottom of a well. At the bottom of this well, tainting the grass with thick black blood was a pile of meat, bones and guts intertwined and mangled. By counting the limbs and observing what was left of the clothes one could tell there was once a man, but for now it was no more than a fleshy prize claimed by flies and worms.
“This was no blade, Hashid,” said Omar.
“A bear? Could a bear do this?” asked Karan
“His head is missing. What type of bear steals the head of its prey? What type of creature does that? You tell me what type of creature does that?” said Hashid, pointing his finger at Han and Ytir.
“Whatever creature did this, it could do it again to any of us,” said Ytir.
“How can I trust you? We all travelled safely all the way from Harazan. We met you and now one of us is dead.”
“This was no blade Hashid. This was done by claw and fang,” said Omar, inspecting the carcass.
Hashid turned to Omar and then back to Ytir. He rubbed his fingers and scouted the area with his gaze. The smell of his dead companion was seeping into the fabric of his clothes. He noticed a half-dried blood stain on his pants. He must have acquired it when he found the body, but he could not remember how.
“Gather the horses, we leave now. We must cross this forest as fast as we can. I will stand guard tonight.”
The way to Malkapur was known for all five travelers. The way to Malkapur lay in the sun and the stars that could still be seen through the tall trees. Four or five days riding towards the sunrise. Ride towards the sunrise and don’t stray from your path. That’s what any man would say in Drabovitz when asked what’s the shortest way to Malkapur, and that’s what the traders were told two days ago. Hashid wondered how many men from Drabovitz made this journey and how many crossed this forest. If a beast lurked in these woods, wouldn’t they know? Wouldn’t they warn travelers about it?
That evening there were no songs and the wine flasks stood unopened. Ytir caught two squirrels, skinned them and lay them over the fire.
Omar broke the bread and shared it equally to everyone. Karan secured the horses and made sure there was a large enough pile of firewood.
“What is the silent one doing?” said Hashid pointing to Han who was busy tying ropes and carving wood stakes.
“If something comes near us tonight, we will hear it. Han is making sure we have plenty of time to draw our blades,” said Ytir.
They spent the rest of night gnawing the squirrel meat in silence and after the moon was up, one by one they laid on their side clinging to their blades and fell asleep.
All except Hashid, who sat on his rock gazing into the fire. Omar and Karan were sleeping. Han and Ytir were sleeping as well. Were they really sleeping or just pretending and waiting for him to fell asleep as well? Could they have really killed Dummar? The giant could have easily broke Dummar’s neck and then carry him away and tear his body apart to make it look like a wild animal did it. But why would he do that? If they wanted to rob us, why not kill us all while we were sleeping? Did they like to play with their victims like animals do with their prey?
Hashid slowly pulled his sword out of the scabbard and admired the way the fire shined on the blade. If they’re asleep, he could easily walk to them and kill them both.
A warm light was shining on Ytir’s his face. He opened his eyes and saw the silvery blade dropped in the grass, reflecting the fire. He saw Hashid a few steps away, standing, gazing in the darkness surrounding their camp.
Ytir quickly got up and shook Han’s shoulder, then he reached for his bow and quiver.
“Hashid! Is something there?”
Hashid turned his head around and smiled innocently at Ytir. He then faced the bushes again and stepped forward, disappearing in the darkness.
“Hashid!”
Ytir and Han got up quickly and alerted the two traders who were sleeping next to the fire. Omar searched in his bag for a linen rag and wrapped it around a wooden stick, improvising a torch. Following Ytir’s sign, he lit the way in the direction where Hashid disappeared.
“Hashid! Hashid come back!”
The forest was silent. Not even the usual rustling of the wind through the branches could be heard. Only the cracking sound of the fire eating its way through the torch.
Han stepped through the bushes followed by Omar who lighted the path from behind. Ytir and Karan kept close with bow and sword in hand. The flame from the makeshift torch summoned an army of dancing shadows around them, but no sign of man or creature. Hashid was a large man, built like a soldier. Such a man stumbling in the dark through thick bushes should have made a loud noise and yet all they could hear was the sound of their own breath, their own feet crushing sticks and leaves with every step, and the thick wood crackling under the flame.
Suddenly, Han stopped. He breathed deep and fast through his nose as a hound sniffing his prey and turned left, slightly raising his sword. The others followed him to the murmur of a water stream. The sound grew louder, but there was no sign of a stream. Above them the moonlight barely penetrated the crown of branches and with only a torch to light their way they would sooner wet their feet before spotting the water. The murmur grew louder, clearer, and then stopped.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
The travelers look at each other, checking if they all heard the same thing.
A piercing shriek cut through their veins as if they were shot with a thousand frozen arrows, and then they heard the gargling sound of a man choking. The steel grew unbearably heavy in sweaty, cold hands.
“Hashid! Tell us where you are!”
But there was no Hashid to answer, only the dark bushes around them rustling all at once. A strange childlike laugh to their right. Another one behind them. Another one above, up in the trees. A swish behind them.
Omar, Karan and Ytir twitched nervously from one side to the other. Whatever was stalking them, the thought of it creeping behind, striking them before they even had the chance to raise their hands in defense scared them even more.
In front of them, Han displayed an unflinching concentration. Only his eyes moved from side to side as the rustling intensified to his left or to his right. He opened his arms, pushed his chest forward and answered this tumult with an inhuman roar shaking the trees around them.
The rustling stopped.
They stood in completed silence for a minute, listening to their hearts pumping loudly.
A swish from above startled them and a round, heavy object hit Karan’s shoulder and fell at his boots. Omar took the torch to the thing and revealed among the leaves the severed head of Hashid with his eyes and lips cut out.
“We must go back! We must go back!”
“No Karan!”
But Karan snatched the torch from Omar’s hand and leaped through the bushes back in the direction from which they came, breathing heavily through his mouth.
The three men ran after him, following the torch that was trying to disappear through the trees. The torch stopped, and they approached carefully with their weapons raised.
“Karan! Turn around!”
Karan could not hear them. He was standing with his shoulders down and his arms hanging loosely around him. The burning wood was almost dropping from his hand, but still shed some light between the two tree trunks in front of him, revealing the silhouette of a woman. Her face looked unnaturally smooth, as if it was carved in marble, but the skin had a greenish tint and look slippery and wet like that of a frog. She wore no clothes, but a mane of disheveled black hair tangled with sticks and leaves covered her, reaching almost to her navel. Her hands hanged below her hips, ending in long sharp claws. Two burning yellow eyes fixated Karan as her lips were tirelessly opening and closing, whispering something.
At the sight of the three travelers she hissed, revealing a set of small sharp teeth. Han dashed forward to strike the creature, but the green woman leaped backward in the bushes, kicking Karan in the chest and knocking him to the ground.
“What was that?” said Ytir.
Han looked at him with eyes wide open and shook his head.
Omar rushed to help Karan who was lying on his back starring into the dark sky. He raised the torch and handed it to Ytir, then he tore Karan’s shirt to check for the cut, but there were none. He felt his ribs - nothing was broken.
Karan grabbed onto Omar’s collar and starred at him, confused, as if it was the first time seeing him. He opened his mouth to speak but could not mutter a word, so instead he pulled himself up and began stepping towards the two trees.
“Karan! Stop”
Karan pushed Omar back violently with both his arms, making him trip and fall on his back. He then reached for his sword, but fortunately for Omar, he could not find it anymore. Karan looked down on his companion for a second, then at Ytir, and then dashed towards the trees, only to get knocked down by Han’s fist.
The first thing Karan felt as he woke up was a hum. He did not hear it but felt it as if it came from inside his head, growing louder and louder, pulsating in his skull. His instinct was to press his palms on his foreheads as he would do after a night drinking, when the headache was strong enough to wake him up, but he could not lift his arms.
He opened his eyelids little by little, allowing himself to accommodate with the cold morning glare that bounced off of every leaf and dew drop.
As he was trying to make sense why there was a rope binding him to a sturdy birch trunk, images from a night before came flooding in and panic took over him.
“Heeey, Hey!”
Three men were sitting around the firepit and turned around to watch him struggle. It was his fellow travelers, but they did not jump to his help as he would expect. In truth, there was now only one man among them that he knew for more than two days, and after realizing there was no chance of breaking free on his own, Karan appealed to that man.
“Omar! Untie me now, Omar! What is this madness?”
“If I untie you, where are you going to go?”
“Are you mad? It’s me, Karan, your friend. Untie me now, dammit!”
“You wanted to kill your friend, last night. If you still had your sword, you would have slashed Omar in two right there in the woods,” said Ytir, pointing to the trees.
Karan turned to Ytir with a thousand curses on the tip of his tongue, but then the images rolled in his head until he saw himself in the dark reaching for his weapon, wanting to strike his companion.
“What did the creature say to you?” said Omar.
“What?”
“The green woman. We saw her whispering something to you. It made you mad.”
The images rolled again before his eyes. Hashid and his torch running through the woods. The pain in his thighs, the bushes whipping his legs as he was running through the dark, the rustling trees, the scream, the woman… the woman… a woman. A woman’s fingers running through his hair as he watched the sun go down, the smell of milk and cinnamon and the sound of bread crust breaking…
“It made you mad, Karan.”
“It made me… happy. Untie me, Omar. I’m begging you, my friend, untie me.”
“There he goes again. Your friend must have really specific tastes in women.” said Ytir, standing up.
He walked over with a piece of burned squirrel meat and dangled it in front of his nose.
“Maybe you want to eat something? Regain your strength and mind?”
Karan looked at Ytir and spat him in the face, making him drop the piece of meat from his fingers. He then began twisting and pulling himself from the ropes like a wild dog tied on a leash.
“Let me go, Omar! Don’t listen to them. They killed Dummar and Hashid. They want to kill us all. They brought us here to kill and rob us. Untie me, Omar!”
Ytir wiped his face with his sleeve and picked up the meat from the grass.
“It’s all you’re going to get, friend. I’m afraid our animals are gone. Took the luggage with them. Even your precious silk bales. Gods could only tell what use they have for it here in the forest.”
“Karan, you need to come to your senses. We need to get out of this forest.” said Omar.
Karan was sobbing and pleading, begging to be untied, then twisting himself violently, tearing his clothes against the tree bark and then sobbing again.
“On the other hand, if they stole our animals and food, maybe now they will stop eating us. I would say there’s no good reason in starving your prey before eating it, right?” said Ytir, munching on a piece of meat refused by the bound trader.
Han who up until now watched the whole scene, sitting by the smothered firepit, sharpening his blade on a stone a little smaller than his hand, got up and tapped Ytir on his shoulder pointing to the trees as if they were both overstaying guests.
“What about him?” said Ytir, pointing to Karan.
“Mad!” said Han and started walking.
Omar stood up and grabbed Ytir’s sleeve.
“We can’t leave him here for the beasts! We’re not savages.”
“If we untie him, he’ll sprint towards those things he grew so attached to. He’s as good as dead. We can find the way out and then come back for Karan.”
“If he’s still here. You want to leave a man tied to a tree in this place and expect to find him in one piece when you return?”
“What can we do? He would fight us all to get back to his green lady. That creature must have put a spell on him. We’ll find the way out and then come back. The creatures didn’t attack us during the day.”
Ytir lifted his bow on his shoulder and followed Han, who was almost out of sight.
Omar looked down at his friend, who was still sobbing and begging to no one in particular. A spell of some sort. He heard tales about witches and curses, about ghosts and evil spirits. Was the green woman a witch? In the stories, the witch was always old and frail. Her power lied in her spell. Men would collapse and die on their doorsteps before getting the chance of facing her. But these creatures did not kill by spell, they kill by claws and fangs. They only lured by spell. The woman last night ran off into the woods when they found Karan. They scared her away.
Omar ran after Ytir and Han until he caught Ytir and grabbed him by his shirt.
“Ytir, is your friend as good with the sword as he looks?”
“Han fears no one.”
“Can he also run fast?”
“Fast enough to lose us if we stand here and talk. Why?”
“The creatures didn’t attack at day. Only at night. Whatever it is, it hunts at night. If we find it during the day, we catch it by surprise and fight it on our terms.”
“But how can we find it?”
“We release Karan. If he’s under a spell, he’ll take us right to the creature’s lair. We just have to keep up with him.”
The three men approached the one tied to a tree slowly, as if they were about to release a wild horse. Karan could release his fury on any of them after spending the whole morning tied up to a tree, but Omar counted on the fact that his friend was more concerned with getting back to the whispering creature. In fact, he might ignore them all and try to leap in the thicket as soon as his bindings were loosened up. They had to make sure he would not get caught in the rope and break his legs and once he was released, they had to make sure the creature did not get him before they have a chance to fight it. Whatever spell it was, Omar could only hope his friends’ mortal limitations were still applied.
They began cutting through the ropes from three different places and as expected as soon as Karan felt the bindings loosen around his arms he stood up and sprinted like a startled rabbit.
The three men ran after him, Han first with his blade strapped on his back as not to hinder his movement, followed by Ytir and Omar. They dashed among the trees, barely keeping up with Karan who was making his way through the woods so easily as if he was running around his hometown streets. They turned left, and right to huge moss-covered boulder climbing up on a slope, grabbing the muddy roots and then when the ground was again fairly flat to keep their balance they stood up and kept running forward, jumping over fallen trunks.
Omar felt his heart beating against his ribs. His mouth was dry, and he could taste his blood raising in the back of his throat. He stopped for a second to catch his breath, tracing Ytir’s steps so he can catch up. Through the sound of his panting, he suddenly made out something out of place. Like cats’ claws scratching on a wooden post.
He slowly turned around and bit on his sleeve to cover a shout. On the tree behind him, the naked green body of a woman crawled downwards like a lizard across the white bark. She lifted her head and gaze at him with two yellow cat eyes.
Omar lowered his right hand reaching for the hilt of his scimitar, but another set of claws scratched the birch tree behind him. He turned his head while his right hand clutched the sword and saw a second creature slithering down, graciously through the branches.
Omar fought to retain his calm and began pulling the steel from its scabbard as casually as he could. He figured he could afford one sudden movement until the creature’s attack, maybe two if he was fast enough. He planned on making those movements count.
The first creature scratched again on the bark and as Omar turned his eyes to her, she opened her lips and released three short sounds like three rings of a silver bell:
“Come...”
“… To…”
“… Me…”
Omar lifted his sword and side-stepped through the leaves towards the tree, but the creature opened her mouth again and began whispering, caressing the air with her lips.
An instinctive curiosity drew the trader’s attention towards her whispers and made him try to make out the words coming out of the dark green lips. They were words in a strange unknown tongue, a language that a human could not possibly reproduce but somehow, they carried so much meaning to him. The most renowned poets from his country appeared to Omar like stuttering imbeciles compared to the green maiden hanging in front of him. Their sonnets were squeaks and howls compared to the clear warm whispers. His eyes became watery, and he saw himself out of the forest. He saw himself in front of a house, his wife sitting on the oak bench he made last summer. He saw her rocking his daughter on her knees while his two older boys were chasing through the field. He saw his boys grow taller and larger as they were playing. He looked back at his wife and saw her walking through the garden with their daughter picking flowers. The little one could walk on her own now and her hair almost reached her ankles. The boys were making such a ruckus, but they were not playing anymore. They were dragging a mule they bought from the market to the stable while cracking jokes and laughing at each other. They were so tall.
“Swosh”
A shrieking noise made the images freeze and shatter like broken glass.
“Omar! To the ground!”
The green woman was screaming and contorting her body on tree trunk as a long arrow shaft protruded from her right shoulder.
“To the ground, man!”
She managed to grab the arrow shaft and pull on it until it broke. She hissed with a mouthful of sharp teeth at a squatting Omar, but another arrow silenced her and pinned her by the neck to the birch tree.
The second creature screamed and started leaping from tree trunk to tree trunk faster than Ytir’s bow could follow.
She landed near Omar, but he stood up swiftly, rotating his scimitar through the air and cutting the creature’s arm clean from her elbow. The creature released another piercing scream and leaped in the grass. Omar came after her with his sword raised, but she stretched her remaining arm and grabbed him by his left ankle before he could strike. The creature jumped on Omar’s chest as he was trying to get up again and slashed with her claw cutting his left cheek. Omar was fighting and kicking, but the creature was pinning him to the ground, cracking his ribs between her thighs and pushing his face to the side, in the mud, trying to get a clear shot to his neck.
“Hey! Jiggle jiggle!”
The creature raised her head and received a direct shot to her right eye.
Before the trader could check how much of the blood smeared on his clothes was his and how much was from the green woman, Ytir grabbed his hand and lifted him to his feet.
“Quick! We have to find Karan.”
They dashed through the forest following the deep footprints left by Han until they stumbled upon a glade. Ytir grabbed Omar’s shirt and threw him to the ground. Sheltered by leaves and rocks they watched.
The sun struggled to pierce through the dome of yellow leaves and white branches and a golden curtain of light fell over the opening. In the middle of the glade sat on a throne of wood the figure of a man with bone white stag horns over his head. His sinewy body was painted white with red stripes. An animal pelt adorned with beads covered his manhood and at his feet laid a small mound of skulls and bones. His eyes were hidden behind black paint smeared across his face.
On the tall birch pillars around him and in the grass at his feet crawled and squirmed the bodies of a dozen green women.
Karan was kneeling before him, crying and laughing at the same time. He let himself fall on his back with his arms spread and two green maidens crawled to him at once. They grabbed his sleeves and pulled tearing up his shirt.
Ytir reached to his quiver for an arrow.
The creatures were circling Karan’s naked body.
Ytir fixated the nook on the bowstring.
Karan was breathing heavily and panting as the green maidens were rubbing against his body.
Ytir pulled the string.
Suddenly a movement in the bushes, followed by heavy stomps revealed Han.
Ytir gently released the string but kept the arrow between his fingers.
Han stepped inside the glade and released a savage roar scattering the green creatures. He grabbed Karan by the hair and pulled him up. He then threw Karan back towards the bushes like a rag doll. He lifted his giant curved blade and fixated his gaze on the horned figure provoking him to fight.
The horned man stood up and raised his arms. The green maidens crawled to Han’s feet. Their hands began caressing his calves, his thighs, his chest. They stood up encircling him and their yellow eyes met his green stare. Their lips began moving fast all around him, whispering in his ears, whispering in his face, whispering unknown words in a sweet strange chorus.
“We must help him.” said Omar but Ytir signaled him to be silent and stay hidden.
Han began lowering his sword as the whispering intensified around him. He lowered the blade to his left side, close to his hip and then in one swift cut he severed the head of the green creature facing him. Before her sisters could react, his arms rotated the blade and dropped it upon another creature standing on his left, cutting her from shoulder to hip.
For a short moment, Ytir and Omar could see the white in the horned man’s eyes as he looked in horror.
A cacophony of screams and shrieks exploded as the green creatures scattered again like birds in the tall trees around the glade. They ran and leaped from branch to branch, hissing and screaming as Han stepped calmly towards the horned man, steel raised above his head.
The creatures jumped at Han with their claws out and one by one they fell to the ground growling missing a limb or two. Ytir stood up from the bushes and shot arrow after arrow at the wounded creatures, ending their misery and preventing them from seeking revenge. Omar joined in with his sword drawn out hacking and slashing.
The horned man got down from his throne and produced two swords fashioned out of sharpened bone. He started swinging them, twisting and jerking his whole body in a hypnotic dance.
He took a swing at Han with his right sword and rotating on one foot followed with a second swing. The giant could barely follow his arms and duck his slashes. Han leaped backwards to gain some distance and waved his giant blade in the air letting it fall upon the horned man but his adversary span again and responded with a swift cut on Han’s leg. The bite of the ragged bone on his thigh made the giant fall on his knee for a second, but he lifted his sword and parried another strike with such a force that it made the horned man fall out of balance. Han got up and continued with a second swing that severed the left horn. His adversary rolled on the ground and thrusted the point of his right sword between the giant’s ribs. He rolled again and deflected an arrow coming from Ytir’s bow with his left blade.
Han hollered, holding his sword with one hand and pressing against the stab wound with the other.
The horned man performed another twist and hit Han behind his knee, forcing him on the ground again. Standing behind the kneeling giant, the horned man raised both his blades to perform the finishing move but Han threw his elbow back, breaking several ribs on his adversary’s body. As the horned man struggled to regain breath, Han stood up and grabbed him by his wrists, forcing him to drop the bone swords. He then broke the remaining stag horn, grabbed him by the back of his head and pushed his skull hard against a birch, pressing until it crushed like a melon.
He turned around to his companions. The glade was a swamp of blood and guts.
As the travelers found their way out of the forest fewer in number, poorer and covered in blood, there was something that Omar could not understand. He approached Ytir who was walking behind Han and Karan.
“Tell me, is your friend immune to spells?”
“What do you mean?” said Ytir gnawing on some berries he found in a bush.
“When I was behind one of those creatures whispered to me. She whispered unknown things, but I could see my whole life woven in front of me like a colorful tapestry. There was so much peace in me at that time that I was ready to embrace death. The same must have happened to Dummar, Hashid and Karan. It was a spell. We both saw your Han stand amongst the creatures as they all whispered to him, yet, he did not yield. This means your friend was immune to their spells.”
“Nah.”
“But then how could he…”
“Han’s deaf.”
“Deaf?”
Omar looked confused at the giant walking in front of him.
“He can understand you if you talk in front of him and if you don’t move your lips too fast, but apart from that he can’t hear a thing. It’s why he hasn’t learned to speak much. It’s why he needs me as his voice.”