The first day’s walk was through a mixture of field and forest, past fields of post-harvest stubble and groups of black pigs rooting away in the shade, penned in by herd-sticks and a watchful swine-herd. They slept that night in a lean-to and ate a breakfast of upland pork porridge. The days after were much the same, but with more forest and pigs and fewer fields. Each breakfast contained less porridge and more pork. Then the forest began to thin, giving way to patches of broom and bracken. The last village before the open moors was Serneh as Nuam, Serneh-on-the-Edge. This perched on a spur above the moors, giving a fine view over a sweep of purple, brown and muted olive uplands, broken only by lonely tors. Instead of the usual Saka wood, the houses were of dark stone, the roofs of heavy slate, the streets narrow. Breakfast was two griddle cakes and a heap of bacon.
“This place makes the view from Skive look inviting,” was Chrys’ comment.
“Look on the bright side – there’s no tax post,” said Rakt.
Chrys, Cardnial and Grymwer took Hassani’s jar with the requisite documents and walked over to the office of the village council, a room attached to an ordinary dwelling. A bell summoned a young woman who came in wiping flour from her hands.
“We are here to declare the departure of Hassani loki Treva from Saka lands, as required by the court at Verdu,” Chrys stated in response to her inquiry, and then outlined the sentence and the purchase.
“You’re the first case of this kind I have dealt with. Where is this Hassani?”
“In this jar.” The young woman raised an eyebrow, then perused the top document.
“I am required to verify the departure. Do I look in the jar, or shake it and listen?”
“I can hear her, and the lady does not want to listen to what she is saying,” said Grymwer. “I won’t repeat her words, but she is a long way from repentance.”
“There is a statement certifying her presence among the papers,” put in Chrys.
The young woman affixed her seal and that of the village council in several places and collected a small fee. They took Hassani and they walked to the edge of the village to watch the cloud-shadows drift over the moors.
“Beautiful, also bleak,” was Grymwer’s comment. “And largely without shelter. The weather’s turning into the cold season, although we should reach the coast before it gets too bad.”
They turned to go, to see a tall youth coming towards them. He halted at a respectful distance, saluted and asked “Do I address the Maestra Chrysanthemum and the Adepti Cardnial and Grymwer?”
Chrys blinked. The youth was plainly a Brahnak – tall, blonde, fair-skinned, yet the language was the purest Kanna Saka, and of an almost obsolete level of formality.
“You do.”
“Might I request the favour of an interview with you?”
“You just did,” said Cardnial.
Chrys was more helpful “Yes, you may. Is your business with ourselves only, or is it with all of our party? If the last, it would be better discussed with us all present.” She translated the exchange for Grymwer’s benefit.
Back at their house, Chrys requested a pot of liani and then invited the youth to sit and join them. He knelt stiffly, back straight, and waited until they all had cups in hand before launching into his story.
“My name is Bajur, and I am a servant of God the Gracious, as yet of lowly rank. I am come here following a call to the west. The lady councillor knew only that you were leaving these lands, so I thought to ask if that is your direction. If it is, I would be pleased to lend you what aid my arm and prayers can give.”
“And if our direction is elsewhere?” asked Aitonala.
“Then I must cross the moors alone.”
Grymwer switched to Brahnak. “What brings a servant of God the Gracious this far into Saka lands?”
Bajur replied in the same language. “I was born here in the Saka lands, as my mother was taken in battle and never ransomed. She was bound to the Red Branch, but a true servant of God the Gracious nevertheless. She raised me in the faith and instructed me in all she knew.”
“The lad speaks Brahnak with a southern accent, and I knew of one or two followers of the Gracious God in Brahnker,” he said in Haghakin. “It is not a popular faith, nor one in favour. I cannot imagine,” he went on, going back to Brahnak to address Bajur, “that you have had an easy time amongst the Saka.”
“I grieve for what my mother suffered, yet faith sustained us.” He touched shoulders and lips with his left hand, then made a circle over his chest.
“Are you equipped for travel over the moors?” asked Rakt. “Do you have weapons, food, any Items?”
“The spear is my focus, and I have sword and dagger beside, a shield, a shirt of mail, my pack and a supply of meal and dried pork.”
“You said your mother was bound? Are you free? Or do you bring trouble? And it’s fair to tell you that we have enemies, who will not choose among us in a fight.”
“My mother was freed when I was five. I am a free man.”
Aitonala leaned over to Chrys and murmured in her ear. “He has said nothing he knows to be false.”
The conversation continued for a time, then Chrys asked “Would you object if one of us examines your aura using a spell?”
Bajur assented without hesitation, and Grymwer uttered the spell Attunement, then studied Bajur for a time.
“Lots of devotion, a strong sense of purpose, a spot of guilt (won’t ask what that’s about, lad) some patches of resentment (no surprise there), a good bit of worry, no malice. I’m fine.”
In the end it was an easy decision. They needed another fighter and there was no reason to refuse Bajur. He fetched his gear, they supplemented his supply of food and set out the next morning.
* * * *
It was easy walking down the ridge. The ground was firm, the air cool and the plants crushed underfoot gave off pleasant smells. Bees buzzed about collecting pollen and nectar. Chrys saw beehives dotted over the slopes, each near a small stone hut. When one was only a few steps away she took a quick look inside. Heavy stone surrounded a narrow entrance giving straight onto steps down. She un-shuttered her glowstone and explored further. The stairs curved in a tight spiral then jinked through two doglegs to a small room empty save for a stone water-jar. Walls, roof and floor were all of solid stone, chilling the air. Chrys returned to the sunlight and walked on.
By mid-morning Serneh was a distant hump on the skyline and the air no longer cool, if not more than warm. The bees still buzzed and the ground-cover was as fragrant if thicker. The party were a line of lonely dots in a pastel landscape rising gently on all sides. It was as if they travelled across a vast saucer, their progress only perceptible when looking back. Chrys wiled away the time teaching Bajur the Haghakin tongue, doing her best not to use a common language. He was a quick study and had picked up several dozen words and simple phrases by evening.
They camped that night beside a lone tor, looking west over a country much the same except that the setting sun picked out threads and patches of green.
“How far to the coast?” Aitonala asked Rakt.
“Merchants reckon fifteen days from Verdu to the coast opposite Liwy Island. We are a couple of days west of Verdu, and our route should be shorter. So maybe ten days or a bit more. I’m surprised there isn’t a regular trail.”
“That would be because of the sierlak,” put in Bajur.
“The what?” said Rakt.
“The sierlak – I don’t know the Brahnak word. The folk in Serneh as Nuam talked about them. It is why I waited a little to see if anyone else was going this way. Did they not tell you of them? I assumed you have precautions.”
“I think,” said Chrys carefully, “That you should tell us of these sierlak.”
“They are like the dragon-kind, but smaller and they cannot speak or use word-magic. They hunt these moors, although they do not often come this way. It is why the folk of Serneh built those stone huts below the ridge, as refuges if one is seen while they are gathering herbs or honey. Sometimes they come and take pigs, and then Serneh sends for help to drive them away or kill them.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Just how small is ‘smaller than dragons’?” asked Aitonala. They were all listening closely now, with Bajur repeating his words in Brahnak for Grymwer’s benefit.
“At Serneh they said they mostly saw young males, which were five arm-spans in length and could take a full-grown pig with ease. The females are larger and have different colours, or so they said. They could have been telling fisher tales, of course. When one man started to talk of packs of them, a woman said they had not seen a single one for two years.” He looked around, concerned. “Did you not ask about the way to the coast?”
Rakt scratched his chin. “We did not, for we did not want to advertise which direction we were heading. In fact, we hinted that our route lay north and east. We may,” he conceded “have been a little too clever. So,” he went on “how do they drive these things off?”
“With magic. Also with very big crossbows, such as they mount on walls for use in sieges.”
Rakt looked at Chrys, Grymwer and Cardnial. “My crossbow is not quite that big. Can you suggest a suitable magic?”
A quick survey of their inventory of spells did not show anything capable of inflicting real damage on so large a creature at a safe distance, or even at an unsafe one. The one thing they thought most likely to be of use was a Camouflage Cloth, one of the Items found on the dead Follancian. It was only just large enough for all to fit underneath, and they would need to keep a sharp lookout. At least spells would help with that.
Chrys lay awake for a time admiring the stars, then thought about these flying predators. They were dangerous; worse, they were unprofitably dangerous. By her calculation to fulfil her ambitions would require something over ten thousand gold roses. The ventures to date had yielded one twentieth of that, or perhaps somewhat more when the tomb treasures were sold. Yet two of the company of seven had died. The arithmetic was grim: by the time she had amassed the sum she needed, she would have died five times, or perhaps six. No doubt an actuary could give her a more precise estimate, although she doubted that she could obtain life insurance. No wonder, she thought, that Ido and Menesk had opted for other careers.
They did not spot anything larger than an eagle the next day. The most exciting thing that happened was that Aitonala, who had been walking in the lead, abruptly disappeared. She had fallen into a deep but narrow slot, overhung and concealed by the ground-cover. At this season only a trickle of water flowed at the bottom. Droppings and prints in the clay showed that the watercourse was used by pigs or deer. It ran the wrong way for the party to follow, but they noted that such gullies offered good protection. Aitonala’s pack had slowed her fall and she was not hurt, but the need to check for gullies slowed their progress. Bajur’s language lesson continued through the day.
Rakt was the first to see the tiny dot against the sky early the next morning. He pointed it out to Cardnial, who cast Eagle Eye. It was not an eagle, and enough like a dragon that Cardnial did not waste time trying to catalogue its features. They quickly huddled under the Camouflage Cloth, sitting knees drawn up on the soft ground.
“I feel like a frog at the edge of a pond with a snake on the bank,” said Aitonala. “This is our best chance, but how will we know when the creature is gone? We can’t stay like this all day, and it could be right overhead when we drop the cloth.”
“I was told they usually hunt in the mornings and evenings,” said Bajur.
“So we stay here until mid-morning and hope it’s found a meal for the day by then?” asked Grymwer.
“If I lie on my back I can poke my head out and have a look. I’ll still be concealed by this shrub,” volunteered Cardnial. He worked his way with great caution into a position from which he could scan the sky through the feathery leaves of an acacia. His spell was still active, narrowing his field of vision. He turned his head slowly, careful to avoid sudden movements. It was all he could do to avoid a start when a pale underbelly, dusted with feathers, leapt into his sight. The sierlak was a strange creature. It sported a broad neck ruff of mottled brown and white, shading into a lean body which tapered to a long scaly tail. A large purple-red crest flashed in the sun with each small shift of the head as it surveyed the land below. He could see the glint of teeth along the jaw and a sharp beak-like projection at the end of the snout. A huge leathery wing tilted down to send the beast in a lazy circle and for one heart-stopping moment Cardnial was sure he looked eye into black slitted eye. Then came a great slow flap and it lifted to patrol away to the east. Cardnial waited until it was well away before easing slowly back under the cloth. His low-voiced description checked any impatience to resume their march.
The sun was well up when Cardnial took another look. A first scan showed a clear sky. He wriggled into a near sitting position and again looked around, taking each quarter in turn. Again nothing other than a pair of lazy crows. When five minutes of careful searching still showed no threat, they emerged one by one, each checking the sky. The cloth was folded and the walk resumed. They tried to make as much distance as possible but thought it prudent to start looking for a hide in mid-afternoon. When they found another deep narrow gully, they spread the cloth overhead and settled in to eat and await the night. Their refuge was a little damp underfoot, but pleasantly cool, ferny and well-hidden.
While waiting for night they discussed their situation. It was another eight to ten days to their destination, but would take twice as long if they could only use half of each day. Their food would not last and this moor offered few resources. They decided to push on through the night.
“I traded for a spell in Verdu which we might use,” offered Chrys. “It puts my eyes either a short distance away or a much longer one, up to about half a Saka mile. I could use it to survey the land ahead. It does use a lot of access, though, and does not last all that long.”
“I’ll write down what you describe,” said Aitonala. Chrys checked her book, spoke words and they watched her eyes become a milky white.
“I’m above the moor, high enough that the birds are below me. I can’t see an end to the moor. I’m going higher. Still more moor, but I can see a dark line at the very limit of sight. It might be forest. I’ll come back down. There’s a big green patch west of us, I’ll take a look. It looks like bog, so we should head north-west for maybe two hours and then turn west to avoid it. I’ll come lower. There are gullies running in, and some higher ground and small peaks to the north. I’ll check all around, AAHH! Pig bums! That is one big chicken-lizard. I was looking right down its throat. It’s circling, now it’s gone north and low, now it’s swinging over that rise. It’s grabbed a big deer in its talons, it whacks down with that beak, it’s lifting it up and heading north-west. It must have a nest that way, so we’ll have to be careful.”
Chrys spoke on for a little and then her eyes returned to their normal cheerful brown.
“We definitely wait until dark. Definitely. Full dark.”
* * * *
They set out after dark, Aitonala in the lead using Night Sight, the others following holding a line. It was slow going. When Aitonala could maintain her spell no longer, Grymwer took over. The spell Night Eyes showed him hidden gullies and the pace was faster. When the moon rose they relied on that rather than spellcraft. The moor at night was an eerie sight. The moon shone on a dappled land, mottled black shadows, the dull white of bracken, glints here and there of water, drifts of mist over the bogs. They stumbled over low roots, caught ankles on snaking brambles and sometimes splashed into low pools. It was tiring work. By moon-set they were agreed on finding another refuge. The land was lower here, softer, the streams more shallow. In the end they tied the corners of the Camouflage Cloth between branches above and below a low bank and crowded into this as a makeshift tent. It was less than comfortable and more than a little damp but the best they could do.
Chrys leaned against the bank and fell into an uneasy doze, blinking awake blearily in mid-morning. After a swallow of stale water and a nibble of dried food she sent her sight skywards again. From the greatest height she could achieve the dark line of forest was more visible, although still discouragingly far off, and with more bogs in the way. She swung her vision around and her eye caught on a winged shape hovering over a distant crag. She called on the ether again for the spell Eagle Eye and the fanged jaw, scarlet crest and long neck of a sierlak jumped into view. As she watched it reared back, wings pumping, and dropped into a rough nest. Another, larger neck and head, blue-crested, emerged, long black tongues flickered and then the smaller stretched out, shrugged wings into place and closed its eyes. She watched as long as the spell lasted and neither stirred.
After Chrys reported the decision was to wait until the sun was near the zenith and then try to make as much ground as they could before evening. When it came time they folded the cloth, shouldered packs and set off without delay. For a time they were able to make their way along long outcrops of shale that ran above the marshes, then on tongues of drier ground between the meres. Chrys sent her eyes aloft again to pick out the best path. They splashed across a wide shallows, then found slightly higher ground beyond. It took concentration to keep one’s footing, but they did not forget to quarter the sky every few minutes. Bajur first saw the two sierlak skimming towards them. At his call they swung around and snatched out the weapons they thought would serve best.
“Stay tight together, so they can’t pick off one,” Rakt called. He had spanned his crossbow and now dropped to one knee. Chrys nocked an arrow to her nomad bow, Grymwer and Cardnial held daggers ready to spell-cast, Aitonala poised a light spear and Bajur grasped his sturdier spear. The sierlak had been spotted some distance away but came on shockingly fast, wings driving them in a deadly sloping run.
“Hit the first one, and wait until it's close,” Rakt instructed, sighting along the stock. He waited calmly, a mouse defying a hawk, until it spread its wings and brought its clawed feet forward to strike, then shot it in the breast. The heavy bolt sank to the vanes in the massive flight muscles as an arrow from Chrys lodged in its neck. The sierlak lurched in mid-air, dipped a wing, then recovered. The twitch was enough to send it just wide of the group. Bajur pivoted and hurled his spear with all his might into the exposed flank. The sierlak screeched, flapped hard and lofted away, crying out. Its mate followed, calling in a thinner voice. Both rose higher, one trailing drops of blood. As they watched a twist dislodged Bajur’s spear and it fell, turning slowly, until it struck into the soft earth. The screeches diminished into the distance.
“Now we move as fast as possible,” Rakt said. “We need to get to better ground.”
“One moment,” called Bajur and ran off, only to trot back shortly clutching his spear. “It is the focus of my devotion,” he explained, and they moved on. By late afternoon they had crossed a low rise and were picking their way across a drier area, a place studded with rocks and the occasional stunted tree. When a tiny gulch offered a place to spread the Camouflage Cloth and rest they took grateful advantage.
“We were lucky that time,” said Rakt, leaning back on his discarded pack. “That was a great cast by Bajur, and a good shot by Chrys, and my bolt hit it square. Yet it was able to fly off. Your halberd might do real damage, but you’d have to chance that beak, Grym.”
“We have a couple of spells that might at least deter the beasts, but none will take effect over any great distance,” Cardnial said. “There is one that will blind for a time, for instance. What about poisons?” he asked Aitonala.
“I don’t know what would affect something so large. It would have to be an injective, and I have not had a chance to replenish my stock. I do have two doses of Sizing, which can make you much larger or smaller. I think Salko used it to adjust his victims. Would it scare the things off if one of us was twice as big?”
“Probably just make them look like a better meal,” observed Grymwer gloomily.
“I am going to put anything promising into the rod, and brush up on the Greater Barrier. If we have a little warning I can cast that. Then the sierlak cannot get us, although by the same token we won’t be able to get them,” decided Chrys.
“I’ll fill our water bottles,” Aitonala said, and bent her hands into a shape that produced a steady low flow through her fingers.