“That is Talon. A sort of friend of a friend, I should say.”
In response to his introduction Talon tried to shriek out a fierce cry. It came out sounding more like an angry caw. He leapt from the tree, and fluttered gracelessly down onto Lord Gregory’s head.
Mikahl burst out laughing at this. Loudin joined in the mirth, but his mind was wondering about the nature of the Lion Lord’s friends. In his experience, the type of men, if you could call them men, who kept the close company of animals, were the sort of men one should avoid. Friends aside, it was quite funny seeing the mighty Western Lord with a bird perched on his head.
“I have much to tell you both,” Lord Gregory said, after brushing Talon back into flight. “Grave news from the Festival, but I would rather you heard the tale from my companions, for they can tell it firsthand. I would like to hear the story, though, of how you came to be wearing the Coldfrost Butcher’s sword, Mikahl.”
He patted the boy on his back and climbed back into his saddle with a groan.
“The telling of it will kill the time between here and there, I hope.”
Mikahl told Lord Gregory the whole story while they rode. From his meeting with King Balton at his deathbed, all the way up until the present. He told of the two bandits he had been forced to kill after fleeing the castle; the terrifying ordeal with the barkskin lizard, and the grisly battle with Duke Fairchild and his henchmen. The only part left out, was how Ironspike had lit up with its wild magical glow when he had used it. He glared at Loudin when he was done to let the hunter know that part of the tale was to be kept between the two of them.
They were well met just after dark, when they rode into the camp. The smell of rabbit stew being cooked was pleasant, and the fire was blazing bright and warm. They made introductions and small talk while they ate.
Mikahl was awed, and mildly disturbed by Vaegon’s feral yellow eyes. Hyden’s strange friendship with Talon didn’t sit too well with him either.
In turn, Hyden was shocked by the enormity of the bark lizard skin. He had seen plenty of bark lizards in the Evermore Forest on his clan’s journeys to and from the Harvest Lodge, but nothing remotely close to the size of the one Loudin and Mikahl had killed. He readily agreed that Borg, or any other of the mountain giants who roamed the range, would pay handsomely for such a prize.
During all of this, Loudin sensed their unease at his presence, and after the meal was done, he asked about it. It was then that Vaegon calmly, and with the political neutrality that only a non-human could muster, started the tale of the massacre at Summer’s Day.
Both Hyden and Lord Gregory added bits and pieces as it was told. They also watched Loudin closely, gauging his reaction to it all. The hunter seemed saddened, yet impartial about the events, and when Vaegon had finished, he told them of his long ago departure from the ways of the kingdoms of man in general. He was a hunter and trader now, a free man who had paid his dues, both on land, and at sea. He held no ill will toward Lord Gregory for killing the Seaward Monster during the Brawl. Nor did he seem to harbor any opinion about Willa the Witch Queen using her arrows to turn the volatile situation into an outright battle. It wasn’t his business. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of war though. War wasn’t good for the hunting trade, save for the selling of meat to the troops.
Mikahl, having never been out of Westland until now, seemed oblivious to the politics and the ramifications of what he was hearing. He was more interested in the hawkling and the elf.
Lord Gregory seemed irritated by this, and several times throughout, had over-expressed his opinion to him. Mikahl wanted only to find the giant named Borg, and deliver King Balton’s messages and the sword, as he had been instructed to do. He was wanted in the west now, most likely dead or alive, and for a healthy reward. He didn’t feel that he could afford to concern himself with wars and such. He would be a hunter, like Loudin, or maybe he could move to Valleya and raise horses, or maybe sign on to a ship and sail to the distant land of Harthgar. The possibilities were endless. He decided that he would worry about all of that when he was finished with his duty to King Balton. It was getting late, and at the moment, all he wanted to do was get a good night’s sleep.
He didn’t get his wish. The strange, dark beast haunted his dreams again. It was hunting him, and he could feel it drawing near. He could feel its hot, fetid breath on his skin, and its slimy drool as it salivated for a taste of his flesh. He woke in the night and took Ironspike from Windfoot’s saddle, and then lay back down with the sword in his arms. Only then, did the monsters leave his mind so that sleep, deep and dreamless, could take him.
The next evening, Hyden Hawk called the group to a halt. They were dangerously close to his clan’s village, and he didn’t want to bring them all into it with him. He and Loudin would go and ask the Elders’ permission to bring the kingdom folk and the elf.
Vaegon agreed to stay and make sure that the two Westlanders didn’t try to follow. Hyden only took Loudin because the old hunter had been there before. The Elders would probably be angry with the big tattoo covered man for attempting to lead Mikahl to the village, but not so angry as to not let him purchase the mountain gear and hides he was seeking. After the way the festival had ended, Hyden was sure that his people hadn’t rounded up all of the seed, tools and supplies that they had wanted to. Loudin’s coin would be needed later when Uncle Condlin, and Hyden’s father, Harrap made their annual end of summer journey down into Wildermont to stock up on things for the long mountain winter. Once upon a time, getting to make that journey with his father and uncle had been all Hyden could think about. Now, the idea of it seemed insignificant.
Loudin forced himself to leave the lizard skin behind, and go with Hyden. It was hard, but after Mikahl had assured him that he would protect it with his life, the hunter relented.
In the darkness, the Skyler Clan village was nearly invisible to the naked eye, and had Loudin not been there before, he would’ve missed it entirely. He found he was glad that they had happened upon Hyden and his group. Without them, he might never have found the place, and would’ve had to listen to Mikahl’s chastising forever.
Though the clans-folk were all inside their dwellings, enjoying the warmth of their hearth fires, not a speck of light could be seen from outside. Their homes and common areas had been carved into the sides of the valley ages ago by the giants. Huge scallops of earth had been scooped deeply out of the rock, and then squared rooms were constructed out of stone slabs. The rubble and scree had been piled back over, covering them completely. The same had been done with the long, winding entry tunnels that led from the outside world into the rooms. The natural shape of the valley, had been restored over the halls and dwellings, and after a few seasons of growth, it appeared, to the unknowing eye, as plain and empty as any other valley in the area. Well placed wooden doors, which the clansmen hung to keep out the weather, sat a dozen or more feet inside the entry shafts. The only way anyone who didn’t know where they were would ever see one of them, was to wander into one of the dark overgrown cave like holes that pocked the sides of the valley. Some of the underground rooms were so vast, that the clans-folk housed herds of rams and goats in them during the harsh winter months. At night, only the smell of cooking, and the occasional noise that escaped up through the many hidden ventilation shafts, would give them away. It was different during the day. In the light of the sun, the valley crawled with life. A life kept joyous and peaceful by keeping the kingdom folk and the elves out of it.
Hyden knew that someone would be watching them approach from one of the many hidden nooks and precipices along the ridges. They would signal his location with tiny mirror flashes that seemed to be no more than flighty fire bugs in night. It came as no surprise to Hyden when a sudden light pierced the darkness ahead of them. It was Harrap, Hyden’s father, and he was standing in the entry tunnel that led to the Elders’ council chamber. By the way the shadows moved about in the swathe of steady blue light that spilled across the valley floor, he could tell that his father wasn’t alone. The Elders had been waiting for him.
Harrap made a piercing whistle as they came upon him. His look was quizzical, as he recognized Loudin. He looked at his son, and a dozen questions swam across his eyes. Talon came flapping down out of the sky and landed on Hyden’s shoulder. That alone seemed to answer many of the questions, but it was obvious that his father wanted to know what had happened to the elf and the Westland kingsman.
“Take our guest,” The word guest was stressed. “To the gathering room, and feed him,” Harrap commanded to the darkness.
Out of the gloom, Hyden’s slightly older cousins, Tylen and Sharoo, stepped up on each side of Loudin.
“Make a comfortable place for him to sleep.”
Harrap turned and faced the hunter then.
“Well met Loudin Drake. The business that we have with my son will take some time to finish. I apologize for the rudeness.”
Before Loudin could reply, Harrap gestured for Hyden to enter the tunnel he had been blocking, and a
