It was dark. The Heeler could see well at night, better than John at least, but the place he was in now was a kind of darkness he’d never experienced. He’d fallen and slid and tumbled and found himself here. He was not alone. He could smell one of those rat creatures here with him. Scuffling sounds, the dragging of a long tale, they gave away where the monster was but not what it was doing. The dog circled, keeping the sounds in front of him. His ears strained for every little clue about what was happening. The noises moved to the left, he circled to the right. The noises moved to the right, he circled to the left. He kept a constant distance between himself and the creature. He wanted to attack it, kill it, and end the threat, but he couldn’t see.
He reached out with the mind-leash hoping it would give him enough information to act. He found a similar mind to that of the great rat in the clearing. There was something dark and malevolent about it. On instinct he growled and immediately felt intent pour through the connection. With the mental cue came a scraping at the ground, a quick hard scratch. He jumped to the right and heard the rat land where he’d been. There was a hiss in the darkness. The mind-leash connection was gone and the dingo mix felt more blind with its loss.
He backed away, listening, and used the mind-leash again to create a connection, loathing the feeling of the rat’s mind. He needed it and his ears to track his adversary. The rodent was shifting, he could hear it turning. The rat had leapt at him, it must be able to see him. He barked for John then realized the sound would prompt another attack. He started to tremble.
Intent in the connection again, a quick hard scratch at the ground, another leaping attack coming. Dingo Boy dodged to the right but this time he collided with something hard that stopped him short. As the rat landed it used a claw to rack the dog’s hind leg. Pain exploded in the limb and it stopped supporting him entirely. He yelped, he couldn’t help it, he cried out. He moved forward dragging his leg behind him. He turned and listened just in time to make a clumsy dodge to the right, he could feel the passage of the rat but felt no pain.
There was a faint cry of surprise from John followed by some muffled commotion, the shifting of dirt, then a slide on the ground from ahead in the darkness. He could smell John! At that moment the rat hissed, growled, and attacked. He dodged again but it was done badly. Before he could recover the huge rodent was on him. This time his face seared with pain and burned. In a near panic he pulled away and moved backward, his injured leg mobile now but still crying out in pain. The huge rat was tracking him in the darkness, preparing the next attack.
“The light, John! The holy light!” Nath-esh yelled.
As his head cleared he shoved his hand into his pocket, picturing the artifact given to him by Nathanael. It materialized in his grip and he pulled it out and rotated the base past the click until it stopped. The area was bathed in brilliant white light. They were in some kind of smooth walled cave. A few paces away another huge rat was fighting the Dingo Boy. His buddy had a bad gash in his left hind leg just above the knee. It was causing him to limp. A puddle of blood was forming under the dog. The rat was circling, preparing to take advantage of its weakened opponent. It crouched and readied itself to leap. In a continuous motion John rose to his knees, drew, aimed and fired but the rat was no longer there. The bullet ricocheted off the ground where the rat had been. The Cattle Dog jumped back at the last moment catching the rat by the back of the neck as it landed. He favored his injured leg as he tried to shake the rat. It hissed and growled and whipped at him with its thick scaly tail. He jerked his head left and right with renewed ferocity. With a screech the rodent broke away from Dingo Boy. Blood ran down its neck and dripped onto the ground. It crouched, preparing to leap again. John aimed at the rat but the Heeler was in the way. “Lay down!” roared the man and the dog obeyed immediately. A hole appeared between the rat’s eyes and a red mist blew out behind it. The gun’s report was deafening in the small space, it echoed off the walls and could be heard several times as it moved down the corridor. The dog shook his head and turned to John,then limped toward the Warrior. John realized that he had a deep scratch across his face. White bone could be seen in the wound, he’d almost lost an eye. Ears lay flat to the sides, he sat at John’s feet and looked miserable.
“Hold on Buddy,” John said, holstering his gun. As it went into his jacket he noticed a soft silvery glow from the area of the cylinder. He leaned over the dog, reaching for the pouch with the mystical bowl in it. As he did, the dingo mix licked his face once. The silver bowl was placed on the ground in front of Dingo Boy who took a few drinks. While he drank John reached back into the pouch and thought of a particular leaf he’d found when practicing his Alchemical Naturopath skill on the dirt road. He felt something materialize in his hand and he pulled it out. “Good job Dingo Boy, you got good stuff with your pouches, you did a great job.” The dog’s tail wagged a couple of times unenthusiastically. The leaves John held in his hand had five distinct, wide fingers. He laid them on the ground in front of him and reached into his own pocket for a small piece of charcoal. “I wish I had a mixing bowl…” John mumbled to himself as he ground the charcoal with his thumb and forefinger into his palm. Next he did the same with one of the leaves. Finally he scooped a little bit of water out of the silver bowl with his cupped hand and added that to the mixture in his palm. Gently he mixed it into a paste which he carefully applied to the dog’s wounds. He didn’t resist, he knew his friend was doing something that would help. The blood flow had already stopped and the dog’s skull could no longer be seen in the wound. John was thankful for the rapid healing he and the dog shared. After the poultice was applied he used the water from the silver bowl to rinse his hands. He poured out the dirty water then let it refill a little to clean it. With the mystical bowl rinsed he set it back down to refill with clean water in case the Heeler wanted more.
When he was done reloading the cartridges Nath-esh used astral projection to step out of the firearm. He walked over to the dog who had laid down on his right side exposing his wounded left leg. As the Angelic Shard watched, the gash closed little by little. The Cattle Dog looked up at him and wagged his tail a few times.
Well! That was unexpected! The little guy could see him in his astral projection form! Could other animals see him in this state or was this somehow connected to the dog being among the Purgated. What a strange thing that was. Nath-esh didn’t have all of Nathanael’s knowledge but he had enough to know that the dog was unprecedented. John wasn’t the first person to die with their dog but always before the spiritual form of the animal would rejoin Heaven immediately. They were a part of Heaven on loan to the mortal worlds after all. Was this the first animal ever to follow its human companion into Purgatory? Would he be the last?
Did the Heeler really see him? Maybe it was a coincidence. He knelt down with his wingtips touching the ground behind him. He met the dog’s eyes and reached toward his muzzle. When he was inches away Dingo Boy lifted his head and sniffed the translucent hand. A moment later Nath-esh felt a light touch on his mind. He stiffened in shock. Unprecedented indeed and wonderful and beautiful. The Almighty never ceased to awe and amaze. He leaned forward and patted the Heeler’s head and was rewarded with a few more wags of the multicolored tail. The spiritual form faded and the Angelic Shard returned to his anchor.
The excitement over, John cleared his nose and ears of dirt and rinsed his mouth with some water from the silver bowl. He finally took a good look at their surroundings. What he’d thought was a cave was actually a stone corridor, a wide hallway with walls made of rectangular stones of various sizes that became an arch overhead. They were dark grey with veins of white and black. John thought of the effort, the countless hours of work, that must have gone into creating this structure and whistled a low whistle that echoed down the corridor. He winced at the noise then chucked at the irony as he considered the loud booms from his gun just a few moments ago. Behind him the ceiling had caved in at some point in the past. Rubble from the fallen arch of the ceiling lay strewn among soil, roots, and naturally shaped rocks. Looking at the cave-in he could see a large hole to the left side, the very hole he and the Heeler had fallen through. It must also have been the exit the massive rat he in the forest had used to get out of here. He thought of the loose dirt, rocks, and roots he’d slid and fallen through and decided it would be best to try to find another way out.
They were in a building of some kind. It reminded him of video games he’d played in life. In fact it reminded him of a… dungeon. The thought amused him. Regardless of what this place was there must be another way out other than the hole. He peered down the wide hall opposite the cave-in. He could see a dozen yards down it then the pool of light they were in faded into darkness. He gazed into that darkness and felt dread.
“Hey Nath-esh,” John whispered. Somehow talking seemed intrusive in the darkness.
“What do you need John?” The Angelic Shard asked without making any attempt to whisper.
“Shhhh,” John chastised.
“Why? You’re the only one who can hear me. I’m not talking to you, I’m thinking at you.”
“Thinking at me?”
“I’m in your head John,” there was a teasing note in the voice… thought?
“Can you read my thoughts?” concern laced the question.
“Nope. I’ve been trying and I can’t do it.”
“You’ve been trying?” John asked. His alarm made him forget to whisper.
“Sure. Wouldn’t you?” Nath-esh asked innocently.
“No! That’s an invasion of privacy!”
“I can’t read your thoughts but, when you talk to me I do get something faint.” The Angelic Shard said with a pensive note.
John considered this for a moment. He used his inner voice to say, “Hey popgun!” to Nath-esh.
“I am NOT a popgun!” responded the Angelic Shard indignantly and John heard a pleasant chime that seemed vaguely familiar.
“You CAN read my thoughts!” John whispered to Nath-esh. “I thought that, I didn’t say it.”
“Oh! It did sound different, well didn’t sound, felt maybe..? So if you can think to me why are you still talking to me?”
“You got a point. It’s good to know that we can talk without other people thinking I’m crazy.”
“What about all the other reasons they might think you’re crazy?” John could hear… sense..? the smile in the thought.
“Very funny. Can Dingo Boy hear you?” John thought about what he’d just asked. “When you talk to me does he know?”
“I don’t think so. I’m not thinking at him at least.”
“Can you try talking to both of us?”
“Testing, 1, 2, 3, testing?” The Heeler rolled off his side, stood up, and barked. He walked over to John and looked up at him. The cut on the dog’s face was completely healed and so was his leg. John again found himself thankful for their miraculous healing ability. He knelt and inspected his buddy. The wounds were gone without a trace. He wiped away the poultice wondering if it was beneficial at all. He decided that the antiseptic properties of the application couldn’t hurt.
“That seemed to work. I wonder how many people,” he glanced at Dingo Boy, “subjects? you can talk to at once?”
“I’m not sure but it’ll be fun finding out.”
The Warrior made a mental note to talk to the Angelic Shard later about not taunting random people they meet along the way. The chime he had heard earlier seemed important so he asked, “Did you make a windchime sound earlier?”
“A windchime?”
“Yeah, like a cascade of notes, something like a windchime.”
“Ohhhh, you must have raised a stat! Congratulations!” Nath-esh sounded sincere.
“Thanks?” John said. He remembered hearing the same thing during his meeting with Nathanael when he was first shown his stats screen. He focused and said aloud, “Status.” The translucent blue screen appeared, hanging in the air in front of him. As he scanned through the information. He saw that one stat, Prudence, had a green aura around it. The stat read 33/100. The word was familiar to him but he didn’t know the meaning for sure. “What’s prudence?” he asked.
“It’s the ability to judge correctly and choose rightly. You know, making wise decisions using reason and morality,” said the Angelic Shard.
John thought back to what he was doing when the chime had sounded and asked, “I got a stat point just for figuring out how to talk to you in my head?”
“That was part of it I’m sure but you’ll gain stat points through your choices and actions as an accumulative process.”
“Sure, okay,” John said, clearly not understanding.
Nath-esh elaborated, “So, you’ll get stat points over time as things add up. It’s like a landslide. Figuring out how to talk to me with thought was the last stone that triggered the avalanche but you must have been doing other things along the way that added to the rock pile.”
“You mean like figuring out how to use my Alchemical Naturopath skill without it sending me into a trance?”
“That certainly sounds like the kind of thing that would move you toward getting a stat point in Prudence.” The Angelic Shard sounded proud of him.
“Cool.” said John. He focused and said, “Dismiss,” and the status screen vanished. When it was gone he saw the darkness outside of the island of light they inhabited and he asked the Angelic Shard, “Hey Nath-esh, you know the projection thing you did in the forest when Dingo Boy caught the rabbit?”
“Yep, I do that all the time.” John found that a little unnerving.
“Can you explore ahead of us? I feel like there is something out there in the dark.”
“Well, it’s not like I can see in the dark and I can’t project very far from the gun. The farthest I’ve been able to manage it is about a dozen feet.”
John walked to the holy light and picked it up in his left hand. “I should give this thing a name,” he mumbled as he contemplated it. He thought of a series of fantasy books he read when he was a teenager. “I think I’ll call it Shirak,” he said.
“Shirak? That’s an ugly name for a beautiful artifact.” The grimace in the Angelic Shard’s voice was palpable.
“Think so? Okay, you can name the next powerful artifact we get.”
“I’m holding you to that!”
“I bet you will. I guess we’ll have to explore the old fashioned way,” John said. He retrieved the silver bowl, dumped it, cleaned it, and stowed it back into the pouch on the dingo mix’s harness. He glanced around to make sure they weren’t leaving anything behind and said, “Let’s go.” The man, the dog and the Angelic Shard walked toward the darkness.
Three young men stood together in the forest. The tallest, a well built Hunter named Sebastian Legue. The widest, a slightly shorter and very muscular Packer named Timmon Legue. The shortest, a stout Tracker named Gregory Garrons. Their hunting party was in a familiar clearing that they’d camped in countless times over the years. They hadn’t camped in it in over six months, not since early Winter when the monsters raided the farms outside of the town they live in. Before that the Hunter, his Packer and his Tracker would camp here overnight then start hunting predawn for birds, small game, and deer. Often they’d take as much as they could carry. Now no one would risk being outside the tall stout walls of Knollburah at night; the woods had become dangerous after the sun set. So the party left town at dawn moving at a jog to get out here and hunt for a few hours then head back in the early afternoon to get into the gates of town before dark. They were rarely able to fill the large pack that the Packer wore on his back. The hunting party stood in a half circle in the familiar clearing. They looked down at a very large, very dead rat.
“By Gorry theah’s no way thet hole was made by an arroh, Bastion,” Timmon said to his cousin as he pointed at the hole in the top of the rat’s head.
Gregory nodded his head and said, “No way thet was done by a blade neitheh, Bastion.”
“Eitheh Greg,” said Tim, “No way thet was done by a blade eitheh.”
“Ayuh, thet’s jest what I said, Tim!”
Timmon shook his head at the Tracker then looked at the Hunter, “What d’ ya figuhe happened heah, Bastion? Did some nasty critteh crawl outta thet place an’ kill thet rat?”
Greg nodded his head and pointed at Timmon, “Ayuh, Tim, ya’re onto it, awright. I figuhe ya’re dead right ‘bout thet.”
“Ayuh, thet rat crawled outta thet place f’ sure boys, but I can’t say if whateveh killed it also came from theah,” said Bastion, rolling the rat over with his foot. He knelt down and noticed something under it. He began digging at the ground with a stick. After a few moments he pulled something from the pink and brown earth that was under the rat’s head.
“What d’ ya got theah, Bastion? What are ya holdin’?” asked Gregory.
The Hunter held up something that looked like a small mushroom. It was made of a dull grey metal with glints of a shinier metal in it. “It’s heavy, lead I figuhe, with some coppeh mixed in, maybe. Look theah, bits of bone an’ brain all gummed up in it. I don’t have a clue how, but this little bit of metal hit thet great big rat’s skull hard ‘nought t’ punch right through. Look heah, looks jest like some blacksmith hit it with a hammeh.”
“Ayuh. Think thet strange thundeh we heahd earlieh had somethin’ to do with this heah?” the Packer asked and pointed at the object in his cousin’s hand.
“It might have, cousin,” said Sebastian looking at Timmon through the brown locks that had fallen over his face.
Gregory looked at the bit of metal and nodded sagely. He started scanning the ground and pointed to a spot, then another, and another. He got down and took a closer look. “Look at these prints heah, see the tread in them? Thet’s some fancy tread right theah.” He looked around and pointed at a few other spots. “Thet’s dog prints over theah, sure ‘nough.”
“This is a riddle for anotheh day, boys. We got a couple rabbits, some partridge, an’ thet fat ol’ woodchuck. We betteh head back t’ town soon, unless ya boys wanna end the day runnin’ the whole way.” Sebastian wrapped the bit of metal he recovered in a handkerchief and put it in this pocket.
Timmon pointed at the dead rat, “We gonna haul thet rat with us?”
“No, not this time Tim, not many souls ’round theah who’d want to eat thet thing.”
Gregory nodded in agreement with the Hunter and helped Timmon secure the pack of gutted carcasses before he hefted it onto the Packer’s back. “We betteh keep watch f’ thet man an’ his dog, boys. If he killed thet big ol’ rat jest like thet he could do the same to one of us if he wanted to.”
Sebastian patted his pocket with the strange mushroom shaped piece of metal in it and said, “If he used this heah bit of metal to kill thet great big rat, he could kill every last one of us, true as leaves fall come autumn an’ grass rises come spring.”
A while later as they walked at a brisk pace toward the town of Knollburah they noticed the game trail John had followed Dingo Boy down. Gregory stopped, crouched, and said, “The man an’ his dog went thet way. It looks like thet rat came from theah. Figuhe he’s huntin’?”
“Ayuh, if thet fella’s huntin’ an’ them big rats are what he’s afteh, I’d shake his hand,” replied Timmon looking at the Tracker through his own brown locks.
“Thet rat came from thet place, we all know it. Worse things come crawlin’ outta theah too. If the fella’s huntin’ theah, I’d shake his hand good an’ hahd, buy him a drink, an’ bring him ’round to meet Tim’s sistehs… heck, maybe even trot out my own sisteh f’ him to meet.” Sebastian nodded at the wisdom of his own statement.
The three men laughed as they started down the dirt road headed toward town. A moment later they heard the muffled crash of John’s revolver. It wasn’t loud but it was strange to them and it quickened their pace. The woods were strange, had been strange for half a year. So much had been strange. They wanted the warmth of the hearth, and the company of friends and family at the end of the road. They knew they’d have those things but with home would come new concerns. Would anything come out of that place tonight? Would the walls surrounding the town keep it out? Would the guards be able to stop it if the walls could not?
John, Dingo Boy, and Nath-esh moved down the stone hallway slowly. It was cool, not quite chilly, but cool in the dark place. He walked as quietly as possible. The dog stayed within the bubble of holy light cast by Shirak in torch mode. They came to a corner, the hallway ran to the right, and John slowed intending to peek around it stealthfully. As the wall in front of them was illuminated by the light the Cattle Dog trotted to it, sniffed, and peed. As he finished his ears pricked up and a hiss came from further down the corridor around the corner.
“Hold,” John said to the dog in a piercing whisper as he drew his gun. A moment later a giant rat flew into the lit area of the corner aimed directly at Dingo Boy. A hole appeared in the rat’s side just behind its shoulder. The loud crack of the gunfire echoed off the walls. The Cattle Dog dodged to the side and the rat hit the ground, tumbling to a stop where he had been. The cylinder of the gun glowed faintly as the Angelic Shard reloaded the spent cartridge.
The Heeler sniffed the freshly dead rat then turned toward the direction it had come from and growled a menacing growl. Fur stood up on his back in front of and behind his harness. John rounded the corner and sidestepped to get closer to his companion. He waited a few moments in anticipation but nothing happened. Cautiously he returned the revolver to its holster. He rotated the base of Shirak changing the holy light from torch to floodlight mode and shinned it down the hall. A small distance away stood a group of the great rats. They had been eating something but the sound of the gunshot had put an end to that. Now they were all staring at the man and the dog. One made a low growling sound and a few hissed. Their eyes glowed in the beam of light. John counted six pairs of those glowing eyes. He immediately drew his gun and, as quick as he could he aimed, fired, recovered from the recoil, and aimed again. Each shot came as the echo from the one before it sounded down the wide hall. The rats fell one by one. Five lay in spreading pools of red as he aimed at the sixth and last rat and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked instead of roaring. The Warrior tilled the revolver slightly and looked at it with growing unease. The cylinder was glowing its familiar faint glow in all six chambers. The combined light was brighter than John had ever seen it before.
“Nash!” In his apprehension the man shortened the Angelic Shard’s name. “Where’s the next round Nash!”
“Hey! Is that my nickname? I like it! Nash… yeah… it tastes bold and spicy…” the Angelic Shard preened.
“Nash!”
The rat began to run and John braced himself. To his credit he didn’t flinch when the rat leapt into the air. To his detriment he didn’t change his stance to withstand the weight and momentum of the enormous rodent. It slammed into him and he rocked back. Jaws snapped and claws racked the air. One of those claws opened his scalp as he narrowly avoided a bite that would have cost him an ear. He toppled over backward, the brief moment of vertigo ended in a painful daze as the back of his head collided with the stone floor of the corridor. He saw the rat rear back to bite him in the face. This time he did flinch. The bite never came. With a cry that was half growl and half enraged barklike yell Dingo Boy grabbed the giant rat by its ropy tail and spun. John barely registered the loud thud of the rodent colliding with the corridor wall. He turned his head and saw the Heeler pulling the rat backward as it scrabbled at the ground trying to get away from the fearsome vengeance of the Cattle Dog.
“Ready!” cried the Angelic Shard, “The gun’s reloaded! Grab it!”
John realized he’d dropped both Shirak, the holy light, and the revolver. The dog and the rat were leaving the beam of illumination as the Heeler continued to win the tug-of-war. How long would it take for the rat to overcome its own daze and turn on his buddy? John sat up and the hall tilted and swayed. He saw the gun and grabbed at it, missed, tried again and got it. He brought it up and swayed. He focused and aimed and the rat fell limp with a hole in the side of its head. Thunder rolled down the corridor and echoed in the wide hallways. Dingo Boy shook the giant rodent one last time then trotted to his partner to lick his face. John stopped him weakly, not wanting him to lick the blood that was running down his head and into his left eye. “Sit,” the Warrior told the Cattle Dog. The haze in his mind began to lift. He thought about getting the herb and charcoal mix together that he’d used on the dog earlier but realized he was still too dizzy to manage it.
“Okay,” said Nath-esh as his anchor was holstered, “just take it easy and wait for the healing.”
John carefully leaned over and grabbed the floodlight. He shone it ahead of him down the tunnel-like hallway and saw no more rats. Something caught his eye. Ahead on the right, past where the dead rats lay, he saw an arch of stone in the wall. There was a faint creaking sound and a small green head poked around the arch. It had sparse black hair, pointed ears, a scowling face, and red eyes. With a faint squeak it vanished back through the archway followed by the unmistakable sound of a slamming door. John set the floodlight down, keeping it aimed at the doorway down the corridor. His head was relatively clear and the blood had stopped flowing down his face. He lifted his hand and gingerly probed at his scalp. He was sure he’d find a nasty gash based on the initial pain and the amount of blood. Instead he found a surprisingly small cut. Something he was sure would need stitches but not the nasty damage he expected. He could feel a faint tingling coming from the wound.
“I need your water dish, Buddy,” he said to Dingo Boy.
The Heeler moved closer and obligingly offered the pouch on his side to the man. John opened the rectangular oilskin container and reached in thinking of the mystical bowl. It materialized in his hand and grew slightly as he withdrew it. Placed on the floor it began to fill. The last of the dizziness faded from the Warrior. Just a faint ache from the back of his head remained. He picked up the bowl and poured it over his wounded scalp. The cut didn’t so much as sting from the washing. He sputtered as the water ran over his face. He set the bowl down and, after it refilled, he repeated the process. After he did it a few more times he washed his hands in the bowl and dumped it out. He cleaned it and let it refill before taking a drink from it. Dingo Boy watched all this patiently. Seeing that John was done he came over and had a drink of his own from the silver bowl. John touched his scalp again and found that the cut was completely gone. Not so much as a scab was left. “I could get used to this,” he breathed. Then he thought about what he’d said. Getting used to this would require a lot of pain. “Nathanael said something about this journey being painful or unpleasant…” he mumbled.
John remembered the archway and the head that had peaked out of it. He poured the water out the mystical bowl and stood, took it over to the Cattle Dog, and stowed it in a pouch. For the first time since coming to this world he noticed that the canvas of the dog’s harness and the pouches had changed. They were now the same waxed and oiled material as his jacket. “I wonder if your harness is armored like my jacket…” he said to the dog thoughtfully. Then he stood and asked, “Is everyone ready to move on?”
Dingo Boy barked and whined and John winced at the noise. Stealth was not their forte.
“Ready and raring to go!” said Nath-esh.
“We gonna tell the folk in town ’bout all thet strange business t’day, or keep it to ourselves f’ now?” asked Timmon as the hunting party rounded the last bend heading toward the town of Knollburah.
“No,” said Sebastian, “best keep it between us. They got plenty to fret over without us dumpin’ thet strange business on them.”
They continued their quick walk toward the town in silence. They reached the first of the fields that lined the road. The winter wheat in the field was almost ready to harvest. Then it would need to be cleaned, readied, and planted with the next crop for the fall harvest. This one was rotated between wheat and pumpkins. Gazing across it the men could see the burned out husk of the farmhouse and barn that had once been there. Just last year at this time the farmer, his wife, and his children would have been tending the animals and waving a greeting to the returning hunting party. There may have even been an invite to their table for some baked goods and tea with cream and honey in it. Farmer Peregin was gone now. He’d died the night the buildings were burned and so had his oldest son, Markith. His wife, teenage daughter, preteen daughter, and toddler son had made it to the town gates. So had remnants of eight other families. Every single farming family had seen loss that night, every husband slain, some wives too, and children. The animals were all taken, killed, or run off. When the guardsmen and a few townsfolk went to investigate the next morning they found carnage. Many bodies had been partially eaten and others had just been taken. The fields and orchards were left unharmed and intact. There was work to do if the town was to be fed this year. No one wanted to come out here to do that work. Some were kept away by fear, some by grief, and some by hopelessness.
They continued their quick pace toward the town. As they passed one of the old farms on the left Gregory slowed, took a shuttering breath, and wiped at his eyes. Wordlessly Timmon reached out and laid his hand on the Tracker’s shoulder. Black curls brushed his hand as Gregory glanced over at the Packer. “I wish I’d been up visitin’ them thet night. Shouldn’t have not been theah. I might of done somethin’. Mom an’ Dad didn’t have to die like thet,” he shook his head sadly. Timmon didn’t correct his friend this time, he just squeezed the shoulder under his hand then let go. This same scene had repeated itself every evening as they returned to town since the Night of Fire and Horror had happened. Gregory had been inconsolable for a month after losing his parents. He would weep silently often but he’d insisted on keeping his place in the hunting party and going out on every trip. “Trackin’ f’ ya boys is the only time I get my mind off it all, ya know,” he’d said when they offered him time off.
They continued to walk in silence. Their pace never returned to the quickened one they’d maintained since departing from the hunt. They entered the wide cleared area around the walls of Knollburah as the horizon filled with the pink, orange, and peach hues of sunset. The guard in the modest guard tower at the top of the wall waved to them and Sebastian returned the wave. He called down toward the ground inside the walls, “Open the gates, Raif! It’s Sebastian’s huntin’ pahty comin’ through. Let’s get them in quick and get these gates shut and locked again!”
“Take up yar crank, now! Let’s get these gates open!” The bellow was followed by a pronounced ‘thunk’ from the gate on the right.
“I can’t find it nowheah! Has anybody seen the crank f’ this side? Wheah’d it get to?”
A moment later someone called, “Found it! Looks like Jeffery plunked his coat down right on top of it!”
“I didn’t realize! It wasn’t on purpose!” the voice was indignant. A moment later there was another ‘thunk’ that came from the left side of the gate. It was followed by rhythmic grunts and the occasional squeak of a pulley. About a minute later there was a metallic click from both sides of the closed entrance and the huge gates swung outward toward the hunting party. They were being pushed by two burly guards. The inside surface of each gate had a huge beam connected to a stout rope run through a few metal pulleys and ending in a metal spool with a very large crank sticking out of it. A thick metal rod was jammed though the spokes of the spool keeping it from unwinding.
“Thank ya, boys,” said the Hunter as his party passed through the gates.
“It’s nothin’, Bastion. No trouble at all,” said one of the large men, “did ya have a good hunt theah?”
“We got somethin’ an’ that’s betteh than nothin’, but it’s not like it used to be,” replied Sebastian.
“We got what we were able to. We jest don’t have the time out theah we need anymore.” Timmon shook his head as he said it.
“Theah was thet giant rat we found killed, we left it right theah though. No one’s gonna eat thet thing unless they ain’t got nothin’ else,” said Gregory. Sebastian shot him a dark look over his shoulder.
“I’d take a bite or two, I suppose,” said Griffon, the large man pulling the left gate shut.
“Ya’d take a bite or two of anythin’ slower than ya! Theah’s nothin’ safe ’round ya when ya’re hungry,” scolded Raif. The large man pulled the right gate behind him. “What’re ya sayin’? Come across thet rat already killed?” the Guardsman asked the hunting party over his shoulder as he and Griffon closed the gates.
Sebastian stealthily elbowed Gregory in the ribs as they turned to talk to Raif. “We found thet big rat killed right theah in the old place we used t’ camp… before…”
Raif nodded as he walked to his crank. Everyone in town knew what was meant when someone said ‘before’ with the slight emphasis that the Hunter had just used. “Killed by what?” asked the guard as he braced the crank with his strong arm and pulled the metal rod out that was keeping it from turning. Between grunts, as he slowly lowered the beam that barred the gate on his side, the Guardsman asked, “Ya mean killed by a wolf or somethin’ like thet?” It took all his might to prevent the crank from turning too fast and dropping the beam hard enough to break its brace.
“I’m not sure what killed thet big rat theah,” replied Sebastian. “We betteh hustle this load t’ the butcher before it spoils. Comin’ by the Wolf’s Head later?”
Both of the big men nodded as they continued to lower their respective beams into the huge metal braces making the gates of Knollburah secure for the night. The hunting party turned away and started off toward the butcher as the dull ‘thunk’ sounds came from the gates as the beams dropped into place.
As Dingo Boy followed John down the corridor he sniffed at the air. It wasn’t dank or stale, it had a thread of freshness in it. There was a very slight movement in the air, a flow at their back. An odd scent wafted through that flow. It was musky and slightly fruity and very strange to the dingo mix. Lynn had a friend, Kara, who had a snake named Bob. He’d met Bob once and the smell on the air was a little like the serpent’s odor. He looked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of a hole in the far wall that was barely visible in his superior night vision. He was sure the smell was coming from that hole.
John stood in front of the door he found in the stone archway. It was closed. Gun in hand and Shirak still in floodlight mode he gently pushed on the door with his foot. It swung inward a few inches with a slight creak. John thought he heard a faint ‘thump’ from the other side of the door. Dingo Boy whined softly and moved next to his partner. Taking a deep breath the Warrior pushed the door wide open and stepped quickly through it with his gun extended. Light spread into the room which was roughly the size of a large classroom. He quickly cleared the room, checking the nearest corner with the beam of light and then sweeping it to each of the other corners one at a time. There were many simple round wooden tables and chairs in the large room but it was otherwise unoccupied. The Cattle Dog went from chair to chair sniffing and the man hoped none of them would be marked as property of the Heeler. On one of the tables was a long knife in a leather sheath and a few other objects. The owner of the green head that John had seen poke through the archway was nowhere in sight. It dawned on him that he’d seen something in the wall on the left side of the room. He shined the floodlight that way and found a stone archway. It lacked a door, it was just an opening that led to an adjacent room.
John walked toward it and moved to the right side of the opening. He held his hand out to signal for the Heeler to stay back. He heard the dog’s footsteps slow and then stop. He stepped through the archway, gun extended, and found himself in a smaller room than the one he’d just left. The light illuminated a rectangular table similar in make to the round ones in the previous room. To the right of the table was a long, counter-like shape built into the wall. It was made of the same stone used to construct the walls, floors, ceiling and other features of this place. The top of one side had six round plates of metal about the size of his hand on it. They were laid out in a two by three grid. The front of the stone appliance had two metal doors, one next to the other about nine inches apart. John had seen something like it before. He stood and contemplated it for a moment and realized it was a stove and oven combination. It vaguely resembled the antique farmhouse stove his grandfather had in the old off grid cabin by the lake. At the far end of the table there were three tall wooden cupboards and a large stone sink built into the wall to the right of them. Several shelves flanked the archway the Warrior had just come through. On them were many pots and pans. John was sure they were made of copper. They were all polished to a brilliant shine.
To the left of the long table was another archway, this one had a door set in it. John approached the door with caution and tried to push it open with his foot as he had done with the previous one. It would not budge. Experimentally he pulled its wooden handle gently and the door swung toward him a little bit. He pulled it open quickly and stepped back. With his gun extended he swept the opening with his floodlight. He found the corridor he had come from. He saw no sign of life as he shined the floodlight up and down the corridor. The dead rats were back the way he’d come from and up ahead the wide halfway became an intersection. It proceeded straight on and also went to the left and to the right. John ducked back through the door, closing it quietly. He holstered Nath-esh in his jacket.
He went back into the room with the round tables. The Heeler waged his tail at the man and walked up to him. He followed as John carried a chair to the door and confirmed it only opened into the room just like the one in the kitchen. He jammed the chair under the wooden handle attached to the door. He pulled hard on that handle and the chair kept the door shut fast. Next he carried another chair into the kitchen and secured that door the same way. With the holy light, Shirak, converted into torch mode, he walked back into the dining room. He placed it on the table with the sheathed knife. He pulled out a chair and sat. The large knife was beautifully made with a grip made of burled hardwood with silver inlay. He looked at the other objects he’d noticed on this table before. They were a small pink rock, a wooden button, and a shiny yellow rock. The dingo mix sat next to him on the floor and whined softly. “Take a seat,” John invited. The Heeler whined again. “Up,” he said, pointing at the chair across from him at the table. Dingo Boy jumped onto the chair, sniffed at the wooden button and the shiny yellow rock, then sat. They rested there for several long minutes then the Cattle Dog twisted back and reached into his pouch to pull out the red ball.
“Really?” asked the Warrior.
The dog held the ball in his mouth and looked at John with pleading eyes. The man did not hear any words, not like he heard Nath-esh speak in his head. Nonetheless he understood the dog clearly convey ‘please’. Then he gave his ball a very light toss onto the table. It bounced over to John narrowly missing the small pink rock and the knife in its sheath.
He caught the ball as it came to him and said, “Only a Cattle Dog could have the day we’ve had and still want to play fetch.”
Dingo Boy locked onto the ball in John’s hand with true ‘Ball is Life’ focus. ‘Throw the ball!’ poured into John’s head, and this time the words were almost tangible.
“Okay, okay,” he said, tossing the ball toward a corner of the room. It bounced from one wall to the other then arced toward the floor and Cattle Dog caught it before it hit. He pranced back to the Warrior and nudged his thigh with the toy. John grabbed the ball and Dingo Boy gave a playful growl while pulling backward. “We don’t play tug-of-war with the ball. That’s how I get bit,” he said. After a second he added, “one of the ways.”
The Heeler made eye contact with the man and continued to growl and tug. John let go of the ball and the dog backed up a couple of steps with it then returned to nudged the Warrior with the prize. John sighed and held out his hand. After a moment the ball was dropped into it. This time he tossed it into a different corner and Dingo Boy raced after it winding though tables and dodging chairs. This went on for quite a while. Sometimes the ball was tossed into a corner, sometimes it was bounced off of a wall or two, a few times it was skipped off of table tops, and a couple of times it was thrown through the archway into the kitchen. Finally, John’s backside sore from the wooden chair, the man stood and headed into the kitchen to explore.