A Promise of Vengeance

6. Twin Forks

Twin Forks

925 A.F. (After Founding)

Second Cycle of the Second Moon—Reunion

A breath of cold air fresh from the long winter's romp rolled into the valley. Rahg's face chafed from the sting but he held steady the aim, sighting down the shaft of his arrow at the target twenty paces ahead. Crisp air charged his lungs, and the muscles in his forearm twitched. He blew a nagging lock of brown hair from his eyes, then let the arrow fly toward the old tree stump. Rahg's taunting began while the shaft still shook from the strike. "That's almost dead center—less than two fingers away—you can't win."

"Don't spend that money yet. You left me a clean shot." Lanky legs carried Darstan toward the target, where his black boots dusted the line scratched in the dirt. All the while, his eyes remained fixed on the target. Rahg had made a good shot, and it would take a near perfect one to get inside it. Darstan focused on the center circle until nothing else existed—like a single star in a crowded summer sky. He slowly drew the bowstring and released it with one fluid motion; there would be no wobble on this shaft.

Darstan's laughter drowned the thud of the arrow as it struck near center. "Two copper dirnars, Rahg."

"Damn, you're lucky. You'd never make that shot again."

"Maybe not, but I don't need to. Just pay what you owe."

"Next time—"

"Next time will be the same. You won't beat me until you listen to Kor Trasken." Darstan's voice was naturally as deep as a well, but he lowered it even more and slipped into his best imitation of Kor. "Hold your aim too long and that arrow will never hit the mark. You must be quick, Rahgnar. Quick!"

Laughter still had hold of both of them when they succumbed to the lure of a towering emerald and plopped down by its trunk to enjoy the morning.

"Great day," Darstan said, and stretched out on new shoots of grass.

"We should be watching the sheep."

sheep grazing

"Where we should be is fishing with Eru and Tomas. If you had done your chores we could be."

“Yeah, yeah. Did you see that both moons were full last night? They say the fish bite best during a Reunion."

Darstan grabbed a twig to chew. "Sounds like Tobias talking. He's always telling tales about Ranal and Ranalla. He once told me if I walked with a girl during a Reunion she'd be sure to kiss me."

"Well?"

"I guess you'll have to wait until a Reunion to find out—or until you get a girl." Darstan laughed to himself. Poor little brother hadn't even had his first kiss yet. "And don't start dreaming about Kanella again. We have sheep to tend."

"Blasted sheep can watch themselves," Rahg said, and leaned against the tree to sulk. And to dream about Kanella.

A column of emeralds looked down upon the crowns of spruce, pine, hickory, and even firs, all sprouting from roots planted deep in the hillside. Across the lush green valley another pair of eyes watched both the sheep and the boys. Amber eyes haunted a mask of thick gray fur as it stalked the sheep nearest the edge of the woods. A guttural growl rumbled in its throat and a long tongue licked sanguinary lips. "Play while you can, boys."

sheep near woods

The bleat of a small ewe focused the creature’s attention on the prey. This ewe would feed many pups. The hunter pounced as the sheep approached the woods. Death was nearly instant, but the ewe managed to sound an alarm before giving way. The rest of the flock screamed and ran toward the village, the clamor bringing Darstan and Rahg to their feet.

"The sheep!" Darstan jumped to his feet, nearly tumbling down the hill as he ran, leaping over rocks and gnarled roots of old oaks, and grabbing for the ridged bark of small pines to break his descent. Rahg trailed by only a heartbeat. The bottom of the incline folded into gentle flat ground, and Darstan dashed across the valley floor, crushing new shoots of grass—standing tall like little green soldier—with each stride.

"Right behind you, Dar!"

Darstan and Rahg both nocked an arrow and let them fly, but the creature bounded into the woods. They raced to the grove where the animals huddled.

"Did you see it, Darstan?"

Darstan brushed calming hands over each of the sheep. "How many are gone?"

sheep huddled for protection

Rahg did a quick count. "Just one. Did you see what it was?"

"Calm down, Rahg, you sound like the sheep. It was a wolf, that's all." Darstan began to gather the frightened flock. "I'll get the sheep. You fetch the arrows. No sense in wasting good arrows."

Rahg shook his head, mumbling. Wasn't any wolf. I know that. His eyes flickered from shadow to shadow as he approached the woods. Whatever got that ewe would not catch him unaware. He nocked another arrow and held his bow ready—wolf, or whatever it was—he was taking no chances.

"Hurry up, Rahg. We need to get back."

"I've got 'em." He sounds more like father every day. Rahg gathered the arrows then backed away from the woods, alert for trouble.

Conversation came infrequently on the walk home, and what little did occur consisted of Rahg speculating on the punishment they would receive. "He's going to be angry, Dar."

“I’ll tell him. No sense in both of us taking the blame."

Magmar's hand crashed on the table in the kitchen. "I thought you two were expert bowmen."

Rahg let silence cover him. He knew when not to talk, and he didn't dare tell Magmar that he thought it wasn't a wolf. Wouldn't believe me anyway.

"It's my fault," Darstan said. "I—"

"Nonsense! The blame's on both of you. Now get ready for supper."

While Rahg finished preparing supper, Darstan set plates on the bare wooden table, guilt and remorse evident on his face. It was no wonder Magmar was upset; he had the burden of raising Rahg and Darstan as well as tending the farm. And we can't even watch the sheep, Darstan thought, then let his eyes wander about the house.

The absence of a mother showed. There were no decorations on the windows, no flowers in the sills, and the boys had socks that needed mending and britches waiting for needle and thread. But despite all that, Darstan had the blessings of fortune. Magmar had taken him in when no one else would have him, and Rahg had proved to be as good a friend as a brother.

The harsh sound of Magmar's boots on the porch alerted Darstan. "Better hurry, Rahg."

The supper table was quiet, save for the hushed sounds of food being eaten, when Magmar broke the silence. "I was about your age, Darstan, when I nearly lost a whole flock of my father's sheep. Was over a girl in the village who was passing by and—"

Darstan laughed. "Sorry to interrupt, but if Rahg hadn't been daydreaming of Kanella, we might have seen that wolf."

wolf

"What's done is done," Magmar said.

"I wonder why the wolves are coming in so close," Darstan said. "That's the third attack this spring. Zedd Corin lost a lamb, and wolves got a ewe from Fenn Parker."

Magmar shook his head and his brow wrinkled. "Strange."

Darstan stared at the weather-beaten skin on his father's face. He's worried about something, but not wolves.

Rahg had nightmares about the wolf all night, causing him to sleep late. Darstan and Magmar were already eating when he got to the table.

"About time you got up, Rahg, we have a lot of chores to do."

Rahg poked his head out the door to check on the weather. "Must have gotten cold last night, there's frost on the ground."

"I said we have chores to do, Rahg."

"I'll do mine tomorrow. Meet me later, Dar, but don’t tell father about the chores.”

Rahg ran to his favorite spot. He grabbed a root to chew then lay on his back and rested his head against the trunk of a towering emerald. No tree was bigger, save a blackthorn, and none held more beauty. The leaves shined like real emeralds, yet they were small and soft as cotton—almost as if they didn't belong to a giant like this. And the leaves stayed with it during the harshest winters. He reached out to scratch a piece of bark, white as lamb's fur and smooth as polished hickory. The bark smelled fresh, and it tasted tangy. He shivered when he took a bite.

He pushed himself farther up the trunk and stared into the mountains surrounding the valley. Heavy snow wrapped the shoulders of the highest peaks, like a shawl tucked around a grandmother's neck. Beyond that, in the Great Whites, blizzards raged at the summits.

It was said that nothing lived there save rock dragons. People always talked about them, repeating tales heard from bards or men with too much ale, but Rahg had never met anyone who had seen one, unless he counted old Tobias, who claimed to have fought one when he was with the Sykoran Guard.

They were chasing bandits, or so Tobias had said, and followed their trail past the northern edge of Kamnor to the foothills of the Whites.

Rahg smiled. He had heard the story so much he knew it word for word. He could picture Tobias sitting at Havril's Inn, sipping ale and telling his story. He'd been telling that story for so long it was like a legend. He would likely be at the inn tonight, cornering strangers or anyone who had heard it less than a dozen times. Rahg could almost hear him now.

“I’ll tell you it was a frightful experience.”

Tobias never failed to begin the story with those exact words and the same tone of voice. At this point he also wiped his brow and took a long swig of ale before continuing—as though he had just returned a short bit ago, exhaustion still with him.

“Frightful! We followed the bandits up from the Free Lands, ridin' hard. For nearly three days we drove those horses with barely no rest. They were tired. Spent. Fact is, old Erad's horse gave-out. Just plain lay down and died. We were close to Twin Forks so Erad came here while we tracked the bandits. Followed 'em all the way to the Whites, then the tracks got real confusing.

foothills of Great White Mountains

“We found two horses dead, with other tracks that went off in all directions. The two dead ones were part eaten. The tracks were all muddled and didn't make any sense. Must've been wolves, we figured, so we decided to split-up—me and three others going west, and Tadge and his four east. All of a sudden we hear this sound, like...like a...well, it was so unusual I still don't know how to describe it, but it was a terrible sound.”

Rahg laughed. As often as Tobias told that story, he still left that part in. Told it the same way every time. I'd think after so many years he'd know just how to describe it.

“Bad as that was, what came out of the mountains was worse. A giant of a creature jumped down on us from the rocks. Was about twelve feet, head to tail, and must've weighed fifteen or twenty stone. It had gray scales all over, covering up brownish-gray skin. Now, if that wasn't enough to scare the demons out of us, the teeth were. Had a whole mouthful of 'em, like blades on a dagger. And eyes the same color as the blood drippin' off them teeth. It was a beast. Sort of half-lizard and half somethin' else—dragon, I guess.”

Tobias always stopped to take several long swallows of ale right after describing the rock dragon. He wanted it to sink-in, Rahg presumed. Then he'd place both his hands on the edge of the table and lean over it, his positioning and grim expression prepping the listeners for the rest of the tale.

“It hit Tadge first.”

He never failed to whisper that part, Rahg remembered, and his ploy always worked. Tobias had their undivided attention.

“Took him and Amos out before we even got our horses turned around, with them so frightened and all. I ordered the men to dismount so we could get up on the ledge—at least there we didn't have to fight the horses and that creature too. We put about six arrows into the thing but not before it got Tadge's other two men. Then it turned and came toward us.

“Only had time to hit it with one arrow apiece before it got to the rock. It started up that ledge like walkin' on flat ground—big, sharp claws finding the tiniest cracks to grab hold of. It was almost on us when Karrs put his sword right in the creature's eye. It howled so loud I nearly fell off the ledge, but I grabbed my sword with both hands and plunged hard as I could, right into its skull. That one did him in. His claws loosed-up and his head reared-back, then he fell all the way down, landin' on sharp rocks below.

“We picked up what was left of the bodies and gave 'em a good burial before comin' back to the village. It took me three to four days of solid drinkin' before I could make myself think straight again. That's when I decided I'd had enough of the soldierin' and settled down right here in Twin Forks.”

Rahg smiled again. He didn't know whether rock dragons really did exist, but just in case, he’d be sure to stay clear of the Great Whites, though he did wonder what lay on the other side.

Rahg looked to where the sun sat over the mountains and realized it was almost time to meet Darstan. He should be done with the chores by now, Rahg thought, and quickened his pace toward the village. He was just coming to the bend in Buckhorn Trail when he heard the greeting.

"Hooo, Rahg."

Rahg ran the rest of the way to the crossing by Havril's Inn. He hopped from one rock to another, taking four stops to get across the creek, though he almost slipped on one of the rocks. The stream gurgled and splashed over stones as it made its way south to the White River. Spring thaw had not come to the mountains yet; in another month it would be too deep to cross. "Finally finished with those chores?"

"And lucky to be done so soon. Father worked the sweat out of me."

They made the turn toward Havril's and saw Tomas heading their way, a fishing pole resting on his shoulder. It's a wonder he hasn't worn a spot in his shirts, Rahg thought. "Didn't you catch enough yesterday?"

"Didn't catch any," Tomas said, “That's why I'm going back. Get your poles and come along."

The invitation proved enticing but they had already planned the day. "We're going to the inn," Rahg said, "but if you catch any, bring some to us."

Boredom soon had them wishing they accepted Tomas's invitation; the day had proved a big disappointment. They heard a few stories from Sykoran traders as they haggled over goods, and Eru's dog, Jumper, bit Havril, providing some excitement, but nothing of consequence—no tales from the great cities, no swordplay, not even anyone caught picking a purse.

Rahg tossed another stick to Jumper, trying to keep him busy lest he bite someone else. "We've wasted half the day, Darstan, and there's nothing to do." He grabbed the stick from Jumper's mouth; the dog proved to be persistent if nothing else. Rahg had his arm c****d back to throw the stick when he heard someone calling.

"Darstan, Rahg, have you heard the news?"

Eru rushed toward them, dodging a merchant's cart. His sentences fell short as he fought to catch breath. "A traveler from Sykor. Here, in Twin Forks. Mother saw him at the market, and said he'd be at Havril's tonight. She thinks the news is bad, 'cause he wouldn't say anything until he gets to Havril's."

"We'll be there." Rahg rushed the words out then turned to Darstan. "Let's go. We'll get supper and hurry back. We'll want a good seat so we have to be early."

Darstan jumped to his feet and raced toward home. "See you tonight, Eru."

A pair of Victa scouts crouched behind the thick brush guarding the perimeter of the town, black beady eyes taking count of each villager. Their green scales served as camouflage with the new foliage, and except for the bloodstained lips, they appeared a part of the forest itself. "This one will fall easily," the young Victa warrior hissed, unable to contain his excitement.

"They will all fall easily," Kron said. "The small villages first, but once the Master is free, even Sykor and Khatara will crumble."

Kron's thick tongue licked scaly lips. "Come, Jorr, they await our report." Kron moved slowly, careful not to snap twigs or rustle leaves. "Step lightly, Jorr; it would not do to alert the villagers before we attack."