Chapter 10: Carabas and the Haunted Mountains
Leaving the Mist Wolves behind us, we continued into the mountains, heading for Chains Crossing. Rowan opined that one of his wizardly cohort might be responsible for the wolves’ attack; they had shared a master, learning all about tricksy things regarding animals and speaking to them and turning into them, etc.
(Rowan was a fine comrade, but, honestly, I found Harbingers just as spooky and just-as-soon-not-be-in-the-same-realm-as-them as the legends of our people would imply.)
Why would she be sending Mist Wolves against us? Aside from Harbingerly (Harbingish? Harbingesque?) contrariness? Perhaps we were encroaching on her territory (marked like a dog’s or wolf’s), or perhaps she knew us to be a future foe. Maybe she and Rowan were dear lovers, and he fooled around on her and she vowed eternal revenge.
Who knows, with Harbingers?
As we arose in the chill morning mist, we saddled up and proceeded, with the fog ebbing and flowing against the sun, the five of us, plus the crossbowman, Embarto, who was still following Virens around.
An hour or so into the early morning … the sun is up and fighting back the fog. And then the fog thickens back up again, but is still bright-lit with sun, making things even harder to see. We began to hear a voice calling out for help – maybe for help, but crying out, in the fog, down into a shallow valley off the road. The mounts were spooked, but Wynn and Virens decided we should check it out. I noted that, just the previous day, we had been deceived by others using mysterious sounds in the mist.
Virens considered my sage counsel, but noted that we had, up to that time, driven off every foe. Rowan noted that as long as we stuck together, we would have safety in numbers. Realizing that were I to stay on the road I would be missing all the action, I agreed to journey into the mist with the rest, holding the vital rearguard position against treacherous attack from behind.
Embarto confessed he’d have preferred to stay on the road, but I assured him that just because we were heroes it didn’t mean we were always walking into traps. He grudgingly agreed, and I realized I would need to keep an eye on him and try to bolster his courage.
We were wending our way through uncut woods and thickets, with Ann ahead of me, on her own horse and with her dire fennics and the other horses, helping urge them on an animal track through close shrubbery. I sat upon Hambone, twiddling my thumbs, keeping half an eye on the crossbowman who was complaining about various dangers we were likely facing, and breathing a sigh of relief when I saw Ann had finished her job.
I urged Hambone along, expecting to quickly catch up with Ann’s various critters, and was surprised when, as the trail wended and wound, I did not. I was fairly certain there was no question of having missed a split in the trail, as I could still hear the jingle of tack and harnesses ahead, but …
… they seemed to sound further away and …
… perhaps not along our track?
I gave a small bark to Hambone to give him his head, letting him trot forward with determination in a way that was encouraging until he ended up at the base of tree trunk, snuffling around.
Dogs. Yes, I roll my eyes.
“Hambone,” I said, firmly, “you are a dog with a Good Nose. I recommend strongly that you find Ann. Find Ann. Find. Ann. Are you listening to me?”
Hambone turned and stared into the mist, and made a whuffing sound. But it was by no means clear that it had anything to do with Ann.
Still, it was better than nothing, so we went off to investigate whatever Hambone was detecting (it did concern me that, in a sense, that was how we got into this problem in the first place).
After a time, we found a path again, which led after time to a place where it seemed to become a wagon trail, overgrown with saplings and brush, and a vision of campfires came through the woods to me, wagons and people gathered about them.
Amongst the other talking people there are myths and legends of souls that survive, not passing onto new bodies as amongst the Catlings, but remaining to wander the world for some hidden purpose. We think of such figures as memories of something very powerful or profound in a place.
I pointed out the encampment ahead, to discover that Embarto didn’t see it. Poor, dull humans, so often trapped inside their own skulls.
The memories of people – to be fair, humans – huddled about the fires. I could see snow accumulated on the wagons. They had been caught in some sort of a blizzard –
“This was just misadventure. We were one of dozens. The risk to get to Chains Crossing was small versus the gains.” It was a human girl, standing beside me, appearing from nowhere. Her clothing – to the extent that human clothing is recognizable – was unusual, archaic.
“So we tried it, and the road was still clear, and got so cold. And then, little Johans didn’t wake up, and nobody was talking and we tried going further one more day, and then the snow came, and we couldn’t get any further, and we tried to wait it out, and we couldn’t. The mountains have taken thousands. Chains Crossing is a wonder, but curse. A campfire surrounded by moths. But they’ve had their tithe … you need not be part of it. We can help, for something in trade.”
Oooh, yes, like in a legend, a mysterious force was bargaining with me. I chuckled silently. As if anyone could outbargain a Catling.
“The People of the Air … they provided me a bag of interesting foreign coins, in thanks for our help to them. I might be willing to part with --”
“You haven’t have them long enough to be of value to us.” Her eyes drilled into mine. A powerful memory. “We’re so very cold. We need something of you, that is real.”
Something that was mine. Something I’d had for a time. Something of personal value. Something that frozen, starving, dying would appreciate.
Aha.
“I have food from my homeland. I would be honored to provide it to you. It is very tasty, very nutritious , and quite fragrant.”
She looked at me solemnly. “Would you sit and share it with us?”
“Why yes, yes we would. Wouldn’t we?” I asked Embarto.
He stared at me blankly. “Yyyyyyesss?”
We shared the meal with them. As we did, they became more real, gathering about us, enjoying the food in a fashion that never seemed to run out, each of them taking something solid and tasty and enjoyable of it, making them more solid, more actual people. Such that even Embarto began to sense them.
I smiled at him. “Compassion to those in need is the mark of a true hero.”
He nodded back to me, slowly. Smiling. Strangely, it felt like we shared something at that moment. More than just the fine, fine food.
“All right,” the girl said, “We can take you to your friends. There is only one place they would have to be.”
And so they did, and I was quite satisfied to ride into the others camp, accompanied by the memories of dead travellers and a spooked crossbowman. As they stared, I simply smiled, as the little girl said, “We’ve been told to bring you back to your path.”
So, then, what, my kitlings, will happen next? Will a new menace rear its ugly head? Will we finally reach the gates of the city of Chains Crossing? Or will we all find ourselves fatigued by our great labors this day and simply fall asleep? Let us find out!