Tales of a Horse Thief, Part 9b
For all the effort they had put into gathering the iron wood, Flint had done little with it since. During the first couple of evenings he had removed the branches from the broken off top-piece that Asta had spotted. Then he divided all the branches into three piles and gave the biggest branch to Asta, saying it would make a decent walking stick, with a bit of work. That was it. Apparently Flint intended to make some arrows, but he was planning on waiting until he had the time and tools to do the work properly.
Flint did explain to Asta that if she soaked the branch in water long enough the bark could be peeled off fairly easily, otherwise time and wear would do the job adequately, if one was patient enough. She was impressed with her stick, she had offered it to either of the two men. When they had turned her offer down she was content enough to keep it, though it mostly remained with the extra gear.
The day before they had come to a fork in the trail, Flint had been set to lead them along the northeast trail, though after a moment Asta stopped them. She seemed a bit pensive, then said, “I think we should go this way.” She indicated the trail that lead off to the southeast.
Flint was quick to point out that the other trail headed northeast, the direction that she claimed her goddess had wanted them to go. She gave them an apologetic look, “Sure, but this is the trail she is guiding me to follow now. It feels important.”
Loden pointed out, “We’d still be heading eastward, I’m fine with going this way.”
“Fair enough then. Where the goddess leads, we follow.”
Not long after heading down the southeast trail Flint found tracks, seemingly the same group of one person on a horse and three others walking, that he had spotted previously. The tracks were more recent, maybe a bit less than an eight-day old. That evening Flint also found goblin sign near a stream, not far from where they had made their camp. Those tracks were only a few days old, and as a result the three of them were more vigilant during that night’s watch rotation.
Most of the night passed without incident. Loden could see the eastern horizon had a bit of grey sky, but within the forest it was still dark. He was just thinking about laying out Ander’s hat to get the day’s booze when suddenly the horses woke, disturbed by something he had not detected. Then the horses were panicking, they had only been roped off last night, to prevent them from wandering off. BigNose headed south, the rope did not even slow him and the other two followed, Rogue gave a scream of fright. Loden grabbed his swords from where he had set them down on a nearby tree trunk. He could see the shadowed movements of his companions rolling out of bed. Loden crept cautiously north, straining to detect what had disturbed his horses.
Ahead of him he could see no threat, the only thing he heard were the horses still moving off towards the south, the rest of the woodland was eerily quiet. Flint moved up behind him, bow in hand, arrow notched. Loden carefully moved forward again, expecting something to jump out at him with every tree he passed. Nothing happened. No ambush or bear or anything out of the ordinary, except that it remained very quiet. There was no bird song to welcome the coming day.
From behind him, in a low voice, Flint suggested, “Let’s move back to the camp. The light is coming and we will have a much better chance of finding what’s out here, if we can see.”
Loden agreed that creeping around like this was not doing much good. Quietly they withdrew and by the time they were back at the camp the birds had started singing again.
Asta stepped out from behind a nearby tree, “What’s happening?”
Flint answered, “We’re not sure. Though if I had to guess, I’d say trolls”
Loden said, “I’ll head south and try and find the horses.”
“Alright, I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things.”
Asta seemed indecisive, “Do you need help with the horses?”
“I shouldn’t, but you’re welcome to come along if you want.”
“Well, if you don’t need help, I’ll stay. I can get some food ready.”
Loden gave her a nod and spat to one side, “You kids stay out of trouble. I’ll be a while.”
With the light of day slowly penetrating through the forest, Loden tracked the horses southwards. He had traversed nearly a yat before he spotted Tingy and then a bit later, as he was attempting to convince Tingy everything was alright, he spotted BigNose. It took him a while to calm them enough to let him approach, then a while longer before he could gather them together and put them on a lead. Rogue had gone nearly twice as far and Loden found her in a glade, munching on grass. He lead the three horses back to the camp.
When he returned, Flint was out ranging, and Asta had made food and packed up most of the gear. He ate his portion of the food, it was much better than what he usually made.
Asta settled beside him, “No magic booze today?”
“Nah, I missed it.”
“Well, at the rate they are accumulating, we’ll run out of space to carry them.”
“That doesn’t seem like a bad problem.” He smiled at her.
Together they finished packing the camp and after a thorough inspection of the horses they were saddled and the gear loaded. They did not have long to wait before Flint returned.
Asta asked, “Did you find anything?”
“A few fresh tracks from trolls, of the forest variety.”
Loden have a sharp laugh, “We are in a forest, what other kind of trolls would be here?”
“Any of the three types, honestly. This forest is vast and has plenty of hills and caves. As well, lots of water and wetlands. So, in theory any of the three breeds of trolls would thrive here. Though they are very territorial, so if there are forest trolls here we are unlikely to come across swamp or hill trolls.”
“What about cave trolls?”
“Same as hill trolls, often called rock trolls as well.”
“And river trolls or bridge trolls?” Asta asked.
“Same as swamp trolls.”
Loden asked, “I’ve never seen a troll before. What are we talking about here when we say forest troll?”
“Roughly the size and shape of a man, they tend towards slimmer builds and longer limbs. Claws and sharp teeth, strange cord-like growths where there would be hair, tough skin with green, brown and grey colouring. They use tools and make large nests in trees, usually one or two females for every three to six males. Offspring are typically produced every other year or so, the young stay with the family group until they’re nearly adults.”
Asta was concerned, “So, if there were a couple stalking us they were likely part of a family group. Upwards of a dozen or so?”
“Aye, could be. They are also the sneakiest of the troll types, very quiet when they move and their natural colouring makes them hard to see.”
“Anything else we should be aware of?” Asta asked.
“Well, they do heal very rapidly and tend to be resilient against disease. Also, most times I’ve seen troll sign in the forest here they have been with goblins. Though I saw no indication that was the case this morning.”
Loden thought that was weird, “Goblins? How does that even work?”
Flint shrugged, “Not sure in this case, but goblins have a tendency to adapt quickly to their environment and have been known to work with all the other races.”
Loden hacked and spat, “Bloody goblins.”
“We should get going. It’ll soon be mid-morning.”
The going was pretty slow at first, Flint was being very cautious and often dismounted to investigate the way forward. Though by early afternoon he seemed to relax a bit and their pace increased. Later in the afternoon they could hear a nearby river and Flint thought it was the North Linklow River, though Loden was fairly sure they had left that behind days ago. A few yat later they could smell wood smoke then came to a section of trail that saw more traffic than they had seen since leaving Carskot. One branch of the trail headed towards the river and they could hear the sounds of someone chopping wood.
They chose to investigate the trail leading towards the river, where they came to cleared land with a modest sized village along the river’s edge. An earthen wall with wooden gates provided the village with substantial protection from the landward side. There were a handful of outlaying homesteads, the locals regarded them with curiosity and were tentatively friendly. The homesteads they passed were made of wood and mortared river stones. Coming through the gate they noticed a couple of pennants of a golden crown on a dark green background. None of them recognized the heraldry.
Once they were in the village, Flint brightened considerable when he noted a large common hall built on an embankment near the river’s edge. An old hanging tree dominated the open area near the gate and an ample commons for crops and livestock dominated the central area of the village. There were a couple dozen small houses and a number of workshops and sheds. In the centre of the commons was a stone circle, there was no sign of temple nor shrines. They had come to a village that still followed the old ways.
A number of people stopped their tasks and approached. The oldest of them, a man with a small wooden mallet and a chisel in hand, gave a friendly wave and asked, “What brings you to RiversBend folks?”
Flint replied easily, “We travel east and north from here and seek the hospitality of RiversBend.”
“Be welcome travellers. We can find beds and food for you, care and shelter for your horses as well. Come to our hall and accept our hospitality.”
“I am heartened to see that the folks of RiversBend remember the old ways. We accept your hospitality.”
Loden heard the odd comment from a couple of the locals, remarking on the heavy traffic moving through the area these days. There was also some speculation as to why he and his companions carried so many bottles, jugs and whatnot. The locals, over a dozen of them, walked them over to the hall, which was bigger than Loden had first suspected. Nearly fifty paces long, the main structure was built along a dyke of earth and river stones, a broad stairway lead up to a large double door at the building’s centre, while at either end a narrower set of stairs lead up to platforms that projected from the main structure about four paces, running its length. The near end seemed to be used for the sheltering of animals and they were taken there first to see to the horses.
Then they went upstairs and entered the west end of the main building and were offered food, water and anything else they might need. This end of the hall was set up like a large tavern, through the small windows Loden could see that the river side of the structure also had large platforms and stairs that lead down to a couple of docks where there were some small boats.
Off to one side Loden saw a small group of people, a few locals, as well, Wol the Fox and three others that seemed to be with her. Loden was surprised by their calm regard and reached for his swords as he shouted over to Flint, “We have trouble.”
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