The Way of the Beast

Halivik was disappointed. Out near a tree-lined brook at the eastern edge of his property, he'd recently set a number of baited box traps. He hoped to catch raccoons; coats made of their fur were currently in high demand by traders. He'd seen tracks of those elusive animals in that area back in the wet spring. The traps were checked that morning, and all he'd caught instead was one scrawny beaver. Being summer, its fur was thin and nearly worthless. He let it loose and headed back toward home, where more chores awaited him.

  On the way back to the cottage, Halivik heard his daughter call for him just as he reached their small orchard. Irisella's voice had an odd pitch to it; not panicked, but nearing it. He called back that he was on his way, and sped up his limping pace through the apple and pear trees.

  Hurrying around the fenced garden, he went toward the front of the cottage. From his angled view, he initially saw armored men on horses; a surprising sight, and most likely not a good one. He rounded the corner of his home and saw the full crowd of visitors waiting for him.

  Over twenty people were spread out in front of Halivik's cottage. There were ten or so soldiers to the right, seated on their horses. Another group of roughly the same amount had dismounted and spread out. On Halivik's left were Tullgar and Movik the bailiff, both standing near the cottage. His son's face showed his confusion; the bailiff was obviously holding back a seething anger. Baraide and Iri stood next to each other at the front door, their faces pale with concern.

  In front of the armored men and horses stood three people; two men and a woman, each wearing ornate robes. The woman's strange eyes and odd grin were disconcerting. The man with the sandy hair and long chin beard seemed bored with the situation. The other man, the tall one, had dark intent in his eyes... and perhaps a touch of madness.

  "Halivik, this is Maker Night-heart," Movik said with a bitter tone, gesturing at Kauldur with a vague wave of his hand. "He and his cohorts are looking for Stenhelt."

  Baraide couldn't quite stifle a gasp. Her long-forgotten fear had been realized; Tovira had been found out. Both her friend and her son were in peril of a sort she couldn't imagine.

  Others noticed her reaction. Halivik glanced at his fretting wife, sharing the fear in her wide eyes, and then turned his hard gaze back to the Maker in front of him. Kauldur let his cold stare linger on the stricken, attractive woman as his lips stretched into a malicious grin.

  "They haven't stated their reason," Movik pressed on. "If a law has been broken, then I -"

  "That will do, bailiff," Kauldur interrupted. "I am the higher authority of law here. You have pointed us in the right direction, and have made introductions… albeit brusque. Alas, your continued presence is inessential. Guards, please escort him away from the cottage."

  One unsheathed sword would have been enough to make Movik step away; two iron blades left no doubt of how serious the guards were of their task. He walked backwards ten or so paces, looking as helpless as he felt.

  Kauldur regarded Halivik once more. "Your son is of great interest to me," he said. "He has evidently made an impression on others as well. Why, on the journey here to meet Stenhelt, a rancher who lives near Doveen village told us a story of him. The man's sheep were being killed by bears, hungry from hibernation. Your son heard the man's plea for help in the village, and agreed to help. In less than the span of a full day, Stenhelt tracked and killed two individual bears. I'm told there was a third, but because she had cubs, the hunter merely scared her away."

  Still grim-faced, Halivik nodded. "He told me."

  "Ah, I'm sure. It must have been a captivating tale while huddled around the hearth, I'll wager. Did your son also regale you with his deeds while in Duuvinhal?"

  "Yes," the huntsman answered warily. "A wealthy merchant hired Sten to solve the problem of some troublesome wolves."

  Kauldur grinned. "Is that his story? What a modest young man your 'Sten' is. His deed was not for one merchant, but for the entire village. The people there reverently refer to your son as 'the wolf-slayer'. A song has even been written in his honor." Ignoring Halivik's scowl, he continued. "Most intriguing of all, however, is a sworn account given by an estate peasant. Of the Oma-Krin estate, to be specific, held by Tovira Krin - formerly Tovira Dark-foot. I'm sure you're aware of whom I speak, aren't you?"

  "I know of her; Lady Krin is well respected in these parts." Halivik felt a bead of sweat roll down his back as he said it.

  "Oh, I'm sure; vintages of Oma-Krin wine are always in demand, and I'd wager the Lady is locally generous with her excess crops. Perhaps she is generous with her time as well… But enough of banter; I've neither the desire nor the patience to continue with the tedious process. I am here to press my contention that you and your family - especially Stenhelt - have a closer relationship with Lady Krin than mere acquaintances, and only a passive respect."

  Halivik shared another glance with his wife before responding. "Very well, we count her as a friend. We're not alone in that claim, though, Maker; Lady Tovira has many friends."

  "I warn you, good peasant, not to test my tolerance of coy remarks," Kauldur said as he pointed a finger. "I put to you that Stenhelt received lessons from Lady Krin, lessons restricted by law. Her malefactions shall be dealt with in due course. As for the here and now, I know that Stenhelt resides somewhere deeper into the Cragwood. I am within my right to question your son, and you will lead me to him."

  "I'd lead you to the Deep before that ever happened, Maker," Halivik growled. "You're a fool if you think otherwise."

  Kauldur took a deep breath and let it out with a long sigh. "You are obviously unaware of the resolve I have for this mission. Unfortunately, an example is in order to clarify so that you may understand." He looked over his right shoulder and calmly commanded, "Dispatch the bailiff."

  Before Movik could react, the two nearby guards stabbed their swords into him without any evident compunction. One blade sunk deeply into the bailiff's midsection; the other drove into his neck and came out the far side. The red-stained blades were pulled free just as quickly.

  Irisella screamed; Baraide immediately turned her daughter's head away. Halivik and Tullgar both flinched at the sudden attack, causing more swords to be drawn and pointed at them. Movik, wide-eyed and with blood streaming down the front of him, grasped at his neck. He gurgled softly, stumbled, and then collapsed.

  "Hopefully, I will have your full cooperation now," Kauldur said.

  Halivik glared at him. "You're a madman," he hissed with restrained rage. "Put a blade to me as well if you must, but I will never hand Stenhelt over to you."

  Kauldur nodded. "I believe you. However, your life would not be the one placed in harm's way." At that, he signaled to the guard nearest the women in the cottage doorway. The daughter was gripped by the arm and yanked out of her mother's grasp.

  "No!" Halivik bellowed, and began a charge. Almost before he could begin, two more guards with weapons ready stepped in his path. Another guard shoved Baraide to the ground when she lunged to pull Irisella back.

  What the parents were prevented from doing, their eldest son was not. With an inarticulate cry, Tullgar shouldered past the distracted guard in front of him and rammed into the one pulling at his wailing sister. The impact slammed that man into the cottage a few paces away, knocking bark of its logs. Before other guards converged on him, Tull gave his sister a hard push toward the barn and yelled, "Run, Iri!"

  The first two guards on Tull tried to bring him down, but he refused to fall. More guards rushed into the melee while Maker Night-heart loudly commanded them to leave the family alive. Through a tangle of restraining arms, Tull saw Iri. She was running swiftly past the barn and into the woods, her long dark hair and brown woolen dress catching the wind in her wake. It was the last image he'd ever have of her.

  Baraide sprang up and attempted to help her son. Halivik surged forward as well, but was dropped to his knees when a sword blade sliced his thigh open. A moment after joining the fray, Baraide was clouted on the side of her head
by an armored fist. She fell down again, dazed.

  Despite the other guards attacking Tull, he held one in a painful headlock and wouldn't let go. Something stabbed into his shoulder and, instead of loosening his grip, he tightened it. The helpless man in his grasp screamed as his own iron helm was crushed into his skull.

  Three guards pulled Tull's thick right arm out to his side; released from the big man's grip, their comrade slumped lifelessly to the ground. More guards wrapped around his left arm, and yet two more were on his back. Shouting his fury, Tull swung his right arm; the men holding it were sent tumbling out in front of him.

  Stepping nimbly over those fallen guards, the female Maker walked toward Tull as she yelled strange words. His anger quickly turned to confusion; he wasn't supposed to hurt women, especially a Maker, and so hesitated with her quick approach. Before he could decide what to do, the pale woman with light eyes touched his trousers at the knee with three of her fingers. Tull heard his own bones break, and a moment later was writhing in pain on the ground.

  "Enough!" Kauldur yelled, and then began giving orders. "Oradna, that will do, thank you." He then gestured to the guards. "Four of you pick up your downed associates. I want three others to go fetch me the girl. The rest of you will step away from these rebellious peasants, and see to any injuries you may have." After a moment, he added, "And someone remove the bailiff."

  Halivik hobbled over to Baraide, kneeling with his wounded leg outstretched as he helped her sit up. Regaining her senses, she began tearing off her linen sleeve for him to use as a bandage. While wrapping it around his thigh, Halivik called to his eldest son and asked of his condition. As Tull lay on his side in the grass, he mumbled through labored breaths that his leg hurt.

  Kauldur waited until Halivik finished tying the thin cloth bandage to his leg, and then said, "No more outbursts, no more recalcitrance. Lead me to Stenhelt."

  Halivik only responded with, "Don't hurt my family anymore." The waver of his low tone implied both threat and plea.

  "No, no, Halivik," Kauldur replied, waving his finger. "It is you who places your family in harm's way in your hindrance to my mission. The culpability is yours; do not attempt to saddle me with that burden. Now, get up and bring me to your son."

  Halivik shook his head. "It wouldn't matter if I took you to Sten's cabin. He's not there."

  Kauldur frowned and simply said, "I see." He then began droning words in Locan, moving fingers of one hand in the air as he did so. Abruptly, that dexterous hand made a fist.

  Baraide wheezed, and her hands went to her chest. Halivik caught her as she began to slump, asking what was wrong. Trying to answer, her words came out as only a short, raspy noise.

  "What have you done?!" Halivik screamed at Kauldur as he held his wife.

  "I have stopped the blood flow to a few of her organs, most importantly her heart," he said, holding up his fist. "I can release the flow, of course, but you must tell me the truth. I promise to spare your wife if you give me your full and honest cooperation."

  "I am being honest! I don't know! I don't know where he is! By the gods, I swear my words true. Now please… Please keep your promise."

  Kauldur looked Halivik in the eye, watching as tears rolled down his cheeks. The Maker felt no sympathy; only a judgment of the peasant's character. In that moment, he also sensed the thin trickle of blood oozing from Halivik's hastily applied bandage. "Very well," the Maker finally agreed. Murmuring more words in Locan, he used his other hand to draw symbols in the air. Simultaneously, one hand unclenched while the other made a tight fist. That fist was then drawn back, as if pulling a rope.

  Slouched in the cottage doorway, Baraide moaned and took a deep breath. At the same time, Halivik's eyes widened and became unfocused. Blood began to pour from his wound, forced out by the Maker's magic. The dark fluid welled in his buckskin trousers, and then flowed both out of the rip and down his leg. Baraide had turned away to cough and refill her lungs, unaware that her husband's life was quickly draining out of him.

  "Impressive," Rhone said as he stepped over next to Kauldur. "I wasn't aware you could affect two targets at once."

  "I rarely have the opportunity to practice the tactic," Kauldur replied while keeping focus on his art's effect. "However, you miss the finer nuance of what I've accomplished here. While obvious that I'm extracting the man's blood through a relatively small laceration, I've completely stopped the flow to the rest of his limbs and organs. It's all being redirected to that one opened vein, each drop compelled to escape. See how his leg swells?"

  Rhone found his friend's detachment of taking a life in such a way to be morbid, but not overly so. In the time of just a few breaths, the wolf-slayer's father was showing signs of his impending death. The man had slouched against the doorway of his home; his skin was pale, his lips were blue, his breathing was labored, and the expanding pool of his blood was spreading out into the grass. "So, why are you doing away with him? He might've been useful."

  Kauldur shook his head. "He would have been obstinate and misleading at every given chance. I had no faith that he would have been an asset in any way. The wife, however… Upon seeing my determination, she may be more amenable to spare other lives. If not…" He shrugged.

  Rhone's attention was drawn back to the mother, and her eldest son nearby. She had turned to her husband, holding his head to her bosom as she began to wail. The son had begun to cry, and was dragging his bad leg behind him as he crawled in their direction. "Chain the big man," Rhone ordered the guards. "Splint his leg, if he allows it. If there is a wagon in the barn, bring it out and put him in it. And by the Triad, hasn't that girl been caught yet?!"

  Knowing that Halivik was all but dead, Kauldur finally uncurled his fist and let the effect of his blood art dissipate. He then signaled two of the guards and said, "Bring the woman to me."

  Reluctant to leave her husband, Baraide put up a fight when the two armored men reached for her. Struggling in their grip, she cursed and spat at them as they dragged her toward Halivik's murderer. She was surprised into silence when one of them whispered, "I'm sorry".

  Baraide was brought before Kauldur, just out of kicking distance. "You heartless fiend," she hissed through sobs. "I'll see the death of you."

  Kauldur ignored her words. "Unless you would like your eldest son to share his father's fate, you will tell me where to find Stenhelt."

  Thinking the madman might hurt Tull as well, Baraide had no choice. "It was as my husband said, you murderer. Sten trekked out into the Cragwood. He told us his plan to do so yesterday morn; said he'd be gone for three days, perhaps four. You'll never find him."

  "From what I've gathered about the talented young man, I doubt I would," Kauldur agreed. He turned his head to see four guards helping the big - and amazingly strong - imbecile into the back of an ox-drawn wagon. Just then, the three guards he'd sent out emerged from the tree line of the forest. The escaped daughter wasn't with them.

  Rhone strode over to the trio, who were still mounted. Scowling, he asked, "Where is the girl?" The men glanced at each other. "Well?" he prompted them.

  "We couldn't find her anywhere, Maker Shade-smith," one of them answered. "She seemed to have simply… disappeared." The two others nodded.

  "Disappeared," Rhone repeated mockingly. "One girl, not even of courting age… She barely had a lead, and she managed to elude three of you. You're on horseback, for snow's sake!" One of the men began to speak, but Rhone cut him off. "No, I don't want to hear pathetic excuses. You go back out and find the girl. Do not return without her."

  Kauldur returned his attention to the woman before him. "How good of friends are you with Lady Tovira Krin?" he asked.

  "There is no reason to trouble her with your foul presence," Baraide growled.

  "My good woman, the reason to trouble her is quite obvious."

  Oradna stepped next to Kauldur. To the two guards holding Baraide, she said, "Tie her hands and put her in the cart with the brutish oaf." After th
ey led the woman away, Oradna looked up at Kauldur and asked, "Do you believe the hunter is away, as the peasants claim?"

  "More than likely, I'd wager. Even if our Stenhelt was at his new cabin, I doubt any of his kin would lead us directly there. And if they did, they'd cause some sort of commotion to alert him; they're too loyal for their own good. No, attempting to hunt down someone of his supposed skills would be folly. We are in the vicinity, though, and that is enough."

  Confused, Oradna asked, "Enough to do what? How are we to catch him, then?"

  "We will make him come to us."

  "Should I dare to ask how?"

  Kauldur only smiled. He walked back to his horse, swung into the saddle, and said, "Mount up, my dear; we ride for the Krin estate."

  ***