Brewer King 15 (Patreon)

“You realize it will rip out your throat one day and kill everyone around you, right?” Pavano said as San carried Wolfram to a somewhat standing hut.

“She’s had the chance to do the several times,” San said. “So far, she’s not done much besides saving my ass. She warned us about the Nox scouts, she saved me from getting killed by the trappers.”

“Aye, maybe, but that horned wolf is no pet, boy. They’re notorious for stalking and killing would be Adventurers in the north.”

“She did try to kill me in the beginning,” San remarked as he kicked opened the leaning door. The hut was small, sixteen by sixteen feet, and the roof was sagging, but not yet collapsed. San set Wolfram down in the corner. She whimpered and struggled to get up, but the poison of the batto was still running its course.

“Foolishness,” Pavano said, clearly annoyed.

“Perhaps.”

“It’ll make short work of that wee girl,” Pavano said. “When it does, will your gods forgive you for bringing a wild animal here? Will anyone?”

San paused and looked back into the hut. “I don’t know.”

Pavano snorted and stalked back toward the farmhouse. San stood there a moment longer and then followed.

The bodies of the battos were laid out in the front of the house. San set his hand on his sword as he approached the creatures. They looked even more menacing in the daylight. Creatures out of nightmares.

“We need the queen’s corpse,” Pavano said. “It won’t rot too much in this weather. White Tower needs to know there’s a nest out here somewhere.”

“Well, the guards are looking for us,” San said. “Sagaris might be in White Tower by now too.”

Pavano looked to the rising sun and blinked. “She should be leaving Midway by now, it’s been near four days since we left. I’ll not go to White Tower anyway, my old friend will go to White Tower.”

“Your ranger friend?” San asked.

“Aye. He knows these woods better than any person alive. He knows the danger of battos and he knows some of the guards who work for the Baron. He’ll get word to them and they’ll hopefully send out a detachment.”

“You’ll be leaving then?” San asked. He looked to the barn, the pregnant woman, the child, and the boy all huddled within.

“Aye. This needs to be done,” he said.

San nodded. “I agree.”

“That horned wolf is a problem, boy. Don’t let it fool you into thinking it’s some kind of dog or pet.”

“I know,” San replied.

“I figure I can make it to my friend’s home in two days, hard travel, but doable. I’ll take the two woollys and the cart, I need the queen’s corpse to prove they’re here.”

“What about the rest of the drones?” San asked.

“Sell ‘em or burn ‘em,” Pavano said. “Cursed beings, naught but trouble and illness where their corpses lay. Although the wings will sell well, especially the black wings. Plenty a rich man wants to look dashing wearing batto leather coats. A skilled leatherworker can make a fine pair of gloves from the red wings and many apothecary will buy the queen corpse. There’s probably two hundred sars between all the six corpses.”

San looked at the corpses and did the math. A chaotic battle against the monsters had netted them what a common farmer could make in half a year.

“Do they have mana gems?” San asked.

Pavano chuckled. “Aye.”

San pulled out his sword and they got to work.

There were five green mana gems and a single red one. The green were from the drones and were similar to the gems that San had collected from the dead rippers. The red one was the only different one.

“Ten greens are needed to gain a level,” Pavano said. “Two reds are needed to gain a level.”

“One blue to gain a level?” San asked.

“I’ve never heard of a blue gem before,” Pavano said. “There are only greens, reds, whites, and yellows.”

“Whites and yellow?” San asked.

“Aye the white ones are Level gems. Get a white one and you can be guaranteed to gain a level. It’ll net you ten thousand sars from the Baron and forty in the Empire.”

“And the yellow ones? They give you two levels?”

“Nah, they’re a strange one, that gem. Used in potions and to warp magic. If you try to eat it raw, it’ll kill you outright. They’re fairly rare, you’ll get a hundred green gems and only five yellows.”

“A kind of catalyst?” San asked.

Pavano shrugged. “Only the priests know how to use them. If you find one, you’d best give it up to one of the cults. Else they’ll be forced to kill you for hiding it.”

“Seems a bit… harsh,” San said.

“The yellows hold a lot of power. That sword you have, enchanted isn’t it? Well, each enchantment requires a yellow gem and a Leveled Smith to make such a weapon. Very rare and very costly those. Each cult has their own ways of doing things and they all want the gems to increase their own powers.

“Senta cults make fine healing potions. Hetvana cults make great poisons. Hesna cults allow you to see beyond this world and into the void. The best are Covanus cults who make draughts of strength and power. For a short time a man will be tens times stronger and take no damage in battle.”

“Want the greens or the red?” San asked. “Its five greens to a red, right?”

“Boy, are you mad?” the old man asked.

“Do you have Levels?” San asked.

“Ai, gods,” Pavano looked to the sky. “You tempt an old man, San. Only if you had asked me twenty years earlier.”

“I wasn’t here twenty years ago,” San said.

“Those gems will be a waste on me,” he said.

“Oh? Why?”

“I’m too damn old,” the man said.

“Oh.”

“Gems only work on the young, the younger the better, where their souls aren’t yet fully set. The power of the gems will make them stronger, faster, and better than anyone alive, if they are given the gems upon birth.” Pavano stroked his beard. “I’m too old for Levels, it will do naught for me and might even hurt me.”

Pavano sighed. “If I were your age, I would have gladly taken them. It is said that those who gain Levels as young as possible will live long and healthy lives, disease will not touch them and age will settle lightly upon their shoulders. The Last Emperor was emperor for a hundred years.”

San stared at Pavano. “One hundred years?”

“Aye. He was given Levels upon his birth. Was a great man. Did the same for his sons, but they all died in battle. His last son received the same, but he was lured in by the Hesna cult.”

“Then take the red gem. Sell it and live comfortably,” San said. Holding it up to him. Pavano stared at it for a long moment.

“They say,” Pavano said, “that your power grows based which gem you consume first. Ten greens will give you a level, but that power will be basic, two reds will make you stronger, but a white, that is the strongest of them all.”

“What about Levels gained from deaths?” San asked.

“They’re lesser than the greens and you only gain a Power every other level. With greens, reds, and whites, you gain Power every level. Give me the five greens.”

“Okay.”

Pavano sighed. “Sometimes, boy. Sometimes I wonder if you’re soft in the head.”

“We both fought. We both risked our lives. We both gain the spoils,” San said.

“Aye. There are few men who would easily give up such wealth.” Pavano looked at the gems in his hands. “Enough to buy a farm and a title,” he said. “You can get five thousand sars for this from the Baron, but you could also get a komai title instead. That’s worth far more than five thousand sars.”

“I assume the catch is that it’s in an uninhabited spot filled with monsters,” San said.

“Aye. But it’s a Komai.”

There was a clatter from the farmhouse and the two men jumped to there feet, weapons drawn. Azios looked at them with embarrassment as he exited the farmhouse.

“Sorry,” he said.

“What are you doing?” Pavano demanded.

Azios reached back into the farmhouse and dragged out the giant rabbit San had seen the battos bring in. It was nearly as tall as he was and probably weighted near as much.  Azios was visibly struggling as he held it up.

“Good eating,” he said.

Pavano laughed, slapping his knee.

“Isn’t it poisoned?” San asked.

“Nah, it won’t hurt us any. Just got to drain it’s blood good, is all.”

***

“You don’t see snow hares that often,” Azios stated as he ripped into the meat. He chewed noisily and wiped the grease onto his sleeve. “They’re pretty mean, they’ll fight you and their back claws are vicious.”

“They can blend in with their surroundings,” Pavano said, taking a bite of his own slice of meat. “Well, when they’re still alive, that is.”

San flipped over the roti bread on the iron skillet. The fire they sat before was warm and the clear sky made it feel as if the temperature was above freezing. Two pots of water boiled beside the skillet, one with chopped meat and vegetables and the other with bones and grease to make a stock for the woman.

The two hadn’t yet awakened yet. Endaha was still hot to the touch, but San saw that puss wasn’t leaking from her wounds. He would give her more antibiotics tonight, but for now she needed liquids and sustenance.

“I’ll leave in the morning,” Pavano said. He yawned and his jaw cracked. “I’m too old to stay up all night and then fight against battos, then walk two days to the ranger.”

“You know a ranger?’ Azios asked. “My uncle was one, but he died in an attack by Tribals four years back.”

“Eat and rest,” San said. “We’ll clean out the house.”

Azios made a face. “The snow hare was the only creature worth taking,” he said. “The rest are dead or nearly so.”

“I have a friend who might appreciate them,” San said, wrapping the rabbit meat in his roti. The farmstead produced a spicy fermented dish that reminded San of kimchi. It provided a bit of heat and taste as he slathered it on the rabbit meat.

Pavano grunted, not pleased about Wolfram.

They finished their meal, San moving into the tent to spoon some broth into the young girl and the woman. Pavano made a bed in a pile of straw and hay, wrapping himself in one of San’s mylar blankets and as many ratty cloak and clothes he could find.

Azios watched as San checked the two and then Endaha’s wounds.

“Is your magic working?” he asked.

“Perhaps, we won’t know for a while yet. If the antibiotics are working, then her fever should break and then its up to her to recover from the injury and illness. I believe Pavano said your niece should wake by nightfall, as the poison will be out of her system by then.”

Azios only nodded, eyes still locked on Endaha’s slow breathing form.

“My brother will be pleased you saw to his wife,” Azios said with some formality. “He is in the service of the Baron; once this war is over he will return with riches and we can rebuild the komai.”

San nodded, zipping close his first aid kit.

“Perhaps you are willing to sign up as a tenant?” Azios asked. “We do not charge much for land usage and taxes.”

“I’ll think about it,” San said.

“The land is good and the water is plentiful,” Azios exclaimed, going into a sales pitch. “The snows might be heavy after Midwinter’s Reprieve, but where in the Baronies is it not? It is just the damn woodland savages that ruined this komai, killing and murdering, stealing and burning.”

“Isn’t your sister-in-law a Tribal?” San asked.

Azios looked embarrassed for a moment. “Aye, it’s a shame Brother did not find a good Imperial wife. It’s not like that there were not good matches to be had, he is young and strong and now the head of the komai.”

“Are they happy?” San asked.

“Happy?” Azios shrugged. “She is his wife. Her sons will inherit a komai status. It is better than fucking trees and eating people during the winter.”

“How long has she been married to your brother?” San asked.

“Pa captured her in a raid against our komai four years back. The woodland savages were running from monsters or something, excuses to raid and kill all along the border.”

“Captured?” San asked.

“Aye. Half starved and half feral, like an animal, she was.” Azois grinned. “Pa straightened her out, made her a servant and kept her in the upstairs room in case she tried to escape.”

San sighed, looking down at the woman and child.

“Then Brother said he loved her, married her against Pa’s wishes. But then Pa died of Black Ring only a month later.”

“Your mother?” San asked.

“Died six years back in childbirth. We figured Pa would take Endaha as his new wife, but…” Azios shrugged. “She’d been already carrying some woodland savage’s baby. Lost it only a few months after she came here.”

San closed his eyes and took a long breath. There were moments when the sheer horridness of this world would rear its ugly head. The casual racism, the low value on human lives, the monsters, everything combined together to make a place difficult to view as anything but horrible.

“Sweet Senta,” Pavano muttered from his bed of straw. “What a fucking tale that was.”

San only nodded and got to his feet. He clamped his mouth shut and forced his hands to remain open.

“Come,” he said, a hardness in his voice. Azois looked at him in surprise. “We need to clean the house, the resin needs to be removed.”

Azois nodded, his head bobbing up and down.

***

Azois was laughing with the cruelty of young boys as he used a dagger to stab the half dead animals attached to the walls. At least he made it quick and didn’t draw it out. He had tried, in the beginning, but San’s iron grip and stern voice had put a stop to that.

“They’re living creatures,” he said firmly as Azois tried to squirm out of his grip. “They don’t deserve to suffer. Never make them suffer for your amusement.”

The boy looked defiant, but the cold stare San gave him shut him up. He only nodded and made quick strikes that killed the animals. His solemn attitude only lasted a few minutes, before he was once again laughing as he killed the animals.

San didn’t think of the boy was a psychotic little monster. He saw the hurt, the fear, and the worry in his eyes when he had talked about Endaha and the little girl. His words were merely those that had been repeated to him his entire life. The lack of empathy toward other creatures was just a product of the time and culture, San mused, along with the generational racism and attitudes that were passed down.

It was something that San had always felt back in his world. His dark non-European features always led to people believing he was middle eastern. That would eventually lead to them thinking he was ready to blow himself up at the drop of a hat. It didn’t matter that his entire family came from Punjab and they were technically Sikh, although no one besides his grandmother practiced the religion.

San pushed the dark thoughts away as he pulled the resin off the walls. With the queen dead, the resin had lost its heat giving abilities. Although there was still some residual heat in the room, it was fast getting cold. The smell was overpowering, but they got used to it.

They worked until noon, San pulling the animals off the wall and then carrying the stinking pile toward the abandoned hut that Wolfram was recovering within. The large beast was breathing softly, her eyes slightly opened and watching as he entered the room. She stirred, but weakly.

“Lunch, dinner, breakfast,” San said as he dumped the corpses before her. The wolf ram sniffed and let out a low growl. “You’re welcome.”

“Sweet Senta, we all need a bath,” Pavano muttered as he sat before the small fire. He, like San, had changed out of his ichor soaked clothing and, like San, Pavano didn’t have much spare clothing. Thankfully the room had been hot enough for them to have no need for the thick winter clothing. It was just their underclothing that had been liberally covered in ichor and stink.

Pavano had pots of water boiling tea and more rabbit meat on sticks, making a sort of kabob out of them, along with a dozen fist sized burned biscuits.

“The Drink’s too cold,” Azois said, grabbing a biscuit with his still blood stained hands. San grabbed his arm before he could start shoving the food into his mouth.

“Wash your hands,” he said.

“What?”

“Wash the blood off your hands, make sure they’re clean, and then you can eat.”

“What nonsense is that?” the boy demanded.

“Wash your hands.” The words were slow and final. Azois scowled, looked to Pavano for support, but the old man lifted his clean hands in response.

Azois cursed as he dropped the biscuit and then stalked into the barn to find a bucket of water.

“A bit of dirt on the hands do no harm,” Pavano said after the boy had left.

“A bit of dirt, sure. But a lot of blood from wild animals that were poisoned by carrion eaters, that’s a problem.”

Pavano thought on that for a moment and then nodded. “Aye, that makes some sense.”

“Basic hygiene is something we should aspire to,” San said.

“Not even the Baron has enough people to make sure he can bathe once a day,” Pavano laughed.

“At least wash your hands with soap and water,” San remarked.

“Aye, aye.”

“I can sanitize the clothing we have, it won’t take out the stains, but it’ll kill the bacteria living on it,” San said.

“Bact-what?”

“Small organisms that you can’t see. They cause the stink you smell in your clothing and they cause wounds to fester,” San said.

“Right, lad. Right,” Pavano chuckled.

Azios returned and they all ate in silence as they huddled around the campfire.

‘There ain’t much wood left,” Pavano said. “A few days at the most.”

San looked to Azios, who had ducked his head in embarrassment.

“Brother and I would have spent the summer and fall collecting and cutting wood,” he said. “Endaha and I tried, but I’m not strong enough and… well, she was pregnant.”

“Not to mention it seems all the woods around here are infested with monsters,” San said as he chewed on his food. He looked out to the tree studded hills that surrounded the valley. Now that he looked he could see the signs of where trees had been felled and the forest pushed back.

Beneath the thin blanket of snow were fallow fields and the stumps of trees that had been chopped down. Becoming a lumberjack was an occupation that San never imagined following, but they would all freeze without more firewood. The sheer amount needed just to cook and keep a small house warm was fairly immense.

“Do you have the tools needed?” San asked. He had the small camp saw and a hatchet, that wouldn’t really be enough to keep them warm through the winter. Especially as Pavano had stated, after Midwinter’s Reprieve, they would be hit with snow.

Azois nodded and looked embarrassed again. “They might be a bit rusted and dull,” he said. “The bonewings have been a problem all fall, they ruined much of our harvest and killed several grazers. Endaha didn’t want me out in the open, in case they struck.”

“We’ll clean out the house today,” San said. “We’ll begin working on collecting more wood tomorrow. You know how to fell a tree?”

Azios looked surprised but nodded. “You don’t?” he asked.

“I lived in a city, there wasn’t much need to fell trees for firewood,” he said.

Azois eyes widened. “Which city? The Empire?”

“No. Far from here and not in the Empire. It was… a different kind of place,” San replied.

“Do you miss it?” Azois asked.

San chewed on his lunch and looked out at the snow covered land. With all the snow and the bright sunlight it was easy to forget that there were horrors out there.

“I’m not sure yet.”

***

“You grow imbar too?” San asked as they entered a small silo that was behind the farmhouse. It wasn’t as grand as Orbaris’ or as big, but it was well built and sturdy looking. The door was heavy and the stone set well.

“Everyone grows it,” Azios said. “We grow barley, wheat, kena root, cabbage, red leaf, white ears, and red and green beans. Before Brother was called up by the Baron, we had managed to plant most of the fields, but the bonewings will eat most things, especially kena root and red leaf.”

The two plants San had no idea what they were. He looked at the large pile of imbar, the room filled with the earthy lemon scent of the plant.

San picked up the pair of axes while Azois grabbed a large wooden mallet and wedges. The day was growing late and they had cleaned as much as they could of the upper room of the farmhouse. The stink of death was still lingering, but San figured a few more hits with sanitize and a good scrubbing and airing out would bring it back to normal.

“How much would you have made if you sold the imbar?” San asked as they settled in the barn. The fire they had going was keeping the chill at bay.

“We grew about a ton of imbar,” Azois said, with a slight frown. “A lot died from the late summer rains, too much water caused rot. Then there was an infestation of bugs that killed the plants. In a good year, like two years back, we could grow six tons of sellable crop and sell it to the imbar merchants for about one hundred and fifty sars per ton.”

San picked up a sharpening stone and began to sharpen the axes. They were made of iron, not steel and fairly heavy. Azois watched as he worked.

“Does anyone use the imbar for anything else?” San asked.

“They can make a syrup out of it, to add to breads to make sweets. Endaha knows how to make it and they’re good. The grazers and woollys love them too. And we can take the skins and make dye from it.” Azois had brought some blankets and clothing from the farmhouse and he dug through it. Handing San a scarf that was a variety of pinks and fuchsia colors, with threads of purple and reds.

“My mother made these, she was good at making dyes,” Azios said.

“Has anyone tried making alcohol from the imbar?”

Azois made a face. “Only the desperate drink imbar beer,” he said. “Brother says its like piss flavored with a week old dead grazer.”

“How about distilling it?”

Azois shrugged. “Distilled into what?”

“Liquor.”

“I do not know what that is,” Azois said.

San nodded and kept sharpening the axe.

***

“Pots and pans and amphora?” Pavano asked as they loaded the batto corpses into the back of the cart. The woollys brayed at the smell and the danger, but didn’t move.

“Yeah, I think I can make something out of the imbar,” San said. “I believe I can stay here at least until the end of winter. But any longer…”

“Aye,” Pavano said. “Nice komai, but it’s a lost cause if the boy’s brother doesn’t return. Too many die in wars or from sicknesses in cities and camps.

“If I sell the corpses, it’ll be enough to cover what you’re asking for. Seems a bit strange, but I can get it for you. Copper pans…” Pavano shook his head.

They tossed the last body on top of the cart and San secured the ratty tarp over them. Pavano shivered in the cold early dawn air, his breath white plumes before him.

San looked to the brightening sky; it was overcast and thick clouds were already heavy in the air.

“You could wait another day,” San said.

“Nah, those clouds mean a storm is coming. Best be on the road, at least that’s passable in most storms. My friend lives not too far off the trade road, even in the thickest of late winter storms I could still make it there.”

San nodded and extended his hand. Pavano hesitated and then shook it. “I’m glad I met you, Pavano,” San said. “You’ve taught me a lot and you’ve been a good companion.”

“You’re gonna make me blush, boy,” Pavano said. “Aye, it’s not often you meet a good man on these roads.”

San smiled “Safe journey and come back.”

“Depends on the storm. I will be back, but it’ll be two days to the ranger’s and then two more days to White Tower, another six before I can make it back, in good weather. With the storm coming, it might be longer.”

“We’ll wait your return,” San said.

Pavano nodded and got onto the cart. His spear at his side along with a loaded crossbow and two pistols. He waved to San and then clucked to the woollys. The cart rolled down the track as a cold wind blew.