From Out of the Wilderness

Polished and extended 1.1 — 1h04m42s — 2023/09/15

Polished 1.1 — 1h22m40s — 2023/09/17

Adjusted the ending of 1.1 and worked on fleshing out 1.2 — 57m05s — 2023/09/19

Massive formatting effort. Rearranged chapters 1 and 2, then split off chapters 3-8. Also got through must of /book3miscellany — 1h08m38s — 2023/09/25

Polished — 48m46s — 2023/09/29

Polished — 29m56s — 2023/09/30

Polished — 47m17s — 2023/11/16

Lilyanah sifted through the detritus of a deserted blacksmith’s hut. On a high bench, pushed in a far corner, she found a small leather sack. She examined the contents, smiled to herself, then closed the bag and pulled it halfway through her belt.

An old man searched with her. “What is it you’ve found?” he asked. “Is it better than this?” he smiled and held a dagger out to her.

“Perhaps,” Lilyanah said, as she tested the weight of the dagger in her hand. “It’s some fire powder.”

“That the Saots use?” The old man shook his head. “We have no pistols.”

Lilyanah smiled. “There are other uses for such things.”

“Well, I’m glad you came with, because I never would have brought that back,” the old man replied.

“And why would I stay in the slave pens, where everything is known to be useless?” Lilyanah asked, then stepped from the ramshackle hut. A shiver ran up her spine as she tried to ignore the ash drifting and spinning in the air of the ruined fort. “That’s a nice sword you found,” she added. “Where did you get that?”

“I thought so myself!” he beamed as he followed her into the open air, and brandished the weapon in the day’s hazy light. “It was in the big house, where the soldiers are always going. It was half hidden under a mountain of Saot tabards, decorated with birds of red and black.”

“What a strange weapon,” Lilyanah stared as she ran a finger over its steel. “It has a name,” she told him. “Haddie’s Revenge.”

“How do you know that?” the old man asked.

“It told me,” the young lady shrugged.

“Who is this Haddie?” the old man continued. “Does it matter?”

“It must,” Lilyanah asserted, then shrugged again for a lack of answers. “Perhaps it is looking for this Haddie.”

“Or perhaps it is simply looking for his revenge,” the old man offered. “More importantly, will it fight against the bugbear?”

Lilyanah nodded. “It says it will.”

“FIVE MINUTES TO MUSTER!” someone called in the distance—one of the Ministrians—summoning people to the south gate. There had been several such calls, so they knew their time was running short.

“Let’s get back to the others,” Lilyanah nodded. “Shall we be ready?”

The old man shrugged. “I do not see that we have any choice.”

Lilyanah and the rest of the free slaves—a few more than a hundred in all—gathered about a small gate in the southeast corner of the wall. It wasn’t long before they heard the Ministrians charge from the south gate with a blast of their war horns. The bugbear raised the alarm—then scattered before the trample of a couple dozen war horses and the charge of several hundred men. Further afield, bugbear answered the call of their brothers and came running—but not before the line was broken. Ministrians surged through with hopes of making it all the way south to Rynth Falls.

And so it was time to go.

Cautiously, the former slaves poked open the gate and gazed about the trees. They could hear bugbear rushing to the west and south. Thankfully, the creatures were moving away from them, intent on catching the escaping Ministrians. Slowly, the slaves crept from the Invader’s Fort and started into the trees, heading toward the south edge of Camp Calderhal.

Behind them, and still in the Invader’s Fort, Brankellus began to howl his pain. Lilyanah flinched. Still inside the fort, the man that had forced her to seal his soul to black intentions now cried to the sky, in hopes that he might further distract any bugbear from noticing the escape of his countrymen. It was a noble and foolish act, and it would have grave consequences.

But that was for another time. For now, the slaves crept along with the whispers of conversation. They excelled at keeping quiet, at eschewing attention. They were well served by the harsh lessons of their captivity.

The cries of Brankellus turned to a rage, shifted to exclamations of pain, then ended abruptly. Only then did they hear Wil scream. “What are you waiting for?! KILL ME!”

Intent on getting away, the slaves picked up the pace. Many thought they had evaded the bugbear altogether—but a troop of the beasts noticed their silent passage as they were just about to clear the far corner of Camp Calderhal. The beasts snuck up behind them, and attacked with darts and thrown weapons. Several slaves fell, as panic drove the rest forward.

Near the middle, Lilyanah ran. She followed a path that dipped into a gulch where the trees and undergrowth squeezed in on them, before widening on the other side. Lilyanah noticed the narrowing, stopped, and pulled her powder from her belt. She grabbed a passing woman that carried a torch and pulled her to the side. “Get ready to throw your fire.” As the last of the slaves scampered through the narrow—Lilyanah flung the fistful of powder at the rampaging beasts that followed. “Now!” she called.

The old woman threw the torch as the first of the bugbear poured through the narrow. With a blinding flash and a burst of heat, the powder ignited, then dropped onto their pursuers. Several bugbear caught fire, along with the trees that bent over the narrow. The remaining bugbear pulled up short.

Lilyanah and her surprised neighbor ran after the others, having frustrated the bugbear pursuit—but they did not get away cleanly. The slaves were malnourished and slow. It wasn’t long before the bugbear caught up to them. Many turned with a grim determination, born of a hellish mix of courage, desperation, and rage. A battle ensued.

Despite their vigor, the slaves had little training and pitiful weapons. The fight turned against them, so much so, that Lilyanah had to use her knife. Then, from the direction of the ruined camp, several dozen armed men and women charged into the remaining bugbear and turned the tide. A number of the bugbear died, while the others fled, howling and threatening revenge.

For a long moment, these joiners stared after the defeated bugbear, grinning, and rather happy with themselves. Pleased, they turned to notice a mass of frowning and prickly slaves.

“Well met,” a thin, tall Trohl held out his hand. “I’m Tehris.”

The slaves glared at him, including Lilyanah, for they suspected correctly that he was one of Kezodel’s men, a Degorouth. Still, they were all far from home, with danger lurking—so Lilyanah took his hand and said. “We go east, as free people. If you would come with us, we will share the road.”

Wanting to be away from the place, and suspecting safety in numbers, the joiners—which were all Degorouth or Ministrians—readily agreed to her terms. They turned and followed the former slaves as they all worked their way east.

It wasn’t an hour before they arrived at a small slow stream. Tehris turned and looked about the survivors. “Let us set some traps and false trails to confound our pursuers.”

Several of the Ministrians agreed.

“Who among you will help us?” Tehris asked the slaves. When no volunteers were immediate, he began to glare. “Will you not help save your own?!”

Lilyanah raised her hand, and a few others followed. The old man took Lilyanah’s hand and lowered it. “Stay with the others,” he said. “I will go in your place.” Before long, there were a couple dozen volunteers.

Tehris turned to Lilyanah. “Take these others down stream until it connects to the river proper. You should find it maybe a day and a half from here. Once you find the big river, follow it upstream and it will eventually lead you all the way to Lake Kundiliae,” he said. “As you go, walk in the water as long as you can. It will disguise your scent.”

“And you?” she asked. “Where shall you go?”

“We’ll go straight across the river, and with any luck we will convince them it is not worth their trouble to follow us,” he said.

“How will you find us?”

“I know this area as well as anyone,” Tehris answered. “Just follow this water, and if we don’t see you tomorrow, we will find you the next day.”

Lilyanah led the others among the rocks of the water. When the creek got rough, they stepped along it’s banks until it was shallow again, then stepped back into the water. For the rest of the day, they followed the stream, then set up camp as the day got dark, and huddled together for warmth.

Through the dark of the night, the band of survivors listened for any sounds of their enemies among the strange noises of the night. Then, as the sun began to light, they broke camp and continued to follow the water, happy to see there was no sign of pursuit.

The second day was easier than the first. Although they walked in the shallows several more times, they slowed their pace, and searched among the trees for anything to eat. Several were adept foragers and managed to find some vegetables and fruits. A few were skilled fishers, and a good dozen trout were caught. That night, they risked a quick fire, and had a warm dinner of cooked vegetables and fish.

About halfway through the next day, the small stream connected with a much larger river. Many agreed that this was the River Kundilae. They followed it up stream, assured that they would soon come to the lake.

The next day their pace became even more leisurely. Though not full, their bellies were attended, and any pursuit was largely forgotten—though from time to time, one or another would glance over their shoulder with an air of worry, then step quickly to the front of the train. Still, Lilyanah could feel her spirit soaring as she stared through the trees. She figured they’d hear nothing more of the bugbear—but two days later, Tehris found them with less than a dozen men, all battered and bloody. Several were sick with the rot. Thankfully, Lilyanah found just the herbs she’d need to make a rub that would slow its spread. It was not ideal, but it would give them a couple days.

Lilyanah was treating a gruff Ministrian that had rot spreading over his right shoulder, and also at his waist, when she noticed his sword. “Where did you get that?” she asked as she stared at Haddie’s Revenge.

“I took it from the corpse of another, after I lost my own weapon,” the big man said. “Why do you ask?”

“It belonged to a friend,” Lilyanah stared, going numb as she remembered her old neighbor.

The big man nodded. “We had many fights, and some of them didn’t go as we might have liked. Your friend was brave and fought hard. It was an honor to fight at his side.”

Lilyanah sniffed her tears, gave a nod, then continued her treatment. “By chance is your name Haddie?”

The large man shook his head, “my name is Cairn.”

That night, as they sat about a small fire and fried some fish, Lilyanah noticed that Cairn was crying. “What is it?” she asked, worried that her treatment had accidentally made things worse.

“Oh, it’s just those beasts,” Cairn said as he wiped his eyes. “They killed my best friend, and now they kill me.” He shook his head. “At least he died to one of the quick poisons. At least he didn’t linger and wilt.”

Lilyanah sat next to the man. Leaning against him, she put a comforting hand on his own.

His breathing calmed. after a minute of such tender touching, Cairn whispered to her. “Will you dance in my arms and sing praise with me?” he asked.

Lilyanah’s eyes went wide. She knew a bit about the lives of Ministrians and had an immediate insight that this man asked for more than music.

“I have good coin,” he said with lust in his eyes.

Lilyanah stood and marched from the ring of firelight. She glanced back to make sure he did not follow.

That night was a tense. The return of Tehris and his fighters made the others worry. Tehris, several of the fighters, and many of the othersrefused to sleep. Instead, they crept at the edges of the camp, making sure they were still safe.

The next day, many thought they had escaped, until midafternoon, when the men that protected their van caught a bugbear patrol that was searching for their trail. The fighting was fierce, but brief, since the bugbear realized their enemies among a swarm of traps. The beasts dodged back into the forest, looking to collect reinforcements.

And so the chase was on. The survivors trekked along the river, their pace slowed by the injured and infirm—but it wasn’t long before they reached Lake Kundilae, then followed the bank, in hopes of finding a boat. They found a road and a slight peninsula, where a larger vessel drifted not far from the coast with lines in the water. Howls from the forest signified that a large mass of bugbear had found their trail and were crashing down upon them once more. Those on the bank called and screamed at the boat, which finally noticed them. They pulled in their lines, then began the slow and lumbrous act of turning and approaching the bank. The calls and screams from the forest grew as the boat finally reached them and set a plank for them to board.

“What is that racket?!” the boat’s captain asked; then pushed back at the those that boarded, and tried to slow them. “You are too many!” he scolded. “Some of you will have to wait! We will come back for you in a few days!”

“You will take us all!” Tehris snapped as the rest simply ignored him and piled onto the vessel. “Those beasts won’t leave us, and neither will we—unless it be you!”

The captain blanched as the cries of bugbear grew. “What is out there?” he asked.

“The devil and all his hordes,” Tehris said with all earnestness.

The captain could do nothing but believe him. “Jeiju save us,” he said as he waved them on. “Hurry up!” he cried. “Prepare to shove off!” he called to his men.

It took a good effort to get Cairn and the other two men that suffered from the rot into the boat—and while they struggled, the remaining stragglers forgot the board, jumped into the lake, and climbed over the sides of the ship.

“We should have left them to die in the wilderness,” Tehris complained. “The rot will take them anyway.”

Since they were now on board, Lilyanah bit her lip. “Push off!” she called. “Push off, and get us into deep water!” The others took up the call.

The sailors took to their oars, and several big men took up the few extra. Slowly, the boat swung around and drifted from the land. Although it was quite a large vessel, the mass of humanity that crowded aboard caused it to ride dangerously low in the water—yet all were aboard—and when the bugbear finally appeared on the shores of the lake, the people were relieved to see that their darts and arrows fell short, dotting the waters of the lake with a lot of harmless ripples.

“What the devil is all that?!” the captain asked as he stared back at the mass of hostility that clamored at the bank.

“It is a war of bugbear,” Lilyanah told him. “Do you think they will try to follow us across the water?”

“Well, they seem hesitant to enter the lake. Perhaps that is the last we shall see of them,” he said. Still, he shook his head. “It’ll take us most the night to get across the water, and we’ll be lucky if we aren’t swamped in the process.” Indeed, the trip across Lake Kundilae was slow and delicate. Any major shifting of those that rode the boat caused water to slip over the edges and threatened to swamp the boat altogether, just as the captain had feared. The captain cursed them several times for their restlessness. “Sit still, or you’ll drown us all!” he yelled. A few of the smaller ones that weighed the least and seemed to have the most energy, were tasked with bailing any water that found its way into the boat.

Night approached and brought with it a glimmer of hope. Sparks of light beamed across the water, far in the distance. “Is that…?” someone began to ask.

“Ebertin,” a deckhand confirmed.

Lilyanah felt her heart soar, despite cold feet and a wet rump. She shivered between Cairn and another of the sick men, this one a Trohl, as he suffered from both the cold and the rot.

They finally made the docks as the sky was lighting, just before the sun came up. Tehris was the first one off, and he immediately had word with the port master. “Dead?!” Lilyanah heard him say. “Kezodel’s dead?! When did this happen?!”

“Yesterday morning,” the man answered. “The magician and the Saot general that murdered him are still at large...”

Lilyanah decided this had nothing to do with her, and ignored the rest of the conversation, especially as they began to talk of revenge.

An older man, a small Ministrian with a wild shock of hair, helped Lilyanah get Cairn off the boat. “Do you really think you can cure them?” he asked her of the three sick men with rot.

“I cannot,” Lilyanah began. “But if they can be saved, it is my master that can do it.”

“Is she here? In Ebertin?”

“She is,” Lilyanah smiled.

“Very well, then,” the old man continued. “I shall come with you, for I would know how to treat such a terrible condition,” he said, then offered a hand. “My name is Celt.”

“Welcome, Celt. Now if we would see them healed, we must find the house of my master. Do you know the way to Edgewater?” she asked.

“But we are already here!” Celt smiled. “So tell me, what is the street, and what is the number, for I imagine we shall be there within the hour.”

Lilyanah told him. Celt led the way as the other survivors followed—all except Tehris and the handful of men he led that were still healthy. She did not care where they went.

Some eighty stong, the survivors arrived at a large house with an immaculate garden. Lilyanah knocked on the door. She didn’t have to wait long to be answered. The door cracked open and a half dozen children stared up at them with mixed emotions.

“Who is it?” an adult voice asked.

“They’ve come!” one of the young girl’s beamed. “Gramma’s people have finally come!”

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