Bladeshire 15

By David C. Daoust

The Collier’s Yard was a misshapen mess of uneven ground and stacked piles of wood. Years of being used for pit fires had left small hilly bumps and mounds throughout. Much of it was charred, some of which was black as pitch. Impressive tufts of wild growth managed to reclaim some areas, others… just mud waiting to happen. Old wood fence-work wrapped the far side of the land, holding back the brush. Towering trees beyond. The wattle fence around the perimeter matched the old pigsty behind Old’Hindal’s cottage; all of it made of flexible branches, bent between upright stakes. A covered area created a shelter for the animal. Notably, there was no pig within. Between the pigpen and the cottage, was a tool shed.

Chantilles looked uncertain with what was even happening. She did not see what was in the pit, she did not even look down at it. She could not figure out how the boy’s attitude could shift so suddenly. Khadory was pale and silent. He had been chatty and happy before.

“What’d we miss?” the small Spriggan, standing on her shoulder, whispered. Clearly, also noting the change.

The Spriggan, Chut, had climbed up out of her satchel upon Khadory’s arrival. It was clear to the young girl that Khadory could not actually see the fae. She did not know this until now; she always assumed everyone else either ignored them or just had no interest in their antics. This made much more sense to her; Spriggan were fun.

The boy may not see the tiny being, but he would probably notice if Chantilles was talking to herself. So, she shrugged her other shoulder and mouthed, ‘I don’t know,’ in answer to the small being.

It was actually Chantilles testing the extent of this inability to see the fae, that caused her to abandon her quest to the old stone bridge and instead follow along beside Khadory to the Collier’s yard. Chut performed the most unusual dance she had ever seen, even as Khadory chatted with her, to prove he could not be seen. It was funny.

Now Khadory was all grim and serious… and she didn’t know what she’d missed!

Abe, barking into the hole in the ground, was getting to her. She grabbed him by the scruff and scrubbed his fur. Solid attention could silence the old mastiff from time to time. It did not work; the canine’s attention was fully on the hole. He pulled away immediately and continued his barking session. Which finally, called her attention to it as well.

Chantilles did not witness the same thing Khadory had when he investigated the hole. If it was not for the smoldering smoke, she may have dismissed it as a water well; it really did not seem safe.

“Most charcoal pits tend to be wide and shallow, built up into mounds and then covered,” Chut explained, sharing his knowledge with a very serious face, “Fire burning with low oxygen was integral to making charcoal… ” She knew Spriggan were pretty handy. Any opportunity to show-off what they knew, they would take. She was used to having them explain things to her. They did build impressive, yet incredibly tiny, ships. Of course, the ships were not so tiny to them. Chantilles really did not know much about making charcoal, however.

Khadory, having reached some decision or other, brushed past her silently. She watched as he found his way to old’Hindal’s shed. The girl looked at Chut questioningly.

“What is it?” she asked.

Khadory’s silence said he did not want to scare her.

“What?” she pressed. She was not going to be left out of the loop.

“Irontooth Shrew,” Khadory said aloud in answer to her insistence. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Chantilles knew what he was talking about, took a wide step away from the hole. An Irontooth Shrew was an oversized burrowing creature… monsters, really. Bigger than a full grown hog… but, underground.

“They’re venomous and insatiable eaters,” Khadory explained. “They need to keep eating, all the live long day…”

He paused as he pushed his way into the small overloaded shed.

“…Because of this, they tend to pile food up in their dens,” He continued talking from inside. “Their bite can daze prey, leave them paralyzed until the animal finally got to it.”

None of this made her want to stay anywhere near the hole… or the premises.

“Old man Hindal should be here,” he said pointedly as he ducked back to look at her through the door, emphasizing the idea.

All of which left Chantilles thinking the old man might be paralyzed under there. Which also got her thinking they did not have time to go get help. She felt caught up, at the very least.

Chantilles removed her cloak and dropped it to the ground, pulled the satchel full of Spriggans off her shoulder and hung it from the open shed door. She felt like they would be safe there. She could hear them asking what was going on, but she decided she’d have to leave it for Chut to answer, lest Khadory think she was bonkers.

“Just take a nap fellas,” Chut yelled to them, laughed with a shrug to her.

Chantilles joined Khadory in the shed. There were all manner of tools, mostly digging implements. Enough for the entire village; Chantilles was certain. Shovels, rakes, tamping rods… Examining what was available to fend off the monstrous animal, she thought a shovel might be able to hold the creature back. Or the mattock, it could surely do some damage but… she felt like swinging it might be a bit much. Chantilles dismissed both ideas.

Khadory’s knee bashed into an old barrel in the dark. Out of place really, he found an old goosewing hewing axe within.

“Huh?” Khadory reacted, surprised.

“What is it?” Chantilles asked as he lifted the oversized tool from within the barrel.

“I saw an axe, just like this one, yesterday, at the work site,” the axe was pretty hefty but balanced; he felt like he could manage it. “It’s a Baeldhori axe. I watched them hew a log with it. All with one hand.” He tested its weight before asking, “How’d it get here?”

Chantilles did not have an answer. In the same barrel, she found a torch which she reached down and grabbed. An abrupt action which inadvertently sent Chut swinging from loose strands of her hair. He planted his feet firmly on her shoulder when he swung back around again, leaning forward like a mountain climber as she lifted the torch and returned to an upright position.

“Perfect. They don’t like light,” Chut said excitedly, referring to the torch, “We need a fire”

“We need fire,” she relayed the idea to Khadory.

“You’re reading my mind,” Khadory agreed.

The pair came out of the shack with an unlit torch in one set of hands and a fairly large axe in the others.

Khadory followed Chantilles into old’Hindal’s hut, so she could use the low burning hearth, under an ever-simmering cauldron of pottage, to light the torch.

Khadory went ahead and gave the vegetable stew a quick stir.

It took some doing but Chantilles managed to get the torch ablaze. She looked at the burning mesh wrapped around the old solid wood. Felt confident it would stay lit a good long while even as Khadory led the way back out to the hole.

Khadory dropped the axe near the hole, and moved to retrieve a lashed wood ladder that lay discarded, nearby. The ladder was light, easy to move. Used to drop down into kilns, much like this one, to prepare its walls and start to load it properly. This ‘kiln’ however was much deeper than intended. He dropped the ladder down anyway.

It jutted up from the darkness, he would have to climb down to it.

With a deep breath Khadory steadied himself for what needed to be done. He grabbed up the axe and, unceremoniously, dropped it into the hole. He heard it thud to the ground below, listened for some sort of snarl or reaction.

Nothing, even Abe had fallen silent. They listened intently.

“Drop the torch down, once I am down there,” Khadory explained her part of his half-baked plan.

“I’m going too…” she insisted.

“Just…” Khadory began, it was clear he had a different plan in mind. He nodded, but pleaded, “Not right away, let me get a look first.”

“I’ll drop the torch when you get down there,” she agreed.

The boy sat at the holes edge, turning onto his belly he began to lower himself down. His feet searching for purchase on the smoothed, clay-lined walls of the kiln. He managed to force his foot into the packed and brittle clay enough that he could lower himself to a point where his other foot was searching for the top of that ladder…He slipped abruptly and it was here the climb down, turned into more of a drop down.

Khadory landed on his feet, balanced on the top rung of the ladder, holding his arms out wide to the surrounding walls. It held solid and Khadory took a moment to make sure he had a solid purchase. He glanced back up at the girl, triumphantly… just as the ladder was suddenly snatched away from beneath him. He felt his back hit the opposite wall as he plummeted down into the creature’s den…