Chapter IV
‘The widespread tales of magicks, monsters, and other such unsubstantiated phenomena find fertile soil indeed in the unlearned minds of the hard-working roughnecks who people our frontiers. It is only to be expected that these unlettered frontiersmen would give such unwarranted credence to these apocryphal tales of dragons, witches, and other such nonsense. There is no harm in these ridiculous beliefs, of course, but for myself I find their ignorance repugnant, and strive wherever I may to set these unfortunates right in their thinking. As many of my colleagues are aware, however, these beliefs are often informed by generations of oral tradition and can be exceedingly hard to dislodge from the ignorant mind.’
- C. Jonah Berigan, Head of Esoteric Studies, New Odys University, Southeast Mescona
“Boreans.” The Apothecary said with a precise inflection that Jed did not bother attempting to replicate. “That is what the old tales name them.” A great tome of a book was cracked open on the table before the aged woman clad in the white robes of the healer. Marianna Tomasic was known and respected throughout the village, for she was the chief healer of Dormis. For such people as cared about the minutiae of the tales, false or true, that blew about in the breeze of regional folklore, Tomasic was also the local keeper of lore. She had served in that role for a few generations now, since before the time of Jed’s father Marcus, and she was quite old. Unlike Reichard the alchemist, who had passed away with his esoteric secrets intact, the Apothecary was more than eager to share her knowledge and had trained many midwives. More than a few of her students were now able healers in their own right, learned in the age-old lore of herbs and medicine. Indeed, she had several apprentices of varying age and skill level, some of whom hoped to one day be Apothecaries in their own right. All were now away at the church service to which all the village had that morning been called.
Tomasic, Jed, and Huber Hawthorne were the only three that had dared to willingly spurn the service, for they knew all the priest was to tell the peoples of Dormis. In the feverish discussions of the night before, when Jed and Huber had been dead on their feet with exhaustion, it had been agreed by the hastily convened group of apothecary, priest, farmer, and Sheriff that Falmer, the chapel-keeper, was best disposed to break the awful news to the townsfolk in the sermon of the following morning: The news that they were besieged by terrible lizard-beasts that walked like men, and that the life of every man, woman, and child was in danger. By now it would be known by all, and the scared citizens of Dormis would demand to know what was to be done. So it was that while the priest eased the worries of the townsfolk as best he could, the rest of them were met in secret to forge a plan of action.
“Boreans, huh? Well that there picture looks well enough like ‘em.” Said Huber Hawthorne, who like Jed had bags under his eyes and was exhausted despite a night’s good rest. He still bore the scars of his encounter with the lizardfolk – these Boreans – and the Apothecary had spent some time in the night ministering to his many small wounds. The farmer sipped from one of the steaming tin cups that Apothecary had served them. Tomasic, too, held a cup, but hers was of white china that would have looked ridiculous in the farmer’s gnarled hands. The still-steaming tea kettle was set on a side table, and the Apothecary’s desk was dominated by the thick and age-worn book around which the three now huddled. Its pages indeed held a crude but accurate drawing of the beasts Jed had fought the night before. The Sheriff set his cup aside carefully and pointed at one of the scant lines of text that represented the lore known of these strange creatures.
“Five to seven feet tall?” Jed said incredulously and he looked at Huber. The farmer shrugged. “I wasn’t in much of a position to reckon their stature.” Huber said quietly, and his eyes were fixed on the cruel claws and the needle-sharp teeth in the illustration. Jed scratched his chin in thought. “Well, I was in a fine position to see ‘em. And I rightly reckon the ones we dealt with was about five feet.”
“Maybe they was runts is all. Always a few runts in every litter, my pappy used to say.” Huber offered, calling on his ample experience with livestock. “…Though he was talking about hogs, you understand.” Jed nodded, deep in thought. The Apothecary took another long sip of her tea and set the empty cup down upon its platter. “Unfortunately, gentlemen, I think it far more likely that they were merely juveniles.” There was silence as they processed the implications of this. Huber had a look of slight confusion about his face. “Children.” Tomasic clarified, and the unlearned farmer nodded gratefully, a grim look upon his face. For a time it was silent.
“I don’t see nothin’ in this book about them kidnapping folks.” Jed said, and he too still bore the scars of the night before despite the Apothecary’s ministrations. Tomasic shrugged. “It’s just an old book, Jed. I’d read through it a few times, and to be quite frank, I figured it all for nonsense until your description of the beasts reminded me of this entry. Now I wonder what else in these pages lies out there somewhere in the wilds, waiting for some luckless soul to stumble upon it. Where does myth end and fact begin? Some lorekeeper I am.” The Apothecary looked somewhat crestfallen. Jed had no answers for this, and he gave it little thought, concerned as he was about how best to deal with the threat of the Boreans.
“Scuse me, ma’am, but where did you get this book?” Huber drawled, holding out his cup for more tea. Tomasic refilled it for him and replied. “You remember Reichard, the old alchemist, of course. He was studious in more than a few fields, as most natural philosophers are wont to be. After his unfortunate passing the book…came into my possession, and there it has remained in my safekeeping. I do make it my business to keep such lore as we have in these parts, after all.” Jed caught her eye with a dangerous look. “So you stole it.” He said quietly. The Apothecary scoffed. “Would you rather I have left it to rot? At least I was able to save this small piece of the vast knowledge cruelly taken from us with Reichard’s passing. And if I had not taken it, you would not have learned what it had to say of the Boreans.”
Jed drank the last of his tea and set the cup aside, patting his pockets for his pipe. “This old chickenscratch didn’t tell me nothin’ I hadn’t already guessed except the name.” He took out his pipe and begin to fill it with tobacco from a pouch. Huber looked expectantly at Jed and the Sheriff nodded in unspoken assent, agreeing to share his smoke with the farmer. “And are you not grateful for something to call them? Know thy enemy, wise men say…And I’ll thank you not to smoke in here, Sheriff.” Jed set the half-filled pipe aside with slight annoyance and stood up to refill his tin cup with tea. “Only thing I need to know is they don’t take kindly to bullets, same as normal folks. Don’t need to know what they’re called to shoot ‘em.” He eyed the Apothecary. “Or do you suppose we’ll stop and have a nice chit-chat, now I’ve killed five of their youngins? …All the same, I do appreciate your help, ma’am.”
The Apothecary sighed, and for a moment she looked quite weary. “Whatever aid I may offer is yours to take, Sheriff. Like you, my aim is only to serve my people in whatever way I may. Refill the tea kettle, will you? I’ve still a bit of chill in my bones.” Tomasic wrapped her white hempen shawl more tightly and resettled herself into the leather armchair in which she sat. Huber Hawthorne had been looking forlornly at the forgotten tobacco pipe, but presently he turned his attention back to the matter at hand as Jed refilled the copper tea kettle and set it atop the woodburning stove. “I don’t know about all that serving my people and suchnot, but I got me a score to settle with them slimy sonsabitches what kidnapped me all the same, you mark my words. You can count on me if’n you aim to take the fight back to them lizards, Jed.” Jed sat back down, shaking his head. “I appreciate the offer, friend, but this here’s my duty. I couldn’t bear to face your wife if you got hurt – or worse, perish the thought. Besides, you got crops to sow, or have you forgot in all the excitement? The safety of the village is my concern.”
“Much as we appreciate your professional dedication, Sheriff…” The Apothecary began, “I suspect you may not be up to the task alone. Who knows how many of the beasts there could be? A dozen, two dozen, a hundred? We need more information before we just go in guns blazing. We don’t even know where the beasts live, though presumably it is near to Ricker’s lands. According to the book, they tend to cool, wet places and are primarily subterranean.” Huber looked puzzled. “I know I ain’t lettered like y’all with your book learnin’, but ain’t lizards, whatchacallit, cold-blooded? Have to lay out in the sun to get warm and such? Seems to me as they wouldn’t like cold places.” Tomasic nodded, puzzled. “It would seem these creatures are an exception, though I don’t profess to understand it myself.” Jed rubbed at the frostbite scars on his arms. “Well that green slime as came out of ‘em was colder than ice. So cold it burned.” The Sheriff trailed off, then shook his head.
“Cold-blooded is right. Wherever they come from, they ain’t natural… or not natural as we reckon things around these parts, anyhow.” He added. “I reckon you’re right, though. We need to know more about ‘em before I lay down the law.” Jed retrieved his half-filled pipe from the endtable and stood to walk outside. Huber followed at his heels, setting his empty cup down. Wearily the Apothecary got to her feet and joined them outside on the porch, where Jed was finishing packing his pipe. He puffed a couple times at the damp tobacco before the ember finally caught from his match, and he handed the pipe off to Huber, who took it gratefully. “Given that we ought to conduct some reconnaissance,” Tomasic began, sitting in her wicker rocking chair and spreading a woolen blanket across her knees. “What did you have in mind, Sheriff?” Jed took his pipe back from the farmer and puffed at it thoughtfully.
“We might see ought if we climbed Harbuck’s Hill.” he responded. “From there you can see the whole of Ricker’s homestead on a clear day.” The Apothecary nodded. “That seems as good an idea as any. Huber, won’t you be a dear and fetch the wooden case from my bottom desk drawer?” Tomasic waved her hand before her nose with a feeble cough, and Jed deferentially took a few steps to the side to stand downwind of her. “Ma’am.” Huber said respectfully, and he went in to fetch the requested item. After a brief time he emerged and set the case down upon the Apothecary’s lap. Jed handed the farmer back the gently-smoking pipe, blowing a smoke ring up into the clear blue sky. Huber shielded the pipe with his hand as a chill wind blew up the dusty road which the Apothecary’s porch abutted. The elderly woman opened the box and sorted through its contents with care before snapping it shut and opening a cloth bag to reveal a brass tube, which she handed to Jed.
The Sheriff turned the device over in his hands. Holding out her hand, Tomasic took it from him and pulled gently at either end, revealing its purpose with the telescoping length of the tube. “This here’s my old spyglass. Might need a bit of polishing, but if there’s anything to see on that old farm, you’ll see it through this.” She wrapped the telescope back up in its bundle and handed it to Jed, who stowed it in his pack. “Thank you kindly, ma’am. I’ll take good care of it, you can be sure.” Huber tapped Jed’s shoulder and handed him back the tobacco pipe, which Jed puffed a couple more times before tapping out upon the ground and putting away. “Assuming we don’t see nothin’,” The farmer began thoughtfully. “What then?” The Apothecary said nothing, and Jed scratched his chin. “Well, I figure as its either that or I try and sneak back up there and have a look see in person.” Jed said without much relish. “And frankly I ain’t fixin’ to go back up there without bein’ well-armed and ready to shoot. Them beasts is vicious and quick.”
Huber nodded in agreement with a shudder. “That they are. I ain’t keen to go back to that accursed place, Jed, but I can’t let you go alone. You gotta take me with you. Put a gun in my hand, and I’ll watch your back as good as any. Its a matter of honor now.” The farmer met Jed’s eyes, steeling himself. The Sheriff shook his head ruefully. “This ain’t about honor, Hawthorne. The safety of the village is at stake. Ain’t nobody going back there but me, and that’s that.” The farmer balled his straw hat up in his hands in frustration. “Dangit, Jed. You’re gonna get yourself killed!” Jed was beginning a sharp reply when the Apothecary cut in: “I beg your pardon, Sheriff, but it might be as you need his help…But we’re all getting ahead of ourselves. You boys go on up the hill and have a look, then we’ll see what’s to be done.” The two men looked at each other and nodded. “Alright then.” Jed said after a pause. “We’ll be back before high noon, I reckon. Follow me, Huber.”
The two men exited and strode away down the dirt path. The dust of the road kicked up high in the chilly morning breeze. Huber was used to the long, slow labor of the field and had some trouble keeping up with Jed’s purposeful strides. They wound along the curving trails that crisscrossed the open countryside. The land was just beginning to tinge with the green of spring. The westerly wind brought to their ears the cheerful music of morning birds, and the Sheriff was pleased for a time to walk in silence in the peaceful hills. At the crest of an east facing hill he turned to look out upon his lands, for that was how he thought of Dormis. It was not his to rule or his to govern, and if the people had chosen to do so they could have taken away all his power in an instant and demanded he hand over his gun and his badges of office.
Come to that, he wasn’t sure if he would, he reflected. The gun and the badge were family heirlooms true enough, and he was entitled to their ownership, Sheriff or no. The mantle of authority they carried, though, was something he had earned through blood, sweat, and toil – and that was what the people could take away, for it was by their will that he was entrusted with such authority. That would have been a bitter pill to swallow, indeed. Being the son of the Sheriff wasn’t a free ticket to an easy ride. Some in the wide land thought it a curse to be sired so and fought their whole lives against the perceived shame of failing to take on the family business. Jed knew nothing of this, for he had never aspired to anything other than to follow in his father’s footsteps. He’d been fighting, training, and shooting since he was old enough to hold a gun in his hand. Sometimes the lessons had been rough, and he’d had more scrapes and bruises than he could count, mostly through his own clumsiness.
The final test to become a Sheriff was generally up to the one who trained them, and Marcus had been one for the old traditions in that respect. Many throughout Mescona nowadays had been named to the office of Sheriff after their mentors merely felt they had proved their worth sufficiently through regular duty – and in the minds of those who followed the old ways, they were softer for it. Some said the old traditions were barbaric. The adherents claimed it was necessary to ensure the firmness of mind and body needed in a Sheriff. Some claimed these traditions had grown out of native Mesconan tribal rituals, and this theory had gained some ground in scholastic circles that studied such things, though the materially-focused natural philosophers of course paid no mind to the mystical associations the superstitious natives gave to these supposedly sacred rites of consecration.
The prescribed ceremony generally involved the candidate performing some act – or acts – of great prestige to prove they possessed the requisite strength, agility, valor, and other such qualities that in the minds of the philosophers were too abstract to quantify with such simple tests. In the original native traditions, this would involve the participant being marked with ritual ointments – presumably made with herbs of some spiritual significance – and setting about the task specified by their mentor with only the most basic of tools. In most cases, this was simply the slaying of a large beast wielding only a simple knife. Those were the old, old traditions, however, before even the second settling of Mescona, and most natural philosophers agreed that this was an archaic practice many years out of any actual use.
This was not quite true, in fact, or at least not so far as Dormis was concerned. As Marcus had done before him overseen by his father Leto, Jed had undergone three such rites for his final test, and each had been a challenge that pushed him to his limits. Marcus had long impressed upon his son the seriousness of his duty, and Jed had taken his many lessons to heart from a young age. The Sheriff had no desire to see his own son killed, but he had a sacred duty to protect the peoples of those lands. He would not be around forever, he had always reminded his son, and someone had to take over when he was gone – someone truly worthy of the job. He had not told his son that it was his duty to do so: that Jed had decided for himself.
It had been only with the most serious affirmation that he was truly ready, that after years of long training, on Jed’s eighteenth birthday, Marcus took him into the wilderness to undergo his ceremonial rites and thereafter swear the sacred oath of the law, to uphold justice and defend his lands from all threats, be they from above or below, from man or beast, from without, or, worst of all, from within. After three days, he emerged bloodied from the wilds the Sheriff of Dormis, and his father had retired that day and handed Jed the gun and badges of his office that he wore with pride to this day. Dazed and bloodied from the fierce challenges he had faced in the wilds, Jed had been only half aware during the public ceremony in which his father proclaimed him the new Sheriff. All the peoples of Dormis had welcomed him with open arms, for all knew him to be fair and just, like his father.
His mind lingered on the memories of the challenges Marcus had set before him on that weekend in the wilds, and the victories he had bought there with tooth and nail, sealing his oath of law with blood. Presently he was brought back to his senses, his gaze drifting out over the vista of modern Dormis in its valley below him. His father’s revolver hung heavy at his side, and a chill breeze ruffled his clothing on the high hilltop. He heard the clearing of a throat behind him. “Sheriff?” Huber said quietly. “We ought to be goin’.” Jed tore his gaze away from the peaceful village and turned to the farmer. “That we should.” The Sheriff agreed. He strode on past Huber, making the final descent before they would climb the highest local peak of Harbuck’s Hill – where Jed had stood so long ago with Marcus to look down upon the fallen house of Antonius Ricker in its valley far away.
“Tell me something, Hue.” Jed said conversationally. “Why ever did you go following your dang cow – may she rest in peace – all that way to that damned place? I’m halfway glad you did now, else we might not know about them lizard-thing…er, Boreans. But you might’ve saved yourself a damn sight of trouble if you’d have waited for Bessy to come back on her own.” The farmer said nothing for a time, and Jed heard only the panting of his breath as they climbed the long, slow slope of the high hill. “Tell the truth, I wasn’t sure what I was doin’ myself.” Huber finally replied. “I kept tellin’ myself, oh she’s right around the next bend. Next thing I know I’m a league away from home and the sun’s goin’ down, so I figures in for a penny in for a pound, might as well keep goin’. Eventually I got turned around but I came back across her tracks and there she was, all huddled up underneath a pine tree, eyes wild, brambles caught all over her…She was a sore sight, I tell you what. I was just fixin’ to make a fire for the night when, er, they found us.” The farmer paused, as if caught again in the horror of the attack. Jed paused to look back, and Huber caught his eye with a haunted expression.
“They came out of nowhere, Jed. Maybe it was lucky you caught them in the barn where you did. In the dark and in the forest, I didn’t see sight or sound of them until they was on us. Poor Bessy was wailin’ and hollerin’, and just like that I was out cold. I can only guess they must’ve slung me over Bessy and driven her back to the barn before they…well, y’know.” Jed had a grave look on his face, and Huber looked as though he might be ill. “Seems to me we ought to be more careful.” The Sheriff said grimly. “I knew when I looked in their dead eyes they was too smart for their own good.” He spat upon the ground in disgust. “Your story just about tears it. That ain’t somethin’ wild beasts would do. A wolf would’ve torn into the both of you on the spot. They had plans, even if it was only to share dinner with the rest of their…pack, or whatever you wanna call a group of ‘em. They’re too clever by half, you mark my words.”
For a time, Huber said nothing and they climbed in moody silence. Finally, the farmer spoke in between panting breaths. “Bein’ as they’s so clever and dangerous…You really gotta let me come along with you, Jed. For your own good, if not for my honor. What would we do without you? You need a body to watch your back.” The farmer seemed so earnest in his concern that the Sheriff sighed, kicking a loose stone down the hill behind him. “Look, Hue. There’s nobody I’d rather have watching my back. You’re wary and you’re tough, and you seen them creatures before, besides. But I can’t in good conscience bring anyone along with me. I’d be solely responsible if you got hurt, you have to realize. The whole point of this to prevent the townsfolk from injury, and why am I gonna go through all the trouble of dyin’ to protect y’all just to have one of my folks die alongside me?” The corner of his mouth turned up at this, and Huber, too, smiled for a moment. “You can jest all you want, Jed, but if you don’t tie me down, I’m comin’ with you, and that’s that. If you don’t give me a gun, I’ll just go and fetch my pappy’s wood-axe and we’ll see if them beasts’ hides is tougher than valley cedar, eh?” Now it was Huber’s turn to grin at Jed, but the Sheriff was not smiling.
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‘The widespread tales of magicks, monsters, and other such unsubstantiated phenomena find fertile soil indeed in the unlearned minds of the hard-working roughnecks who people our frontiers. It is only to be expected that these unlettered frontiersmen would give such unwarranted credence to these apocryphal tales of dragons, witches, and other such nonsense. There is no harm in these ridiculous beliefs, of course, but for myself I find their ignorance repugnant, and strive wherever I may to set these unfortunates right in their thinking. As many of my colleagues are aware, however, these beliefs are often informed by generations of oral tradition and can be exceedingly hard to dislodge from the ignorant mind.’
- C. Jonah Berigan, Head of Esoteric Studies, New Odys University, Southeast Mescona
“Boreans.” The Apothecary said with a precise inflection that Jed did not bother attempting to replicate. “That is what the old tales name them.” A great tome of a book was cracked open on the table before the aged woman clad in the white robes of the healer. Marianna Tomasic was known and respected throughout the village, for she was the chief healer of Dormis. For such people as cared about the minutiae of the tales, false or true, that blew about in the breeze of regional folklore, Tomasic was also the local keeper of lore. She had served in that role for a few generations now, since before the time of Jed’s father Marcus, and she was quite old. Unlike Reichard the alchemist, who had passed away with his esoteric secrets intact, the Apothecary was more than eager to share her knowledge and had trained many midwives. More than a few of her students were now able healers in their own right, learned in the age-old lore of herbs and medicine. Indeed, she had several apprentices of varying age and skill level, some of whom hoped to one day be Apothecaries in their own right. All were now away at the church service to which all the village had that morning been called.
Tomasic, Jed, and Huber Hawthorne were the only three that had dared to willingly spurn the service, for they knew all the priest was to tell the peoples of Dormis. In the feverish discussions of the night before, when Jed and Huber had been dead on their feet with exhaustion, it had been agreed by the hastily convened group of apothecary, priest, farmer, and Sheriff that Falmer, the chapel-keeper, was best disposed to break the awful news to the townsfolk in the sermon of the following morning: The news that they were besieged by terrible lizard-beasts that walked like men, and that the life of every man, woman, and child was in danger. By now it would be known by all, and the scared citizens of Dormis would demand to know what was to be done. So it was that while the priest eased the worries of the townsfolk as best he could, the rest of them were met in secret to forge a plan of action.
“Boreans, huh? Well that there picture looks well enough like ‘em.” Said Huber Hawthorne, who like Jed had bags under his eyes and was exhausted despite a night’s good rest. He still bore the scars of his encounter with the lizardfolk – these Boreans – and the Apothecary had spent some time in the night ministering to his many small wounds. The farmer sipped from one of the steaming tin cups that Apothecary had served them. Tomasic, too, held a cup, but hers was of white china that would have looked ridiculous in the farmer’s gnarled hands. The still-steaming tea kettle was set on a side table, and the Apothecary’s desk was dominated by the thick and age-worn book around which the three now huddled. Its pages indeed held a crude but accurate drawing of the beasts Jed had fought the night before. The Sheriff set his cup aside carefully and pointed at one of the scant lines of text that represented the lore known of these strange creatures.
“Five to seven feet tall?” Jed said incredulously and he looked at Huber. The farmer shrugged. “I wasn’t in much of a position to reckon their stature.” Huber said quietly, and his eyes were fixed on the cruel claws and the needle-sharp teeth in the illustration. Jed scratched his chin in thought. “Well, I was in a fine position to see ‘em. And I rightly reckon the ones we dealt with was about five feet.”
“Maybe they was runts is all. Always a few runts in every litter, my pappy used to say.” Huber offered, calling on his ample experience with livestock. “…Though he was talking about hogs, you understand.” Jed nodded, deep in thought. The Apothecary took another long sip of her tea and set the empty cup down upon its platter. “Unfortunately, gentlemen, I think it far more likely that they were merely juveniles.” There was silence as they processed the implications of this. Huber had a look of slight confusion about his face. “Children.” Tomasic clarified, and the unlearned farmer nodded gratefully, a grim look upon his face. For a time it was silent.
“I don’t see nothin’ in this book about them kidnapping folks.” Jed said, and he too still bore the scars of the night before despite the Apothecary’s ministrations. Tomasic shrugged. “It’s just an old book, Jed. I’d read through it a few times, and to be quite frank, I figured it all for nonsense until your description of the beasts reminded me of this entry. Now I wonder what else in these pages lies out there somewhere in the wilds, waiting for some luckless soul to stumble upon it. Where does myth end and fact begin? Some lorekeeper I am.” The Apothecary looked somewhat crestfallen. Jed had no answers for this, and he gave it little thought, concerned as he was about how best to deal with the threat of the Boreans.
“Scuse me, ma’am, but where did you get this book?” Huber drawled, holding out his cup for more tea. Tomasic refilled it for him and replied. “You remember Reichard, the old alchemist, of course. He was studious in more than a few fields, as most natural philosophers are wont to be. After his unfortunate passing the book…came into my possession, and there it has remained in my safekeeping. I do make it my business to keep such lore as we have in these parts, after all.” Jed caught her eye with a dangerous look. “So you stole it.” He said quietly. The Apothecary scoffed. “Would you rather I have left it to rot? At least I was able to save this small piece of the vast knowledge cruelly taken from us with Reichard’s passing. And if I had not taken it, you would not have learned what it had to say of the Boreans.”
Jed drank the last of his tea and set the cup aside, patting his pockets for his pipe. “This old chickenscratch didn’t tell me nothin’ I hadn’t already guessed except the name.” He took out his pipe and begin to fill it with tobacco from a pouch. Huber looked expectantly at Jed and the Sheriff nodded in unspoken assent, agreeing to share his smoke with the farmer. “And are you not grateful for something to call them? Know thy enemy, wise men say…And I’ll thank you not to smoke in here, Sheriff.” Jed set the half-filled pipe aside with slight annoyance and stood up to refill his tin cup with tea. “Only thing I need to know is they don’t take kindly to bullets, same as normal folks. Don’t need to know what they’re called to shoot ‘em.” He eyed the Apothecary. “Or do you suppose we’ll stop and have a nice chit-chat, now I’ve killed five of their youngins? …All the same, I do appreciate your help, ma’am.”
The Apothecary sighed, and for a moment she looked quite weary. “Whatever aid I may offer is yours to take, Sheriff. Like you, my aim is only to serve my people in whatever way I may. Refill the tea kettle, will you? I’ve still a bit of chill in my bones.” Tomasic wrapped her white hempen shawl more tightly and resettled herself into the leather armchair in which she sat. Huber Hawthorne had been looking forlornly at the forgotten tobacco pipe, but presently he turned his attention back to the matter at hand as Jed refilled the copper tea kettle and set it atop the woodburning stove. “I don’t know about all that serving my people and suchnot, but I got me a score to settle with them slimy sonsabitches what kidnapped me all the same, you mark my words. You can count on me if’n you aim to take the fight back to them lizards, Jed.” Jed sat back down, shaking his head. “I appreciate the offer, friend, but this here’s my duty. I couldn’t bear to face your wife if you got hurt – or worse, perish the thought. Besides, you got crops to sow, or have you forgot in all the excitement? The safety of the village is my concern.”
“Much as we appreciate your professional dedication, Sheriff…” The Apothecary began, “I suspect you may not be up to the task alone. Who knows how many of the beasts there could be? A dozen, two dozen, a hundred? We need more information before we just go in guns blazing. We don’t even know where the beasts live, though presumably it is near to Ricker’s lands. According to the book, they tend to cool, wet places and are primarily subterranean.” Huber looked puzzled. “I know I ain’t lettered like y’all with your book learnin’, but ain’t lizards, whatchacallit, cold-blooded? Have to lay out in the sun to get warm and such? Seems to me as they wouldn’t like cold places.” Tomasic nodded, puzzled. “It would seem these creatures are an exception, though I don’t profess to understand it myself.” Jed rubbed at the frostbite scars on his arms. “Well that green slime as came out of ‘em was colder than ice. So cold it burned.” The Sheriff trailed off, then shook his head.
“Cold-blooded is right. Wherever they come from, they ain’t natural… or not natural as we reckon things around these parts, anyhow.” He added. “I reckon you’re right, though. We need to know more about ‘em before I lay down the law.” Jed retrieved his half-filled pipe from the endtable and stood to walk outside. Huber followed at his heels, setting his empty cup down. Wearily the Apothecary got to her feet and joined them outside on the porch, where Jed was finishing packing his pipe. He puffed a couple times at the damp tobacco before the ember finally caught from his match, and he handed the pipe off to Huber, who took it gratefully. “Given that we ought to conduct some reconnaissance,” Tomasic began, sitting in her wicker rocking chair and spreading a woolen blanket across her knees. “What did you have in mind, Sheriff?” Jed took his pipe back from the farmer and puffed at it thoughtfully.
“We might see ought if we climbed Harbuck’s Hill.” he responded. “From there you can see the whole of Ricker’s homestead on a clear day.” The Apothecary nodded. “That seems as good an idea as any. Huber, won’t you be a dear and fetch the wooden case from my bottom desk drawer?” Tomasic waved her hand before her nose with a feeble cough, and Jed deferentially took a few steps to the side to stand downwind of her. “Ma’am.” Huber said respectfully, and he went in to fetch the requested item. After a brief time he emerged and set the case down upon the Apothecary’s lap. Jed handed the farmer back the gently-smoking pipe, blowing a smoke ring up into the clear blue sky. Huber shielded the pipe with his hand as a chill wind blew up the dusty road which the Apothecary’s porch abutted. The elderly woman opened the box and sorted through its contents with care before snapping it shut and opening a cloth bag to reveal a brass tube, which she handed to Jed.
The Sheriff turned the device over in his hands. Holding out her hand, Tomasic took it from him and pulled gently at either end, revealing its purpose with the telescoping length of the tube. “This here’s my old spyglass. Might need a bit of polishing, but if there’s anything to see on that old farm, you’ll see it through this.” She wrapped the telescope back up in its bundle and handed it to Jed, who stowed it in his pack. “Thank you kindly, ma’am. I’ll take good care of it, you can be sure.” Huber tapped Jed’s shoulder and handed him back the tobacco pipe, which Jed puffed a couple more times before tapping out upon the ground and putting away. “Assuming we don’t see nothin’,” The farmer began thoughtfully. “What then?” The Apothecary said nothing, and Jed scratched his chin. “Well, I figure as its either that or I try and sneak back up there and have a look see in person.” Jed said without much relish. “And frankly I ain’t fixin’ to go back up there without bein’ well-armed and ready to shoot. Them beasts is vicious and quick.”
Huber nodded in agreement with a shudder. “That they are. I ain’t keen to go back to that accursed place, Jed, but I can’t let you go alone. You gotta take me with you. Put a gun in my hand, and I’ll watch your back as good as any. Its a matter of honor now.” The farmer met Jed’s eyes, steeling himself. The Sheriff shook his head ruefully. “This ain’t about honor, Hawthorne. The safety of the village is at stake. Ain’t nobody going back there but me, and that’s that.” The farmer balled his straw hat up in his hands in frustration. “Dangit, Jed. You’re gonna get yourself killed!” Jed was beginning a sharp reply when the Apothecary cut in: “I beg your pardon, Sheriff, but it might be as you need his help…But we’re all getting ahead of ourselves. You boys go on up the hill and have a look, then we’ll see what’s to be done.” The two men looked at each other and nodded. “Alright then.” Jed said after a pause. “We’ll be back before high noon, I reckon. Follow me, Huber.”
The two men exited and strode away down the dirt path. The dust of the road kicked up high in the chilly morning breeze. Huber was used to the long, slow labor of the field and had some trouble keeping up with Jed’s purposeful strides. They wound along the curving trails that crisscrossed the open countryside. The land was just beginning to tinge with the green of spring. The westerly wind brought to their ears the cheerful music of morning birds, and the Sheriff was pleased for a time to walk in silence in the peaceful hills. At the crest of an east facing hill he turned to look out upon his lands, for that was how he thought of Dormis. It was not his to rule or his to govern, and if the people had chosen to do so they could have taken away all his power in an instant and demanded he hand over his gun and his badges of office.
Come to that, he wasn’t sure if he would, he reflected. The gun and the badge were family heirlooms true enough, and he was entitled to their ownership, Sheriff or no. The mantle of authority they carried, though, was something he had earned through blood, sweat, and toil – and that was what the people could take away, for it was by their will that he was entrusted with such authority. That would have been a bitter pill to swallow, indeed. Being the son of the Sheriff wasn’t a free ticket to an easy ride. Some in the wide land thought it a curse to be sired so and fought their whole lives against the perceived shame of failing to take on the family business. Jed knew nothing of this, for he had never aspired to anything other than to follow in his father’s footsteps. He’d been fighting, training, and shooting since he was old enough to hold a gun in his hand. Sometimes the lessons had been rough, and he’d had more scrapes and bruises than he could count, mostly through his own clumsiness.
The final test to become a Sheriff was generally up to the one who trained them, and Marcus had been one for the old traditions in that respect. Many throughout Mescona nowadays had been named to the office of Sheriff after their mentors merely felt they had proved their worth sufficiently through regular duty – and in the minds of those who followed the old ways, they were softer for it. Some said the old traditions were barbaric. The adherents claimed it was necessary to ensure the firmness of mind and body needed in a Sheriff. Some claimed these traditions had grown out of native Mesconan tribal rituals, and this theory had gained some ground in scholastic circles that studied such things, though the materially-focused natural philosophers of course paid no mind to the mystical associations the superstitious natives gave to these supposedly sacred rites of consecration.
The prescribed ceremony generally involved the candidate performing some act – or acts – of great prestige to prove they possessed the requisite strength, agility, valor, and other such qualities that in the minds of the philosophers were too abstract to quantify with such simple tests. In the original native traditions, this would involve the participant being marked with ritual ointments – presumably made with herbs of some spiritual significance – and setting about the task specified by their mentor with only the most basic of tools. In most cases, this was simply the slaying of a large beast wielding only a simple knife. Those were the old, old traditions, however, before even the second settling of Mescona, and most natural philosophers agreed that this was an archaic practice many years out of any actual use.
This was not quite true, in fact, or at least not so far as Dormis was concerned. As Marcus had done before him overseen by his father Leto, Jed had undergone three such rites for his final test, and each had been a challenge that pushed him to his limits. Marcus had long impressed upon his son the seriousness of his duty, and Jed had taken his many lessons to heart from a young age. The Sheriff had no desire to see his own son killed, but he had a sacred duty to protect the peoples of those lands. He would not be around forever, he had always reminded his son, and someone had to take over when he was gone – someone truly worthy of the job. He had not told his son that it was his duty to do so: that Jed had decided for himself.
It had been only with the most serious affirmation that he was truly ready, that after years of long training, on Jed’s eighteenth birthday, Marcus took him into the wilderness to undergo his ceremonial rites and thereafter swear the sacred oath of the law, to uphold justice and defend his lands from all threats, be they from above or below, from man or beast, from without, or, worst of all, from within. After three days, he emerged bloodied from the wilds the Sheriff of Dormis, and his father had retired that day and handed Jed the gun and badges of his office that he wore with pride to this day. Dazed and bloodied from the fierce challenges he had faced in the wilds, Jed had been only half aware during the public ceremony in which his father proclaimed him the new Sheriff. All the peoples of Dormis had welcomed him with open arms, for all knew him to be fair and just, like his father.
His mind lingered on the memories of the challenges Marcus had set before him on that weekend in the wilds, and the victories he had bought there with tooth and nail, sealing his oath of law with blood. Presently he was brought back to his senses, his gaze drifting out over the vista of modern Dormis in its valley below him. His father’s revolver hung heavy at his side, and a chill breeze ruffled his clothing on the high hilltop. He heard the clearing of a throat behind him. “Sheriff?” Huber said quietly. “We ought to be goin’.” Jed tore his gaze away from the peaceful village and turned to the farmer. “That we should.” The Sheriff agreed. He strode on past Huber, making the final descent before they would climb the highest local peak of Harbuck’s Hill – where Jed had stood so long ago with Marcus to look down upon the fallen house of Antonius Ricker in its valley far away.
“Tell me something, Hue.” Jed said conversationally. “Why ever did you go following your dang cow – may she rest in peace – all that way to that damned place? I’m halfway glad you did now, else we might not know about them lizard-thing…er, Boreans. But you might’ve saved yourself a damn sight of trouble if you’d have waited for Bessy to come back on her own.” The farmer said nothing for a time, and Jed heard only the panting of his breath as they climbed the long, slow slope of the high hill. “Tell the truth, I wasn’t sure what I was doin’ myself.” Huber finally replied. “I kept tellin’ myself, oh she’s right around the next bend. Next thing I know I’m a league away from home and the sun’s goin’ down, so I figures in for a penny in for a pound, might as well keep goin’. Eventually I got turned around but I came back across her tracks and there she was, all huddled up underneath a pine tree, eyes wild, brambles caught all over her…She was a sore sight, I tell you what. I was just fixin’ to make a fire for the night when, er, they found us.” The farmer paused, as if caught again in the horror of the attack. Jed paused to look back, and Huber caught his eye with a haunted expression.
“They came out of nowhere, Jed. Maybe it was lucky you caught them in the barn where you did. In the dark and in the forest, I didn’t see sight or sound of them until they was on us. Poor Bessy was wailin’ and hollerin’, and just like that I was out cold. I can only guess they must’ve slung me over Bessy and driven her back to the barn before they…well, y’know.” Jed had a grave look on his face, and Huber looked as though he might be ill. “Seems to me we ought to be more careful.” The Sheriff said grimly. “I knew when I looked in their dead eyes they was too smart for their own good.” He spat upon the ground in disgust. “Your story just about tears it. That ain’t somethin’ wild beasts would do. A wolf would’ve torn into the both of you on the spot. They had plans, even if it was only to share dinner with the rest of their…pack, or whatever you wanna call a group of ‘em. They’re too clever by half, you mark my words.”
For a time, Huber said nothing and they climbed in moody silence. Finally, the farmer spoke in between panting breaths. “Bein’ as they’s so clever and dangerous…You really gotta let me come along with you, Jed. For your own good, if not for my honor. What would we do without you? You need a body to watch your back.” The farmer seemed so earnest in his concern that the Sheriff sighed, kicking a loose stone down the hill behind him. “Look, Hue. There’s nobody I’d rather have watching my back. You’re wary and you’re tough, and you seen them creatures before, besides. But I can’t in good conscience bring anyone along with me. I’d be solely responsible if you got hurt, you have to realize. The whole point of this to prevent the townsfolk from injury, and why am I gonna go through all the trouble of dyin’ to protect y’all just to have one of my folks die alongside me?” The corner of his mouth turned up at this, and Huber, too, smiled for a moment. “You can jest all you want, Jed, but if you don’t tie me down, I’m comin’ with you, and that’s that. If you don’t give me a gun, I’ll just go and fetch my pappy’s wood-axe and we’ll see if them beasts’ hides is tougher than valley cedar, eh?” Now it was Huber’s turn to grin at Jed, but the Sheriff was not smiling.
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