table of contents – (spoilers)
Peep was sitting in a lilac grove next to a spring pool having an excellent herbal tea with Diya, the druid that had the community of Bristlenook under her protection.
“This is good,” Peep said holding her mug up towards Diya.
“No shit. I know what I’m doing with my herbology. Why d’ye think Thad has such a heavy stash? He aint the one growing them buds and buttons.”
“Huh. Well, my compliments there, too. Ye seem to have blessed him with a lot of yar favors,” Peep said, her tone loaded.
“Yeah. I have. Like I said, men have their uses, from time to time. But more on him and other such problem people later. This holy fire of yars. It speaks to ye, does it?”
“Not like in a voice, no. But it does push me to do things at times. To get things moving along. Ye know; to kill.”
“And burn.”
“For sure. That’s what fire does, right?” Peep said.
“Indeed. But to what end depends on circumstance. Fire is as natural as air and water. It cleans the land of old growth, so that new life can spring forth. For us humans, it is our oldest tool. Sometimes it heats. Sometimes it lights a way. Sometimes it sterilizes. It is a true binary. Ye know what that means? It means it’s all one thing, or all another. All good, or all bad.”
“Yeah, I get that. But my fire aint like that,” Peep said, meeting Diya’s eye squarely.
“So, no lighting campfires with it, like I just did. It’s just the one thing.”
“That’s right”
“So I figured. Now, I’m gonna tell ye a thing or two about this so-called holy fire of yars. And I don’t want ye to think I’m putting on any airs when I do. Most of what I’m gonna tell ye is what Hargarl told me. He recognized what was in ye. Or, some harmonic of it, I suppose. Like an echo of something he’s known before. All I got from looking at it was that it’s very old, and very powerful.”
“No shit. So why don’t ye tell me something I don’t know?” Peep said.
“Will do. Whatever this fire is: a spirit, or angel, or devil, or demon. Whatever we choose to call it. Whatever it is, it is much older than your Stronian faith. The Stronians have only been around for, what, a few hundred years, right? This thing is about as old as the rocks under our feet. But it chose you, during your Stronian baptism, right? It chose the Stronian Wheel to brand ye with. It made that choice. It decided to be Stronian, essentially. So, what does that mean, when an entity as old as the hills chooses to represent itself as a member of the Stronian Holy Host?”
“I dunno. Aren’t ye supposed to be telling me?” Peep asked.
“Ye aint a dummy, woman! Ye were raised up in Tom Rackham’s bunch as a scout, weren’t ye?”
“Sure. Directly under Oggy Lightfoot.”
“Right. I aint heard of him myself before all this nonsense with yar bunch started, but that name has rung out when some of the bad boys hanging around of late have been discussing yar pedigree. He was a dangerous cat in his own right, weren’t he?” Diya asked.
“Guess so,” Peep shrugged.
“Okay, then. So what does it mean when a dangerous cat like that hitches up with a guy like Rackham? What are they doing together?”
“They’re throwing in together. So that they can both do better thanks to the other,” Peep said, the light of understanding sparking in her eyes.
“Right. But that might not be the only way of it. Maybe a cat like Oggy has something he wants done. Maybe he hitches up with a well-established power to get that thing done. If he makes himself real useful, I’ll bet a clever cat like that could get the guy he’s supposed to be serving to do all kinds of shit. Right?”
“Sure, I suppose so. What’s yar point?”
“That this whole so-called Holy Host of the Stronians aint got much of anything to do with Stron or the nonsense religion he sprung out of. These beings existed before. But the Stronians come along and claimed them as their own. That’s how it goes. Some of the druids in these lands have been sacrificing humans to their fires for as long as there’s been humans around here. Then the Stronians show up and tell everyone they’re burning humans to cleanse them for their god. What’s that if not a human sacrifice? And the folk around here keep getting to watch the same old show they’ve been watching forever. The decorations change, but everything that matters stays the same. Ye following me, Peep?”
“Yeah, I get it. Ye think I’m just some Stronian stooge? I didn’t grow up in their bullshit. But I got marked with their Wheel. And that caries weight with them. I’m somebody now. What the fuck else am I supposed to do other than use it?”
Diya clapped her hands sharply and pointed at Peep with a bright smile. “Exactly! Exactly! Something big and terrible is about to happen here, and this ancient being of strife and war chooses you. And it decorates itself inside the Stronian Wheel. And with their claims that theirs is the only god, the Stronians may be more full of shit than any other bunch of priests in all of Aern. And that’s really saying something. But the one thing that the Stronians are not full of shit about is their ability to kill. When they send their best to kill, they get the job done. So these are the hard, granite truths: You are a bandit-trained scout. You are a killer. The fire chose you. It chose to represent itself as Stronian. Here, in the heartland of Stroniandom. And your cohort is affiliated with the black robes, the Brothers of the Holy Stone. And let me tell you, Peep: I do not fear much in the world of men, but I do fear those black robes.”
Peep was thoughtful for a while.
“So, what are ye telling me here, Diya?”
“That as terrible as this fire within you is, it is of this place; this land. That you must be allowed to do what must be done. What it wants you to do. This is what Hargarl came to tell me, in his way. He told me that you saw the white hart. You have beheld Vielharlasht?” Diya leaned forward in the chair and clasped her hands to stare at Peep intently.
Peep frowned. “Well, yeah. Sure. Ye knew that already, didn’t ye?”
“What nonsense are you spouting? How would I know that? When did you see Him?”
“About a week ago. When we came to Bristlenook with all our men. We talked with Lucky just a bit, and then left back on the road. The starlings did a weird thing, the vibrating trees bit, and then flying around to freak us out. Then, on the road back, we saw the white hart just before all them skeletons popped up behind us. That was yar scam, right?”
Diya exhaled the breath she had been holding with a stunned expression as she slumped back into her chair. Eventually, she was able to answer:
“Yes, the skeleton trick was mine. I was in the woods that day to spring it, in an animal form, of course. But I had nothing to do with the starlings. And I saw no white hart. It was just before you reached the skeleton spot?”
“Yeah, like I said.”
“And was it only you who saw Him?” Diya asked.
“No, we all did. It freaked the men out. Ye know, with the old yarn about such creatures being gods, and all.”
“More truth than yarn, that. In this case it may as well be fact. Depending on how finely we want to split hairs on what defines a god. Or a demon,” Diya said, a haunted look in her eyes.
“Woah, now, hold up. What the fuck is all this? Thing’s meant to be a god in these parts, but we bring it up to Sif and Will at the lumberjack meet, and they act like it aint shit to them. Sif was reporting back to you about that meeting, weren’t she? She didn’t mention the stag?” Peep asked.
“I did speak with Sif about your meeting. She made no mention of the white hart,” answered Diya, still staring off into space.
“And that aint strange?”
Diya shook her head and pulled her focus entirely back to Peep:
“No, not really all that strange, when you think of it. The question of the white hart would have seemed trivial to them. They have never heard of its existence.”
“What? How’s that?” Peep asked.
“No one here has. It is of the Moondark. It is the spirit of that place, fed by the blood and pain sacrifices of the Blood Circle. As a druid, I, of course, have heard of the white stag. As would have other druids in this area. But when living under the shadow of a dread horror, it is natural to avoid naming it, lest one draw it to oneself. One even develops an aversion to thinking of it. And I have never seen Him. And I mark myself blessed for that.”
“Well, shit.”
“Yeah. Shit. For you, an outsider, to have seen the white hart, and to have survived, is unheard of.”
“Okay now, but that city pimp, Aoelric, brought up the white hart like he knew we’d seen it. Him and Hargarl dropped that real specific to get our attention. There’s no doubt: they knew we’d seen it.”
Diya was thoughtful about this for a while before responding:
“Well, I’m sure the dandy was just Hargarl’s mouthpiece in that. Hargarl was the source. And if Hargarl knew that you had seen the white hart, then I shudder to imagine how. Perhaps, with all the elements in play here, he just suspected that the hart would’ve sought you out. For whatever reasons. And I have no idea what those might be. Remember: I am not of the Blood Circle. When it comes to that, I am as much an outsider of the Moondark as you are. And they have no interest in me or this place, thanks be to all that is holy,” Diya said completely earnestly.
“So what does this mean?”
“It means that Hargarl’s mission in regards to you was twofold. He was to check the spirit of the fire within you. And he was to check whether you had been visited by the white hart. I don’t think he knew that you had. He was teasing it out of you. As for me, he recommended to me that I stay out of your way.”
“Well, that’s good!” Peep said cheerfully.
“Is it? Hargarl is a druid of great power, dreaded by all that know of him. And remember: the druids used to control all these lands. All these kingdoms. Those of us that remain do so in hiding, in the wilderness, because the Stronians finished what the Alquinians started. The Stronians kill us on sight. Burn us alive whenever they can catch us. So when a druid such as Hargarl counsels helping you: you, a Stronian avatar of fire and death; do you suppose that the circumstances compelling him would be good?”
Peep shrugged. Then she grinned. “So yar helping me now? I thought it was just staying outta my way.”
“We’ve had a skirmish today, we two and our men. Do ye suppose that me stepping outta yar way aint a game-changing help?”
“Yeah, good point,” Peep smiled as she tipped her brow Diya’s way.
“And to be clear: that was simply Hargarl’s counsel. I am my own woman. I answer to no one,” Diya said.
“Understood. So, now yar gonna tell me how it is with ye. Right?”
“Sure. But first I’ll ask ye to keep a couple things in mind going forward. A lot of Stronian men are gonna try to tell you what that fire in yar hands means. They’re gonna try to tell ye who it wants ye to kill. They’re gonna want to use you as their weapon. You know this,” Diya said.
Peep flinched before conceding this with a nod. Diya continued:
“I’m a druid. A woman. I worship nature, and the moon, as well as the sun. For the Stronians, I am about the worst. But, Peep, what does the fire inside ye tell ye? Am I to be killed?”
Peep shook her head. “No. I dunno what it wants, but it aint you. Not right this minute, anyways.”
“Exactly. So, as the Stronian puppet masters descend upon you, those black robes who dispatch death as easily as breathing; remember that you are the vessel that the fire chose. They need you. You do not need them. Stay true to whatever you feel, and the fire will guide you to what it needs.”
“Sure. Don’t worry on that account.”
“Good. And one more thing they may not have told you. The fire entered you during the so-called holy ceremony of Stronian baptism. That means it has bonded with your very essence. Your essential being. This means there is no way for the fire to leave you without taking you with it. You understand? When you have taken the fire to where it needs to be, it will destroy you to fulfill its purpose. There is no other way.”
Peep nodded calmly. “Yeah. I know that. It’s got it’s hooks into me too deep. But it aint like what I had going on before it jacked me was so great. So, fuck it. I’ll see where this ride takes me. Aint like I got any other choice.”
“I didn’t think that would rattle you. But I thought you deserved to know. So, to the more practical matters facing us: I’d like to know a little something about your black robe in particular. But first: more tea?”
Diya picked up the kettle and held it out towards Peep.
“Yeah, for sure.”
Diya filled up both their mugs and sat back down.
“Now, when I first heard that a Brother of the Holy Stone was being sent out here, I was ready to pull up stakes and head for safer lands,” Diya said. “However, when he got here, it was clear that I had nothing to worry about. Even Thad, with all his nonsense, could not get a reaction from him. So I knew I would be safer with Barrelmender here than without him. For the civilized world, if a Brother of the Holy Stone is magistrate out here, what trouble could there possibly be, right under his nose?”
“Ah. Thad. Okay, I see now,” Peep said with a smirk.
“What’s that, now?”
“Well, I dunno. Maybe ye like that meat bat of his, too. That’s none of my business. But keeping him around as a big, loud target is smart. Protruding nail gets the hammer, right? Ye just have to make sure ye don’t stick yar head up any more than him, and he’ll draw the first hit.”
“Yes, that was my thinking. However, he has become disruptive to the community. Be that as it may, as I alluded to earlier, you seem to have woken Barrelmender up. So, now I need to know what he is about,” Diya said.
“Barrelmender? That’s complicated,” Peep said.
“No doubt. As I understand it, he is the magistrate and your Lieutenant Pekot is his apparitor. This is correct?”
“Yeah. It is.”
“So, technically speaking, if he says jump, ye gotta jump,” said Diya.
“That’s the way of it, yeah.”
“So, being a Brother of the Holy Stone, I am sure Barrelmender has certain sensibilities about how things ought to be. I am sure that, if he was able to get himself right in the head again, somehow, that he would take it upon himself to cleanse this land of as much evil as he could. Evil as he regards it, I mean. Evil like Thad and myself.”
“Yeah, I’d reckon so,” Peep said.
“That’s what I thought. I did look into your brother, a bit. He was serious, in his day. Undead fighter. That takes balls. And I can appreciate the work. A lot of what them black robes kill needs killing. Undead would be just about the top of that list. So, all this is just to say that I’m more than willing to coexist. But I’m sure he wouldn’t see it that way. Thing is, with him being such a homebody, when it comes to out here Bristlenook-way, he’s only ever gonna be aware of what ye tell him.”
“That’s true enough. But, our boys back there saw ye change from a hawk into a woman. They saw yar spells at work. And he knows yar the druid out here. Sure enough of that to call for action, if that’s what he wants to do.”
“Sure. I’m just thinking out loud here. Ye know yar boys. Ye know yar brother. And I’m sure he knows you well enough to respect yar priorities. After all, ye got bigger fish to fry out here than an aging bark-chewer like me and a sex-cult pervert,” Diya said with a smile.
“Yeah, now that ye mention it, we do. Let’s talk about that. How do Outfit cats like Sneed and the Chisel fit into yar community out here?”
“They don’t. But we coexist with their type by providing them utility. I have power, yes. But I cannot be everywhere at once. And I do not fancy spending half my life hiding in animal form while my neighbors are brutalized around me. Those of us on our own out in the wilds here must reconcile ourselves with that sort.”
“I’m sure ye’ve done just fine by them. Ye don’t seem like yar totally beyond the pull of coin money,” Peep said.
“It has it’s uses, sure. Just as men do. One can move the other. And until now, I had no reason to stand in their way. And I have a whole slew of reasons to want yar sort gone…” Diya let her voice drift off significantly.
“But?” Peep filled in.
“Yeah. But. Like I said: these dreams have been getting to me. And then Hargarl himself comes around and tells me that the fire yar slinging is something older than the fucked-up church yar slinging it for. That the fire is something closer to what his kind a druid would feed. That, of all the fuckin people in the world, his advice is to step aside and let ye do what ye gotta do. So there’s all that. And, also, when ye get right down to it, it aint like cats like Sneed and his boys are my kinda people either. So, what the fuck?”
“No doubt. What the fuck, woman?” Peep asked with a grin.
“Right. So, Sif said you were asking about some men from these parts. The three cats that ride with Sneed these days. Kerl, Dane, and Ermin. I have that right?” Diya asked.
“Yeah. Ye got it right that I was asking after them. But I aint one-hundred percent sure that I got all my parties correct. I clapped eyes on the three men with Sneed over at Lucky’s. That was the day we burned down Tully’s. But are they all locals? Are they still with him? Are their names really Kerl, Dane, and Ermin? I aint so sure.”
“Fair enough. Well, in the interest of getting along, I’m willing to spill what I know on them. Sneed, as ye know, aint from around here. Don’t know where he’s from. I heard he got his first rep fighting as a scout against the Alquinians. Then he went to work for the Outfit, doing what he does. But that was down south, where the real money is. I can say, he knows the bush as well as any man that aint a druid. Real good with a longbow. But, then, ye knew that already.”
“No doubt. What about his three boys?” Peep asked.
“None of them are what I would consider local. And by that I mean Bristlenook. Ermin, aint from around here at all. He came with Sneed from the south, as far as I know. The other two, Kerl and Dane, they’re cousins from a couple of hollers north of here. Place called Gorefield. It’s about as close to the Moondark as anyone would wanna get.”
“So if we were to go up there, would that get the attention of these druids of the Blood Circle?” Peep asked.
“No. They don’t give a shit about what goes on outside their turf. But places like Gorefield service the Blood Circle. They bring them sacrifices so as to be left alone. And they’ve picked up a bit of the culture, too. I guess ye’ve heard that Kerl is a deft hand with that skinning knife of his. I’ve put a couple of his projects out of their misery over the years. Both animal and human.”
“Okay. That’s plenty useful. Thanks. So, where is this Gorefield,” Peep asked.
“Ye keep going north on the ridgeline ye came here on; the one Bristlehump folk call the North Ridge. There’s a few good trails on that, on either side of the ridge. After about five more clicks from here, the ridge raises up without any trees, and then drops sharp, kinda like a butte. If ye want the folk north of there to know yar coming, skylight yarself on that. Head down to either side, and yar into swampland. Go much further north into the swamps and yar into the Moondark. Don’t do that.”
“No shit,” snorted Peep.
“To creep up on Gorefield, ye wanna come down off the ridge on the east slope before ye get to the butte. Then head up the crick to the northwest. There’s pockets of people living rough all through there. And none of them are right. So tread careful, and don’t turn yar back on any of them. A couple clicks up that crick, there’s a small lake, just a pond, really, feeding the crick. There’s an old cabin on that sporting a trading post sign. That’s run by that Gorefield bunch. Clan, I suppose. It’s a trap. Go in there, and the only trading getting done is them packing ye off for the Blood Circle to be flayed alive. Gorefield’s spread out behind that. It aint a town, of course. Just a bunch of families spread out through there. The terrain’s the shits, too. If it aint hilly forest, its spruce bogs and swamps. There is a bit of a field, though. Right in the middle.”
“And is it gory?” asked Peep.
“Not generally, from what I’ve seen flying over the place, as I do on occasion. Suppose it musta been at some point, to earn that name. So, yeah. That’s what I know about Sneed’s boys. They were staying up that way when last they were here. Kerl and Dane stick tight with their folk when they’re around.”
“Thank you for that. I just hope yar not trying to lead us into a bushwacking here.”
“No doubt ye are. Trust me, or don’t. That’s yar call,” Diya said with a shrug.
“Suppose so. So, d’ye know where them bad boys are now?”
Diya shook her head. “No. They lit out the very morning after they clipped Lieutenant Dixon out by the Bristlehump freight yard. All four of them. They went out the trail to the northwest, right outta Bristlenook here. And before ye ask, that braids plenty, but it’ll get ye over to north Callic, or up to Burnthistle and the Wildhay River. Yar bunch killed Goldy up that way, didn’t ye?”
“That we did. So, how d’ye know they went that way?”
“Followed them for a bit. On the wing. Eagle eyes are real sharp. They lit out and aint been back. On that I give my word. The critters around here know I’ve taken an interest, so they’ll let me know.”
“Okay, then. So, while yar being so helpful, whad’ye suggest we do about them?” Peep asked.
Once again, Diya shrugged. “Yar here. They gotta come back if they wanna kill ye. So, wait for them. Then kill them first.”
Peep snorted. “Thanks. Just what I’ve been thinking.”
“Great minds think alike. Look: I’ve told ye where they hang their hats when they’re around here. And them Gorefields might be a fright, but they’re used to folks around here leaving them be. Everyone up that way keeps their heads down. The things that go bump in the night up there take people away with them. And that’s been sister-fuck country for generations now. Kerl and Dane are the cream of that bunch. So, as nasty as they are, Gorefield shouldn’t be that hard to creep up on. They aint exactly alert, is what I’m saying. Ye just need to know when Sneed and them come back, is all. Then ye can make yar move before they do.”
“Oh, is that it? I can’t set up on that place for any length of time. Ye know that! We got Bristlehump to mind.”
“I do know that. So, here’s what I propose. I don’t want it getting around that I have been any bit of friendly with the likes of you. So, as we go forward here, I’d appreciate it if ye could let on that today was real unfriendly between you and me, from start to finish. Ye don’t need to tuck yar tail and run outta here, but I’d prefer it if everyone on yar side, and mine, thinks I told ye here that ye’d best not let me catch ye in Bristlenook ever again. Then, I’d appreciate it if ye never come back to Bristlenook ever again.”
“How is that any different than ye being real unfriendly?” Peep asked, amused.
“Because ye don’t need to come into Bristlenook to get yar job done on Sneed. Not if ye scout out Gorefield a bit, and then get word when Sneed is heading back this way,” Diya smiled.
Peep nodded thoughtfully. “That could work. And are ye gonna send me that word, Diya?”
“I will. If you keep yar black robe to heel and don’t stir up any more shit here in my turf. You hold up that end, and then, when I know that Sneed is heading back this way, I’m gonna send ye another gesture of goodwill. This one for yar black robe. Along with that, I’ll get ye a message with how many days out from Gorefield I think Sneed is. How does that strike yar fancy?”
“It does. But if Sneed shows up and I haven’t heard from ye…” Peep drifted off with menace.
“Then he’ll probably kill ye. I aint gonna fuck ye, Peep. Yar fire needs to find its mark. And these men yar tangling with aint no friends of mine. Ye hold up yar end, and I’ll hold up mine. Ye keep yar black robe to heel, and I’ll send ye word.”
“Sound tight. How many days’ notice d’ye think ye’ll be able to give us?”
“Can’t be sure. If they come in the same way they went out, maybe as many as two or three. I’ll put the word out up that way that I’m real interested. But however it goes, ye have my word: I’ll do my best.”
“Alright, then. Sounds like that’s a deal,” Peep grinned. She stood up and spat into her palm before holding it out to Diya.
Diya smirked at the sight of the Stronian Wheel being spat upon. She stood up and spat into her own palm. Diya and Peep shook on it. As they did, a hard pulse of energy passed between them, through Peep’s brand. Both of them swooned from it, but were able to keep from falling down as they collapsed into each other and held on.
“Oh, shit,” Diya murmured, still mostly limp, leaning hard on Peep.
“Oh, yeah. That was a gooder,” Peep said, getting her wits about her before Diya did.
“That was… what? No. Oh, shit,” Diya said, almost startling as she came upright and pushed Peep away from her.
“Oh, yes, woman. Ye just got a dose,” Peep said.
She and Diya locked eyes. In that moment, they shared a complete understanding of each other. Peep knew, with the certainty of the fire blazing in her soul, that Diya was with her now. All the way.
“We’re gonna get this done now,” Peep said.
“Yes,” Diya agreed.
“Fuckin A, woman. It was good to meet ye,” Peep said.
“Likewise. I hope to meet ye again.”
Peep shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe. Probably not, though.”
Diya nodded, a sorrow of understanding flooding through her. She bore it.
“Ye can find yar own way back. Take care,” Diya said.
“Yeah. You too,” Peep returned.
Diya nodded. Then, once again, it was as though her form folded into itself, and she was a huge raven. The raven beat its wings and lifted off through the trees.
“Fuck,” Peep murmured. She then mounted Gorgeous Boy and rode back to Gotthilf’s cottage, where Choke and the others were waiting for her.
Muse Vassal 