The Improbable Adventures of Scar and Potbelly: Ice Terraces of Crystal Crag (10 page)

“Bad idea, son. The land between here and there is not safe after dark. Trust me when I say that if we remain here until tomorrow morning, we will for sure reach our destination tomorrow night.”

“And we’ll be safe there?” Potbelly asked.

Adam nodded. “Safe as if you were still a babe in your mama’s arms.”

Scar gazed at the land from there to the Rock. “What’s so unsafe about it?”

Adam chuckled. “Ghosts.”

“Ghosts?” Scar asked.

“Yes, ghosts. Local lore has it that a battle was fought there and the bodies were never buried. The spirits of the fallen wander the land when the stars come out seeking a place to rest.” He eyed his two companions. “Or so the story goes.”

“Interesting,” Potbelly commented.

“I always thought so,” Adam said. “You’ll see for yourself tomorrow night.”

“We will?” Scar asked a bit nervously.

He nodded. “But don’t worry, they won’t bother you as long as we are at Moonshine Rock.”

“Don’t they go near it?” Potbelly asked.

“You’ll see tomorrow night,” was all he said about it.

Scar wasn’t too thrilled about the prospect of having the dead wandering about. If not for the fact they would have to scale Rackun’s Switchback and travel days just to retrace their steps, he would have turned about.

The rest of the day they spent sharpening weapons, practicing attack and defensive maneuvers, and exchanged stories with Adam. The trapper sure knew some good ones and often as not, would have his two companions rolling on the ground laughing.

When nightfall approached, he had them gather a large supply of firewood. “Lots of animals roaming down here and a good fire will keep them away.”

Scar couldn’t argue with that. Over the course of an hour he and Potbelly gathered a decent supply of firewood.

The stars came out and Potbelly caught Scar staring through the dark toward Moonshine Rock. “Looking for ghosts?”

Scar chuckled. “Maybe.”

“He’s just shining us on,” Potbelly said. “Ghosts roaming the wilds; I doubt that.”

“We’ll see tomorrow night.”

“That we will.”

Spirits walked among Scar’s dreams that night and when he woke, felt as if he hadn’t slept at all. The sun was peeking over the horizon and everyone else still snored.  A yawn escaped and he felt he could do with a little more sleep, so readjusted his position, pulled his blanket tightly to his chin and rolled on his side.

“Ah!” he exclaimed upon coming nearly nose to nose with a giant black bear.

Scrambling to his feet, he backpedaled several paces before reaching out and drawing his sword from where the scabbard lay.

“Potbelly!” he shouted. “Get up!”

The bear merely sat there watching him with moderate interest. Even when Scar pulled the sword the bear hardly reacted.

“Now, now, now,” Adam said. “He won’t hurt you.”

“What?” Scar asked.

By this time Potbelly had gotten to his feet and wielded both dagger and sword.

“That’s Bren.”

Scar glanced to the trapper. “Bren?”

Adam walked forward and laid a hand on the bear’s back. “This is Bren.” Then to the bear he said, “Bren, meet Scar and Potbelly.”

The bear lumbered to his feet and stepped toward the pair.

Scar lowered the point of his sword so it aimed at Bren’s snout.

“None of that, now,” Adam told him. “He’s really quite gentle.”

Potbelly eyed the trapper, then the bear, then the way the animal strolled calmly toward Scar. He sheathed his weapons. Stepping forward, he held his hand out.

Bren came to it, sniffed it and then rubbed his nose across the back of Potbelly’s hand.

Adam nodded. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Though still dubious, Scar lowered his weapon and held out his other hand.

As he had with Potbelly, Bren first sniffed then caressed it with his nose.

“Is he your…pet?” asked Scar.

Adam laughed. “Hardly. Say rather good friends with history.”

“How does one make friends with a bear?” Potbelly asked. He ran his hand along Bren’s neck and over the shoulder.

“We started off kind of tragic, really. Three years ago I trapped and killed his mother when he was barely out of the cave. I felt so sorry for him that I took care of him.”

“You became his mother?”

Adam glanced to Potbelly and nodded. “In a manner of speaking. He stayed with me that first year then went off on his own the second. From time to time when I’m down off the ridge, he finds me.” Gripping Bren roughly about the neck, he tussled with the bear then said, “Don’t you,  you big baby?”

Bren playfully swatted Adam then rolled on his back and flapped his paws in the air.

Adam rubbed his stomach and Bren gave out with a satisfied growl deep within his throat. “He likes this.”

“Who doesn’t?” Potbelly replied prompting chuckles and laughter.

Adam scratched vigorously for several more moments then said, “Shall we go?”

“Lets.” Scar agreed.

Adam took the lead with mule in tow and Bren lolloping along beside.

“Ever seen anything like that?” Potbelly asked Scar.

“No.”

Bren at times would run off into the woods and briefly disappear only to reappear a little bit later. At noon when they stopped for a quick meal, the bear wandered off. Over an hour after they had resumed their trek, he reappeared.

Potbelly asked Adam where he went.

The trader shrugged. “No way to know. He comes and goes as he will.”

In the latter half of the afternoon, the valley floor began to rise. Trees grew thicker and the ground much rougher. Stones ranging from pebbles to the size of a man littered the landscape. Adam threaded his way through them with skilled ease.

Scar spied a gathering of stones that looked more purposeful than random. Four of nearly identical shape and size formed a square; another six were laid out in a perfect line with a consistent two hand spans width between. He pointed them out to Adam.

“What are those?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “There are many such designs scattered throughout this area.” He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “Maybe the ghosts?”

“Don’t be crazy,” he guffawed.

Adam chuckled then turned serious. “I’m not.”

A chill ran through him and brought the hairs on his arm to attention. He nearly jumped out of the saddle when Potbelly reached his hand up behind him and pinched him in the neck.

Potbelly leaned to the side to avoid the blow Scar sent his way.

“Relax,” Potbelly said.

“I am,” Scar replied. “Or I would be if you would stop messing around.”

Grinning, Potbelly nudged his horse to a quicker pace and joined Adam and Bren at the fore.

“How’s it going, Bren?” he said cheerfully.

To his amazement, the bear tilted his head up and nodded.

“Uh, Adam…”

He turned to Potbelly. “Yes?”

“Did he understand me?”

“Now that brings up a good point,” the trader began. “On several different occasions I would have bet my soul that ole Bren there knew exactly what I was saying. Of course, that is completely idiotic…a bear does not converse with people.”

Bren snorted and ran off, disappearing into the trees.

“Like that?” Potbelly asked.

“Exactly like that.”

“Curious,” mused Scar.

The elevation rose quickly now and Adam set a brisk pace. “We have to make it to Moonshine Rock before sunset.”

“Why, exactly?”

He turned to Scar. “Let’s just say it would be in our best interest to have it near.”

Scar dropped back and said in a quiet aside to Potbelly, “What do you think?”

“Something has him spooked.”

“Yeah,” Scar nodded, “I get that feeling too.”

Bren wandered in and out with more frequency the further up they went.

The trees cleared for a brief bit; from the looks of the burnt trunks, a fire raged through here in recent years. New growth did a poor job of hiding the charred timber and scorched branches. Off a ways through the semi-cleared landscape loomed Moonshine Rock.

“Almost there,” Potbelly said.

Adam nodded, then glanced to the sun that was dipping toward the peaks along the horizon. He quickened his pace a bit more.

Bren lumbered among the trees, often as not pausing to inspect deadfall or to root beneath a pile of fallen limbs. When he looked up and found Adam had moved on, he would run to catch up, walk by his side for a minute or two, then be off.

Two hundred yards from Moonshine Rock began a great clearing. Naught but dirt and rocks stretched from the edge of the tree line to the monolith rising at its center. Not even grass grew.

Adam entered the clearing without so much as slowing. He kept casting furtive glances toward the sun. At a hundred and fifty yards the sun began to slip behind the distant peaks. At a hundred, the last rays of daylight vanished and the sun was gone.

“We must hurry,” Adam insisted.

A shape appeared at the edge of the clearing. It was a man dressed in armor carrying a long spear. Scar’s hand settled on a sword hilt, but then the man turned indistinct and vanished.

“Was that a…”

“Yes,” Adam said with an edge to his voice. “Now, hurry to the Rock.”

Scar dug his heels into his horse’s flanks and the steed leapt forward.

Other figures appeared along the fringe of the clearing, some began moving inward. All their attentions were focused on the men headed for the Rock.

Scar was the first to reach it. He vaulted from the saddle and his swords flew into his hands. He stood with back to the Rock as he watched the ghostly apparitions draw closer.

Potbelly was the next to arrive followed by Adam. The trapper batted Scar’s swords aside. “Put those away. They’re useless here.”

“But the ghosts…”

Adam walked up to the Rock and placed his hands upon it. “Feel that?”

Scar glanced worriedly to Potbelly who shrugged.

Potbelly laid a hand against it. “Still warm from the sun.”

Adam chuckled and shook his head. “No sun can warm Moonshine Rock.”

“What do you mean?”

The sound of metal drawn from a scabbard drew their attention. Scar stood with both blades in hand as a trio of ghostly apparitions walked across the clearing toward them.

Potbelly glanced to Adam but the old trapper didn’t look particularly worried.

“What do we do?” asked Scar.

“Put your swords away for one thing,” Adam said. “They won’t do anything to spirits; unless they’ve been blessed at a temple.” He turned to Potbelly. “Have they?”

“Not for as long as I’ve known him.”

Scar chose not to heed his words. He kept both swords at the ready.

The three apparitions continued their approach. Each wore a uniform of unknown design and at their hips hung short swords. Upon reaching halfway across the clearing, they drew their swords.

Scar backed up until he stood next to Potbelly.

“I judge…” began Adam, “that they will stop….Now.”

As if on cue, the three ghosts came to a halt.

Scar turned to the trapper. “How did you do that?”

“I didn’t.” He then patted Moonshine Rock. “This did.”

“The Rock?”

Adam nodded, then to Potbelly said, “The warmth you felt coming from the rock is the residual effects of last night’s moon.” When his two companions continued looking on in confusion, he continued.

“By method unknown, Moonshine Rock creates an area wherein spirits cannot exist. The waning and waxing of the moon alters the area of effect. When a full moon shines light upon it, this entire clearing, all the way to the tree line is protected from wayward spirits. Of course, you don’t want to be here when there’s a new moon. Without light, the spirits have free reign.”

Potbelly searched the sky. “But the moon has yet to rise. There is no light shining upon the Rock.”

“Some residual effects hold over once the moon passes from sight. If the moon is bright enough, say half-moon or greater, then the area nearest the Rock remains safe until it rises the next day. But, when it is but a crescent, being here would not be a good idea.”

“Adam!” a young voice exclaimed. “You’re here!”

The spirit of a young boy skipped across the clearing to their left. He waved as he came closer.

“Darrik,” the trapper greeted. “How are you this evening?” He walked over to where the boy came to a stop at the edge of the field projected from the Rock.

“Better now that you are here.”

Bren came forward and the boy petted the bear’s head even though it was quite apparent that his ghostly hand never actually came into contact.