Authors: P.G. Thomas
As they were laying out their bedrolls for the night, Mirtza observed Alron getting into a heated discussion with Panry. He could make out just enough, to understand that the concern was with guarding the camp. Mirtza reluctantly approached them, and when they saw him inch forward, both went quiet.
“I may be able to help. When I left on my travels I was given a special gift to protect myself at night.” Mirtza held out his hand containing six small gold bat figures, “They will warn me if anybody comes close to our camp. This way all can sleep. If you wish, I can send them out.”
Alron inquired, “Does they be reliable?”
“They have warned me of any threat on my travels. I trust them.”
“Elf guard does be better, else elf magic I does prefer, but naught does we hath.”
“Alron, if Panry and you don’t get any sleep, you might make mistakes. Please let me help.”
“Deploy thine tricks Mirtza. Panry, sleep light this night. Aaro, Bor. Sleep with thine axes ready.” Mirtza deployed the magic bats, and everybody tried to get comfortable on the cold ground.
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IT sat on a ledge looking over the mountain valley.
Shape wrong. Small? Where? Too high. IT not like. Breeze. Different. IT could like
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Lauren rolled off her bedroll and into the cold, wet grass, “I want my tub back.”
While the first sun was barely up, the same was not true for Alron and Panry. The field rations were prepared, as well, all of the animals saddled, ready for the trip to continue. When Alron had discussed the trip with Aaro and Bor, it was determined that it would take seven days, but Alron wanted to do it in five. They would start earlier, and travel longer, as the quicker they got Earth Daughter back to the Ironhouse Mine, the better he would feel. As they each straddled their mounts, Alron handed them some fruit, and a granola-like bar. Everybody wished that Gor had joined them, or that Mirtza had brought his magic chests. Logan was desperately looking for a fire, with the hot bean juice on it, but no matter how much sleep he rubbed out of his eyes, it did not materialize. After many hours, they turned off the main road onto a dried-out side road, started heading towards the first midlander village, and arrived at their destination, as the first sun was low in the sky.
John was curious, hoping to see some conclusive evidence of what was happening. The village was small, no more than two dozen buildings, and this far north, grazing animals was the source of income. The dwellings were made of crude earth bricks, poorly fitted doors, and moss-stuffed cracks, and each dwelling also had a large wooden barn, presumably to shelter the various beasts during the winter months. The recent storm had washed away any possible tracks, and the buildings were all vacant of any possessions or evidence. The only thing they found were posters like the ones Mirtza had shown them, that he had found months earlier,
BEWARE PLAGUE
. John wanted to spend more time examining the structures, but Alron convinced him that they could make the next village before dark, sleep inside that night, and have a fire—maybe even a hot meal. So they rode fast to the second settlement, and arrived just before the last sun had set.
This settlement was a little larger than the first, three dozen dwellings, but the houses constructed from wood. While most of the group went looking for a decent shelter for them to spend the night, John and Ryan checked out some of the nearby houses, with Aaro and Bor assigned to keep an eye on them.
“Something here really does not add up Ryan.”
“Is everything math with you?”
“For a plague to thrive, it requires certain components. Primarily, it needs a host to feed on, specifically so that it can multiply. It was almost a quarter day's travel between these two settlements. The perfect conditions for a plague to manifest would have been when the eastern dwarf clans stayed at the Ironhouse Mine. There you would have overcrowding, which would provide an outbreak with sufficient opportunities to find new hosts. A three-hour barrier between two settlements should provide an adequate impediment to halt the transmission of any disease. Also, you really only have two primary methods of transmission: air or touch. The only way for an infection to get to this settlement, would be if a human or animal host brought it here. An airborne illness would die long before it could travel sixty feet, let alone six hours.”
“So what are you saying?”
“It doesn’t add up.”
“Still math? How does it not add up?”
“Let’s explain it this way. What we should be finding are signs saying ‘keep out,’ or ‘stay away.’ Whoever lived here should have posted signs saying they did not want any visitors, maybe built a fence around the town. The only way these posters would be here, was if somebody put them up after everybody had died or left. And here is the really strange part. The posters we are finding here, they are identical to the ones Mirtza found in the south, which are several months away. How can they be the same posters?”
“I would need some time to digest that. Speaking of digestion, I am really hungry and tired. Let’s go back. Maybe tomorrow with a rested perspective, it will make more sense.”
As they headed back to the others, John muttered under his breath, “Like something in this crazy world would make sense.”
The dwelling Alron had selected still had most of its furnishings in it, which was odd, as the other houses were empty. There was a large kitchen with a central fireplace, but as for the hot meal that Alron had hinted at, cold field rations greeted them again. Much to their surprise, especially Logan’s, Alron did bring some of the beans, which provided a little bit of comfort. As they sat around the weather-beaten dining table, thinking of Gor’s cooking, and the warm beds at Ironhouse calling to them, they talked about what they had seen.
“Friend John, hath thou found anything,” asked Alron?
The look on John’s face said it all, “No, it is just like Mirtza said. Empty buildings and plague posters. Alron, did you see any of the midlanders fleeing south? Did they have any grazing beasts with them?”
“Some we does see, but only oxen, mule, and horse. Naught grazing animals does follow them.”
“That is strange. I would have thought they would have taken some of their animals with them. I looked in a few barns, and it was just as Mirtza had seen, no straw or hay as well.”
“Then what does this mean,” inquired Panry?
“I am undecided, but here is the really weird fact. The plague posters here are identical to the ones that Mirtza found in the south. Months away, yet the posters are the same. The only purpose they serve is to scare away people. If somebody lived here, had a printing press, I am sure they would have worded them differently. But I would have thought that we would have seen some signs of plague, something, anything.”
Lauren was counting on John to figure this mystery out, “Should we examine more buildings tomorrow morning?”
Alron, hoping to keep the mission moving, advised against it, “If we does leave early, ride hard, thou can be at larger settlement before dark tomorrow.”
“We may as well leave, go to the next one. There has to be something out here somewhere.”
They sat around the warmth of the fireplace for about an hour, discussing all of the plain things they had seen. Boredom eventually overtook each one, and they soon found a place to bed down for the night.
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With an overcast sky, Alron felt it would be safe to brew a pot of hot bean juice for the morning meal. He started the fire before the first sun had risen, and extinguished it before any traces of smoke would give away their position. The accommodations may have been better, but they did little to change the disposition of the nine. Before they had drained the last drops of their hot bean juice, their mounts were packed and ready. Alron reminded them that they would have to ride hard to arrive before nightfall, and so they would fast trot or gallop for an hour, then slow it down for the next. The countryside was open grasslands, so there was no sense in deploying a front or rear guard, as they could see for miles. Alron was smiling, as they were moving at a good pace and would have shelter before the second sun set. Then John pulled his pony to the side of the dirt road. Those behind him stopped, those in front, circled back.
Alron had a stern look, his voice conveyed his anger, “Why does thou stop?”
“Vultures.” John pointed to the distance. The others looked across the miles of grassland at a large stand of trees, above which circled hundreds of vultures.
It was at least a four-hour ride to the forest, and Alron cursed to himself,
a slow ride it does be
. “Mayhap it does be dead wildlife that they does feed on?”
John shook his head, “No, it has to be something big to attract that many scavengers.”
“I don’t care what it is they feed on, we need to see it.” Lauren, without asking permission, turned her pony towards the forest, and dug her heels into the animal’s ribs. John, also eager for answers, quickly followed. The tall grass was slower going than Alron had thought, and the distant forest with the circling vultures barely seemed to inch closer.
Panry rode up beside Alron, “Should thou naught get them back on road?”
“She does be Earth Daughter, command her I canst naught. And Earth Daughter does be right, answers we does need.”
“Should Earth Daughter not consult with thou first?”
“Expecting I was. Protect and serve Panry. Does hope that Mother does guide Earth Daughter.”
“Alron, this does be wrong.”
“Panry, we does protect and serve.” Alron dug his heels into his stag, and scanned the horizon with his eyes and ears, as he raced to catch up to Lauren.
They were an hour away from the forest, when the wind shifted, and everybody’s face went flush as they gagged on the foul air.
Lauren turned away from the wind, “What the hell is that smell?”
Though it did not bring a smile to John, his reply was simple, “Evidence.”
“Death,” proclaimed Alron.
The last hour was the longest, and even the stags and ponies tried to reject their forced direction. The stench became so intense that Ryan and Logan had to dismount, so they could vomit. As they got to the edge of the forest, his eyes watering, gagging on the thick air, Alron rode up between John and Lauren, “Plague, turn back!”
John was holding his arm across his nose and mouth, though it did little to help, “I don’t think so. Nobody would go to this much trouble to bury bodies, not unless they were trying to hide something.”
Lauren’s watery eyes held a fearful question, “You are sure about this John? What if it is plague?”
“Then those vultures would have died off a long time ago.” He was not 100% sure, but figured if he acted confident, they would continue, “Alron, let’s go through the forest, get upwind.”
The small group of nine changed their course and headed into the forest, where large trees greeted them, which were easy to navigate around, with only small saplings or the occasional deadfall to avoid. Once on the other side, they circled back to where the vultures were seen—over one hundred in the sky, looking like a black cloud of death. On the ground, more than three hundred were scraping away at the soil, looking for putrefied protein, forgotten long ago by other scavengers. John got off his pony, went to one of the pack animals, and retrieved some of the beans used to make the hot bean juice. He took off his shirt, pulled the white T-shirt over his head, temporarily exposing his hairless, bony white torso, and then quickly replaced the first. He ground the beans between two rocks, placed the contents into the T-shirt, and then wrapped it over his nose and mouth, and the others did the same, using whatever materials they could find, as the elves and dwarves thought it might ward off plague. John then grabbed the shovel from a pack animal, and went about one hundred feet from the main group of vultures.
John turned and saw Ryan, who also had a bean filled T-shirt mask, he shouted at John, “You are goddamned crazy, you know that?”
“Depends what we find,” John replied.
“What is this place?”
John began to dig into the ground, “I think it is a mass grave,” he replied without looking up.
A worried expression was in Ryan’s eyes, “Is this where the people who died from the plague are buried?”
John, struggling with the shovel, stopped to answer, “No, if there was anybody who survived, they would have buried the bodies closer to where they died. This place is in the middle of nowhere. This is where you hide something you don’t want found.”
Ryan grabbed the shovel, “You dig like a girl. The quicker we find it, the quicker we can get out of here. Damn, this is foul!” Ryan only had to unearth a few feet of dirt before he started hitting hard objects. It took about forty-five minutes, but eventually he had excavated a six-foot square area, exposing numerous decomposing bodies, and then John called to Aaro and Alron, but Panry and Bor also joined them.
The four cautiously approached the two, “Be it plague,” asked Alron?
John shook his head, “These deaths were not natural. They did not die from disease. Come and look.”
The four approached the hole, trying not to inhale, eyes watering, gagging on the rancid smells.
“What does thou want us to see?” Alron wiped away the tears forming in his eyes, wanted to vomit.
“Look at these two. What do you see,” asked John?
“Naught anything,” replied Panry.
John grabbed the shovel from Ryan, and jumped into the hole. At his feet were two bodies, and with the shovel, he pushed on a rotting head, which rolled away from the rest of the corpse. “There really is not much sense in beheading somebody who has died of disease.” John did the same with the second head. He then walked down to the far end of the hole, “Look at this one, see what he is wearing. The same as those guys who attacked Lauren, he’s not a midlander. Somebody probably got a lucky shot in, and killed him. And look at those two. They are children. Can you see the cuts in their legs and back? There is a plague infecting your lands, but it walks on two legs, and kills with steel.”