Chapter 12: Latimer's mercy

As it was, we were back on the road. Paul had filled our bags (he got himself his own supplies now, thankfully), with all manner of necessary things to survive in the great wide outdoors, prior to my full recovery. Or he was a wizard and whipped out two full bags of supplies out of nowhere. Whichever was right, we were able to hit the road almost immediately after clearing our hangover with some nice goodbye lunch with the equally hungover leader slash mayor.

Some villagers not busy with their work and kids gathered at the edge of the village, all bidding us goodbye. Soon, the road once again crunched under my feet. Once we were out of town, however, I figured I should take great care to look over the supplies Paul had acquired, much to his dismay, seeing I didn’t quite trust him with the proper “backpack” management. Couldn’t blame me. He did, after all, forget to pack anything when we began this journey.

There were general food items and a canteen full of water. Then, beneath, were some blankets and more clothes.

Wait, is that… a map. I quickly pulled it out and unfolded it. I hadn’t been allowed to bring any maps with me, the teacher explicitly implying that he had borrowed them to me, not given. No matter, I was able to memorize the area and where I had to go before giving them back, so I wasn’t really worried. But as I unfolded my map, it felt reassuring to see that we were on the right track.

Folding it back into the pack, I rummaged around some more. There was the picture of a human child, a new tinderbox to replace my lost flint and steel, blankets, spare clothes, some more food—mostly dried or smoked meat. But then…

I picked up a carving knife, its blade hidden in a leather sheath. The image of a deer, bleeding on the ground with terrified eyes blackened my vision for a split of a second, followed closely by a dead dog with a mace stuck in his head.

“Damn,” I muttered and shook my head a little to clear it. Slowly putting the knife back between a folded blanket, my hands rummaged further into the rucksack. At the very bottom was the bag filled with gems, then nothing more.

At the sides of the backpack was a rope on one side, a waterskin filled to the brim with water and a crystal lantern on the other side. For a moment I contemplated putting the lantern inside the backpack, but ultimately decided against it. The whole structure of it was firm solid—the real deal. The lantern looked like it wouldn’t break even if I fell on it. Plus, this way it was easier to reach should I need it. All I had to do was remove the thick, black cloth covering it to get instant light.

However, there was a strap on the side above the rope that was missing something. A weapon.

Damn, I forgot to buy a new weapon while in the village. It was a lumberjacking village. They were bound to have a blacksmith to keep axes sharp and in supply. Having just a small – albeit still deadly – knife as the only weapon was unacceptable after my experiences.

Frustrated, I threw the rucksack over my back and turned to walk back toward the village. Paul was a little confused.

“A weapon,” I said while shaking my hand as if stabbing someone, after which I pointed at the empty space at the side of my rucksack.

“Aah,” he sighed in recognition and joined me at my side.

As we walked, I watched Paul’s composure. He swaggered about in his usual relaxed pose, a childlike excitement in his steps. Absolutely nothing had changed about him. Was he really so used to violence that the mines didn’t leave any visible effects on him.

Or better yet, the probability that he was never there was more likely. I mean, even predators would cringe at the killing, and I’ve only got a glimpse of it. The whole place must’ve been a slaughterhouse now. That would leave a mark on you, predator or not.

Indeed, the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Had he known what I’d done, he would never look at me the same way again. And he would definitely not celebrate my part in all of… that.

Or maybe gryphons really were such predators that things like that didn’t faze them.

Upon returning to the village, the villagers expressed a little surprise to see us again, but didn’t really comment. With a few questions from Paul, we soon came to the smithy where I bought a small hand-axe that was just a tad bigger than my previous one (sadly, he had no maces). Well, I didn’t exactly buy it, because the blacksmith practically forced the axe on me before ushering us out. Not looking the gift horse in the mouth, I just used some spare cloth to wrap it around the axe’s blade before slipping it into the rucksack’s strap.

An hour of precious daylight wasted (it was already afternoon by this point), but a necessary sacrifice for what could save my, and to an extension, Paul’s life.

Meanwhile, Paul snickered as he watched me put the axe in its place. Upon giving him a curious look, he magically pulled a big-ass axe with a short handle from underneath the rucksack he had strapped to his back, the axe’s blade covered in thick cloth too. The damn thing looked like a portable version of an executioner’s axe.

The snicker turned into a full chuckle as he watched my dumb expression. Just shaking my head at his silliness, I pulled out the map from within the backpack’s depths before throwing said bag over my back.

We again left the village, slowly making our way north-northeast, where our goal lay. A huge blotch that seemed to dominate the upper right middle of the map. The city where the picture was supposedly bought.

Now we found ourselves at the edge of the map, somewhere far southwest. The forest was only partially drawn, barely showing Paul’s home. The map, however, seemed to be centered around what I presumed to be the capitol – the city which we were trying to reach, where the pony merchant back at Paul's village got the picture of a human child. There were arrows at the edges of the map, indicating something more was there. Nevermind that, just from the small distance we crossed from the mountain village to this one, and by how long it took us to get here, I presumed we had a long, long way to go. Too long for my tastes. I could only guess, though. The map scale was in a whole different measuring system, thus I had no way of estimating anything correctly.

At least now, according to the map, we would have a large area of plains to cross before coming to a forest that lay beneath a huge mountain range that spanned like a scar from southeast, before splitting in two, one going north to the capital city and beyond, curving to northwest, and another range going west and then a bit north before disappearing into nothingness just before what I assumed was a see that dominated the upper left corner of the map. These two mountain ranges formed a large semi-circle valley that seemed to be filled with many blotches of trees, smaller hills, then a lot of cities, towns, and villages. No wonder, the mountain ranges would be a great natural protection against large invading armies.

Basically, we had two options. Go back a little northeast, then continue north until we hit the mountains, after which we would follow along them until they disappeared, then just go east to the capital city. There were some towns and villages along the sierra that we could visit to resupply. Plus, the path was pretty straightforward.

But it would also take us, like, two months, assuming we would begin to walk at the break of dawn and go to sleep when our respective walking appendages were falling off.

The second option was to go through the mountains. The problem’s that the sierra was thick. Not as thick as the forest we left behind, but thick nonetheless. Also, if the dark tops of the mountains drawn onto the map were any indication, the mountains weren’t exactly your everyday hills.

Just going straight through the forest took us about four days of walking while taking quite the number of breaks. However, I had to assume that going through these mountains wouldn’t be so straightforward. Furthermore, there would probably be many twists, turns, etc.

Perhaps it could take us a week or two to pass through. Still that was two weeks compared to two months, and as such was a no-brainer decision.

Now to just get there...

The forest was nice. There was always something to look at, something to learn.

But now? Now we had open fields—nothing but the dirt ground with the endless grass all around us for company. Of course, Paul and I had each other, but...

We kept giving each other looks – the ones people do when they try to engage in a conversation but it’s just too awkward – jerking our heads all the time, making it look as if we had a stroke or something.

“Ok, fuck this,” I blurted out after the frustration and awkwardness reached a whole new boiling point, making me throw my arms to the heavens above in plea of salvation from this silent hell. An hour was as much as I could do. No more.

Paul jerked back in sudden surprise, wings flaring, almost knocking me down with them. But he calmed down pretty soon, and looked understandingly at my outburst. The silence had to get on his nerves, too.

The problem is, there wasn’t much to be said. Not in the current state of things. I’ve never been too good with languages, and though Balderdash was somehow easy to learn, there was still much I didn’t know. Mainly, vocabulary. Paul and me made some progress in that regard while in the hospital, but it wasn’t enough to hold a meaningful conversation.

“Nothing,” I said at last, walking the beaten path once again, Paul trailing beside me. It was something Paul and me would have to trudge through before my Balderdash was at least on the level of a three years old.

Dammit.

It was getting dark already. The fact that we started in the early afternoon due to unforeseen complications meant we didn’t really get as far as I’d wanted to.

We did manage to hit an important landmark, though.

A series of smaller hills dotted with large holes everywhere, mainly at their bases, opened up in a small valley before us, the occasional somewhat rocky hill or two covered with large patches of deciduous trees, their strange silvery leaves bristling in the wind like thousands of blades.

Not really pausing at the strange sight, but definitely having piqued my curiosity, we moved toward one of the larger patches of trees by a particularly higher hill, making our way carefully around the many deep holes. There we would hopefully find shelter under the thick crowns of the silvery giants.

Oh, great, I thought as something wet landed on my nose. First I looked up, hoping to see no silhouette of a bird against the clouded sky when another raindrop hit me squarely in the right eye.

Yelping a little, I started rubbing it, only to have my face assaulted by two more in quick succession.

“There!” I pointed forward before taking off into a light jog, the darker beige gryphon catching up with me and soon getting ahead of me.

I smiled, thinking, Oh no you don’t, while trying to race him to the small forest. But I guess being a quadruped had its merits, because he was there way sooner than me. When I finally did get there, I was a panting mess. It wasn’t really the run that wind me up as much as having to avoid falling into the strange holes.

Paul just flashed me one of his signature smirks.

“Cheeky bastard,” I grumbled while leaning forward against a tree, trying to get some needed oxygen into my body.

When I finally felt like not dying, I looked at the sparse forest and the slightly sloped hill, this one not as rocky as the other ones, making it possible for more of the silver-leaved trees to grow there. A small creek appeared to round the hill, filling many of the holes, making strange-looking but incredibly clean ponds at the base of the hill and in the crevice between the hill itself and another hill it bordered. Paul immediately went to one such pond, drinking deeply of it. Me, I didn’t want to risk anything, so I rather unscrewed the lid of my waterskin and gave myself a healthy swig.

The raindrops started hitting the silvery giants in a cascade of silent drums, while a slight breeze picked up, playing the leaves like an orchestra. It was… enchanting. Peaceful.

Paul came up to me, sighing in content, his beak glistening with a smile. I smiled back, before nodding my head forward. Though the trees were big and could provide shelter, it still wouldn’t be enough to keep us from getting drenched in the upcoming rain that looked like it would last for a while if the dark clouds forming above us were any indication.

As we began to round the hill, I took more notice of the holes. For some reason, I found them strange, unnatural really. Like they weren’t supposed to be there. An uneasy feeling settled over me, and one glance at Paul confirmed he thought the same of this place. But… why?

The hill started to get more rocky and steep, the holes getting bigger and the trees becoming scarcer—the very opposite of what we were searching for. But then we found it.

In a particularly large hole that seemed to have cut to the base of the now steep hill, an entrance to a cave seemed to have formed in the stone wall. It was obscured by some foliage, but still visible enough that we didn’t miss it. I couldn’t really see inside though, the fading light of day unable to pierce its depths. That was good, it meant it would most likely protect us from rain.

Smiling at our luck, I reached behind and unholstered my axe, untying the cloth protecting its blade. Paul paused a little at it, before nodding to himself and grabbing his own axe. If the cave was inviting to us, why wouldn’t it be inviting to animals?

Paul shot up, gliding silently through the drizzle. I sneaked on with my axe ready, slowly coming up to the cave mouth. Peering inside as Paul drifted above me, prepared to deal with anything should it attack me, I noticed two things. The cave wasn’t really that deep, and there were signs of habitation. Flat rocks pressed together, covered with silvery leaves. A few rocks forming a circle around white ash; there was something living here, and it was intelligent. But whatever it was, it wasn’t there right now.

I beckoned to Paul, who swooped down into the cave, almost colliding with a wall. Stifling a laugh, I quickly put down my backpack and axe, then ran to some trees. Moving quickly, soon I brought an armload of twigs back to the cave. Paul followed my example and returned with an armload of his own, but at the cost of getting himself drenched as the rain picked up.

The poor gryphon looked like a wet puppy before going sideways from me, where he shook out as much water as he could while sneezing. I couldn’t help but laugh at his antics and confused look.

As my laughter died down, I plopped myself near the circle of stone with my axe and a few twigs. Propping a thick twig against one of the stones, slowly and carefully I started peeling thin strips of wood with my axe, placing them into the stone circle. As I did so, Paul sat down on the ground near me, watching the rain with strange calmness and a content smile. I smiled too and continued peeling apart few of the twigs until there was a mound of thin strips. Using my new tinderbox, it didn’t take long before there was a small fire going on, to which the wet gryphon huddled closer. We sat around the fire for a few minutes like that, watching the rain as the world slowly faded into blackness.

And then he came.

If I’d thought Paul looked like a drenched puppy, then here stood the real deal. Fur and dirty clothes clinging to him, he looked malnourished and beaten. With a miserable look on his face, he stood in the cave mouth, far enough from us that we couldn’t reach him should we chase him, but close enough that the rain didn’t patter him.

Didn’t take me even a second to recognize him. His small frame, his pleading eyes. And I knew that he recognized me, his face changing like the wind and rain outside: shock, hurt, anger. All played in a cacophony of flashes on his dog face.

The alpha’s son peered back at me like a nightmare come true. Everything froze for a few terrible heartbeats.

“Hey,” Paul said softly, followed by a few words I didn’t recognize. But there was no need, for I recognized what he was saying. He spoke softly, unthreateningly—the tone you used to speak to a frightened child you didn’t know anything about yet tried to comfort still.

The gryphon didn't recognize the enemy.

Paul hadn’t been there, in the blue caverns. He really hadn’t. For some reason, it felt like a heavy burden fell from my shoulders.

The gryphon’s voice brought the small diamond dog out of his stupor, now genuinely confused. But I looked no further, instead turning back to the fire, feeding it another thick twig. I couldn’t bear to look at the small, hurt child – the consequence of my actions – any longer. And suddenly, just like that, my own resolve in what I’d done slowly cracked.

Paul talked, his voice like a silk on my ears, like a song on my soul. It spoke of better tomorrows, of hurt fading away. The same voice I used when my small brother was hurt and I tried all I could to make it better.

I forced my eyes shut, lest they give up more than I was willing to show right now. I had to be strong.

My ears picked up the telltale signs of claws scraping against the stone ground, but what was surprising was they seemed to come closer rather than fade away into the distance.

Indeed, as I looked with my very own eyes, the cub slowly walked toward Paul. He looked more miserable now. The gryphon even pulled out some food from his own pack, almost startling the dog away. But the allure of food seemed irresistible, so the cub walked forward.

Without warning, when he was close, he slashed his claws at me. I barely managed to pull back from having my face slashed into ribbons.

“Motherfucker!” I yelled in surprise, picking up the nearest object – my axe – while readying myself to to fight for my life. However, there was no need for that because Paul, almost like someone bipolar, quickly changed from a fatherly figure to killer warmachine of doom in the split of a second. He bore down upon the dog with his whole body, tackling him to the ground in an immobilizing grip.

My body started shaking with sudden fright, adrenaline bringing sharpness to my senses, making me jumpy. But I let myself release the axe, scraping backwards along the ground before any rash decisions could be made.

The whelp never stood a chance. He shook a few times, trying to free his arms, trying to scratch and bite Paul. However, soon he realized he stood no chance and stopped fighting, face resting against the cold ground.

Without having the gryphon prompt me, I dashed to my backpack, then Paul’s, getting two sturdy ropes and handing them the Paul.

Soon enough, there was a small dog, arms and legs tied up hard enough that he couldn’t move – but not enough to interrupt the flow of blood into his limbs – sitting against a wall near the fireplace.

“Well, now what,” I voiced my concerns, having absolutely no idea what to do with him. My dear friend seemed to have an idea already, though, and that was to still try to befriend the vicious child. Poor Paul almost got his claws bit off as the small dog snapped at him while he tried to feed him. That seemed enough even for the kind gryphon, hissing something in the clickity language of his before taking a huge bite off the bread while glaring at the dog. The whelp glared back, even more so now, which seemed to satisfy Paul because he soon moved closer to the fire where I sat eating my own piece of bread.

There was another thing. We couldn’t afford to sleep while he was around. While the ropes were sturdy, it wouldn’t do much against the diamond dog’s teeth and claws should he decide to free himself while we slept. We would need to take turns guarding him.

At the thought I let out a frustrated moan, before reaching to another twig to feed the fire. Paul looked at me, questioning my use grumbling.

“Night, me; morning, you,” I said, while pointing at the diamond dog. He just cocked his head, not really understanding.

“Whatever.” I waved off before getting up. The rain wasn’t strong now, barely a drizzle. “We need more wood.” I pointed at the almost non-existent pile of twigs. “Need wood,” I repeated in Balderdash.

Paul looked at the dwindling pile, then outside. He nodded and got up, walking away from the fire’s warmth. He shook a little, sighing before taking flight. While he was away, I kept guard on at the kid from the corner of my eye, but never directly looked at him.

Soon he came back, dropping off his cargo before flying back into the night. It was almost pitch black out there now, the rain and clouds blocking off the moon and stars.

After several runs, there was enough wood to last us most of the night. Paul, tired and drenched, plopped himself near the fireplace, drying himself with one of the blankets. I fed the fire some more twigs to make the fire bigger for Paul, lest he catch a cold. He smiled gratefully before putting the wet blanket near a distance away from the fire, then huddling himself in another one he pulled out of his rucksack. Soon he slid to the ground sleepily.

“G’night,” he murmured, an obvious effort to even speak.

I smiled, saying, “Goodnight, Paul.”

Nevermind we never did establish nightwatch.

After what felt like forever of staring into the mesmerising flames, I grabbed my waterskin, drinking deeply of it. Then, on some instinct, I reached out with my hand holding the waterskin toward the alpha’s son. He just kept glaring at me, his eyes unsettling me for some reason.

“Kid, you look like you sparred with death itself. You need this.” With those words I reached out with the waterskin even further, almost close enough for him to just reach it with his head and drink. Alas, my goodness was repaid only with him having snap at me, but I was ready for that. Anger welled inside me.

“Your loss,” I spat, taking a swig again out of spite. That only made him glare harder. If looks could kill and all that jazz.

What the hell are we going to do with you.

Slowly but surely, silence prevailed throughout the cave. Even the wind and rain outside seemed a distant, forgotten howl. It did, however, get cold rather quickly after sunset. Even the fire failed to push the entirety of chillness of the night away. So, shuffling over to my backpack, I pulled out one of the blankets—the one I knew didn’t have a knife folded inside itself.

A small pouch fell as the blanket unfurled.

“Huh?”

I gingerly picked it up, hefting it. The thing was light, but there was definitely something rustling inside. I untied the string holding it closed, immediately looking inside.

A pleasant aroma wafted forth to my nose as I realized what was inside. The whole pouch was packed with small thick leaves I immediately recognized as the local alternative to a toothpaste.

How did I miss this? A smile cracked on my lips as I breathed deeply of the menthol-like fragrance. Immediately, I picked two of them and shoved them in my mouth almost hungrily, chewing on them with great relief. I don’t know what it was about them, but they were such a pleasure to chew. You couldn’t swallow them of course – something I learned the hard way – so it was imperative to not get carried away in their amazing taste.

Few minutes of loud chewing, which seemed to irritate the small dog, and I spat out the paste the leaves had become into the fire. The glob sizzled a little before giving out small drafts of aromatic smoke that soon filled the small cave with a pleasant aroma. Afterwards, I rinsed my teeth with another gulp of water, which I spat aside. Though the water was something I’d have to cherish, I still had a full canteen in my backpack. Plus, one mouthful of water wasn’t worth the trouble of swallowing some of the paste.

The kid whined, though I think it was involuntarily. I turned to him, his composure a little softer now than before, but as soon as I met his eyes, they blazed with unadulterated hatred once again.

Reading faces is never easy, even if you’re looking at a human, not to mention sapient anthropomorphic creatures. It’s not really that simple as books, movies, and video games make it out to be. There’s always subtlety in everyone’s face with the possibility of faking your emotions. Only the true masters that had lifelong experiences could discern the subtle notion’s on one’s face—the things that betrayed on a subconscious level what he or she really thought.

But there are also the times when you just know. When there’s no doubt in your mind of the true intents behind one’s mask, behind the eyes. A certain rawness; unmistakable, striking truth.

This was one of those moments, I realized as I looked into this barely teen’s eyes. It was hate unlike anything I had seen outside of stories.

And that’s when I knew that he would brave storms and scorching sun, deserts and forests, seas and continents; yes, he would brave it all to get to me, to have the chance to end my life. There was no doubt in my and his mind about that. No talking could undo what I’d planted inside his heart.

He watched me kill his father, he watched as the gryphons slaughtered his clan—probably his entire family. And he blamed me for all of it.

No kindness from Paul or me would convince him otherwise. He wasn’t a child anymore. He really wasn’t anything anymore but a vessel to enact some grand revenge on the ones he considered monsters, damned be the reality that he was also one.

Do you know those thoughts that creep into your mind without any indication; without any reason? The thoughts that sometimes plague you as they hammer on your consciousness? The ones that make you stop in real life, perhaps even jerk your head in disgust?

Kill him, was one such thought, coming like lightning from a clear sky. Spare yourself the trouble; spare him his abomination of a life.

“No,” I moaned out at the unwelcome intrusion of my mind, shaking my head slowly as if to get rid of something latched onto my head. But it was there, unyielding. It wouldn’t leave until I considered it.

“No more killing!” I hissed through clenched teeth.

The dog smiled viciously as he saw my distress.

A thousand reasons, both logical and raving mad, flashed through my mind in an instant. I’d read dozens of stories, seen dozens of movies; I knew how this would end up. But that wasn’t really the reason I even considered such an inhuman deed. No, I’d even seen such things with my own eyes during my life. I was going to save myself a load of trouble which would probably still result in this diamond dog’s death.

It wasn’t just about me, though. A life of revenge changed one’s mind, twisting it into a neverending spiral of lunacy. Such people caused a lot of suffering, not only to the one they hunted in the name of perverted justice, but also to all that stood in their way, that ever so lightly brushed against their savage life. Life. Not really much of a life to speak of.

Somehow, my body listened to the thoughts. Without even knowing it at first, my right hand gripped the handle of the axe lying near me.

But all the reasons weren’t enough to do what I had condemned the diamond dogs for in the first place:

I just shook my head. “No. Never would I lay a hand on a child, you miserable cunt. Never.”

Slowly, my hand came free of the axe, letting it slowly slide back to the ground.

For a long while, there was nary a silence, heavy and burdensome. Not even the cracking of the fire, the howling of winds, the drumming of rain could dispel it.

He whined again, silently; almost too silently for me to hear. I heard it nonetheless. Upon a closer look, he was shivering.

Somehow, just this small thing pushed away my thoughts away, letting me concentrate on the now instead of what will be. I picked up the blanket I’d pulled out of my backpack, then slowly carried it over to the dog who rested with his back against the wall a small way from the fireplace.

The alpha’s son growled, even such a thing probably costing him all his remaining strength because he visibly sagged once he saw I wouldn’t go away. He didn’t snap at me as I tucked him in the blanket while still keeping my distance from his snout. I didn’t cover his feet where he was bound with ropes, nor a small part of his chest where his paws were tightened with a rope against it, preventing him from scratching at his bindings.

He kept growling until I moved away once again. With heaviness of unwanted burdens, my feet carried me to my backpack once again. Pulling the remaining blanket out while putting the knife folded inside back into the bag, my drowsy mind had me sit at my place once again, but this time I draped myself with the blanket.

Then I looked out of the small cave, out into the winds and rain. I watched the invisible patterns that played across the land, listened to the shifting melody of gusts. I watched as the rain stopped and the light of moon showered the rocky hills and the strange trees in its silvery light.

I watched until I could bear to watch no more. Waking Paul up from his deep sleep, him glaring at me through an annoying look, I promptly passed out without really explaining anything. My body couldn’t bring itself to utter a word.

I just… needed… to rest…