The Clovel Destroyer (4 page)

“
I see something else has grabbed
your attention. Don’t let your wife see that,” advised
Guthlaf.

“
Did you see who that was?” Urith
asked, still staring at the tavern.

“
A very brave woman, judging
how
she walks the trails by herself. Or, not
very bright. She’s fair
one;
that’s for sure.
I think I need to get a drink at the tavern.” Guthlaf started to
leave.

“
I swear I’ve seen her somewhere
before, but I can’t place where.”

“
Well, I’ll let you know what I
find out. I’m always happy to meet
a friendly
maid who needs a strong warrior,” his friend hurried away, smiling
at the chance to see who the girl might be.

Guthlaf ducked his head as he entered the tavern,
the young warrior scanning the few patrons. Along one wall, a
couple sat, a small dark haired girl,
apparently
drunk, whose screeching laugh seemed to amuse
the warrior on whose knee she was sitting. Two merchants, dressed
in gray tunics, huddled near the fire in the middle of the room,
quietly talking. They were being joined by an old man in a black
robe who came from the bar holding a clay cup. The old man, who
smelled like an ossane trader,
s
at while
staring at Guthlaf suspiciously while the Esterblud walked to the
bar. Carefully looking around the dark room, the warrior turned to
the small man behind the long table.

“
Where is the woman that just came
in here?”

The tavern keeper fidgeted nervously, his face
giving Guthlaf the impression of a small rodent. “No woman’s been
here today.”

“
Are you trying to make me angry,”
the warrior flashed hotly. “I saw her come in here just before I
did.”

“
I don’t know what you are talking
about,” stammered the man. “I swear by the gods, only those men
around the fire have come in here since the light faded. The woman
is a local who likes warriors like you.”

Slamming his fist on the wooden top of the bar, the
warrior turned back to view those men huddled around the fire. He
walked over to the bench they sat on, carefully observing them. The
old ossane trader turned slightly to see the warrior staring at
them.

“
What’s your problem, noble
Esterblud warrior? Perhaps you need an ossane? I can give you a
fair price.” The man’s gravelly voice grated on the young warrior’s
nerves. Guthlaf muttered a curse to the old man, quickly leaving
the tavern, feeling embarrassed as he heard the old man cackle. The
ossane trader paid little attention to the two merchants who stood,
leaving to find a table away from the foul smelling stranger they
did not know.

Guthlaf found Urith still outside of the healer’s
house. The young warrior was fuming, believing he must have been
tricked by the tavern keeper. When he told Urith his story, the
giant warrior could not believe it.

“
Somebody was playing a trick
on
you, my friend.” Urith’s voice grew ominous
as he watched the door to the tavern open. An old man in a black
robe stepped into the darkness of the road, slowing walking toward
them. “I think I shall go find out who would joke when my father
lies dying.”

Before he could act on his thoughts, the warriors
heard the door to the healer’s house
open,
and
the healer motioned for them to enter. A nervous fear crossed
Urith’s mind as he quickly strode into the building with Guthlaf
following him. Neither warrior saw the old man come
in
the pale yellow light cast by the lamp on the front of
the building. And neither of the warriors saw the old man suddenly
transform into the
attractive young
woman they
saw earlier.

The dust blew across the road the next morning as
Urith and Guthlaf loaded Uolven’s body on the cart. The great
leader of the Esterblud tribe died quietly, not long after the two
warriors went back into the house. While Earmis chanted the death
song of the clan, the men wrapped the body in the Clovel skin
blanket given to the leader by Urith. As they worked, Uolven’s son
recalled the great pride his father showed him when Urith returned
with the pelt of the terrifying monster. Nearly indestructible, the
Clovel came from the underworld, a massive creature with small hind
legs and long arms. Capable of inflicting massive wounds from a
long muzzle and large, jagged black teeth, the
wolf-like
monster
came from the old
gods who used the creature to hunt humans for sport. Urith hunted
down one of the last monsters in the remote forests high in the
rugged
Neewar
Mountains as his
sakreta
,
an ordeal quest a young
warrior must take alone. Many within his village believed Urith
would never return, but he proved them wrong, proudly handing the
monster’s pelt
to his father while the elders
exclaimed their amazement at what Urith had achieved. Soon, his
father would be burned upon the funeral pyre while holding his
favorite sword and shield, a tribute to a great warrior. The
thought made Urith proud.

“
I’ve got the ossanes ready for
our journey. I’ll ride ahead to inform the king we are coming with
your father’s body,” Guthlaf’s voice scattered Urith’s memories.
The giant warrior nodded as he looked upon the white fur covered
body in the wagon. Guthlaf got on his mount, looking at his friend
before he turned the animal to begin his short journey to Gramcan.
He waved to Urith as he
galloped past them
,
leaving the dust swirling with the wind.

Earmis joined Urith, taking his
massive
arm and drawing it around her own shoulders. As
she walked him to his mount, he noticed she wore a long, formal
tunic of fine wool, bearing the green and red colors of the
Esterblud. While not of their clan, Earmis remained conscious of
the nobility of her new position with her husband. “You will get
your ossane and proudly lead your father to the temple of
Exyts
. There is no better place for the great
one to be sent to the gods.” She patted his arm. “I’ll drive the
wagon.”

Urith nodded, filled with a sudden melancholy. He
took Earmis in his arms and kissed her, ignoring the pain from his
wound. The wound was still quite
sensitive,
and he had not slept for much of the night because of it. “You are
a noble
woman and even better wife to me. How
did I get so lucky?”

Her eyes grew wide with feigned amazement, “Because
your father arranged it, of course. Or don’t you remember?”

“
That’s not the way I recall it,”
he told her playfully, trying to avoid accidentally spitting on her
from his still swollen lips. “You seemed to be following me around
everywhere I went.”

His wife took his arm off her shoulders, giving him
the pouting look he adored. “That’s
only
because I needed the shade from the sun, you big oaf. Now, get to
your mount.” She pushed him away, smiling when he stopped her and
kissed her again. He rubbed her belly lightly before he went to the
ossane.

Pulling himself onto the mount, he waited for her to
settle herself on the hard seat of the cart. He watched her as she
cracked a small whip near the
erba’s
rump,
causing the large shaggy beast to move forward. He smiled to
himself as he thought about how well his wife would help him when
they returned back to his village. Her noble bearing and quick wit
established her as one of the favorites among the elders of the
clan. It also pleased him she knew how to guide him through life.
Urith steered his mount beside the cart and reached over to give
his only love a tiny flower he found that morning. She smiled at
him as they began their travel.

Just outside of Gramcan, Urith and Earmis found the
road blocked by several large
erbas
. Unable to
go around the animals due to the steep drop into a ravine on one
side, the cart slowly pushed through the
herd.
T
hen they saw the smoke. Further up the road, on an
embankment, they could see a farmer desperately trying to
extinguish a small brush fire. The man was beating the flames using
his own brown robe. Fortunately, so far, the wind remained calm,
helping him to keep the fire from spreading in the brown brush.

“
We need to help him. The brush in
this area is too
dry,
and that could soon
spread to the city if the wind changes.” His wife told the
warrior.

Urith nodded his head. “I’ll help him, but you stay
here. I don’t want you around those flames if the wind suddenly
whips up.” He could tell by her
face;
she
wanted to
help,
but she agreed. She
said
to be careful as he slowly moved his
ossane through the shaggy beasts the farmers raised for food and
transportation. Since he knew the animals were easily spooked
around any fire, Urith remained calm, speaking soothing words as he
moved through the herd.

Fighting his skittish ossane, the warrior jumped
down, unhooking a blanket from behind the saddle. The Esterblud ran
several paces to join the man working feverishly to knock down the
flames. However, when they
finished,
one area,
another set of flames flashed up between them and the herd of
erbas. The beasts within the herd began snorting and nervously
pawing at the ground. As the two men moved to quell the flames, a
gust of wind swept up the fire, quickly spreading the smoke and
heat toward the small pine trees along the road.

Urith ran toward the
path
,
watching his wife trying to back the cart away from the herd.
However, the
erba
stubbornly resisted her
control. A branch suddenly snapped when the sap inside exploded,
sending a shower of sparks drifting down upon the spooked, shaggy
beasts. The herd immediately panicked, scrambling away with loud
snorts and bellows. While smoke filled the area, obscuring Urith’s
view, the frightened
animals
dashed headlong
into the erba, while Earmis attempted to turn the small cart. The
crash between the animals nearly unseated the woman. She grabbed
the seat, desperately holding on when several erbas pushed into her
wagon. The animal she controlled suddenly tried to back up, causing
the cart to slide to the edge of the road. More animals crashed
into the erba as it backed away, sending the wooden wheels over the
edge. Amid the animal’s loud
bellowing
, Earmis
screamed as she felt the massive push from the herd forcing the
cart into the ravine. Before she could jump, the erba attached to
the wagon desperately tried to join the others, shaking its massive
body to rid itself of the yoke. However, the wave of erbas pushed
the animal out of the way, sending the screaming beast and cart
into the ravine. The thrashing beast fell into the cart sending
both tumbling down the steep embankment.

By the time Urith reached the spot where the cart
had fallen
into the ravine, dust and smoke
covered the area. He forgot the
fire. Instead,
he hurled himself over the edge, yelling for Earmis. Sliding down
the hard dirt, trying to avoid the rocks and bushes jetting out of
the soil, he landed hard on a small boulder near the upturned
wagon. Despite the pain, he stumbled forward, feeling his stomach
sink when he saw the green cloth under the cart’s side. Urith paid
no attention to the erba’s dying bellows as he limped by, coming to
a wheel that still slowly spun. Under one of the wooden sides, he
could see his wife’s leg, partially covered by her green robe. The
man reached down
to
the edge of the wagon and
tried to lift. The broken cart moved up slightly. Gathering all of
his strength, he then heaved up until it tipped over to its side.
The warrior stared down into the open eyes of his dead wife as she
lay next to the covered corpse of his father. When the farmer first
heard the anguished, growling scream from the ravine, he swore it
was the cry of a dying animal.

Now beyond human control, the fire climbed into the
nearby hills as the wind pushed it away from them, into the hills
and leaving blackened earth. The smell of charcoal filled the air
as the farmer watched the flames race away from the area. Below in
the ravine, the farmer saw a silent Urith trying to pull the body
of his wife from the broken cart. The farmer scrambled down and
helped the large man carry the bodies of the blonde woman and
covered body of a man from the ravine. The two men
laid
the bodies on the side of the trail. The
grizzled
farmer gave the giant man his sympathy, telling
his name was
Alfard
. However, the warrior
only
walked over to the ledge looking down at
the remains of the wagon and the erba. The man paid
no
attention to his words of condolence. He observed the
giant man held no will of his own. His
ossane
was
gone,
and the warrior sat between
the bodies at the edge of the road, still staring down at the
wreckage below.

For his part,
Alfard
looked
over the blackened landscape on the other side of the road as he
told the silent Esterblud how he came upon the small fire as he
drove his erbas to the city for slaughter. The stillness of the
warrior sitting next to the bodies spooked the
man,
and he began to speak
quickly
like he needed to explain.

“
I would have sacrificed my whole
herd to the gods, so they wouldn’t have harmed your woman.” The man
told the unhearing warrior, his voice trembling with nervousness.
“It’s a shame.” Despite the fact he knew the
fighter
heard nothing, somehow the farmer felt better as
he talked.