At Least He's Not On Fire: A Tour of the Things That Escape My Head (23 page)

The flesh of the Walker was very tough when cooked over the spit Malwynn fashioned. Neither knew if this was the nature of the meat, or if Malwynn was a terrible cook, but it didn’t matter, their hunger overpowered any complaints they might’ve had, the flavor was surprisingly good, and the two gobbled up the dark brown meat as fast as they could, eating ravenously.

They sat together, basking in the glory of their kill, completely sore and miserable for the entire cool evening by the stream. For a few moments, they were able to forget they were orphans. When the train heading from Graben to Daris passed by an hour before the sun fully set, its wheels squeaking and groaning on the iron rails, and its artificer-maintained locomotive spitting a great white puff of steam high into the air, they were reminded bitterly of the reality of their situation.

“Do you understand how much weight this poor Gvorn is carrying for you? And how badly this stinks? Umaryn it’s wretched,” Malwynn said, clutching his nostrils shut. On the back of Bramwell Umaryn had draped the skin of the Walker. She’d taken the hide off with her stone knife just minutes before, claiming if she could get it to a tanner by day’s end, it’d make right fine armor.

“I know Mal, but he’s so big. He won’t even notice he’s carrying it.” She pleaded with her brother.

“It weighs three times what I do for ancestor’s sake. It’s big enough to cover his entire body for his own armor.”

Her eyes lit up in genius, “Now that’s an idea. Gvorn barding made of Plains Walker leather? We’d be filthy rich Mal. Varrland Marks piled as high as the clouds. Puddings, steak, and fresh breads at our fingertips every minute of every day. Can you imagine it?” She trailed off, clearly imagining it.

“You are insane.”

She nodded, suddenly a bit sad, “Yeah I am. The money would never stack that high. All those coins would tip over first.”

Malwynn put his face in his hands, giving up. Umaryn climbed up into Tinder’s saddle gingerly, testing the bruised and battered muscles that kept her from riding the afternoon prior. She winced but knew the pain would be manageable if they took it slow.

“Ready?” Mal asked, shortening the reins on Bramwell.

“Almost, give me a moment to attend to something,” Umaryn said, reaching under the small blanket on Tinder’s rump and producing her deformed weapon. Chael’s hammer had stopped its wasting away shortly after Umaryn had shown it to Malwynn. It was still a misshaped lump of steel at the end of a warhammer’s shaft, a travesty compared to its former glory. Umaryn closed her eyes and lifted the weapon’s head close to her mouth, whispering to it, and dragging her fingers across the lines of the oddly shaped blob. Malwynn became uncomfortable watching her cast the spell after a moment more. It seemed too personal, too intimate, and almost sexual. He felt perverted just being nearby, and actually turned Bramwell about to give her more privacy.

After a minute or two of using The Way, she stopped. “Wow. It worked.”

Malwynn brought Bramwell about once more and looked at the weapon. Yet again he was amazed at the magic his sister wielded; the weapon was exactly as it had been before the acidic Walker’s skin had ruined it. Fully polished and in perfect condition, ready for war.

“Fantastic work.”

“Thank you. Remind me again why we aren’t wearing our armor now. And why we’ve wrapped the Amaranth axes in our blankets? I feel very vulnerable without armor handy,” She said as she slipped the warhammer back into its resting place.

“As nice as it is to wear decent armor in the wild, I think we’ll receive an entirely different welcome in a Varrland town if we ride in wearing armor from the Empire. I think we’ll be the ones answering uncomfortable questions. Better to seem forgettable right now,” Malwynn answered.

“That’s pretty sound reasoning brother. I think I’ll keep you around.”
 

“You’ve got little choice in the matter dear sister. Let’s get to Ockham’s Fringe. Only one train left today heading into Graben, and I’d like to get there before it leaves.”

Brother and sister, battered, bruised and sore, left the corpse of the Plains Walker behind, and headed north to the last town in their home country. It felt eerily similar to walking up to the edge of a cliff to them.

They did not reach Ockham’s Fringe in time to catch the last train passing through from Daris to Graben. They knew that when it passed them heading north before they reached the village.

Ockham’s Fringe was a traditional Varrlander village. The town proper was larger than New Picknell, nearly three or four times the size by their estimation. Every structure inside the town was encircled by a tall and thick wooden wall reinforced by earth piled against its interior. The wall was sturdy, and was designed to keep undead both out and in should something terrible happen in the village. Most of the buildings inside the sturdy walls were made of brick and mortar, with smooth glass windows framed in iron bars should the undead attempt to get in, or out.

Outside the town’s walls the first thing a visitor on the trains would see was the artificer rail station. Far larger than the solitary platform outside New Picknell, this was a building large enough to house a dozen souls waiting for a train in the rain, as well as a platform running along the rails the length of the twin’s former home in New Picknell. The roof was covered in expensive slate tile and the building itself formed of brick and mortar. On both sides of the structure sat two rows of large oak trees that had been brought over a long distance and grown to give the building more presence. It was a small icon of the power of the Artificer Guild in a tiny and remote place. Umaryn was in rapture looking at it.
 

They tied their mounts off outside the building and walked through the wide double oak doors into the main room of the station. To one side was a single window that had a hand painted sign above it reading; PASSAGE TICKETS. On the other side of the window sat a middle aged man with a receding hairline, and slightest touch of gray hair at the temples. He fidgeted with a block of wood and a small but sharp knife as they approached. He sat it down quickly and perked up.

“May I help you?” The artificer asked politely.

“We were looking to buy passage for two adults and two beasts of burden to Graben on the next train,” Malwynn asked, trying to feel comfortable and at ease. In reality on the inside he was knotted up with anxiety. This was the first living person they’d spoken to since New Picknell had been destroyed, and Mal felt as if the man knew their plan for vengeance.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. The last train departed about half an hour ago. Would you like to purchase passage on the midday train tomorrow?”

“Yes that’d be fine thank you,” Malwynn said back, feeling a bit more comfortable. He reached to his belt for the small bag of Varrland Marks he kept. It wasn’t much, but it was all they had.

“Well we are three quarters of the trip from Daris to Graben here at Ockham’s Fringe. That discounts the passage price from 55p to just 13p each. Passage price for two horses is another 5p each. Total, that adds up to 36p. We also take Marks and Crowns, sorry.” The artificer couldn’t have been from Varrland, despite his notable Varrlander accent. No self respecting resident of Varrland would tell anyone a price quoted in Pieces, and not Marks. Pieces were used in Duulan and Farmington, but not here when Marks were available.

Malwynn smiled and dug through his coin purse. He had a mere forty Marks in the coins minted in Daris left. Spending the money here on the tickets north would leave them nearly broke when they arrived in Graben. The look on Malwynn and Umaryn’s faces must’ve tipped the man behind the window off.

“Is there a problem?” He asked politely.

Malwynn sighed in frustration and met the man’s gaze. An urge of desperation struck him, and he gave deceit a chance, “We’ve got precious little coin left. Our family died in a fire this week, and we’re headed north to find family in the Empire. We’ve only got what was left on our persons right now. We lost everything in the fire.”

Umaryn looked to the floor, appearing to fake emotional turbulence. Malwynn saw she was trying to stifle a grin.

“That’s terrible. It’s made worse that you need to head to Graben as a way to better your lot in life. I’m told it’s quite a terrible place, all in all. Are you sure you want to head north? You might be best served by heading south to central Varrland.”
 

Malwynn nodded solemnly, “We couldn’t agree more, but we need to be with our family.”

The man behind the counter nodded. For the first time Malwynn saw he was wearing the steel gray robes of the Artificer Guild. He hadn’t the red trim though, so Malwynn knew he couldn’t use The Way. “Well, I could offer you discounted passage if you’re willing to do a little work for me.”
 

The twins perked up, and Umaryn followed the prompt, “What kind of work?”

The man smiled in a way that told them they wouldn’t like what he was about to say, “The ground near the hitching posts needs to be raked and shoveled free of horse droppings. Also, the gutters along the roof on both sides of the station here are full of oak leaves. I haven’t gotten to cleaning them out all summer, and I’m certain when my superiors come through to inspect the station I’ll be in trouble for certain.”

Neither were fazed by the requests. Their mother and father had asked them to do worse on a daily basis. Malwynn kept poised, and pressed on, “How much can you discount the passage?”

The man with the thinning gray hair mulled an offer over, “I can discount your fares from 13 Marks down to 8 each. That’d be just 26 Marks for you and your sister, plus your horses.”

Malwynn felt that was a decent deal, but pushed for more, “Tell you what. How about we rake and shovel the hitching posts, clean all your gutters, and on the way up to Graben, we ride with our animals, and clean out that freight car as we ride?”

“Oh that’d be quite helpful,” the man remarked.

“I’d say for all that you charge us 5 Marks each, and let our animals ride for free. After all, we aren’t going to be taking up a seat for a full paying customer, and we’d be leaving the train better than when we got on it.”

“You drive a hard bargain young man,” he replied with a wise smile.

“My father always said guard your coin. He’s gone now, but his advice still stands.”

The man agreed, taking note of the mention of the father, “Deal. I’ll get your tickets, a shovel and rake, and a ladder for you both if you want to start cleaning out the hitching post area.”

“I’ve also a question sir,” Umaryn asked quickly.

“Yes?” The man replied.

“Does Ockham’s Fringe have a tanner? I’ve got a hide I need worked into usable leather and was hoping to find a tanner here to do the work for me.”

“Oh yes, of course. I can recommend you to an acquaintance of mine. We crafters tend to stick together, you know,” The man said with a smile.

The two reached into the window to shake his hand, and turned to head outside. Umaryn waited until they were outside the oaken double doors before leaning in to whisper to her brother, “I didn’t know lying came to you so easily.”

“Neither did I,” Malwynn said, ignoring her accusation.

“Did father actually tell you to guard your coin?” She prodded.

“No. But it sounded like something he would’ve said.”

Umaryn stopped, and her face turned sour, “You shouldn’t do that Mal. You shouldn’t put words in mom or dad’s mouth like that. You can’t make your lie more believable by using them. I don’t think they’d approve of you using them to lie. It doesn’t seem right to me.”

Malwynn stopped, his tempter flaring. He had just saved them almost the entirety of their remaining fortune, such as it was, and his sister questioning him in this way was infuriating. He turned to her, ready to rip into her, but when he saw the hurt in her eyes, and on her face, his anger melted away. He thought of his mother, caring, loving, and honest to a fault. He delved into memories of his father, inquisitive, trustworthy, and reliable to a fault. The error of his ways was abruptly clear to him.

“I’m sorry Umaryn. Never again.” He vowed.

“Thank you,” Umaryn said back softly, and the two wrapped each other up in an embrace that only the grieving can understand.