The Glauerdoom Moor_ebook Page 7
“As you can see, it’s just the four of us,” said Hatch.
The old man looked them over shrewdly. “Aye, two men, a wisp of a girl, and a woman with a horned helmet?”
“Those horns are mine,” corrected Sai.
“Oh, one of them are ye,” said the old man in a tone that was not a question. “Wel get aboard
then, and let’s get back to town.”
They all stepped aboard, causing the raft to list to one side until they separated a bit to balance
it out. Then the old man pushed his pole back into the muck, taking them across the stil waters.
“We thank you,” said Hatch. “Is there a place we can all sleep for the night?”
“Aye, there is. There is the Dew Drop Inn or Marie’s Tavern, which has some rooms for rent.”
“Is one any better than the other?”
“That depends. The Dew Drop Inn is quieter than the tavern, but the food is better at Marie’s
if ye ask me,” answered the old man. “Plus, it’s got Marie.” He smiled big at that.
They looked at each other, unsure of what choice to make, so Hatch made it for them. “I guess
we’l stay at Marie’s.”
“I can’t wait for a bed,” said Sai. “But we need to find this child’s parents too. She was
kidnapped by witches.”
“And ye stole her back!?” asked the old man, aghast at the prospect. “Ye’l bring the doom
down upon us! The Count wil come for her if the witches complain loud enough!”
“We took care of the witches,” said Hatch.
“I hardly think that is possible, sir, the Moor is covered in them witches like ticks on a hound,
ye couldn’t have possibly taken care of al of them!”
“The ones that stole the girl, we did. And why shouldn’t you be glad of it?”
The old man went quiet and looked at them, almost whispering now. “It’s not like I don’t have
a heart, the Goddess knows I do, but I also know that the witches wil come for revenge and be al
the harder on us for it. They might steal a child here and there every now and again, but other than
that, they haven’t tried to wipe us off the map just yet. And now, maybe they wil because of that
insult.”
Sai grew angry. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Chev,” replied the old man.
“Chev, I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear you say that and take it out of your hide myself.”
“I’m just talking about things for the good of the town is al ,” the old man whimpered.
“He’s right,” said Von Wilding. “It’s possible the Count and the witches wil count this as an insult and come for revenge.”
“Are you saying we shouldn’t have done it? A little late for that now,” snarled Sai.
“And I would have done it al again,” countered Von Wilding, “but the people have a right to
be afraid. They live here, we don’t.”
“I live here too,” said Esmerelda.
“Should we have left you with the witches?” asked Hatch.
The girl looked down and shook her head. “I miss my mommy.”
The old man looked away now too, but it was plain he was very afraid.
A new voice broke the stil of night. “Wel , you best al come in then, before you catch cold or
get taken away by the giant mosquitoes.”
They looked and saw a robust woman with long golden braids. She had her hands on her hips,
and it seemed that she must have heard the entire conversation. She was a strikingly beautiful flower
in a dark and dismal swamp. “I’m Marie, I heard you wish to stay at my tavern? Come on in and I’ll
get you al a drink.”
They followed Marie up some rickety steps, and then across no fewer than six planks and two
rope bridges between the tal er buildings. Sai looked over the edge, and even in the dark could tell
that they were more than twenty feet above the water.
“How’d you hear we needed a room, or even your room, if we’re so far away from your place?”
asked Hatch.
“I keep a good ear to the waterline and listen for business,” she said, swirling her long gown as
she turned to answer him, before sashaying across yet another narrow bridge. Then she caught a
door and held it open for them. Bright light splashed across their faces, temporarily blinding them.
Music from a quartet of musicians tumbled out like drunken revelers followed by a pungent smel ,
but it was warm, dry, friendly, and the most comfortable spot they had sat down in since leaving
Crystalia.
Marie brought them big mugs of ale and sat down to get to know them. “You look like you
have a good story to tel ,” she said, mostly to Von Wilding, but gave them all the same warm smile.
He grinned wide behind his mug, and Sai nudged him with her boot, whispering, “If you don’t
ask her to dance, I will.”
Von Wilding gave Sai a shocked look, the most surprise he had shown her the entire journey,
but quickly recovered himself and stood. “May I have a dance with you, madam?”
“It’s Marie, and I thought you’d never ask.”
Despite Von Wilding having asked her to dance, she took his hands and whisked him off to the
dance floor, holding him close and spinning him about. It sounded like the musicians played even
louder and faster now that their mistress was enjoying herself. The drums and fiddle raced each
other, and Sai was surprised to hear Von Wilding laughing. She didn’t think he knew how.
Hatch nursed his drink while playing checkers with Esmerelda.
“Doesn’t she want to go home?” asked Sai. “Isn’t it right close by?”
Hatch shrugged. “We should be finding Esmerelda’s parents. Let’s go,” he said to Esmerelda.
“I’l come with you,” said Sai.
Hatch shook his head. “It’s al right, she knows her way around. You stay and enjoy yourself,
the Goddess knows you need it.”
Sai dropped back down onto her elephant foot stool. “All right then, guess I will.” She was
irritated at that. She hadn’t real y wanted to go walking on any more of the swaying rope bridges at
night, but Hatch’s mood swing and behavior was odd.
Not a moment after he and Esmerelda had gone out the door, Sai jumped up and followed after
them. She’d had enough of listening to Von Wilding and Marie’s laughter and flirtations.
Esmerelda led them across numerous rope bridges and planks set between the buildings on
stilts and the trees. They went up and down in the dark until the girl stopped cold.
“My house is gone,” she said with a whimper.
“Are you sure? It’s awful dark out here,” offered Hatch.
“It was right here.”
A remnant of a rope bridge hung down from the deck they now stood on and into open space;
there was only a single stilt standing in the water, albeit a little crooked.
“Esmerelda?” asked a new voice.
They turned to see an old woman.
“Gran?” questioned Esmerelda. She ran and gave the old woman a hug. “Where is Mommy and
Daddy?”
“I’m so sorry,” said Gran. “A storm swept away your parents’ home a fortnight ago. They
didn’t make it.”
Esmerelda started crying and clung to the old woman.
Gran looked at Hatch and Sai. “Did you find her in the Moor?”
“We did,” said Sai.
“It was a witch’s curse that took her parents. I can look after her now. Thank you.” Tears wel ed up in her eyes as wel , and she turned and led Esmerelda into her cottage.
Hatch a
nd Sai were left standing alone in the dark. “Do you see now how important our
mission is? This goes beyond just finding the princess, this is about cleansing a land dominated by
vicious evil beings.”
Sai grunted, “Yes, but I need some sleep.”
***
The loud blast from a horn shook Sai from her deep dreams. She almost fel out of her narrow
bed. The trumpet sounded again.
“If this is someone’s idea of a joke, they are gonna pay,” she growled as she slipped a robe over
her shoulders and went to the window.
A trio of small fat witches sat in a rowboat in the center of the waterway. They were cloaked
and gray, but long green noses peeked out from their hoods, and they were cackling amongst
themselves as one blasted the trumpet again. Sai saw the witch’s cheeks expand like bloated flesh,
then release as the rotten instrument shattered the early morning silence like breaking glass.
“Hear us, oh Stilt Town! You have done yourselves a grave misfortune by taking what is ours!”
Sai glanced at the other windows. She thought she could see a few folk peeking from behind
their blinds, curtains, and shutters, but no one dared face the witches openly, not even these three
plump ones far below in a rowboat.
“We demand that you return the child apprentice to us! As wel as those murderous interlopers
that robbed us! AND,” she emphasized, “a ful year’s tithe worth of grains and foodstuffs for our
larder.”
Sai couldn’t actually hear anyone, but her gut told her there was a col ective gasp at these
demands. Such harsh taxes would surely break these people.
“Bring them out and give them to us or suffer the consequences!” They cackled again.
Sai threw open her window and shouted, “The heck they wil ! I’l give as good to you as I did
your foul sisters!”
The witches were shocked, but quickly their faces returned to a cruel malevolence.
Sai then noticed that Hatch and Von Wilding had thrown open their window as wel to meet
the threat eye to eye. Marie looked out her window too, her long golden braids catching the wind.
“You think you can stop us, you traitorous daughter of the Nether?”
Sai frowned, grumbled, and ported down to the witches’ rowboat amidst them. The witches were shocked and leaned back in surprise as Sai punched a hole in the bottom of the rowboat with
her daggers. She blinked away just as they regained enough composure to try and snatch at her.
The rowboat spouted murky water from the center bottom as if from a blowhole. The witches
cried out as they were suddenly ankle deep. They stood up and snarled aloud and cast a spel to try
and patch the hole.
“This isn’t the end. We’ll be back!”
An arrow sunk into one of the hags, down to the fletching. She tumbled back into the boat, and
the hole spouted more water.
“With one less!” cried Hatch. “Begone!”
Marie looked to Hatch and nodded grimly. The two witches rowed away with a wretched
muttering between them.
“We better discuss our options,” said Hatch.
Marie added, “I’l gather the townsfolk. They need to hear this too.”
The party met on the floor of Marie’s, joined by a throng of townsfolk. Voices of dissent
flooded their ears.
“You shouldn’t have done that!”
“We wil be ruined!”
“They’l come for us al now.”
“We should hand these folks and the witch girl over now!”
“String ‘em up!”
Sai, Hatch, and Von Wilding prepared for the worst, looking with suspicion at the townsfolk’s
weary faces.
“No!” yel ed Marie. She stood on top of her bar, glaring at everyone assembled there. “We
won’t! The time has come for us to fight back. We ought not be paying any tithe to the witches and
their dark lord. We built this town from the mud, we’ve raised our children here, and I’ll be fish
food before I just rol over and let them strip it away from us again. I say we fight!” She held aloft a rolling pin and swung it about as if it were a sword.
The crowd murmured, none too sure about what to do.
“Listen to me!” called Hatch. “The witches think you wil give up; let us surprise them and trap
them. If we work together we can beat them. Trust me.”
“Trust you? Who are you?” asked a long-faced townie.
“I am Hatch! The royal warden of King Jasper the Third.”
“Never heard of you.”
“Shut up, Weasel,” shot back Marie. “These folks are heroes, here to do some good in our
rotten part of the world. We must stand by them and fight! Or we wil have no future!”
Some folk cried out in support of Marie and her daring words, but others were not so easily
swayed.
“You don’t understand the forces they can bring to bear against us. They have terrible powers
and monsters. The Shamble Priests animate the very dead to walk and assault us.”
“Aye, they do,” cried another. “I’ve seen them, big bloated things that can explode in gore and
offal.”
“There’s much worse than that, I’l wager,” added another.
“And how would giving up make it any better?” argued Marie. “Peter Murkwood, you lost al
your cows on Dry Island to the zombies. You aren’t getting them back. Tory Snailskin, you lost your
father and your daughters to the witches, must you hand over your sons too? Wilum Pike, are you
wil ing to give up your home and family? We must fight.”
The crowd murmured, but the sentiment grew. They would fight.
“Show us what to do,” someone said.
“Follow me,” said Hatch.
Chapter 10: Battle
They gathered every conceivable weapon they could, from shovels, hoes, and pickaxes, to
hatchets, crude, old bows of yew, and rusted swords moldering in their grandfathers’ closets. Some
were armed only with wide, old paddles and nets for swamp fish. Hatch gave basic thrusting and
chopping training to those capable of wielding such weapons, while Von Wilding led a party of
others to build some makeshift defenses. They roped great logs and rigged them to swing when
ready. Sturdy constructs were made to defend archers on the rope bridges and balconies. Some of
the lower planks were set to break at the first sign of the attack so that the enemies might fal into a pile of harsh debris. They al knew this was a matter of life and death, and Hatch told them there
could be no quarter given or expected.
Sai took it upon herself to be the lookout and watch in every conceivable direction for the
coming attack. She kept a continual vigil, circling far around the town, porting from treetop to
treetop. It was more tiring than she expected, but she guessed she would be just as exhausted if she
were helping Von Wilding build the defenses. She’d refused to train anyone; she fought in her own
style, and she doubted that any of the backwoods yokels could learn her subtle craft.
Sai had circled the town in an ever-growing spiral more than five times when twilight fell. That’s
when she heard it. A horrendous crashing through the brambles and swamp below. Something was
coming. It sounded like a whole army was tramping through the muck and crushing any of the smal
shrubs and trees beneath their feet. The cracking of branches reminded Sai of bones snapping.
She ported to lower branches to see who these foes were.
A huddl
ed mass came through the reeds: gaunt bodies with mangled limbs atop ragged torsos,
and slack-jawed faces with dead, blank eyes that were white like spider eggs.
Sai shuddered. She had heard of zombies before, but never seen one, let alone a troop of them
before. The sight was ghastly. They each looked terribly different, and yet, the same. None of them
noticed her up in the tree, but they were heading straight to Stilt Town. Mindless as they appeared,
they knew where they were going.
Among the shambling creatures, Sai spotted a bizarre figure. He was different; he wore a top
hat with a smal skul riding on the front of the brim. A few feathers were also on the side giving him a magical fetish-like appearance vaguely similar to what had been hanging in the trees near
Wildflower’s. His face was painted to look like a death’s head, a skull . . . at least, Sai thought it was painted. He wore black and white striped pants and a dirty maroon jacket. He carried a skull in his
hand like a lantern, for a weird green glowed from the eye sockets and open mouth, lighting his path with a dreadful gleam.
Behind him trudged a throng of especial y fat zombies, and the stink of them wafted up to Sai’s
hiding place, making her gag.
Their curious master heard her and looked about, but he did not look up. After a tense
moment, he continued following his disgusting horde.
This is terrible. She hoped that being up on stilts and above water would be a strong enough
defense against the zombies. She ported back toward Stilt Town as fast as she could.
She heard a ruckus before she could see the town. Voices shouted, and bizarre zapping sounds
flashed in time with faint hints of light like fireworks dancing through the trees as Sai approached.
The Witches are already at acking from the opposite direction! A few flew about on broomsticks zapping at the townsfolk with their wands while others were in boats attacking from the Moor below. Some
were cloaked in maroon and looked almost skeletal. Sai knew these to be Dust Mages, and she was
wary of their dark arts.
“Hatch! Zombies are coming from the east!” shouted Sai once she found him. He held a bow
but was unable to use it as he huddled behind a shield to deflect the witches’ blasts.
“We are already nearly overwhelmed,” he said. “I haven’t even been able to shoot back at them