"You're asking a lot of me," Berrodin said. "I'd be putting my life in danger."
"I know, and we don't expect you to do it for free," Veren said. "Do this for us, and you can consider all your debts in the village paid for. Past and future ones too. I'll cover them myself."
"Is that so?" Berrodin asked. He pursed his lips. "I suppose that makes it worthwhile then. Very well, load it into my wagon."
Veren smiled in relief, and spun on his heel. "Quinn, Ferin, I want you to wrap the club in a tarp, and bound it tightly. Make certain not an inch of it shows. I'll get Berrodin's wagon."
The two men nodded, and Veren turned back to the crowd. "The rest of you. I want you to return to your homes, and board your windows. The beast has already taken a few of our cattle. It's possible it'll go after us next. I want us to be prepared, understand?"
The crowd dispersed, hurrying back to their homes. A few headed in the direction of the lumber mill, while others left in the direction of the granaries. Once they had all gone, Veren glanced at Berrodin.
"Where did you leave your wagon?"
"I'll go with you to get it," Berrodin said. He swiveled to Cyrus. "Will you ready Starvhost? I wish to leave as soon as possible."
Cyrus nodded, and Berrodin slipped out of the stables with Veren. Starvhost stomped his hooves as Cyrus opened the stall, and patted the donkey's mane. His large brown eyes stared deep into Cyrus's, and his tail swished back and forth.
"Are you ready to go? It looks as though you'll be quite busy the next two days," Cyrus said.
He glanced over his shoulder as the two men grabbed a tarp from the back of the stables, and laid it beside the club. One was a tall, lean man, with short brown hair, while the other was a few inches shorter, with a sturdier build.
As they rolled the club onto the tarp, the shorter man winced, and jerked back his hand. The other arched his brow.
"What happened, Quinn?"
"Nothing. I just got a splinter," Quinn replied. He wiped his hand off on his trousers, then motioned back towards the club. "Come on. Let's get this wrapped."
Cyrus narrowed his eyes. A trail of dark red blood dyed the man's pants. Darker than blood would normally be. He shifted his gaze back to the club. Small black specs dotted the wood, mixed in with the matted fur.
'Strange. I wonder…' Cyrus pulled back his gaze as Berrodin and Veren returned, pulling the wagon through the mud. When they got it inside, Cyrus harnessed Starvhost to the front, and scratched behind his ear, before making his way over to Berrodin.
"Is everything alright?" Berrodin asked.
"I'm not sure," Cyrus said. "I feel like there's something off about the club. Other than the fact that there is one."
Berrodin frowned. "What do you mean?"
"It's just a feeling, but I think it's been touched by dark magic," Cyrus said. "I ran into a wild boar before coming across you, and its eyes were bloodshot, while black tar foamed at its mouth. I've never seen anything like it before."
Berrodin scratched the stubble on his chin. "You believe the beast who dropped the club is in a similar state?"
Cyrus watched as the two men finished wrapping the club, and hoisted it into the back of the wagon. "Possibly. We'd be wise to keep our eyes open until we reach Galeden. I don't want to run into a creature that can wield a club that large."
Veren approached before Berrodin could respond.
"Alright, it's ready to go. When you reach Galeden, go to the captain of the knights. His name is Gregor. Tell him I sent you. He's an old friend of mine, and should understand the severity of the situation."
"I will," Berrodin said. He climbed into the seat of the wagon, and grabbed the reins. "I'll try to be back before the end of the week. Stay safe until then."
"We will," Veren said.
Cyrus jumped into the back of the wagon, and carefully made his way around the club. Once he sat, Berrodin flicked the reins, and the wagon jolted forward. As it left the stables, Cyrus noticed Quinn standing to the side, his eyes wide, and puffy.
A shiver ran down Cyrus's spine, and he pulled his tunic tighter. Soon, the village faded in the rain, and the wagon rattled onto the main road. The dark clouds swirled overhead as they slipped into the forest, leaving behind the safety of numbers.
….
By the time evening came, Cyrus was sick of the rain. It poured all day, drenching the entire forest, without a break. Berrodin hunched over the reins, staring blankly ahead. Neither of them spoke very much, drained of their energy by the rough weather, and constant scanning of the surrounding trees.
"Are we close to the cave you mentioned?" Cyrus finally asked.
"It's not far ahead," Berrodin replied. He leaned back, and studied the darkening sky. "We've made better time than I thought we would. We should reach it within the hour."
"That's good," Cyrus said. He slumped against the back of the wagon, and surveyed the mountain's. Their high peaks towered above the forest, tipped with white caps. "Say… How far does the mountain range go? I was lost there for six months, and I still don't see an end to it."
"Did you?" Berrodin arched his brow. "I'm not surprised. The Delimen ridge spans the entirety of the upper east continent. I believe it's the longest mountain range in Delahost, followed by the Arkenthel mountains, in the west-"
Berrodin stiffened, trailing off. Ahead, Starvhost flicked his ears back, and the bristles along its neck rose. Cyrus glanced around, studying the trees. Quietly, he grabbed an iron spade from one of the crates, and gripped it tightly.
"What is it? Did you see something?" Cyrus asked.
Berrodin held a finger to his lips, and brought the wagon to a stop. He pointed ahead, where a tree lay in the middle of the road. It blocked the path forward, and a large dent crushed the trunk. Cyrus narrowed his eyes. A number of puddles surrounded the stump, in the shape of footprints.
'Those prints are fresh. Whatever made them must still be around,' Cyrus thought. He scanned the forest, until his gaze fell onto a mound of rocks, and a second stump, covered in moss and vines.
Cyrus nudged Berrodin, and pointed towards the mound. The old man nodded, and slipped off his seat. Cyrus slipped the spade into his belt loop, and dropped to the ground beside him.
"What are we going to do?"
Berrodin examined their surroundings. "We'll have to go around. The area around the stump is clear enough to pull the wagon through, but I'm worried it might get stuck. Can you push it?"
"I'll do my best," Cyrus said.
"Good," Berrodin said. He squeezed Cyrus's shoulder, then made his way to Starvhost. The donkey's ears were flattened against its head, and it bared its teeth. Berrodin scratched its mane, and whispered in a soft, soothing voice while guiding it forward.
As the wagon creeped forward, Cyrus positioned himself at the back, and pushed against it. Whenever one side took longer than the other, he would focus more attention there. As such, but by bit, the wagon left the road, and bounced over the ditch.
Cyrus kept his eyes on the mound of rocks. Their jagged edges, and dark texture stood out against the lush forest, and grey mountains.
'But what beast looks like that?' Cyrus wondered. Distracted, he nearly ran face first into the wagon, which had come to a stop. Frowning, he poked his head around. One of the wheels had sunk into the mud.
Cyrus shoved against the wagon, but it only rocked forward an inch, before it fell back. He bit his lip, and glanced at Berrodin. The old man pulled on the reins, trying to help Starvhost pull forward, but stuck in place.
Then, one of Starvhost's hooves slipped in the mud, and it fell forward with a loud bray. Cyrus froze, flinching as the mound of stones cracked, and rumbled. Small pebbles clattered off the boulders, and plopped into the mud, revealing a creature on two feet, with pale grey skin, and beady black eyes. The black stones were fused with its skin, and the mossy stump grew from its shoulder.
"It's… It's an ogre," Berrodin said. He barely got the words out before the beast spread its thick broken tusks, and let out a deafening roar. Black tar dribbled down its chin as it stomped its foot.
There was a loud crack as Starvhost reared back, snapping the wagon shaft. One of his hooves hit Berrodin square in the chest, sending him stumbling back. Cyrus rushed forward, catching Berrodin as Starvhost bolted into the forest.
"Are you alright?" Cyrus asked.
"I'm- Get down!" Berrodin shouted. He pulled Cyrus back, moving him just out of the way as the ogre charged past, barreling into the wagon.
Shards of wood and metal flew into the air, along with the club. The tarp wrapping it slipped away as it fell to the ground. Upon seeing it, the ogre bellowed, and chased after it. Berrodin was dragging Cyrus away before the beast's three jagged yellow nails wrapped around it.
"Where are we going?" Cyrus asked.
"We'll head for the cave!" Berrodin shouted. His wrinkles deepened as he searched the trees. "It's not far from here. Keep an eye out!"
Cyrus glanced over his shoulder. The ogre tore at the cloth wrapping the club, shredding it to pieces. As the last threads of fabric fell away, it raised the club, and whirled around. It bared its tusks when it spotted Cyrus and Berrodin running away.
"Are you sure the cave will be enough to protect us?" Cyrus asked.
"It's our best chance!" Berrodin said. He peered through the trees, then suddenly pushed Cyrus to the right. "There. Beneath the old elm. Do you see it?"
Cyrus spotted a narrow cave rising beneath the boughs of a thick elm. "I see it."
"Let's go then," Berrodin said. He sprinted ahead, running at a speed almost impossible for a man of his age. Cyrus trailed behind, his legs pumping as fast they could.
Behind him, the ogre snorted, followed by a whoosh. Cyrus spared a look back, only for his eyes to widen as a boulder hurled past his head, and slam into the back of Berrodin's shoulder. The blow spun him around with a sharp crack, and he fell to the ground.
Cyrus lunged forward as another stone whistled past his head. As quick as he could, he grabbed Berrodin, and threw him over his shoulder, ignoring the old man's protests. The ogre roared in anger, and charged after them.
Its speed far outmatched Cyrus's, and he struggled forward. With each step, his feet sunk deeper into the mud, making it difficult to keep going.
"Leave me here!" Berrodin shouted, wriggling. "Just leave me here, and get to the cave!"
"I have a better idea!" Cyrus said. He shifted his direction to the elm, and pushed forward. Meter by meter, he closed the distance, until his fingers were only inches away, and the ogre was right behind him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as it raised its hand, and brought it down. Time seemed to slow, with seconds becoming an eternity. Then, Cyrus felt the rough sensation of bark beneath his palm.
'Arise.'