Tales & Treasure Chapter 11
Vidmar - A Strange Pack
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Vidmar sat cross-legged outside the barn. It had been a long night, and he wasn’t sure if Vatis would wake up. He had cleaned and sharpened his knives, laying them in the dirt outside the barn as he tossed the stone, his only clue, up and down, then rolled it around his palms, over the back of his hand, and through his fingers like a street performer doing a coin trick. He desperately tried to distract himself. Why do you care? He heard footsteps. He quickly tucked the stone into the inside pocket of his jacket.
“How is he?” Vidmar asked as Hobb appeared. He started the deliberate process of sheathing his blades.
“That’s hard to say?” Hobb answered; his eyes seemed to dart toward his pocket. Vidmar tried to ignore it. “I’ve bandaged the dislocated elbow and cleaned all the scrapes. He’s lucky he didn’t crack his skull, but he’s still unconscious.”
“I hope it doesn’t affect his abilities. He’s one hell of a bard, but I still don’t understand what he was doing in the tower,” Vidmar said.
Hobb either didn’t hear the question or ignored it completely; either way, he looked over his shoulder to the watchtower before washing his hands. “Taldor is going to sit with him for a while. He will fetch us if he wakes,” Hobb said. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”
Vidmar nodded and followed Hobb. They walked slowly and silently. Vidmar kicked dirt into the air, desperately searching for a distraction. Suddenly, Hobb stopped. “Did you hear something?” he asked.
“Other than the wind in the trees and some wren, don’t ask me how I know what kind of birds they are,” Vidmar said, grateful that Hobb broke the awkward silence. Hobb furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. Then, a rough, harsh bark grew louder over the rustling leaves and chirping birds. “Is that Igni? What is he barking at?”
Hobb turned back toward the barn. “Wolves.”
“Wolves,” Vidmar said. Stay here.” His instincts kicked in, and he trusted his hearing to lead him. Vidmar sprinted, paying little heed to the crops underfoot. He leaped over a fence, nearly falling when his back foot clipped the top of the waist-high barrier; a few hops and he regained his balance. The barking morphed into fierce growling. Low vibrating snarls seemed to multiply as Vidmar approached.
Vidmar slowed and crouched behind a fence post – not ideal cover, but enough for him to plan his attack. Fire was his weapon of choice against wolves, but it was too risky in the dry grassy fields of Hobb’s farm. He didn’t have much time. A pack of four wolves slowly pressed closer to Igni. The cattle galloped to the other side of the field. Igni growled, pacing back and forth to keep the wolves at bay, but they crept forward in unison. Vidmar needed to act while they were distracted. He reached into his boot, pulled out his favorite throwing knife, gripped the tip, aimed, and threw. It found its mark in the ribs of the closest wolf. The beast howled, turned, and charged Vidmar. Fortunately, it collapsed before Vidmar needed to make another throw. Three left.
The frantic mooing of the cows drowned the terrifyingly consistent growling of the wolves. Of course, the animals knew Vidmar was there, but that didn’t change their goal – supper.
“What’s going on?” Taldor yelled.
“Taldor. Get back in the barn now,” Vidmar said over his shoulder. He didn’t see Taldor’s face. He didn’t turn around to answer whatever question the boy asked next.
“Now,” Hobb said, winded. “Damnit, boy. Move.” He coughed between deep raspy breaths.
“Get in there too, Hobb,” Vidmar said without turning around and inching toward the wolves.
“No,” Hobb said in an inarguable tone. Vidmar didn’t fight with the stubborn old man. Hobb leaned against the fence, pointing at the wolves with his cane. What are you doing? There was no time to think about the farmer, not if he wanted to save Igni, the cows, and possibly himself. These wolves looked different from typical wolves - darker and slightly bigger. Their eyes glowed with a greenish hue. He didn’t have time to think about that either.
He crept into position and threw another knife, a small, poorly balanced blade usually used for cutting meat. It wobbled through the air and missed. It did, however, catch the attention of its target. The wolf attacked. There was a certain beauty to the way it moved: poised, confident, graceful, and powerful. Before he could line up another throw, the beast was nearly on top of him. Experience taught Vidmar that the wolf would bite one of two places – his legs or neck. He bent down on one knee, tilted his head, and exposed his neck. The bait worked like a worm on a hook. The wolf lunged for his neck. Vidmar rolled onto his back, unsheathed Acer’s golden-hilted blade, and sliced the leaping creature from ribs to tail. Warm, thick blood spattered onto his chest and face. He somersaulted and positioned himself for another attack. Vidmar watched the terrifyingly beautiful animal whimper its last breaths. Two more.
The final two wolves continued to press Igni. Vidmar rolled quickly to his right. He had two knives remaining; Acer’s knife, which wasn’t great for throwing, and a perfectly balanced blade he had carried since he was a child. Just as Vidmar pulled back to throw, the wolves pounced on Igni. The old sheepdog growled, then yelped. The smaller of the two wolves bit into Igni’s front leg. The black dog fell into the grass thrashing its hind legs to break free, while the largest wolf continued toward the cattle. Vidmar had to make a choice. With Acer’s knife already in hand, he stood, spun, and released a perfect throw. The blade punctured the smaller wolf’s neck, and Igni wriggled free as the third wolf died. One.
The final wolf was a giant among its companions. It stood a head taller and six hands longer. Green eyes glowed with an insatiable hunger. The dark beast rushed forward; it was done calculating the perfect attack. The cattle scattered. Vidmar narrowly avoided the cows as they ran from one end of the field to the other. Once the cows passed, he picked up his head to find himself face-to-face with the wolf, like they were in an honorable duel in a public square. The beast bared its teeth, snarling as another obstacle stood between it and supper. Vidmar reached for the sheath strapped to his thigh; it was empty. Shit. His final weapon lay in the dirt by the barn, where he absently fiddled while waiting for news of Vatis. Shit, shit, shit.
The wolf sprang forward. Its maw opened wide. Defense was Vidmar’s only remaining option. He held his leather-bracer-covered forearm out like a shield. The wolf’s jaws snapped shut around the sturdy, studded leather. He couldn’t help but close his eyes. Is this how it ends? A fucking wolf? Vidmar could feel the giant teeth poke through the armor into his flesh. The pressure was incredible; a second longer, and his bone would snap.
He forced his eyes open, stuck his thumb out like a makeshift knife, and jabbed at the beast’s exposed eye. His strike found the mark, digging knuckle-deep into the jelly-like organ. The wolf howled and released its grip. Now. Vidmar kicked. His boot connected with the wolf’s throat. Tufts of hair fell into the grass like snow. Vidmar rolled backward. Igni, seeing his opportunity, leaped at the wolf's throat as best as his three working legs allowed. The wolf evaded the attack. The two canines became entwined in a hairy, bloody tornado. Vidmar ran, pulled Acer’s knife from the third wolf, grimaced, and lined up a shot. Shit. I don’t have a throw. Fuck it. Vidmar yelled and charged the wrestling animals to separate them. It worked. The wolf forgot its feud with Igni and attacked Vidmar, giving him the opening he needed. The wolf pounced. Vidmar rolled and sliced the creature’s front leg off. The three-legged, half-blind, saliva-covered wolf still looked majestic as it lay in the grass desperately trying to stand, blood pooling in the dirt around it. Vidmar couldn’t watch it struggle any longer. He crept behind its still-growling jaws and mercifully ended its life. Then, Vidmar collapsed on top of another victim of his blades.
Vidmar awoke in the barn next to, a still unconscious, Vatis. Igni was curled up at his feet with a bandage around his front leg. The smell of hay and manure didn’t mix well with alcohol and blood. It reminded him of battle; it reminded him of her. No. I can’t. He rubbed his eyes and rolled onto his side. Vidmar surveyed the area; luckily, a half-full bottle of alcohol sat on a hay bale behind him. He tried to push himself up. Pain exploded through his left arm. “Fuck,” he yelled.
Taldor rushed in. “Are you alright, Vidmar?”
Vidmar shook as he pushed through the pain. Golden specs flickered in the dim barn light. “I’ll be fine,” he grimaced. “How are you doing, boy?” He asked as he scratched behind Igni’s ears.
“He’s got a few cuts, and his leg might never be the same, Pa said there was damage to his tendons, but luckily, he didn’t break the bone. You’re both lucky to be in one piece. Oh, shit, Pa wanted me to call for him as soon as you woke up. Don’t move,” Taldor said, sprinting out the open barn door.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Vidmar said as he sat down cross-legged. He continued to pet Igni. “Good work out there, boy. Looks like we’ll have matching scars.” Igni whimpered and rolled onto his back, pleading with Vidmar to scratch his stomach. The dog’s tongue fell out the side of his mouth as he relished the attention. Vidmar watched Vatis’s chest slowly rise up and down. For the first time in days, the bard looked peaceful.
“Come on, Pa. Hurry,” Vidmar heard Taldor yell outside the barn.
“This is as fast as I move, boy.”
Taldor pulled the door open. Bright light erased the long shadows in the entryway. Taldor wedged the door open with a stone and raced to Vidmar’s side. “Can I get you anything?” he asked.
“Water,” Vidmar replied, licking his lips.
“Right away.”
Hobb sauntered. His cane dragged behind him with each step. He looked at Vidmar, then turned away quickly. “How’s he doing?” he said, nodding toward Vatis.
“He’s still breathing,” Vidmar said.
A prolonged silence filled the barn. Finally, Hobb cleared his throat and shifted his feet. “Thank you.”
Vidmar nodded. He’d met plenty of men like Hobb – proud men, honorable men. There were few of them left in Emre. A simple nod said more than words ever could. Hobb smiled as wide as his stubborn lips allowed. Igni stood and limped over to Hobb. Taldor burst in with two mugs of water, somehow managing not to spill despite running from the well to the barn.
“Here,” Taldor said, handing the mugs to Vidmar.
His mouth felt as dry as the dirt in the barn; his lips cracked as he brought the first mug to his mouth. He downed it entirely, water spilling over the sides onto his chest and neck. “Thank you, Taldor,” he said, placing the mug on the ground and taking a small drink from the second. “Thank you.”
Taldor nodded. He wiggled anxiously, watching Vidmar drink. “Yes?” Vidmar said, smiling. Soreness coursed through his body.
“How’d you learn to fight like that? I’ve never seen anyone move like that,” Taldor asked eagerly.
“You were supposed to stay in the barn,” Vidmar said.
“I did, but the barn has windows,” Taldor said, pointing to an open window in the loft facing the pasture.
“I see,” Vidmar smirked. “To be honest, the quickness comes naturally, and the fighting comes from too much practice. I used to be a scout in the army.”
“You… you were in the army,” Taldor said as he nearly jumped with excitement. His enthusiasm morphed into fear as he thought more. He grew quiet until he mustered the courage to ask, “But, you’re young, too young to be excused from combat. Are you a deserter?”
Vidmar looked away. Would I rather be labeled a deserter or a murderer? He looked Taldor in the eyes. “Yes,” he said.
Taldor’s mouth hung open.
“Enough questions,” Hobb said, turning toward Vidmar. “You don’t have to say anymore. You saved us today. That’s all I need.”
“I’m sorry,” Taldor said, twiddling his thumbs.
Vidmar drank slowly from the mug without looking at Taldor or Hobb. He set the empty cup down. It wobbled and fell sideways, drops of water spilling out and clumping in the dirt near the rim. Vidmar watched the dark rain cloud-like pattern expand in the dry earth. Hobb kneeled at Vatis’s side.
“There comes a point in everyone's life where they have to decide what side they are on,” Vidmar said after the prolonged silence. He liked Hobb and Taldor. They deserve more. “Do you believe in what you are fighting for?”
“You don’t have to explain,” Hobb said, looking up.
“No, I don’t have to,” Vidmar said. “But, you deserve to know. There’s a crossroads in everyone’s life, and you can choose one of two paths. The first path is fine; continue down the road with your caravan, never questioning why you are heading north as winter approaches, but knowing you are safer in a group. The other path is bumpier and foggy. You can’t see far, and you will trip constantly, but you decide where you're going. You decide to go left or right, camp, or press on. You’ll regret some of your choices, but they will be your choices. I won’t go into detail, but I was asked to do something terrible. I was asked to follow along and trust that my superiors knew better. I told him that I couldn’t do it. We fought. They nearly killed me. I ran and have been running ever since.”
Hobb nodded. He continued examining Vatis.
“Were you asked to kill someone?” Taldor asked
“Taldor,” Hobb yelled.
“It’s fine, Hobb,” Vidmar said, rubbing his chin. “Yes, not someone, but many people, women, and children too. That’s all I will say about it. I’ve killed more than most, but I always believed there was a reason behind it: self-defense or they stood on the other side in battle or a duel, but never murder.”
Taldor’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak, thought better, then began again. “You were in a duel?”
This kid needs to see more of the world. “A few.”
Taldor was about to ask another question when Vatis let out a raspy moan. They all turned and watched the bard’s eyes flicker open.
“Oh, thank the gods,” Vidmar said.
“What happened?” Vatis whispered.