A Soldier's Life
chapter-89

I had not meant to fall asleep. But after staying up all night and the fight with the manticores, my exhaustion overtook me. My dreams were filled with talking manticores flying all over the kingdom and spreading the word of my abilities to all who would listen in the coarse language of the stone giants. Soon, all the Hounds in the Empire were pursuing me to be dragged before the Emperor. I woke when I fell off my chair and scrambled to my feet.

The early dawn light was just showing—or maybe I had only slept a few minutes, and it was evening. I still felt exhausted and stiff, so hours had passed. Maveith and Lyonis were still sleeping—and still breathing. I removed a massive piece of hard salami from my space and started to cut chunks off to eat. I filled my canteen with water as well.

As I ate, I looked at my wrist. Most of the swelling was gone, and I worked to tighten the loose skin with some aether. Soon, it looked like the wrist had never been broken. Maveith stirred and coughed. I stood to check him out. His chest looked a mess with over a dozen claw marks. Globs of red aloe were smeared on each one, but most had not closed yet.

“Your staring is making me uncomfortable, Eryk. I am sure it is not as bad as it looks,” Maveith said softly. But he tried moving and decided the table was more comfortable.

“I was staring at the table. I was amazed it could hold your weight,” I joked. “I have some salve to close your wounds,” I handed him the vial.

He reached up and took it gratefully. He sniffed the air and noticed the hard salami. It had been almost a five-pound link, and I had eaten nearly a quarter of it. “Fine, you can have that as well, Maveith,” he grunted as he reached, stretched his chest wounds, grabbed it off the bench next to the table, took a massive bite, and chewed.

“A bit salty. Do you have any more wine,” he said with a grin.

“My storage space is limited. You will have to make do with water. Do you want help with the salve?” I asked, stretching my stiffness away.

“I can manage he said while chewing. Lyonis is in worse shape than me. He is not going to be able to move for days. If you have any more…” he gestured at the potion.

“No, I used up my healing potions already,” I held up my wrist to indicate I was already healed.

“We should harvest the manticores this morning. I doubt any predators touched the carcasses, but it will not be long before they brave the clearing to do so,” he said with a grunt as he got himself seated in a chair. “Also, I should tell you what the creature told me before it attacked.”

I perked up, “There really was a treasure?”

Maveith laughed and immediately regretted it, “Maybe. It said it had killed some other humans, and its lair was twenty-five miles northwest of here. I’m not sure if that is true or even the direction or distance. The beast’s grasp of the giant tongue was not impressive. But he did tell me more about the mages that portaled them here.”

Maveith paused and started treating the wounds on his chest, wiping the aloe off and applying a thin line of salve to close the wounds. He appeared to be doing the deepest cuts first as he worked. I waited, and he started talking again, “There were five manticores pulled through the summoning gate. The elf mage bound them to obey, and he ordered them to cause chaos. The other two went north while these three came south.”

“Elf mage? A Bartiradian? Who did they kill?” I asked and realized I was thinking more about the idea of treasure they might have hoarded than actually concerned about the manticore’s rampage.

“It sounded like a merchant caravan. But there are no trade roads this far north. My guess is that the creature was lying,” Maveith said, and he had somehow eaten the rest of the salami while administering it to his wounds.

He stood and inspected the repairs to his chest. He then closed two punctures from the quills and hobbled over to Lyonis. He used the remaining salve to close the other warden’s wounds. When the small vial was empty, I was amazed at how far he had stretched it. He did not heal his shallower wounds, so they oozed a little as the scabs cracked when he stretched.

Maveith gave me a hard pat on the back, “You are a good friend to have, Eryk.” His ‘pat’ left a stinging sensation on my shoulder. He started dressing, “Come, and we can harvest the manticores together. We will let Lyonis rest.”

Maveith was not moving well as we exited the cabin to the fresh air. Lyonis cabin smelled terrible, and the fresh air reminded me of that fact. The manticores were all where I had left them last evening. Maveith scanned the area before moving to the male specimen. “He is large even for a male,” he noted while kneeling at the tail.

There were still a half dozen of the two-foot quill spikes and new ones that were partially growing out the end. Maveith tested the tail and sighed, “The poison sack is drained,” he lifted the tail and pointed to a rubbery sack below the spikes. “When the beast releases its quills, the sack will spurt the poison on them. It is worth excellent coin to an alchemist, hunter, or assassin.”

“You know a lot of assassins, do you?” I quipped, trying to be funny.

Maveith was focused and responded off-handidly, “Just a few.” I could not tell if he was joking.

“The quills make excellent arrowheads; each mature quill can make maybe four arrowheads with a skilled fletcher.” Maveith was pulling the remaining quills out carefully and stacking them. I went and gathered the quills that had missed us in the fight. They were flat and stiff and looked more metallic than bone.

“Are these metal?” I asked, dropping them in the pile.

“Yes, mostly. These creatures rely heavily on aether to survive. They need the flesh of beasts for sustenance and iron to replenish themselves. They have even been known to chew on metal when hungry. It also makes their flesh inedible, but we can obtain many other valuable things from the body,” Maveith replied as he finished with the female’s barbs.

“I thought you never hunted a manticore before? How do you know how to harvest one?” I asked as he started to cut open the beast’s stomach.

“My father was the tanner in my village. I worked with him growing up. He taught me my skills. We were tasked a few times with harvesting manticores brought in by the hunters. But this is the biggest boy I have ever seen.” He had reached the testicles and carefully removed the scrotum. “This will make a fine pouch once it is treated and worked. It is also a status symbol among my people to wear it. I will prepare it and make you a nice coin purse out of it that you can wear with pride.”

“Uh, thank you,” I said, unsure how to feel about the offer.

“It is not a problem. I will make you a fine cloak from these wings. Usually, during the fighting, the beasts are grounded, and the wings are mostly destroyed in the process. Come and help, and I will show you, Eryk,” Maveith insisted. He had been using my name instead of legionnaire for a while, so I assumed I had gained his trust.

I knelt as he explained what he would normally do for such a kill. Remove the organs to keep the meat safe from spoiling. This creature had no useful meat, so that step was not required. Removing the hide was not that difficult, with Maveith’s strong hands tearing it away from the fascia. Maveith joyfully said he would make new pants from the male hide as he worked.

The wings were next, and they felt like soft-worked leather as I helped the goliath remove the skeleton. It took us three hours to harvest the male and another two hours to harvest the female. The young one Maveith decided was not worth the effort. It had been a messy eater, and it smelled like rotting meat. At least the adults groomed themselves a little, but they also smelled foul.

When we finished, we were both covered in gore. Dried and congealed blood was everywhere. Maveith had smiled most of the time; probably, this brought back fond memories of working with this father. We were resting and drinking water, and I asked, “So why did you leave Stone Mountain Island?”

The goliath winced at the question. He considered his answer and told me his tale. “My father was the tanner in our village, and he was well respected. I never knew my mother, but I also had an older sister. Her name was Zorana. She was pretty, I am told, even by your ridiculous human standards. The island is a hostile place,” he pointed at the manticore, “those creatures are just one of the dangers. I was out with Zorana and a friend of hers, Myra, who I fancied. We were harvesting clams by the rocky shore. We were surprised by an orc raiding party. I was further back on the beach trailing them.” He swallowed hard. “My sister was killed, and Myra was taken.”

He paused, and I waited to hear what happened to him. “I ran,” he finally admitted. “I was initially paralyzed with fear and did not think they spotted me. And I ran after Myra was netted, and Zorana took a head wound defending her.” He looked at me with shame in his eyes.

He sighed, “I couldn’t face my father for my cowardice. I walked to the nearest port city and took the first ship I could. I was young, a little bigger than you are now, but much stronger.”

I did not know what to say. Coward is not how I would describe Maveith. I asked, “And you never talked to father? To tell him you were okay? He might have thought you were taken like Myra.” After some awkward silence, I added, “Maybe your sister lived from the head wound and was taken as well?” I probably was not helping his conscience.

“I think about that every day. I replay the scene in my head, desperation on her face, seeing her club batted aside and the orc blade connecting with her head as she stood over Myra, entangled in the net behind her. I doubted they wasted a healing potion on her. She would not have been worth the cost of it,” Maveith said heavily. I was going to suggest maybe one of the orcs was a healer, but I did not think it would help the man.

“No, I never sent word to my father. I could not lie to him and embarrass him with the truth,” Maveith stood. “We should wash up. And these carcasses need to be dragged at least a half mile from Lyonis’ cabin.” Maveith was in no shape to be dragging a thousand-pound manticore into the woods, but he made a rope harness and proceeded to do just that. It was like his story reminded him of his penance and reason for exiling himself.

I checked on Lyonis, who was still sleeping, and then pulled the smallest manticore into the woods, with Maveith pulling the female on his second trip. The ropes bit into me, but my four-hundred-pound beast was half the size of the mother. Even then, Maveith easily outpaced me with his long strides. His lesser wounds opened, and he strained in the effort, but I was fairly certain that he would have declined even if I offered him a potion.

He walked away, not looking back after untying his ropes. I took a moment to do some cleaning and dropped the manticore innards, a human heart from the Bartiradian soldier, out of my space. I still had the dead elf in my storage and planned to dispose of him soon. I followed Mavieth to a small lake near the cabin. We waited on the shore for a few moments, studying the environment for danger before entering the water to bathe.

We cleaned ourselves and our clothes as best as possible before air drying until the sun started to set. We talked about skinning animals and the process of curing and drying hides for various purposes. I was glad to take Maveith’s mind off his sister by asking questions.

Maveith indicated we should head back to the cabin, “Tomorrow morning, you should return to the city. I will stay with Lyonis. It will be a week before he can take care of himself. Tell the Duchess I will return then.”

“If I head straight south, I will find Sobral?” I asked, trying to picture the map.

Maveith responded in his deep voice, “No, we moved further west. But you will encounter the road and river. Just take the road north, and you will reach the city.”

That night, I took an oblivion pill to get a good night’s rest. Maveith was still limping in the morning, and Lyonis was finally awake and eating. I headed out alone after sharing a meal with them.