“Spawn of Beelzebub!” shrieked Milli as she yanked her foot back, swayed perilously in the saddle, and slapped at the mule with mittened hands. “It hates me!”
“Stop screaming at him,” said Brogus as he stroked the straggly mane of his own mule. “You’re just scaring him.”
“It’s not a him, it’s the devil!”
“Are we sure the devil isn’t a he?” said Dol and both of his companions looked at him with sudden twists of their heads.
“Did you just tell a joke?” asked Milli as she tried to stabilize on the back of the brown mule. Her mount had a narrow neck and a bulging belly that translated into a rolling sort of gait that made her both nauseous and sleepy at the same time.
“No,” said Dol.
“What’s got into you,” asked Brogus with a twitch of the reins that sent his mule over to Dol’s. His beast was gray in color and taller than Milli’s with a long tail that drooped almost to the ground. “You’ve been acting strange ever since we left Craggen Steep. Is the fresh air getting to you?”
Dol smiled, “I suppose it might be the air or the sunshine,” he said and gingerly touched the back of his neck. “How is it that something you cannot see can burn so much?”
“The back of my neck is as red as old drunken dwarf’s nose,” said Milli and suddenly screamed as the mule tried to bite her again. She tumbled off the beast, landed on her side with a thump, sprang up, and began batting at the thing, “I hate you! I hate you! I’ll walk all the way to Das’von!” She turned and starting marching down the road in the same direction ahead of her companions.
“Milli, Milli!” said Brogus jumping off his own mule and trying to chase after her. “Hold the mules, Dol.” He shouted over his shoulder. It took him a few seconds to catch up to the girl who was walking at a tremendous pace despite her short little legs. “C’mon, Milli,” he said and grabbed her by the arm. “It’s just a mule. It’ll be fine.”
“It hates me,” said Milli yanking her arm free and turning to look at Brogus with eyes so fiercely blazing that he took a step backwards.
“It doesn’t hate you.”
“I hate it and it hates me. It has lice, it bites, and it walks cockeyed and makes me want to vomit. Who invented an animal like that? Were they sadists? Halflings weren’t meant to ride animals. I’m done with that lice ridden flea bag forever,” she said with her hands on her hips and spittle flying from her mouth. “Forever!”
“Milli, you have to understand, it’s still a hundred miles or more to Das’von and Corancil. You’ll never be able to walk all that way.”
“I can walk all that way and more,” said Milli and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not getting back on that hell beast!”
“It’s not just about walking,” said Brogus. “Don’t you think they’ll be chasing us? Trying to get us back to Craggen Steep, to get the hammer from Dol. We need to keep moving. If we don’t, they’ll catch us. You don’t want to be dragged kicking and screaming back to there. After all that talk about how you are finally free.”
Milli stopped and stared at Brogus and scrunched her nose. “I know there’s something wrong in the world when you start to make sense. Fine, let’s switch mules at least. Yours seems nice enough. It doesn’t bite at least.”
“Yours is the smallest,” said Brogus with a gesture back towards Dol, where he stood patiently holding all three beasts. “That’s why we gave it to you. Your legs are even shorter than ours.”
“I don’t care, I want yours,” said Milli and immediately stomped off down the dirt trail away from Brogus.
Brogus looked over to Dol and shrugged his shoulders. The hard-packed dirt road was six feet wide with an occasional wagon rut to indicate the passage of traders. After they escaped Craggen Steep the three decided to take this less traveled road, rather than the thick stone avenue built for the heavy wagons filled with weapons that came from Craggen Steep at regular intervals. This way they hoped to avoid any possibility of an encounter with traders. Tall pine trees, some of which towered almost fifty feet in the air, lined both sides of the road, and the crisp chill in the morning air made for steamy breath as Brogus shook his head and sighed. “I suppose mine is the next smallest,” he said walking over to where Dol patiently awaited.
The tall dwarf busied himself applying a curry brush to the animals with singular care, occasionally reaching into a pocket to pull out a carrot slice and feed it to the beasts. They had come across a patch of wild pusillus carrots the day before and somehow Brogus remembered them from a previous expedition. Early in the trip it hadn’t taken them long to realize their inadequacies when it came to understanding local plants and animals. They had packed enough staple food items for several weeks, but the speed which they devoured these rations quickly brought them to the realization that they would need to hunt and gather for supplies. None of the three having spent much of any time outside of the mountain; they quickly found themselves worried about their supplies of food and drink. No one had thought to bring along books that might help them forage for food. The plants were all strange, although plenty of creeks with fresh flowing water supplied that need at least. None of them had even rudimentary skills at trapping live animals for meat.
“We’re going to starve to death if we let Milli walk,” said Brogus as he watched Dol feed the only food so far scavenged to the mules. He took the reins of both his and Milli’s animal and started to walk after the girl but didn’t get more than a dozen strides before he noticed Dol was not following him. “What’s going on?” he said looking back to the other dwarf with raised eyebrows. “Milli’s getting away”.
Dol pointed with a single finger down a little trail off to the side of the main thoroughfare. It was all but invisible, and if they hadn’t happened to stop almost on top of it Dol would have never seen it. ”Smoke”
A thin wispy trail of white smoke emerged from somewhere down the path and Brogus spotted it after a few seconds of searching glances. “Do you think we should see who it is?”
“We need food, water, a new mule,” said Dol in a steady voice.
“Milli!” shouted Brogus and started to dart after the Halfling girl, but Millli’s mule decided at that moment not to move which brought Brogus to a sudden and jarring halt. He looked at the mule and shook his head, “Maybe you are evil.” He then turned to face down the road where the form of the girl was still visible, “Milli! Wait! We found something.”
Milli walked a few more strides and then slowed to a stop although she didn’t turn around.
“Please, Milli,” said Brogus as he tried to pull the stubborn mule forward. “Come back.”
She glanced over her shoulder with narrowed eyes and shook her head.
“Hold the mule, will you Dol?” said Brogus and held out the reins to the young dwarf. “I’ve got to go convince her. She’s just mad because of the sunburn,” he continued as his hand went to the back of his own neck. His ruddy complexion seemed less vulnerable to the damaging rays of the sun although he also wore a wide brimmed hat thanks to previous experiences with trading caravans. “I should have told her about sunburn. We were in such a hurry!”
After Dol took the mule, Brogus scurried over to Milli and started to put his arm around her shoulder although a fiery glance turned the movement into more of a wave. “Milli, there’s someone back in the woods there. They might be able to help us. We didn’t think about food or drink.”
She glared harder.
“I’m not saying it’s your fault, I’m just saying we didn’t think about it, Milli,” said Brogus holding up his hands in a defensive manner. “It’s nobody’s fault, we made a mistake, but there might be somebody there that can help us. Maybe they have an extra mule?”
Milli’s expression softened, she tilted her head to the side, and nodded her head. “Fine.”
Ten minutes later the trio approached a ramshackle old wagon, once painted bright red but faded to a dull orange after years in the sun, parked near a fallen tree. A large black kettle sat in the middle of an open fire with wood piled around it. A woebegone horse picked desultorily at the scrabbly weeds that sprouted just on the edges of the little clearing. There was no sign of anyone else in the clearing.
“Hello,” said Brogus in a loud voice. “We are travelers hoping to share a meal and perhaps trade.”
Silence greeted this proclamation and the three waited for a long moment. “This is stupid,” said Milli stamping her foot and scowling at the ground. “You’re stupid. The mule is stupid and my neck burns!”
“What’s that,” an elderly woman’s voice suddenly sounded from somewhere around them. A moment later she emerged from the woods and stared at them with a guarded expression. She wore a thick woolen coat many times patched at the elbows, her long black and gray hair was both frizzy and unbound giving the impression of a wild woman. “What is it that is stupid, young lady?”
Milli took a step forward toward the old woman and put on her best smile, “I didn’t think there was anyone here. I’m so sorry. It’s a lovely little camp you have. I’m Milli and these are my friends Dol and Brogus. We happened on your wagon and thought you might like visitors.”
“When did she get so nice?” whispered Brogus to Dol and held his hands at about waist height with the palms facing up.
“Visitors are always welcome,” said the old woman with a cackle as she came over to Milli and put her arm around the Halfling girl. “Do you need a love potion perhaps?”
“No, no,” said Milli and her cheeks instantly went red. “Nothing like that. We’re just travelers. We do have some gold.”
“Gold,” said the old woman as her eyes opened a little wider for a moment but then a rather bored expression seemed to come over her face. “Dwarves with gold. I’ve encountered a few of those over the years up here in the north realms. But you don’t have the look of traders, more like runaway apprentices… excepting you, dearie,” this last with a pat to Milli’s arm. “But, of course I’m being terribly rude, my name is Petra Galabradala but everyone just calls me Old Petra. My camp is your camp,” she finished with a flourish of her hands towards the little clearing, although her eyes carefully looked over the clothes and general bearing of the visitors.
“This is Dol,” said Milli as the tall dwarf with the short hair came over and gave a little bow, “and this is Brogus.”
The old woman looked at Dol carefully for a few moments and then turned her intense gaze onto Brogus, “Tree Shepherd blood in your veins then,” she said turning back to Dol.
“That’s right,” said Dol.
“And you’re from the Horncall clan,” she said to Brogus.
“How did you know that?” said Brogus with his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. “Are you a witchy woman?”
Dol, on the other hand, said nothing and kept an impassive expression.
“Of course I’m a witchy woman,” she said with a smile that revealed at most half a dozen teeth. “You think an old woman can live out here in the wild without being a powerful witch?”
“I hadn’t thought about it,” said Brogus with a smile, “people always say I’m a little bit slow. Mom always says I got the brawn but not the brains.”
The old woman laughed out loud, “Fair enough then, fair enough. Now, dearies, I’ve got a kettle of Meadow-Wort stewing over there but we can put something for eating on in about two hours. Can you wait that long? You look famished.”
The three travelers looked at one another and shrugged at almost exactly the same moment, “I think we can wait,” said Milli. “What’s Meadow-Wort?”
“I’m kind of hungry now,” said Brogus in a whisper but a sidelong look from Milli, filled with menace, immediately silenced him.
The old woman hooked her arm under Milli’s and led her over to the large kettle which was at a low boil. “Some folks call it Lady of the Meadow but we witchy types like to go with the most foul sounding name. It impresses the yokels. Meadow-Wort has a sweet flavor but I use it for aches and pains not for spicing. You boil the roots with water for a few hours and then let them dry. Once they’re ready I powder them and add a little secret of mine that I don’t like to give out, you understand I’m sure. The powder is good for headaches and the like but it does tend to upset the stomach and that’s why I add my special ingredient. Are you interested in the herbal ways? You’re a beautiful girl, there’s not a lot of call for types like you in the witchy world.”
“I’m an old hand at flattering people to get what I want,” said Milli as she turned to the boys with a smile and squeezed the old woman’s arm, “so don’t try that with me.”
Old Petra guffawed out loud and put her arm all the way around the little Halfling girl, “I’ll make a witchy woman out of you, pretty or not. Come over here and let’s talk. You boys get some more firewood, stoke that blaze. I’ve got cooking gear in the wagon, get that and bring it out. I know dwarves, yes I do. You just might find a keg of hard cider in there as well. Tie your mules up next to Harpus there and get to work.” With that proclamation the woman led Milli over to the boiling kettle and left Brogus and Dol to carry out her orders.
Three hours later the four sat before a low fire with half a dozen pots and pans scattered around the clearing, a jug on its side near Brogus, empty plates on their laps, and full bellies.
“You’re quite a cook, Old Petra,” said Brogus leaning back and patting his belly. “I haven’t eaten that well in almost two weeks, since we…” He suddenly stopped and clamped his mouth shut.
The old woman glanced towards Brogus with a flicker of her eyes but then continued on as if she didn’t notice the sudden end to the sentence. She put one last forkful of food in her mouth and then smiled broadly at him, “I guess you don’t want any pie then?”
“Pie?” said Brogus with a huge grin. “I never said I was full. By the way, how did you know my family is the Horncalls?”
Petra smiled, “I’ve met quite a few traveling dwarf caravans over the years. You have the jaw line of the Horncalls and you certainly don’t have the demeanor of a Firefist, Blackiron, or Drawhammer. Even if you were an apprentice fleeing your indemnity you’d have the arrogance of one of the three families.”
“What do you know about the three families?” said Dol as he stood and began the cleaning process. He didn’t wait for the woman to answer but immediately started gathering up pots, pans, and plates.
Petra nodded her head and gave off a short little snort like laugh, “You dwarfs and your hidden citadel. Do you really think no one knows about Craggen Steep? It’s been up in the mountains for a thousand years at least and times are changing out here in the world. Corancil tamed the north, brought down the Fist of Stav’rol, the Iron Gates of Das’von; he’s negotiated a peace with the sea kings of Sea’cra, and now he’s planning to invade the southern realms. It’s only a matter of time before he turns his eye towards the gold in those mountains. If I know about it, then you can bet he does as well.”
Dol looked at Brogus, Brogus looked at Milli, and Milli looked at Dol. “She has a point,” said Brogus with a shrug of his shoulders. “Now that I think about it, it does seem rather silly to think people don’t know about us. We send out trading caravans. There’s that road leading right up to the mountain.”
“Do you know where Corancil is right now?” said Milli. “We hoped to join his army and head south with the invasion.”
The old woman watched as Dol carefully cleaned each plate of debris, putting the scraps in a little paper sack which, when full, he tossed well away from the camp, “I can take you there if you’d like. I’ll need payment of course,” she said with a little shrug.
“How much,” said Milli with a sideways glance at the old woman.
“A gold coin a day seems reasonable,” she said with a frown. “It is out of my way and I’d be losing all the clients who come to me here for their potions and such.”
“That’s no problem,” said Brogus with a smile and immediately began to reach for the pouch hidden away deep in his jerkin.
“We should talk about this,” said Milli and tried to stop Brogus.
Brogus ignored the girl, stood up, rummaged around under his thick fur coat, pulled out a sack that made a loud chink, extracted a dozen heavy gold coins, and then handed them to the old woman, “That’s good for a couple of weeks, right?”
Petra blinked rapidly for a few seconds and then held out her own hand to take the offering, “Yes, maybe a little more than that.”
Brogus gave her the coins, which she lifted up and down for a few seconds unable to keep a wide smile off her face, “Did you say something about pie?” he asked with a broad smile and tucked the still heavy pouch away.
“Oh,” said Petra suddenly emerging from her reverie with a wide smile on her face. “Yes, of course, a pie. No extra charge!”